We're All Bags of Bitchy, Demanding Enzymes
We're All Bags of Bitchy, Demanding Enzymes and that's okay. Don't overthink it. ALEX WASHBURNE My mom was a molecular biology professor and I was something of a delinquent skateboarding child on the school-to-prison pipeline. During my occasional bouts of suspension, I would go to my mom’s office for the day. Sometimes she’d put me to work cleaning glassware, other times I’d be plating yeast or counting cells on a hemocytometer to think about what I’d done. Occasionally, I’d be free to roam the department and, every time I was free, I went straight to Eric Toolson’s office. Eric Toolson is a legend in my mind. He is biology professor who looks and talks more like a Hells Angel. With long grey hair, sophisticated glasses and imposing facial hair, Eric would drive a Harley Davidson to work, occasionally swear like a sailor, but think and talk like philosopher. When the glassware was cleaned, the yeast plated, and the cells counted, I would roll up to Eric’s office with my ...