"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
Now I are a tram tour driver and docent at the Pima Air & Space Museum. Over the past two weeks, I: 1) Rode along on a few tours to see how other driver/docents handled the job and to listen to what they had to say about outdoor aircraft on display. 2) Wrote up an 11-page […]
Whoa, two posts in one day. Guess I wasn’t done earlier. I’m back from my dry run at the museum. I borrowed the volunteer golf cart and drove the tram tour route, talking about all the aircraft I plan to cover on live tours with visitors once I certify. If anyone saw me putting around, gesticulating […]
Poor Paul’s Thing. If I told you it only looks like I’ve been slacking, would you believe me? I know you won’t, but I’ll try to justify myself anyway. I’m transitioning from the walking tour docent team at the Pima Air & Space Museum to the tram docent team. In my new role, I’ll be talking about approximately […]
The city of St Louis, Missouri integrated its public swimming pools in June, 1949. The experiment was short-lived. When I was five, my grandfather waded into a creek I was playing in and yanked me out. Some black kids my age had followed me into the water. “You’ll catch a disease,” he explained. This was in my home town […]
This showed up on the io9 website today: I’m suffering from cognitive dissonance, because io9’s choice of a graphic to accompany its story about women dominating the Nebulas is the cover of a Nebula-winning book written by a man, Jeff Vandermeer. Granted, the strongest and most well-drawn characters in Annihilation, as in Authority and Acceptance, the other books […]
My give-a-shit meter is close to zero. I’m in a rage slump, kind of like a manic-depressive on the down cycle. Something will set me off again, probably sooner than later, and I’ll be back to normal, ranting and raving about injustice, racism, and stupidity. Ooh, did I just feel a rage twinge there? So how ’bout them Duggars? […]
The body turns in the stream. Where the new bridge crosses the Ganga in five concrete strides, garlands of sticks and plastic snag around the footings; rafts of river flotsam. For a moment the body might join them, a dark hunch in the black stream. The smooth flow of water hauls it, spins it around, […]