Bamboozled by a Book’s Title

If you purchased Lyons and Peres’ text, “Probability on Trees and Networks” with the expectations of expanding ones knowledge on forest ecosystems, then there’s a snowball’s chance in a polar vortex that you’ve been duped! Probability on Trees and Networks

The authors’ description of a tree’s branching system disregards fundamental plant anatomy with no mention of the apical, intercalary, or lateral meristematic tissue. Their trees’, bereft of leaves and meristems, simply grow upward from the root, branching towards the tree’s children. If the growth is upward or skyward, then their “children”, such as seedlings and saplings must be floating about in the lower atmosphere. These would be literal air plants with the ability to circumvent the Earth’s gravitational force. For all one knows these plants’ cellular composition could be akin to chiffon or some wispy fabric.

As of yet, there are no known dendrological species that hover within the vapors of the Earth’s atmosphere; therefore, I’m skeptical to whether these aerial trees exist.  Presumably, these trees are inhabitants of another life supporting sphere, but conceivably are fantastical fabrications that dwell within the authors’ minds. Pulp fiction.

Cordially,

Lord Eggs Benedict, 8th Duke of Breakfast

 

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Mr. Gunderson Gets 86’d

Mr. Gunderson awoke sweating, and battling a pulsating noggin. It was the morning after a punk themed Halloween party hosted at his favorite watering hole, The Board Room. Upon gaining consciousness, Mr. Gunderson jolted at the thought that he was 86’d. He struggled to remember if he had danced too erratically while dressed as a unicorn. Continue reading “Mr. Gunderson Gets 86’d”

Choose Your Gamete: X or Y?

Sorry. You have no choice in this. Your gender rendering was configured based on statistically sound probabilities. If you are disappointed with your genitalia, take comfort in knowing that this is NOT an equal opportunity adventure, and the gender outcomes are solely for posterity. Continue reading “Choose Your Gamete: X or Y?”

Hello Monday – Screamers, A Tire, and Banana

Screamers, a tire, and banana.

Something went wrong with the banana, triggering a ballistic reaction from little Miss Muffet.

Quickly! plan A. Put on her latest favorite distraction, Dreamwork’s “Trolls”.

Shuffle  through the array of remote controls from various manufacturers, looking for the matching devices, one for the TV, and one for the Blue Ray.  Found the matching remotes, good.

Getting the TV to the correct settings. Pressed the “input” button too many times. Cycle through TV, HDMI1, HDMI2, HDMI3, again. Stop. Blue Ray on, disk in, load, press play.

Finally, the opening scene where Poppi tells the history of Trolls and Bergens begins to assuage Miss Muffet’s outrage at the banana. Whatever was wrong with the fruit will remain an unsolved mystery.

Phew. DEFCON alert status can go back to GREEN.

Just after Poppi gets to the part where the Bergens find there are no Trolls to celebrate Trollstis, Nana returns with Mr. Chaos. She was supposed to be taking Mr. Chaos to his pre-school. I’m thinking, “There’s not going to be a Trollstis this morning”.

Nana, “Tire’s flat.”
I’m not awake.

Nana’s had her morning coffee, her morning news.
She’s rattling off what we need to do about the tire.

Nana, “Put on the spare. Take it down to Midas…”                                                                         I’m still not quite conscious.

Nana, “Do you want to stay here with the kids? I can take it to get the tires replaced.”

On any other day, Nana doesn’t leave the house, except for her ritual grocery shopping. I know she’s asking if I want to stay with kids because it will jolt me out of my slumber.

“No!” I blurt as I get up from the couch, mumbling and cursing her car’s tires and crappy rims.

Go to my cell on the second floor to seek tranquility while I wash away the seeds of slumber with a cup of coffee.

I’m not a morning person. I need the caffeine to take hold before I go out into the 33 degree F environment, to change a tire, or two. Most likely two tires. This isn’t the first time those tires have gone flat. Hopefully not two because there’s only one spare. In fact, its become a habit to pack the car with the portable air compressor.

“It’s those God damn rims. I know it is.”

Nana’s choice of vehicles tend to create a plague of misfortune and is something to explore, but not this morning.

I smolder over the fact that I have chosen to let my Subaru slumber in “Non-operational Status” because once again the tires on Nana’s vehicle are flat.