It is not a good day

Here I am, deep in the grading mines, and my laptop has decided to expire on me, with intermittent periods of constant crashing interspersed with lulling sessions in which all is working smoothly. I never know when it’s going to behave itself or throw little electronic temper tantrums, the screen going black and then rebooting itself repeatedly.

Grades are all backed up on multiple media, of course, so nothing is lost, but updating those grades has become unreliable, and I’ve also lost several things I was writing to laptop hissy-fits. So I’m reduced to the iPad, which is simply not as good for long writing sessions. Updates here might get sporadic and weird.

The only real solution is that Mary is getting me this for Christmas: Apple MacBook Pro 15.4-Inch Laptop with Retina Display and Force Touch – Intel Quad-Core i7 2.8GHz, 1TB Flash Storage, 16GB DDR3 Memory, AMD Radeon R9 M370X Graphics with 2GB Memory. Isn’t she nice? Unfortunately, there goes all the slack in our budget for the next few years, and also I’m going to have to wait a week to get it.

I’m warning you, I might just lose my mind for a while. How do people function without a big slab of splendid silicon supplementing their existence?

It was a test

exam

My classes are all done! My last thing today was to give my cell bio class an exam on DNA replication, transcription, translation, and gene regulation, and whoa, were they ever a hangdog, shell-shocked bunch trailing out of the classroom afterwards.

Now it’s my turn to retreat with all of these papers and get everything graded over the weekend. We’ll see who is hangdog and shell-shocked by Sunday night!

Superficial impression of a genre

A music festival called the Bay Area Deathfest does not appeal to me at all — I suspect there will be a lot of croaking and howling and thrashing guitars, and everyone will be dressed in black. But I could be wrong. My sons both listen to music like that, and while most of it makes me want to back away slowly, at least some of it is…interesting.

But I have to say that I get an impression of uniformity from the festival poster. It seems that almost every band in this genre has to have a completely illegible logo. The top two bands are “Cattle Decapitation” and “Psycroptic”, which I only know because I read the text of the web site. I’m not going to try to decipher the rest.

deathfest

Except “Party Cannon”. Way to go against the expectations of the masses, Party Cannon!

Cry, Danny, cry

holtzclaw

Daniel Holtzclaw has been found guilty and is going to be in jail for a long, long time. He wept when the verdict was announced because, as a coward and a bully, his crimes have finally caught up with him.

He was a bad cop who used his authority to prey on women who had no recourse to justice.

By allegedly focusing on poor black women with criminal records, Holtzclaw kept himself from being caught—until he met J.L., a black woman who was just passing through the neighborhood he patrolled. “Not only is this individual stopping women who fit a profile of members of our society who are confronted rightly or wrongly by police officers all the time,” said the [Oklahoma County] prosecutor, [Gayland] Gieger. “He identifies a vulnerable society that without exception except one have an attitude for ‘What good is it gonna do? He’s a police officer. Who’s going to believe me?’”

Are there any good cops left? And what is wrong with our society? It’s sick that we have a whole segment, entire neighborhoods, where we assume that the poor residents are so deserving of mistreatment that we police them with predators who feel contempt and hatred for the people they are supposed to protect and serve.

And this disgusts me.

During the trial, defense attorneys tried to challenge the victims’ credibility by emphasizing their criminal records to the jury and asking about their past drug use. Holtzclaw’s family also accused the victims of fabricating their stories.

So if the police harass and abuse a neighborhood for years, that becomes an argument that the police can’t be harassing and abusing the people there because they’re all criminals? There’s a cycle of state-sanctioned toxicity that has to be stopped.

But for now, it’s good to see Holtzclaw shaking and sobbing. I think of all the girls and women who were shaking and sobbing and despairing of justice after he attacked them, and see maybe a tiny bit of justice trickling back.

Friday Cephalopod: Our scouts have been sighted!

We’ll have to advance the invasion plan. A scout squad of paper nautiluses have been exposed off the coast of California.

Several of the scouts bravely tried to wrest the camera from the spy, but failed. We’re going to have to send some muscle to accompany the reconnaissance patrols from now on — all we needed was a few Humboldt squid to have been able to completely suppress this exposure.

Puny humans. Nothing will stop the massive Cephalopod Armada!

I can’t tell whether it’s uphill or downhill from here

Tomorrow is the last day of the semester. I’m giving an exam, lab reports are due, as are term papers in another class. I’m giving my final exam on Wednesday. I’m done literally teaching until January, but I can’t figure out whether I’m on the easy slide through, or whether I’m about to smack into a wall very hard.

Cynic that I am, I’m guessing the latter.

Our Supreme Court: a disgrace

The court is hearing the absurd case of Abigail Fisher, a white student who claims she was denied admission to the University of Texas at Austin because of affirmative action. It’s a case that should have been dismissed for pure patent ridiculousness, but now we know why it’s been allowed before the highest court in the land: because Antonin Scalia is a fucking racist. He wants to argue that maybe black students are just a little slower and less intelligent than the white students. Send them to lesser schools, instead.

There are those who contend that it does not benefit African­-Americans to get them into the University of Texas where they do not do well, as opposed to having them go to a less ­advanced school, a less ­­ a slower­ track school where they do well. One of, ­one of the briefs pointed out that most of the black scientists in this country don’t come from schools like the University of Texas… They come from lesser schools where they do not feel that they’re pushed ahead in classes that are too fast for them…I’m just not impressed by the fact that the University of Texas may have too fewer. Maybe it ought to have too fewer. And maybe some, you know, when you take more, the number of blacks, really competent blacks admitted to lesser schools, turns out to be less. I don’t think it stands to reason that it’s a good thing for the University of Texas to admit as many blacks as possible.

The American Supreme Court, ladies and gentlemen.

Quantum Harris

Someone please collapse the waveform! Marek Sullivan explains how Sam Harris gets away with it: he simply says many contradictory things that can’t possibly all be true, so that when he’s accused of being a right-wing neo-con he can just point to some paragraph or disclaimer that makes no sense relative to the sense of his essay, and presto! He’s shown that you’ve misinterpreted him!

It’s a good trick. Too bad so many atheists have been gulled by it.

The temper of the nation

It’s ugly, and I blame the Republicans, especially the Tea Party and Trump fans, the latest incarnation of our nativist know-nothings. The Minneapolis Star Tribune has run a personal account of an encounter with one of those assholes.

It was my first Minnesota Vikings game and my first NFL game. I am not new to football, though. As an undergrad at Boston College, I went to many Eagles games, and I played junior varsity football. I knew what to expect on the field. I was excited, and, as I found my seat, I thought about bringing my family to a game in the new stadium.

What I didn’t expect was for a man to push aside other people and point his finger in my face, demanding to know if I was a refugee. He needed to make sure I wasn’t a refugee, he said. There was anger in his face and vehemence in his accusation.

I was stunned. He didn’t know anything about me. We were complete strangers. But somewhere in his mind, all he saw was a terrorist, based on nothing more than the color of my skin. He was white, and I wasn’t. He didn’t see anything else.

He didn’t know that I have lived in Minnesota for the past four years, that I was born and raised in New York and that the words “Never Forget” may mean more to me than to him. He didn’t know that when I went home and my children jumped on top of me and asked “How was the game?” that I’d be holding back tears as I told them about racism instead of touchdowns. He didn’t know that I am an attorney and the director of the Refugee and Immigrant Program at the Advocates for Human Rights.

Let’s not whitewash this any more. I used to think islamophobia was a silly concept, that thinking Islam was a wretched, stupid belief was entirely rational. But what I’m seeing over and over is that rejection of a false belief is largely a pretense for many of these people, and really they’re just looking for an excuse to rage against people of Middle Eastern descent.

But here’s an antidote: a British soldier who lost a leg in Iraq writes about Muslim people as complicated human beings. We need to prioritize those voices over those of resentful bigots at football games and Trump rallies.