This is the table in my office. Those two stacks of paper in front are a) lab reports and b) a midterm exam. I will be parking myself at that table tomorrow, and not leaving until one of them is done. Then I shall do likewise on Sunday and complete the other.
And when I get overwhelmed, I’ll play with my toys in the background.
If you think you can handle the truth, you should go listen to this song about how awful John Scalzi is. I can vouch for one disclosure in the song from personal experience: he will eat all your french fries. I went out to dinner with him once, and not a single fry passed my lips. I’m pretty sure it was all his fault.
It was a good sushi place, though, so I can say that in his favor.
That’s good news, right? I can’t be sure because the one we’ve had is an independent-minded troublemaker. Anyway, #2 Son Connlann has announced his engagement to Ted Bear. No date has been set yet — there are a few hurdles to leap over before an American serviceman can marry a Korean citizen, but eventually…and then Mary and I are planning to fly over and visit South Korea for the wedding.
Maybe they’ll schedule it to fall during the Chicken and Beer Festival?
I’m at the airport, soon to rise up into the sky and spend a few hours hurtling along at several hundred miles an hour, which is awesome, except for the part where I land in Missouri, which is not so awesome, except for Skepticon.
I’ll be looking for you there, and will be very disappointed if I don’t find you.
I’ve been grading. Grading grading grading. I’ve been crankily making illegible red scrawls with lots of exclamation points on lab reports, and it’s been a stressful couple of days. The pile is cleared now, though, but much as it would be appropriate to immediately down a couple of pints of whisky, I still have a lecture to give, and two lab sections to crack a whip over, before I am free of immediate obligations.
I have brilliantly managed to clear the deck before I fly off to Skepticon tomorrow, at least. And I shall return these bloodily reddened reports to the students today, and they will spend their weekend making corrections while I mingle happily with a crowd of interesting people for a few days.
And then they get their revenge when I return and they re-inflict their papers on me next week for re-grading. But they will be perfect papers then, after all of my suggestions/demands are implemented, and instead of red slashes I’ll be drawing little green happy faces on their papers, and we shall all be full of joy and contentment.
Maybe I should stock up on heart and smiley face stickers for the next round. We can still give those out in college, right?
And we can estimate statistically how it’s going to happen!
It’s odd, but all the human experiences that are genuinely universal are also things that we have difficulty discussing. Birth is something you do when you’re an illiterate ignoramus of a baby, and you can’t talk; and death is something nobody can discuss after they’ve experienced it, so we’ve got this little industry of people who make up stories about an afterlife. We need more people who are willing to talk honestly about the facts of death — so here’s an interview with Sarah Troop, one of those people willing to do just that.
Sarah Troop is a museum curator and historian who writes and recreates historical and cultural recipes for her blog, Nourishing Death, which examines the relationship between food and death in rituals, culture, religion, and society. She is also co-founder of Death & the Maiden, which explores the relationship between women and death by sharing ideas and creating a platform for discussion and feminist narratives. She is the executive director of The Order of the Good Death and serves as the Social Media Editor for Death Salon. Sarah is also an author and advocate for improved care and support of families experiencing infant and child death and was a contributing author to the companion book for the Emmy nominated film, Return to Zero.
It’s exactly the kind of thing you need to read first thing in the morning. It woke me up, anyway!
Take a tour of Ben Carson’s house, and you’ll be laughing too.
Would you believe he has a portrait of himself with Jesus on the wall?
The sad thing is that a lot of people will see Carson’s monument to vanity and kitsch as tasteful, and will resent anyone who does the pointing and laughing.
I haven’t done one of these in a while, largely because a) that Caturday nonsense has faded, and b) everyone now knows that cats are both wicked and full of derp, so it’s redundant. But this morning I stumbled across a fine collection of photos of cats the slaves to toxoplasmosis won’t enjoy, so I thought I’d share an example.
I laughed and laughed. I thought about showing it to our cat, but I was afraid I’d get clawed.
Don’t tell our cat I mentioned this. Please don’t. Help us. She’s in our house right now. Gotta go. She’s watching me.
My students are turning in lab reports later today. That means…I’ll have to read them all, critically. Imagine how much fun I’m going to have tomorrow! No, don’t, I don’t want you to start crying.
And I just realized that I haven’t even started preparing my talk for Skepticon, and I’ll be there in lovely Springfield, Missouri at this time next week.. Wait, no, I always wait until the last minute to throw that together, so no problem. I’ll just do it on the flight.
No! Hey! I don’t have to give a talk at all this year — I’ll probably finish that Ann Leckie novel on the flight. And then I’ll just relax with the happy enthusiastic people attending the conference, and I’ll be one of them! I expect to see you there, and we’ll spend long days and late nights talking pleasantly together. And I’ll have all the lab reports graded, and we can heal all the scars together.
Remember when Rupert Murdoch and 21st Century Fox bought National Geographic and we all gasped in horror and thought, “Well, there goes a distinguished brand,” and they went, “No, no, it’s all good, this infusion of cash will give us stability,” and we all gave them the suspicious side-eye and said we’ll wait and see? Remember that? I wouldn’t want you to have forgotten, since the latest news from National Geographic is all…
Employees across the National Geographic Society came into work Tuesday knowing only that they could expect “information about your employment status,” based on a vague email they had received from the organization’s president on Monday. By late morning, dozens of them had been laid off, including photo editors, an online science news writer, members of the TV channels, members of the digital NG Kids team, members of the legal team, administrative employees, and one higher-up position in graphics, multiple people who work there told me. It’s not yet clear how many layoffs there will be in total.
And they’re all biggest layoff in NatGeo’s history…
The National Geographic Society of Washington will lay off about 180 of its 2,000-member workforce in a cost-cutting move that follows the sale of its famous magazine and other assets to a company controlled by Rupert Murdoch.
The reduction, the largest in the organization’s 127-year history, appears to affect almost every department of the nonprofit organization, including the magazine, which the society has published since just after its founding in 1888. It also will affect people who work for the National Geographic Channel, the most profitable part of the organization. Several people in the channel’s fact-checking department, for example, were terminated on Tuesday, employees said.
Rupert Murdoch has a different definition of stability than I do, I guess.
Oh, and do you remember the fussy prudes who declared that my presence was going to poison the dignified reputation of NatGeo? I am amused.
No, wait, I am horrified.
