Real, Slim, Shady

I’m in Chicago basking in the coolth of the summer sun (14 C in June). This is supposed to be a break of sorts, since I have a dearth of activities in my schedule. Well, that’s not true, since I could very well be reading material for my postdoc. It is also incumbent upon me to make revisions to a paper. Speaking of which, the latter was ceremoniously rejected by the Journal of Chemical Physics a couple of months ago. The editor failed to find a single reviewer who was interested in reading the damn stuff. Talk about morale blasters. So then we decided to submit it to Physical Review B (ed: I realise that these names are probably hogwash to most of you but trust me, they’re quite popular among the right sort of people – Bill Clinton, for instance). Lo and behold, one of the reviewers suggested that this paper might be suitable for a “chemical physics” audience. Hah! I’ll have you know that they thumbed their noses at me so there!

In the middle of all this, I joined my cousin sis one evening in an exercise in self-improvement – watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey. It’s a joyous revelation to witness how the proleteriat barely survive with their meagre mansions, super-facially stimulating Botox-and-wine parties and heartrendingly titillating family intrigues. It’s a poignant tribute to those women who continue in Hillary Clinton’s path by powering through 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling – all these surreal feats executed with serene glass-like dignity made possible by sealing their cracks. Who could have imagined that womens’ emancipation would have led so far into the wild…er…ness? To think that their sacrifices on behalf of a grateful population are being carried out on national television…simply breathtaking. Ladies, I thank you for the example you set…or don’t set. Common sense dictates that are lacking in formal education are painfully obvious in your selfless antics. You rock…and droll.