gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum sumus

While in the background planning for a grand trip to my alma mater for my ten year class reunion, I've subscribed--friended--a strictly on-line university. Perhaps a diploma mill--ah good old DMU, but I have confidence in the operation. The only thing that has so far struck me the wrong way is how the virtual campus' open house was peopled with clever bots. The conversation strings that ran in the open house were not a lot convincing, meaning to appear like scads of energetic, bright new students, but did not pass the Turing-test. I don't care to be crowded among bots but I think on-line attendance is a part of earning credit. Maybe one of my laboratory projects could be devising a Johan Bot that could earn the degree for me.

pete and repeat

Apparently former US President Bush appealed to France's formerly leadership to join the war in Iraq (Iraqi Attacky II) on the basis of biblical prophesy--a mission to repel the apocalyptic agents Gog and Magog in the Holy Land. In this light, the backlash of the America public against all things francophone--dumping fine wines and serving Freedom Fries, is particularly disturbing. Make-believe weapons of mass destruction are almost a more compelling argument.

ssv

Over the weekend I visited my parents and went to a few flea markets (Flohmarkt)--there's certainly nothing unusual in that, and I found this glass dish, which would be perfect for roquefort cheese. It's not a rare occurance--that I come home with trash and treasures, though regretably visiting my parents has been of late and they are the original Floh und Trödel (Flea and Junk, another name for such a bargain basement extravaganza)--and sometimes I play a game with H where I've casually hidden my newest finds in plain sight, flush amid the other vases and knick-knacks, and I wait until he notices them--mostly however, I have no patience for suspense and usually end up confessing. "Look at this unique glaze. I didn't have one quite like it."

pay for play

In Germany, any decent company recognizes and rewards its employees at the end of the year with a holiday bonus--a 13th month of pay for their hard work during the year. It's not mandated but has become institutionalized, and has nothing to do with performance and shows no favouritism. Some companies, however--even companies in the health care business, are moving towards linking one's bonus to one's soundness of body. The last time there was an award for perfect attendance was in high school, and that was a snotty prize to get. If one misses 3 to 10 days of work during the year due to personal illness, one is entitled to half of the bonus--10 or more, nothing. Germans have no such thing as sick leave--an illness runs its course and one is granted leave until one is better--but there's never been a lower rate of absenteeism than right now. People are afraid for their job security, I suspect, and are wanting that bonus paid in full. I can't believe that those who make people well are taking part--it just seems irresponsible. One might spread his pneumatic joy around the office, rather than staying home and recovering. Swine flu, I imagine, is particularly pernicious in this matter. The 13th month--lousy Smarch weather.

Rule 4: Don't Be Mean

I am certain there is some fearful catalyst behind this meme that's apparently popping up on posters in the Southern California, but that is a point that I am wont to miss. I wouldn't want to be construed as shilling for an ideologue--and I don't care to much for the "socialism" caption but what ever was ever wrong with being a champagne socialist--but I wanted the great right-leaning masses to prove themselves capable of something creative and scathing, not just childish and crude. Almost there. Not quite. Maybe.

look that up in your funk & wagnall's

It is as if expertise is no longer a virtue and that the expert is something virtually extinct. Instead of having to ask the creepy comic book shop guy when Aquaman joined the Justice League of America or the pierced chick at the vintage record store who wrote "Tell me why I don't like Mondays," we have pawned away our resources and too quickly turn to the internet, which has commercialized most of the trivia and advice that we are seeking and rent it back to us at a premium--only now with no guarantee for accuracy. One no longer asks a ninja, and even health care professionals are avoided unless one is given the response that they don't want. It's more than a bit sad that the devotee and the fanatic , the guru and whatever comes with the territory have become superfluous--not to mention treacherous.