Plantkiller

Do you know anyone like this? She greets you with a smile and allows you to merge, she goes to work gleefully almost everyday, she calls her mom at least once a week, she listens to NPR, she does the dishes with gusto, and she is a registered, practicing democrat. Sounds like a fine, upstanding citizen of our society, right? Perhaps sometimes you should be careful in your characterization of a person. Behind the security of closed doors and tall fences this so-called "facilitator" of allgood brews an evil that would make Osama Bin Laden look like Bettycrocker. She may dress in sheeps clothing of tiedye and environmentally sustainable cottons but behind her facade of peace and happiness she murders a range of plant species by the dozen. This monster frequents all of Berkeley's top nurseries, with an innocent smile that begs for help from the onsite horticulturist, she makes her cause seem sincere by asking for only the topnotch organic soils. She then hurries home to slowly starve her precious little plants to death one by one. Her methods are more horrid that anything Hannibal Hector can describe. Although she practices a range of amputative techniques and other physical tortures on her green little pretties, in the end murder is always accomplished by dessication. Torture may commence by overflooding, roots become rotted as they try to adapt to the swampy conditions, but late in the game this torturess relies on death by neglect and loss of hope. Water may flow abundantly at first, but as the days wear on it becomes a trickle here, a trickle there. Soon the desperate plant is overcome by a thrist only known by chronic alcoholics and allnight disco dancers. The morning fog teases the poor plant, another day of survival is achieved. But for what purpose? Can't this innocent plant be allowed to die with dignity and some remorse? Finally after a string of warm, dry Berkeley fall weather days the cosmos, tomatoes, aloe, and even succulent shrivels into a pile of brown dusty fragments that blow away as dust. And then the torturess brightens up with a thought, "Is it not time to plant bulbs?".

Alien Development

Hrychko and I took a good look at our developing alien today. So far, the heart, brain, lungs, feet, lips, hands, and kidneys look alright by the ultrasound technician. We also learned that our alien is male. I have been feeling little wippersnapper now since last Thursday (9/30). He started out feeling like little bubbles in my lower abdomen when I was doing cell culture in the hood. Now he is punching me with more gusto as I am really able to distinguish him from my fried chicken and apple slices.