New job is best job

Ok, so it's an internship, but I've never before been so excited about working for no money. I'm working at the Encyclopedia of Life in the Harvard Museum of Natural History (YESSS).

I love this place. I love how it smells. I love the fusty old architecture. I love the dusty old rooms. I love the layers of technology, and the layers of paint. I love that there are trophies of the past everywhere. Including grenades.

From Blog

The EOL is a new department, and I get the feeling they're just sort of squatting here. There are all of these cabinets, which have been emptied of their specimens, but all of the EOL's goods and chattels are just kind of stacked on the floor.  When I'm not doing SRS BZNS leveraging and optimising of Web 2.0 technology or whatever, I'm gonna stow some of this shit in some of these cabinets.

Warily merry

I have complicated feelings about Christmastime.  I'm not Christian, but I'm always game for a good solstice celebration; I'm kind of fond of the music, but not blasting at me from every turn (especially pop remixes); while I think peace on Earth and goodwill toward whatever is a generally good idea, I detest the vapid, mandatory cheer enforced during this season.

These, though, I can get behind 100%:

They're blown-glass baubles from the MIT Glass Lab's holiday sale.  I can put up with this.

Today in phone spam

Telephone: Ring! Ring ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Telephone: Hello! This is an automated survey from the College Republicans to irritate the living shit out of you first thing in the morning! Press 1 if you think Barack Obama is the Devil, or 2 if you think he is an illegal immigrant terrorist poopyhead.
Me: (pressing buttons) 0! 0! #! 9!
Telephone: We're sorry, there are no actual living human beings here.
Me: (hangs up, looks up College Republicans' own phone number, dials)
Telephone: Hello! This is an answering machine!
Me: Howdy.  My name is Marty. I recently received an automated survey from you, please take my number off your list.  Also, I'm gay, almost done paying off my student loans, and interested in someday sending my kids to college. You are OUT OF YOUR COTTON-PICKING MIIIIIINDS if you think I will ever, EVER vote Republican.  Good day. (rings off)

The TeratoMarty Gene: Discovered!

I'm not talking about my Uncle Gene, either.  I'm talking about the gene that governs the Dopamine D4 Receptor (DRD4). The more base pairs that repeat in at least one allele of this gene, the more prone the carrier is to sexual promiscuity, including one-night stands, marital infidelity (and presumably ethical sluthood, a category not used in this research).

Related findings also tie this genetic polymorphism to social liberalism (via openness to new social situations), love of horror movies, a fondness for novelty, and addictive behaviour.  All they need to do is discover that the damned thing also predisposes one to a fondness for musical theatre, and that's me in a codon.

I would like to rebut the logical fallacy committed by one popular article, which says that we can "blame" our genes if we cheat on our spouses. While our genes may influence what we think of as a good time, we are still morally responsible for the consequences of our actions.  Our genes also code for these damn big frontal lobes, which we are meant to use to determine whether things are a good idea or not.  Our genes give us our sense of fun AND the capacity to figure out ways in which we can enjoy ourselves without hurting others.

New stop on the Red Line.

Really, I didn't know there were any additions planned, but I'm looking forward to visiting:

Alligator fuck house

I just hope it's not lame like Braintree.  You hear the name, you think, like, brains growing on trees, or possibly just GIANT BRAINS growing out of the ground. But no, it's just a post-industrial suburb.  The new stop needs to at least have an amusement park.  Maybe with an exhibit of reptiles.
snuggle phone

Fun With Bigots

As most of you may know, I am a pale, pink-ish person.  This sometimes causes other pinkish persons to see me as their allies in some fatuous battle against brownish persons.  Honestly, I will pretty much always side with "those people" when "those people" are lumped together as a homogeneous, inhuman mass.  Mostly I'm too sissy to speak up, but yesterday as I was waiting for the bus, someone else started the conversation.  A corpse-white woman in an odious pink Red Sox hat, who I'd never met before, was standing next to me.  Two shortish, brownish people who often share the bus with me joined the mob from the other side.*

Woman, apparently to me: Those people!  They come into our country, they don't even know how to stand in line!

Me: [affronted silence]

Woman: Ugh!

Me, doing my best Bela Lugosi impression:** Those people, live in this town their whole lives. I come from Moldova.  I know how to queue.  "Those people," pah.

Woman: Oh I'm so sorry I...

Me: [Sneer, silently board bus to sit near brownish persons]
*Note for those not from the Boston area: Bostonians do not really have a rigid grasp of queueing to wait for the bus.  They'll kind of wait in a longish lump that is mostly like a queue, but the etiquette is not exact, and people routinely join the scrum at whatever point is convenient.

**Not actually very good.