I love autumn in Paris, but it does make me wistful for New England. For the heavenly scent of rotted leaves, of course. But mostly for my favorite fall activity. No, not apple-picking or Hallowe'en or even leaf-peeping.
I miss attending the annual IgNobel Awards, which were celebrated yesterday in Boston. A scientists' parody of the real Nobel Prizes, it is an evening of goofy, wacky, intelligent fun. "Makes you laugh and then you think" is the motto. I miss sitting on the balcony of the theatre, joining the hundreds of participants as we fly our paper airplanes onto the stage as fast as we can fold them. Watching actual Nobel Prize winners sweeping up the stage with their pushbrooms. A crowd of brilliant people not taking themselves too seriously.
Is Paris ready for the Igs? Annals of Improbable Research founder Marc Abrahams would like to bring the Igs to Paris, but we need a venue and an impresario.
Institut Pasteur? CNRS? Anybody? Anybody?