Shipping up to Worcester: A Pseudo-Live Pseudo-Road Trip Blog

I spent most of this weekend visiting grad school friends in Worcester, Massachusetts. The details of the visit are only secondary with regard to this blog post; it was great seeing my friends and I definitely killed a few thousand brain cells in the process. I ate a bunch of junk food and had some great conversations. It made me kind of miss being a grad student... kind of.

When I lived in Boston, my girlfriend lived in central New Jersey. Approximately twice a month while school was in session, I would make the eight-hour round trip to visit her for the weekend. I always enjoyed the drive (in both directions, although the drive to NJ was better than the drive to Boston), because it gave me lots of opportunities to work through shit in my head.

Depending on how you do it, the drive from New Jersey to Boston can consist of near-constant car rock, lots of scenic views, and the company of lots and lots of other cars. Everyone around you is going somewhere, and that makes long-distance driving lots of fun. My creative streak runs amok on these drives, and lately I thought to myself that it might be interesting (if incredibly narcissistic and self-serving) to blog some of these creative thoughts.

Below is such an attempt. All dates, times, and locations are approximate.

10:55 AM, Saturday, New Brunswick, NJ. Having picked up a bottle of "Sopranos" Pinot Noir (a taste of New Jersey for $12.99 that easily could have been sold for $3.99), as well as three Rocky Patel Robusto cigars for the weekend's festivities, I am off to the races.

It is about 85 degrees and rainy out, and I dread the idiots who will be driving on the Interstate highways of the Northeastern U.S. this weekend. We shall see. On Radio 101.9, "Backwater" by the Meat Puppets is on.

11:10 AM, Saturday, Bloomfield, NJ. Fast highway driving is like playing the stock market in the sense that there are two types of talented highway drivers/stock investors. There are the rare ones who know enough to "get it right" and then there are ones who are (a) aware that they're not the first kind of genius but (b) able to spot them and imitate their every move. I am this second type of talented highway driver.

The Garden State Parkway today is a mess; weekend drivers are retarded in general, because they don't drive often. Additionally, there are lots of weekend drivers on the road and it's raining. We're stop-and-go, and I would be content to chill out in the fast lane (aka low-cost index fund investing) but instead I notice a late-model Toyota Camry that really seems to "get it". I pull behind this car and do really well for about 10 miles, until they exit the highway.

I worry about the day that I pull this move and get myself shot by a paranoid meth addict, but so far, it hasn't happened yet.

11:20 AM, Saturday, Mahwah, NJ. The disc jockey on 101.9 just pre-empted a Silversun Pickups song by referring to how "heavy" it was with respect to most of the radio station's playlist. Two songs later, the same DJ played Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song." With a sigh and a shake of the head, I turn over to 104.3.

11:30 AM, Saturday, West Nyack, NY. I feel bad that I really dislike "Freebird". It just goes on and on and on and on. If "Freebird" were five instead of eight minutes long, I would probably like it all right, but I can't tell you the last time I caught it on the radio and haven't turned the dial. I switch back to 101.9 FM, easily my favorite radio station at this moment, and catch MGMT's "Kids", easily one of my favorite new alternative rock songs at this moment.

Meanwhile, I'm going 47 mph in the left lane of the Tappan Zee bridge and I'm getting absolutely dominated by Buicks, Penske rental trucks, and drivers from Maine in the right lanes. There is someone ahead of me in the left lane whom I would quickly murder, if given the chance. They need to give out special licenses for the fast lane.

11:35 AM, Saturday, somewhere between Rockland and Westchester Counties, NY. I may have ranted about this before, and if so, I apologize for my duplicity. However, it's absolutely ridiculous that the Tappan Zee bridge has signs reading "A Life is Worth Saving, Suicide Help Line Ahead."

Let's assume you're the average, severely suicidal person who has already managed to walk halfway up the East Coast's highest bridge, because you're intent upon killing yourself. You see this sign, imploring you to continue walking up the bridge in order to reach a pay phone which may or may not be working.

They're suicidal! How about working to get them off the fucking bridge, where the value proposition of killing yourself isn't so obvious! If I were in charge of writing these signs, I would make them say "Attention Suicidal Person, Suicide Help Line 500 Feet Behind You (on Dry Land)."

I am now in bumper-to-bumper traffic because the people in front of me should have killed themselves years ago but, unfortunately, did not.

11:55 AM, Saturday, Brewster, NY. The pavement on Interstate I-684 in New York is in horrible shape, which is strange because approximately 99% of this year's federal stimulus money has been used on re-paving projects. I know that very meaningful road in New Jersey is either getting widened, repaved, or both right now, which is very annoying when you're sitting in traffic but I guess it makes sense... somehow.

I am now officially leaving the New York City radio market and entering the Greater Connecticut radio market. I listen to rock radio for the most part, which (these days) is like saying "I study 13th-century Norse philosophy." Since January of this year, I've lost my two favorite rock stations in New Jersey (106.3 and 92.3), and I recently heard that WBCN in Boston turned into a Top 40 station, as well.

The one remaining rock station in New York broke the news about WBCN by stating, in essence, "Rock radio is in a panic state, everyone's losing their jobs, and I'm lucky that I get to work right now." Only a decade ago, rock radio stations were institutions; they hosted concerts, had long-running promotions, and you felt like you had a relationship with that particular number on the dial. Now, you're lucky if you have a radio station that plays music that you like.

The issue here is perhaps three-fold. One, smart people have more money than dumb people. Two, smart people listen to rock music, while dumb people listen to Top 40 music. Three, as a consequence, smart people have moved en masse to satellite radio, where they don't have to listen to annoying commercials and retarded disc jockeys who think the Silversun Pickups are heavier than Led Zeppelin.

Because of these three factors, you are now faced with two choices when you're sitting in your car and want to listen to music: (1) buy satellite radio, or (2) be prepared to listen to shitloads of Lady Gaga.

Although I was scared when the first song I heard was from No Doubt, Connecticut's alternative rock station (Radio 104.1) still exists. It will be my musical accompaniment most of the way through CT.

1:00 PM, Saturday, Tolland, CT. Exit 68 off of I-84 in Connecticut is AMAZING. There is a Dunkin' Donuts, a Subway, two gas stations, and a strip club -- basically, everything a dude traveling alone could possibly ever want, all in one stop.

I am currently waiting in line inside the aforementioned Subway, while an entire boys' soccer team (and both their coaches) order subs, one at a time. Whatever is in the water in Tolland, CT, it seems to promote healthy appetites. Each of these children, although they can't be any older than ten, is ordering a foot-long sub with double meat.

Oh, and did I mention that no one on this team (players or coaches) spoke English? They all only spoke Spanish, and no one was available to translate. As you might suspect, this was a complete and utter disaster. Kids ran away without paying, the orders got mixed up, some of the kids didn't have the money to pay.

Because of the language barrier, it was difficult to resolve this issue. The young couple in front of me left a $10 bill on the counter and walked away; I thought about doing the same thing, but I'm way too nice for that. After about ten minutes in line, I am finally munching my toasted 6" Subway Club on Golden Italian.

1:15 PM, Saturday, Union, CT. If I were to name the most desolate place on my drive from NJ to Massachusetts, it would be Union, CT. There is an exit here, but besides a boarded-up Christian book store, there seems to be no signs of life. Maybe there's a town back there somewhere, but I bet it's haunted like Silent Hill.

It's not surprising that in August 2009, the CT Dept. of Transportation has decided to repave this entire section of I-84. As I sit and wait in traffic (the traffic would keep up until the Mass Pike, 7 miles up the road), I think about the most surreal traffic jam I ever experienced.

It was 11:00 PM on a Thursday in August 2008, and I was heading in the opposite direction on I-84 (but at about this same point). Highway crews were (surprise!) re-paving the highway, and three lanes were going to be cut into one, so naturally there was lots of traffic.

It was a warm evening, the ground was very misty, and I had a cigar prepared for this very situation. As I sat in my SUV and slowly smoked the cigar, inching forward on the highway extremely slowly, I started to think about my life.

On one hand, I'd just finished my first year of graduate school with great grades and excellent research. On the other hand, I was miserable and craving something that felt real. Because I needed some, I played the "Clarity" CD by Jimmy Eat World. Between the smoking and listening to emo music, I started to think and feel like I used to when I was nineteen, and this was no good.

For a split-second that night, I could almost touch the past. It didn't feel like a dream, but I didn't feel like I was sitting in traffic, either. I felt like I was anticipating something, even though I had nothing to anticipate at that time. As it were, everything turned out OK, of course. I made it home and eventually left graduate school.

I haven't smoked while driving since. Back in August 2009, I'm playing one of my favorite albums of the 90's -- Guster's "Goldfly" -- because there's no radio reception in Union, CT.

2:30 PM, Saturday, Worcester, MA. It's hard to describe exactly why it's tricky driving on city streets in Massachusetts. It's some combination of the roads being poorly signed, the number of lanes being poorly indicated, intersections being at odd angles, and other drivers constantly pressuring you to drive faster than you want to.

Twice so far, I've been instructed to be in the right lane even though I was about to make left turns. This is not normal.* (*NOTE: Says the kid from New Jersey, where there are jughandles that lead people to do the exact same thing.) Then again, very little is standard about driving around here - you just have to fly by the seat of your pants, and be creative.

You know, kind of like how this blog post was creative. Stay classy out there.

"Mad Men" and the Meaning of Life

I'll admit it: I was originally hesitant about "Mad Men", and it wasn't until my third attempt to watch Season 1 that I made it through. The first two times, I stopped watching because I felt the same kind of uneasiness that makes "Office Space" something less than one of my favorite movies. I felt it was just too realistic a portrayal of white-collar work - it hit too close to home. I don't like it when pop culture makes me feel that my life is meaningless, and I was worried that "Mad Men" was going to make me think that my life was meaningless.

Like always, my initial impression was wrong. To me, what makes "Mad Men" awesome is that it makes me realize that everyone's life is meaningless, regardless of their levels of wealth, beauty, and outward-looking happiness. And also the following, other things:

1) Making smoking look cool again. Because all the Surgeon General's warning shit hadn't happened yet in 1960, everybody on "Mad Men" smokes. (*ASIDE: Because of stupid Hollywood rules, the actors are only allowed to smoke herbal cigarettes on the show. This is ridiculous because it's not the fact that it's a Marlboro that makes smoking dangerous; it's the fact that smoke inhaled into the lungs causes a bunch of health problems. It doesn't matter if it's tobacco, herbs, cloves, hookah, bong, or whatever toots your noodle -- it's bad for you.) This reminds us all that, despite the obvious health hazards, smoking makes everyone look cooler.

I quit smoking cigarettes years ago, and haven't lapsed once since. Recently at a company event, my girlfriend, who ordinarily doesn't smoke, smoked a few cigarettes. When she told me this, it pissed me off -- not because I care that she smoked a few cigarettes (I suspect she won't get hooked), but because I'm incredibly jealous that I could never stop at just one cigarette. I would have 10 Marlboro Lights down within an hour, because they're delicious, they make me look cooler than I am, and because smokers have better random conversations with people. I also kind of blame "Mad Men" for this.

2) The 1960's are an invisible character on the show. A temporal context shouldn't feel like a character, but in "Mad Men" it does. The 1960's were a time of incredible change and turmoil, and you get the sense after watching a few episodes of the show that the world was a cultural powderkeg at that precise moment. Everything was about to change, and everyone seemed to sense this in a very vague sense. The old guard was about to become irrelevant, replaced by a younger generation with radically different ideas about stuff. Somewhere in the middle (both in age and in ideology) is Don Draper, who is fighting always to maintain his own identity. I have no clue where he'll end up, but I'm sure it won't be pretty.

3) Who is Don Draper? No, seriously, who is he? I'm only less than halfway through Season 2, and I can't figure it out yet. As far as I know, no successful TV show has managed to base an ensemble drama around a main character who has no past. Artsy movies like "Memento" have pulled this off (kinda), but on TV? No frickin' way, man. There's a lot of stupid TV out there, but "Mad Men" is the kind of show you can feel smart about watching.

4) It reminds you that being at the right place at the right time is extremely important. Don Draper, like a dinosaur at the dawn of the Ice Age, is going to become culturally irrelevant at some point during "Mad Men" -- it hasn't happened yet, but it will at some point. Mark my words; Don Draper is not going to go gently into that good night. This is a shame, because his personality would have been a perfect fit for the generation just before his own. Other characters on the show, such as Salvatore and Peggy Olson, have personalities that would be perfect fits for the generation just after their own. These people will not be as successful as they would have been, had they been born just 20 years sooner or 20 years later.

I get the sense that this is the case for lots of people. For instance, I am convinced that, had I been born in 1973 instead of in 1983, and had every other aspect of my childhood been exactly the same as it was, I would be a 35-year-old, insanely successful Silicon Valley entrepreneur instead of a 25-year-old, moderately successful Project Director. My life right now is happy, but I've always had the sense that I was born at the wrong time.

5) The overall portrayal of work juxtaposed with "What Life is Supposed to Mean." I mentioned at the beginning of this post that "Mad Men" reminded me too much of "Office Space", which I said is probably why it took so long for me to get hooked on the show. Now it's one of my favorite aspects of the show. Every single character on the show is both vaguely miserable and morally compromised. Marital fidelity is the exception, not the rule. Account managers at Sterling Cooper would sell their own mothers down the river for the next big deal.

Everyone -- even the Mad Men whose job it is to construct artificial realities for people -- are striving to obtain an artificially-constructed reality, which must include a smiling wife, two kids and a dog. What "happiness" is is never mentioned, because no one on the show can even come close to understanding it.

6) Misogyny and the overall objectification of women. Don't get me wrong; I feel like women are (at the very least) the equal of men. In fact, I think women make better bosses than men do, for a bunch of reasons that aren't worth elaborating here. This doesn't mean that I can't find the fact that it wasn't always like this hilarious.

In "Mad Men", a show with a writing staff comprised mostly of women, women are almost always the secretaries. In addition, they will always be the secretaries, and their careers have one of two possible endings. They will end up either as head secretaries, or as housewives. They will fetch coffee for their bosses and hang up their (expensive, stylish, and awesome) overcoats. They will type and take correspondence, and they will conceal their bosses' inevitable affairs. They will answer to things like "Sweetheart" and even "Sweetcheeks." Men will crack hilarious jokes at their expense, which leads me to the next (and final) item...

7) Extremely high levels of quotability. In addition to dozens of snide lines directed at women (watch the focus group scene from Season 1 -- each line is better than the one that precedes it), Don Draper's often asks his wife and his bosses, "What do you want me to say?" The quintessential middle manager, his job is to please. There's significance here, but I'll leave it up to you to watch the show and figure out what it is.

He also uttered my favorite line of the show, "I have a life, and it only moves in one direction: forward." (I realize that if you haven't seen the show, these lines may lack some context. You'll help yourself greatly by watching the first two seasons on DVD, preferably before Sunday night, when Season 3 begins on AMC.)

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My dad, having obtained a reasonable level of professional success and financial flexibility, decided to retire a few years ago at age 58.

Since then, he's gotten to know the guy who delivers the mail and he goes for walks on the beach every day. He serves on a couple of directorial boards and travels a few times a year, but basically he lives the life of a Floridian retiree --he has a very nice lawn, since he's now obsessed with mowing it approximately every two days.

On a visit last year, I was struggling with not really liking being a graduate student. I never felt comfortable with the Kabuki dance of academia, the idea of a lifetime spent struggling like academics struggle, and numerous other aspects of my career at that time. However, because I was a good student and a good researcher, I felt I could make it through until the Ph.D. (at that point).

I think I was trying to convince myself that sticking around to get the Ph.D. was a good idea when I started to think out loud, listing all the benefits of obtaining the degree to my Dad. When I ended with "...and at the end, I'll finally get some kind of peace of mind," my Dad responded with, "I don't think you'll ever find peace of mind."

But hey, at least my life has only direction, and that's moving forward.

An Ode to the Jersey Diner

Tired of eating Chinese food and pizza, my girlfriend and I just visited the local diner. Tonight I did something I don't often do; I ordered off the dinner specials menu. Typically when I go to a diner (and now that I've moved back to Jersey, I eat at a diner every couple of weeks), I'll order a burger and fries, or a buffalo chicken wrap or something. Tonight, because one of my favorite all-time meals (chicken francese) was on the menu, I went for it. I went whole-hog.

For $11.95, in addition to the chicken francese (which was really nicely sauteed and had a white-wine butter sauce that scored at least an 8 on the 1 to 10 scale of deliciousness), I had matzo ball soup, a salad, and three scoops of chocolate ice cream for desert. With my girlfriend's help, I successfully consumed about 50% of the food that was placed in front of me. I wrapped up the rest of the main course, which will be my lunch at work Monday.

There are two aspects of this diner experience which were awesome, and worth writing about. The money aspect of this meal is one thing, the existentialism is quite another. I'll discuss the money first, and the artsy-fartsy bullshit later in this blog post.

People may have varying opinions about what it means to eat a four-course meal for under $12. There are probably other parts of the country (Vegas comes to mind) where a similar meal can be had for even less. Other people may think that such a cheap meal must be low in quality, and I must be a cheapskate or not really appreciate food in order to enjoy a $12 meal.

I've had low quality food before in my life. McDonald's, for instance, is still low quality food. Very little has changed in their food preparation over the past decade -- it's just that through creative marketing, they've positioned themselves as a quality food brand. It's brilliant in its simplicity. Just throw a few pictures of fresh tomatoes and a few punchy catch-phrases on the side of a 1,100-calorie Quarter Pounder with Cheese, and all of a sudden people think they're eating health food. The Quarter Pounder with Cheese itself has not changed -- it's still a mediocre hamburger (you'd be better off going to a Jersey diner). McDonald's food is low quality, and diner food is not (at a good diner, at least).

Money also interacts with geography. New Jersey is not a cheap place to live; some time in the near future, I will put a down payment on a "starter home", and this home will in all likelihood cost nearly half a million dollars. There is nothing strange about this; in fact, it is par for the course. There is a great deal of money around here, and the standard of living is (as a consquence) quite high. We simply deal with it, and somehow the diner cost structure still thrives.

It probably does cost a lot of money to run a diner, but smart proprietors realize that crazy-high markups are going to drive people away from eating at an otherwise-solid establishment. With food costs and labor and overhead combined, it probably cost less than $5 to prepare my meal - so why charge $20?

Some people think that good food needs to be expensive. This is an incorrect assumption, even though quality and cost are positively correlated. (I would rather eat at Peter Luger's than Taco Bell, and I think you agree with me on this point.) To be honest, I definitely sat there and internally debated for a while whether or not I should purchase a "nice" item at the diner tonight... but then I did. The next time you're at a diner, you should, too.

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"My" diner growing up was the Middletown Diner, and it had all the important Jersey diner characteristics. What are the important Jersey diner characteristics? Let us list them, one at a time. Taking the sum of the parts, we shall establish what is the Jersey diner experience.

1) Proximity. A good diner shall be no less than 2 miles from one's place of primary residence. This makes travelling to said diner easy enough under any set of circumstances which may arise: freak snowstorm; a late-night drinking binge (also see point #2, below); becoming exasperated because dinner was just destroyed by evil magical elves; and etc.

2) Flexible hours. A good diner shall have the most flexible hours of operation possible. No excuses; a good diner must be open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. There is absolutely no wiggle room for this characteristic. A number of times, even in New Jersey, I've been surprised to see a "diner" closed at a ridiculously early hour. I'm embarrassed to admit that there's a "diner" on LBI (named after me!) that closes after lunch, even during the summer! This is simply unacceptable. A "diner" that closes, ever, is not a diner -- it's a restaurant. There's a difference.

3) Price. Lately I've noticed a new breed of diner popping up in New Jersey; this type of diner attempts to be ironic and/or cool. You can tell when you've mistakenly arrived at such a diner because the waiter will hand you a martini list, and you will hear a cover band playing in another room. A good diner should not even hold a liquor license - diners are where you go after you get drunk somewhere else. You know, like a bar. Additionally, a good diner shall not have an average menu item price higher than $8.00. A "diner" that charges $16.95 for a dinner special or $8.95 for a burger is not a diner -- it's a restaurant. Again, there's a difference.

4) Superior quality and inferior price of deluxe cheeseburger. This is sort of an extension of item #3, above. The deluxe cheeseburger (which, for the uninitiated, is a cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and onions, with a heaping of steak fries, cole slaw, and pickle on the side) shall have the following characteristics:

• It shall cost no more than $6.50;
• It shall contain at least 6 oz of beef;
• It shall be cooked to order, even if the order is "extremely rare". (Making the purchaser sign a waiver before eating the burger is acceptable, as long as the waiter agrees that doing so "is ridiculous".)
  
• It shall contain at least twice as many french fries as a large McDonald's order, and each individual fry must be twice as wide and twice as thick as a McDonald's french fry;
• Each and every bite shall taste delicious.

5) Gruff service. You will be served by a "diner waitress", whose overall attitude and level of professionalism will be questionable. You may not get everything you ask for, and you may not be smiled at even once. Why is this a good thing, you ask? Because it adds ambience to the experience. The whole point of going to a diner is that it's no-frills. You're sitting there drinking Diet Coke (with free refills, assuming you ever get the free refill) and eating greasy food - do you really need to be treated like Akeem, Prince of Zamunda? I think not. If you want a thumb up your ass while you eat, you shouldn't go to a diner -- you should go to a restaurant.

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There you have it, devoted blog readers -- the Jersey Diner. Everyone should have the experience, at least once. I've been to a hundred diners a hundred times, and I still consider myself someone who likes fine things. Liking fine things (like Johnnie Walker Blue Label) and liking good things (like a delicious, greasy, six-dollar cheeseburger) need not be independent of each other. To be someone who is awesome, I think you need to be both types of person at once.

Stay classy out there.

Imitation of Life: On A Devotion to Subjective Science

My name is Freducate, and I crave subjectivity. I went to graduate school in Psychology, a field which arguably may or may not exist in twenty-five years (what with neuroscience and all). I work in market research, a field which is flawed by the very nature of the data it collects - there's this thing called "response bias", and have you ever listened to the kind of people who will pick up the phone and complete a 15-minute survey on their recent auto insurance claim -- without monetary reward? Yeah, these people are not normal per se, and by extension the data we collect as market researchers is not normal, either.

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I crave objectivity. During most of the time I was an undergraduate in college, I dealt almost entirely in objectivity. I studied Biology and took courses in Chemistry, Physics, and Calculus. I did really well in almost all of these subjects, grade-wise. Now typically, people who do really well at these subjects in college subsequently focus every ounce of their ambition toward a highly-objective, fact-based, financially lucrative career. Think medicine or engineering.

For some set of reasons I still don't completely understand, I decided at some point that I didn't want to deal in objectivity anymore. (*ASIDE: Objective-science people look down at subjective-science people, for reasons I delve into later in this blog post. For now, just realize that they're right to look down at subjective-science people, but they're using the wrong metric. Anyway, whenever I tell people my "objective-science statistics" -- the grades, the courses, and the test scores I accumulated in college -- and about how I'm no longer an objective-science person, I'm always asked Why. This is the Why, or my best approximation of the Why.)

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What is a good person? What is a bad person? What is the difference?

Like almost everyone, I like to think that I am a good person. We all do this because it helps us sleep at night. To be fair, I have certainly done some bad things in my life, and -- like some of you -- I've done one or two things in my life that (a) I'm lucky I never got caught doing and (b) will require a long time to pay off my karmic debt to society. But in general, I am a good person. I pay my taxes and my bills, I don't speed obsessively, I'm good to my friends and I try to be as generous as possible.

But clearly there are people out there who are bad people. Charles Manson, who was referenced in a recent Damaged, Inc., blog post, was unquestionably a bad person. Michael Jackson, in a very ambiguous way, was also (probably) a very bad person. We agree on these things based on a social consensus, and we can argue about who to lump into which category, and - in general - the person who does the best job of arguing their point of view "wins" in the sense that other sensible individuals are convinced to agree with them.

The third question I posed - What's the difference? - used to fascinate me, and questions like these are what draw people to subjective-science disciplines. I'm going to digress here for a paragraph or four and talk about what (I think) is the difference between objective-science people and subjective-science people, and why O-S people think S-S people are stupid.

Objective-science people like to solve problems. Given a set of tools, equations, or facts, the goal is always to go from Point A to Point B. The world needs this kind of person, and I'm glad that they exist. But goal-directed, deductive reasoning is not the way to solve a subjective-science type problem. An independent point that I'd like to bring in at this point is that it's very easy to assume that very smart people are good deductive reasoners and vice versa by tautology. I do it all the time -- you can't do math? Fucking moron. See? It's easy. Because of these two facts, it's easy to assume that subjective-science people are stupid.

Subjective-science people are not stupid. (*ASIDE: Except for sociologists, who are stupid.)

Strangely enough, subjective-science people have developed a series of tests designed to deduce a person's ability. You know a few of them because you've taken them: the IQ test, the SAT, the GRE, LSAT, MCAT, and GMAT. In taking these tests, a nervous person walks into a room, is asked hundreds of abstract questions with little external validity, a score is computed and is later used to assess that person's general/applied intellectual prowess compared to a group of peers.

By many of these metrics, objective-science people are smarter than subjective-science people. (Math Ph.D. students score 300 pts. higher on the GRE, for instance, than Psychology Ph.D. students.) But what if the metric is measuring something completely unrelated to the type of problem-solving involved in determining who's a good person and who's a bad person?

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Questions like the above are what drew me into subjective science. I was very good at memorizing nucleophilic substitution reactions (both SN1 and SN2), and I could work my way through a partial derivative reasonably well. But I needed something more -- I needed to make sense out of difficult things. Things that required context to understand.

I was 21 then, and at the risk of sounding like one of those 25-year-olds who think that Four Years Makes a Huge Fucking Difference ... well, Four Years Makes a Huge Fucking Difference. I don't care about the difference between a good person and a bad person any more. I miss objectivity.

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When Michael Jackson died, I was surprised at the overwhelmingly positive nature of the coverage. It was clear to me that he engaged in relationships with young boys that were, at the very least, strongly discouraged by 20th-century American society. (*ASIDE: Whether or not they were sexual is anybody's guess. They were certainly weird relationships, but then again, the man seemed incapable of having sex with anything - even his wives.)

Regardless, most people forgot about the bad things that Jackson almost certainly did and instead focused on the incredible impact he made on popular music. Was this a good thing? Was this a bad thing?

I don't care. It was what it was, and it was certainly consistent with human nature. We want to believe that we are good; we want to believe that others are good. In reality, good and bad do not exist. They are subjective constructions, created by society. You know, the kind of thing moron sociologists like to study.

Stay classy out there.

Greetings from Long Beach Island, NJ

In my world and at present, there are few more beautiful sights in the world than crossing the Route 72 Causeway onto beautiful, sunny Long Beach Island for a week's vacation. (*ASIDE: Only in New Jersey would the terms "Route 72 Causeway" and "beautiful x2" be used in the same sentence.)

Simply put, I'm a very big fan of the beach. I like relaxing; I enjoy sunbathing while reading a good book (or two) and listening to my iPod; and it's a lot of fun to spend money. Long Beach Island accomodates all of these things, and more.

I've never seen another place like this before, and it's hard to believe that it's in America (let alone New Jersey). It's an anachronistic place - because there's only one major road on the island, cars stop for pedestrians at stopwalks. Everyone here is polite, even though everyone here is from NJ, NY, or Massachusetts. There are family-owned department stores, grocery stores, drug stores, and restaurants. Besides a few national banks and an ACME grocery store, commercially-speaking it's very easy to place yourself in a completely different, earlier era. I am tempted to wear a bowler hat and a suit, and address random women as "Ma'am."

I'm down here with my girlfriend and a small, mixed group of her friends. I've spent time on LBI with many of these people for four summers now - all things considered, I've visited LBI for five straight summers now. The week, like the more microscopic act of getting ready to go to the beach, is very ritualistic. There are nearly-daily trips to the aforementioned beach, dining out at restaurants approximately half the time (which is very nice, but also very expensive), going out to bars at night sometimes, and visiting the very phallic Barnegat lighthouse at least once.

We stay generally in the vicinity of Beach Haven. For those of you who are unaware, LBI is a thirteen-mile long, very narrow barrier island. Beach Haven is on the south end of this island, and is the most middle-class destination on LBI -- the average home price here, due to the current recession, has tumbled to just under $800,000. (*ASIDE: When I visited in 2007, it was comfortably over $1M.) The north side of the island is even nicer, and is too expensive for eight young professionals in their twenties to even rent for a week.

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Taking a summer week and spending it at LBI is a very rich-white-kid thing to do. As such, I somewhat loathe how much I enjoy it.

You see, unlike many mere mortals, I am blessed with the great gift of introspection. This means that I am capable of determining really quickly whether I am being an asshole, which further means that I have stronger social graces than many people -- arguably. It also means I am completely fucking insane, but for the moment we'll ignore this unfortunate side-effect and focus instead on what it means to enjoy rich-white-kid things.

LBI is a very family-friendly place, and there are lots of teenagers running around. When I see these teenagers, I often think to myself, "These are the modern incarnation of the kids in high school I couldn't stand." Bolstered perhaps by a more stable (financially and emotionally) upbringing than my parents could afford, these teenagers look "cool" -- and it pisses me off. They look like the type of kid who drank liquor before the senior prom and definitely made out afterwards.

Now I generally dislike every human being between the ages of 2 and 20 (and if you don't, you're either a teacher, a parent, or a liar), so it may just be that I am a curmudgeon. But my suspicion is that it's more than that.

I am pretty lucky to have the life that I have. I have my health, my awesome girlfriend, a good job and a promising career. I can afford to spend the week at LBI and gamble at casinos many times a year. But I'm still pissed off about high school, because I was pretty lame and I had no clue how to deal with that. I still don't.

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My girlfriend's ten-year high school reunion is this month. I'm happy to be her date, and I'm happy to attend. But there's no way I'll reciprocate when my turn comes around in 2012. People will have changed - I have definitely changed - and I don't really care to find out how. Hopefully by then I will own a house on this damned island, even though I doubt I'll be able to.

Stay classy out there.

A Cautionary Tale

Let me tell you a story about a guy who led children away from their homes. He created an elaborate wonderland for them to escape to, in part in their minds and in part in reality. He took them away from their families and then slowly started to warp their fragile young minds. He did all this without a lot of media attention at first, but then the public started to catch on. Not long after the public caught on he did something major to disfigure his face and most people who saw it found it very disturbing, indeed. To this day he denies that he has done anything wrong, although it is well documented that he slept with at least some of them.

Michael Jackson? No. Charles Manson. Do you care if HE wrote a couple hit records before he did any of those things? I sure don't.

Before you get all heated about comparing the two, consider this: at least Manson's victims were mostly old enough to make their own decisions! Other than that, the similarities are quite striking other than the record contract.

So why does the public care so much about the death of Michael Jackson? We haven't lost the music, only the horrible pedophile that created it.

Worse yet people are going to start labeling him "mentally ill." Well, yes, probably, but so what? You could likely call 90% of criminals "mentally ill" if your definition is simply that their brains do not function in a manner that allows them to fit comfortably within the confines of our society. Does that mean they have any less control over their actions than someone not "mentally ill"? Absolutely not. So they are equally liable for their actions. And just in case you want to argue the converse - that they have less control over their actions - consider this: doesn't that make them more important to remove for society? After all, if they have less control, they are less able to be rehabilitated. And, finally, to quiet the drug dealers: in giving them back lost control aren't you giving them just enough control to go off drugs and lose it again?

Seriously, America, get your damn priorities straight. Years ago we were given great music and we still have that music. Yesterday a harmful pedophile died. Play his records if you want but stop mourning his death. His victims aren't (unless they have Stockholm Syndrome. I'm looking at you, Macaualy Culkin).

One more for the road...

Observe, to my left, 1970's singer-songwriter Boz Scaggs. What does ol' Boz here have in common with left socks and car keys? Scroll down to the bottom of this post to find out.

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When people ask me where I'm from, I have difficulty answering. I was born in Jacksonville, Florida, but grew up at the Jersey Shore. Since the beginning of college, I've lived in a half-dozen other places in New Jersey and I also lived in Massachusetts for two years.

So is where I'm from where I'm "from" (like the "Born:" line on a baseball card)? Or is it "home" (like the place I have listed on my driver's license)? As a result of this strange, almost-paradoxical problem I have, people will ask me perhaps one of the simplest questions in the world to answer ... and I will exhibit the kind of difficulty in answering it one might expect from a developmentally-challenged first grader.

The things I am good at do not make me smart - they make me barely function at adult life. I'd be better off having talent at knitting.

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Without sounding too romantic (which I know isn't manly, and I have to be manly in the OTHER parts of a blog post where I'm executing a Boz Scaggs running gag) - I love the Jersey Shore, and I've completely forgotten what it's like spending the summer within spitting distance of it.

Wait, you may argue, have you been to the Jersey Shore at all yet this summer? (Yes, I would reply, two times.) But hasn't the weather sucked all year? (Yes, except for three days since the end of the month of April. I spent both of these days at the Jersey Shore. So there!)

Even though the government is using its Evil Weather Machine to control our emotions and keep us in line, when the weather gets nicer - and it will - I plan on spending lots of time down the Shore this summer. People give the Jersey Shore a bad rap, and I suppose it makes sense. There are a lot of douchebags down there, but if you pick your spots correctly you can avoid most of them.

For instance, Long Beach Island is way tamer than Belmar. I'm 25 and now a little old and a little lame, so I definitely prefer bars/clubs on LBI to other places at the Jersey Shore. In addition to there being less douchebags (the higher cover charge and the fact that it's LBI deters them), LBI beach bars are legitimately on the beach and often have looser restrictions about what can be done on said beach. All in all, these are very good things.

(*ASIDE: It's a running theme between some of us on the Damaged, Inc. team that we're going to focus our resources and write a book about a summer at the Jersey Shore where we would presumably spend a lot of money in order to get drunk at a lot of different places. This book would basically consist of a lot of jotting down strange things that happened on a notepad, interviewing popped-collar douchebags and douche-baggy cover bands, and drinking all of the ingredients for vomit. Because this book may never happen, I'm making the concept public and if anyone wants to run with it, you just need to thank me in the acknowledgements.)

(*ASIDE: There was an article in the New York Times today about how Jersey Shore bars were starting to become classy. Fuck you, New York Times, and your faux-journalistic pretention! For instance, check out this quote:

“A lot of people don’t realize there’s Jersey after Atlantic City,” said [name redacted, for reasons to be made clear shortly], 32, of Manalapan Township, N.J., as she sipped a martini at Elements in Sea Bright, a restaurant with a lounge (including D.J.’s and bottle service) that opened in 2003.

[redacted], who goes to Elements three or four times a month, is a sales representative for a liquor distributor, and works with bars all over the state. “I wanted that Manhattan atmosphere at the Jersey Shore, to get dressed up and get a $10 or $12 martini,” she said.

Yeah, I want you to contract AIDS and die in a fire, lady. Take your $12 martini and shove it up your ass lengthwise. If I'm paying more than half that for a drink - any drink - I'm going to be super pissed. People who want to spend recklessly in order to pretend to be cool have a place to live, and that place is Brooklyn. I suggest you move there.

And what's with that Atlantic City quote? Surely you doth not speak geographically? Because Atlantic City is not the first thing anyone (except for maybe 15,000 degenerate gamblers living in Chinatown) thinks of when they think of New Jersey. Fuck the heck are you talking about? /Rant.)

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To answer the Boz Scaggs randomness from earlier in this post: like left socks and car keys, people often completely forget Boz Scaggs' music.

There is a deja vu-type feeling that happens a lot to me and the rest of the Damaged, Inc. crew. We'll be at some bar somewhere, and we'll hear a random better-than-average song from the 1970's (e.g., America's "Sister Golden Hair"). Someone will immediately recognize that it's a good song and that its etymology should be recognized. Of course, we'll have no idea who performed the song.

Because we're precocious by nature, we ask someone (usually Brainpan, who has firsthand experience with the decade). At this point, we will be informed that the song is, in fact, "Sister Golden Hair" by America. We will then return to our cold beverages and all will be well.

(*ASIDE: In my opinion, this situation occurs way more frequently than it should. I think this is made worse because the New York City metropolitan area does not possess an unironic classic rock FM radio station. There is Q104.3, of course, but they care so much about trying to be hip that they only play the top 500 classic rock songs of all time. They're practically Z100 for old people, and there are already 4 Z100's in NYC, and that's enough. To be frank - and yes, I know I'm Fred - if it weren't for the part of my daily commute where I get to listen to Philadelphia rock radio, I would switch to satellite in a heartbeat.)

Anyway... getting back to Boz Scaggs. Boz had a couple of hits in 1976, one of which was a song called "Lido Shuffle". (Go ahead, click on the link. Put the song on and come right back here. It's a good song, right?) "Lido Shuffle" was my aural nemesis for the better part of a year. It was the Vader to my Skywalker. The Rommel to my Patton, if you will.

Over the past year, I heard this song in a number of different contexts - in a Wegman's grocery store in New Jersey; at Roggie's Bar and Grill in Brighton, Mass.; at a bar in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. Every place I went, "Lido Shuffle" followed me. The only problem was, I had no idea what "Lido Shuffle" was called.

Lots of different people had guesses. Most often, people guessed Chicago or Van Morrison (Van the Man was an especially good guess; if you listen carefully to the song, it's difficult to tell the voices apart). Unfortunately, all these guesses were wrong, and I remained flummoxed until May 14, 2009 (my last night in Boston).

Boston (like Sheboygan, Wisconsin, one would assume) has a better FM radio repertory than New York City. As an example, Boston has a radio station called Mike-FM (if you're from the NYC area and you remember Jack-FM, it's the same concept). Mike-FM is designed to be a mostly random, iTunes playlist of music. That last night in Boston, I heard "Lido Shuffle" on Mike-FM driving back to my apartment and was FINALLY able to online-search my way to the answer. I immediately downloaded the song on my iTunes and haven't gotten enough of it for the past month.

So, Boz Scaggs, you magnificent bastard, I've defeated you. Enjoy your royalties.

Stay classy.

On Fresh Starts, Growing Up, and Changing Expectations

1999's "Office Space" is either my favorite movie to loathe or my least favorite movie to love. It is maybe one of the five funniest movies I have ever watched (along with "Supertroopers," "Caddyshack," "Animal House," and "Amistad") and is painstakingly accurate in how it depicts the very worst aspect of very many of our lives -- that is, work.

(*ASIDE: 1999 was, by any set of standards, a fantastic year for cinema. Using Wikipedia as a guide, below is a partial and alphabetical list of good-to-great movies that debuted in 1999: "American Beauty," "Being John Malkovich," "The Boondock Saints," "The Cider House Rules," "Dogma," "Girl, Interrupted," "Liberty Heights," which is the most underrated movie on the list and perhaps the second-best piece of drama ever set in Baltimore, "Man on the Moon," "The Matrix," the aforementioned "Office Space," "The Sixth Sense," "South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut," and "The Virgin Suicides". You may not agree that every movie on this list qualifies as good-to-great, but I've just listed 13 movies and if we can even agree on ten of them, that's fucking amazing. I can't think of ten movies I've seen over the past three years that I've liked as much as I enjoyed the above 13. That's how amazing of a year 1999 was for cinema.)

Anyway, getting back to "Office Space." I can only watch this movie during times of my life when I am not actively a member of the American workforce. Why, you ask? Because it's just too damned accurate, I respond. Between the literal references to things that suck in the workplace (e.g., printers that don't work, commutes that don't work) and the more metaphysical references to things that suck in the workplace (e.g., that vague feeling that time is just slipping by and we're just getting older and there's not much that can be changed about the situation), "Office Space" just plain gets it right.

Here's the kicker, though. I think I really, really like my new job. I have an office the size of which I realistically shouldn't deserve for another 10-15 years. I have real responsibility and occasionally assist on "client calls," where I'm expected to exert actual expertise and answer statistical queries with precision and aplomb. Even my commute is not that bad. But I guarantee you that if "Office Space" showed up on the TV (or if my girlfriend, with whom I now officially reside, were to pop her copy into the DVD player), I would have to turn away.

Because "Office Space" is too real, and reality is something that we all have to turn away from on occasion.

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(*ASIDE: For the first time in the history of this blog, I was just disrupted by my live-in girlfriend; she walked into the spare bedroom, where the Internet is presently stored until we obtain a router, to pick out some clothes. Having to roll my chair out of the way, I did my best Jack Nicholson impression and faux-screamed 'I'm writing!'. She immediately knew what I was talking about ("The Shining," of course). I heart my girlfriend.)

Getting back to this whole reality thing, however. I am a pretty firm believer that reality is something that we actively construct. Our opinions about things, our attitudes, our feelings; all of these things are interactions between our brains and the immediate environment. The reality of my present moment is that one month ago, I was a graduate student of Psychology, living in Massachusetts. Right now, I am a Project Director for a marketing research firm, living in New Jersey and learning how to act like an adult, essentially from the ground-up.

For instance, I didn't know that I still had to cuddle. It's not that I don't like cuddling, as it were. It's just that, for the most part in my life, laying in bed and cuddling was something that I did because there was no space to stretch out and watch the NBA Finals on ABC. But no, my girlfriend still expects me to cuddle, pretty much all the time.

Also, living with your girlfriend is more or less like having a roommate (except much better, for obvious reasons). There will still be dishes in the sink and garbage to be taken out. I've learned that I can be the garbage taker-outer, and my girlfriend can take care of different, other chores! Isn't this lovely!

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My point is this: Because we construct our own respective realities, we have enormous power over deciding what we love and what we don't love. Some things are stable; for instance, I've loved my girlfriend for a number of years and I don't think this will change any time soon. Other things aren't; in five weeks, I may strongly loathe my job, for instance.

Since January, when I decided to leave graduate school, I started to love the *idea* of my life as it's presently constituted. As an immediate consequence, I began to dislike the life I was living at the time. Looking back, I have no clue how I made it through two years of graduate school, removed for the most part from the people in New Jersey I care for so much. (*NOTE: I think a big thing that helped was knowing people in Massachusetts who cared for me a great deal.)

But ideas are not the same as reality. Ideas are projections, and they are prone to being inaccurate. I consciously understood that my *ideas* were attached to long commutes, printers that don't work, and bosses like Lumbergh who may want me to come in on Saturdays. But life is good at the moment, reality is what I make of it, and right now I am completely digging reality.

Stay classy out there.

'Tis The Season to Spend Money...

...and I'm not talking about Christmas.

Greetings, lovely readers of the Damaged, Inc. blogatorium. My name is Freducate, and I haven't posted around here in, like, forever. Happy Memorial Day weekend, and - as with every three-day weekend - I hope that everyone has taken the time to relax, eat a cheeseburger or three, and take a long summer's nap (perhaps on the nearest beach).

I've personally tried to accomplish all of this. However, because:
(a) I just moved back from Massachusetts last weekend;
(b) I'm moving *again* to another apartment, with my girlfriend (the occasional Damaged, Inc. contributor ARoll), next weekend;
(c) I'm starting my new job on Tuesday, which gave me nine days to put all of my affairs in order between moving out of Massachusetts and starting my new job;
(d) In the meanwhile, I had family visiting from Florida this week because of mine and my little sister's graduations;
(e) I still have manuscripts and projects from my grad school days to wrap up and send out; and because
(f) all of items (a)-(e) take a LOT of work, I've spent most of the weekend buying bedroom furniture, packing boxes and thinking about proper paragraph transitions.

If you've never bought a bedroom, if you're going to do it right it is EXPENSIVE. Between the bedroom set, the ultra-soft, 372-coil mattress, the 600-thread count sheets, etc., it's a lot of money. I'm not going to say how expensive per se, because this isn't a blog about financial issues. Let's just say however much it was, it was completely justified. This is why. If you're going to work hard, you might as well have a bitchin' bedroom to come home to. If there's one important thing to splurge on in a new home, it's the bedroom.

And, of course, a huge HDTV for the living room, and a knife set, and all the other little things that start to add up over time.

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I was once in credit-card debt, and I think it's worth telling the story because I'm probably about to be in credit-card debt again. At the time, I was a senior in college and I just started dating my girlfriend. She had a real job, with a real salary, and I was making $2,200 a semester as a Biology TA. Now, I wanted to impress her because she was (and is) beautiful, smart, and awesome in just about every way imaginable.

To do this, even though we'd only been dating for three months, I decided to go all-out on a Christmas present for her. I had already bought two tickets to see "The Producers" on Broadway, and in retrospect this was probably enough of a present to make everyone happy. I should have stopped here, but I didn't. You see, I also - and here's where I shat the bed - decided to make this venture a "night out in New York City."


Specifically, I purchased a hotel room at a 3 1/2 star hotel in Manhattan, and also took her out to a relatively expensive dinner. If my memory serves me right, I insisted to pay for everything. It cost so much money. I was such a tool. This, combined with an overall pattern of reckless financial behavior which culminated in an awesome but account-draining trip to Las Vegas, put me into credit card debt. Which sucked.

Just to sum up, the morals of the story are as follows:
(1) In a relationship it is perfectly acceptable to share expenses for things, proportional to the salaries of the people therein.
(2) I used to be really stupid with money.
(3) In all probability, I remain really stupid with money (and in general).

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One quick note, and then I'm done with this post. Now that I'm back in New Jersey, there's going to be lots of good times and drinking libations this summer in New Jersey. I will be a part of this, and you should, too (even if you're just visiting New Jersey). The official Damaged, Inc. housewarming party awaits!

Stay classy out there.

Fagelas? No we're just merry....

Since it seems like everyone is talking about gay marriage these days, I figure I'll join the fray. Recently several states have passed legislation making gay marriage, which brought to reality something that was once not even to be spoken of. My basic assesment of the argument is a relatively simple one.

Gays would like to have equal station and rights as straight, married people in the eyes of the government. They should already be accorded this right under the equal protection clause, but leave it to Scalia and the other "traditional" justices to keep them at bay "using" the right hand of god. Seriously, like 100 years ago it wasn't legal for a black person and white person to get married... and now 2 men or 2 women. What if it was a black man/white man and a black/white woman? What then? I'll tell you what then... Scalia's fat head would implode into his fat neck. The Legislature attempted to bribe them with Civil Unions which offered gay couples a legal status and some if not all rights. The rights varied by country and jurisdiction and inherently resurrected the concept "separate but equal" in the eyes of many homosexual couples. The rights sought/provided for by civil unions vary widely from tax benefits, adoption, healthcare/medical decisions. Gays feel that if they this separate category of domestic partnership/civil unions permanently brands them as inferior to married couples, that there is no valid ,compelling state interest in preventing them from getting married, and that they are justified in demanding that they be treated the same as everyone else.

Many people are vehemently opposed to the idea of gay marriage for several reasons... none of which have to do with logic, which is the only thing I hold sacred. God... er... Darwin bless my graphing calculator, wherever it may be... damn law school. Anyway some of the major arguments presented by the Catholic church and conservatives across the land are the degridation of the sanctity of marriage, morality and reproductio/child rearing. I'll address each in turn.

I truly believe in the idea of marriage, though I have not taken any steps to progress toward that final destination because I naturally sabotage every relationship I have had. And curiously my ex-girlfriends have gotten engaged to the guy they date after me... am I Dane Cook in Good Luck Chuck? No, i'd rather tear off all my nails, eyelids and a few other body parts before being Dane Cook. But I digress. The Church and its sheep argue that it is a holy bond joining them for life, which I agree, Divorce is the devil, but straight people get divorced all the time so you can't argue that against the gays because there are gay couples that have stayed together for decades without any realistic expectation of becoming married one day. But I believe that they feel the name is holy as well. I have to say that I think the term marriage should be reserved to the ceremony that takes place in the church. However, I also believe that a long time ago all forms of government were controled by the church and there was too much intermingling going on, which made up common law, which dictated what many modern date statutes would look like. Thus the term marriage which was a completetly religious thing became all tied up with the government and subsequent rights that it bestowed. My proposal is that a new word be created to encompass all couples and bestow rights upon them and that marriage conveigh nothing other than recognition by the church. Let's use __________ to symbolize the new word. Marriage is gone, the church owns it, gay couples can try to petition the church to let them in but I see very little chance for success there. Seriously, everyone just go down to city hall for your __________ certificate and then you are legally bound and will receive all the same rights. The rules of monogamy still apply just so the system won't become entrenched with paper work. If they didn't then equal protection would fail as well a pair is not similarly situated to a trio.

Morality. Seriously? Because they have sex with someone of the same gender they are a bad person. I don't see the Boondock Saints going to kill Willem Dafoe, and they are the Right Hand of God. PS the sequel to Boondock Saints is slated to come out sometime this year... but what the hey it's only been 10 years... it's gotta be perfect by now. Scalia once compared homosexuality to people that rape barnyard animals.

Finally, reproduction/child rearing. Do you really think that just because gay people can't get married to each other that they will fight every natural feeling of theirs and marry a person of the opposite sex and what's more they will have a child. NO more or less children will be created whether or not gays marry. And I like to think, deep down, that if gay couples get married and can adopt, that some of them will adopt, as opposed to finding a surrogate. There are far too many children in "the system" and it screws a lot of them up for life. There is no data to prove that gay people would be any better/worse at raising children than a straight couple. Which is sad on the part of straight people because they have had so much more experience. And don't preach that... if they're raised by gay people they'll be gay garbage. Plenty of people raised by straight people nevertheless many who were later reveal the fact that they are gay and somehow the world hasn't come to an end.

In conclusion, to each their own. Stop bogarding equality, or I'll send the Somalian Pirates after you. PS how did California shoot down gay marriage? Are San Francisco and Hollywood not two of the gay meccas of the western hemisphere? FALE!

On a personal note... Congratulations to Scottery and his pending nuptials, to a WOMAN. Sorry Freducate, you missed your opportunity by only a few weeks.

A Lighthearted Romp Through Our National Identity and Ethics

Dick "Vader" Cheney has been going on Fox news to talk smack to the Obama administration and basically everything they're doing. As he said himself, this shouldn't really surprise anyone. However, the fun stuff about torture is what we're talking about today. Recently, Obama released a bunch of Bush-era memos that detailed the torture program. Now, we could argue about whether or not this was a good idea ("Transparency to possible crimes against humanity" vs. "Emboldening our enemies"), but I'm interested in the deeper question: Cheney has said that there are specific documents, intelligence reports or whatever, that show a direct connection between their programs and information gained that has helped to deter or protect against terrorist attacks. Based on some quotes below, and the dodginess with which administration officials have been dealing with questions based on it, I'm inclined to believe him that these memos are real.

See, this is what happens when you aren't careful with your arguments. The argument against harsh interrogation has typically been "We shouldn't torture because torture doesn't work, the information is unreliable and probably untrue." But of course, that's the wrong argument. It should have been "We shouldn't torture because torture is fundamentally evil, and in order to maintain moral superiority over terrorists we must refrain from torture." Which immediately begs the question: Under any and all circumstances? Is that really "morally right?"

The moral objection doesn't really fly, especially when you're talking to someone who lost someone to a terrorist attack. The issue here is that a demonstrable hypothesis is set up, and you have to be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that you are correct. What if, indeed, there WAS valuable information that was uncovered as a DIRECT RESULT of torture, and NO OTHER MEANS were possible to extract that information? In other words, what if torture DOES work? Does that make it okay to torture people?

That's not a hypothetical anyone wants to consider, which is why the argument became "torture doesn't work." You circumvent the discussion by providing something for pragmatists to grab onto, and for the moral objectivists to tack onto their teary lamentations. In addition to all the psychic, social, and spiritual harm it does to our country, our torture programs don't even work, so let's get rid of them already.

But the flipside is this: let's say "torture is evil, and therefore forbidden" becomes the rule. Well, if "torture works" is a fact, you invite the "Ticking Time Bomb" scenario, which necessitates torturing another human in order to save lives. And let's face it: This is Amurrika, those are terrorists, so beat them with wrenches until they tell us where the bomb is. I would wager that the polls are off, and that most of America is okay with a torture program. Fueled in equal parts vengeance, rage, grief, and holy righteousness, all brought to bear on the inhuman and the foreign and dangerous enemy of the state. Even if you remove racism and xenophobia and nationalism from the equation, it's difficult to have sympathy for people who seek to kill innocents.

Asked another way: Who, in this day and age, would hesitate to waterboard Heinrich Hiemmler? Even if it was just for shits-n'-giggles and there was no strategic advantage? We all would. Of course. So what makes him different from the terrorists today? What is so different about the hypothetical torture of Adolf Hitler and the actual torture of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed?

It's a tough question. And consider this, from CNN:

"High value information came from interrogations in which those methods were used and provided a deeper understanding of the al Qa'ida organization that was attacking this country," the Director of National Intelligence, retired Admiral Dennis Blair, told colleagues in the two-page memo April 16.

But then:

"The information gained from these techniques was valuable in some instances, but there is no way of knowing whether the same information could have been obtained through other means," Blair said in the prepared statement. "The bottom line is these techniques have hurt our image around the world, the damage they have done to our interests far outweighed whatever benefit they gave us and they are not essential to our national security." Blair added that he supported the release of the Bush memos, as well as Obama's decision to officially ban the interrogations. "We do not need these techniques to keep American safe," he said.

Trust me, Admiral Blair: Once you say "high value information came from [these] interrogations," nobody is listening. Our countrymen don't deal well with statements like "there is no way of knowing," which to them equates to "we tortured and it worked."

The REAL bottom line is this: The argument revolving around torture must rise above one of utility. It cannot come down to "Torture works" or "Torture doesn't work," because to be honest, when it's done with the expertise that the American military has, I think it does work. The argument must be this: LOTS of things "work" that we don't do. We don't do saturation bombing. We don't do germ and biological warfare. We don't do napalm. We don't do slash and burn. We don't do death squads. All of these things get the motherfucking job DONE, and with a lot less effort than the house-to-house urban fighting that we've been doing. The reason we don't do them is because they are atrocities, we've learned from Vietnam and we are trying to adhere to the ethic we're setting up.

That ethic is what we, as the supposed defenders of freedom and justice and equity, must keep sacred. Our morality should be what keeps us from torturing, because it's what makes "us" better than "them."

So, that's what I was thinking about this afternoon. Sorry that my posts all have to do with politics or some other serious topic. I promise my next post will be about boobies. Big ones.

A Love Note to New Jersey, Part 1

If living in Massachusetts has taught me anything over the past two years, it's that I love New Jersey*. (*NOTE: I may not love the Southwestern part of the state of New Jersey. Philadelphia can have that part of NJ, if you know what I'm saying.) This may strike some readers as a funny thing to say, for (at least) two reasons. One, it may be sort of strange to love any particular United State, because states are pieces of land with arbitrary, fuzzy borders and any attempt to label states as discrete "things" is stereotypic and stupid. Two, even if it's OK to love a United State, why the fuck would one ever choose to love New Jersey?

Well, I've come to the conclusion that it's perfectly okay to be proud of where you come from. Whether it's your home town, your home state, or your county (which is admittedly sorta weird), everyone needs some place to call "home". And after having moved out, and now that I know I'm moving back "home", I know that home is the place where I feel most comfortable. Home, for me, is New Jersey.

(*ASIDE: For those of you who laugh at the idea of loving New Jersey, please note the following. New Jersey residents have the second-highest per capita income of all the United States, as well as one of the longest life expectancies in the US. New Jersey has over 100 miles of pristine, syringe-free coastline; mountains and lakes for hiking; and the vibrant resorts of Atlantic City. New York City and Philadelphia can both be less than an hour away. Long Beach Island, in particular, may be the most beautiful place I've visited in my life (and I've been some beautiful places). In short, New Jersey is awesome, and if you don't like it, you should go fuck yourself with a red-hot poker and subsequently die of AIDS. Slowly. That is all.)

If you're one of those people who've been paying attention to the progression of what I've been typing over the years, you'll know that I haven't always loved New Jersey. In fact, as recently as 2007, I couldn't wait to get out. I was tired of the crowded places, the terrible drivers, the rude people, and the crappy weather. So naturally I moved to Massachusetts, a place with even more crowded places, even worse drivers, lots of Red Sox fans, and (at least for 10 months out of the year) the most terrible weather I've ever seen.

I was not a good decision maker in my youth, but I am a better decision maker now. For this reason, I will present to you my List of Reasons Why Moving Back to New Jersey Is A Fantastic Idea...

Reason #1. New Jersey is where my girlfriend lives, and I get to live with her, and there's going to be flutes playing and trombones and flowers and garlands of fresh herbs. And we will dance till the sun rises. And then our children will form a family band. And we will tour the countryside and you won't be invited.

Now that that's out of the way... ahem...

Reason #2. It hardly ever snows in New Jersey, and when it does snow, it's melted away in 1-2 days. New Jersey residents never have to navigate six-foot high snow piles in order to make turns on their daily commutes. Additionally, the weather can occasionally be "perfect" on any given day from April through October.

Reason #3. There are Wegman's grocery stores in New Jersey. In our apartment search, my girlfriend and I have been thinking about the "must-haves" -- you know, the things we absolutely need in our apartment. For instance, we definitely need a large kitchen, because we like to cook and to entertain. We also need a washer/dryer in our apartment, because we're not going to live like college kids at this stage of our lives. A third factor that is almost a must-have is proximity to a Wegman's grocery store. It's a grocery, a pharmacy, a full-service restaurant, a bakery, a coffee bar, and a neighborhood butcher shop, all rolled into one! Plus the lines are quick and everyone smiles. Wegman's is a god-damned happy-narium, and I will shed a single tear if I don't live close to one when I move back home.

Reason #4. I can wear my Yankees cap anywhere in New Jersey without the realistic fear of getting mugged by some pasty dude named Sully or Murph.

Reason #5. The beaches in New Jersey are underrated. If you can tolerate that the water almost never gets warm enough to allow swimming in the ocean (except maybe for a few weeks in early August), the beaches in New Jersey are otherwise almost perfect. Also, when the sun shines in the summertime, it's possible to get a real sun tan.

Last June, we had a heat wave in Massachusetts -- it was perhaps 95 degrees out, and my apartment (like almost every house up here) doesn't have central A/C. I spent one Saturday afternoon on my outside balcony, mostly to cool off but also expecting to get a tan because it was 95 degrees out. Except, it never happened. The sun was not strong enough to burn me. Now I must admit that I have studly, almost Mediterranean skin. But still, it's ridiculous that I couldn't get a suntan. Maybe that's why Murph and Sully get along so nicely up here...

Reason #6. I am aware of enough low-to-medium stakes poker games in New Jersey to allow poker to be an actual, part-time hobby again. You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to getting my non-Psychology-related hobbies back, now that I am leaving graduate school.

Reason #7. New Jersey drivers are terrible drivers, just like Massachusetts drivers are terrible drivers. The difference is, drivers in Massachusetts go about 10 mph faster, on average, than drivers in New Jersey. Also, the terrible drivers in New Jersey are actually from New York, which explains their erratic behavior.

Reason #8. The food in New Jersey is fantastic. The extreme ethnic diversity in New Jersey has its faults (see Reason #7, above). However, it also has its benefits, one of them being that no matter what kind of food you're craving on a particular night, you can get above-average food, that night, without having to drive someplace far. The major complaint that people from NJ who watch "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" have is not that it's a terrible movie (although it is a terrible movie), but that it's implausible -- no one from New Jersey would have to travel that far and endure that much to get the food they're craving. Harold and Kumar should have just driven to South Plainfield. They would have gotten their sliders, no problem.

Reason #9. You may say that you hate Guido douchebags, and you probably do hate Guido douchebags. But think about a world where all the Guido douchebags went away. What else would there be left to make fun of? Let's face it. You need Guido douchebags, and New Jersey, with its shoreline and close proximity to Staten Island, NY, is more than happy to provide them!

Reason #10. Just by getting back into the "New Jersey" mode, it's so much fun making fun of New York. I miss making fun of New York, but I feel like I'm getting back into a rhythm now...

Reason #11. I'm a little bit of a Momma's boy. There, I said it. I am looking forward to being closer to home, because I like having my close friends and even (some of) my family around. Now pardon me while I cry into a used tissue.

Reason #12. Jughandles fundamentally make sense and improve traffic flow. They keep stupid people from making rash decisions, which should be the ultimate goal of any police state.

Reason #13. New Jersey, compared to Massachusetts, has (a) more cops who are (b) less corrupt. At this stage of my life, it's comforting to live in a police state (Yes, NJ, comparatively speaking, is a police state) where people actually get pulled over for doing retarded things while driving. it makes me feel like the world is just.

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There's a Baker's Dozen of reasons for you. I probably have two or three dozen more ideas on deck, but I'm tired from writing 25 pages of a Stats assignment today. Just four more weeks and I don't have to be a student any more, woo hoo! Anyway, stay classy, and keep an eye out for Part 2 of my Love Note to New Jersey.

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.

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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.