Tangled Bank #92

Welcome welcome one and all, to the eighty-twelfth edition of the ancient and worthy Tangled Bank Blog Carnival. And let the games begin…

So I hung up the plastic bats and spiders, carved the pumpkins, mixed the punch, cut the sandwiches into tiny triangles and sent out a hundred gory invitations. And who shows up at the party but a bunch of scientists.

Oh just great – now it’s bad dancing, taxonomy jokes and quantum physics discussions until the sun comes up. Ah well, at least nobody will be talking about their mortgages.

Well, I may as well see who showed up. Aha, here’s the first one – over by the pretzel bowl, dressed up as a Psilocybe azurescens, it’s none other than the mad hatter himself. Enchanting as always; just be careful where you drop those spores, sir.

And who is that octopus, with its long rubbery tentacles currently wrapped around Marie Curie and Marie-Anne Lavoisier? Well that could only be Kevin Z of The Other 95%. Glad you could make it. And 8 hands are indeed better than none, especially when it comes to groping historical ladies.

Hello there, you tall dark stranger with your scythe, hood and anti-aging cream. Why, bless my soul, it’s no other than Chris Patil of Ouroboros. May your bony and ageless fingers eventually find purchase on those cheese doodles.

Excuse me here, coming through, keep that proboscis to yourself, thank you very much. And leave the cat alone, please, he lives here too.

Ah, here is the man I wanted to see, all done up in his Victorian finery, with a nice beard and hat to match. Mr. Darwin I presume – or should I say Mr. Fernandez of Sharp Brains, chatting to another gentleman of letters on the topic of aging and the mind. Fascinating, I’m sure.

Well that guy just coming out of the bathroom isn’t exactly hard to spot – that double helix of brightly glowing neon tubes could probably be seen from the moon. Yes indeed, Aaron Golas of Synapostasy always makes an effort – just don’t get him talking about his new research position, because you’ll never shut him up.

Quick, over here, it’s Ed Yong, and he’s come as Gondwana. Watch now, he’s just about to undergo a massive volcanic eruption – wait for it, wait for it – and yes, there he goes, right over Carl Sagan’s paper plate. Wonderful – billions and billions of pasta pieces, all across my nice clean kitchen floor.

So who the hell came as the barrel of toxic chemicals? Daring outfit, I must say, but I’m glad I’m not the one scraping all the green crap out of my hair. Still, a good effort from Tim at Walking The Berkshires, always willing to make a mess in other people’s houses.

Aha! You there, in the cupboard, cut that out! It’s not even historically accurate – Hypatia of Alexandria did NOT get it on with Bertrand Russell. Well what do I expect when I invite Dr. Tara Smith and Mike Bergin to the same party? Maybe I should not have put Diane Kelly in charge of the punch bowl – goodness knows what she slipped in there.

Alright, who showed up as Washoe the chimp? That’s just not very tasteful – poor recently deceased monkey. So who is under there? Ah, none other than Archaeozoo, of course. No, I don’t want a banana, but thanks for caring.

Sunil from Balancing Life! Turn the music down! Yes, I know you currently have no opposable thumbs, but just use your trunk! And what are you shouting about? What? He did what? Who did what? And he put it where?!?

Ah whatever…let’s just keep on moving. Woah…and what are you supposed to be? Aha, its Jeremy Cherfas dressed as the Arrow Of Time. Ha ha – pointy arrow hat, very good. Just don’t walk too close to the balloons, if you please.

Sigmund Freud – now what’s a party without Siggy and his trusty cure-all, the old Columbian marching powder? And under that beard is none other than Mr. Joe Dunckley, if I’m not mistaken. I have my eye on you, sir!

And what am I? Well its about time somebody asked. But isn’t that bloody obvious? Come on now, look carefully – pasta, meatballs…yes! The Flying Spaghetti Monster, in all my noodly glory! Let’s just hope no other deities showed up, or there will trouble and grief.

Hey, you there! That couch is not for surfing! And the TV is not for – whatever it is you are doing to the TV! And the cat – where’s the cat..? In whose pants? And – you there, yes, you! – just because you are dressed as a Neanderthal does not give you the right to…to…

Oh alright, that’s it! Attention please! Turn the damned lights on! Music off! Everybody, listen up – I will only say this once, and excuse me if I slur:

Thank you all for coming. You’ve been bloody wonderful. Sorry if I missed anybody or caused injury or insult. Now grab your jackets and get the hell out!

What a bloody mess. I think next year I’ll be inviting good wholesome, clean-living creationists. I just hope they don’t all dress up as Jesus.

See you all next time at Jim Lemire’s house for Tangled Bank number 93. And bring your own bottle.

/ paddy