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!
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.
Lord Eggs Benedict, 8th Duke of Breakfast
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”
My esteemed colleague may be top nerd, but not because she thinks she deserves extra points for wearing braces and Coke bottle glasses during her adolescence. After contributing to several fields of study, she’s earned her nerd ranking. I’m not giving her any sympathy points for her orthodontic head gear. In fact, I wanted braces because she had them and I didn’t. Looking cool, with all the metal, kind of robotic and shit. I made robot doodles in the image of her. If that doesn’t illustrate how much admiration I have for this cranium, then give me sympathy nerd points for being deprived the necessity to correct for anteroposterior discrepancies. Hence, science looks good on her and they don’t call her “β-lactamax” for nothing.
Additionally, my associate has been out of her natural habitat too long. Not having a laboratory to manage and no rookie techs to torment, I have been become the victim of her mockery. With that said I am seeking retribution for the ridicule I received, which is in regards to my kernel measuring technique. Little Miss Know-It-All had the gall to taunt me about how I over estimated the volume. Thanks Captain Obvious. Anyone with two working optical spheres could plainly see that the final volume of the popped kernels exceeded the pan. It seemed like I had taken on the role of some previous half-wit underling; however, we were not in the laboratory and I’m not a dimwit. In conclusion, this soured what was supposed to be a relaxing evening of watching episodes of Highway to Heaven together.
Back on point, some company needs to make haste and swoop up this egghead before she starts scheming to compete for the position I covet, the Federal Water Master. That title is mine!
Also its critical that this mastermind not have control over this precious resource. During the darkest hours of the night she’ll mumble to a marble-eyed cat with an abnormal body. Supposedly that cat was used in medical research experiments she was privy to. I’ve heard her whispering and mumbling perverse things to this lumpy bumpy chunky globule of fur. I suspect she’s concocting some vile scheme to rule the world. Plus her pajamas smell like evil.
Furthermore, I want payback! This way, any time this brain decides to roll into Tahoe, I’m shutting down the Truckee! Turning it off! No booze cruise paddling for the gangantubrain while I’m running the show.
Please do me a solid and give my colleague and prized gargantubrain a home. Other than her plans for world domination and that sinister chortle, she’s a good egg.
Lord Eggs Benedict, 8th Duke of Breakfast.
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?”
To whom this may concern:
It was brought to my attention that you are rummaging around the internet, scouting for viral creators. After scrutinizing your company’s website, I measure, you are not soliciting the garden variety virologist. If you need someone to spawn submicroscopic, parasitic particles of genetic material contained in a protein coat, I can be of utility.
Well, I will not waste anymore of your time; however, I desire to commend your team’s accomplishment. This fantastic evolution of the GIF application has provided me with yet another excuse for procrastination. Yes, this delightfully entertaining program does delay finishing the task at hand; however, I will argue that this tool stimulates the whimsical corridor of my cognitive processor.
I too aspire to someday be amongst a squad of binary wizards. Until then. Thank you.
Your run of the mill virologist.
Continue reading “Email: Viral Creator Position”