Archive for October, 2008

Rogue Walri

31 October 2008








Happy Halloween!  I’m wearing my Dracula ant costume…right now!

Broadly speakingem-dashsoaring to new heights.

30 October 2008

I know two or three folks love the music video posts.  At least, eventually.  Usually inadvertently.  Anyway, I hope you can all make it to my “what we do” talk on Friday which will prove to be an extended diatribe on musicacaphony.  “Caca” being the operative term here.  Remember when we went to that cramped Silver Apples show around the turn of the century which seemed impossible?  Seriously.


27 October 2008

Art Shapiro came strolling through the garden today while I was working up a bed for lettuce and mustard greens.  “Good day to do the work,” he said, matter-of-factly, “and we should have rain by the weekend.”

“That’s a’good news for the plants,” I stammered, sweat-soaked, apparently pretending to be Italian.

A few moments later an enormous red-tail—well a low-flying one at least—appeared overhead.  She wheeled once, and continued south, ruddering with her ruddy rectrices.  I thought of Epidexipteryx, but only for a moment.  A buckeye danced about the garden.  Following or fleeing Art? I couldn’t tell.

On the way back I saw a flicker on a telephone pole, a seasonal first for me, I think.  Later, I found this weevil on my arm.  Hypera postica I guess?  Canadians already celebrated their National Weevil Day, but ours doesn’t come until the 27th of November, which seems kind of late, but you know: Puritans…go figure.

Later still, I gave myself a haircut and an unintentional rat-tail which Jessica mended when she returned from Point Reyes.

Blogging is awesome.  I’m going to bed.

Saturday Insexology 201

25 October 2008

Somewhere in Guizhou… check out the composite seed–there’s a trans-kingdom sex joke in there somewhere, but i’m too tired.

Gracious God, what a jaw! how many animals have been crushed by it?

24 October 2008

Mammoth Snack – by the inimitable Unforgivable Realness

lowing of death All were killed except one male the fiercest of the race and him even the artillery of the skies assailed in vain He ascended the bluest summit which shades the source of the Monongahela and roaring aloud bid defiance to every vengeance The red lightning scorched the lofty firs and rived the knotty oaks but only glanced upon the enraged monster At length maddened with fury he leaped over the waves of the west at a bound and this moment reigns the uncontroled monarch of the wilderness in despite even of Omnipotence itself MAN 81
Mastodon, Mammoth, and Man By John Patterson MacLean

Because sometimes, ZooBorns just can’t satisfy one’s primal thirst for unicorn blood.  Also, be sure to check out in the future, war is more humane and centaur solutionto a raptor problem (a diptych!).

My caucasian friend in the red t-shirt says, “no more white presidents”

20 October 2008

I don’t photograph well–occassionally I’m not even visible.  Still, sometimes I get lucky.  To wit: I’ve been featured on Ugly Overload! (or, “Ugly Overlord” as I like to call the website in my head.)  Fame, fortune and naughty mermaids all will no doubt follow soon.

As long as I have your attention, this one goes out to Randy, to whom I drunkenly raved about Ethiopiques before imploring the patrons of the hip-hop club downstairs to vote and attempting to rally them with an empowering round of “¡Sí Se Puede!” above the strains of “BOYZ” which, it turns out is a waaaay better song than “Womanizer.”  All of which goes towards explaining why I was so wan and hoarse at the paleo-bloggers lunch and why I was never able to get around to making a joke that I’d been saving up for weeks about microecos being the result of a thought experiment where an infinite number of adapids were placed in a room full of selectrics and a mason jar full of mescaline.

Um, yeah.  So you’re welcome Randy.

And one more thing.  Hesperornis is totally a marine reptile and anyone who says otherwise can suck it.

p.s. (she’s in the hot tub.)

Third Eye Vision

13 October 2008

Many have pondered the reception of the steady stream of e-m message bottles we’ve been casting into the cosmic lagoon for a century or so.  What are the aliens making of The Honeymooners, The Brady Bunch, the numbers stations, That 70s Show?  Are they amused? perplexed? outraged?

The best, I suppose that we can hope for is that they might find some sense of aesthetic beauty in the radiation pouring off our planet–as we get from the flash of a lampyrid; a solar glint off the gorget of hummingbird or the belly of lizard.  Beautiful and stripped of meaning.

The worst is that they might eventually swing by and try to clean up the stain.

All of which is a silly way to try to direct you to one of the best blog posts that I have read in ages.