The math of Bourbon Street is painfully evident this morning. 1 Hurricane = 1 hangover. The sliders with the hot peppers didn’t help, either. I should probably start thinking about chemistry again. Bourbon Street is a very naughty place. The prospect of beads can cause ordinarily prudent people to expose their anatomy. A fellow can get into serious trouble here.

Speaking of pain, I’m reminded of a recent dinner conversation with an astrophysicist. This fellow is a senior player in the astrophysics circuit. He has been involved in the development and use of many “science packages” that are now hurtling through the vacuum of space.

Like physicists often do, he took delight in reminding me that chemistry is derived from physics. When asked why a chemist was interested in astronomy, I blurted out that I thought there was a goodly bit of chemistry happening in the universe and much for a chemist to try to understand. Between bites of beef medallions and the chomping of his bearded jowls, he shot a patronizing glance over his glasses at me and suggested that it was all ultimately physics. 

Ah, a reductionist! Not wanting to make a scene, I let this comment float into the ether where it belonged. But I would offer that if one had a headache and needed to wait for a physicist to invent and make some aspirin, you’d still be waiting.

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