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per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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this is tazira's fault...

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some in ice
But I've seen the madding range
Of those who think we'll end in strange,
And those who trouble Hawking's soul
With claims we'll tumble down a hole.
Though I think they, in the main,
Have vacuum bubbles in their brains,
If doom is nigh, screw fire and ice!
To end by strangelet would suffice.

(is that the sound of the LHC? no, it's Robert Frost spinning in his grave...)

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hee hee hee hee hee hee...

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