The purpose of studying Buddhism is not to study Buddhism, but to study ourselves.
-Shunryu Suzuki, "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind"
Isn't this the purpose of all spiritual practice? Regardless of the path we chose, don't we engage in a systematic investigation of the spiritual principles associated with that particular practice and apply those principles to both our personal lives/experiences as well as the broader human condition?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
The Return of an Old Friend
Have I mentioned lately how much I miss Buffy? Seriously, even though Battlestar Galactica and Heroes are excellent science fiction fare, neither is quite on par with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And since none of the networks seem smart enough to pick up a Buffy spin off, let alone a new Whedon program, I'll have to settle for the next best thing:
Buffy: Season Eight. Comic book style!
This one has already been added to my hold file.
Buffy: Season Eight. Comic book style!
This one has already been added to my hold file.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Handyman Negri
I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm pretty handy with tools. Anyone who spends time with me will know that I talk a mean streak about hating yard work, household repairs, and other handy chores. And I do. I would rather do just about anything other than mow the lawn, paint a room, or make minor plumbing repairs. My time is much better spent reading a book, playing a video game, grading papers, napping, etc. What most people don't realize, however, is that I'm actually fairly skilled when it comes to yard work and household repair miscellany. I have a decent set of tools--surprise, surprise--thanks in no small part to my father.*
Throughout my childhood my parents remodeled, or built from the ground up, every single home we ever inhabited. As their child, I was cheap labor. You name it, I've done it: framing, drywalling, trimming (cut & stain), pouring concrete, running electrical, installing an automated sprinkler system, minor plumbing repairs. The list goes on and on and on. The only things I haven't done are siding and roofing. The siding thing looks more cumbersome then difficult; the roofing thing I think I could figure out. In fact, I'm going to be doing some minor roof work when the warmer weather returns in the spring. I'll probably be doing a little masonry repair work, too.
Today, much to my father's joy, I spent the afternoon repairing our automatic garage door. The people who owned the house before us didn't maintain their garage door as required. Over the years, the garage door went out of balance, the engine had to work far harder than usual (the engine gets the door moving--the springs should do 90 percent of the work), and internal gears got chewed to nothingness. So, rather than call a repair person and buy a new door opener, I jumped on my local internets and ordered the part I needed. Feeling mostly recovered from the stomach ailment, I decided to spend my Thanksgiving afternoon at the top of a ladder. The process of replacing the worn gear wasn't nearly as difficult as I feared; readjusting the door after the process was another thing altogether. I spent more time adjusting the chain tension, setting the Up & Down limits, and lubricating the hinges than I did replacing the actual worn out part. Needless to say, the job is complete and I suffered only minor injury. At the end of the process, and I mean I was completely finished, I misstepped coming down off the ladder and crashed to the concrete floor. My left wrist, elbow, and butt cheek took the major part of the impact. The wrist and elbow seem not so worse for wear. The buttock, on the other hand, is getting sorer and sorer as the night progresses. I suspect I'll have a nasty bruise in a few days. I guess that's the price you pay when you try to save yourself a few bucks.**
I capped off the evening with a couple episodes of Farscape with STK. What an exciting Thanksgiving, eh?
*Although I'm loathe to admit that I need to significantly increase my tool collection. Now that I'm a homeowner, I can't call the landlord for the tiny little stuff that needs doing. A better drill, a good circular saw, a couple of decent saw horses, a pair of vice grips, and a good tool belt would round out the collection.
**Okay, I probably saved a couple hundred bucks doing this one on my own. Having someone service a garage door is not inexpensive. Trust me on this--my grandparents owned and operated a garage door company for the better part of 40 years. I suppose there was a bit of pride at work with the garage door, too. How could I ever look my grandmother in the eye if I'd betrayed the family legacy and asked someone else to work on my garage door? The shame. Oh, the shame. Garage door maintenance is in our blood.
Throughout my childhood my parents remodeled, or built from the ground up, every single home we ever inhabited. As their child, I was cheap labor. You name it, I've done it: framing, drywalling, trimming (cut & stain), pouring concrete, running electrical, installing an automated sprinkler system, minor plumbing repairs. The list goes on and on and on. The only things I haven't done are siding and roofing. The siding thing looks more cumbersome then difficult; the roofing thing I think I could figure out. In fact, I'm going to be doing some minor roof work when the warmer weather returns in the spring. I'll probably be doing a little masonry repair work, too.
Today, much to my father's joy, I spent the afternoon repairing our automatic garage door. The people who owned the house before us didn't maintain their garage door as required. Over the years, the garage door went out of balance, the engine had to work far harder than usual (the engine gets the door moving--the springs should do 90 percent of the work), and internal gears got chewed to nothingness. So, rather than call a repair person and buy a new door opener, I jumped on my local internets and ordered the part I needed. Feeling mostly recovered from the stomach ailment, I decided to spend my Thanksgiving afternoon at the top of a ladder. The process of replacing the worn gear wasn't nearly as difficult as I feared; readjusting the door after the process was another thing altogether. I spent more time adjusting the chain tension, setting the Up & Down limits, and lubricating the hinges than I did replacing the actual worn out part. Needless to say, the job is complete and I suffered only minor injury. At the end of the process, and I mean I was completely finished, I misstepped coming down off the ladder and crashed to the concrete floor. My left wrist, elbow, and butt cheek took the major part of the impact. The wrist and elbow seem not so worse for wear. The buttock, on the other hand, is getting sorer and sorer as the night progresses. I suspect I'll have a nasty bruise in a few days. I guess that's the price you pay when you try to save yourself a few bucks.**
I capped off the evening with a couple episodes of Farscape with STK. What an exciting Thanksgiving, eh?
*Although I'm loathe to admit that I need to significantly increase my tool collection. Now that I'm a homeowner, I can't call the landlord for the tiny little stuff that needs doing. A better drill, a good circular saw, a couple of decent saw horses, a pair of vice grips, and a good tool belt would round out the collection.
**Okay, I probably saved a couple hundred bucks doing this one on my own. Having someone service a garage door is not inexpensive. Trust me on this--my grandparents owned and operated a garage door company for the better part of 40 years. I suppose there was a bit of pride at work with the garage door, too. How could I ever look my grandmother in the eye if I'd betrayed the family legacy and asked someone else to work on my garage door? The shame. Oh, the shame. Garage door maintenance is in our blood.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
the Big Suck continues
Remember that stomach ailment that afflicted STK and TLO? Guess who spent most of yesterday worshiping the porcelain God? I hate vomiting; it reminds me of my early drinking days. Ick.
with all the sickiness whirling around our home, Thanksgiving has been officially postponed until Saturday. That is all.
with all the sickiness whirling around our home, Thanksgiving has been officially postponed until Saturday. That is all.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Quarantined!
After 3.5 miserable days in San Antonio, I finally arrived back at home for a full day of rest before heading back to school for the ridiculous pre-Thanksgiving break Monday & Tuesday. Why we don't just call the entire week a holiday break, I'll never know. I arrived home early Sunday morning, my head still throbbing, and collapsed into the comfort of my own bed.* I woke up at 9 and hoped I'd enjoy a day of napping/convalescing. Wrong answer. The stomach flu hit our household, taking STK and TLO down for the count. In fact, STK still hasn't been able to go back to work and, thanks to a relapse tonight, won't be working tomorrow either. TLO has been banished from daycare for the remainder of the week.
How have I been holding up? I haven't, I'm afraid to admit. Since I'm the only adult who's well enough to maneuver, I've had to ignore my own need for sleep/rest/healing. I haven't been happy about the situation and I've let everyone around me--STK, TLO, the pets--know that I am not pleased. Still dealing with the remnants of the avian bird flu I contracted in San Antonio, my patience has been nonexistent. I've been mean, short tempered, and generally icky to be around. STK even suggested I give some thought to living somewhere else until all the illnesses blow over. I gave it serious thought. I'm a selfish bastard, and a rather unlikable bastard, when I don't feel well. Not quite the person you want ministering to your illness.
If STK is too sick to care for TLO tomorrow, it looks like I'll be canceling class and tending to the ill. Meanwhile, my head is still thudding in the background (the head affliction has downgraded from pounding to thudding--I think I might even be approaching throbbing territory).
The last week has been one big suck.
*STK and DrOneDink think I experienced my first migraine headache. I disagree. I've never had a migraine in my life. I'm still voting for the bizzaro sinus ailment hypothesis.
How have I been holding up? I haven't, I'm afraid to admit. Since I'm the only adult who's well enough to maneuver, I've had to ignore my own need for sleep/rest/healing. I haven't been happy about the situation and I've let everyone around me--STK, TLO, the pets--know that I am not pleased. Still dealing with the remnants of the avian bird flu I contracted in San Antonio, my patience has been nonexistent. I've been mean, short tempered, and generally icky to be around. STK even suggested I give some thought to living somewhere else until all the illnesses blow over. I gave it serious thought. I'm a selfish bastard, and a rather unlikable bastard, when I don't feel well. Not quite the person you want ministering to your illness.
If STK is too sick to care for TLO tomorrow, it looks like I'll be canceling class and tending to the ill. Meanwhile, my head is still thudding in the background (the head affliction has downgraded from pounding to thudding--I think I might even be approaching throbbing territory).
The last week has been one big suck.
*STK and DrOneDink think I experienced my first migraine headache. I disagree. I've never had a migraine in my life. I'm still voting for the bizzaro sinus ailment hypothesis.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Oops
I had a nice long post typed out recounting the disaster that is my trip to our national convention. Suffice it to say that I've been sick the whole frelling trip. As the plane descended to San Antonio, our host city, I noticed some rather nasty sinus pressure. By late evening the chills, temperature, headache, and sore throat took up residence in my body. Despite copious amounts of Zicam, ibuprofen, and various other remedies, I'm still not up to snuff. I missed my panel (and slept), made a quick tour of the book exhibit earlier today, and retired to my hotel room.
To add insult to injury, I just spilled a cup of coffee on the table and some of the coffee apparently worked its way into the laptop. Error. Crack. Snapple. Pop. Shut down. An hour later, I managed to get the thing started in Safe Mode. A few minutes later, all systems seem to be restored to normal ::crosses fingers:: A new laptop purchase is inevitable as this one is WAY old, but I was hoping to wait until after the holiday season. Let's hope it holds out a couple more months.
What a freakin' trip. I can't wait to go home.
To add insult to injury, I just spilled a cup of coffee on the table and some of the coffee apparently worked its way into the laptop. Error. Crack. Snapple. Pop. Shut down. An hour later, I managed to get the thing started in Safe Mode. A few minutes later, all systems seem to be restored to normal ::crosses fingers:: A new laptop purchase is inevitable as this one is WAY old, but I was hoping to wait until after the holiday season. Let's hope it holds out a couple more months.
What a freakin' trip. I can't wait to go home.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Huh?
Since informing a student that I would not have the time to read through another copy of a manuscript for at least week--other papers/assignments/conventions are in the queue--I've received nearly a dozen emails asking me to read a manuscript. No joke. The requests are written as if I'd never said a single word. I've spent more time with this single student than any other student. Ever. Time for others' work, including my own, to take precedence.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Unknown
By Donald Rumsfeld.
The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.
—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing
Beautiful prose. Absolutely beautiful. What's even more beautiful is the fact that the author--a wonderful poet but horrible Secretary of Defense--will now have plenty of time to write.
The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.
—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing
Beautiful prose. Absolutely beautiful. What's even more beautiful is the fact that the author--a wonderful poet but horrible Secretary of Defense--will now have plenty of time to write.
Easier Softer Way
The Spiritual Science Research Foundation (SSRF) states that 96% of the root causes of any type of addiction are actually in the spiritual realm, caused due to possession by an entity.
If I'm reading this article correctly, it's highly likely that booze isn't my problem. Instead, I have some kind of demon, ghost, alien entity living rent free in my head? Call the exorcist and pass the Jagermeister!
If I'm reading this article correctly, it's highly likely that booze isn't my problem. Instead, I have some kind of demon, ghost, alien entity living rent free in my head? Call the exorcist and pass the Jagermeister!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Worm Turns
As I've been stressing to many of my progressive colleagues over the last several years, patience pays off. Whenever U.S. politics makes a drastic move left or right, the pendulum always swings back the other way. Tonight is proof positive of that fact. No matter how you try to spin it, the Democrats made huge gains in the House and possibly the Senate. Provided the Democrats actually take on the role of loyal opposition, we'll have a real check and balance in Washington, D. C.
While I'm pleased that Democrats won big, I'm terribly disappointed by the Colorado race involving Marilyn Musgrave. What a hateful human being. Why anyone would choose to vote for her, I'll never know. She's a one trick pony, continually banging the drums of war for a Constitutional amendment declaring marriage a union between a man and woman. Nothing like basing an entire political career on the denial of civil rights. Ick.
While I'm pleased that Democrats won big, I'm terribly disappointed by the Colorado race involving Marilyn Musgrave. What a hateful human being. Why anyone would choose to vote for her, I'll never know. She's a one trick pony, continually banging the drums of war for a Constitutional amendment declaring marriage a union between a man and woman. Nothing like basing an entire political career on the denial of civil rights. Ick.
Monday, November 06, 2006
WTF Department: Green Poop
As reported by Dr OneDink, the following line actually appeared in a paper submitted by a college student.
"Rumor has it that grape Mountain Dew turns your poop green."
I'd kill for a student to put something like that in a paper. And, as I shared with Dr. OneDink, I'd write what seemed like a serious comment to the student. I'd write something like the following.
Avoid colloquial expressions in academic writing. Additionally, I'd suggest using a content footnote for this kind of material. Something like, "Peer testimony suggests that consumption of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black may produce verdant excrement" would do the trick nicely.
Review the Pitch Black Dew.
Review the Pitch Black Dew II.
Review the Icee Pitch Black Dew
"Rumor has it that grape Mountain Dew turns your poop green."
I'd kill for a student to put something like that in a paper. And, as I shared with Dr. OneDink, I'd write what seemed like a serious comment to the student. I'd write something like the following.
Avoid colloquial expressions in academic writing. Additionally, I'd suggest using a content footnote for this kind of material. Something like, "Peer testimony suggests that consumption of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black may produce verdant excrement" would do the trick nicely.
Review the Pitch Black Dew.
Review the Pitch Black Dew II.
Review the Icee Pitch Black Dew
PC Mania
Thanks to an unexpected escrow refund (gotta love lower than expected property taxes), I finally ordered the much needed new computer. My present computer, which has been an absolute work horse, is pushing three years old. When a computer takes 4-5 minutes to warm up to the point that you can actually open applications, you know you're pushing your luck. With STK's blessing, I took the plunge (only after confirming I'd be receiving a free Vista upgrade) and should have a new desktop by early next week.
It's very similar to this model. While it's not a top-of-the-line rig, it's a vast improvement over my current PC. I'll probably add another 1 GB of RAM, a new power source, and a PCI express video card in the coming months.
It's very similar to this model. While it's not a top-of-the-line rig, it's a vast improvement over my current PC. I'll probably add another 1 GB of RAM, a new power source, and a PCI express video card in the coming months.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Asthma the Kid. Wahoo!
I'm not sure why I haven't blogged about this before now. Maybe I'm a little bit superstitious, although not consciously superstitious, and feared that any mention of the situation might manifest a turn for the worse. Who knows.
One late afternoon a couple weeks back, I arrived at TLO's daycare to find him in a state of respiratory distress. A short while before I arrived, the daycare providers (who are quite good, btw) noticed his little tummy puffing in and out in an obviously exaggerated fashion. I picked him up, listened for a couple seconds, and said, "Yep. That's trouble. We're headed to the doctor ASAP." I hopped on the cell phone and let STK know of TLO's difficulties.*
Halfway to the clinic I glanced back at TLO and found his eyes closed, his head slumped to the side of the car seat. My heart jumped into my throat. I yelled out his name, "TLO!" His eyes opened with start. He'd fallen asleep, something he does frequently on our ride home from daycare. My heart stuffed back into my chest cavity, we completed the short journey to the clinic.
We arrived at our local clinic only to find that all of the doctors were booked. What would you expect less than an hour from closing (It's the Midwest, folks. Everything closes around 5:30, believe it or not). Not to be denied medical treatment, we walked 20 yards to the Emergency Room. Within minutes, TLO and I were in an examining room receiving attention. Temperature. Blood pressure. 0xygen levels. Breathing. Both nurse and doctor confirmed my lay diagnosis: a wheezing chest. TLO received a visit from a respiratory therapist who expertly administered an asthma treatment. TLO, the trooper that he his, giggled and flirted with the therapist while she patiently directed the soothing mist toward his mouth and nose.** The wheezing abated within five minutes. Nebulizer + albuterol = relief. And thank goodness for that.
The proud owners of a Nebulizer 3000, we all made our way home and crashed. After a full week of regular treatments, we went to "as needed" status and have only had to administer one treatment. That's a good thing. I hate to see TLO dealing with asthma at such a young age but, at this point, it's totally manageable.
Asthma runs strong in your family. Your father has it. Your mother has it. You have it.
*Good thing we purchased cell phones, eh? Actually, we've used them to communicate about TLO's various illnesses a couple times. Illnesses, you say? That's a post for another time. For now, let's just say that the phrase "Germ Factory" is an appropriate description of the daycare environment.
**Unlike an adult who treats asthma with an inhaler, an infant can't inhale on command. As a result, a treatment consists of slowly administering the medicine in a very fine mist form. For a period of five minutes or so, you keep the mist swirling around a kid's mouth and nose. It's a slow method, but TLO seems to do just fine with it. In fact, he'll occasionally turn directly to the mouthpiece and start inhaling deeply and methodically. Somehow, he figured out that he receives relief from the treatment. Smart kid!
One late afternoon a couple weeks back, I arrived at TLO's daycare to find him in a state of respiratory distress. A short while before I arrived, the daycare providers (who are quite good, btw) noticed his little tummy puffing in and out in an obviously exaggerated fashion. I picked him up, listened for a couple seconds, and said, "Yep. That's trouble. We're headed to the doctor ASAP." I hopped on the cell phone and let STK know of TLO's difficulties.*
Halfway to the clinic I glanced back at TLO and found his eyes closed, his head slumped to the side of the car seat. My heart jumped into my throat. I yelled out his name, "TLO!" His eyes opened with start. He'd fallen asleep, something he does frequently on our ride home from daycare. My heart stuffed back into my chest cavity, we completed the short journey to the clinic.
We arrived at our local clinic only to find that all of the doctors were booked. What would you expect less than an hour from closing (It's the Midwest, folks. Everything closes around 5:30, believe it or not). Not to be denied medical treatment, we walked 20 yards to the Emergency Room. Within minutes, TLO and I were in an examining room receiving attention. Temperature. Blood pressure. 0xygen levels. Breathing. Both nurse and doctor confirmed my lay diagnosis: a wheezing chest. TLO received a visit from a respiratory therapist who expertly administered an asthma treatment. TLO, the trooper that he his, giggled and flirted with the therapist while she patiently directed the soothing mist toward his mouth and nose.** The wheezing abated within five minutes. Nebulizer + albuterol = relief. And thank goodness for that.
The proud owners of a Nebulizer 3000, we all made our way home and crashed. After a full week of regular treatments, we went to "as needed" status and have only had to administer one treatment. That's a good thing. I hate to see TLO dealing with asthma at such a young age but, at this point, it's totally manageable.
Asthma runs strong in your family. Your father has it. Your mother has it. You have it.
*Good thing we purchased cell phones, eh? Actually, we've used them to communicate about TLO's various illnesses a couple times. Illnesses, you say? That's a post for another time. For now, let's just say that the phrase "Germ Factory" is an appropriate description of the daycare environment.
**Unlike an adult who treats asthma with an inhaler, an infant can't inhale on command. As a result, a treatment consists of slowly administering the medicine in a very fine mist form. For a period of five minutes or so, you keep the mist swirling around a kid's mouth and nose. It's a slow method, but TLO seems to do just fine with it. In fact, he'll occasionally turn directly to the mouthpiece and start inhaling deeply and methodically. Somehow, he figured out that he receives relief from the treatment. Smart kid!
Quote of the Day
David Letterman to Bill O'Reilly: "I have no idea what I'm talking about. But I don't think you do, either."
Friday, October 27, 2006
Feastolicious
Friday's Feast, October 27, 2006
Appetizer--Create a new candle scent.
Parchment. When burning, the candle fills the room with the lovely scent of a library. Who doesn't love the smell of slowly deteriorating paper? I absolutely love it. Would you believe it's one of my favorite scents? Second to clove, of course.
Soup--Name one way you show affection to others.
I'm a pretty good hugger. Thanks, Mom!
Salad--What is your favorite writing instrument?
Pentel Twist-Erase Mechanical Pencil (0.5). No other writing utensil even comes close. I'm open to using the black, green, or violet pencils. Blue, not so much.
Main Course--If you were given $25 to spend anywhere online, from which site would you buy?
Alibris. Excellent used bookstore. There are a couple books I'd love to get. If I couldn't find anything particularly exciting at Alibris, I'd surf on over to Harriet's Little Soap Company and order several bars of clove scented soap.
Dessert--Are you dressing up for Halloween? If so, what are you going to be?
I think I'm going as a scary scarecrow. None of that friendly Wizard of Oz crap for me. In fact, I think I'm going to make a real scarecrow, too. On Halloween night, I'll switch places with the scarecrow from time to time and scare the begeezus out of unsuspecting trick or treaters.
Appetizer--Create a new candle scent.
Parchment. When burning, the candle fills the room with the lovely scent of a library. Who doesn't love the smell of slowly deteriorating paper? I absolutely love it. Would you believe it's one of my favorite scents? Second to clove, of course.
Soup--Name one way you show affection to others.
I'm a pretty good hugger. Thanks, Mom!
Salad--What is your favorite writing instrument?
Pentel Twist-Erase Mechanical Pencil (0.5). No other writing utensil even comes close. I'm open to using the black, green, or violet pencils. Blue, not so much.
Main Course--If you were given $25 to spend anywhere online, from which site would you buy?
Alibris. Excellent used bookstore. There are a couple books I'd love to get. If I couldn't find anything particularly exciting at Alibris, I'd surf on over to Harriet's Little Soap Company and order several bars of clove scented soap.
Dessert--Are you dressing up for Halloween? If so, what are you going to be?
I think I'm going as a scary scarecrow. None of that friendly Wizard of Oz crap for me. In fact, I think I'm going to make a real scarecrow, too. On Halloween night, I'll switch places with the scarecrow from time to time and scare the begeezus out of unsuspecting trick or treaters.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Bits & Pieces
I don't know who lit a fire under the folks who write/produce Smallville, but the least few episodes have been the best in years. The introduction of Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, has been nothing but fun, fun, fun. An EMP arrow? Oh, yeah! Thankfully, Oliver and Clark already know about each other's extracurricular activities, saving us from a year of ridiculously contrived scenes in which secret identities are protected. Now, if Green Lantern would make an appearance. In brightest day, in darkest night . . .
I started reading Barak Obama's The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream yesterday. Since the late 90s, I've refused to support either of the major parties and have cast my lot with a no-shot-in-hell third party candidate. I'm fifty pages into his book and, should he decide to run, I might have to give him a serious look.
Starbucks continues to garner media attention, this time as a result of various marketing maneuvers and rhetorical strategies: Starbucks as Cultural Filter; The Starbucks Aesthetic. Despite my love/hate relationship with the franchise, I have to admit they do a terrific job adjusting their marketing message. Their coffee, while better than vacuum packed Folgers, isn't all that great; the big draw of Starbucks is the trendy vibe. People feel hip when they order their skinny, no foam Carmel Cappamachiolatte. Hold the whip. Even though the majority of the Starbucks' roasts possess a subtle hint of burnt coffee bean, the overall architectural aesthetic appeals to the snobbiest of coffee geeks: me. Go figure.
I started reading Barak Obama's The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream yesterday. Since the late 90s, I've refused to support either of the major parties and have cast my lot with a no-shot-in-hell third party candidate. I'm fifty pages into his book and, should he decide to run, I might have to give him a serious look.
Starbucks continues to garner media attention, this time as a result of various marketing maneuvers and rhetorical strategies: Starbucks as Cultural Filter; The Starbucks Aesthetic. Despite my love/hate relationship with the franchise, I have to admit they do a terrific job adjusting their marketing message. Their coffee, while better than vacuum packed Folgers, isn't all that great; the big draw of Starbucks is the trendy vibe. People feel hip when they order their skinny, no foam Carmel Cappamachiolatte. Hold the whip. Even though the majority of the Starbucks' roasts possess a subtle hint of burnt coffee bean, the overall architectural aesthetic appeals to the snobbiest of coffee geeks: me. Go figure.
Class Act
Once upon a time, there was a young man who idolized Rush Limbaugh. He read Limbaugh's books, listened to Limbaugh's radio show, and watched Limbaugh's television program. He agreed with almost every single opinion given voice by Rush.
::flash forward thirteen years::
WTF was I thinking? The fact that I saw this snake oil salesman as a legitimate political voice still makes my stomach hurt. I may have even subscribed to the National Review at his televised urging. Ugh! Today, you can see exactly what Rush Limbaugh is about:
Michael J. Fox is faking the effects of Parkinson's disease!
That's low, even for Rush.
::flash forward thirteen years::
WTF was I thinking? The fact that I saw this snake oil salesman as a legitimate political voice still makes my stomach hurt. I may have even subscribed to the National Review at his televised urging. Ugh! Today, you can see exactly what Rush Limbaugh is about:
Michael J. Fox is faking the effects of Parkinson's disease!
That's low, even for Rush.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Conversational Realities: No More Manga
Overhead while waiting in line for ice cream.
Mom: You've been watching too much manga.
Child: What?!
Mom: Yep. No more manga for you.
Mom: You've been watching too much manga.
Child: What?!
Mom: Yep. No more manga for you.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Weekly Reader
Science Fiction in the Shadows
Battlestar Galactica is not about exploring new frontiers. It is about survival and the things humans will do to survive. But as Moore has said, it is not merely enough to survive: one has to be worthy of survival. The show has explored some of the darker aspects of warfare, such as torture and the dehumanization of the enemy—something that is supposedly easier when the enemy is not even human to begin with. Like Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica has used its science fiction setting to explore current social issues, most obviously the war on terrorism and the invasion of Iraq. Its stories are powerful, poignant, challenging, and often brilliant.
Another reason why I have to pull together my BSG article. Although Star Trek is clearly THE example of influential science fiction, a darker vision of the future or the human race does not necessarily mean a particular film or movie can't be just as valuable as Trek was back in the 60s.
Popular Culture vs The Flying Saucers!
U.S. pop culture, as with much of westernized cultures, are infiltrated with alien/UFO imagery. Seeing it as a contamination is subjective opinion. What is ironic and insidious -- certainly more insidious than some notion of being contaminated by this imagery -- is the fact that, while we are being infiltrated by these images, we are not addressing them in any serious way.
Nature vs Nurture
In tests in Canada, women who were told that men and women do math equally well did much better than those who were told there is a genetic difference in math ability. And women who heard there were differences caused by environment — such as math teachers giving more attention to boys — outperformed those who were simply reminded they were females.
Imagine that. I've been making this argument for years.
Battlestar Galactica is not about exploring new frontiers. It is about survival and the things humans will do to survive. But as Moore has said, it is not merely enough to survive: one has to be worthy of survival. The show has explored some of the darker aspects of warfare, such as torture and the dehumanization of the enemy—something that is supposedly easier when the enemy is not even human to begin with. Like Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica has used its science fiction setting to explore current social issues, most obviously the war on terrorism and the invasion of Iraq. Its stories are powerful, poignant, challenging, and often brilliant.
Another reason why I have to pull together my BSG article. Although Star Trek is clearly THE example of influential science fiction, a darker vision of the future or the human race does not necessarily mean a particular film or movie can't be just as valuable as Trek was back in the 60s.
Popular Culture vs The Flying Saucers!
U.S. pop culture, as with much of westernized cultures, are infiltrated with alien/UFO imagery. Seeing it as a contamination is subjective opinion. What is ironic and insidious -- certainly more insidious than some notion of being contaminated by this imagery -- is the fact that, while we are being infiltrated by these images, we are not addressing them in any serious way.
Nature vs Nurture
In tests in Canada, women who were told that men and women do math equally well did much better than those who were told there is a genetic difference in math ability. And women who heard there were differences caused by environment — such as math teachers giving more attention to boys — outperformed those who were simply reminded they were females.
Imagine that. I've been making this argument for years.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Jeffrey Rules! Laura Drools!
I rarely get totally wrapped up in competition style reality television. Until now. Being a fan of Project Runway, I've always enjoyed watching the designers craft something new, unusual, and brilliant (and sometimes old, mundane, and just plain uninspired). Even so, I've never really actively cheered, out loud, during a finale. Tonight was the exception.
As regular viewers of the show will understand, Jeffrey has been the guy many fans love to hate. He's arrogant, brash, and alternative; he goes out of his way to intentionally rile people up. Over the course of Season 3, however, he became my favorite. His rock and roll aesthetic, while something of a one trick pony, appeals to me. What appeals to me more than his rebellious attitude is the fact that he's in recovery. I'm not sure I can articulate the connection I feel with other people in recovery, but it's definitely there. It's like I know an intimate part of their experience, a part no "normie" could ever understand.
Last week, in Part I of the season finale, one of other finalists (there were four total) accused Jeffrey of outsourcing his work. In other words, Laura accused him of cheating. As if I needed another reason, Laura's accusation evoked my wrath. How dare she accuse Jeffrey of cheating!? When she made the accusation I turned to STK and said, "She's dead wrong. If he's been sober this long, he understands the meaning of rigorous honesty. You don't stay sober unless you're honest with yourself and with others. If he's really in recovery, and I think he is, he didn't cheat." For the last week, I seethed over this silly show. I scoured the internet for word of Jeffrey's fate, defended him to anyone who would listen, and bad mouthed Laura at every turn (I can't stand that pretentious upper crust snot).
Tonight, I will rest easier. Not only did the producers of the show find Jeffrey innocent of any significant wrong doing, but he won the entire contest! w00t! A victory for recovering people everywhere.
Take that, Laura. Pack up your unimaginative evening gowns and head back to turtle poop lane.
As regular viewers of the show will understand, Jeffrey has been the guy many fans love to hate. He's arrogant, brash, and alternative; he goes out of his way to intentionally rile people up. Over the course of Season 3, however, he became my favorite. His rock and roll aesthetic, while something of a one trick pony, appeals to me. What appeals to me more than his rebellious attitude is the fact that he's in recovery. I'm not sure I can articulate the connection I feel with other people in recovery, but it's definitely there. It's like I know an intimate part of their experience, a part no "normie" could ever understand.
Last week, in Part I of the season finale, one of other finalists (there were four total) accused Jeffrey of outsourcing his work. In other words, Laura accused him of cheating. As if I needed another reason, Laura's accusation evoked my wrath. How dare she accuse Jeffrey of cheating!? When she made the accusation I turned to STK and said, "She's dead wrong. If he's been sober this long, he understands the meaning of rigorous honesty. You don't stay sober unless you're honest with yourself and with others. If he's really in recovery, and I think he is, he didn't cheat." For the last week, I seethed over this silly show. I scoured the internet for word of Jeffrey's fate, defended him to anyone who would listen, and bad mouthed Laura at every turn (I can't stand that pretentious upper crust snot).
Tonight, I will rest easier. Not only did the producers of the show find Jeffrey innocent of any significant wrong doing, but he won the entire contest! w00t! A victory for recovering people everywhere.
Take that, Laura. Pack up your unimaginative evening gowns and head back to turtle poop lane.
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