Aye, ’tis Talk Like a Pirate Day agin, ye scurrrvy dogs.
Some fine buccaneers from U Penn have spliced a webpage with some tips on talkin’ ‘n’ typin’ pirate, pieces-of-eight.
Pharyngularrrrr will presumably be switchin’ to PZ’s annual pirate mode at midnight Minnesota time, fer those what like their science with more arrrrrrrghs.
The weather was so warm and spring-has-sprung-y that I spent it outdoors instead of in, s0 blogging has been light. I was also excited by anticipating my belated-birthday night out watching Hugh Jackman shake his moneymaker in The Boy from Oz, which was a fine fine sight.
A fine spectacular sight. The opening number was totally over the top, and Jackman’s stratospherically high energy set the pace for the
Words! Words! Words! I’m so sick of words!
I get words all day through;
First from him, now from you!
Is that all you blighters can do?
Pavlov’s Cat is feeling tetchy about certain words she’d like to ban, and presented us with an array of abused words and phrases, most of which, as she points out, were once vivid metaphor but now grown dull from overuse.
What a good idea!
An episode of the Health Report on Radio National asked whether our doctors really know what treatment works best for their patients?
Does the current system, which essentially teaches doctors just enough science that they can go into an apprentice programme for their final professional training, absorb and react quickly enough to evidence regarding whether their treatments are actually effective or not?
Dr Alex Barratt provides data which shows that most
Father’s Rights Activist, that is. He’s commenting over at the old place, in a post from a few months ago where I referenced another blogger’s longer commentary:
Kevin T. Keith at Sufficient Scruples examines how fathers’ rights organisations attract pseudoscientists making up mental illnesses that their harpy ex-wives must be suffering from that both explain why they’re being difficult about visiting rights and why the courts should just
I tried to ignore it, I really did. Does it really matter? said I. The people who don’t already know won’t care, and surely the rest of us Auntie-loving lefties will forgive them the odd howler.
In the end, I couldn’t let it go. So, I sent my letter to ABC complaints:
Please please please can the ABC promotion for the upcoming new season of the Midsomer Murders series stop calling Midsomer a village when it’s obviously a county!?!
Naomi Robson and her filmcrew have been arrested by the Indonesians for trying to enter Papua illegally on a tourist visa (instead of the required working journalist visa). Since this offence has nothing to do with drugs, she is likely to be fined and deported rather than imprisoned for any long period. She may even not go near a prison proper at all.
She will presumably have to go to
I wonder how often organisations receive responses to invitations along the lines of this:
Regretfully, we cannot accept due to high ethical standards.
This story was posted to a mailing list a few weeks ago – Online Dating for Orangutans– and provoked this response:
I like long shambles on the beach, quiet evenings in my cage, and hurling excrement. Height and weight proportionate. No gibbons, please.
I wonder how long it would take The Librarian to hook up.
Some sinew, some stoush (in a noble cause, natch) and some dusty camaraderie will keep me happily entertained, especially when frogging is involved,
Hoyden About Town 