As someone asked us once (me) 'Don't you actually have a real job"? And yes there is a real job. At the real job our team (which means me basically) has been writing grants all spring. A much gratifying thing, writing grants: Stay up all night writing; in between all the usual clinical work write all day; document everything you can think of to make it politically correct-- like how we are going to recruit the correct number of native Alaskans for proper demographics in the study -- jump through 5000 bureaucratic hoops only eventually to be told by the bureaucrats in Washington DC we stink and that the grand money will go to the usual old boys network gang who really had an inside deal the entire time. It's kinda like dealing with organized crime, only the criminals get more sleep. Academic death is not as sudden as organized crime however certainly as painful, and alot more political.
So we completely missed the Manny Ramirez story. Completely. Oh well, we cannot compete with the major news outlets who likely devote entire teams of writers to this story. Wish we could borrow those writers to put some flair on the grants. Oh wait, the rejection notices has started flowing like blood from a lance wound...or LH from a pituitary.
And the proposal on performance enhancing drugs (PEDs): We were told that it doesn't "appear to be consistent with the listed (Government) priorities"" ...go figure.