Since the announcement has gone public, I’ll mention it here: I get to be the Scientist Guest of Honor at ConFusion, a science-fiction convention in Ann Arbor, in January of 2007. I’ll be there with Howard Waldrop and Elizabeth Moon—I’ll be the nerd hardly anyone has heard of before. Sign up now before the rates go up!
Notice: I made it back! Yesterday was one of those days where too much is crammed into too short a time. I taught my 8:00 class, slalomed down icy roads to St. Cloud State University, gave two talks (an afternoon talk on my work on ethanol teratogenesis to the biology department, an evening philosophy colloquium on Intelligent Design), zoomed home (the roads had thawed, to my relief) and collapsed into bed at 11:30.
Anyway, it was all good fun, and there was a surprisingly large crowd at the ID talk…and they asked some pretty sharp questions. I’d do it all again. Ummm, but maybe after I’ve had a little time to recover—I’m still feeling a little baggy-eyed and leaden-brained this morning.
Alas, my mandate for today also includes traveling to St. Cloud State University to give two talks, one to the biology department in the afternoon and another to the philosophy department this evening. It looks like I get to be driving through the tail end of a snowstorm today, too.
It may be a little quiet here today. I haven’t forgotten everyone, I’m just going to be excessively busy.
Quite a birthday party yesterday, eh? Thank you to all the nice people who wished me well and for that roundup of birthday congratulations by grrlscientist. I’m blushing still.
It’s a dangerous business, having a birthday. Not only did my actual chronological age get exposed on the web for all to see (you people are geniuses to figure that out), but certain people used their detecting skills to break my cover, and post the first and only accurate photograph of me on the web. My anonymity is gone! Oh, well…at least everyone will understand why I get called an angry Darwinist.
The perfect world arrives in 300 years, apparently, as we learn in a Gernsbackian Mary-Sue. It’s entirely wrong, I’m afraid: Pharyngutopia arrived today, in a world in which Chris Clarke writes stories illustrated by Carl Buell that are all about me.
Everyone should be jealous.
Here it is, my 49th birthday, and it’s spring break. My wife’s at work, my daughter is at school, all the students are away, it’s dead quiet around here. How to celebrate? I know! I’m going to do some guest lectures at the local high school!
So that’s where I’ll be this morning, introducing high school kids to the subject of…evolution.
This Spring Break thing is overrated, I think. My usual day is so cleanly circumscribed and planned that I have a feeling of liberty: my PDA goes off to tell me I have a class or meeting, my little to-do list warns me of impending deadlines, and when I’m in between tasks, I at least have the illusion that it is my time.
Right now, my PDA says it is Spring Break, and will be Spring Break for several days to come, with nothing else in there. It is blank and unstructured. I am lost.
So today I polished up and submitted an in-house grant proposal, and then went to town on some substantial university paperwork I’ve been postponing (PDAs are also good for telling you that there is an immediate, high-priority thing you must do, making it easy to justify putting off the big nebulous jobs). 15 pages of bureaucratese, 12 copies, in the mail. I got about a centimeter of the evil box done. Since I’m home alone, I did the few dishes in the sink and am thinking about hitting up the grocery store and fixing a respectable dinner.
I don’t feel very relaxed.
Is it true that we’re supposed to take it easy on vacations?
Sad news: Carl Buell and Hank Fox have lost a good friend, Tito.
Dogs are easy animals to get to know, sometimes too easy. I haven’t been able to bear the thought of having a dog again since the day, when I was 12, that I stepped off the school bus one afternoon to find my dog, Snoop, crushed and broken by the side of the road. At least it sounds like Tito had a good life and a dignified end.
Carl has put up a short photo essay and testament to Tito.
OK, I should balance my non-random ten with a random ten, so here they are:
| Somewhere In Texas | The Raveonettes |
| Strange Fruit | Billy Holiday |
| Three Bikes in the Sky | Tangerine Dream |
| Woman Of Heart And Mind | Joni Mitchell |
| Us | Regina Spektor |
| Black Milk | Eighth From The Egg |
| Tanaka Sound | Saian Supa |
| Truth is (featuring Robert Smith) | Tweaker |
| O Skeewiff where art thou? (man of constant sorrow) | Skeewiff |
| All Apologies | Nirvana |
| Sacala | Don Omar, Wisin Y Yandel & Hector |
| You Don’t Know What Love Is | Chucho Valdez |
These things have a way of snowballing…Luis kindly sends me a couple of Roy Zimmerman CDs, I make a comment about it, and next thing you know, the friendly people at Meta4Records send me the other albums he has made. I’ve got the complete collection now! So I created a Zimmerman playlist in iTunes, set it to shuffle, and present to you the first ten.
| “Acid On Picture Day…” | Roy Zimmerman | Comic Sutra |
| You’re Pretty | Roy Zimmerman | Comic Sutra |
| Hula Yule | Roy Zimmerman | Peacenick |
| My TV | Roy Zimmerman | Homeland |
| Dick Cheney | Roy Zimmerman | Security |
| T.M.I. | Roy Zimmerman | Comic Sutra |
| Vergangenheitsbewaeltigung | Roy Zimmerman | Security |
| Saddam Shame | Roy Zimmerman | Security |
| Think Different | Roy Zimmerman | Homeland |
| Nothing But The Best | Roy Zimmerman | Peacenick |
These CDs are incredibly healthy. You know how, when you read the news about the latest atrocities from the Republicans, and your blood pressure starts to rise, and you’re turning purple, and you’re starting to shred the newspaper or scream at the TV? That’s probably not good for you. What you can do instead is play a little Zimmerman, and he’ll make fun of the Bushites for you—you’ll still feel peevish and have a desire to do something about it, but the humor will take the edge off. It’s going to add years to my life.
As an added bonus, playing liberal folkie music like this around Republicans makes them turn a choleric purple and grind their teeth—if it doesn’t kill them slowly, at the least you’ll know they’re going to spend their declining years with inflamed gums and a diet they have to suck through a straw.
