Scandinavian archaeology, history, skepticism, books and music
June Pieces Of My Mind #1
Core po-mo science studies professor says roughly “You don’t get to choose your own reality and laypeople don’t know better than scientific consensus about factual issues.”
Rode a Bombardier CRJ 900 from Copenhagen to Warsaw and then the competing model Embraer 170 from Warsaw to Munich.
Five years ago I cut saplings and tree branches to give me a view from the kitchen window of Jrette in the playground. Now she’s long past needing that kind of oversight and new saplings form a solid wall of greenery outside the window.
My new project deals with early 20th century street lamps. I can debunk at least 75% of those photos. It’s pretty clear that they actually just depict interstellar spacecraft.
They’re testing the mournful air raid sirens, as they have since 1931. We call them Hesa Fredrik, “Hoarse Fred”.
I’d like to take a course in flint knapping.
I want to record the brief hum that is the piano’s response to me farting.
House styles for bibliographies are multifarious and ridiculous. Here’s a journal who wants “publisher semicolon city”.
I kind of like listening to a heavy rain when indoors.
Ergonomically and historically speaking, a rifle is a modified crossbow.
”There’s a whole generation / With an old explanation”
The Irish mass child grave is a case of disrespectful burial. But it was already well known and documented that child mortality was high in those homes for “fallen women”. The grave offers little new information. The problem is that those kids were allowed to die, not how their bodies were disposed of.
Despite my general air of edgy, devil-may-care rock-n-roll abandon, I’ve come to appreciate songs about a long happy marriage. Huey Lewis’s “Happy To Be Stuck With You” and Shania Twain’s “Still The One” spring to mind.
Goodreads gets a lopsided dataset on my taste in books. Because I only rate books that I finish. And I only finish books that I like.
Most Swedish rural churches are now centuries older than the First Temple in Jerusalem was when the Babylonians tore it down in 587 BC.
Iain Banks’s 1992 novel Crow Road contains a huge amount of clever motif parallelism involving glass.
I don’t see the point of theorising an origin for Earth’s life on another planet or star system. Speculation without data. Ockham. When we don’t know how it happened here then it doesn’t help to hypothesise that it happened somewhere else in a way that we don’t know anything about either.
This pensions company offers to stop sending me paper letters. Great! But in order to get them to send me email instead I have to get a login to their web site. And in order to do that they have to send me two paper letters: one with the user name and one with the password. Then when I finally get onto the site I can’t even find the dialogue where you switch off paper mailings. Gah.
I’m on bromhexine for bronchitis. It thins down the mucus in your airways, making it easier to get out. I wonder if it affects the consistency of your semen as well.
“No no, you misunderstand me. When I suggest that you should make me a Doktor habil I’m not asking for a favour, I’m offering you a bargain.”
Sorting the horizontal books into the book shelf while culling lightly. So far Fisksätra Public Library gets some Maxim Gorky, Erik Axel Karlfeldt, Edward Lear and Stig-Without-E Larsson.
My chest is getting ridiculously hairy.
I love listening to my wife speaking Mandarin. I’m in awe. Barely understand one word in twenty.
Trosa municipality has made a huge replica of a 5th century gold torque as a roundabout ornament.
I think “mansplaining” is a sexist term.
Suddenly remember this girl from freshman archaeology 1990-91. She was from Alaska, dressed and used makeup in US working-class style, had worked in a fish cannery until her wrists got messed up. She had this really mellow vibe and wanted to write a term paper on whether the Vikings smoked any of the hemp the pollen diagrams tell us that they grew.