Thursday, November 16, 2006
I used the phrase "disproportionately large penises" to successfully counter an argument in class today.
Being one of the only males in a women's studies class leads to some interesting situations, mostly involving me saying things to people that would normally get me struck and/or kicked out of other classes and most places of business.
This must be what anonymous commentors on the internet feel like.
By the way, I'm bringing Pants-Down Fridays back.
I'm also going to see Happy Feet. Likely I'll need to keep my pants on in the movie theater. For some reason, it's listed as a children's movie and I don't think many parents will appreciate the jarring social commentary of Pants-Down Friday. Not yet anyway.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
How many generations away are we from being cavemen?
Or so I used to think. The latest evidence (if genetic sequencing can be considered evidence (pipe down you CSI fans)) shows that Homo neanderthalensis and Homo sapiens differ in their genetic code by oh, about .5 percent.
So more like half a generation away from being caveman?
There's also some speculation about human-on-Neanderthal action. Yes, I mean knockin' dinosaur-skin boots. That's right, layin' down by the cave fire. And by that I'm implying they interbred. That is, science is implying they interbred. I'd heard them Neanderthal womens would get all-up-ons anything in that genus after half a clay mug of fermented berry juice but dang I can't really talk informed jive about a species that hasn't been around for 30 thousand years or so.
That would mean Jean Auel might have gotten something right in her books but I don't know if I'm convinced about the rest of her speculations. I should have realized something was amiss by the cover of her first book in the series which clearly shows a cave bear about to high-five another cave bear. The other cave bear isn't pictured, but it's obviously there because then who's the bear saying "W'sup?" to? A cave-badger or something? Unlikely.
As I go about my day tomorrow, I intend to be on the look-out for any half-Neanderthal ancestors. 'Specially those ladies.
I propose that the CDC be re-christened the Center for Disease Information Control.
Next, we still have to determine what color the new Ministry of Truth is going to be painted. There is an interesting proposal to forgo painting it at all and simply re-educate everyone to believe it's whatever color is politically expedient for the Administration.
Today was a good day, although my science fiction writing class thinks I'm dead.
I intend to return as soon as I finish my current story and concoct a new one about the astonishing events that led to my truancy.
I feel sleepy. That is welcome at this hour. This is Day Three of trying to distance myself from my ancient sloth ancestors, majestic though they are.
A nap is a small crime. In the wrong hands, it can be deadly.
NPR featured Damien Rice on their song of the day. After a few listens, I opened up an iTunes account and purchased the entire album. I think I did the right thing.
In HTML news, I think my template is as done as it's going to get. I've plugged in my links, comments, and sitemeter and I think that's it. The edge of the blog seems to have noticed something very interesting to its immediate right and is attempting to meander off in that direction. Let it, I say. We're not about strict enforcement of rules here.
It's a bit past my witching hour bedtime, and I must soon retire. I should mention the reason for my stricter nocturnal habits. Much like the week in which I vowed not to eat any foods that my pet rats would not (sorry, McDonald's fries,) this study suggests that erratic sleep patterns aren't super-happy-fun for the body. Thus, I am attempting to stabilize one spinning orb in my hanging mobile of self-destructive habits which incidently looks like this:
The green leopard represents malt liquor.