Why is this emerging?

Published August 4, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

So one of those diplomas that’s cluttering up the place is in Educational Research (and as much as the school district’s website wants it to be a certificate for Educational Aide, it’s not. I thing Educational Aide’s work much harder and get even less credit than our overworked teachers do.)

I have probably mentioned a bazillion times that one of the tenets of research is culling data from what becomes emergent. (I’m ever so smart!)

Today I was wandering around Barnes and Noble. This was in an attempt to ward off that Ugly Public Meltdown. If I distract myself,  maybe I won’t have one. Although, I should probably stay out of the public, come to think of it.

While wandering, I noticed three separate displays featuring books about Whitey Bulger.

I knew he sounded familiar and after the third display, I browsed the book to see why he might be familiar.  I watch a lot of Crime Drama, so it’s possible that’s where it came from.

I came home and did a quick search.

He is a Boston Mob Boss and as of yesterday he won’t testify at his trial.

Okay, that makes sense.   But since I don’t get regular news, I don’t know why his name sounded so familiar.

I’m sure there’s a reason, because it wouldn’t be emerging out of my head if there wasn’t. (The head gnome let’s some things slip out from time to time.)

While I’m worrying about my head, I can’t help but wonder why B and N had THREE displays.

And just to show that I’m not mired in grimness ( World’s Worst Theme Restaurant)  I watched a rousing episode of Doctor Who Classic.  I was hoping to find out what this band wagon is all about. I still don’t know, but the first two episodes are about four really smug Brits stepping through a panel in a temple and coming out in the world of the Maya. It had kind of a Land of the Lost feel to it, except there weren’t any Sleestacks. I think that would have shaken things up a bit, especially when Smugy Brit Lady one went mad with power during the human sacrifice. (I hate it when that happens)

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