Ain’t no change in the weather, ain’t no changes in me… and it dropped about 30 degrees over the course of this morning, so you can see where I’m coming from…

Rational? Rational? Okay, well not the last two, but the third-to-last was a blameless description of bizarre events. I mean, finding a toilet behind the physics building was clearly not a metaphor. And if it was, I don’t want to know.

And besides, I wouldn’t talk about rationality if I were you, Mr. “Fat Anna likes her liquor.”

Alex, you don’t even want to know what I would write if I had celebrated 4/20. I don’t even want to see what I would write if I celebrated 4/20… okay, maybe I do just a little… I mean, it would probably be pretty crazy… but no. I mean, this is already my surrealist phase. And it’s already clearly incoherent, which is why I have to become a Dylan song. Or as Homsar would say, “I’m a sooooong from the Sixties.”

Of course, If I’m really after emulating Dylan, I’m going to have to pick up guitar this summer. And enter more of a folk-surrealist phase… which I could do. Actually, I’m kind of working on it.

And you know, it’s kind of hard to cut down on the oblique references and double meanings once you get started on them. I mean, these things happen… Besides which, now I can explain a period of my life as “Cocaine vs. the Death Star”. How many people can say that? Probably just me – and I may well be the only one who thinks this is worthwhile, but nevertheless… I mean, besides my innate love of cleverness and complexity, I wouldn’t want to make my audience nervous. Although if being compared to the Death Star hasn’t scared her off, I don’t know what will.

But, if only to promote the image of bloggers-as-journalists, I will delve into factual events. I saw two plays today, both written and performed by U of C students. Zach was in one, and was not even playing a drunk. It was called Sweet Time, and it involved a cowboy, gangsters, and an unidentified white powder. It was brilliantly surrealist and rather amusing, although Zach says they had been reading it as a drama. The other play was about a struggling Jewish playwright, written by a Jewish playwright. Rather interesting, not as directly amusing, but pretty good for a new work.

And the power went out for the third time this year yesterday (This building is three years old!), just as I was about to write up a social science memo, so I had to do that in the Reg. But the end result is that I got beaten by a heavily-handicapped puffball. This indirectly reminds me that I probably should say something about the pope. We’ve got a new one, in case anyone missed it. After only three rounds of voting, they chose Ratzinger, who I think should have called himself Pope Ratt I, but will instead be known as Benedict XVI. I suppose it could be worse. I mean, I don’t know how many liberal candidates for pope there were. However, Ratzinger’s track record is not exactly reassuring. I mean, I kind of like Vatican II and all. And I don’t think the church is particularly in danger of moving forward too fast. It did kind of take them 1500 years to stop speaking Latin. Competing views hold that no candidate could have been too conservative, but that’s an argument I’ll have to get back to.

Well, things should get interesting once we get the prospie tomorrow. We plan to pass our RA Jakob off as famous European techno composer SCRÜPHI (that would be “scruffy” for those of you not familiar with his nickname). And the less said about the dead hooker, the better…

See, that was moderately rational. Now I can get back to obtuseness and reference. I have some great material with trucks and windmills that I should post at some point. and of course, closing with a song lyric.

You ain’t seen nothing yet…