Crooks and Liars has a great clip of old school Daily Show, featuring Stephen Colbert, the Singing Senators (Ashcroft, Lott, Craig, Jeffords). Completely hilarious.
Friday, August 31, 2007
This sounds intense
A new documentary called Redacted about the rape and burning of a girl in Iraq by American Soliders. Can we, er, figure out a way to see this?
Happy Friday!
I'm sure I've been guilty of saying it, but Friday is not a holiday.
Happy Flag Day is fine, Happy Labor Day is great, but we are still working on Friday, and thus it is not a holiday, and so should not get it's own special "Happy" greeting.
I also hate George Michael (but not the Culture Club). If I am in your coffee shop and George Michael is singing about how "guilty feet have got no rhythm" you're lucky that I don't just leave. I don't want to talk about a George Michael Vh1 special.
That is all.
Oh, and rhythm was the word I spelled incorrectly in the 4th grade spelling bee. Some lessons come hard, but now I spell it correctly the first time, every time.
Enjoy your weekend!
Update: I'm actually in a good mood, despite permenantly maiming my body yesterday and being hungover like you wouldn't believe. This weekend's going to kick ass! I just thought it had to be said. Don't judge
Smed had the scoop!
Politico just sent out this "Breaking News Alert."
I'd like to remind our readers that Smed broke this story two weeks ago with her impassioned plea to hold a bake sale to get the poor guy to stay.
I hate Dana Perino.
All I'm sayin is that we were on top of the Castro dead/not dead story, and now we certainly scooped Politico on this one.
The turtle has arrived
Last night I finally got the turtle tattooed on my ankle! I got it done at Curious Tattoo in CP, by a very nice guy named Jon. He's amazing - he just did Rhonda's tattoo as well, and I highly recommend him. Sadly, our internet was down last night, so I can't post the pictures, but they're coming. In the mean time, use your imagination.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Self-Promotion
I usually wouldn't promote my work here, but look at this awesome cover from the Austin Chronicle. And my name is really big! Yay! The story, less exciting, is here.
Also, I might get to go to Richard Garriott's (the guy on the cover) launch party. If you don't know about him from your time in Austin, he throws crazy awesome shindigs. He possibly does the coolest rich guy stuff ever. Like building a replica of Shakespeare's Globe on his Lake Austin property. Just to hang out in. Or owning a part of the zero-gravity plane and taking Stephen Hawking along for the ride. Or hosting gigantic haunted houses with holograms that freak Mark Hamil out. Yay! I'm an objective journalist. Yay!
I want to point out that I am, actually, an objective journalist. The invitation came by way of my editor after I finished the piece and a partially critical review. But, you know, yay!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tucker Carlson: Least Anti-Gay Right Winger or Skinhead?
Of a guy that hit on him in a men's room in high school: "I went back with someone I knew and grabbed him." "What did you do?" "Hit him against the stall with his head, actually." [Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha] "Then the cops came and arrested him." Video from Gawker here. Longer video of all the speakers making it very clear, for the record, "They are also not gay" here. Ha ha ha ha ha. Wheee.
Back to molding young minds
Rather on the spur of the moment, I accepted a job teaching at Montgomery College yesterday. Montgomery College is pretty cool. It's a community college of sorts, but has a strong international emphasis. There are students from 170 countries on the campus, which is amazing. I think it'll be a cool population to teach!
I start next Thursday. I'll be teaching 3 sections of Introduction to Communication, and still be working part time at CRS through early November.
I haven't taught in a while, I kind of miss it, and I'm pretty excited about it! Hooray change!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Planning Ahead (Hopefully way ahead)
When I die, I want my head cryogenically frozen. I hope that one day science will develop the abilities to attach my head to a robotic body and allow me to have more time on Earth. Hypothetically, I will look something like this:
(Graphic credit: Peter V.A., photoshopper extraodinaire)
Sorry to be morbid, but most people have a plan for when they die. Mine involves the possibility of living hundreds of years more. I love being alive, so why not try to keep on living?
The whole plan depends on a few factors.
First, it depends on the development of technology to reanimate brains of deceased humans. This is my biggest hurdle. I firmly believe that in 50-100 years scientists will develop the technology to greatly extend a human life. One possibly crazy scientist has dedicated his life to this pursuit. His name is Aubrey de Grey. His beard terrifies me as much as his ideas intrigue me. Although he has gotten a lot of flak from the scientific establishment, I think that it is innovators like him who will advance the science of longevity. He analogizes a human body to a car. If you can continue fixing and replacing the various parts, the machine will last forever. He suggests things such as implanting genes into humans that would pick up the junk that eventually weakens our arteries or causes cancers. I say, rock on, Aubrey.
However, it is another matter altogether to bring a severed head back to life and reattach it to a body, or in my case, to a robot. However, Alcor, located in Arizona, is willing to help me, by preserving my head until science catches up with my dreams, for a price of course.
Unfortunately for me, it is not cheap to be cryogenically frozen: it costs $80,000. So my success in achieving a cryogenically-aided afterlife depends on my success in earning money. This might be the biggest impediment, since I don’t predict I will die rich.
And of course, there is a huge chance that the investment will result in nothing. Also, Alcor might be a company just looking to rip off some rich longevity-loving people. But I won't care if either of these things are true. I'll just be a frozen head, after all.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Back to Just Hating TV
Anchorwoman has been cancelled. It aired its pilot. Now it's gone. First Castro, now Anchorwoman. All the things I have strongly mixed feelings about are just fading away. Oh well, I'm off to a virtual worlds masquerade ball. Let's hope nothing/nobdy awesome dies there.
I'm not going out tonight
"The Trapeze Swinger" by Iron and Wine is so beautiful that it makes my heart ache. It might be of particular interest to Nuraido, considering her recent dabbling in trapezery. The song's over 9 minutes long yet you won't want it to end. Obtain it by any means possible, dudes and dudettes.
I will not let this go.
It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday night, and Victor and I have been hanging out and drinking wine. We would go out, but no one goes out here until at least 1 or 2 in the morning. So this is what we do instead.
Here is a frame by frame recreation of the Table Incident.
First, here is the sweater in question. Very Argentine, no? Please take special account of the thumb holes.
Then I try to look into the biggest mirror in the house - the one over the dining room table. Alas, I am short, and it does not satisfy my vanity.
But wait - I have an idea!
I'll climb onto the table...
CATASTROPHIC TABLE DISASTER!
But don't worry, I'll be ok. And I've learned a thing or two about living on glass covered tables.
Apparently there's a new emcee in town
I apologize, I still don't know how to do cuts. However, I just posted the first ever originally composed hip-hop lyrics on this blog, so you shouldn't care. In fact, just because I did something fresh and didn't cut the post at the same time, cutting posts has now become very, very uncool.
But, yeah. Lyrics.
Is this your iconoclast victory of epic proportions?
The rain and thunder that batter the threshold of my ideological doorstep?
Have you been counting my missteps, counting the poison drips
that filter through the sediment into the coffee I sip?
I bet you love watching me slip through the cracks
in the teeth of that luminescent smile you flash.
This is a fuselage crash, the dispersion of embers,
the sting of your cankers, the descent of ten thousand anchors
Take a step back, absorb what was just periphery.
Suddenly it seems the cityscapes not what it used to be
Suddenly it seems the asphault’s grown serpentine
and squirms into tourniquets that pinch off reality’s arteries.
You strike the first blow because you’ve gotten quicker
I can’t dodge because the static’s gotten thicker
while out in the car the children get sicker
because mommy spent the med money on liquor
It goes one two three one two three four
You can go if you want but don’t slam the door
Because when disturbed the sleepers love to make war
It goes one two three one two three four
I tighten up the saddle, lead the cavalry into the reef
because even monsters get engulfed by the swagger of the seas.
I sit back turn the tables in a way you’ve only heard tell of in fables
after months of swinging stable, looks like the bough's dropped the cradle
Gets burned, didn’t know who he pulled the pistols on
It goes one to three one to three four,
You can go if you want but please don’t slam the door
Because when disturbed the sleepers love to make war
Like they haven’t done this all before
Friday, August 24, 2007
Castro Death Rumor Mongering
Update 5:59 pm: I'm out. Call/text with updates, or post em if you got em. Have a great weekend, y'all!
Update 5:44 pm: I am going home in 16 minutes. If any of you bloggers are still around then, update this! Let's break the news! And by break, I mean be the first to link to whatever news source does break it. Unless we got friends in Cuba we can chat with. Or Miami. Nothing new on tar interwebs that I can find, though. [News updates below the jump]
Apparently all the classy blogs are against propagating the rumors of Castro's death.
Not us here at House of Nerds! At least until it's time to go home and get drunk.
Update 5:57 pm: This sounds official, but is the one "source" Perez Hilton, the same blog everyone else keeps refreshing incessently? You don't get to write a press release anonymously citing a blog. Just sayin.
Update 5:39 pm: rumors are everywhere! Are the police on high alert in Miami? Is there a safety threat? This story's pretty touching, actually.
Update 5:28 pm: Perez Hilton is still href="http://perezhilton.com/?p=4401">sounding like a real reporter - he says to wait til Miami rush hour traffic is over.
Update 5:15 pm: News sites are reporting on the blog post... that means it must be real.
Check it out - Castro might be dead.
Perez Hilton broke the story, and local news sources are following their lead.
What do you think? This might be a REALLY fun news weekend!!!!!
Who wants a cigar?
Oh, and we're denying it, of course. Which I think is what we do when people die, before we confirm.
We should totally do this
Since our parents generally live in other states/don't own us anymore, The only people we have to worry about are the neighbors.
And the landlord.
And the police.
Still, it's totally worth it. I could get some of the nerds (read: Andy) in on this.
Follow the bright circle....
Once upon this same earth, beneath this same sun, before you, before the ape and the elephant, before the wolf, the bison and the whale, before the mammoth and the mastodon, in the time of the dinosaurs. The dinosaurs were of two kinds. Some had flat teeth, and fed upon the leaves of trees, and those with sharp teeth, for eating meat, preyed upon the leaf-eaters.
This post was originally going to simply be a comment to Nuraido's & Mathgimp's movie review, but my googling has so sparked my interest and some good memories that I decided to write an entire post.
Land Before Time both rocked my world and broke my heart. I mean, who as a kid didn't sit terrified through the first like five minutes, when Little Foot's mother DIED. And you sat there just thinking, oh crap, I hope my mom doesn't die and I have to go on a journey somewhere. It gets your little kid attention.
The animation is great, as are the characters. And I'm pretty sure to this day, Diana Ross's song "If We Hold on Together" (the song that rolls in the credits) can still bring tears to my eyes.
A few interesting facts I found about the movie:
- Judith Barsi, who did the voice for Ducky, was murdered by her father before the movie was released.
- Steven Spielberg and George Lucas originally wanted the film to have no dialog, like the Rite of Spring sequence in Fantasia. But, to make the film appealing to children, they abandoned this idea, and got actors and actresses to do the voices.
- It's rumored that the original ending was that all five of the young dinosaurs died, with the Great Valley as an interpretation of heaven.
- Spielberg and Lucas believed that some scenes were deemed as too frightening or could even cause psychological damage to young children, about 19 scenes of full animation, mostly pertaining to the Tyrannosaurus rex, and front-on screen sequences of the five young dinosaurs in severe peril or distress were cut or trimmed. Along with the cuts the dinosaurs screams were replaced by milder exclamations.
Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.
I've decided to own this one.
You better read this, because it's pretty much the klutziest and most damaging thing I've ever done to property that does not belong to me.
I got a new sweater, which I was pretty excited about, because it's the first piece of Argentine fashion I have bought here (The sweater's collar goes down to my waist; whatever).
Anyway, I was trying to decide whether to wear it to school today, but there are no full length mirrors (I know, terrible) in my apartment. So I got up on a chair to use the mirror over the table. However, this did not appease my vanity, so I, brilliantly, decided to stand ON the table to get a better view.
The table is constructed as such: there are 2 glass panes in the center of the table. Unbeknownst to me, there is no wood supporting these glass panes. ONE OF MY LEGS PLUNGED THROUGH ONE OF THEM, and I fell, one leg IN the table, and one leg NOT in the table, to the ground, surrounded by shattered glass. I'm surprised I didn't sever arteries or something. There is now about a foot long hole in the table. My roommates are going to flipping kill me.
Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.
nuraido and I (and our roommate who doesn't post to this blog, so she doesn't get mentioned) watched The Graduate tonight. And I would like to point out that you should see this movie. For the following reasons (which nuraido helped on a bit....):
a) You should see this movie simply because of the overwhelming number of screenplay references that it contains. It's amazing. Some of the most famous cinematography ever occurs in the first five minutes of the movie.
To see the rest, make the jump....
b) nuraido and I are in agreement: This movie is the birth of the romantic comedy. It is somewhat amazing to me to finally have discovered the origin of what I consider to be a trite plot line, repeated ad infinitum. Stalker-like behavior for some reason inexplicably elicits the love of the stalk-ee in the movie, whereas in real life he should be serving time.
c) nuraido would like to point out that she thinks the romantic comedy a poingant and beautiful tribute to a grandiose gesture of romance, followed by a realization that two people are truly meant to be. She loves this shit. She's also been drinking.
d) Mr. Feeney (the principal from Boy Meets World) aged poorly. You will finally recognize this. This is for you, ladies -- you know you think he's a slammin' hottie. Man, you should have seen him with a mustache in 1969. And, he's got a hot zebra wife to boot.
e) Dustin Hoffman is a terrible kisser in this movie. I say this about his acting in the role, rather than about him in reality. He's actually an amazing kisser in real life.
f) As an aside, he drives a sweet car in the movie, and is still a terrible kisser. I only point this out because I drive an awesome car, and it calls into question my kissing skills. This realization fills me with terror. (Also, Joey's car is awesome. However, that doesn't worry me as much.)
g) Who am I kidding? I'm a great kisser. I think we can all agree that I'm amazing, and no one should kiss Joey. Let's just move on.
h) Remember the scene from The Simpsons, when Grandpa rolls out with Marge's mom in the schoolbus, and then "Hello Darkness" plays as they drive away? You'll finally get the reference. If you don't remember the scene, you'll finally be able to pretend you know the Simpsons reference.
i). That hot waitress should totally hit as much latin ass as possible. Can I get an amen. (This has nothing to do with the movie. She's just extremely hot in the real world, and recently moved to Spain.)
j) nuraido would like to point out that all of the existential scenes from Garden State are straight up stolen from this movie, although the jury's still out on whether Dustin Hoffman (circa 1969) or Zach Braff are hotter.
k) She's retarded. The answer to her question is clear (and wouldn't you like to know what my answer is...)
l) In high school, we all loved The Lemonheads. Now, you can finally truly appreciate how incredible their version of Mrs. Robinson actually is. Because you will become tired of the Simon and Garfunkel version rather quickly while watching this movie.
m) On a related note, Simon and Garfunkel suck. They had apparently only written 3 songs by 1969, and they are played over and over again throughout the movie (parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme? Really? And what the hell is Scarsburough Fair?)
n) On a final musical note, we do a lot of things wrong with movies nowadays. And while we've got nothing on writing, character development, or nuance compared with the days of yore, we have certainly mastered the musical montage. Tip your music editors, people. Seriously. There's nothing worse than a montage involving a song that sucks, followed immediately with an identical montage with the same freaking song!!! What the hell?
o) For all the men out there: have you ever been with a woman, and felt awkward as hell and didn't know what you were doing? If so, the first half of the movie will make you squirm and laugh. So will parts of the second half.
p) For all the ladies out there: have you ever been with a man, who was awkward as hell and didn't know what he was doing? If so, the first half of the movie will make you squirm and laugh. So will parts of the second half.
q) For all the men and the women out there: God willing that hapened when you were younger. If not, pull your shit together.
r) In short, references to The Graduate permeate our culture, but it's not what you think. This movie actually surprises you. It'll crack you up, and it'll fill in a lot of gaps in your understanding of our cultural history. But the impression that I had (and probably the one you have) is incorrect. It's only part of the movie, which makes it fascinating.
s) nuraido would like to point out that, after mathgimp accidentally unplugged his computer and lost this entire post, she was able to recreate it in under 15 minutes from memory. Not only that, she improved the quality and the witticisms immensely.
t) In all honesty, nuraido didn't improve my post. However, I really wouldn't have bothered rewriting it after everything got deleted. I think all of us owe her a drink. Particularly me, but I'm passing the buck on to you, the reader. Admit it, you enjoyed reading this. Buy nuraido booze!!!!
Despite some of the above bitching, this movie is remarkable. It's Dustin Hoffman's first role in a film, and it's the birth of a genre. We all liked it a lot. Go rent it today. Or steal it, if that's what you're in to.
PS - You should also watch Full Metal Jacket, what with all of the the cultural references. And Aliens, too. They're also amazing.
PPS - Glengarry Glen Ross may be a famous movie, but it's freaking awful. Don't bother. There's nothing to see here. Keep it moving.
PPPS - nuraido would like to point out that The Land Before Time is also genre defining (apparently). It's absolutely a cultural icon. The Hudsucker Proxy is not as scary as its title might lead you to believe (to nuraido, the title conjures images of vampires and exorcisms). It's actually a delightful Coen Brothers movie. She ate paint chips as a child, explaining this fear of Coen Brothers movies, as well as who the hottest man is (see point i). Anyway, I recommend the Hud, she recommends both.
PPPPS - Seriously, watch all of these movies. Like you've got something to do tonight...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
You don't own me!
While politically savvy, I guess, it's really kind of stupid.
I mean the very concept precludes mundane interference, right?
And who honestly thinks - who also buys into the reincarnation thing in the first place - that the Chinese government is the appropriate arbiter for this sort of thing?
Zombie mode banana-related issues
I've sort of been a zombie all week, which has led me to make some odd decisions.
For example, my alarm went off at 7:15 this morning, and I snoozed until about 8:05. At some point in there, I fell into a deep sleep. At 8:05, I woke up, and had a very important debate with myself. You see, I needed to wake up then to get to work on time. But apparently, in my dream, I was "helping" someone with heroin addiction. I decided that this wasn't a selfish reason to go back to sleep, but I was actually benefiting society more by going back to sleep to help the woman addicted to heroin than I would getting out of bed and going to work.
So I did. And I was, as a result, a little late this morning to my job, which, unlike heroin-lady, actually exists in the real world.
I've always had a pretty intense relationship with bananas. I absolutely love the following things: frozen, chocolate covered bananas; fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches; banana baby food; perfectly ripe bananas on their own; banana bread. I absolutely hate: banana-flavored candy; bananas that are over-ripe at all, in the slightest; the smell of bananas. I went shopping during lunch today, and I realized I needed more hand lotion for my desk at work. What did I buy? Burt's Bees Beeswax and Banana hand creame.
Gross. I now smell like banana candy. I'm so irritated.
Those two disjointed stories, with no sort of relationship or point to them, roughly illustrate my mental state right now. I need to go to bed.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Blog stuff, socialness and dinosaurs
First, I'd like to point out that it's August 22nd, and it's really cold in DC. Like, I should have brought a jacket kind of cold. It's really strange.
Second of all, I'd like to welcome Fodder (our third roommate who's lived with me for six months and can't spell my name) as our newest author to the blog! Yay, John!! After the jump, various other updates.
We're also at 1967 unique views for the blog, which puts us over 2000 by the end of the week. Considering the fact that it took us just shy of two months to reach 1000, and just over 1 month to reach 2000, that's pretty damn good. Keep up the good writing, and keep bothering your friends incessantly to read it!
Now fun stuff: there are two weekends I want to put on everyone's radar. The first is Labor Day weekend. Tommy gets into DC this Saturday (yay!!!), and then all of the Austin folk who have been displaced to the mid west or the east coast are congregating at the House of Nerds (my house) on Labor Day weekend. It's being called the paradoxical post-pan-ultimate by Shween, or something insanely complicated like that. Sadly, Mathgimp will be attending a wedding in Houston from Thursday-Sunday, but everyone else will be there! Come if you can.
Second of all, we're having the most fun 5 days ever from Sept 19-Sept 23. Sept 19, Regina Spektor is playing at Rams Head Live in Baltimore. Sept 25, we're headed to PA to go on the tour of the Yuengling Brewery, and then go to Ringing Rocks Park in PA, where you hit rocks with hammers and they ring like bells. I'm not sure where we're sleeping that night, but we hope to find someone who wants to hang out with all of us that evening and will let us sleep on their floor =) On Sunday, we're going to ride roller coasters (!!!!!!) at Six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey. I am so excited about the entire weekend.
I saved the best for last though. Where do the dinosaurs come in, you ask? Well, Walking with Dinosaurs is playing in DC from Sept 19-22. My excitement about roller coasters is nothing compared with my excitement over seeing life-sized dinosaurs act. Which means that on Friday, Sept 20, I am going to see the show. It might sound like a crazy, non-stop, insanely expensive weekend, but I prefer to think about it as the most fun weekend ever, ever, ever.
If you would like to participate in any or all of these, you should. If you do not participate in any of these, you better have a damn good reason why.
I hate The West Wing with the firey passion of a thousand suns, but I can't stop.
It's entirely too good.
It's a quarter of four in the morning, and here I am watching this damned show instead of sleeping.
I blame Greg and Kelly.
And plan to punish them.
And any of you who watch it, too.
Why I Hate/Love TV
So Fox has a new pseudo-reality show called "Anchorwoman." In it, Lauren Jones, former Miss NY, model, and Price is Right girl, with no journalism experiences takes over as the lead anchor for Tyler, Texas' KYTX. Now I know I'm only a tech writer who blogs, so my journalistic bar may be set a bit lower than the New York Times', but this is just frightening to me. Also awesome. I was super-pissed reading about the Rolling Stone reality show to find a new reporter (who also had no journalism background or writing experience), but, as I'll never be a TV anchor, I'm kind of looking forward to the premiere tomorrow night. So what? Much of it already is."
From the Fox site:
"Jones, the former Miss New York and über-vixen, packs up her Versace dresses and heads to Tyler to start a new career. Can this bombshell make it as a serious reporter? Will she save KYTX, or make it the laughingstock of the Lone Star State?"
From the AP report:
"In the meantime, this show (and KYTX) are doing their part to make a laughingstock out of local TV news.
Something my dad sent me...
I know that these are generally serious posts.
Well, some of them are.
Well, a couple.
I guess.
Anyway, I figured that my first post should be as profound as I am.
Why I Hate Hippies
I care about the environment as much as the next guy. I'm an Eagle Scout. I don't litter. I recycle everything my apartment takes, and I occasionally take the leftovers to the city plant. But I hate hippies. I got a letter yesterday from the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality saying, in effect, that "A concerned citizen" reported to them my car was smoking on July 31st at 6:45pm.
Actually my parents got the letter and just read the pertinent parts to me. So, A) I need to change where my title is registered to, B) my parents need to not read my mail, or C) The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality needs to stop writing my parents like I'm still in high school.
The car is over 40 years old. I tune it up, change the oil (and properly dispose of the old oil), and replace the exhaust system whenever parts where out. It still smokes occasionally, but it looks awesome. Why couldn't this concerned jackass just appreciate the light of coolness that I brought into his/her life for 5 minutes at a stoplight instead of running to narc on me to the state?
Would they have cared if it was a VW Bus "smoking" all over the place? No. I don't think so. Instead, they saw a sweet, classic muscle car and immediately identified me with the greasers that used to beat them up while blaring Zeppelin over a wimpy folk singer quietly strumming out a cover of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"
I'm not that guy, but apparently this drug-addled eco-Nazi couldn't figure that out. Instead Flower Child funneled a complaint down into the system of waste of a state division that probably consumes more paper in a day than I do in a year and more electricity in an hour than I would in a month to give me a long-distance lecture.
Stupid hippies.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Allow me to make the blog a little more depressing...
Erica suggested that I write about my disturbing dreams. I hope blogging suffices, Erica. I kind of feel like a 14-year-old, using my blog to detail my dreams, but I also kind of don't care.
Well, we're not having a very good rancha (spanish for spell, as in a bad spell of time) here at the house of nerds. I, too, have lost a friend. One of my good friends from my hometown, Stephanie, died unexpectedly of a prescription medicine overdose a few weeks ago. She was 24 years old.
The time surrounding her death was a bit hectic for me. I was finishing my summer internship, and preparing to move all of my stuff from New York to Maryland and then to Buenos Aires. I ended up postponing my flight to Argentina, and going to Stephanie's funeral instead. So in the span of 4 days, I spent time in the following places in the following order: New York, Houston, Maryland, to Buenos Aires.
Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of time to sort things out for myself. Now that things have slowed down (way down, considering my sub par grasp of the Spanish language), my subconscious is apparently sorting out Stephanie's death in a fairly disturbing (but apparently, common, according to my google research) way.
All of my dreams involve very realistic conversations between Stephanie and me. In all of the dreams, we both know that she is dead. Usually she feels very chagrined and apologetic about the whole thing, and she also feels pretty stupid that it happened. We both maintain our sense of humor though. ("I'm such an idiot!" she said once, in regards to her dying [she had a very self-deprecatory sense of humor]).
Although I have had many dreams about her, I will describe the three most vivid ones:
1. (This was the first dream, and what I hoped to be the last dream, since it does suggest a sense of closure). Stephanie, Erica, and I were sitting in an apartment, chatting. We were all completely aware that Stephanie had died, and that this was crazy that we were all there talking to each other. Erica and I didn't directly confront Stephanie about what had happened, because it seemed like Stephanie was embarrassed about it, and we didn't need to confront the obvious that no one could change.
We sat and talked about her death indirectly though, and Stephanie said how weird it was going to be not to be able to see anyone anymore. She said it was particularly strange for her never to see Sundie again (her older sister). And then Erica touched Stephanie on the shoulder and said, "You wouldn't ever hurt yourself, would you?" And Stephanie said that she hadn't, and to not worry about her, because she would be all right. It was an altogether poignant moment.
I was just sitting there the whole time, completely blown away by the fact that we were having this conversation. I realized that it would be the last time that the three of us were going to be together, so I made us all hold hands. Erica and Stephanie laughed at me and were making fun of me, but they agreed to it, and we all sat together for a minute, without saying anything.
2. This dream was particularly disturbing because the entire plot revolved around Stephanie "proving" to me that she was not just a figure of my dream, but something real that I should pay attention to and help. She did various things to prove to me she was really there. Finally, I made her scribble something on a piece of paper, and initial it. For the rest of my dream, I went around showing it to people, trying to figure out how the hell this was all happening.
[At this point I started feeling like I was going crazy. However, Patricia Garfield, whoever the hell she is, says this is normal. Swell.]
3. Most recently, I had a dream that Stephanie and I were talking about her funeral. I was confused about exactly where/what she was doing now (post-her death), so I asked her if she was "at" her funeral. She told me, again in a laughingly embarrassed tone, that she hadn't attended her funeral (in spirit) because at that point she hadn't even figured out what had happened to her. So I told her all about her funeral, including how all of her sisters spoke. I said that Erica's and my eulogy was really funny (I know, I'm so modest). She laughed at that.
Anyway, these are my weird dreams. I've been dreading going to sleep, but some further googling has indicated to me that these dreams are VERY common. There are basically two death-dream camps (ha?) : those who think that it is a psychological reaction of the brain trying to process the loss of the deceased, and those who think that their dead friend/relative/significant other is communicating to them from the afterlife.
That first link (the psychological camp) will get you to the New York Times. That second link (after life communication camp) will get you to a website with a revolving butterfly .gif promoting a book entitled "Hello from Heaven!"
I've decided I belong in Death-dream camp 1. I may be kind of crazy, but I do not yet believe that butterflies are communicating messages from the afterlife.
Eulogy
Jack's memorial service is tonight. The Austin American Statesman wrote a really great article about him here. After the jump is the eulogy I wrote, and a picture Zack's dad was nice enough to send me. (Zack is the goofy dark haired kid in the picture - Jack's debate partner and best friend.)
How do you write a eulogy for a 17-year-old? I've spent the past several hours wondering how to capture my shock, grief, anger, and love for Jack into words.
Debate coaches are entrusted with the hearts, the intellectual curiosity, and the competitive spirits of their debaters. It's an enormous privilege, an enormous responsibility. I formed intense bonds with the kids I coached. I spent a lot of time worrying, and not just about wins, losses, out rounds, and speaker points. I worried about breakups and heartaches, and about getting calls from hotel staff at 3 am, complaining of "strange noises" coming from my kids' rooms. I worried about Spanish teachers and grades, parents and whether tournaments conflicted with band practice and football games. Whenever we were at a tournament within 50 miles of Mexico, I worried about my kids sneaking over the border.
I wondered about the types of adults they would grow to be, whether they would choose the right college, whether I was giving them the right advice, whether they were making smart decisions. I worried about them on weekends without debate tournaments, whether they were happy and whether I was doing the best I could by them.
I never, once, worried about this: having to say goodbye for forever to one of my kids. They thought they were invincible, and, deep down, I believed them.
Jack came to my classroom one day after school, asking me to sign a waiver to allow him to enroll in the advanced debate class. The small, skinny blond boy stood at my door, and his eyes shone with excitement and nervousness as he told me that his friends had convinced him to join the team. This is my first memory of Jack. I liked him immediately, I signed the form, and I wondered who he would become. I left Westlake at the end of that year, but the older debaters kept me posted about the new kids on the team. Jack's name was mentioned in absolutely every conversation. It was obvious this kid was special. Whenever they mentioned his name, their voices would shine. They were excited about him as a debater – about his potential – but it was more than that. He made them happy. He made them laugh. He was gentle and optimistic and idealistic and brilliant. He made all of the kids I loved better people, and they knew it. The shy blond boy was transforming my team. Every time I heard Jack's name I would smile, and know that the Austin debate community was better off because he was in it.
I only coached at one tournament after I left Westlake, when Jack and Zack came to stay with me in DC and compete at the Georgetown Day School tournament last year. The weekend was fantastic, and I am honored to have gotten to coach Jack at my last tournament. Coaching Jack and Zack will likely be my last memory of a debate tournament, but I know that it will not be my last memory of the debate community. Because the community binds people together. The Austin debate community is a family, one I'm honored to be a part of, and one that was made infinitely better by Jack's presence.
On Friday, the Westlake debate team grew up before my eyes as they struggled to comprehend the horror of Jack's death. As I talked to them, their grief broke my heart. I was also awed and humbled by the quiet sense of strength I heard underneath the grief and the anguish. As they asked "what can I do?" and struggled to make sense of the tragedy. As they composed themselves to make the terrible phone call, over and over again, letting people know what happened. As they re-knit their communities, and connected groups of Jack's loved ones so they could mourn together. As their tears were interrupted by laughter when they remembered a moment that they had spent with Jack – something funny he said or did- they laughed through their grief as they remembered how much they loved him. They became adults on Friday, in a time and a way no one should ever have to, and they approached it with honor and dignity.
I would have given anything to keep this from happening to Jack, and to prolong the youth of everyone who loved him. But I cannot help but think that it was Jack himself who filled his friends with the spirit and the strength that they bring to this occasion as they join together to mourn him, to remember him, and to celebrate his life. I know that all of you coming together to remember Jack will continue to celebrate his life by protecting each other, keeping each other a little bit closer, and letting Jack shine through you.
Monday, August 20, 2007
This is Jack
This is the kind of kid he was, and the kind of obituary he would have wanted, I think. The Statesman, and his family and friends, got it right.
More sadness and loss, and the Russians getting it right
I think a lot of you know by now, but one of the Westlake debaters, Jack Jenkins, died in a car accident at 1 am Friday morning.
I'm still reeling a little bit from the shock. No 17-year-old should die like this, and Jack was a particularly funny, special, brilliant person. The pain this is causing all of the kids in Austin is hard for me to handle, especially since I'm so far away. There's been a lot of grief in my group of friends lately, and I'm having some trouble processing and making meaning out of all of it.
Tomorrow, I'm going to post the eulogy I wrote for Jack. His memorial service is tomorrow afternoon, and I'd like to wait until after that to put it into general circulation. In the meantime, though, I was thinking about the concept of wakes, memorial services, and funerals. I was thinking about the outpouring of support Jack's parents and sister are receiving from the community, and how many people have called me just to talk about how much they love him. I wonder how much of that Jack knew while he was alive. I hope he knew all of it. But I don't know.
I don't think we do a good enough job of celebrating each other's lives while we're alive. Here's where the Russians come in. When I was in Moscow, Tommy and I went to an "authentic" Russian birthday party. They do a lot of things better than we do in this department. First of all, the amount and quality of food and drinks is out of control. We're talking, for a party of 10, 5 or 6 bottles of expensive wine, multiple types of delicious juices, and lots and lots of vodka, as well as probably 20 dishes of homemade food. We can do better, people.
Second of all, after they get drunk, they play mysterious and complicated games where no one seems to win or lose. The nuances were lost on me, but I know one of them was smart charades -- the acting takes like 45 minutes, and it is almost always some obscure Russian proverb (try acting out "warm water runs underneath the sandstone." It's even harder to figure out what it could possibly mean.)
I'm willing to give up the smart charades. However, the point of this post is this: they also spend the 4 hours of eating and drinking talking about how awesome the birthday person is. At various points throughout the meal, the birthday girl selected someone at the table, and they gave a 20 minute toast to her. Some was teasing and funny, some was poignant and sweet. By the end of the meal, everyone at the table had gone. They use birthdays to tell people why they love them - to celebrate their lives while they're alive. [As another quick aside, I someone at the party told me that the Russians bastardized a Georgian tradition. Apparently in Georgia, the toasts involve lengthy ritual, and can last an hour and a half a piece. There's no need for us to go that far, but I'd love to see it].
I'm not sure who's birthday is next (David's??), but I think we should do this. If nothing else, Rhonda, Smed, Joey, Kris and I all have birthdays within a week and a half of each other (we know A LOT of left-handed Capricorns), so you can start jotting your thoughts down now.
I love you guys very much.
My grandmother can officially never see this blog
I rode a motorcycle for the first time. In Buenos Aires. Without a helmet. With a stranger. Ha.
It happened like this. Thursday was a horrendous day. It was the day the entire group of exchange students was supposed to go to the Visa office to get our student visas. Angeles, the exchange student coordinator, warned us that it could take all day, and that we needed to arrive at the office at 7:30 am. I thought this was merely a scare tactic to ensure that all students actually showed up. I was so wrong.
I got to the Visa office at 7:30..ish. In preparation for this visit, I had been required to pay for a criminal background check in another government office. I had gotten the criminal background check, but upon having it reviewed, Angeles decided that it was too blurry ("borroso") and that I would have to go get another copy of it. So I returned to the criminal background office and got another copy of it the day before I went to get my Visa.
So back to the Visa office. The 40 or so exchange students huddled in front of the 3 desks of the government workers processing Visas. A light displaying numbers was lit up as the day began. But did we receive numbers to indicate our turn in line? No. Apparently, they were going to process everyone else who had received numbers and process our forms every third person or so.
But look, I don't need to get into the specifics. It was a terrible day. I went to sleep for 3 hours on a plastic chair. I woke up and bought $.60 coffee from a woman selling it out of a thermos. After 5 hours, it was my turn. I brought my paperwork up, and the woman took a look at my criminal background check. Translated from the Spanish to the English, this is how the ensuing conversation went.
Visa Woman: Your passport number on the criminal background check is wrong.
Me: No it isn't.
VW: Yes it is. Look here: there is a one where there should be a seven.
Me: Oh.
Me: You know, a one is very similar to a seven.
VW: I cannot give you a Visa, I'm sorry.
Me: Blank stare.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: I'm sorry too. I have waited here for five hours, and I would like my Visa please.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: You know I have not committed any crimes here. Please just give me a Visa.
VW: I'm sorry, you have to get another criminal background check form.
Me: It is very easy to change a one to a seven.
VW: I'm sorry.
Me: This is ridiculous. Good day.
To make this already long story a little bit shorter, I took a taxi to the criminal background check office, threw a hissy fit there, was bumped to the front of the line, took a taxi back to the Visa office, was bumped to the front of the line there, and received my visa after 7 hours of work. As a side note, if the Argentine president appointed me Czarina of Criminal Background Checks, this country would be running a lot smoother.
Horrendous. I went home, completely exhausted, and fell asleep until about 9 at night, when I woke up starving. There is not much vegetarian fare for me to eat in this meat-loving country, but there is pizza (lots and lots of italians here). So I decided to try to find myself some good pizza.
I looked up in my guide book what was supposed to be the best pizza in my neighborhood. I left my apartment in search of the pizza. And what did I see when I stepped outside? A pizza delivery man from the restaurant I was looking for, sitting on a motorcycle.
You know what happens from there. Pizza delivery man and I rode off into the night. He delivered me safely to his pizza place. I ordered a spinach pizza, 2 empanadas, and a coca light. I made my way home, ate my delicious pizza, and watched the Simpsons in Spanish.
The end.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Let's Organize a Bake Sale for Tony Snow!!
Poor Tony Snow, Bush's White House spokesman. He has to resign from the post because he's not making enough money. And how much is he making, you ask? After the jump, my friends. After the jump...
$168,000 a year.
That's right. This just wasn't enough for poor Tony. In a country where the median household income is $46,326 , Tony and his family couldn't survive off an income of over 3 1/2 times over this median.
So fare thee well, Tony Snow. The decision was probably for the best: what else is a rat going to do besides throw himself off a sinking ship? I hope you can drum up some cash. I'm sure Fox News will be glad to take you back.
Friends, I leave you with a few gems from Tony Snow himself:
"We think it's important that, in doing that, they try to limit as much as possible the so-called collateral damage, not only on civilians but also on human lives." –-White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, on Israel's conflict with Lebanon
"I need to get a more precise definition." --White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, asked to define civil rights after he said banning gay marriage was a civil rights issue.
"We didn't create the war in Iraq. We didn't create the war on terror."
Friday, August 17, 2007
US Army Seriously Thinking About Ender's Game
So I'm writing up a story right now based on an interview with a virtual worlds guy who was formerly Director of the Disruptive Technology Office and Chief Technology Officer for the U.S. Army Program Executive Office for Simulation, Training and Instrumentation.
Most awesome part: "I was deeply moved a long time ago by Ender's Game. And it's a common theme in the military. And it's real now. It's no longer just science fiction. And the whole premise behind Snow Crash is real now." To be fair, most of the interview is about how we can use virtual worlds to train soldiers in cultural differences and promote information sharing. But I'm pumped about kids training to fight space bugs. Also hacker samurai.
Caribbean Fest pics!
J-stew, a good friend of mine (and potential future blog author) came to visit a few weeks ago. A bunch of us trekked out to the DC Caribbean festival. It was unfathomably hot and crowded, we waited 2.5 hours for food, and we drank delicious fruit smoothies out of pineapples. Here are a few pictures from the fest - check out the beads! 
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Time Magazine's Version of Stairway to Heaven?
Is Time Magazine trying to say something about Billy Graham, or was this simply a case of poor layout design? You be the judge...
Shout out to Ruhi for the link!
Really?
Apparently, barcodes are the new art form.
And for the low low price of only $200 per year, or a one time payment of $1500, you too can use these stupid images. But wait, there's more. For just $4000, you can have exclusive rights to these pointless things! Get them while they're hot. Which, according to these prices, they are. Apparently.
It's Fairly Likely We're All Just AI
"My gut feeling, and it’s nothing more than that,” he says, “is that there’s a 20 percent chance we’re living in a computer simulation.”I don't know if any of you have ever read Nick Bostrom, an Oxford philosopher who is, coincidentally, into transhumanism, before. But one of his ideas is that it's almost certain we'll eventually develop technology to run AI. That civilization could easily run simulations about its ancestors, and likely would. That means we could be those ancestor sims instead of the actual ancestors. Here's a good NYTimes article about it.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Radar Picks On Second Life Lothario's
Radar Magazine sent a correspondent into Second Life, where about 1/5 of usage is devoted to adult activity, usually roleplay. Now it's fun with literalism in teacher-student relations:
Student: Oh ... I naughty ... let play anoterh [sic] game.
Radarette: No. You must get this right or you'll never work in a numbers-related field. If you won't play along I can find somebody else.
When they take away my right to vote, can I still blog?
Yeah, there are still people who apparently think woman suffrage was not such the great plan.
[And, FYI, it is woman suffrage, not women's suffrage.]
Like this guy. If you want to read the rest of the article, feel free, but it's basically a defense of libertarian capitalism and the free market. OK, so that usually goes hand in hand with civil libertarianism, right?
No, no, because women voting expands the government: And abortion leads to single parent families. I think that women are generally more risk averse then men are and they see government as one way of providing insurance against life’s vagaries. I also think that divorced women with kids particularly turn towards government for protection. Simply giving women the right to vote explained at least a third of the growth in government for about 45 years.
The effect on state governments was pretty dramatic, and I think that it not only explains a lot of the government’s growth in the US but also the rest of the world over the last century. When states gave women the right to vote, government spending and tax revenue, even after adjusting for inflation and population, went from not growing at all to more than doubling in ten years. As women gradually made up a greater and greater share of the electorate, the size of government kept on increasing. This continued for 45 years as a lot of older women who hadn’t been used to voting when suffrage first passed were gradually replaced by younger women.
After you get to the 1960s, the continued growth in government is driven by higher divorce rates. Divorce causes women with children to turn much more to government programs. Of course, changes in the divorce laws from “at fault” to “no fault” helped cause some of this change. As I discuss in the book, the liberalization of abortion also led to more single parent families.
Interestingly, this guy thinks so too, as he eloquently explains in his post entitled "How society defends itself; and is women's political equality a good thing?" There is much to be said for the view that affording women political rights (as distinct from the protection of their human rights, property rights, and civil rights) inevitably leads society in the direction of the Nanny State that we see in full bloom in today's Britain and Europe, leading ultimately to the end of national sovereignty and the onset of global governance. Women's primary external concern is safety and security. That is how it should be. Women are the natural care-givers and are naturally focused on the home and the family and its protection. But those same priorities, when expressed through the political sphere as distinct from the private sphere, inevitably lead a society in the direction of socialism. Once women have the vote, there is, over time, a growing tendency for women to stop seeing their fathers and husbands as the primary providers of security, and to see the state in that role instead. This tendency encourages--and in turn is greatly exacerbated by--the increase in unmarried motherhood. Single women, both with children and not, overwhelmingly see the state as their principal provider and accordingly vote overwhelmingly for the left. If women's vote leads a society in the direction of socialist statism, the weakening of marriage and the family, the loss of male responsibility, the loss of basic freedoms (which only men are physically and temperamentally suited to defend), and the loss of national vigor, does that not suggest that giving women the vote was a mistake?
Then there is the direct effect on society of having women in high leadership positions. I believe that with rare exceptions such as a Margaret Thatcher or a Golda Meir, women are not well suited for upholding the basic external structure of society. That is preeminently a male, not a female task. To me, the female-dominated politics of the Scandinavian countries do not represent a positive and uplifting direction for the human race. The huge number of women in the British Parliament do not represent a growth of British national strength but its decline.
Neat.
Tuesday Morning Comics
This week seems mysterious to me. I'm not sure why. Anyway, here's a new set of comics I think you'll enjoy.
I started off by thinking: "Is it a good idea or bad idea to buy this zombie shirt for John? And why are the women's shirts two dollars more?"
And then the listing of my favorites and the downloading happened. And then I thought "To hell with bandwidth!" And then I thought "I'm lazy. I'll post half, let them find the rest for themselves."
And here we are. It's called "A Softer World." You'll notice that both of the authors are also pretty attractive (and their pictures feature prominantly in the strip.)
Monday, August 13, 2007
Heroes of the day
Dr. Denis Mukwege, who treats rape victims in the Congo, and Eve Ensler, the author of the Vagina Monologues, who had the courage to talk to the survivors and experience some of the worst violence against women anywhere in the world.
This article is fantastic, and you should read every word. It took me about an hour to get through it - parts are so graphic I had to put it down to keep myself from shaking or crying, so you might want to wait until you're not at work to read it. But you should.
Pimm's and Lemondae: The Easiest Way to Drink Away a Summer Afternoon
Seriously, if made right, you can down pitchers of these on a hot summer afternoon before knowing what hit you. Quite frankly, it's amazing.
1. Make sure you have Pimm's No. 1. It's probably the only type of Pimm's you'll find in the States, but just make sure.
2. Mix one-part Pimm's with 2 parts of lemonade (Sprite, 7-Up, or your choice of generic lemon-lime knockoff)over crushed ice. The Brits have a weird, fizzy lemon drink that they call "lemonade," but Sprite works just as well. Above all else, don't use normal, American lemonade. It'd be weird.
3. Toss in lots of fruit. I like apples, oranges, strawberries, or blueberries. You don't want to overload here, but it's the place for experimentation. The Brits would almost always add a slice of lemon and lime, but I think the Sprite covers that.
4. Here is the most important part. It's what takes away the last bit of alcohol flavoring that might give you a heads up that you're about to get plastered. Add in freshly crushed mint leaves and sliced cucumber. If you let it sit for about 30 minutes to an hour in the fridge, the cucumber has removed any alcohol flavoring whatsoever. Toss it back.
If you can't wait, the cucumber and mint still help, but it's not quite the same. Toss it back anyways.
Stuff a'brewin part two: Politix
Nothing better than to start Monday mornings with reasons to throw a party. We're drinkin at my house on August 31.
I guess that happens every day anyway, but now we have a special reason - Rove's resignation. He's out, as the Wall Street Journal announced this morning. (You can hear Rupert Murdoch sighing with contentment and rubbing his hands together about that little scoop).
Yeah, Rove lost his relevance. Yeah, he's been on his way out. Yeah, he'll still be able to pull all of the same strings. Blah blah blah. It still makes me happy.
But it also puzzles me a little. Rove's been able to keep his nose clean for a little while now, with Cheney and Gonzo taking most of the blows for Rove's dirty deeds. Why the sudden departure? He's been scapegoating our dear VP and AG, not the other way around. Are they next? What's he hiding? And why the WSJ instead of a speech? Something interesting is actually happening. Go, bloggers! Figure out what it is!
As an aside, Rove's interview is brilliant satire of the resignation genre. I don't believe for a second that it's because Josh Bolton asked him nicely to go. And, really, Karl, how did you use the "it's for my family" line with a straight face?
Second item of interest is an update to this post I wrote a few weeks ago. Brief recap: Ken Pollack and Michael O'Hanlon sing Bush's praises in the lead up to the Iraq war. And then, in early August, they write an editorial saying the war's going well. And the media freaks out and says "look!!!! Even critics of the war think it's going well!!!" And I think "who are these people??"
Glen Greenwald, one of my favorite bloggers, interviewed Michael O'Hanlon and asked him these very questions. The interview is good, but here are the highlights: O'Hanlon says "yeah, I was pretty much a staunch supporter, not a staunch critic, of that war thing." And he also says "yeah, all the people I met in Iraq, who told me things were going well, were handpicked by the DOD cause I thought I might die otherwise." Good times, good interview, good going Glen.
Lots of stuff a'brewin - part one
Updated below the jump.
Man, I've been at work for 45 minutes, and I don't even know where to start with the all the stuff I want to say.
Update: And, it's David's first day of law school!!!!! Happy law schooling, David!
Numero uno. My brother Ben is our newest author!!! He debuts this week with the post On a Duet of Dueling Emilys and will keep us abreast of all things hip, as well as what it's like to have an active dating life. Good times. I'm excited he's writing for us.
Numero dos: Joey, can you post or email me the recipe for Pimms Lemonade?
Nuemro tres: Once we all move to Estonia, we can have a courtyard that looks like this: 
Numero cuatro: Aren't these the cutest boots you've ever seen?: 
Sunday, August 12, 2007
On a Duet of Dueling Emilys
This being my first contribution to this fine commune of voices, I would just like to state outright that I am not a pimp. Or at least not by choice. I have never purchased a cane without a disability to necessitate it (I haven't purchased one at all, but specificity is sometimes necessary). I do not wear a ring, let alone several rings beset with glamorous stones such as opal. I have a one o'clock curfew, and as such my ability to work the streets is severally mitigated. No, ladies and gentleman, it was never in my aspirations to be the panoptacon eyes on some poor woman who has not, yet, payed me my money.
However, recent events have led me to believe, that much like those born presupposed to athleticism, emotional instability, or the ability to fix a fax machine without slamming it repeatedly with their fists, I have the preternatural ability to draw to me Emilys from all walks of life. Or rather two Emilys, each baring differences, but from mostly the same upper middle class walk of life. I live in the suburbs; too much diversity cannot be expected.
The first Emily is blond, athletic and frequents the New Jersey coast. The second is darkhaired, brilliant and shares my taste in literature (we swap books, it's cute). Both want to be biochemists, which is eerie because no one wants to be a biochemist. I mean, obviously some people do, but not many. Certainly not enough for 100% percent of the Emily population in my life to seek the profession.
Anyway.
Recently both of these maidens have besieged me with request for my affection. As a man who, as I have explained, is not used to the pimping way of life, this shocked me. It always does. The beautiful, intellectual woman who show interest in me always mystify me. I am wirey, pimply and excessively inarticulate. Generally I can accept the affections of one girl as something of a romantic anomaly. I figure, after all, a fair percentage of the population certainly seems to be deranged, at least I end up with the cute ones. However, when it becomes so unlikely as to two girls of the same name and the same career aspiration take to me simultaneously, I am forced into a state of amazement that prevents me from reacting to the situation in any sensible way. Sometimes, you play the game. But sometimes there is so much game, you just don't know what you're playing anymore. And in my case, the mere presence of game is enough to set me out for the season.
So, in resolving the internal war that my feelings toward both Emilys were waging (tune in next week, for when this war is chronicled in the style of the Iliad) I came to the realization that perhaps the similarities of their names was no coincidence. Perhaps indeed it was to be a calling of mine, a gift from birth that had waited until now to unearth itself, to romance all the Emilys of the world. Not for indulgences sake, but for the sake of science. Yes, this was an epiphany. An inspiration of near biblical magnitude.
Therefore, I am withdrawing a loan with which to establish an institution for testing the romantic similarities (and dissimilarities) of all Emilys in the world. Particularly those with biochemical positions or aspirations. Contact information will be released shortly after establishment.
Argentina is cold, but you'll be so drunk you won't care
It is a lot colder here in Buenos Aires than I thought it would be.
The highs are in the fifties during the day, and it gets down to the low forties at night. Brr! Compounding this problem, my apartment has the dumbest heating system ever. The heat emanates from the floor. I totally thought the leasing agent was trying to pull a fast one over the stupid Americans when she told us this. But no, beneath the floor are pipes filled with hot water. Silly Argentines. Floor pipes really do a poor job of heating the place.
However, if any of my friends were here, they would not be bothered by the weather at all. This is because they would all be drunk. The wine in this country is ridiculously cheap. My first night here I bought a magnum of wine for two American dollars. It didn't taste great, but it still amazed me that I could by that much wine for two bucks. A pretty good bottle of wine costs $3. And the top shelf wines for special occasions costs $7.
To all my friends (you know who you are) - if any of you come to visit me, remember this: it is too damn cold for me to bring you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I'm just saying.
postsecret
Many of you may not know that I read postsecret every week. In fact, I've made it into my screensaver, and have around 2000 saved thus far. I think it's one of the more amazing things available on line today. And here's what I think:
a) You should start reading it. It's very cool (or depressing, or funny, or pretty much anything).
b) You should send in a secret. You'll feel surprisingly better by mailing it. And it's actually not too bad if it doesn't get posted.
At the request of Frank, the guy who created the site, I'm gonna link his montage of secrets video. Alas, this means no new secrets this week...
Friday, August 10, 2007
xkcd part two
If you haven't already read mathgimp's post from yesterday about the funniest of xkcd, you should start there and then come back to mine. He showed you most of the best ones, and a lot of the funny(?) math ones, but he left out a few of my favorites. So, after the jump, here they are.
[By the way, he also spent an hour explaining the math and computer ones to me the other night. They actually are pretty funny, but I suggest that you get a mathematician drunk and demand explanations, instead of wasting time looking them up on wikipedia. Just sayin'].
These are sweet and adorable and odd: 
He captures perfectly how people suck and why relationships get boring and die: 
And the outrage I feel over inane conversations: 
I know this person (and you know who you are):
My feelings toward my job (and Maryland) [This wouldn't be funny without the DNE]
He has the proper respect and fear for dinosaurs: 
And, strangely, these are the things that happen in my head, all of the time: 
So, in conclusion, you should read the strip. Randall Munroe is a genius. And, Mr. Munroe, if we violated copyright by posting half of your comics, we'll gladly take them down and just link to them -- just let me know before lawyers get involved.
xkcd is Hilarious
So, I had this post all planned out. After nuraido posted about xkcd, I spent an entire work day reading all of them. And I almost got in trouble for the times I laughed out loud. Before I could post my favorites, though, work got in the way. But now I have the time, and xkcd is freaking awesome. After the jump, a lot of linky goodness of all of my favorites. Seriously, click on the links (pretty much every word below). They're really funny too.
Some are just weird observations about life.
That one's my favorite. Or this:
These are funny too: 
Enough of that! Now some math!
Math is awesome! And funny!
So is physics.
Physics is slightly cooler than math.
(We've all been there, right?)
(That inverse transform looks wrong...)
Programming is funny too!
Really, every aspect of nerd-dom (from math to physics to CS to just being a power dork) is awesome. Randall Munroe just makes it seem somewhat more hilarious. I highly recommend starting from the beginning. Or just clicking on all of the links I posted.
(Did you get the math/physics jokes? Knowing our readers, perhaps not. Wikipedia can help; otherwise comment your questions, and I'll answer them if you really want to know.)
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