Posts
That's the current estimate of the number of Palestinians dead in the current wave of "targeted strikes" by the Israeli forces.
They think that this will end the violence in the middle east.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
But then I read about Haya Hamdan, and I cried.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Aggravating Travel Notes - Skyline Drive
And as promised, here are the couple of things you should know about the Chevy Aveo:
1. It has ONE cup holder. Slap bang in the middle of the car, which means that its a good two feet behind you, which means that if you're in front, you have to execute a complex variation of Vakrasana to get to the damn coffee cup. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Oh, here's what Vakrasana looks like.
2. The lever to open the fuel flap is buried under the seat. Plus out lever had its markings worn out, so it took me a good three minutes to locate it when I needed to refuel, much to the amusement of the lady in the big pickup at pump #3.
3. The thing sounded like it was stuck in 2nd gear. So each time we'd top 60 mph, the whole thing would sound like we were trying to get it to 120 mph, and it would start vibrating (at a high frequency - almost like a buzzing).
4. The cruise control wouldn't work. Which is painful when you've escaped a high-beam tailgating maniac, and want to relax on a highway.
So Chevy Aveo, you get a 2 on 10. you deserve a 1, but you didn't break in the middle of the drive, so you get a point for that.
Two other aggravating notes from the drive: We met up with these really nice people on the way, and we ate some great food at their home (oh, the advantages of being Indian). Since they lived way out in the countryside, one of their other guests was determined to see us off till we hit the highway to get back home. This would have been nice gesture, except that the guy drove literally 6 feet behind me all the way. With. His. High. Beams. On. The faster I got, the more determined the guy was to keep up with me. I mean, I was totally blind and hurtling through these country roads at a suicidal 70 miles an hour, but there was no shaking the guy. There he was, with those big ol' high beams in my rear view mirror. I think we finally lost him when we hit the highway. I bet he thinks I drive like a jackass; I also bet he doesn't know how close he was to killing us.
Plus my friend Geetu tried killing us and people around us on at least 5 different occasions on the road. Now, Geetu is an awesome person, but the one thing she does do quite often is gesticulate like someone is repeatedly jabbing at her with a cattle prod. Which is only funny when you're not at the wheel of a car with surprisingly sensitive handling. I had to start playing Vivaldi in the car and close my eyes and visualize meadows in the spring to help me stop hyperventilating (really.) The big advantage of course was that there was no one within a good 300 feet of the crazy swerving Chevy Aveo on the highway - them drivers knew who not to mess with...
Day trip - On the Skyline drive, shenandoah, VA
As some of you know, I've been somewhat bogged down this holiday, so I decided to take a day off and head out to the countryside to get a breath of fresh air. What with the day highs hovering at an unseasonably warm 60 degrees (not a squeak from you eh, Matt Drudge?), we decided to hit the Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah in VA. So me and my friend drove west on 66 on a rented Chevy Aveo. More on this car in another post...
The Skyline Drive is worth doing. I can see why it would be gorgeous during spring and fall. The simplest way to do it if you're in the DC area is to do a quadrilateral - I-66, skyline, I-64, I-95. We drove out on the Lee Highway because I avoid interstates if possible. Driving up the Lee Highway by itself was refreshing, and so was the middle third that we drove through (Luray to Elkton). Skyline Drive is peppered with "Outlook points", and places that you can park and hit the Appalachian Trail (which runs more or less parallel to the drive). I'm not going to recommend one or the other point, because everyone has different tastes, and they are mostly all pretty. However, there IS one place that I would recommend - when you're in the middle third of the dive, do not miss the Dark Hollow Falls.
I have a thing for water, so I jumped at this one, and I didn't regret it. Its a solid 3/4ths of a mile one way and a pretty steep downhill trek from the road to the actual falls; it was icy in patches but certainly no more than mild-to-moderately challenging. We ran down and came back at a pretty decent clip (felt a little winded and was sweaty, but only because of the speed of ascent and temperature. Plus I'm in terrible shape). They say it takes 1 1/4 hr; we took 45 minutes.
But the falls themselves are very pretty. It's more a set of smaller falls as opposed to one massive drop, and it is accessible at several places. Given the time of the year, the flow was not torrential and the water was SUPER icy cold. It tasted good, but less sweet than I expected. Overall, well worth the 10 bucks for the weekly pass and something I would DEFINITELY do again in the spring and fall next year.
The other thing which I will do next year is go visit to a vineyard. There are several in the area, and we wanted to go to Veritas or Jefferson, which apparently are good. And this organic ice cream maker called Perfect Flavor in Waynesboro...
Also on the trip, I almost ran over a cop who had pulled someone over. I guess I was so hypnotized by the lights that I forgot to move over one lane. My mirror missed his ass by about two feet. Man, was he PISSED. I sort of apologized while driving off, but I kept my eyes glued to the rear view mirror for a while; I was pretty sure he would catch up and give me an earful (at the very least), and there was no way I was going to speed up to out race him, was there...
After we got off the drive, We stopped at Elkton for some (pretty awful) diner food. I felt bad for the small town. The place (or what we saw) was dying. There was absolutely nothing that I could say was positive about the place. It wasn't even quaint or pretty. Honestly, when people talk admiringly about small towns here in America, I just don't get it. Really. What I saw was a set of decrepit buildings, failing businesses, meth addicts and a general air of staleness. And a remarkable ability to screw up fries that came out of a freezer bag.
But jokes apart, these are the places that politicians talk about when they talk about main street being in trouble. And it is true - places like Elkton are in deep, deep trouble. I don't want to sound TOO negative about the place because I only got a snapshot, but what I did see wasn't pretty. We spoke to a couple locals, and you could tell times are not good. But its more than just shuttered shops and unpainted houses; it's this sense of foreboding that you get from the place and the people that tell you that something is seriously wrong. I don't know what it is or what caused it or what the future holds for these people. But what I do know is that while we could drive away and head back to comfort of our homes to blog about lousy french fries, the people of Elkton can't. This is their life. And it isn't looking too hot right now.
The Skyline Drive is worth doing. I can see why it would be gorgeous during spring and fall. The simplest way to do it if you're in the DC area is to do a quadrilateral - I-66, skyline, I-64, I-95. We drove out on the Lee Highway because I avoid interstates if possible. Driving up the Lee Highway by itself was refreshing, and so was the middle third that we drove through (Luray to Elkton). Skyline Drive is peppered with "Outlook points", and places that you can park and hit the Appalachian Trail (which runs more or less parallel to the drive). I'm not going to recommend one or the other point, because everyone has different tastes, and they are mostly all pretty. However, there IS one place that I would recommend - when you're in the middle third of the dive, do not miss the Dark Hollow Falls.
I have a thing for water, so I jumped at this one, and I didn't regret it. Its a solid 3/4ths of a mile one way and a pretty steep downhill trek from the road to the actual falls; it was icy in patches but certainly no more than mild-to-moderately challenging. We ran down and came back at a pretty decent clip (felt a little winded and was sweaty, but only because of the speed of ascent and temperature. Plus I'm in terrible shape). They say it takes 1 1/4 hr; we took 45 minutes.
But the falls themselves are very pretty. It's more a set of smaller falls as opposed to one massive drop, and it is accessible at several places. Given the time of the year, the flow was not torrential and the water was SUPER icy cold. It tasted good, but less sweet than I expected. Overall, well worth the 10 bucks for the weekly pass and something I would DEFINITELY do again in the spring and fall next year.
The other thing which I will do next year is go visit to a vineyard. There are several in the area, and we wanted to go to Veritas or Jefferson, which apparently are good. And this organic ice cream maker called Perfect Flavor in Waynesboro...
Also on the trip, I almost ran over a cop who had pulled someone over. I guess I was so hypnotized by the lights that I forgot to move over one lane. My mirror missed his ass by about two feet. Man, was he PISSED. I sort of apologized while driving off, but I kept my eyes glued to the rear view mirror for a while; I was pretty sure he would catch up and give me an earful (at the very least), and there was no way I was going to speed up to out race him, was there...
After we got off the drive, We stopped at Elkton for some (pretty awful) diner food. I felt bad for the small town. The place (or what we saw) was dying. There was absolutely nothing that I could say was positive about the place. It wasn't even quaint or pretty. Honestly, when people talk admiringly about small towns here in America, I just don't get it. Really. What I saw was a set of decrepit buildings, failing businesses, meth addicts and a general air of staleness. And a remarkable ability to screw up fries that came out of a freezer bag.
But jokes apart, these are the places that politicians talk about when they talk about main street being in trouble. And it is true - places like Elkton are in deep, deep trouble. I don't want to sound TOO negative about the place because I only got a snapshot, but what I did see wasn't pretty. We spoke to a couple locals, and you could tell times are not good. But its more than just shuttered shops and unpainted houses; it's this sense of foreboding that you get from the place and the people that tell you that something is seriously wrong. I don't know what it is or what caused it or what the future holds for these people. But what I do know is that while we could drive away and head back to comfort of our homes to blog about lousy french fries, the people of Elkton can't. This is their life. And it isn't looking too hot right now.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Signs you are at a good Chinese Restaurant (or, why I like Joe's Noodle House, Rockville)
5. You can't locate the place because nothing on the outside of the restaurant is a identifier of the place. Joe's Noodle House had a chinese sign on the outside. Granted, it did say "Noodle House" in smallish test underneath, but it could have been Bob's Noodle House. (There is one such place around, apparently. Bob, like Joe, is presumably fictitious)
4. Once you get in, all communication is restricted to pointing and generic inquisitive/affirmative/negative noises and/or headshakes. Joe's does have people who can speak a smattering of English, but the Mexican helpers throw you off because they don't, and their Chinese is as good as yours, so they can't answer questions about the items on the menu.
3. Speaking of the menu, it has to be at least partly in Chinese, with bad English translation/unheard of words. So See-U Noodle and Plain Millet Congee are a good sign. However, if you get misspelled words like "Domastic" beer, and "Budwiser", you *may* be in trouble. On the other hand, the misspelled words ARE ubiquitous, so maybe you can't uh, read too much into it. (Ba-dum-tisshhh)
2. Happy Chinese people. This is a safe bet for any foreign cuisine; you want a place that the people that invented the cuisine like. So a few nervous white people portends well, while multiple nationalities in the dining room could correlate with disappointment. Of course, if you see a mexican dude in the kitchen, head for the exit.
1. The words "Oooo... i don't know if I could eat THAT" should escape your lips at least once. Joe's has many such things that, as an admittedly not-so-staunch vegetarian, I had qualms eating. But as many of you know, my love for food often exceeds culinary inhibitions that should have been permanently ingrained in my Indian genes. So when I saw Beef Tendon stew, I dug in. (Its chewy, like a tough gelatinous consistency. It had been simmered in the sauce for a long while, so it was delicious). Ditto the other thing that my friend ordered (he did all his talking in Mandarin, just so we could feel inadequate). It had a weird spice that numbed your tongue a bit.
The thing that I did find a bit tough swallowing was the whole fried shrimp. These were big (6") whole shrimp that were dipped in a batter and then deep-fried, like a tempura. Now, I wasn't just going to pop this in my mouth, hold my nose and swallow, like it was some challenge. I took a good five minutes getting through the thing, experiencing every little crunch and pop. It was mild as far as flavor went, but there were a couple of things that made this challenging:
a. The shrimp still had its eyeballs. So as I picked it up and took it to my mouth, I had a rough time overriding the feeling that the thing was looking at me and pleading with me not to eat its face.
b. The biting off of the head. Shrimps might not have giant brains, but there is some non-homogeneity in the general area of its head/neck region of the animal. The eyeballs are soft, but the feelers are crunchy.
c. The damn thing has a hundred legs. Or some large number. These are fried to a crisp, and they tend to scratch on the insides of your mouth and throat. This is somehwat unpleasant because it feels like you're eating a bunch of insects. Also, the alternating of the hard shell and soft flesh is also something to get used to.
One more thing. Throw away the tail area. That's the anus. But you knew that, surely.
So yes, I did have a great time at Joe's. The food is really good and very unlike your local chinese take-out. Its well worth visiting at least once.
But if you're thinking of getting the deep-fried battered shrimp, you've been warned.
4. Once you get in, all communication is restricted to pointing and generic inquisitive/affirmative/negative noises and/or headshakes. Joe's does have people who can speak a smattering of English, but the Mexican helpers throw you off because they don't, and their Chinese is as good as yours, so they can't answer questions about the items on the menu.
3. Speaking of the menu, it has to be at least partly in Chinese, with bad English translation/unheard of words. So See-U Noodle and Plain Millet Congee are a good sign. However, if you get misspelled words like "Domastic" beer, and "Budwiser", you *may* be in trouble. On the other hand, the misspelled words ARE ubiquitous, so maybe you can't uh, read too much into it. (Ba-dum-tisshhh)
2. Happy Chinese people. This is a safe bet for any foreign cuisine; you want a place that the people that invented the cuisine like. So a few nervous white people portends well, while multiple nationalities in the dining room could correlate with disappointment. Of course, if you see a mexican dude in the kitchen, head for the exit.
1. The words "Oooo... i don't know if I could eat THAT" should escape your lips at least once. Joe's has many such things that, as an admittedly not-so-staunch vegetarian, I had qualms eating. But as many of you know, my love for food often exceeds culinary inhibitions that should have been permanently ingrained in my Indian genes. So when I saw Beef Tendon stew, I dug in. (Its chewy, like a tough gelatinous consistency. It had been simmered in the sauce for a long while, so it was delicious). Ditto the other thing that my friend ordered (he did all his talking in Mandarin, just so we could feel inadequate). It had a weird spice that numbed your tongue a bit.
The thing that I did find a bit tough swallowing was the whole fried shrimp. These were big (6") whole shrimp that were dipped in a batter and then deep-fried, like a tempura. Now, I wasn't just going to pop this in my mouth, hold my nose and swallow, like it was some challenge. I took a good five minutes getting through the thing, experiencing every little crunch and pop. It was mild as far as flavor went, but there were a couple of things that made this challenging:
a. The shrimp still had its eyeballs. So as I picked it up and took it to my mouth, I had a rough time overriding the feeling that the thing was looking at me and pleading with me not to eat its face.
b. The biting off of the head. Shrimps might not have giant brains, but there is some non-homogeneity in the general area of its head/neck region of the animal. The eyeballs are soft, but the feelers are crunchy.
c. The damn thing has a hundred legs. Or some large number. These are fried to a crisp, and they tend to scratch on the insides of your mouth and throat. This is somehwat unpleasant because it feels like you're eating a bunch of insects. Also, the alternating of the hard shell and soft flesh is also something to get used to.
One more thing. Throw away the tail area. That's the anus. But you knew that, surely.
So yes, I did have a great time at Joe's. The food is really good and very unlike your local chinese take-out. Its well worth visiting at least once.
But if you're thinking of getting the deep-fried battered shrimp, you've been warned.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The Red Square story - my experience at a Russian/Ukranian bar
I had heard about this Ukranian bar/restaurant called Red Square from my Russian friend Stan. He told me about how this one time he was having dinner at this place on a quiet weekday, and the place gets taken down by a SWAT team. Seriously. People were eating, and all of a sudden the doors come crashing down and a bunch of commandos take over the place, arrest the owner and a couple other people, make everyone stand up against a wall and give them a rigorous pat-down. They shut the place down. "Some illegal activity. Ukranians." said Stan with a shrug at the time.
So when I found that the place had reopened in the middle of Baltimore, I had to go, naturally.
A friend of mine said he knew the bartender well, but he bailed on me so I went alone. The Red Square seemed innocuous enough from the outside, so I opened the door and stepped into darkness. Once my eyes got back, I realised I was in this dimly-lit room that looked like it had been a dungeon before someone decided to throw in a few cheap tables and some ragged upholstery (all red of course). I swear I could smell old dried blood from past torture sessions. On either side of the door I'd just walked in were bouncers with fists as big as my face. The restaurant was completely empty except for one table where there were a couple of men sitting in grey double breasted suits smoking cigars, with swarthy bald dudes built like tanks standing at their shoulders. By this time my insides were already beginning to churn a little because I had clearly walked into a meeting where these guys were either deciding how best to smuggle in the next consignment of rolex watches or deciding which rival gang member's knees to break. I tried a friendly wave but they ignored me and went back to discussing shattered patellae. I walked over stiffly (to conceal the mild trembling) to the bar anyway, because by then I had decided to drink something at this place no matter what. Plus with images from the dungeon in Pulp Fiction flitting through my mind, I genuinely needed a drink.
At the bar, there was this one very worn out Slavic looking woman in high heels and a leather and fishnet kind of dress that strained to keep her fat rolls in check. She gave me a quick up-and-down, decided I had no money for whatever service she was going to offer, and went back to smoking what smelled like old sweaty feet. Behind the bar, there were three more Russians/Ukranians, one of whom had a barely concealed shoulder holster. I tried not to stare, but they were friendly so I started chatting a bit. Turns out their names were Vladimir, Oleg and Leon (I'm not making this up) and they had a total of twenty teeth among them. I tried shaking Leon's hand, but he apologized and said he couldn't; he held up his fist, which was swollen and bloody. "Fight", he said by way of explanation. I gulped, but mistaking my anxious look for worry about his well-being, he added "You should haff seen ze other guy!", and all three guffawed in unison. To further drive home his masculinity (as if this were necessary), Leon showed me some of his scars. He has a 6 inch gash on his jaw from a knife fight in Uzbekistan. The most I could muster was a half inch scar on my thumb from cutting myself while making a glider in 7th grade, which I showed him with gusto and some pride. The three grunted, but I think it was politeness more than genuine appreciation.
I decided to open the menu and talk about the food to try to change the topic to something less testosteroney. We decided to get me some bliny, which is like a crepe. After he yelled out my order in Russian to the Slavic woman (so I guess she waited tables too) Vlad realized I needed a drink, so he asked me "Vot beer you vant? Ve haf zigz beers", and he pointed to a row of bottles dutifully named "Beer No.1", "Beer No.2" all the way to "Beer No.6". Since I was still a little scared to ask too many questions, I asked for No.6. and get a three-quarter liter bottle of what actually turned out to be a pretty decent porter. It tasted like it was about 20% alcohol though, and I knew I'd have to man up and down the whole thing in front of these guys. So while I knew I was heading for a killer hangover, it did soothe my frazzled nerves a bit (it was probably killing cells in my liver and brain as well, but hey). I noticed Leon was looking at me expectantly, so I took another swig, tried not to wince, and mumbled something appreciatively.
But Leon wasn't done. In a very lets-cut-the-crap-and-see-if-you're-a-real-man kind of tone, he asked me "Ssso you vont zome REEYAL russian drinkz?" and I think I nodded. So he put down a shot glass, reached under the bar, pulled out a glass AK-47 and actually "shot" me a gigantic vodka shot. I got served a 4 ounce shot from a gun. I must've turned white (I'm not sure what this means for Indian people - maybe a weird ochre) because they all chortled mercilessly. This had gotten the attention of the mafia gang at table 1, so they stopped and started looking on expectantly, and now all of a sudden I was the scrawny Indian dude in the spotlight ready to be the joke of the week. That made me all incensed, so, as the ambassador of some 1 billion people, I took a deep breath and downed the drink. What followed is pretty undescribable, but the closest I can get is that it felt like someone tied a pound of garlic and a dead sewer rat to a cactus, set it on fire and shoved it down my throat.
But I'm proud to tell you that it stayed down. Sure I coughed and hacked and burped fire, and my nose was running and my ears were ringing, but the drink stayed down. I looked at Vlad in semi-disbelief and suppressed agony, and through bleary eyes I saw his gap-toothed grin, as he informed me, "Thet vass garlic vodka."
I stuffed my face with the bliny that had arrived to save my esophagus from certain annihilation, and decided that I had had enough Russian/Ukranian cultural education for the day. I got up unsteadily to pay up, but they wouldn't accept money (really), so I staggered out of the bar, completely smashed but happy and somewhat proud of having passed the Russian/Ukranian man test.
ps: ALL my bodily secretions smelled of garlic the next couple of days. Garlic Vodka is not for the faint of heart.
So when I found that the place had reopened in the middle of Baltimore, I had to go, naturally.
A friend of mine said he knew the bartender well, but he bailed on me so I went alone. The Red Square seemed innocuous enough from the outside, so I opened the door and stepped into darkness. Once my eyes got back, I realised I was in this dimly-lit room that looked like it had been a dungeon before someone decided to throw in a few cheap tables and some ragged upholstery (all red of course). I swear I could smell old dried blood from past torture sessions. On either side of the door I'd just walked in were bouncers with fists as big as my face. The restaurant was completely empty except for one table where there were a couple of men sitting in grey double breasted suits smoking cigars, with swarthy bald dudes built like tanks standing at their shoulders. By this time my insides were already beginning to churn a little because I had clearly walked into a meeting where these guys were either deciding how best to smuggle in the next consignment of rolex watches or deciding which rival gang member's knees to break. I tried a friendly wave but they ignored me and went back to discussing shattered patellae. I walked over stiffly (to conceal the mild trembling) to the bar anyway, because by then I had decided to drink something at this place no matter what. Plus with images from the dungeon in Pulp Fiction flitting through my mind, I genuinely needed a drink.
At the bar, there was this one very worn out Slavic looking woman in high heels and a leather and fishnet kind of dress that strained to keep her fat rolls in check. She gave me a quick up-and-down, decided I had no money for whatever service she was going to offer, and went back to smoking what smelled like old sweaty feet. Behind the bar, there were three more Russians/Ukranians, one of whom had a barely concealed shoulder holster. I tried not to stare, but they were friendly so I started chatting a bit. Turns out their names were Vladimir, Oleg and Leon (I'm not making this up) and they had a total of twenty teeth among them. I tried shaking Leon's hand, but he apologized and said he couldn't; he held up his fist, which was swollen and bloody. "Fight", he said by way of explanation. I gulped, but mistaking my anxious look for worry about his well-being, he added "You should haff seen ze other guy!", and all three guffawed in unison. To further drive home his masculinity (as if this were necessary), Leon showed me some of his scars. He has a 6 inch gash on his jaw from a knife fight in Uzbekistan. The most I could muster was a half inch scar on my thumb from cutting myself while making a glider in 7th grade, which I showed him with gusto and some pride. The three grunted, but I think it was politeness more than genuine appreciation.
I decided to open the menu and talk about the food to try to change the topic to something less testosteroney. We decided to get me some bliny, which is like a crepe. After he yelled out my order in Russian to the Slavic woman (so I guess she waited tables too) Vlad realized I needed a drink, so he asked me "Vot beer you vant? Ve haf zigz beers", and he pointed to a row of bottles dutifully named "Beer No.1", "Beer No.2" all the way to "Beer No.6". Since I was still a little scared to ask too many questions, I asked for No.6. and get a three-quarter liter bottle of what actually turned out to be a pretty decent porter. It tasted like it was about 20% alcohol though, and I knew I'd have to man up and down the whole thing in front of these guys. So while I knew I was heading for a killer hangover, it did soothe my frazzled nerves a bit (it was probably killing cells in my liver and brain as well, but hey). I noticed Leon was looking at me expectantly, so I took another swig, tried not to wince, and mumbled something appreciatively.
But Leon wasn't done. In a very lets-cut-the-crap-and-see-if-you're-a-real-man kind of tone, he asked me "Ssso you vont zome REEYAL russian drinkz?" and I think I nodded. So he put down a shot glass, reached under the bar, pulled out a glass AK-47 and actually "shot" me a gigantic vodka shot. I got served a 4 ounce shot from a gun. I must've turned white (I'm not sure what this means for Indian people - maybe a weird ochre) because they all chortled mercilessly. This had gotten the attention of the mafia gang at table 1, so they stopped and started looking on expectantly, and now all of a sudden I was the scrawny Indian dude in the spotlight ready to be the joke of the week. That made me all incensed, so, as the ambassador of some 1 billion people, I took a deep breath and downed the drink. What followed is pretty undescribable, but the closest I can get is that it felt like someone tied a pound of garlic and a dead sewer rat to a cactus, set it on fire and shoved it down my throat.
But I'm proud to tell you that it stayed down. Sure I coughed and hacked and burped fire, and my nose was running and my ears were ringing, but the drink stayed down. I looked at Vlad in semi-disbelief and suppressed agony, and through bleary eyes I saw his gap-toothed grin, as he informed me, "Thet vass garlic vodka."
I stuffed my face with the bliny that had arrived to save my esophagus from certain annihilation, and decided that I had had enough Russian/Ukranian cultural education for the day. I got up unsteadily to pay up, but they wouldn't accept money (really), so I staggered out of the bar, completely smashed but happy and somewhat proud of having passed the Russian/Ukranian man test.
ps: ALL my bodily secretions smelled of garlic the next couple of days. Garlic Vodka is not for the faint of heart.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Speaking of the layman's view of scientists...
Don't you think they should just stop funding studies that look at correlation of coffee intake with breast size? I mean, I'm tired of studies becauase:
a. They really just look at correlations; no cause/effect, no mechanistic explanation for anything.
b. They're usually small studies and the statistics are usually marginal, which means that it could have well been just a fluke
c. Very often, some other publicity-seeking "scientific" study looked at the same, or a very similar question and came up with a different conclusion, which leads to
d. A general feeling of mistrust in the public. Come on, admit it, how often have you had non-scientists give you an example like the one I cited, and then point out that two years previously there was another study that said the exact opposite, and that therefore all of this was b.s anyway?
I don't know, I think the studies are useless (no one is going to increase/decrease their coffee intake so that they can alter their bust size), and they permit a certain cynicism about science in the lay population, which is unhelpful.
Oh, and in case you didn't follow the link, more than three cups a day will shrink your boobies apparently.
a. They really just look at correlations; no cause/effect, no mechanistic explanation for anything.
b. They're usually small studies and the statistics are usually marginal, which means that it could have well been just a fluke
c. Very often, some other publicity-seeking "scientific" study looked at the same, or a very similar question and came up with a different conclusion, which leads to
d. A general feeling of mistrust in the public. Come on, admit it, how often have you had non-scientists give you an example like the one I cited, and then point out that two years previously there was another study that said the exact opposite, and that therefore all of this was b.s anyway?
I don't know, I think the studies are useless (no one is going to increase/decrease their coffee intake so that they can alter their bust size), and they permit a certain cynicism about science in the lay population, which is unhelpful.
Oh, and in case you didn't follow the link, more than three cups a day will shrink your boobies apparently.
Real scientists in the Obama administration
Sweet music to my ears. These people are giants in their field, and are bona-fide scientists, not bullshit hacks who will twist facts to please their political masters. Its the worst thing a scientist can do - lend credence to something patently unsupported by sound data; it promotes falsehoods in the name of science, and truly tarnishes the trust that the public has in scientists.
Hopefully this new set of scientists in the Obama administration will have the spine to do what needs to be done to get S&T back on track in his country. (Of course, they could start off by, cough, cough, increasing the salaries of scientists. Happy scientists = productive scientists...)
Hopefully this new set of scientists in the Obama administration will have the spine to do what needs to be done to get S&T back on track in his country. (Of course, they could start off by, cough, cough, increasing the salaries of scientists. Happy scientists = productive scientists...)
Friday, December 19, 2008
Holy crap. California in BAD shape.
Oh Jesus. I just came across this.
CA as you well know, is still in the top 10 economies in the WORLD. And now they have to face spending freezes, and state employees are forced to take two days unpaid leave every month because the government can't afford to pay them?
Oh good lord. I hope this is some sort of a legislative grandstanding. If it isn't, we are in big, big, BIG trouble. As California goes, so does the country...
Update: Ok, it *might* be a result of friction between the dems in the house and Arnie. We'll see how this pans out...
CA as you well know, is still in the top 10 economies in the WORLD. And now they have to face spending freezes, and state employees are forced to take two days unpaid leave every month because the government can't afford to pay them?
Oh good lord. I hope this is some sort of a legislative grandstanding. If it isn't, we are in big, big, BIG trouble. As California goes, so does the country...
Update: Ok, it *might* be a result of friction between the dems in the house and Arnie. We'll see how this pans out...
Extraordinary horniness plus extraordinary fecundity equals...
This might be beautiful to some people, and childbirth is great and all that, but 18??? EIGHTEEN children??? That's one very year. That's two months between childbirth and conception. That's one uterus that's doing a hell of a job pleasing Jesus.
Of course, they now have a TV show.
Oh, here's a nice bonus to brighten your day: the duggar family website. Don't get me started.
Punches in super slo mo
Hypnotizing. And of course, incredibly, stupidly, mind numbingly funny.
The actual punches start a minute into the video, but I like the build-up.
The actual punches start a minute into the video, but I like the build-up.
Chris Matthews destroys Frank Gaffney
Thanks to reader Joe who brought this to my attention. The real fireworks start at about 11:00.
Now we officially know from Dick Cheney what we had guessed all along: the war would have been fought anyway - They were out to get Saddam no matter what. They knew he didn't have the damn WMDs, the weapons were just a great excuse to thrust in our faces to scare us into going along with what was always a little geopolitical game with by the neocons, with their best buddies (esp. in the arms and oil industries) pocketing nice tidy sums along the way.
4000+ American lives. AT LEAST 150,000 Iraqi lives.
I'm sure these guys sleep just fine at night. We liberated that country, after all.
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Now we officially know from Dick Cheney what we had guessed all along: the war would have been fought anyway - They were out to get Saddam no matter what. They knew he didn't have the damn WMDs, the weapons were just a great excuse to thrust in our faces to scare us into going along with what was always a little geopolitical game with by the neocons, with their best buddies (esp. in the arms and oil industries) pocketing nice tidy sums along the way.
4000+ American lives. AT LEAST 150,000 Iraqi lives.
I'm sure these guys sleep just fine at night. We liberated that country, after all.
Karma
I know this is old, old news now, but its good enough to watch again and again. And again.
Couple things about this:
1. Pretty awesome aim dude. That was going right AT his noggin.
2. REALLY awesome reflexes dude. For a sixty year old. (As Leno said, the only thing he dodged so successfully was the draft. Ha.)
3. Life is going to be hell for the next few days/weeks/months, or for however long the journalist gets in jail. Oh sure, he's a hero to the people, but he totally embarrassed the crap out of Maliki.
All humour aside, how embarrassing. The guy goes out for his victory lap (mischaracterizing his administration's role in this fiasco all the way), and he gets a shoe in the face. It is painful to see how low this idiot has allowed the Office of the Presidency to fall. Really, really sad.
Oh, and I hope that there's more to follow. A shoe in the face may be nice and cathartic and all that, but what we need is people (not just a lame-ass "independent commission" which will probably let them off with a slap on the wrist) to systematically pick apart all that has happened in the past few years and go after these assholes and bring them to justice. And then start the work of reversing all the damage that has been done.
Couple things about this:
1. Pretty awesome aim dude. That was going right AT his noggin.
2. REALLY awesome reflexes dude. For a sixty year old. (As Leno said, the only thing he dodged so successfully was the draft. Ha.)
3. Life is going to be hell for the next few days/weeks/months, or for however long the journalist gets in jail. Oh sure, he's a hero to the people, but he totally embarrassed the crap out of Maliki.
All humour aside, how embarrassing. The guy goes out for his victory lap (mischaracterizing his administration's role in this fiasco all the way), and he gets a shoe in the face. It is painful to see how low this idiot has allowed the Office of the Presidency to fall. Really, really sad.
Oh, and I hope that there's more to follow. A shoe in the face may be nice and cathartic and all that, but what we need is people (not just a lame-ass "independent commission" which will probably let them off with a slap on the wrist) to systematically pick apart all that has happened in the past few years and go after these assholes and bring them to justice. And then start the work of reversing all the damage that has been done.
Ah, the intertubes...
I know, I don't really have to explain my disappearance, but here it is anyway.
1. I had a big big presentation to make. The kind that I couldn't wing like I usually do.
2. The interubes were blocked at home. AGAIN. I hate you com-fucking-cast. The robot helper couldn't sort it out and I kept calling when there were no humans who could help me.
3. I can't do this at work.
4. The intertubes *did* come back up a couple days ago, but much as I love pushupyogi, there were more important sites to visit from the solitude of my room...
There. That made me feel better.
1. I had a big big presentation to make. The kind that I couldn't wing like I usually do.
2. The interubes were blocked at home. AGAIN. I hate you com-fucking-cast. The robot helper couldn't sort it out and I kept calling when there were no humans who could help me.
3. I can't do this at work.
4. The intertubes *did* come back up a couple days ago, but much as I love pushupyogi, there were more important sites to visit from the solitude of my room...
There. That made me feel better.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Funny One Night Stand story
Oh dear, oh dear... well, first things first. This is not urban legend; my roommate knows the people involved. Well, the girl involved. So the person in question is a bright young thing, who was impressed enough with this bright young dude that she decided to go back to his home after the evening out. So all goes off as planed (we presume), and the next morning the guy has to leave early for work. So he tells this lady to let herself out when she's good to go. A couple hours later she wakes up and is good to go. As in good to go. To the bathroom. After what apparently was a satisfying dump, she flushes. Except (you know where this is going), all she gets is BLLUUNSSHHHK. I can tell you from experience, the sound of a broken toilet is one of the most distressing sounds one can ever hear. So she flushes again and again, and all she gets is BLLUUNSSHHHK, BLLUUNSSHHHK, BLLUUNSSHHHK... Nothing. Things stay where they are.
And then this woman did something, perhaps in the heat of the moment, that I don't know if I would, or could, have done. She proceeded to bag things up. I don't know, and I don't want to know the exact logistics but I do know that desperation does drive ingenuity. Either way, she got all that stuff bagged up and cleaned up, and with a huge sigh of relief (I can only imagine) left the house. Well, almost; as she was ready to step out, she remembered that she had left her handbag on the front room table. So she ran back inside, got the bag, took another quick look around and left, this time firmly shutting the door behind her.
And then noticed that she had left the other bag on the table...
And then this woman did something, perhaps in the heat of the moment, that I don't know if I would, or could, have done. She proceeded to bag things up. I don't know, and I don't want to know the exact logistics but I do know that desperation does drive ingenuity. Either way, she got all that stuff bagged up and cleaned up, and with a huge sigh of relief (I can only imagine) left the house. Well, almost; as she was ready to step out, she remembered that she had left her handbag on the front room table. So she ran back inside, got the bag, took another quick look around and left, this time firmly shutting the door behind her.
And then noticed that she had left the other bag on the table...
Two huge events in the news
I've been a bit busy with work and all that, but there were two things that caught my attention, that are really too important to pass up.
1. Japanese men find love at last.
As you may have already read, Japanese men have absolutely no time and/or interest in sex. Plus of course, there are now guys like Le Trung, who have gone ahead and, well, you have to read it.
Take a look at this guy's face. You know he's been spending way too much, ahem, happy time with the fembot. You just know.
2. Oprah gains weight again
O.M.G. She's back at 200 lbs. The world as we know it is. going. to. end. We all gonna DIIEEE!!!!
1. Japanese men find love at last.
As you may have already read, Japanese men have absolutely no time and/or interest in sex. Plus of course, there are now guys like Le Trung, who have gone ahead and, well, you have to read it.
Take a look at this guy's face. You know he's been spending way too much, ahem, happy time with the fembot. You just know.
2. Oprah gains weight again
O.M.G. She's back at 200 lbs. The world as we know it is. going. to. end. We all gonna DIIEEE!!!!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Bear $#*%ing Grylls was asking for it
As I have painstakingly chronicled previously, Bear $#*%ing Grylls is a turd who is waiting to get himself killed on of these days. He's also a royal wanker and a fraud. (Sorry, had to do it).
Anyways, did you hear about this? Apparently this idiot got himself injured on a trip to Antarctica. I'm sure he tried somersaulting across an icy ravine and broke his shoulder in the process. I wish two things had happened:
1. They had caught it on tape.
2. He broke his neck instead of his shoulder.
Here is the idiot in all glory, buried up to his neck in dirt. I'm sure there's some (bullshit) reason.
Anyways, did you hear about this? Apparently this idiot got himself injured on a trip to Antarctica. I'm sure he tried somersaulting across an icy ravine and broke his shoulder in the process. I wish two things had happened:
1. They had caught it on tape.
2. He broke his neck instead of his shoulder.
Here is the idiot in all glory, buried up to his neck in dirt. I'm sure there's some (bullshit) reason.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Stupid word plays that piss me off
There are many of these, and I do know of people who have almost killed over some of this stupidity, but I am showing restraint today. I have to keep reminding myself that my mum reads this blog.
1. Unnecessary alliteration: There is a whole list of this, but nothing exemplifies this more than college basketball. March Madness. Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, Final Four. Excuse me while I go and vomit. AND SCREAM AS I VOMIT. WHY? WHY????? Aren't quarterfinals and semifinals (pron. ˈse-mē thankyouverymuch) good enough or you???
1a. Unnecessary redundant alliteration: The words Crispy and Cream are already alliterative. So why change them to Krispy and Kreme??? You thought we may pronounce the words with a soft c???
2. Near-homonyms and near-homonym insertions: I don't want an event to be "funtastic!!!" Its either fun, or fantastic. If its both, call it fun and fantastic. Actually, this will violate the alliteration rule so go for fun and, oh I don't know, marvelous or something.
I also saw this on the metro: Someone who gives up his/her seat to the more needy is a "Conseaterate" apparently. If you show me one person who does NOT think this is extraordinarily lame and devoid of intelligence, tell me and I will beat some sense into their dysfunctional brains.
3. Unnecessary acronyms: PBJ... well... alright. OJ... ok, reeeeallly pushing it. But HBO for Honey Bunches of Oats???
And, as it happens quite often, scientists take the cake: Do you know what LIGHT stands for?
Homologous to lymphotoxin, exhibits inducible expression, competes with herpesvirus glycoprotein D for herpesvirus entry mediator on T cells.
No kidding. Ask any immunologist you know.
4. Unnecessary quasi-technical jargon. Listen, if you want to say OK say OK. Saying 10-4 when you're not a cop on duty sounds pretty retarded, even if you think it makes you sound cool. Ditto for computer users. Nothing spells NERD more than calling someone a little less knowledgeable about computers than you a 404. You my be snickering now, but the joke's on you, you little jerk.
5. Stupid hybrid words: There are literally hundreds of these but nothing worse than the word I currently hate the most in the English language....
...
...
...
WEBINAR.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#$&*&&*^# **&^$%#$&$@. Sorry mom.
amp;*&&*^# **&^$%#webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#$&*&&*^# **&^$%#$&$@. Sorry mom.
amp;$@. Sorry mom.
Hey, are there any other little word plays that piss you off? There are hundreds out there. Tell me which ones are exquisitely painful for you.
Update: My friend Joe points out that I use the word "biatch". Apparently.
"...the urban dictionary thinks you are an annoying, white, teenage girl.
Word originally created by gangstas, but sumhow [sic] used by every single spoiled white girl in America."
Oh.
1. Unnecessary alliteration: There is a whole list of this, but nothing exemplifies this more than college basketball. March Madness. Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, Final Four. Excuse me while I go and vomit. AND SCREAM AS I VOMIT. WHY? WHY????? Aren't quarterfinals and semifinals (pron. ˈse-mē thankyouverymuch) good enough or you???
1a. Unnecessary redundant alliteration: The words Crispy and Cream are already alliterative. So why change them to Krispy and Kreme??? You thought we may pronounce the words with a soft c???
2. Near-homonyms and near-homonym insertions: I don't want an event to be "funtastic!!!" Its either fun, or fantastic. If its both, call it fun and fantastic. Actually, this will violate the alliteration rule so go for fun and, oh I don't know, marvelous or something.
I also saw this on the metro: Someone who gives up his/her seat to the more needy is a "Conseaterate" apparently. If you show me one person who does NOT think this is extraordinarily lame and devoid of intelligence, tell me and I will beat some sense into their dysfunctional brains.
3. Unnecessary acronyms: PBJ... well... alright. OJ... ok, reeeeallly pushing it. But HBO for Honey Bunches of Oats???
And, as it happens quite often, scientists take the cake: Do you know what LIGHT stands for?
Homologous to lymphotoxin, exhibits inducible expression, competes with herpesvirus glycoprotein D for herpesvirus entry mediator on T cells.
No kidding. Ask any immunologist you know.
4. Unnecessary quasi-technical jargon. Listen, if you want to say OK say OK. Saying 10-4 when you're not a cop on duty sounds pretty retarded, even if you think it makes you sound cool. Ditto for computer users. Nothing spells NERD more than calling someone a little less knowledgeable about computers than you a 404. You my be snickering now, but the joke's on you, you little jerk.
5. Stupid hybrid words: There are literally hundreds of these but nothing worse than the word I currently hate the most in the English language....
...
...
...
WEBINAR.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#$&*&&*^# **&^$%#$&$@. Sorry mom.
amp;*&&*^# **&^$%#webinar? WEBINAR???? You stupid @#$@$#%ing @#$^%$#@ @#$&*&&*^# **&^$%#$&$@. Sorry mom.
amp;$@. Sorry mom.
Hey, are there any other little word plays that piss you off? There are hundreds out there. Tell me which ones are exquisitely painful for you.
Update: My friend Joe points out that I use the word "biatch". Apparently.
"...the urban dictionary thinks you are an annoying, white, teenage girl.
Word originally created by gangstas, but sumhow [sic] used by every single spoiled white girl in America."
Oh.
My roommate had a rough Thursday
My roommate DH has been having car issues. For someone who doesn't wear a seat belt in spite of multiple tickets, he seemed overly worried about an expired registration. (A small segue to explain the seat belt thing: he claims that he will fly through the windshield and land on the road on all fours with "cat-like grace" in case of a high speed crash. This will avoid him having a bruise across his chest with that restraining nuisance they require drivers to wear. He hasn't had a chance to put this theory into action. Yet.)
Either way, he needed to get his somewhat beat-up but still mostly functional '98 Camry registered. For which you need a state inspector to inspect and pass the car for safety. And in what has to be one of the top ten convenient ways to screw people over, the place you need to get an inspection also happens to be a mechanic shop, and if the mechanic, oh-so-concerned about your safety in your vehicle fails your car, you *have* to get the car fixed in the *same* shop, by law.
So whats the probability that the inspector will actually pass your car in the first go? That's right. Zero.
Which is exactly what happened to my roommate. However, while you and I may have rolled over and taken it in the tailpipe, DH actually knows cars, and had worked on the car the previous week to make it look OK enough to pass the inspection. So naturally, he was mad. After a bit of grandstanding on both sides, he then did what I may not have done. He brought a second inspector from somewhere and a lawyer buddy of his. Inspector #1 backed down grudgingly and gave the car the A-OK.
And then as DH was driving home in triumph, He noticed an acrid smell emanating from the car. Seconds later, his car radio turned off. As many of you know, this is often the kiss of death for the automobile. Fearing the worst, he tried to exit the highway, but as he was heading over to the exit, the car choked, gasped, and breathed its last in one giant cloud of smoke. The damn thing nearly caught fire. Turns out the starter was screwed up, didn't disengage, and had burnt itself out. And no, this isn't something that the inspector could have done to spite DH; this was just an old car crapping out. You'd think that that was bad enough, but guess who owned the towing company that had to drag the automotive corpse off the road. Yep. Inspector #1. (I have no idea how much he charged him, but DH isn't talking much today, and I don't want to pry).
But it didn't end there. So they came back to the house and left the car, and my roommate went to the laundry room to get a tarp to cover the driver's side window (he had it down when this happened and all the wiring was fried, so he couldn't get it up). As he took the thing down, a conveniently placed can of wood polish (mahogany finish) got knocked off the shelf and into the conveniently open laundry tub. He has spent a good six hours cleaning up and is still trying to get the stuff out as of today, but it looks like our washer has permanently acquired a woody finish. So will the next few loads, I'm sure.
And did I mention he had his law school final exam on Friday?
So, for the second time in as many days, I realize Karma can be a biatch. (Its a pity though. DH is a good man. Maybe it has something to do with him aspiring to be a lawyer; so maybe this is like a preemptive karma strike for all the wretched deeds he is going to commit...)
Car:
Washer (after 4 wash cycles with rags):
Either way, he needed to get his somewhat beat-up but still mostly functional '98 Camry registered. For which you need a state inspector to inspect and pass the car for safety. And in what has to be one of the top ten convenient ways to screw people over, the place you need to get an inspection also happens to be a mechanic shop, and if the mechanic, oh-so-concerned about your safety in your vehicle fails your car, you *have* to get the car fixed in the *same* shop, by law.
So whats the probability that the inspector will actually pass your car in the first go? That's right. Zero.
Which is exactly what happened to my roommate. However, while you and I may have rolled over and taken it in the tailpipe, DH actually knows cars, and had worked on the car the previous week to make it look OK enough to pass the inspection. So naturally, he was mad. After a bit of grandstanding on both sides, he then did what I may not have done. He brought a second inspector from somewhere and a lawyer buddy of his. Inspector #1 backed down grudgingly and gave the car the A-OK.
And then as DH was driving home in triumph, He noticed an acrid smell emanating from the car. Seconds later, his car radio turned off. As many of you know, this is often the kiss of death for the automobile. Fearing the worst, he tried to exit the highway, but as he was heading over to the exit, the car choked, gasped, and breathed its last in one giant cloud of smoke. The damn thing nearly caught fire. Turns out the starter was screwed up, didn't disengage, and had burnt itself out. And no, this isn't something that the inspector could have done to spite DH; this was just an old car crapping out. You'd think that that was bad enough, but guess who owned the towing company that had to drag the automotive corpse off the road. Yep. Inspector #1. (I have no idea how much he charged him, but DH isn't talking much today, and I don't want to pry).
But it didn't end there. So they came back to the house and left the car, and my roommate went to the laundry room to get a tarp to cover the driver's side window (he had it down when this happened and all the wiring was fried, so he couldn't get it up). As he took the thing down, a conveniently placed can of wood polish (mahogany finish) got knocked off the shelf and into the conveniently open laundry tub. He has spent a good six hours cleaning up and is still trying to get the stuff out as of today, but it looks like our washer has permanently acquired a woody finish. So will the next few loads, I'm sure.
And did I mention he had his law school final exam on Friday?
So, for the second time in as many days, I realize Karma can be a biatch. (Its a pity though. DH is a good man. Maybe it has something to do with him aspiring to be a lawyer; so maybe this is like a preemptive karma strike for all the wretched deeds he is going to commit...)
Car:
Washer (after 4 wash cycles with rags):
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Sweet sweet karma
ONE DAY after I poke fun at my lab mate for innocently suggesting that I heat up my 37 degree incubator to get my cells to grow faster, I put a set of grids in a plastic petri dish to dry in the 60 degree oven, instead of at 37 degrees. Of course, that got them fried. This is how the unfortunate dishes looked (with a glass slide alongside for scale).
Ah, karma is indeed a biatch.
Ah, karma is indeed a biatch.
Monday, December 1, 2008
DNS and the interwebs
You should read this. A really well written piece in WIRED about Dan Kaminsky, and how de uncovered a basic, basic flaw in the interwebs.
Whats somewhat disconcerting is how easy it is for this to happen again, except with someone with fewer moral qualms.
Whats somewhat disconcerting is how easy it is for this to happen again, except with someone with fewer moral qualms.
Plaxico Burress
Oh Jesus, this was incredibly funny. First of all, the guy is a jackass, a bad teammate and a thug. Sure, he's a good receiver, but I'm tired of these athletes pulling stupid stunts just because they can catch/throw/hit a ball well. Secondly, why the hell do you carry a firearm into a crowded bar? If its "for self-protection" don't go there dude. And finally, there *is* this little thing called a safety catch on a gun. Keeping it on when you have a gun in you pocket is wise. So when one an idiot like Burress goes to a nightclub and shoots himself in the right thigh (as he was posturing, no doubt), it gives me immense pleasure, because he deserved it. The one thing that would have made me even happier was if the gun was pointing a little farther left. That would have taken young Plax out of the gene pool for good, earning him a medal of honor at the Darwin Awards. Which may have been a good thing, I think.
However, apparently they can lock him up for 3 to 15 years, because NY state does not recognize out of state gun permits (it was outdated anyway). Now, the guy is going to be axed from the Giants (probably done with football too), he's the butt of late-night jokes, and he SHOT HIMSELF IN THE DAMN LEG. Don't you thing that the instant karma, as delicious and appropriate as it is, suffices?
Biological solutions from an Engineer
For those of you who don't believe it when I say that there aren't any traditional biologists in the lab, here's a little anecdote. (You're going to have to be a biologist to find this remotely funny)
I'm growing a few cell lines, and one of them wasn't growing slowly, not as well as the others. I mention this to my super-smart friend/cubicle-mate/collaborator/overall good guy who happens to be an engineer stuck in a Bio lab.
His immediate answer: Dude, why don't you just raise the temperature of your 37 degree incubator?
I'm growing a few cell lines, and one of them wasn't growing slowly, not as well as the others. I mention this to my super-smart friend/cubicle-mate/collaborator/overall good guy who happens to be an engineer stuck in a Bio lab.
His immediate answer: Dude, why don't you just raise the temperature of your 37 degree incubator?
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