When last I mentioned Terry Pratchett, it was unfortunate news: he’s been afflicted with embuggerance. Now, though, there is cause for some jubilation, since a certain godless humorist and fantasy author has been awarded a knighthood for his services to literature. Three cheers for an honor well deserved!
He also has a new book, which I’ll have to pick up. He must not be too deeply embuggered.
Also, Jolly Squidmas! Calculating Newtonmas! Even Happy Holidays!
Now get off the computer and go spend some time with the loved ones. That’s what this day is all about, you know.
The New Humanist Advent Podcasts continue, with entries from Marcus Brigstocke, Mark Steel, Ann Druyan, Josie Long, Tim Minchin, Philip Jeays, Dara O’Briain, and in a grand finale, Richard Dawkins. I know, it’s a little early — you purists can wait to open the last little door.
If you haven’t been keeping up with the New Humanist Advent Podcasts, there are many new ones since I last mentioned them: Ben Goldacre, Martin Rowson, Chris Addison, Ben Miller, Andrew Collins, , Eddie Izzard, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, and Laurie Taylor. I do have to mention that Eddie Izzard totally stole my suggestion of celebrating Isaac Newton, and turned it into a weird ramble about how intelligent people have bad parties where there is no bathing and no shagging going on. I think I am horribly offended, even if it is true that very few parties that I’ve attended have involved bathing or shagging. Perhaps I’m not really offended, but just moderately worried that I’ve missed out on a lot of very fun parties.
She had a good run, although part of her life was marred by mental illness and religion. Now an icon of the sexual revolution is gone.
I’m rather curious to know how many readers here have never heard of her before — this could make me feel very old.
Mike Huckabee is a smug little hypocrite who tries to defend his opposition to gay marriage by arguing that a) it’s traditional (never mind that marriage has changed greatly since biblical times), b) it’s natural and necessary for procreation (ignoring the fact that a childless marriage is still regarded as a marriage), and c) that you can’t redefine the magic word “marriage” (yeah, like language never evolves). Jon Stewart makes him squirm over his position.
This wretched ignoramus will be running for president again in 2012, you know it. I know I’ll be struggling to suppress nausea when he does.
A few people are trying to put together some events for CONvergence, the SF convention that will be taking place 2-5 July in Minneapolis (I’ll be going, too). They need volunteers to help with organizing — it’s a bit tentative right now, so I can’t give out all the details, but if you write to me I can connect you with the bigwigs and tell you a little more.
I’ll believe them when I see them. Greg Laden says we should all vote on this idea: that we ought to rather thoroughly revamp how science is taught in this country by setting national science standards on the teaching of evolution. I’d like to see it if it could be done well, but I predict that such an initiative would set up some awesome squealing from the creationists…which is another reason to support it.
The temperatures here in Morris are dropping into the single digits °F, snow is on the ground and probably not going away until the spring, and the lakes are all frozen over — we spotted our first icehouse on Lake Minnewaska last weekend. So what does that mean? I’m flying south this weekend, to Orlando, Florida!
I’ll be speaking at the University of Central Florida on Friday, 5 December, at 7pm in Communications Building 101. Afterwards, we tentatively plan to adjourn to the Lazy Moon for refreshments — we can’t be certain because it’s a pizza place in a college town, so we may not be able to squeeze in, depending on how many show up. I’ll post an update if we have to move elsewhere.
On Saturday, 6 December, I’ll be speaking at Rollins College, at 6:30pm in Crummer Hall. I don’t have specific post-babbling plans there, yet, so perhaps someone can suggest something.
I fly away, mission accomplished, on Pearl Harbor day, that Sunday. I have to be a little concerned, though, that the shock of traveling from Florida to frigid Minnesota might be a bit dangerous. I’ll step off the plane in my flip-flops and bermudas and Hawaiian shirt and shatter from the shock. That means this might be the last time anyone gets to see me, so you better show up.
