<= 2000.12.12

2000.12.14 =>

the rhamphorynchi of yesteryear

The Dublin punch was a success. So was the bar-hopping afterward, though I don't remember much of it. A significant fraction of the Workshop is into snuff, of all things: dear me. Now I'm hung over and it's snowing again. After spending yesterday trudging around in search of a snow shovel, then shoveling my Honda out of a snowbank, then shoveling and pushing someone else's van out of a much bigger snowbank, I'm having doubts about the vaunted magic of wintertime. Unless frostbite is magical. If I make it back to Arizona alive, I estimate I'll have one ear and seven fingers remaining. I have my coffee and Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire on the stereo and I am not leaving the house.

This morning the university sent me their inclement weather policy. Excerpt:


Whenever possible, the University continues to function during inclement weather. In particular, the following University departments remain open and in operation: 1) Residence Services; 2) Facilities Services Group; and 3) Public Safety. The University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics and the University of Iowa Dental Clinic also continue to function during inclement weather.

I like that they keep the dental clinic open. That shows moxie, and verve.

Happycat sends me a paranormal link with Civil War soldiers killing a pterodactyl. The photo is pretty suspect, but Happycat points out that all of the photography details are accurate and carefully researched; and I can confirm the same for the paleontology, having spent a childhood immersed in books on Mesozoic life. The words Rhamphorynchus and Pteranodon actually make me nostalgic.

I guess we all saw Gore's expected concession coming. Now that a constitutional crisis no longer looks imminent, we can get back to the important things like the Election 2000-themed jewelry that enjewel.com is hawking for the holidays. The other night I finished George Saunders' CivilWarLand in Bad Decline: my God. I'm all for black comedy, but these stories are more or less an encyclopedia of my worst fears about whither this country is headed. Post-apocalyptic scenarios are usually botched so badly that one forgets how unnerving they can be when done well. There's a glimmer of light at the end. Just a bit.


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