So! What's going on with me?

I'm being a research assistant for my econ prof

(Props to Dr. Mitch!)

What I'm doing is I'm cross-referencing 19th century marriage records to the 1851 census in Britain, to see if whether adult literacy rate (as determined by whether people sign their marriage license or just X it) matches up with their childhood educational backrounds.

So.. uh.. lots of Excel database stuff, really. And entertaining facets of 19th century life.

I don't think "farmer's widowed pauper" or "spoon polisher" or "pearl button cutter" really flies on resumes anymore. Or "gentleman."

This one time I was reading the job description for this guy, who described himself as a 'inge filer.' I was really confused until I read the other records, in which his son described the filer as being a locksmith.

Apparently he's a hinge filer.

Fuckin' Cockney!

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands...

I like this poem. Even though if you were existentialist you could write a commentary about the pointlessness of this man's life, but anyhow.... I wish I had more time to read stuff like this for fun.

I feel sorry for Czar Alexander II. Try have a grain of human decency, and end up getting killed. He didn't have to stop and help innocent people wounded in the first attempt on his life. He could have just driven past, and that would have been the smart thing to do, but he chose to be a decent human being. And for that he ends up getting blown up to itty bitty pieces.

What sort of world is this? That people can think they can save the world by chucking a bomb at someone? At least if you're killing someone, have the decency to shoot him, and leave people who didn't have any political affiliations until you blew their legs off out of it.