They're trying to take the fun out of being a redneck

'Don't get drunk in Texas' advises fellow expat Mick, on the grounds that you're as likely to end up getting picked up by the law as by the local talent. Not good in a state which is unrenowned for its progressive views on penal correction. The idea of arresting people in bars for being drunk seems a little incongruous, why else does one go in a bar? This is especially strange in Texas, where you can routinely buy ammunition and beer at gas stations.

Then again, I got drunk in Texas once, in Austin to be precise. As a direct result of that heady experience I ended up driving a 20-year-old Dodge van from Alaska to Colorado, with a 25-year-old feminist. There were other factors involved of course (unemployment, indolence and irresponsibilty being the main ones), so I wouldn't suggest that just anyone getting drunk in Texas will end up dodging caribou in a semi-legal Detroit workhorse, but it's as well to know the risk.

Happy days, those. Every mechanic between Anchorage and Vancouver reckoned she only had 100 miles left in her at most, but 5,000 miles later she was still going strong (the van, that is, not the woman). It's all about keeping the fluids topped up. The woman is now a youth worker in Oregon - three months with me was the perfect preparation for dealing with disturbed adolescents.

By the way, don't expect me to post next week, as I won't be here. I'm going into the purifying fires of the desert, to purge my soul through mortification of the flesh, T.E. Lawrence style. When I'm finished with that I'm going into the intoxicating fires of Las Vegas, where hopefully I'll get the chance to mortify someone else's flesh.

What's the difference between a climate scientist and a management consultant?

What's the difference between a climate scientist and a management consultant? About $100/hour and five years of education. (Actually, I'm just being metaphorical there, it's not just climate scientists but in fact any type of research geophysicist.)

You see, both management consultants and climate scientists know that even if you're not part of the solution, there's good money to be made by selling the problem. Take Yellowstone National Park, for example. We know that it's about to erupt (about to erupt in this case meaning anytime from 3pm this afternoon to about 10,000 years form now). We know that when it does the ash fallout will pretty much bury the entire United States - people and all - and the resultant stratospheric aerosol cloud will cool the planet for a sufficiently long period that about 3 billion people will starve to death. Hence, people like myself can get money from a panicked government to research the matter (there's nothing more likely to reduce one's standing in the polls than having your entire electorate wiped out, just ask Gen. Pinochet). However, in practical terms they're completely wasting their money (actually, it's our money, but you know what I mean). Yellowstone Park is a bloody great magma chamber and there's absolutely nothing anyone can do to stop it erupting or mitigate the consequences when it does. But at least the government can say it's doing everything it can.

Getting money to research an insoluble problem just so that the leaders can sidestep responsibility - sounds like management consultency to me. Does anyone know if Accenture are interested in setting up a Climate Change Business Challenges Division? Pay me enough and I'll even wear a pinstripe suit.

*By the way, you really should check out the Accenture website, if only to see the feature entitled Go on, be a Tiger.

Top of the fucking morning to you too, dickhead

There are some phrases or sentences that you just know are a precursor to something horrible. For example, no male over the age of twenty can hear those four magic words, We Need To Talk, without convulsing with fear and a sudden need to get rat-arsed. For me, the first Guinness adverts around the beginning of March have a similar effect - it's that time of year again.

Bearing in mind that I live in a country called America, with a population of around 600 million, you'd be surprised how few Americans there are about the place. Everyone I meet is Irish, or Irish American, or Half Irish Asian with just a hint of Native American. On 17th March this tendency to harken back to a misplaced pride in the 'Olde Countrie' (or rather, their Great Great Grandfather's nation of origin) is given full rein. Rivers, and even beer, are dyed green (I wonder how a Dublin bar-fly would react to being served a green pint of Guinness). It's considered acceptable to be seen in public sober wearing the latest comical foam leprechaun hat. Every drunk emigre with a penny whistle is touring the bars an getting bought more drinks than Paris Hilton in a rufi-users convention. Ask these people where (or even what) Lansdowne Road is and they're stumped. My own criteria for assessing 'Oirishness' is a bit more rigorous than just wearing a horrible green t-shirt. Unless you've carry an Irish passport and have either been fiddled by a Catholic priest or thrown a petrol bomb down the bogside, you fail.

I am not unprepared though. Last year, I was so stunned when some Californian frat boy who's sole experience of International Affairs is probably a Spring-Break Gang-Bang in Tijauna shouted 'Up the IRA' that I was paralysed into inaction. This year I'm keeping a sawn-off shotgun handy. If these people are that in need of celebrating their faux-Irish heritage, then I'm more than happy to offer a genuine West-Belfast kneecapping experience.

The faculty are all hounds

My advisor has recently been promoted to Full Professor, and now holds tenure. For those of you not in American academia that means she gets a bit of a pay rise, the key to the faculty khazi, and most importantly is pretty much guaranteed a job for life (or even beyond, if she gets an Emeritus position).

Obviously I congratulate her on her deserved good fortune, but being an ardent solipsist I also need to think about how this affects me. Life is, after all, All About Me. On the one hand, she has a bit more standing in the academic community, which can only be a good thing. On the other hand, she never needs to produce another piece of original research again, or haggle for any more funding. Since her funding is my sole source of (legal) income, I can't say that I'm not worried.

Scientists are like dogs. When they're young and fresh, they're all enthusiasm and energy so they can be forgiven the odd puddle on the carpet. As they get a bit older, say Associate Professor, they calm down a bit but still like to chase the odd stick that's thrown for them. Once they get tenure though, they just sit on their arse all day barking.

Lessons learnt in Chicago

I was in Chicago last week, The Windy City. In fact it was no windier than any other city, which just goes to show the dangers of making overblown claims based on climatological data - a lesson some of the other scientists at the conference would have done well to heed.

I went down to Lake Michigan, but I didn't see any stiffs with concrete boots on float to the surface. You can say what you like about Capone and his ilk, but at least when they ditched someone in the lake they made a thorough job of it. They knew that if you have anything to hide in your professional life, you make sure that it doesn't later come bubbling to the surface. Judging by some of the claims being made at the conference, I think a few people may well live to rue not taking that piece of advice.

By the way, I'd like to commend the baggage handlers at Chicago Midway Airport. I packed almost nothing that was breakable, yet they still managed to root it out and break it. It suggests true commitment to the cause of anarchy when amongst all the hundreds of bags they have to deal with, someone still took the time to snap a razor and and toothbrush.

I propose that Chicago changes its moniker, from The Windy City to The Thorough City.

Tom Cruise is like junk mail

It was the Oscars last night, a chance for a lot of supposedly good looking but otherwise talentless hacks to try and convince the world, but most of all themselves, that they deserve all that wealth and adulation. Sadly, being in LA, there's far too many people who are willing to pander to these preposterous egomaniacs. I hate celebrity culture, and I place people who take an interest in it in the same category as people who respond to junk mail. Our mailboxes are full of adverts that nobody ever reads extolling worthless crap that nobody ever wants. Mostly they end up straight in the bin, but the fact that marketing departments deem it worthwhile to keep on shelling out good money on this glossy bombardment suggests that someone, somewhere, is spending enough to support the junkmail industry. I want that person found and brought to me, dead or alive. Alive preferably, as I would probably derive some satisfaction from dispatching them by cramming their mouth with rolled up copies of 'Albertsons bargain of the month'.

Tom Cruise is the same. If everyone would just ignore the cunt he'd go away.