Musings from Southern New Mexico

Author: marc (Page 15 of 60)

I am a scientist interested in laser safety, modeling and simulation, and statistics.

I speak some Spanish, German, and Chinese.

Frontrunners

Trump:

One who can’t be bothered to memorize canned answers for the most softball of questions posed by the “professional toady” class of “journalists” can’t be expected to successfully fulfill any function for which success has not been preordained through a monetary exchange.

Bush, III, (The Revenge?):

Surprisingly, though, “Jeb!” has managed to trip over his own tie midstride while walking down the well marked path to his eventual nomination. It’s rare to see a golden boy that looks so much like he’s about to stumble right off the primrose path and into the thorns.

The Opposite of Science

The opposite of “science” is “bullshit.”

examples:

“I don’t believe in science.” = “I believe in bullshit.”

“Science doesn’t have all the answers.” = “Bullshit has all the answers.”

“I don’t trust science.” = “I trust bullshit.”

Back from Scotland

From the windswept moors of Scotland, I have returned to the warmer clime of southern New Mexico. Glasgow is a nice city and , given the change, I would definitely return to the banks of the River Clyde.

The Hunterian Gallery at Glasgow University has a display on Whistler. The Museum of Transport has a small display on the American Civil War (as related to the shipyards on the River Clyde). Without even noticing, in Scottish museums my attention was drawn to Americana. How American of me.

Unfortunately, thought the Queen was in Scotland at the time of her big day, she was on the Edinburgh side, so I didn’t get a chance to see her as she toured. Too bad.

Denali

About eight years ago, I was waiting in the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport. I was on my way to Kodiak. The part of the airport that serviced that destination had few other destinations with multiple flights. After Kodiak (or maybe before; it was a long time ago), the most popular on the list of flights was Denali. I didn’t know what that was. Rather than ask, I looked around. From a brochure, I gathered that Denali was the place I had always known as Mount McKinley. It was never referred to as Mount McKinley anywhere in the airport (at least as far as I noticed on a cursory glance).

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