Homo homini rodentius est

A rat’s agent of grace

I stepped out of the office this morning for one of my million daily smoke breaks and had my tobacco-scented daydreams of world media conquest interrupted by a man asking for a handout. He spoke so softly I wasn’t sure at first if he had asked for the time or for money, though, living in a city, expected the latter. Within a moment of appraising his appearance I was certain and automatically put on my Tender Sympathy® face, featuring the trademark head cocked to the side which means, “I’m sorry, brother, I have nothing to give you.” He was well familiar with my reaction and shuffled off, moving very slowly. But this time I didn’t turn away, I kept looking after him.

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Prayer 0, Stairmaster 1

In one of the dumbest uses of $2.5 million EVER, a group of white coats have just [determined] that saying prayers over sick people doesn’t help them. Well there’s news. I was debating about whether to file this under Lab Life, but decided against it because it really has nothing to do with science as such. It might as well have gone into the politics section because that’s what it stinks of. Not just exemplifying the constant drumbeat of religion that goes on in this faith-soaked country — something else. It’s one more effort by the scientists to wrest priesthood away from the priests and put it where it now belongs — in the hands of physicians.

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