Ceci n’est pas une molécule
I received my official congratulations letter from the MWA yesterday regarding my Edgar nomination. I’m still undecided about attending the banquet. Round-trip airfare is cheaper than the hotel!
So, who was Michael Westin channeling as the man in the fancy suit last night on Burn Notice? The devil or Clint Eastwood? Not a bad episode, though exactly what Michael expects to get by messing around with Gilroy remains unclear.
I don’t trot out my Ph. D. very often, but I’m dusting it off right now. It’s in chemistry, which makes me something of an expert on molecules. The ones on Fringe last night weren’t molecules. First of all, when Walter looked at the molecule and said it reminded him of hydrogen cyanide I went — what? Hydrogen cyanide is one of the simplest molecules in existence: H-C∈N. That’s it. Three atoms. The molecule that was ultimately displayed on the screen looked like some honking big protein. It very well may have had a cyano group in it somewhere. Secondly, that molecule was so huge that there’s no way it would disperse through the air with a little bit of hot water to perk it up. I don’t ask for much from my pseudoscientific shows, but at least a passing acknowledgement of rudimentary chemistry would be appreciated, thank you very much. And chromium trioxide, a controlled substance? It’s just the anhydride of chromic acid and anyone with a little bit of knowledge could make it by the boatload.
And don’t get me started on the carbon chain shaped like a seahorse that breaks just about every rule of chemical bonding known to mankind. Somewhere Linus Pauling is rolling over in his grave.
The cold spell has arrived. A front moved through in the early morning hours bringing lots of rain. After it did, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees and we’re on the way to the mid-30s tonight.
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