I just did an interview about science blogging for An Kathab, “Al Jazeera’s weekly high-tech news magazine”. Look for it to be broadcast on the 8th, 9th, and 10th of July, and to appear on youtube shortly thereafter.
This is so going to confirm right-wing histrionics, isn’t it?
I really need to learn a good collection of creative German cuss words. It’s been a harrowing, overlong day and a half of travel, with late flights leading to missed connections leading to long periods standing in lines with Germans, who were all very nice and helpful, except that I learned that even if your flight is leaving in ten minutes they will politely tell you that no, you cannot move to the front of the line. And now at last, though, I have finally arrived at my lovely funky hotel in Lindau, and it’s a beautiful afternoon, and I’m going to take a pleasant walk down to the lake, and maybe I don’t need those rude German words after all.
I do need a shower first, though. Running through airports tends to generate a bit of musk.
It took a while to convince the Trophy Wife to let me take pictures of her feet and post them on the internet. Wait, that’s not as kinky as it sounds! She’s been loafing about in these nice socks she was sent by our very own Patricia, OM, using yarn colors based on the Spanish Shawl nudibranch, and I just think they need to be acknowledged — but maybe you haven’t noticed, but she likes to avoid the whole interwubbley fanfare. Finally, though, I caught her with her toasty warm tootsies atop an ottoman and snapped this shot, so there you are: beautiful socks and a rare image of the Trophy Wife.
Thanks, Patricia!
I’m getting a sudden surge of hate mail, and most of it seems to revolve around the Daniel Hauser case. I assume something I wrote has been reposted somewhere frequented by morons.
Anyway, these are a bit weird. Some people really hate chemotherapy, I think, because it has them extremely upset. So upset that I’ve put some examples below the fold, because they use very naughty language.
The latest issue of Zebrafish, a specialty journal to which my university does not subscribe, is dedicated entirely to using zebrafish in education. I want it. I want the whole issue. Unfortunately, the publisher wants to charge me $29 per article to get the PDFs, which is not going to happen. Anyone out there with an institutional subscription want to help me out? If you don’t feel like sending me the whole collection, I’m particularly interested in the articles by Bagatto, D’Costa, McKeown, and Schmoldt.
Now watch, my mailbox is going to be flooded, isn’t it? Once upon a time, I could make these kinds of requests and get a moderate response, but nowadays…well, at least you know how badly I want these papers.
I got the papers! Thanks very much all, you can stop sending them to me now. Much appreciated, now I have to go read for a while.
We have two cats, and one of them, Merle, is a shaggy long-haired black beast. And I mean, really shaggy, and shedding constantly. Our first defense against burglary, I think, is the thick clouds of cat fur floating through the atmosphere in our house.
Well, last week, I had enough. I opened the freezer in our kitchen and discovered that all the ice cubes were matted with black hairy clumps. It was disgusting. I’ve told Merle over and over that if she’s going to sneak into the good Scotch behind my back, fine, but she’s going to drink it neat, like a civilized person. So now I’ve taken care of her.
Arrr, ’twas a fine weekend of pillage and carouse, and now we have returned to our lair, where we can gloat over our treasure. Here it be, a small portion of the swag we’ve won.
I would like to thank the producers of Expelled and Bill Donohue for inspiring the American Humanists to toss me that shiny silver bauble, and me maties all around the world for the vast pile of cephalopodic geegaws growin’ in me hold.
Arrr.
Here I am, receiving the Humanist of the Year award from Jennifer Bardi, of the Humanist magazine.
The picture is a bit murky, but trust me, it’s very pretty and sniny.
I’ve been invited to the 68th Annual Conference of the American Humanist Association, along with Barbara Forrest and Neil deGrasse Tyson and a few other luminaries whose presence make me feel overweening, so we’re flying off on Thursday. Now often on these trips, I try to make some time for some informal get together at some point, but this one has a very busy schedule, and I’m not sure when I’m going to be able to escape. About the only time it looks like I’ll be able to get away, assuming the plane isn’t late, is Thursday evening after we arrive.
So here’s the deal: I’m planning to show up at an Irish pub near the hotel, Rúla Búla, around 8ish Thursday evening. This location was suggested by John Lynch (note new digs), of course, so who can turn down an Irish pub recommended by an Irishman? I’m also hoping to drag along the Trophy Wife and the Trophy Daughter, who is coincidentally working in an Arizona lab this summer, so if nobody else can show up, I’ll at least have family and Guinness to keep me company.
Otherwise, maybe I’ll see you at the meetings!
