Saturday roadkill report

One dead moose by the side of the Maine Turnpike.  I guess that offsets, in sheer biological mass, all the bare roads I have been lamenting from my bike rides.  Also six or ten squashed woodchucks, a porcupine, and possible otter and fox. 

We hauled ourselves off to watch the Universitas confer the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Psychology on Younger Son, with all the rights, privileges, and honors pertaining thereto.  Along with Cecil B. DeMille's proverbial cast of thousands.  At least the circus ringmaster only called out the doctorates by name, settling for summoning up lesser demons by classification.

I've had enough Elgar for a few years now, thanks.  And certain people shouldn't be encouraged to sing certain songs.

And now, having been up since 3:00 AM, it's time to wave bye-bye...