Don't Criticize It, I'll Advertise It

And still I see no changes, can a brother get a little peace? / There's war in the streets, war in the middle east / Instead of a War on Poverty / They got a War on Drugs so the police can bother me

One of my earliest TV-related (non-video game) memories involves one of those "Just Say No" advertisements, involving some ridiculously 80's-ed out guy prancing around a rough-looking (at the time) pool hall wearing sunglasses (at night) singing a song about how "It's right (or cool) to say 'no'!" Although I don't remember specifically, I'm sure that I ran around the house singing about saying no to drugs, even though I didn't know or care what drugs were.

GOD, the 80's sucked. Awesomely.

The "Just Say No" campaign was the most ridiculous of a long line of efforts to get These Damn Kids Today to avoid drugs (and other fun activities), part of the PR in the War on Drugs. Now, the people who listened to terminally unhip adults preach in black-and-white terms about the evils of drug use are all growed up. And they have jobs as commentators, and they're commentating on the futility of the War on Drugs -- like most smart people were doing 20 damn years ago.

The whole conversation got started up again over the killing of a U.S. Marshall by a Mexican drug cartel. Which is tragic and all. But now a bunch of people in establishment media (for our purposes, "establishment media" = CNN) is suddenly sounding off about the futility of the War on Drugs and how much more awesome legalizing all drugs (not just pot, but damn near everything) would be. "Just think of how many people would be out of our jails!" "Just imagine all the tax revenue we could collect!" "Oh Gawd, we could put the cartels out of business!"

Like it's that easy.

This conversation has already taken place, and the arguments have already been made. Why isn't anyone bringing up the arguments from the 80's and 90's, when the cost of the War on Drugs was first realized? Is it because it's not until U.S. Marshals' lives are lost that the establishment tries to run behind legalization, and when it's just inner city kids and crack mothers, enforcement is the way to go?

Nobody is bringing up the fact that the enforcement policies of the 80's and 90's impacted poor people the hardest. Nobody wants to mention the fact that the War on Drugs was interpreted by many as a War on Blacks, leveraging a large budget and a larger public opinion against a population that had few, if any, advocates in the mainstream media. As soon as the economy is in the crapper, as soon as whites are losing their jobs and struggling to make ends meet, all of a sudden legalizing drugs doesn't seem so crazy anymore. NOW all options are on the table, NOW we should re-examine the cost of this fight, this shit is getting serious. Shame on you.

And shame on you for taking such a one-sided look at the issue. In all honesty, the "keep-it-illegal" folks have valid points as well: legalization is tantamount to endorsement for many people. "It (the War on Drugs) is expensive" is hardly an argument for "It should be eliminated." Hard drugs have much more devastating effects on people than alcohol or cigarettes, you can't just look at death tolls. The process of legalizing drugs may put cartels out of business, it's true, but we might start to see drug-related assassinations targeted at politicians pushing legalization.

And then there's the big unknown: How many people in America would start doing drugs -- from pot to heroin -- when the pharmacy starts selling them, with the stamp and approval of the government? When the "Nanny" State becomes the "Do Whatever You Want, I Don't Care" State, what do you do? After being taught that the law is the arbiter of Right and Wrong, does that mean that drugs are now right? We are a culture that, for better or worse, looks to our government and the law for guidance on what is and is not acceptable behavior; in America, the phrases "I've done nothing wrong" and "I've done nothing illegal" are one in the same. To assume that after decades of preaching and guiding we can suddenly make drugs legal and let people decide for themselves what to do is criminally naive. Interestingly this is the main failure of the anarchist philosophy as well -- "Don't tell me what to do" only works if, when left alone, you do the right thing. Not only you, but everybody. Take a drive on a highway during rush hour in New Jersey, and then come talk to me about how people will do the right thing for humanity when left to their own devices.

To argue, as some people are doing, in favor of legalization without a passing glance at the negative side-effects is irresponsible and juvenile. To argue in favor of enforcement without understanding the HUGE negative impact on society -- morally, financially, socially -- is equally irresponsible and flawed. I don't have many answers (besides those that have already been discussed), but I do think it's hugely offensive that nobody is talking about the havoc that this war has visited on the impoverished for the past two decades.

For the record, I happen to be in favor of legalization, but I have no interest in using drugs. In fact, people who use drugs now should be the LAST advocates for legalization: you really think you'll be able to get primo chronic at a decent price when the government is busy regulating imports and exports and THC levels? Good luck with that, let me know how that works out.

Why I'm Leaving Graduate School

I have decided to leave graduate school, effective this May, with my Master's degree. This May, I will permanently move from the city where I attend graduate school, back home to New Jersey. Once moved, I will pursue full-time employment in an industry to be named later.

I've told lots of people already, many of whom are and will remain graduate students. They've been generally (and surprisingly) OK with my decision, although they've asked me a lot of questions. Some of these questions I've answered well (I think), others not so well. I am writing this post mainly to organize my thoughts in writing, but also to help answer some of the difficult questions that people have asked me over the past few weeks.

This was a decision that I made in January. I made it happily and of my own volition. A number of factors played into my decision, many of which are worth discussing. I will discuss them here.

Factor #1: Academia, while illustrative, meaningful, and unique in its strengths, is also kind of silly.

I actually really liked (and still do like) being a graduate student in Psychology. I learned so much about my strengths and weaknesses, how to assess other people's strengths and weaknesses, and how to be an effective manager through graduate school. I also learned a lot about theory, experimentation, and statistics. After two years of graduate school, I thought about what I enjoyed learning most. I decided it was the managerial/statistical stuff. I cared far less about theory and experimentation, and I also realized that I'm not enough of an intellectual to create my own theory of something.

Academics consider other, more successful academics to be minor celebrities. There's nothing wrong with this, per se. Compared with non-academics of similar talent, full professors are overworked and vastly underpaid. They deserve to be minor celebrities, but on the other hand, we all have free will (Yes, even graduate students have free will). I deserve to decide that I'd rather have weekends off and be paid more money, thank you very much.

Factor #2: Holding a Ph.D. degree appears to be very useful in some contexts, and less useful in some others.

I've spent a lot of time over the past two years thinking about usefulness. I knew from the outset that I probably wouldn't be happy as an underpaid, overworked professor. What, then, is the usefulness of graduate school? Teaching's never been my thing, and (as mentioned above) theory isn't, either. My interests have shifted to more methodological and practical concerns. At this point, my decision had already, mostly, been made for me.

Factor #3: Mortality matters, and I'd like to make less sacrifices.

Graduate students, because they're mostly young and extremely driven, always forget that their hearts will inevitably give out one day. Not to be a downer, but yeah, that's going to happen to each of us. Given this, I'd prefer to spend my weekends hanging out and working on hobbies (instead of plain working).

Factor #4: Money matters, and I'd like to make more money.

With my master's degree, even in the midst of this horrific recession, I can reasonably expect to make 2.5-3.0 times more money in industry than I do right now. This means I'll soon be able to afford "real" things, like a house and a nice car. These things matter to me, because reality, like prosperity, is hard to come by these days - and should be cherished.

Factor #5: For some people, it really matters whether they solve their own problems or some company's problems. I am not one of those people.

My dad worked in industry my whole life and I think he really liked it, so my attitudes toward industry are skewed in a positive fashion. I've seen firsthand how a good career can be financially and emotionally rewarding at the same time. Industry is not an intentionally-evil system that destroys the lives of people who work in it. It is somewhat cold and, well, "industrial". But on the other hand, some jobs are very interesting. I am only applying for interesting jobs... in an industry to be named later.

******************************

If I learned anything from the 1999 movie "The Matrix", it is that reality is a completely subjective thing. My reality is not your reality, and you may have already thought of 16 different reasons why I am an idiot for leaving graduate school. By the metrics you use to determine success, you may end up completely right -- even when, from my point of view, you end up being very wrong. Only time will tell.

I do not hate Psychology, and I think it is a very useful social science. I do find several of its current major questions inaccessible to the general public, and that is a major issue (for me). I feel like Psychology matters to the extent that it helps regular people live their lives more successfully and with a firmer understanding of this thing we call "reality". Whether that is currently being done is sort of an open question.

The bottom line is, in two months I get to come home (where I've always felt most comfortable) and fall asleep with my girlfriend every night. This is a big deal to me, and as we all navigate our way through life, we should try to focus on maximizing the issues that we consider to be "big deals" for us. That's how I think we wind up happier and healthier.

Stay classy. Oh, and something having to do with gambling.

My 25 things... part 1

1. When I was little I made “traps” everywhere, because I saw the Ninja Turtles do the same thing in the sewer. They only ever worked on my step father. He was not pleased.
2. I am a Green Bay Packers fan. The reason is because my step father is a Vikings fan and at the age of 6 or so I realized I was his intellectual superior and wanted to spite him because he hated them Packers. I like to think this choice has worked out well for me.
3. My friends, my inner circle, my adopted family. I can be completely honest with them and I show them the same unflinching loyalty they show me. There is one exception, if there is a conflict between 2 or more members of the inner circle and both make logically sound arguments I will side with whomever I have known longer. Let me tell you member #1 dates back to diaper days, so trying to make me side against him would be a poor life choice.
4. My greatest fear is being forgotten. I attribute this to my father’s one fault. He is almost always late to things. When I was little and he had to pick me up from my mother’s house and he was late I always got really scared that he forgot because he was busy working or something and I would have to stay with her.
5. I say non-sensical things… a lot. A good deal of the time it’s because I don’t think before speaking. But sometimes I do think about them pretty in depth and say the ridiculous things anyway because I think it will be funny. I’d rather be thought of as ridiculous and weird than forgotten. My friends usually can translate what I mean to say. But sometimes people that don't know me that well take offense from something I say and I want them to know that I would not say something to a friend with any animosity and that I would not be having a conversation with someone I didn't consider a friend.
6. When people are dogmatic and refuse to listen to reason it drives me up the wall. No one is always right. Whether you base it on your preference or religion or whatever. If the logic and data are there just accept that you have been bested. At least be able to say to each their own or live and let live. Don’t force you’re personal/religious beliefs on people. Ex. My stepfather thinks that just because music wasn’t made when he was young that it is better than anything made today.

Happy Birthday, Charles Darwin!

Today is Chucky D.'s 200th birthday. Cue balloons and cake and hookers and drugs. Biologists do it up RIGHT!

But after that, down to business. An article from CNN commemorating the birthday has this scary -- er, terrifying -- no, apocalyptic passage:

"A Gallup poll released this week shows that 39 percent of Americans say they 'believe in the theory of evolution,' while a quarter say they do not believe in the theory, and another 36 percent don't have an opinion either way. This follows an earlier Gallup poll on the issue, conducted last May, that found only 14 percent of Americans believe that humans developed over millions of years from less advanced forms of life. Forty-four percent believe that God created human beings almost overnight within the past 10,000 years, and another 36 percent believe that God guided humans' evolution from animals over a much longer period of time."

Wait, what? WHAT?! These numbers cannot be right. There's no way. There's no POSSIBLE way that only 39% of Americans accept the theory of evolution. No. Uh-uh.... But this is GALLUP. They do this stuff all the time. I can't believe that Gallup would botch the numbers that badly.

FOURTY-FOUR PERCENT of people think that an invisible man created humanity out of nothing, instantly, in the past 10,000 years. The U.S. population is around 300 million. That's equal to 132,000,000 people who think this. Millions and millions of people. That is a huge, scary number.

Now of course I could rant about this all day. (And I might.) But I'm not interested in arguing with people who are so committed to their delusions that they are content to fly in the face of reason and evidence and logic to believe in a fairy tale. That's... well, it's not good, but there's no use arguing with those people. No, I'm after that 36% that believe "God guided humans' evolution from animals."

Honestly, it reminds me of parents who try to teach their kids about Santa Claus. When someone supposedly reputable (your parents) tells you the story of a magic fat guy who breaks into your house and leaves toys, you believe it because you're a dumb kid. As you get older, you think of questions: at noontime of Christmas Eve, was he delivering toys to Chinese kids? What about houses without chimneys? How does he fit billions of toys in one sleigh? If Santa is flying around, does he coordinate with air traffic control to make sure his flight path is clear? And parents, rather than admit that it's a story (albeit an important character-building one), perform mental gymnastics to explain away these questions: Yes, he starts in Australia and spends one hour in each time zone, following midnight around the world. Sometimes he goes through doors or windows if there's no chimney. He periodically goes back to the North Pole to pick up toys when his sleigh runs out. And yes, Santa obeys all relevant aviation procedures while in flight, and respects the proper no-fly zones in hostile countries (where he hands toys out to relief workers to distribute).

This is similar. People already believe in one story, and they are so desperate to cling to that story -- even though the truth is much easier and simpler to accept -- that they perform some quite impressive mental gymnastics to keep the original story intact. For some reason, people have this idea that "reconciling faith and science" means that faith and science need to coexist in the same place at all times, otherwise you're believing in one in exclusion to the other. Why does believing in God AND evolution mean that the two are directly related? Why can't God's involvement in evolution be no more or less than his involvement in everything else that goes on? Why can't God be God and do godly things, and let biology explain evolution?

Let's take the belief of this 36% to its conclusion, lest we rest our faith on half-baked ideology. Let's pretend that God is the manipulator of mutation and recombination and multiplication, He guides the amino acids to their destinations, He arranges the codons and the proteins and His divine hands fold our tertiary and quaterniary structures into the Holy Puzzle that constitutes our being. He is the force that drives us to eat, and sleep, and hunt, and procreate. He has crafted ecosystems over millions of years by piecing together the genes for sharper claws, stronger wings, and longer beaks, and breaking and re-making the environment to favor those children whom He saw fit to grace with the fruits of His sub-cellular works. (Still no word on what the deal is with the platypus.) But now we have a problem. Evolution is directed by our mutations, our DNA, our chemical gradients. If God controls our cells, then that means our action potentials and our neurons and everything is also under control. We've now given up a whole big chunk of philosophy: the idea that our decisions and actions have some consequence, and that we have a free will to speak of. Now, I'm not a philosophy or a religion major (ahem), but I think that's a major plot point in the Deist worldview: you must act a certain way, and consciously make decisions that would please God, or be punished. But with our brain tissue under wraps, God controls what we think. Our decisions are not our own, and therefore our behavior cannot be used to judge us.

Obviously this is ridiculous. Now you can probably come up with all sorts of conveniences and plot twists and contrivances to try and make your theory sound LESS ridiculous (God only influences the environment, not our bodies! God influences chance events but doesn't make crazy things happen -- except for miracles! etc.), but that's just proving my point.

Which is this: the truth is simple, it doesn't need to be complicated by trying to mash together two theories which work perfectly well on their own. Let God be God, out there doing whatever it is God does, and let our biology and our physics and our evolution be as they are -- as we know them to be.

Also: God's not real. But I'll settle for separation of church and cell.

25 Random Things About Me

1. I am obsessed with maximizing the number of hits to my blog. Although I'll never know who reads this blog, I do know that in 2009 alone, there have been two days of 40+ and 50+ page views, respectively, which are amazing stats. So, thanks for reading something that should be on Facebook in the first place.

2. I have one piece of Boston Red Sox memorabilia in my apartment, even though I hate the Boston Red Sox. It's a 1950's-era Ted Williams soda advertisement, and I refuse to take it down because (a) I don't disrespect the dead, and (b) I especially don't disrespect the dead when you're talking about the greatest left-handed hitter who ever lived.

3. I love frozen Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I eat an average of one "Big Bag" a week, and somehow have not yet acquired diabetes.

4. I've had jobs that I love. I've had jobs where I've been well-paid. I'm still waiting for the first job of my life that accomplishes both these things.

5. I have the lowest LDL cholesterol my doctor has ever seen, even though I eat lots of steak (and Reese's).

6. I check my E-mail at least 10 times a day during the workweek, and 5 times a day during the weekends. E-mail is my crack.

7. Speaking of addictions, although I quit smoking cigarettes 3+ years ago, I still smoke one cigar a month. I smoked last month's cigar in my Honda Civic, and will never smoke in there again because the car smelled like an ashtray for a week afterward.

8. Speaking of addictions, I really like to gamble, but I don't think it's an addiction yet. I'm counting on my friends to tell me when/if I cross that threshold...

9. In high school, I was known as the "Dark Cavern". This is because certain parts of my body were (and remain) unnecessarily hairy. I bring this up when I see people I went to high school with, both as a pseudo-party trick and also to show that I've gotten over it (even though it bothered me at the time).

10. I am a male feminist, which is a function of my extreme laziness (not some sense of social justice). I want women to be equal to men in responsibility because, as a result, I will have to do less work. This gives me more time on the couch, watching TV, which is a good thing.

11. My perfect day involves breakfast, a good long run, lunch, a nap on the couch, steak dinner, a bottle of wine, and quality time with my girlfriend.

12. Out of all the things a graduate student in psychology does, I enjoy advanced data analysis the most. This convinces me that I'll probably make decent money some day.

13. I get angry approximately 20-25 times a day, but mostly about little things.

14. I talk to myself - only when I'm alone - and the most frequent thing I say to myself is, "You're retarded."

15. I actually am retarded, at least when it comes to physical coordination. I can barely move on skis/skates/ice/hard-packed snow.

16. I'm additionally a bit of an asshole, as partially evidenced by my lackadaisical use of terms such as "retarded." But I'm a fair asshole. People know where they stand with me.

17. I may be unable to fill a large lecture hall with my acquaintances, but I have an amazing group of friends. My friends mean everything to me. They keep me in my place, and help me up when I'm down. My friends are the people I can be 100% honest with, in a world that keeps me from telling the complete truth sometimes.

18. People's tastes in music tell me a lot about them. I have an aunt who claims not to trust people who don't like dogs. I don't trust anyone who doesn't like Stone Temple Pilots.

19. Although I despise romantic comedies as a genre, one of my favorite movies is "Wedding Crashers." This is true even though "Wedding Crashers" is a diagrammatic romantic comedy. The moral of this story is, concepts can be blended. If done appropriately, you can convince the world that the same old pile of shit is something new and innovative. This is true for movies, and for legislature.

20. I'm going to turn 26 this year. I look like I'm about 26, which is fair. Physically, I feel like I'm 18. After a long day's work, however, I feel both older and wiser than I am. This may actually be a good thing.

21. I think the reason why "The Wire" is the best piece of drama ever created is that it convinces us that everything which is bad is good, and vice versa. Just like in science, a perfectly creative mind matched with the perfect situation can completely change the way questions are asked. This is known as a paradigm shift, and David Simon shifted the entire paradigm for drama when he created "The Wire." The show confirms every lingering suspicion I ever had about law enforcement, drugs, crime, politics, education, and - quite literally - life. All of this in one show, which may be a little complex but I swear you're smart enough to get it. So, please - PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF PETE - watch "The Wire." For me. Okay?

22. I am ambivalent toward drugs. On one hand, I am convinced that the dangers of most "illicit" drugs (e.g., marijuana) are completely overblown. In fact, I am convinced that marijuana is absolutely harmless. On the other hand, I am evangelical about reality. I love reality, and I feel like reality is something everyone should embrace. Further, I feel that "illicit" drugs bend reality and make people sort of... I don't know, weird. They make me question, what is it about not-high life that is so bad to necessitate being high all the time? I mean, why not smoke crack instead? Some of my best friends smoke weed all the time, and more power to them. But still... come on, weirdos.

23. Item #22 (above) may be influenced by the fact that I have not smoked marijuana in over three years. The last time I smoked, I was invited into a "Devil's Threeway" (which I politely declined).

24. I complain... a lot. But that's just my personality. Most of the time, I'm very aware of how lucky I am to have my life. I mean, I could be way stupider than I currently am.

25. I actually am approachable. I'm just kinda like Dikembe Mutombo; you need to bring your A-game when you approach me.

Things The Super Bowl Taught Me About: Football, Advertisements, and The Boss

First up, the thinnest of the three: Football. I know the least about this, and to be honest, The Bowl didn't do much to elucidate things, other than:

1. You can get (score? make? receive?) a safety by committing a personal foul in the end zone. I didn't know that.

2. John Madden loves to say "penetration" as many times as possible, as fast as possible, regardless of the situation on the field.

3. I love John Madden.

Ok, now that that's over with, on to advertisements:

1. The people who advertise hilarious shows apparently don't talk to the people who actually write the hilarious shows. Probably because the people who write hilarious shows look down upon the people who write the commercials for the show, making fun of them in the hallways and throwing things at them in the cafeteria.

2. Speaking of commercials.... WTF? By my count, there were 3 good commercials total during this Super Bowl: 1. Chimps advertising motor oil (I buy anything advertised to me by chimps), 2. Those stock trading ads with the talking babies, which have gotten progressively better over the years ("Maybe read the rules, Shankoppotomus!"), and 3. JESUS CHRIST ITS G.I. JOE! Although to be honest, I'm sure the G.I. Joe movie will suck, I just didn't know they were making one until I saw the commercial. I think we all know where this is going. I'm waiting for the teaser trailer.

3. Pepsi and Coke have apparently fired their advertising team, told the word processors at the ad department to "switch to autopilot," and then put whatever crap they produce onto the screen.

4. 3D movies have existed for... holy Hell, 87 fucking years (according to Wikipedia). Are we supposed to assume that this is a new development? The way they're pimping it out now, it certainly seems so.

And finally...

Bruce. Good lord. Now, make no mistake: I have a soft spot for The Boss. I grew up listening to his songs, and before I discovered the radio, he was all I listened to. As the less-pussy of the two internationally-renowed New Jersey superstars of classic rock (Joan Bon Jovi being the other), he represents the old-school blue-collar New Jersey of our fathers, now lost to the newer, more New York prone white-collar New Jersey of our bratty Guido brethren. Unfortunately, he's starting to represent the blue-collar New Jersey of our grandfathers at this point. Now, I don't think it's sad when rockers who became famous in their teens or 20's stay active well into their later years. In fact, I think it's cool to think that there are some people who will never give up the music, who still "have it." But it's important to be realistic. Bruce Springsteen is 59 years old. He has no business jumping up on pianos and falling to the ground. He could seriously hurt something.

Now, this isn't a problem specifically with Springsteen or his E-Street band. KISS formed in 1972. Aerosmith was in 1970. AC/DC formed in 1973. All of these bands are still technically "active," and to be honest, I mean... for fuck's sake (Exhibit A: that photo). I think it's great that you want to keep playing music, or if you want to stay touring and whatnot. But I think at some point, you need to re-invent yourselves as "not the same band you were 30 years ago." There's nothing shameful in that, but listening to someone who is 35 years my senior talking about life as a teenager just comes off as... well, weird. Or sad. Or the kind of nostalgia that isn't good. I'm not sure what the word is, but it's not the kind of feeling you want to be having.

Edit: After re-reading, I've decided to add a qualifier. Talking about your life as a teenager is fine. "Glory Days" is still a relevant song, and it's a good kind of nostalgia. But mashing up those kinds of lyrics -- wistful for the bygone days of youth -- with the "LOOK AT ME I CAN STILL ROCK IT" theatrics of the aforementioned piano jumping and limboing is what gets me. Yes, it's the Super Bowl, and big theatrics are the standard (for details, Google "Tit-star" and "His Purple Majesty" for previous offerings), but in that case, why book Springsteen and the E-Streeters? And why, after being booked, did Springsteen feel the need to compete with younger acts on that level? It's just... wrong. Edit #2: The fact that I just referred to Janet Jackson and Prince as "younger acts" should be enough to illustrate my point.

Anyway Bruce, re-invent yourself as the grandpa rocker you clearly are. You're a titan of the music industry, and you don't need fireworks or gymnastics to prove it. There's nothing shameful about calming down at 60 and playing mellow. Your shows will still sell out, and you'll still be able to bang every MILF in Middlesex, Monmouth, and Ocean counties. Provided Max Weinberg doesn't get to them first.

The Office... I'm over it

I recently began one of those "all important" internships that will skyrocket my legal career... if it does not I am going to file suit against career services for giving me false hope and unreasonable expectations... the scariest part... I could succeed. You've gotta love frivolous claims. Anyway I am now sitting in a cube in an office that doesn't have more than 30 people in it. But it's odd because there is only 1 row of cubes so I only have 2 walls. My chair lines up off center with the office door in front of me, which is occupied by a not unfriendly army veteran who has this gem outside his door. But that is beside the point. The point is that I saw a a lot of traffic going into and out of this office today by the same 2 people. Apparently these 3 were exchanging emails on a project with a 4th undisclosed party regarding an upcoming project. These '3 musketeers' seemed to think that the 4th was incompetent and an all around horrible person. I realize that I have only been working here for a few weeks and I only know 2 people's names but how often have you noticed this happen? Anywhere? People start complaining about someone else's job performance when things are not going smoothly.

I find it hard to believe that when someone is bitching that they know all the complexities and nuances of that person's job. I've done it. But I realized I don't know anything about those jobs that I complain about and I have been trying to not give people a hard time. Like when only 1 teller is working the counter at the bank and the line is huge and there are 5 others in close proximity behind the counter during peak hours. The same is often true for the post office. But unless you have worked in one of these positions in the last few years the chances are you have no idea what is going on. But back to the story at hand. This group of 3 people congregated in the office across from me every single time an email was sent by the 4th person. This happened every 1.5 minutes or so for 2 hours.

I wished I had a stop watch to verify my ballpark guestimate of the total amount of time they spent complaining today. My guess is they spent at least 45 minutes in their group therapy sessions today. Again, I don't know their names, their positions or the difficulty of this project or anything else about it, but it seems like that if they spent 45 minutes problem solving/compromising in a face to face conference with #4 present a meaningful solution could have been devised or at least hatched out. I mean, I mean if they had just properly addressed the issue when it came up it could have avoided later frustration and there might not have been 45 minutes wasted complaining. Just talk it out kids, don't make the office completely inefficient by wasting time and then leaving early. PS my boss has THE life. He is the only attorney i know who makes 6 figures, arrives at 10 am, leaves at 5, dresses extremely casual for an office (not one tie since i started), only reports to the lead in-house attorney, gets to shoot the shit with 3 interns all day and here's the kicker... HE JUST GRADUATED LAW SCHOOL LAST MAY. In his defense he is really smart. Plus I really am enjoying the work... learning how to play the IP game. Respect the game son.

As for my superbowl pick. Indeed, it always seems like we are waiting to see who will win this 5 month race to the finish (front of the bus). Some may say go Cardinals (apple) they've never won one, they're hot and larry fitzgerald is incredible. Others may say go Steelers (orange) because one superbowl isn't enough for Big Ben and the rest of his pennsyltucky ore harvesting crew. I say... Go Zebras (banana)! Because if the Packers aren't playing with favre gun slinging their way to victory... who the hell cares. They don't call it the Lombardi trophy for nothing. And for shame on Freducate. Going to see a concert on this the holiest day of the year. A wag of my finger to you sir. And today I tip my hat tooo... my evidence teacher for canceling class the Friday before spring break.

The Only Way Out

I know its been a while since I posted last, so I'm going to make this one count by talking about what is either the most insane or ingenious idea I've ever had. Probably some mixture of both. While it'll never win me a nobel prize, it just might make me (and you!) the most happy person on the face of the Earth.

Recently I've reached an age where everything around you starts to die. Pets you've had since childhood, beloved gradnparents, the occasional aunt or uncle, etc. I doubt its any coincidence that this tends to happen around the time we begin to become established professionals in our field. It is a real rather than symbolic shedding of our youth, which we have literally now outgrown. Its a simple fact of life that people with gray hair starting to come in rarely have a grandmother doting on them anymore.

I expected all of this and am coming through it just fine. There was, however, one thing I was not prepared for: dying SUCKS. I was lied to all my life and you were too. When I was younger I was told people died of "natural causes" all the time. NO THEY DIDN'T. They suffered weeks and months in hospital beds with people desperately trying to keep them alive while their children wept at their bedsides and their grandchildren (you and I) were sheltered from the experience. Their bodies slowly, painfully decayed whether they were ravaged by cancer or dementia or just normal aging that makes things like bladders and kidneys less functional (and the first part of functional to go is the "fun," let me tell you). No matter what the cause, the result is the same: death by extended pain and torture.

The normal way out of this is to have a living will where you cannot be kept alive in said hospital bed. This doesn't work! There's always one weak kid (since we can't cull the litter anymore...that's another post for another day) who can't stand to see daddy/mommy go and will torture you until you die of it.

That leaves me with only one way out, and here it is: make enemies. The only way to die quickly is to be killed and the only way to be killed is to be involved in a fatal accident or to be murdered. Fatal accidents happen all to infrequently and are, by nature, unpredictable and could happen too soon, so the only choice left is to be murdered. The problem is, I want to live a decently long life, perhaps 70 years or so if I'm lucky, so I don't want this to happen any time soon. On the other hand once you're 70 if you start acting like a complete bastard out of the blue to try and get yourself murdered you're just going to end up in a home on experimental medications for dementia. Also no good.

So here's my solution: The older I get, the more enemies I make. At the fairly young age of 29 I'm not looking to make very many. The more I age, the more of a bastard I'll start to become and the more enemies I'll make. This should hit some critical tipping point and before my body starts to decline, someone will shoot me in the brainstem (I've decided to tell them how best to kill me, if given the opportunity).

While the solution sounds good, there is hidden genius to it. The older I get the less I have to give a shit about what people think! The more enemies I can make, the more I can tell people what dimwitted imbiciles they truly are, and point out everyone's smallest mistakes while I casually search for my car in yet another parking lot. You wonder why that crotchety old man drinking scotch and smoking cigars complains about the entire world with a twinkle in his eyes? Its because he figured it out too.

The other option is, if I can make it to 70 or 80 in incredible physical shape, I'll just put on a skull t-shirt and be like The Punisher played by George Burns. But since I already have a bad back...have I mentioned yet that she left you because she said you suck in bed, and I'm better? Mwaahhahahahah, it begins...

Things That Are Awesome, January 2009 Edition

This is my favorite type of blog post to write, because it's quick-hitting, irreverent, and very difficult to mess up. So without further ado, let's get to it. Our latest installment of things that have struck me as awesome recently...

Airport bars. I suffer from moderately crippling social anxiety. Under most circumstances, I would never be caught dead having a drink by myself at a regular, run-of-the-mill bar. However, airport bars do not apply, because the social norms that apply to the real world don't apply once you've taken your shoes off at a security checkpoint. As an example, everyone at airport bars strike me as unnecessarily friendly (especially when said airport is somewhere in the South). I'm never sure if it's the airport context that makes people friendly, or if only people who are friendly go to airport bars. Regardless, because of this, I end up having surprisingly enjoyable conversations with people whom I'd never otherwise talk to. At a recent stopover in Balt'more, I was educated by a friendly bartender as to the various historical spellings of "Yuengling." This was something I'd never known, and found extremely important. Plus, the buffalo chicken wraps* at airport bars are typically above average. (*NOTE: "buffalo chicken wrap" to appear on a later "Things That Are Awesome" list.)

The fourth and fifth minutes of Radiohead's "Paranoid Android". I am never asked my opinion on the most beautiful moment in alternative rock. This is because I have zero credibility about anything, particularly the things that I think I know a lot about. I've given this particular question years of thought, particularly those times late at night when I can't sleep and end up listening to my iPod. Right before I eventually fall asleep, I end up gravitating toward "Paranoid Android", and I think it's because it contains the most beautiful musical moment in all of alternative rock. This moment lasts approximately two minutes.

The first half of the song is unspectacular if above-average Radiohead, although it's a harder sort of rock than most Radiohead songs. At around 3:30, however, the entire tonality of the song changes. The music changes from driving, harmonic rock to a near Gregorian chant. Thom Yorke's voice changes from man to scepter, and all of a sudden the listener feels everything in the world raining down on them, from a great height. It's a wailing coda, it's darkly beautiful, and it's what I think every piece of emo-rock written over the past decade aspired to but could not be. (*NOTE: In general, I'm not really a Radiohead fan. I can't really converse about Radiohead, the way I could converse about Metallica or Toad the Wet Sprocket. I have five Radiohead songs on my iPod. But, that doesn't keep what I wrote above from being what I believe.)

Skiing. I went skiing for the first time in my life last week. I think it's the most unique sort of physical activity, because it completely shifts one's seasonal- and movement-related paradigms. I don't really like snow. I think it's nice enough the first couple of times it happens in a given winter, but after that it's just an annoyance. I'd just as soon move someplace like North Carolina, where (I think) it only snows a few times a year, than have to deal with snow all the time. All of this is true, except for when I went skiing, at which point I considered snowfall to be the most amazing meteorological phenomenon possible.

It's not that I was a good skiier; I barely got off the bunny slope. But I was amazed at how fast I could move - it was like the bottoms of my feet were slathered in warm butter and I was sent down a hill with my center of balance shifted to about three feet behind my ass. I am unsure how anyone who skis regularly avoids serious spinal cord disfiguration as a function of the awkwardness of skiing. However, I'd gladly do it again.

Obscure "Simpsons" references from 1996 on this blog space. If you don't know what I'm talking about, see the photo from Scottery's post below (re: balls), and the comments section for the post. "Citizen Kang" is, in my opinion, the best Treehouse of Horror short of all time, and I'm thrilled that in this new era of change and hope, we can take the time to reflect on things that made us laugh about Presidents past. Remember, a vote for a third-party candidate is a vote thrown away...

Buffalo chicken wraps. Oh, fuck it, let's talk about it here. I've been on a HUGE Buffalo chicken wrap kick lately - I've had like five of them in the past three weeks, and I'll probably have another one within the next couple of days. It's practically the perfect sandwich. It has tortilla, fried chicken, hot sauce, bleu cheese dressing, lettuce, and tomato. Is there a food group that this sandwich cannot represent??!

(*NOTE: On a somewhat unrelated topic, I had the worst Reuben sandwich of my life yesterday, and it cost me $7 that I'll never get back. The place where I go to graduate school generally has good [if somewhat overpriced] cafeteria food, but I've never had the Reuben before. I was the only person in the panini line, and I saw three candidate Reuben sandwiches in front of me. Two were voluptuous - piled high with delicious corned beef, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing. The third was puny, with maybe two slices of corned beef. After asking for a Reuben, I stared pointedly as the dumb bitch behind the counter silently put the puny Reuben on the panini press. She kept it there for all of 28 seconds, after which she silently [I think she might have been mute, as well as fucking stupid] added potato chips and a sloppy pickle. By the time I got back to my office, the Reuben was ice-cold. I could only finish half the sandwich, before throwing it out. I thought about taking the rest of my ice-cold sandwich back to the dining hall and throwing it back in the sandwich maker's face. I decided against it, of course.

I suppose the quesiton here is, at what point is it necessary to call the Dining services office and complain? If it were a Buffalo chicken wrap, I would have complained already. No question. That's how much I adore the Buffalo chicken wrap. It's fucking sacred.)

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Stay classy out there.

Please Stop Saying "Inaugural Balls"

I'm at home today, and I just walked past the TV where one of those morning "news" programs are discussing "fun and inexpensive ways to throw your own inauguration party." Trappings include drinks named after the president-elect (an "Obamatini"), presidential trivia, and a life-size cutout of our new Presidential Overlord. There are also American flags... everywhere.

My feelings about this are pretty mixed. I mean, on the surface, the kind of overwhelming support for the new guy is probably a good thing. There will be less infighting in Congress when new legislation is passed (at least for awhile), and any initiatives he announces will be taken up more quickly than if he'd won with a 50.1% margin. Volunteers and job seekers have flocked to D.C. to be a part of the new administration in numbers that are rarely seen. And these aren't your College Democrats; scientists and lawyers and all sorts of people are applying for jobs in the administration. AND it's not just the elitist northeastern news shows that are all up on his nuts, either, since (according to CNN) six in ten Republicans have a favorable view of Obama.

On the other hand, does "cult of personality" mean anything to anyone? It seems like the populist media (not the "news" media, which is pretty even-handed) is playing to the high poll numbers by discussing whether Obama is "Amazing" or "Awesome," but since most people formulate their opinions through populist media, it definitely puts an image in people's minds that is difficult to shake. If the image of female anchors on "Good Morning, America" hanging all over cardboard cutouts of the new president doesn't give you pause, well... it should.

Now, there's a huge difference between the cult of personality in history (see: go-to examples of evil dictators) and what's going on now: namely, that Obama has (relatively) nothing to do with the unrelenting showering of praise. In America, despite what a lot of people think, the press is free to say whatever they want about politicians. The catch-22 is that the press also wants to say what people want to hear, so that papers get sold and websites get hit and media gets consumed. Thus, if people are hating on Bush, then the media has a lot of Bush-hating stories. The stories are true, of course, but they don't present a whole picture, since there's a lot of things Bush has done which don't suck (AIDS funding, for example). Conversely, media coverage of Obama has been pretty positive, because people have a high opinion of him (and not because of coercion of the media outlets, which is a big difference). But there are a bunch of things (retraction of FISA during the campaign,

Now, I'm an Obama supporter. I think it would be a little cynical to suggest that the only reason he gets positive press is because of his popularity. He seems to be making swift moves to put a lot of his campaign talk into action; at least, as much as he can without being president. In the next few weeks we'll see how much of it has been posturing and how much will be real. Until then, everyone should keep their heads.

(Side note: CNN.com's front page, at 9:30 AM, has the requisite set of news stories talking about the inauguration and the significance of this year's MLK day. And then there's a story whose title reads, "Going With The Flow: Learn why people tend to go along with the majority view, even when it's wrong." I can't make this stuff up.)

(Side note #2: After Israel and Hamas decided to fuck the shit out of Gaza, people observed that they were probably getting their last licks in before Bush leaves office. I thought that was a little silly, but if you're someone who espoused that view, another headline on CNN reads: "Israel: We'll exit Gaza by time Obama sworn in." Seriously.)

An Ode to the Brick City

So as my name suggests I am from Jersey... born and raised. I'm currently living in the largest city in the Dirty Jerz... Newark... BRICK CITY! Now I know you may be thinking that the larger the city the more homicides. I'm here to tell you that we lost that race to Camden. Way to go you little over achiever you. I moved in about 18 months ago and shortly after I saw a billboard that announced how many days the city went without a shooting... we maxed out at 33. I also noticed that I wasn't really able to walk more than 10ft without tripping over a homeless person or being asked for change from someone else on the street. The first couple of times I was asked I gave change to those that asked for it when I had it, because, despite the fact I'm in law school, I'm not completely heartless. I find no problem in helping people that are legitimately hungry, but there are also those that will promptly use the money for cigarettes/booze/drugs. I soon developed a litmus test for those that are seeking money for illicit reasons.

1. They begin their pitch with "Can I talk to you a minute..."
2. or incorporate "My mother just died and I need money to buy a train
ticket..."
3. "I'm not a bum" --> then you're a crackhead
4. They walk by past a crowd of people but only ask the white
people for money... if you were really hungry you would ask everyone
5. They persist trying to get money from you after you offer them the
address of a shelter that offers a meal and a bed for the night

The psychology of this impressed me, because who couldn't sympathize with someone that lost their mother. But when you hear that 10 people in a 1 block radius had mothers that died in like 3 days I'm sorry but I would like to speak with your crackhead union officials that gave you this line so that I can call shenanigans. They don't even work to perfect the argument, because once I realized what was going on I began to mess with them. "Oh that's terrible, what did she die from?" If they manage to answer I just keep bombarding them with follow up question after follow up question, inventing sub-categories of the disease to get them to admit the are lying. Even used car dealers develop their sales pitch to sell you that 1990 POS you just bought. You may say that I am cruel for putting them through this, but by this point in the pitch I have directed them to a shelter for food/place to sleep and said I have no change on me. I usually don't have any change on me anyway because everything at school is really overpriced and I try not to buy anything there, if I have to I use my credit card and this actually serves a dual purpose on top of not wasting money, it also allows me to answer truthfully to the fact that I don't have any change on me when approached in the street.

Also, I am currently living off loan money that I receive at about 8,000,000% interest so that .25 or whatever it is that you think I can spare for this person who is down on their luck, or off of their high, when it comes time to pay back my loan, will cost me about $3.50. I refuse to feel bad when you know damn well that you would not give out paper money to someone on the street. This is not a case of borrowing money, I'll never get it back, and if I caved to everyone that asked me for money in Newark i would not be able to pay my tuition. If someone actually walked up to me and said "hey can I have $5 so that I can get I high" I would give it to them as a reward for their honesty. I also think that the CU (Crackhead Union) has assigned its members the corners upon which they ask for money, so that when the professionals leave their building for lunch they can conveniently dispose of their change after buying their food. I, however, do not have income, only debt accruing, rapidly. I cannot afford to give change to the same 5 people every day on my way to and from school.

I have also recently learned that there is a 0 tolerance policy for people caught dealing drugs in the "downtown" area of Newark, which consists of the area between broad street and Newark Penn Station (my apt, school and the prudential center), and promises a trip to the emergency room before they go to the holding cell. So the drug dealers, like lions hiding in the tall grass to stalk the gazelle, stand at the bus stops camouflaging themselves with the people who actually are waiting for the bus on broad street, buttressing themselves up against the border but not daring to cross it, not unlike the Hamsterdam set up in "The Wire." I'm sure by now the police have noticed that the same 5-10 guys are standing at the bus stop all day, when every bus for that stop has passed several times over. When I am forced to walk in that area I'm asked if I am "up" several times and all I can say is "There is a cop not 50 ft from you directing traffic, what are you thinking?" This was the essence of Hamsterdam in the show, stay in these low impact areas without being violent and you can do whatever else you like with impunity. All I know is that tomorrow when Newark riots down broad street, in celebration of Obama's inauguration, the dealers and the crackheads both will either get trampled or have a feeding frenzy on their hands. So good luck to Corey Booker in continuing to improve Newark and hail to our newly elected Overlord Obama.

On "Miracles" and the 24-Hour News Cycle

3:30 PM, Thursday, January 15, 2009, Manchester Airport, Manchester, New Hampshire, USA.

When I'm able to, I always fly on Southwest Airlines. They have above-average seat room, they offer free soda and peanuts, and - best of all - they have an open seating policy. In a brilliant business move reminiscent of true capitalism, Southwest fliers who print their boarding pass online reserve a seat in line (in the order in which they sign online and print the pass). Because I'm a neurotic flyer, and have a thinly-veiled fear of dying in a horrific plane crash, I always sign online as quickly as possible to reserve an early seat in line. This always puts me in the "A" group, which boards first and puts me in my lucky seat (7C, on the left aisle side, right next to the engine on the Boeing 737-500).

At this precise moment, however, I am waiting to board a flight to Jacksonville, Florida, alongside 50 other nervous passengers, silently watching a horrific scene on the airport terminal's large TV. It appears that a commercial airliner, a US Airways jet flying from LaGuardia to Charlotte, NC (a flight I once took myself, a few years back), had crashed into the Hudson River. The crash resulted in killing everyone on board, I am certain. When airplanes crash land into water - especially when they crash land into 33 degree water, with the air temperature in the mid-teens - nobody ever survives this sort of thing. This is absolute fact.

The passengers around me seem to think along the same lines that I do, because they are grim and absolutely silent. The dude in front of me nervously scans his BlackBerry for news, but out of some macabre mixture of politeness and not wanting to know what happened, I don't peer over his shoulder for the death count. At this moment, I am ready to fly. I am certain that I no longer fear my own death by airplane. No way this happens twice in one day.

What I do upon boarding the plane is text message my Mom. This is funny, because Moms don't usually text message. But my Mom does, and I text her to let her know (a) there's been a horrible plane crash in the Hudson river, and (b) I was not on board that particular plane. This is important, because if my Mom were to turn on the TV news at any point while I am in the air, she would immediately think her son died - in the way he always imagined.

This is important also because I'm the sort of person who craves facts. I ask her how bad the crash was. Before the plane takes off, I find out there are no fatalities. I text back "WOW", and soon I'm instructed to turn off my cell phone. Before my plane landed safely in Jacksonville, I sip two Diet Cokes and read GQ.

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Other people, far more eloquent than I, have already condemned modern society's reliance upon tragic sob stories in order to reveal our individual, concealed feelings. I won't parrot these remarks. Nobody needs to know where I was on 9/11, because it isn't important. The story that I just wrote, though, makes me a hypocrite. Because, just like on 9/11 when we all capitalized on horror to make ourselves seem human, I think that a simple "miraculous" plane crash is allowing us to capitalize on hope to do the exact same thing.

What I'm focusing on now is the near-constant news coverage of this "miraculous" event. In doing so, I don't want to understate how amazing it was that nobody died in the plane crash. Over a hundred people are waking up today having thought they were going to die, but having actually lived. These people are going to treat their kids, spouses, and coworkers better, and they're going to have a story for the rest of their lives (one that will certainly get a few of the passengers laid, and more power to them).

But, so far as news stories go, it's as exciting as that one time I had Ace-King suited and flopped four of a kind Aces. Actually, it's just like that one time I flopped four of a kind Aces. All the requisite skill was there. The pilot knew what he was doing and landed the plane perfectly so that it wouldn't sink. All the requisite luck was there. The engine failed at just the right time such that the plane could crash-land in a highly populated river, close to ferries and rescue boats. The statistical context was there - the laws of physics said that a successful crash landing in water was at least theoretically possible (even though planes that ditch in the water usually tend to sink).

Because of this, the amount of news this "miracle" generated made me wonder. It made me wonder whether all this crap with the economy in crisis, people losing their jobs left and right, etc., is starving us for good news. The people who decide what goes on the news are human and therefore biased, no matter how objective they think they are. They've likely had a really rough year, and there's little doubt in my mind that yesterday's "miracle" became The News of the New Year because we're all rooting for everything to turn out all right.

I'm visiting my dad in Florida this weekend, and he was so excited about the news this morning that he TiVo'd one full hour of the "Today" show's plane crash footage. (NOTE: I think that earlier this morning, the "Today" show devoted its' entire four hours to yesterday's plane crash.) My dad, like many Americans, has lost a third of his nest egg within the past four months. Like many Americans, my dad is completely pissed off about this fact. Regardless, he was actually excited to watch the news this morning. So even though I'm a Godless curmudgeon and I do not believe in miracles, I suppose good news counts for something these days.

Stay classy out there.

In Defense of Unused Entertainment: An Ode to Bookshelves

Recently, I started cleaning my domicile. But this isn't regular cleaning: the goal is to reduce the number of objects I have in my everyday life so that when I eventually move again, I have fewer things to bring. Getting rid of old clothes, old computer parts, and so forth. But one thing I cannot reconcile is getting rid of my books. I have two bookshelves filled to the brim, and that's not counting ones lined along the floor or piled up in corners. I could probably start a small library with the number of books I've collected.

Some of these books haven't been read all the way through, and some I haven't even read at all. So naturally, when I mention that I'm cleaning, I draw fire from several angles (mother, significant other, significant-other-in-law) all of whom immediately -- not unlike HITLER -- target my book collection for exile to the attic or, worse, the trash. And I can't bring myself to do it. My brother is also facing criticism regarding his own book collection, and from this exceedingly small sample size and my own mild sexism, I have formed the following statement: Women do not understand the importance of a large collection.

Sure, the bookshelf may look like it's taking up a lot of unnecessary room, and it's stocked with things you've either already read or will never read, both of which indicate that the book does not belong in your possession. But that's missing the larger point: The bookshelf is a much-needed avenue for self-expression and evaluation. It takes a lot of time to build up a good bookshelf, and the reason is that each book you add to the shelves constitutes an individual act in your life. At one point or another, you made a conscious decision to buy or accept the book, and add it to your shelf. Thus, a bookcase represents a compilation of all the passing interests of your life. My own bookshelf has a number of topics, from psychology to politics to engineering and robotics, and even a few about gardening and cooking, all coordinated to particular phases or interests that I've had over the years. The bookshelf is a public expression of that history. It's something to be proud of: when people see your collection, they can see what kind of things you either have been or are currently interested in. They see what you know, or what you would like to know in the future, and in so doing, they know a little bit more about you as a person. This isn't a Facebook or Myspace profile that you slapped together in an "Oh, I bet I'll seem interesting if I say I like this!" moment, this is a pillar of your life meticulously constructed over several years, financed with real money-dollars (or some crafty book-stealing).

A common complaint is, "But you've never even read this! Why keep it if you're never going to open it?" See, that's the great thing about the bookshelf: it's not just a compilation of history, it's a set of possibilities for the future. Again, the purchase of a book indicates an interest. Maybe I don't have time for it now, but it says that at some point, I would like to add this to the list of books I have read. It's a direction in which I would like to grow; maybe not now, maybe not ever, but the shelf is as much about possibilities as history.

The same argument can be adopted for a movie collection. How many of us look with pride at our collection of DVDs, movie box sets, television series, and straight-to-DVD-movies-nobody-had-ever-heard-of? The box art, the plastic, the arrangement of the obelisk of entertainment all contribute to a collection that was slowly built up over the years, each piece added by you. Just imagine if some wild-eyed harpy decided that your DVD collection was taking up precious cubic footage (or yardage, in which case, bravo) and condemned it to die a slow, dusty death compacted into a lifeless, opaque DVD wallet, to be shoved under the coffee table, never to be seen again.

Fuck that! Your DVDs, your books, and your CDs should all be on prominent display. When people come over your home and see your collection, their attention should be drawn to it. They should feel compelled to peruse your selections, to make a connection through an obscure book or movie or CD. They should feel the bitter pangs of envy that they have spent so little time creating their own bookshelf. But even if nobody has ever seen it, even if you never have company over, the fact remains: Your collection is yours.

Be proud of your bookshelf, and in so doing, be proud of yourself.

Greetings from Winter Break

::takes shirt off, flashes:: WOOO HOOO!!!!!!

Ahem... sorry about that. Wrong break, apparently. Now back to your regularly scheduled blog.

I suppose that, in my own way, I work very hard at what I do. As you know, my job title is "Professional Student." I call myself this because, since 1989, I've taken a grand total of one year away from academia - this was, in many ways, a horrible year of my life. I found that I craved structure, but hated being bossed around. I realized that I respected the bottom line, but hated corporate babble-speak and generalized bullshit. Further, I came to understand that I didn't want a salary that peaked in the low six figures.

Hence, I applied to - and, by a mixture of incredible luck and poor judgment on the parts of others - was accepted into graduate school for Social Psychology. Graduate school has confirmed that I am (a) a good student, (b) technically savvy, and (c) perfectly capable of waking up at 10:00 AM every morning, even though I am 25 years old and most people my age have grown-up work and grown-up problems to deal with.

No, seriously. I am now at an age where lots of my peers are fucking PARENTS. With regard to the above statement, allow me to explain something to you. I am a responsible adult who pays his bills on time. I've never been arrested, and I don't even hold a balance on my credit cards. I'm a good student and, within the next 36 months, I will finish school and immediately begin to earn a salary that exceeds my every expectation. But there is no FUCKING way that I am even close to borderline FUCKING capable of the responsibility that comes with being a parent.

I like to drink alcohol. Somewhat consistently, I like to drink too much alcohol. Just as consistently, I like to bring my girlfriend with me to drink too much alcohol. When the Giants played the Packers in the NFC Championship Game last January, I drank enough alcohol to kill an Asian family of three. At my age, and because I don't have any kids, doing what I like to do is considered by others to be harmless; I'm "just enjoying my twenties." (NOTE: Even when I spend the entire next day alternately vomiting and screaming "GGGGGG-MEN!")

Now, throw a living newborn post-fetus into the equation. All of a sudden, I would need papal dispensation in order to get legitimately, shit-faced drunk, even on special occasions. All of a sudden, I'm no longer "just enjoying my twenties". Now I'm an alcoholic with a stained, sweaty wife beater and the Department of Youth and Family Services knocking on my front door.

My point is that having this particular responsibility is stupid, and this is why stupid people in this country are the ones having all the children. We're at the point where being truly responsible means not having any kids (or at the very least, waiting a damned long time to have kids). To illustrate this paradox, let's take Couple A. We'll call them Wade and Tawny. Wade and Tawny combine for 27 teeth and one GED. They live in a double-wide somewhere in the Deep South, 20 miles from the nearest person who voted for Obama.

Here's Couple B. (I'm not going to give this couple a name; you probably know 150 people like Couple B, dear reader, so you can come up with whatever names you see fit.) They are both college-educated, both work full-time, and they have a mortgage and two car payments. They both go to school at night for their respective Master's degrees. My question, and this is an easy question to answer, is: Who has more children, Couple A or Couple B?


OF COURSE it's Couple A, you toad-shitting nitwit. Couple A probably has three times as many kids as Couple B, and if you ask me, it's a damned shame. They have more kids because they're not using birth control, because they don't care about their careers, because they're on welfare. Couple B is responsible in a real way, and because they're responsible they're not procreating to have wonderful, intelligent children. In general, this sucks.

At this point, you might be thinking that I'm an asshole (or, even better, someone who favors eugenics). My answer to your line of reasoning is, yes, I am an asshole. And when you really think about it, as long as you're not killing people, forcing smart people to breed and forcing stupid people to be neutered or spayed (like dogs) isn't all that horrible of an idea. (NOTE: In a very under the surface sort of way, that last sentence was the most controversial thing I've ever written.)

If you're a moralist, you may now be asking, "What/who decides whether a person is stupid?" To answer the "who" question, it's going to be the people who write on this blog. (You'd better not piss any of us off. We are judge, jury, and the executioner of your reproductive organs.) To answer the "what" question, I figure we'll go with a standard IQ test plus an informal interview over coffee or baked goods.

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Since it's a Friday night and I'm writing a goddamned blog post, I might as well throw down the gauntlet and confess that I'm a pretty big loser. To that end, here's some of the entertainment I've been enjoying lately.

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Without a doubt, the funniest comedy since Seinfeld. I love the gallows humor, I love that nothing's off-limits. The writing and acting are fantastic (The McPoyle twins, pictured above, are absolutely repulsive in every way imaginable, to the point that I think the show's writers ration their appearances). Surprisingly, the blonde babe with fantastic comedic timing is married to the ugly dude, "Mac", in real life (NOTE: For some reason - perhaps my own latent chauvinism - hardly any other women have comedic timing. This is why men are much, much funnier than women, and it makes absolutely no sense).

Dexter. Psychologically intense, this show makes you actually root for a serial killer. To be honest, I've always sorta rooted for the bad guys in movies. Remember in "Goodfellas" when Ray Liotta's character (in voiceover) refers to Robert DeNiro's character as "the sort of guy who roots for the bad guys in movies", as if this were the worst character trait imaginable? I suppose this was tongue-in-cheek, since anyone who loves "Goodfellas" by definition loves to root for bad guys in movies. Still, nonetheless, wouldn't the following description for DeNiro's character be better: "Demonistic serial killer who enjoys watching the people he murders for personal gain slowly die"?

Degrassi: The Next Generation. You have to put on "The N" to watch this show, but you will be rewarded. (NOTE: "The N" is the Nickelodeon teen network, for those of you who are neither "Degrassi" fans nor about to show up on Dateline NBC.) DG:TNG (I've always wanted to use that for something that isn't Star Trek) is a Canadian teen drama, and BOY is there drama. Everything from school shootings, to teen pregnancy, identity issues, crime, sex, drugs, you name it, is on this show. They use a large ensemble cast - no other show I've seen besides "The Wire" does this so well - every character has a story line and... well, issues with growing up.

Some other, random, awesome tidbits about "Degrassi": (1) Because the show is Canadian and produced for a native audience, there are some things that seem slightly out of place. For instance, everyone loves hockey, there's a lot of snow, and many of the main characters are afraid of the dark. In addition, people speak in Canadian accents, if ya know what I'm talkin' aboot. (2) "Clerks" director and fellow Middletown, NJ-ian Kevin Smith is a huge fan of the show, to the point where he and Jay appeared on several DG:TNG episodes to produce the fictional "Jay and Silent Bob Go Canadian, Eh?" movie. Awesome stuff, and definitely something you should watch.

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OK, I'm off to shoot a Yeti and club a few baby seals now. BRRRR, it's cold out there. (NOTE: Actually, this is untrue. New Jersey has two, completely different climates. The northern and western parts of the state are in one climate, which is characterized by cold, snowy winters and warm summers. The southern and eastern parts of the state are in another climate, which has cool, rainy winters and hot summers. I'm in the "rainy winters, hot summers" climate, which is awesome in the summer but sucks in the winter. Oh, well, it beats Massachusetts.)

Stay classy out there.

My name is Atman, level 80 Draenei Warrior

I have played Warcraft since November of 2006. While home on Thanksgiving break mere weeks before my final exams were coming up in my first semester of graduate school, I decided that I would take the plunge and try out Blizzard's 10 day free trial of the game. My first character was rolled (created) on a server named Fenris. I created an Undead Warlock, and I chose this because the opening cinematic had this race / class combination looking the most badass. The hour that I spent after creating my character remains among my best memories of the game: running around the starting area, stabbing rats with a knife.

I got that character to level 60, and then purchased the Burning Crusade expansion and leveled to 70, pretty much all solo. It was around that time that I decided I would start another character, this time on the Alliance side. I wanted a warrior because the gear I saw other warriors running around with looked so cool. I eventually settled on a Draenei, and I named him after my long-standing screen name: Atman. He currently lives on the Zangarmarsh server.

I joined a startup guild when I was around level 20, in September 2007. It was the first time I'd played with other people regularly, and it introduced me to the thing that makes massively-multiplayer online games so popular: playing with others.

It sounds crazy, but when you get home every day and log into the game, you talk and interact and play with the same people, day after day, and you get to think of them as a type of friend. Not the kind you'd confide in (these are strangers on the Internet for crying out loud), but more like a co-worker: you interact with people with a regularity and familiarity that comes from seeing them every day, chatting with them, and even though you don't think of them as real "friends" there is still a sense of comraderie there.

The leader of our guild decided that I was a good player and nice enough person to promote to the rank of "Officer" within the guild. This gave me responsibility in the form of settling disputes among regular members and giving input to the GM (guild master) on issues concerning the guild, such as a dungeon schedule, point system for distributing equipment, guild events, etc. After some time, I became a de-facto co-GM of the guild, which is currently numbers approximately 150 unique members.

I'll say that again for my friends who don't actually know the depths of my involvement with the game: I am one of the individuals responsible for a guild with 150 members. In addition, I am an administrator of the guild's website and editor of guild videos. We are currently working our way through the newest expansion, the Wrath of the Lich King, and will begin raiding within the next week or so since many of us are reaching the new level cap of 80.

I wrote this because most people don't know how involved in the game I am. Friends of mine who read this blog (all five of you) are, I hope, shielded from the extreme nerdiness of my hobby. For some reason, I thought it might be amusing to let people know that I play the game a LOT, and I'm good at it, and I enjoy it very much.

This post seems to end so anti-climatically, so I'll link you to one of the aforementioned videos... to show you that I'm not lying. For anyone who actually plays the game: That video was taken awhile ago, and is pretty embarrassing. Low gear, keyboard turning, the whole bit. I had just made the move from my laptop to a new desktop, so I was still getting used to mouse-turning and new keybinds. Trust me, I'm working on new movies that are a lot better.

Don't Stop Believin'

Thanksgiving break is the biggest tease on the academic calendar. For non-religious people such as myself, it's the third-most important holiday of the year (after my birthday and X-Mas), and it has every key aspect of a hugely important holiday. Gluttony? Check. Football on TV? Check. Necessary bonding time with annoying family? Check. Everyone's back home, regardless of where they live the rest of the year? Check.

The thing is, break only last four days, at which point everyone has drive back home and deal with another month of bullshit cold weather, annoying people, and tons of shopping. Oh, and don't forget the driving. It's like people who don't drive 11 months out of the year come out in hoards between Nov. 25 and Dec. 25. It's like fucking amateur hour out there on the roads.

Driving home on the Merritt Parkway on Wednesday morning, I saw (literally *saw*, with my own two eyes) a car get clobbered by a full-size deer. Bambi was just loping across the road, minding her own doe-eyed business, when a Honda Civic (not mine) barreled into it at 70 mph*. (*NOTE: This only tangentially relates to things I've seen other creatures named Bambi do at certain types of establishments, in ::ahem:: different phases of my life.) Anyway, traffic slowed to a crawl and I eventually passed the accident; Bambi was on her back, twitching like Michael J. Fox on the side of the highway. It was disgusting, and I did everything I could not to vomit. Luckily, the Honda Civic was okay, however.

I almost never see accidents on my trip from Boston to New Jersey (and back); rush-hour drivers are the best drivers, but Northeast Corridor long-distance commuters (the "long-distance relationship group" that I'm teeth-grindingly a member of) are the second-best. During Thanksgiving break alone, I saw four accidents. You know that statistic that says "92% of all accidents happen within 26 miles from home"? This is the most crap-tacular statistic in the world. OF COURSE 92% of accidents happen there; that's where 92% of all driving occurs! Think about the people whose cars you've sat in during the past year. How many of them would you trust to drive you from New Jersey to Boston? I wouldn't trust one-half of the writers on this blog to drive me from New Jersey to Boston. PatentlyJersey would unquestionably hit an elk, or something.

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Over break, I went to a bar in lovely Sea Bright, NJ. This is (I'm pretty sure) the town where Tony Soprano fictionally once had a beach house; he also docked his yacht, the "Stugatz" upon which he famously whacked Big Pussy, out of Sea Bright. I always thought that Sea Bright was a pretty lame beach town. There is only one bar and one restaurant in the town worth going to, there's only one street that runs north-south, you can't speed because there are too many bored cops, and it's way too close to droves of annoying Sandy Hook tourists in the summer. But maybe this is bubbling teenaged angst speaking here; maybe I'm conditioned to dislike everything related to my youth. Maybe one day I'll buy a house on the west side of that pitifully short sea wall, and maybe some other day it'll be destroyed by a rogue hurricane.

Regardless, this particular bar had a cover singer perform that night. Unlike most solo singers, he played electric and not acoustic guitar. Unlike most solo singers that play Jersey Shore bars, he distributed his set list before going on stage (presumably to facilitate audience requests), and it was immense, both in quantity and in scope. It consisted of seven and half pages, with 100 songs per page, and included everything from Kenny Rogers to Kenny Loggins, from Danzig to Dave Matthews, from Metallica to Men at Work. It's amazing, given this man's knowledge of guitar, that he could not find better work. I mean, I've seen some successful Jersey Shore cover bands that know literally 12 songs (and that includes two separate renditions of "Mr. Brightside").

On the left side of the first page of this tome is a listing of 50 songs that the songwriter deems "Most Requested." I semi-drunkenly brought the song list home with me because I was convinced that these 50 songs are definitive proof of how unironic, uncool, and ridiculous the average doofus who requests songs at a bar is. For example, "Joker" by Steve Miller Band is on this list. In the pantheon of mainstream classic rock, the Steve Miller Band is the single most unimpressive band (it's bland enough to appear in commercials for clothing brands sold at K-Mart), and "Joker" the most unimpressive song of all. The only song by Steve Miller Band that I like is "Stuck in the Middle With You," which is actually performed by Stealer's Wheel, a completely different band.

The list also includes "Laid" by James (a decidedly-agnostic piece which I always confuse with that song "Flood" by Christ-rock band Jars of Clay), "Baby Got Back" (which is played out, even at weddings), "Shimmer" by Fuel (not even one of the top 25 alternative rock songs of the 1990's), "Five Hundred Miles" by the Proclaimers (a song that Brainpan hates, so it must be unironic and uncool), and "Sweet Caroline" (which is played during the 7th inning stretch at Red Sox games).

Jersey Shore bars are sort of ironic (emphasis on "sort of", since the exact same claim I'm making here can be made about bars in California, or northern Virginia, or the suburbs of Boston, Mass.) in that there is no inherent advantage to being a smart kid at the bar. Like many of the people who read this blog, I grew up in a hyper-competitive intellectual environment without ever really realizing what was going on around me. My friends growing up were/are almost unilaterally smart-to-brilliant by nature, which is not the way that 99.9% of the people in this world grow up. Were I born into a steel-mining family in central Pennsylvania, I would feel infinitely more comfortable at bars than I currently do, even though my life would as a whole be much more miserable and unfulfilling than it currently is.

Some of the people everywhere, even in the "brightest" parts of the country, are completely fucking retarded. I realize this fully. (I mean, look at how we drive -- isn't it weird that the parts of the country with the dumbest people also have the most competent drivers?) And, I realize that completely fucking retarded people are just as entitled to go to the bars as I am (even though I wish it weren't like this). What bothers me most, I suppose, is poor taste - something which can be only understood by people who have good taste, because taste is completely subjective. There are millions of people out there who love shitty reality TV and canned Jerry Bruckheimer films, because they're mediocre people by nature and don't care that everyone around them is quietly snickering under their breath. It's not up to me to fix them -- I'm not even sure they should be fixed, since there needs to be a fish at every table -- but it doesn't mean I shouldn't be pissed off that they exist.

And, come on, "I Think We're Alone Now" by Tiffany makes the top 50??! Are we even human?

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I'm taking a course on emotion theory this semester. It's kind of a frustrating course for me, because we have to write reaction papers every week that are graded (on a scale of 1 to 5) by the professor who teaches the course. I'm a chronic overachiever, and it's bothered me all semester that I cannot get a 5/5 on these reaction papers*. (*NOTE: I do routinely get 4/5, and the professor swears to use the entire scale, so I'm not really that pissed. But still...)

Early in November, I went to visit the professor during office hours because I was curious about how to get a perfect 5/5*. (*NOTE: I am a giant fucking tool.) We went over my reaction papers, and he determined that my thoughts are very interesting, but I jump from place to place too much. In other words, I'm a fragmented thinker who doesn't make his transitions explicit. This is probably the exact same problem that I have in writing this blog. :-)

Stay classy out there.

On elections and voting

When I was in third grade, I ran for (and won) my first and only election to public office. Each class in New Monmouth Elementary needed a "Food Service Representative" (someone to tell the lunch ladies what kinds of food we wanted to eat), and I faced some very stiff competition -- this one other kid, a boy who was extremely quiet and seemed kind of stupid, who made the extremely poor decision to run against me.

Because my third grade teacher believed in democracy, my opponent and I stood in front of the class one morning and "debated" before the rest of the class voted. Even at age 9, my debate strategy was flawless. Whenever one of my classmates raised their hands to ask me a question, it was about whether they could have something. Whether they could have pizza for lunch every day. Whether they could have cookies, and juice boxes, and cake, and Atomic Fireballs. Whether they could have Santa come and bring presents before Christmas.

My response to every question I was asked was "Sure." In the minds of the public, I gave them everything they wanted. Unsurprisingly, I was immediately elected in a landslide. And then, on the day when every Food Service Representative had to meet with the lunch ladies and talk about the issues, I called in sick from school and the collective voice of my third-grade class was never heard.

This brings me to the topic of this post, tomorrow's Presidential election. I hear both candidates saying a bunch of crap, which they'll never be able to back up in reality (particularly with the inevitable deficit we're going to face, since we just bailed out Wall Street). And the fact of the matter is, politicians are politicians. They're going to lie. They're going to say whatever they think you want to hear, and it doesn't matter who is elected because the system is fundamentally flawed. Whoever is elected is going to have to clean up the massive deuce that is "Bush's Amurrica", and that's a shit hole that is going to take more than eight years to climb out of.

Yet, because of this, I* (*NOTE: I am Freducate, and all the opinions contained in this blog post are my own. I do not speak for anyone else who writes here, who may disagree with me in both style and/or substance) officially endorse Barack Obama for President. Here's why.

If I'm going to get screwed in the ass by a Presidential administration over the next four years (and whoever is elected is going to screw us, because this is what politicians do), I want it to be by an administration who knows how to screw gently. Kindly, and potentially with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. You see, what appalled me most about the Dubya administration was not the egregious bending of liberty and individual freedoms, the illegal wire-tapping, or the waterboarding. I am relatively certain that every Presidential administration has broken the law and lied to the public on dozens of occasions -- most of them were smart enough not to get caught. Instead, I was most appalled by the transparency, flippancy, and arrogance with which the current administration handled these controversies.

What I like the most about Obama is that he's smart. Really smart. Brilliant. Smarter than me, even. People as smart as him usually look at data all day, but Obama is smooth. He knows how to talk, and he knows how to communicate. He could sell me a car for two thousand over invoice, and I'd buy it in a heartbeat because I'll think I've just made a new friend. The Grand Poo-bah of the Ukraine ("Ukraine is not weak!") would melt like warm butter in Obama's hands.

In a general election where both candidates seem to be promising the world to people (and I still don't understand how Obama's going to make things work financially, without raising taxes across the board, with the economy in a recession), Obama is going to win tomorrow, probably in a landslide. This is likely for two reasons. First, Obama ran a better campaign, motivated by a huge volunteer movement and loads of private financing money. In this sense, rooting for Obama is like rooting for the house in blackjack - that's how enormous his advantage is. Second, at a fundamental level, he connects with people better than his opponent. People want to believe Obama, because he sounds like he has his shit together. In a world where practically nobody has their shit together, sounding like you know what you're talking about is priceless. (*NOTE: Believe me on this one.)

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We may act like adults, and pretend to be civil and refined, but in many ways we've never left third grade. Our behavior is defined, to a high degree, by the behaviors of the people around us. When somebody stands in front of you and tells you what you want to hear, your baseline reaction is to agree with them -- this is persuasion defined, and it drives the economy by causing sales, gets people to hook up with one another, etc. It's scary, but it's true. It's justified to vote, and it's justified to be excited to vote. But don't be surprised if you regret the vote that you make (just like many of the otherwise kind-hearted, blue-blooded Americans who pulled the trigger for Bush in 2000, or worse, 2004).