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RFK Jr. is not a serious person. Don't take him seriously.1 month ago in Genomics, Medicine, and Pseudoscience
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The Site is Dead, Long Live the Site2 years ago in Catalogue of Organisms
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The Site is Dead, Long Live the Site2 years ago in Variety of Life
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What I read 20194 years ago in Angry by Choice
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Histological Evidence of Trauma in Dicynodont Tusks5 years ago in Chinleana
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Posted: July 21, 2018 at 03:03PM6 years ago in Field Notes
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Why doesn't all the GTA get taken up?6 years ago in RRResearch
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Harnessing innate immunity to cure HIV8 years ago in Rule of 6ix
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post doc job opportunity on ribosome biochemistry!9 years ago in Protein Evolution and Other Musings
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Blogging Microbes- Communicating Microbiology to Netizens10 years ago in Memoirs of a Defective Brain
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Re-Blog: June Was 6th Warmest Globally10 years ago in The View from a Microbiologist
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The Lure of the Obscure? Guest Post by Frank Stahl12 years ago in Sex, Genes & Evolution
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Lab Rat Moving House13 years ago in Life of a Lab Rat
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Goodbye FoS, thanks for all the laughs13 years ago in Disease Prone
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Slideshow of NASA's Stardust-NExT Mission Comet Tempel 1 Flyby13 years ago in The Large Picture Blog
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in The Biology Files
A plant pundit comments on plants, the foibles and fun of academic life, and other things of interest.
Things that go thump in the night
One of us is a light sleeper; the other sleeps like a near-dead log. So when something woke TPP, the thud of something falling, he got up to investigate. Otherwise the house was silent such that you could hear the water dribbling from the garden fountain. Now the house has two cats who sometimes become involved in nocturnal activities, but both of these suspects were curled in their usual places exuding their well-practiced "who, me?" reactions. Still once you're up, you might as well check things out, and nothing was apparently amiss. In the morning, Mrs. Phactor wanted to know why someone was wandering around the house at night. Her reaction to the statement that something went thud was a sort of "sure", and we preceded to have toast and coffee and read our Sunday papers (we still like papers). As we moved into the mornings activities, Mrs. Phactor chanced to open a little pantry in the back of the kitchen, a little architectural wonder, as in you wonder what they were thinking there a hundred years ago, and discovered a mess. A can, not even an ancient can, of fruit had exploded, blown it's top off, disgorged its contents, and dislodged some other canned goods in the process. Their fall must have gone thud. Hard to believe so much juice and so much fruit could come from one little can, but it did explode; gravity did the rest. The cleanup was both necessary and long overdue. Still TPP derived a bit of gratification that he heard what he heard.
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