On cleanliness

As you know, I have a canoe that’s well suited to my importance. Basically, by using my research funds to purchase a $12,000 canoe, I was accepting the fact that I am too important to have anything less. As you may or may not recall from your previous readings, I don’t let my technicians use the aforementioned canoe and I use it once per week when I’m in Paraguay and not Slovenia where, as you may or may not know, my life partner lives. One of the most important parts about having such an amazing canoe is keeping it clean. Basically, one way that I do this is by not letting mere passengers wear shoes while in my remarkable watercraft. Being of superior intellect, I am basically always captain of said watercraft and thus able to wear the appropriate footwear of my choosing. Obviously, you’re basically wondering why technicians are not allowed to don shoes in my canoe.
Well, put down what you’re doing, because I’ve got a story for you! Once upon a time on a Wednesday afternoon on a flooded river in Paraguay, the most spectacular biologist to grace this Earth was quietly canoeing through the haunts of the spectacularly important Helmeted Woodpecker and contemplating how he might go about saving this glorious creature from humanity’s cruel chokehold before it slips into the dark void of extinction. Oh yeah, he also had a technician with him. Anyhow, as they rounded a bend in the aforementioned swollen river, the intrepid biologist noticed something. “What’s that?” he said. “Que?” said the lowly technician. “Is that mud?!” alleged the Earth’s most gifted creature. “Que?” whimpered the subhuman piece of filth. After the heated exchange, and pretending not to understand English, the technician proceeded as if nothing had happened. Understandably, the noble scientist could not accept such insubordination, such vile mutiny, so he basically expunged the aforementioned technician out of the watercraft in which he clearly did not deserve to travel. The valiant biologist courageously continued on his destiny while the technician swam back to his tent. Now here’s the surprise, I’m the biologist in the story and Rogelio is the technician, and this is why I don’t let passengers wear shoes in my canoe. I’m generous to even let them ride in it! So why do I wear shoes in the canoe? Because Mateo just spent two hours giving me a pedicure and I’m not going to jeopardize the condition of my feet, are you freaking kidding me?!? Cleaning my canoe is one of the reasons that I keep technicians around anyway, they should feel privileged to even be near me.

The Greatest Holiday in the History of “Mother” Earth

Basically, as many of you may or may not know Paraguay recently celebrated the single greatest holiday in its history, Mother’s Day. This day is particularly special to me due to the fact that it was instituted in recognition of my mother alone. However, Paraguay allows everyone to celebrate it. I thought of no better way to thank my mommy for bringing me into this world than to take the entire week off as a way of saying thank you. I could think of no better gift for mommy than giving her the opportunity to spend seven consecutive days with me. Some of you may be thinking . . . the WGB said he talks to his mother twice a day, why does he need so much time off for Mother’s Day? Do you think that only celebrating the holiday one day is sufficient enough! Basically that is because I’m surrounded by idiots who wish they too developed in my mother’s womb. In addition, I feel it is important to point out that my advisor expected me to perform field work on my beloved HEWOs on this holiest of days! Are you freaking kidding me!? Obviously he doesn’t understand the significance of the bond my mother and I have. I mean she carried me around for months knowing that I would someday change the world, and he expected me to work! I’m not bragging or anything, but my birth was so significant that it made the National Inquirer! If it wasn’t for my mother producing me, where would Mother Earth be? In shambles, that’s where. I could give two craps about anyone else’s mom, simply because theirs gave birth to lesser individuals than mine. Why do you think people refer to our planet as Mother Earth? Basically it is because I dubbed it as such in honor of my mother. Soon enough people will realize the importance of Mother’s Day and will follow my lead of a 7 day celebration.

Munificence

As basically one of the most generous people ever, one of the things that I often do for lesser aspirating biologists is borrow their field equipment so that it may be used properly at least once and possibly blessed by the presence of my superior abilities. In fact, these lesser biologists often go out of their way to loan me items for their own self-serving purposes; I pretend not to notice that it’s basically for me to do them a favour and even sometimes say thank you when what I basically mean is, you’re welcome. Because the time that I can devote to my all-important task of saving Earth from humanity is limited, I basically try to make sure that these lesser biologists know how much of a favour I have done for them. Given the aforementioned generosity that I have so kindly described for you, you’ll understand my utter shock and amazement at a recent incident involving a canoe that I borrowed from one of my “colleagues.” As you may or may not know, my research on HEWOs is easily the most important project in existence and, therefore, I should have all of the resources I desire at my disposal. Well, my supervisor suggested that I let my technicians use MY canoe to prevent another incident where an incompetent technician doesn’t adequately follow our flooded-river protocol and ends up drowning. Blah blah liability blah blah right and wrong blah blah. As you may or may not know, I purchased MY canoe with research funds and, in order to have a canoe that meets my high standards, I purchased a top-of-the-line $12,000 canoe, basically a small price to pay for a watercraft that I use at least once a week. So my supervisor wanted to know why the technicians can’t use MY canoe when I’m not using it… are you freaking kidding me?!? Jorge lost his arm floaties, Mateo lost a pencil the other day, and Rogelio couldn’t even find my Zima when I had him ride Jorge’s old bike 20 km to the nearest store; I’m going to let these people use MY canoe?!? Basically, I decided to have them use a canoe that I acquired from one of my “colleagues” and, even though Mateo and Rogelio still needed it, my "colleague" said that I couldn’t keep it indefinitely!!! And, get this, to make it even better, when I returned it, he expected ME to clean it!!! Are you freaking kidding me?!? I didn’t even use it, Mateo and Rogelio did!!! Can you believe the nerve of that son of a bitch?!? Looks like I won’t be doing him any more favours.

Nectar of the Gods (and WGBs)!

As most of my lowly servants and colleagues that call themselves “biologists” know, I am basically the hardest working human on planet Earth. A typical day in the life of the WGB consists of waking up (in the morning), checking my email, calling my mother (pre and post Trix® consumption), putting on my socks, getting myself in my “HEWO zone”, telling Mateo to make sure my cell phone is charged, telling Rogelio how stunning my hair looks, and making sure people know who the WGB is and what my mission is all about! Obviously, basically, the aforementioned tasks are performed in addition to my priceless field research. So, you’re probably saying to yourself, “How is the WGB so great, and how can he simultaneously talk to his mother and save our planet?” Basically, the answer lies in my mind-boggling multi-tasking abilities. But, there is one thing that brings me up when I’m down and keeps me going day after day. I am talking about something so delicious and so awesome that the thought of it touching one’s tongue makes a mortal man weep like a school girl that didn’t get the Barbie she wanted for her birthday. Its Latin root means tasty, and its goodness is painstakingly crafted by virgin angels. Some of you may think I’m referring to beer, but that is because you are foolish and naïve! What I’m referring to is known to mortals as ZIMA! I have the honor of enjoying a Zima every evening at 7:30 pm and two on Monday nights when I watch American Idol. Basically, it is the only beverage that can keep someone as remarkable as the WGB performing the World’s most difficult tasks. Feel free to ask my “technician” Mateo how much I love Zima. He would basically mention how he asked for a sip during my pedicure and I screamed, “Are you freaking kidding me!?” before striking him with a partially eaten, genetically altered, super-sized chicken drumstick. So what if it’s 110 degrees outside, you don’t see hear me complaining under my umbrella! Bitches!! Now that I think of it, all this talk about Zima makes me crave one more than a pubescent boy craves a J.C. Penny catalog. I’m basically not bragging or anything, but saving Mother Earth from the death grip of humanity is grueling work. However, as long as I have the sweet, bubbly flavor of Zima to quench my thirst, I can perform awe-inspiring feats and single-handedly save the Earth from certain doom!

Down Time

Basically, there comes a time when even the World’s Greatest Biologist needs a break from the daily grind of delegating research tasks to the mindless minions that “work” for me. I make it a point to give my brilliant mind a rest for 5 minutes every 30 minutes during the work day and 7 minutes every 20 minutes if there is a constant stream of delegation lasting more than 3 hours which then constitutes a necessity for a 4 hour siesta approximately 3hours 10 minutes into the day, after which, as you may or may not know, I then use the aforementioned 20 minute rule but only if there is still light out and I am not on the phone with my Sun-goddess whom I would die for. I do not understand why my technicians fail to comprehend and integrate my schedule into their tiny noggins. How hard is it? I realize that the messages being generated by my superior intellect can sometimes become convoluted in the minds of those lesser individuals that do not have the wherewithal to comprehend my greatness, but I cannot help it if they are unable to understand my magnificence. It’s their loss.
So, basically, you can now understand my need for some down time. This week, after Jorge’s accident, an interrupted siesta, and an intolerable migraine caused by a heinous splinter in my right smallest finger I decided that I had been in the field too long and needed some time away. Therefore, I packed a week’s worth of field work into 2 hours and gave to my new technician, Rogelio, the honor of caring for my beloved pet bunny, Magnum, so that I can join my Sun-goddess, whom I would die for, in a romantic week (or four) long retreat to somewhere titillating (we haven’t decided where yet).
To assist Rogelio in the care of the aforementioned bunny, Magnum, I left a detailed protocol which includes directions on what to do should anything go awry during my much deserved and needed down time. I stressed in the protocol the absolute unswerving rule of supplying Magnum’s bowl with filtered water and listed the times and duration Rogelio should dangle toys in front of her so that she would get her daily exercise. Basically, Magnum has a sensitive system and any other type of water is simply unacceptable to her. In addition, I stressed to Rogelio that should the aforementioned exercise periods fail to occur and Magnum gains weight, I would fire him from the HEWO project for failure to comply with protocols. Because, basically, failure to follow a simple thing like a bunny protocol means, in short, that he would hinder my quest to save the planet.

Why question greatness?

Basically, in addition to the mortal drawbacks of the hired help, another annoyance that I must face as the world’s greatest biologist is the questioning by others who wish they held my title. This often happens when I apply for grants or submit manuscripts for publication. Basically, one of these individuals has nit-picky questions about my methods, or my proposed data analysis, or how my project will advance the “science” of the species. Ridiculous! If these so-called “reviewers” don’t recognize the expertise that has gone into my work, then it’s obvious that they shouldn’t really be in a position to judge the worth of any other scientist, and certainly not me. And there are several reasons why I should not have to justify my proposed research to anyone. First, I select only like-minded people for the privilege of collaborating with me, and so by association they must be good scientists and obviously have more merit than other biologists who rely primarily on peer-reviewed literature. And B) I would never do anything that would harm an animal or its habitat, so there is no need to conduct background research on earlier HEWO studies to see how they gathered their data. Someday, grant agencies will catch on to the fact that, basically, they can learn a lot from me once they allow me to research the topics that are important to me. Furthermore, the aforementioned research will prove highly attractive for publication, if I deign to submit my manuscripts. Basically, the scientific community would benefit greatly from both my vision for the world and the efforts of my small cadre of collaborators, if they would only let me! In the meantime, I will control my frustration and transfer those bad energies into over-simplified explanations of how my research furthers my quest to save the planet.

My Supervisor

As you may or may not know, I’m a very generous person. One of the overly nice things that I do is allow someone to pretend to be my supervisor. This aforementioned supervisor tells me things that I supposedly don’t know, acts like I don’t know more than he does, and acts as if I’m not the best biologist to ever walk the face of my beloved Earth. So basically, I talked with my supervisor yesterday and do you know what that son of a bitch had the nerve to suggest to me?!? He said since Jorge was working for me when he died, I should bury him… are you freaking kidding me?!? Well I decided to go with Mateo and my new technician, Rogelio, when they went to bury him. Despite my superior powers of observation, I couldn’t find his field notebook and, to make things worse, I got my freshly cleaned shirt covered in mud, and I couldn’t even find the arm floaties that I had generously given him to use! Basically, he either lost his field notebook in the process of drowning or didn’t even get any data, and I’m supposed to bury that son of a bitch?!? Great idea, supervisor, bury the guy that didn’t even do his job… any other bright ideas? What's next? Paying technicians for the privilege of working for me?

Can I only trust myself?

As you may recall from your previous readings, my “technician” Jorge broke his arm when he wrecked his bike taking my laundry to town. Since he basically didn’t get my laundry to town to have it professionally cleaned, I made him hand wash my garments with his good arm, so he basically redeemed himself. Just when you think you can trust someone, especially a lowly technician, they go and basically disappoint you again. As you may or may not know, Paraguay can be a very wet place and, when rainfall is above average, the resultant flooding can make my singlehanded saving of the HEWO that much more difficult. A few days ago while I was sipping on a cold bottle of Zima and getting a pedicure from one of my other technicians, Mateo, I “asked” Jorge to go out into the field and collect some data. Given the water conditions, Jorge basically wanted to know if he could use MY brand new canoe that I hadn’t used yet… Are you freaking kidding me?!? I haven’t even used it yet! How are you going to paddle with a broken arm anyway?!? Basically, what I did tell him he could take was one of the sets of arm floaties that I kindheartedly bought for each of my technicians. Well wouldn’t you know it, Jorge drowned in the river. You’ve disappointed me again Jorge, looks like I won’t serve as a reference for you after all.

Impostors

As you may or may not know, I’m very popular and well respected as a scientist. Occasionally, I’m curious about the extent of this overwhelming respect and admiration so I do a little research. Basically, I Blackle myself at least once a day and keep data files on how many hits I get, how highly I rank, etc. As you likely already know, typing the words World’s Greatest Biologist in the Blackle search page turns my profile up as third on the list, and adding quotes, “World’s Greatest Biologist”, makes me number one. So basically, my Mom was right, I am the best. However, when you complete the second aforementioned search, you’ll also find a link to a site selling the shirt pictured below. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!? Can you believe the nerve of these people?!? Attempting to pass the title of World’s Greatest Biologist to lesser people for the price of $20.99?!?

Possibly basically one of the worst parts of this situation, other than cheapening my title, is that this shirt is 100% cotton! Incessantly tarnishing my title and the Earth’s majestic beauty for $20.99? Are you freaking kidding me?!?

Catch Phrases

As you may or may not know, most biologists would love to be in my shoes. Basically, this isn’t because my shoes are immaculately clean, which basically they are, but rather because I work on the most important research project in the world and I’ve been told that I’m among the greatest biologists to ever walk our beloved Earth. I know what you’re thinking, everyone’s Mom tells them that they’re the best, well, she does, but she’s not the only one. I basically repeat my Earth-saving mantra into the mirror at least 12 times every afternoon while I’m working on my hair and preparing to grace the HEWO with my presence and begin my field work for the day; “I’m the chosen one, others may be jealous but no one can save the Earth but me.” Basically, it should come as no surprise that others attempt to emulsify my every move. In fact, lesser biologists have caught on to some of my catch phrases and basically repeat them, occasionally in other languages, in an effort to become the World’s Greatest Biologist. Basically, I’m not bragging or anything, but, as you may or may not know, I find this aforementioned reproduction to be flattering. Sadly, this will not make you a better biologist, you’re either born with it or you’re not, but it does make you infinitely more studly. So continue to replica me aspiring biologists, but sadly for you there can be only one WGB.

A Topiary Essay on the Admonishation of Others

National and international scientific meetings provide the opportunity for other researchers to hear about my ongoing quest to save one of the world’s rarest species from the cold dark vortex of extinction. Indeed, I’m convinced that many of these other researchers wait anxiously for news of my work and the attendance at meetings in which I am scheduled to speak, typically is much higher than it would be if I was not expected to speak. I feel it is only fair that I give them their money’s worth and since, you may or may not know, presentations are generally limited to less than 15 minutes, I try to pack as much into my talk as I can. Basically, I find it useful to use lots of graphs and tables that are shown in a font size that is almost microscopic. In this way I can include mountains of data and information in a single slide. By making use of this novel technique I often have so impressed members of my audience that they cannot help but cry. It is so gratifying to watch as, eyes squinting through streaming tears, they rapturously work to absorb the staggering brilliance before them. Some simply slump, head buried in their hands, not used to showing emotion in public. I also like to use really big words in my talks – I feel it’s important that the audience knows just what kind of intellect they are dealing with. I could simply say that two birds were acting aggressively towards one another but, instead, I prefer to say that they were exhibiting agnostic behavior. I see eyebrows raised as audience members exchange glances and whisper amongst themselves – clearly they are impressed. I decide to lay another one on them when I describe the actions of one of my HEWOs – it didn’t just move from one area to another (too mundane), no, instead I tell them that it transgressed from one area to another. Again, I see eyebrows raised and audience members exchanging glances, whispering amongst themselves. I’ve got them eating out of my hands now!