Carl Zimmer is collecting examples of scientists with tattoos having a science theme. Got a tattoo? Send him a picture!
There is a weird comment about reluctance to show off these things if you don’t have tenure yet … I really don’t think skin art is one of the considerations in tenure decisions, though. At least it’s never come up in any of the reviews I’ve been involved in, although perhaps photos of artfully inked buttocks would enliven those often deadly dull tenure files.
It’s true — there probably isn’t another “PZ Myers” in the country…at least, that’s what the “Is this your name?” site says. Go ahead, plug your name in.
This is the most perfect description of me on the interwebs.
Pharyngula is a blog run by a science professor named P.Z Myers. Not only does Mr Myers believe in the fantasy of evilution, but every year he milks thousands and thousands of dollars out of the education system to indoctrinate children into his hateful cult. Like most liberal educators at America’s secular colleges, Myers lives a life of luxury at taxpayers’ expense—taking long vacations with his trophy wife, driving expensive foreign cars, dressing his children in exclusive fashions—all the while promoting his vengeful and deceitful ideology.
It could have been a little more complete, though, and mentioned my cosmopolitan lifestyle, my wastrel hedonism by day, and my mansion with the secret cave underneath, in which I lurk by night.
Despite all the flattery, though, I’m still not voting for Sam Brownback.
…you’ll find this site amusing: Churches ad hoc: a divine comedy.
I would love to have a plush Anomalocaris, but this site is all in Japanese! Anyone know of an American source?
Everyone has heard of the Boston Molasses Flood, right? That was horrific and weird, but it was outdone by the London Beer Flood: houses were demolished by the torrent, seven were dead by drowning, and one dead by alcohol poisoning. I am truly impressed by the opportunism and low standards of that one individual … if you witnessed a river of beer flowing down the street, would you scoop up enough of it to kill yourself with excess? I guess I’m finicky enough that I wouldn’t stoop to cup a single handful to drink.
Unless it were a really good beer, that is.
(Does this story have some connection to the recent release of the Simpson’s Movie? It ought to.)
First we had that Wisconsinite caught trying to have sex with roadkill in Minnesota. Then it was decreed that it is illegal to have sex with dead animals, which I’m sure has distressed many a leather fetishist. Now I learn that the three Wisconsin boys who conspired to dig up the body of a dead young woman in order to have sex with it can only be charged with misdemeanor attempted theft, because it is not illegal to commit necrophilia in Wisconsin. I guess necrophilia is a victimless crime, after all, and our disgust at the perpetrators isn’t sufficient cause for serious criminal charges.
Still, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in Wisconsin.
This is just a slideshow of album covers for the most annoying songs of all time, and it’s fairly safe to view—it doesn’t actually play any music clips. I was just thinking (like an evil mad scientist—occupational hazard, you know) that if someone did string together the musical hooks for all of those bad songs, you’d either get the most devastating earworm ever, or they’d all just cancel each other out and you might get an earworm cure. Anyone want to try the experiment?
(via that Chimpanzee Refuge)
This will not stand. It’s a site called Octopus Faith, and it’s a promotion for a Christian women’s speaker, and her premise is analogizing faith to an octopus.
Every octopus is an atheist, though … they told me so personally. And they are not amused.
Next time GrrlScientist comes to visit, we’re going to have to record what she says early in the morning, and then play it back ten times faster — I have a suspicion that we’ll hear birdsong.
At least, that’s the way this video art installation by Marcus Coates works. He had people sing strange little nonsense tunes (you can hear one here) that, when played back at a greater speed, recreated the songs of wild British birds. Why, if GrrlScientist had only talked a little faster, I’m sure the whole house would have sounded like an exotic tropical island inhabited by parrots!
