It's that time of year, and everyone is all a-twitter over the Christmas season (that started on November 1st). While I'm totally Jewish, I can still accept Christmas for what it is (or what it should be) and I can't avoid being dragged into it - since it's not like any of my friends are Jewish.
So as the season once again has pressed on and is drawing to a close, here are a few random thoughts I've been having. Perhaps you Christians out there can help me figure out some of these Christmas Conundrums or add to my humbuggery.
Conundrum #1: Christmas Shopping
I've discovered that the REAL humbug of doing your Christmas shopping is NOT the stores themselves! I keep hearing people yammer about how crowded every store is and everything's gone from the shelves and everything's so expensive and it takes forever - but I didn't run into that. I did almost all of my Christmas shopping in one night, no car, in moderately popular stores. I mean I was in Best Buy, for cryin' out loud! While there were certainly PEOPLE about, I still managed to not only chat with two different employees about items but spend only 30 seconds in line with my purchases before checking out at a cashier.
The REAL humbug is the mystery of who to buy presents for. Some would argue that it's more a problem of WHAT to buy for people, with the whole "thought that counts" argument and whatnot - I would have to disagree. Knowing who to buy for is the hard part - once you've got THAT list down, a series of gift card purchases at the very least will take care of that (the thought is in figuring out where to get the gift card). Some people will easily make your list: family, close relatives (if they will be attending some large function), closest friends. Once you get past that level and into the sublevels of interhuman connections, it all becomes muddled. You start having to base holiday purchases on the probability that that person used a similar probability and is buying something for you.
You know what we need? A website. Perhaps one already exists, but I'd like a website where you can tag people to let them know you're getting them a gift. Then they would know and could tag you back that you will be getting a gift. You could even have a wish list page to help people decide what to get for you. I bet that if you made it a sign-up site, you could work the HTML to display all items on the receiver's page if you're the receiver, and givers could tag items so they wouldn't display for anyone else. That avoids double-gifts, and the registry logging-in necessity makes it so that receivers can't see what's been blacked out on their own wish list (and certainly not by whom). The problem would be getting everyone you know to sign up for it - because without that, it's still useless. Probably best to make it an add-on for Facebook or something so your lazy friends and family don't have to sign up for anything extra.
Conundrum #2: Christmas Movies
Sure, you can lay claim that Christmas movies teach about faith and family and togetherness and the spirit of giving and all that jazz. Bells ring and angels get wings because it's a wonderful life and God bless us, every one. I'm talking about the lesser movies out there. The ones that make you really shudder during the holiday season.
Things I've learned from annoying Christmas movies:
- You will always get the present you want if you mention it enough times, despite its unavailability or expense or subjective nature or even the fact that you'll shoot your eye out.
- There will always be arguments between family members, but everything gets worked out in under two hours, give or take.
- The only reason caroling exists today is theft. Odds are that if carolers are at your door, someone is in your house taking your shit.
- Christmas decorations are never a celebration of Christmas spirit. They are a means of competition with neighbors. Overelaborate displays are only beat by more overelaborate displays or a Hatfield-McCoy prank-filled rivalry - never with a noise violation or other form of citation.
- Any string of Christmas lights can support an adult male's weight. This can either save his life from falling, or allow him to perform awesome swinging stunts - probably after they've saved his life.
- Santa always has more trouble with random problems than with visiting every child on the planet in one night. Seriously, it's either a marital dispute or something going wrong with the elves or the reindeer or not enough people believing in him or he's kidnapped or rendered unconscious or something. Never about the whole stress of his job description - always the little things that get him into hot water.
Christmas Conundrum #3: Christmas Music
I want to shoot every executive at every radio station involved in the "let's be the first to switch to all-Christmas-music this season" idiocy. It's one thing to play a few Christmas songs once the commercial season starts up - maybe play an hour's worth once or twice a day. Devote maybe the entire 24-48 hours before Christmas to the all-Christmas-music notion. But seriously - there's just not enough Christmas songs to make this a feasible plan. And for fuck's sake - these are PLACES OF BUSINESS having this tripe pumped in.
It's bad enough that I go to have lunch somewhere and realize that my lunch hour for two months is going to be in the presence of 24-hour Christmas. Then I have to feel eighty times more sorry for the poor employees who work there and listen to it for their entire shift, day in and day out.
I honestly can't believe there aren't more Christmas-music-related shootings come Thanksgiving time, let alone around the 20th of December.
"I swear ta God, Mabel, I hear 'bout mommy kissin' freakin' Santa Claus one more goddamn time, I'm puttin' a bullet in mah head and y'all can finally let me be at peace!"
Also, I'm sorry, but I can't stand Barbra Streisand singing Christmas carols. I love Barbra as much as any heterosexual male can, and I know she's got an awesome singing voice, but you can't hear a single one of those songs without thinking, "This voice is Barbra Streisand, and these are Christmas carols, and my mind wants to evacuate my head out any possible orifice so it can stop having to make this mental connection." At least I can't.
Any shopping anecdotes or commiseration over gift-giving?
Any movie lessons you'd like to add to my list?
Your favorite and least-favorite-mind-numbing Christmas songs?
I'm all ears. After all, 'tis the season!
Read more!
Friday, December 21, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Santa and Obesity
We all know by now that the things that piss me off the most tend to be people making decisions based on stupid ideas without taking five seconds to continue thinking it through to the next logical step and realizing it's a stupid idea.
Today's mind explosion comes from some 80-year-old guy in a Santa suit who refuses to stuff his suit with a pillow. Because it's supposedly making our children obese.
He claims that children have been seeing Santa as a "chubby role model" and then they grow up thinking it's fine to be overweight. Seriously, he's making the "what would Santa do" argument that a lovely magical holiday spirit is turning kids into milk-and-cookie-loving fatties. When the kids and parents start asking questions about why Santa is so thin, this guy claims Santa's been on a diet and the parents agree that it's a good idea.
Hey, are you all too busy "thinking about the children" that you've forgotten to THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN?
What happens when they go to a different mall and see a different Santa, one who's apparently yo-yo-dieted his way back to his old college weight of "belly like a bowl full of jelly?" Doesn't changing the figure to conform with reality just detract from any possible magic left in the holiday? If you want to argue that Santa needs to go on a diet because of obesity and the risks of heart disease, what does that say about the fantasy itself? Santa can't get heart disease or clogged arteries or suffer from a myocardial infarction because he's FUCKING SANTA CLAUS! He's FUCKING MAGICAL, you idiotic jackaninnies! Does he need to wear a goddamned face mask while popping magically through chimneys because of the creosote buildup in the fireplace and he could get lung disease?
Here's what pisses me off the most: judging and altering Santa based on one tiny facet and ignoring the rest of it all because it's not the hot-button issue that has the country's knickers in a twist, so to speak.
Santa is overweight, so we must make him skinnier and say he's on a diet or else children will become obese since Santa is their role model? Fine, what about the fact that Santa only works one day a year? Do we need to make up a day job for Santa so children don't grow up to be slackers and bums? Should we have a police force out patrolling the streets to let kids know that breaking and entering is a crime, even if it's to give presents to good girls and boys? What about the misdemeanor of peeping since he sees you when you're sleeping? How about a gestapo of lawyers monitoring Santa to file suits if his naughty/nice decisions are determined to be racial profiling? Why isn't someone tackling the issue of elf slave labor or cruelty to reindeers having to pull a sleigh? Any global warming bitchfests about having to live at the North Pole even though the icecap his home and workshop are on must be melting away to nothing?
Anyone trying to ruin the magic of Santa Claus by making him follow reality instead of the spirit of Christmas is a Grinch who needs to be shot in the face. Put in your pillow and crank up the jolly, you old bastard. Kids have enough reality being jammed in their faces and enough bitching about diet and exercise from all angles throughout childhood. It's Christmas. Give them a fucking break and go have some eggnog.
Yes, I'm Jewish. But I'm also nondenominational and open-minded enough to know that you don't go fucking with Santa Claus.
(Don't be this guy.) Read more!
Today's mind explosion comes from some 80-year-old guy in a Santa suit who refuses to stuff his suit with a pillow. Because it's supposedly making our children obese.
He claims that children have been seeing Santa as a "chubby role model" and then they grow up thinking it's fine to be overweight. Seriously, he's making the "what would Santa do" argument that a lovely magical holiday spirit is turning kids into milk-and-cookie-loving fatties. When the kids and parents start asking questions about why Santa is so thin, this guy claims Santa's been on a diet and the parents agree that it's a good idea.
Hey, are you all too busy "thinking about the children" that you've forgotten to THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN?
What happens when they go to a different mall and see a different Santa, one who's apparently yo-yo-dieted his way back to his old college weight of "belly like a bowl full of jelly?" Doesn't changing the figure to conform with reality just detract from any possible magic left in the holiday? If you want to argue that Santa needs to go on a diet because of obesity and the risks of heart disease, what does that say about the fantasy itself? Santa can't get heart disease or clogged arteries or suffer from a myocardial infarction because he's FUCKING SANTA CLAUS! He's FUCKING MAGICAL, you idiotic jackaninnies! Does he need to wear a goddamned face mask while popping magically through chimneys because of the creosote buildup in the fireplace and he could get lung disease?
Here's what pisses me off the most: judging and altering Santa based on one tiny facet and ignoring the rest of it all because it's not the hot-button issue that has the country's knickers in a twist, so to speak.
Santa is overweight, so we must make him skinnier and say he's on a diet or else children will become obese since Santa is their role model? Fine, what about the fact that Santa only works one day a year? Do we need to make up a day job for Santa so children don't grow up to be slackers and bums? Should we have a police force out patrolling the streets to let kids know that breaking and entering is a crime, even if it's to give presents to good girls and boys? What about the misdemeanor of peeping since he sees you when you're sleeping? How about a gestapo of lawyers monitoring Santa to file suits if his naughty/nice decisions are determined to be racial profiling? Why isn't someone tackling the issue of elf slave labor or cruelty to reindeers having to pull a sleigh? Any global warming bitchfests about having to live at the North Pole even though the icecap his home and workshop are on must be melting away to nothing?
Anyone trying to ruin the magic of Santa Claus by making him follow reality instead of the spirit of Christmas is a Grinch who needs to be shot in the face. Put in your pillow and crank up the jolly, you old bastard. Kids have enough reality being jammed in their faces and enough bitching about diet and exercise from all angles throughout childhood. It's Christmas. Give them a fucking break and go have some eggnog.
Yes, I'm Jewish. But I'm also nondenominational and open-minded enough to know that you don't go fucking with Santa Claus.
(Don't be this guy.) Read more!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Baseball Steroids
There's a huge buzz going on over some report that says what we've all pretty much known for the past 5 years: there's a lot of steroid/drug usage in the game of baseball. And it tries to shock us with the fact that it's been going on a lot longer than the 4 years that MLB has been having to test for steroids - even though all of the cases involving players with steroid involvement have been saying things about steroids being used for a long time.
So in essence, this report tells us more details about what we already had the gist of but didn't care enough about to investigate the matter ourselves.
I personally dislike baseball. I wouldn't shed a tear if this or some other huge steroid scandal or report shut down the game of baseball entirely. Not one tear. Well, unless superfans of baseball learned how much I dislike baseball and my future nonchalance over its demise, then beat me up with baseball bats. Then I might shed some tears. But they'd still have little to do with remorse or mourning for the deceased sport.
My thinking is that we shouldn't give a damn about steroids being used in baseball. Frankly, the whole operation is hogwash, and if the sport itself can't maintain a control - how can it expect its players to follow the rules? I know, that sounds confusing and nonsensical. Here's my thought process:
The argument about steroids (aside from its illegality) is that it gives certain players an unfair advantage over other players. This leads to the whole "it's unfair, so this player shouldn't be allowed to win things or hold records because it's unfair" argument/complaint/whine-fest.
My thinking is that you can't argue about one type of unfairness or advantage unless all the others are eliminated as well. It all becomes a moot point. It's like trying to complain about your chess opponent moving pieces and cheating WHILE THE CHESS BOARD IS ON FIRE. The game is already useless, so why argue about its further uselessness?
Baseball fields/stadiums aren't built to the same code. Here is proof-positive that the game itself is useless because the fields aren't the same, as referenced in Wikipedia:
Unlike the majority of sports, baseball playing fields can vary significantly, within certain guidelines, in size and shape of the field. With the exception of the strict rules on the dimensions of the infield, discussed above, the official rulessimply state that fields built after June 1, 1958 must have a minimum distance of 325 feet (99 m) from home plate to the fences in left and right field and 400 (121 m) feet to center. This rule (a footnote to official rule 1.04) was passed specifically in response to the fence at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, which was not originally designed for baseball, and thus was only 251 feet (77 m) to the left field pole (1 foot [0.3 m] over the bare minimum required by the rules). Major league teams often skirt this rule. For example, Minute Maid Park's Crawford Boxes are only 315 feet (96 m), and with a fence much lower than the famous "Green Monster" at Fenway Park which is labeled as 310 feet (94 m) away and 37-foot (11 m), two-inches tall. And there are no rules at all regulating the height of "fences, stands or other obstructions", other than the assumption that they exist. However, teams are required to obtain approval from the League Office when constructing new stadiums, or when proposing alterations.
Because of this flexibility, there are numerous variations in park configuration, from different lengths to the fences to uneven playing surfaces to massive or minimal amounts of foul territory. The differing styles create a unique sense of ambiance in each location, something that many fans find alluring (and even a source of civic pride). All of these factors, as well as local variations in altitude, climate and game scheduling, can affect the nature of the games played at those ballparks. Certain stadiums eventually get labeled as either a "pitcher's park" or a "hitter's park", depending on which side benefits more from the unique factors present. Chicago's Wrigley Field can be either, depending on the wind direction at any given time. This is due to Chicago's close proximity to Lake Michigan. The wind provides drag or lift to the ball depending on whether it is blowing "in", or "out" or "across" the field. When the wind blows "in", it can lead to more fly ball outs. When the wind blows "out", an ordinary fly ball is more likely to wind up a home run into the bleachers or even reach the streets. When the wind blows "across", a fly ball can sail into the bleachers for a home run, or carry away from the bleachers for an out or a simple extra-base hit.
In the end, the lack of a consistent, standardized playing field has caused some debate, particularly when comparing players statistics and career records. For example, hitting a ball off the Green Monster in Boston results in a hit, where at San Francisco the hit may have been caught.
So the size of the stadium is not consistent, and has an effect on the outcome of the game. There are many other biased factors in the game of baseball, too. For example, gravity doesn't remain constant. I'm fairly sure that the Denver stadium is the highest in altitude, which leads to a slightly lower gravity and (probably more of an effect) thinner air, which leads to longer hits in that particular location. I think the lowest in altitude is in Arizona, but I could be wrong. I'm not willing to do the research on that one at this moment.
So now that space and physics are unbalanced in baseball, why not add on the imbalance of the time continuum itself? In the game of football (not the soccer kind of football, although this is true for that sport as well), the game is rigidly timed. You get four 15-minute quarters, one sudden death 15-minute overtime, and if the score is still tied, the game is still over. I think that in playoffs, this rule is abandoned, but the point remains that MOST of the time, the game is rigidly timed. That means that one player has a certain amount of time, give or take, to amass points and and distances and playtime in order to acheive a record. In baseball, there is no definite end time. Every game can go off into infinity. How can you have a record for something in baseball if one player plays only 9-inning standard games, but one player gets to be in 14-inning games or 18-inning games?
My point is that baseball is a stupid game that means nothing, is completely useless, and steroids are the least of their worries. If steroids were really that important of a factor in winning or breaking records, teams would be hiring professional wrestlers as ringers. Have you ever seen these Ironman competitions with people PULLING TRAINS? Give one of these monsters a baseball bat and see what happens.
What we need is either actual regulation for these things and enforcement of those rules, or the foundation of the WLB: Whatever League Baseball. Anyone can play, using whatever advantages they want. I think a team of those World's Strongest Women Competition entrants would be an exciting game to watch. Plus, more 'roid rage means more chances for violence and injury, which is what drives most of us to watch real sports.
The whole game of baseball is stupid and worthless. I didn't need a report about steroids to tell me that.
(An article about the steroid report, in case I haven't fully convinced you to stop watching baseball entirely)
Read more!
So in essence, this report tells us more details about what we already had the gist of but didn't care enough about to investigate the matter ourselves.
I personally dislike baseball. I wouldn't shed a tear if this or some other huge steroid scandal or report shut down the game of baseball entirely. Not one tear. Well, unless superfans of baseball learned how much I dislike baseball and my future nonchalance over its demise, then beat me up with baseball bats. Then I might shed some tears. But they'd still have little to do with remorse or mourning for the deceased sport.
My thinking is that we shouldn't give a damn about steroids being used in baseball. Frankly, the whole operation is hogwash, and if the sport itself can't maintain a control - how can it expect its players to follow the rules? I know, that sounds confusing and nonsensical. Here's my thought process:
The argument about steroids (aside from its illegality) is that it gives certain players an unfair advantage over other players. This leads to the whole "it's unfair, so this player shouldn't be allowed to win things or hold records because it's unfair" argument/complaint/whine-fest.
My thinking is that you can't argue about one type of unfairness or advantage unless all the others are eliminated as well. It all becomes a moot point. It's like trying to complain about your chess opponent moving pieces and cheating WHILE THE CHESS BOARD IS ON FIRE. The game is already useless, so why argue about its further uselessness?
Baseball fields/stadiums aren't built to the same code. Here is proof-positive that the game itself is useless because the fields aren't the same, as referenced in Wikipedia:
Unlike the majority of sports, baseball playing fields can vary significantly, within certain guidelines, in size and shape of the field. With the exception of the strict rules on the dimensions of the infield, discussed above, the official rulessimply state that fields built after June 1, 1958 must have a minimum distance of 325 feet (99 m) from home plate to the fences in left and right field and 400 (121 m) feet to center. This rule (a footnote to official rule 1.04) was passed specifically in response to the fence at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, which was not originally designed for baseball, and thus was only 251 feet (77 m) to the left field pole (1 foot [0.3 m] over the bare minimum required by the rules). Major league teams often skirt this rule. For example, Minute Maid Park's Crawford Boxes are only 315 feet (96 m), and with a fence much lower than the famous "Green Monster" at Fenway Park which is labeled as 310 feet (94 m) away and 37-foot (11 m), two-inches tall. And there are no rules at all regulating the height of "fences, stands or other obstructions", other than the assumption that they exist. However, teams are required to obtain approval from the League Office when constructing new stadiums, or when proposing alterations.
Because of this flexibility, there are numerous variations in park configuration, from different lengths to the fences to uneven playing surfaces to massive or minimal amounts of foul territory. The differing styles create a unique sense of ambiance in each location, something that many fans find alluring (and even a source of civic pride). All of these factors, as well as local variations in altitude, climate and game scheduling, can affect the nature of the games played at those ballparks. Certain stadiums eventually get labeled as either a "pitcher's park" or a "hitter's park", depending on which side benefits more from the unique factors present. Chicago's Wrigley Field can be either, depending on the wind direction at any given time. This is due to Chicago's close proximity to Lake Michigan. The wind provides drag or lift to the ball depending on whether it is blowing "in", or "out" or "across" the field. When the wind blows "in", it can lead to more fly ball outs. When the wind blows "out", an ordinary fly ball is more likely to wind up a home run into the bleachers or even reach the streets. When the wind blows "across", a fly ball can sail into the bleachers for a home run, or carry away from the bleachers for an out or a simple extra-base hit.
In the end, the lack of a consistent, standardized playing field has caused some debate, particularly when comparing players statistics and career records. For example, hitting a ball off the Green Monster in Boston results in a hit, where at San Francisco the hit may have been caught.
So the size of the stadium is not consistent, and has an effect on the outcome of the game. There are many other biased factors in the game of baseball, too. For example, gravity doesn't remain constant. I'm fairly sure that the Denver stadium is the highest in altitude, which leads to a slightly lower gravity and (probably more of an effect) thinner air, which leads to longer hits in that particular location. I think the lowest in altitude is in Arizona, but I could be wrong. I'm not willing to do the research on that one at this moment.
So now that space and physics are unbalanced in baseball, why not add on the imbalance of the time continuum itself? In the game of football (not the soccer kind of football, although this is true for that sport as well), the game is rigidly timed. You get four 15-minute quarters, one sudden death 15-minute overtime, and if the score is still tied, the game is still over. I think that in playoffs, this rule is abandoned, but the point remains that MOST of the time, the game is rigidly timed. That means that one player has a certain amount of time, give or take, to amass points and and distances and playtime in order to acheive a record. In baseball, there is no definite end time. Every game can go off into infinity. How can you have a record for something in baseball if one player plays only 9-inning standard games, but one player gets to be in 14-inning games or 18-inning games?
My point is that baseball is a stupid game that means nothing, is completely useless, and steroids are the least of their worries. If steroids were really that important of a factor in winning or breaking records, teams would be hiring professional wrestlers as ringers. Have you ever seen these Ironman competitions with people PULLING TRAINS? Give one of these monsters a baseball bat and see what happens.
What we need is either actual regulation for these things and enforcement of those rules, or the foundation of the WLB: Whatever League Baseball. Anyone can play, using whatever advantages they want. I think a team of those World's Strongest Women Competition entrants would be an exciting game to watch. Plus, more 'roid rage means more chances for violence and injury, which is what drives most of us to watch real sports.
The whole game of baseball is stupid and worthless. I didn't need a report about steroids to tell me that.
(An article about the steroid report, in case I haven't fully convinced you to stop watching baseball entirely)
Read more!
Christmas on the CTA
I saw this, and had to share. I know, it's wrong of me to post hilarious things that I didn't write (and have no idea who the original author is) - but if you live in Chicago, you'll hopefully crack up as much as I did and forgive me. I've seen it on this awesome blog and originally on a post in this LJ community post.
And if you're not living in Chicago, maybe it'll give you some insight into our horrible world, full of Doomsdays (and apparently a supposed walkout on Monday that will leave the city crippled with no CTA, RTA or PACE).
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
But St. Nick himself, plump and brimming with joy
Hit a snag on his last stop: Chicago, Illinois
For Rudolph the reindeer, whose nose led the way
Suddenly fell ill and could not guide the sleigh
Santa said “Well, just one option remains
I'll finish my route using CTA trains”
He gathered the reindeer and sack full of toys
To give to Chicagoland good girls and boys
And though well-equipped, CTA card in hand
He'd soon find their trip wouldn't go quite as planned
The train that they rode went from four tracks to one
And wouldn't move fast 'til construction was done
Right then, Santa's joy changed to derision
Saying “It'll take 3 damn hours to reach Clark and Division”
“We normally fly through the air with such speed
But this subway, it moves like a turtle on weed”
The seats were all dirty and beyond repairs
The reindeer stood in urine, which for once wasn't theirs
And Sally's new doll, it would just have to wait
Her Brown Line stop's closed until 2008!
Yes…Santa, he trudged and he slogged and he groaned
It seemed that his Doomsday would not be postponed
But he made a vow on that cold Christmas night
“I must do my job, and do the job right!”
He rode on that Red Line, and then on the Blue
Plus the 36 bus and the Clark 22
He rode on the Orange Line, rode on the Green
From O'Hare to East Side and all homes between
And despite the delays at a few of those places
He did all he could to put smiles on kids' faces
And when he was done, he sighed with relief
Though the trip had been rough, it was worth all the grief
He delivered those presents, he was true to his word
He looked at his watch…..it was January 3rd.
They all flew back home once Rudolph felt better
Mrs. Claus fetched his hubby hot tea and a sweater
Then St. Nick sat down in his favorite chair
And thought all about the entire affair
He hoped that the CTA would succeed
In getting their present: the funds that they need
And I heard him exclaim, as exclaiming's his habit
“Merry Christmas to All! Next time, f**k it, I'll cab it!!!!” Read more!
And if you're not living in Chicago, maybe it'll give you some insight into our horrible world, full of Doomsdays (and apparently a supposed walkout on Monday that will leave the city crippled with no CTA, RTA or PACE).
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
But St. Nick himself, plump and brimming with joy
Hit a snag on his last stop: Chicago, Illinois
For Rudolph the reindeer, whose nose led the way
Suddenly fell ill and could not guide the sleigh
Santa said “Well, just one option remains
I'll finish my route using CTA trains”
He gathered the reindeer and sack full of toys
To give to Chicagoland good girls and boys
And though well-equipped, CTA card in hand
He'd soon find their trip wouldn't go quite as planned
The train that they rode went from four tracks to one
And wouldn't move fast 'til construction was done
Right then, Santa's joy changed to derision
Saying “It'll take 3 damn hours to reach Clark and Division”
“We normally fly through the air with such speed
But this subway, it moves like a turtle on weed”
The seats were all dirty and beyond repairs
The reindeer stood in urine, which for once wasn't theirs
And Sally's new doll, it would just have to wait
Her Brown Line stop's closed until 2008!
Yes…Santa, he trudged and he slogged and he groaned
It seemed that his Doomsday would not be postponed
But he made a vow on that cold Christmas night
“I must do my job, and do the job right!”
He rode on that Red Line, and then on the Blue
Plus the 36 bus and the Clark 22
He rode on the Orange Line, rode on the Green
From O'Hare to East Side and all homes between
And despite the delays at a few of those places
He did all he could to put smiles on kids' faces
And when he was done, he sighed with relief
Though the trip had been rough, it was worth all the grief
He delivered those presents, he was true to his word
He looked at his watch…..it was January 3rd.
They all flew back home once Rudolph felt better
Mrs. Claus fetched his hubby hot tea and a sweater
Then St. Nick sat down in his favorite chair
And thought all about the entire affair
He hoped that the CTA would succeed
In getting their present: the funds that they need
And I heard him exclaim, as exclaiming's his habit
“Merry Christmas to All! Next time, f**k it, I'll cab it!!!!” Read more!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Letter to RedEye: Micro-Racism
Technically this is about Wednesday's articles, but since I didn't get to complete a response, I finished it today. I dislike doing that, because it leads to very disjointed arguments if I'm not careful. My arguments one day differ greatly from my arguments the next day - after they've had time to stew and mutate from my radioactive brainwaves or something...
Anyway, the articles were about Micro-Racism, and are available online at:
The racist in all of us
Micro? What about the macro-racism?
Racism on campus
(As usual, it's all in italics, and anything they actually print I'll put in boldtype later in an update.)
Micro-Racism on Whose Part?
So I read all of the articles about micro-racism, and while some incidents were truly signs of racism (with little "micro" about them) - a lot of these things seem like the racism was only in the victim's mind. The white guy cutting in from of the black guy at a reception desk - is that really about race? Which is the more likely scenario: that a white guy cut in front of a black guy because he thinks so much less of black people or that they "don't matter" enough to wait, or that one person is a jerk and doesn't want to wait in lines with other people? This is just one example of "micro-racism" that I'm pretty sure is only racist on the victim's part for thinking that racism was a motivation for an incident. Why can't the question "Where were you born?" refer to a state or city in America? Why does it have to be implied that the questioner was asking about an Asian country of national origin just because the questionee happens to be of Asian descent?
When will people learn that stereotyping isn't always an "evil racist menace" - because it's just a common necessity for our human brains to work? To the brain, a stereotype is just a simplified collection of all your opinions for a specific subject based on experiences, hearsay and logic. It's okay to stereotype an elephant as large and gray with big ears, isn't it? Unless you've seen elephants that are NOT large or NOT grey or with SMALL ears, that's just how you're going to stereotype them. If you were beaten up by tall and muscled kids during school, you're likely to stereotype all tall and muscled people as potential threats. It's not because of anything personal against them or what they look like or who they are - it's just what you're used to and what you've experienced. If you really want to tackle negative stereotypes, you'd have to get people to stop doing those negative things the lead to the association.
Of course, any attempt to stop groups of people from doing the negative things they are associated with would almost certainly be seen as evil stereotyping or "racism".
Aaron Samuels, 24, Bridgeport
Any thoughts from my readers? Am I wrong? Read more!
Anyway, the articles were about Micro-Racism, and are available online at:
The racist in all of us
Micro? What about the macro-racism?
Racism on campus
(As usual, it's all in italics, and anything they actually print I'll put in boldtype later in an update.)
Micro-Racism on Whose Part?
So I read all of the articles about micro-racism, and while some incidents were truly signs of racism (with little "micro" about them) - a lot of these things seem like the racism was only in the victim's mind. The white guy cutting in from of the black guy at a reception desk - is that really about race? Which is the more likely scenario: that a white guy cut in front of a black guy because he thinks so much less of black people or that they "don't matter" enough to wait, or that one person is a jerk and doesn't want to wait in lines with other people? This is just one example of "micro-racism" that I'm pretty sure is only racist on the victim's part for thinking that racism was a motivation for an incident. Why can't the question "Where were you born?" refer to a state or city in America? Why does it have to be implied that the questioner was asking about an Asian country of national origin just because the questionee happens to be of Asian descent?
When will people learn that stereotyping isn't always an "evil racist menace" - because it's just a common necessity for our human brains to work? To the brain, a stereotype is just a simplified collection of all your opinions for a specific subject based on experiences, hearsay and logic. It's okay to stereotype an elephant as large and gray with big ears, isn't it? Unless you've seen elephants that are NOT large or NOT grey or with SMALL ears, that's just how you're going to stereotype them. If you were beaten up by tall and muscled kids during school, you're likely to stereotype all tall and muscled people as potential threats. It's not because of anything personal against them or what they look like or who they are - it's just what you're used to and what you've experienced. If you really want to tackle negative stereotypes, you'd have to get people to stop doing those negative things the lead to the association.
Of course, any attempt to stop groups of people from doing the negative things they are associated with would almost certainly be seen as evil stereotyping or "racism".
Aaron Samuels, 24, Bridgeport
Any thoughts from my readers? Am I wrong? Read more!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Science Project Battle Royale
Sometimes it takes a lot to get me focused on one thing and one thing alone - focused enough to come up with enough material to write about it, anyway. Sometimes what's even harder is keeping that train of thought either moving forward until I can type it out, or at least pulled into a specific station where I know it will be waiting for me to board once again after rushing about elsewhere.
My mind is often like a little dog, rushing about and distracted by shiny objects, never quite sure how it got to where it currently is, but no matter because there will always be more shiny objects and - look, shiny!
The analogy is more apt when put in the context of how much time my brain apparently devotes to thinking about things that (in the context of the analogy) are like a dog wading nose-deep in crotches.
That out of the way, I can hop a trip back to my particular train of thought and share my thoughts, for those of you anxiously awaiting something about science projects, battle royales, and not mind/dog/crotch analogies:
I was sitting on the train (I can usually procure a seat after the Roosevelt stop) and became aware of the three boys across from me who were talking about South Park. I wasn't paying attention to their conversation, mostly because I had my iPod on, but I couldn't help but gawk at the blast-from-the-past on the seat next to them. It was one of those cardboard science project things. You know, those obnoxiously-large cardboard stand-up deals that folds out to allow papers and "data" to be strewn about it as it borders some display and stands on a table in a gymnasium and is subject to the ridicule of every passing human being - whether you like it or not. Rage built inside of me, a nostalgic rage (if such a thing can exist) brought about by year after year of mindless science fairs.
That's when a thought entered my head: "Who MAKES these things, anyway?" Not the projects, because the answer is an obvious "fifth-graders" or something, but the actual cardboard things. I expect there are factories churning out these bastards, day in, day out. Working with shipping logistics as an analyst, I wondered for a brief moment if they experience seasonality, like a "science fair season" when revenue skyrockets as so many childhoods fall into the abyss of science fair depression. The moment was fleeting, and I was back to thinking about the factories.
There really can't be that many of them, right? Let's say that with the various companies that make them (since there are multiple varieties, as any fifth-grader could tell you) - there's maybe 50 that deal specifically with these sizes and styles of boards. That's one per state in America.
So here's my question:
Who would win in a fight to the death: all of the factory workers in each factory or all of the fifth-graders in that state?
I chose fifth-graders for this scenario because I think it makes it a fair fight. While practically every child from 2nd grade through high school is probably subjected to science fairs, I think that fifth grade is when you're old enough to be expected to know enough about the scientific method to make an actual experiment - but still young enough to be forced to do one and yammered at about not having your parents do it for you. Plus, fifth grade seems like the nice balance between being old enough to fight to the death, but young enough to not know how to play dirty. Which gives the factory workers the advantage. They're probably outnumbered at a 100-to-1 ratio, which raises the question of whether or not each worker could take out 100 children each.
The maelstrom would be fantastic.
My money is riding on the children. They would be hungrier for it, to be honest. With no boards, there could be no science fairs. The workers must perish. Or, I suppose, stop working at the factories. If they all quit, the boards couldn't be made, and it's likeliest that a worker who hears that a mob of bloodthirsty children will kill all the workers would just quit and find a new job that won't result in death-by-anklebiting. Though if the workers all banded together and created traps and schematics and fought dirty - they would certainly stand a chance. There's something to be said for power in numbers, but even numbers would probably succumb to a well-executed rapid-fire nailgun situation.
It wouldn't take long for the children to locate tools and for the smart/crafty ones to operate them and increase their killing potential. Which is why my money still rides on the army of fifth-graders.
I suppose that in the end, mass murder of adult workers would probably be more devastating to the average childhood than any science project. You could call it a moot point. I prefer to think of it as an experiment with no control and no repeatable results. A science experiment, if you will.
Now if only I had some kind of cardboard device with which I could display my findings...
Party-stopper question: Who would win in a fight to the death - All of the cardboard project-stand factory workers or all of the science-project-hating fifth-graders? Read more!
My mind is often like a little dog, rushing about and distracted by shiny objects, never quite sure how it got to where it currently is, but no matter because there will always be more shiny objects and - look, shiny!
The analogy is more apt when put in the context of how much time my brain apparently devotes to thinking about things that (in the context of the analogy) are like a dog wading nose-deep in crotches.
That out of the way, I can hop a trip back to my particular train of thought and share my thoughts, for those of you anxiously awaiting something about science projects, battle royales, and not mind/dog/crotch analogies:
I was sitting on the train (I can usually procure a seat after the Roosevelt stop) and became aware of the three boys across from me who were talking about South Park. I wasn't paying attention to their conversation, mostly because I had my iPod on, but I couldn't help but gawk at the blast-from-the-past on the seat next to them. It was one of those cardboard science project things. You know, those obnoxiously-large cardboard stand-up deals that folds out to allow papers and "data" to be strewn about it as it borders some display and stands on a table in a gymnasium and is subject to the ridicule of every passing human being - whether you like it or not. Rage built inside of me, a nostalgic rage (if such a thing can exist) brought about by year after year of mindless science fairs.
That's when a thought entered my head: "Who MAKES these things, anyway?" Not the projects, because the answer is an obvious "fifth-graders" or something, but the actual cardboard things. I expect there are factories churning out these bastards, day in, day out. Working with shipping logistics as an analyst, I wondered for a brief moment if they experience seasonality, like a "science fair season" when revenue skyrockets as so many childhoods fall into the abyss of science fair depression. The moment was fleeting, and I was back to thinking about the factories.
There really can't be that many of them, right? Let's say that with the various companies that make them (since there are multiple varieties, as any fifth-grader could tell you) - there's maybe 50 that deal specifically with these sizes and styles of boards. That's one per state in America.
So here's my question:
Who would win in a fight to the death: all of the factory workers in each factory or all of the fifth-graders in that state?
I chose fifth-graders for this scenario because I think it makes it a fair fight. While practically every child from 2nd grade through high school is probably subjected to science fairs, I think that fifth grade is when you're old enough to be expected to know enough about the scientific method to make an actual experiment - but still young enough to be forced to do one and yammered at about not having your parents do it for you. Plus, fifth grade seems like the nice balance between being old enough to fight to the death, but young enough to not know how to play dirty. Which gives the factory workers the advantage. They're probably outnumbered at a 100-to-1 ratio, which raises the question of whether or not each worker could take out 100 children each.
The maelstrom would be fantastic.
My money is riding on the children. They would be hungrier for it, to be honest. With no boards, there could be no science fairs. The workers must perish. Or, I suppose, stop working at the factories. If they all quit, the boards couldn't be made, and it's likeliest that a worker who hears that a mob of bloodthirsty children will kill all the workers would just quit and find a new job that won't result in death-by-anklebiting. Though if the workers all banded together and created traps and schematics and fought dirty - they would certainly stand a chance. There's something to be said for power in numbers, but even numbers would probably succumb to a well-executed rapid-fire nailgun situation.
It wouldn't take long for the children to locate tools and for the smart/crafty ones to operate them and increase their killing potential. Which is why my money still rides on the army of fifth-graders.
I suppose that in the end, mass murder of adult workers would probably be more devastating to the average childhood than any science project. You could call it a moot point. I prefer to think of it as an experiment with no control and no repeatable results. A science experiment, if you will.
Now if only I had some kind of cardboard device with which I could display my findings...
Party-stopper question: Who would win in a fight to the death - All of the cardboard project-stand factory workers or all of the science-project-hating fifth-graders? Read more!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Pickpocket
Apparently, today I was the victim of a pickpocket. I didn't notice until it was too late, and I can't identify who it was that picked the contents of my pocket. I only know what's missing, and that's the annoying part.
He took my fucking breakfast.
I'm really not sure what emotion to feel right now. Which is probably why I'm calmly and rationally able to put this all down in words. I'm sure that if I were feeling some emotion too strongly about the ordeal, I'd be too emotional to write about it.
So here's the story. I'm at home, pondering what outerwear I should use today, since it's "freezing rain" outside and I'm already wearing mismatched clothing already (because I'm a guy, have no fashion sense, and pick my outfits in the dark). I have a black shirt on with dark blue pants. I'm certain that some women over the course of my life have informed me of blue not matching with black, but I've never been stabbed over it, so I'm not too worried. I decided to go with my overcoat (to protect against rain, and overkill against the "freezing" part) and pair it with my knit cap, so give some barrier for my head. At this point, I decided to crack open a fresh bag (bought yesterday) of blueberry bagels and liberally apply some cream cheese.
I looked at the clock, and I was almost going to run the risk of missing my "late bus". That's the bus that I have to take when I miss my "early bus", which still puts me on a route to arrive at work 30 minutes early. So 'late' is really a relative term. Not that anyone in my office would really know if I arrived late, since I'm scheduled to start work 30 minutes before most everyone anyway. I grabbed a plastic bag, tossed bagel inside and shoved into coat pocket and dashed out the door.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
I know I had it with me on the bus, because I sat down and wanted to pull it out and eat my bagel, but I've grown a new respect for the "no eating on the bus" rule and a new disrespect for those who don't abide by it. I think that the only reason I'd ever want to be a cop is to assault and humiliate and and punish those idiots who fuck around in my presence. I'd never want to be on-duty and risking my life. I just want to be an off-duty cop who still has the power to ticket and fine and forcibly remove scofflaws from my presence. It was at this point in the daydream that I realized we were pulling into the station, so I got up and picked up a RedEye and headed to the train platform. Wasn't long before my train arrived and I boarded.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
I know I had it with me on the train, because I wobbled when the train started up and I felt for it to see if I'd squished it in any way. I was looking forward to digging into that bad boy once arriving in the office. I whipped open the paper and began reading. We got to the next stop, Roosevelt, and I felt people pushing against me. It's a busy stop, and there's always people shoving to get to the doors long before the train even stops or the doors are getting ready to open. Just rushers and impatience and idiocy. I turn the page as the doors are opening, and that's when I notice that one side of my body is off-balance. I have lost a ballast. I immediately consider that the bagel fell out of my pocket.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
It was nowhere on the ground, and I looked up to the crowd of people by the doors that were now open, and I see this one guy who looked about twenty, nervously twitching his leg while waiting for the crowd to disperse so he could leave the train. It really seemed like he was in a rush. Or nervous. He had on a bluish Columbia jacket, and a blue lunchbag. He was also gone before I mentally made any connection and there was nothing I could do (or had the energy to do at 7am) about the situation.
I mean, it could have been someone else. But I'm pretty sure it was this college kid. And I'm sure it was taken, because it never fell out of my pocket. I may be a dumb male who stereotypically would assume something was stolen before admitting that I'd lost it - but this is not the same thing. I keep tabs on my breakfast. I think you all KNOW a fat guy like me knows where his food is at all times. And by now, it's in someone else's belly.
They took my breakfast, and I'm mad as hell.
Okay, I'm nonchalant as hell.
But I'm certainly hungry... Read more!
He took my fucking breakfast.
I'm really not sure what emotion to feel right now. Which is probably why I'm calmly and rationally able to put this all down in words. I'm sure that if I were feeling some emotion too strongly about the ordeal, I'd be too emotional to write about it.
So here's the story. I'm at home, pondering what outerwear I should use today, since it's "freezing rain" outside and I'm already wearing mismatched clothing already (because I'm a guy, have no fashion sense, and pick my outfits in the dark). I have a black shirt on with dark blue pants. I'm certain that some women over the course of my life have informed me of blue not matching with black, but I've never been stabbed over it, so I'm not too worried. I decided to go with my overcoat (to protect against rain, and overkill against the "freezing" part) and pair it with my knit cap, so give some barrier for my head. At this point, I decided to crack open a fresh bag (bought yesterday) of blueberry bagels and liberally apply some cream cheese.
I looked at the clock, and I was almost going to run the risk of missing my "late bus". That's the bus that I have to take when I miss my "early bus", which still puts me on a route to arrive at work 30 minutes early. So 'late' is really a relative term. Not that anyone in my office would really know if I arrived late, since I'm scheduled to start work 30 minutes before most everyone anyway. I grabbed a plastic bag, tossed bagel inside and shoved into coat pocket and dashed out the door.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
I know I had it with me on the bus, because I sat down and wanted to pull it out and eat my bagel, but I've grown a new respect for the "no eating on the bus" rule and a new disrespect for those who don't abide by it. I think that the only reason I'd ever want to be a cop is to assault and humiliate and and punish those idiots who fuck around in my presence. I'd never want to be on-duty and risking my life. I just want to be an off-duty cop who still has the power to ticket and fine and forcibly remove scofflaws from my presence. It was at this point in the daydream that I realized we were pulling into the station, so I got up and picked up a RedEye and headed to the train platform. Wasn't long before my train arrived and I boarded.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
I know I had it with me on the train, because I wobbled when the train started up and I felt for it to see if I'd squished it in any way. I was looking forward to digging into that bad boy once arriving in the office. I whipped open the paper and began reading. We got to the next stop, Roosevelt, and I felt people pushing against me. It's a busy stop, and there's always people shoving to get to the doors long before the train even stops or the doors are getting ready to open. Just rushers and impatience and idiocy. I turn the page as the doors are opening, and that's when I notice that one side of my body is off-balance. I have lost a ballast. I immediately consider that the bagel fell out of my pocket.
The bagel did NOT fall out of my pocket.
It was nowhere on the ground, and I looked up to the crowd of people by the doors that were now open, and I see this one guy who looked about twenty, nervously twitching his leg while waiting for the crowd to disperse so he could leave the train. It really seemed like he was in a rush. Or nervous. He had on a bluish Columbia jacket, and a blue lunchbag. He was also gone before I mentally made any connection and there was nothing I could do (or had the energy to do at 7am) about the situation.
I mean, it could have been someone else. But I'm pretty sure it was this college kid. And I'm sure it was taken, because it never fell out of my pocket. I may be a dumb male who stereotypically would assume something was stolen before admitting that I'd lost it - but this is not the same thing. I keep tabs on my breakfast. I think you all KNOW a fat guy like me knows where his food is at all times. And by now, it's in someone else's belly.
They took my breakfast, and I'm mad as hell.
Okay, I'm nonchalant as hell.
But I'm certainly hungry... Read more!
Friday, December 07, 2007
Stairway to?
I'm sick and tired of stairs and the people who use them at a speed I find inappropriate.
Hopefully in the future, there will be no stairs and we can all use vacuum tube networks to arrive at various destinations, or at least at various altitudes in the same location. Hopefully in the less-distant future, all stairs will be escalators. Preferably weight-sensored escalators so the energy-whiners can be placated by the fact that they only turn on and use power when someone's actually on them.
Of course, before that happens, we would need people to stop and remember WHY we have escalators. In case you're one of those nitwits who forgot, we have them so that we don't have to climb stairs. Sometimes I wonder if it's just the fact that they look like stairs that triggers these people to automatically mandate, "I see stairs - I must climb them," even if the stairs themselves are already moving.
I can succumb to the age-old excuse of being "in a hurry". Of course, I plan my travel time accordingly so I won't have to be in a hurry. I'm one of those weird people who tries to keep to a schedule and understands how long it can take to travel somewhere. I expect delays and leave home accordingly, as opposed to some people I know who recall one miraculously-quick travel instance and rationalize that every trip will be that short. They're the ones perpetually late to everything. I can more willingly accept the excuse of "immediate rushes", like when the train is pulling into the station and it will be leaving shortly so moving up the already-moving stairs is an attempt to catch the train. Fine. But when there are NO trains at the station, the act is absolutely ridiculous. There's nowhere to go, buddy!
A similar situation would be those asshole drivers who cut you off and weave haphazardly just to gain an extra carlength or two while the light is red. So you get to swear a constant flow of obscenities at the car that almost got you killed, just to be 20 feet closer to a RED LIGHT.
There are times when I'll scrunch myself to one side and let a rusher pass by. This is usually a factor of my mood at the time, the environmental conditions, and the situation of the escalator. For example, in my office building at room temperature on an escalator leading to places of meetings and businesses - I will let someone pass by if I notice them rushing up. When it's 18 degrees and you're shoving people on your way to an empty train station platform - you can go to hell, because I'm not budging.
Manual stairs are just as annoying at times. And the only way I can find to correct the current situation is to have everyone approach the stairs in the order of speed they plan on being able to ascend/descend them. Most stairs where I find bottlenecking only allow for one person moving at a time, though two can theoretically fit in the space. This is more apt for one person ascending to pass one person descending. Trying to pass in the same direction is dangerous at best and potentially-deadly at worst.
I am a slow person when it comes to stairs (did you notice my hatred for them yet) - but I know my place and I take proper measures. I hold back when waiting in a group to use the stairs. I can identify who is obviously faster than me or looks hurried and should obviously be traversing the staircase before me, lest I clog up the works. And yet there are still those exceptions that sneak by - usually an older woman who seems rather spry rushing her way to the turnstile, and yet hobbling awkwardly and sluggishly down each step, one-by-one, like she were a stunt double for the "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" lady.
Is she just old enough to stop caring about what other people think or anyone other than herself and where she's going? If she had one iota of guilt about the 8-person traffic jam she's causing, wouldn't you think she'd do everything in her power to stop, scrunch and let everyone else pass? Nay - she hobbles along, hip jutting into potential passing space. She is essentially the ambulatory version of an "elderly driver" sterotype.
If we can't replace all the staircases with escalators soon, then my other idea is to widen to allow for AT LEAST two full lanes of person traffic (and yes, I'm smart enough to account for the average American being wider today than back in the 50's when most of these current stairways were built) - and designate lanes like highways (fastest lane closer to the middle, slowest by the shoulder/handrail). Faster people would know to take the inside track, and slower people would be over on the right - trying to attain a "passing lane" possibility with wider lanes to account for jutting hips and larger people.
At least those are MY ideas.
Party-stopper question: What do you think can be done to alleviate the staircase traffic situation in our downtown areas? Read more!
Hopefully in the future, there will be no stairs and we can all use vacuum tube networks to arrive at various destinations, or at least at various altitudes in the same location. Hopefully in the less-distant future, all stairs will be escalators. Preferably weight-sensored escalators so the energy-whiners can be placated by the fact that they only turn on and use power when someone's actually on them.
Of course, before that happens, we would need people to stop and remember WHY we have escalators. In case you're one of those nitwits who forgot, we have them so that we don't have to climb stairs. Sometimes I wonder if it's just the fact that they look like stairs that triggers these people to automatically mandate, "I see stairs - I must climb them," even if the stairs themselves are already moving.
I can succumb to the age-old excuse of being "in a hurry". Of course, I plan my travel time accordingly so I won't have to be in a hurry. I'm one of those weird people who tries to keep to a schedule and understands how long it can take to travel somewhere. I expect delays and leave home accordingly, as opposed to some people I know who recall one miraculously-quick travel instance and rationalize that every trip will be that short. They're the ones perpetually late to everything. I can more willingly accept the excuse of "immediate rushes", like when the train is pulling into the station and it will be leaving shortly so moving up the already-moving stairs is an attempt to catch the train. Fine. But when there are NO trains at the station, the act is absolutely ridiculous. There's nowhere to go, buddy!
A similar situation would be those asshole drivers who cut you off and weave haphazardly just to gain an extra carlength or two while the light is red. So you get to swear a constant flow of obscenities at the car that almost got you killed, just to be 20 feet closer to a RED LIGHT.
There are times when I'll scrunch myself to one side and let a rusher pass by. This is usually a factor of my mood at the time, the environmental conditions, and the situation of the escalator. For example, in my office building at room temperature on an escalator leading to places of meetings and businesses - I will let someone pass by if I notice them rushing up. When it's 18 degrees and you're shoving people on your way to an empty train station platform - you can go to hell, because I'm not budging.
Manual stairs are just as annoying at times. And the only way I can find to correct the current situation is to have everyone approach the stairs in the order of speed they plan on being able to ascend/descend them. Most stairs where I find bottlenecking only allow for one person moving at a time, though two can theoretically fit in the space. This is more apt for one person ascending to pass one person descending. Trying to pass in the same direction is dangerous at best and potentially-deadly at worst.
I am a slow person when it comes to stairs (did you notice my hatred for them yet) - but I know my place and I take proper measures. I hold back when waiting in a group to use the stairs. I can identify who is obviously faster than me or looks hurried and should obviously be traversing the staircase before me, lest I clog up the works. And yet there are still those exceptions that sneak by - usually an older woman who seems rather spry rushing her way to the turnstile, and yet hobbling awkwardly and sluggishly down each step, one-by-one, like she were a stunt double for the "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" lady.
Is she just old enough to stop caring about what other people think or anyone other than herself and where she's going? If she had one iota of guilt about the 8-person traffic jam she's causing, wouldn't you think she'd do everything in her power to stop, scrunch and let everyone else pass? Nay - she hobbles along, hip jutting into potential passing space. She is essentially the ambulatory version of an "elderly driver" sterotype.
If we can't replace all the staircases with escalators soon, then my other idea is to widen to allow for AT LEAST two full lanes of person traffic (and yes, I'm smart enough to account for the average American being wider today than back in the 50's when most of these current stairways were built) - and designate lanes like highways (fastest lane closer to the middle, slowest by the shoulder/handrail). Faster people would know to take the inside track, and slower people would be over on the right - trying to attain a "passing lane" possibility with wider lanes to account for jutting hips and larger people.
At least those are MY ideas.
Party-stopper question: What do you think can be done to alleviate the staircase traffic situation in our downtown areas? Read more!
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Correlation and Causation
Sweet Jesus, I am so incredibly pissed off over seeing yet another failure of a researcher producing yet another failure of an article based on some half-assed finding! Okay, so the person writing the article isn't exactly a "researcher" - more likely a journalist who was abysmal at every subject in school other than lying to the bullies to avoid getting beaten up or forging doctor's notes to get out of gym throughout high school.
Either way, a complete dipshit.
The article is about a study that showed a correlation between people who said they drink diet sodas and the subjects being overweight. That's seriously it. 41% of respondents who said they consume diet soda were overweight.
And the journalist immediately blurts out things like: "One recent study has shown that people who drink diet soda still have a 41 percent chance of being overweight."
Right off the fucking bat, with the ONE piece of real actual honest-to-goodness fucking SCIENTIFIC DATA and it's just slathered in make-up and given a skimpy bikini and made into whatever fashion of whore the journalist cares to make it out to be. They're actually implying causation IN THE CORRELATION!
It's not that those who consume diet soda have "a chance" to be overweight - it's simply that this percentage WERE overweight. One has absolutely nothing to do with the other, unless you feel like conducting THAT experiment to test THAT hypothesis!
Sure, they then go into some blather about "halo effect" and how you think you're being better to your body with certain consumables and it leads to overcompensation down the road for daily calories as a result. Again, nothing to do with the 41%. You can't just staple a fact to a scientific result and expect the resulting blood pool to be a testament to how the fact is represented by the lies you've made up about the data.
Not once did they ponder the notion that the obesity came first. Not once did they randomly speculate that instead of the consumption of diet sodas causing overweight participants that it MIGHT be the case of the participants being overweight causing them to consume diet sodas! I'm not saying that's the case - because I know better than to assume that correlation is grounds for causation - but I'm throwing out a tat for their tit in the grand scheme of Devil's Advocacy.
I happen to be overweight. And I happen to try and consume more diet soda as a result of being overweight. To hopefully see the result of being LESS overweight.
No matter what some bogus idiot decides to claim about the mangled remains of a once-adequately-scientific study.
(Judge the article for yourself!)
Read more!
Either way, a complete dipshit.
The article is about a study that showed a correlation between people who said they drink diet sodas and the subjects being overweight. That's seriously it. 41% of respondents who said they consume diet soda were overweight.
And the journalist immediately blurts out things like: "One recent study has shown that people who drink diet soda still have a 41 percent chance of being overweight."
Right off the fucking bat, with the ONE piece of real actual honest-to-goodness fucking SCIENTIFIC DATA and it's just slathered in make-up and given a skimpy bikini and made into whatever fashion of whore the journalist cares to make it out to be. They're actually implying causation IN THE CORRELATION!
It's not that those who consume diet soda have "a chance" to be overweight - it's simply that this percentage WERE overweight. One has absolutely nothing to do with the other, unless you feel like conducting THAT experiment to test THAT hypothesis!
Sure, they then go into some blather about "halo effect" and how you think you're being better to your body with certain consumables and it leads to overcompensation down the road for daily calories as a result. Again, nothing to do with the 41%. You can't just staple a fact to a scientific result and expect the resulting blood pool to be a testament to how the fact is represented by the lies you've made up about the data.
Not once did they ponder the notion that the obesity came first. Not once did they randomly speculate that instead of the consumption of diet sodas causing overweight participants that it MIGHT be the case of the participants being overweight causing them to consume diet sodas! I'm not saying that's the case - because I know better than to assume that correlation is grounds for causation - but I'm throwing out a tat for their tit in the grand scheme of Devil's Advocacy.
I happen to be overweight. And I happen to try and consume more diet soda as a result of being overweight. To hopefully see the result of being LESS overweight.
No matter what some bogus idiot decides to claim about the mangled remains of a once-adequately-scientific study.
(Judge the article for yourself!)
Read more!
The Big 'Nuk!
The holiday of Hanukkah is shrouded in mystery for most people, some Jews included. Over time, the celebration has become a bit deluded and competitive with Christmas in the category of traditions and merchandising. It vies for contention in the mentioning of winter holidays - and few people know a single thing about the holiday itself.
For starters, how to spell it.
The most common spelling out there is Hanukkah. H, not Ch - one n, two k's, and another h. Some versions opt with the Ch for that gutteral sound like the Hebrew letter used in the Hebrew name for the holiday. Some versions go with double n's, some a single k, and it's rare - but a few spellings drop off the h at the end for some reason. My unofficial name for the holiday stems from the few things all spellings agree on:
"The Big 'Nuk"
The 'Nuk, like Christmas, has roots going far back in history - with an original storyline that often gets twisted up into things pretty enough to make a gift card with or tell to a youth at bedtime. Christmas has its Santa Claus - the 'Nuk has a miracle of oil.
It all began long long ago, around 168 B.C.E. (That's 'Before the Common Era', since Judaism doesn't have much use for B.C. and A.D.). That was when the Seleucid monarch, Antiochus IV, declared that Judaism should be abolished. Jews were massacred, and soldiers literally went around "uncircumcising" people. (If you thought the idea of circumcision was painful, imagine a forceful method of "correcting" that!) Amid the slaughter, the Holy Temple of Jerusalem was looted and desecrated. Eventually, Antiochus IV demanded that an altar to Zeus be erected in the Temple, and the rebellion officially started with Mattathias and his five sons: John, Simon, Eleazar, Jonathan, and Judah. In the rebellion, Mattathias was killed and Judah took over as leader of the rebellion, complete with a new title, "Judah Maccabee" - or "Judah the Hammer".
The Jews proved, as usual, to be a feisty bunch and in 165 BCE, the revolt against the Seleucid monarchy was successful. They stormed the Temple and celebrated the "chanukah" - the "Rededication" of the Holy Temple. (That's where the holiday gets its name.) This is the point where the celebration gives birth to the holiday legends. In all the historical accounts, there is no "miracle" - other than winning a rebellion against a monarch's rule with such a small militia. The books simply state that the rededication celebration lasted eight days.
This eventually became a legend of sorts, to further explain WHY the celebration lasted so long (aside from pure jubilation). The legend goes on to say that when they went to rededicate the Temple, the amount of holy candle oil left undesecrated was only enough to last for one night, yet the flames lasted an entire eight nights - the amount of time necessary to produce and bless a new batch of oil for lighting the menorah in the Holy Temple. Another explanation for the eight-day celebration was that the rebellion had lasted so long that another important holiday had been passed by - the celebration of Sukkot, which lasts eight days. Upon the end of the rebellion, the Jews celebrated a belated Sukkot for those eight days. Either way, due to the miracle of the oil story or the importance of candles/lights in the spirit of the Holy Temple's rededication - the holiday is also known as the "Festival of Lights".
So the celebration of the miraculous oil, or just the rededication lighting of the Temple's menorah, sparked the tradition of lighting the chanukiyah for eight nights. This as well was debated. There were two schools of thought regarding the lighting of the candles: one that starts with eight candles and reduces by one each night, the other starting with one and adding one each night. Eventually, the addition of candles was the winner of the debate. More specifically, the tradition is that the first candle goes on the far RIGHT, and added candles extend to the LEFT. HOWEVER, the candles each night are lit (by the "shamash" candle) going from LEFT to RIGHT, lighting the newest candle first.
Looking for MORE candle-related traditions?
On the Sabbath, the candles that are lit are the last flames created and are therefore used as a source of light, sometimes as a heating element, and cannot be extinguished except by naturally dying out. On the Big 'Nuk, the candles are purely for the purpose of celebration. They are NOT to be used as lighting or heating or anything other than enjoyment and looking pretty. For this reason, it is okay to put them out - should the need arise, though I'm not sure why one would...
While the tradition of giving presents is modern, and usually attributed to competition with Christmas, there are historic traditional foods that are eaten - and make this holiday #2 of my favorite Jewish holidays for the food aspects. Of course, when the celebration and ensuing miracle tales are all about the usage of OIL - the traditional foods of the Big 'Nuk are all FRIED! Fried potato pancakes ("latkes") rank the highest, but another traditional fried food is "sufganyot" - JELLY DOUGHNUTS! As for chocolate coins, that tradition is based on the games with dreidles and that coins/money were given to children as holiday gifts. 20th-century chocolatiers created the gold-foiled chocolates, which replaced real coinage - and present-giving took over thanks to competition with Christmas.
Let me end this with the traditional THIRD prayer said over the candles on the FIRST night of Hanukkah (tonight):
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, shehecheyanu, v'kiyemanu, vehigi-anu laz'man hazeh.
Praised are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has kept us in life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.
Okay, I believe that covers everything! Anything I left out? Anything??
Oh yes, Hanukkah Harry and the Hanukkah Bush - purely modern holiday-wannabe hilarity.
And my #1 favorite Jewish holiday, since the 'Nuk ranked #2?
It's called "Purim", and is practically a combination of Hallowe'en and St. Patty's Day - combining costumed parties with the celebration of getting so drunk you can't tell "Mordechai" from "Haman". And that's PRETTY drunk!
But that's another story, and another rant, for another day. Happy Hanukkah! Read more!
For starters, how to spell it.
The most common spelling out there is Hanukkah. H, not Ch - one n, two k's, and another h. Some versions opt with the Ch for that gutteral sound like the Hebrew letter used in the Hebrew name for the holiday. Some versions go with double n's, some a single k, and it's rare - but a few spellings drop off the h at the end for some reason. My unofficial name for the holiday stems from the few things all spellings agree on:
"The Big 'Nuk"
The 'Nuk, like Christmas, has roots going far back in history - with an original storyline that often gets twisted up into things pretty enough to make a gift card with or tell to a youth at bedtime. Christmas has its Santa Claus - the 'Nuk has a miracle of oil.
It all began long long ago, around 168 B.C.E. (That's 'Before the Common Era', since Judaism doesn't have much use for B.C. and A.D.). That was when the Seleucid monarch, Antiochus IV, declared that Judaism should be abolished. Jews were massacred, and soldiers literally went around "uncircumcising" people. (If you thought the idea of circumcision was painful, imagine a forceful method of "correcting" that!) Amid the slaughter, the Holy Temple of Jerusalem was looted and desecrated. Eventually, Antiochus IV demanded that an altar to Zeus be erected in the Temple, and the rebellion officially started with Mattathias and his five sons: John, Simon, Eleazar, Jonathan, and Judah. In the rebellion, Mattathias was killed and Judah took over as leader of the rebellion, complete with a new title, "Judah Maccabee" - or "Judah the Hammer".
The Jews proved, as usual, to be a feisty bunch and in 165 BCE, the revolt against the Seleucid monarchy was successful. They stormed the Temple and celebrated the "chanukah" - the "Rededication" of the Holy Temple. (That's where the holiday gets its name.) This is the point where the celebration gives birth to the holiday legends. In all the historical accounts, there is no "miracle" - other than winning a rebellion against a monarch's rule with such a small militia. The books simply state that the rededication celebration lasted eight days.
This eventually became a legend of sorts, to further explain WHY the celebration lasted so long (aside from pure jubilation). The legend goes on to say that when they went to rededicate the Temple, the amount of holy candle oil left undesecrated was only enough to last for one night, yet the flames lasted an entire eight nights - the amount of time necessary to produce and bless a new batch of oil for lighting the menorah in the Holy Temple. Another explanation for the eight-day celebration was that the rebellion had lasted so long that another important holiday had been passed by - the celebration of Sukkot, which lasts eight days. Upon the end of the rebellion, the Jews celebrated a belated Sukkot for those eight days. Either way, due to the miracle of the oil story or the importance of candles/lights in the spirit of the Holy Temple's rededication - the holiday is also known as the "Festival of Lights".
So the celebration of the miraculous oil, or just the rededication lighting of the Temple's menorah, sparked the tradition of lighting the chanukiyah for eight nights. This as well was debated. There were two schools of thought regarding the lighting of the candles: one that starts with eight candles and reduces by one each night, the other starting with one and adding one each night. Eventually, the addition of candles was the winner of the debate. More specifically, the tradition is that the first candle goes on the far RIGHT, and added candles extend to the LEFT. HOWEVER, the candles each night are lit (by the "shamash" candle) going from LEFT to RIGHT, lighting the newest candle first.
Looking for MORE candle-related traditions?
On the Sabbath, the candles that are lit are the last flames created and are therefore used as a source of light, sometimes as a heating element, and cannot be extinguished except by naturally dying out. On the Big 'Nuk, the candles are purely for the purpose of celebration. They are NOT to be used as lighting or heating or anything other than enjoyment and looking pretty. For this reason, it is okay to put them out - should the need arise, though I'm not sure why one would...
While the tradition of giving presents is modern, and usually attributed to competition with Christmas, there are historic traditional foods that are eaten - and make this holiday #2 of my favorite Jewish holidays for the food aspects. Of course, when the celebration and ensuing miracle tales are all about the usage of OIL - the traditional foods of the Big 'Nuk are all FRIED! Fried potato pancakes ("latkes") rank the highest, but another traditional fried food is "sufganyot" - JELLY DOUGHNUTS! As for chocolate coins, that tradition is based on the games with dreidles and that coins/money were given to children as holiday gifts. 20th-century chocolatiers created the gold-foiled chocolates, which replaced real coinage - and present-giving took over thanks to competition with Christmas.
Let me end this with the traditional THIRD prayer said over the candles on the FIRST night of Hanukkah (tonight):
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, shehecheyanu, v'kiyemanu, vehigi-anu laz'man hazeh.
Praised are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has kept us in life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.
Okay, I believe that covers everything! Anything I left out? Anything??
Oh yes, Hanukkah Harry and the Hanukkah Bush - purely modern holiday-wannabe hilarity.
And my #1 favorite Jewish holiday, since the 'Nuk ranked #2?
It's called "Purim", and is practically a combination of Hallowe'en and St. Patty's Day - combining costumed parties with the celebration of getting so drunk you can't tell "Mordechai" from "Haman". And that's PRETTY drunk!
But that's another story, and another rant, for another day. Happy Hanukkah! Read more!
Bad Acting and Prophetic Dreams
I am usually not one for dreaming up prophecies, or having dreams that literally come true. I have a lot of deja vu moments during the average week, though - and most of those times it's because it feels like I dreamed about it at some point in the past. It feels even weirder when the moment itself is incredibly boring or routine - which means that I have been dreaming about my dull and boring life.
Last night / this morning, I got of got this shock. I'm pretty sure I'd hit the snooze button once or twice, which leads to very vivid half-awake/half-asleep dreaming, but the message was loud and clear. Let me take you to my crazy dreamworld. Well, before that I'd better let you know what I did last night (since dreams are just short-term memories being downloaded into long-term memory, for those of you who didn't take a boring Psychology class like I did).
If you've ever seen the show Jackass, you'll have a base understanding of what I'm talking about. If you've also seen the show Viva La Bam (technically a spinoff of Jackass, I think), you're right on track. Basically I've recently been watching the CKY movie series. CKY (or Camp Kill Yourself) is most of the original Jackass group and all of the stunts they were pulling long before Jackass even made it on the air. In fact, a few scenes from the CKY movies are almost certainly worked into the first season of Jackass. It's wild. Anyway, last night I watched the film "Haggard" - which is basically the entire cast of Jackass (well, the entire cast of Viva La Bam) trying to do what SEEMS to be an authentic full-length feature film. Seriously. The acting is crappy and spotty, all of the characters are like weird personae thought up by the actors, and the plotline is almost decent. Rather full of holes, but still passable as a storyline.
Cue up the dream sequence, and the dream itself was full of bad acting. There was something about a field trip back at my elementary school, and lots of spreadsheets were involved. Combine a boring job with a bad-acting movie and that's apparently what you get. The end of the dream is what I remember most vividly. I'm in the back seat of my parents' car as they're picking me up from this field trip. They're talking about something, asking me some questions about how it was and if I had a good time. We get to the end of my elementary school's driveway, and my mom turns around and says, "Ethan is braindead." and that just jolts me completely out of sleep and the radio alarm goes off.
Ethan is the name of my cousin. And I sat there in bed for several minutes trying to acknowledge that I was having a dream. Some of my dreams involve long conversations about important things, and then I have to get out of bed because I know that I'm obviously not talking to anyone because my phone is nowhere near the bed and these people are obviously not in my room. But it all feels so REAL.
So now I'm sitting here at the office, wondering if I should call home and ask about my cousin.
I know that if something WERE wrong (like him being braindead or something happening to him that would cause such a thing) - my parents would have contacted me to let me know. Do I risk sounding like a paranoid freak of nature and call to ASK if something's wrong? Do I share my vision of impending doom and give yet another item to add to their list of reasons why I belong in professional psychological therapy sessions.
It later occurred to me that I know of a few Ethans, not necessarily my cousin (the first one who came to mind). My friend's nephew is named Ethan - I hear her talk about him all the time. Babies are just as vulnerable to brain death as teenagers...
(Update: It's the mid-afternoon and neither my mother nor friend have mentioned an Ethan or braindead states. I think it really was all a dream.) Read more!
Last night / this morning, I got of got this shock. I'm pretty sure I'd hit the snooze button once or twice, which leads to very vivid half-awake/half-asleep dreaming, but the message was loud and clear. Let me take you to my crazy dreamworld. Well, before that I'd better let you know what I did last night (since dreams are just short-term memories being downloaded into long-term memory, for those of you who didn't take a boring Psychology class like I did).
If you've ever seen the show Jackass, you'll have a base understanding of what I'm talking about. If you've also seen the show Viva La Bam (technically a spinoff of Jackass, I think), you're right on track. Basically I've recently been watching the CKY movie series. CKY (or Camp Kill Yourself) is most of the original Jackass group and all of the stunts they were pulling long before Jackass even made it on the air. In fact, a few scenes from the CKY movies are almost certainly worked into the first season of Jackass. It's wild. Anyway, last night I watched the film "Haggard" - which is basically the entire cast of Jackass (well, the entire cast of Viva La Bam) trying to do what SEEMS to be an authentic full-length feature film. Seriously. The acting is crappy and spotty, all of the characters are like weird personae thought up by the actors, and the plotline is almost decent. Rather full of holes, but still passable as a storyline.
Cue up the dream sequence, and the dream itself was full of bad acting. There was something about a field trip back at my elementary school, and lots of spreadsheets were involved. Combine a boring job with a bad-acting movie and that's apparently what you get. The end of the dream is what I remember most vividly. I'm in the back seat of my parents' car as they're picking me up from this field trip. They're talking about something, asking me some questions about how it was and if I had a good time. We get to the end of my elementary school's driveway, and my mom turns around and says, "Ethan is braindead." and that just jolts me completely out of sleep and the radio alarm goes off.
Ethan is the name of my cousin. And I sat there in bed for several minutes trying to acknowledge that I was having a dream. Some of my dreams involve long conversations about important things, and then I have to get out of bed because I know that I'm obviously not talking to anyone because my phone is nowhere near the bed and these people are obviously not in my room. But it all feels so REAL.
So now I'm sitting here at the office, wondering if I should call home and ask about my cousin.
I know that if something WERE wrong (like him being braindead or something happening to him that would cause such a thing) - my parents would have contacted me to let me know. Do I risk sounding like a paranoid freak of nature and call to ASK if something's wrong? Do I share my vision of impending doom and give yet another item to add to their list of reasons why I belong in professional psychological therapy sessions.
It later occurred to me that I know of a few Ethans, not necessarily my cousin (the first one who came to mind). My friend's nephew is named Ethan - I hear her talk about him all the time. Babies are just as vulnerable to brain death as teenagers...
(Update: It's the mid-afternoon and neither my mother nor friend have mentioned an Ethan or braindead states. I think it really was all a dream.) Read more!
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Letter to RedEye: Smoking Ban
Still trying to get published again. I'll let you know if anything comes of this one.
(UPDATE: Got published! As usual, everything in bold is what they printed - you get to see the entire unedited version!)
I think that the smoking ban is a horrible idea. Banning the use of something that is approved for sale is a ridiculous notion, even if it's for the supposed "greater good" of preventing secondhand smoke. The product can be sold at any establishment and is regulated by the federal government, but with this ban anyone purchasing that product is like a pariah. That makes as much sense as saying, "Here is your cupcake - now go outside if you want to eat that because you're offending the other customers with your cupcake-eating. You're putting them all at risk of being killed by getting crushed by a fat person!"
While I'm not going to turn a deaf ear to all of the scientific research about secondhand smoke and its effects, my gut is telling me that most of the secondhand smoke damage is done either at home over a prolonged period of time, or working in a previously-smoke-friendly location - not having to be in the same area as a smoker during lunch a few times a week. My gut also tells me that I inhale more poisons into my body from crossing one traffic-filled street downtown than I would by spending an hour in the non-smoking section of a restaurant (even if the entire smoking section were filled with chain-smokers). And that's just one street-crossing. So unless the government plans on foolishly trying to remove all cars from the downtown area (oh wait, Alderman Burke proposed a downtown toll) or removing all the buses as well (oh wait, Doomsday in January's got that covered) - I'd prefer if lawmakers started focusing on real crimes and enforcing laws that keep real dangers from harming me. Stop taking away our liberties. Oh, and just for the record, I'm a non-smoker.
Aaron Samuels, 24, Bridgeport Read more!
(UPDATE: Got published! As usual, everything in bold is what they printed - you get to see the entire unedited version!)
I think that the smoking ban is a horrible idea. Banning the use of something that is approved for sale is a ridiculous notion, even if it's for the supposed "greater good" of preventing secondhand smoke. The product can be sold at any establishment and is regulated by the federal government, but with this ban anyone purchasing that product is like a pariah. That makes as much sense as saying, "Here is your cupcake - now go outside if you want to eat that because you're offending the other customers with your cupcake-eating. You're putting them all at risk of being killed by getting crushed by a fat person!"
While I'm not going to turn a deaf ear to all of the scientific research about secondhand smoke and its effects, my gut is telling me that most of the secondhand smoke damage is done either at home over a prolonged period of time, or working in a previously-smoke-friendly location - not having to be in the same area as a smoker during lunch a few times a week. My gut also tells me that I inhale more poisons into my body from crossing one traffic-filled street downtown than I would by spending an hour in the non-smoking section of a restaurant (even if the entire smoking section were filled with chain-smokers). And that's just one street-crossing. So unless the government plans on foolishly trying to remove all cars from the downtown area (oh wait, Alderman Burke proposed a downtown toll) or removing all the buses as well (oh wait, Doomsday in January's got that covered) - I'd prefer if lawmakers started focusing on real crimes and enforcing laws that keep real dangers from harming me. Stop taking away our liberties. Oh, and just for the record, I'm a non-smoker.
Aaron Samuels, 24, Bridgeport Read more!
Monday, December 03, 2007
Hibernation
I think I'm starting to understand why bears hibernate.
Winter kind of sucks, for the most part. Don't get me wrong, I hate the heat and sun of summer and I love it when the temperatures get down below 60 degrees. It's just that once they drop below 30, it's like everyone else shuts down. Nobody wants to go anywhere, nobody wants to do anything, nobody wants to leave the warm sanctuary of their home. Which kind of leaves me isolated in my cave with nothing to do but sleep.
I used to have TV as a fall-back, but the internet has spoiled me when it comes to having to watch commercials, and the writer's strike has meant nothing of quality is available to watch fresh now. The biggest alternatives are eating (which doesn't work, because I like having something to watch while I eat) and sleeping (which totally works whenever).
Hence, I think I slept a majority of the weekend away. And loved it. I think I seriously got like 30 hours of sleep in this weekend. And I'm still tired. I'm loathing being at the office right now and I'd much rather be in bed, in dreamland. Wake me when it's almost spring.
I'm also starting to understand why bears are grumpy to the point of being godless killing machines.
Drag a bear out of his cave before the spring thaw and see what happens to your limbs. I bet mauling and gnawing come into play very quickly. I expect similar flares of anger coming from me today, whether I want to control them or not. Some Mondays, you just have to realize that you're dragging several bears out of their caves a few weeks too early, and the consequences will be dire.
Winter should really be prone to 80-day weekends. Read more!
Winter kind of sucks, for the most part. Don't get me wrong, I hate the heat and sun of summer and I love it when the temperatures get down below 60 degrees. It's just that once they drop below 30, it's like everyone else shuts down. Nobody wants to go anywhere, nobody wants to do anything, nobody wants to leave the warm sanctuary of their home. Which kind of leaves me isolated in my cave with nothing to do but sleep.
I used to have TV as a fall-back, but the internet has spoiled me when it comes to having to watch commercials, and the writer's strike has meant nothing of quality is available to watch fresh now. The biggest alternatives are eating (which doesn't work, because I like having something to watch while I eat) and sleeping (which totally works whenever).
Hence, I think I slept a majority of the weekend away. And loved it. I think I seriously got like 30 hours of sleep in this weekend. And I'm still tired. I'm loathing being at the office right now and I'd much rather be in bed, in dreamland. Wake me when it's almost spring.
I'm also starting to understand why bears are grumpy to the point of being godless killing machines.
Drag a bear out of his cave before the spring thaw and see what happens to your limbs. I bet mauling and gnawing come into play very quickly. I expect similar flares of anger coming from me today, whether I want to control them or not. Some Mondays, you just have to realize that you're dragging several bears out of their caves a few weeks too early, and the consequences will be dire.
Winter should really be prone to 80-day weekends. Read more!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Public Displays of Affection
Most of the time, I get my ideas for what to write about directly from the morning paper. My morning paper of choice is the Chicago RedEye, mostly because I live in Chicago and it's also free. The paper is pretty much just all of the popular stories from the Chicago Tribune (the RedEye's parent newspaper), and reading through everything but the sports and clubs/bars/annoying-music sections takes me about 10-15 minutes.
The focal story on the cover is about PDA (the kissing kind, not your damned PalmPilot kind) - and the sidebar invites readers to respond to: "Do you think PDA is OK? If so, what types are acceptable? And where?" So here are some of my thoughts on the subject.
I think that PDA is completely fine, in theory. I mean, call me a nerd, but I take the term at its completely-literal meaning. Public displays of affection are just that, basically "letting everyone know how you feel." Everyone seems to have decided that PDA only refers to one particular type of affection and a limited list of display options. I'll address the common denominator first.
You have love/lust for someone and don't want to hold back in public. Fine. I really don't care, and I think it's fine at pretty much all levels. From hand-holding to humping, whatever you want to do, you do it. As long as the recipient is willing, of course. I'm perfectly comfortable being on the same train as a man who's dry-humping a woman while he licks her face and also tenderly holds her hand - I'd just prefer it if she actually wanted these things done to/with her. My guidelines are that it's all good - but it's up to the PA-displayers to make sure that what they're doing doesn't violate any actual laws.
Frankly, the public indecency laws need to be abolished. We shouldn't be allowed to dictate what is "decent" and arrest those who don't follow the code. If that's truly acceptable, then I want Fergie to be deemed "indecent" due to her song "My Humps" and have her locked up for life, if not given the death penalty for corrupting the minds of preteen girls nationwide.
The last question asks where it's acceptable, and the answer is right there in front of your face. "In public." If it's being done in a location that is not public property, I find it wrong to consider it a "public display of affection." People can argue that the 'public' refers to "the general public being able to see it", but I see it as the guideline itself.
For example, a Walgreens is not a public place. It's open TO the public, but the business owner reserves the right to refuse service for whatever reason. You are a guest in that person's establishment - it is not public space wherein you can do whatever you want. The CTA, however, is a form of public transportation and I think that PDA is acceptable there.
So in conclusion, PDA is acceptable to me at any legal level in any public place. In the words of my newest role model Scott Adams, "But of course, there are obvious exceptions." One such exception is my parents. I am not comfortable with THEIR public displays of affection, in any venue or at any level. I'm also not very comfortable with PDAs made by anyone grotesque or ancient. Sorry, but if I'm barely comfortable looking at you, I'm certainly not going to feel comfortable looking at you while you're doing anything of that nature. Abe Vigoda could be tonguelocked with Heidi Klum - I'm still not going to find it pleasant. However, my comfort levels have nothing to do with things being OK or acceptable.
Lastly, I just want to touch upon the common misconception that all PDA involves this love/lust concept. Affection is based on "affect" and refers to ANY feeling or emotion. Crying on a park bench is a public display of affection. Screaming really loud when someone scares you in the park is a public display of affection. Even two screeching girls reminiscing on the street about how long it's been since they've had a martini-induced night of debauchery would constitute as a public display of affection.
Start limiting one, and you'd have to start limiting all of them.
Just remember - even though you should accept it, that doesn't mean you should always be comfortable with it. You just can't punish them because you aren't comfortable with it.
(The RedEye article online)
Read more!
The focal story on the cover is about PDA (the kissing kind, not your damned PalmPilot kind) - and the sidebar invites readers to respond to: "Do you think PDA is OK? If so, what types are acceptable? And where?" So here are some of my thoughts on the subject.
I think that PDA is completely fine, in theory. I mean, call me a nerd, but I take the term at its completely-literal meaning. Public displays of affection are just that, basically "letting everyone know how you feel." Everyone seems to have decided that PDA only refers to one particular type of affection and a limited list of display options. I'll address the common denominator first.
You have love/lust for someone and don't want to hold back in public. Fine. I really don't care, and I think it's fine at pretty much all levels. From hand-holding to humping, whatever you want to do, you do it. As long as the recipient is willing, of course. I'm perfectly comfortable being on the same train as a man who's dry-humping a woman while he licks her face and also tenderly holds her hand - I'd just prefer it if she actually wanted these things done to/with her. My guidelines are that it's all good - but it's up to the PA-displayers to make sure that what they're doing doesn't violate any actual laws.
Frankly, the public indecency laws need to be abolished. We shouldn't be allowed to dictate what is "decent" and arrest those who don't follow the code. If that's truly acceptable, then I want Fergie to be deemed "indecent" due to her song "My Humps" and have her locked up for life, if not given the death penalty for corrupting the minds of preteen girls nationwide.
The last question asks where it's acceptable, and the answer is right there in front of your face. "In public." If it's being done in a location that is not public property, I find it wrong to consider it a "public display of affection." People can argue that the 'public' refers to "the general public being able to see it", but I see it as the guideline itself.
For example, a Walgreens is not a public place. It's open TO the public, but the business owner reserves the right to refuse service for whatever reason. You are a guest in that person's establishment - it is not public space wherein you can do whatever you want. The CTA, however, is a form of public transportation and I think that PDA is acceptable there.
So in conclusion, PDA is acceptable to me at any legal level in any public place. In the words of my newest role model Scott Adams, "But of course, there are obvious exceptions." One such exception is my parents. I am not comfortable with THEIR public displays of affection, in any venue or at any level. I'm also not very comfortable with PDAs made by anyone grotesque or ancient. Sorry, but if I'm barely comfortable looking at you, I'm certainly not going to feel comfortable looking at you while you're doing anything of that nature. Abe Vigoda could be tonguelocked with Heidi Klum - I'm still not going to find it pleasant. However, my comfort levels have nothing to do with things being OK or acceptable.
Lastly, I just want to touch upon the common misconception that all PDA involves this love/lust concept. Affection is based on "affect" and refers to ANY feeling or emotion. Crying on a park bench is a public display of affection. Screaming really loud when someone scares you in the park is a public display of affection. Even two screeching girls reminiscing on the street about how long it's been since they've had a martini-induced night of debauchery would constitute as a public display of affection.
Start limiting one, and you'd have to start limiting all of them.
Just remember - even though you should accept it, that doesn't mean you should always be comfortable with it. You just can't punish them because you aren't comfortable with it.
(The RedEye article online)
Read more!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
CTA - Chicago Transit by Aaron?
I was in a particularly chatty mood last night while on my way home. Perhaps it was the thrill of being anywhere other than work. Yes, that's probably it. Anyway, I got off the train to transfer to my bus route home (#44) and only saw a bus at the #8 loading station. A few seconds went by, and I noticed the lights on the bus there flashing "Wallace/Racine", which is what a #44 bus would say. So just as I peek my head out to see if this is truly a #44, it pulls out. Of course.
And yes, it was a #44 bus. Which meant waiting for the next one with the five other people who just got fooled the same way. We all started chatting about how annoying it is when the bus gets ready to leave, pulls into the different area to pick someone else up, and fools everyone else who wants to rush and get on before it leaves but can't find it because it's in the wrong spot.
Another one pulled up about two minutes later, and of course then sat there at the station for ten minutes or so. Luckily, an odd train of thought entered my head when I was talking to one of my regular Bus Ladies (I don't know their names, they're just ladies who often ride the same buses as me) and said, "Well, either way, I'm sure going to miss it come January."
You see, due to idiocy at practically every level of government going up from the city level that's supposed to fund it's damned public transportation, in January we have yet another huge Doomsday planned. They'll be cutting service for over sixty different bus lines. Our #44 is slated for death. And that's when the idea struck me:
How profitable would it be to buy an old CTA bus and run it along one of the deceased routes?
I haven't had time to sit down and do any math yet, so figures will all be estimated and probably way off. But the office is quiet, I'm not yet on the clock, and I'm interested in figuring this out.
Let's say that a reasonable estimated figure to purchase an old bus is $25,000. I'm guessing that new ones are upwards of $70,000 - but these are old, probably outdated models that clunk and have over 150,000 miles or so on them. And yes, I'd pick one that at least runs.
So I pick one of the routes that got shut down and was populated enough to guarantee at least 3/4 capacity at all times (especially with all the people waiting since I run maybe once an hour or so with one damned bus all by myself for the entire route). I can only charge cash, since CTA cards would do me no good, but I'd keep things at the $2/ride mark - even if Doomsday would increase cash fares to like $3. The discount is because it would encourage riders and apologize for not being able to give transfers to the real CTA.
So let's say the average bus can hold, also on average, 40 people (when not crammed in like sardines).
So waiting at the start point, I get between 50-75% capacity before pulling out. That's about 25 people, which is $50. Let's also give a lowball estimate of how many stops are on the route - I'll go with about 40, since I'd pick a small route to start - and assume that a minimum of 2 people on average get on at each stop. I'm guessing most stops would be much more than 2, but with empty stops in-between let's go with 2 for now as an average. That's $4 per stop, which is $80 for the route by the end. Everyone's cleared out, raise back to 50-75% again, and repeat.
To go through all 40 stops would be about 35 minutes, plus another 10 minutes to wait and fill up before the reverse side. Altogether each run in one direction nets $130 for 45 minutes, or about $175/hr. Run the bus for an 8-hour day and that's $1,400 a day. I don't know how much gasoline would cost for a bus, but with a higher quality of gas or the larger tank capacity, let's assume it's about $200/day. That's still $1,200 profit every day.
At $1,200 profit a day, it would take 3 weeks to have made back the seed money.
Give it another 3 weeks and that's enough profit to purchase a second bus and hire another driver, which would probably result in only 2 weeks combined (considering a salary is now being paid) to make the profits to purchase another bus. And so on.
In theory, with estimated and probably-wrong numbers, I'm turning a profit in less than a month just by purchasing an old bus and doing what the CTA is supposed to do - transport the citizens of Chicago with authority.
Go ahead and tell me which of my numbers are wrong - it won't make much difference to me. The whole thing is just a mildly-irrational idea anyway.
After all, it's not like I know how to drive - let alone drive a bus. I just thought that the point needed to be made.
Read more!
And yes, it was a #44 bus. Which meant waiting for the next one with the five other people who just got fooled the same way. We all started chatting about how annoying it is when the bus gets ready to leave, pulls into the different area to pick someone else up, and fools everyone else who wants to rush and get on before it leaves but can't find it because it's in the wrong spot.
Another one pulled up about two minutes later, and of course then sat there at the station for ten minutes or so. Luckily, an odd train of thought entered my head when I was talking to one of my regular Bus Ladies (I don't know their names, they're just ladies who often ride the same buses as me) and said, "Well, either way, I'm sure going to miss it come January."
You see, due to idiocy at practically every level of government going up from the city level that's supposed to fund it's damned public transportation, in January we have yet another huge Doomsday planned. They'll be cutting service for over sixty different bus lines. Our #44 is slated for death. And that's when the idea struck me:
How profitable would it be to buy an old CTA bus and run it along one of the deceased routes?
I haven't had time to sit down and do any math yet, so figures will all be estimated and probably way off. But the office is quiet, I'm not yet on the clock, and I'm interested in figuring this out.
Let's say that a reasonable estimated figure to purchase an old bus is $25,000. I'm guessing that new ones are upwards of $70,000 - but these are old, probably outdated models that clunk and have over 150,000 miles or so on them. And yes, I'd pick one that at least runs.
So I pick one of the routes that got shut down and was populated enough to guarantee at least 3/4 capacity at all times (especially with all the people waiting since I run maybe once an hour or so with one damned bus all by myself for the entire route). I can only charge cash, since CTA cards would do me no good, but I'd keep things at the $2/ride mark - even if Doomsday would increase cash fares to like $3. The discount is because it would encourage riders and apologize for not being able to give transfers to the real CTA.
So let's say the average bus can hold, also on average, 40 people (when not crammed in like sardines).
So waiting at the start point, I get between 50-75% capacity before pulling out. That's about 25 people, which is $50. Let's also give a lowball estimate of how many stops are on the route - I'll go with about 40, since I'd pick a small route to start - and assume that a minimum of 2 people on average get on at each stop. I'm guessing most stops would be much more than 2, but with empty stops in-between let's go with 2 for now as an average. That's $4 per stop, which is $80 for the route by the end. Everyone's cleared out, raise back to 50-75% again, and repeat.
To go through all 40 stops would be about 35 minutes, plus another 10 minutes to wait and fill up before the reverse side. Altogether each run in one direction nets $130 for 45 minutes, or about $175/hr. Run the bus for an 8-hour day and that's $1,400 a day. I don't know how much gasoline would cost for a bus, but with a higher quality of gas or the larger tank capacity, let's assume it's about $200/day. That's still $1,200 profit every day.
At $1,200 profit a day, it would take 3 weeks to have made back the seed money.
Give it another 3 weeks and that's enough profit to purchase a second bus and hire another driver, which would probably result in only 2 weeks combined (considering a salary is now being paid) to make the profits to purchase another bus. And so on.
In theory, with estimated and probably-wrong numbers, I'm turning a profit in less than a month just by purchasing an old bus and doing what the CTA is supposed to do - transport the citizens of Chicago with authority.
Go ahead and tell me which of my numbers are wrong - it won't make much difference to me. The whole thing is just a mildly-irrational idea anyway.
After all, it's not like I know how to drive - let alone drive a bus. I just thought that the point needed to be made.
Read more!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Blackwater Steroids
There's a lawsuit going on against Blackwater, this private company serving as security guards in Iraq, where we are still at war. If you read into the article, the lawsuit is about charging the company with war crimes, wrongful death, assault, negligent hiring and emotional distress (to the families of Iraqis killed by Blackwater). Unfortunately, the title and main focal point of the article is the allegation that a quarter of the Blackwater security guards are using steroids.
Really - THAT'S the issue on the table here? Steroid use?
I'm frankly getting a little sick and tired of all the hubbub over steroid usage by people. Even if used for non-medicinal purposes, I don't see why steroid use is getting all of this attention. We've all heard about what it does and the effects of the increased testosterone and muscle growth. So what's the problem here? No seriously, what's the problem??
Their main purpose in Iraq is serving as security guards, protecting American citizens. In a place where there's a war going on. The lead attorney in the case, Susan Burke, says she thinks that "there is a whole corporate culture there that essentially rewards the use of excessive force -- shooting first, asking questions later." Did the dictionary and all my encyclopaedias suddenly change the meanings of "security guards" or "war"? I can't help but remember growing up with the knowledge that security guards use force to keep people and places secure. They shoot first and ask questions later. Otherwise, the things they're protecting get attacked and they get fired. I'm buffaloed as to why the lead attorney is basically saying "there is a whole corporate culture that essentially rewards employees doing their jobs effectively."
Seriously, Blackwater's major claim to fame (other than lawsuits) is that during four years of this War in Iraq, none of their protectees have been killed. That's a 100% success rate. Honestly, how can you argue with a 100% success rate? This is no half-assed "win some, lose some" company you're dealing with - this is a "win all, never lose!" company.
Do you know which security guards DON'T have a 100% success rate? The frickin' Secret Service! Of course, they've been in business a lot longer - but they only have a small handful of protectees at a time.
Am I saying that President Kennedy might not have been shot and killed if there were a few more steroid-using members on the force? Hard to say. Keener eye-muscles might have led to identifying the potential shooter (or shooters, if you're a conspiracy nut) and subsequent beatdown and death of said person(s).
What gets me even more irate is that this is a WAR ZONE, not the motherloving Olympics! While we can penalize a biathlete for using steroids and claim it's unfair towards those idiots who ski and shoot things with their own exercise and training alone (even though we also penalize them for using debilitating drugs like marijuana that gives the others an advantage), why are we penalizing security guards in a war zone? Are the Iraqi troops complaining because it's harder to kill Americans with these guards all buffed up with enhancement drugs?
If there's one guy you want on a 'roid rage, it's the guy with a gun who's protecting your ass from terrorists.
That's certainly who I'd hire if I were an idiot who decided to travel to Iraq in the middle of a war. Wouldn't you?
(The article that sparked this rant)
Read more!
Really - THAT'S the issue on the table here? Steroid use?
I'm frankly getting a little sick and tired of all the hubbub over steroid usage by people. Even if used for non-medicinal purposes, I don't see why steroid use is getting all of this attention. We've all heard about what it does and the effects of the increased testosterone and muscle growth. So what's the problem here? No seriously, what's the problem??
Their main purpose in Iraq is serving as security guards, protecting American citizens. In a place where there's a war going on. The lead attorney in the case, Susan Burke, says she thinks that "there is a whole corporate culture there that essentially rewards the use of excessive force -- shooting first, asking questions later." Did the dictionary and all my encyclopaedias suddenly change the meanings of "security guards" or "war"? I can't help but remember growing up with the knowledge that security guards use force to keep people and places secure. They shoot first and ask questions later. Otherwise, the things they're protecting get attacked and they get fired. I'm buffaloed as to why the lead attorney is basically saying "there is a whole corporate culture that essentially rewards employees doing their jobs effectively."
Seriously, Blackwater's major claim to fame (other than lawsuits) is that during four years of this War in Iraq, none of their protectees have been killed. That's a 100% success rate. Honestly, how can you argue with a 100% success rate? This is no half-assed "win some, lose some" company you're dealing with - this is a "win all, never lose!" company.
Do you know which security guards DON'T have a 100% success rate? The frickin' Secret Service! Of course, they've been in business a lot longer - but they only have a small handful of protectees at a time.
Am I saying that President Kennedy might not have been shot and killed if there were a few more steroid-using members on the force? Hard to say. Keener eye-muscles might have led to identifying the potential shooter (or shooters, if you're a conspiracy nut) and subsequent beatdown and death of said person(s).
What gets me even more irate is that this is a WAR ZONE, not the motherloving Olympics! While we can penalize a biathlete for using steroids and claim it's unfair towards those idiots who ski and shoot things with their own exercise and training alone (even though we also penalize them for using debilitating drugs like marijuana that gives the others an advantage), why are we penalizing security guards in a war zone? Are the Iraqi troops complaining because it's harder to kill Americans with these guards all buffed up with enhancement drugs?
If there's one guy you want on a 'roid rage, it's the guy with a gun who's protecting your ass from terrorists.
That's certainly who I'd hire if I were an idiot who decided to travel to Iraq in the middle of a war. Wouldn't you?
(The article that sparked this rant)
Read more!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Schadenfreude
I'm waiting for my friend to come in to work to find out if she's still sick and miserable. If she is, that generally means good things for me. I know, it's a sick and twisted thing to secretly desire misery on your friends, but we've been noticing a pattern and we're still testing its consistency.
Whenever I'm having a good day, bad things happen to my friends.
Whenever I'm having a bad day, good things happen to my friends.
We're still figuring out if my days control her luck or her days control my luck, but it's a very odd coincidence that we superstitiously feel might not be coincidence at all. I can only see things from my perspective, and vice-versa for her.
All I know is that on the day that I got a promotion/raise, she had a day that was so horrible, she seriously wanted to quit. Then on the day that I wanted to celebrate the event, my friends (plural, so I think I'm affecting them more than they affect me) were totally miserable over something they wanted being sold out and unavailable, and then we got into a minor car accident while trying to get home from the restaurant. Later, on a day where I was feeling particularly stressed out and miserable, she wound up getting a raise. She got to go home on time to celebrate, and I wound up staying two hours late to finish my insane projects.
The whole thing just awkwardly reeks of this notion of "soulmates" - in that two people are connected on some subconscious level. Most people think of soulmates as a positive thing - that both have the same emotions and brain wavelengths and whatnot in direct correlation with each other. I am overjoyed by something, and my soulmate would be equally overjoyed. And so forth.
I think the same thing can exist with negative correlation instead of positive. That instead of luck and emotions and trends being equal, they run opposite one another. I would attempt to coin the term "anti-soulmate", but it's not like it's the opposite of a soulmate. I think the opposite of a soulmate would be a hooker. It's just a different flavor of soulmate, like a flavor of ice cream that you really can't stand or would make you nauseous (think brussel sprouts mixed with squid). You can't deny that it is indeed ice cream, but it serves only to irritate you rather than soothe you with a sweet chilly treat.
In the end, the waiting was pointless. My friend stayed home sick today. Probably feeling miserable, but also possibly enjoying a relaxing day of sleep instead of being awake and miserable.
I'm guessing it's the latter, judging by the insanely stressful and annoying day mine has become... What a mean soulmate! Read more!
Whenever I'm having a good day, bad things happen to my friends.
Whenever I'm having a bad day, good things happen to my friends.
We're still figuring out if my days control her luck or her days control my luck, but it's a very odd coincidence that we superstitiously feel might not be coincidence at all. I can only see things from my perspective, and vice-versa for her.
All I know is that on the day that I got a promotion/raise, she had a day that was so horrible, she seriously wanted to quit. Then on the day that I wanted to celebrate the event, my friends (plural, so I think I'm affecting them more than they affect me) were totally miserable over something they wanted being sold out and unavailable, and then we got into a minor car accident while trying to get home from the restaurant. Later, on a day where I was feeling particularly stressed out and miserable, she wound up getting a raise. She got to go home on time to celebrate, and I wound up staying two hours late to finish my insane projects.
The whole thing just awkwardly reeks of this notion of "soulmates" - in that two people are connected on some subconscious level. Most people think of soulmates as a positive thing - that both have the same emotions and brain wavelengths and whatnot in direct correlation with each other. I am overjoyed by something, and my soulmate would be equally overjoyed. And so forth.
I think the same thing can exist with negative correlation instead of positive. That instead of luck and emotions and trends being equal, they run opposite one another. I would attempt to coin the term "anti-soulmate", but it's not like it's the opposite of a soulmate. I think the opposite of a soulmate would be a hooker. It's just a different flavor of soulmate, like a flavor of ice cream that you really can't stand or would make you nauseous (think brussel sprouts mixed with squid). You can't deny that it is indeed ice cream, but it serves only to irritate you rather than soothe you with a sweet chilly treat.
In the end, the waiting was pointless. My friend stayed home sick today. Probably feeling miserable, but also possibly enjoying a relaxing day of sleep instead of being awake and miserable.
I'm guessing it's the latter, judging by the insanely stressful and annoying day mine has become... What a mean soulmate! Read more!
Monday, November 26, 2007
Diseases
Everyone's probably heard stories about folk who watch Dateline or some other show that features diseases and, due to hypochondria or some other mental connection, decide that they in fact have it. I am NOT one of those folk. However, there's a new disease being talked about on the internet and the news that I believe I'm suffering from.
Phantom Cell Phone.
Now normally I'd clump this up in the category of diseases that we made up, like ADD, to explain some new and disturbing trend that we'd prefer to blame on genetics or fate instead of things like bad parenting. Parents would probably prefer to hear that their son has Attention Deficit Disorder and that's why he won't sit still and do schoolwork or focus on tasks for more than ten minutes at a time, rather than hear that their son won't pay attention to things because they've spoiled him with a lack of physical discipline. I'm pretty sure that the trend of ADD went on the rise just as parents were being told that spanking children is wrong and the whole child abuse thing took over. I'm not saying correlation means causation - I'm just saying it's pretty frickin' coincidental.
This PCP, however, explains a lot and makes actual biological sense. The whole disease is basically that carrying your Blackberry or other cell phone device in your pocket, doing its little vibration thing, over the years becomes like a part of your body. I'm not being zen and calling your phone "an extension of yourself" - I'm saying the brain apparently designates neurons and synapses strictly to that area of leg to specifically pick up on these vibrations. And, just like phantom limb for amputees, these neurons keep firing away even when your phone is off or not even in your pocket.
That little tingle, now being called "phantom buzz", is what drives people like me crazy. What's worse is when your phone is IN your pocket and you THINK it's going off and you check it and there's nothing there. No calls, no messages. Just you looking like an idiot, holding your phone.
My point is that I was feeling this and experiencing these symptoms long before I ever heard there was a new disease made up to explain it. Which makes it more real to me than ADD ever will. And I'm sure people will exclaim that ADD is a real disease and not just made up by drug companies to sell pills that do very little to treat something that already didn't really exist. Maybe their kid is one of the .1% who actually DOES have what would be called ADD and at a serious and real level. I think we should create a new disease for THAT and the REAL sufferers and finally drop this whole ADD loophole for kids who just don't want to pay attention.
I'd continue further, but my phone is ringing.
Oh crap. Never mind.
(Phantom Cell Phone article)
Read more!
Phantom Cell Phone.
Now normally I'd clump this up in the category of diseases that we made up, like ADD, to explain some new and disturbing trend that we'd prefer to blame on genetics or fate instead of things like bad parenting. Parents would probably prefer to hear that their son has Attention Deficit Disorder and that's why he won't sit still and do schoolwork or focus on tasks for more than ten minutes at a time, rather than hear that their son won't pay attention to things because they've spoiled him with a lack of physical discipline. I'm pretty sure that the trend of ADD went on the rise just as parents were being told that spanking children is wrong and the whole child abuse thing took over. I'm not saying correlation means causation - I'm just saying it's pretty frickin' coincidental.
This PCP, however, explains a lot and makes actual biological sense. The whole disease is basically that carrying your Blackberry or other cell phone device in your pocket, doing its little vibration thing, over the years becomes like a part of your body. I'm not being zen and calling your phone "an extension of yourself" - I'm saying the brain apparently designates neurons and synapses strictly to that area of leg to specifically pick up on these vibrations. And, just like phantom limb for amputees, these neurons keep firing away even when your phone is off or not even in your pocket.
That little tingle, now being called "phantom buzz", is what drives people like me crazy. What's worse is when your phone is IN your pocket and you THINK it's going off and you check it and there's nothing there. No calls, no messages. Just you looking like an idiot, holding your phone.
My point is that I was feeling this and experiencing these symptoms long before I ever heard there was a new disease made up to explain it. Which makes it more real to me than ADD ever will. And I'm sure people will exclaim that ADD is a real disease and not just made up by drug companies to sell pills that do very little to treat something that already didn't really exist. Maybe their kid is one of the .1% who actually DOES have what would be called ADD and at a serious and real level. I think we should create a new disease for THAT and the REAL sufferers and finally drop this whole ADD loophole for kids who just don't want to pay attention.
I'd continue further, but my phone is ringing.
Oh crap. Never mind.
(Phantom Cell Phone article)
Read more!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Fewer Illegal Immigrant Mortgages
Yet another story to illustrate the dreadful state our country is in. Not only are we apparently letting illegal immigrants buy homes with mortgages from American banks - we have banks COMPLAINING that less illegal immigrants are turning to them to aid in their continued criminal presence in our country!
This story apparently all starts with the ITIN (Individual Taxpayer Identification Number), invented by the IRS back in 1996. The ITIN was designed so that foreign investors and immigrants (both legal and illegal) could pay taxes. Okay, at this point I'm a little torn that the IRS, a federal institution, would do something that could potentially identify illegal immigrants. Of course, I also know that the IRS, a federal institution, just wants money to come in, and if it means taking some money from illegal immigrants' pockets in the unfortunate duration before they can be arrested and deported, I guess I can't see much harm in that.
The problem started a few years later when banks began accepting those taxpayer numbers for loan applications rather than a social security number. This opened the door for illegal immigrants to apply for loans and buy houses. You can make the argument that banks "only accept applications from those with steady jobs and a proven track record of paying bills on time" - but I'll just argue right back that hiring illegals and renting to them are crimes and these employers and landlords should be punished. Not only are they helping illegal immigrants remain in our country, but they're apparently also responsible for having the loan applications of these criminals approved.
I think that if we can punish landlords for renting to illegal immigrants, we should certainly be able to punish banks for issuing the mortgage loans that similarly allow illegal immigrants to continue breaking the law by being in our country. "It's a little nonsensical for banks to be making loans to people to buy houses they have no legal right to live in. Banks should not be in the business of subverting federal immigration laws," said Ira Mehlman, spokesman for the Federation for American Immigration Reform.
So what other arguments will banks make to justify loaning our legal-citizen monies to criminals?
Illegal immigrants are less likely to make delinquent payments.
Recent figures show ITIN mortgages have a .75 percent delinquency rate -- payments 60 to 90 days late -- according to the National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals. By comparison, 1 percent of payments on prime mortgages are more than 90 days late, according to the Mortgage Bankers Association. Sub-prime mortgages do much worse, with a 9.3 percent delinquency rate.
No offense, but it's hard to trust a study of this nature making this kind of argument if the research is being presented by the National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals. Am I saying they're lying? Of course not. I'm just saying that it raises my eyebrow a little.
I'm glad to read that at least ONE politician is seeing the problem with this system and is doing something about it. Rep. John Doolittle (R-Calif.) introduced a bill earlier this year that would require banks to use Social Security numbers to issue mortgages for a lender's primary home, but it has not gone up for a vote yet. This is certainly legislation I can get behind.
The article takes another turn for the worse in my mind due to yet another example of a reporter with knowledge of an illegal immigrant that results only in a catchy element of a story rather than an arrest and deportation.
Rodrigo -- a resident of Chicago's Southwest Side who declined to use his last name because he fears being deported -- doubts he would take the plunge now. A dozen years after he sneaked across the border from Mexico with little more than a change of clothes and $20, Rodrigo used an ITIN mortgage in 2005 to buy a two-story home. He relished the thrill of signing his closing papers and receiving the keys.
That right there is enough evidence of the crime to warrant an arrest in MY book. So why is Rodrigo probably still illegally living in his ill-gotten house instead of being sent back to Mexico with little more than a change of clothes and $20 as a big fat "Return to Sender"? I honestly don't know. But the reporter had the capability to make that happen, and failed. For now, he proudly shows off his home, which sits on a quiet, tree-lined street. In his daughters' room, painted orange and scattered with stuffed toys, the girls jump on their beds. That means that this reporter has BEEN to the location and could easily lead federal agents to this place and take Rodrigo and send him back to Mexico!
Why isn't this happening???
We all have the power to help enforce our immigration laws. We can all call the hotlines and file the reports with the ICE. We have the power, and it's time we started using it.
ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION IS ILLEGAL.
(The rest of the article)
Read more!
This story apparently all starts with the ITIN (Individual Taxpayer Identification Number), invented by the IRS back in 1996. The ITIN was designed so that foreign investors and immigrants (both legal and illegal) could pay taxes. Okay, at this point I'm a little torn that the IRS, a federal institution, would do something that could potentially identify illegal immigrants. Of course, I also know that the IRS, a federal institution, just wants money to come in, and if it means taking some money from illegal immigrants' pockets in the unfortunate duration before they can be arrested and deported, I guess I can't see much harm in that.
The problem started a few years later when banks began accepting those taxpayer numbers for loan applications rather than a social security number. This opened the door for illegal immigrants to apply for loans and buy houses. You can make the argument that banks "only accept applications from those with steady jobs and a proven track record of paying bills on time" - but I'll just argue right back that hiring illegals and renting to them are crimes and these employers and landlords should be punished. Not only are they helping illegal immigrants remain in our country, but they're apparently also responsible for having the loan applications of these criminals approved.
I think that if we can punish landlords for renting to illegal immigrants, we should certainly be able to punish banks for issuing the mortgage loans that similarly allow illegal immigrants to continue breaking the law by being in our country. "It's a little nonsensical for banks to be making loans to people to buy houses they have no legal right to live in. Banks should not be in the business of subverting federal immigration laws," said Ira Mehlman, spokesman for the Federation for American Immigration Reform.
So what other arguments will banks make to justify loaning our legal-citizen monies to criminals?
Illegal immigrants are less likely to make delinquent payments.
Recent figures show ITIN mortgages have a .75 percent delinquency rate -- payments 60 to 90 days late -- according to the National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals. By comparison, 1 percent of payments on prime mortgages are more than 90 days late, according to the Mortgage Bankers Association. Sub-prime mortgages do much worse, with a 9.3 percent delinquency rate.
No offense, but it's hard to trust a study of this nature making this kind of argument if the research is being presented by the National Association of Hispanic Real Estate Professionals. Am I saying they're lying? Of course not. I'm just saying that it raises my eyebrow a little.
I'm glad to read that at least ONE politician is seeing the problem with this system and is doing something about it. Rep. John Doolittle (R-Calif.) introduced a bill earlier this year that would require banks to use Social Security numbers to issue mortgages for a lender's primary home, but it has not gone up for a vote yet. This is certainly legislation I can get behind.
The article takes another turn for the worse in my mind due to yet another example of a reporter with knowledge of an illegal immigrant that results only in a catchy element of a story rather than an arrest and deportation.
Rodrigo -- a resident of Chicago's Southwest Side who declined to use his last name because he fears being deported -- doubts he would take the plunge now. A dozen years after he sneaked across the border from Mexico with little more than a change of clothes and $20, Rodrigo used an ITIN mortgage in 2005 to buy a two-story home. He relished the thrill of signing his closing papers and receiving the keys.
That right there is enough evidence of the crime to warrant an arrest in MY book. So why is Rodrigo probably still illegally living in his ill-gotten house instead of being sent back to Mexico with little more than a change of clothes and $20 as a big fat "Return to Sender"? I honestly don't know. But the reporter had the capability to make that happen, and failed. For now, he proudly shows off his home, which sits on a quiet, tree-lined street. In his daughters' room, painted orange and scattered with stuffed toys, the girls jump on their beds. That means that this reporter has BEEN to the location and could easily lead federal agents to this place and take Rodrigo and send him back to Mexico!
Why isn't this happening???
We all have the power to help enforce our immigration laws. We can all call the hotlines and file the reports with the ICE. We have the power, and it's time we started using it.
ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION IS ILLEGAL.
(The rest of the article)
Read more!
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Lost? Ask the Gas Pump!
This is a very interesting new technology that will be made available throughout the country starting next month. Rather, the technology itself isn't very new, but the placement and application of it is quite remarkable. It's one that makes you stop and think, "Why hasn't anyone done this before?"
Google Maps will soon be located on gas pumps. You can get directions to landmarks, hotels, restaurants or hospitals. You can even print out those directions before heading back out on your way - now sure of where you're going and how you're going to get there.
The pumps, made by Gilbarco Veeder-Root, will include an Internet connection. The Google Map feature will be available (in color!) on a small screen located on the pump. So far, the technology being used is simply a scrolling menu through various categories and choosing pre-selected destinations. Think of it more as a very-helpful travel guide of sorts. In the future, Gilbarco Veeder-Root hopes to include the ability to enter in an address to get directions, making the feature genuinely invaluable. For now, if you're lost on your way to the party, you'd better hope you know of a local landmark located nearby and hope for the best.
This is mostly geared towards travelers and road-trippers who might be looking for a place to crash for the night, grab a bite to eat, find the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota or possibly just to reattach a severed thumb. I'm hoping that "local landmarks" includes the nearest highway - which is what my mind envisions a lot of lost vacationers would want to know, and would be more likely to ask a gas pump than a human being.
Which brings me to the question: Is this un-manly?
After all, we've all grown up with the supposedly-antiquated notion that "real men don't pull over and ask for directions" - admitting that you are lost is like admitting defeat in the great game of Manliness. So does this count? Is the fact that you're not pulling over specifically for directions (since you're probably in need of gas anyway with your low-mileage manly vehicle), and it's not like you're ASKING for directions. That implies an element of speech, and very loosely implies you're expecting a verbal response which would mean you're asking a human. Will the Man Code be violated if, while filling up the Manmobile, you test out some new technology by verifying the correct route to your hotel (which you of course already know, but you want to see if the GAS PUMP knows as well) and maybe printing out the results as proof that you were indeed right about the route that needs to be taken and you weren't lost after all?
Let me know what you think about the manliness of pump-based mapping and whether or not it breaks the Man Code about pulling over to ask for directions.
And don't forget to vote at the top of this page, if you like what you've been reading here at my BlogSpot.
(The article about the 3,500 advanced gas pumps coming out next month)
Read more!
Google Maps will soon be located on gas pumps. You can get directions to landmarks, hotels, restaurants or hospitals. You can even print out those directions before heading back out on your way - now sure of where you're going and how you're going to get there.
The pumps, made by Gilbarco Veeder-Root, will include an Internet connection. The Google Map feature will be available (in color!) on a small screen located on the pump. So far, the technology being used is simply a scrolling menu through various categories and choosing pre-selected destinations. Think of it more as a very-helpful travel guide of sorts. In the future, Gilbarco Veeder-Root hopes to include the ability to enter in an address to get directions, making the feature genuinely invaluable. For now, if you're lost on your way to the party, you'd better hope you know of a local landmark located nearby and hope for the best.
This is mostly geared towards travelers and road-trippers who might be looking for a place to crash for the night, grab a bite to eat, find the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota or possibly just to reattach a severed thumb. I'm hoping that "local landmarks" includes the nearest highway - which is what my mind envisions a lot of lost vacationers would want to know, and would be more likely to ask a gas pump than a human being.
Which brings me to the question: Is this un-manly?
After all, we've all grown up with the supposedly-antiquated notion that "real men don't pull over and ask for directions" - admitting that you are lost is like admitting defeat in the great game of Manliness. So does this count? Is the fact that you're not pulling over specifically for directions (since you're probably in need of gas anyway with your low-mileage manly vehicle), and it's not like you're ASKING for directions. That implies an element of speech, and very loosely implies you're expecting a verbal response which would mean you're asking a human. Will the Man Code be violated if, while filling up the Manmobile, you test out some new technology by verifying the correct route to your hotel (which you of course already know, but you want to see if the GAS PUMP knows as well) and maybe printing out the results as proof that you were indeed right about the route that needs to be taken and you weren't lost after all?
Let me know what you think about the manliness of pump-based mapping and whether or not it breaks the Man Code about pulling over to ask for directions.
And don't forget to vote at the top of this page, if you like what you've been reading here at my BlogSpot.
(The article about the 3,500 advanced gas pumps coming out next month)
Read more!
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