OmegaMom

While I recuperate from the dread Wading Through Of Documents for the taxes (only to discover that this year we made out better with the standard deduction!), compose a mental post about Empowerment and another about tea parties, I have been reading blogs and what-not.  On one of those blogs, SciCurious’s Neurotopia, I encountered a music video that made me remember that I have been collecting science rap and pop music videos.  What better time to dump them all on you at once than now?

I do this for your own good, so that you can learn obscure scientific trivia the same way I did when I was young…I still remember the difference between a meteor and a meteorite from this:

A shooting star is not a star
It’s not a star at all
A shooting star’s a meteor
That’s heading for a fall

A shooting star is not a star
Why does it shine so bright?
The friction as it falls through air
Produces heat and light

A shooting star, or meteor
Whichever name you like
The minute it comes down to Earth
It’s called a meteorite

Alas, the friction part is apparently a fiction; the latest explanation is that it is the shock-wave compression of the air in the atmosphere that causes the heating and light.

So, without further ado, let us explore the wonderful world of modern science music.

First up–The awesome rap “Regulatin’ Genes”, complete with subtitles, which teaches you all about HOX genes:

Regulatin’ Genes is the product of a Stanford biology instructor; read about it here.

Next up, mathematics–Harm N Phirm talkin’ ’bout Pi.  If you listen to it often enough, it is rumored you will learn Pi to 200 decimal places:

This is supposed to be a parody of Kate Bush’s song p. 

We move on to the world of high-energy physics, with the “Large Hadron Rap”:

Yeah, it’s a little long, but, hey, this is high-energy physics we’re talking ’bout here.  It takes a while to get into all the nuances; remember, folks study for years to understand this stuff!

My next three are produced by manufacturers of biological scientific equipment that happen to be corporate possessors of a sense of humor.  First, a soulful rendition of “The PCR Song”, from Bio-Rad:

I particularly like the guy who sounds like Bob Dylan…Alas, I can’t figure out whether these are real scientists or not; I think so, but am not sure.

Then we’ve got “It’s Called The EpiMotion”, a paean to avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome while using pipettes to do…well, whatever you need to use thousands of pipettes for…from Eppendorf:

To wrap things up, another entry from Bio-Rad, a lovely take-off of The Village People’s YMCA, “GTCA”:

I hope you’ve enjoyed this foray into –>SCIENCE!!!<– as much as I did.

Many years ago, when the dotter was three, she and OmegaDad went on a daddy-daughter date to Jackson’s Grill, a fairly nice restaurant back in Small Mountain University Town.  Of course, being “fairly nice” means it’s also “fairly slow”, and after they had ordered, and eaten all the bread and rolls, and were waiting for dinner, the dotter, being three, got antsy.  OmegaDad did this, that, and the other to try to keep her occupied, but she was still fretting, and still hungry.  In a moment of desperate inspiration, he grabbed a big linen napkin from the table, wrapped it around his hand and tied a knot, leaving the extra fabric standing straight up as ears, and said, “Hello…” in a nasal voice.

The dotter was entranced.

Thus was Sheepie born.

Think of Sheepie as a low-rent version of Lambchop.  If you don’t know who Lambchop was, I don’t want to know:  it means you’re way too young.  He has a very distinct personality.

Sheepie was just between the dotter and OmegaDad for quite a while, but then he started making an appearance now and then at the dinner table, and became quite the standby attraction during Eleven Minutes, the flexibly-timed daddy-daughter playtime between dinner and bedtime.  (Why is it “eleven minutes”, and not, say, a nice even number such as “ten”?  This is one of OmegaDad’s little quirks [just like Sheepie]; he doesn’t like “nice even numbers”, and insists on programming the microwave for 53 seconds, rather than 60 seconds.)

Nowadays, we find ourselves talking to Sheepie everywhere. 

Let me rephrase that:  I find myself talking to Sheepie everywhere.  My husband, of course, is Sheepie, but he converses with Sheepie also.  Sheepie will pop up to make silly commentary at odd moments, such as while we’re shopping, or when we’re at restaurants, or driving.

Sheepie has taken to making risque asides to me while playing with the dotter.  I can kiss OmegaDad, and Sheepie gets jealous.  I can kiss Sheepie, and he swoons gracefully onto the nearest flat surface, while OmegaDad rolls his eyes.

What can I say?  We’re weird.

Anyway, while OmegaDad was being prepped for his colonoscopy, he was flirting with the nurse, and somehow they got off on the subject of chickens.  Somewhere during the conversation, he managed to mention that he’s a relaxed kind of guy because he talks to chickens.  And everyone should talk to chickens; there would be a lot fewer wars and ugliness if everyone just took some time to talk to chickens.  The nurse took it all in stride.

That evening, Sheepie poked his head over my shoulder and started flirting with me while I was working on the computer.  Both OmegaDad and I had the same thought at the same instant:  Just imagine the nurse’s response if he told her he held conversations with his hand all the time?

She thought talking with chickens was weird enough.

Have I mentioned I love my husband?