Random Stuff XXVII: Butt Cold Edition
While I thank Northern Canada for sharing her unique brand of winter weather, I wish to remind her that there can be too much of a good thing. My office, which sticks out behind our house directly into the prevailing winds, registered 9 °C (48 °F) when we got back from lunch this afternoon.
My latest Stupid Saying comes in two parts. I will give an example; the generalization will be apparent.
Ever notice that ignorant Americans are only skeptical of scientific findings that threaten to inconvenience them? I had to thrash one idiot who voice the popular myth that we can only ascertain global temperatures over the past 150 years, during which accurate temperature records were kept. No doubt, such a one would pooh-pooh the overwhelming indirect evidence for recent climate change as too esoteric. To which I would reply, "We only have indirect evidence that electrons exist. I assume, then, that you don't own a TV or a cell phone, as only a fool would believe that such devices are possible."
While Number 2 agrees better with the scientific consensus, it is hardly better than Statement 1 for resolving the issue. Our weather in December was impressive, but only barely made the list of top ten Decembers on record. No, for real evidence of global warming we have to look at widespread and gradual trends. That talk of opening up trade routes through the Arctic ocean? Flowers blooming a week earlier on average than they did fifty years ago? Now that's global warming.
What gets me about the pair is the flat denial of scientific evidence on one hand, and the extremely tentative acceptance on the other. What happened to make Americans so suspicious of people who actually know what they're talking about?
I've had to ride the 'bus to work the last four weeks straight, except for the mornings so chilly that Kathy graciously volunteers to drive me to work. I make it a point to spend as little time aboard the 'bus as possible, even when the interior temperature exceeds the exterior by a good 30 °C (54 °F), for two simple reasons: (1) city buses induce motion sickness more potently than any other form of transportation, including F4 tornadoes, and (2) I generally find 'buses loud and depressing. In consequence, I make sure I'm right at the door when it opens at my stop.
I unconsciously adopted two particular behaviors for making my around in a moving 'bus. When I first realized what I was doing, I berated myself for foolish behavior in public; but I eventually noticed that many people react the same way when faced with the same stimuli, so I made up names for them:
busurfing n. The act of standing in the aisle of a 'bus, when approaching a stop, with feet planted firmly in a surfer's stance to brace against rapid deceleration.
bus-rachiating n. The act of walking through the aisle of an unpredictably lurching 'bus, going hand-over-hand along the overhead railings for stability.
Altair and Yuki quickly learned that my computer monitor generates more heat than we do, and over a smaller surface area, to boot.
Empress Yuki surveys her domain, as captured on LoyalSubjectCam. I love the lighting and composition of this photo. Too bad Yuki-chan's face is all crusty-she doesn't like the cold any more than we do.
The second shot I took gets extra cute points for the paw lick. Though the angle of her head hides the eye goobers pretty well, I don't like it quite as much as the other one.
Things start to get out of hand when both the cats want to help me work. They love to watch what's happening on the screen. Sometimes they'll only give it a cursory inspection, heh-heh, before settling back like Yuki above...
...but more often, they'll devote their full attention to tracking the pointer, and will bat at it when in range, invariably leaving a greasy (and often, smeared) paw print on the glass.
When I'm not computing, they have to settle for a mere warm lap. They approach the lap with reluctance, but once they're entrenched, nothing short of a major earthquake or the sound of a can opener will budge them.
And now for a complete non sequitur. I dedicate this conversation from doing our taxes last night to chillyrodent, as it fits in her category of " As Heard in Our House™":
"Hey, look at all these qualified dividends!"
"What are 'qualified' dividends?"
"They're taxed at a lower rate than ordinary dividends."
"How come?"
"They must be a type of investment that makes Republicans rich."
"Oh, okay."
My latest Stupid Saying comes in two parts. I will give an example; the generalization will be apparent.
- "Global warming is obviously a myth: I'm freezing my ass off!"
- "Wow, it only got cold enough to snow in Cleveland once all through the month of December. Hmm...there just might be some truth to global warming after all."
Ever notice that ignorant Americans are only skeptical of scientific findings that threaten to inconvenience them? I had to thrash one idiot who voice the popular myth that we can only ascertain global temperatures over the past 150 years, during which accurate temperature records were kept. No doubt, such a one would pooh-pooh the overwhelming indirect evidence for recent climate change as too esoteric. To which I would reply, "We only have indirect evidence that electrons exist. I assume, then, that you don't own a TV or a cell phone, as only a fool would believe that such devices are possible."
While Number 2 agrees better with the scientific consensus, it is hardly better than Statement 1 for resolving the issue. Our weather in December was impressive, but only barely made the list of top ten Decembers on record. No, for real evidence of global warming we have to look at widespread and gradual trends. That talk of opening up trade routes through the Arctic ocean? Flowers blooming a week earlier on average than they did fifty years ago? Now that's global warming.
What gets me about the pair is the flat denial of scientific evidence on one hand, and the extremely tentative acceptance on the other. What happened to make Americans so suspicious of people who actually know what they're talking about?
I've had to ride the 'bus to work the last four weeks straight, except for the mornings so chilly that Kathy graciously volunteers to drive me to work. I make it a point to spend as little time aboard the 'bus as possible, even when the interior temperature exceeds the exterior by a good 30 °C (54 °F), for two simple reasons: (1) city buses induce motion sickness more potently than any other form of transportation, including F4 tornadoes, and (2) I generally find 'buses loud and depressing. In consequence, I make sure I'm right at the door when it opens at my stop.
I unconsciously adopted two particular behaviors for making my around in a moving 'bus. When I first realized what I was doing, I berated myself for foolish behavior in public; but I eventually noticed that many people react the same way when faced with the same stimuli, so I made up names for them:
busurfing n. The act of standing in the aisle of a 'bus, when approaching a stop, with feet planted firmly in a surfer's stance to brace against rapid deceleration.
bus-rachiating n. The act of walking through the aisle of an unpredictably lurching 'bus, going hand-over-hand along the overhead railings for stability.
Altair and Yuki quickly learned that my computer monitor generates more heat than we do, and over a smaller surface area, to boot.
Empress Yuki surveys her domain, as captured on LoyalSubjectCam. I love the lighting and composition of this photo. Too bad Yuki-chan's face is all crusty-she doesn't like the cold any more than we do.
The second shot I took gets extra cute points for the paw lick. Though the angle of her head hides the eye goobers pretty well, I don't like it quite as much as the other one.
Things start to get out of hand when both the cats want to help me work. They love to watch what's happening on the screen. Sometimes they'll only give it a cursory inspection, heh-heh, before settling back like Yuki above...
...but more often, they'll devote their full attention to tracking the pointer, and will bat at it when in range, invariably leaving a greasy (and often, smeared) paw print on the glass.
When I'm not computing, they have to settle for a mere warm lap. They approach the lap with reluctance, but once they're entrenched, nothing short of a major earthquake or the sound of a can opener will budge them.
And now for a complete non sequitur. I dedicate this conversation from doing our taxes last night to chillyrodent, as it fits in her category of " As Heard in Our House™":
"Hey, look at all these qualified dividends!"
"What are 'qualified' dividends?"
"They're taxed at a lower rate than ordinary dividends."
"How come?"
"They must be a type of investment that makes Republicans rich."
"Oh, okay."