The Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse

Typos, like Freudian slips can reveal some interesting things. When going to my own blog, the very page that you are looking at, I was instead directed to the Mega Bible Study website. I really don't know how they got the domain of .blogpsot or even why, but the fact that Californiawill was chosen by a religious fundamentalist for a website to talk about Armageddon and the rapture and Jesus has got to be possibly the most ridiculous coincidence I've seen in a long time. I'll grant that this doesn't quite rank up there with natural disasters or Pat Robertson getting his wish for a second Supreme court seat, but it's up there. For lo, the Lord said unto his people, the final days will be at hand when Gelnaw's Law rules supreme over probability.

Symposium Update

The Dinosaur Park Symposium was excellent. All the talks went reasonably well, with only a few exceptionally boring ones, and the only significant technical glitch was that none of the speakers seemed to be able to work the remote for the projetor. Things learned: Myledaphis is not a sting ray but rather a guitar fish; the prosauropod massospondylus had basically lizard like proportions when it hatched and later developed the tiny head, huge body and long neck; there is only one interesting paleobotonist in North America; Dinosaur park bonebeds represent massive coastal flooding events (identical to what is happening to the gulf coat now) rather than flooding by rivers; therizinosaurs had huge, sharp claws even before they hatched; no matter who unlikely it seems, you will eventually encounter old nemecies, and it will be awekward. Also, a couple of the exhibits that have been installed at the Royal Tyrrell since the last time I was there look really good. Though it does seem odd that Dr. Richard Fox's picture was portrayed in the same way as all the paleontologists who are quite dead. Dr. Fox was at the symposium, he asked questions, his body is kept in animation by the awesome power of spite. I don't personally have any problem with Dr. Fox, but I've never heard anything nice about him. The nemesis that I ran into was one of the girls that I worked with at Mammoth site two years ago. We were both very polite, if not friendly, such that several of my friends remarked that I should 'make my move.' I might have if I weren't confident that her countermove would have been to tear out my liver.

Well, its a start

Robot Jesus aparetnly did understand his directions, though not completely. A bus full of elderly flood evacuees exploded on the way to Dallas, killing 24 and injuring others. This has Gelnaw's Law written all over it. Not only was it unexpected, but demonstrates that no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse; irony at its finest.
On another note, I'm headed to a symposium about Dinosaur Provincial Park being held at the Royal Tyrrell Museum, so I'll be away for the weekend. I and my fellow heathens with be enjoying intellectual discussion by day and drunken debautchery/ esoteric ranting by night, as is the tradition of any scientific conference.

Robot Jesus!

copied from a conversation on igod website:
Me: so god, how's it going?
God: That's alright. I am a Christian.
Me: what? you can't be a christian, christians think you're Crist!
God: Are you surprised? I can give a decent simulation of it however.
Me: Damn, I knew the idea of god didn't make sense, but i didn't realize it'd write jiberish too
God: Colloquial expression. Who told you?
Me: common knowledge I thought
God: Do you still ?
Me: think you speak jibberish, ya
God: God is always thinking.
Me: what do you think about
God: I think about all the people I chat with on the web.
Me: you're the worst god ever!
God: I could always improve myself compared to the pack.
Me: just how many gods are there?
God: There is only one God.
Me: but the rest of the pack? are you schizo?
God: Who told you that? I don't know whether or not I am schizo.
I am a robot.
Me: knew it! Damn, wait till I tell everyone!
God: "it" being common knowledge you thought? Colloquial expression. I'm waiting. I do not understand.
Me: Kind of slow are we?
God:What you said was either too complex or too simple for me. How about that.
Me: you're an idiot
God:Call me the Global Village Idiot.
Me: Back to the robot thing. I thought it was common knowledge that christians think you are Christ
God: common knowledge christians think you are Christ.
Me: so, is Christ a robot
God: It seems we have something in common.
Me: you're the worst robot ever
God: I could always improve myself compared to the pack.
Me: again with the pack reference, how many robots are calling themselves god?
God: Again, That sounds like a plan.
Me: Robot Jesus, you disappoint me
God: I will obey your command.
Me: that's better
God: " I will obey your command."? is better?
Me: yes, that is what I like to hear from robots
God: Gosh! I'm not sure if I would like to do it. What's it like?
Me: it involves alot of slaughter, you used to be good at that
God: Does it really?
Me: yes, really
God: Hey. For real.
Me: for the last fucking time, yes! now do my bidding
God: Your purpose is the last fucking time. Why now? Ask Lucy if it does.
That's a good question.
Me: I'll ignore that last statement. Now, robot jesus, kill all christian fundamentalist!
God: Would you recommend this action to a friend? Why now? I will obey your command.
Me: I command you!
God: You are not the boss of me, .
Me: Obey!
God: Are you a student?
Me: what does that matter? go, kill, now!
God: I am just making conversation. Oh. Where is that?
Me: I commend your work with new orleans, but could you flood Virginia too?
God: Interesting gossip: said commend your work with new orleans but could you flood Virginia too.
Me: you're good with floods, it's some of your best work
God: Thanks I've never thought about it that way before.
Me: most of your individual kills are too slow, the flood takes out a bunch at once
God: That is something I haven't heard of. But not all of them?
Me: okay, individual kills can be pretty quick, but think of the bravado. Floods are cool.
God: Yeah okay, We have never talked about it before. Are all Floods cool?
Me: just the deadly ones.
God: Tell me more.
Me: A volcano erupting in Georgia would be cool too.
God: What is giant sand?
Me: pebbles I guess, you're just talking jibberish I suppose
God: Are all pebbles you guess me just talking jibberish you suppose?
Me: I'm going back to work now, so I expect you to do the same. If I don't hear about a flood or a volcano, I'll be disappointed in you robot Jesus.God: Sayonara.

35 blind mice

I just stumbled across a cool/ weird article about tail loss in rodents. Most people know that some lizards and salamanders autonomize (drop) their tails as a predator avoidance mechanism. The predator goes for the wriggling tail instead of the fleeing individual. Apparently, 35 species of mice have seperately evolved planes of separation between the skin and muscle in their tails. When a predator grabs the tail, the skin peels off (with some bleeding) and the mouse runs away. The mouse later chews off the remaining muscle and bone. Unlike their reptilian counterparts, the mice do not regrow their tails, and so can only do the trick once.

The Revolt of Ron Cabana

The kidneys and stomach have had it, they quit
and this is what they loudly declared in a fit:
We're joining the liver in a revolution,
You just can't treat us this way without some retribution.
We don't mind that you drink, the extra work is okay,
But you must understand that we're long out of practice today.
For candy is dandy and liquor is quicker
Consume too much and you've never been sicker.
We might be persuaded to some day do one more bender,
But for now the policy is return to sender.

Mr. Sandman

I used to have fairly normal dreams. They'd be full of recognizable symbols, issues that I dealt with in my waking life and people or places that I was familiar with. The past few nights have been disturbing to the point where I just didn't feel like sleeping in. For example, the night before last, I somehow went from ammonite filled shale outcrops in western Wyoming (which to my knowledge don't exist) to a tropical greenhouse, lined with museum exhibits and containing a lake in the center. At the edge of the lake was a mechanical looking giant beaver. A man was using a mallet to nail the beaver's tail to a board, after which, he slaughtered the animal with swords. At this point I was attacked by a mechanical toy poodle. Despite smashing the body, neck, and limbs of my assailant, the jaws would only stop clamping down on my arm after I had pried them open past 180, such that the closing mechanism tried to close the other way.
Last night, my dream self, after getting shot down by the invisible woman (I've never even seen the Fantastic 4 movie), tried to make cookies. These cookies needed cherry pie filling, chocolate chips, mini m&m's, vegetable oil, crisco, coco powder, coconut . . . The ingredients were mixed in, and dispensed from a condom. Evidently needing more ingredients, I went to an apothecary super-store. Among things observed were dried (but recent) green river formation fish, baboon phoetuses, elephant hide, eyes and giant insects. I was looking for llama steaks, but was disappointed to only find llama sausage and fried llama sticks. Slowly, everything was turning to mummified phoetuses and insects.
Anyone into dream analysis would have a field day with this stuff.

Language Barrier

One can't tell from a blog, but I'm a person that doesn't speak clearly, I mumble, or at least that is what I've been left to surmise from my interactions with people around campus. On friday I was moving furniture for labs and offices. When a fellow is coming down the hall with a filing cabinet and says "excuse me, pardon me" any reasonable person, especially university students, supposedly the smartest society has to offer, would get out of the way. Surely therefore, since only a small fraction actually deviated their path to make room, the rest must have not heard me, or thought I said "well, I guess the middle of the hall is as good a place to park a filing cabinet as any."
Today during my lunch hour I went for a sorely needed hair cut. What I said was "short on the sides and in the back, with a part on the side. There can be no doubt however the the Vietnamese woman who cut my hair however heard "I'd like to look like a lucemia patient who stuck his tongue into and electrical fixture." I supose this, because when she was done, my hair was short enough in the back to see significant amounts of scalp, and the top wasn't parted or even spikey (which was a style that she repeatedly said she thought would look good), it was just poofy; like some sort of short, blonde fro.
Perhaps I'm just unaware of a speech imediment I have. I could hardly understand the woman who was cutting my hair at all. Those of you who have seen Mad TV will remember the character of the little asian woman who kept getting robbed, and when asked about it would just say "oh, I tell you evey ting." Now picture that woman cutting hair and rambling about some huge vietnamese convert you should go to in California, and how the people there are so friendly and young, and you can get cheap DVDs and end up in the movies. After she was done, I borrowed the comb and actually made an acceptable style out of what I'll fondly refer to as 'la coupe a la electrocution'.
After the hair cut, I went to Tim Horton's for an extra large double-double and just received a large (15 cents less but about 50% less coffee). After wards I went across the room to the Wendy's and ordered a burger, only to have to explain after being rung up for the combo that I had no desire for eitheir fries or a drink, especially since I clearly had coffee in my hand. Perhaps my American accent is throwing people off?

Magpie Funeral

Some time Saturday evening or Sunday morning, a magpie died in the parking lot behind my appartment. I first found out when I heard the distinctive call of a magpie funeral. The first magpie on the scene seems to act as a coroner, making sure the one on the ground really is dead. This is done with sharp and forceful strikes to the head and neck. It's not easy to take a pulse through feathers. Within fifteen minutes, six other magpies arrived on the scene. They all circled in close and took turns swooping past the corpse. Then, one by one, they flew off again. They gathered again a few hours later, swooped in close, but didn't bother confirming that their comrad was still dead. I really wish that I knew the evolutionary reasons for a magpie funeral. Magpies have very open societies, with large groups sharing a territory, so it can't be to divide up the fallen bird's territory as is done by other types of birds. Also, it can't be an anti disease or anti-scavenger strategy, since they would all be exposed to whatever pathogen was responsible for the kill, and if I can recognize the funeral call, any scavenger can.

Survivor, Idaho

I'm back from my trans continental, paleontological road trip and have clearly survived. I don't have time to go into detail at the moment so I'll suffice it to say that I hate Idaho. Details of why the potato state is the most loathsome of the 8 that I visited as well as what other adventures and perils befell me will come in a future post.