“Detach from station, and may god’s love be with you”

Tomorrow, Commander Chris Hadfield bids farewell to the International Space Station, meaning we won’t get our usual dose of his tweets and videos sent from space. But he’s signing off with a little David Bowie.

Bacon-Flavored Scope Mouthwash

This is an April Fools’ prank from those wacky knuckleheads at Procter & Gamble, but with an enduring appeal. Maybe we shouldn’t joke about bacon?

From the Archives

And I mean the way-back days. Sheila Ryan Coiffed like a Pinhead. One of the first things I remember seeing in my early days here. For the record, I believe the chick in the photo is now a regular on American Horror Story Asylum. I am addicted.

My Bowie: Jean Paul Gaultier


Who was your Bowie?


Beach House – Wishes

via Coda Hale

Human-powered helicopter breaks record with 50-second flight

The newest version of the craft weighs only 71 pounds, 30 less than the previous one, which stayed aloft for 11 seconds in 2011. Gamera II harvests power from arm movements as well as pedals, transmitting more power to the four large rotors.

(via NBC News)

Dang me!

So Brian Beatty (y’all know Brian Beatty), he posts on Facebook

Sitting here high, just getting ideas
You’d have to be a big fool to live like I do

(quoting, more or less, Roger Miller)

which he (Brian) says “may be the best country lyrics ever”

so I post a link to a clip of Miller singing a snippet from “Chug-a-Lug”

and my friend Lou, she pipes up and tells how

I was on a plane with him once flying from LAX to Albuquerque. The luggage thingy was chewing up our luggage and he picked up his mangled garment bag and said “Dang.” True story.

and I’m thinking, Dang me, that’s good.

Let’s make the magic happen


(Rubber Chicken) (Hen) (Tote Bag) (Handbag) (Purse) (Pocketbook) (Henbag)

rubber chicken

I need this. For all of the times I say, “Where’s my rubber chicken?” My fashion prop of the year. Or the decade. Or the rest of my life.

Thanks to friend Jen.

Lowly Dung Beetles Are Insect Astronomers


Even the humble dung beetle, its life spent barely an inch above the ground, pushing balls of waste, steers by starlight.

“Dung steered by the stars,” as my longtime friend Steve said.

Or, as Oscar Wilde wrote in “Lady WIndermere’s Fan”:

DUMBY. I don’t think we are bad. I think we are all good, except Tuppy.

LORD DARLINGTON. No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

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