I’ve been letting my hair grow. I’m currently at the shaggy unruly stage, way over the collar but not yet long enough to tie it back, so it’s kind of annoying. I could lie to you and say it’s because I like the look, or that I’m trying to recover the illusion of youthful virility (that ship sailed long ago), or it’s out of admiration for AC Grayling, or that I’m finally accepting the Biblical rumors that it can be a source of strength, but none of that is true. I think I’ve developed a mild tonsurephobia.

“Phobia” is too strong, though. It’s more of an aversion; I’m not afraid of barbers, I’m not worried about getting a haircut, a professional snipping away with scissors is not a concern. It’s more that every time I consider making an appointment, I veer away and decide it’s not necessary. Let’s not bother right now, OK?

My last haircut was last November.

I decided to try this other barber in town, a long-established fellow I just hadn’t gotten around to. I walked into his little shop and was brought up short: it looked like there was a corpse sitting in the barber chair. We’re talking Crypt Keeper here. Ancient, pale, wrinkled, cadaverous, bald. And then he opened rheumy eyes and in a phlegmy voice, told me “he’ll be right back”. It turns out one of the local senior citizen’s homes shuttles their residents to this barber, and the guy was like 95 years old, had almost no hair, but he still cared enough about his appearance to get a regular trim of what little he had. That is entirely admirable, and certainly there is nothing wrong with the elderly getting a haircut, and this gentleman was commendably active and alert and friendly (except when he’s napping while waiting for the barber to get back from an errand) despite my initial impression, but…holy intimations of mortality, Batman. I feel an entirely irrational dread now everytime I think about visiting the barber.

Then…it was last November, remember. I had another reason to develop an irrational association with events of that month. I also associate that orange abomination who came to power then with his pink cotton candy floss of a hairdo. His obsession with that fake pile of creepy fibers on his head repulses me. Hair care? You can get carried away.

And then there is the Nazi haircut, that high side fade that has become the recognizable tonsure of the “alt-right”. There’s the Trump sons’ greased up slicked back hair, the used car salesman/sleazy banker look. This is a bad year for hair styles. It’s as if barbers and hair salons are in a conspiracy to make all their clients look like ugly fascists.

So it has come to this, and here I am. If you expect to see me and encounter something like a dishevelled, graying werewolf, you’ve found the right person. Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite. At least, I don’t bite unless you’re wearing a MAGA hat.

It’ll probably be this way at least until the next election.

But it’s supposed to be! It’s on McSweeney’s!

It’s about journalists. I’m now ashamed to say that I’ve actually told a few students that they’d be great at science journalism, we need more good journalists, it’s difficult to make a living at it, but you might consider it as an option. Now I’m feeling like I’d been suggesting they consider a career in the exciting field of dumpster diving for pennies.

As you may recall, Richard Carrier is suing Freethoughtblogs, the Orbit, Skepticon, and a woman who objected to his behavior. We got an update from our lawyer over the weekend.

First, we got the schedule of court deadlines, and my heart skipped a few beats. We’ve got stuff scheduled for December and May of next year, and resolution of one point may not happen until August. Of next year. Yeesh. This stuff takes forever. The good news is that most of that time is spent waiting for a judge to make decisions on various concerns we’ve raised, and we’re not going to be shoveling money non-stop into a lawyer’s maw. But there will be some continuing expenses.

Another bit of amusing news is that Carrier’s lawyer discussed settling the case (I will emphasize, this was his lawyer and not Carrier himself) and tentatively suggested some possible terms: that we cover Carrier’s legal expenses so far, estimated at about $50K (heh, no way, we’re not going to fund his future SLAPP suits) and — hang onto your hats, gang, this was unbelievable — that we hand over contact information and communications from all individuals who’d ever said a bad thing about Richard Carrier.

My takeaway from this is that he’s finding us a tougher nut to crack then expected, so he’d like to find some softer targets to pick off. So it’s going to drag on a long time, but I’m heartened by the news that his lawyer is concerned. Ours is pretty damned confident.

It goes without saying that we’re not going to concede any money to him without a hard fight, and there’s no way we’re going to expose anyone else to his predatory behavior. Rather, we’re going to fight harder, and the long drawn out process is an opportunity to bleed him more. His reputation is going to be in tatters if he continues his misguided SLAPP suit.

We will still have legal expenses coming up. Help us out by donating, if you can! You can also help out Skepticon with a tax-deductible donation, although that doesn’t benefit the rest of us.

It’s the end of the first week of classes, and for some reason my stress levels are somewhere up in the stratosphere. I really don’t know why. I know exactly what I’m doing and have to do at work, I’ve got everything planned out, and the courses I’m teaching are familiar ones. But all week I’ve been feeling jittery and have been having a tough time getting any sleep — I got up at 3am this morning, and I’m starting the day in a state of exhaustion. This is the first week, and there are 15 more to go.

Not a good start. May have to take a vacation to recover next week. I can do that, right? Students won’t mind? Administration doesn’t care? Ugh. I think the only vacation I can take is to try and get more than 4 hours of sleep a night.

OK, I can do this. Deep breaths. The semester has launched, now if I can just keep my head above water, I’ll survive.

Also, the students seem nice.

I met with my first group of new student advisees this morning. I think we’ll keep them.

Also, totally irrelevant: we’re supposed to have begun the partial eclipse here in Morris, but unfortunately the sky is a uniform sheet of light gray cloudiness — I can’t even see the sun anywhere. Maybe the moon ate it.

Alex Jones visited downtown Seattle to record himself ranting on street corners about immigrants and evil antifa, and posted the video. Sadly, he later took it down because, I suspect, the response of the locals wasn’t very encouraging.

…former Seattle City Council candidate Michael Maddux approached Jones. Jones, in turn, asked him to talk. Maddux responded, “I don’t talk to racist fucks.”

Only a candidate? He needs to make this the centerpiece of his next campaign.

But my favorite part was this:

While ranting, Jones was confronted by BlöödHag singer Jake Stratton, who called out that Jones was “trash.” When Jones confronted him, Stratton threw coffee on him and taunted Jones before telling him he was going back to work, “where they have more coffee.”

We have reached peak Seattle: racists fucks getting doused with coffee by the lead singer of a two-umlaut band. I’ve got to get back and visit sometime.