Monday, November 24, 2008

being wrong....

So, I'm sitting it my Biology class. and in the row in front of me, two seats to the left, there is a kid who CAN'T be wrong. he's got a bitchy little sidekick, too.

Professor asked what criteria we use to define something as a species, a few suggestions were called out and he wrote them down indiscriminately, whether they were viable or not. and told us as he wrote them whether or not the suggestions were right.
right in the middle, the discussion was derailed by a kid who just refused to accept that his suggestion was wrong. I don't get it. I'm here to learn, not to refute what my teacher is telling me. When he says that scientists don't use habitat to define species, I'm going to take his word for it.

Maybe it's how he learns... it's kinda scientific--pursuing a hypothesis until it is proven or disproved. But for me that happened right when he said "you could potentially use that, but we don't because it is too complicated"

there was an awkward silence, cut only by the bumbling, fractured thoughts of this kid. He chimes in at least once per class, and usually his comment or question contributes something to the discussion. He's probably very interested in biology. Maybe I just can't relate on this topic. But he definitely feels a need to "save face" when he's wrong. And his girlfriend feels a need to defend him as well.
"you could take that information and make a best assumption but--"
"well that's all science is anyway!"



Teacher: "population growth ratio is affected by A, B, C and D--"
Mr N'erwrong: "Doesn't B depend on... E?"
Teacher: how so?
Mr N'erwrong: sea turtles!
Teacher: that's one reproductive stategy... but we don't measure growth ratio by "E". (blah blah blah)... does that answer your question?
Mr N'erwrong:No....

Friday, November 21, 2008


Last night, I dreamed a crazy dream.

First of all, I was living with my brother and sister and some people I didn't know. We got a visit from President-Elect Obama. Did I happen to mention we were living in the White House? Yeah, for some reason I was living in the white house, and Barack and Co. were moving in. There was a REALLY ugly dog running around that Obama had evidently accidentally bought for his daughters. He bought a new dog that was much less yappy, and didn't shed hair all over.. the other dog kinda faded out from existence. Everything was going well, in fact I shot the breeze with Mr. Obama (who always descended stairs in bounds of about half a flight at a time). All of the sudden, the white house was stormed by FBI agents who started accusing us (me and my family) of murder. Evidently, for the past week, our grandmother had been missing, She went missing on the evening of Thanksgiving. We didn't know whodunit! The FBI agents left the house and stood on the lawn, and told us we had 2 hours to get all of our "dirt" out of the house. I happened to have a secret compartment in my closet where I kept *gasp* guns. My post WWII rifle and two pistols.
I thought for sure that I was going to be pegged with murder because I owned guns in a now anti-gun administration.

I brought out the guns and they just took them and asked if there was anything else. I went back in to do another sweep of the place. I decided to check my brother's room, too. While I was shuffling around in a pile of clothes I noticed an old, decrepit foot sticking out from under his bed!
HOLY CRAP! Austin killed grandma and hid her IN THE HOUSE?! I decided to make sure it was grandma, I pulled up the covers and looked under the bed... sure enough.
Just then an FBI agent came into the room and I pointed. He looked under the bed and said "HEY!" to the corpse, who awoke with a start and said "wha...?"

Evidently she had had a VERY healthy Thanksgiving dinner about a week before. She had also lost her ability to reason and thought she would take a nap (probably due to the Turkey) she climbed under a bed where she slept for a week straight. We decided this was probably because it was so dark under the bed that she never had any stimuli to awaken her. So... grandma wasn't murdered. My secret hiding spot never got found (something I had to weight my options against, when trying to decide if I should turn over my guns or not, the consequences would have been bad if they had found them hidden than if i turned them over of my own free will). And I got my guns back!


Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Need money.

I may not be able to go to school next semester on account of I don't have the money. But I'm finding people who want to give it to me for doing things like submitting my "best facial feature". Mine is my beard. A vote for my beard is a vote for my education!

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Kinda over it...

I was going to blog about how I'm kinda over witty banter... but I'm kinda over it.
I love witty banter, but it has it's time and place. Relay/delay banter, as with wall posts or forum comments are NOT the place. Real time-in person, is really-the only good time for it.