"We're going to a place where the sun never sets, the size of your wallet matters, and actors and actresses slave all day!"
"We're going to Denny's?"
--The Brain and Pinky

...oh, I guess I just passed midnight, so it should now be May 4. Oh well.
I've been thinking about doing a reflective rant looking back on my first year of college, class by class. I probably won't, though, if only because I really should be studying instead. For now, here's an excerpt from my last chem lab write-up:

Discussion
In conclusion, we constructed a rudimentary scale of cell potential values by gathering a series of relative data (the Ca-R reactions) and tying them to an absolute value using the E₀-Ag/AgCl data provided to us. [....]
Anyway, this concludes our time together in the dank, dusty depths of Gilman Hall. You, Alex, the calculator, the lab book, everyone else, me... I think we had a good time together doing things we all mutually hated, and being subjected to carcinogens and rank-goat-smelling fluids together with all was a terrible, terrible pleasure I hope we all have the privilege of never being forced to endure ever again. So on this note I bid you adieu, godspeed, and caution: not all toxic chemicals are marked.

All grad students at ISU must spend their first year student-teaching. My lab instructor was one of these, and she hated this with a passion. She admitted to us within the first three weeks that her main motivation in the lab was to get out of Gilman as quickly as possible, and we students soon agreed with her aims. College!
The last sentence up there in my lab book, by the way, refers to signs posted in every science and agricultural building on campus. It makes the first week of class very eye-opening...

Iowa stuffs: the television box just reported that some guy is going through eastern Iowa, stuffing pipe bombs and propaganda in mailboxes. From the text of this flier, it seems that there is a genuine lunatic running around doing things that usually only occur in bad action movies. Somehow, though... somehow, it reminds me of The Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight.
...and there's the tie-in: Maurice LaMarche, who sounds like the Orson Welles for the next generation, but probably won't be unless he starts doing some acting.

This is for Jesse.

End.