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You might find this funny. The last time I sent
it out, everyone thought I had fallen off my rocker...
"The Professor was unconscious of the passage of time, the
atmosphere in the room, or the necessity for food and
drink. He was a thin little white-haired man with large
spectacles who was standing behind his desk talking
enthusiast- ically about a little-known variety of louse.
Lice were the Professor's life. For thirty years they had
filled his thoughts during the day and spilled into his
dreams at night. He had, at points during that time,
married and raised five children, but he was only faintly
aware of these occurrences. The fore- ground of his mind
was filled by lice. He spent his time in his own small
laboratory on the top floor of the hospital wholly occupied
in studying their habits. He rarely came near his
students. He left the teaching to his as- sitants and
considered he had done his share by occasionalyy wandering
round the students' laboratory, which he did with the
bemused air of a man whose wife has invited a lot of people
he didn't know to a party. He insisted, however, in giving
to each class a series of lectures on his specialty. He
was the greatest authority on lice in the world, and when
he lectured to o other pathologists in Melbourne, Chicago,
Oslo, or Bombay, men would eagerly cross half a continent
to hear him. But the students of his own hospital, who had
only the effort of shifting themselves out of the sofas in
the common room, came ungracefully and ungratefully, and
found it all rather boring."
Gordon Ostlere, "Doctor in the House," 1952.