For those of a scientific bent, there's a new club in town: The Order of the Science Scouts of Exemplary Repute and Above Average Physique. As far as I can tell, it's primary goal is coming up with really awesome badges to compete for, which is a goal I am dead behind.
It is actually somewhat frightening realizing how many of these damned things I qualify for, especially for the more esoteric ones.
Here's the ones I figure I've achieved already:
Talking science: required for all members. Basically, you have to apt at annoying your friends and loved ones with science at any and all times.
I blog about science: Requires that at least a quarter of the blog be about science. This one might be iffy, but I figure if you count by post length, science still makes up a 1/4 of the stuff here.
"I'm pretty confident around an open flame": From flame-sterilizing aritificial insemination gear, to flaming bacterial smear equipment, to do lighting smokers to test hives, I think I've got this one cased.
"I may look like a scientist, but I'm actually a ninja": This might be true. How would you all know? Also, I have a set of Nun chucks around here somewhere, courtesy of one Mr. Shaw.
"Sexing Up Science": Controlled breeding experiments, AI'ing queen bees, breeding Drosophila, and semen extraction from drone bees. All in the name of Science. And no, I'm not ashamed of any of it.
"I can be a prick when it comes to science": It's so true. Just search the back-logs of this blog for proof of that.
"has frozen stuff just to see what happens" levels one and three: I've frozen things in both the freezer and in liquid nitrogen, because science demanded it.
"I will crush you with my math prowess": I know how to find out if a Hessian matrix is positive semi-definite, and am able to go on at lengths about the importance of the neutral equilibria that exists in two-species Lotka-Volterra predator-prey systems. I may not be an actual mathematician, but I'm not half bad at this stuff.
"inordinately fond of invertebrates": Bow to your hydrostatic/exo-skeletal betters, you damned spined, barely jumped up worms! Still not quite as awesome as lichen, though.
"knows how to collect semen from more than one (non-human) species": seriously, don't ask.
"I know what a tadpole is": kind of a freebee. Really, just for those who envy us elites who hold the semen badge.
"experienced with electric shock" level 1, 2, 3: For: being involved with shocking organisms with electricity (E. coli, to induce DNA to enter them), experience with the electrical shocking of humans, and being shocked myself. Really, the last two are somewhat cheats, since pretty much any farm kid who's lived around electric fencing can claim the same.
And that's the lot of them. Remind me never to try and upload this many pictures to blogger ever again.
9 comments:
I, for one, welcome our new cephalopod overlords!
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/27/business/27bees.html
DUDE. They made that Invertebrates one for YOU.
So, returning to one of my old favourite pastimes:
Oh the year was 1778
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke NOOOOWWW
A Letter of Marque came from the king
for the scummiest vessel
I'd ever seen.
GOD DAMN THEM ALLLLLLL
I was told we'd cruise the seas
for American gold
We'd fire no guns
Shed no TEEEEEEEARS
Now I'm a broken man
on a Halifax pier
The Last of Barrett's Privateers!
Didn't we do this one before? Not that I'm complaining, but I want a different Stan Rogers song. So, without further ado:
Ah, for just one time
I would take the Northwest Passage,
To find the hand of Franklin
reaching for the Beaufort Sea.
Tracing one warm line
through a land so wide and savage
and make a Northwest Passage
to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Straight
'tis there t'was said to lie
the sea-route to the Orient
for which so many died.
Seeking gold and glory,
leaving weathered, broken bones,
and a long-forgotten, lonely cairn of stones.
I missed you kelly!
We just lost sight
of the Queensport light
down the bay before us
And the wind has blown some cold today with just a wee touch of snow
Along the shore from Lazy Head hard abeam Half Island
Tonight we'll let the anchor go down in Fogarty's Cove
My Sally's like the ravens wing
her hair is like her mothers
With hands that make quick work of a chore
and eyes like the top of a stove
Come suppertime she'll walk the beach
wrapped in my old duffle
With her eyes upon the masthead reach down in Fogarty's Cove
People are going to start using this blog as an archive. :o)
Will you have time to reload, though, is the question?
She will walk the sandy shore so plain,
watch the combers roll in
'till I come to Wild Rose Chance again
down in Fogarty's Cove.
She cries when I'm away to sea,
nags me when I'm with her.
She'd rather I have a government job
or maybe go on the dole.
But I love the waves as I pull out,
nose into the channel.
My Sally keeps the supper and a bed for me,
down in Fogarty's Cove.
She will walk the sandy shore so plain,
watch the combers roll in
'till I come to Wild Rose Chance again
down in Fogarty's Cove.
Awww.... I'm just gonna break into other random Canadian Music Again.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
What a feeling!
WHAT A RUSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
I got nothing.
Speaking of Rushes...
There are those who think
that life has nothing left to chance
with a host of holy horrors
to direct our aimless dance.
A planet of playthings
we dance on the strings
of powers we cannot perceive
the stars aren't aligned
or the gods are malign
better is better to give than receive
You can choose a ready guide
in some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears
and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear -
I will choose free will!
(I'm just assuming that Geddy Lee is railing about determinists here, and not religious people in general, because the latter would be stupid. Ah, beautiful ignorance, how I love thee.
Kelly: I LOVE THAT SONG ... what's it called? I've never known the title.
But I'm taking it back to the days of NFB shorts on CBC on Saturday morning. Gotta love the NFB.
If you should ask any girl from the parish around
What pleases her most from her head to her toes
She'll say, "I'm not sure that it's business of yours
But I do like to waltz with a log driver".
For he goes birling down a-down the white water
That's where the log driver learns to step lightly
It's birling down, a-down white water
A log driver's waltz pleases girls completely.
When the drive's nearly over, I like to go down
To see all the lads while they work on the river
I know that come evening they'll be in the town
And we all want to waltz with a log driver.
To please both my parents I've had to give way
And dance with the doctors and merchants and lawyers
Their manners are fine but their feet are of clay
For there's none with the style of a log driver.
I've had my chances with all sorts of men
But none is so fine as my lad on the river
So when the drive's over, if he asks me again
I think I will marry my log driver.
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