I’m not a car guy by any means. I don’t know much about the machines other than that the bigger the aptly named spoiler, the bigger the toolbag behind the wheel.
That said, I am at least aware of what’s considered decent. That’s why when I went to get my car rental on my past Vegas/Utah vacation and the Hertz guy gave me three options, I went with what I thought was a Nissan Altima. When my friend asked what kind of car an Altima was, I even said “Nissan.” But I apparently misheard and I guess the Hertz guy didn’t hear me because when I got out to the parking garage, I was dismayed to find this:
Again, I’m not a car guy. Not by any means. But I don’t say this from expert knowledge; it’s experience: the Kia Optima is a sissy piece of crap.
I have close to a month worth of Pharyngula through which to sift. On the one hand this is exciting because it’s so much material all at once. On the other hand, I have two weeks worth of classes to make up at the same time. And I know I’m going to read every bit of Pharyngula, damn it.
Quacking Christopher Maloney has tried to say my paper that was largely about him was hate mail, but I feel he does the term a disservice. I don’t have a personal grudge against the guy and since hate mail is all about the personal (not to mention the, uh, whole mail thing), it was not hate mail he received. As I’ve told him before: Chris, I don’t hate you. I hate woo.
I mention the infamous quack because, though tiresome as he is, he helps to illuminate a point I wish to make. Hate mail is something significant. In order to get it, someone has to really get under someone else’s skin. There has to be a true, seething, crashing vitriol behind it if we’re to honestly call it hate mail. Provided there isn’t a bag-o-crazy behind the veil, I’m forced to view hate mail as a badge of honor. Sadly, I’ve never received any. I’ve been left to wallow in the intellectually and morally and legally bankrupt threats of libel lawsuits (and a surprising number of times, really), occasionally peppered with whining from Andreas Moritz supporters/cancer promoters. Perhaps I need to come out in favor of seal clubbing; something drastic is needed. Until then, I watch with envy this clip of Dawkins:
I ran into an old friend not long ago (at least at the time I’m scheduling this post) and she told me about a website she created recently, Live Maine Music. The whole idea is that musicians will pay a small fee to get their shows, bands, whatever advertised and anyone can use the site as a handy reference for what’s coming up locally. I know most of my readers aren’t from my area, but it will be useful to a few out there once it gets going.
That science has had many, many great achievements hardly needs to be said. It has done so by leaving religion in the dust, ignoring all the (predominantly) Christian calls to believe in malarkey, to believe on faith alone. It is its method of examining evidence, of not merely trusting our intuitions and wants, that has propelled mankind in recent centuries. Until science took firm hold of the human mind, the world was stagnated under the pressure of religion.
I keep that in mind whenever I see a fantastic piece of the world. Whether it be a glacier-carved valley in Maine or a volcanic mountain in Africa, I cannot help but recognize a higher beauty in what I’m seeing thanks to science.
Of course, the Grand Canyon is a bit bigger than the Hoover Dam.
For those interested, I hiked down that trail in the the middle right of the shot. It pretty much ends right there, overlooking the Colorado River. (Also, the maps lies. It’s claimed to be an 8-12 hour hike. It isn’t. I was out in 5.5 hours, including a 30 minute break above the river.)
For the Sake of Science 