The only thing you need to know about Paddington in Peru

My wife and I went on a date to this movie last night. It was OK, not as amusing as the previous one, but you knew from the beginning that everything would be fine.

I had one moment of concern, and I wanted to warn you in case you also wanted to watch it, especially if you take any children with you. There is a scene with a spider, which they said was a purple tarantula, Avicularia purpurea, in which it was resting on an important crank that needed to be turned by a character who had admitted to disliking spiders, and there was a minute of tension. I feared the spider would be harmed, and there was a flurry of slapstick in which the spider ended up on the character’s face, no doubt an unpleasant and terrifying scene for the spider, but it ended with the crank being turned and then the tarantula being returned to its home with a kind word.

It was briefly stressful for me, but I’m happy to report that I was able to uncover my eyes and that the movie is safe for everyone to watch. Eight tarsal claws up.

Libraries rule, Amazon drools

I took a break and visited my local coffee shop for the first time in a few weeks, and I sat down with a cup and thought I’d read for a bit. I had my tablet with me, and I figured I could grab some quick, free reading from Kindle Unlimited, and I slurped in a sci-fi novel. I wasn’t making a big commitment to something complex, just an hour of light reading, and I figured anything would do.

To paraphrase part of the opening scene in this “book,” in which our intrepid hero has crashed on an alien world…

Fortunately, days on this planet were exactly 24 hours, just like Earth days, but unfortunately, hours were 100 minutes long.

Aaiieeee. My brains curdled in my skull. If I had a soul, it would have withered at this taste of Hell. I closed that sucker up and just finished my coffee while glaring at the wall.

This is a problem with Amazon. They have this program to pay “authors” for generating content for Kindle, but there is absolutely no quality control. There are people churning out multiple schlocky novels a week and dumping them on Kindle, creating a swirling cesspool of terrible writing, and the bad content is overwhelming the work of any sincere authors who are trying to get published, somehow. I’m not going to bother with Kindle Unlimited anymore.

I do have a better alternative. In my region, the Viking Library System provides e-book services through an app called Libby, and I can get good books at home or at the coffeeshop. Availability is significantly more limited that what Amazon offers, but I’m learning that drowning in dreck is not better than having to wait for a book I’ll appreciate to become available.

Also, did you know that public libraries positively impact community health and well-being? Take advantage of them before the Republicans close them all.

I bet you think this day is about him, don’t you?

It’s Darwin Day!

And it is sort of about him, sorta. It’s not like a Catholic saint’s feast day, or like a day idolizing a Communist revolutionary, or even like gushing over a pop star. It’s a day to recognize the good work one respected scientist did, and to recognize the centrality of an influential hypothesis that he pioneered, while still recognizing his flaws.

It’s not like we can get excited about one grand unifying principle on one particular day. After all, every day is evolution day, so Charles Darwin is just a nice focus point to justify a party.

That is a mighty fragile wrist

We have lubed up our mighty door, and it opens and closes much more easily now. Unfortunately, the damage is done, and my wrist is undergoing some fascinating physiological changes. It is now mottled and blotchy, and pain has increased. I may have to pop into the emergency room to get it splinted up, but This Is AMERICA, and a couple of tongue depressors and a pressure bandage might bankrupt me, if applied by a trained professional.

Unfortunately, I have to compose an exam for my genetics class today, and the ouchieness of typing these short paragraphs is making me dread the effort of typing four or five pages. Maybe I can get a wrist splint at the drugstore today?

That is a door, a mighty mighty door

This is the main door to my house.

It’s massive. What you can’t see is how thick and heavy it is. This is a door that would stand up to an assault by orcs armed with Grond. In the winter it’s the only door out of the house to a path cleared of snow, so you’re not getting in if we don’t let you.

The only problem is that not only is it heavy, but in the recent cold weather the shape of the frame has shifted and is clamping down on the door, so it massively resists movement. Right now, going out that door is a difficult enterprise, requiring that we grab that door knob and lean back with all our weight to pull it out; coming in requires turning the knob and bashing it with your shoulder. It really needs readjustment.

This prelude is to explain why I have sprained my wrist by trying to open a door. It was that door. Right now my wrist is swollen and bruised, changing colors — last night it was yellow and green, but today it’s more of a dark grey. Yes, it hurts. Why am I typing? I need to stop. Ouch. Bye.