For the autobiography I pray I'll never write, I mean.
Our high today was 60F. Sunny.
No better a day than yesterday. Worse, most likely. Less productive. This is not a slump, it's a plunge.
We saw an episode of Fringe last night I had no memory of, but it was remarkable. "Brown Betty." It originally aired on April 29, 2010.
Here some happy news:
"One in Five Young Americans Thinks the Holocaust Was a Myth." No, sure. That's bad enough. But you really have to read the article to see the actual situation is far worse. The respondents were age 18-29. Only 47% refused to say outright that the Holocaust was not a myth. Oh, and Glaudine Gay "inexiplicably" got to keep her job, despite her anti-Semitic statements. So far, Harvard has lost a devastating one billion dollars for its negligence in addressing anti-Jewish sentiments of campus. That will likely get much worse.
Oh, and then there's the calamitous noise that woke Kathryn and I at about 3:30 a.m. I have this enormous oak and glass display case for fossils. And one of the shelves slipped free, the middle one, and went crashing down. But a fortuitous freak in the angle of the fall caught it, and while everything on that shelf slid to one corner (still doing almost no damage), nothing beneath it was harmed. I don't get lucky, and yet...it was an amazing thing to see. Thousands of dollars of fossils and casts would have been destroyed. Things I am slowly donating to McWane.
I finished Bob Lazaro's wackadoo authobiography, and began reading Graham Farmelo's Churchill's Bomb: How the United States Overtook Britain in the First Nuclear Arms Race.
Enough for now. Have a trilobite.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:09 p.m. (Thursday)