XKCD hits the nail on the head as always, but honestly, I think that this lack-of-decision is just that – a lack of a decision that can be easily changed. And honestly, I don’t expect this to stick, so, uh, get married while you can?
There are three types of mental illness: the type that can be controlled without medication, the type that can only be controlled with medication, and the type that can’t be controlled at all.
And the only thing you can do is hope you’re in the first category, accept it if you’re in the second, and do your best to survive if you’re in the third.
Emacs M-x spook: Kh-11 ICE Belknap World Trade Center virus fundamentalist BLU-97 A/B cybercash underground pink noise Kosovo sweep Rumsfeld Medco Skipjack
Kansas picks the “I can’t hear you!” method for combating climate change.
Now the state’s “Committee on Energy and Environment” is proposing a law that would prohibit spending on anything that won’t set Kansas on a course to self-destruction. House Bill No. 2366 would ban all state and municipal funds for anything related to “sustainable development,” which it defines as: “development in which resource use aims to meet human needs while preserving the environment so that these needs can be met not only in the present, but also for generations to come.”
This guy makes beer in his gut. I’m not sure what to think of this.
The patient had an infection with Saccharomyces cerevisiae, Cordell says. So when he ate or drank a bunch of starch — a bagel, pasta or even a soda — the yeast fermented the sugars into ethanol, and he would get drunk. Essentially, he was brewing beer in his own gut. Cordell and McCarthy reported the case of “auto-brewery syndrome” a few months ago in the International Journal of Clinical Medicine.
In less pleasant news, brain-eating amoeba discovered in Louisiana.
An oldie-but-goodie: Gay marriage and databases.
Boston’s MBTA is switching up its maps [HT: AmiableBowfin].
Cliff on gender presentation and how other people treat you:
I used to think a certain level of trolling and insulting was just the base state of the Internet, just something you had to thicken your skin to because Internet’s gonna Internet.
Then I changed my name from Holly to Cliff.
This dad is awesome: My Son Wears Dresses; Get Over It
I’m a father. I signed on for the job with no strings attached, no caveats, no conditions. I can name every Disney Princess and her movie of origin. I’ve painted my son’s nails and rushed to remove it when he was afraid that he would get teased for wearing it. I didn’t want to remove it, I wanted to follow him around and stare down anybody who even thought about teasing him. I only removed it because he started to have a panic attack. It was his decision and if he wants to edit himself to feel safer, I’ll do it. Every time. No questions asked.
Brute Reason: Why you shouldn’t use mental illnesses as metaphors. This entire essay is totally worth reading.
But the dilution of mental illness terms might have another, more insidious effect, and that is changing our mental schemas of what mental illness looks like such that it’s less and less serious, and treating it accordingly.
Wikileaks leaks movie script about Wikileaks:
In an internal memo posted alongside the screenplay, WikiLeaks calls the film “work of fiction masquerading as fact” and offers a point-by-point listing of its concerns with the film’s creative liberties, including depictions of harm caused by WikiLeaks, the role of Daniel Domscheit-Berg, and the discussion of charges against Assange. It notes that “there are very high stakes involved in how WikiLeaks is perceived.
And a minor personal update: Turns out growth lights – yes, the ones you buy if you want to grow plants indoors – roughly approximate SAD lights, but are so much cheaper.
Today, I’m exhausted.
I woke up, late, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep. It takes me many minutes to drag my sorry carcass out of bed. My energy levels are absurdly low; even a small handful of French Roast coffee beans, ground between my teeth and pressed against the insides of my cheeks to maximize caffeine absorption, cannot seem to give me any energy.
It’s Saturday, and I’m still alive. Still existing, somehow.
I don’t feel alive.