The Forcefield.

So, people of different cultures smell different. Not bad, like "folks of nationality X smells awful" but rather people who consume different foods, use different soaps, and in general consume different cosmetics have different aromas. For example, in the northeast US during cold months African-Americans use more lotion to avoid becoming "ashy," and thus many have a lanolin smell due to their use of Vaseline Intensive Care and the like.

For a more concrete example: Westerners use colognes based on alcohol, whereas Arabs use colognes based in oil that smells spicier and heavier. (My wife and sister bought some, after convincing the clerk that they in fact were after the specific scent.) Thus if you get on an elevator in Qatar, you can tell whether a Western or Arabic women was the last in the elevator.

Separate from this is the issue of body odor. There are a number of cultures whose bathing practices are, well, more lax than those of the West, and thus in Qatar you will encounter folks who are neither Qatari nor Western who smell like gym socks. Not patchouli bad, but noticeably unwashed smelling.

One step beyond this are the forcefield guys. They are invariably men, and they smell TERRIBLE several paces away. When you see them in the malls, which are always very crowded, it is like they have a forcefield around them, such that the crowd parts and they have a 2 foot "no fly zone" around them. They have a forcefield of stank, which (if you are trapped in) should be the subject of a research project to weaponize. This is next year's NPRP grant. :)

Side note: I went to a dinner party tonight, and ran into a funny example of colloquial speech some Spanish speakers were discussing. The story was told that a kid was trying to say "I am very busy" but used the Colombian colloquial phrase which meant "Things are very tight," which heaven knows where they picked it up. This offended the kid's parents, as this phrase in Spain's Spanish means "I am making a lot of f*ck."

I love this kind of thing, because it calls to mind the following exchange:
"Are you very busy at work?"
"Yes, I am copulating a great deal."
"Juan, exactly what kind of physics department is that?"

Check this out.

Sometimes, simple is best.

Long time, no post.

Folks, sorry for the lack of recent posts. Here's some stuff for you, really briefly.

Have you ever been to Salt Lake City? If not, don't bother. Decent beer, clean air, but nothing super awesome. I went to the ACS meeting, and heard the following 100% true story, which is perhaps the most blatant example of arrogance among scientists I've ever heard. (And that takes some doing; scientists spend all their time trying to be right, which makes some of us into jerks.)

At a major American University, an Assistant Professor asked a Postdoc from another research group to go have cup of coffee with him. Both the Professor and the Postdoc work in computational chemistry, but not on the same projects/areas. Postdoc goes to the Professor's office, and the Professor says what he needs to talk about is too important to discuss there, so they go out to a coffee shop. At this point, the Postdoc is becoming a bit trepidatious. They get their coffee, and the Professor begins speaking. Basically, the Postdoc had recently begun a project that was related to or bordered on something the Professor considered his field. As gently as he could, the Professor told him to work on something else. If the Postdoc did not, this would lead to direct scientific competition between the two scientists. The Professor then states vis-a-vis this competition, "I will crush you." The best part is that the Professor honestly believed he was being nice, and truly helping a Postdoc avoid being shattered into a billion pieces by the sheer weight of the Professor's godlike intellect.

And now, the reason you read my blog, pictures of Henry.

We bought a bunch of blik stickers for Henry's room. They look really awesome.

Further proof H. Stockton's childhood will be a bit different than mine.


There are going to be literally dozens of pictures like this one by the time Henry starts school. Smiling, mustachioed Arab gentleman? Check. Semi-exotic background? Check. (In this case, the fabric souq.) Henry mugging for the camera? Check.

Also, a quick Henry story for you: Apparently children can grasp slapstick comedy at 9 months. Nicole was was standing up from the bed in Henry's room, slipped and then fell, landing directly on her rear end in a sitting position at the end of the bed. I was holding Henry, and we were looking in her directions. Before I could react, Henry burst out laughing. Great big guffaws of laughter. Neat, eh?