We’re off here in a bit to the birthday party for our friends’ little girl, who turns 2-years-old today.  Unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a rush, given that we’re going to have to pick up a new present and wrap it in the car on the way. Seems the “Tickle Me Elmo” doll I bought off of eBay was actually something called a “Tickle My Elmo”—which essentially is a

Will the forced resignation of Lawrence Summers initiate a widepread rebellion in favor of academic freedom among today’s professoriat?  Probably not, I don’t think:  most of the academics I know, while fine people, are happy with the safety (and, with tenure, the security) that comes from not rocking the political/administrative boat—which, sadly, is why we see a kind of ideological homogeneity in many departments, particularly in the humanities. So when

—You may as well stop right there.  Because here’s the thing:  though Dasypus novemcinctus has few natural enemies—hunters, dogs, coyotes, automobiles—it turns out they’re not too fond of foul-mouthed, mendacious “progressive” trolls, either, and the nest of those creatures who’ve taken up residence here of late has the little guy resigned to shelving his disco shoes and wide-collared satin shirts until such time as that particular infestation is (to borrow