~ Dougressions

Birthday rumination

2012-01-27T08:05:00.000-08:00

Today I commence my 45th year out of the womb. It's my 44th birthday, but that means yesterday I completed 44 rides around the sun.

I'm not sure why I'm so inclined to think in terms of what I'm starting rather than what I'm finishing, but I like to consider it vaguely admirable. That's not suggesting I'm necessarily optimistic about this 45th year, but I do have to believe it's got as good a chance as any that it will improve over how much of the 44th has gone.

Part of me simply is fascinated with the way people tend not to think in those terms. Obviously our culture is youth-oriented and aging is almost shameful, despite the obvious fact we're all always doing it, with no alternative option. However, I get the impression many think only in terms of aging in annual bursts, where they've only gotten older when their birthday hits. More than that, there's a delusion that the age you say you are—for example, for me it's been 43 for the past year—is the year you're in; that is, me thinking this past year has been my 43rd. Simple math reveals that's not the case, but I suspect many don't like to think they're older than they have to claim to be, and thus twist the math to make themselves a year younger than they are.

Hey, if that makes one feel better, go for it. I'm not suggesting I do not delude myself to try to make myself feel better; it's merely not that way. Pretending I haven't spent as much time on this planet as I have. My youth had its fair share of good moments but it had plenty of crappy ones, too. I'm not complaining; it was life, and that's how it goes. Being okay with how old one is does strike me as a key to being generally happy, and even though there's much that isn't panning out as I suppose I sort of hoped it would, I do consider myself to be a generally happy person.

I know it doesn't always seem that way, but that's our human proclivity—or perhaps necessity—to dwell on what's not going well; the problems are what we must try to address, so they get the immediate focus. Only when there's time for contemplation do the good things get to shine.

Obvious, I know, but true nonetheless.

Perhaps what makes it so easy to embrace the start of a 45th year is that I don't really feel like how I suppose I thought a 44-year-old would be, from the perspective of myself twenty years ago and what I figured the onset of middle age would be—not that I specifically recall anything; it's more this sense that what I'm experiencing now is not what I theoretically thought it would be. I don't feel old (perhaps because I don't have kids yet, and perhaps because I still don't own a house, or due to myriad other life benchmarks that seemed associated with this time in one's life that do not apply to me), and so that makes it easy to accept being old.

Of course, when I reveal that my wife and I are taking the day off and going to Disneyland and revel in youthful-type celebration, that probably undermines everything I just said about accepting my age, doesn't it?

But I like to think undermining myself (and not caring that I do so) is one of the best aspects of being this old.

It must be love

2012-01-24T22:24:00.000-08:00

Over on the photo site there's a recent post featuring a bunch of shots of elephant seals, some being affectionate, some snuggling, and even some scuffling.

Swim on over and check out the rest...

Here we are now--entertain us: How social media salvages the Golden Globes

2012-01-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

Although we don't go to a lot of movies anymore (and, thankfully, have gotten over any sense of feeling obligated to see a bunch of nominated films in the early part of the year), the wife and I do still watch the major awards shows. And somehow the Golden Globes telecast still meets that criterion.

For better or for worse, the ceremony where the Hollywood Foreign Press Association divvies out its little trophies still qualifies as what will be a topic in the pop culture field during the lead-up to it and in the days following it. And while both the Globes and the Oscars are, in the end, a frivolous exercise in celebrities being feted for not having had to get real jobs, the reality of the power of movies and TV even amongst those who couldn't care less about awards is still pretty strong. We like to be entertained, and at least to an extent we like to see the worthwhile entertainment be commemorated.

What that has to do with these awards shows clearly becomes less clear.

The recent Globes telecast may or may not have been touting the best works of the past year—that's subjective even under ideal circumstances—but as an event to be witnessed by the public it failed to even come close to being entertaining. And it's not unlikely that the upcoming Academy Awards show will fail similarly.

But I'm sure we'll watch that as well.

And I don't think that we're alone in regards to those who watch despite the lack of entertainment value for the shows themselves. So why are we all tuning in?

Habit? Sure, there's an established tradition. But that's only so much motivation. It seems more a matter of the same ol' (what used to be) water-cooler conversations that occur afterward and the desire to be able to participate in talking about how awful they were. Except these days those conversations aren't happening the next day at the office alone; they're happening on Twitter (or perhaps even Facebook) as the shows are airing. It's probably fair to think anyone who's paying attention has an account, and whether one's posting or not, one can easily be following the hash tagged topic on one's phone or tablet or computer while watching the show. In fact, unless one is following the stream of commentary tweets the show is utterly incapable of being worth paying attention to. However, the tweets and comments are themselves meaningless unless one is watching the show in "real time." It's not that "live tweeting" doesn't happen during a lot of shows these days, but those typically provide at least some level of entertainment (even if completely ironic) that does not rely on social media participation; the awards shows seem to the ones that operate in a vacuum where the atmosphere is provided exclusively by the outside media.

However, at least for the moment, the producers of these shows appear to be operating under the notion that's not the case. Even hiring an ostensible muckraker like Ricky Gervais is not a winking nod to giving up; they're still going at this sincerely. As best I can tell, they're not intentionally making the shows bad—where it's entirely with a heavy wink—in an effort to play into what those on the social media are doing.

Obviously, when it reaches that state it then ceases to even be fun to make fun of. (Also, convincing celebrities to bother to show up for a presentation of sincere awards for artistic achievement in an irony wrapper might prove to be increasingly challenging.) However, I fear it may be only a matter of time until producers of these telecasts get what they perceive as the clever idea of "going along with it" and finding someone who throws out even the pretense of reverence for the show, ostensibly bringing it in line with but actually rendering it completely irrelevant to contemporary times.

Of course, that would finally kill these awards telecasts (or at least drive them out of their position of being any more prestigious than the Miss America pageant or G4's video game awards are now) and leave them at best as something on a niche bother to pay attention to, which ultimately may be what saves the show, by putting it on a path to reverting it back to something geared for only those who are nominated and not a snarky general public.

Which may just be something worth watching.

Freakonomics round-up

2012-01-16T09:18:00.000-08:00

I've been catching up on more Freakonomics podcasts (as noted in this recent post), and part of what I like about listening is the that their shows tend to inspire some thoughts in my noggin, such as these I'll share with you:

~

A question on which they touched: Should there be a requirement of those running for political office that they complete some classes on at least the rudiments of various topics (such as economics, history, etc.) that would seem applicable to running a government? And the obvious question that arises from such a suggestion: Who decides what is to be required? And who of those already in power would want to subject themselves to that, so conceivably they would exclude themselves (all present politicians would be grandfathered in), thereby making it more likely for those incumbents to stay in power as of the next election, because challengers would be less likely to jump through the extra hurdles then required to take on those incumbents.

And thus we are back to the primary difficulty of implementing what even seems on the surface to be reasonable changes: Nobody who has power would want to introduce something to make it harder for them to retain that power.

Also, there's the standard joke about anyone smart enough to pass such classes to qualify to run would be too smart to want to run. Which, looking at the GOP field, seems like it's not really a joke at all.

This is why there are coups and revolutions. Not that I'm endorsing that—merely acknowledging the advantage those methods of change have.

~

Similarly, on the topic of requiring some level of certification for potential parents—because, really, what's more important than raising the next generation?—it would be way too easy for those charged with coming up with the test to gear it such that it's unfair, and thus would essentially be making those whom they do not want to reproduce to either do so illegally or to prevent them from doing so, and thereby eliminate them from the population.

And while it's easy to sit there and say, Yeah, but if all they're doing is preventing stupid people from producing another generation of stupid people, that doesn't seem so bad, are any of us so confident in our intelligence as to believe we'd never be on the wrong side of that situation?

If we could only come up with some test that would eliminate human corruption, that is the one that we should implement with all due haste.

But that, too, would be twisted somehow.

~

They had a brief one about what makes someone donate to a charity or other contribution-supported organization. One particular part of the story focused on how the numbers showed that something that got people more likely to donate was giving them a one-and-done opt-out option, where they had a checkbox on the donation form to indicate they did not wish to receive future solicitations. The charities grasped that a big part of what turned people off was getting hounded by the organization for more money after they'd already been generous. However, interestingly, although having that option made people more apt to donate, they often did not avail themselves of the option, and thus got solicitations, and still donated more.

It's not so much that people who donate are unwilling to donate more later, but they like having the ability to easily get off the mailing list if they so choose.

Back when the Haiti earthquake hit I gave some money to an organization offering medical assistance for the victims. And to this day I still get something in the mail from that organization numerous times a year. I have not donated any further funds to them, not because I feel like there have been no further tragedies in the world since the Haiti quake, but because that happened to occur at a time when I was inclined to donate. An

And the reality is: I will donate when I am of a mind to do so, not when I get a mailing or a phone call. Perhaps I'm a horrible person, but I am not one to be guilted into giving. Thus, the solicitations only make me less inclined to donate again—not only to that particular charity but to all such organizations in general; my association becomes not feeling good for helping the unfortunate but feeling like I'm signing up for a life of unwanted mail and screened phone calls.

Happily I'd give up any tax benefit about donating in order to be able to anonymously give without that continuing tacit obligation, but having a don't-bother-me-after-I-give-this option would be a worthwhile enticement for me.

~

They also talked about how money doesn't win elections. The candidate with the most money often wins, but that's because his/her popularity with the voters translated into making them popular with those inclined to donate.

There is a definite logic to it.

~

They noted that we seek information to reinforce our preexisting biases rather than to form our opinions, and generally that's inspired by a desire to fit in with a peer group over a desire to gain some sort of empirical facts. They cite the disagreement over climate change as an example of a topic where it's not so much whether scientists say it's real or not; it's a matter of whether one's peers hold a certain belief about it one way or the other.

The truth is not absolute; it's whatever makes you fit in.

Also, the studies showed that the more educated one was did not make one more inclined to believe climate change was true; it merely made one more inclined to hold a strong belief one way or the other, but not necessarily to only one extreme over the other. (The less educated presumably didn't hold as strong a belief, perhaps because they felt they lacked the expertise to have any strong beliefs.)

Or more than that, one chooses to believe to not be aligned with those whom one finds otherwise objectionable. Alignments only tend to work against us, or so the facts suggest.

Of course, whether you believe that take on "the truth" or not is probably influenced whether that sort of suggestion already jibes with your preexisting beliefs.

~

Clearly many Freakonomics topics play into what I'm inclined to believe... or at least think.

That is, when I get around to listening to them...

Maniacs behind the wheel will not drive better due to this post, but still, here it is

2012-01-14T20:16:00.000-08:00

When I walk down the street from the condo I cross some side streets. And it's not uncommon when I'm in the crosswalk, with a green light and a walk signal, that a car approaches down that perpendicular side street, coming toward what is for that motorist a red light (and one where it has been red). But the driver speeds up and then brakes somewhat abruptly just short of the line of the crosswalk (and it's obvious that had I not been walking there the car would have just pulled through the crosswalk).

(In fact, a recent morning it happened at the first intersection I hit when I leave the house. And something of a variation on the standard routine: Although the driver came to a full stop before the crosswalk, after I'd passed I noticed he then pulled up a few feet. He was going straight, and so could go nowhere until the light changed, but it was as though he was determined to get just a tiny bit closer so when eventually it did turn for him he could get across the intersection that split second faster.)

I'm used to it. I'm not saying I like it, but it's happened both there and at plenty of other crosswalks where I've walked in the metropolitan area that it doesn't actively bother me. Still, it wouldn't be a bad thing if drivers, when approaching an intersection, just let off the gas sooner and would come to a gentler stop that made it seem like they grasped they're supposed to cease their forward movement and stay out of the crosswalk whether there's a pedestrian in it or not. But I know better than to expect that.

I cannot help but wonder why so many behind the wheel exhibit this behavior that defies logic. I doubt they are testing their brakes, so it seems like they're deluding themselves they're in a Vin Diesel movie or something. In my mind, it certainly connotes a lack of actual thought while operating a vehicle and a lack of grasping there's others in the world, but I'm pretty sure they won't change their tendencies; it appeases whatever psychological need they may have that can be addressed when behind the wheel.

And I'm agile enough to jump out of the way, just in case.

So I'm not talking to them; I'm talking about them, to people who are not them. If I post this on the blahg or on Facebook or some such site, it's not addressing the issue of their less-than-considerate driving habits; it's merely allowing for me to comment on it in a forum where it's likely someone may actually pay attention, but presumably not affect any change in the world.

It's where we all get to compose our Grandpa Simpson "I am not a crackpot" letter and achieve some level of… well, not venting, or ranting, but sort of saying what I would say to them if there were any reason to bother doing so.

The last-second-braking drivers have their outlet, and I have mine. I imagine they don't like mine any more than I like theirs.

I'm ready, I'm ready for the laughing gas

2012-01-12T06:26:00.000-08:00

Recently on cable I saw part of a documentary film, From the Sky Down, about the making of U2's 1991 album Achtung Baby. I recall at the time being sort of dismissive of it, both because I'd preferred the Unforgettable Fire sound of the band and because that album got the shit played out of it on the radio. But now, a couple decades later, I can enjoy at least some of the tracks on there, and do acknowledge it was an important album for its day.

And then, inevitably, I had that moment of thinking, Holy crap. It's been over 20 years. How has it been that long? But let's not digress to that.

Then I had a moment of wondering what album, if any, that has come out in the last year or so, will be worthy of a commemorative documentary feature in the 2030's because it was groundbreaking or otherwise culturally significant.

And it occurred to me: As one whose heyday of really paying attention to contemporary music was back around the time of Achtung Baby, I'm not really in a position to say. It's not that I ignore new music, but I cannot even pretend to be keeping close tabs on the music scene. It's not that someone my age cannot still be "with it"; I simply must concede I'm not there anymore. I do think, however, that if I were 20 years younger right now I'd be able to offer at least some answer.

All that said, I further wondered if in a couple decades down the road if the album will be viewed as a quaint cultural artifact from an era where we had to rely on physical media for delivery of music. And society will be so splintered regarding its cultural touchstones, without a scenario where a finite number of record labels and radio stations and magazines could saturate the listening public with a particular batch of tracks from an artist, that at best each sub-culture will have their own important pieces from circa 2011 but a worldwide phenomenon like U2 was (whether you liked them or not you probably heard of them and heard them).

Perhaps 20 years from now that documentary will not be about an album from now but instead about how there was a time when we considered making documentaries about albums to be culturally relevant.

On saying "I don't know"

2012-01-09T06:14:00.000-08:00

On a recent Freakonomics episode they touched on the topic of why people in business are so reluctant to say they don't know something when they, in fact, don't know something. As to why that was… they admitted they didn't know, but they offered a theory (based on dealing with people in business) that postulated it wasn't so much that people were afraid of losing their jobs or that they were delusional (and believed they did know) but that they were conditioned to believe they should always offer an answer based around what they could claim to know; if it was at all in their area of supposed expertise, they should have an answer—not necessarily a right answer, but something more than "I don't know."

My personal take on that scenario:

It's an attempt to comfort those asking the question, whether that's actually benefitting the asker or not; when it comes to what people don't know, they like to believe there's someone who does. They don't like operating under the perception there's no one who can answer a question, and are willing to take any answer over no answer. The people asking are not academics who are interested in the thought experiment; they are asking because they have some vested interest in the topic that motivates them to ask.

The specifics of what I do at work are unimportant, but I am a person whom others ask with some expectation I'll know. And over the years I've gotten over feeling any compulsion to muster up some bullshit; if I don't know, and it's someone with whom I have enough rapport to be frank, I will admit I don't know. However, the reason I can do that is because I've also figured out that people generally don't want to know why something happened; they want to know what to do about it, and generally there's at least something that can be tried to address their problem.

If asked a question like "Will this work?" I have learned always to couch answers in terms like "it should" or "in my tests it was consistently successful" or something. It's not that I have no confidence in what I do; I merely have experience that proves there's always the possibility someone might have a set of circumstances I could not have envisioned or for which I did not account, and thus cannot say with absolute certainty. It's not weaseling my way out of responsibility; it's acknowledging that I am not omnipotent, that I do not hold dominion over all of reality.

Heck, the older I get the more I realize I don't hold dominion over even little things, and expecting I can control anything outside of what I think and do (and only sometimes in those areas do I prove to have control). I like to think I'm merely demonstrating the maturity that allowed me to accept I'm not really in charge of much of anything.

Or at least that's the way I spin it to offer comfort to myself.

But I grasp not everyone would find that confidence in the absence of confidence to be comforting, and so I try to avoid offering a stark "I don't know" and leaving it at that.

Of course, I find that when I can offer something approximately a definite answer that proves to be accurate or helpful it only serves to make the asker more inclined to keep asking me more questions in the future, so sometimes I find that giving an intentionally vague response that requires some level of effort by the asker to figure out something for him-/herself can be the best answer. Teach a man to fish, and whatnot.

Yes, most people only want to be given a fish.

Perhaps that's the saddest aspect of this. In business, people often just want an answer, right or wrong, so they can get through and simply clock out at the end of the day.

I suppose that's why I still have a job, and one where I'm usually very busy.

But I know better than to act like I know everything. That's merely asking to be taken down, and I am confident I'll be taken down by external circumstances—those ones I cannot control—so there's no reason to be falsely knowledgeable and make it me who's being the source of my undoing.

Why anyone would do that I do not know.

Monarchs

2012-01-05T06:53:00.000-08:00

Over on the photo site, I've added a post featuring the migrating monarch butterflies at the Pismo State Beach Monarch Butterfly Grove, such as this cluster on a branch.

Click on over and check out the whole set. Enjoy.

A special offer for next New Year's Eve

2012-01-03T21:42:00.000-08:00

Do you have a friend or loved one who spent all of December 31st remarking about how every mundane activity he/she did was the "last time in 2011" and it started making you hope that Mayan apocalypse would strike just to get him/her to shut up about it? Well, reserve your spot for next New Year's Eve now with a new service that will take that person on or around December 30 and put him/her into a completely safe medically induced coma for the entirety of the 24 hours preceding 2013, thereby preventing that person from annoying you and others with their inane prattling about how "This is the last time I'll brush my teeth in 2012" (and the like). The person will be revived on January 1, 2013, believing he or she merely over indulged at a pre-New Year's celebration.

If you are concerned the tendency merely will be transferred into commentary about how, post-awakening, the person will note everything is the "first of 2013" (or make silly quips such as "Look at all this laundry left over from last year"), for a modest additional fee we will maintain the coma for the entire first week of January. (Note: This option requires that the person wake up in the hospital, with the cover story involving an accident at the hypothetical celebration. Please be prepared to play along.)

And if you wish that person to remain indefinitely incapacitated, just testify that he/she is suspected of terrorist activities. (Requires recurring monthly fees.)

Merely leave a comment. We'll be monitoring them and will contact you.

~~Your friends at Halliburton Industries~~. ~~Your American government (thanks to that bill the president signed)~~. Never mind who we are. Just know: We have the power to make next year better for you. Unless you are quipping about the every stupid little thing you do on the last day of the year.

Same old Old Year's Day post

2011-12-31T12:31:00.000-08:00

Happy Old Year's Day. Again. (That still hasn't caught on. Oh well.)

~

The end of the year approaches, and as with everything else in life that holds significance only because we choose to impart some onto it; the calendar of the dominant economic and/or military powers over the last two millennia has its last day before the year changes coming in a few days and our proclivity is to consider that as some cosmic reset button having been pushed.

There are calendars that some observe that do not end upon December 31, but those aren't used by society in general so we won't bother with them; if one is not part of a community where those have significance they're merely an excuse for a celebration (if one is so inclined).

Well, okay, to be fair, New Year's Day is ultimately nothing more than an excuse for a celebration; it's not religious or cultural, but just a national holiday that corresponds with the changing of the calendar.

What does this say about us?

We are a species whose intellect largely renders us in need of symbolic rebirth. Let's face it: Being alive and being aware sucks a lot of the time. We do our best not to dwell on that, but it takes some effort not to descend into the doldrums of existence. And although it's delusion to think that January 1 brings any inherent renewal, we need that delusion once a year to facilitate a sense that the shit from the past 365 days has been left in the past and there's hope for the next 365 (or 366, as will be the case in 2012).

You can view that assessment as pessimistic if you like, but if life were mostly awesome, why would we need a holiday about the year changing only a week after another major holiday (of at least ostensible religious significance)? I'm just saying that it seems like a world where things were mostly spiffy most of the time would find flipping the calendar to be superfluous.

But hey, it's a day off from work, so let's celebrate that. Even if we cannot all agree that life may mostly suck I suspect we can agree work mostly sucks. If it didn't, it wouldn't be called "work," would it?

It may only be easing us into another year of suckitude, but at least it's suckitude that has not yet happened, and therefore may not happen.

That, I suppose, may be the best reason to celebrate there is.

~

Another aspect of the end of the year that reveals something about our species: The fact that we bother to pay attention to best-of lists and recaps of the past 12 months indicates we have also have a need to find some worthwhile aspects of the year that passed to make it seem not so bad; that short-term nostalgia is a respite from the suckitude as well.

I'm not suggesting it's bad to find refuge in dwelling upon the bright moments. Whatever get you through the night, and whatnot.

It also suggests we want to do one last mental lap around the year to find those tiny triumphs before we box them up and move on to the future, leaving both them and the suckitude behind.

The positive side of all of this: This suckitude, like all suckitude that has come before, will not be our end. I suppose that's the real cause for celebration when the clock strikes midnight on December 31st: Another year has not only been survived and endured but also its shit has been bested, because we can find good things to remember.

Every year has had sh*tty times. Next year will have some. It likely will have a lot. But it won't be any different than all the ones we've made it through.

That's some optimistic perspective for you.

Breaking down Xmas

2011-12-30T19:41:00.000-08:00

Now that Xmas is nearly a week past, can we admit something?

If the celebration with all the overblown decorations and songs about and general overindulgence that is associated with Xmas were instead directed toward a 16-year-old for her birthday, we'd pretty much consider her to have serious self-esteem issues and think her to be more insufferably spoiled than the Kardashians, "Real Housewives," and the entirety of reality TV personalities combined.

I'm just sayin'.

Christmas carols (sort of)

2011-12-24T21:13:00.000-08:00

"...Now bring us some figgy pudding
Now bring us some figgy pudding
Now bring us some figgy pudding before we pound your head into pudding!"

- Carolers whose anger management classes aren't proving effective

~

"I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus--"
"And I saw daddy file for divorce..."

- Caroler with some unresolved issues

~

Happy Christmas.

Happy winter

2011-12-21T21:40:00.000-08:00

(You didn't notice the solstice nine minutes ago, did you?)

Effective Music in Commercials

2011-12-20T06:33:00.000-08:00

A recent VW commercial for the Passat spotlights the stereo system by first showing people singing the wrong lyrics to the chorus of Elton John's "Rocket Man," then having the driver of the Passat be able to sing the accurate line due to clarity of the sound system in the car:

And although it doesn't inspire me to actually purchase said vehicle, I must admit I don't always fast-forward through it, because it did strike a chord (so to speak) with me; I, too, was for quite some time mis-hearing that line.

My particular take on the oft mistaken one: "Burning down the streets of heaven, now." (Hey, it seemed to make sense at the time. And at least had the first word correct.) And even after I figured out the correct line ("Burning out his fuse up here alone"), I still tended to hear my interpretation when the song played.

So, kudos to the ad agency behind this (and perhaps their junior Darth Vader ad from the Super Bowl). You got me to actually watch your ad and not only not hate it but think it somewhat clever. In this day, that's as effective as I expect TV commercials to be.

By contrast, a commercial where the music just bugs me: the Lexus "December to Remember" campaign, featuring spots where people somehow get the Lexus jingle into unexpected places, such as in a "Guitar Hero" song:

Why does it bother me so? Perhaps because if you bought your wife a freakin' new Lexus for Christmas, would you really ruin the surprise by going to some elaborate scheme to fit their damned music into a video game? Wouldn't you just have her close her eyes and walk her out to the driveway?

And this is off the subject of music, specifically, but in each of these ads where it's snowing outside--notice the ground covered in it, and the fact that you see snowflakes falling both while the family is in the house and when they come out--and the car doesn't have a single snowflake on it! Perhaps they just drove it out, you say? Then there'd be some damned tracks in the snow. Also, the whole family was inside, playing the game, so it had to have been outside for a while... and should have a layer of snow on it.

I'm also perhaps bothered because I recognize the wife is two-timing Overstock.com--specifically their O.co ads.

Apparently even after decades of TV viewing it hasn't deteriorated my brain to the point where I cannot pay attention to such details. I guess I spent a little to much time away from TV, doing something silly, like listening to Elton John. (Obviously that's somewhere, for many years, I wasn't paying close enough attention. It was awesome.)

Hey! Watch as I make a sweeping generalization!

2011-12-14T22:43:00.000-08:00

On the latest Culture Gabfest podcast they took on the topic of a Kurt Andersen Vanity Fair piece about how styles haven't changed in the last twenty years, which they all pretty well summarily dismissed. There were nuggets of worthwhile argumentation, they conceded, but they proceeded to pick apart all the things that had changed that he conveniently overlooked in the essay.

I can't speak to the piece, having not finished reading it, but what they mentioned about it on the show made me think of this general statement about making general statements about society and culture: There's too much to society and culture for any generalization not to be wildly inaccurate; only by focusing on very specific elements can there be any accuracy, but of course that is not a general statement.

I can only conclude that such arguments, either consciously or unconsciously, are offered not to be persuasive but to spur reactions. It's not that there won't be those who already agree, but they were not swayed; the piece might be an effort by the author to find others who share his myopic opinion about the topic while at the same time hoping to elicit responses to some level of the contrary.

In this era of so much being available that a more cogent argument where it isn't filled with improperly drawn sweeping conclusions would only drift into the din of what doesn't get discussed?

In short, have we, through our consumption, made it such that only by making something controversial in some way it can draw any attention?

And is that really different than how it was twenty years ago?

Well, of course it would make for a dull debate on the show if they picked topics where they merely sat there and said, "This is good and well done, with nothing about which we can disagree."

Heck, the only way one can draw some comments by what one posts is to essentially throw down the gauntlet with an opinion with which others can vehemently disagree. Much as we want a world where others agree with us, we have no time to acknowledge when that is the case.

That argument is 95% bullshit. On purpose.

~

I do think there's plenty of ways the world really hasn't changed from two decades ago, but that's more a statement about my ability to remember how things were then and recognize the unchanged elements than it is any sort of statement about the way things actually are now as opposed to then.

It is the curse of being old enough to have been an adult then and still be alive now.

Not the wedding photographer

2011-12-12T06:25:00.000-08:00

Last month we attended the wedding of some friends—not ones we see very often these days, but ones where we were invited to a relatively small ceremony. And as someone who has a photo blog, you'd probably think I would have brought my trusty Canon S3 to capture the festivities.

You would be wrong about that.

As we were almost about to walk out the door I grabbed the small camera (that we actually got to take the underwater shots from our Maui trip), but that was as much effort as went into having any camera with us. And when I actually did attempt a few shots during the ceremony, I quickly was alerted by a little symbol on the back display that the battery had not been recharged. Of course, from my position at the far end of about six rows back (against the wall) it's not like the few shots I got were coming out that well, so the battery dying likely was a blessing of sorts that kept me from bothering with more.

Sure, we have cameras on our phones, and those were charged, but a glance around the room showed there were no shortage of others (some with cameras and some with only phones) who were capturing the moment (and of course there were the professionals who were paid to do the best job of that).

There was something bordering on liberation I felt at not feeling compelled to take any photos. And not merely because I knew most of those shots taken from the seats during the ceremony tend to look like that's precisely what they are (there's a reason the pros aren't sitting in those rows but are mobile). Also, there's that whole aspect of being invested in being in the moment rather than observing the moment.

There was a time when not only at weddings but merely waking around I would have the (what we'll call) a bit of the photographer's eye, noticing what seemed like it would be a good shot. I'd carry my camera with me when I went to lunch in case such a moment arose. As admirable as that was at the time, there was an extent that it transformed life into the task of finding images rather than as a living, moving experience. Striving to capture that image becomes the point of any venture rather than the venture itself. And while that's fine when the venture is photography, for other times it's taking oneself out of the moment.

But more than that even, I think after a while I did reach a point where taking pictures came to be associated more with all the effort that comes after the shot in order to get the good ones selected and any processing done on the computer and posted with appropriate captions. It was effort to which I was committing myself.

And now I have the good sense to know better than to do that to myself when it's not necessary, and when it's not out of inspiration but out of obligation—obligation that I was the only one imposing on myself anyway.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is learn when it's okay not to even bother. Hobbies are supposed to be fun and enjoyable.

Email in its place

2011-12-10T20:17:00.000-08:00

Given how email is far and away the predominant method of communication I use at work it may seem odd how little I send emails from my personal accounts when I'm at home. A decade ago I would sent out personal emails with some regularity but now if I have something to say to folks in general I would just post it here on the blahg, or (intermittently) write it on my Facebook wall. (Also, for my personal email accounts, were I to try to send a message to a large number of recipients it would get rejected as spam, so there's little point in attempting that.)

My personal email addresses become more something to use to associate with the logins for various websites, and thus that means many of the email I receive in those accounts prove to be those sites promoting something. At work my inbox is mostly filled with items I need to do or be aware of; at home my inbox is mostly filled with items I'll delete without bothering to read them all the way through.

And when I do compose a personal email to someone I do find myself wanting to keep it as succinct as possible, despite the fact I'll sometimes take a long time to write up a work email. I suppose in the latter case there's the greater likelihood I'm trying to impart specific details to which the recipients should pay attention, while with the former it's probably merely to get one piece of information across. Subconsciously I must grasp that I'm disinclined to want to spend a long time reading an email when I get home (or to read something long on my smart phone) when it's not pertaining to something I'm actually getting paid to do, and so it would be hypocritical to blather on in an email to someone else.

However, just to be clear about the length of when I do go on longer: If someone comes here (or is on Facebook), that suggests that person is inclined to pause and read something. One goes to those sort of outlets when one has the time for them, but email comes to you when it does, and while one is not required to read it right away there is always the possibility a genuinely urgent, non-spam message might warrant that, so at least glancing at it when it arrives (also a pattern from work emails) seems worth doing.

It's not as immediate as a phone call, but I guess I consider a direct email to carry an implicit quasi-urgency over something posted on a website, and thus I don't want to tax others' time more than necessary.

But years ago I had no such qualms. I'm not sure whether it's the emergence of social media sites or the spam-domination or merely some novelty wearing off, or perhaps being weary of email after dealing with it all day at the office (or, due to the smart phone, even when not in the office)—or, likely, all of the above—but checking the emails I get in my personal account seems more of a chore than a marvelous avenue of communicating with others.

I suppose it was only a matter of time.

And a partridge in a... bowl of pears

2011-12-08T22:29:00.000-08:00

When putting out fruit for co-workers in the break room, be careful not to let plates cover parts of the note.

Muppet Surprise

2011-12-01T07:45:00.000-08:00

What's perhaps really sad is that it's already Thursday and I haven't mentioned the best part of the previous weekend.

When we were planning the visit to relatives for Thanksgiving my wife made it clear that we had to come home on Friday because we had a "seminar" on Saturday afternoon to which she'd gotten us tickets. She explained it as a surprise so I didn't press for details. She said it would be good for our marriage.

So on Saturday we headed up to Hollywood, parking at the Hollywood & Highland center, and walking across the street. Then as we were almost there she handed me the tickets she'd printed out and had me read the address.

They were tickets for The Muppets showing at the El Capitan theater.

She admitted she'd purchased the reserved tickets for the show weeks ago, and had the hardest time not telling me. Not only was there the movie but an audience sing-along of holiday tunes with Kermit and Miss Piggy (with puppeteers doing those live on stage). We got jingle bell wristbands to shake during the appropriate parts of the songs, but of course that just meant that the jingling of the bells would continue for the entire movie (but that wasn't bothersome). We also got a souvenir bucket with popcorn.

The sing-along was fine, but the kids in the audience weren't really as into it as one might expect. Perhaps a 1 p.m. matinee falls during their usual nap times. Maybe it was more that the appeal was more for nostalgic parents hoping to turn the children on to what they had loved when they were themselves young.

I am of an age where I was in my adolescence when The Muppet Show originally aired, and it was definitely an event not to be missed. We had to be home in time to see it, no matter what. And to this day, The Muppet Movie is easily one of my favorite films of all time—not one of my favorite family films, or in some special category; of all time, period.

However, all the other movies and other Muppet projects over the intervening decades were never quite as good as the original show and film, and I worried slightly that this latest Jason Segel-driven product might be a disappointment.

It was not.

The Muppets is not The Muppet Movie or The Muppet Show, but even if I didn't go in with my long-standing love for the franchise I would enjoyed it. It certainly captured the tone of the original about as well as can be done without Jim Henson being directly involved. (Yes, there's a ceiling in my mind about how good a Muppet project can be since Henson passed away; I freely admit that.) I had a good time in the theater, laughing at the jokes not out of dedication to the source but because they were funny. Better still, there was an element of appreciating the nods to the past; the plot does revolve around a character who is more or less obsessed with the Muppets, having grown up watching the show, so there was no hiding the fact it was a loving homage.

And during the climax of the film I was having to put a lot of effort into not just bursting into tears (and even now, when I think about it I get a little misty).

While overall I'd agree that it deserved the B+ that it got in its EW review, it absolutely was a worthwhile addition to the Muppet canon in my humble opinion. But the experience of my wife surprising me with seeing it (in the theater that is used for the exteriors of the their theater in the film itself) definitely deserves an A+!

And it definitely was good for our marriage. My wife is AWESOME!

~

Other moments in the film that got to me for reasons outside of the actual plot: The scenes where the characters are taking a tour of the dilapidated Muppet studios clearly were filmed at the actual Jim Henson Studio, which are less than a mile from the El Capitan. I know that because before we were married my wife used to live a block from there and I walked past it on many, many occasions. I shots facing the street I recognized the building on the opposite side of La Brea, and knew that just outside the shot there was a strip club on that other side of the street.

Also, working in downtown L.A. I recognized the building used for the exteriors of the bad guy's headquarters—the Bank of America building. And when I saw a scene with the Muppets themselves that was filmed just in front of it, I found myself disappointed that they had filmed right there and I didn't even know it. Sure, it undoubtedly was filmed on a weekend, but still the knowledge they were right by somewhere I pass all the time left me slightly bummed.

These are the things that people who don't live and work here in Southern California do not have to worry about when watching the movie.

~

p.s. Yes, I grasp the bi-lingual redundancy of say "the El" but let's not dwell on that.

~

And here's a couple more lousy photos of the displays they had below the theater replicating Piggy's dressing room and Kermit's office:

How dragon boating changed my mind

2011-11-27T18:27:00.000-08:00

Recently I happened upon an episode of a show on the Cooking Channel called Easy Chinese: San Francisco. The host was preparing seafood down on the pier, but in the segment I saw a woman was standing next to her wearing a jersey with the words "Diesel Fish" on it.

I didn't recognize the woman, but I recognized the jersey. Diesel Fish is a Bay Area-based dragon boat racing team. I didn't need the host's introduction (I was able to rewind the show to see the segment from the beginning) to tell me that; I knew it from the years I was on a dragon boat team here in Southern California, and we'd see Diesel Fish at tournaments (both when they'd come south and when we'd head north)

The sport of dragon boat racing is much bigger around San Francisco, and being of Chinese origin it's not surprising that it would be included in such a show. Also, I can say from my years of experience that dragon boaters enjoyed eating almost as much as racing (or perhaps at times even more), so selecting the team as ones who would appreciate the food was also apropos.

Even though I haven't actively participated in over five years, there's still a part of me that has allegiance to the sport. (As noted, I've emceed the local tournament's opening ceremonies.) There's something about being part of a sport that, when you mention its name, mostly draws blank stares, makes you a supporter of any publicity it can get.

It also makes you a defender of it.

There's one key thing that needs to be clarified about dragon boating: What we do is paddling; it is not rowing. The boat is akin to a canoe, not to sculls; those on the boat face forward and what we have in our hands is a paddle, not an oar. So if there's one pet peeve that those who engage in dragon boating all share, it's being called rowers.

The host did start off the segment by properly calling those on the team "paddlers" but not once but twice when she was interacting with the team she referred to them as "rowers" (or a "rowing" team). And no one on the team corrected her, but almost certainly that was merely being polite, and because she was feeding them they were willing to cut her slack; it is true that we'd be willing to overlook an unintentional slight when food is provided. (I have no doubt that whoever talked with the show's producer before the segment was shot had mentioned the paddling term but the budget must be so low that re-shooting for such a minor point, and one that has nothing to do with the focus of the show, would never be considered.)

However, for me, sitting in my living room with no food for me, I couldn't help but furrow my brow and think, It's not rowing.

It's not something over which I'd write an angry letter, but it certainly inspired this (as you can see).

You can take the boy out of padding, but you can't take the paddling out of the boy.

~

Here's the Diesel Fish blog about filming for the show.

"Black Friday"

2011-11-25T21:50:00.000-08:00

People may think "Black Friday" is named for how the sales put the stores' ledgers "in the black," but really it's named for the darkness that emerges from sleep-deprived shoppers in the wee hours of the morning (or perhaps even late hours of the evening on Thanksgiving itself), when violence seems perfectly justifiable against one's fellow shoppers as long as it's in the pursuit of bargains.

One can only hope this proves a ritual catharsis of sorts that gets it out of their system to allow for an actual period of peace on earth during the remainder of the holiday season.

A moment of sincere gratitude

2011-11-24T06:27:00.000-08:00

As we celebrate Thanksgiving in America today, I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge all of you who visit this little corner of the internet. Whether you're a regular visitor or whether you've merely come across my post about a big corn dog in a search, I really appreciate the time you've spent here.

For that I am truly thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving (or just happy Thursday to the rest of the world).

Commenting about commenting about TV

2011-11-23T09:25:00.000-08:00

There's no shortage of people writing about and commenting on various television shows on the various media available these days*, and even limited only to the areas of "new media" (internet, podcasts, social media) there's many people who devote much more time and energy to the shows they review and/or follow than I spend thinking that critically about the shows I watch.

That admitted, let's also acknowledge that the beauty of this era is that anyone who has even the slightest inclination can get his/her thoughts out there without needing to put all of that effort into a massive production… like, say, a TV show on any network.

The way the commentary about an "old guard" media bulwark (television) is best served (and perhaps only possible) on the new school outlets (ones that allow for mixed metaphors like that) could be seen as incongruous, but obviously it's only those efforts by producers and writers and actors and directors to put out their episodic narratives and the more laborious pace that what is produced could be worthy of commentary (where even the lengthiest amount of time spent preparing it is dwarfed by the amount of time that went into making that which inspired the commentary.

You probably know the expression about the value of opinions, and so we have perspective about the nature of this commentary, but even conceding that some opinions are more considered and more informed than others, I'd say the only reason that anyone gives a crap about anyone else's opinion of a TV show is that we grasp that in the end the only way someone else would give a crap about our opinion is if we give a crap about theirs.

(That applies not only to opinions of TV shows but to opinions in general, of course, but let's pretend we're staying on topic.)

But these days there's so many opinions out there, it's nigh impossible to track all the other opinions about (in this case) a given TV show. The best that one can do is make at least a modest effort to find some other opinions and acknowledge them in some way.

Because, really, all we want is that validation of seeing that someone else agrees with us. Or the sense of individuality if no one else does. Or both, just at different times.

It's not a matter of insecurity; it's merely that we invest in these narratives, and develop opinions based on that, and don't want those thoughts to be wasted solely on ourselves. Whether one posts a comment on a website or show's Facebook page, or tweets with a specific hash tag identifying the show, or composes a lengthier post of one's own with a more thorough analysis, all of these are striving to participate in a conversation with others who have made the same investment. Really, it's more or less yelling out into the void, and occasionally having someone else yell back who also gives a crap about the show.

But it's more than previous generations in the TV era had (before the internet). They simply had to limit their opinions to (gasp!) those in their immediate physical vicinity (or get a job at a newspaper). What a barbaric means of discussing the noteworthy shows of the day.

~

What, you were expecting this would go into my opinions about TV shows? There's no room on the internet for those...

~

* The notable exception of places with something devoted to discussing TV would be television itself—I suppose a TV show focused on nothing more than criticism of TV shows would be too tricky to produce, given the nature of what it takes to get something prepared, recorded, and on the air in a timely manner; and would it not be biting the hand that feeds in many respects?

Speaking out on... and to... the Occupy movement

2011-11-18T06:52:00.000-08:00

Thursday morning my wife saw the news covering how the protesters were organizing right out in front of the building and immediately got so concerned that she asked if I could just work from home until the protest was over. I reminded her that I have a dentist appointment (right across the street from the office). I then blurted out (without having seen the TV yet) that if the protests are now so actively dangerous that I cannot even go to work in the general vicinity of one that they're no longer a movement and merely a [expletive deleted] mob.

And that's from someone who was more or less empathetic to their cause.

Of course, when I actually walked over and looked at the TV there were less than 100 people, which paled in comparison to the actual march I witnessed at lunch a few weeks back. That was no cause for concern in my mind. Obviously when you get a large group of people together there's the potential for the situation to get out of hand, but these protests still seemed far safer than, say, it would have been at opening day at Dodger Stadium.

(Too soon?)

As the protests tout that they want everyone's voice to be heard, and so here's what I was thinking as I rode the train in to work:

I acknowledge the power of public assembly to send a message to the government and society, but I cannot help but suspect that the protests are on the verge of starting to backfire, or at least lose what efficacy they may have had. Even with encampments or protests being broken up by police with what in certain instances appeared to be hideously unnecessary violence, I don't get the impression that the portion of the "99%" who are not down at the protests is feeling more empathetic toward the movement. It's not that they're turning off to it, per se, but they aren't responding with a surge of outrage and turning the tide in a way that the politicians cannot ignore.

And for the people who aren't really on either side but who are just trying to get on with their lives, when a protest makes them late for work because the streets were blocked, that seems unlikely to persuade those people to be actively engaging on the side of the Occupy movement. I grant that the idea might be to get those folks to put pressure on the powers that be to work with the movement and comply with their demands, but it seems like it could just as likely inspire those folks to contact those powers to get the protests shut down.

I know it's easy for me, someone with a job, to essentially sit on the sidelines and be somewhat critical of those who are making efforts in support of what they passionately believe, but it's more or less because… I don't know why. It's not like I'm offering to advise them on what I think they should do. I don't know what would solve the problem. But I do think that even to the extent we understand what they want, I'm not sure them continuing to do what they have been doing is achieving that.

In short: Winning over people (many of whom would be in the "99%") by blocking them in traffic, especially here in L.A., probably is not the way to do it.

~

And here's a brief report on what I found after I got to Downtown:

My first stop was for a dentist appointment. The protesters had planted themselves on the street adjacent to that building where his office was. That didn't affect me, as I'd taken the train and walked, but his receptionist was not there when I arrived. During my cleaning she called twice (and he had to stop to go answer the phone—it's a small practice). Both times it was his receptionist calling to say she couldn't get through with the blocked streets. She finally arrived when my cleaning was over and I was leaving, 45 minutes late for work.

(She was not, as best I can tell, in any way responsible for the Wall Street bailouts, or the mortgage crisis, or the general state of the economy that has many others out of work. I'm pretty sure she's only part-time.)

As I was heading back to my building (one street over, away from the protesters) I went out to catch a glimpse of the protest. From an overhead bridge (filled with photographers) I could see protesters squatting in the street. Now, the police had closed off that part of the street well before the protesters got there, so rather than cars there were the Occupy protesters, a flatbed truck with drummers and a guy with a loudspeaker, and a lot of police officers. It appeared that some protesters were being taken away in handcuffs (and not being beaten or tazed beforehand; it seemed orderly on both sides), as I believe their assembly permit had expired and they weren't allowed to squat in the street. I snapped a quick photo with my phone (see above).

But before I headed back into the building I heard the guy with the loudspeaker saying what I presume was intended to be leading the crowd in a chant. And what was that precisely?

"Fight the power."

So, at least for that moment I was out there in its midst, the Occupy LA movement (at least the people who were claiming to be the "99%" in this instance) had devolved into a lackluster version of a Spike Lee movie.

(Too soon?)

~

I'm not saying things aren't hard out there. I know people who are out of work. I very much would like for someone to come up with a feasible plan for improving the lot of those who cannot afford to contribute massive amounts to politicians. And while I had to concede that the act of blocking a major boulevard in Downtown L.A. and chanting did succeed in garnering plenty of local media attention (the sky was filled with more helicopters than we have local TV stations), and there may be some value in showing those sitting at home that you haven't given up (given that clearly your goals have not been met), when it comes to getting your message out there when you have that spotlight, it does seem after all this time there should be no reason for you ever to have to fall back on "fight the power" at any point—pithy though it may be, unless you're advocating an overthrow of the government it seems to be drifting off bit from your actual complaint.

Which, by the way, appeared to be more about getting jobs for those who were out of work. Fair enough. But given that the majority of the people who would ordinarily use that boulevard (and had nothing to do with the inspiration for the movement) to get to their jobs could not do so, is keeping those chanting anything (even some of the undoubtedly better slogans that I didn't hear during my brief time near them) doing to get closer to some resolution to that problem?

Remember: Just because a skyscraper has at the top of it the name of a large bank or organization that does have culpability in the problems we're facing does not necessarily mean that there's actually a single person inside who had anything to do with it. Symbolism is all good and well, but those are the people you are annoying includes many who would be in the 99%, not the 1%.

~

I consider this whole thing to be a very grey area, where there's plenty of blame to go around, but I have to admit that for a movement that purports to represent 99% of us—by any measure a percentage that would be the epitome of what is the majority, what is mainstream—such actions aren't really bringing the actual majority of society into the fold. That, it seems to my simple mind, is something that eventually must happen if this movement is to achieve any of its aims.

So, Occupy movement: It's not that I want you to fail. I'm just saying I'm not sure you've figured out how to succeed yet, and if people are being made late for work while some of you are getting arrested, I'd like to believe you had.

But I welcome arguments to try to convince me that your occupying will lead to occupations. There's the comments area below...

GOP gaffes: What the Perry and Cain moments taught us

2011-11-16T06:31:00.000-08:00

Let's touch briefly on the "gaffes" by Rick Perry during the Republican debate last week and by Herman Cain two days ago during an interview.

That was no fodder for obvious mockery, nor for everyone had a good laugh about it. Let's acknowledge the reality of the situation: Everyone who was on the Perry bandwagon or the Cain bandwagon must be dissuaded by the lapse of memory or long pause; everyone who has dismissed Perry or Cain because of the incidents previously really considered them viable.

By no means was the only effect on the race to be the GOP nominee it might have had was allowing those who didn't consciously realize they didn't think Perry or Cain was the one to grasp that was how they actually thought.

Obviously it was not utterly meaningless, and the only reason we're (still) talking about it is clearly not because there's a bunch of outlets that need something to talk about and a bunch of people with need of something to discuss.

To any voter who was backing Perry or Cain and now has forsaken him over the goof alone: You are exactly the sort of voter who stay get to your polling place with all due haste on the day of your state's primary election. That's precisely the sort of capricious stuff that we really need more of in politics.

And for those voters who do actually regard a candidate's positions when deciding whom to support: What the hell is wrong with you?

Common Sense and the Medias

2011-11-13T11:18:00.000-08:00

On a recent Common Sense podcast ("Second-Guessing the Navigator"), Dan Carlin, somewhat in response to a piece by David Brooks in the New York Times about "red [state] inequality" (and the tacit goal of addressing societal problems), discussed how part of the problem we face is that those who are donating to the politicians and implicitly setting the agenda do not have an interest in, for example, improving education in America (especially when it allows for the excuse of outsourcing jobs under the guise that Americans are not educated enough). If the government is to solve these problems (and if not the government, then who?), who is setting the agenda to get the solved?

This is not going where you think it is, but before we get there, briefly I will note some other things he discussed in his monologue:

There's also the struggle between democracy (the will or the majority) and liberty (the freedom of the individual). The government needs to protect the minority from the majority, but what about when the minority is the mega-wealthy?

The 99% want the 1% to pay their fair share, but if the 99% could vote to make the 1% pay 99% of their income in taxes, would that be fair? Is the "tyranny of the majority" what keeps the powerful from getting and staying too powerful?

As he puts it, is it safer for everyone that power be in the hands of the 1% or in the hands of the 99%? Carlin isn't comfortable with either, but he is ready for there to be a change from the system we've had.

It's certainly a worthwhile listen, whether you agree with him or not.

But with all of that in the monologue, it wasn't as inspiring for me as the beginning of the podcast, before Carlin even started talking.

~

The show starts with an short introduction by the "announcer," not unlike one would have on radio (Carlin's background is in traditional media). [Listen to it here, and keep listening to the rest if you have time.]

In that introduction he used the phrase "If podcasting is like the other great medias…"—yes, with a clear "s" at the end of "media."

And I paused.

It's not that I fail to grasp that the common usage of "media" in contemporary parlance is as a collective singular noun ("people in the media," etc.), in this instance it clearly seemed to be reference other broadcast or print formats (presumably newspapers, radio, television, and so on), each of which is a medium and collectively would be the conventional plural of medium: media.

And yet there it was, in a clearly pre-recorded segment (with implicit intention): medias.

Taking an already plural word that seemed to be referring to the plural of different mediums rather than the collective singular and tacking an "s" on the end of it, presumably to make it extra plural. Except I don't think that was what was intended. I think it was first a conflation of collective "the media" for a bunch of mediums, and then thinking that somehow a term that encompasses everything (misused as it was) could be made plural.

It's not worth dwelling on the rhetorical aspects of it (as we've noted on many occasions), but there was something about this coming from a clearly intelligent person (whose show is ultimately about stopping and thinking about the issues we face) that did make me (as I mentioned) pause.

Perhaps it's an attempt at coining a new term (or rather, a new usage of an existing term), but I must say my common sense cannot listen to that and conclude there is no need for it, and it simply sounds awkward to my ear. It's his podcast and he can do as he wishes (and maybe this is part and parcel of being how he refers to himself, a "free thinker"), but I must say my free thinking (which admittedly is very influenced by convention in this case) doesn't think it something that should catch on.

I'm not so petty as to stop listening merely for that, of course, and all this really reveals more about me than it does about anything else, but I guess it does go to show that sometimes one undermines oneself (whether a bit or a lot) in tiny ways by tiny decisions (or oversights, depending on whether they were actually decisions or accidents).

Still, as one who listens to a number of podcasts (part of the "new media") partially because of the way it is not like traditional talk radio, I will admit that I listen in spite of that "announcer" at the beginning of each Common Sense. This one merely provided an active distraction for me, as this post is evidence of the way all of this kept me from listening for 20 minutes as I digressed about the terminology in the intro. Seriously.

Be happy you do not have my brain.

~

It is worth noting that at the tail end of the introduction the announcer, after comparing Carlin to Milton Berle and Orson Wells with a joke about how the current state of podcasting is akin to being a street performer trying to make a living off donations, quips that "new media is great."

So there is at least that modicum of consistency in the intro, with "media" as a singular term.

1/1/01, 2/2/02... 11/11/11: The eleventh day is the eleventh hour...

2011-11-11T21:34:00.000-08:00

As far as I'm concerned today was Veterans Day. It was payday. It was Friday (although I'll have to work from home over the weekend so it isn't really the end of the work week, but that's neither here nor there). However, by the (arbitrary) means by which we identify our years, it was also the 11th day of the 11th month of the 11th-numbered year in this century (but if you started the century—and millennium—on January 1, 2000, it's the twelfth year, but let's not digress about that), and by the way we truncate the first two digits off of years when thinking about dates, that made it "11/11/11" as well.

And there was no shortage of people who placed some level of importance on that. It may have been nothing more than noticing the symmetry of all the 11's and it may have been of great numerological significance, but one thing is certain: There was no avoiding hearing someone mention it. (I heard it on the morning news, and then noticed it trending on Twitter, and that was all before I even got in the shower.)

The same thing has been happening for over a decade in the first part of the 21st century. January 1, 2001. February 2, 2002. March 3, 2003. And so on up through today. Each year since that first of January in 2001 has had the one day where the way we date our checks* (well, with the month as its numeric equivalent, and the year narrowed to only the non-zero part of the last two digits) has had such a day where all three numbers were the same, and every time it's been something considered at least noteworthy for the reason the numbers were all the same.

After 11 of these now, I have to say: The novelty has worn off. And thus now I am filled with a certain anticipation of next year's December 12, which will be touted as "12/12/12" by most but for me will be touted as the last time this century anyone can blather on about the numerical symmetry.

That's not suggesting some won't still find reasons to talk about dates by their numbers, but they will have to try harder. I can imagine in 2013 someone will make a big deal out of November 12. (Think about it for a second.) But there will be no more all-three-the-same days until we get to 2101—which, not to be maudlin, but I don't expect I'll still be around to see.

So there you go, people. You have given me cause to be happy the average human lifespan doesn't extend to 132 years.

(* Not that I write that many checks anymore, with online bill pay, but I long ago adopted the habit of dating checks in what I'm led to believe is the style of the military. For example, the rent check I wrote back at the beginning of this month was dated "1 Nov 2011," so for me, any check I wrote today would not have "11/11/11" up on the line for the date. But that's just me.)

A Rock-y time

2011-11-10T21:33:00.001-08:00

On a recent WTF podcast Marc Maron interviewed Chris Rock, and as expected it was a good interview which I certainly recommend if you like Chris Rock even slightly.

Toward the end they touched on Rock having dinner with Woody Allen, and Rock alluded to how Allen was big on the president, which led Maron to ask Rock his opinion of Obama.

(Stick with me.)

Rock said he was fine with the president; like everybody he wished for more action, but he noted how all presidents' first terms are essentially four years of running for a second term, at which point they can actually do something. He referenced how even with George W. Bush it wasn't until the second term that he could "really fuck up the world," so perhaps in a second term Obama could really "do some gangsta shit" (euphemism for actually accomplish something, I presumed).

(Egad, I'm not presenting this part of the interview well. Please keep reading anyway.)

He also mentioned how Bush was the first president we've had who really was only the president of those who'd voted for him; he was basically a niche president, appealing only to a specific group. And especially in his second term he really didn't give a shit about those who weren't on his side.

What really annoyed those on the Democratic side was how Obama was back to trying to compromise and be the president of everyone, rather than being the counter to Bush. What they want, he noted, is not justice but revenge.

And it occurred to me that such might be the biggest challenge to Obama getting re-elected might prove to be: Those on the left wishing that Obama would give up on trying to compromise and instead be just their president for a term. It's seeming pretty clear that the GOP isn't going to have an inspiring candidate (whoever gets the nomination) but the Republican base will vote for whoever is on the ballot, and the Democrat base will vote with the hope that Obama will become what they want, and the election will come down to the independents, and if they conclude the president is simply too out of step with the times with his (futile) attempts for broad appeal, then there might be an inclination to see if putting a Republican in the White House results in at least something happening with the House.

I don't see any GOP candidate really beating Obama; I merely see the possibility of Obama losing on his own.

I wish the times still allowed for a reasonable man in the Oval Office, but I'm not sure the country is set to deal with that anymore.

(I should clarify the majority of the interview had nothing to do with politics, and Rock wasn't speaking passionately about it during this small portion where he glibly touched on it. I was merely identifying the roundabout means that inspire these thoughts that pop into my head.)

Two spaces after a period. Period.

2011-11-08T21:54:00.000-08:00

While trying to find something unrelated I came across a piece from back in January composed by the Slate technology editor wherein he decried the use of two spaces after a period at the end of a sentence as "wrong!" He blathers on about how it bothers him when people think it proper and eventually gets around to some modicum of a supporting argument when he references how typographers apparently decided long ago to go with a single space, and mentions how much the use of two spaces appears to bother them. He mentions how with typewriters in the 20th century and their monospace typefaces the use of two spaces came into practice, but contends that when they changed to have typefaces that accommodated variable width characters it should have stopped.

He closes with an attempt at declaring the aesthetics of a single space as proving its worth; it's all arbitrary, he concedes, but we should go with the standards the professionals agree upon.

At no point does he make an effort to understand why those who prefer two spaces do so; in his mind it is a clear case of stupidity, and he arrogantly dismisses that there could be any justification for it in his tone throughout.

Although it isn't possible here on the blahg, if you were to see my typing outside of here you'd notice that I am a strong proponent of two spaces after a sentence. I was taught that way back in high school in typing class, but the reason I continue to do so is the flip side of his aesthetics argument: I happen to think two spaces looks better, that it better differentiates the beginning of a sentence from an abbreviation. I know I'm pressing the space bar more than absolutely necessary, but the thing is: That's my goddamn right as an American. In my personal compositions I can do whatever the fuck I want, and as long as it doesn't distort the meaning it should not be considered "wrong"; it could be seen as archaic, sure, or as superfluous, or not what HTML will accommodate, but calling it "wrong" is so f*cking self-righteous that I want to put two spaces in him (if you catch my drift).

But I think the best reason to continue using two spaces is simple and eloquent: It pisses off these arrogant pricks who think their standards should be applied not only in their professional or academic roles but in every possible fucking place, and anything I can do to piss them off I will keep doing as long as I have fingers and there are keyboards with a space bar.

Anyone who doesn't want to use two spaces can just use one. Doesn't bother me in the slightest. But then, I have this ridiculous belief that of all the shit that people can do to mess up communication that is not one where we need draconian enforcement one way or the other.

Besides, getting worked up over what others do is merely a recipe for making oneself miserable. You're welcome to that, dipshits. Enjoy.

Just shut the f*ck up about the rest of us.

~

The fact that I came across this nearly ten months after its initial posting does show how, for a medium that seems so disposable and of the moment only, the internet really can have a remarkable shelf life, as long as one sticks with topics that will remain debate-worthy and ultimately irresolvable.

Commenting on the events of the day can cease to be interesting even the next day, and that's partially why I don't bother with that. Also, that requires being much more keeping on top of events and forming responses to them very quickly. Obviously that ain't gonna happen when it's me.

Still, there's something about the potential for people to read something months or even years later and still find it worth reading that is to what any writer would aspire—even if it does nothing more than piss them off.

Perhaps especially if it still pisses them off.

Waking up from Standard Time

2011-11-07T22:05:00.000-08:00

Everyone touts the "extra hour of sleep" we get from resuming Standard Time in the autumn (after months of Daylight Savings Time) but that's only of benefit to those whose sleep patterns comply with waking up at the moment the clock strikes a particular moment. If one has regular sleeping patterns, it merely means that when one is accustomed to waking up one finds the clock reading an hour earlier than one was expecting it would be. It also means that the Sunday night after the "fall back" one gets tired at an hour earlier than one is expecting to want to go to bed.

Thus, that's not really of general benefit.

Say what you will about whether Daylight Savings Time is a good idea or not, but the thing that the practice offers those of us who live in areas where it is observed do get this first workday after the switch to Standard Time. The hour seems later to our circadian rhythm than the clock says it is, and at least for me, it proves so easy for me to get out of bed—not merely on time but (dare I say) early.

Frankly, from the sense of being ahead of the game on this one morning a year I find myself thinking, This is so great that we should "fall back" every weekend. Imagine how easy getting up Mondays would be if only we threw off our body clocks this way all the time.

Cilantro'd

2011-11-06T20:13:00.000-08:00

Over on the photo site, you can see how this cilantro...

...turns into flowers like this:

Click here to see it.

We need teepee for our TV-hole

2011-11-03T07:33:00.000-07:00

Beavis and Butthead returned to MTV last week, and my wife recorded it. I had heard about it, of course, and I had no disinterest in seeing it, but seeing it on the DVR queue was something of of surprise; being MTV I figured it would be something I'd simply come across while flipping through the guide (the digital era equivalent of flipping through channels just to see what's on), which is pretty much how I saw the first incarnation of the show back in the mid-'90s. It wasn't something I sought; it was something I encountered.

There was something about that process of happening upon it and finding it entertaining enough to keep me from changing the channel that, I must admit, elicits a certain level of nostalgia in me. I have extolled the virtue of this time of DVR technology, and do find it amazing compared to the "good ol' days" (which, in this instance, were merely about a decade ago), but there is something about the ease of programming one's own viewing by recording shows that makes recording something like Beavis and Butthead seem not quite right. I won't say it's wrong, but it's merely not applicable to foreplanning with the DVR. It's not, per se, the sort of show where, when scrolling through the hours and hours of shows we have records, it would elicit in us that urgency to watch it when we have so many other options.

The show was essentially a paean to that time when one would watch MTV (or any channel) for hours on end because in the middle of the day there'd be nothing else on. And while it's not that such things cannot still occur, between recorded shows, on-demand, and online content, it's difficult to really feel like there's no other options at any time of day or night.

Some shows are the sort one notices a show is on and has that inspiration to watch it right then, and one can tune in part way through without missing anything (because there's no larger narrative to need to have seen the beginning; Beavis and Butthead was always such a show, because it was mocking the pop culture of the time, and the stories between the mocking were not so convoluted that one could not grasp the plot (or even need to grasp it) to get the jokes. Frankly, sometimes it was better consumed with only seeing a little bit of it at a time.

I presume the new show that premiered last week was in that same vein. I say "presume" because, despite it being right there on the DVR queue, we haven't quite found ourselves inclined to actively choose to watch it. That's the trouble (as it were) with DVRs; there's no level of watching something without intention.

That might be the real reason resurrecting Mike Judge's brilliant idiots won't work for us in 2011: the type of viewing we do now requires a dedication to still want to watch it when it's not merely what is on.

(If you were expecting some analysis of whether the show has any relevance in this age, given how pop culture has changed since the '90s, I must offer only apologies. Obviously I'd need to have actually watched it in order to offer that. I'm sure eventually there'll be some weekend when I'm scrolling the guide for something to occupy a little while between watching recorded shows and MTV will be airing an episode of Beavis and Butthead, and I'll switch to it. Then I'll report back.

Unless some other channel is showing Office Space at the same time, that is.)

Intercourse the Penguin! (the annual Halloween costume recap)

2011-11-02T06:27:00.000-07:00

Saturday night we attended the same Halloween party we have for years. The hosts select a theme (which in past years have been Alfred Hitchcock and a 1920's speakeasy), and this year's was... Monty Python's Flying Circus. So when my wife and I saw that on the invitation, we put some effort into crafting appropriate costumes.

And for reasons that I cannot explain, the first sketch that came to mind as inspiration for mine was the one with the one with the exploding penguin on the top of the TV, where Graham and John (as pepper pots) listen to the radio drama "The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots." (Thanks to YouTube it's easy enough to find.)

Would I dress in drag and be one of the ladies? No. Would I be the penguin? Not exactly. I'd be… well, let me back up.

Notice the scorch marks on the belly.

The costume she made was a TV front and a papier-mâché penguin. The initial plan was that the TV front would get glued to a shirt that I'd wear, and the penguin be attached to my shoulder. However, the logistics of keeping the penguin up on my shoulder made us revise the idea so the TV would be lower and the penguin would be attached to the top of it.

She spent hours and hours, going to multiple stores to get parts to make the TV, and paints for the penguin, and even got a screen shot of Terry Jones from the broadcast to be what was the image on the TV I'd be wearing. It was quite a production, and an impressive feat.

Everyone at the party was very impressed with it (as well they should have been). Nobody recognized the skit in question when they saw it, and even after brief explanations it generally still drew blank expressions. But everyone thought the craftsmanship that went into the construction was amazing.

Yes, we burned holes in the shirt.

The attendees tended not to be Python aficionados, so there weren't that many others who dressed to the theme. My intention to pick a costume that was obscure enough that no one else would also be wearing it was, on that point, successful, but also proved way more effort than necessary, and ultimately backfired more than it wowed as I suppose I'd hoped it would.

Certainly there's merit in doing something as well as one can, and the costume provided my wife an outlet for her creativity, but still, I think next year I'll try to have an idea that doesn't involve so much trouble.

Her costume, for the record, was as a lumberjack (featuring the much better known song). That involved no construction (although some purchase of items for wardrobe). And people recognized it (or at least didn't have to ask what it was).

Eh. Next year...

~

Monday, for the office, I went with a different Python skit, one which I expect nobody will recognize but I knew it would succeed on a simple sight gag that didn't rely on familiarity with the source material. And one will involved no makeup, nor wearing of anything I didn't already have in the closet.

If only we'd been smart enough to go with this for the party…

And here it is:

In case you don't get it, please review this video:

Almost NSFW. But then, I barely am the rest of the year.

~

(To see past years' costumes, click here.)

Knowing when to say goodbye (Chuck and the Simpsons)

2011-10-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

On the latest Talking TV with Ryan and Ryan podcast, critics Ryan McGee and Mo Ryan discussed the final season of Chuck (which starts Friday night). Both are fans of the show, and were on the one hand pleased to get a fifth season (they'd seen screeners for the first three episodes at time of recording), there was still that extent to which everyone was surprised that NBC had renewed the show at all.

The ratings have never been great, and it's only through fan outpouring that it lasted as long as four seasons. Given the way the fourth season concluded, with resolutions for the major character situations, it seemed pretty clear that the producers figured they needed to wrap it up; there was little interpreting that they expected a fifth season. And as such, the show did a good job of wrapping it up.

Let them go, Chuck fans.

Ryan mentioned how fans have already asked if there was any chance that NBC might extend the season from the 13 episodes that were ordered. At that, McGee admitted he hoped that didn't happen; conceivably the writers came up with an outline for where to take the season, knowing that they had 13 shows and a definite ending, and to reconfigure that to come up with another ending or to pad out the middle ultimately might not be what was best for the show. As he put it, at some point the desire for more episodes (while understandable) becomes merely selfish.

I have long held the opinion that I'd rather see a well done story with a satisfying ending, where the creators tell the story and then get out. I grant that if a network is willing to dump a pile of money at you to keep going with the show even after you'd told that story then there's little begrudging a creator from taking it. There's always the possibility that another good idea might come up. However, and I concede this is overly idealistic, there's still that part of me that wishes the creator would have the good idea first and then take the pile of money for it. That's not how the system works, but a guy can dream.

The one unarguable thing, in my mind, is that a show that drags on longer than the creators have good ideas only serves to denigrate the time when the show was strong. I think every show has an expiration date, and the wise ones grasp when that is and wrap up the story before passing that point. Those shows that don't heed it then require talking about them with an asterisk; referencing them as "good" involves the tacit caveat that one is dismissing the latter part where the inspiration wasn't as strong. It doesn't have to involve "jumping the shark" (as in where the writers clearly have hit rock bottom, idea-wise) but merely that discernible lowering of the quality of inspiration, episode after episode, for the whole season.

Not that I'm saying this completely applies, but I can't help but think of The Simpsons. I still consider myself very much a Simpsons fan, and have seen every single episode since they started, and will keep watching every week as long as they keep airing. It's not that I have grown to dislike the show; there's still some element of genuine enjoyment I derive from it.

But if I'm completely honest, there's a part of me that wishes it wouldn't come back, that when Fox announces their fall lineup that it won't be there anymore; its heyday passed several years ago. (I haven't done an analysis to say when that precisely occurred, nor do I find myself inclined to deconstruct it thusly; it's merely that general sense of how long it's been since I watched a new episode and was left with the impression it was a really strong one (I may draw caveats for the "Treehouse of Horror" episodes, the latest of which premieres this Sunday).

As a person who cares about the show, I find myself not wanting it to carry on to the point where watching becomes a chore, done out of a sense of completist obligation only. I don't think it's going to have a renaissance—no offense to the current creative staff—and I'd prefer they figure out how they'd like the series to go out, and have that finale on their terms.

They can keep making movies every few years, and I think continuing the "Treehouse of Horror" ones as a special each Halloween would be great, but as a weekly series I would prefer they stop sooner than later; they're already the longest-running comedy and animated show, so there's not really records left to break.

Fox will keep renewing it as long as it's profitable, and when it's not they'll pull the plug without remorse. I'm sure there's more to it from a legal standpoint, but I'm not an attorney or accountant for Matt Groening; I'm a fan, and that's the perspective I have on it. I'm not suggesting I expect any of this will happen, but I can still hope.

Eventually I'm sure this may work itself out, as the era of broadcast networks merges into the era of DVR viewing and TV mingling with the internet as the delivery method. The notion of a fall season with a 22-episode commitment may become archaic to future generations. It's already becoming common for networks to have midseason replacements of limited runs, and perhaps someday what's the sort of BBC model of short-but-inspired seasons that come up when the creators have them ready may become a standard. That also might allow networks to allow shows to finish their runs without panicking and pulling the plug after initial sluggish ratings, as it won't be long until they can replace it with some crappy reality show that pulls in a reliable viewership for a while.

But whatever the future holds, that won't change my preference for a show I like to find its high note to go out on… and for the creators to have the brains and integrity to go out on it.

(Silly idealism. Where did I get this? Clearly not from watching TV.)

But let's start a trend now, Chuck producers, and don't do it, no matter what NBC may offer. Take your 13 more episodes and ride off into your sunset. Don't pass the intersect on to Lester (or Jay Leno, as they may suggest), no matter how big the pile of money, no matter how the fans may petition you (or offer to buy more Subway sandwiches). Just go.

An open letter to Jason Segel

2011-10-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

Mr. Segel,
My wife and I are fans of you as an actor. We liked you in Freaks and Geeks. We enjoy you on How I Met Your Mother. We thought you were charming in Forgetting Sarah Marshall and appreciated the different sort of character you played in I Love You, Man. We are looking forward to your upcoming Muppets feature film and likely will go see it opening weekend. In short, we are on the Segel bandwagon.

For that reason, I must ask that you please exert some discretion in the roles you accept to play. I think we deserve that.

Over the weekend we watched Bad Teacher on DVD. It didn't look good from the ads, nor did it get good reviews. The primary reason we rented it was because you were in it—because, as I just noted, we are fans of you.

And despite your inclusion in the film, that was pretty much a waste of an hour and a half.

Yeah, we found it as interesting as you did.

I'm not saying it was your fault that the script was such crap and utterly lacking in anything other than a hackneyed plot and jokes (the sort one would expect in a direct-to-video release like American Pie 17). I'm not saying you weren't given a mediocre character with limited screen time, because you were. I'm not saying that had you tried harder that it would have salvaged the movie; there is nothing you could have done to put a shine on that turd. I'm not saying that I'm pleased you seemed to be phoning it in, but I can't say that I blame you once you were on set.

However, based on what I saw I was struck by the impression you knew it was not going to be good. You grasped going in what you were dealing with and, once you'd signed the contract and gotten the paycheck, dealt with it in what would be an appropriate manner. But you should never have signed on to be involved with that crap.

I'm not saying it wasn't below merely you; the entire cast was filled with talented actors (and with Cameron Diaz as well) who were wasted. Young Mr. Timberlake, who has proven himself very funny on his SNL hosting duties, is still new enough to acting that he must take what he can. John Michael Higgins cannot wait around for Christopher Guest projects forever. Lucy Punch is no household name. Phyllis Smith has only The Office. Thomas Lennon can't live off Reno: 911 royalties. (Eric Stonestreet must have done this before his Emmy for Modern Family.) I could go on, but I think you get the point.

I'm not suggesting you're up there in the George Clooney/Angelina Jolie realm, and frankly I hope you never get there. Your down-to-earth personality is your strength, and please never lose that. We don't want you to get full of yourself, but we do want to be clear that there is a happy middle ground between that and just taking anything offered. You've had hit movies. You have a TV show in syndication. You don't seem like the sort whose blowing his money on hookers and blow. You don't need the money that badly, do you?

Perhaps the first version of the script was funnier, and rewrites ruined it. I doubt that, but I'll concede I didn't see what you saw when you agreed to take the role, and will allow for the possibility it seemed like it would be better.

But it wasn't.

What's done is done. All actors have some clunkers in their body of work, and Bad Teacher will be one of yours. It may not be the last one. That's okay. We're still fans. But in the future, please do try to be more discerning in what you agree to do. You can write your own scripts, as we've seen. If something must suck, at least let it be yours. We'll still be with you if you try and fail, but if you take these lousy roles in others' crap you'll only be pushing us slowly off the Segel bandwagon.

Nobody wants that.

We believe you have a bright future. Don't let that go to your head completely, but do let it go to your head enough that you don't just do something for a paycheck. You don't need to have hardcore integrity, but you do need to use your brain before you sign the contract. That's all.

Keep up the good work.

Yours sincerely (no, really),
Doug and Doug's wife

Picasso'd

2011-10-25T22:32:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend we were at the LA County Museum of Art and in the modern art collection there were a couple of sculptures by Picasso (whose birthday is today).

Of course, when I was looking at them, I couldn't help but think, He never got called an asshole.

I'm so freakin' cultured.

A strawberry from the beginning

2011-10-23T21:17:00.000-07:00

Over on the photo site, I've resumed posting some shots from the garden (remember this?), starting with this subject:

In case you don't recognize it, this is the early stage of a strawberry. See what came of it here.

Occupied with the Occupying

2011-10-21T07:52:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks back I talked about my direct experience with the Occupy L.A. protests, and that topic clearly has only gained more traction in the public consciousness...

Tuesday's The Daily Show includes this genius piece where John Oliver covers the Occupy Wall Street protests and how the protesters that were get the most attention were the freakishly dressed ones rather than the rational-looking ones, and how that undermines the message in the media.

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At the end he sits in a bar with some people of (what we'll call) regular appearance who discuss the topic in a calm manner. They all support the movement, but when Oliver mentions they are the sort who should be the ones down there at the protest getting the attention they all note how they had to get home to the kids, or to work, or just home to watch the Jets game.

And I think: Such is the problem with the 99%: We don't like what's going on with the financial sector or the government, but we have lives and cannot camp out in a park for weeks on end.

~

On this week's Culture Gabfest podcast they also touch on the Occupy Wall Street movement, but all I wish to mention from that conversation is how at one point one of the panelists alludes to the difficulty of protests on "the left" is the challenge of having a specific message (because so many want to insert their specific issue into the mix).

And I think: As soon as the movement that purports to represent "the 99%" who are not the wealthiest—a distinction based on income—becomes associated with one side of the political spectrum, that narrows the representation by affiliation down significantly, rendering it only applicable to (at best) roughly half of the people.

~

On the latest Common Sense episode, Dan Carlin breaks down how the media manipulates the narrative of the protests by focusing not on the "regular" people marching but on the freakish ones to make it seem foolish (they did the same thing with the Tea Party protests, and Carlin suggests that's been the template for decades—and if foolish won't fly as a story, then make it seem elitist, or even dangerous) and make the protests seem out of step with average Americans—as he puts it, the insurance salesman won't want to align himself with the hardcore folks in the costumes, even if there's actually a bunch of folks in regular dress who merely don't get on camera. That's part of why some people don't join, but he knows from his background that there's no small level of manipulation of the visuals presented—not necessarily out of a conspiracy but because that's what gets ratings.

He then notes that part of what makes the protest off-putting to people—the lack of a specific message—is also what allows a lot of people who are involved to stay in, because that allows every participant to interpret the message as he/she fits; as soon as a more defined message is out there, the people will peel off as they realize that message is not theirs. That's also what prevents the media and the pundits from having a specific message to mock and tear down. It's as much of a strength as it is a liability.

He does suggest there could be a simple message of repairing the broken system that most agree our government is, and keeping it only to that then it would be easy to garner mainstream support and be a difficult message to mock or take apart by the establishment.

He then offers unsolicited advice to the Occupy movement: Don't let the Democratic Party operatives co-opt your movement the way the Republicans got the Tea Party, as that merely gives one side's pundits to more easily dismiss your message.

And I think: Precisely.

Carlin notes that while there was plenty that those considered "Wall Street" certainly had done plenty to warrant ire against them, making them the focus in the name of the movement was not addressing the problem of government corruption and our elected representatives going along not with the will of the people but with the requests of their campaign contributors, because there's plenty of other special interest groups besides big corporations. Also, no small measure of responsibility lay at the feet of the president, whose performance in office could not help but prove disillusioning to those who were moved by his rhetoric during the campaign. Those who are taking to the streets in these protests seem, at least in part, spurred on by disappointment in what they were led to believe back in 2008 and how the promise of change largely has been a delivery of the status quo.

~

And I think: It is likely Obama set the bar too high. Rookie mistake. Should be interesting to see how this all plays out as he must start campaigning for re-election. If he has learned anything, he'll play it low-key and rely on the GOP's inability to find a candidate who would be embraced by those who were disillusioned, getting a second term more or less by default. And then when he doesn't have to worry about getting re-re-elected, maybe he can dedicate himself to being the leader that was suggested four years earlier, and become the representative of the actual 99%.

It's clear that the Republican nominee won't be Ron Paul, so that's probably a reasonable strategy.

~

Recapping: I did vote for Obama, but at no point did I overlook the fact he was a politician. Thus, at no point was I disillusioned; I never had illusions that he would live up to the highest aspirations of the campaign. And that is perhaps part of why I haven't taken to the streets.

As I've said, my cynicism is not admirable but it's what decades of experience has armed me with.

Spared

2011-10-19T21:22:00.000-07:00

I don't pretend to know the solution to the homeless problem. Where I live and, even more so, where I work, I encounter them with some regularity, and typically I address the situation by not having any change on my person as I'm walking, so if I get a panhandler soliciting any "spare change" I can reply honestly that I don't have any change. Consider that a chickenshit technicality if you wish.

I'm not saying that I've never given such a person some coins if I happened to have some in my pocket, however. I am fully aware that doing so is not really doing anything more than enabling their pitiful circumstances and it's rewarding the wrong behavior, but there are moments when it's not easy being the complete asshole it takes to have no empathy for someone who probably slept on a sidewalk the night before, especially when I have those coins jingling in my pocket.

But I'll tell you what makes that easy.

This past weekend my wife and I stopped at a nearby drugstore. Hovering outside was a man whom we had t pass as we walked from the car to the front door. My wife ignored his plea for spare change when we came out, but I caught his eye and felt compelled to offer a non-committal, "We'll see." I knew at that moment that I was likely blowing him off, but if I happened to buy something I might consider giving him the bits of a dollar left over.

I didn't buy anything inside, so I didn't get any change.

On our way out my wife starting taking the long way around to get back to the car, clearly to avoid the man, and I followed. The man, of course, saw us and said, "Helll-oooooo," in a snotty tone that suggested I'd promised him something and I was squirming out of an obligation. I replied, "I don't have any change"—because I didn't—and he exhaled exasperatedly. After I got in the car I finished that sentence: "…and with that attitude I wouldn't give you any even if I did."

(I didn't feel like bothering to be more confrontational. Not worth the trouble that undoubtedly would have followed.)

I'm not saying it isn't humiliating to have to resort to begging outside a drugstore or anywhere one might do that, and assuming that he wasn't faking it (I know there are those who do that) I can appreciate how frustrating it must be to get the dismissive reactions that must be prevalent. But when someone actually treats you like a human being and acknowledges you, that is not putting any sort of onus on that person. And being an even bigger asshole is only ensuring that you won't be treated like a human in the future.

I've come across panhandlers who clearly seemed to be in far more dire circumstances than this idiot, and in instances where that person was gracious and thanked me even when I didn't give him anything, I have made a mental note that if I ever see that individual again that he's got the sort of attitude worth rewarding. On the off-chance that I have change in my pocket at the time.

And for this idiot? Oh, a mental note was made, but not one he would like. He won't be forgotten. He'll be ignored, but not forgotten.

~

That won't solve the problem. Giving them something (rarely) or not giving them something (most of the time) hasn't stopped there from being people begging.

Probably nothing I ever do as an individual will make that happen. That's not shirking any level of responsibility, but acknowledging the role I ultimately play.

And it keeps me very motivated to keep my job.

Reading the past

2011-10-18T21:40:00.000-07:00

If I could go back to myself some 20 years ago, I think the one thing I'd try to encourage my college-aged self to do would be to actually read all the books assigned in my university courses, not merely get through them just enough to get the paper written. It seemed okay at the time, especially given that I was working full-time to put myself through school, so I had limited time for reading that wasn't for pleasure, and because I read slowly and couldn't keep up with the pace assigned in most classes, and I always got the gist well enough to get good grades on the papers. I'm not apologizing for that.

It's not so much that I'd necessarily be any better off in my life now, but I'd avoid the minor regret that I didn't make better use of the time in my life when I might have actually read these books.

I mean, it's merely having done what I was supposed to have done; I doubt it would have changed my destiny in any significant way, and thus not thrown off the timeline that led me to where I am. That's what I'd want: to avoid making a change that would significantly alter the likelihood of ending up married to my wife.

Which involves little reading, I should admit.

Considering the tragedy in Seal Beach

2011-10-13T22:16:00.000-07:00

Wednesday a heavily armed man went on a shooting spree in a hair salon where his ex-wife worked, killing her and seven others in the shop. What made that more of note for me than other such senseless tragedies was this occurred in Seal Beach, a place I've visited many times (and which would only be a little over a ten-minute drive from where we live), but it wasn't merely a local story; it garnered attention on the national news because of how unimaginably awful it was.

This is the sort of event that unnerves everyone, whether or not one knew any of the victims or was a patron of the salon. There is obvious empathy for those who lost loved ones in what, by all accounts, appears to be the crazed act of a madman. (Early speculation suggests he may have been upset over having to share custody of their 9-year-old son with the ex-wife. Well, he won't have to worry about that anymore, but he also won't have any custody of the son, as undoubtedly he'll be in prison or an institution—perhaps for the rest of his life, or at least well until the son is grown.) But beyond that it's all about putting yourself in that scenario and imagining how horrific it would be.

There's the standpoint of you or your loved one merely being at the place of business, minding your own business, and having this rampage erupt without any warning. There's also the standpoint of the wife, and falling in love with and having a child with someone without foreseeing what sort of monstrous acts to which he would resort far down the road after the marriage didn't work out.

And then there's the part that we dare not consider consciously, but still it's in there, lurking in the back of our sub-consciousness: Could we ever be driven by circumstances (real or imagined) to such hideous, ruthless actions? Even to the extent it lurks into any awareness we immediately dismiss that possibility; of course we'd never get to that state, no matter how bad things got.

But way deeper, there's no getting around the worry (almost completely unconscious) that the individual who gunned down all these people yesterday thought the exact same thing years ago.

There's no law or waiting period that can prevent tragedy when the darkest part of the human psyche bests the better angels of our nature. Somewhere we all know that but in order to make it through our days we cannot dwell on that, and we must conduct our lives as though everything is going to be, if not okay, at least not hideously tragic. Stories like this prevent us from being able to operate in that necessary oblivion, and that's why they are the most terrifying of all.

Our saving grace is that we can always, eventually, get back to that. We must. We have no choice.

Welcome to the Occupation

2011-10-12T06:46:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday I went to lunch and found myself amidst the protesters who'd assembled in downtown for the "Occupy Los Angeles" event. I didn't realize that was happening before I left the office, but as soon as I noticed the presence of security personnel outside each of the nearby buildings I put together what was happening before I actually saw the protesters.

By the time I was walking back from lunch they'd pretty well taken over a good portion of the Bunker Hill part of downtown, streaming across streets and marching in front of the entrances to buildings with the large letters spelling out "Wells Fargo" and "Bank of America" at the top. They carried signs and chanted "Make banks pay!" as they marched. I don't know how many there were but it was easily hundreds just from what I could see.

The buildings went into a sort of lockdown prior to the arrival of the protesters, in some cases barricading their entrances with security, and only allowing those with proper employee IDs to go in. By and large the protesters seemed unthreatening (at no point was I worried when I was walking somewhat near them); the closest to any modicum of vandalism I saw: a few of them at the start did wrap some sort of "caution" tape around the handles to the outside doors of the B of A branch in the building named for that bank (undoubtedly those doors had been locked from the inside prior to those protesters arrival).

By the time I returned to work I saw the media assembling, with hovering helicopters overhead. I had no interest in sticking around—that's not a comment on the protest; I simply have way too many projects right now.

~

The thing about all of this: Although I do find myself generally empathetic toward the sentiment of the protest, and take no pleasure in knowing that irresponsible greed on Wall Street had to be rescued by my tax dollars, I must admit that watching the protesters I wasn't particularly moved; I observed with a certain ambivalent fascination of the spectacle. I'm not saying that's in any way laudable, but if I'm being honest that's all it was. In theory I grasp the power of the people uniting against injustice is more or less the story of how our country started—even though I'm pretty sure it was that a bunch of rich guys didn't want to give so much of their wealth to the British crown. (In a way, Wall Street was carrying on the underlying origins of our nation, despicable as it was.)

Do I think that the institutions that got bailed out two years ago should have to pay back the American taxpayer? Absolutely. Do I think there's a chance in hell they'd do that without merely getting their customers—many of whom presumably are those same taxpayers—to foot the bill? No.

So, I have no idea what any sort of solution is.

Have everyone pull their money out of the banks? As much of a message as that would send, that would bring about more chaos than the system could handle.

Conceivably the only way to address the situation would be: time travel back a few years and somehow convince these institutions not to be so greedy (and I suspect perfecting time travel would be the easier of those two steps to achieve).

If the American public could to be convinced that carrying so much debt that they cannot possibly afford is a bad idea that might stem their part of what brought on the previous economic collapse, but it would be unlikely to ever raise their standard of living again. Can we be shaken from the delusion that everything has to keep getting better—and more important, to be okay with that?

I suppose what I'm admitting is that when it comes to the power of the people united to stop injustice I grasp in many cases it's at best a cathartic gesture; any lingering idealism cannot best my pragmatic cynicism.

But we can all make individual choices to be more realistic about our money, and little by little that may amount to something.

~

If the protests convince the politicians who can do something (assuming those aren't merely theoretical) to do something that's more than lip service it will prove worthwhile. And when that doesn't happen…

If the occupiers can get themselves organized into a group with the same sort of clout that the Tea Party garnered then that would be a tangible result. (How they expect to get there without any wackjobs in their midst comparing anyone to Hitler during these protests is beyond me, however.)

But hey, if all that comes of this is the folks involved vent some steam, I suppose that's not completely a waste.

~

Anyway, for those who have strong feelings (one way or another), there's the comments field below...

Breaking up with 2 Broke Girls

2011-10-10T06:59:00.000-07:00

Really, girls--it's over.

It's Monday and I know what I won't be doing tonight: watching any more episodes of the new sitcom 2 Broke Girls. Now that I've given up on the show I must admit it is comforting.

Going in to this fall's TV season I was flummoxed about how Whitney Cummings—a comedian whose act I did not care for—could be involved in creating her eponymous sitcom (which looked hideous) and the aforementioned one (which seemed like it could have potential, although that was mostly due to the actress starring in it, Kat Dennings). The incongruity of this was subconsciously troubling.

So now, after having seen all three episodes of 2 Broke Girls and having seen at least most of the first two episodes of Whitney that have aired so far, I can rest easier and never bother with either, because neither is the sort of show that appeals to me. (Sadly, I must admit that I've come closer to laughing during Whitney.)

There is no cognitive dissonance to resolve regarding someone I don't think is funny having two shows and one of them being funny, because neither is.

My condolences to Ms. Dennings, as 2 Broke Girls has already been picked up for a full season, so she's stuck with that crap until at least next spring. She deserves better, but hey, every actor makes some bad choices, and those bad ones don't always get cancelled to let the actor off the hook.

And if TV execs mistakenly start thinking they should allow Ms. Cummings to create more shows, I'll know ahead of time: Don't even bother.

Thank you, TV. Order is restored. And this frees up my Monday night viewing after How I Met Your Mother to get to something... anything... else.

Politicians aren't talking to me

2011-10-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

I don't think of myself as wildly out of the mainstream in my views but I grasp politicians don't cater to me because my views are somewhat complicated (and perhaps not even such they are ideologically consistent), and not easily wrapped up into an easy demographic picture.

And thus I am a freak on the political landscape.

There is no message a politician could craft to appeal to all of my beliefs (nor should any politician try) but what sounds most appealing is when a candidate speaks frankly, eschewing crafted talking points, and sounding like he/she grasps the complexity of the challenges our country faces. Even I don't agree entirely with what is said, the suggestion of being able to actually think about a situation and have a position that applies to that (rather than forcing some ideology on to every situation) gives me some sense that this person might represent me—not necessarily my views exactly (as that's never going to happen) but the relative complexity of those views (which may very well connote a certain lack of absolute coherence that, while perhaps less than laudable, is more realistically human). It's not a lack of tact or indifference to diplomacy I seek, as those are necessary in human interactions if one wishes to get anything from others out of cooperation rather than coercion, but some shred of actual humanity instead of an electable automaton who spews a polished message.

Of course, that's not to say the energizing rhetoric that appeals to our optimism is out of the question, but blithe affirmations don't get the budget balanced.

However, any candidate who'd admit that frankness during the campaign would never get the nomination. Honesty is not electable.

That's why it's such a rare commodity in politics, and any hint of it proves so refreshing for the few seconds before it's dismissed by the establishment.

That's why politicians are not trying to appeal to me. I know it, and I've accepted it. As noted, I have the capacity (and even the propensity) toward complexity, so it's not difficult for me to do.

(No wonder I have no affiliation with a political party, and never have had one. I vote, but I'm a life-long "Decline to State" voter, trying to make the best of the situation. Nobody represents me, and I shudder to imagine anyone who would try.)

What a crazy, fringe kind of sentiment is that.

~

(I spared you the gory details of those beliefs. Let's not pretend any of us are interested in that.)

Waxing non-nostalgically about the future of nostalgia

2011-10-05T07:06:00.000-07:00

A recent Chuck Klosterman essay on Grantland touches on nostalgia, with a start that questions why we feel nostalgia (specifically for music) and whether it's really nostalgia for the song or merely for the time in our lives with which we associate a song. Further he suggests that the nostalgic appreciation of a song may be more a matter of repetitive exposure—of having that expertise with the material—than of anything else.

He then talks about how that experience that facilitates this nostalgia is, itself, something for which in the future we'll only be able to feel nostalgia.

He explains with the example of how as a kid in the '80s he had only six cassettes to listen to, and thus he listened to them over and over—even to the lesser tracks. It was lack of other options that led him to hear that song on side 2 a lot, not that it was that great. But now when he hears it he has a particular reaction to it that's more than intellectually the song should have, and he must attribute that to the fact he heard it so much when he was younger.

The nostalgia has at its core the fact he was willing to have such repeated exposure to the source material.

And as he notes after that, he cannot imagine anyone listening to the same song over and over out of a lack of having something else to listen to. He points out that radio and MTV are less relevant and thus there's no oversaturating the airwaves with songs like there used to be, and with services like Spotify one can have access to more than one could possibly listen to, without having to pay. That limited a music library is anachronistic, and conceivably is gone forever. That may be good or bad, from one's perspective, but it is the nature of our musical reality these days.

He suggests that the desire to remember things will be replaced by the repetition of hearing something to the experiencing something with a group (hearing something once with a significant group of peers will be the nostalgic event, not hearing it alone a significant number of times). Or something like that.

I do concur that the nature of nostalgia associated with songs will likely be different for the kids coming of age nowadays than it was for the generation in which Chuck and I find ourselves. I don't think we can even speculate as to how it will manifest itself, because we're not in the demographic who ultimately will be experiencing that nostalgia. We'll never feel it the way the kids will, so there'll be no way of verifying that our guesses came to pass or didn't.

What all of this made me think was how hearing songs from 20 years ago—when I was in my early 20's and experiencing music much more passionately than I do now—is not so much a lamentation of how those days had passed or a pleasant trip down memory lane but the incredulity that two decades have passed. Sure, consciously I grasp the time has elapsed and can glance at the calendar to be reminded of the math involved to work out that the decades have slipped into the past, but it doesn't feel like it's really been that long; it feels like merely an earlier portion of this same stretch of road I've travelled, not a different road altogether.

The thing is: 20 years ago I never thought about how things will be in 20 years, but now I do. I do ponder what I'll think of my 40's when I get to my 60's, but in my 20's my 40's were off the radar; you need the vantage point of that far back while still being of an age where their experiences to remember in order to think forward about how that same sensation will be when looking back at the present from the distant future.

I imagine that by then when I hear these songs, at that point 40 years gone, will elicit the sort of nostalgia that is what is generally associated with the term—that remembering the "good ol' days" of youth.

In a manner of speaking, it can be summed up thusly: I will then be old enough to be that old.

I'm sure that when the kids of today hit their 60's, way down the road, they'll feel nostalgic over something from these days. To Chuck's point, I'm fairly certain it merely won't be over today's songs, but it will be over something.

The story of Pizza Man and the Train

2011-10-03T22:18:00.000-07:00

Friday evening's commute home on the train was cut short by technical problems. While already on the train we heard an announcement that there were issues with the overhead electric lines and at one station short of the halfway point on the line the train would have to stop, and would turn around and go back north to Downtown. Buses would be provided to shuttle passengers down to a station past the problem area.

Having ridden the train for 12 years now this was not the first time I'd run into such a scenario. I knew that there'd be some delay in dispatching buses, and then even after they arrived passengers would cram into them like sardines (and waiting for latter buses would be no better, as more southbound trains would just keep coming and depositing more stranded passengers). So I immediately pulled out my phone and called my wife, with the hope that she was still on the road driving home from her job and that she could swing over and retrieve me.

I got her voicemail, so I left her a message. Of course she called me back just as we were all shuffling off the train at that 103rd station and I missed it. And then when I called her back I missed her, so we engaged in that phone tag for a while, but eventually we did connect and as it turned out she was only a little over ten minutes away.

I waited by a side street that ran parallel to the tracks, listening to my iPod. Then I heard the loudspeaker of the train. I turned and through a fence I could see that some disgruntled passengers were standing on the tracks, actively blocking the train from being able to proceed back north. Mostly it appeared to be one guy, holding a pizza box, but from what I could tell he was having no difficulty stirring up the anger of others who were annoyed at not being able to get where they were going (in his case, presumably because the pizza would get cold).

I certainly understand the frustration of just trying to get home and hitting a serious delay. I've been through this more than once. And this situation was exacerbated by occurring well into the evening, after the regular MTA customer service office was closed. There was no representative directing people to where the buses would be coming (it wasn't obvious) nor answering questions. It definitely could have been handle better.

Here's the thing: I have gotten really upset at times over the course of my life and had some really bad notions run through my mind, but at no point would I ever think of blocking the path of a train.

The operator pleaded with the man over the loudspeaker, and all the people who'd gotten on the train to go north were getting upset themselves. But the pizza man (as we'll call him) and the others wouldn't budge.

I should note that, this being the era it is, several of those who were not blocking the tracks but were near to him had their phones out and appeared to be recording this. It was unclear whether it was to document what was in his mind a valiant standing up for himself or to capture the ranting of one who had lost it, but still they were rolling.

When the first sheriff's car arrived, the deputy got out and waved his flashlight at the people, presumably trying to disperse them. When the second sheriff's car pulled up, the deputies in there must have thought a riot was about to erupt as the passenger door was open before the car even slowed.

At that point my wife called and noted she was parked over by the Burger King across the street, so I didn't get to see how the deputies handled the pizza man, but I'd guess he was charged with something (whether he was arrested or merely cited).

Perhaps his plan all along was to get a ride in the back of the patrol car. I mean, apparently he already had dinner... and enough to share.

English majors in action (perhaps)

2011-10-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

If you ever wondered if English majors who end up getting jobs in the software industry ever get to use those multi-syllabic words they fancied in their technical writing, allow me to offer what I saw while installing the drivers for the new Canon printer/scanner/copier we bought recently.

Hovering over the option called "Solution Menu EX" the description of that option displayed at the bottom of the screen.

Allow me to zoom you in to that portion:

Yes, the writer of this part found a way to work "furthermore" into the text.

Necessary? Not really, but it is applicable in the context of what is being described, and I'm sure its inclusion made the writer happy to get that in there.

Of course, had the writer been less enamored with the vocabulary and paid a smidge more attention to syntax perhaps he/she would not have followed that by splitting "can" and "access" with the adverb "easily."

It's not that "can easily access" is uncommon in this sort of technical writing, but that "furthermore" changes the rhetorical rules for what one can get away with; as I've had pointed out to me on more than one occasion, upping that ante in one area makes the "grammar police" hold one up to higher standards.

This must be why the recommended "Easy" installation skips over this part. It's easier for everyone involved.

Rock 'n roll fantasy (or something)

2011-09-30T05:29:00.000-07:00

Some of the happiest moments of my life have come while playing music. I was never a particularly good musician, but for the few years I was the drummer in a garage band with some friends (back in the '90s) I could at least keep a beat. I was never motivated enough to devote the time it would take to be really good at it, but it was about having fun, not about being able to quit our day jobs. Also, lugging a full drum kit to gigs is a pain.

That doesn't stop me from having little fantasies about having a band where I'd be good enough and motivated enough, typically while I'm brushing my teeth. Nothing makes songs pop to mind like being at the bathroom sink with that toothbrush in my mouth.

Let's not dwell on that statement.

A recurrent thought I've had when ruminating in this fantasy music world is having a cover band where we'd do reinterpretations of songs that are kind of cheesy but also pretty good. What I've worked out in my mind is a medley of Journey's "Separate Ways", transitioning from the bridge of that into Loverboy's "Working For the Weekend", and then after a verse and chorus of that moving to Night Ranger's "Don't Tell Me You Love Me" (with the keyboard riff from "Separate Ways" as a coda). But the thing is: It would be done to an up-tempo ska beat, at the meter of the Dead Kennedys "Holiday In Cambodia".

("Holiday In Cambodia", by the way, gets paired up with Judas Priest's "Breakin' the Law" in a separate medley my theoretical cover band does in its set, but that's another story.)

I've ran through the whole thing, arrangements and all, in my mind (although I don't know how to write music so I cannot actually work that part out). The thing is: I grasp that no other musicians would be likely to think that's a good idea. Further, I fail to see how that would find an audience (especially in the sort of bars where cover bands play). But that doesn't stop my mind from thinking of it. Over and over.

This is why I need to watch TV; it occupies my brain so these things don't come in there. Or at least so they don't come back.

I just need to install a TV next to the bathroom sink. There isn't room for a drum kit...

~

Being good at playing music is not requisite to enjoy it; it's merely requisite for anyone else to enjoy it.

R.E.M.'s fall did not fall on me

2011-09-28T21:46:00.000-07:00

R.E.M. broke up last week, and I must admit I wasn't that dismayed by the news. Don't get me wrong—I do like much of the music produced by those guys from Athens, Ga.; I owned all of their albums up through 2001's ho-hum Reveal; I saw them in concert back in the late '90s at what I recall was a good show. However, if I'm being brutally frank, to my ears their best days had passed them by.

That's not a criticism of them staying together as long as they did; it's merely an indication of my personal connection to their music, and how what I considered their finest worksongs came way back in the '80s, and although I grant their '90s output showed noteworthy artistic growth, the last album of theirs that I liked was 1999's Up (and that was far from a favorite). For me, they'd stopped being terribly musically relevant as a producer of new material over a decade ago, and while that did not render their older catalog any less enjoyable, it did put them out to pasture (so to speak) a while ago.

Again, that's just me; I am not dismissing those who still enjoyed their output in the 21st century.

31 years is a long time for a rock band to be together, and almost every band that can possibly last such a term (in one incarnation or another) invariably turns into a nostalgia act where they trot out their classics. Further, I'd argue that even amongst bands who do keep putting out new albums well into a third, fourth, fifth decade and their fans keep buying them, that among those fans their favorites are never anything past the second decade. It's not that the hardcore fans won't like the new stuff, but it's not going to have the same appeal as the earlier material—not necessarily the really early stuff, but whatever heyday came sometime in decade one or possibly even two.

It's too hackneyed to quote "My Generation" about the mythology of rock and dying before one gets old, but there does come a point when it's not worth lamenting that a band who has had such a phenomenal run decides they're tired of trotting out the same ol' gems in concert and don't have the same magic in the studio. I understand the sense of loss, but at some point it's the parents just staying together for the kids, and the kids have grown.

It's not sadness about losing something still as great as it used to be, but sadness over recalling that greatness.

Fans of Peter Buck's arpeggio stylings on the twelve string will undoubtedly hear some of that on future Robyn Hitchcock albums, so there's that.

And I pray that neither Michael or Mike ever ends up the judge on some reality competition show. Don't sully our marvelous remembrances of the music (whichever part of their career one considers the best) with dragging the reputation through that.

Preparing for the future direction of the U.S.

2011-09-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

We cannot get our country moving in the right direction because: a) we cannot agree on what the right direction is, and b) a lot of people in power are willing to ruin everything as long as it thwarts what the other side supports.

Stock up on canned goods and fresh water, ladies and gentlemen, and get a "Mandarin for Dummies" book to read in your basement or bomb shelter. You'll need to be able to converse with who's around when you emerge.

Maui: The photos conclude

2011-09-25T21:15:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I directed your attention to pictures from our recent Maui trip over on the photo site. I've posted a few more now, but it occurs to me that between the previous mention and this one some other posts went up without notice, so just for the record, if you click over you can see photos like...

Ohe'o Gulch

Banyan tree on Pipiwai Trail

Bamboo forest (also on Pipiwai Trail)

This butterfly.

Waimoku Falls

Over on West Maui, Nakalele Blowhole

Offshore on South Maui, a waterproof camera got shots of this giant sea turtle.

CLICK HERE.

Not paying close attention to the news...

2011-09-23T11:17:00.000-07:00

So, this week, Netflix announced it's splitting into two companies and that brought down a satellite. Also, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was discontinued by the U.S. Armed Forces, inspiring Facebook to continue their policy of not asking whether people want change and not telling people when they're going to change. And the president's job's plan killed off Charlie Sheen's character on Two and a Half Men.

That's what happened, right?

How I stick with How I Met Your Mother

2011-09-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

Note: This post is recommended for fans of How I Met Your Mother. But if not and you have some time on your hands, I certainly encourage you to read on anyway.

On the latest Talking TV podcast* they discussed the state of How I Met Your Mother. Contributor Maureen Ryan recently wrote a piece over on her AOL TV blog about the show, and her "trust issues" with it given the way the show keeps putting energy into the played-out "mystery" of the identity of the eponymous mother, and now how the show is creating a sub-mystery by flash-forwarding to Barney's wedding but not revealing who he's marrying. (It's going to be Robin, by the way, but let's not digress to that.) It strikes her as a contrivance that was interesting in earlier seasons but now is merely annoying; I fully concur the strength of the show is the characters, not the framing of the narrative, and any focus on the latter can result in taking away from the former.

I imagine the creators feel compelled to reveal the mother in the series finale. (My wife is convinced that it will further be revealed that in the frame of 2030, where narrator Ted is telling his teen-aged children this story of how he met their mother, that the mother has actually passed away, and thus the reason why Ted would be telling all these stories. That does seem like a downer, but it would explain why in all the cutaway shots of the kids how the mother had never popped into the room while Ted is regaling the children with such tales; conceivably she'd want to hear them as well, were she around.) I cannot imagine that if that's how they're going to play it that the show can go more than the two more seasons for which it's already been renewed (this 2011 season and 2012).

In an interview co-creator Carter Bays did note they have a plan through that far, but if they were picked up for more seasons they wouldn't turn it down. That strikes me as a mistake, but that's just me; I think every show should know what stories it has to tell and should go out before it starts to go downhill (and way before there's any shark-jumping even on the horizon). Leave 'em wanting more, not just going through the motions because the network considers the show profitable.

I find the mother mystery at best mildly amusing, but the thing is: Even having been a fan of the show since its second season (we met HIMYM a bit late) the weakest part of the show has always been Ted. Even though it's ostensibly his story, and he's the one narrating the tale, and the initial "hook" of the show in its first season was his pursuit of Robin, the thing that turned us into fans and has kept us fans all these years has been the rest of the group and the skills of Jason Segal, Alyson Hannigan, and of course, Neil Patrick Harris (the latter two being the "names" among the cast, given their roles on Buffy and Doogie Howser). It's not that Josh Radnor's portrayal of Ted is poor; he services the show adequately well, especially given that his character's role is to be the one who keeps getting his heart broken with each romantic interest who turns out not to be the mother. It's not a bad part of the show, but relative to the Marshall and Lily's adorable compatibility and Barney's charming womanizing it's the conventional center that cannot quite compete; however, it's always been part of the deal.

I do understand the weariness from the mother mystery being dangled in front of us for six seasons, but I suppose it's something to which I am accustomed after all this time, so I don't really think about it critically. However, given her role as a TV critic I can see how Ryan cannot help but do so, and she's certainly not to be disparaged for expressing concern over that aspect of the show. To a great extent I find myself feeling pleased that somehow I have avoided unleashing my analytical side on the show. It's in a comfortable place in my brain where I am invested in the characters without being overly invested in the supposed overarching "mythology"; I think that's the best place to be with any show.

With Lost—to which, Ryan mentions, HIMYM has been compared due to the narrative risks the show takes—I was always somewhat more invested in the mythology, and never got as invested in the characters as would be what proved to be necessary for how that show ended. By contrast, with Battlestar Galactica, I was much more invested in the characters than the mythology, and thus I wasn't so worried about the ending. So I'm glad to be in this place with HIMYM with at least this season and next before it's likely I may need to consider how I feel about finally meeting the mother.

But those who responded to Ryan's piece by declaring her "a joyless harpy" because she said anything critical of the show are the people who enjoy the show by completely turning off their minds, relaxing, and floating downstream with it, and presumably have never taken a moment to come to grips with why they like it. If your pleasure from what makes you happy cannot withstand a reasoned argument that questions it in the slightest, it's pretty fragile. And dismissing that questioning of it out of hand seems unlikely to make you happier. However, that probably reveals more that in the era of the internet with its ease of sharing one's opinions most people who are spouting opinions never got the hang of logical argumentation. But let's not digress on that.

Ultimately, that there's something that can even be questioned is proof of its worth, and more than can be said about Rules of Engagement, which inexplicably won't die.

If the show-runners of HIMYM have any sense they'll end it after next year's eighth season, knowing that the end is the end (as happened with BSG and Lost) and let it be the end. But if they reveal the mother (or at least resolve the mystery in some satisfactory way) and can think of a good direction to take the show after that, I'd stick with that, too.

~

* That's right—I italicized the names; have you not noticed I italicize most names, whether that follows MLA style or not? This is not a term paper.

Surviving Contagion in the theater

2011-09-19T21:25:00.000-07:00

They've seen how this post ends.

Over the weekend we did something we haven't done in a while: saw a movie in the theater. It wasn't so much that we had an overwhelming desire to see something that's out at the moment; we had some passes (so it wouldn't cost anything) and that vague sense of missing the experience of going to see something on the big screen—something that years ago we did with regularity. Perhaps it's some subtle nostalgia for an era in our lives when we weren't so busy, for when going to the local Cineplex every other weekend seemed feasible. In any case, it worked out that this past Saturday we considered ourselves to have those hours to spare.

That didn't necessarily coincide with the availability of a film about which at least I was excited to see, and as my wife had some interest in Contagion (and I didn't object) that's for what we exchanged our passes for tickets. (The other one of mild interest: Drive, with Ryan Gosling.)

The movie came out a week earlier, and was (at least in my little realm of what I pay attention to) a significant topic of conversation last week. A couple of the pop culture podcasts to which I listen (Culture Gabfest, Extra Hot Great) discussed it, replete with disclaimers about spoilers. I listened nonetheless, not realizing at the time I'd be seeing the film in a matter of days. But the thing about Contagion: There is no spoiling it. That's not saying it's a worthless waste of time; it's merely a movie where you can know exactly what's going to happen and your enjoyment (or lack thereof) will be the same as if you went in knowing nothing.

Of course, knowing nothing is not realistic; these days if you see a movie you probably saw at least trailers for it ahead of time. It's so unlikely that one wouldn't have at least a modicum of expectations from what one saw on billboards or ads on TV prior to getting in the theater.

And with this film in particular, there's no big secret that could be revealed that would spoil it. I'd argue that if you know what you're getting better than what you'd get from those trailers, you're better off.

The ads make this out to be a disaster movie. It's not. It's a movie where the plot commences with a disaster (a pandemic) but where a disaster movie ratchets up the tension, making you wonder who will survive and who won't, putting you through a roller coaster of emotion, this movie, while showing what is likely a realistic portrayal of how that would play out, it keeps you calm at all times. It's basically a promotional video for the CDC and World Health Organization (and one certainly hopes that in the event of such an actual situation those organizations would handle it as well as they do in the movie). It's the anti-disaster disaster movie.

That's not necessarily a bad thing, especially in this era of the media driving the public into a frenzy over even the slightest thing. But it's not the sort of thing that makes for a completely satisfying movie-going-and-seeing-on-the-big-screen experience; it's a reasonably well-made film, I suppose, but as to some sort of larger-than-life tale with amazing visuals that really draws one in emotionally… not so much.

I'm sure it's the film Soderbergh wanted to make—it has too many quasi-artsy moments to have been the work that came from copious notes from the suits—and it's not a bad movie; there's decent performances, especially from Matt Damon. But still, it was… a movie—one that would have been as good waiting for DVD or streaming (or whatever the heck Netflix is doing six months from now). Or perhaps just reading the summary.

At the end of the film (if one sits through the credits) there's a message urging people to be prepared for catastrophe, which in retrospect makes the movie seem a little like a public service announcement with Oscar winners, but here's the thing: The next day we did go and replenish our emergency supplies, but that was not because we saw Contagion; we were planning on doing so even before we decided to see the movie. We would have done so even had we seen Drive. Contagion merely didn't dissuade us from doing so.

Of course, there were moments during the middle of the film when it could have talked us out of stocking up on canned goods and non-perishables, because the scenes where society breaks down just a bit makes it clear the man with the food will be less well-prepared than the man with the most ammunition, but the ultimate lesson was: If a pandemic strikes, a bunch of us are going to die, and there'll be pandemonium for a while, but unless we turn into savages a good percentage of us will survive long enough to get inoculated with the vaccine science is able to find and mass-produce.

You'll sleep soundly after seeing this, which is its greatest failing as a disaster movie. Which is why you need to know beforehand that it's not a disaster movie, even with Gwyneth Paltrow's character dying (the big featured plot point in the trailer).

In real life I don't want any catastrophic events like this, but when I'm in that darkened theater I want unimaginably catastrophic events, or else it makes going to the movie seem like a minor catastrophe.

At least, when you only go once in a while.

So if you go to the movies regularly, it's not a big deal. However, if you're in that boat, you already saw it last week and it's too late for this to be of any help to you. But you don't need help.

You're already inoculated from this sort of reaction.

Too up for Up All Night

2011-09-16T07:27:00.000-07:00

I know someone who, due to her job, sees the pilots for new shows well before the fall season starts, and thus the first episodes of those shows she watches to see whether they left the pilots intact or reshot them in the interim. I watch going in having heard her assessments to color my expectations.

Wednesday night NBC premiered Up All Night, a comedy that she liked from what she'd seen in the preliminary version of the pilot. However, the episode that aired was significantly changed from that original she'd seen, and even partway through she commented, "It's not as funny." I found myself less than impressed—it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't something that made me pay full attention after the first five minutes (so the remainder of the episode it was competing with the laptop). It was something of a letdown.

The show after it, Free Agents, looked hideous from the previews I'd seen, and from the preliminary pilot she saw a while ago that was her take as well. That I started watching only because I didn't change the channel, and it proved to be about what I expected (which was not much). And thus that show was not as much of a disappointment, and in a way, I find myself feeling a little softer toward Free Agents than toward Up All Night, even though clearly it was worse. I doubt either will end up making it into my list of shows I look forward to from week to week, but the latter (by virtue of having less of a high bar) presents me with less disinclination to watch it if I'm really bored on a Wednesday night.

Really bored, mind you. Or merely something to have on in the background that wouldn't be too distracting from what I'm doing on the laptop, if I'd seen all sports highlights already.

It has been merely one episode of each, and there's been shows that started off less-than-impressively that did find their footing and become ones that I did anticipate (Fringe, Parks and Recreation, Community, as examples). However, a show still needs to have the pieces that can be put together (even if that isn't achieved in the pilot), and I'm not sure either of these two new offerings gave me evidence of that.

But the point is not a review of either show; this is merely a rumination on the nature of how higher expectations increase the odds of disappointment, and make having those expectations met (when that occurs) to be merely okay.

Of course, if we knew nothing about these shows before watching them… we wouldn't know they were even on and it's unlikely we'd even see them to find whether they were meeting or failing to meet any expectations. Promotion is a tricky business, I fully concede.

Granted, if the producers would merely make shows that were actually good, it wouldn't matter how high or low my expectations as a viewer were. Ah, but it's not like the suits at the networks are going to allow that.

It's always sunny in Long Beach

2011-09-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Driving around town the other day I came across this street sign:

And what came to mind?

"...Fighter of the night man (aa-aa-aaaaaaaaa)
He's a champion of the sun
He's a master of karate and friendship for everyone"

New season of Sunny starts Thursday...

9/11 from the vantage point of 9/12

2011-09-12T21:35:00.000-07:00

Hey, apparently yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. How did I not hear about that? You'd think the media would make a big deal of it…

~

Our internet connection was out much of last week, and that may have been somewhat fortuitous, as it prevented me from posting any thoughts during those days leading up to the big event. I assure you: That was for the best.

Even after getting our connection issue resolved Saturday morning, I intentionally did not post anything over the weekend. While I understand the impulse to reflect on September 11, 2001 and what one was doing that day, and those who wish to share their experiences are more than welcome to do so, the reality is I have no interesting story about that day; they closed the building before I got to work, and so I turned around and rode the train back home, then watched CNN all day with a friend. Even I cannot muster any justification for boring anyone with blathering on about that (and given some of what I've posted, that's saying something).

I considered remaining silent over the weekend respectful to those who died in the attacks (and their aftermath) and to those who lost loved ones and to those who (unfortunately) do have a real 9/11 story to tell. Whatever attention should have been paid to that should have gone to them.

I didn't post (or tweet or Facebook post) some message about remembering 9/11 out of ostensible support for the victims and those affected; that's not the sort of sentiment my overly contemplative mind allows me to have, and it would have been disingenuous coming from me, even though I grasp that's the sort of thing one is supposed to say. I am not someone who can merely say what I'm supposed to say unless it's coming from a place of sincerity. Now, don't get me wrong: My heart absolutely goes out to those who lost someone that day ten years ago; my heart has gone out to them every day over the last ten years (whether I consciously think about it or not), not merely on that day when that date comes up on the calendar.

I assure everyone: I will never forget September 11, 2001.

And it's clear that I'm never going to have the chance to forget even if I actively wanted to. The media and the online world will never grow weary of talking about it.

Had I posted something last week, almost certainly it would have admitted being tired of hearing about 9/11 before the weekend of its tenth anniversary even started. Because that's the thing about this: Although each outlet or person must do their own tribute, when put all together it gets to be a bit overwhelming.

Even back in 2001 there were only so many hours one could stay hooked on the news, and that was mostly striving to find answers (ones that arguably still have not come a decade later), before one had to try to get one's mind off the horrible thoughts. I recall that was the justification for NFL games to resume with only one weekend suspended back at the time, and I saw an article on Yahoo yesterday that suggested such a point again (although yesterday's games were a poor respite on that front, as every game had a pre-game ceremony about remembering 9/11, and all the players wore the ribbons on their jerseys, and the announcers kept alluding to 9/11 throughout the play-by-play, but at least that was only part of what one saw if one watched the entire game).

So what about those who had done their requisite remembrance, and wanted to get away from thinking about it after a while? Well, the kids programming on Nickelodeon appeared to be safe from 9/11 references, and if one really wanted to put things in perspective there was always the arguably more terrifying reality shows on E! (insert your own joke about the Kardashians here) and whatnot that may not be comforting but probably at least achieved being distracting.

And if one wished to immerse oneself in 9/11 wallowing, there was plenty of that, too.

But those who at least have some reason to cover it or have something to say can be tolerated. It's the bandwagon jumping, the giving token acknowledgment to 9/11 without any discernible connection that seems clearly only to appease those who think in jingoistic terms (if you're not touting "remembering 9/11" you're unpatriotic), that is particularly troubling.

Case in point: Food Network, which ran a large "9/11 Remembered" logo in the upper logo in the upper right part of the screen over their programs (see photo above), despite those programs having nothing to do with anything regarding the observation of the tragedy. If one looked to food as an escape (which, let's face it, is profoundly American) one got hit with a constant reminder of that which one sought to avoid; anybody else was unlikely to be watching the channel, so it seemed destined to only be a downer, associating the pleasure of food with the thought of the tragedy, ultimately achieving nothing either way.

And in their primetime evening slot, with the episode of Iron Chef America that aired, what was the secret ingredient for the battle? Canadian Lobster. (I am not making that up.) They couldn't have even aired an episode featuring something ostensibly patriotic for some tiny shred of connection to the big logo they insisted on hovering over their show.

Seeing that, I'm not sure I can declare, all these years later, that the terrorists didn't win (at least a little bit).

~

Yeah, I'm sure someone will shut down my internet connection again after they see this post...

Maui: The photos commence

2011-09-05T20:33:00.000-07:00

Over on the photo site I've started posting pictures from the recent Maui vacation, including sites such as:

Honomanu Bay

Wai'anapanapa Park

CLICK HERE TO GO VIEW THEM.

(More coming soon.)

Chopped at the Panda Express

2011-09-04T21:45:00.000-07:00

If you have ever been to the Chinese ("Chinese") fast food restaurant Panda Express and seen the chopsticks next to the forks, napkins and soy sauce packets and found yourself wondering, Who uses those to eat at freakin' Panda Express?, I have found such a person.

I do.

I'm not doing it to be pretentious at all. I do prefer the chopsticks when eating Chinese food, regardless of the level of quality.

Also, the forks offered are so paltry that attempting to spear a stir-fried broccoli flouret is impossible. I know, because the one time they were out of chopsticks and I had to attempt that with one of their plastic forks, I had to resort to using my fingers.

Chopsticks are an extension of the fingers, but ones where you don't have to try to wipe all that sauce off.

Also, I figure it prudent to be prepared for when the Chinese come to collect on the debt our country owes to them, and chopsticks are the only allowable implements for eating with.

~

I do grab a fork as well (because eating rice off a Styrofoam tray with chopsticks gets to be more trouble than it's worth after a while).

Gotta get that in while I still can.

Little League: the last time everybody wins

2011-09-02T22:35:00.000-07:00

On one of the sports shows this morning they debated (which is to say that two guys sat and offered their particular opinions) about whether they were more excited about the start of the college football season or the NFL season. The one who grew up in Queens, with two pro teams nearby, not surprisingly favored the NFL, where he also noted that the inclusion of pre-season gets the teams better ready for their first game; the early college games (which have already started) tend to be ridiculous blow-outs where good teams tend to schedule markedly weak opponents as essential warm-ups. The other panelist, having grown up in Oklahoma, had an affinity for the college side.

But all seemed to agree that going to a big college game was a better experience, because the way people feel about their alma mater cannot be matched by the emotion toward a group of overpaid professional athletes.

Not that the major college programs are much purer than the pros, of course.

This got me thinking about the recent Little League World Series—where the final game is literally between the best U.S. team and the best international team, making it more of a "world" series than the series that decides the MLB champion each autumn. We did watch much of the title game between the U.S. representative, from California, and the team from Japan.

Even though we were obviously rooting for the American kids (not merely out of nationalistic pride but regional as well, as they hailed from Huntington Beach, which is less than ten miles from where we live), and when they scored the game-winning run in the bottom of the last inning I did jump up from my chair, arms raised in excitement, it was impossible not to feel bad for the kids from Japan.

Although all the kids play little league baseball at a level I could not have approached when I was that age (and I did play in leagues from when I was 7 through 11), when the game is over and one team stands there defeated, and we see tears welling up in their eyes, we remember they're just kids, and kids who weren't doing it for a paycheck or to try to get drafted to get a paycheck, but because they wanted to win so badly that losing is emotionally crushing (not that there aren't plenty of adults who never develop the maturity that they were able to muster). Our hearts went out to them as much as to the victorious team from our nation.

Because they're kids, and although there's not absolute purity in almost anything these days, kids do still represent as close to purity as we have left in the world.

And what is perhaps saddest of all: There is that expiration for that; eventually all of those boys will grow to be adults, and whether they were on the winning side or not, they won't have that associated purity of heart (so to speak) in the way we adults view them. The time for that is when they're the age they are now.

Only now.

It's not necessarily fair that we lose all that empathy when we hit adulthood, but I suppose there's advantages we gain in adulthood that might compensate.

(I better stop before I make myself cry.)

Gratitude for lack of gratuity

2011-08-31T22:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not one to write reviews of restaurants or hotels or any of the other myriad things that can be reviewed on myriad internet outlets. In large part, I don't perceive that my tastes and standards are necessarily such that they're really applicable to the general public (I'm not saying they're better—in fact, I'm implying that they're worse, but let's move on), and in even larger part it's because my brain doesn't tend to think of such experiences in terms that would make for a pithy assessment. And by eschewing reviewing things I also avoid my brain's tendency to overanalyze; you see how these posts go when I'm merely blathering on about whatever pops to mind, without specific focus when I start, so imagine how out of control attempting a review could get.

So what follows is not a review.

Actual view from our patio.

When recently we vacationed in Maui we spent the first two nights in Hana, at the only resort in that small town on the eastern side of the island: the erstwhile Hotel Hana (now called Travaasa, as it was just bought by that company which is now a chain of two—its other facility is apparently in Austin). I will note that we had a splendid time, and were I inclined to offer a review I would recommend it if one were considering a stay there. Spring for the extra bucks and get one of the cottages with the ocean view.

I should note: The thing about the (former) Hotel Hana is there are no televisions or alarm clocks in the rooms. It is a place to unplug from technology (although cell phone coverage was good, so you can still be connected that way if that's important to you). It is not filled with screaming kids, and I cannot imagine anyone being loud would go over well. (Okay, that's as close to a review as we'll get.)

But what I liked best, and the reason I'm composing this entry at all, was something subtler: you do not tip. When you check in, the helpful person behind the desk explicitly notes (as part of the schpeel) that other than in the restaurant and bar, the staff doesn't get gratuities. That's explained better than I am doing now, in a way that puts you at ease to not have to slip some money into the hand of every person who carries your bag or brings you a towel. And the staff was almost ridiculously friendly and helpful without that!

Obviously, it is not an inexpensive place to stay (although if we could afford it you know it's not the ritziest place), and presumably the implication is the staff is compensated well enough and they hire friendly people so that the wheels don't need to be greased (so to speak) in the typical hotel way. So rather than force the staff to get tips, I assume they simply pay them well enough (and factor that into what they charge up front).

And that was awesome.

I know I sound like some sort of cheapskate, but what I really am is someone who doesn't want to have to keep a stack of bills in his pocket while he's supposedly relaxing.

By contrast, for the second part of our trip we went over to Wailea and stayed at a big ritzy resort. It was fine (although the only way we could afford that was reduced rates because the facilities were undergoing construction in certain parts). There I did feel compelled to slip a few bucks into the hand of even the guy on the beach who set up the umbrella for us. And while that was actual physical labor, and the guy was very nice, I still had to bring my wallet to the sand. (Yes, I simply could have not tipped him, and seemed like a cheapskate—I'm sure plenty of other tourists do not tip—but for those who are relying on tips I do want to reward good service.) But having just come from someplace where having to think of such things was unnecessary, I saw it as an inconvenience that I gladly would have paid a slightly higher room rate to not have to worry about.

I'm sure I am somewhat alone in that, so you see why I don't write reviews.

But I want to reiterate that we are not adverse to tipping. In fact, we will usually tip well (20% or more) to servers (unless the service is just actively bad); we know that's not an easy job, and that much of what they get relies on that. But at a hotel I should be able to have the housekeeping staff make the bed without having to leave money on the stand afterward. Perhaps I'm making distinctions that others would not.

Oh, but speaking of tipping servers in restaurants: As noted, we tip well. But when the restaurant does something where it factors in the gratuity as part of the bill (which happened at this one restaurant where we had dinner in Kihei)—because we ate there early, we got a discount on the meal, but then the tip is already included, based on the pre-discount amount—so that was all the server got. Which was less than we probably would have tipped on our own (because the service was good), so in that instance the server was done in by the management. (I concede they must do the already-included "service charge"—as it was called on the bill—because many customers would otherwise tip based on the after-discount total, and so in those cases the server benefits. However, with us, it backfired somewhat; if you're declaring your own tip, that's all I'm giving you.)

So, to wrap up: Hotels, pay your staff better so we, the customers, can show our gratitude by repeat business rather than through little gratuities throughout our stay. The last thing I want to do when preparing for vacation is having to go get a wad of small bills from the bank for that purpose (because if the staff thinks they're getting a twenty for getting a few bags from the lobby to the room… well, if all I have is twenties, then they will—but I won't think they deserve it.

And I probably won't be back. Nor will I recommend your establishment (on the off-chance I ever do find myself inclined to write a review).

Not that you'll ever notice this, but I like to pretend someone of note will see such a suggestion and deem it worth implementing.

Passing along Freakonomics' Scionology to another generation

2011-08-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

A recent Freakonomics episode from earlier this month (not the latest one), "The Church of Scionology," talked about the prudency of nepotism for companies. Was passing along the reigns to the company to a scion the best thing for the business?

Overall, the answer: It can be, but not always.

There's some who think that when the successful—the ones who worked hard to make the company what it was—pass along their success to their offspring, who didn't have to work hard to get it, that merely creates a lazy aristocracy. And it does seem likely that those who grow up with the proverbial silver spoon would lack the motivation their company-founding parents had, leaving them unprepared to run the company well when the parents step down.

So, unless those wealthy company founders want their children to be spoiled dilettantes who are only prepared to live off inheritance, they should make their children still have to work for their success.

Of course, that whole notion of wanting to have one's child be the scion who carries on the family name does seem like a pretty arrogant and egotistical in the first place. Of course, that level of egotism seems likely to have been inspired by insecurities—wanting to have the name continue to be famous compensating for poor self-esteem—but those same psychological issues (presumably from the founder's childhood) that make for that need for immortality in name are also the sort that would inspire the hard work to get the company to be successful in the first place.

And if you're the child of a parent is that driven as to not only want to succeed but to be a titan in the business world, to have their name known by the public, and to want you to be a chip off the old block and follow in their footsteps (and has the corresponding ego to go along with it), is there not a greater motivation to rebel against expectations?

It must be that that drive to succeed the parent had brings with it the delusion that the child would have the inclination to want to be anything like the parent, much less to be qualified to run the company.

Of course, that today's entrepreneurs seem inclined to develop the company only to the point where it can be sold off to a large conglomerate for a huge profit may indicate that the desire to pass a company off to a scion is somewhat anachronistic, a lingering remnant of earlier centuries (and from a time when monarchies passed rule of the land through blood rather than merit). Conceivably we may be not far from a time when no one expects to keep a company around long enough to pass it down to the kids, and this will be merely a historic footnote.

The problem will eventually solve itself.

VMO from the VMA's

2011-08-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

It's never been our inclination to watch the VMA's, but last night we did flip by and catch a little bit of the broadcast. A large part of why we don't watch it stems from how we don't really follow contemporary pop music like we used to, and don't feel the need to see a bunch of artists with whom we are unfamiliar accept awards for songs we never heard in the first place. That is not something we would actively choose to spend our TV-watching time on.

But still keeping up with pop culture to some extent we weren't above having it on in the background when there wasn't really anything else on.

It's not that being in touch with what's going on with the music scene is something we aspire to do anymore, but having some level of doing so in our younger days it's difficult to not feel old by complete lack of familiarity with even the names of these nominees. (Sure, we are old, but we're not so old that we are ready to embrace that fully.)

So when the nominees for the vaunted Video of the Year were announced, the fact that I had at least heard of two of the five nominated songs (not that I'd seen the videos, but making a quip about how no one sees videos on MTV is so hackneyed as to not bother with), and I'd heard at least part of the two of the five songs in question (from what I happen to catch of the radio), I must admit I had a split-second of quasi-jubilation over feeling that I was only 60% out of it.

Which may not sound so good, but factored against being 100% out of it, 60% is not so bad.

(Granted, true maturity is undoubtedly achieved when one doesn't mind being 100% out, but let's not start the argument that true maturity has any place in contemporary society.)

Looking out for taxis

2011-08-28T19:01:00.000-07:00

When I am a pedestrian (which I am with some frequency) I try to be assertive when crossing the street (when I have the right-of-way) but two vehicles I don't mess around with are buses and, even moreso, taxi cabs. Cab drivers tend to operate their vehicles with a recklessness that makes conceding to them—even if I'm the one with the green light—seem the prudent course of action.

However, when I am a passenger in a taxi, with the meter running, what I want is that maniac on the other side of the plexiglass who's just barely on the side of not killing anyone but keeping the fare from going any higher than necessary.

It's hideously inconsistent, I know.

It's fascinating how perspective utterly changes depending on circumstance.

Fixing the economy. Or not.

2011-08-25T06:59:00.000-07:00

On a recent Dan Carlin "Common Sense" podcast (and I cannot help but suspect this latest listening discovery of mine is something that others who are better in-the-know have known about for a while, but such is the way things go; one knows of what one knows of), he talked about the erosion of the American middle class and how he believed in economic nationalism as the way to address that issue.

In a nutshell, that means each country should do what's best for its citizens economically, which he admits is viewed as naïve by those who understand the global economy that we have. It's not that isolationism is what we should do; the American legislature merely should be primarily looking out for America first. And by that what's suggested is doing what it would take to get American employers to pay their employees a wage that allows them to have a middle class lifestyle; having crappy, low-paying jobs that lift people only out of unemployment and into the "working poor" is not going to allow for the continuation of what has come to be seen as the "American way of life."

The problem, he notes, is that those legislators are not inclined to make such decisions because their campaigns are financed by those who want them to allow said contributors' companies to send jobs to other countries where it's better for the stockholders' bottom line.

So, yes, getting politicians out of the pockets of big business and special interests would be a nice way to affect such a change, but I cannot overcome my cynicism quite enough to believe that's going to happen (at least in my lifetime). Where does that leave us, if the legislators aren't going to exert their influence for the economic benefit of the middle and lower classes?

Conceivably we, the public, need to exert our influence by supporting companies that are not exporting jobs. Invest in their stocks, buy their products, etc.. Make it clear that what we want is for a better America for everyone not merely a better stock portfolio for those who actually have money to invest.

Ah, but of course the challenge there: How would we know which companies those are? And the problem there: There's little chance the products of those companies will be as inexpensive as what those factories over in China produce. And with so much already made in China or other overseas countries, how could an American company compete—especially if what is produced here may not (gasp!) be as good?

And if the whole "made in America" mantra didn't inspire us before, what are the odds it will now that it's difficult to be overly enthusiastic about our country?

Presumably the hurdle is that while most people would agree with that sentiment in theory, no one wants to be the one to go first; after a majority have already made such efforts to exert nationalistic economic power and those American-supporting companies are the ones successful enough to be viable and other companies must follow suit to remain competitive, then everyone will be happy to jump on the bandwagon. But in the meantime it's too inconvenient to even find who to support with our dollars (which are already stretched thin, with little to spare on something that might not pan out) to even get the ball rolling.

So if those with the wealth wish to really be "job creators" as the talking points now tout them to be—as they are the ones with the financial wherewithal to get us over such a hurdle—now would be a spiffy time for them to invest in their own country, not merely in the politicians they wish to vote in ways that make their companies seem attractive to an elite, and actually generate jobs that give Americans a decent wage (which in turn leads to more people contributing to the tax base that allows our country to chip away at the debt).

Or we could all just sit back, brush up on our Mandarin, and wait until there isn't enough of a government in place to be bought by the corporate fat cats, and reminisce about how America had a pretty good run for a couple centuries. There's always that option for getting the politicians who won't help the middle class out of office.

(Oh, who am I kidding? After our country descends into class warfare with the rich ensconced in their castles keeping the hordes of poor from getting in, the Chinese won't care about coming to collect what's left.)

Solving the issue of sexual harassment

2011-08-24T07:18:00.000-07:00

After sitting through a presentation on sexual harassment in the workplace recently, the conclusion I drew was if humans who work could simply not have sex (nor aspire to have sex, nor attempt to exhibit dominance through the pursuit of sex, etc.) then there would never be another sexual harassment lawsuit.

Simple.

~

So, for the many Americans who find themselves out of work and unable to find a job, you can take some solace in knowing that you probably could be as sexually harassing as you want to be and get away with it; there's no potential for the creation of a hostile workplace environment if there's no workplace environment.

I'm not encouraging that sort of behavior, of course, but hey, if you're really desperate for a silver lining and you're an unemployed asshole who has no other outlet for those hideous inclinations, you may be heartened to realize you might be able to get away with it.

~

I probably should have paid closer attention to some aspects of the presentation.

The unnecessary tale of how I wasted the summer of '95 (because I didn't have the internet)

2011-08-22T21:28:00.000-07:00

Warning: Maximum self-indulgence is found in what follows.

Part of the beauty of the online experience is the ease of sharing. That's not saying that all sharing is equally worthy of being shared, but without any printing presses or broadcasting networks involved, and the availability of free blogs and Twitter/Facebook accounts, etc., it's not such that even if nobody reads what was shared it cost much.

With internet access (which too can be found at no cost if one tries) and the most important freebie—free time—there's nothing to stop the sharing other than one's own personal standards.

When I think back on the period of months in 1995 when I was unemployed and what I would have done were it that I had a computer at home and had the internet been what it is today, I shudder to think what kind of havoc I could have wrought in the area of over-sharing.

Instead, I devoted way too long to a series of (we'll call them) mix tapes to represent a sampling of my musical tastes of the time.

That was certainly no more of a waste of time (in retrospect) than was even the most banal tweet, but it was a hell of a lot more effort.

~

If much of the internet is an outlet for abject narcissism and time-wasting, what I did back in '95 was a pretty good analog in that pre-ubiquitous-online period.

But first we need to go back farther.

In the mid-'80s, while still in high school, I began really buying records. It's not that I never purchased the occasional album or 45 prior to then, but there came a point around my sophomore and junior years that the inchoate stage of actual collecting commenced. This was the very beginning of what now manifests itself in the form of over 28,000 tracks in the iTunes library.

Over the course of the last half of the '80s my music purchasing increased exponentially, and had come to encompass both LPs and CDs. As to what possessed me to spend my money on that I'm not sure, but clearly there was some combination of inclination and the influence of the people I hung around (some of whom were collectors on a scale I would never reach). Perhaps there is no explanation other than it was something I enjoyed (and I fancied I had the disposable income at that time in my life).

What defies explanation is that in 1989, with maybe half a decade of being "into" this, I embarked on a project where I would record on a set of audio cassettes a representative sampling of my collection as of that time. The idea was that every album (be it LP or CD) would get one track—or maybe two if it was a particularly good album where its importance would not be achieved through a single song—in the project. These tracks would be arranged alphabetically by the artist, which was how I had my albums organized. For artists where I owned more than one album (and hence there'd be more than one song in that artist's "section" they'd be arranged in whatever order struck my fancy; here my mix tape-making background would kick in and put the songs in some modicum of order than sounded good.

The way I recorded made it a bit more complicated than just pulling out an album (or albums) by the first artist, picking the track(s), putting it on and pressing record on the tape deck. No, I had a mixer with a turntable and two CD players as inputs, and I'd try to record the songs with cross-fading, with as few stops as necessary. So this meant I had to carefully time how long each song was to know how long the total time would be (as to avoid running longer than the side of the tape), practice the cross-fading between the given songs (with notes about which songs had fade-outs and which came to abrupt endings), check sound levels to know what adjustments would need to be made, and then, when ready, try to record usually around 20 to a full 45 minutes straight, cuing up the next song on the other track of the mixer as the previous song was playing. And if I messed up I had to start over.

And somehow I planned out eleven 90-minute cassettes' worth of songs and recorded them over the course of several weeks. That was the state of my collection and what I was "into" at the time, all presented in a manner that was, by any standard, more effort than could possibly be justified. But that was the sort of crazy from which I suffered in my early 20's.

I would listen to those tapes a lot in my car, so it wasn't like they just sat in a drawer collecting dust. (And yes, I still have them to this day, although it's been a while since I popped one in.)

But here's the truly insane part: Approximately six years later, when my music collection had grown by another exponential factor (even relative to its state as of that first retrospective project), I found myself thinking that I should do a follow-up project. Then when I found myself laid off in 1995 (after I'd reached the point where I needed a break from constant want-ad-searching), I decided that sitting in my little studio apartment and planning this next retrospective was something I could do without spending any money; I had the discs, I had the blank tapes, I had the equipment, and I certainly had the time.

So sometimes for hours at a time I sat by the stereo, putting on one disc after another and listening to portions of each track to determine which one would be its selection. (In the case of the albums I still had from '89, I had to select a different track than was used in the first project.) I don't recall how long it took me to go through all of my collection, but it must have been months just to get the project planned out. When I had just the plan completed—without even starting recording in, yes, that same cross-fading way—it came out to fill (I am not exaggerating here) thirty-three 90-minute tapes.

I will say this about that process: It really made me listen closely to my entire collection—not merely to those tracks that made the cut but to all of them. It put that music deep into my consciousness.

Partway into the recording process I did finally get a job, and the project stalled out after twenty-two tapes.
Yes, 22. I still proceeded with executing the actual recording of forty-four 45-minute sides of cassettes with the material I had planned out (and not all of them were successful on the first try); we're talking about dozens of hours of effort just for that. And that's not even including making little covers with the song titles. All of which was merely for my own listening enjoyment.

(I did dub copies of a few of the "volumes" in the project for friends—not the entire collection, but the first few tape—whom I seriously doubt actually listened to them. Oh sure, perhaps one or two of them may have popped in one and listened to a side, but that's as much as should be expected of anyone. It's one thing to have a friend make you a single mix tape which holds the implication of having songs that person thought you might like; it's quite another for that tape to be part of a massive project that essentially shows off his CD collection, and is merely a document of what he likes.)

I'm not saying that the project was a waste of time (although I did name it "How I Wasted My Summer Vacation"); I did listen to it numerous times over the years (it was the soundtrack for a long solo drive I made several years later). It holds the satisfaction of nostalgia and, along with its predecessor, being precisely what I set out for it to be.

However, given that now I could put together a full playlist of the entirety of both projects (including the last third of the second project I never finished) in less time than it took me to write this post, and fit all of it on to my mere 8 GB iPod Nano (with room to spare), the nostalgia and pride of the job does diminish in its personal historical importance.

Were I to take that same long distance driving trip (to which I parenthetically alluded) now, I'd certainly just load up the iPod and use the adapter to plug that into the car stereo. Sure, the songs would lack that cross-fading element that I worked so hard to achieve on tape, but given my schedule these days that's without question a trade-off I would make without hesitation. (And if I had the time, the technology available on the computer would allow me to put together big mp3's of the songs combined into one 45-minute-long track where they were cross-faded in far less than 45 minutes.)

However, the real question is that if I had back then the same computer functionality we have today (or even just a fraction of that functionality) would I have ever have bothered with doing that project? (Did I just do it because it was something I could do without spending money I did not have, as a way of occupying my time?) Were it I had been born sixteen years later than I was (so I'd now be the age I was then) and I had the same propensity to collect music, would I even want to keep track of the state of that propensity at this arbitrary time increments? I presume I'd have the same youthful delusion that someone else might give a crap, but with the current state of the internet (and especially social media) I probably could find some group who'd pretend to care (as long as I pretended to care about their projects in return); such is the beauty of the ostensible interconnectedness the 'net allows. But would that interconnectedness perhaps have burst my narcissism a bit through the realization that the only way somebody would possibly sit through dozens of hours of my tastes would be if I were willing to do the same in return, and thus it would be better to just find some other ways of occupying that free time?

If I seem to be suggesting how these kids today don't know how good they have it, I certainly didn't realize how good I had it back in my youth, merely in different ways.

Of course, given the way I've continued this practice over the years, as evidenced by the habit of what I continue to do here on the blahg, it's clear that I've learned nothing. I merely transferred that inexplicable tenacity and transferred the delusion of being interesting to others to another outlet of questionable merit. Our proclivities never really change; they merely manifest themselves in ways that better take advantage of technological advancements in the field of passing the time.

I have no doubt someday we'll look back at our present obsessions and find them of equally quaint worth.

~

Of course, had my proclivities of those past years transformed into a role as one who runs a mixing board, those tapes would have been the inchoate stage of a career path.

It's easy for most activities to seem a waste in retrospect.

~

And, of course, were I inclined to mix together video and post it on YouTube, I could have thousands or even millions of people watching and telling me how much I suck.

That's something those mix tapes would never have a chance to encounter.

Graduating the graduation

2011-08-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

Recently we attended a college graduation ceremony where there were two featured speakers (not including a student valedictorian-esque one who preceded them). The first gave an excellent, rousing speech that offered germane advice for graduates and an inspirational story at the end; everyone paid rapt attention, and commented on how good he was. He got an enthusiastic standing ovation when he finished.

The second speaker droned on way too long about personal accomplishments (okay, we get it) and was so dull that I saw people in the crowd who literally fell asleep. During his speech you could hear murmurs of conversations throughout the graduates and the audience, as people clearly were not paying attention. The applause he received at the end was in part polite, and in part joy that he would not be talking any longer.

So, I offer this advice to those involved:

Academic administrators, do not feel obligated to invite someone successful to give that commencement address merely because he or she is a successful alumnus or has contributed to the university. However, you'll probably have to suck to such individuals, so we'll turn to those people who have achieved success.

Successful people, please bear in mind that merely because you have achieved what you have achieved that does not intrinsically indicate you are a good speaker; you may be surrounded by "yes men" so you'll have to know on your own whether you can get up at that podium and give the audience something that will not only keep them awake but also entertained and inspired. There's no shame if you are not such a speaker—there is only shame in doing so and forcing an audience to discover you're not. Clearly you have skills that make you worthwhile for other reasons; you don't need to undermine what you can do by agreeing to do something you cannot do when the administrators ask. Yes, they should have the backbone to not ask, but we both know that's not going to happen, so the onus is on you to politely decline and make everyone's lives better.

You're all clearly intelligent people, so please act like it. Okay? Okay.

Get your stinking paws off me, you damn, dirty not-a-monkey!

2011-08-10T22:17:00.000-07:00

On the latest Culture Gabfest they discussed the weekend's box office champ, Rise of the Planet of the Apes. But of course, I'm not going to talk about the movie, but about something that occurred during the conversation about the movie.

In a clear slip of the tongue, when alluding to the chimpanzee lead character, Caesar, one of the panelists used the word "monkey"—which was caught by one of the other panelists (as it's apparently a plot point in the movie)—but despite that, the first panelist did use "monkey" once more later on in the discussion. And the thing is: It's not that the panelist in question failed to grasp that apes and monkeys are separate (she poked fun at her faux pas while reading the copy for the podcast's sponsor after the segment), but that didn't stop her mind from using the terms interchangeably those two times; even a person of obvious intelligence could make that mistake.

As I've mentioned in the past, something I notice is people who are actively ignorant of the distinction, who stand in front of a zoo enclosure filled with, say, orangutans, and say to their children, "Look at the monkeys" (passing that ignorance on to another generation) even though there's signs right in front of them identifying the orangutans as apes.

It's a particular pet peeve of my wife, so that's probably why it really registers on my radar now, but I'm sure there was some point in my youth when I failed to think about how a monkey is not an ape (and vice versa); there was a point where I did learn it, but even afterward it would take some effort to keep them distinct. Now it's ingrained, but it hasn't always been that way.

In any case, it seems clear that this conflation of the terms is not uncommon. But is the reason merely because our parents got it wrong in their minds (presumably because their parents got it wrong, going back generations) and their misuse came to be our foundation for how we refer to primates in general? And then as that spreads to society in general it ends up affecting those whose parents had not had cause to use "monkey" when referring to an ape? Is that the source of our generalized ignorance?

How to solve this? Well, clearly having over 40 years of the Planet of the Apes franchise around—with apes clearly designated in the title—has not done the trick, so perhaps it's hopeless.

I haven't seen the movie, but I'm guessing that what really sets of the ape revolution is that we humans cannot get straight in our minds that apes are not monkeys. If so, it's a cautionary tale that warns us our ignorance will someday be our undoing.

So, parents, the best thing you can do for your children is to teach them (and yourselves) to say "apes" when it's "apes" (when in doubt, look for the absence of a tail); that may result in their best chances for survival.

Don't put your children in a situation that may lead to a future where someone exclaims, "Damn you! Damn you all to hell!" while pounding his fists in the sand.

~

Yes, there are some who argue apes are, in fact, monkeys. The misuse mentioned above is misuse because it's not being used intentionally but because people don't know classification distinctions at all. Just so we're clear.

Debt ceilings, and 2012 in that swamp by the Potomac

2011-08-09T22:09:00.001-07:00

The more I think about the debt ceiling debacle in our government (the abject inability of the participants to achieve the goal without putting us at the brink, whether you like its outcome or not), the more I envy dictatorial regimes. Sure, they're horrible to live under, but at least there's no delusion that the government is supposed to be working for you.

Or perhaps, through reinforced mass brainwashing, the delusion that the government does work for you effectively makes you believe it does.

Nothing is as depressing as utopian rumination.

~

Sure, the poor economy is not a positive harbinger for the President in 2012, but more and more I wonder: Why the hell would Obama want to be re-elected? Congress is against him, what he's tried to do that he thought was good was roundly spun to seem bad, and his personality and compromising tendencies clearly are out of step with what it takes to actually get done what presumably he'd want to get done in the current political climate; why would he want to subject himself to another four years of this?

He probably feels obligated to, and perhaps believes that if he sticks with it the American public will come around, but even at my most delusional I have a hard time believing that.

Of course, the Republicans seem to have the ideal situation for them—a polarizing executive to take the blame for the crappy economy who will give them whatever they want because he isn't crazy in the way they are. Why would they want one of their own in the Oval Office from 2013 to 2016, being the target for the ire directed at what's likely to still be a crappy economy?

There's so little about politics that makes any sense. How did this catch on as the way to run a government?

Oh, right. For those who engage in it, it beats working for a living, and for the rest of us we are unwilling to put up with its shit.

But we can find solace in knowing that no matter how bad it is now, we'll think it's much worse in the future.

Spotify on the spot

2011-08-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

I'd seen a references to Spotify online (particularly this post on Flowering Toilet), another system where one can stream music on-demand or essentially rent music for a portable device. It's not the first such service; it's merely the buzz-worthy one at the moment.

Here's the thing: I have not tried it yet, and if I'm completely honest, I don't find myself inclined to. But something gnawed at me, making me feel compelled to explain why. However, as I ruminated on that, it didn't gel into a nice, simple explanation.

Of course, rather than worry about having to explain, the question may really be: Why do I feel compelled to say anything?

There's plenty of subjects that come up in pop culture (or in politics, or sports, or whatever) where I don't feel as though I have to explain why I am not inspired to check it out; with anything, if it doesn't appeal to you it doesn't appeal to you. No shame in that, and no need to subject the 'net to something that ultimately is merely "hey, I'm not inclined to do it but if you want to, that's cool." That's my attitude about virtually everything that is not of specific interest to me, and perhaps there needs to be some of that in the blogosphere to counter the "if you don't like the same things I like you're an idiot" sentiments that are out there (but it's not as though the sort of people who espouse such sentiments would find anything I post to make them reconsider their tactics), but that's not worth the time either.

Unlike many things, however, I do still feel some connection to what's going on in the music world. I used to spend a fair amount of my disposable income purchasing CDs, and at one point I had well over a thousand of those jewel cases on racks. It's been a few years since I had the time to follow the industry as closely as I did, say, back in my 20's, but in my mind I haven't gone "out to pasture"; I still feel some affinity toward it.

Therein lies the source of the inclination to comment; I have not crossed that line that delineates those who consider themselves "into" music from those who merely listen and enjoy music. I'm nowhere near what I once was, am much closer to that line than I like to admit, but in my mind I'm still on the same side I have been since I was a teen.

So really what I find myself pondering is not so much whether Spotify is worthy of the buzz it has, nor whether Spotify is the "future" of music (or if recorded music has a future at all in the digital age); at its core what I'm pondering is not why I should feel any pangs of guilt that I'm not inclined to try Spotify; what I'm pondering is how to reconcile the fact that I'm on one side of that "into" line and have no inclination toward Spotify and do not feel guilty about that. On some level it seems like those are inconsistent. So is this merely me being confronted with evidence that to think I'm still on that side of the line is mere delusion, that my dalliance with that is actually more over than I realized?

Perhaps it's ultimately that Spotify put me on the spot about my relationship with music these days, and have to really accept that I am okay with what that relationship is. We're kind of an middle-aged married couple, where the intense passion has subsided (as it must) but where we fondly recall those days; we are comfortable with each other in the best sense while still finding exciting moments, and most important, we still love each other.

No technological advances will ever change that.

~

And now, if you'll pardon the self-indulgence, here's some other thoughts I had on this:

The future?

It's likely the "cloud-based" system is the future of music delivery, but as to how it will be economically viable for the music industry remains to be seen.

Perhaps in the future recording songs will be exclusively as promotional material, to convince listeners to go see the band in concert. There will be no "selling" of music so there will be no "ownership" of the recordings by consumers. It will be supported by ad revenue or something, and/or by listener subscription fees (paid to these streaming sites who offer some level of royalties to the artists).

I guess time will tell.

~

The Collector Objection

Were I in my 20's undoubtedly I'd think it the coolest thing; back then I had a nigh insatiable appetite for new music (and by "new" I mean music I didn't already have, not merely that which had just come out). Frankly, a service such as this back then may have overwhelmed me.

Of course, back then we had to get music on physical media—there were CDs, yes, but LPs and cassettes had not completely faded (to see records in a store was not due to some comeback). And here, at the risk of launching into the back-in-my-day nostalgic glorification of merely what happened to be the common paradigm when my habits were formed, I'll note there was some effort involved in acquiring that music I sought. To get a rare b-side involved actually finding a shop who had the actual 7" and paying the price for a collectible, where that single cost more than an entire album.

Even with CDs, a lot of stuff didn't come out domestically at first. I recall purchasing the import of the Smiths' Hatful of Hollow at a store down in Orange County for nearly double what regular CDs were going for. (Some months later I could have gotten the U.S.-released version for half that, but at the time I didn't know when such a release would come.)

In short, even if one wasn't obsessive about everything, if one was at least reasonably into music one was a collector. One had a shelf with actual objects to not only be a means of storage but also of displaying what one liked.

Nowadays I have embraced the digital revolution, because there is something undeniably convenient about having thousands of songs on a device that fits in one's pocket. I don't go to stores anymore, as I buy my music via download. But that's still a method that gets me something that I have, forever (or at least as long as I keep a copy); it's taking up space on a hard drive, but that's easier to find than was shelf space for records, tapes, and discs. I still know what is mine, even though it's accessed through iTunes rather than on the aforementioned shelves.

~

Movin' on up?

Spotify does appear to allow for a subscription plan allowing for putting songs on one's iPhone. But the thing for me is: I already have thousands of tracks I've amassed over the years, and have a system for getting them on my device with ease. I don't think I need to replace that with a system where I must pick all that again.

But for previewing a song before actually buying it (rather than hearing merely a 30-second snippet) it certainly seems like it could be worthwhile.

It may be somewhat akin to the time back in the mid-'80s when I was not sure whether CDs would really be worth the higher price to pay for them (compared to LPs), and then a few years later I had hundreds and hundreds of them (eventually easily exceeding the thousand mark); that was a scenario where the new format offered advantages (easy access to specific tracks, no having to turn over the record, easier portability) that appealed to how I liked to listen. Then with the opportunity to rip those discs to mp3 on the computer (a project that took me months to complete back in 2000-2001) I found the jukebox software paradigm to be more convenient to hear particular tracks than getting their individual CDs. And with the mp3 player's advantages of portability and storage, I eventually embraced that.

It was all about appealing to my listening preferences at that time in my life. And nowadays I do not explore brand new music anywhere near the extent I did back when I was buying CDs. In some part that may be due to the stereotypical crystallization of my tastes (where what I like tends to be what came out in those days) but I still do buy some contemporary releases, so it's not a matter of me dismissing today's offerings as "that crap these kids are listening to." But if I'm honest, the majority of my listening is done while I'm at work (I plug in my iPod to speakers at my desk) where it provides a low-volume soundtrack for my day. I fill the device with randomly generated playlists of my library, and put it on shuffle; it's material with which I am familiar, which didn't take long to get on there, and is all stuff I know I already like; it does not require active attention while listening to it (like new material tends to do), and while I'm working I don't have extra attention to spare, so that achieves what I need from it.

I am not a fuddy-duddy who knows nothing of new music, but I'm not the musical adventurer that I was while amassing the collection I do have. I like a little new stuff (even if it's buying some old stuff from those days that I missed getting at the time) every month, but that modest addition to the considerable library gets me what I need, and not more.

I do not have a problem with my current setup that Spotify seems likely to resolve; it's not that it has nothing to offer, but for what my listening preferences are these days, it's not an obvious improvement over what I'm already doing.

But that's just me. My thesis here is merely ruminating on whether I find myself feeling inclined to check out Spotify as my next way of listening, and at least at the moment, as I admitted at the top: I do not.

I'm not giving a review of the service (obviously)—although I'd certainly like to hear what you may have to say if you have tried it—but giving a review (so to speak) of what my brain is thinking about the service.

And that review has rambled on way too long already. As usual.

Thanks for pretending this was worth hearing. Now listen to something better, on whatever format strikes your particular fancy.

The Change Lantern

2011-08-05T05:57:00.000-07:00

Another movie trailer mash-up:

In The Change-Up (opening today) it appears from the trailer that Ryan Reynolds plays a womanizing bachelor and Jason Bateman plays a button-down father and husband, and somehow they switch bodies, Freaky Friday-style, so each can experience the other's lifestyle.

When Reynolds, in Bateman's body, has to change diapers, I imagine the first thing he mutters is something about wishing he still had the Green Lantern power ring.

Talk about evil he does wish could escape his sight...

Right of way

2011-08-02T22:14:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday morning, as I walked from the train station to the office in downtown L.A., I found myself in the crosswalk, heading north up Flower, crossing Wilshire. Flower is a southbound one-way street, so oncoming traffic is headed toward me, not with me. Anyway, I had the green light and the "walk" sign and strode out into the crosswalk (as I mentioned—it was just two sentences ago; surely you haven't forgotten) and a Jaguar (the auto, not the big cat) was in the lane to turn left on to Wilshire. It had moved about a third of the way into the intersection from the other side.

When I was about a third of the way across, the driver of said Jaguar apparently decided that his need to get wherever he was going was too urgent and he whipped the car in a tight eastbound turn right in front of me, missing me by maybe three feet (that actually put his car on to the westbound lanes of Wilshire—that's a two-way street—although no cars were on that side at the moment). It wasn't that he floored it as soon as the light turned green; he crawled out, and then sped at the last possible moment, all because he didn't want to wait for me to get another ten feet along (and possibly have to wait for any other pedestrians behind me).

Here's the thing: At no point was I alarmed. I wasn't even upset. I just kept walking without breaking stride. In my mind, all that happened was another little checkmark went into the mental column tracking times the driver of a luxury vehicle proved himself to be the asshole that reinforces the stereotype that the wealthy really don't give a shit about anyone other than themselves. If anything, what I felt was disappointment at seeing that he was such an utter cliché.

When I got to the other corner I glanced eastward and noticed that he'd gotten only as far as the next intersection, where he was sitting at a red light. Had he waited for me and the other pedestrians to finish crossing, it's entirely likely he would have hit that point after that next light had turned green.

Clearly, forethought was not his strong suit.

Nothing new about that.

Everything you never realized you wanted to know about emceeing the dragon boat festival

2011-08-01T22:09:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday morning after breakfast my wife and I headed to Marine Stadium in Long Beach for the 15th Annual Long Beach Dragon Boat Festival. As some of you know, I was an active participant in the sport of dragon boating from 2000 through 2006, but I haven't held a paddle in nearly five years. My participation in the local tournament was what it has been several times (both during those years when I was racing and in the time since): I was there to emcee the opening ceremonies.

(Look! I'm reading off a clipboard!)

People who know me probably think of me as somewhat introverted, and with the bad habit of sometimes speaking too fast, so me being the one to get up on a stage in front of over 100 people and be the one to keep the festivities lively might seem odd. And it is.

In any case, for some reason they keep asking me to do it, and for some reason I keep not coming up with some excuse to get out of doing it, so there must be something about the relationship that works for both the organizers of the event and for me.

Actually, I think it's more that the event gives that ordinarily dormant extrovert in me an opportunity to come out. However, this might tell you a little about the dragon boat community—I am considered the funny, outgoing one. (Seriously. When I arrived, the man who is primarily responsible for the tournament saw me and affectionately called me the "funny guy" in his Chinese accent.)

I also imagine the fact I was part of the community helps. Oh, and the fact I work for free (everyone is a volunteer) undoubtedly plays into what prompts them to keep asking me back.

I feel no compulsion to actually go out of my way to be funny. If something humorous comes to mind, sure, I'll say it, but I don't prepare a monologue or anything. (At least, not after the first time I emceed many years ago.) And that's certainly for the best; I know enough about "show business" to know not to push it. Ultimately, the people assembled are there because they're reps of sponsors or honored guests or people who have grasped that there's a place to sit under a tent; they're not expecting Morning at the Improv—they want to get through the program of performances and speakers and get on with their day.

Looking at the schedule prepared by the organizers, the opening ceremonies were supposed to start at 10:30 with a performance of a traditional lion dance. However, some of the dancer were also paddlers who were out in the race going on at that moment, so we were running late before we started. Eventually I had to get up on the stage and stall—or, as I said to the crowd, "I need to kill some time."

Because I didn't prepare a monologue things worked out so I could have used one. Of course. I made a couple quasi-jokes where I talked about how dragon boating got little attention from the media, and remarked on how the X Games (going on this past weekend as well) had overcome that hurdle, so clearly dragon boating needed to get "extreme" (the problem: not enough vertical in paddling). Yes, that was it. And people laughed. Not a lot, but a noticeable amount. And then I quipped that with the popularity of the Green movement the sport needed to play up how environmentally friendly it is, accompanied by sweeping arm gestures. Enthusiasm will get one far—trust me. Then I jumped off the stage and asked some people in the front row what teams they were on, and milked that for another couple minutes.

And then finally we were ready to commence with the schedule of performances and speakers, to the presumed relief of all.

My wife was in the audience, and afterward she told me this: She overheard two women who were seated in front of her comment on how funny I was. And while I certainly appreciate that and am glad they enjoyed my antics, telling me was not to placate my ego; it was to show the standards for comedy.

It's all about finding that small pond in which to be the big fish (for 45 minutes, one morning, every other year). And trying not to butcher any of the guests' names as you announce people coming up to speak.

Now you are ready to do it. By reading this, you may be called upon to emcee next year. Wait by the phone...

~

Photos I took at the 2007 dragon boat festival can be seen here.

Reading a magazine, and the eventual HIMYM anachronism

2011-07-31T20:40:00.000-07:00

In the How I Met Your Mother episode from 2009 titled "Benefits" Marshall (Jason Segel) is embarrassed by carrying a magazine down the hall at work as he walks to the men's room, feeling the judging eyes of his co-workers and imagining them thinking poorly of him for what he's about to do while reading that magazine in their shared restroom.

Such is his shame that he goes by Ted and Robin's apartment (he still has a key from when he and Ted (Josh Radnor) were roommates) instead.

When Robin (Cobie Smulders) confronts him about coming in to their apartment for this purpose, suggesting that he could simply not read a magazine during that time, he offers as a rebuttal that one must read a magazine then, as that's the reason why there are magazines; otherwise, Ted chimes in, it's "just time you're not getting back."

Watching this episode now (as HIMYM is shown regularly in syndication), I find myself thinking: As we get more and more into the era of smart phones, with their games and wireless access, it seems as though the notion of carrying a physical magazine for the purposes of having something to occupy one's time during that period of "reading a magazine" will become silly. Carrying a magazine will not bring shame because it's announcing one is about to "drop a deuce" but because it's telling others that one does not have a device that fits in one's pocket that could fulfill that role.

I can already envision having to explain that syndicated episode to future generations. And failing.

It'll be a poopie task.

I am not a poseur but sometimes I pretend to be one

2011-07-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

On last week's Pop Culture Happy Hour touched on poseur-dom, spurred by an article in the New York Times written by someone who avoided Harry Potter but after some condescending elitist rhetoric apparently concluded the only method of dealing with having missed out on it was to pretend to have knowledge of it.

Or there's the way I approached the exact same topic last week. But enough about that.

However, to be a poseur is to not merely feign familiarity with something but to do so for the benefit of fitting in with some situation. While I have overcome the need to seem in-the-know for pop cultural phenomena (because I am no longer young and have come to grips with the fact I know what I know, that I've seen what I've seen, that I've read what I've read, I've heard what I've heard), it is those areas of what some might consider "high" culture—classical music, opera, Shakespeare, literature, art, etc.—that put me in situations where I find it's easiest to just go along with the conversation rather than have to explain I don't really know the subject well (or hardly at all).

It's not that I have no familiarity with such things—I did have some introductory classes in college, or I've seen something mentioned on a TV show I flipped by on Discovery or History Channel (back when those weren't mostly reality shows) or somehow remember an answer on Jeopardy on the topic, and in some instances I have actually read or seen the thing in question—so I am not, as the saying goes, a complete Philistine*, and that is the challenge. Someone who does have some greater investment in the topic heard me use an expression involving the term "Philistine" and from there made an assumption that I am the sort of person who would know about the larger realm of culture and history and whatnot. In those situations, I tend to find myself thinking it's best to go forward and not dispel the impression of me that this person has drawn, to move the conversation subtly back to something on which I can speak, or to politely excuse myself; to admit the limitations of my knowledge would render me permanently unworthy and often I cannot tell in that moment if I will ever again have need to converse with this person, so I don't burn that bridge so overtly.

It is unfortunate that there's this dichotomy wherein one must know everything about everything or one is a completely uncultured fool with no middle ground, even though everyone must know that everyone is actually in some middle ground on at least something.

I will note that whenever possible I fully admit to my limitation, perhaps couched in phrases like "I meant to" or "it was so long ago" or something that seems unlikely to come across as disputing the worthiness of the topic—because, a) I do not believe these topics are worthless, and b) in those situations, the last thing I want to do is to engage in some argument with these pretentious types.

Not that I tend to be inclined to argue with pretentious types during alternative situations. Just so we're clear.

(If while you were reading this you assumed I'd come up with a better ending, allow me to assure you at no point did I intend to make you think I was posing as an actual writer.)

~

* That expression is something I could not explain very well if pressed to elaborate; I am merely content to be able to spell that term without having to look it up.

Nevermind how the '90s don't seem so long ago

2011-07-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

When reading a chapter in Tina Fey's Bossypants I saw a reference to how she moved to Chicago in 1992 after college and had a roommate and could only get a crappy job at the YMCA. This was her starting out. See how far she's come.

Here's the thing: Obviously 1992 is now coming close to being two full decades ago. But when I think of 1992 it doesn't seem like some kind of distant past. I know it was, but it doesn't seem that far back.

When I think of the '80s, or certainly the '70s, they seem like a completely different era; the '90s, however, somehow seem part of a different period in the current era. As to how I draw that distinction, I can only surmise that in the '90s I was in my twenties and living on my own (I did, in fact, move out from living with my parents in 1990, coincidentally) and thus that's the start of what could be considered being a full-fledged adult (by at least a rudimentary definition thereof). I earned a paycheck that paid the bills (and put me through college), and while compared to how I am now I was an utter dipshit, I still remember 1992 pretty well.

However, go back to 1988, for example, a mere four years earlier (when I turned 20, and in theory was an adult) and it's not as distinct. (In 1982 I was a freshman in high school and very few distinct memories come to mind.) There's something about that turning the corner of living on my own that clearly seems to be the delineation; it's not so much graduating high school nor graduating college that are the milestones, but having that first apartment between those events that marks some kind of beginning of what is still… well, not current, but not ancient (so to speak).

This coming September will be the twentieth anniversary of the release of Nirvana's Nevermind. I remember going to the Tower Records in Buena Park to buy the CD single of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" shortly before that album came out, and then getting the full album the week it came out. I don't necessarily remember most of the times I bought CDs (which I'd been doing since 1987), but that I do recall. It was, at the time, a big deal. Little did we realize what a cultural touchstone it would become as that song and then the album would redefine the music landscape, and it's perhaps likely that I have embedded that memory more because of what came later.

But it doesn't at all seem like twenty years have expired in the interim.

What I find myself pondering: Did someone who was in his early twenties when Sgt. Pepper's first came out in 1967 think in 1987 that he couldn't believe two decades had passed? The Beatles' catalog was first coming out on CD then and certainly a big deal was made of the anniversary. Was his personal era distinction still such that the late '60s weren't that far from memory? Or were the differences in culture that had transpired too much for him to think it was not a different era?

Am I able to think of the '90s as not that far back because as a society we're not that different than how we were? Is it that I can walk into a room and pull that Nevermind disc off the shelf and know I could still go buy it in that format (for now) that allows it to seem contemporary?

Perhaps once compact discs are relegated to the niche market that LPs currently have I will have to put this era to a close—even though I'll still be very much in the full-fledged adult phase (alas)—merely because the predominant music format shall have utterly changed.

Yes, one would think there'd be more to it than that.

So, what do you think?

Big buck resolution-off

2011-07-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

So, who had the NFL lockout being resolved before the Debt Ceiling talks?

Of course, most Americans would be upset about no football this fall more than they would if the economy falls apart—no one seems to be exactly sure what would happen if the U.S. defaults on its debts, but the country would definitely go to shit if there's no pro football on Sundays as the leaves change color—so clearly the more important battle over ridiculous amounts of money got done first.

Or at least it proves that some organization with opposing sides grasps that if they cannot come to some agreement in time, everybody involved loses.

127 Hours Down in the Rise of the Planet of the Apes

2011-07-24T19:40:00.000-07:00

Upon seeing ads for the new Rise of the Planet of the Apes movie with James Franco, I found myself thinking: Okay, in this movie, when he falls in the crevasse, it's the ape he taught sign language that cuts off his arm.

That taste of dismembering humans must be what puts the apes on the road to overthrowing humanity.

~

Yeah, let's stop this before someone starts to wish that a chimpanzee were writing this.

A California Wonder from the beginning

2011-07-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

Over on the photo site, you can see (over the course of 17 shots) this little bud grow into a "California Wonder" bell pepper. Click here and go see nature in action (or as much as what happened out in our little patio garden qualifies).

Google+: Is there room for another social media site?

2011-07-21T22:42:00.000-07:00

Can Google+ supplant Facebook as the most popular site (as Facebook did with MySpace, and MySpace did with Friendster)?

I have not even seen Google+ yet, as I am not one of those who has received an invitation (as they did with Gmail accounts initially, they're doling them out sparingly presumably to create a sense of exclusivity—when in fact the early adopters are likely just beta testers who don't realize they're helping get the kinks worked out), so I cannot comment on whether I think this new player has the likelihood of usurping the king.

But that won't stop me from offering unfounded speculation.

The primary aspect of its design that has been touted is the format of "circles," where one can (at least in theory) separate one's various sets of acquaintances into different groups (e.g., family, co-workers, friends from this activity, etc.)—an online replication of the social circles one has in real life. The appeal there is in contrast to Facebook's paradigm of where one simply has all these "friends" and one has to go to some effort to keep posts that are only appropriate to some to be seen only by them.

Of course, as I heard someone remark, part of the appeal of Facebook could be considered the ability one has to essentially eavesdrop on these others and see what they choose to reveal. To segregate one's acquaintances into these circles can help keep one's boss from seeing that inappropriate joke, but it does seem somehow less "social," and thus might be missing the point somewhat.

Sure, the big complaint people had with Facebook was the way the company changed privacy without notice—which is a serious problem, to be sure—but that didn't make everyone flee the Zuckerberg playground. It created some furor for a while, and it gave people who didn't like it that much an excuse to leave, but it didn't kill Facebook.

I'd wager that Google+ will catch not so much as to how well it improves on the Facebook experience—it seems likely it will take a long time for hundreds of millions of Facebook users to abandon that ship and go over to Google's side (if that ever happens), and until a lot of people are on it that one knows, there won't really be much there to allow one to draw a conclusion about whether it's superior (one needs most of one's "friends" to shift over more of less simultaneously, which may not be realistic for quite some time)—but by how it overcomes what I suspect is the key challenge it will have: people may have reached social media saturation.

These days, if one wishes to keep up with and comment on the goings-on with a particular subject, there can be a website or blog (or both), and a Facebook page, and the Twitter accounts of those involved Some people refuse to join some of those outlets, so it's not to the point where any of those is seeming outdated (the heyday of blogs certainly has passed, but that is not going away). I suspect those three (or four) may be as many as people (at least the "civilians" out there—not just the kids and the techies) consider for what they have room in their online lives.

Perhaps Google+ would be content with being a niche market (so to speak) where only to "cool" people go, but I doubt that's their aim. But if what they want is to be what relegates Facebook to has-been status, they'll have to overcome more than merely what people don't like about Facebook; they'll have to convince people that they have more time to spend online.

I'll report back in three years when my friends have hounded me into joining Google+… if it's even still around.

Harry Potter, missing out, and fitting in

2011-07-20T22:03:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend the final Harry Potter movie set box office records, and it made me realize more than at any point over the past decade that a tremendous pop cultural phenomenon completely passed me by.

And I'm okay with that.

I have no doubt that the books and movies are entertaining works. I know many people personally who were adults when the books first came out and loved them, but for whatever reason I never felt inspired to even get on board. I did see the first movie back when it first came out (in the theater) with someone who was a fan of the novel, and it was fine, but nothing struck that chord in me like clearly happened with many, many others worldwide.

I don't think it was merely some matter of me being "too old" when the series started, as there's many older than me for whom that chord was struck. Also, I can be plenty geeky about pop culture, so it wasn't like I dismissed it condescendingly because of its subject matter.

I worked in a comic book store until I was 26 years old, for crying out loud. I am not snooty about this stuff.

But there is one area where my age will serve me in the future regarding this franchise. In 30 years, no one will scoff at me for not having read or seen Harry Potter. Were I anywhere from 15 to 30 years younger, I'd probably feel compelled to at least see the films in order to keep up with what will be the same sort of pop culture touchstone that Star Wars was when I was a kid. Granted, were I that young still, almost certainly I would have seen them just because that's what one does when one is young—go along with one's friends to the movies on the weekend merely because it's what there is to do; boredom plays as much of a role as peer pressure in shaping this aspect of socialization.

I alluded to Star Wars and I do think that for any member of my generation who to this day has never seen any of those movies that proves a liability of sorts. That person almost certainly has been at a party or in a workplace conversation and had to endure the shocked looks on the faces of others when they find this person has not seen Star Wars. Even if it simply did not strike that chord at the time to have inspired one to go see it, over the intervening decades it has been on TV many times (Spike practically has it on a loop), so by this point it surely must be something one has actively avoided.

However, for someone of, say, my parents' generation, it seems like a person of that age could get away with not having seen it without being construed as a freakish pariah. Not that my parents didn't see Star Wars—someone took us kids to the theater—but their peers were not necessarily making Lucas' space opera to be the lingua franca of their generation.

I have to imagine Harry Potter will be that thing for the young people who came up in the last 15 years that will draw those blank expressions of disbelief for not having at least seen the movies, both now and probably for most (if not all) of the rest of their lives.

So that box office record was evidence not merely of the conclusion of an entertaining series but also proof that a lot of people grasp, unconsciously, the importance of having seen it so they won't have to suffer a lifetime of being considered an outcast.

Is Hogwart's not the representation of what everyone seeks: a place where one fits in? We want that in some subset of our society as well, and so the story operates on one level to appeal to that desire and having seen the movie operates on another level to achieve that.

(Yes, it's sad I put more pop cultural importance in seeing the movies than in reading the books. That's because viewing is a shared experience; reading is solitary.)

The ups and downs (and ups) of the Women's World Cup

2011-07-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

Sunday I made it through the emotional rollercoaster that was the Women's World Cup final match between the U.S. and Japan—and it was an event that fans of either nation's team did have to make it through, whether their team emerged victorious or not.

Without thinking about it, I was rooting for the U.S. team. Of course I would pull for the representatives from my home nation. I'm not a "rah-rah, go U.S.A.!"-type guy who thinks his country can do no wrong, but still when it comes to these tournaments where there's a team of my fellow Americans there as part of a national team I cannot deny there's something that kicks in on a subconscious level to make me identify with them.

For example: When I heard merely the re-broadcast of the audio of the announcer describing Abby Wambach's game-tying goal in the quarterfinal match against Brazil I got a little misty with pride. I didn't even catch that on TV when it first aired and saw only the highlights later, and even a week later the mere sound of that excited call got to me.

I imagine that's due to something inside each of us that can envision what it would be like to be in that situation, with the hopes of our entire country riding on us, and how overwhelmed by emotion we'd be. It's the fantasy facilitated by sympathy.

So when yesterday I watched the final match live on TV, I did get up and run around the living room with my arms raised triumphantly when the U.S. team scored a goal. And when they gave up the first goal to Japan because the defenders failed to clear the ball from near the U.S. net I was yelling at the screen, "What the hell was that?!" I went from elation to dejection over and over.

Here I will admit: When I saw Japan tie the match at 1, before even going to overtime, I said to myself, Well, that's it. We're going to lose this in penalty kicks. I wish I were making that up. I knew there was still a lot of match to go before it would get to that point, but I had some kind of premonition. It also likely was my psyche attempting to get me to distance myself emotionally somewhat, which undoubtedly I needed to do.

So when the U.S. team did, in fact, lose the match after not once but twice being in the lead with only minutes left (in regulation and in overtime) only to have the Japanese get a miraculous goal to tie, and then went on to miss their first three penalty kicks and lose the match, I was not distraught. I was bummed, sure, but if there's one ubiquitous aspect of watching sports—any sports—is that there clearly seemed to be some aspect of destiny on the side of the Japanese team, and there was no point in pitting hope against destiny.

That's where intellect comes back into the fold, in a semi-absurd way. There's nothing logical about attributing the Japanese victory to "destiny," of course, but there is some rationalization going on that is commonplace in sports analysis. It's not pure emotion at that point.

And the further rationalization continued as I thought of how if either of the nations represented in that final match needed the boost of a victory more, clearly it was the one who suffered a devastating natural disaster just months ago.

When on TV they showed scenes from crowds in Japan who watched the match on a big screen, of that moment when Japan won and everyone erupted in cheers, I found myself having an emotional response much like the one I described earlier, where I was filled with that same pride—even though it meant the team for whom I had been rooting had lost. There was simply something about that moment of exultation that got to me as well, nationalism be damned.

Or maybe there's just something about the excitement of those soccer announcers declaring a goal scored that strikes a chord in the human heart. That could be it, too.

~

As I noted during the Men's World Cup last year I am not a follower of soccer (football) as a sport in general—and I wish to be clear that I have nothing against it; it's merely a sport I never got in the habit of watching or playing at that age when it really would have taken root. However, just like with the Olympics I do find myself interested by these international competitions and will watch events that I wouldn't otherwise. I don't mean to sound like I'm giving some sort of condescending attention to soccer, because that's not it at all. In fact, it's out of respect to those who are adherents to the sport that I admit my situation, so we're all clear where I'm coming from with this.

"Carmageddon" shows how LA freeways work

2011-07-17T20:09:00.000-07:00

Although the closure of part of the 405 freeway (a.k.a., "Carmageddon") proved to be a non-event (and not the traffic disaster predicted by the media in the weeks leading up to this weekend), it did offer proof that the freeway system in Los Angeles can be an effective way to get around town--provided that everyone stays off of it.

How did our garden grow?

2011-07-16T22:28:00.000-07:00

Over on the photo site, you can see how my wife's garden out on our condo patio turned from this:

To this in two months:

Go watch the transition (inasmuch as weekly shots of the progress qualify as transition).

Some people stink (in their brains)

2011-07-15T07:41:00.000-07:00

Last week I witnessed the following exchange on the train: During the evening rush hour a young woman sat in the aisle seat next to me. She chatted with another young woman in the aisle seat across from her. Part way through the trip a clearly homeless man got on and stood at the front of the car, holding a sign soliciting help. That is not entirely uncommon. Similarly uncommon, most people ignored him.

However, as the man shuffled down aisle, clearly ashamed of his circumstances, the young woman leaned away from him as though he were threatening her, even though he was merely shuffling. She made remarks about how bad he smelled and told him to get away from her.

It was far worse than merely being ignored. (Not that being ignored is good, granted.)

The man continued past and presumably on to the next car.

A short while later, as the train was stopped at the platform of one of the stations on the route, a sheriff was walking along next to the train. The two women jumped up and quickly moved to toward the door farther back. Clearly they were worried the sheriff would enter and ask to see proof of fare that they didn't have, and were prepared to try to pull and end-around out the other door to avoid getting a ticket.

As it turned out the sheriff did not enter, so they escaped. However, part of me was actively wishing the deputy would get on and cite them in a bit of cosmic payback for the abject way they treated the homeless man.

I can only hope they end up homeless and stinky and panhandling themselves someday.

~

That's the nicer fate than what first came to mind.

"Carmageddon": This is why the rest of the country makes fun of L.A.

2011-07-14T04:05:00.000-07:00

This coming weekend here in the Los Angeles metropolitan area there will be the partial demolition of a bridge over a freeway. For this, a portion of a few miles of the freeway in question will be completely closed from Friday night through early Monday morning (see red rectangle below).

That seems like it would create some inconvenience for those who live or work or otherwise would travel that portion of the freeway during the weekend, but would otherwise be a minor issue, right?

Apparently you missed when I referenced this was "Los Angeles."

The freeway in question is the 405 (here in California we put definite articles in front of freeway numbers—something that I've found is intriguing to those from other parts of the country where that's not done), which is one of the worse freeways in the whole area regarding traffic, and the portion in question is the Sepulveda Pass, the primary artery for vehicles through the hills that separate the western part of the L.A. basin to the San Fernando valley (a.k.a. "the Valley"), so it is cutting off the main thoroughfare for connecting two major pockets of the area. And because ramps will start closing as early as 7 p.m. Friday evening, that could start affecting people trying to get home from work. Still, it's only the closure of a few miles of freeway in a metropolitan area with literally hundreds of miles of freeway that won't be closed. People will need to find alternate routes or choose not to travel there. This is certainly worth getting the word out to the public about so people know about it and can plan accordingly.

However, this being Southern California, it has already been dubbed "Carmageddon," and the local news has been running stories for weeks about how to "survive the 405" (there's graphics and everything). It is discussed in the same way people on the Gulf Coast must be alerted about coming hurricanes. (It lacks that gravity, of course, but the amount of time devoted to it on the broadcasts is analogous.) Every message sign over every freeway has been carrying the same message for weeks about the closure, specifically noting to expect "big delays." Officials, when interviewed, are advising citizens to stay around their homes over the weekend—not merely those in the immediate area but everyone.

Which is actually a perfectly reasonable recommendation, given the circumstances (and the price of gasoline). However, if there's one thing Angelinos find offensive, it's the notion of not being able to get in their cars. So this becomes an event on par with a disaster, at least judging from the treatment by our local media.

I don't have a good feeling about how we'll fare when an actual disaster might occur.

Giving up

2011-07-13T07:03:00.000-07:00

On the latest Pop Culture Happy Hour they had this topic, to which I'll offer some response: When is it okay to give up on a book (and then they extrapolated out to discontinuing watching a TV series, walking out of a movie, leaving a theatrical performance)?

The answer is ridiculously simple: if you are not specifically required to read (or watch) something (for school, for work, for a book club, to keep up with what people are tweeting about, etc.), then it's a simple determination: when you're not enjoying it, getting nothing out of it.

But the trouble is that we're led to believe quitting is bad, so we force ourselves to finish a book (or show) out of obligation, even when it has passed the point where we are doing so of what could be considered our own volition. Also, there's a sense that if we abandon the book before reaching the end we may miss out on something that ultimately was worthwhile (but started poorly) and we'll regret it; the pushing forward is a means of avoiding that regret (and there is some benefit there).

If something is so actively bad that you can get some enjoyment out of marveling at its ineptitude and being able to mock it, that can be more than adequate to justify keeping at it, but if something is not so bad as to provide that, then it's worth bearing in mind that life is short and unless you have just a surfeit of time or feel compelled to punish yourself (or simply need something new to complain about on the internet), give up on that unsatisfying book (or TV series).

Movies and plays/musicals (live theatre) tend to only be a couple hours and are awkward to walk out of during the show, so those really have to be awfully non-rewarding (even for mockery) to quit, but TV series go on for show after show, all season (and sometimes season after season), so those do turn into a serious time commitment to keep watching. But now that there's the relative ubiquity of DVR technology, and their capacities keep getting larger, the option to record a number of episodes with a vague optimism that it might be worth watching if one later feels like diving into watching but without having to actually watch as the episodes air. It's wonderfully non-committal while still holding the opportunity to commit. And then after one still hasn't felt compelled to start watching after months have passed and one needs to clear out some free space on the DVR one can delete the show.

I imagine the Kindle or iPad offer a similar opportunity to get something and have it merely taking up some hard drive space, but not having such a device I can only assume. But it still boils down to it being easier to amass content that one may eventually choose to read/watch at a later time, conceivably when one finds oneself with a surplus of free time (perhaps if one is bedridden, or on house arrest, or those lottery numbers come up, etc.) without books stacking up on shelves or video tapes piled by the VCR. If technology exists for any purpose is it not ultimately to cater to our gluttonous appetites for media (that defies logic but which we still fancy we can somehow consume)?

It's a good time to be alive.

A face for radio (and podcasts)

2011-07-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

When I hear people who are on-air contributors on the radio or podcasts, invariably I concoct in my mind some mental image of what they look like. When eventually I see a photo of these people (which, thanks to the internet, is rather easily accomplished—often whether I specifically seek that out or not), they rarely resemble the picture of them I had in my head. And frankly, other than usually getting their gender-specific qualities right, my mind tends to come up with something that wasn't even in the proverbial ballpark.

You'd think eventually my mind would realize people's faces don't match their voices and demeanors and it should abandon coming up with these images, or at least take its first try and then go almost the opposite way, but no, it just keeps doing it.

As my brain cannot stop needing to have something to associate with these voices, the only alternative is to explicitly avoid photos of these people at all costs. Then they always look precisely as I expect.

Someday there'll be holograms or something so we'll never not know what these people look like. My mind will be so disappointed.

Extra Hot Great was a crackpot about Jon Stewart

2011-07-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

The Extra Hot Great podcast has a segment called "I Am Not a Crackpot" where one of the panelists offers a diatribe about something in pop culture that goes against popular belief. This week's episode was entirely that segment, with contributions from fans. But one of the panel offered her take on something for the episode: that Jon Stewart should stop being the host of The Daily Show, and a new host (possibly one of the correspondents, like the brilliant Larry Wilmore).

I do concede that if one does not care for Jon Stewart's personality that one's enjoyment of the show will be affected, but a) I think Stewart is still doing a fine job (because I have no trouble believing that he is a comedian and not an activist, despite how others try to paint him as such), and b) he made the show what it is; a Daily Show without him should not exist.

I'm not saying I'd stop watching if one of the correspondents took over; I am a big fan of virtually all of them (except the god-awful hideousness that is that chick from G4), and I'm sure any of them could do an admirable job. However, it would be an imitation of what it was. Much like I fully expect The Office without Steve Carrel will be at best okay, TDS without Jon, while something I'd still watch, would be something where I'd yearn for the days of Stewart.

If Jon Stewart decides to hang up the host duties and be only a producer, that would be fine, but the show needs to end with him. If Comedy Central wants to try a completely different show that takes on the news four nights a week with a different name, that would be acceptable—sure, invariably it would get compared to TDS but at least it would be its own entity.

It's like when a band with a great singer that everyone likes has a falling out and hires another singer—even one who is a good singer in his/her own right—and goes on for a while. It's fine, but it's not the same and there's that nagging sense of what it isn't.

In the Van Halen analogy, Jon is David Lee Roth (despite the fact he took over from Craig Kilborn—who isn't even Sammy Hagar but that guy who came after Sammy, Gary Cherone; the analogy is imperfect). Even if someone good like Wilmore or Samantha Bee or the Brit took over behind the desk they would always be nothing more than Sammy.

I am not a crackpot. At least not at the moment.

A California perspective on New York's Same-Sex Marriage Law

2011-07-07T22:31:00.000-07:00

The recent passage of the initiative in New York recognizing same-sex marriage resulted from a Republican state senator reversing his position on the issue. As preface to giving his vote, he admitted his Catholic upbringing made him think of marriage in the traditional sense, but that he could not think of any legal reason to deny others the same benefits that he and his wife enjoyed from their marriage, and thus he had to vote in favor of it.

As one who is an avowed proponent of what tends to be called marriage equality, I was pleased to see the Empire State join the ranks of states allowing same-sex couples to file for marriage license. However, I couldn't help but think that, in light of the fact in 2008 my home state (the ostensible liberal bastion that is the Golden State) had its population vote to prevent that same recognition, the New York congress did what they did in part just to show up California.

Okay, probably not.

I suppose I could take some modest comfort in telling myself that the 2008 failure of my state to vote down that ridiculous proposition could be used to prove to people who think California is nothing but pie-in-the-sky lefties that we, being the highest populated state, have plenty of conservatives as well. We're more balanced than outsiders give us credit for. (We are where Republican deity Ronald Reagan cut his teeth in politics, bear in mind.)

Yeah, that's scraping the bottom of the barrel for a silver lining.

~

More reasons to quote Kent Brockman (from The Simpsons): "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Democracy simply doesn't work."

Minute To Ogle It

2011-07-06T21:52:00.001-07:00

A view from this evening's episode of the no-longer-having-anything-to-do-with-its-titled Minute To Win It:

(Women in workout attire bending over to try flipping a spoon into a glass.)

MTWI: Now for people who are too ashamed to get the "Girls Gone Wild" videos.

Ah, yes. Summer TV is here.

Utopian dilemma

2011-07-06T08:23:00.000-07:00

Imagine (for the sake of argument) we someday reach a point where intolerance of all forms (racism, homophobia, sectarianism, etc.) is vanquished, where no groups or individuals are oppressed or persecuted, where the equality that activists of all sorts have fought to achieve is realized. Further imagine that it's not merely an ostensible tolerance where people were merely better at camouflaging their hatred but where everyone quite literally was accepting of everyone else in a sincere way. We'd remember that it used to be bad, of course, but know that it wasn't that way anymore.

In that seemingly utopian scenario, do you suppose we would (perhaps ashamedly) romanticize the "bad ol' days" when we were made to feel ashamed? Do we have an inherent unconscious need to draw some satisfaction from feeling like outcasts that would lead us to have nostalgia for that if it were no longer around?

What's that? You cannot even imagine such a thing, perhaps because you think the need to divide ourselves into "us" and "them" (and the "them" is always keeping down the "us" in some way) is an inherent aspect of human nature? You refuse to allow me to have participation in this rumination of a hypothetical situation that makes me feel shunned?

Ah, that's the stuff. Now tell me how stupid I am. There's the comments box below...

Violence (in video games and in general): It's different than sex (according to the Supreme Court)

2011-07-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

Last week the U.S. Supreme Court overturned a California law that would prevent selling or renting violent video games to minors; violent content could not be thusly regulated, Justice Scalia wrote, like material with sexual content, in large part because there's a tradition of violence in entertainment consumed by children (citing Grimm's Fairy Tales).

Let's dispense with the obvious: That level of violence is beyond what I can imagine anyone would want to see, and I'm hard-pressed to imagine any parent would consider that acceptable for children to watch, but I do understand how in a free society this should be something decided by parents. But if parents try to deny adolescents and teens this material that will only make the young want it more.

So here's what you do, parents:
Pretend you think it's cool. The kids will deem it uncool, and stop playing such games of their own volition. No need to involve the Judiciary.

~

On a segment on last Tuesday's The Daily Show about the ruling, they showed an actual scene from a video game where a female character is literally ripped in half, wishbone-style, by two other characters. Jon Stewart quipped how apparently is beyond what warrants restriction from minors, but if that female had a "nip slip" that would be fine to regulate.

This brought to mind a quote I recall from George Carlin where he noted he'd rather have his children see two people making love than see two people trying to kill each other. That is, in theory, a sentiment with which I agree. However, if we're being really frank about the topic, the act of copulation (even among partners who love each other very much) can involve specific actions that are violent. Were those acts not mutually pleasurable to the people involved, it would not be too difficult for an immature observer to construe the whole thing as a fight rather than a representation of affection. (Well, some of the time it could be both at the same time, but that's way beyond the understanding of a child.)

Obviously children understand violence much earlier than they understand sexuality (at least on any conscious level). The impulse when angered for the hand to clench into a fist is nothing one really needs to learn; the training in that scenario is to restrain that fist from flying. It's easier to explain why violence (the infliction of pain and suffering… or worse... on other) is bad.

However, to explain how the ostensibly (or not so ostensibly) violent aspects of sex (among, for our purposes here, willing and consenting participants) is different than the "bad" violence is trickier. So we fall back on our Puritanical tendencies because we never figured out how to talk about it, and thus we'd rather have our laws keep sexual material out of the hands of minors. We don't have a simple answer if they ask about it like we do with violence.

Our parents didn't have one for us, nor did their parents before them, and so on. It's tradition.

But when it came to violence, it might make us uncomfortable to witness it in our immediate proximity or make us sad to hear of, but it has been something with which we are okay with explaining it to kids, and after we are convinced they know it's bad we are tacitly okay with them being exposed to simulated representations of it, because—of course—we know that know it's bad, but this isn't real.

Laudable it's not, but clearly it has been working for us as a society. And risible as that is to admit, who are the justices to pretend that's not the case?

Who says there's no reason for optimism?

2011-06-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

The way there's this perception that contemporary public discourse, with people are talking past each other, where there's only the reinforcement of entrenched viewpoints, has been lamented by those who believe in the value of being open-minded as society really going downhill.

I'm not entirely sure when this halcyon age of people paying attention to the arguments of those with whom they disagree was, but I digress.

However, as one who does value that open-mindedness in principle, I prefer to think that there's still plenty of people who are listening; it's merely that those people are not the ones getting the attention. The blustering close-minded ones make for better spectacle, are what leave a more profound impression even if they are a distinct minority.

Of course, as a lazy person, I find the notion that no one will be persuaded anyway to be very liberating. It's easier to merely say what I have to say without feeling compelled to justify it.

It is a grand age either way you look at it, if you merely look at it correctly.

Bing and Facebook: the union of the uncool

2011-06-28T22:41:00.000-07:00

The internet search—sorry, "decision" engine Bing has taken to touting how the search results it provides can reflect what one's Facebook "friends" have "liked."

This takes as its premise that one and one's friends (no quotes) are still (or ever were) actively using Facebook; further, conceding they are, that they have somehow been persuaded to click the Like button on pages for the sort of things for which one would be searching; further, it presumes that one's list of Facebook "friends" (which likely includes a number of mere acquaintances who were added without thinking) are the sort of people whose opinions should be trusted.

Personally, I'd prefer that those people do participate in the Facebook experience stick to posting vacation photos or noting a humorous anecdote or sharing an interesting link, and leave the search engine results to be based on the way they were intended: by having companies pay for the privilege of being listed first, and then based on how the dweebs who spend a lot of time on the internet have placed links to other sites—you know, in the hands of the powerful or complete strangers.

They're not going to get "Bing" to be made into a verb and replace "Google" in contemporary parlance by jumping on the Facebook bandwagon now.

We all know Microsoft will get people using it the way they're done with everything else: by integrating that into every piece of software that we're all already using; a dalliance with social networking is unnecessary for the behemoth, and frankly only makes them seem like the dorky old guy who tries to make the kids think he's cool because he references what the kids were into last season.

So apparently Bing is trying to appeal to dorky people who fancy they're still cool—which, to be fair, is still a sizeable demographic. Whether it's an attractive demographic to those advertising online may be another story, but I suppose it probably will be.

High school guidance counselors, you have found your search engine.

On the first dance (prepping... or not... for your wedding day)

2011-06-27T06:27:00.000-07:00

On this, our second wedding anniversary, I look back at the photos from the wedding and reception that the photographer had posted on her blog, which also eventually got mentioned on another blog, months after the fact, which alluded to our "choreographed" first dance. That made me chuckle.

Now, two years after that, I will reveal something: The reality is that we did not rehearse, practice, or even do a single run-through of our first dance prior to actually dancing it.

Certainly we knew the song very well (Nina Simone's "Feelin' Good"), and I had thought of some moves that would be apropos for particular parts of the song, but we improvised the whole thing. As "Feelin' Good" has a long, slow intro (with Nina singing a cappella) it occurred to me that a good way to fill that time (until we could, you know, actually dance) would be for us to start at opposite ends of the room and slowly make our way toward each other, and with any luck we'd come together just prior to the commencement of the beat. The fact that it more or less came off that way was as much coincidence as it was talent.

But as with much in life, often it's as important to be lucky as it is to be skilled, so I'll take the result of us giving the appearance of having spent much time on the dance. Obviously a certain amount of acumen and rhythm is requisite to pull off even a rehearsed number and perhaps even more is necessary to wing it, and it's only because I knew that we possessed at least a rudimentary level of ability that I felt comfortable just making it up as we went along.

Frankly, practice probably would have worked against us; with a specific game plan we would have been thinking about what to do rather than reacting to the music. A routine must be followed and if one gets off one must try even harder to get back on track, but we had no such burden.

~

So, for couples whose big day is still pending, I'll offer this:

Prior to your first dance you and your spouse have your respective levels of skill in the arena of dance. You can cram by taking a formal class, certainly, but ultimately if you ain't got it you ain't got it. You can have a perfectly wonderful wedding reception if you go out and dance in a manner that merely represents the skill you possess; it may not get you on YouTube, but that's fine. On your wedding day you are supposed to be celebrating your love and who you are a couple, not ostensibly trying out for So You Think You Can Dance.

Your first dance will be over in a matter of minutes, and then you'll get on with the rest of the reception. You can spend months trying to have something that will blow the proverbial socks off your guests, but your guests are going to be more impressed with an open bar and a meal that actually tastes good.

If there's one thing you don't need do on your wedding day it is pretend to be someone you're not. At least when it comes to that first dance. Sure, you'll dress in formalwear that you may never adorn yourselves with ever again, and speak in poetic language that's not close to your everyday speech, but after that ceremony you need to let your real selves shine through. If you are comfortable on the dance floor, cut loose; if you have a combined four left feet, pick a short song.

I can tell you this because I have no connection to the Wedding Industrial Complex. Let's keep this between us, okay? I don't need the nuptial ninjas stalking me in the night.

Social media reveals our anti-social tendencies

2011-06-25T17:53:00.000-07:00

On the blog of a nice person (who left a comment here on my blahg*) is this post where she pondered whether smart phones and text messaging and Facebook, etc., is creating loners who interact primarily through devices and don't call others or visit others in person.

I left a comment wherein I posited that this era of "social media" with the suggested incongruity of being "connected" but not connecting was not having a transformative effect. People who essentially forsake face-to-face (or voice-to-voice) contact and dwell on that touchscreen device are ones who likely would have been what would be considered "loners" in an earlier time, and people who want to visit or call will still visit or call. The technological advancements have merely enabled those who didn't necessarily care for the requirements of the old days.

Bear in mind: Some loners are genuine misanthropes, but some are merely people with busy schedules or who do not wish to spend time with those in their immediate vicinity (perhaps because they live in place where most others are not like them). Or maybe they're shy in person. There could be any number of reasons.

But people are whoever they are, irrespective of technology. New avenues offered by advancements therein only reveal what we secretly were before.

~

And now, a personal reflection that influenced that conclusion:

As a shy kid (who moved many times) growing up in the pre-internet age I spent a fair number of after-school afternoons by myself. The thing was: I was perfectly content; I was good at keeping myself occupied and entertained. I'm not saying I never wished I had others to play with, but having spent time at school with others and not quite hitting it off I somehow knew it was better to be alone and do what I wanted rather than just go along with what others were doing.

I never fell in with the "wrong crowd" because I didn't fall in with a crowd.

I can only imagine how differently that time in my life could have been had I the devices and web-connectivity we have today. It's entirely possible I could have made friends . It's equally likely I could have encountered molesters or scam artists. But the point is not whether the internet is good or bad—obviously it's both simultaneously—but for me it probably would have been merely some other way of occupying some free time instead of watching cartoons or racing Hot Wheels in the backyard.

Certainly it would have influenced me, but I don't believe it would have utterly altered my core personality.

At later times in my life I did develop friendships with people whom I genuinely did want to spend time in their physical presence. But those tended to be people where either school or work or some scheduled activity mandated contact, and thus hanging out afterward was simple; we were already together and we simply didn't part.

Now that our paths have diverged it takes more effort to coordinate schedules and get together in person, there's a lot of people with whom there'd be no contact without the quasi-maintenance facilitated through these online resources. One could argue those aren't "real" relationships, and I wouldn't bother trying to refute that (although it does not imply tacit agreement with the premise). Even among the people I do see it tends to be only a few times a year (if that).

In short, I'm not the shy kid I was, but I still don't feel any compulsion to go out of my way to socialize in person or on the phone. What I do of that I do enjoy but the rest of the time when I don't engage in that it's not because of Facebook; I'd simply know even less about people I know (or at least knew at some point). I wouldn't pick up the phone to call any more than I do.

It's simply who I am.

~

I'm not suggesting Facebook and its ilk on the social media side are good (nor am I saying they're bad); I'm saying that if nobody thought interacting in that forum was at all worthwhile it never would have caught on and gotten millions of people involved in it; there was some innate element of our personality to which the notion, at least in theory, had to appeal. (And for many, that appeal proved to be nothing more than novelty that wore off, but we'll get into the folly of that some other time.)

(In my case, that appeal started from the desire to get other people to stop hounding me, but I presume for others it was due to other reasons.)

Before we had smart phones to occupy our moments of waiting in line or other bits of "downtime" we weren't necessarily gregariously striking up conversations with the strangers around us; we were simply standing around, bored and not talking to each other.

Technology doesn't change who we are at the core; it merely allows for parts of us that previously had no outline to come to the surface.

For those whose phones aren't ringing, please remember: The fact that I am not calling doesn't mean I don't care; it means I'm not really inclined to call. As I pretty much always have been.

~

* Note to readers: If you leave a comment, I will make an effort to visit your site. We loners need to support each other.

Nation-building

2011-06-23T21:40:00.000-07:00

So, if we're going to start "nation-building at home," as the President noted in his televised address last night, will we first have to erect some statues of Saddam Hussein that can be toppled when we welcome our military as liberators?

Eh, if it gets us billions in foreign aid from the U.S., I say we do it...

Ethical (fashion) dilemma

2011-06-22T22:13:00.000-07:00

This morning while walking down the sidewalk I found myself many paces behind a woman in a blue dress. That, in and of itself, was utterly unremarkable. However, as I got closer and her shoulder-length hair swished to and fro across the back of the dress I noticed something white and rectangular peeking out from her hair along the neckline of the dress. Eventually I got close enough that I could make out that there was writing on the white rectangle. Numbers and letters.

It was, in fact, a price tag.

I then found myself pondering a minor dilemma. Should I alert her about this dangling price tag, so that perhaps she could at least tuck it inside the dress until she got to work? Or would the embarrassment actually be worse by having a stranger point it out on the street? Would I seem the conscientious good Samaritan or the creepy guy who was looking at her from behind?

By the time I was side by side with her it was pretty clear she was going inside the office building just across the street. Presumably once she got to the office some co-worker would mention it to her. No need for me to bother at that point.

Heck, for all I knew, this was some new style, not unlike leaving the tag on a baseball cap (which I've seen the young people do). As we well know, I am not one who keeps up with fashion trends.

And if it keeps me from seeming creepy, all the better.