It's a classic thing one finds in not-very-good science fiction dramas and stories: some poor bastard gets exposed to hard vacuum, and explodes.

2001: A Space Odyssey showed it a bit more accuratly.

And at least once, a NASA space suit tester was exposed to vacuum, and lived to tell the tale.

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I'm visiting family for Memorial Day. How exciting, yes? I could march in the town parade, but I think I'd rather watch.

The weather has been very hot recently, so doing home-improvement stuff on my mother's place this weekend is not exactly an enticing idea. I guess I'll do it anyway, though.

Also, I got the first two books for my summer class, so I've got to start reading. The Haitian Revolution, what a cheerful subject.

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I have been declared officially a bachelor, which is strange, because I thought I already was one.

Yes, on Sunday, May 9th, 2010, the Regents of the University of New York at Buffalo, with the advice and concent of the faculty, conferred upon me the degree of Bachelor of Arts.

I intend to continue with my education, and have accepted enrollment in the Master's program here at UB. My acceptance is for the fall, but I talked the departmental secretary into forcing me into the one graduate-level class offered over the summer. May as well get started, I figure.

I celebrated my graduation with the company of family and friends, with the guest of honor being my grandmother, who endured a very unpleasant flight to get here. We all trooped off to the departmental ceremony on Saturday. The formal graduation itself was on Sunday, but I chose to skip that, as I couldn't get enough tickets for everyone. Also, I wasn't interested in a three-hour affair that didn't have any speakers I wanted to hear.

Instead of the formal graduation on Sunday, we celebrated Mother's Day at my apartment. Attending were my mother, grandmother, father, and uncle and aunt Frank and Pat. We met to decide what to see in Buffalo, but with lousy weather, we just spent all day around my table, conversing.

My grandmother has surely had many Mother's Day dinnners. I suspect this was the first one that consisted of delivery pizza. In my defense, I ordered from the best pizzaria in the area.

So thank you to all that attended, and my apologies to the others that I could not invite. I'm sure I'll be seeing just about all my relatives at this summer's two weddings, and as to my friends, we'll surely hang out sometime.

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Fall semester schedule arranged. Doing History [i.e. theory and practice of historiography], Early Modern Europe Core, American Core, History of the Book. I may drop one, as that's one more class than full-time, and it would be a mistake to overcommit and fall behind.

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Today was the last day of classes for my undergraduate career. I also turned in paperwork confirming that I will be attending the Graduate Department of History at UB in the fall.

The secretary reminded me to send nice letters to the other schools that accepted me; I've not done that yet, so I think I'll write them now.

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This is apparently the only known footage of "The Great Cardini" aka Richard Valentine Pitchford. There is no dialog, just magisterial sleight-of-hand.

What I like best is the nonchalance with which he does the tricks. Most magicians want to give the impression that they have control of powers beyond that of ordinary folks. For Cardini, the magic is something that happens against his will. He came home from a party, and is tired and a little drunk. He doesn't want all those damned cards that keep appearing in his hands, and is vaguely irritated as he is forced to hand deck after deck to the footman (played by his wife). He is trying to get rid of a billiard ball, and gets annoyed that it keeps reappearing in his other hand. He wants to have a relaxing smoke, but more and more lit cigarettes appear, no matter how many he tosses into the spittoon. That's what makes the jump from skilled technician to performer: Pitchford creates a persona, he assumes a role, in which magic simply happens.

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One of my profs cancelled class today, so I didn't have a particular need to be anywhere this morning. I set my alarm to "wake to music" and figured I'd get up whenever.

"Whenever" happened later than I expected, because my favorite radio station was broadcasting dead air. It wasn't even static, just silence (and my receiver has no squelch, so it must be the station broadcasting a carrier wave. I got up and went about by day, but left the radio on out of curiosity. At 11:30AM the station abruptly started up again, in the middle of the song. After twenty minutes, there has yet to be a DJ explaining anything, it's just music. Perhaps I shall never know the cause of this auditory mystery, the strange case of the radio that was silent.

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Iggy, an old buddy of mine, had a job interview today. Wanting to look neat and professional, he shaved off the beard he's been growing for the last six months. The first question the interviewer asked him was "Where is your playoff beard?"

Lucky for him, I've been hearing there's a nationwide nurse shortage. With his shiney new RN certification, I'm expecting he'll get hired despite is visible lack of loyalty to the Buffalo Sabres.

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I saw The Producers this weekend, the 2005 movie based on a Broadway musical that was itself based on a 1968 movie. That's an unusual pedigree in my experience.

Anyway, it's a singing comedy about a pair of Broadway producers that go about intentionally creating a flop. The plan was to raise far more capital than required for the show, then when it flopped, the investors would be unsurprised at not getting back their investment. The producers would raise $2 million, spend as little of it as possible, and abscond with the leftover capital.

The score was excellent, with witty songs and competant orchestration. The casting, though… I've got issues with the casting. Nathan Lane was excellent, unsurprisingly, as musical comedy is his thing. His producing partner was played by Matthew Broderick, whose singing did not impress me. The love interest was Uma Thurman who has been creeping me out for many years. Her singing was decent, but when she had dialog her accent came and went, which was distracting.

All in all, I enjoyed it, but I wish it'd had a better cast. The best people in it, aside from Lane, were Jon Lovitz and Will Farrell, who both had rather minor roles.

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