The same wizardry that gives us Hallmark birthday cards that play “Love and Happiness” makes possible CFLs at $2.60 instead of $25.
Of course, if it’s Walmart helping to save the world, they’ll get no credit. They’ll mainly get blamed for changing the lightbulb market so that people buy fewer of them. Whaddya do in a world of people who think by brand names (or brand name hatred) rather than by results?
Read the whole article. It covers all of it.
Though earlier in the article I have to worry seriously about GE. They have someone who is the ecomagination vice president.
“The real issue is, if we don’t do it, someone else will,” says GE’s ecomagination vice president, Lorraine Bolsinger, of Wal-Mart’s effort to push CFLs. “It’s old thinking to imagine that you can hold on to a business model and outsmart the consumer. You can’t.” My emphasis.
An “ecomagination vice president”? Maybe they hire imagineers.
Ewwww! It’s day 4 and I’m already grading! It is a practice quiz, but still!
The first two days of classes here at these Colleges were miserable and rainy. I was whiny at first, and then I realized how better to convey the END OF SUMMER than a little misery? And now things are clearer with sunny skies predicted for the rest of the week. That works, too.
This is not Gladwell v. Jane Galt; journalist v. blogger. It’s world experts v. blogger. Just so we are clear on this.
As the peeved Mr. Gladwell’s sentence begins, “just so we’re clear on this,” Miss McArdle is a paid journalist. And a blogger. So it’s journalist vs. journalist at worst. And I happen to think that bloggo-journalists are more trustworthy than journalists who mount the high horse to dismiss their supposed lessers. Just me, the Ph.d.-holding member of the ‘blogger’ class. So he quotes world experts. I know some people of the world expert class. Some of ‘em impress me. Others of them don’t.Similarly, Miss McArdle mentions that when she reads a number of papers by experts and decides on a postion (for an article or for a blog posting) she accepts responsibility for the position.
Miss McArdle much weakens her position in this:
I don’t retract my assertions, mind you . . . but I do issue this heartfelt cri de coeur to Mr Gladwell: can’t we be friends anyway? After all, I’m so fond of you . . .
I mean, Megan, look at his hair! Oh, puh-leeze! You know, folks, the sad fact of google cacheing will make many of you unhappy by the time you’re my age. Not that I have anything to conceal in the personal grooming line!
You know, Kyra Sedgwick for someone who was born in New York City and is married to Kevin Bacon isn’t very bad at sounding like she might be from somewhere north of Atlanta. Not anything like Holly Hunter, who really is from south of Atlanta, but you know. We Southerners accept small dialectical mercies. Her “Thank yew” is especially strong.
I may be a cranky professor, but I’m a doting uncle . . . .
The price you pay for living in a charming college town? You might walk out your front door and run into a needy advisee – and have to sit down and solve a schedule problem right then and there.
Oh, well – better than putting it off to tomorrow! And there was an open section of pre-Calculus, too….
It wasn’t a beautiful day for working in the Park, but 13 of ‘em + 2 orientation mentors got assigned to Pulteney Park for a clean up…here they’re doing an evil icebreaker to learn each others’ names. The Park looks neater, too — we concentrated on grass-growning-between-bricks, edging and making neater flower beds. All in all, a morning well-spent acquainting the students with the community they’ve in which they’ve chosen to spend the next four years.
Beautiful! The Hillary! campaign commercial I just saw ends with a tearful father asking “How do you thanks somoene for saving your child’s life?” Oh! By appearing in her campaign commercial? Yeah. That’s it.
Day one of orientation down, and so far so good. I’m too tired (at the moment) even to watch the movie I just got – and I’ve got a serious Whit Stillman thing. They seem like a good crew, and the parents reception was the most intense of my brief career. Lots of questions.
The last week – including the unboxing day – has been devoted to gearing up for the newbies, 13 of whom are my responsibility until they declare a major; some of them might even declare art history and be ‘mine’ for 4 years.
My co-teacher and I are mainly ready for tomorrow’s start-up.
It would be nice if there were a podium installed already with controllers for the smart classroom I’m supposed to be teaching in! The exigencies of summer catering in Houghton House (there was a wedding there as recently as the last weekend of July) meant that conversion into an art history classroom started in early August.
As per usual, I hvae too much to cover the first day anyway.
Here’s her version of the class website. Mine will be up eventually – I’m having css trouble again. *sigh* I should just break down and ask for Dreamweaver or some such.
Many, many hours later. Everything has a home. The yawning gap behind me and to the left will be filled with a two-drawer lateral file, when it arrives – I’m going to start my eighth year at these Colleges with some furniture ordered for me! Me, me ME!
Well, the provost did buy me a good desk chair when the position converted to Tenure Track. I shouldn’t whine too much. And my previous office made up for any furniture short-comings with its amazing loveliness.
The first box I opened had most of the Oxford English Dictionary in it, so I shelved those and got my colleague and neighbor Lara Blanchard to take this picture.
We’re about to open a new studio art building here at these Colleges – look for more information here later in the week! Because several of the studio faculty have moved out to new office/studio spaces some of us have moved upstairs. The movers packed my office and moved it while I was getting ready to leave for NYC. When I came back I couldn’t unpack my books because the walls and woodwork (notice the built in shelves) needed to be painted. So…today I finally unpacked! Here are 3 views.
Argyle just had a bath. She is not very pleased with me.