Mark me baby. Mrak me baby. All night long.

My darkness wafts over the campus like a dead poltroon. Fingering our fat behinds, we chart a course for infamy. For our campus is home to a generational split. The old scientists, mostly with straight ethics of science. And the middle aged scientists, 30% of whom succeeded because they lied. In this world of trust, liars eat well. Belly up to the bar me bully boys and gurls. Get your fill here.

Fear not, for my minions are paid by me, and that guarantees their loyalty since I pick my minions from academia. Academics, the new generation, are molded into clay, ground down to dust, mixed with mud and thence made shapeless, lacking in principles. Flattening themselves to the whir of the moment, they find reasons to make new P.C. programs.

Ne'er do we, ne'er do we, do well - except for ourselves. Of course. Our pockets are lined.

Ursula, the drag queen who married herself

MC: And now, in the West Coast saga of gay marriage, we present to you the happy story of Ursula, the drag queen who decided to marry herself. Yes, Gavin Newsom has accepted her application for a marriage license, and she is on her way to City Hall in San Franciso next week for the wedding! Ursula?

Ursula: Hi everybody. Hi. I’m Ursula. Let me tell you about myself. My story? Well. It really started for me several years ago when I was with my then boyfriend, Chip. He was a hunk. Oh yes. He was.

But you know, it wasn’t all roses for me. I know that’s hard to believe, me being gay and all, AND a drag queen. I mean, I know everybody thinks this is easy, but really it’s pretty hard to be as self centered as I am, and dress better than Britney Spears. Well, that part’s not hard, but she looks so good whatever she’s wearing.

Well, we all love Britney, but I’m in love with me! See, back a few years ago, I lived with Chip. And it was bad enough with all the gas under the blankets from Chip farting. But the turning point came for me one night when I was sitting there trying to relate to Chip over dinner. You know how it is trying to relate to man? Well, let me tell you, Chip was nooooo different than any other man over dinner. “Uh huh. Mmm. Yup.” Well! You know I thought we were having a nice conversation, me telling him all about my day. And then I watched while he reached deep into his nose as he looked straight at me, slowly ex-tract-ed this huge booger and …
He ate it. Right in front of me! Didn’t even retire to the boudoir alone, like a gentleman would before he eats his boogers.

So I said to myself right then, Ursula? You have GOT to find someone good enough for you! And I did. I’m right here!

I know. We have our problems. See, I love oral sex, and I know it’s going to be hard. But, I’ve joined a yoga class with my beloved. They have this won-der-ful blonde instructor who puts you into the most diff-i-cult positions, and talks about feeling the de-vo-tion! I just love it when she talks like that! I’m thinking about inviting her to my wedding night so she can give me directions!

I know, you may think I’m giving up a lot. No more late nights out with the boys. No more prancing around on stage dressed up like Marilyn Monroe and Catwoman. But now when someone tells me to go fuck myself?! Why, I thank them for their kindness and understanding! This fella told me that the other day in traffic after I turned left from the right lane the day I got engaged! Well, I stopped my car right there in front of him, sashayed my fine ass over and gave that man a big kiss on his crewcut head. I said to him, “Honey? I am soooo glad that somebody understands me besides myself!” You should have seen his face. Coulda dropped a grand piano down that man’s throat.

So anyway. I called my mom to tell her the good news. She was real sweet. She said, “Son, or daughter, whichever you are now, I’m so happy you found somebody you want to be with for the rest of your life.” I said to her, “Mom? Me too. But you know I never had much choice about it anyway.” “You’ve got a point there.” she replied. My mom is very practical.

Well, I felt so sad thinking about that. I thought, “Dear lord! Whatever shall I do if I decide I want a divorce? I’ll have to pay ali-palimony!” I started to cry. My mom asked me, “Oh, what’s wrong sweetheart?” And I just started screaming, I felt so upset, “It’s not fair! Mom, this is all your fault! How come you couldn’t give me a choice about it!” “A choice about what baby?” “A choice about living the rest of my life with myself!” Well. She hung up. But, I still love my mom. Really I do.

So, here I am! Bought the ring, bought the tux AND the most gorgeous white wedding dress! OK! I’m wearing a red sash, alright?! OK. So I’ve got it all!

Now I just need to figure out how I’m going to support myself so I can stay home.

MC: Thank you Ursula!

Don’t whine, it’s organ donor time!

A vacation so good I cared not what the world did say! But, a gentle reader has written and I like it!

You ride a motorcycle? Go to http://www.organdonor.org/register.html and fill it in to be an organ donor. Fill out an organ donor card and keep it on you when you ride. Choose the “after death” option and check off all the organs possible. Consider getting a medic alert bracelet saying “Organ donor” and wear it. If you’re a novice rider or a not so novice rider, a commuter or a speed freak, your body can save at least 8 lives. From kidneys and hearts to skin that keeps burn victims alive until they can heal, your body can do a lot. I know it grosses people out, and other people think that if they don’t it will protect them somehow. But it’s the civilized thing for us risk takers to do. Really it is.

I’ve been in Davis for a bit over a year, going out to the dam by Lake Berryessa to hike in Cold Canyon and bike out to the dam. I figured out that I’ve probably been out there something like 20 or so times. In the stretch from Pleasant’s Valley Road to the dam I have seen 3 motorcyclists dead on the road (DOR) and finally one live one. Just about 6 weeks ago I saw a guy laying in a ditch with his bike another 50 feet down the road. It turned out he wasn't dead. But then he stopped breathing while I was looking at him, so I did a bit of CPR and with the assistance of another guy turned his head carefully and pulled his jaws apart slightly so the blood would drain out of his mouth and throat so he’d stop choking. About 45 minutes after coming across him, EMS showed up and another hour later he was on his way to a helicopter. He never regained conciousness. So he didn’t make it either, which makes my record 4 for 4.

I just go there on Saturday or Sunday mornings and early afternoons. The people at the store down there at the base of the dam have so many people come in wanting to use the phone because of motorcycle accidents they get cranky about it. What I’m saying here is that this stretch from Pleasant’s Valley road to the dam has a lot of motorcyclists die on it. The guy I did CPR on, he was riding a Harley and one of those minimal helmets. (Yes, his face was messed up.) The people driving behind him said he was doing about 50 when he got distracted (bee? music?) and rode his bike off the edge of the pavement there to commence flipping “4 or 5 times”. Two others I saw DOR (dead on road) did have the fancy gear and full head helmets. I could be wrong, but it’s my impression that the guys with the best gear compensate by going faster.

Hey, I had my own airborne experience after leaving a motorcycle at 50 MPH after an accident. I’ve shattered a collarbone, broken both wrists and dislocated my left elbow 180 degrees having fun. So this isn’t a “Motorcycles are dangerous. Don’t ride them.” lecture. (Insert the voice of your favorite here.) No, I know you will because you wanna, and you wanna because it’s so much fun, even if you do die. What the hell.

Don't whine, it's organ donor time!

A murderous year in lake Woebegone

My adminitards are in fine form this month. Already I have heard of several disasters. Complaints and reports turned in that are ignored when the bylaws require they be addressed promptly. Ah, my minions of Mrak are in fine form, screwing up and tromping arrogantly over all.

And it's all paperwork. That's what it comes down to. Just paper. A bunch of ninnies arrive, some of them criminally insane, and we sooner or later give them graduation papers. A few of the insane ones make it through without murdering anyone outright. Some of those are insane enough to want to "go further" which will put them into the hands of my profitards. My profitards are driven completely mad by my minions, and ...

That's how it goes, 'cuz part of me knows what you're thinkin'!

So the circle is made. The latest wonder of the world is this business by Stanford where they killed a woman, Jolee Mohr was her name. They killed her with a gene therapy that suppresses TNF-alpha. Hey, I saw it on The Scientist blog where some guy looked it up in "Janeway", (I did get something out of my education - I read science magazines!) Right there on page 485, it says you do that, and if you do it enough, the little mouskers will die. Of course, that's pedestrian merely a "too bad, so sad" moment. What really makes me sit up is how they subverted the investigation process! They subverted it and got the thing declared unrelated to their treatment!

So now that profitard of theirs gets to go kill again! Yes! We love murder in academia. Well, maybe we don't love it exactly, but we won't let a little thing like killing the patient interfere with BRINGING IN THE $$$$$$$$$ if we can help it.

I must unmotivate my minions even more than I have! I must then press them to torture my profitards endlessly, until UC Davis can beat Stanford! Because, if we don't those guys will zip on past us, and we won't have more money than they do!

Kill, my profitards! Kill! Kill! Kill!

But of course, WHAT do the Regent-retards spend their time on? The Regent-retards spend their time mulling over malarkey. Yes, that's what I call it. The real issues, according to them, are whether I should be allowed to receive money from tobacco companies! What IS wrong with those people! Of course we will take money from tobacco companies! If we would aspire to commit murder of trusting clinical subjects the way Stanford has pioneered, only a goddam fool would think we wouldn't take tobacco money. I see that they saw fit to put more "oversight" in place though. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.

Of course, in this case it's panty-waist bullshit. Nobody really cares about this except some rabid, foaming at the mouth anti-smokers. It's quite pathetic how much energy we are putting into this when all fair UC is doing is taking money from companies that cut health care total costs by killing people quickly. I mean, seriously. I rarely get the chance to actually say something intelligent and use my edumacation, but really, if they don't give their millions to UC, they'll just use it on advertising their coffin nails. Sadly, pathetically, that is what your UCD has fallen to. We pick up mere scraps and by doing so cut advertising budgets for tobacco by such a small amount it's barely measurable.

So, sadly, UC is in the right here. We should take that money because it combats smoking in a tiny way. We lag Stanford by such a huge margin it is beyond belief. We are helping save lives in tiny ways. Stanford is snuffing them out! And getting huge money for it! The shame of it all!

Yoo Yoo, Boo Boo

No flight of dimwitted ninnyness is beyond the venerable knights of the UC. Now, we are proud to present to the world the one, the indefensible, John Yoo! Right wing nutjob wack-jobs we love 'em! Yes! Gotta have'em.

http://thenexthurrah.typepad.com/the_next_hurrah/2007/09/if-the-uc-regen.html

They laugh at us. The world mocks us for adminitards. What do we do when that happens?

We ask ourselves, "What would George Bush do now?" It always works for us!

9-11 reductase

Everyone has been wondering about bloody Osama. My minions have been so distracted that they have been something resembling efficient little minions. Thankfully, this will not last and my domain will revert to its jello like self.

Some PETAtard has been carrying on about how horribly we treat our animals. It is horrible actually. Quite horrible. But, they are animals and we treat them better than the animals that end up in the fresh carrion department at Safeway or Savemart. Is it better that we ignore the flow of carrion, one Supermarket of which eclipses in a month the entire nation's medical research animals for a year? This carrion is sold so that fat people may dine gustily upon lip smacking fare. Is that a nicer thing than doing research that might help a person recover from horrible burns?

Ah, but this is a world of tough choices. I choose carrion eating and medical research. Yes, it makes this university money hand over fist. Yes, it does. God only knows what we would do without it. But, well, this flesh is weak, and I just like the tast of nicely prepared carrion of almost any kind. Medical research? I think it's a good thing.

I see in "The Scientist" that some idiot thinks that universities will ever do anything about the profitards thieving, nasty, petty tinpot dictatorial ways. What passes for education these days in Britain is a shocking thing. Universities could give a rats nether region about such rot. We need the money, and some of the worst thieving varmint profitards are very profitable indeed. So, what do we care if some doormat grad student gets shoved aside at the last minute by a ratbag beyatch profitard? What do we care if some dark skinned professloser gets shafted by some child of privilege who steals his ideas? We give such scum corner offices! Yes we do! Because we don't give a hillbilly holler in hell about an-y-thing but the m-o-n-e-y!

My image in the water

The scandals march on. Profitards are uppity. Now that money is tight, those with money want to push me around. Some have gotten huge investments in their labs through blandishments and blather. Some are starting little companies in hopes of freeing themselves from the science rat-race and having some peace and quiet in industry.

But what is this I hear? The pitter-patter of little graduate students? Uppity graduate students no less? How dare they think of themselves as human! How dare they think of themselves as deserving of sane, reasonable treatment? Graduate students are ... are ... they are but doormats in the halls of academia! They exist to serve. Nay, they exist to grovel and lick the boots of those who kick them!

A pity such uppity grad students don't take up motorcycling on 128. 'Tis known as vegetable alley for a reason. Well fertilized with the blood of motorcyclists sacrificed upon those rocks, this gorgeous stretch of highway just beckons for the young at heart to open the throttle. We need more organ donors anyway. A nice graduate student body, offering up its organs for our hungry medical residents in Sacramento. What do they think? We have that helipad for nothing? Do they think we have it to save lives?! Yes, we save lives, just not the life of the motorcyclists. Those we hope are brain dead so their organs can do what they should do.

I think I'll quietly suggest starting a motorcycle club for graduate students. The more aggressive ones will be the uppity ones, and if we schedule trips to Lake Berryessa, they will knock themselves off, and nobody will be the wiser!

Curses! Foiled again!

It has come to my attention that somebody had the compassion to leave a door open to GBSF! As a result of that act of decency, people got in and bought drinks from a vending machine! Plan partially foiled! How could they do such a thing? They were informed of the terrible security risk! Not so much as a grandma should be allowed in lest someone steal the secrets of HIV! God help us if HIV should get out into the world! I don't know, but it would be terrible!

But it was wonderful to see the ambulances arrive after 20 minutes, the crowd hungry for shade gathering under the goal posts. Even the young, thirsty for shade, leaving early. Unfortunately, no wealthy donors expired. Nobody died. Darn it all!

I even got a phone call asking for a few thousand dollars to put up sunshade cloth on poles over the stadium! I shall have to make life miserable for that one of my minions. How dare they waste a $31 million death machine by making it pleasant for a pittance? Everyone knows that such a thing must go through proper channels so that the right people get rakeoffs.

First game of the new Stadium!

Weekends are sort of different. I make them different. My minions shall not rest! Nay. Never shall my minions have a day off! Today is the big inaugural game of the new Aggie football Stadium. Temperature is expected to hit 105. Peak of the day, it should be 115 on the field and 110 in the stands, with no wind. I rub my hands with glee!

Our beloved, most esteemed patrons should be dropping like flies! My minions have put out the word that for security reasons, nobody is supposed to let anyone into the buildings, not even cute little old grandma. Ah, my minions! You are so reliably callous and cruel. And my hands are clean. All I did was approve an opening date in the height of summer. The rest? You did it without even any prompting from me, my minions! I call it, "Let grandma die!" the plan with élan!

It's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. If their estate isn't already locked in to go to UCD as a bequest why should we care if they die? If it is locked in, wonderful!!! That silly stadium will pay for itself in its first day of operation! Oh, I float!

Now, how can I make absolutely sure that no sane student or compassionate and sensible underling at the bottom of the totem pole screws this up and lets people into a building? The chief of police is unlikely to be a problem. Where is that gal anyway? Who the hell is running things today? Darn it!

Meanie, meanie, chucklehead larceny

My minions, my minions. Graduate studies is in an uproar, and nothing is being done. Stir, stir, stir the pot, watch it simmer and steam. To hell with the students! Yes, my minions. To hell with the students. Let them eat voidness.

My profitards, they are worried about bringing in the money. NIH is squeezing, my record as a profitable campus, living off the fat of the taxpayers largess for science - what shall become of it?!

We must make our professors into prostitutes. They shall become prostitards! That will do the trick! Like Caligula before me, who pointed the way, I shall command them to lose the last shreds of decency, dignity and sensibility! My prostitards will suck the paint off the shiny shoes of any who throw money at us! None shall best us!

That is my plan. It has a few problems. Little problems. Like my minions being a totally dysfunctional bureaucracy fitted only to mincing words.

Office of the UC Channeler

What news is this? A gentle reader speaks to me in prose most prim! And to this news, my face it grows grim!

A dean, nay, former dean - an emeritus, has sent around an email recruiting for a "young post-doc" to travel to Ukraine and the country of Georgia. Pay? $100,000 per year! Methinks the dean made a mistake in his email - "young (female) post-doc."

Ol' Joe Dasilva. What pass is this thou hast come to? We always knew you were an operator. But ... unseemly. And where on earth did you dig up $100,000 for a post-doc?

Office of the UC channeler

Oh, mighty oak. Dynes. My leige lord! What pass is this that comes upon us unasked for!

A $30,000 dog run? My lord, it was nothing! I would like such a dog run myself!

But hark! What is this? Rumors from below. My minions are paralyzed, as I am myself. Nothing can we do! For Dynes, the mighty Dynes has fallen! Woe, woe!

Still, the pitter-pat of feet behind me in the dark - it persists! It will drive me mad, mad I say. That scandalous matter wherein our UC's gave (gave! without recompense!) to a corporation, the tax information for all of our students. Their addresses, their income. They assured us that the company would never sell this data to anyone outside of it! Then they sold the company. Pirates.

Somebody got a payoff. I smell it from here! Someone made at least a few hundred thousand off of this debacle! I know it in my aged bones. Fee, fie, fo, fum! I smell the kickback of ....

Office of the UC Cover my ass department

What are these rumors from afar I hear? Rumblings below, like bowels about to pass gas. My minions! Not only do you grow flaccid, but you have grown foolish beyond imagination. Some of you actually think you are supposed to accomplish something.

Oh my minions! Useless are you, for that is your job! To obstruct! Perchance to tell some lies. Yes, that's the way we like it.

You say some of the proftards are lying, cheating scum? Some of them couldn't pass the classes that they themselves teach? Some of the proftards appreciate a good ass kissing too much? Methinks this description - it is perhaps a bit lacking in pith, but 'twill serve. Ah, but they bring in money for our beloved UC. And this makes their odious ways beloved to my minions.

Did a proftard submit manuscripts with data manufactured out of whole cloth? Pish. Did one of those pain in the ass gradtards turn them in? Pish and tush. For we shall lose all record of it, and our minds shall be as newborn babes! Blank did we arrive in this world and blank do we become as we rise into the ethereal heights of Mrak Hall. I have acheived the attainment of the void!

Each day it is that I thank the good lord, my savior Satan, that 99.99% of all staff, and an even higher percentage of gradtards are so completely naive that they can't touch us. Ha ha! At least the proftards have gotten the message beaten into them that my minions are not their friend. They at least leave us alone. So is our sterling reputation maintained! For we are UC and nobody can touch us in our splendor.

Sodexho leadeth me to lie in green pastures

But there is a bright spot! Lo! Sodexho, Sodexho, sweet is the deal thou gavest to my minions. Careth I not, for budgets are given a break and the legal department is pleased. If women without other prospects seek to exchange sex with bosses at Sodexho for what women want, no noose of THAT SORT of scandal shall lie heavily upon my neck! If bosses choose to victimize the hapless, screwing them out of thousands of hours of unpaid labor - scandal shall not drag itself upon my carpet, oozing its slimy carcass there. Your silly benefits and money are as NOTHING to the legal liability you create from said GOINGS ON! Needeth this university more payouts to class actions? Nay! Lawsuits from individuals - we can squash and mosh them! Such insolence shall never get far.

Sodexho, Sodexho, shafteth thou thy staff? Screwest thou thy huddled masses hungry for moola and benefits? Shaft away! And teach them not to be content with their low positions in life!

Oh, my dears! Lawsuits from class actions make your poor UC bleed. To bleed, perchance to close a department! Perchance to raise student fees? Lovest thou Sodexho now? Think, thou upon this. Ponder it deeply, for like the oppression of farmworkers, it makes your lot better.

UC Channeler's office

whatever shall I do about this ... (Ahem.) I dare not speak the (bleeeeeep) that dare not speak its name even to myself! Bisson, Bisson, wherefore art thou Bison? Seekest thou for the throne upon which I sit? Heavy lies that crown, O Linda. Heavy lies that crown. Heavier sits the behind upon this here throne, for we grow wide of carriage in our Mrakish labor here.

To labor, perchance to make a difference (here and there). To make a difference! Aye, there's the rub. Whether 'tis better in the flesh to make hay upon a field of blubber and by the making grow firm!

At least none of the grad students have threatened to blow up Mrak Hall lately. What was that girl's name? Hot number, and quite insane. Who was it shacked up with her for a while? What was his name? Louis? Loo-key? Oh, who cares. We don't apply our rules to professors, no sirree bob. No, if a professor should shack up with a grad student under his purview, that is his RIGHT. It's a perquisite we shall never remove from them. Grad students NEED to get screwed. It's good practice to do it in their spare time too.

Zo sprach Vanderhumpf

In my day... Yes, well, actually, it was a bit PRIOR to MY day, but THERE WAS A TIME when UC Davis was aspiring to be a GREAT UNIVERSITY! Eyeing the opprobrium of a Harvahd, UC Davis once tried to become a place where young men learned not to pee on their fingers. Yes, in days of yore, when I was but 40, this university had one of the highest suicide rates in the nation! We DROVE our students over the edge then!

AH! I LONG! For the vanished chalk lines of Sprawl Pla-aza!
Kept the students thinking about things besides iTunes.

But that was then. Now? We lock access to the roofs of our buildings. We must protect the little darlings. It was good enough for their parents, but then their parents just had one or two children, so they haven't any spares to sacrifice to the cause of MAINTAINING proper educational standards. No. Students have grown flaccid, right along with my minions of Mrak. Flaccid, and slow of wit. Even the protestors today are flaccid and cannot write a proper sentence. It offends me that such dross shall speak at the plaza instead of fling themselves off the roof!

UC Channeler's office. Love -0

Of all the things that could happen, JUST as we get that $100 million gift to start a nursing school, at UC Davis WHAT HAPPENS?

That tobacco money thing. AGAIN. Some jerkoff STUDENT TWIT is trying to take money from underfunded departments again, WRITING ARTICLES in the student newspaper. I thought I sat on that rag when it got "renovated" with its 'new look'. Ha. If those bleating twits think Linda can be bought off with a few bucks for research... My head is STILL aching from the last time I tried... just a little bit... only a little... to influence her to just - BACK THE HELL OFF - from that most embarassing investigation. (Which we won't mention since it is STILL ONGOING.) Yeast research. How the HELL is someone doing YEAST RESEARCH going to help RJ Reynolds kill people using tobacco? What is WRONG with the so-called education these twit so-called students are getting? You would THINK they would learn to think and ask questions. But nooooooo.

And the minions of Mrak. They are flaccid. Like orcs in Mordor given too much to eat, or not whipped enough. The provost has had to be BOTHERED with the DEANS several times! I'll revoke their parking spaces! That's what I'll do! If they can't take care of their bailiwicks, why should I waste valuable UC real estate on 'em?! Ha ha!

Yes, Khublai Khan is hearing rumors of war. Budgets groan.

At least that uppity bunch of food workers are still getting properly shafted by the Klingons running Sodexho. Silly children. Don't they know that FOOD SERVICE is not something to aspire to?! For god's sake, go out and get a real job with your education! What's wrong with the education these twits are getting?! In my day...