Autobiographical Tidbit

[Editor's note: The C. O. is jetting off to New York for the weekend (just one week before the big ScienceBloggers get-together - so much for timely planning). To kill time he asked us to reprint this little reflection, written on July 24, 2005 while he was vacationing Up North. So while he visits some of the Big Apple's world famous attractions (without his laptop, alas) we give you this fluff.] Five generations of my family have summered up here in the northern aspen and beech forests. Strolling around the sparse, loamy grass, or lounging by the water under the soft shade of the pines,…
My annual trek Up North to the land of clear blue water is over and I shall resume the usual malarky cometh the dawn. Due to the full moon I found the constellations somewhat difficult to frame out, but unless the goddess Selene puts the brakes on her team, in a short while anyone with access to open fields unsullied by light pollution should be able to get quite a late summer show. I strongly urge the gentle reader to make an effort to see the stars before the most dismal holiday weekend of the year, Labor Day, closes the last few sparkling inches of happiness on the door marked "Summer."…
For the next two weeks your narrator will be blogging from a lake way up north, where ospreys and seagulls compete with loons and bald eagles for the title of "Master of the Airways," while members of the Homo sapiens species spend much of their time vying for the right to wear the crown entitled "Doofus." As of now, the tiara is mine, won today by a rather undignified performance on the waterskis. During the middle portion of a run, as I was crossing the wake from starboard to port (blissfully oblivious of the fact that the driver, my sneaky cousin, had pushed the throttle forward a couple…
[Editor's Note: The following letter was read at the ceremony yesterday where the C. O.'s nephew was awarded the Eagle Scout badge. The C. O. himself never made it to Eagle, which is no surprise to us here at upper management. Hope he doesn't read this.] "Jacob, we have enjoyed watching you grow from a little boy into an outstanding young man, but today you have gained a new level of admiration from all of us. Today you attain the highest rank a Boy Scout can ever achieve - Eagle Scout. Only one out of every twenty Boy Scouts earns the right to wear the Eagle badge on his uniform, and…
[Editor's note: Dr. Stemwedel has started this particular meme on ScienceBlogs. In the spirit of merriment if not utter buffoonery the narrator of this site feels compelled to join in - the twerp.] Confiteor, Pater Optime! 1. I can identify automobile makes and models from circa 1965 on instantly, for example, "There goes a 1973 Caprice Classic." This talent has gotten me nowhere. 2. I have a large collection of vintage horror and science fiction films, although I draw the line at The Brain That Wouldn't Die. 3. Certain food items that seem harmless are repulsive to me: cherries,…
Mirabile dictu, the electric company came by and replaced our downed power line this afternoon. Blogging will resume tout de suite, but first can I at least get the temperature in here above 60 degrees? (Up from 44, that is). While cranking up the thermostat in my office today I thought about some of my patients who have been started on a "rigorous" chemotherapy regimen (even oncologists rely on the occasional euphemism). I always worry about the toxicity of such treatment but once it has been given there is no taking it back, so all parties must agree that the decision to start is the…
Once again a despicable ice storm has forced us out of our house...I'm currently living in a tent city run by some Food-For-Oil executives by the banks of the muddy Meramec River in Fenton, Missouri...unable to blog...am using a friend's computer for this message...freezing rain coming down like a backup Egyptian plague as I type...house is 54 degrees and falling...somebody check on Afarensis and make sure he's not in a solid phase, so to speak...Scotch whisky supply running low...send lawyers, guns and money...
Last night after watching one of those intellectual programs on cable television I found myself for some reason reminiscing about school days. I remember spending countless hours in chemistry labs, usually with a partner of dubious genomic origin, manipulating Mother Earth's precious powders and potions in ways designed to earn the highest possible grade with the smallest quantum of comprehension. My laboratory etiquette unfortunately suffered from the effects of "pre-med syndrome," which led to the occasional fistfight against kibitzers or flibbertigibbets with (putative) undiagnosed ADHD…
Angels of rain and lightning! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: O hear! -from "Ode to the West Wind", by Percy Bysshe Shelley The St. Louis area was hit by the worst ice storm…
It is hard for me to put into words what it feels like to be hit with gastroenteritis, which I had the misfortune yesterday to develop. The symptoms, as recorded in the literature - vomiting, abdominal cramps, diarrhea, headache, muscle aches, fever - certainly sound repulsive, but in some ways seem so generic as to produce little emotion in anyone reading about the illness - anyone who is not infected, that is. For those of us who have been hit with the virus, be it norovirus, rotavirus or any of the other Samurai-sounding buggers, the effects of the illness are are much more colorful than…
[Editor's note - I hereby declare that I am not responsible for any and all acts that the C. O. may commit tomorrow night. Since he was indeed born on the last day of October he tends to get creepy on All Hallow's Eve. The rest of the year he's just plain weird.] Before I return to official blogging duties let me entice the gentle reader with one more classic ghost story, written in 1904: "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" by Montague Rhodes James. This tale still gives me the shivers whenever I think of it. For more ghastly suggestions for supernatural thrills go to this…
Just in case you were wondering what we were up to last night... (with apologies to all Tiger fans...even Orac)
...that Afarensis and I happen to reside in the city where little birds will strike holy terror in the minds of lowly tigers on this Friday night. Ahem...Go Cards!
Inquiring minds want to know! Well, at least this inquiring mind wanted to find out just how much of a capitalist he really is, so I took this quickie test. I was surprised at the results, but in reality I shouldn't be. I suspect most doctors who love their work are not 100% capitalists. How can physicians dedicate their career to helping the needy and simultaneously renounce this doctrine? The only example I know is a creation of fiction - Dr. Hendricks, a character in Ayn Rand's epic novel Atlas Shrugged. When under fire from proponents of socialized medicine and reaching the point…
One of the delights of growning up in the pre-cable era was when the local station showed a horror film on Saturday nights. As kids we used to love to stay up late and cower under the blankets as we watched one monster after another stalk their hapless victims. "Don't go in there!" we screamed, but the fair-haired burgermeister's daughter never listened to us. Oh, the dreams we had back then. I think it was around this time that sales of nightlights took off. As teenagers we made it our duty to see every horror movie that was released, if for no other reason to have plenty of material on…
In our last episode of "The Scintillating World of The Cheerful Oncologist" I unveiled a list of my top ten favorite black and white sci-fi films. I certainly appreciate all those readers who took a moment out of their busy day to leave a cordial comment on my taste in cinema [Editor's note: He's just kidding!]. You know, watching a good science fiction movie is one of the most enjoyable pastimes available to anyone who has ever looked up into the sky at night and asked "Why?," or who gets a vague feeling of trepidation when interrogating a citizen of the animal kingdom. With your…
Perhaps Afarensis and I are the only two bloggers left on Mother Earth who fret over the decline of the intelligent, scary and wonderfully provocative science fiction movie. Thank heavens for DVDs, is all I can say. Because we can now build our own library of great movies we don't feel so mortified when we see the latest newspaper ad for Dark-Grudge-SawMeLegsOff-Descent-Freddy'sDead Part 5. In honor of classic science fiction movies I would like to present my top ten favorites that were released in black and white. I am deliberately omitting films like The Day the Earth Stood Still and The…
[Editor's Note: How much vacation does this guy have, anyway? He's been lollygagging around the sandy beaches of the lake for a week now and shows no remorse about abandoning his patients to the care of his partners. Since it looks like this week is just a repeat of last week's exercise in intellectual apostasy, here is another post about his summer holiday.] There are certain pauses that occur during a vacation up north when it seems that time suddenly holds its breath, then exhales with such a violent burst of chaos and laughter that those of us who worked so hard to earn a trip up here…
[Editor's Note: Our narrator is currently relaxing by the lake Up North. Those of you who know what the term "Up North" means do not require any further explanation. Those who don't know can find out more by visiting the fair state of Minnesota. Below is a reprint of a post first written last year while on vacation here.] Five generations of my family have summered up here in the northern aspen and pine forests. Strolling around the sandy, loamy grass fields of this peninsula, sitting under the giant whispering trees lining the beach with dark green shade, I find myself daydreaming about…
In the previous episode of "My Peculiar Summer" I might have mentioned that the fair city where your narrator resides was recently battered by a couple of storms. As I write this thousands of citizens still wail in the dark wilderness for the gift of electricity, like Frankenstein's monster on some distant hilltop, screeching at the black clouds to unleash their fiery whips of light at him. The difference is that the city isn't asking for electrical power via the heavens, but through the orderly maze of poles and lines that silently enmesh the countless blocks here. Silent they are, and…