I learned last week that I am allergic to tea tree oil. It has been a painful lesson.

It started with a case of athlete's foot. I treated it, early on, with the usual poisonous spray, which gives me a metallic taste in my mouth when I spray it on my feet. That, for me, makes the poison of suspect health value. So, resorting to the hippy methods, I turned to tea tree oil, which is a natural antifungal agent. The Athlete's foot seemed to get worse. More tea tree oil, slathered on the feet after washing with tea tree soap. Itching intensifies. Small blisters appear. More tea tree oil.

After another day, the symptoms start to look more like poison ivy than athlete's foot. A google image search quickly confirms a diagnosis of allergic contact dermatitis. More googling implicates the tea tree oil. My injuries are entirely self inflicted. I considered taking photographs and posting them on Flickr. But it is disgusting ad extremis (kindly pardon the pun).

So now I pad about on a cushion of blisters oosing honey colored pus, rendering the three-day week-end most unsuitable for hiking. On the upside, there are no signs of athlete's foot.

A man asks his rabbi "Is this the Pentateuch?" The rabbi replies "Is there a Berashith in the words?"

One of the most intelligent things recently said about the so-called debate over the teaching of creationism alongside evolution in schools comes from the Archbishop of Canterbury, who says[1] that to treat creationism as a theory like evolution is to make a category mistake[2].

It's interesting to see how this statement gets interpreted by the various media outlets[3] (who make a living off of category mistakes), with headlines like "Archbishop calls creationism a mistake" to "A Blessing for Evolution".

[1] www.theregister.co.uk/2006/03...olution/
[2] en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category_mistake
[3] news.google.com/news

Feed Rinse (www.feedrinse.com/) looks like a step in the direction of The Daily Bayes (tinyurl.com/r7nxb) which I wrote about last November.

There is no such thing as Wednesday. There is either Only Wednesday, or Already Wednesday. Today is Already Wednesday for me. A week ago was Only Wednesday, which may, in part, account for why today is Already Wednesday.

Yesterday (only Tuesday) I was approached on the way home by a wiry fellow asking me in broken English (for which he was apologetic, his native tongue being Ukranian) if I was familiar with the area. I said I was, and he then launched into a very detailed story about trying to get to Portland, having his car towed, the towing company advising him to hitchhike, but giving him a jacket out of pity, the church and shelters not being able to help, his being an artist, an abstract artist, and his willingness to bestow upon me--an intelligent looking fellow who, to all appearances will dispel any prejudices about Americans not being trusting and helping--a painting of his entitled "Kiev Empire" (he had to repeat this a couple of times. I initially heard "Key of Empire") if I could only supply him with the money he was short of $50 greyhound.

I allowed him to finish his 5+ minute tale, and gave him my standard, intentionally ambiguous response for all people who ask for money on the street: I cannot help you with money.

The remainder of the walk home was spent in the inevitable state of doubt about the whether I actually passed up an opportunity to help someone. When I related the tale to Patti, she said: "In front of Trader Joe's right? I ran into this same guy last month."

Damn. The poor bastard has been trying to get to Portland for weeks now.