Yesterday Don Herbert, better known as his TV personality Mr. Wizard, died of bone cancer at the age of 89.

Just writing that line makes me sad. It’s odd how you can connect to TV personalities as if they were people close to you, though you never actually met them.

Mr. Wizard was for me what Mr. Rogers was for so many kids. He came before Bill Nye the Science Guy and Beakman’s World — a true original. But most of all, Mr. Wizard was a guy who came into my house and helped me learn about simple scientific concepts in a way I could understand as a young child. He was my first teacher.

I remember watching him perform simple experiments on TV that I could duplicate at home using household items (and let us not forget: parental supervision). My favorite was adding vinegar to baking soda. It was so simple but also a load of fun for a kid like me who was way too into volcanoes. I didn’t have to know why this concoction produced a foamy mess, just that it did and was fun. Thus the lesson: science can be fun (which was better than the lesson: science can build better bombs).

I didn’t know it then, but I was learning a very basic concept of chemistry and, years later, when I was in eighth grade, stupid facts like that were useful.

Sadly, I probably learned more from Mr. Wizard than I would from several teachers that came into my life via the public school system. Odd that people paid to teach me and inspire me to learn were so thoroughly outdone by a guy on TV. But it’s true. He stirred the love of knowledge in a lot of us that came through the eighties.

But it wasn’t just his show, Mr. Wizard’s World, that he gave to us. He also gave us a multi-purpose sarcastic response. His presence is so engrained in all of our psyches that I am sure all of us have at one time or another said, “Hey, way to go, Mr. Wizard.” I know I’ve said it at least once this year.

I know it might seem strange, but it’s that last reason that has me missing him. Plenty of people from my generation couldn’t tell you an experiment from that show if you had a gun to their head, but all of us remember the show itself. Very few things can bind a group of people, but just the knowledge of Mr. Wizard’s existence — in some small way — actually does.

In a world with so many terrible things going on — war, corruption, violence, famine, etc. — it’s hard to find the ties that bind us. And it’s weird, but sometimes it really is just the pop culture around us. Mr. Wizard was part of that.

In light of this loss, hopefully we can all take a minute to remember how learning can be fun, easy, and rewarding and to reflect on some memories from childhood that Don Herbert was a part of.

Patrick Duganz

First off, I'll admit, I don't have cable. I can list a hundred things off the top my head that are worth the $70 a month more than TV. Usually I have no problem waiting for the DVD release, and I have a slight YouTube addiction — you can watch literally anything on there. But those HBO lawyers pounced like hyperkinetic bunnies on those clips. And to all of you whose videos were not removed in violation of copyright, only for me to see one minute of black screen, you're not funny. However, one video of the ending is still alive (I don't know for how much longer, though).

Now that I've seen it, I can defend it. I already knew from online postings, friends, families, and strangers in public places exactly what happened. Initially, I would've been angry, too. But after three days and finally seeing the end, I think it was perfect. It's not satisfying, we don't get closure, but that's the point.

The constant suspense is fitting — how do you think mafia families live? Between possible prosecution and knowing that business rivals will kill you and yours, the Tonys of the world may not even notice that they look over their shoulders every minute of every day. Also, they don't always end up in prison or dead. Life goes on, families eat, the guy at the counter just needs a new jacket. The only real pain involved watching Meadow destroy her tires.

Naturally, the screen went black. It had to eventually. It was abrupt but, again, fitting. Had we seen the Sopranos toast to something, had the camera pulled away from their table, it would've been just another Hollywood ending. This way, their lives go on; our ability to watch does not.

Jennifer Leblanc

I first read this around midnight last night, so I hoped I was dreaming. In the light of day, I was waiting for some sort of Onion-funded "Candid Camera" to point and laugh at bloggers everywhere for believing this. Sadly, no dream, no OnionCam. Just our tax dollars being all that they can be. Once I saw that even the BBC had reported on the "Gay Bomb," I lost all hope in humanity.

The story: "The plan for a so-called 'love bomb' envisaged an aphrodisiac chemical that would provoke widespread homosexual behaviour among troops, causing what the military called a 'distasteful but completely non-lethal' blow to morale."

How am I supposed to write about this? What am I supposed to say? I can only comment on something so unintentionally comical with real comedy. Only the Brits can supply that.

Lethal blow, people.

Jennifer Leblanc

Jessica Cutler has filed for bankruptcy. This is what happens when your awful, never-should-have-been-published book doesn't sell, you have no other purpose or skill in life other than having sex for money, and the legal fees pile up when a former john sues you for kissing and telling. This made me smile.

Then God, in her infinite wisdom, smiled on my world some more, and put Paris Hilton in jail. This is what happens, ladies, when, again, you serve no purpose on this earth and defy the law. This made me do a happy dance.

My goodness, there's more! Joe Francis is still in jail. And even if he gets out, there's another charge, in another state, waiting for him. In fact, those other charges are why he is hiding in his current cell. He's just not man enough to take it like the intoxicated, unconscious, underage girls in his videos. These may only be tax charges, but if it was enough to keep Capone in jail, it's enough for Francis. This gave me hope.

Alas, God must have gotten distracted by that pesky genocide in the Sudan or something. Dina Lohan has been given her own reality TV show in which she ruins the lives of her other two children in her own selfish search for fame. I guess living vicariously through Li-Lo isn't much fun during her second tour of rehab. So I asked God, why? Why do my fellow humans perpetually harrass anonymous, hard-working, loving mothers everywhere for simply getting a day job, while Di-Lo is rewarded for mothering skills that would make Medea say, "Have you no shame, woman?"  

For this, I thanked God for giving me a mother who saved my life instead of ruined it and for teaching me to respect, not exploit, myself and others.

Jennifer Leblanc

It is common for Paraguayan women to greet one another with "Nde kyrapona!," which roughly translates to "You are so good and fat!" It is a compliment my American wife would have a hard time responding enthusiastically to.

Living in a small village in rural Paraguay for a two-year Peace Corps assignment, we were constantly confronted by a number of cultural differences, not the least of which was the appreciation for being fat. Being fat essentially meant that you are well off, not necessarily able to afford glass in your windows — there were only two households in our village that could afford that symbol of wealth — but wealthy to the point of having enough food to grow corpulent. 

In an agricultural society such as Paraguay, there is an undeniable social prestige that comes with corpulence. Being fat means you own land and your crops are doing well. It means you probably aren't the one in the fields hoeing lines, but certainly the one consuming the benefits. In an agricultural society, being fat is being healthy. A fat pig is a healthy pig. A fat cob of corn is one to save because its genetic progeny will be equally fat.

Being called fat to your face is flattering.  

On the other end of the village economic scale are the workers hoeing the crop lines. They are thin, many are gaunt, and their bellies round — because of intestinal parasites.

Because they tend to work in the fields, the poorer villagers may be in slightly better health than the more affluent villagers. But everybody, to a degree, is malnourished. Vegetables are practically nonexistent in our village, and fruit is seasonal and scarce. Meat is expensive. Meals are created almost entirely from a larder of corn meal, manioc, beans, or fried dough. The best thing in life one eats is chicharon — scraps of fried pig fat — and even the richer denizens get that treat at most four times a year.

Needless to say, the lack of options does not lend to a healthy diet, and high blood pressure ("presion alta") and adult-onset diabetes are rampant among the older members of the village.

Although my wife and other female Peace Corps volunteers would be horrified if greeted with an approving, "My, how fat you are" comment, none would consider it better to starve than to glut, be hungry than satiated. In a place where starvation is likelier than a healthy diet and "exercise" consists of hard work in the sugarcane fields, it is understandable that most aspire to be fat.  For the rural Paraguayans, carrying one's fat proudly is the surest sign of worldly success.

Nathaniel Farrell Brodie