Pssst, Wanna See a Molecule?

Using an atomic-force microscope, scientists at IBM Research in Zurich have for the first time made an atomic-scale resolution image of a single molecule, the hydrocarbon pentacene.

[image and copy via]

Textbooks

I was online shopping for my textbooks tonight.  Ugh.  

The trouble with textbooks is that they don’t really say much at all.

They’re filled with stolen ideas and hand-me-down notions.

Reading a textbook is a lot like watching your parents kiss.

You can take it in. You can’t do anything with it.

Afterwards, you’re embarrassed.

I used to teach. Most people don’t know that. Most don’t care.

Selecting books to teach; I performed that task with painstaking care.

Brain surgeons were backyard wrestlers by comparison.

When I was in college, I wanted to be a PR major.

I had worked in at an ad agency.

You’ve seen my work. Discovery Channel. National Geo.

Professors and textbooks . . . point is, school isn’t the end of it.

If you’re going to work in advertising or marketing, don’t buy textbooks.

Instead, read Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to the End.

And do yourself a favor: Click the link, turn the volume up a titch, and close your eyes.

When you’re done, go buy the book. I recommend Half.com, where it’s just 75¢.

Hardly Dangerous

I’ve been a fan of the band Harvey Danger for many years, so I was a bit bummed to learn that they were calling it quits.  

On the other hand, I was stoked to learn that they giving away their final album for free.

That’s right, free.

Of course, there’s a rationale behind this free album. And if you want to read that explanation, be my guest.

If, however, philosophy isn’t your bag, baby; you can just skip the theatrics and download the damn album.

The New Economy: a [modest] proposal

My new friend, Leks, made a comment on Part Two of Strangled @ Work: Pt. 2 that got me thinking . . .

She said, “You know you could’ve sued.”

That would’ve been the second time I could’ve sued a company for allowing me to be Strangled @ Work.

That’s right, it’s not just a clever blob post title; I really was strangled at work . . . twice, no less.

If you’ve ever read Chuck Palahniuk’s book, Choke, you may know where I’m going with this.

One could, conceivably, make quite a comfortable living by allowing him or herself to be strangled @ work.

The resulting settlements would definitely keep one living a life of leisure; especially if were a larger, more well-known company.  A Fortune 500 in love with its pristine self-image would be ideal.

Hmmm, maybe I should draft a business plan.

*Satire. Not to be taken seriously.

The Other Webcam

I’m a huge fan of webcams.

Not the kind you’re thinking of, but the other kind.

The innocuous kind.

Well, truthfully, they’re not entirely innocuous.

If you’re like me and you suffer from wanderlust, web cams are dangerous. They can be the north star to your desires.

Call me an enabler.

Call me reckless.

Call me Ishmael.

I can’t help myself.

Here’s one of my favorites, the Glacier National Park webcam collection: HERE

Another is a collection of Montana webcams: HERE

And if you want to travel the world and never leave your couch, go: HERE

The New ABCs

Using Admarket’s flickrSLiDR, Recovering Lazyholic presents a visual trip through the alphabet: HERE

To use flickrSLiDR, go HERE

Peekaboo, I Street View You

GREAT photoessay on Google Street View: HERE

Mathematical Model for Surviving a Zombie Attack

Mathematical equation via Wired

• Betsy Mason of Wired Magazine offers one of the silliest, most compelling, and scientifically feasible story about surviving a zombie attack. Read all about it: HERE

Part Two of Strangled @ Work: Pt. 2

When last we spoke, I had finished setting the scene.  Plus, as comments on that last post prove, this is a [mostly] true story. Both TwoDawgs and TeasetheDog (no relation, just very odd names) worked with me at the place in question.

So TwoDawgs and I are sitting in the hangar talking about life, women, and such.

About twenty feet away, Steve is talking to the Rodeo Clown.  The Rodeo Clown was, in fact, a real-life rodeo clown.  He was also, like us, line swine.

So Rodeo Clown and Steve are talking, TwoDawgs and I are talking. And across the way, in walks Drago.

He was a mechanic and former [not "ex" mind you, former]  Marine who was a friend of the line swine.

Pay attention, because this is important, Drago was also an imposing motherfucker.

So, its winter and we’re freezing, sitting in the hangar trying to warm up and just talking.

Drago is strolling through the hangar, coming from lunch out in his truck.

I look over at Drago and make a “It’s freezing and I think I’m going to die” gesture . . . something like hugging yourself and shuddering while making an odd face.

This is where everything went terribly wrong.

Yes. A train wreck is entirely apropos.

Somehow, Steve decided that my “It’s freezing and I think I’m going to die” gesture was me mocking him.

Hello, insecurity.

Oh, if only it ended with insecurity.  But, no, insecurity was the opening act. The main show was full, unbridled rage.

Steve ran at me, screaming. He accused of mocking him, an act of insubordination. There was a litany of things, a la “Ten Things I Hate About You”, that he rattled off.  Or maybe it was “The Breakfast Club,” . . . “Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn, freeloading son of a bitch. Retarded, big mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk.”

He told me to go home. He said he’d determine whether or not I got to keep my job.

When your fate is determined by a middle-aged man with rage issues and the inability to stay sober, you decide to NOT let such a comment be the final word.

I explained that my gesture was towards Drago and nothing more than my indicating that I was cold.

Not, as Steve had asserted, that he was a worthless pile of shit so putrid that even flies refused to land.  Much like New Jersey, minus Zach Braff.

At this point, Steve made a very sane decision: go after Drago.

He charged down the hangar screaming obscenities at Brutus and threaten him.

Drago turned around, dropped his lunch box and moved towards Steve with what I will classify as deliberate intent and a single-minded focus.

It was intense, and someone we managed to prevent it from happening.

If memory serves correct, failing to get himself killed, this is when he decided to live out something he’d long sought to do: strangle me at work.

And so this is what Steve did.

There’s a scene in Pulp Fiction when . . .

HONEY BUNNY
Shoot 'em in the face!

JULES
I don't mean to shatter your ego,
but this ain't the first time I've
had gun pointed at me.

It was kinda like that, except not as composed. And no guns.

After Steve stopped strangling me, two things happened: 1) I started breathing, and 2) he ran to tell the general manager –and this confuses me to this day — what?

Just what was Steve planning to tell the general manger?  ”Hey boss, I just flipped out and tried to start a fight with Drago, then I strangled Corey, all in front of witnesses and –you’re going to love this– for no reason whatsoever.”

So in ran Steve, and the Rodeo Clown, and TwoDawgs, and Me.

In the lobby, the screaming was epic.

Customers turned to find a bloated, red-faced psychopath yelling, “I want Corey fired!”

They also may have heard me say something like, “Steve strangled me. Fuck, how many times is this gonna happen to me?”

The general manger retreated up the stairs, with Steve close behind and me just behind him.

Steve must’ve stayed up late watching Zoro, because halfway up the stairs he turned and tried to fight me.

The GM broke it up and we continued up the stairs.

Both Steve and I were sent home, and everyone involved had to write statements.

When all was said and done, Steve was fired. Rodeo Clown took his place.

The GM gave me a pep talk. He said, he thought I should be fired too, but I would not be.  However, he’d be keeping his eye on me.

That is sweet.

No really.

So, Steve ended up tending bar at the local lounge.  That is, until they fired him for drinking more than he was earning.

He never did change his license plates to Montana plates.

And eventually, he just disappeared . . . or I just stopped caring.

A few months later I left to work for the Chamber of Commerce.  That’s a whole other story.

I’m happy to report that in the four years since then, I have not been strangled at work.