That’s the punch line to a joke my dear mother-in-law told me many years ago. “Why do broadcasters have such small hands? Because you have to have wee paws for station identification.” Of course that joke, like jokes about typewriters and broken records, will need footnoting as the baby-boomers die out, but I’ll laugh even if it dates me. So there.<\/p>\n
That said, I feel compelled to put a placeholder here to say that I have many things I want to explore about the recent Faculty Academy, about what I’m reading, about where my thoughts are taking me these days, about my new citizenship in Second Life, about last night’s episode of House and the ethics at the heart of epistemology (and vice-versa), but I can’t yet. Too many loose ends at this moment, too many projects I need to push a little farther along. And then there’s my job, too. All of which leads me to ask my five (or is it six? I lose count) loyal readers to bear with me for a while as I get some clear space to resume my natterings here.<\/p>\n
I really want to push hard at some of the ideas and questions emerging for me out of the last few months, perhaps even the last year.<\/p>\n
Stay tuned.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
That’s the punch line to a joke my dear mother-in-law told me many years ago. “Why do broadcasters have such small hands? Because you have to have wee paws for station identification.” Of course that joke, like jokes about typewriters … Continue reading