This week the resident faculty left a dusty copy of a Robin Williams comedy album outside the mail room. We don’t have a phonograph, so we hope it was a clue…. (More)
First our thanks to last week’s writers:
On Monday, you shared your stories of offline political activism in Things We Did This Week and Linda Lee was going To The Dogs in Midday Matinee.
On Tuesday, we celebrated as SCOTUS Upholds Most Greenhouse Gas Emission Limits in Morning Feature and readers helped tell Tuesday’s Tale: Edit This! in Midday Matinee.
On Wednesday, the Squirrel asked Oh Say, Did You See: Progress in Ukraine, Syria in Morning Feature, Linda Lee was Old Enough to Know Better in Midday Matinee, and Winter B saw that Tackling Climate Change Can Boost Economies in Our Earth.
On Friday, we continued our series on Getting Lucky with Fortunate Ones in Morning Feature, triciawyse shared Frieday Critters in Midday Matinee, and Winter B spotted Jupiter’s Red Spot Vanishing? in Our Earth.
On the weekend, we concluded our series on Getting Lucky with Buffering Luck in Saturday’s Morning Feature, Ms. Crissie was asked Body Double? in Sunday’s Morning Feature, and Winter B brought our weekly Eco News Roundup in Our Earth.
Note: Please share your stories of offline political activism in Things We Did This Week.
Thus we return to the Robin Williams comedy album left outside the mail room by the resident faculty as they made their way from the
wine cellar library where they spent the weekend drinking thinking on our motto of Magis vinum, magis verum (“More wine, more truth”) to the hot tub faculty lounge for their weekly game where the underwear goes flying planning conference.
It was Williams’ first album, Reality … What a Concept, from 1979.
“I’ll get the decoder ring,” Chef said. And did.
“We don’t have a phonograph,” Chef said as she scraped stray pecans into the Squirrel’s bowl, “so I hope you listened outside the
hot tub faculty lounge.”
He nodded and tapped at his Blewberry. “I did listen outside the
hot tub faculty lounge squirrel bath, but what I heard didn’t make a whole lot of sense. They were muttering about Levels of Multiverses or some such.”
“Maybe they had
too much wine too many books this weekend,” the Professor of Astrology Janitor said.
“I thought about that,” the Squirrel texted. “But then I powered up the Official BPI Googlizationalizator and found they were talking about physicist Max Tegmark’s book Our Mathematical Universe.”
Chef shook her head. “Uh uh. It’s too early for math.”
“Fortunately,” the Squirrel texted, “it doesn’t look like there’s much math in the book. But he argues that mathematics not only describes our universe … it is our universe. He says you think of yourself as a person but really you’re a bunch of subatomic particles that exist only as mathematical properties, braided together in spacetime.”
“If that’s supposed to be easier than math,” Chef said, sliding his bowl across the poker table, “it isn’t. Just sayin’.”
The Squirrel nibbled on a pecan and tapped at his Blewberry again. “Well, a lot of physicists think he’s kinda … out there. But he does have some ideas on how to built a more sustainable society.”
Professor of Astrology Janitor asked.
“Yep,” the Squirrel texted. “All we have to do is change how human brains work.”
Chef eyed the Squirrel. “Meanwhile, back in Realworldia….”
The Squirrel nodded. “But which Realworldia?”