Thursday, August 20, 2009
[1881 - Edgar Albert Guest, reporter, poet,
born in Birmingham, Warwickshire, England]
[1890 - H.P. (Howard Phillips) Lovecraft,
writer, born in Providence, Rhode Island]
[1905 - Jack Teagarden, jazz trombonist, singer, born in Vernon, Texas]
[1923 - Jim (James Travis) Reeves, country-crossover singer, born in Galloway, Texas]
[1932 - Anthony Ainley, actor, born in London]
[1940 - Leon Trotsky, revolutionary, murdered in Mexico City by Stalin]
[1942 - Isaac Hayes, Grammy & Academy Award-winning
singer, song-writer, born in Covington, Tennessee]
[1953 - Russia acknowledges test of a hydrogen bomb]
String Us Along
Prince Albert (who once was mighty),
Now taken down by bits of fluff?
It seems sub-atomic particles.
Weren't nearly esoteric enough.
Uncle Albert could not conceive why
God would play dice with our universe.
Almighty might deign to make his point,
But wouldn't crap out just to be perverse.
Perhaps quarks touched off some sparks,
And the strangeness lost its charm.
Chances are we'll never know,
What caused so much alarm.
When four dimensions proved mundane,
They could have settled for seven.
Instead by mathematical legerdemain,
Physicists saddled us with eleven.
If you thought you had some branes,
And understood this weighty matter,
Matter's not found in boats & trains,
Nor captured by this idle chatter.
Strings that vibrate in their place,
Sometimes they loop, or whatever,
Take up so very little space,
You won't see them - now or ever.
If you find the physicks of string,
Way beyond your understanding,
Join the club; you're not a ding,
Press on with life, notwithstanding.
William's Whimsical Words:
So find a little bit of string,
And tie it round your middle finger.
Next time you hear a cell phone ring,
Hold it up, and salute the ringer.
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