From: cvieri@ai.mit.edu (Carlin Vieri)
Date: Fri, 10 Mar 95 15:37:54 EST
To: all-ai
Subject: Animal Magnetism

These are the times that try people's souls.  Times of trials and
tribulations, vast stretches of agony with only the briefest respite
of ecstasy.  

That's right, it's mid-March.  

Gone are the hurly-burly days of IAP, when bands of monochromatic lab
members humiliate themselves for the glory of the "Ronco Inside the
Egg Egg Scramblers" puce team.  A weak electro-chemical potential in
the synapses of the most senior of graduate students are the halcyon
days of The Lab, when resistors were sorted by machine and holy wars
were fought in the halls over pedantic nuances of Asimov's Foundation
series.

But, not to fear.  Summer is Acumin in, Loud Sing Cucu.  Soon, (far too
soon for many of the more panicked, hoping against hope that this
year, finally, will be their year to leave the lab, and maybe, come
June, they won't again be put in the awkward position of having to
explain to the general populous why their thesis is still only as long
as the cover sheet and table of figures) the beaches will be crowded
with yuppie brats from the 'burbs and delinquent punks from the inner
city and the humidity will be monotonically increasing to 100%, only to
be released by a lovely New England thunder/hail storm that gives the
region so much of its local charm.  The standard hacker "pasty-green"
skin tone will be replaced, at great risk of skin cancer and wrinkles,
with a much more becoming "pasty-white" and will then be shown off to
great effect by a dizzying array of cutoff jeans dating from the
mid-1970's.  Such is summer at The Lab.

Should these thoughts of summer seem inappropriate on a day when the
current temperature is only 26, just remember that if you stay in your
office, you never have to wear a coat.  It's a veritable return to our
roots as cave dwelling primates, spending our time foraging for
(free) food, defending ourselves from (ARPA) predators, and grooming
ourselves for lice and vermin.  Communication takes on the most
fundamental of characters when grunting for Doritos at a revolving
seminar or writing C code.

But is this perhaps appropriate?  Do we really need another generation
of RISC Unix boxes?  Or would we be happier, more fulfilled as a
society, if we just sat around in loincloths scratching ourselves and
searching for grubs?  Is there a valuable lesson we can learn from the
tree sloth?

Come explore your animal side at this week's

               G I R L   S C O U T   B E N E F I T

where Elk, Warthog, and Rhino Chaser beers (among others, including
Root Beer if you're in the mood for a tuber) will be available at 5:30
today in the 7th floor playroom.