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And now, your infographic of the week:

(by Chon Hon Lam)

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(a glow in the dark beard, by Erin Dollar, and available for purchase)

Europe’s little green men are invading the United States.

The danger of Welsh translations.

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It turns out, this is not true.

Instead, there is jetlag. You are tired, at strange times.
There is more work to be done than expected, because you have been gone for a week and a half, and there is a resulting backlog in things-that-must-be-done.
And that laundry needs to dry. You cannot just throw on the next load. The presently-drying-laundry must be dealt with first.

On top of all this, blogging takes time. Come up with idea. Expand on idea. Do a bit of research. Find links. Find photos. Ensure that you are being suitably opinionated — somebody ought to take offense at it, or you’re no blogger.

So you get to Wednesday. You have plans — after all, you have not seen friends in a couple of weeks. You have twenty minutes to write something in order to keep up with your blog schedule.

You are still on the “come up with idea” step.

This is the result.

Enjoy?

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(Sculpture by Adrian Tranquilli)

Do you use an ad blocker when you browse? If so, do you realise that you have a negative impact on the sites that you visit?

Neurobiologist Dario Ringach participated in a panel at UCLA, in which he expressed his own belief that research conducted on animals (which he no longer does himself) has a role in the answering of scientific questions. Because of this, animal rights activists have started to harass his children. That’s right — these activists are so upset that Ringach believes that it is worthwhile to cause pain to innocent animals if it betters humankind, that they (in turn) cause emotional pain to his innocent children.

I believe that’s what the kids call “hypocritical” these days.

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Probably not.

In countries where they do not speak English, this is then followed by the ritual stamping (and return) of the passport.

In countries where they do speak English, they ask questions. Perhaps this is because I’m an English speaker, so the questions will be understood. Or maybe only English-speaking countries bother with further examination. Regardless, British, Canadian and American border agents always ask me questions.

For the most part, they’re the same.

Americans ask why I’m there, and how long I’m staying.

Canadians are confused as to whether I’m visiting or returning. (Both, of course. I am returning for a visit).

Then there are the British. They ask questions that make little or no sense. After a red eye flight, with no sleep for nearly twenty-four hours, I tend to stumble over these questions. It is surprising that it has never delayed my re-entry.

On my first entry, they asked me a question about my visa application. I figured it was normal. They continued asking this question repeatedly over the next year. I was sure it was normal. In fact, one agent told me that there was a note on my file, which required them to ask this question. He took it off, and since then the questions have been more creative.

Q: “Do you still work in the same place?”
A: “…”

This one of the more common ones asked at the UK border. My visa is not tied to any particular job, so the answer does not actually matter. But the problem is that it doesn’t make sense. I work at the same job as I did when I left the country last. I work at the same job as I did when I last applied for a visa extension. I do not work at the same job as I did for the previous visa extension. Nor do I work at the same job as I did when I first applied for a UK visa.

Timelines matter. And jetlagged individuals do not deal well with non-specific questions.

Q: Why are you a resident?
A: Because I live here.

One of the answers you need to give when entering the UK on a non-EU passport is how long you are planning to stay. I do not have an answer, so I write “Resident” on the card. The border agent did not seem happy at that response. Perhaps she thought I was being cheeky, but it’s either that or “because I have a permit”. And she was looking at the permit.

Q: What qualification do you have?
A: …

The border agent literally asked that. Singular. Qualification. I thought he meant visa, so I told him. No, qualification. I told him about my bachelor’s degree. Could I have given him my project management qualification instead? Change management? Work experience? I am qualified to enter the country by virtue of the visa. I have many qualifications when it comes to the workplace.

Q: Where are you coming from today?

This question is not just asked in the UK. It is asked everywhere. And it is the hardest question to answer. Ten hours on a plane … am I coming from Toronto? Montreal? Kuala Lumpur? Atlanta? It’s hard to remember.

And if you had a connection, you might choose your original point of departure, rather than the most recent. Then the border guard is confused — no planes from that location have arrived recently.

By far the worst question for the frequent traveler. You’re wandering through an airport, following the signs towards the exit. You’ve just left a tin can where you spent the last twelve hours or so. You haven’t slept. You smell. You just want to clean yourself and sleep.

Where are you coming from?

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(Anticrepuscular Rays while flying over Arizona, by Craig Gould)

Pomegranate juice does not, apparently, cure cancer. Imagine that. The FDA is coming down on misleading health claims made on food packaging. Of those mentioned in the article, POM pomegranate juice appears to be the worst offender, actually claiming to prevent and/or cure diseases.

As widely reported, days are now shorter, thanks to the earthquake in Chile. It should be noted to those who are skeptical regarding global warming due to the cooling effects of winter that the number of hours of daylight will continue to increase until the summer solstice on June 21st, and that despite this days are actually a little bit shorter now.

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It did not always go right — while we were inventive, even the best laid plans seldom survive the real world. And we were not the world’s best planners.

At the very least, however, we were never chased out of the room by any of our profs.

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