![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
malsperanzaHumphry Davy (1778-1829), he of the silly name, was one of the pioneers of modern chemistry, a follower of Lavoisier. He discovered sodium and potassium and a number of metals, and is most famous for having invented nitrous oxide (whee!). Faraday was his assistant. He was apparently rather dishy as a young man, too, in a sub-Byronic sort of way.
He was a friend of Coleridge and I have always liked to imagine the two of them getting stoned together on nitrous oxide, laughing like hyenas, and having this conversation:
Davy (*suck*): Bwahahahahaha, ah, heeeheeeeheeeee ... heh ... heh ... (wanders over to lab table) Good heavens, what's this metal here, eh?
Coleridge (*suuck*): What metal where?
Davy: Here, in this retort or precipitate or whatever hell 'sthing is. Pass the nitrous, dammit.
Coleridge: Puahahahahahaha... (*suck*) Baaaahahahahaheeeheeeheeeeeee...eeee.....eeee.e.eeh...... Dunno. Oh, give it a funny name.., call it, uh, strontium.
Davy (*suuck*): Strontium? What the hell does that mean? Hahahhaha
Coleridge: Not the faintest, old chap. But it sounds damn funny.
Davy (collapses giggling on the hearthrug): Hee! Heheheheheee, he, he, hahahahaha. OK, then, "strontium" it is. Pass the nitrous.
Coleridge: Half a mo' (*suuuuck*); here. Ah, hahahahaha hohohohohoho! Damn, this stuff makes me thirsty.
Davy: Thanks. (*suuck*) Um, there's some water in the fire bucket over by the door, I think.
Coleridge: Water? The hell with bloody water! Damme, sir, I want beer! Or malt. Or a glass of damn wine. (falls on sofa, mumbling)
Davy (muttering vaguely): Damn shame. Damn damn shame. Water, water, everywhere and not a damn drop of proper drink.
Coleridge (sitting up): Eh? What? Ow, my head. I say, that's not bad... where's my bloody notebook got to?
Davy: Hahahahahaha....
Coleridge (falling back onto sofa): Pass the damn nitrous, you hoarding bastard.
* * * *
Was browsing in the website of Chicago's Oriental Institute, a renowned research center for the ancient Near East, the other day. (They have been compiling the Assyrian Dictionary for a century; I think they're up to "p.") Because I am a hopeless geek, I was reading their annual reports. They are a riot--no, really.
From the 2002 report: "... in checking all the [ancient] medical texts, or all the Neo-Assyrian letters, or all the Old Babylonian real estate contracts, the checker will often rectify inconsistencies across the articles, or discover new correlations between texts..."
Oh, come on,
they can't be serious.
Old Babylonian (scanning contract): What's this clause here about a right-of-way through my hanging garden? I never agreed to that!
Old Babylonian closing attorney: You have no choice. It's a state exemption to the fee simple absolute.
Old Babylonian banker: Actually, as I understand it, it's a simple question of escheat.
Old Babylonian: The hell you say. I'm not having a pack of underbred parvenus from Uruk tramping through my backyard! This deal is off the table! (storms out)
Old Babylonian closing attorney (shuffling cuneiform tablets into briefcase): Ach, I'm getting too old for this.
Old Babylonian banker: You're not kidding. Pfui. I'm retiring to the Fertile Crescent next month anyway.
Old Babylonian closing attorney: Sumer, eh? What're you going to do there?
Old Babylonian banker: Invent golf.
Modern translator (peering over colleague's shoulder): "Escheat"? Are you sure that shouldn't be translated as "estoppel"?
Got to be kidding...
In more personal news, my mum is home from the hospital and doing well. She goes back in for a rematch and title defense in 2 weeks, and is heavily favored to win.
He was a friend of Coleridge and I have always liked to imagine the two of them getting stoned together on nitrous oxide, laughing like hyenas, and having this conversation:
Davy (*suck*): Bwahahahahaha, ah, heeeheeeeheeeee ... heh ... heh ... (wanders over to lab table) Good heavens, what's this metal here, eh?
Coleridge (*suuck*): What metal where?
Davy: Here, in this retort or precipitate or whatever hell 'sthing is. Pass the nitrous, dammit.
Coleridge: Puahahahahahaha... (*suck*) Baaaahahahahaheeeheeeheeeeeee...eeee.....eeee.e.eeh...... Dunno. Oh, give it a funny name.., call it, uh, strontium.
Davy (*suuck*): Strontium? What the hell does that mean? Hahahhaha
Coleridge: Not the faintest, old chap. But it sounds damn funny.
Davy (collapses giggling on the hearthrug): Hee! Heheheheheee, he, he, hahahahaha. OK, then, "strontium" it is. Pass the nitrous.
Coleridge: Half a mo' (*suuuuck*); here. Ah, hahahahaha hohohohohoho! Damn, this stuff makes me thirsty.
Davy: Thanks. (*suuck*) Um, there's some water in the fire bucket over by the door, I think.
Coleridge: Water? The hell with bloody water! Damme, sir, I want beer! Or malt. Or a glass of damn wine. (falls on sofa, mumbling)
Davy (muttering vaguely): Damn shame. Damn damn shame. Water, water, everywhere and not a damn drop of proper drink.
Coleridge (sitting up): Eh? What? Ow, my head. I say, that's not bad... where's my bloody notebook got to?
Davy: Hahahahahaha....
Coleridge (falling back onto sofa): Pass the damn nitrous, you hoarding bastard.
* * * *
Was browsing in the website of Chicago's Oriental Institute, a renowned research center for the ancient Near East, the other day. (They have been compiling the Assyrian Dictionary for a century; I think they're up to "p.") Because I am a hopeless geek, I was reading their annual reports. They are a riot--no, really.
From the 2002 report: "... in checking all the [ancient] medical texts, or all the Neo-Assyrian letters, or all the Old Babylonian real estate contracts, the checker will often rectify inconsistencies across the articles, or discover new correlations between texts..."
Oh, come on,
they can't be serious.
Old Babylonian (scanning contract): What's this clause here about a right-of-way through my hanging garden? I never agreed to that!
Old Babylonian closing attorney: You have no choice. It's a state exemption to the fee simple absolute.
Old Babylonian banker: Actually, as I understand it, it's a simple question of escheat.
Old Babylonian: The hell you say. I'm not having a pack of underbred parvenus from Uruk tramping through my backyard! This deal is off the table! (storms out)
Old Babylonian closing attorney (shuffling cuneiform tablets into briefcase): Ach, I'm getting too old for this.
Old Babylonian banker: You're not kidding. Pfui. I'm retiring to the Fertile Crescent next month anyway.
Old Babylonian closing attorney: Sumer, eh? What're you going to do there?
Old Babylonian banker: Invent golf.
Modern translator (peering over colleague's shoulder): "Escheat"? Are you sure that shouldn't be translated as "estoppel"?
Got to be kidding...
In more personal news, my mum is home from the hospital and doing well. She goes back in for a rematch and title defense in 2 weeks, and is heavily favored to win.
