First, some background.

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions is about the evolution of science over time; it's main thesis is that each scientific discipline starts out with many different, competing views, all of which are independent of each other.

For instance, some early electricians thought that electricity was a purely attractive force, while others thought it was both attractive and repulsive, and still others described it as a fluid.

Each scientist, at this point, spends so much time discussing fundamentals, defending their own basic assumptions, that they can't really progress.

At this point, what Kuhn (for whatever reason) calls a "paradigm" forms, and out of these many different competing basic views one takes the lead like Newtonian Physics or Ptomelic Astronomy, and slowly gains a majority of scientists, who start research on more specific things until a new, better paradigm forms and makes them all start over again.

With that said, here's how I pissed someone off in Freshman Studies today:

It was a snow day for the Appleton schools today, so I didn't have Qur'an class because my professor couldn't find a babysitter. I went to my Freshman Studies room, and began reading Revolutions, which I hadn't had time to finish last night, as I was at WLFM with The D.J. and Nick-From-Next-Door.

The Feminist (who had luckily found a 'sitter) and a few others came in with the same idea, and there was a really friendly mood floating around the room before class. Well, they finally got the heat working in that room, so that could have been it too.

The Diplomat didn't show up today, so The Queen of Plantz couldn't strike up an argument about Russia or Free Speech with him. Although he thought the story I'm about to tell was funny, so maybe you should stick it out and keep reading.

Once Prof. Alger had showed up and class had started and Alger had rambled on about economics for about half an hour, I was, well, not bored but unstimulated.

I demand that the world dance and sing before me, you see, so as to entertain me, and this was at most a waltz.

He was talking about Revolutions, and the fundamentals vs. established science stuff I went over above, when it suddenly clicked. For the first time, I understood what-the-hey Kuhn was writing about.

It's just like the WNBA, I said.

I didn't say this to be funny, honestly, though some people did laugh at my randomness nevertheless. I said it because it was the perfect comparison, at least in my mind.

Alger, stuck in so many thought-paradigms of his own, observed with admirable tact that yes, the same words were involved.

Yes, it makes perfect sense, I went on:

The WNBA is like pre-paradigm science; they're hung up on 'fundamentals' and can't work on the 'specific sciences' of basketball, like dunking, for example.

There were objections.

Caught up in this wonderful metaphor, I detailed the nuances of my comparison.

For example, while established scientists "stand on the shoulders of giants" (as Newton would say), the male players of the NBA are physically taller then the WNBA-ers, paralleling this metaphor physically in the world of basketball.

The Feminist, who is, as I'd somehow forgotten, a raging feminist (last night she was up all night at the theater practicing a triple orgasm for her role in Lawrence's popular The Vagina Monologues, as the title character, in fact) ripped into me.

We argued for a while; I don't give up arguments very easily.

The WNBA was defended by her, and I didn't so much pick it apart as continue to find parallels with my earlier metaphor.

It was the classic paring of Policy against L-D.

Evidence against Abstraction.

At last she noted, as red as her pale features will allow her to get, that she'd done research on the WNBA, that my assumptions were completely wrong, and that since I didn't have a clue what I was talking about I should probably just shut up.

Not that my "not having a clue" has ever stopped me from talking before, as I calmly observed out loud.

I really don't take myself so seriously as to refrain from saying something because I'm afraid I'll be wrong, after all. And it's very rarely that I get angry.

That, thankfully, was inside my head.

Needless to say, before The Feminist ripped my eyes out with the icy claws of female empowerment, someone, possibly The Queen of Plantz or Bollywood, both of whom are great fans of my work, changed the subject.

Soon Alger was droning on and all enmity was forgotten, as far as I know. I don't even like basketball, regardless of what gender is playing.

Speaking of gender issues, that reminds me of my would-be blog for last night.

The gist, in the sense that the gist means my entire conversation on the subject, is available on Graham's page.

I've been called gay for my mannerisms, for my gay-radio-voice, for my current (and assuredly continual) lack of a girlfriend, for not porning-it-up on a daily-weekly-or-yearly basis, for empathizing with girls, and by Graham for no reason in grade school practically every lunch period, but I guess I took my rage out back then on Meghan Rahn.

But never for my poor/apathetic html-ing abilities. Thankfully, Graham has graciously offered to make me a better looking page, to reflect a new, less-gay Dan. A truly masculine web-page.

Still, there's no way to convince someone you're not gay, (to steal a theory offered wonderfully and articulately by Manney), because they can always say you're in denial, even if you have sex with a different random woman every night, which is what I suppose I'll have to start doing now.

Not being in denial, the sex one. I'm not in denial, except about the quality of my musical taste and the sophistication of my writing.

It's times like these I'm glad that my old hetero-life-buddy Larson can back me up on the whole deal.

At lunch today, as yesterday, I sat with The Poet and That Fellow, which is still random socialization but nonetheless interesting.

Their world, however, is far too guileless for me, and the search for the Lawrence cynics continues, albeit not with the same drive; I've had enough to do of late that I don't need to worry about being entertained.

Well, that's enough blogging. Anything else would just be a slimy afterbirth-blog, unnecessary and superfluous. Yep, both of them.