Worry Lives A Long Way From Rational

I've Read Plenty Of Amazing Science Pieces Where The Writers Don't Hang Out In Labs. I Just Have Fun Doing It. And I Get Rewarded For It; I Get Gushy, Especially When Kids Tell Me They Expected To Be Bored By My Books, But Weren't.

The Simplest Strategy For Bouts Of Noxious Flatus Is To Not Care. Or Perhaps To Take Advantage Of A Gastroenterologist I Know: Get A Dog. (to Blame.)

The Nobility Of The Human Spirit Grows Harder For Me To Believe In. War, Zealotry, Greed, Malls, Narcissism. I See A Backhanded Nobility In Excessive, Impractical Outlays Of Cash Prompted By Nothing Loftier Than A Species Joining Hands And Saying “i Bet We Can Do This.” Yes, The Money Could Be Better Spent On Earth. But Would It? Since When Has Money Saved By Government Red-lining Been Spent On Education And Cancer Research? It Is Always Squandered. Let’s Squander Some On Mars. Let’s Go Out And Play.

You Won't See Me Writing About Particle Physics, Or Even Planetary Geology, Or Chemistry. I Practically Failed Chemistry, And If I Had To Write A Book In Any Of Those Areas, I Don't Think It Would Go Well.

I Am Very Much Out Of My Element Here. There Are Moments, Listening To The Conversations Going On Around Me, When I Feel I Am Going To Lose My Mind. Earlier Today, I Heard Someone Say The Words, "i Felt At One With The Divine Source Of Creation." Mary Roach On A Conducted Tour Of Hades. I Had To Fight The Urge To Push Back My Chair And Start Screaming: Stand Back! All Of You! I've Got An Arthur Findlay Box Cutter! Instead, I Quietly Excused Myself And Went To The Bar, To Commune With Spirits I Know How To Relate To.