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After their oddly exhausting week spent "grading tests" - odd because Blogistan Polytechnic Institute doesn't have any tests - the faculty have as usual moved to the wine cellar library to drink think on our motto: Magis vinum, magis verum ("More wine, more truth").  Or so they claim.  Judging by this week's mail, we're not sure of anything anymore.

More below the fold....

The little of which we are sure concerns one of life's few constants, a comforting touchstone against which we can measure the passage of events.  The Professor of Astrology Janitor, holding a pair of Queens against a ragged board with all four suits represented and no card higher than an Nine, called Chef's bluff at the River.  He had checked at the Flop and Turn, knowing Chef would fold if he bet, hoping she would bet instead.  She just checked back.  He finally put in a small bet at the River, hoping to entice her to try to steal the pot, and sure enough Chef put in a big raise.  His plan had worked to perfection, except for the part where Chef was bluffing.  She'd made a straight at the River.  Cue his plaintive mewls and her temporary exit to whip up a Florentine Scrambler ... giving us time to review the week's suspicions and uncertainties:


Dear Ms. Crissie,

I'm not saying President Obama wasn't born in Hawaii.  Maybe he was.  But he hasn't shown me his birth certificate.  Oh I know the news media claims one exists and purports to show a copy on camera, as well as what they say is a birth announcement in a Hawaiian newspaper, but I know what people can do with PhotoShop and I've never seen the original documents.  The original Declaration of Independence and the original Constitution are on display at the National Archives.  That's why we know they really existed.  Why doesn't President Obama put his original birth certificate and an original copy of that newspaper in the National Archives.  Could it be because he knows the archivists would use their science stuff and debunk it?  You can't prove that's not the reason ... can you?

Roy in GA

Dear Roy,

You're right, in that we can't prove President Obama has not delivered the originals of his birth certificate and that newspaper to the National Archives.  Maybe he has and the National Archives are keeping it secret that they know he was born in Hawaii as part of a scientific plot to make Republicans look even sillier.  You hadn't even considered that possible conspiracy, had you?


Dear Ms. Crissie,

Forget where the president was born, in honor of the troops,
Where the midnight sun graces the souls of those who love Alaska.

How can we know or measure the life and steps of a man?
Can science prove the heart of an eight-year-old boy?

Palling around with terrorists later, no flag pin, no hand on heart,
Did Ayers like a point guard pass a bomb to Obama for the shot?

When chill wind sweeps in from Russia to my back porch,
We may yet learn Obama deserved a life sentence in childhood.

Sarah in AK (transcribed by Kirk)

Dear Sarah (or Kirk),

Finally can we find structure in words that ramble,
Like caribou avoiding a new pipeline, as the point guard quits.

And the point quits with it, if point e'er there was,
To wink o'er radio, where wink is lost and all are left to ask:



Dear Ms. Crissie,

Just like a cheating liberal, you made that up.  There is no "lifer" conspiracy yet.  But I won't stand by while the government puts senior citizens to death and calls it "health care."  Our senior citizens are the accumulated life experience of this country, and they've earned government-run health care, but government-run health care for others will euthanize seniors, and Republicans won't let that happen.

Virginia in NC

Dear Virginia,

Your little friends are wrong.  They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age.  They do not believe what they see, but what they hear on talk radio.  They think nothing that is not comprehensible by their little minds.  In this great universe of ours their thinking is that of an ant, as compared with the boundless world as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge, or at least reading the health care bills now proposed.

No, Virginia, there is no Euthanasia Clause.


Dear Ms. Crissie,

I understand that the "birthers," "lifers," and "deathers" offer only cradle to grave absurdity.  What I don't understand is this: what's a Florentine Scrambler?  And is it made with tinfoil?

Skeptically Voracious in Blogistan

Dear Skeptically Voracious,

A Florentine Scrambler is Chef's name for a scrambled egg dish made with spinach and shredded mozzarella cheese.  She uses leftover spinach, first warming it on the stove, then squeezing almost dry in a lint-free towel or cheesecloth, so it won't make the eggs runny.  She whisks the spinach and shredded cheese in just as the eggs begin to set up in the skillet.

And there's no tinfoil in the recipe at all.  Bon appétit!


Happy Sunday!

Originally posted to NCrissieB on Sun Aug 02, 2009 at 04:35 AM PDT.

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