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| My friend Alex IMed me last night about a less-than-well-liked professor we had the “honor” of “enjoying” a semester of in grad school at Virginia Tech. Apparently, this particular professor is 1) still alive, and 2) still writing articles and books – both of which are a shock because we thought he was retired and/or dead. It brought back some strangely fond memories, especially how he ranks up as possibly our worst college professor. *Back in grad school, a class was offered on modern/contemporary British playwrights. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of reading anything by modern British playwrights, then you know by the class title alone where I made my first mistake. **The class consisted of a dozen or so grad students packed like sardines into one of the smallest classrooms on Virginia Tech’s expansive campus. In retrospect, I remember passing by much larger, available classrooms and wondered why we weren’t assigned one of them in the first place or just took one over. Also, the classroom had the distinction of being unusually warm, and combined with a dozen heavy breathers – all with varying degrees of personal hygiene, *** made for a long 90 minute class session. Between the conditions and the professor, several of us routinely planned ahead for who’s turn it was for skipping his class so that we didn’t accidentally and/or collectively leave the professor by himself (which would have been pretty bad), or maroon a few out-of-the-loop students to suffer his less-than-tender mercies (which may have been a fate worse than death). The professor was a craggy, grey, emaciated chain smoker, with a full constellation of liver spots covering his steadily balding head and a voice that crackled with his thick, native New York accent. In addition, he stunk of long-spent cigarettes, so getting to class first was a fierce competition and high-priority for first pick of the better seating choices (i.e., as far away from him as possible). Plus, his lectures and conversations were periodically interrupted by a hacking cough that sounded so vile, I kept expecting the mother of all hairballs to fly out of his mouth. He was a former Broadway theater critic, and as it turns out, a long-time theater and drama professor. **** So he wasn’t just an expert on these playwrights, but I believe a former drinking buddy of several of them, as well. The net result was 1) he was always right no matter what you said or cited, and 2) for a native New Yorker, rural, southwestern Virginia was the ninth level of Hell. In short, his attitude was “I’m right and you’re wrong” combined with a heavy dash of “I hate everyone, especially you snobbish, up-and-coming knowitalls!” So, we spent every session listening to him droll on about these plays and writers, and only sporadically sharing our thoughts on them. While this doesn’t seem like a big deal, I always remembered one thing from my required Introduction to Graduate Studies class: Question: What’s the difference between undergrads and grad students? Answer: Undergrads pay to listen to their professors. Grad students pay to have their professors listen to them. The gist of the course was studying the works of approximately 10 to 12 playwrights, and each student write a final paper on one of them. In the meantime, we each picked a playwright to focus on and research them throughout the semester. In addition, we were required to present our work at some point in class. Being both practical and more than a bit cynical, the professor allowed only one student to work on T om Stoppard, and only then if they didn’t focus their research on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (for those of you who don’t know, this play is one of Stoppard’s more popular works, especially and apparently among grad students, and was made into a fair movie in the mid-1990s. And yes, even Stoppard admits it’s a blatant rip off of Waiting for Godot). For the life of me, I can’t remember which playwright I focused my work on. I really want to say it was Peter Barnes, but all I remember is finally coming up with a thesis comparing whomever it was to Bertolt Brecht. ***** As I conducted my research, my big discovery was how the not-so-vast majority of all the books and articles I found on the playwright were written or had been contributed to by the professor. He was the expert on the playwright – and I’m pretty sure he knew him personally (possibly in a "Cogratulations/My condolences on the success/failure of your latest play! Now let's go get schnockered" kind of way). Now, you might think this a good thing – if most of the research is by the professor, then I’ll get brownie points for quoting his research in my work. However, another thing you learn while writing college papers is that the more citations you use in support your thesis, the stronger it is. Still, I found some other worthwhile sources, but ultimately, the professor was the heavy hitter in my research. When time came to give our presentations, most of us did the usual – gave a draft thesis, explained the reasoning behind it, and cited researched support in defense of it all. Now, it’s no stretch of the imagination that a Liberal Arts degree isn’t always the most highly sought after item on a modern day resume, ****** so many aiming for an English degree were also gunning to either 1) write their great American novel and become the next “voice of their generation,” and/or 2) become a college professor (and at a time when tenure makes professorships a bit rare). The net result is someone aiming for an academic career needs to be a very Machiavellian competitive sadistic cutthroat bastard about it. The first line of defense in this endeavor is the never ending battle of shooting down other grad students’ theses – the idea is that enough pounding on their ideas will brutalize their ever-lowering self-esteem to the point of giving up on the dream of being “professional student” for life. However, the professor did a fine job of “skeet shooting” the class participants’ theses (a.k.a, “clay pigeons”) all by himself. From the time the professor said “Begin your presentation” (a.k.a., “PULL!”), you could almost see the theses fly up and consequently crash as his academic version of target practice (a.k.a., “golfing with a shotgun”) declared each thesis the ridiculous pieces of garbage as he deemed them. Having taken an alternative literature class the semester before, my personal joke name for the class quickly became This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen. *******Eventually, my presentation time popped up. I visited the professor several times previously, mainly discussing how I was brain locked on a thesis for my class paper. Fortunately, I figured one out just before our last meeting (in fact, he admitted that he was impressed by my idea and how it was much better than the one he had in mind), so I was feeling a bit more confident about things. I kept the subject matter of my research below the radar because I still wasn’t sure how he’d regard it. Despite the usual grad student attacks and his keen criticism, I was holding my own fairly well during the presentation. I was even starting to relax a bit until I began citing sources that supported my thesis. I had no sooner read one of his quotes when he stopped me and asked me to re-read it. I read it again, receiving his quiet pause as he rolled the words around in his mind. Then he said “Hmmm…no, no, no. That’s not right. Whoever wrote that is an idiot! Who wrote that piece of horse shit?” Honesty, like many virtues, can be a harsh mistress. While the benefits of always being sincere go without question (e.g., never having to keep track of all the bullshit you've said or to whom), sometimes a little white lie is necessary for maintaining the status quo (e.g., ignorance is bliss). In that effort, I faux ruffled through photocopies and pages of hand-written notes, and digging “without success” in my backpack for the “right book.” The professor, whether he didn’t buy my act or just didn’t care about it, pressed the point. Reluctantly, I reached into my bag and yanked out his book. I sheepishly handed it over while pointing out that it was his own written commentary. He regarded the book for what was for him probably mere moments of embarrassed reflection, while I suffered an eternity of racing thoughts and beads of sweat down my barely-washed back, wondering if I was witnessing the end of my academic career. ******** He calmly handed the book back and said quite simply “Okay then, let’s move on.” And would you believe I still got a B+ in the class? * I have one other professor in mind, but she isn’t nearly as fun a story…mainly because she was a sexist woman (I’m not joking) who actively and single-handedly tried to torpedo my graduate degree.
** I’m not saying modern British playwrights are bad or not worth studying, but ultimately, this wasn’t one of my favorite college course subjects.
*** Often enough, grad students are known for painfully choosing between the competing grocery shopping priorities of soap or Raman Noodles.
**** Based on his resume, which I found in seconds through some brief Googling on the intertubes. Say what you might about him, he’s a pretty accomplished man.
***** And what cheery subject matter that was to write about…
****** However, my personal vindication about this comes from the rampant and increasing demand for good writers today. This is mainly because the world finally woke up and realized that engineers, business managers and computer programmers are rarely eloquent or even competent writers. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
******* This is the title of a collection of semi-autobiographical short stories by Tadeusz Borowski about his experiences in a concentration camp. It has the noteworthy quality of being both a very compelling set of stories, as well as heavily criticized for describing some not-so-noble actions made by Holocaust prisoners.
******** This was all before the professor who tried to flunk me. | |
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| For the second time in almost as many months, I’ve gotten myself into somewhat heated debates about the book Frankenstein. In both cases, the discussion was about the general merit of the book (i.e., I consider it a worthwhile read, they considered it junk), but one of the discussions was over a plot point (SPOILER ALERT) that went something like (i.e., not verbatim): Other Person: It’s simply amazing how that book has had such an influence on people. *Me: But it is a very influential story – some consider it the first example of “science fiction” ever written. Other Person: Hollywood has certainly had its fun with it. Me: It does make for great drama. Other Person: You think Bride of Frankenstein is great drama? Me: I meant “great” as in “compelling.” Whether it’s “good” or “bad” is a whole other story. Other Person: Bride of Frankenstein is nothing but bad! A “bride” for the monster? And where did they get the idea for that? Me: From the book... Other Person: Oh, I’m sure the book was an inspiration, but who thought of a story about a wife for the creature? Me: Mary Shelley thought of it – it’s in the book. Other Person: No it isn’t! Me: No really, it’s part of the original story. Other Person: But it isn’t! Me: Okay, toward the end of the book, the monster demands Victor make him a mate because the monster decides that that humanity will never accept him. Victor begins to comply, but he wonders about the two mating and creating a whole race of monsters, so he destroys the work and enrages the monster. Other Person: That doesn’t happen in the book! You’re confusing it with the movie version from back in the 90s. **Me: No really, I’m not making it up, it’s in the story. Other Person: Hey, I’ve read the book, I think I know what’s in it! Me: Yeah...but I did my Master’s thesis on it. ***Other Person: ( Slight pause) Really? Me: Really, I read it multiple times in one semester and heavily researched it. Other Person: Huh, well I’m going to look that up because I still don’t believe you. I never heard from either person again, so I’m guessing they didn’t care enough about it or discovered on their own that I was right and they're not so jazzed about admitting they were wrong (a feeling I can relate to from time to time). * In addition, one of these people made an argument that Shakespeare was the worst writer ever, especially because he wrote his plays in “silly poetry.”
** The one person was referencing Frankenstein, which starred and was directed by Kenneth Branaugh. While it was far more true to the original story than previous film versions, it had some odd creative tangents and was a pretty disappointing/depressing movie...not that the original tale is a "feel good story" either...
*** More accurately, I did an “Independent Study” (i.e., a semester long study and heavy research for a final paper) on it since a thesis was only required if I planned to go for my PhD…which I didn’t. I wanted to emphasize my better knowledge of the book without having to explain what an Independent Study was to him. | |
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| Thanks to Rush Limbaugh,* I’ve been thinking about the First Amendment a lot lately.
Twelve years ago, baseball player John Rocker angered a lot of people for his racist and homophobic comments in several interviews. The result was public outrage and his being forced to attend anger therapy sessions. Rush Limbaugh – no stranger to making absurd and ridiculous remarks** – stepped into a similar spotlight when he made misogynistic comments about Sandra Fluke, a private citizen who went in front of members of Congress to discuss women’s health and health insurance coverage. The results of which included Limbaugh getting lambasted in the press, some critics demanding he be taken off the air, and the loss of some of his show’s sponsorship.
Events like these bring to my mind two things regarding the First Amendment:
Free Speech Applies to All
It's Un-American to Silence Limbaugh
Voltaire said famously “I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it.” In addition, Kim Campbell, the former Canadian Prime Minister said on Real Time with Bill Maher “If you never encounter anything in your community that offends you, then you're not living in a free society.” The First Amendment is a two-edged sword in that it allows people to say and believe whatever they want, however, everyone must tolerate hearing and seeing things that they will either completely agree with or resoundingly abhor – their reactions ranging from minimal recognition to senseless violence. I have several friends who are born-again Christians and are upset about ABC’s show GCB because of how it depicts/mocks American Christians. A few claim ABC has gone too far and the show must be taken off the air. Not having seen the show, I submit respectfully that anyone calling for the show’s cancellation needs to grin and bear it because the producers and ABC have the right to create and air the show. By contrast, the producers and ABC aren’t holding a gun to anyone’s head to watch it. In a similar vein, I despise the show South Park for many reasons, but I have no right to demand that Matt Stone and Trey Parker stop producing it.
The same holds true for Limbaugh and his comments, as well as any other public opinion that someone finds offensive. The Constitution, as well as any religious text in existence, doesn’t offer anyone the right to not be offended. Some statements may be offensive, obscene, or even blasphemous, but it’s anyone’s right to say or express them. In an attempt to demonstrate hypocrisy on the part of Limbaugh’s detractors, the conservative right has tried to switch the ire aimed at Limbaugh back at polar-opposite commentators like Bill Maher or Keith Oberman. Both men have run roughshod over some big-name conservatives and Republicans (To be fair, they've commented on Democrats and Independents, as well), while often using language that’s far more colorful and/or offensive than Limbaugh’s. While Limbaugh, Maher and Oberman have received demands for their respective shows to be taken off the air (And in Oberman’s case, it was), they’re entitled to say whatever they want on their shows.
The bottom line is if you don’t like what someone says or what a radio or TV show depicts, then change the channel. If you continue to watch or listen, then you’re validating what they’re saying. In other words, the problem isn’t them, it’s you.
I had a brief online discussion about this subject with an acquaintance of mine who stated “Offensive speech is the only form of speech worth a damn” and “In the court of Public Opinion, however, the Truth is offensive.” I respectfully and vehemently disagree with both statements. If anything, “the truth” comes in so many forms, that not all of them are or must be offensive. For example, “treat others as you would have them treat you.” While some may agree or disagree on whether that platitude is true or not, most can agree that it’s hardly the most offensive statement ever made by someone. Sometimes an offensive statement is required to make good a point, but it isn’t necessarily the only statement that can be made, and that’s if it needed to be made in the first place.
Which leads me to my second – and oddly counter – point...
Did It Really Need to be Said?
Talk Radio Losing Advertisers in Wake of Limbaugh Scandal
Limbaugh is an entertainer and needs attention to keep his show alive, and does so by getting support through his sponsors. Unfortunately, his particular brand of attention seeking is by making absurd and radical statements based on faulty reasoning. He made sexist (possibly even slanderous and libelous) comments about Sandra Fluke, and got a world of negative blowback from it – everything from toothless op-ed pieces and harmless blog entries decrying him and demanding the powers that be cancel his show, to the very real predicament of sponsors removing their financial support – symbolically (if not actually) threatening his livelihood. Since his show is still going strong, it’s safe to guess that either the dropped sponsors didn’t affect him or his show much, or new sponsors have stepped in to replace the lost ones.
We live in a day and age where – like actions – public statements have consequences. Sometimes the results are simply establishing a bad reputation and/or offering proof to the world of your own stupidity and ignorance. Others, like the Westboro Baptist Church (WBC), cause unwarranted pain and suffering to already upset and hurt people – such as WBC protesting soldiers’ funerals with hate-filled signs and chants; Florida Pastor Terry Jones burning copies of the Quran and sparking outrage from Muslims around the world; Saturday Night Live performing a skit mocking Tim Tebow’s very public Christian faith with an annoyed Jesus confronting him; or Matt Stone and Trey Parker trying to include an image of Mohammed (strictly forbidden by the Islamic faith) or further making fun of the Mormon Church*** in an episode of South Park or their musical on Broadway.
Are all of these expressions of speech protected and allowed by the First Amendment? Of course they are. The real question is: Does simply having the ability to say something mean one must say it?
Adamant defenders of the First Amendment argue that any and all statements either said or can be said are protected by Freedom of Speech – and they’re right. While I generally avoid absolutes or extremes regarding societal issues, free speech and belief is the most important thing ever established by a legal document. For it to remain valid and secure, all speech and forms of expression must be protected under it – no matter how affirming or offensive.
That is the painful trade-off for having the freedom to share our thoughts and beliefs.
However, what the ardent First Amendment defenders never seem to recognize or discuss is how the First Amendment is not a “Get out of Jail Free Card” for the consequences of their free speech. Limbaugh can make all the sexist rants he wants, but if he loses sponsors (i.e., money) for his comments, then he must decide whether or not that’s an acceptable result. Terry Jones can burn all the copies of the Quran and Matt Stone and Trey Parker can defame and disrespect religion all they want, but if religious extremists try to take them out for it, then Parker and Stone quoting the First Amendment probably won’t stop the zealots from going medieval on their asses.**** WBC can keep spewing hate at soldiers’ funerals who deserve far more respect than WBC will ever give them,***** but getting slapped with civil lawsuits is a consequence of their actions. In other words, while the First Amendment protects citizens from mistreatment by the Government for what they say or believe, it doesn’t protect them from when their speech or beliefs break the law, infringe on another person’s rights, or prevent other people from taking their own actions against them.
What I don’t understand is why radical First Amendment defenders can't or don’t grasp the value of a little restraint. Had Terry Jones not burnt copies of the Quran, or Matt Stone and Trey Parker not try to use an image of Mohammed, a few less Muslims might be angry at the United States and no one would’ve been put in possible danger. We’ve seen countless examples of how words and other forms of expression can inflict pain and harm, but had these men cared about all of the possible outcomes of their actions and what they might do to others, they might have seen the wisdom of not burning a spiritual text or defaming a religion.
To be clear, I’m not suggesting the restriction of anyone’s right to believe or say whatever they want – automatic or mandated censorship is never an option under any circumstances. In point of fact, I absolutely and unreservedly support the freedoms established in the First Amendment. What I’m asking is for anyone who wants or needs to express an offensive or inflammatory statement to carefully weigh the possible consequences of their statement on others and if the profit from doing so (whether material or ideological) is worth the trouble.
Until we all recognize the importance of weighing the ability to express an idea against that expression’s consequences, many will continue to hide behind the First Amendment as their excuse and justification to say and do horrible things.
* No, I never thought I’d thank him for anything…ever.
** I’m being exceedingly polite and showing a remarkable amount of restraint about how I feel about Limbaugh and his commentaries.
*** Parker and Stone have spent so much of their career mocking and tearing apart the Mormon Church that the metaphorical horse is not only dead and beaten, but pounded to a pulp on the ground and down to the bedrock below it.
**** Because religious extremists are known for being so very reasonable…
***** The bitter irony being that these men and women gave their lives defending WBC’s right to do exactly what they’re doing at their funerals. | |
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| "Well, that was a two-handed job!"*
* One good thing about witnessing this post-restroom visit comment, I could use it as the title for a novel. - Moodiness:dirty
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| For the past few nights/mornings, my cell phone has rung off the hook at 4:00 AM, and naturally, whoever was calling didn’t leaving a voicemail. Then this morning, again at 4:00 AM, my phone rang and someone left a voicemail. It turns out to be some kind of automated wake-up call service.
I have no clue why a wake-up call service is calling me since 1. I never registered with them, and 2. I normally don’t get up at 4:00 AM...for any reason (by myself, anyway).* Needless to say, since the following two hours of attempted sleep was less-than-restful, I got up earlier than usual and with a little help from the Googles on the intertubes, I found the service’s customer service phone number.
So, I called them and the conversation went something like this…
Customer Service Rep: Good morning! This is Joe! How may I help you?**
Me: Hi Joe, I think there’s been a mix up, your service keeps calling me at 4:00 AM.
CSR Joe: Oh, is that the wrong wake up time?
Me: Not exactly, I never set myself up for your service.
CSR Joe: That can’t be right! Let me look up your account. Phone number please…
Me: It’s (703) ***-****.
CSR Joe: Thank you, now let’s see what we have here…(slight pause as he types)…it says here you set up a wake-up call for 4:00 AM every day this week.
Me: That can’t be right.
CSR Joe: It says so right here in my database…
Me: Joe, I never heard of your service before, let alone set up a wake-up call through it.
CSR Joe: Okay…but it says here a Pamela ********** is registered with us for a wake-up call at this number – (703) ***-****.
Me: A “Pamela **********” needs a wake-up call at my phone number?
CSR Joe: It says so right here…
Me: Joe…
CSR Joe: Yes?
Me: Someone named Pamela needs that wake-up call at 4:00 AM?
CSR Joe: Right.
Me: And she needs that wake-up call at my cell number?
CSR Joe: Right.
Me: Joe, listen carefully to the sound of my voice.
CSR Joe: Okay.
Me: Do I sound like someone who would be named Pamela?
CSR Joe: (Another pregnant pause) You know, I think we may have the wrong number for her.
Me: I think you’re right, Joe.
* I'm hoping this isn't some kind of weird revenge by anyone who may be pissed at me for something.
** Thankfully, "Joe" had an American accent, so I give props to the service's owner for not oursourcing his help line to someplace in India or where ever. - Tags:weird
- Moodiness:irritated
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| Let’s take a little trip in the wayback machine, my friends… Back when I was a student at Virginia Tech, there was a community project to build a fort-style playground at Caboose Park. Something triggered a memory about it so I Googled on the intertubes, and found that except for the trees having grown and maybe a few tweaks to the original design (e.g., the yellow plastic slides), not much has changed to the old stomping ground. I still remember going out there and being one of many volunteer students building parts of the playground. I distinctly remember running around on both sections shown in these two pictures. Based on the picture on the left, it's fairly obvious where the park gets its name.
I'm pretty sure the yellow plastic slides seen on the right are replacements for the original metal ones.
Being poor college students, we did just about anything to amuse ourselves, and that park became a good excuse for spending a Friday or Saturday night playing flashlight tag.* Now, in retrospect, I tend to think about the numbskull nature of doing this because this wasn’t particularly safe thing to do at night, let alone hyped up on caffeine or something a little “stronger.” I still vividly remember one or two accidents from our nights out there, one being when I was chased by Bryan Owens, who managed to wind himself running into a wood railing I slid under,** and another when one girl ran headlong into a wall or railing. She managed to give herself one Hell of a concussion (I still remember hearing the “crack” when she hit), but fortunately, Mr. Dr. John Casey and was a damn good EMT and another girl with us – I think she was Sarah Larson – was a former EMT. In fact, both of them ended up stepping in and helping the EMTs who showed up because they weren’t wrapping the hurt girl up right for the trip to the hospital.***
Possibly our favorite part of this park (and regrettably, the one I couldn’t find a picture of), was the old school, plate metal merry-go-round, or as we called it, the “physics-go-round.” As if risking our lives running around on a wood, metal and recycled tractor tire playground at night wasn’t challenging enough, we made use of the merry-go-round to remind us that 1) physics can be fun, and 2) physics can be nauseating. If we had enough people, we’d pile onto the merry-go-round and several others would get it spinning as fast as they could. Sometimes we’d do this with everyone as tightly packed into the center of the merry-go-round as possible, and others we’d hang tight to the edge. As the merry-go-round got up to speed, we’d eventually move our way out to the edge or toward the center, respectively. If you were on the ride, you got to feel minor G forces making you feel heavier from moving out or while trying to fight your way to the center.
How no one flew off this thing is beyond me.
How no one tossed their cookies afterward is even more of a minor miracle.
Not really sure what got me thinking about this today. Maybe the fact that some former classmates announced that they’ll be in Virginia this summer and suggested a possible trip to Virginia Tech jogged the old memories. On the other hand, living in Northern Virginia, we used to have playgrounds like this one all over the place. They were steadily replaced by safer, plastic playgrounds due to yuppies suing the local school departments because they're kids got hurt. I'm kind of glad some of these fort-style playgrounds are still around . . . because they're awesome.
* This was sometimes prepared for by imbibing copious amounts of junk food, soda and/or “stronger” drinks.
** This was one of my favorite moves.
*** The other circumstance of this particular night was the cop on duty – someone John Casey was not a fan of…mainly due to his not being a particularly bright person – was tongue-lashed by Mr.-now-Dr. Casey because the cop was trying to argue we were on the park grounds after hours, when we weren’t.
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| 1. Leave work early only to spend twice as long getting home because everyone is already in “panic mode” about the OMG-IT’S-THE-END-OF-THE-WORLD-NUCLEAR-WINTER-ZOMBIE-APOCACLYPSE snow flurries that aren’t due to start for at least another 12 to 24 hours. *2. Go to the grocery store: a) When everyone else is there buying up food and necessities (e.g., toilet paper, soap, batteries, alcohol) and it takes you twice as long to check out as it did to get your food, or b) After the rush and you need to settle on generic brand orange soda for “bottled water” and hamburger buns for “bread.” 3. Rush over to Home Depot to buy a snow shovel, only to discover that every conceivable shovel-type object known to man has been sold, including gardening spades and leaf rakes. 4. Wait in line at least an hour only to discover that all of the decent movies are gone from the RedBox movie rental machine. 5. Go to at least three gas stations until finally caving in and waiting behind at least four other cars before filling up. 6. Witness a car accident on a perfectly dry road because another driver is texting/tweeting/posting a Facebook comment about the unholy winter terror to come. 7. Strategically park car: a) To minimize the amount of digging out you’ll have to do, b) To ensure that the car is capable of leaving your home/neighborhood after it snows, and/or c) With a potential “placemarker” (e.g., beach chair, bucket, etc.) to save your hard-won spot for when you eventually drive away. 8. Routinely monitor local newscasts and track how the impending “light snow flurries” grow more and more cataclysmic as the weather approaches the area. 9. Check the county school system’s website to see if schools are already declared closed for the following day before a single snowflake touches the ground. **10. Stay up late, periodically looking out the window for the first snow to fall, go to bed, and wake up to find the merest, slightest evidence of any snow that’s still on cars and a few odd blades of grass. ***Any additions or suggestions to add to the list are appreciated!* This may also be due to accidents because even the mere mention of the word "snow" makes people think driving conditions are hazardous.
** Optional if you don’t have kids.
*** You may have to call in “sick” from work to watch over kids who are off from school and/or recover from all the drinking you did the night before.- Tags:snow
- Moodiness:silly
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| We had a monthly demonstration at work today, discussing our slowly, but steadily growing business with private sector clients. * One of our big examples and success stories is a project we did for Disney, so the presentation discussed this contract in length. During the presentation, one of the slides included a picture of a Mickey Mouse clock. I was a little off put over my reaction to it, until I received an email from a coworker sitting on the other side of the conference who basically had the same reaction I did: * We’re primarily Government contracting, but given budget cuts and continuing resolutions, we’re expanding our client base for obvious reasons.- Tags:disney
- Moodiness:indescribable
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| On the whole, I like to think of “never say never” as one of my personal mottos. I believe in it for several reasons: 1. It seems like famous people who are caught in or about to be caught up in a scandal who claim “I never did that” or promise that they’ll never do something (e.g., Bush, Sr. raising taxes after famously stating he wouldn’t in the late 1980s/early 1990s), end up guilty of or do the very thing at some point (e.g., Gene Simmons finally tying the knot with Shannon Tweed after 26+ years of being in a solid relationship). 2. I generally don’t like applying absolutes to the more undefined or metaphysical aspects of life, because such boundaries restrict ideas and inherently invite the temptation to go beyond them anyway. 3. You never know what future situations may be regarding something you don’t want to do or have no interest in doing (for example, I told someone in my freshman year of college that I’d never get a tattoo, yet a few short years later I got one). So here’s my quandary… I have gone on record multiple times about my mockery for the Snuggie, possibly one of the dumbest, silliest “As Seen on TV” products ever concocted and sold to the public. Berkeley Breathed, creator/writer/artist of that immortal comic strip Bloom County, made many sharply satirical comments 25 years ago about the stupid and worthless crap people bought off of those cheesy, silly TV commercials that still hold true today (his satire, not the commercials). I mean, do a YouTube search of the old Ronco commercials and you’ll see what I mean. Things like the Snuggie, which to me, looks more like a weird cult robe, * kind of makes you wonder about where society is going when we’re too bothered to maneuver around pesky blankets to the point that we need to create sleeves for them. I mean, I even did a susccessory about them: * Ironic considering that the basic construction of the Snuggie is simply a backwards robe. Creators Gary Clegg and Ryan Lafayette have got to be laughing their asses off.And I love how Bill Maher had a field day with them: Thing is, some friends are toying with going on a “Snuggie Bar Crawl,” and I spotted a Batman Snuggie in a store a while back (link here). This is impacting me on two conflicting fronts – my obvious dislike of the Snuggie and my notorious Batman fandom. So you may be thinking “Scott, Scott, Scott…it’s not like anyone is pointing a gun at your head to wear a Snuggie!”...and you’d be right. There’s no reason why I couldn’t be the odd man out while not wearing a Snuggie (beyond peer pressure or the tilted-head-confused-puppy looks I’d get for being such a noncomformist dweeb). I’m just monumentally annoyed at my frustration over compromising one of the few absolutes I set for myself. On the other hand, it’s not like I’m taking up smoking, shooting heroine or MMA fighting, though all of those things may be a Hell of a lot less incriminating and/or embarrassing than admitting to having bought a damn Snuggie. | |
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| As many who know me will tell you, I’m notoriously inconsistent about sending out Christmas cards from year to year, and since it’s getting a little late in the season to send any out, I did my “year in review” letter online (and the good news I’m not wasting paper that is most likely going straight into recycling bins anyway)! This was a long, busy year and surprisingly much more enjoyable and stable than the previous couple of years. The basics are pretty much the same – I’m still living in the Washington, DC suburb of Reston, Virginia. I’m still single as they come and in good health. My parents and sister are doing well, as are most of my friends (and if you’re one of them reading this, I sincerely hope that’s the case). This year has the happy circumstance of being the first one in the past three where I wasn’t laid off! I’m still working at C2 Technologies as a Proposal Manager (in fact, February 2012 will mark two years there), where we endured a marathon of proposal work from last winter through the end of this past September. Even with the threats of government budget cuts, shutdowns and continuing resolutions, we maintained a heavy workload to secure work for the next fiscal year. What all the budget woes and issues will mean for government contractors next year is anyone’s guess, but the company plans on continuing an aggressive tack of chasing down new work, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be around to help with all of that! The big news for me this year was my first solid, get-the-Hell-out-of-Dodge vacation in a long while. As many of you know, I’m a bit of a wine lover, and belong to several wine clubs/groups. One of them organized a trip to Bordeaux, France in October and I made it a point to go. Without getting too deep into the details (which you can read all about here and see the pictures I took here), the trip was an amazing experience! This was my first trip back to Europe in over 20 years, so it was an excellent opportunity to go abroad and try wines from some of the best vineyards in France. The group I went with spent seven surprisingly warm and sunny days in Bordeaux (the weather is similar to San Francisco – cloudy and chilly mornings, but sunny and warm afternoons), where we had the mornings to explore the city and the afternoons for visiting the surrounding wine regions and wineries, as well as Planet Bordeaux (a conglomeration of several smaller wine makers in the area), and the ancient town of Saint-Emilion (sort of the Bordeaux of its day). The trip wrapped up with a day and half in grey and chilly Paris, then back the U.S. The same wine group is planning a similar trip to California (the Napa and Sonoma valleys and San Francisco) for October 2012, and it’s very likely that I’ll be going on it. I have taken some of my free time to get some work down on the condo. I completed some badly needed repair work on the bathroom ceiling (i.e., it had to be skimmed, primed and painted because of some pretty bad steam damage due to my not using semi-gloss paint when I first painted condo), repainted the entire bathroom and replaced the fixtures. January or February will involve getting the tub and tile re-glazed, as well as installing a new vanity and sink. Sometime next year will be time to deal with the kitchen countertops that need replacing and tiling the backsplash. In addition, during all of that, I also plan to repaint the rest of the condo (the off-white is starting to show its age and there are enough scuffs and marks on the walls to justify my repainting the place). The new Metro line going out to Dulles Airport will open at the Reston Station in 2013, so I’m hoping to have renovations completed to think about late 2012 or early 2013 as time to for at least considering selling the condo and moving up to a townhouse. Meanwhile, things continue moving on as always – dating has been on and off with some potential “blips on the radar” in the short term, but very little in the long-term department. One of these years I’ll work it out with someone…or given up and join a monastery…we’ll see. I hope this year has been a happy and healthy one for you, and that next year holds equal promise! As always – Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Ramadan, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Solstice, and to all my atheist friends out there, Have a Nice Day! | |
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| FYI - I finally have my pics uploaded to Picasa and have my notes written out about the big France trip, but I'm going to post about it in a new community blog I started ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=92.1) wineabout. Entries to be posted soon (it was an amazing trip)! | |
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The France trip is nearly over, but I found a Livejournal app for my tablet and wanted to share the first picture I took in Paris (at last count on my digital camera, I'm just shy of 600 pictures).
On the left, you can see the Eiffel Tower and top of the Arc de Triomphe. On the far right, you can see the golden dome of the Hotel des Invalides and in the far off distance, Sacre-Caeur. Posted via LiveJournal app for Android. | |
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| This time, next week, I'll be in France.
Holy crap. | |
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| Luke would jon Vader, they'd kill the Emperor and rule the galaxy, Leia would be Jabba's sex slave for life, and Han, Chewie and Lando would participate in a polyamorous relationship...and HAN WOULD STILL HAVE SHOT FIRST!
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| The wind rises, tearing dead leaves free.
Frogs croak like a cartoon car alarm.
Crickets pick up the chorus.
A wolf howls.
I know how he feels.
- Frank Miller, The Dark Knight Returns
That passage always reminds me of Fall...
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| Ten years ago, I was on my way to work, fighting my way through rush hour traffic on back roads in Great Falls and down Old Dominion Drive. I was listening to Baltimore’s 98 Rock morning show because it was the least obnoxious of the radio morning shows and they had the best newsman on the radio at the time – R. Edward Lopez. * As I pulled up to the office parking lot, Lopez reported (almost nonchalantly) how a plane had struck one of the twin towers. The report was so vague that the DJs acted as if it was a little single engine plane, so I got out of the car and headed inside thinking not much else about it. I spent a few minutes talking with the front desk guy, a wonderful man from Zambia and we even kidded a little about how some junior pilot must’ve managed to bump his Cessna into one of the twin towers. Then a coworker came frantically running past us with tears in her eyes. She stopped just long enough to tell us about how it was a jetliner that hit the tower, and then a second one has struck the other tower. The place I worked at was so cheap that the one TV we had was a sad, black-and-white relic of the 70s with terrible reception via antennae (i.e., no cable). It was so poor that we couldn’t even get a local station on for news, and by the time we tried to get on the internet to CNN or MSNBC, the news websites were overwhelmed. So I clicked on the radio at my desk and heard one of the DJs going nearly hysterical over the news that yet another jetliner had crashed into the Pentagon. The DJ was so frantic that the newswoman on his show audibly slapped him to calm him down. I don’t know why, but my next instinct was to turn on the station where the then Don and Mike Show ** was on and heard them covering things well before their afternoon show. By 10:00 AM, everyone was numb and just sitting in shock. One vice president was wandering the halls going about his usual work (despite the government being shut down) to avoid thinking about what had transpired. Naturally, I tried calling my parents down in Virginia Beach, but service was slammed, too. I think I finally got through to one of them around 2:00 PM. The lasting memory I have of that day is of one of the program managers and I taking my truck out to Sterling to pick up a picnic table the company ordered a while back. I still remember the program manager grabbing me and when I asked why that day of all days, he said he needed to do something to get away from newscoverage and clear his head. We were driving up the Dulles Toll Road and saw a cloudless, blue sky without so much as a single airliner, fading contrail or the distant sound of jet noise to mark the passage of air travel. It was really eerie for something that you normally don’t think twice about. That afternoon had a disturbing silence that I still remember like it was yesterday. This morning, I turned on NBC for the 9/11 10 year remembrance and saw Paul Simon perform an acoustic version of The Sound of Silence*** and it starkly reminded me of driving up the Dulles Toll Road that day. Hard to believe it was 10 years ago. * He was an “old school” news reporter who never once lost his composure on the air, even with his fellow DJs Kirk and Mark doing everything in their power to do so.
** Don and Mike were later recognized by the chief Pentagon staff for their coverage and support on 9/11.
*** This is one of my all-time favorite songs.- Moodiness:thoughtful
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| I'm not a baseball fan, but my cousin showed me these and they are genuinely funny...and they have Alec Baldwin, who's in his full awesome "Alec Baldwin" mode...
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| When I was a kid, I remember some of the guidance and student counselors asking in my classes about what we all wanted to be when we grew up. Some said doctors or nurses, some wanted to be police officers, others said teachers, etc. I mean, every boy has had one of the “fantasy job trifecta” at some point – astronaut, soldier or sports hero. *Of course, I wanted to be a superhero. I worshipped Batman, wanted to be Superman, and eventually had dreams about how cool it would be to suddenly develop mutant powers like one of the X-Men. Sadly, that didn’t happen, and since I wasn’t an alien baby from another world ** or never gained the physical prowess that defines Batman, I took on the traditional college-job-career path. HBO, for better or worse, sometimes has some engrossing documentaries (and sometimes they have nothing to do with sex…though I admittedly find some of those interesting…whatever, just keep reading…), and I recently watched their documentary Superheroes, which is about “ real-life superheroes.” These are people with no real powers, just a drive to “do good” while wearing some…interesting outfits. *** Frankly, it says something that there’s enough of a subculture to justify multiple web site registries…though I’m still not sure what that “something” is. ****The documentary focuses on three main subjects: Mr. Xtreme: An off-and-on-again security guard (his best quote is something like “I really don’t like my job or working”) who has a creepy-like-Michael-Jackson fetish for the Power Rangers. He seems to take his superhero role pretty seriously, but not to the point of really worrying the police who he cooperates with whenever they stop him on the street. What is a bit hard to take about him is the interview with his mother who supports him emotionally, but is clearly not happy about what he does and is genuinely worried that he’s going to get himself badly hurt. His Dad seems to have a “I give up on that loser” attitude. Zimmer: An openly gay EMT who lives with a group calling itself the New York Initiative. They seem to be the most hardcore about being superheroes, but stay within the law. Well, mostly – they’re preferred method is baiting people into doing something (e.g., their one female member dresses up like an average girl walking the streets at night while the rest patrol around her waiting for anyone to attack or mug her). They all seem capable of fighting (they workout, train and spar together), but didn’t seem to get into much trouble or find any real crime to go after (unless you count stopping and detaining a clearly drunk driver). Master Legend: Although I hate to use the term, “loser” is what probably best describes him. I’m not sure he even has a job, but his superhero patrol centers on driving around in a beat up, white van (that’s fully-stocked with snacks, odd “weapons” and plenty of beer). ***** He has a “team” of other superheroes who all seem more into looking like superheroes ****** than actually doing anything superheroic (though they do help out with charity work – I’ll grant them that). Master Legend seems to mainly walk around in a pretty silly-looking get up, praying for the homeless he encounters and sometimes trying to pick up clearly uncomfortable women in bars. He also strikes me as a little crazy in that he takes being a “superhero” pretty seriously – as in a calling. What struck me about each of these stories is how all of these people seemed sad in some way. Mr. Xtreme is living his own hero worship, maybe without realizing he’s possibly endangering himself. Zimmer and his crowd are social outcasts who have nowhere else to go, but at least they found each other. Master Legend is probably either one beer from being hauled into the local drunk tank or getting his ass kicked by a gang he thinks will be intimidated by his shiny outfit. I get a strange vibe of kinship with these types since my crowd in high school was the artists, geeks, nerds, RPG players and general noncomformists, but we pretty much drew the line at actually doing something like patrolling the streets as wannabe vigilantes or crimefighters. Sure, it’s a fun fantasy to have a Hall of Justice, Avengers Headquarters, Xavier’s School for the Gifted or stately Wayne Manor, waiting for trouble to strike, but another to put on basically an overdone Halloween costume and walk around at night. It’s kind of like watching some bargain basement cosplay fans who don’t have a convention to go to. On the other hand, they do set an example for the rest of a society chocked full of people who don't take an active role these days - they're trying to (or at least think they are) doing something good for their communities. There's something commendable about that, even if it might be misplaced or misguided (vigilantes aren't something I condone, either motivated by the best intentions or if for real or just show). * Rock Star is arguably a runner up here.
** Though I suspect my parents still wonder if I am to this very day.
*** I like how most of the subjects in the film still refer to them as “uniforms.”
**** See Real-Life Superheroes.org, the Real Life Super Hero Project, and World Superhero Registry.
***** I couldn't help noticing that both Mr. Xtreme and Master Legend both drove almost identical old, beat up, white vans - both creepy and sad.
****** One guy who simply refers to himself as “Superhero” kept showing off his car as proof of his being a “serious superhero,” which wasn’t all that superhero-y. | |
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| So, I'm used to emotional train wrecks, the less-than-even-average-attractive, don't want kids, and assorted "WTF is wrong with you?" types taking a peek at or even trying to get my attention on a few dating sites where I have profiles.
However, this person's profile description really makes me wonder why she tried "winking" at me:
A zealot for ideas, truth, beauty, justice, and the American way. My job is stressful and consuming and draining, so I need lots of low-key outings and down-time with dogs, front porches, Rosaries and Rush Limbaugh podcasts. Unemployable outside the Beltway, I still yearn to move to Texas or some other well-governed enclave where normal people live. I love Jesus, country music, ridiculous TV, Vince Flynn books and teaching the faith. I spent some time in religious life so that question is resolved but I still love an old church with awesome statues of Mary. My saint go-to posse: Thomas More, Joan of Arc and Catherine of Alexandria.
I'm at a total loss over this one (I'm ruling out the possibility of desperation out of respect for a complete stranger and my own self-confidence as a decent human being...well, mostly decent...).
Seriously, since when has Texas been a "well governed enclave?" | |
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smwance's journal
