Crazy People Got No Reason To Live

At least, that's the opinion apparently entertained by one Kristin Butler, a proud graduate of Duke University. Duke of course is known mainly for its outstanding work in the field of parapsychology, the science of matter over mind. According to Kristin Butler a "mentally unstable" person--or "loony" as she apparently prefers--has no business receiving a diploma, whether she has completed the requirements or not. This is an interesting attitude, and I would really like to know exactly why having bipolar disorder--that's the lunacy in question--disbars a student from receiving a degree. I got a degree, in spite of having undergone treatment for depression, and in spite of suffering from unreasonable fears and compulsions. And frankly, I take that kind of crack personally. I have a cousin with bipolar disorder, and while she's never received a degree from a prestigious university like Duke, she is in fact one of the most outstanding researchers I've ever met. I personally have respect for people who make it in spite of drawbacks and disadvantages over which they do not have control, and I am very much unimpressed when some scatter-brained young know-it-all sounds off with a moronic screed like Summa cum loony. Grow up, Kristin Butler.

[Thanks to Chronicle Column Damages NCCU/Duke Relations and "Summa cum loony" - the Duke lacrosse case lives on for alerting to this garbage.]

Stupid Angel Tricks

Some years ago I found a mouse had gnawed holes in some of our paper sacks. The hole bore a striking resemblance to an image of a mouse. "Look," I said, showing it to my nephew Brandon, "I think the mice are trying to communicate with us."

"What is it supposed to be?" asked Brandon. "A rabbit's head?"

"No, turn it over, the other way. See, doesn't that look like a mouse?"

"It's crude, and the proportions are wrong."

"Yeah, okay, but the impressive thing is that it made the attempt at all. You know, when a donkey flies, you don't criticize it for not staying up that long, like the guy said."

"My point is," said Brandon, "it's a mouse. What's it got to say? 'Hey, I'm a mouse--look at me! I'm living in your house. I'm eating your stuff.' It's trivia. Not important."

Well, maybe. At any rate, my mouse-gnawed self-portrait beats the hell out of that blobby white thing Custos Fidei is trying to pass off as an angel. You have to see this to believe it. I wonder how he can tell that it's not a ghost? a UFO? Bigfoot? Or maybe an attempt by the mice at St. Peter's Basilica to communicate--at least it looks rather like a legless mouse with oversize ears to me.