been a while.
just watched ringo being a dufus on last wednesday's daily show, and that made me want to post that ringo really is quite a dufus and comment that i'm so glad he signed my pixelated RINGO! picture. how perfect.
in further news, i wrote another sharpie today. waiting to figure out the photocopying situation in my new lab so i can make record of it, send it, and post it. however, THE SHARPIE MAN IS BACK. stay tuned.
20 January 2010
28 April 2009
Well That Was Fun
Let's at least get one post up in April, shall we?
This past November, I made a solemn vow to Get Into Hockey. I had a wise businessman friend of mine once tell me 'Shame you never played hockey growing up I think you would have liked it' for reasons I can't particularly remember, if there were any. I have watched the NHL playoffs with varying levels of sincerity for the past eight years or so, including watching a ridiculous 7-OT playoff game back in college. But I've never really invested myself in it, paid attention during the regular season, and tried to get the flow and strategy of the game.
Come December 1, the Spectacular Brigitte took my vow to heart and got me tickets to a Blackhawks/Phoenix Coyotes game as part of my birthday gift. Some might ask, "They play hockey in Phoenix?" To which I would answer, "Not particularly well." Chicago whupped em 7-1.
One of the most interesting things about the game was how different the hockey crowd was from your average 'mainstream' sports crowd. The Glorious Brigitte and I showed up five minutes before the start of the game; everyone else was already in their seat. I went to get us beers partway through the first period; I was nearly assaulted on my way out and then had no line to get to the counter because everyone stays in their seats during the action. (Easy to do when intermissions last 17 minutes each... which of course we had no idea about until that game.) I felt terribly out of place in my Iowa State sweatshirt (red at least); I'd estimate that 68% of hockey fans come to games in an actual hockey sweater. And, most befuddling to me at the time, everyone very 'impolitely' clapped during the singing of the national anthem. I'm not a zany patriot or anything but people who make too much noise or especially talk through the anthem drive me up a wall. It's as though two minutes of respectful behavior is just too much for them. This particular case was clearly orchestrated and, to be honest, a bit chilling in the 'impressive/give you goosebumps' way.
After the game I remembered that once upon a time I read something somewhere about the Chicago Stadium (and later United Center) tradition of clapping and cheering throughout the anthem (on wikipedia, this paragraph might get a 'This statement cites no references' tag). So we were probably the only first-time newbies at that game who didn't make a ruckus during the anthem.
We attended two more regular season games, this time not making the same mistakes. However, they lost both of these games, looking rather stinky in both. The first was the worst professional athletic performance I've ever seen, wherein they were thoroughly worked over by a not very good Minnesota Wild team; the second was largely disappointing except for a massive on-ice brawl that included fights between three separate pairs of players at the same time, one of which resulted in blood on the ice. As a result six Blackhawks ended up in the penalty box. If you're going to get killed by the Vancouver Canucks in a game with playoff seeding implications, it was the way to go.
Having been seriously invested in the regular season, it seemed fitting to the Stupendous Brigitte and I that we should try to attend a playoff game, and secured tickets for this past Saturday. The game was game 5 of the series, and because of the Adorable Brigitte's hex on the Hawks (she openly declared that she wanted them to lose game 3 in Calgary so we would be guaranteed that our tickets would be to an actual event), the series was tied 2-2. As a best of seven, game 5 in a 2-2 series is very critical; the winning team goes on to win something like 80% of such series. It was also be a big deal for me personally as it was the first professional playoff game I'd ever attended.
The atmosphere at the UC was awesome, everyone was very excited and a little bit on edge. I'd heard good things about the crowd at the first couple of games, and was not disappointed. The lead-up to the game was as usual, with a little extra spirit to everything.
Then this happened:
That was the national anthem. I figure I have to write that because I sure as heck couldn't hear anyone singing in that video. Again, I'm no zany patriot but found myself doing some strange sob/hyperventilating thing throughout the thing every time I tried to holler myself. A very cool moment.
Then the game happened. Hawks scored 3 goals in the first ten minutes and went on to a merry and decisive 5-1 victory. For those who don't follow, they had another nice game last night in Calgary to win the series 4-2. Up next: them Canucks they beat the heck out of (but who beat the hell out of us on the ice).
And next up for me: sounds like game 6 of the Bulls/Celts series on Thursday. Standing room only. I love the city.
This past November, I made a solemn vow to Get Into Hockey. I had a wise businessman friend of mine once tell me 'Shame you never played hockey growing up I think you would have liked it' for reasons I can't particularly remember, if there were any. I have watched the NHL playoffs with varying levels of sincerity for the past eight years or so, including watching a ridiculous 7-OT playoff game back in college. But I've never really invested myself in it, paid attention during the regular season, and tried to get the flow and strategy of the game.
Come December 1, the Spectacular Brigitte took my vow to heart and got me tickets to a Blackhawks/Phoenix Coyotes game as part of my birthday gift. Some might ask, "They play hockey in Phoenix?" To which I would answer, "Not particularly well." Chicago whupped em 7-1.
One of the most interesting things about the game was how different the hockey crowd was from your average 'mainstream' sports crowd. The Glorious Brigitte and I showed up five minutes before the start of the game; everyone else was already in their seat. I went to get us beers partway through the first period; I was nearly assaulted on my way out and then had no line to get to the counter because everyone stays in their seats during the action. (Easy to do when intermissions last 17 minutes each... which of course we had no idea about until that game.) I felt terribly out of place in my Iowa State sweatshirt (red at least); I'd estimate that 68% of hockey fans come to games in an actual hockey sweater. And, most befuddling to me at the time, everyone very 'impolitely' clapped during the singing of the national anthem. I'm not a zany patriot or anything but people who make too much noise or especially talk through the anthem drive me up a wall. It's as though two minutes of respectful behavior is just too much for them. This particular case was clearly orchestrated and, to be honest, a bit chilling in the 'impressive/give you goosebumps' way.
After the game I remembered that once upon a time I read something somewhere about the Chicago Stadium (and later United Center) tradition of clapping and cheering throughout the anthem (on wikipedia, this paragraph might get a 'This statement cites no references' tag). So we were probably the only first-time newbies at that game who didn't make a ruckus during the anthem.
We attended two more regular season games, this time not making the same mistakes. However, they lost both of these games, looking rather stinky in both. The first was the worst professional athletic performance I've ever seen, wherein they were thoroughly worked over by a not very good Minnesota Wild team; the second was largely disappointing except for a massive on-ice brawl that included fights between three separate pairs of players at the same time, one of which resulted in blood on the ice. As a result six Blackhawks ended up in the penalty box. If you're going to get killed by the Vancouver Canucks in a game with playoff seeding implications, it was the way to go.
Having been seriously invested in the regular season, it seemed fitting to the Stupendous Brigitte and I that we should try to attend a playoff game, and secured tickets for this past Saturday. The game was game 5 of the series, and because of the Adorable Brigitte's hex on the Hawks (she openly declared that she wanted them to lose game 3 in Calgary so we would be guaranteed that our tickets would be to an actual event), the series was tied 2-2. As a best of seven, game 5 in a 2-2 series is very critical; the winning team goes on to win something like 80% of such series. It was also be a big deal for me personally as it was the first professional playoff game I'd ever attended.
The atmosphere at the UC was awesome, everyone was very excited and a little bit on edge. I'd heard good things about the crowd at the first couple of games, and was not disappointed. The lead-up to the game was as usual, with a little extra spirit to everything.
Then this happened:
That was the national anthem. I figure I have to write that because I sure as heck couldn't hear anyone singing in that video. Again, I'm no zany patriot but found myself doing some strange sob/hyperventilating thing throughout the thing every time I tried to holler myself. A very cool moment.
Then the game happened. Hawks scored 3 goals in the first ten minutes and went on to a merry and decisive 5-1 victory. For those who don't follow, they had another nice game last night in Calgary to win the series 4-2. Up next: them Canucks they beat the heck out of (but who beat the hell out of us on the ice).
And next up for me: sounds like game 6 of the Bulls/Celts series on Thursday. Standing room only. I love the city.
21 March 2009
Chiditarod
It's probably about time that I post some photos and talk about much fun it was...
One not terribly fun thing was all the work that went into preparing for the event. Last year I was just a spare dude running around with improvised viking constumes consisting of random fur pieces and a cart where the only decoration was a papier-mache dragon head. By opting to be in charge and choosing to go with a bit more decorum this year, the required work input ended up being much greater. But we still had a decent, if back-breaking, time.
Here we have the design schematic for our cart. It's an interesting prospect to measure a shopping cart while its stowed in the back of a CRV. BUT the measurements were spot-on.
An artistic shot including the schmatic, Dan and the Splendorous Brigitte, and some paper towels. Also, we drank beer that night.
The finished uniforms. Our team was 2016 Or Bust, and each person had a different means of corruption by which Chicago might (or will) attempt to secure the upcoming Olympic bid. All the slogans but the yellow one pertain to some extent to recent Chicago news items. Slogans and commentary follow the picture...
Yellow- "Ensure fairness by giving steroids to all athletes." No specific tie-in.
Blue- "Drain Tokyo Bay to get water for marathoners." Two years ago during an unseasonably warm run in October, the Chicago marathon had to be shut down because of major health concerns, in part due to the water stations running out.
Black- "Increase security by hiring 14 year old cops." True story: In February of this year a 14 year old boy worked a 5 hour shift at a south side precinct. He wrote tickets and even drove the squad car. His partner had no idea. Good times.
Green- "Cash considerations to friends of Blago IOC Pres." Think that one is pretty self-evident, no? On the shirt Blago was crossed out.
Red- "Frank 'The Breeze' Calabrese visits Rio mayor." One of many local mobsters who have recently been put on trial, Frank had some rather unpleasant tendencies. Also, he owns race horses.
And now, the finished product of the cart. I made a huge find of a GIANT cardboard box by my trash, that was turned into two large briefcase sides (thank you black spray paint and chrome duct tape), on which we put various travel stickers, i.e. painted and printed Olympic pictures. This side also shows the To: IOC President From: Chicago 2016 Committee. There were bills sticking out of the top of the case.
Here's a nice picture of the inside of our cart. It was FULL of food which we pushed around for the whole race (most teams have someone drop it off at the end, but I decided we should be heroes and just push it the whole way. Ugh, that was like 200# of food to schlep around.). A great collection of food, big thanks to all who donated. Also visible: a tarp which would come in handy later when it quasi-poured on us, and the ropes we used to pull the cart.
And a nice picture of the team (minus the left half of the Tremendous Brigitte's face, sadly), well into the race when we were all pretty damn well soaked. We did a pretty nice job of covering up the waterproofish inner layers we had on, but wet pants and shoes still made for a rather cold experience. The beer helped fight against that.
And now we reach the 'other teams' section. Seeing how the other teams get made up is one of the most entertaining parts of Chiditarod. This team was dressed as pigs, more important was that they chopped the heck out of their cart and mounted a working charcoal grill into it. They then cooked and dispensed bacon throughout the race. They really made the most of it, as they were the ones who showed up in "Dead Fucking Last" halfway through the concluding awards ceremony.
This team was the best. They did monster work chopping their cart up into the phone booth from Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. Their costumes were also top-notch. These guys call themselves Action Squad, and their Top Gun cart last year was really really good also. Not visible here: they did have an antenna apparatus for the top of the booth.
Below was one group that I really enjoyed: they were the Tamale Man, a middle aged latino guy who roams around Chicago bars selling fresh and warm tamales. Their cart was a big cooler. Not visible here was the actual Man, but two of the Tamales are watching the cart. 
Kind of a general shot here, but in particular wanted to capture the Bluth Company Staircar from Arrested Development, which did have fully functional stairs in it. They also had a blue Tobias.
These undead housemaids decided that Chiditarod was a good reason to smoke pot outside of the bar. Alrighty then!
A personal favorite here: the Mad Max Revolution crew. They even had a guy with the funny goggles with the little antennas. I suppose that details is lost on most people out there.
Another group did a pretty sweet Pee Wee Herman theme, including one of the most bizarre characters ever to grace TV, Chairy! And hye, take note of that cart with the flag on it, you'll see that again soon.
One of the most fun parts of the race itself is the rampant sabotage that goes down, which can get pretty creative. I'm not sure what the prize-winning act of sabotage was, but here's the fun I had outside of one of the bars, and the not-as-much fun the victims had undoing it... I put a good 60 feet of rope around three carts that were left alone.
Hey! This cart looks familiar! And it looks oddly out of place, unless you think the proper place of a shopping cart is serving the community of roof-dwellers.
And here is the cart being taken down, sadly NOT by the ladies whose cart it was, but by one of the Chiditarod organizers. Apparently the local community isn't big fans of carts on rooves messing up the eaves of the building. For future reference, the local community is also not big on fifty people clogging up an alley so people can't get to their garages.
And here, the improvised trophies. Sadly, 2016 Or Bust did NOT garner any awards, despite pushing around all that food all day. We did have the most food when we unloaded our cart, however a group five carts behind us unloaded a car full of food, probable 300# worth, and after that a group came in with 2300 pounds of food. Good heavens. I'm okay with losing out to a group that does such a great job as that.
All in all, it was one wet, but very good, time.
One not terribly fun thing was all the work that went into preparing for the event. Last year I was just a spare dude running around with improvised viking constumes consisting of random fur pieces and a cart where the only decoration was a papier-mache dragon head. By opting to be in charge and choosing to go with a bit more decorum this year, the required work input ended up being much greater. But we still had a decent, if back-breaking, time.
Here we have the design schematic for our cart. It's an interesting prospect to measure a shopping cart while its stowed in the back of a CRV. BUT the measurements were spot-on.
An artistic shot including the schmatic, Dan and the Splendorous Brigitte, and some paper towels. Also, we drank beer that night.
The finished uniforms. Our team was 2016 Or Bust, and each person had a different means of corruption by which Chicago might (or will) attempt to secure the upcoming Olympic bid. All the slogans but the yellow one pertain to some extent to recent Chicago news items. Slogans and commentary follow the picture...
Yellow- "Ensure fairness by giving steroids to all athletes." No specific tie-in.Blue- "Drain Tokyo Bay to get water for marathoners." Two years ago during an unseasonably warm run in October, the Chicago marathon had to be shut down because of major health concerns, in part due to the water stations running out.
Black- "Increase security by hiring 14 year old cops." True story: In February of this year a 14 year old boy worked a 5 hour shift at a south side precinct. He wrote tickets and even drove the squad car. His partner had no idea. Good times.
Green- "Cash considerations to friends of Blago IOC Pres." Think that one is pretty self-evident, no? On the shirt Blago was crossed out.
Red- "Frank 'The Breeze' Calabrese visits Rio mayor." One of many local mobsters who have recently been put on trial, Frank had some rather unpleasant tendencies. Also, he owns race horses.
And now, the finished product of the cart. I made a huge find of a GIANT cardboard box by my trash, that was turned into two large briefcase sides (thank you black spray paint and chrome duct tape), on which we put various travel stickers, i.e. painted and printed Olympic pictures. This side also shows the To: IOC President From: Chicago 2016 Committee. There were bills sticking out of the top of the case.
Here's a nice picture of the inside of our cart. It was FULL of food which we pushed around for the whole race (most teams have someone drop it off at the end, but I decided we should be heroes and just push it the whole way. Ugh, that was like 200# of food to schlep around.). A great collection of food, big thanks to all who donated. Also visible: a tarp which would come in handy later when it quasi-poured on us, and the ropes we used to pull the cart.
And a nice picture of the team (minus the left half of the Tremendous Brigitte's face, sadly), well into the race when we were all pretty damn well soaked. We did a pretty nice job of covering up the waterproofish inner layers we had on, but wet pants and shoes still made for a rather cold experience. The beer helped fight against that.
And now we reach the 'other teams' section. Seeing how the other teams get made up is one of the most entertaining parts of Chiditarod. This team was dressed as pigs, more important was that they chopped the heck out of their cart and mounted a working charcoal grill into it. They then cooked and dispensed bacon throughout the race. They really made the most of it, as they were the ones who showed up in "Dead Fucking Last" halfway through the concluding awards ceremony.
This team was the best. They did monster work chopping their cart up into the phone booth from Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. Their costumes were also top-notch. These guys call themselves Action Squad, and their Top Gun cart last year was really really good also. Not visible here: they did have an antenna apparatus for the top of the booth.
Below was one group that I really enjoyed: they were the Tamale Man, a middle aged latino guy who roams around Chicago bars selling fresh and warm tamales. Their cart was a big cooler. Not visible here was the actual Man, but two of the Tamales are watching the cart. 
Kind of a general shot here, but in particular wanted to capture the Bluth Company Staircar from Arrested Development, which did have fully functional stairs in it. They also had a blue Tobias.
These undead housemaids decided that Chiditarod was a good reason to smoke pot outside of the bar. Alrighty then!
A personal favorite here: the Mad Max Revolution crew. They even had a guy with the funny goggles with the little antennas. I suppose that details is lost on most people out there.
Another group did a pretty sweet Pee Wee Herman theme, including one of the most bizarre characters ever to grace TV, Chairy! And hye, take note of that cart with the flag on it, you'll see that again soon.
One of the most fun parts of the race itself is the rampant sabotage that goes down, which can get pretty creative. I'm not sure what the prize-winning act of sabotage was, but here's the fun I had outside of one of the bars, and the not-as-much fun the victims had undoing it... I put a good 60 feet of rope around three carts that were left alone.
Hey! This cart looks familiar! And it looks oddly out of place, unless you think the proper place of a shopping cart is serving the community of roof-dwellers.
And here is the cart being taken down, sadly NOT by the ladies whose cart it was, but by one of the Chiditarod organizers. Apparently the local community isn't big fans of carts on rooves messing up the eaves of the building. For future reference, the local community is also not big on fifty people clogging up an alley so people can't get to their garages.
And here, the improvised trophies. Sadly, 2016 Or Bust did NOT garner any awards, despite pushing around all that food all day. We did have the most food when we unloaded our cart, however a group five carts behind us unloaded a car full of food, probable 300# worth, and after that a group came in with 2300 pounds of food. Good heavens. I'm okay with losing out to a group that does such a great job as that.
All in all, it was one wet, but very good, time.
10 February 2009
A Response to the Hon. Geneball (that's me!)
You may remember this, which I will summarize briefly here:
First, Ringo Starr had this to say.
So I sent him a Sharpie letter:
(for more Sharpie letters, see here, here, and here)
In an envelope with a microcentrifuge tube opener, a tool of the scientific trade:
Which included a blown up, badly pixelated "RINGO!" poster image which I created myself and a self-addressed, stamped envelope. This was sent out October 16, 2008.
Yesterday I got home, and in the mailbox found this:
It took me a bit to remember when the hell I'd SASEd, as I don't often apply for promotional materials. I opened it up, and this was inside:
My first ever Sharpie response!!! Please note the fine signature on my horribly pixelated, creased-to-the-point-of-removing-ink RINGO! picture. If it looks OK here, click on the image to get it full-sized(ish) and you'll see how bad the image is. Too much fun.
First, Ringo Starr had this to say.
So I sent him a Sharpie letter:
(for more Sharpie letters, see here, here, and here)In an envelope with a microcentrifuge tube opener, a tool of the scientific trade:
Which included a blown up, badly pixelated "RINGO!" poster image which I created myself and a self-addressed, stamped envelope. This was sent out October 16, 2008.Yesterday I got home, and in the mailbox found this:
It took me a bit to remember when the hell I'd SASEd, as I don't often apply for promotional materials. I opened it up, and this was inside:
My first ever Sharpie response!!! Please note the fine signature on my horribly pixelated, creased-to-the-point-of-removing-ink RINGO! picture. If it looks OK here, click on the image to get it full-sized(ish) and you'll see how bad the image is. Too much fun.
26 January 2009
Head Lights
This entry contains two somewhat disjointed points followed by a technological plea. The first part is about how some people are crazies. The second is about modern technology. I will finally summarize with a brief plaintive note on the connection of the first two points.
-------------
On Saturday I needed to do some work and because Brigitte stole my car to go to Wisconsin, I had to take the train. The train ride was mostly uneventful, save one enterprising man who wanted to sell me cigarettes. I did not want to buy any, so the interaction was brief. However, upon deboarding the train things got a bit more interesting. I will enumerate:
1) When I got up the stairs to the station I had the pleasant experience of seeing the bus pulling away from the stop across the street. This made me pretty unhappy because, as discussed in a previous missive CTA buses operate on what could best be called 'no schedule at all,' and, as enumerated in that post, I probably wouldn't see another bus for half an hour. And, as my parents would be able to tell you, standing on the Dan Ryan overpass is not a great place to be standing as it is a massive wide open area with cars flying by beneath you, thereby leading to not smelling great and being ~15 degrees cooler than the rest of the city because the expressway makes its own horrid windchill. They can also verify how long you may have to wait for the bus. (Keep this in mind for a future blog where I discuss the places where cabs should clearly be hanging out but never seem to be.) I attempted to run to catch the bus, but it was to no avail.
2) Another patron also tried to run to catch the bus, but it was to even less avail as he was wearing what could best be called anti-shorts. These are pants that start roughly where your average short leg would stop. They are resistant to no movement whatsoever and prone to falling off of the mid-thighs they are precariously worn on, so if one is to move in them he must grab them by the side or preferably the crotchal region. Also, because they are worn so low they do not allow normal movement of the legs, thereby inducing a very un-thug-like waddle, especially when rapid translocation is attempted. But rapidly waddle he did, my fellow patron. He emitted a couple curses and various unintelligible vagary when he could not catch the bus, then he came to reposition his pants near me. I noticed at this point that this fellow had two tear drop tattoos under his right eye. In addition to the anti-shorts he was wearing a scowl, a very large brown sweatshirt- despite not being a very large fellow- and basically an Elmer Fudd cap, except without the brown front panel. It was sitting way up on his head and I'm pretty sure it had ear flaps!
3) Some short time later a woman crossed the street. She was dressed smartly in lime green sweatshirt and pants with a large brown coat over them. Greenie had on makeup and had a book and some papers under her arm. As Greenie crossed the street, Elmer Waddle asked her if she could see a bus coming down the street. She kind of looked, didn't say anything, but approached Elmer. She then fiddled about in her papers, retrieved a small piece of notepaper, and attempted to hand it to him. He did not accept, I presume because he knew that his anti-shorts would fall off if he added the weight of even a small piece of paper to their already precarious non-hip-resting state. Greenie then proceeded to hand out small, blank note paper to everyone else at the stop. I took my piece:
and thanked her. She then attempted to give her gift to Elmer again, but since she knew he couldn't take his hand off his pants to accept it she placed it very delicately at his feet. He then stepped on the paper, dragged his foot along the pavement, and said, "I don't know what kind of voodoo shit you got there lady, but I don't want none." Greenie then scampered down the street, hung out at the corner for a while looking around- long enough for her walk signal to turn to don't walk- then crossed the street (yes, on a do not walk), and walked down a couple stops where she eventually caught the bus that came circa five mins after this episode. Two stops after she got on the bus, three young ladies got on. She interrupted their conversation: "Excuse me would you like a piece of paper?" To which they said, "OK" and then giggled about it a little bit, but they kind of made it seem like they were just giggling so it wasn't too awkward.
The point here: sadly, some people in this city are crazies.
-------------
Today the Stupendous Brigitte and I went to lunch together. On the way to and from lunch we walked past a number of people talking on their cell phones. Good for them and their communciations. I think it is a great feat that people can stay connected anywhere in the world. Though of course there are some downsides to this- how can today's children have random and disjointed experiences of wonder?- I nonetheless believe it a magnificent application of technology for the general sake of convenience, production, and connectivity.
The point here: um, modern technology exists and people have it?
-------------
To synthesize: some people are crazy, and some people talk on cell phones. More specifically, some people do their cell phone talkin' via newage Star Trekian bluetooth headphones and the like. My problem is that this causes me problems disentangling parts 1 and 2. On the walk to lunch today a small oriental girl was talking a million miles an hour while walking by herself. She may likely have been wearing a bluetooth under her hood and talking on her phone. Or she may have been very crazy.
And so my plea: can we make it national law that bluetooth phones come equiped with some sort of head-top light device so everyone can tell when someone is on the phone? Or at least something that lights up the chin? Or nostrils?
I know I'm not the first to bring this up. People have talked about how strange it is to have someone talking to you only to realize they're talking on the phone. For that matter there's a commercial about this. But I wish to express my desires for the purposes of my own mental well-being and safety. Of course, the bluetooth ones are probably more likely to actually be any kind of threat to me, but at least this light system would provide me a way of classifying which are which, so that in reports I can say, "A crazy person struck me with a salami" or "A bluetooth person ran me over with their car while typing on their PDA and listening to NPR while doing her nails and keeping an eye on the kids."
I need some way to know who the crazies are. They're not always handing out scraps of blank paper.
-------------
On Saturday I needed to do some work and because Brigitte stole my car to go to Wisconsin, I had to take the train. The train ride was mostly uneventful, save one enterprising man who wanted to sell me cigarettes. I did not want to buy any, so the interaction was brief. However, upon deboarding the train things got a bit more interesting. I will enumerate:
1) When I got up the stairs to the station I had the pleasant experience of seeing the bus pulling away from the stop across the street. This made me pretty unhappy because, as discussed in a previous missive CTA buses operate on what could best be called 'no schedule at all,' and, as enumerated in that post, I probably wouldn't see another bus for half an hour. And, as my parents would be able to tell you, standing on the Dan Ryan overpass is not a great place to be standing as it is a massive wide open area with cars flying by beneath you, thereby leading to not smelling great and being ~15 degrees cooler than the rest of the city because the expressway makes its own horrid windchill. They can also verify how long you may have to wait for the bus. (Keep this in mind for a future blog where I discuss the places where cabs should clearly be hanging out but never seem to be.) I attempted to run to catch the bus, but it was to no avail.
2) Another patron also tried to run to catch the bus, but it was to even less avail as he was wearing what could best be called anti-shorts. These are pants that start roughly where your average short leg would stop. They are resistant to no movement whatsoever and prone to falling off of the mid-thighs they are precariously worn on, so if one is to move in them he must grab them by the side or preferably the crotchal region. Also, because they are worn so low they do not allow normal movement of the legs, thereby inducing a very un-thug-like waddle, especially when rapid translocation is attempted. But rapidly waddle he did, my fellow patron. He emitted a couple curses and various unintelligible vagary when he could not catch the bus, then he came to reposition his pants near me. I noticed at this point that this fellow had two tear drop tattoos under his right eye. In addition to the anti-shorts he was wearing a scowl, a very large brown sweatshirt- despite not being a very large fellow- and basically an Elmer Fudd cap, except without the brown front panel. It was sitting way up on his head and I'm pretty sure it had ear flaps!
3) Some short time later a woman crossed the street. She was dressed smartly in lime green sweatshirt and pants with a large brown coat over them. Greenie had on makeup and had a book and some papers under her arm. As Greenie crossed the street, Elmer Waddle asked her if she could see a bus coming down the street. She kind of looked, didn't say anything, but approached Elmer. She then fiddled about in her papers, retrieved a small piece of notepaper, and attempted to hand it to him. He did not accept, I presume because he knew that his anti-shorts would fall off if he added the weight of even a small piece of paper to their already precarious non-hip-resting state. Greenie then proceeded to hand out small, blank note paper to everyone else at the stop. I took my piece:
and thanked her. She then attempted to give her gift to Elmer again, but since she knew he couldn't take his hand off his pants to accept it she placed it very delicately at his feet. He then stepped on the paper, dragged his foot along the pavement, and said, "I don't know what kind of voodoo shit you got there lady, but I don't want none." Greenie then scampered down the street, hung out at the corner for a while looking around- long enough for her walk signal to turn to don't walk- then crossed the street (yes, on a do not walk), and walked down a couple stops where she eventually caught the bus that came circa five mins after this episode. Two stops after she got on the bus, three young ladies got on. She interrupted their conversation: "Excuse me would you like a piece of paper?" To which they said, "OK" and then giggled about it a little bit, but they kind of made it seem like they were just giggling so it wasn't too awkward.The point here: sadly, some people in this city are crazies.
-------------
Today the Stupendous Brigitte and I went to lunch together. On the way to and from lunch we walked past a number of people talking on their cell phones. Good for them and their communciations. I think it is a great feat that people can stay connected anywhere in the world. Though of course there are some downsides to this- how can today's children have random and disjointed experiences of wonder?- I nonetheless believe it a magnificent application of technology for the general sake of convenience, production, and connectivity.
The point here: um, modern technology exists and people have it?
-------------
To synthesize: some people are crazy, and some people talk on cell phones. More specifically, some people do their cell phone talkin' via newage Star Trekian bluetooth headphones and the like. My problem is that this causes me problems disentangling parts 1 and 2. On the walk to lunch today a small oriental girl was talking a million miles an hour while walking by herself. She may likely have been wearing a bluetooth under her hood and talking on her phone. Or she may have been very crazy.
And so my plea: can we make it national law that bluetooth phones come equiped with some sort of head-top light device so everyone can tell when someone is on the phone? Or at least something that lights up the chin? Or nostrils?
I know I'm not the first to bring this up. People have talked about how strange it is to have someone talking to you only to realize they're talking on the phone. For that matter there's a commercial about this. But I wish to express my desires for the purposes of my own mental well-being and safety. Of course, the bluetooth ones are probably more likely to actually be any kind of threat to me, but at least this light system would provide me a way of classifying which are which, so that in reports I can say, "A crazy person struck me with a salami" or "A bluetooth person ran me over with their car while typing on their PDA and listening to NPR while doing her nails and keeping an eye on the kids."
I need some way to know who the crazies are. They're not always handing out scraps of blank paper.
06 January 2009
Being Blind Could Be So Much More Trendy...
22 December 2008
Some blogspot funniness
Apparently since I began writing the blog on 12/15, the blog I published yesterday is backdated to that date. Which has the unfortunate consequence of being posted below my reply to Mr. Fizzlebottom, despite its actually being posted later. I just wanted to make sure people were aware of it. So, either scroll down to below the 12/18 "Reply to the Hon. Viceroy Fizzlebottom" post, or simply follow this link to read my post of holiday joy.
18 December 2008
A Repsonse to The Honorable Viceroy Fizzlebottom
Dear Sir-bottom:
I write in response to your recent post “An Open Letter to Geneball.” I have done some research and conducted some critical experiments to address your question of luck, and its containment within fine American Lincoln pennies, amongst other objects.
I agree with you that we must foremost establish if such a thing as a good luck penny exists, and that we can then begin to discuss its degrees and ramifications. I addressed this question quite thoroughly.
I myself am a scientist of the genes, so my knowledge of luck and its containment within objects various and sundry is limited. In fact, aside from some rudimentary problems in Introductory Statistics, one could say that I am a veritable tenderfoot in the science of luck. (Sadly, no one has said that as it is a rather cumbersome statement and I hang out with people more inclined to the lowbrow) So, as a good scientist, I turned to the works of others. Namely, I performed a perfunctory literature search. Posting the inquiry “good luck” to my favorite scientific search engine, I found the following articles to be most pertinent. Salient portions from their abstracts, when available, are also included.
I particularly enjoy hearing about the various types of ill-fortune Singapese believe in, and of course the concluding line is a real whopper. (Given the statements in the introduction, however, their findings don’t seem particularly astounding) However, no mention of pennies nor Singapese 1-cent pieces (they also call their $$ ‘dollars’; alas, no funny names there)
This is included simply as a public service: parents, please keep your Hamsah beads away from your children! One could say, however, that in this case the good luck token did not yield the intended result.
In this study, rituals are found to have no statistical effect. They do not, however, provide the results for individual rites in this abstract; it is entirely possible that considered alone the totemic luck objects we are interested in would be seen to have an effect. Nevertheless, I would consider this a null result in that luck did not produce an outcome better than what was seen in the people who weren’t mildly delusional.
Another PSA: You can do it! Control your own installation! It’s not too hard! M Cushing Jr. Will show you how! Good cabling everyone!
I cannot access this article, but I’d say the title does not bode well for the presence of luck of this charm.
In this report, Dr. Austin discourses about the various types of luck. He omitted Chance V: by carrying a bit of copper about in your pocket, but I reckon he might throw this in with Chance I.
I cannot access this article, and I fear this may be our best chance to address your issue directly. Note here, however, that both options are considered- basically pro-lucky or anti-lucky. Perhaps I should collaborate with this individual for further studies.
Huh. Yeah, I have to agree with the Dutch guy. Good luck with that.
So it appears that we have learned some interesting things about luck, but unfortunately the literature search was mostly for naught. First, not a single mention of pennies. Second, we have not reached any scientific conclusion on whether or not luck can be bestowed upon any object, penny or otherwise. I refined my search a bit, this time querying “lucky penny.” I obtain a singular hit.
I write in response to your recent post “An Open Letter to Geneball.” I have done some research and conducted some critical experiments to address your question of luck, and its containment within fine American Lincoln pennies, amongst other objects.
I agree with you that we must foremost establish if such a thing as a good luck penny exists, and that we can then begin to discuss its degrees and ramifications. I addressed this question quite thoroughly.
I myself am a scientist of the genes, so my knowledge of luck and its containment within objects various and sundry is limited. In fact, aside from some rudimentary problems in Introductory Statistics, one could say that I am a veritable tenderfoot in the science of luck. (Sadly, no one has said that as it is a rather cumbersome statement and I hang out with people more inclined to the lowbrow) So, as a good scientist, I turned to the works of others. Namely, I performed a perfunctory literature search. Posting the inquiry “good luck” to my favorite scientific search engine, I found the following articles to be most pertinent. Salient portions from their abstracts, when available, are also included.
Ann Acad Med Singapore. 2007 Mar;36(3):217-20.
Take a bao if you are not superstitious.
Lim EC, Oh VM, Quek AM, Seet RC.
INTRODUCTION: Singaporeans are superstitious, and medical staff are no exception to the rule. We conducted a survey to determine the prevalence of superstitious beliefs and practices amongst doctors, nurses and medical students in Singapore. METHODS: Internet and face-to-face surveys of 68 respondents, all of whom completed the survey after being threatened with curses and hexes. RESULTS: Sixty-eight doctors, nurses and medical students responded to our survey. Only 11 admitted to being superstitious, yet 31 believed in the ill-fortune associated with eating bao or meat dumplings, 6 in the nefarious powers of black (5) or red (1) outfits on call, and 14 believed that bathing (6 insisting on the powers of the seven-flower bath) prior to the onset of a call portended good fortune, in terms of busy-ness of a call. Twenty-four believed in "black clouds", i.e. people who attracted bad luck whilst on call, and 32 refused to mouth the words "having a good call" until the day after the event. We discovered 2 hitherto undescribed and undiscovered superstitions, namely the benefits of eating bread and the need to avoid beef, for the good and ill fortune associated with their ingestion. DISCUSSION: Superstitious practices are alive and well in modern-day Singapore, the practice not necessarily being restricted to the poorly-educated or foolish.
I particularly enjoy hearing about the various types of ill-fortune Singapese believe in, and of course the concluding line is a real whopper. (Given the statements in the introduction, however, their findings don’t seem particularly astounding) However, no mention of pennies nor Singapese 1-cent pieces (they also call their $$ ‘dollars’; alas, no funny names there)
Harefuah. 2003 Nov;142(11):734-5, 807.Links
[Ingestion of an open safety pin--challenging treatment]
[Article in Hebrew]
DeRowe A, Fishman G, Avni H, Reider I, Ogorek D.
A 9 month old girl at the emergency room appeared with an acute onset of restlessness, drooling and suspected foreign body ingestion. An X-Ray revealed an open safety pin in the child's upper aero-digestive tract. The source of the safety pin was a "Hamsah" good luck charm that was attached to her bed. Open safety pins in the aero-digestive tract are difficult to manage and great care must be taken during removal to prevent further injury. Parents should be counseled regarding the presence of safety pins in the child's surroundings in order to prevent such hazards.
This is included simply as a public service: parents, please keep your Hamsah beads away from your children! One could say, however, that in this case the good luck token did not yield the intended result.
J Reprod Med. 1998 Mar;43(3):196-8.Links
Good luck rites in contemporary infertility.
Kemmann E, Cheron C, Bachmann G.
OBJECTIVE: To explore whether contemporary women use good luck rites in the infertility situation. STUDY DESIGN: Prospective study in a tertiary infertility center where women were asked to describe any type of good luck act performed on the day of critical medical intervention (either intrauterine insemination or embryo transfer) to achieve pregnancy. RESULTS: Four hundred thirty-eight consecutive infertile women participated. Good luck rituals, as defined by patients, included prayer, wearing of objects, fantasies and other acts performed specifically on the day of the medical intervention. While 40% of the study population reported engaging in a good luck act prior to intrauterine insemination of embryo transfer, there was no significant difference in pregnancy rates observed in women reporting utilization versus nonutilization of fertility rituals. CONCLUSION: This study indicated that good luck rites are commonly performed by women undergoing infertility procedures on the day of a critical intervention. The fact of their common presence attests to their importance for the well-being of the individual; however, there is no evidence of direct benefit in terms of higher pregnancy rates. The possibility of secondary benefits needs to be explored further.
In this study, rituals are found to have no statistical effect. They do not, however, provide the results for individual rites in this abstract; it is entirely possible that considered alone the totemic luck objects we are interested in would be seen to have an effect. Nevertheless, I would consider this a null result in that luck did not produce an outcome better than what was seen in the people who weren’t mildly delusional.
MD Comput. 1994 Sep-Oct;11(5):318-24.Links
Cables.
Cushing M Jr.
If you want to control your own computer installation, get the satisfaction of doing your own maintenance, and compensate for an inept or uninformed vendor, the information in this article will help you achieve these ends. Good luck and good cabling!
Another PSA: You can do it! Control your own installation! It’s not too hard! M Cushing Jr. Will show you how! Good cabling everyone!
Vet Hum Toxicol. 1981 Aug
Mexican good-luck charm potentially dangerous.
Sullivan G, Chavez PI.
I cannot access this article, but I’d say the title does not bode well for the presence of luck of this charm.
Med Hypotheses. 1979 Jul
The varieties of chance in scientific research.
Austin JH.
Four kinds of luck can be defined --- one that is pure "blind" luck, and three others that are influenced to some degree by certain behavioral characteristics. The term, altamirage is introduced to call attention to that special personal quality by which good luck is prompted as a result of personally distinctive actions (Chance IV). In contrast, serendipity involves finding valuable things as a result of happy accidents (Chance I), general exploratory behaviour (Chance II), or saga-city (Chance III). The most novel scientific discoveries occur when several varities of chance coincide.
In this report, Dr. Austin discourses about the various types of luck. He omitted Chance V: by carrying a bit of copper about in your pocket, but I reckon he might throw this in with Chance I.
Infirm Can. 1975 Aug
[The child as a good-luck object or the child as a burden]
[Article in French]
Vaillancourt-Wagner M.
I cannot access this article, and I fear this may be our best chance to address your issue directly. Note here, however, that both options are considered- basically pro-lucky or anti-lucky. Perhaps I should collaborate with this individual for further studies.
Tijdschr Gastroenterol. 1970
[Good luck letter to patients with an artificial anus]
[Article in Dutch]
Ceulemans G.
Huh. Yeah, I have to agree with the Dutch guy. Good luck with that.
So it appears that we have learned some interesting things about luck, but unfortunately the literature search was mostly for naught. First, not a single mention of pennies. Second, we have not reached any scientific conclusion on whether or not luck can be bestowed upon any object, penny or otherwise. I refined my search a bit, this time querying “lucky penny.” I obtain a singular hit.
Ulster Med J. 2004 Nov
"The lucky penny"--an incidental finding of hip dysplasia in a child with foreign body ingestion.
Hanratty BM, Thompson NW, Cowie GH, Thornberry GD.
CASE REPORT A two-year-old girl was brought to the emergency department following
the ingestion of a one pence coin. A thoracoabdominal radiograph demonstrated the presence of a coin within the first part of the duodenum.
And the important figure. The issues is that the child's right hip (left side of image) has less bone in the hip socket region than the left hip.
And finally, from the concluding paragraph of this very report:
In this case, a thoraco-abdominal radiograph which was taken to investigate an ingested coin, revealed a previously undiagnosed and asymptomatic dysplastic hip joint highlighting the fact that significant hip dysplasia can exist undetected until complications develop. A reconstructive pelvic osteotomy is planned in an attempt to minimise the associated risk of premature arthritis. The swallowed coin may prove to be this child's 'lucky penny'.
And so it appears that pennies can be lucky! Except, in this case, we are not actually dealing with a penny- this study was reported by a group from
As a man of rigor, however, I cannot let this determination slide as a scientific truth. As noted, the result technically says nothing about lucky pennies. So I devised a brief experiment to test this in the confines of my own laboratory.
Design: I have included five subjects: left computer speaker (the left audio channel speaker for my desktop at work), right computer speaker (as above, but the right speaker), box of entropy (I cannot explain this properly in this parenthetical statement), Renaud (the only other member of my lab presently available), and myself. Multiple subjects are included to minimize individual effects. There are three test conditions: without a lucky penny, with a penny which is not lucky, and with a lucky penny. The first two conditions are controls for luck, the third is the experimental condition.
A brief description of the process by which five lucky pennies were come upon specifically for the purposes of this experiment: I set aside one moderately lustrous penny for each subject. Pennies were tossed until the second time they landed heads, as of course only pennies which are heads up should be picked up, as tails up do not give the picker luck. Pennies were then dipped into a fountain to endow with the fullest capacity of luck. As no actually fountain was available, pennies were dragged across my computer screen over five different fountains, depicted below.
Left speaker's lucky fountain:
Right speaker's lucky fountain:
Box of Entropy's lucky fountain:
Renaud's lucky fountain:
Geneball's lucky fountain:
The experiment: if a tail is thrown on a luck-neutral coin (shiny
Results (no. of tosses until shot)
No penny/ ‘Neutral’ penny/ Lucky penny
Left speaker 0/ 1/ 2
Right Speaker 0/ 3/ 0
Box of Entropy 1/ 1/ 2
Renaud 0/ 1/ 0
Geneball 1/ 0/ 0
Results: It appears that having a penny at all is preferable to not having any sort of totem, as both ‘neutral’ and ‘lucky’ pennies result in more successful tosses. However, this experiment can say nothing to the end of the validity of lucky coins as of the five results, in two cases the lucky penny was actually lucky, in two cases it was unlucky, and in one case it was ineffective.
In conclusion, I suppose it would be perfectly reasonable for this man to believe his penny to be lucky, as this study shows that having a penny is preferable to not having a penny, if you want to avoid being shot. The significance attached to the individual penny, as opposed to the one he got from the Popeyes around the corner, is not scientifically verified, however.
And now, to philosophize, based on these studies and my highly scientific personal opinions. First, we have clearly seen that pennies can be lucky, as can low-monetary units in other currencies. I would argue that this concept is best left to the low-value units, because I’m sure the Hobo would be able to provide you a detailed luck/benefit analysis wherein the actual value of the currency will, in short order, outstrip its value as a bearer of good fortune. Such a financial analysis is hardly conclusive, however, as it is limited by the scope of the analysis as well as confounding factors such as “what made you actually get the raise, being more competent than high school students at taking movie tickets or carrying around a penny?”- some things just cannot be known, or take longer than his short-term analysis can adequately quantify. All the same, I bet your friend would be quite remiss to show you a lucky $100 bill, because if he’s showing you all the shit he’s got that’s lucky he probably doesn’t have too many c-notes at his ready disposal to not be disposed of.
I would feel confident in then taking this further and believing that other objects might also have money. I see no reason why an object would be more or less lucky just because it is not legal tender for all debts, public or private.
And of course things can carry as much bad luck as good. I cannot believe you did not consult the Johnny Depp epic Pirates of the Carribean: Curse of the Black Pearl before inquiring. If Johnny Depp shares the screen with something, it must be true. Note: this does hold for scissor-handed people and cocaine. Yes, cocaine is true.
On your final point: it does seem that more lucky things would find their way to you upon acquisition of the first lucky item. However, this probably depends heavily on the type of luck the initial item bequeaths: if it is luck with acquiring more luck, then goody for you. If, however, it is luck with ladies, I am sorry but you will not be acquiring a rabbit’s foot anytime soon. Go cry to your new girlfriend about it.
I hope this correspondence finds you in good health, etc. etc. and I hope that I have scientifically put to rest some of your questions about lucky pennies and so forth by updating you on the current state of luck research in the scientific community.
Heigh ho!
Geneball
P.S. If you liked my trawling of scientific literature for purposes of entertainment, I suggest you check out this blog, where it is done with some regularity and a good amount of hilarity.
15 December 2008
Reason No. 126 Why I Love Chicago
Last Saturday I had the incredible misfortune of having to work. Due to a string of logistics unnecessarily convoluted for this particular post, the Timeless Brigitte dropped me off at work and I planned to take the grand Chicago Transit Authority bus and rail service back to my humble abode in the much more righteous part of town.
The CTA is like any other public transit service: for a meager but not inconsequential fare you are allowed to ride one of their transports, which, pending your knowledge of the system, may or may not get you where you need to be. I tested in the 99th percentile in the critical "Maps" category on my ITBS, so it usually gets me where I need to be, or to a reasonable proximity thereof. (The one exception: the NY MTA, upon which I rode three stops before realizing I was going the wrong direction. I then spent fifteen minutes getting the drift of the system, and am fairly confident that when I return for the New Years occasion, the results will be much better.)
In order to not convey to any other passengers that you might be happier than they are, and thereby irreparably insult them, the custom is that upon boarding, you are to act droll and downplayed. Personal music players are encouraged. Conversations with any fellow riders, be they friends or strangers, are to be held at a strictly sub-audible level. If you have the misfortune of boarding a unit sufficiently full that there are no empty seats to hoard as your own, you are to make NO contact with the person next to you. Also, the buses/cars may or may not be dirty, may or may not have people selling DVDs in unlabeled cases, and may or may not have people passed out in party hats in them. Although the method of conveyance is convenient and reduces the impact of massive amounts of vehicular traffic in the city, the general rule can be simplified as: please do not feel good about life aboard mass transit.
However, for a couple weeks every year the CTA does a Really Great City Thing which flies in the face of typical mass transit etiquette. The story travels is, briefly, as such:
I finished a too long day of work-on-the-weekend at about 5. Reported to the westbound 55 Garfield bus stop at 55th and Ellis.
Watched three buses pass in the eastbound direction in the 25 minutes I waited for the bus. (This is typical. In order to hit their 'one bus every X minutes' mandate, on a X*N minute long route, they put N buses on the route, and they all show up in the span of 3 minutes. That is, if it's supposed to be every 10 mins, they have three buses show up within 3 minutes of each other every half hour. Averages out to a bus every ten minutes, but you end up waiting 27, 1, or 2 minutes for a bus.) While I was waiting, two not very good things happened: it was rainy and I was therefore getting wet, and a bunch of U of C undergrads showed up and pretentiously talked about comic books and other various political and pop-culture topics. The young people at this school drive me crazy very frequently. I am very glad I went to The State School Everyone Is Talking About Now Because Of How Poorly The New Auburn Coach Did There.
I finally boarded the bus in the appropriate asocial mood, thanks to the wait, the rain, and the pretentiousites.
I was rapidly dropped off at the Green Line, or as Chicago people would call it "The Line White People Shouldn't Ever Ride." My personal career rapings on the Green Line (both given and taken): 0. Likewise incidents witnessed: 0. Riders on the Green Line witnessed: maybe 75. Seems sparsely riden and rape-free enough for this honkey.
Wait twice for a net of fifteen minutes for various 'single track' stoppages.
Get to Adams & Wabash station, where I deboard to transfer to the Brown Line, or as Chicago people call it "The Yuppie Businessperson's Commute to Their Downtown Bank Job Line." Net rapings witnessed (including given and taken): 0. However, number of people seen on this train: roughly 25,076. And, more importantly: number of moderately obese people who don't squeeze up so you can sit next to them or people with bags on a seat, rudely taking a seat they don't need: 2,507.6. Verdict: a honkey-friendly but obnoxious transit choice.
Wait roughly five minutes for the appropriate train to show up.
During this period I was listening to my personal music device and reading a book, so I was completely unawares when a high-energy crowd started to basically jump up and down and clap their hands as the next train approached.
And why?
IT WAS THE OFFICIAL CTA HOLIDAY TRAIN!
YES THAT IS SANTA ON A TRAIN CAR! AND YES THOSE ARE REINDEERS TOO! AND A GUY IN A PARKA!
Every year for a month before Christmas the CTA rolls out a special train. One car isn't actually a car, its a flatbed on which Santa and some Elves ride around the rails (yes, even through the subways). All the cars are decked out with candy cane poles where it's usually buffed aluminum. All the nasty fluorescent white lights inside are switched out for red and green ones. Garland abounds. The outside of the car is covered in winter themed items and christmas lights. Each car has a person dressed like an elf handing out candy canes by the handful- when I asked for just one she said, "It's either a handful or none."
It was amazing to ride the Holiday Train. The mood of the passengers was sufficiently raised, in respect to that on the Green Line, so as to be palpable sitting in my seat by the door. Children were excited, adults were smiling. I took my earbuds out to listen to the seasonal music they had playing.
And it struck me: isn't it funny how this kind of little thing can make everyone so happy? It's pretty great that this simple thing makes all these people who would normally be quasi-miserable, or at least completely walled off, smile at each other and enjoy the ride?
And how would the world look if these kinds of little things happened for more than a scant few weeks a year? I get that part of the joy is the novelty of it, merely thinking of the Christmas season brings a lot of good memories to everyone. But there are other causes for some decorum. What if we used them more fully? There's plenty of awfulness and a lot of problems, but I couldn't help thinking as I got off the train that the slight incremental increase in the moods of everyone who rode or saw the train go by just might, if you played it right, improve the way society works.
But at the very least, I was happy walking home in the miserable rainy slush that night.
The CTA is like any other public transit service: for a meager but not inconsequential fare you are allowed to ride one of their transports, which, pending your knowledge of the system, may or may not get you where you need to be. I tested in the 99th percentile in the critical "Maps" category on my ITBS, so it usually gets me where I need to be, or to a reasonable proximity thereof. (The one exception: the NY MTA, upon which I rode three stops before realizing I was going the wrong direction. I then spent fifteen minutes getting the drift of the system, and am fairly confident that when I return for the New Years occasion, the results will be much better.)
In order to not convey to any other passengers that you might be happier than they are, and thereby irreparably insult them, the custom is that upon boarding, you are to act droll and downplayed. Personal music players are encouraged. Conversations with any fellow riders, be they friends or strangers, are to be held at a strictly sub-audible level. If you have the misfortune of boarding a unit sufficiently full that there are no empty seats to hoard as your own, you are to make NO contact with the person next to you. Also, the buses/cars may or may not be dirty, may or may not have people selling DVDs in unlabeled cases, and may or may not have people passed out in party hats in them. Although the method of conveyance is convenient and reduces the impact of massive amounts of vehicular traffic in the city, the general rule can be simplified as: please do not feel good about life aboard mass transit.
However, for a couple weeks every year the CTA does a Really Great City Thing which flies in the face of typical mass transit etiquette. The story travels is, briefly, as such:
I finished a too long day of work-on-the-weekend at about 5. Reported to the westbound 55 Garfield bus stop at 55th and Ellis.
Watched three buses pass in the eastbound direction in the 25 minutes I waited for the bus. (This is typical. In order to hit their 'one bus every X minutes' mandate, on a X*N minute long route, they put N buses on the route, and they all show up in the span of 3 minutes. That is, if it's supposed to be every 10 mins, they have three buses show up within 3 minutes of each other every half hour. Averages out to a bus every ten minutes, but you end up waiting 27, 1, or 2 minutes for a bus.) While I was waiting, two not very good things happened: it was rainy and I was therefore getting wet, and a bunch of U of C undergrads showed up and pretentiously talked about comic books and other various political and pop-culture topics. The young people at this school drive me crazy very frequently. I am very glad I went to The State School Everyone Is Talking About Now Because Of How Poorly The New Auburn Coach Did There.
I finally boarded the bus in the appropriate asocial mood, thanks to the wait, the rain, and the pretentiousites.
I was rapidly dropped off at the Green Line, or as Chicago people would call it "The Line White People Shouldn't Ever Ride." My personal career rapings on the Green Line (both given and taken): 0. Likewise incidents witnessed: 0. Riders on the Green Line witnessed: maybe 75. Seems sparsely riden and rape-free enough for this honkey.
Wait twice for a net of fifteen minutes for various 'single track' stoppages.
Get to Adams & Wabash station, where I deboard to transfer to the Brown Line, or as Chicago people call it "The Yuppie Businessperson's Commute to Their Downtown Bank Job Line." Net rapings witnessed (including given and taken): 0. However, number of people seen on this train: roughly 25,076. And, more importantly: number of moderately obese people who don't squeeze up so you can sit next to them or people with bags on a seat, rudely taking a seat they don't need: 2,507.6. Verdict: a honkey-friendly but obnoxious transit choice.
Wait roughly five minutes for the appropriate train to show up.
During this period I was listening to my personal music device and reading a book, so I was completely unawares when a high-energy crowd started to basically jump up and down and clap their hands as the next train approached.
And why?
IT WAS THE OFFICIAL CTA HOLIDAY TRAIN!
YES THAT IS SANTA ON A TRAIN CAR! AND YES THOSE ARE REINDEERS TOO! AND A GUY IN A PARKA!
Every year for a month before Christmas the CTA rolls out a special train. One car isn't actually a car, its a flatbed on which Santa and some Elves ride around the rails (yes, even through the subways). All the cars are decked out with candy cane poles where it's usually buffed aluminum. All the nasty fluorescent white lights inside are switched out for red and green ones. Garland abounds. The outside of the car is covered in winter themed items and christmas lights. Each car has a person dressed like an elf handing out candy canes by the handful- when I asked for just one she said, "It's either a handful or none."
It was amazing to ride the Holiday Train. The mood of the passengers was sufficiently raised, in respect to that on the Green Line, so as to be palpable sitting in my seat by the door. Children were excited, adults were smiling. I took my earbuds out to listen to the seasonal music they had playing.
And it struck me: isn't it funny how this kind of little thing can make everyone so happy? It's pretty great that this simple thing makes all these people who would normally be quasi-miserable, or at least completely walled off, smile at each other and enjoy the ride?
And how would the world look if these kinds of little things happened for more than a scant few weeks a year? I get that part of the joy is the novelty of it, merely thinking of the Christmas season brings a lot of good memories to everyone. But there are other causes for some decorum. What if we used them more fully? There's plenty of awfulness and a lot of problems, but I couldn't help thinking as I got off the train that the slight incremental increase in the moods of everyone who rode or saw the train go by just might, if you played it right, improve the way society works.
But at the very least, I was happy walking home in the miserable rainy slush that night.
10 December 2008
The Human Condition
Perhaps in part due to my upbringing in Suburbarural Iowa, I find the massive array of the different things people do amazing and amusing. I would not say I have lived a sheltered life. I am not averse to other cultures- I now heartily enjoy, yea, verily, sometimes crave sushi! I am not uncomfortable with opinions other than my own, nor with people who hold such opinions- my brother is a Cubs fan! I often ponder what life-shaping forces lead a person to, say, rape, because intentionally choosing to do such a thing would seem to require influences and thought patterns that I can't possibly fathom. It's not just crimes and ugly stuff either: I also ponder what life-shaping forces lead an oncoming couple to rudely not walk single file when the Magnificent Brigitte and I pass, because we always accomodate by moving over to share the sidewalk. I cannot fathom being so unaware of others, or so disrespectful and rude. I also ponder why some people would like Cheerios. Or prefer Leno to Letterman. I understand that people do these things, but on what life path must they travel to make such bizarre choices?
And so, herein I will describe some recent tales from my purview which to me characterize this grand array of diversity that is The Human Condition (a bit dramatic, no?). There will be more than one thing. I will enumerate them.
[Lest you think I'm just making an overzealous and grandiose introduction for my stories, and think that I'm not actually all that amused and amazed by the things people do, know that when I started graduate school my intention was to study behavioral genetics. I got into genetics thanks to Michael Crichton, yonder back. A less discussed fact is that I was similarly inspired, if you will, by the behavior of Hannibal Lecter (in Hannibal actually, not Silence, and the book, not the movie). I was struck with a thought along the lines of "How can people be so different and think in such diametrically opposed ways?" While this case was fictional, of course the savage, calculating brutality of Dr. Lecter is not exactly unheard of in real life. Because of this my interest in figuring out what kind of biological factors- in addition to environmental ones- could lead to, well, any kind of outlook on life and interaction with the world bloomed. And thus, I somewhat narrowed and formalized my interest thanks to Thomas Harris in high school.]
[A further tangent: I am not currently studying behavioral genetics. Turns out not everything you dream up as a high schooler works out. To be brief, I ditched for practical reasons (I'm not very good at statistics and I really like lab work, but behavioral genetics is basically hardcore stats without any wet work) as well as more philosophical ones (there is so little known about the way the brain works and how personality comes about that to do the kinds of things I'm interested in just isn't scientifically realistic at this point. Don't get me wrong, people are doing some interesting things, but it's far from the fine level of genetics of personality.).]
And now, back to GeneBall's TALES OF THE HUMAN CONDITION...
FIRST, I recently sent the following story to the Hobo (nee Businessman) and our blog-lurking friend GraphicalMasterWizardofKC because it evoked memories of a certain event in our recent shared history (in this case the middle of Jay's San Antonio recap, circa paragraph 12-15). For the second time in the history of my blog, I decided the story that I shared with a limited audience was worthy of mass publication, that is, perusal by three more people. This story looks at the at times wreckless, enjoyable, scandalous, bizarre, trashy side of the Human Condition.
On the radio this morning:
NEXT, let's talk about ill-advised for a moment. Seeing as it involves one of the fifty governors of a state in what the Hobo calls Go America!, I'm sure everyone has heard of the inanity going down in my neck of the woods. I would like to take a moment, however, to expound on the full magnitude of the ordeal and to provide some entertaining commentary. This story belabors the egomaniacal, corrupt, morally bankrupt, selfish side of the Human Condition.
For those who've spent time abroad, under a rock, or in the land of Ahnold where they may not care or even know about the midwest anymore (I suspect their news is mostly imported via a priority stream from Xenu), Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is officially in Deep Shit. He was arrested yesterday morning in Chicago, and a federal complaint was leveled detailing various and sundry malfeasances during Blago's time in office, starting back in 2001. Most interesting were charges which involve information very recently collected via wiretaps at his home and bugs at a fundraising headquarters. I shall highlight three interesting corruptances.
1) Evidence of extortion in his lawmaking and bill-passing duties. Specifically an instance is described wherein he is willing to give Children's Hospital money if the CEO of the hospital raises fat money (50 grandish) for him. This gets better in two ways. One: a new government ethics law will come into effect in Illinois on Jan 1 which limits the fundraising contributions of persons who benefit from government contracts. Two: wire taps detail conversations with Blago and his chief of staff, John Harris, where they discuss how to put adequate pressure on the extortee to get everything squared away. He's not just corrupt, he's a bully too! (Though if you're going to be corrupt, you might as well do it right, I suppose.) There are also allegations that he's doing the same time-crunch kind of thing to engineering and construction companies.
2) Discussions caught by the bugs covering Blago's feelings that if the Tribune Company fires editors critical of his corruptness (huh, who knew?), he'd be willing to push through some business which would help with Tribune Co's sale of the Chicago Cubs. This particular line is kind of juicy: "our recommendation is fire all those fucking people, get ‘em the fuck out of there and get us some editorial support." Shocking abuse of authority, Clerks' Randall might say, but in this base be more honest than sarcastic about it.
3) Blago's been shopping Barack's Senate seat (did you hear he's not going to be in the Senate anymore?) around like a Girl Scout with cookies. He's looking for fat positions for himself and his wife, cushy union positions or jobs with various private foundations which will put them in good financial stead when he gets the boot from Springfield. (Thanks to these maneuvers this might just be sooner than later.) In order to put Obama's fave into the seat, Blago was hoping for a cabinet position, supposedly Department of Health. Obama's not about to get involved in this foolishness. What's Blago's take on that? "They’re not willing to give me anything except appreciation. Fuck them." That'll win you some points.
Two things here. First, the man has had a crapstorm going on around him basically since he came into the gubernatorial office. First former governor George Ryan was convicted of various corruptions (Federal inspector's statement "Mr. Ryan steered contracts worth millions of dollars to friends and took payments and vacations in return."). Then bigtime contributor and metaphorical bedmate Antoin Rezko went down early this year for extortion. So, these cases, amongst probably others, say that 1) the government is aware of and able to go after Illinois governors, and 2) that they've been sniffing up alleys right behind Blago's place (you should really check that link- entertaining plus raises the question of how has Blagojevich been doing anything but kissing babies since that case came out??). Sum those up and he should have had a healthy dose of suspicion that he might be under some pretty hefty scrutiny. What is this guy doing talking in a room that isn't swept for bugs weekly and having discussions only on disposable phones or something? Get the the man a burner! Drug lords get away with a ton more than Blago, legally speaking, because they're aware and careful of the fact that they're doing illegal shit. So why does he think he's going to get away with this, why not be more careful?
(Aside: one reason he may not be as concerned is because although this kind of corruption does a huge amount of damage to the financial system, it doesn't carry the same punishment and stigma as selling someone an ounce of mostly harmless marijuana. Sure he risks being thrown in jail, but what, he's going to a white collar joint for six years? Paroled in probably two? With that dim of a shadow, its probably little wonder that the people that do major damage to society are so brazen.)
The second thing tailgates on the first a bit. He's in public office betraying the public trust, and for that matter harming the general public with his 'you help me, then you can help them' tactics. He's not the first and won't be the last, but I ask the questions now because it's at the forefront of my attention now. How does he think he's going to get away with this? Why does he decide to not only keep doing the garbage he's been doing, but to redouble his efforts in order to bag as much buck before those ethics laws go into place Jan 1, 09? What kind of superjesus complex does he have, and, almost as interestingly to me, how did he get it? Flabergasting.
FINALLY BUT RELATEDLY, let's consider a more minor player in the Blagojevich debacle. This story details the lazy, oafish, incompetent, ignorant, foolish side of the Human Condition.
The FBI and DOJ investigative teams held a press conference yesterday, and given the magnitude and ludicrousity of this mess- and my lack of much to do since my stupid fucking yeast didn't grow- I watched the proceedings on my work computer. After the official statements there was a lengthy Q&A with the media types. At one point, one of the reporters said "Well I haven't actually read all this, can you just give us a summary of anything in the report pertaining to money promised to Children's Hospital?" Now, this kindly reporter did us the service of letting us know that the only idiot involved in the story isn't Blagojevich. Here are my complaints about Reporter A, in style to match the glorious 74-page complaint filed against Blago:
1. On December 9, 2008 at approximately 6 a.m. Governor A was arrested with minimal fanfare at his residence in Chicago, IL due to a massive compilation of evidence that he is a slimebag.
2. By 9 a.m. on December 9, news of the arrest was made public by various news outlets. It was specified at this time that a 74-page complaint had been issued.
3. Also 9 a.m., Reporter A, being in the news industry, is presumed to have been either at his place of work, or to have received a notice of the breaking news.
4. From 9 until 11 a.m., the whereabouts of Reporter A are unknown. During some of this time it is known that he was en route from (home/work) to the site of the press conference. Nonetheless, two facts are known: first, Reporter A is employed in some capacity as a news reporter. Therefore it is his responsibility to find, become familiar with, and report on the recent and breaking events ("news"). Second, Reporter A had some amount of downtime, at the very least while waiting for the press conference to begin.
5. By combining factors one and two from paragraph 4, we can see that what the reporter should have been doing, if he was interested in what was alleged, was reading the document wherein complaints were set out, a 74-page public document attainable certainly from his own site of employment, or via simple interweb search for a phrase such as "Blagojevich complaint."
6. At approximately 11:10 a.m. the lead investigators in the case of Rod Blagojevich began a press conference. Specifically, at approximately 11:17 a.m. DOJ investigator 1 gave exact quotes from the complaint and listed the charges put forth.
7. Nonetheless, at approximately 11:30 a.m. Reporter A deigned to waste everyone's good time at a wonderful press conference to ask what quotes were in the complaint and which charges were being set forth.
You can see that it is therefore apparent that Reporter A is a bad reporter who did not do his work, and for that matter who didn't pay attention when the head officiant of the festivies was kindly giving his speech. (end theme)
I suppose my amusement is pretty plain here: how can people do or have a job and pay no attention or interest to the task whatsoever? How does one have so little pride in their job? And additionally, how can a person act so foolishly in a public and professional setting? I presume there's a good reason or explanation for this, but it's beyond my scope.
IN CONCLUSION, I will now present a discussion of my introductory thesis and subsequent tales. In the 2006 Best American Non-Required Reading there is a transcript of David Foster Wallace's commencement speech at Kenyon College. His jist was that one valuable tool (of the graduates in his case, but I will expand to anyone applicable) is the ability to assess and consider a situation from multiple viewpoints. One example involves a person's theoretical reaction to someone cutting them off at the grocery store. He gives two potential responses: to somewhat self-righteously assume that this character is a real jerk, and how dare she get in your way!? Alternatively, one could empathetically consider that perhaps she's in a rush because she was late after a horrible day of work, has to feed the kids, etc. etc. He goes on to say that you don't necessarily need to think one way or the other all the time, but at least you've got the option to make the choice of how you paint those around you in the world.
My point: I'm willing and open to not assume that the stripper and Reporter A in the above examples don't always go home with a stranger for three days or perform very poorly at their job. However, they did do these things, and I'm a bit curious what- whether static or elastic- it is about them that led them to, in those instances, behave in the slightly screwy ways that they did.
On the other hand, I (and the government investigators) have seen enough out of Blago to know that he's a real scum of the earth type. All the same, I wouldn't mind knowing just how he got to be such a slimeball.
And so, herein I will describe some recent tales from my purview which to me characterize this grand array of diversity that is The Human Condition (a bit dramatic, no?). There will be more than one thing. I will enumerate them.
[Lest you think I'm just making an overzealous and grandiose introduction for my stories, and think that I'm not actually all that amused and amazed by the things people do, know that when I started graduate school my intention was to study behavioral genetics. I got into genetics thanks to Michael Crichton, yonder back. A less discussed fact is that I was similarly inspired, if you will, by the behavior of Hannibal Lecter (in Hannibal actually, not Silence, and the book, not the movie). I was struck with a thought along the lines of "How can people be so different and think in such diametrically opposed ways?" While this case was fictional, of course the savage, calculating brutality of Dr. Lecter is not exactly unheard of in real life. Because of this my interest in figuring out what kind of biological factors- in addition to environmental ones- could lead to, well, any kind of outlook on life and interaction with the world bloomed. And thus, I somewhat narrowed and formalized my interest thanks to Thomas Harris in high school.]
[A further tangent: I am not currently studying behavioral genetics. Turns out not everything you dream up as a high schooler works out. To be brief, I ditched for practical reasons (I'm not very good at statistics and I really like lab work, but behavioral genetics is basically hardcore stats without any wet work) as well as more philosophical ones (there is so little known about the way the brain works and how personality comes about that to do the kinds of things I'm interested in just isn't scientifically realistic at this point. Don't get me wrong, people are doing some interesting things, but it's far from the fine level of genetics of personality.).]
And now, back to GeneBall's TALES OF THE HUMAN CONDITION...
FIRST, I recently sent the following story to the Hobo (nee Businessman) and our blog-lurking friend GraphicalMasterWizardofKC because it evoked memories of a certain event in our recent shared history (in this case the middle of Jay's San Antonio recap, circa paragraph 12-15). For the second time in the history of my blog, I decided the story that I shared with a limited audience was worthy of mass publication, that is, perusal by three more people. This story looks at the at times wreckless, enjoyable, scandalous, bizarre, trashy side of the Human Condition.
On the radio this morning:
The sound guy for the morning show I listen to was talking about his weekend. On Sunday he went to the Horseshoe Casino in nearby Hammond, IN for some gambling action with a few buddies. Along the way he was picked up by a woman slightly older than himself (he 25, she 33). She came back to his place at the end of the night. They had sex in his doorless bedroom while one of his buddies passed out on his couch. In the course of their shenanigans, he took a few nude pictures of her which are now being seen by everyone in his office.Now clearly this story isn't all that shocking- this is the second 'guy getting enamored with a stripper with kids' scenario I've been involved in or heard of nine months. (Perhaps that should suggest I'm doing something a bit wrong.) And in addition to my personal experience with this, it's the way the world works- people hook up all the time. Even strippers need four day retreats involving very few clothes at a stranger's house. However, I'm a bit astounded by how brazen this woman is about the situation, in particular her apparent lack of concern for her children. If I were to understand the mindset of an exotic dancer, however, this might seem a bit less bizarre to me. I nearly threw in the 'well, some people just make bad decisions, there's not much to understand' caveat, but at its heart that's what astounds me about humanity- how many different and at times ill-advised decisions people make.
Before going to the casino Sunday she left her two kids with her mother.
It is now Sunday, and she is still at his place. Her phone is broken; yesterday he convinced her to call her mom to let her know she was OK.
She went back to his place with him, and as such has no car, therefore no way of her own back to South Bend, IN (probably 45 minutes away).
He declares he's in no hurry to get rid of her (and he even likes kids so that's not a deal-breaker) but he doesn't see this lasting too long or falling in love because 'she talks a LOT.'
And the best part? She's an 'exotic dancer'.
NEXT, let's talk about ill-advised for a moment. Seeing as it involves one of the fifty governors of a state in what the Hobo calls Go America!, I'm sure everyone has heard of the inanity going down in my neck of the woods. I would like to take a moment, however, to expound on the full magnitude of the ordeal and to provide some entertaining commentary. This story belabors the egomaniacal, corrupt, morally bankrupt, selfish side of the Human Condition.
For those who've spent time abroad, under a rock, or in the land of Ahnold where they may not care or even know about the midwest anymore (I suspect their news is mostly imported via a priority stream from Xenu), Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is officially in Deep Shit. He was arrested yesterday morning in Chicago, and a federal complaint was leveled detailing various and sundry malfeasances during Blago's time in office, starting back in 2001. Most interesting were charges which involve information very recently collected via wiretaps at his home and bugs at a fundraising headquarters. I shall highlight three interesting corruptances.
1) Evidence of extortion in his lawmaking and bill-passing duties. Specifically an instance is described wherein he is willing to give Children's Hospital money if the CEO of the hospital raises fat money (50 grandish) for him. This gets better in two ways. One: a new government ethics law will come into effect in Illinois on Jan 1 which limits the fundraising contributions of persons who benefit from government contracts. Two: wire taps detail conversations with Blago and his chief of staff, John Harris, where they discuss how to put adequate pressure on the extortee to get everything squared away. He's not just corrupt, he's a bully too! (Though if you're going to be corrupt, you might as well do it right, I suppose.) There are also allegations that he's doing the same time-crunch kind of thing to engineering and construction companies.
2) Discussions caught by the bugs covering Blago's feelings that if the Tribune Company fires editors critical of his corruptness (huh, who knew?), he'd be willing to push through some business which would help with Tribune Co's sale of the Chicago Cubs. This particular line is kind of juicy: "our recommendation is fire all those fucking people, get ‘em the fuck out of there and get us some editorial support." Shocking abuse of authority, Clerks' Randall might say, but in this base be more honest than sarcastic about it.
3) Blago's been shopping Barack's Senate seat (did you hear he's not going to be in the Senate anymore?) around like a Girl Scout with cookies. He's looking for fat positions for himself and his wife, cushy union positions or jobs with various private foundations which will put them in good financial stead when he gets the boot from Springfield. (Thanks to these maneuvers this might just be sooner than later.) In order to put Obama's fave into the seat, Blago was hoping for a cabinet position, supposedly Department of Health. Obama's not about to get involved in this foolishness. What's Blago's take on that? "They’re not willing to give me anything except appreciation. Fuck them." That'll win you some points.
Two things here. First, the man has had a crapstorm going on around him basically since he came into the gubernatorial office. First former governor George Ryan was convicted of various corruptions (Federal inspector's statement "Mr. Ryan steered contracts worth millions of dollars to friends and took payments and vacations in return."). Then bigtime contributor and metaphorical bedmate Antoin Rezko went down early this year for extortion. So, these cases, amongst probably others, say that 1) the government is aware of and able to go after Illinois governors, and 2) that they've been sniffing up alleys right behind Blago's place (you should really check that link- entertaining plus raises the question of how has Blagojevich been doing anything but kissing babies since that case came out??). Sum those up and he should have had a healthy dose of suspicion that he might be under some pretty hefty scrutiny. What is this guy doing talking in a room that isn't swept for bugs weekly and having discussions only on disposable phones or something? Get the the man a burner! Drug lords get away with a ton more than Blago, legally speaking, because they're aware and careful of the fact that they're doing illegal shit. So why does he think he's going to get away with this, why not be more careful?
(Aside: one reason he may not be as concerned is because although this kind of corruption does a huge amount of damage to the financial system, it doesn't carry the same punishment and stigma as selling someone an ounce of mostly harmless marijuana. Sure he risks being thrown in jail, but what, he's going to a white collar joint for six years? Paroled in probably two? With that dim of a shadow, its probably little wonder that the people that do major damage to society are so brazen.)
The second thing tailgates on the first a bit. He's in public office betraying the public trust, and for that matter harming the general public with his 'you help me, then you can help them' tactics. He's not the first and won't be the last, but I ask the questions now because it's at the forefront of my attention now. How does he think he's going to get away with this? Why does he decide to not only keep doing the garbage he's been doing, but to redouble his efforts in order to bag as much buck before those ethics laws go into place Jan 1, 09? What kind of superjesus complex does he have, and, almost as interestingly to me, how did he get it? Flabergasting.
FINALLY BUT RELATEDLY, let's consider a more minor player in the Blagojevich debacle. This story details the lazy, oafish, incompetent, ignorant, foolish side of the Human Condition.
The FBI and DOJ investigative teams held a press conference yesterday, and given the magnitude and ludicrousity of this mess- and my lack of much to do since my stupid fucking yeast didn't grow- I watched the proceedings on my work computer. After the official statements there was a lengthy Q&A with the media types. At one point, one of the reporters said "Well I haven't actually read all this, can you just give us a summary of anything in the report pertaining to money promised to Children's Hospital?" Now, this kindly reporter did us the service of letting us know that the only idiot involved in the story isn't Blagojevich. Here are my complaints about Reporter A, in style to match the glorious 74-page complaint filed against Blago:
1. On December 9, 2008 at approximately 6 a.m. Governor A was arrested with minimal fanfare at his residence in Chicago, IL due to a massive compilation of evidence that he is a slimebag.
2. By 9 a.m. on December 9, news of the arrest was made public by various news outlets. It was specified at this time that a 74-page complaint had been issued.
3. Also 9 a.m., Reporter A, being in the news industry, is presumed to have been either at his place of work, or to have received a notice of the breaking news.
4. From 9 until 11 a.m., the whereabouts of Reporter A are unknown. During some of this time it is known that he was en route from (home/work) to the site of the press conference. Nonetheless, two facts are known: first, Reporter A is employed in some capacity as a news reporter. Therefore it is his responsibility to find, become familiar with, and report on the recent and breaking events ("news"). Second, Reporter A had some amount of downtime, at the very least while waiting for the press conference to begin.
5. By combining factors one and two from paragraph 4, we can see that what the reporter should have been doing, if he was interested in what was alleged, was reading the document wherein complaints were set out, a 74-page public document attainable certainly from his own site of employment, or via simple interweb search for a phrase such as "Blagojevich complaint."
6. At approximately 11:10 a.m. the lead investigators in the case of Rod Blagojevich began a press conference. Specifically, at approximately 11:17 a.m. DOJ investigator 1 gave exact quotes from the complaint and listed the charges put forth.
7. Nonetheless, at approximately 11:30 a.m. Reporter A deigned to waste everyone's good time at a wonderful press conference to ask what quotes were in the complaint and which charges were being set forth.
You can see that it is therefore apparent that Reporter A is a bad reporter who did not do his work, and for that matter who didn't pay attention when the head officiant of the festivies was kindly giving his speech. (end theme)
I suppose my amusement is pretty plain here: how can people do or have a job and pay no attention or interest to the task whatsoever? How does one have so little pride in their job? And additionally, how can a person act so foolishly in a public and professional setting? I presume there's a good reason or explanation for this, but it's beyond my scope.
IN CONCLUSION, I will now present a discussion of my introductory thesis and subsequent tales. In the 2006 Best American Non-Required Reading there is a transcript of David Foster Wallace's commencement speech at Kenyon College. His jist was that one valuable tool (of the graduates in his case, but I will expand to anyone applicable) is the ability to assess and consider a situation from multiple viewpoints. One example involves a person's theoretical reaction to someone cutting them off at the grocery store. He gives two potential responses: to somewhat self-righteously assume that this character is a real jerk, and how dare she get in your way!? Alternatively, one could empathetically consider that perhaps she's in a rush because she was late after a horrible day of work, has to feed the kids, etc. etc. He goes on to say that you don't necessarily need to think one way or the other all the time, but at least you've got the option to make the choice of how you paint those around you in the world.
My point: I'm willing and open to not assume that the stripper and Reporter A in the above examples don't always go home with a stranger for three days or perform very poorly at their job. However, they did do these things, and I'm a bit curious what- whether static or elastic- it is about them that led them to, in those instances, behave in the slightly screwy ways that they did.
On the other hand, I (and the government investigators) have seen enough out of Blago to know that he's a real scum of the earth type. All the same, I wouldn't mind knowing just how he got to be such a slimeball.
26 November 2008
For the record...
The Official Mustachio Project has come to a head. After just under a week sporting the popular, and I must say, quite badass, handlebar/fu manchu mustache, on Monday morning I winnowed the fur to its thematic apex. To preserve the mustachio and my appearance therewith for posterity, I post now some photos. Can't wait to get some cranberry sauce caught up in it. Hours of enjoyment!
In the first, the appropriate look with a mustachio of my nature: squinty eyed and creepy.
(I partially intended to squint for this picture, and I partially succumbed to my inner 'My Name is Earl' nature whereby I seem to not be capable of keeping my eyes open in cases of double-flashed photography.)
And then, a more pleasant looking pose.
Conspicuously absent: a thoughtful and wise photo of me looking highly professorial with my mustachio. Sadly, my present constitution does not allow me to get the solid pushbroom effect going. Alas.
The good news is that I just checked my license and it needs to be renewed. Barring a major case of self-doubt, the mustachio should be enshrined in my ID photo for the forseeable future. Makes me sadder that I cut he fu, as that was very righteous. Now I'll just get added to the National Creep Registry (for those who haven't done anything yet but are considered mostly likely to). But hey, that's something at least!
In the first, the appropriate look with a mustachio of my nature: squinty eyed and creepy.
(I partially intended to squint for this picture, and I partially succumbed to my inner 'My Name is Earl' nature whereby I seem to not be capable of keeping my eyes open in cases of double-flashed photography.)
And then, a more pleasant looking pose.
Conspicuously absent: a thoughtful and wise photo of me looking highly professorial with my mustachio. Sadly, my present constitution does not allow me to get the solid pushbroom effect going. Alas.
The good news is that I just checked my license and it needs to be renewed. Barring a major case of self-doubt, the mustachio should be enshrined in my ID photo for the forseeable future. Makes me sadder that I cut he fu, as that was very righteous. Now I'll just get added to the National Creep Registry (for those who haven't done anything yet but are considered mostly likely to). But hey, that's something at least!
19 November 2008
FU!
I've been putting off my blog because I'm going to have a super-long awesome blog about the wonderful trip the magnificent Brigitte and myself took to San Francisco. However, I've been feeling guilty to my audience of 7 (now including mom, 2 aunts, and Dougie!) that, according to TheBusinessman's site, it's been over a week since I posted a blog. So, for now, I'm going to let everyone know how the progress on my Official Mustachio Project is coming.
For everyone who doesn't know (which is pretty much everyone), I've decided that I long to have a wonderful, bushy mustache. So, I began the quest a month or so ago (after shaving off a pretty righteous beard that I'd had for a year or so- I'd just gotten tired of it- and which featured as the "all men in face fur except for the Groom" theme of TheBusinessman's wedding) to grow a mustache. Of course, one can't just grow a mustache, one needs a plan. So, after mistakenly undertaking the "solo mustache mission" (difficulty level 55; I'm only a level 40 Night Elf Hunter) for one shaving cycle, I incorporated the chin fur with the upper lip fur. I refer to this as 'support growth' of a goatee for an eventual mustache. Anyhow, this is how the wonderful Brigitte and I looked together 9 days ago, the specific note here being my goatee:
MMMMM that's mighty fine. So, anyhow, today, I have trimmed the chin support to result in this glorious fu manchu. I actually think it's quite lovely. Reminds me of my days back in jr. high and high school when I was really into Metallica...
I will now go listen to the entire back catalogue of Danzig.
For everyone who doesn't know (which is pretty much everyone), I've decided that I long to have a wonderful, bushy mustache. So, I began the quest a month or so ago (after shaving off a pretty righteous beard that I'd had for a year or so- I'd just gotten tired of it- and which featured as the "all men in face fur except for the Groom" theme of TheBusinessman's wedding) to grow a mustache. Of course, one can't just grow a mustache, one needs a plan. So, after mistakenly undertaking the "solo mustache mission" (difficulty level 55; I'm only a level 40 Night Elf Hunter) for one shaving cycle, I incorporated the chin fur with the upper lip fur. I refer to this as 'support growth' of a goatee for an eventual mustache. Anyhow, this is how the wonderful Brigitte and I looked together 9 days ago, the specific note here being my goatee:
MMMMM that's mighty fine. So, anyhow, today, I have trimmed the chin support to result in this glorious fu manchu. I actually think it's quite lovely. Reminds me of my days back in jr. high and high school when I was really into Metallica...
I will now go listen to the entire back catalogue of Danzig.
05 November 2008
A Brief Point
Did you see the lady singing the national anthem at Obama's Grant Park Rally in Chicago last night? This may have been Chicago-specific coverage, as my local ABC cut from the national coverage as soon as they projected it for Obama.
It was pretty embarassing and borderline disgusting. I've held an internal debate about how bad it is to use a few wrong words in the anthem, after all she got the general themes right. However, I think I'm comfortable with being appalled that the person chosen to sing the national anthem before the appearance of the new president couldn't get it right. We're not taking Marvin Gaye from the USA basketball commercial (from the 1983 NBA all star game actually) doing his groovy thang with it- but getting the words right. We're talking, lady with a mic, belting it out like anyone- but screwing up the lyrics repeatedly. She may have even swapped 'stars' and 'stripes' around, I'm not sure, and haven't been able to find a video of it to review. And that's pretty bad.
She was purportedly Jennifer Hudson's friend- Hudson sang the anthem at the DNC- but that's all I got at the moment. Can't find a name anywhere, but I'll post more as an edit if/when I find more.
A trifling point, perhaps, given the magnitude of last night (and how well everything else went, from the crowd downtown being great- though I wasn't there I saw and heard plenty of positive things- to both candidate's speeches). However, I was sufficiently bothered and unimpressed that I wanted to bring this up.
Also, for everyone's peace of mind: I did laundry Monday, thereby avoiding dressing in filth.
[edit: Finally, RIP Michael Crichton. If not for thee, I may not have made the life choices which led to my being an underpaid, underappreciated graduate student of Human Genetics this very day. I don't hold a grudge though, it will all be worthwhile, eventually. And eventually WILL come- my thesis committee gave me approval to write last week! Anyhow, thanks for the inspiration and rest in peace, Michael.]
It was pretty embarassing and borderline disgusting. I've held an internal debate about how bad it is to use a few wrong words in the anthem, after all she got the general themes right. However, I think I'm comfortable with being appalled that the person chosen to sing the national anthem before the appearance of the new president couldn't get it right. We're not taking Marvin Gaye from the USA basketball commercial (from the 1983 NBA all star game actually) doing his groovy thang with it- but getting the words right. We're talking, lady with a mic, belting it out like anyone- but screwing up the lyrics repeatedly. She may have even swapped 'stars' and 'stripes' around, I'm not sure, and haven't been able to find a video of it to review. And that's pretty bad.
She was purportedly Jennifer Hudson's friend- Hudson sang the anthem at the DNC- but that's all I got at the moment. Can't find a name anywhere, but I'll post more as an edit if/when I find more.
A trifling point, perhaps, given the magnitude of last night (and how well everything else went, from the crowd downtown being great- though I wasn't there I saw and heard plenty of positive things- to both candidate's speeches). However, I was sufficiently bothered and unimpressed that I wanted to bring this up.
Also, for everyone's peace of mind: I did laundry Monday, thereby avoiding dressing in filth.
[edit: Finally, RIP Michael Crichton. If not for thee, I may not have made the life choices which led to my being an underpaid, underappreciated graduate student of Human Genetics this very day. I don't hold a grudge though, it will all be worthwhile, eventually. And eventually WILL come- my thesis committee gave me approval to write last week! Anyhow, thanks for the inspiration and rest in peace, Michael.]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
