What Einstein Got Wrong
Let’s workshop this poem about why it is reasonable to put our trust in dot-edu scientists in an intellectually lazy age of flat-earth-UFO delusion where everyone thinks they can be a cellar Einstein
scent of the day: Opus III, by Amouage. Opus III—a violet-centered floriental that leans into both vintage and modern olfactory traditions—starts off with a sensation of wildflowers and herbs, minty thyme and pollen-dust mimosa and grassy dyer’s broom, pestled with warm spices (nutmeg and clove) and then, a fluffy violet preserving the powderiness, becomes creamier as a musky banana-custard impression arises from the jasmine and ylang-ylang (and perhaps iris)—the verdant sharpness of the first few hours receding like the floral dust into a wood-cream base: nutty milk (sandalwood and ambrette), slight smokey leather (papyrus and guaiac wood), and musky amber (vanilla, benzoin, musk).
What Einstein Got Wrong Scientists are owed our trust: beyond their Olympian training, even more than renegades like you—spamming mean grammar-mangled missives from spectersniffer71@aol.com accusing them of coverup— they dream superstardom dreams about toppling paradigms.
