“Ignorance is the parent of fear.” ~ Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, The Whale
Mostly cloudy. Our high was 78F. It's November, but it sorta looks like June out there.
Before going to McWane this morning I had a long talk with Mike Polcyn about MP2, the logistics thereof, but the conversation strayed. Our conversations always stray, usually into broader, sometimes philosophical matters, usually regarding phylogenetic systematics, taxonomy, and the development of evolutionary theory over the last two hundred-plus years. It was an especially good talk today.
Fortunately, it didn't make me late for McWane. I had to screen the next round of Bashi sediment. And, of course, there was more conversation, mostly concerning the remarkable new dermochelyid turtle from the Oligocene-aged Glendon Limestone of South Alabama. Drew Gentry is the lead investigator on the study, and it promises to be an amazing specimen. Oh, Jun and I also talked about the (mostly, hopefully) defleshed sperm whale carcass he has to drive down to Mobile this week (weather permitting) to bring back to Birmingham. There's a gigantic vat of hydrogen peroxide in the lab, and, in fact, most of the lab is going to be given over to the attempt to removing as much oil from the very oily bones as possible. Whale skeletons are astoundingly oily (critical to the animals maintaining neutral bouyancy), and there are many collections with whale skeletons that continue to leak oil for many decades, no matter how carefully prepared. And sperm whale are especially bad, thanks to the liquid mixture of fats and waxes called spermaceti, located in a hollow portion of the skull referred to the melon. This is the stuff once so prized by whalers. Anyway, it's likely most of the spermaceti is still in the melon, and...well, we're talking a stink that transcends. Back about 1983, at the Red Mountain Museum, I helped Winston Lancaster flense a decaying dolphin skeleton, and it was a very special smell.
Meanwhile...actually, that was really the only things worth writing about today. The last day before the election, which I am trying very hard not to dwell on. What's the point, at this late date?
And yet, I am terrified. I feel as if all Western Civilization hangs in the balance, and Kamala Harris is our one way out of looming catastrophe.
Tonight we watched It: Chapter Two (2019), even though I said we wouldn't. And it wasn't much better than I remembered, an utter mess of a film, at least half an hour too long, lacking all the focus and magic of the first. Though I did appreciate King's cameo.
Oh, no photo from the museum today, because I came across this okra plant growing outside our storage until.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
10:08 a.m.
Before going to McWane this morning I had a long talk with Mike Polcyn about MP2, the logistics thereof, but the conversation strayed. Our conversations always stray, usually into broader, sometimes philosophical matters, usually regarding phylogenetic systematics, taxonomy, and the development of evolutionary theory over the last two hundred-plus years. It was an especially good talk today.
Fortunately, it didn't make me late for McWane. I had to screen the next round of Bashi sediment. And, of course, there was more conversation, mostly concerning the remarkable new dermochelyid turtle from the Oligocene-aged Glendon Limestone of South Alabama. Drew Gentry is the lead investigator on the study, and it promises to be an amazing specimen. Oh, Jun and I also talked about the (mostly, hopefully) defleshed sperm whale carcass he has to drive down to Mobile this week (weather permitting) to bring back to Birmingham. There's a gigantic vat of hydrogen peroxide in the lab, and, in fact, most of the lab is going to be given over to the attempt to removing as much oil from the very oily bones as possible. Whale skeletons are astoundingly oily (critical to the animals maintaining neutral bouyancy), and there are many collections with whale skeletons that continue to leak oil for many decades, no matter how carefully prepared. And sperm whale are especially bad, thanks to the liquid mixture of fats and waxes called spermaceti, located in a hollow portion of the skull referred to the melon. This is the stuff once so prized by whalers. Anyway, it's likely most of the spermaceti is still in the melon, and...well, we're talking a stink that transcends. Back about 1983, at the Red Mountain Museum, I helped Winston Lancaster flense a decaying dolphin skeleton, and it was a very special smell.
Meanwhile...actually, that was really the only things worth writing about today. The last day before the election, which I am trying very hard not to dwell on. What's the point, at this late date?
And yet, I am terrified. I feel as if all Western Civilization hangs in the balance, and Kamala Harris is our one way out of looming catastrophe.
Tonight we watched It: Chapter Two (2019), even though I said we wouldn't. And it wasn't much better than I remembered, an utter mess of a film, at least half an hour too long, lacking all the focus and magic of the first. Though I did appreciate King's cameo.
Oh, no photo from the museum today, because I came across this okra plant growing outside our storage until.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
10:08 a.m.