…this and that.
Reposting things, especially from Wired, is not something I’m inclined to do but the commentary following this article so clearly illustrates the emerging idiocracy that I couldn’t resist. I am always astonished when someone apparently bright enough to type can believe in superstition. I shouldn’t be, I suppose…
What is it about scientific method that escapes people?
Then again, maybe this avid readership is why I let my subscription lapse after the first year…
This is the rather amusing warning sticker on a Segway. Is it there because a certain president forgot to turn his on?
This past weekend there was a Comics and Games convention in Lucca. The plazas had been filled with giant tents, all packed to bursting with eager, sweaty young people with an unnatural fascination for fantasy. Some were amusing, and many people had clearly devoted a lot of their lives to their costumes, but in the end it seemed the biggest celebrity was the police Lambroghini.
It was a fun few hours walking around the tents and looking at the comics, but the best part was taking the train to Lucca from Borgo. It is only 20 minutes each way and less than $2. One walks into town through the old walls. All very picturesque and very beautiful, even when mobbed by kids in strange anime costumes.
It is far better than anything one finds in the states.
This well-breasted woman is one of four in Bologna.
We had some people over for dinner and each had their own strange brush
with law enforcement.
At the last minute we invited one of Carolyn’s friends to join us. He was
going to be an hour late or so, but planned to join us as soon as he got
his car back.
He arrived first.
One couple was coming over but we got a call from them shortly before we
expected them: they were robbed while they were out earlier in the day and
needed to figure out what was missing. In the end our friend Liisa came
over as soon as she could but her husband didn’t feel comfortable leaving
the house. Turns out it was some young kids in the neighborhood that have
been breaking into various houses in their neighborhood. They might end up
being very unhappy over their choice of targets thanks to her husband’s
connections to the OPD through his time in Iraq.
Another friend rang the door just about when he was supposed to, but
moments before his bag was stolen out of his car. He saw the house the
kids ran into and wanted to run over to get it. Knowing the gun ownership
rate in Oakland, I called the police first and they arrived in minutes and
went over with him. It turned into a huge production with various
residents covering for each other, lying, getting cuffed, police dogs…
in the end they couldn’t do anything but the OPD were really helpful and
sympathetic and professional. I was very impressed.
The last friend, the one who ended up first, he had to leave early because
he had to bail his friend out of jail in the morning.
.
Cambridge Fishy… Fishy fishy fishy…
Oh shit! It’s mr. Creosote! Play dead.
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