Despite my love for the arts, I have more respect for science. It will be science that will eventually find a cure for cancer, not the latest novel by Nick Hornby. Yesterday, I stepped into San Diego’s science museum in Balboa Park. They had all these cool hands-on exhibits for kids. Most interesting was a new exhibit about pendulums. I really didn’t understand what was going on scientifically, although some smart-ass kid tried to explain it to me. I ended up pushing him away so I could play with the pendulums myself. Was I ever like this annoying kid?
I hate when politicians get involved in science. You rarely hear me talk about politics, mostly because I find both Democratic and Republican women sexy, so I like to play it safe (although I’ve never dated an Independent and I’ve always wanted to). The only thing that really gets my goat is when religious nutcases want to teach "Creationism" in public schools. Another insanity is not wanting to use stem cells for scientific research.
In case I’m making my liberal pals too happy, I disagree with those PETA nuts who don’t want us to do science experiments on rats. Yeah, I’ve seen Planet of the Apes. I know what the future holds for us — the animals rule. But rats are rats!
Because I believe in science, I don’t believe in superstitions. Sophia thinks our relationship may have had problems because I’m a Pisces and we’re supposedly not compatible in some book called "Love Signs." I’m not afraid of black cats, broken mirrors, or staying on the 13th floor. Sophia and I were married on October 13th (uh-oh).
Sophia’s Russian family introduced me to a whole new set of weird superstitions. If anyone leaves the house, and then immediately goes back in because they forgot something — you have to go look in the mirror before you go out again. Maybe Tatyana can explain this one to me. In the beginning, I refused to get involved in this weird superstition, but then I realized that her family would not go out with me if I didn’t look at myself in the mirror. So, I never forget things at home when I’m with them.
The only superstition that I seem to have an irrational fear of is walking under a ladder. A couple of days ago I was in Borders bookstore and I was standing near one of those rolling ladders they use to climb up to get a book on a top shelf. I wanted to go past it in order to grab a book. I could have easily walked under it, but I caved in and slid the ladder all the way down to the other side. Why tempt the fates and walk under the ladder. Who knows? Maybe just then, 1000 copies of James Joyce’s "Ulysses" would have fallen on my head, crushing me.
Hopefully, I’ll be back in Los Angeles on Saturday, knock on wood.
