All Things Are Chew Toys
Sunny early, cloudy later. If I don't start going out soon I'm going to miss this whole summer, too. Our high was 86˚F, with the heat index at 90˚F.
And you never know which summer will be your last.
And I am so worn out by the stupidity burning down the world.
But there was a good, long conversation with Mike Polcyn this morning, all things mosasaur, but straying into such topics as PhyloCode and the philosophical and scientific issues of the problems posed by typological approaches to taxonomy (id est, those that rely on species based on a single designated type specimen) and how this relates to the inherent limitations of paleontology. And I'm almost done with The Secret History. I have not been disappointed.
I'm in one of those moods where no one but Bruce Springsteen seems to have anything to say that seems relevant. Especially Springsteen pre-90s.
Last night we watched the first three episodes of Agents of Shield. It might not be for me. It's awfully fresh faced, awfully wholesome. Maybe that changes later on. Night before last, we watched an episode of something called Truth Be Told which, despite a solid cast was pretty fucking dull.
I have discovered that I very much need to read Douglas Murray's The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity (2019). I think it's all that shit I've been saying for years, and, if so, thank goodness I am not alone and someone had to courage to write it all down.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
3:55 p.m.
And you never know which summer will be your last.
And I am so worn out by the stupidity burning down the world.
But there was a good, long conversation with Mike Polcyn this morning, all things mosasaur, but straying into such topics as PhyloCode and the philosophical and scientific issues of the problems posed by typological approaches to taxonomy (id est, those that rely on species based on a single designated type specimen) and how this relates to the inherent limitations of paleontology. And I'm almost done with The Secret History. I have not been disappointed.
I'm in one of those moods where no one but Bruce Springsteen seems to have anything to say that seems relevant. Especially Springsteen pre-90s.
Last night we watched the first three episodes of Agents of Shield. It might not be for me. It's awfully fresh faced, awfully wholesome. Maybe that changes later on. Night before last, we watched an episode of something called Truth Be Told which, despite a solid cast was pretty fucking dull.
I have discovered that I very much need to read Douglas Murray's The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity (2019). I think it's all that shit I've been saying for years, and, if so, thank goodness I am not alone and someone had to courage to write it all down.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
3:55 p.m.