Revamp!

So, remember that whole "Plus/Minus/Riff/Raff/Exo/Endo" thing from a while back? No? In short, I experimented with a gimmick maybe twice on here that allowed me to skip having to think up a way to introduce multiple topics into the blog, in favor of just rating them on a rather arbitrary binary rating system as Good or Bad, which was done in a completely subjective manner. We're bringing that back now. And I've decided that this time, we're going to use a system that's not only arbitrary, but confusing. I thought of picking things to name the different ratings after that were the epitome of good and bad, but then that'd lead to all sorts of trouble with comparing things to things that are actually much worse than they are. And I don't need that.

So here's what we're doing.

"Plus" (or "Riff/Exothermic") will now (by "now", I mean immediately now and then never again) be "Sub-Zero". Why? That seems counter intuitive. Sub, for one, generally denotes something as inferior, or in the case of the phrase "Sub-Zero", negative. It evokes images of cold things, of not being able to walk to class without your hair freezing, and illness. So why Sub-Zero? Several reasons. Reason One: My apartment's kind of hot, and I like thinking of cold things for the moment. Two: At such temperatures as are evoked by the phrase "Sub-Zero", these things are possible, and they're too amazing not to be included at least somewhere on my blog at some point. Three: Sub Zero was by far my favorite Mortal Kombat character and deserves recognition.

"Minus" ("Raff/Endothermic") is now "wow", which I've lowercased here, but still indicates "World of Warcraft", which is bad in that it eats souls. I could just have easily gone with something that actually does eat/steal souls (such as Shang Tsung to keep the MK thing going, or SoupTaper here, but I thought it would be funny if I went ahead and caught some heat for insulting people's livelihoods by making bad equal to WoW.

The first thing that will go into "WoW" will be Blogger, for once again deleting what I've written. It recovered about a third of my post after deleting it for taking too long to type.

I'll try to recreate, then. Which is kind of a waste of time when I don't know if Blogger's just going to delete this one too.

So, on with the actual post.

Sub Zero

• The mentality that would lead me to believe that since I couldn't sleep last night and have an 8:00 am class, I should press on, forgo sleep entirely and try to remain conscious and alert enough to meet with SonBinh Nguyen's group this afternoon at 5:00pm. We'll see how that all goes.
• Corpse Bride for being quite enjoyable, even if it wasn't the sweet ambrosia that the $30-nonconformist-basketball-shoe/18-bleach-and-blue-dye haired fan was expecting. In my opinion? Quite good. Visually stunning, entertaining as it should be and a better option than sitting at home. Many were disappointed that it wasn't "The Nightmare Before Christmas", but then, if I'm not mistaken, "The Nightmare Before Christmas" already kind of took care of that. This was a different movie, made twelve years later. Much like my advice following Revenge of the Sith, stop complaining about how it doesn't live up to earlier things and enjoy the damned movie.
  
• The 3 Penny Cinema for being a nice cozy little theater in which to watch the abovementioned movie, for applying the $4.50 student charge to graduate students, for having a short-film festival next weekend with such gems as the Confederate Zombie Massacre, which can't not be awesome, and for having a more than reasonable price for beer in a movie theater. Being from PA, I wasn't aware you could even do that.
• The IRA actually going ahead and disarming, which is a positive step, despite the fact that I can't say it'll be permanent. Perhaps now, some peace can go ahead and get started, though I'm somewhat unfamiliar with the political climate in Ireland at this juncture. Still, this month's disarmarment fulfills the July promise to do so, effectively showing that the IRA is willing to work toward peace. Paisley's right to be skeptical, if only because the IRA historically has been a terrorist organization, and most would be smart not to trust a terrorist organization as far as one could throw them. This will have a huge impact on peace efforts, as the IRA can finally actively more towards coexistence. Lovely.
• Jon Abrams, for recording an album over the weekend (?!) and sending me a song ("Three Years Underwater") with the instruction "distribute this". I'm on a school computer right now, so if any of you wants to hear it, just send me an email and I'll get you his song.

WoW:

• Slate Magazine, for using Hurricane Rita/Beatles puns twice on today's page, because Lovely Rita was too good a song to merit "Ugly Rita" and "Metering Rita" puns. Also, because I've motioned against hurricanes somewhere on R+M, and I'm of the firm belief that the action of having hurricanes should cease while my motion is on the floor. We've had enough. Please stop it.
• That whole Dover, PA scene for perpetuating misunderstanding as to the application of the word "theory", for attempting to break down the bar on establishment of a state religion, and the continued misnomer of calling "Intelligent Design" science. It's not. For a more extended commentary, go back to here. Side note, I'm not the only one that makes the locust/cicada mistake. Several people her on the first day of orientation said the same thing. I feel happy about that
• The Chicago Tribune for deciding that Google Bombs are news, despite the fact that a similar Slate piece was published in March of 2002 which was itself almost a year behind the initial discussion surrounding the "talentless hack" bomb. So, in essence, the Tribune is commenting on something that's over four years old, specifically the "miserable failure" bomb.
• My inorganic lecture, for being 20 minutes shorter than the 40 minute commute on the L it took to get there at 8am this morning.
• Insolent fools. Because they are insolent, and fools. This meatloaf is shallow and pedantic.

That's all for now.

...the hell?

Three quick things I can't not point out.

Well, there you go. Modernist Sports Commentary.

Quote from the New York Times article on dimming the city's lights so as not to kill so many migratory birds (sorry, registration evidently required, though it's free and painless):

"They would be swept up by custodial staff," said Adrian Benepe, the New York City parks commissioner. "I've often seen them on the streets, and wondered, 'Why is this little songbird dead on the street?' "

Finally, you can make anything look like a cartoon character if you have an active imagination and a good supply of narcotics, it seems.

Best part of that last one? The winning bid was $0.36 (so, a total of $4.36 after shipping in dry ice).

This is Screeching.

So, first of all, there's this. I'm sure most of you won't care, but I for one was amused by the table of contents, which reads like a to do list written by a tweaked and not cannon-borne Hunter S. Thompson. An excerpt, for those that don't want to go to Gutenberg's version of von Liebig's "Familiar Letters".

From the table of contents:
The Subject proposed. Materials employed for Chemical Apparatus:--
GLASS--CAOUTCHOUC--CORK--PLATINUM. THE BALANCE. The "Elements" of the Ancients, represent the forms of matter. Lavoisier and his successors. Study of the materials composing the Earth. Synthetic production of Minerals--LAPIS LAZULI. Organic Chemistry.

From the actual letters:
Then, how admirable and valuable are the properties of Cork! How little do men reflect upon the inestimable worth of so common a substance! How few rightly esteem the importance of it to the progress of science, and the moral advancement of mankind!--There is no production of nature or art equally adapted to the purposes to
which the chemist applies it. Cork consists of a soft, highly elastic substance, as a basis, having diffused throughout a matter with properties resembling wax, tallow, and resin, yet dissimilar to all of these, and termed suberin.

Good to see that in 1843, we were as excited about things like Cork as we are today about...say...parades.

Chicago:

Everyone appears to be pissed off about Federated Department Stores changing Marshall Field's to Macy's. One letter contends that no one will shop there anymore if it's a Macy's. I'm going to go ahead and call bullshit on that one, as people tend to end up in department stores no matter what (but perhaps I'm not getting it, even though the Kaufmann's landmarks which led to their own inclusion in Pittsburgh phraseology and lore are also soon to be Macy's locations). As the article predicts, I'm going to go ahead and guess that either the Marshall Field's name will be restored in a few years when they decide it's a lucrative move...or people will stop caring within two years. My money's on the latter.

Most ironically descriptive moment:

Seconds before getting to the stop on the Purple Line that I have to use to get to my class, a recorded announcement informs us of the stop we're at, while a kind of odd screeching (which is out of the ordinary) pervades the car. The announcement? "This is Noyes."

Yes. Pronounced "Noise."

Temporary Background:

This.

Yarr?

So, I'm sitting here typing out my notes from Physical Organic after barely getting to my first graduate level class, and I decided to take a break. So of course, now that I'm done playing with statistics to determine how much n-pentane will be in its most relaxed conformer at room temperature (it appears to be about 35%) as an introduction to P-Org, the first thing I'm going to do is zip over to somewhere that's completely and utterly devoid of statistics. Right? No.

Though to be fair, I landed on a page that has more commentary than most at BaseballProspectus.

So now I'm clicking through the homepages of each of the Major League ballclubs, and I can't help but notice something. The Pirates poll (every organization has a little opinion poll at the bottom of their page, except the SF Giants) seems to be more irrelevant than everyone else's.

While most of those at the top of their divisions or remotely involved in the Wild Card "race" are very understandably performance oriented, even those at the bottom of the league (with us) are more relevant than ours.

As an example:

Division Leaders:

• St. Louis Cardinals: Which potential Division Series opponent makes you the most nervous? (Not the best question, but reasonable enough. It's asking something that Cardinals fans are no doubt thinking about after clinching the NL Central)


• Atlanta Braves: Other than Jeff Francoeur, which rookie has had the biggest impact? (Terrific question: Involves analysis of their rookies in a more involved manner, maybe. Probably not, but let's say it does.)


• Chicago White Sox: If the playoffs started today, who would be your No. 1 starter? (Again, good. Implies to the polled that their opinion might matter. It doesn't.)


• San Diego Padres: Who deserves the most playing time at first base? (Same as CWS, and kudos to the Padres for finally breaking that .500 mark while leading their division.)

Last Place

• New York Mets (11.5 GB): Who should be the Mets' second baseman next season? (Good, question about the future that makes the polled think they're making a difference.)


• Kansas City Royals (40.5 GB): Who is your pick as Royals Pitcher of the Year? (Good, for a team that has done so horrendously, it's good that they're focusing on strong points, even if the organization doesn't actually care.)


• Tampa Bay Devil Rays (24.5 GB): What position should Jorge Cantu play next year? (Good, future oriented, and relevant to the Pirates case, what with Rob Mackowiak.)


• Colorado Rockies (14.0 GB in the worst division in the Majors, 0.5 games behind the Pirates overall) Who has been the biggest 2005 surprise? (Good. Terrible year, but let's try to look for some bright spots. Couldn't be a better question for the Pirates.)
  

So what's the Pirates question?

Which current Pirates jersey is your favorite?

What?! Not only is it the only fashion related poll question out of the 29 that exist, it's somewhat mocking that the Phillies poll question (Who is Ryan Howard's biggest threat for NL Rookie of the Year?) includes at least some indication that yes, the Pirates are a ballclub, not a fashion house. It doesn't even really allow for the illusion that the person being polled is having some kind of input on the team. While I'm well aware that no one in the organization really gives a damn who the fans of their team thinks is the best choice for third baseman, it's somewhat comforting to the fans to think that they do. The most that will come of this poll is that the Bucs decide to ...I don't know...not play as many road games (the road gray jersey is trailing with 8% of the vote at present).

In more interesting news, Ian Snell chose a bout with Roger Clemens to get his first win in the Majors, and we (by we I mean not me, because Chicago TV stations don't really care about Astros/Pirates games) get to watch Gorzelanny make his debut against Pettitte and the Astros tonight.

I'm going to get back to work now, and try to finish this up in time to do something else with today.

To the lovely drivers of Illinois -or- Please stop telling me to run over this old woman.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I'm the most patient driver in the world. Anyone who's ever ridden with me can attest to the fact that I don't tend to react lightly to people who, in my opinion while I'm behind the wheel, have no business doing what they're doing. That said, my recent travails in Chicago have left me with one very solid impression, which sticks out among the other, more fluid impressions.

Chicago drivers cannot hear in the range that a car horn does its thing. That's the only explanation. I've never heard so much honking/beeping/angry-depressing-of-the-horn in my life. Which would make sense if everyone in Chicago also couldn't drive. But they can. What's sticking out is that people are honking their horns when it's entirely unreasonable to do so. I can understand honking at the guy who's turned his car off in the turning lane to finish his bagel. But to honk at someone because they won't turn left while traffic in the other direction is already occupying the intersection? The net result, as far as I've found, is that everyone is completely desensitized to it. No one pays attention. The noble car horn, once presumably a communication device to warn of danger or alert other motorists to a situation is completely useless, because everyone does it all the time. Granted, this doesn't affect me much. I've got no car here, and pedestrians rarely get honked at, and if they do, they're being complete tools anyway. Still.

Also, I'd like to start a petition to the CTA to stop picking up passengers. I was skipped earlier because a train decided to run "express" past my stop because it was behind schedule, and realized (while I waited for the next train) "Hey! If they just stop picking people up as a rule, they'll always be on time.

Four Counts of Freakin' Awesome

So, let's go down, in no particular order, things that are awesome.

• I rented Dawn of the Dead on Friday night, then proceeded to half-watch it while I played flash games and reveled in my not having work or a roommate to entertain me at about 1 am Central. I'm atoning for that now, when I have to get up in a few hours. I'm just going to say...holy hilarious, Batman. Not only is it more satire/comedy than horror anyway, but it's also very strange to see zombies shambling around and falling over in what very clearly is Monroeville Mall as well as seeing one guy/zombie's shirt clearly references Pitcairn of all places.


• I've been really worried about buying books, especially since I just spent all of my money moving to Chicago and still haven't been paid by Northwestern only to discover that SHAZAM I own one of the books. Two editions too early, but Cotton's Chemical Applications of Group Theory have never been so sweet.


• People commenting!


• Ken Foree, along with Zombie Hare Krishnas, Zombie Nuns, and peppy little Zombie 7-year olds. No. The Zombie Baby from the 2004 remake ain't got nothin' on the peppy Zombie 7-year olds. The Zombie Baby was dumb. Yes. That's technically related to bullet number one, but it's 3:30 am and I think I forgot what I was going to have be the fourth count of awesome, and don't want to change the title.

About Slap.

Usually I'm a big proponent of using the actual diacritics as opposed to their phonetic equivalents, I completely forget how to get an umlaut on an "o" without a number pad, which I don't have and was too lazy to find out.

Sorry. Apply that to Schroeder's name. Right there, for example.

Slap.

So then. I've forgotten to post for almost a week. I'm going to go ahead and rectify that.

In News?

We're not the only ones this happens to, it being a somewhat outmoded and not entirely representative system of elections leads to confusion over who actually won a vote, this time in Germany. But now, that was just the party election. They've moved on to the actual election between Schroeder and Merkel. It's funny to me that Reuters explains the abbreviations behind Merkel's CDU (Christlich-Demokratische Union) and its sister party in Bavaria (Christlich-Soziale Union in Bayern e. V.), but not that behind Schroeder's SPD (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands), because (and I'm stretching) "socialism" is a dirty word in any language.

It's surprising Schroeder's this close, considering that there was an (albeit failed) vote of confidence on July 1. Merkel, on the other hand, is most famous for both being able to mark the "female" box on mall surveys and supporting the Flat Tax by associating with Paul Paul "The Crushinator" Kirchhof", which Slate covers here.

Oh, wait.

You don't care about German politics and economics, do you.

Well, then, to sum up.

The Pirates finally won a series that this blog covered more extensively than I could hope to now against the Reds. Unfortunately, it was a series that also included Zach Duke's first loss and which is marred by the occasional appearance of Jose Mesa. I'm not going to try to go into why I'm not the biggest Mesa fan (coughrunproducerforouropponentscough), so scour Pat's blog for that. No one in Pittsburgh actually cares, as a team that actually won some things that's playing in Pittsburgh. Personally? Whatever. I'm not the biggest football fan. I'm currently weighing the pros and cons of spending $20 on a ticket to watch the Cubs play the Pirates next week at Wrigley. The biggest con is that I haven't been paid yet and need to scrounge up the money for books, which are, just as I left them, incredibly expensive.


Let's go ahead and take another five day break.

La Marche!

And again, here we are.

I'm sure most all of you have heard of this La marche de l'empereur documentary. I haven't seen it quite yet, and may or may not do so in the future. We'll see. To clarify about the form of the title I've used, yes. It's a French film that was picked up by Warner and released stateside, evidently improving on what was a corny soundtrack by getting rid of the Bob Saget on America's Funniest Home Videos-esque dialogue for the penguins as well as the pop soundtrack, and just going with a solemn-voiced Morgan Freeman who, evidently speaks fluent French, which he's used to communicate with Canadians, long thought an impossible task.

But that's not what's great about this. That's not what's made me comment on it in my blog.

What made that happen is this piece in the New York Times, which, to summarize, discusses the positive feedback to the point of crafting it into a very specific kind of political tool by conservative commentators. Most of their comments, I don't take issue with. Sure, the footage of penguins struggling to survive sends a nice family/togetherness/sacrifice message. What I do take issue with is the opinion that the movie somehow acts as "a strong case for intelligent design" and the joy that's apparent from the fact that the US version doesn't talk all that much about global warming, taking the absence of a mention as proof that global warming doesn't exist.

...

As you'll surely read, Luc Jaquet says that he made the decision to leave out global warming...more or less because there's a larger story to tell and that while it's an issue for the penguins, that isn't the story he wanted to tell. So, fine.

What's more interesting is the claim that this a case for intelligent design. Andrew Coffin, a writer for World Magazine points to the odds that an egg could survive in such a climate being indication of intelligent design. Surely, he argues, something couldn't have evolved in such a harsh climate, so it must have been made in nearly its complete form at some point there. Which is fine, if you ignore the whole Pangaea and plate tectonics arguments, which would have allowed for the development of such birds on a much more mild climate, followed by millions of years of evolution after the separation of the continents.

Interestingly, the only time the film mentions something even close to evolution is to say that the penguins have been living as documented for millions of years, though the Times piece doesn't talk at all about the response of Young Earth Creationists.

Wings!

Some news. For you!

Remember that show My Two Dads? I don't. At least, not really. It's garnered some hatred on IMDB and was associated with Paul Reiser. That's not the news. The news is that Britain's Human Fertilization and Embryology Authority went ahead and approved the creation of an embryo with three parents in the name of research toward combating mitochondrial diseases. In short

• The researchers will first fuse sperm with an egg taken from a woman at risk of passing on a mitochondrial disease. Before the sperm and egg form an embryo, they will be transplanted into a healthy egg taken from another woman, leaving the defective mitochondria behind. The embryo can then develop as normal.

So there's that.

Also from the Guardian, there's this piece which argues against the bulk of popular scientific journalism (as in the NYTimes' Tuesday Science section,) in that, in order to presumably make the science accessible to readers who haven't ever actually taken a science course, editors and journalists tend to excise most of the useful information from the article. The author probably wrongly criticizes Humanities Graduates for their role in the dumbing down of science, but his core complaint is right on. Could scientific information, such as that in most reputable journals, be made more accessible to the person who's not into science? Sure. But to do so, one usually has to cut out most of the information that's actually useful. The job of science journalists, rather than pruners, should be to expand on what the article is saying. Most scientific journal articles tend to leave out as much presumably known information in favor of getting to the heart of the matter: the data. The job of the science journalist is to interpret this data with a strong enough scientific background to make sure what they're saying is actually what's presented, to relate it to the rest of the world so that scientific research isn't seen as something with no purpose, and to cover something other than the whole "L-tryptophan makes you sleepy" at Thanksgiving and "Chocolate is actually good for you" at Easter.

No Title Entered.

Roundup, because I haven’t really gone near current events in a while.

In Sports:

The Pirates dropped 2 of 3 against the Reds, sunrise, sunset. Paul Maholm did good work until the seventh, but whatever. It’s not as though anyone in Pittsburgh was actually watching, as today was the season’s first Steelers game and …well, they win sometimes. Today, for example. In real Pirates news, they’re finally giving an indication that they’re not picking up Mesa’s option for the 2006 season, as given in the ”Mother of God what were we thinking having this guy close for us, but we’re still probably going to let him close every now and again” article.

Whatever.

In news:

Arlen Specter (the relatively sane senator of Pennsylvania) is against nominating Alberto Gonzales to the Supreme Court to take Sandra Day O’Connor’s seat, which hasn’t actually been done yet.

Conservatives don’t think he’s conservative enough, liberals don’t think he’s moderate enough, and Specter refused to comment on what he thought of Gonzales’ politics. Specter makes it clear that he’d like to see another woman on the court, provided he finds someone that can do the job, but hesitates to imply that there’s a quota system, as that is bad for business. Gonzales’ nomination would make him the first Hispanic on the Supreme Court (good if you’re trying to court the growing Hispanic vote, I guess) and the chances of it happening are improved by being very good friends with Bush.

Personally? I’d say leave him at Attorney General. We’ve just got him through the appointment process on a vote that went almost entirely along party lines. Just let him do his job there, rather than wrapping him up in another appointment hearing and having the public go through another Attorney General appointment. Besides which, I’m less frightened of him as Attorney General than as a Justice, as I’m not sure I’m entirely trustworthy of a Justice who thinks of the Geneva Conventions as “quaint and obsolete”.


This technically isn’t news until Gonzales is, maybe, nominated on Tuesday.
Again!  Whatever.

In news that most of my readers will find most interesting among the three stories, German brewers have come up with a 25.4% alcohol beer, served in a shot glass. There’s nothing more really to say about that.  

That’s all, then.  I’ve just bought some more cockta.

COCKTA!

Word.

Two things I felt I should post about really quickly, that will probably eventually become much more than two.

Firstly, I talked on the way home from Northwestern today. Not to myself, though that wouldn't be entirely out of place on the El at certain times during the day. This was not one of those times, and as I'm generally one to try not to convince people I've become completely unbalanced until I at least get to know them, I wasn't screaming nonsense. Instead, in a somewhat strange sort of events, the man across the aisle started talking to me. I perhaps looked talkative, as I'd just been talking to another first year grad student, and after kicking me on the way by he mentioned something about Kip Wells, presumably brought on by the fact that I was somewhat out of place wearing a Pirates hat in what is very firmly Cubs territory. After talking about the ballparks of the Bucs, the Cubs, and the White Sox (the entire discussion amounted to "PNC is nice, and it's too bad the Pirates can't play up to the level of their surroundings, Wrigley is quaint but uncomfortable and the guy who decided to face the outfield of Comiskey (U.S. Cellular) toward the projects rather than the Chicago skyline was a moron"), he started on about psychology. That is, evidently he writes books which deal with the subject in an accessible manner and occasionally for children. After mentioning what the hell I was doing in Chicago, he proceeded to get out a little notepad and write some things down. I have no idea what per se, but I tried not to let it bother me.

This constitutes my first experience talking at length and about our respective philosophies toward working to someone completely random in this city.

Secondly, I've just finished my first Cockta, which, for those of you that haven't seen empty bottles of it strewn around a back alley near you, is a Slovenian soft drink which is evidently infused with herbs (but not, sadly, caffeine) and tastes like a sort of syrupy coke with a bit of an herby aftertaste. It's actually quite good. Very elusive as to what on earth it tastes like until you read the advertisement, which gives away the orangey-herbal thing. Evidently, I could have bought this and waited a year to drink it, or more likely, it could have waited in the stockroom of the grocery store for a long time and then found its way into my apartment when I got sufficently curious. I'm not sure why it's called "Cockta", and it brought on a fear that I'd slip and hit the enter key 2/3 of the way through the name while typing it in to google, which would lead to a much different set of results, presumably.

I still don't know the results of my proficiency exams. :(

Update: Went to get my results after getting notification that they were ready. Spent 45 minutes in the public transportation system, ten of which was spent on a platform hoping that the Purple Line to Linden would eventually show. It did. And I am proficient in all areas. Which is a relief, because I haven't had Inorganic in three years, and I've never had Kinetics.

Yay.

Done with that.

Proficiency exams are, at long last, over and done with. Now, I've just got to sit back, pass out from not being able to sleep last night, wake up, sit back up, and wait for tomorrow to come so that I might learn if I need to take classes to make up deficiency. As the system stands, I've got to do that if I test below a certain score (based on the average of the scores from this year's class). Evidently, that's about to change to a system where you're required to take those make-up courses anyway and you're rather testing "out", which is how I'm going to choose to pretend this is happening now.

Jack Shafer presents an interesting case against rebuilding New Orleans. While I have to say it's hard to imagine somewhere like the Big Easy not coming back, his argument points out that, for a great many of us that don't live there, our view is more nostalgic than practical. I'm not positive why he makes race such a huge issue, really, in his case against rebuilding, and it almost...well, whatever.

Now, to do important things. Like let time pass.

Rehndenbuwest

So well then.  I have an internet connection, which would allow me to blog and do the whole “commenting on news” thing.  On the other hand, I’ve got an organic proficiency exam tomorrow, after which I’ve got the much more enjoyable prospect of putting out small fires, which is to say slightly less enjoyable than starting said small fires.  

But what blog was ever improved by me being more proficient in organic chemistry?  Possibly Jenna’s.  Almost certainly not Hazen’s or either of Rory’s.  Definitely RJ’s, but enough with that.

Two recent deaths which are of incredible importance to everyone everywhere.  Firstly, less importantly, the passing of Chief Justice of the United States (not of the Supreme Court, evidently, owing to a change in title to make the position more obviously connected to the other branches of government) William Rehnquist.  John Roberts is up for the job now, and while Roberts seems less completely batshit insane than what might have expected from President Bush, it would appear to be at least slightly more important now to make sure that he’s actually more devoted to the cause of justice rather than any specific ideology, be it liberal, conservative or otherwise.  But even if he is remarkably conservative, he’s now replacing Rehnquist (who was anyway) rather than O’Connor (one of the swing votes), so net change is zero as far as the makeup of the Court goes..  What I’m concerned about was that Bush may have nominated Roberts precisely because of his moderation and has some psychopath in a holding cell somewhere that would have been released upon Rehnquist’s death, which presumably would have come after Roberts appointment and would have resulted in slightly easier passage than even the moderate Roberts, owing to everyone just being sick of everything already.  

The second, more culturally impacting and probably more recognizable by the general public, Bob Denver died.  Gilligan.  Not only did he enlighten us in the unpredictable nature of life at sea and how one can survive on an island with people that have no business being in the same room together while not actually being competent at anything and the all important not bludgeoning the Professor for making the 90th coconut radio but not addressing the whole “hole in the damn boat” problem, but he also made fashionable the white bucket hat.  Or at least was the first to do so.  Also, he gave Alan Hale something to do for a few years.  Good for that.

Barbara Bush is more or less completely insane, suggesting that "So many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this (chuckles)--this is working very well for them.”  Chuckle indeed.  By chuckle I mean… I don’t know what I mean.  I can’t respond to that.  It’s just insane.

Barbara Bush and Kanye West should have a talk show together.

Addendum: While I like the idea of local channels which broadcast local baseball games, I'm very, very confused about Comcast SportsNet, which, since I got cable yesterday, has done nothing but play White Sox games. Which is fine...but...it's odd to turn the television on and wind up once again in the middle of the 4th of a game that you've seen bits and pieces of on two seperate occasions. I just...what the hell.

The Return

After RCN decided that I wouldn't get cable or an internet connection this month, it decided to give me one tomorrow, which showed up today. Which is nice, because now I can have no time to spend on the internet now that school's underway. C'est la thing. In celebration of finally being able to connect here, I'm going to post the thing I wrote the day I moved in. I completely forget its contents, and hope that won't matter too much. I'd say that you should pretend the date below is about a week ago, but since I've only posted once in the interim, it shouldn't make much of a difference.

1:02 AM Central Time
August 28, 2005
Written In CHICAGO

I’ve moved. I’m actually very pleased with my apartment, as it’s much nicer and bigger than I remembered it. Then again, when I was here last, the kitchen appliances were in the living room, so it probably had the effect of making it seem not so good. Other than that, the new paint, carpet and microwave/stove thing make me enormously happy.

Now, on to matters.

I, whenever I get around to it, shall endeavor to find out what the hell is going on in Elkhart, Indiana. From the view from I-90 on the way through, not much. Mostly flat earth. Some trees. Lots of sprinkler systems. Crops. But every once in a while, in the middle of one of these vast monuments to modern agriculture, the scenic view is interrupted by matters inexplicable. Z.B., a giant electronic marquee that proclaimed proudly that it belonged to some manner of Hall of Fame. I could not see what KIND of Hall of Fame, as I’d just woken up (the previous night, I slept 2 hours before setting off) and I didn’t have my glasses on. I’ll have to figure that out, if for some reason I ever drive on that road again. Another of these unexplained presences in the fields was a very random and somewhat elaborate playground. But whatever about that.

I realize the labor atrocities that Wal-Mart is responsible for in the modern world, and the treatment of their employees is…less than desired. To say the least. But once again, I found myself acquiescing to the corporate behemoth’s call to buy buy buy. Mostly because WalMart seems to be the only place in the damn world you can get a futon that you can actually take with you that day so that you can have a bed. Target, for some reason, doesn’t stock them, nor do Sears or Kohl’s, and at Value City I was told by a slick business suited long hair pomaded back man named Jesus that I could buy a futon, but that I would either have to pick it up Wednesday (impossible) or pay $80 for delivery to my apartment.

Upshot: I have a futon, and have already scuffed the perfect walls with it.

I’m calling tomorrow about cable and an internet connection, though the first of those two is infinitely more dispensable. I’m probably actually just going to be calling the cable company about getting some internet up in this piece.

Until then, I shall retire to Moneyball and that damned Star Wars Game.

Update: I've since finished Moneyball, tried for about a minute to read "Men At Work" before deciding I had much, much better things to do, and have finished the damned Star Wars Game.

Also, I checked out that Hall of Fame thing in Elkhart. I thought I'd misread the sign. I hadn't. It's the Recreational Vehicle/Motor Home Hall of Fame.


What the hell.

Proficient?

I've now fully moved into the Edgewater apartment (which, surprisingly, has a name that fits as I believe that with a good strong wind I could probably get a baseball into the lake from my front door). I have no internet connection as of yet, and am typing this from one of the most irritating kiosks I've ever had the displeasure of kiosking at. I'll be back with more when I get something that's somewhat reliable and that doesn't not accept my password "just 'cause".

On The Move

Well, that's it. I'm on the way to Chicago then. Hopefully, I've got everything packed away well enough and haven't forgotten anything hugely important. I don't get to see Jenna for a while, which makes this not fun.

There's not much more to say. More once I've set myself up in Chicago.

Burn On, Big River

YES, this is another post. To give you an idea of what’s going on, it’s about half an hour since I wrote the last post, but I thought I’d give this another go because I’ve got not much to do in this car AND I decided to turn this thing on because my radio’s been broken since I got back from my Chicago trip in March. So I can listen to what most of my friends would call “the Theme from Major League”, rather than its actual title (keep tuned to this blog post for the title, which I’m saving for the end.) EDIT: I should point out that Jenna was driving. So that I don't get charged with things.

Pat Robertson’s crazy, isn’t he? I bring this up for one reason, and that’s because it caused Lou Dobbs to try his crack at being Jon Stewart yesterday. He did the exact same bit that Stewart did later on during his time on CNN. Which is really strange. To summarize, Pat Robertson suggested that we go ahead and assassinate the Venezuelan President because “Well, he thinks we will anyway and he’s going to spread Communism and an extremist version of Islam, so we should get on that because I’ve run out of nachos and need something to entertain me.” Which isn’t good. Simply because responsible broadcasters shouldn’t go around calling for the assassination of the leaders of nations when doing so might start an international incident and will, more probably than not, just give the leader in question the ability to rally people around him by use of the victim card. Pat-dawg at first just maintained he was the victim of being misunderstood, which of course, he wasn’t, a point both Dobbs and Stewart emphasized by playing the clip of him calling for assassination immediately after the clip of him claiming he just said “take him out”, which Robertson-money maintains could “mean to kidnap.”

Ending: Pat-o has apologized for trying to suggest foreign policies that include assassinating people. In the words of my generation: Oh. Whatever.

Jenna’s singing Dirty Old Town at me. Clearly, if she’d just ignore hygiene and pick up some drug habits (well, more) she could be the perfect replacement of Shane MacGowan.

Oh. That song before? That’s “Burn On” by Randy Newman. Subject? The Cuyahoga River catching on fire like six times. I have no personal problem with Cleveland, even being from Pittsburgh and being taught in my current events classes to hate everything that comes from the Ohio Metropolis. Hell, I even like some things about Ohio. But good lord guys. The Allegheny, Monongahela and Ohio Rivers aren’t the cleanest in the world (or “enough to be submerged in without disease”), but at LEAST they’re not on fire. At least not recently.

Stop it.

I’m really liking this mobility thing. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to really get down to packing soon in order that when I get to Chicago, some of my clothes have come with me. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing with a bed or furniture yet, but those things seem to fall into place. Worst case scenario, I relapse to last summer’s accommodations after I’d finished my internship but before Jenna had quit McDonalds, which means I’ll be sleeping on an air mattress. Which isn’t good. But may have to do.

Also, I’m not going to have an internet connection as soon as I get there, and probably not for a little while afterwards, depending on if and when I get some kind of connection in my apartment. This’ll depend mostly on whether or not I have any money hanging around. It seems that I’ll have something, even after my first rent checks, so I’ll try to be online. If not, however, this may be one of the last blogposts for a while. I’d like to take this time, then, to congratulate the bullpen for only giving up 3 runs yesterday in the 8-3 loss to the Cards, and frown sternly at Kip Wells for giving up 5 in the first inning.

Jenna has too many shoes. I don’t know if any of you know this, or know her, but I’m looking at what seems to be seven pairs on the ground, and they all seem to be black dressy shoes. I have one pair of black dress shoes, which I used this summer as McDonalds uniform black shoes, meaning I have to get new ones as those are ruined.

Furthermore, I’m not a big fan of getting my blog spammed, and can’t quite figure out what was the cause of the sudden onslaught. I don’t know. Whatever.

Goodbye, good sir knight.

Locusts (except what I meant was cicadas) and Deepak

Welcome to the first post I’ve ever written outdoors. Of course, my wireless is still buggy, so I’m going to have to save this to Word and actually POST it when I get back inside, but there’s still something about writing this thing out of doors. Call it silly, but I’ve never had a laptop before, and now that I’m able to actually transport my computer without a back brace, I’m going to take advantage of it.

I’ll start with this, because this is what’s calling itself to my attention at the moment.

I hate locusts. Hate. Not because of their devastating effects on crops when they present themselves in swarms, but because they creep me the hell out.

*EDIT* I do still hate locusts. But only because they do the swarmy thing. The rest of this refers to cicadas, as was pointed out in the commentary by Shane. Thanks Shane.

Two reasons for that. The first…I hope I’m not the only person who this has happened to in the past. Let’s say you’re…ten years old. You’re playing around outside, climbing trees and whatever else you do when you’re ten (I think we can safely rule out trading stock, at least for most of us) and suddenly, there it is. Right as you take hold of the next branch and pull yourself up, you find yourself face to face with a largish insect mold thingshell. I fell out of a tree once doing that. Perhaps I’m just jumpy.

The second, and this is what’s calling my attention to them now, is the incessant noise. Granted, it’s much better now than it was two summers ago (I think) when the dreaded 17-year buggers resurfaced in this part of western PA. There’s nothing quite as horror-movie-esque than walking down a street not able to hear the person next to you talking because of the chirping of what you know in your mind to be little tiny hellspawn. Creepy.

Anyway, on to other things.

I was up for quite some time last night, my attention divided between Moneyball by Michael Lewis and, oddly enough, Larry King. I tend not to watch Larry King, as I just don’t enjoy interviews that much, but this was different. Six guests discussing the controversial remarks made recently about teaching Intelligent Design in schools. As opposed to Darwin’s theory of evolution. A veritable oil field of knowledge, ranging from a young earth creationist pastor (espousing strict adherence to the Genesis account of creation) to two Republican senators who were on opposing sides of the debate, an evolutionary biologist, a representative of the Discovery Institute, which is espousing the theory of intelligent design (though not necessarily the position that it should be a mandatory part of the science curriculum in high school) and, just for good measure, Deepak Chopra. The result? Absolutely nothing in the way of progress or resolution. The evolutionary biologist was disappointingly only interested in verbally berating the guy from the Discovery Institute, the senators were actually somewhat irrelevant and the pastor guy and Deepak Chopra argued over whether or not the Genesis account should be taught in schools. Chopra was somewhat off topic, claiming that no, of course we shouldn’t but what we should teach in science classes is meta-cognitive theories of evolution (evolution of the mind and awareness) while the pastor guy laughed at him and told everyone to go to Hell if they didn’t accept his truth as the truth, even implying that the senator that disagreed with teaching ID in schools (who said he personally believed the Genesis account) was “un-Christian”.

My take on the whole thing? There is no way in hell Intelligent Design theory should be a mandatory part of high school science classes, in that it is in now way science. The scientific method is scrapped for “well, your theory doesn’t really explain it perfectly, so maybe this is what happened but I have no evidence to support that and it’s therefore an unfounded claim” as well as being untestible and not falsifiable (that is, there’s no test you can construct to disprove the theory of an intelligent design). As for “teaching the controversy,” that is, requiring that the weaknesses in the theory of evolution be taught, sure. Teach the kids to question, which is about as close as I get to agreeing with Antonin Scalia’s 1987 dissenting opinion. Most of the holes rely on the premise on which Intelligent Design is based, Behe’s argument (in Darwin’s Black Box) that things are too complex to have evolved on their own and that the idea of irreducible complexity disproves evolution. It does not. Take the eye. Behe’s argument would claim that there are too many parts of the eye… the light sensitive surface, the lense, the pupil, to have developed independently. Evolution posits that it didn’t have to emerge as a finished product all at once. Perhaps first there were simple structures that just enabled life to follow light. Then perhaps another mutation that accounts for the concavity of the lens. The lack of fossil evidence of the interim steps is crucial to Behe’s argument that it was all designed at once, but then that’s a logical fallacy. Argumentum ad absentum. The lack of evidence is not proof.

As of right now, Darwin’s evolutionary theory is the most successful at explaining the origin of life without taking steps that render the scientific method, and indeed science, completely impotent. It’s the job of parents to teach their kids to question, of churches to offer explanations that deal with the supernatural. Not the science teacher. Their job is to teach the scientific method and sound reason. One caller suggested that the science teachers should acknowledge God’s hand in creation in the interest of simply presenting another theory. Whether or not an intelligence (such as God) created life is moot, as to teach such would be overwhelmingly impractical, as it would demand that each creation story, from each religion be presented. Between presenting the accounts of the origins of life from Darwin’s perspective, the Christian Genesis theory, the Buddhist theories, the Hindu theories, the way in which Zoroastrians think the world came to be, the varying Pagan theories, the Baha’i theories, there’s no room to get past the origins of life and talk about the circulatory system. Science is science is science, as it were, and should only deal with what can be subjected to the scientific method. That doesn’t mean that kids shouldn’t be allowed to maintain their own theories of creation. That doesn’t disprove the theory that God did create the universe and everything in it in six 24 hour days or the theory that we’re created from the sweat drops of a Norse god. As Francis Collins of the Human Genome Research Institute says in a recent Time article, it is very possible to believe in both Evolution and God. They are not exclusive, except in that evolutionary theory attempts to explain the result that we’re alive and that life exists according to the scientific method. We can’t prove or disprove theological accounts, and that’s why it’s a matter of faith, not science. Teach it in churches. In synagogues and mosques. But to demand that a science teacher abandon the scientific method to teach a theological subject is ludicrous.

Similarly, the suggestion that Intelligent Design is not a religious theory is completely bunk, as, if you accept that life was created by some intelligence, you are then left asking who that is. “It doesn’t have to be God!” IDers claim. Sure. But then who created the designer? You’re left with an inevitably theological question..

One last point. Claiming that evolution is “just a theory” is to misunderstand the term theory and the point of science. As a scientific theory, it if testable and falsifiable. Being a theory does not mean it has nothing backing it up. Quite the opposite. So stop it with all the “but it’s just a theory”. So are our ideas about why we need to breathe, but that’s rarely, if ever questioned merely because it’s a theory.

Have a sandwich good sir.

Mobility has been achieved.

This post is being written on the new laptop. I'm quite very happy about that, and will be doing what I can to not allow this machine to suck as much in a few years as the relic this is replacing. This is also actually the first time I'm able to blog from somehwere other than a giant cubicle like thing.

Things that are happening NOW:

It's the bottom of the seventh inning, and the Pirates are up 7-0 over the Cards, which I'm not really able to comprehend. Even more incomprehensible is that I thought about going, then decided not to on the basis that I'd be doing so alone AND that I need money for rent AND that I'm going later this week anyway AND I didn't really want to see Zach Duke get his first major league loss, which I was convinced would happen as we are, after all, playing the Cards and usually when good things come to an end, they do so when I'm at them.

Clearly, my powers of prescience leave something to be desired, though Duke's outing will not result in a decision as he left in the second with an ankle injury. Combined with Castillo's year ending spiked knee injury, this constitutes a frowny face if ever a frowny face was constituted.

In other, less Piratey news:

They're (Transportation Security Administration) considering relaxing airport security restrictions, which would allow small knives, razor blades and box cutters (read: precisely what the people who perpetrated the attack that was the impetus for trying to make airports more secure used) legal. As someone who's going to have to fly again eventually, I wish they'd reconsider. I tend to be somewhat on the side of not trading civil liberties for security, at least in drastic cases, but this is so minor as to be what should be a complete nonissue.

On the other side of that, Pittsburgh International is considering allowing non-passengers past the initial checkpoint, which would actually make the AirMall thing something that could be, you know, used.

...

Whew.

I'm glad that during the writing of these things, I check the Wikipedia current events and recent deaths feature. Otherwise, I'd completely miss the passing of those people that have substantially shaped our lives.

Like this guy.

The Moog guy. The guy that invented the Moog synthesizer that served to pioneer electronic music. How about that.

Oh. Correction. I said in the convictions post that Dennis Rader was going to be available for parole in 40 years. This is incorrect. His sentences will be served consecutively, not concurrently, so the earliest he'll be able to receive a parole hearing will be in 175 years. Sorry for the inaccuracy.

UPDATE: It's now the bottom of the eighth, 8-0 Pirates, bases loaded, 0 outs and Ryan Doumit at the plate with an 0-1 count.

0-2
1-2, low and away.
2-2, away.
2-2, foul.
Base hit to right field, scoring Restovich, bases remain loaded, 9-0 Pirates.

I'm done doing that now, as I doubt it'd be interesting to read.

Ryan News: I affirmed my belief with an ex-employee of the Primanti Bros. store at the Galleria at Pittsburgh Mills, that the store is utterly useless as there are THOUSANDS of other stores that sell Pittsburgh related T-shirts, and they don't actually sell Primanti Bros. Sandwiches. Thanks, Cory, for making me feel slightly less irrational.

Have!

RETURN TO LEVITY.

Ok. So, in Paris-Hilton-esque fashion, i'm going to start this off by talking about my possessions. I know. I did that just a few days ago when I was talking about having an apartment now. This one is almost more important.

I have a lease.
Which actually lets me stay in the apartment provided I pay rent on time. Only two parts confuse me. It's accompanied by an air conditioner rider, which more or less says that they'll let me use the air conditioner that was built into the wall when the building went up (rather than central air that's controllable in every room, there's literally a damn air conditioner in the brick), and that I have to take care of it and take it out by October 1. ... I'd be glad to. Because I'm doubting I'll need it much, but it appears to be firmly built into the damned wall. So...we'll see. I don't know what I have to do abou that yet. The second is that pets are banned. It makes this abundantly clear, repeating over and over that pets are banned. At the end of the statement about pets, it says that cats are allowed.

...

I kind of want to get a cat, forgetting for a moment that I'm mildly allergic and that I'd have to choose between getting it shots and eating. I just feel like I should now that they've given me the option.


In other possessions:

I have a diagnosis for alopecia areata. EVEN MORE SPECIFICALLY, it's currently alopecia areata barbae. Meaning there's a spot in the beard area that should be growing hair but isn't because my immune system has decided it hates very specific hair follicles. It's not indicative of a greater disease, and the damage is mostly to the alopecia patient's self esteem, so I don't care and am instantly better.

Despite the previous possession, I also have a goatee again. Which makes this summer's job officially over, because I'm not shaving this damn thing off. Oh, the bald spot is like...40% of the way down my neck, so I'm not going to want hair there anyway.

I have no money, having spent more than I probably should have at the liquidation sale of a local video rental store. But that led to me owning Shaun of the Dead on DVD, so I'm ok with this one.

I have ...to go do something else now.

Two for one Convicts at Menards!

Convictions!

Two instances involving convictions in the news lately, one more lately than the other, the latter and later of which I'll write about second. Moreover, the second, later and latter isn't actually a conviction, but I needed a snappy title.

Dennis Rader is convicted of 10 murders and is given ten life sentences. Which means he'll be available for parole in 40 years, when he's 100 years old. The vibe I get from the coverage, other than news stations screaming "LOOK AT ME WE'VE GOT THIS GUY LOOK AT HIM" and the like is that people are going to try to forget about him as soon as possible. He confessed, there's little to no doubt of his guilt...pretty straightforward, really. His statement before sentencing gave me the impression of someone trying to hang on to the spotlight for as long as possible. Meh.

On a more troublesome note, Edgar Ray Killen, noted racist and murderer responsible for the deaths of three people in Mississippi in the 60's that had the radical idea of maybe treating people like people, is out on bail pending his appeal. Meaning my statement that he'll die in prison before completing his sentence is now probably wrong. He's 80, in ill health, and will probably die a free man. Which is ludicrous, particularly when he's still threatening the lives of his opponents (verbally).

Speaking of the conditions of the prison, Killen said:

• "They checked me through the line like a cattle auction," he said. "I'm very unhappy with the treatment I've received."
  
  Mr. Killen is recovering from a logging accident in March and required an oxygen tank at his trial.
  
  Mr. Killen said he had to bribe a convict to obtain a pillow.
  
  "I can barely sleep," he said. "I still don't understand how I could lie in severe pain for 24 hours and no one even brings me an aspirin. I'm not a drug addict."

...making Killen the first 80 year old racist who's evaded paying for his crimes for 40 years who is also a giant freaking infant. "I still don't understand how I could lie in severe pain for 24 hours and no one even brings me an aspirin"? Are you serious? I think it might have something to do with the whole "organizing the taking of three innocent lives" thing you did a while back. You know. Those kids that have been dead for 40 years. You don't have enough pillows? Poor you. James Cheney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner no longer exist.

Disclaimer: Before I get notes otherwise (provided I get comments on this blog ever again), I'm well aware that he didn't actually kill them per se, in that he wasn't the one to pull the trigger, but rather planned the murder and arranged for the disposal of the bodies, which is why he was convicted of manslaughter as opposed to murder. Regardless, he's a terrorist and killer and deserves to be imprisoned.

Um. Wow. That post was rather serious.

Meh.

Current Event 14075- "Pass Out"

Ok, so...I thought Devin Moore (the "GTA Killer") had lost touch with reality. I have underestimated today's youth.

In a story that's been plastering itself all over cable news (I first saw it on CNN), established magazines (or, rather, People) and at least one blog that's achieved some notoriety (the blog in question being BoingBoing), kids have been dying because they don't realize how their respiratory system works. According to the stories, children have been found dead, killed by strangulation which is being attributed an oxygen-deprivation game called "pass out", "flatliner", "something dreaming", "tingling game" or, inexplicably, "space monkey" in which they very simply cut off oxygen to the brain by self-inflicted strangulation by belt, cord, rope or plastic bag. The goal is to achieve a huffing-like high (which also works by cutting off oxygen to the brain). Evidently, it's typically done with more than one person, and most of these kids are dying because they're doing it alone, without someone to stop them from choking once they pass out. Not that that excuses the practice when more than one person is involved.

I'm baffled, but not really. Mostly, I'm very confused. Because the parents, who understandably are shaken by the tragedy of finding their child dead by hanging in what appears in every way to be a suicide but isn't because, as they explain in almost every case, the children did not expect to die and figured they'd come out of it...should possibly have explained to their kids what happens when someone can't breathe. "It's just a game" they reiterate. "They were just playing a game."

Sure. So has everyone that has ever died playing Russian Roulette. That doesn't make it not stupid. And while most of the kids that they've been focusing on are violin virtuosos and future scientists...it's incredibly dumb. I'm sure the kids are great otherwise, but not expecting to die by performing the same actions that have been used as an execution method for decades is remarkably naïve, to the point that I can't understand that even if parents didn't know about this particular game...they didn't at some point comment on the dangers of putting a bag over your head.

I don't know. The whole thing's infuriatingly dumb.

In other, more Ryan related news:

Up For Grabs, the documentary that follows the journey of the #73 home run ball hit by Barry Bonds in the 2001 season is actually hilarious. It's not the best documentary I've ever seen, and I'd be surprised if it won awards for filmmaking, but it does highlight some of the things that are, perhaps, wrong with the way we view sports anymore. To summarize without giving much away for the two of you that will eventually see this, the ball was hit into a bunch of people, some guy kind of half caught it, but then probably dropped it, and someone else had it at the end. Guy 1 sues for custody of the ball, and the whole thing goes on for about two years. The end result is that the viewer doesn't really care much for either guy one or guy two, guy one goes from being the poor victim to a jackass that's trying to grasp at fame. Two of the better moments that I'm not going to explain:

Guy 1 (Alex Popov): This was never about the money. You guys are the ones that are talking about the money. This was about history.
Reporter: Then why didn't you both just agree to give it to the Hall of Fame without an auction, if it was about history.
Guy 1 and Guy 2 (Patrick Hayashi): ...

Witness 1: He had a ball touching party.

Go see it. Now.

No Shampoo.

Ok, so because something's happened in the past few days other than going to work, we're going to have a post today. Olé.

For those of you that aren't me or haven't heard, I'm going to be going to Northwestern University in the fall, which is all fine and good except that until this weekend, I was going to have to be commuting from western Pennsylvania, which, being an 8 hour drive, limits the time I can be in lab to 8 hours per day (clearly, this is unacceptable) and also eliminates all sleep. I like sleep. Sleep is good. Given the choice, I'd probably pick never being able to eat French Onion soup again over never being able to sleep again. Solution: Find an apartment in Chicago.

Father-unit and I left at 5am Sunday to accomplish this objective, and did indeed accomplish the hell out of it. But let's start with the beginning of the journey.

I've got this weird phobia concerning flying. It's not that I hate flying. I like getting somewhere 400 miles away in about an hour. That's good, as far as I'm concerned. The problem comes from the latent mortality thing that's been setting in over the last 22 years, something that knowing people that have died before their 24th birthday has amplified. This, inevitably, as all good realizations of mortality do, led to Giant Eagle's magazine section at about 12:30 am that morning. Which brings me to my first topic. Advertising. The advertising surrounding this trip was actually incredible, in that I didn't believe what it was telling me. The first example showed up at Giant Eagle in one of those magazines that a wholesome mother spun around so you couldn't see the near-nudity. It's subject: Crown Royal. The brilliance of the photograph shattered bottle of the whisky in question with the caption "Oh hell no." is what makes me happy.

On the subject of shattering, Southwest Airlines needs to stop it. Two advertisements placed on the walkway to the actual plane (both to and from Chicago) involved shattering things, one depicting a breaking water cooler bottle (which I thought were usually plastic...but whatever) and an X-ray of a broken index finger (from, the ad indicated, excessive clicking through Orbitz or the like). I'm not very picky, and usually I wouldn't have minded, but if a group of people are about to get on something that, while statistically safer than automobiles and all that do have the slight chance of plummeting 28,000 feet, try not to show them pictures of injuries and crashing, no matter how minor. It's just not sensible.

Finally in the subject of advertising, another Southwest ad shows a green with a golf ball about 4 inches from a hole you could park a car in, along with a caption urging the flyer to enroll in the "Rapid Rewards" program, which isn't based on Frequent Flyer miles, but on the more familiar "Pizza Shop system" of getting a flight free after buying eight. The actual wording is something along the lines of "Rewards are Easier in a world without miles". Fine. I accept the concept of the program. What I don't understand is the advertisement. Surely, it's easier sink a put into a cavern than a typical golf hole...but is that supposed to tie in with the "no more miles" thing, indicating that by getting rid of one of the central measures of the English system, we would construct things haphazardly without regard to relative size and COULD end up with such a golf hole? Where's the sense? I'm reading too much into it? It's just supposed to be silly? Who knew.

QUESTION MARK.

Backtracking a bit to shortly after I got through security, I would like to make the point that everyone in Pittsburgh is aware of, that the so called "Sky Mall" is impressive but essentially useless. Because you can't get to it unless you're flying somewhere, at which time your need for a giant green ceramic porcupine is, I imagine, somewhat diminished. I don't want to know who's buying these things, but I'm going to guess they're not doing it in the hours of downtime they have before catching a non-stop to Phoenix. The most important lesson of the Airmall is in one of the many Hudson locations, which run like convenience stores. Specifically, one should always be aware of the kind of products you may be selling when naming your company. A little care would have avoided the sale of Support Socks by New Life, which when glanced at quickly enough appears to be a box containing NEW! Life Support Socks. I very nearly bought a carton in case I fell into a coma, hoping to be saved by my socks.

Socks!

Finally, (and here's the indication I'm not going to go into any of the actual important aspects of my trip, such as where my apartment is because I'm not sure I can handle the thousands of Murphspot groupies that would kick down my door) a word about RedRoof Inns. I'm surprisingly loyal to these guys, usually because they're the cheapest, but since my stay at exclusively RedRoof inns on the roadtrip to Boston a few years ago (during which we uncovered the secret of free parking, which I may tell you eventually, once you have progressed towards ParkingEnlightenment) I've been going there first for my lodging needs. I can recall only one other motel that I paid for, and that was because our trip took longer than we thought and hadn't booked a room in advance. That might end. I may have to consider breaking my loyalty streak with RedRoof for one very simple, but very important reason. What kind of motel doesn't include shampoo. Having just finished a stint with McDonalds, greasy isn't what I wanted to feel.

Damn them.

On the other hand, their beds are soft.

Away! (More about today's news later, as well as possibly a review of "Up for Grabs")

Back, but not just yet.

BACK FROM CHICAGO.

Good news-I have an apartment.

Bad news-I've been up for a long time, and want to sleep. I'll be posting my observations from the trip, along with some other stuff that's been going on as soon as is reasonable. But not immediately. Whee!

The Company Way

You’re all fired.

Please have your belongings out of the office by 3pm this afternoon.

Actually, you’re probably not. Maybe, but if so, I’m almost certain that I had nothing to do with that. Maybe I did. I could see that maybe if I complained about your service, maybe that got you fired. But, and I mean typically here, if you’re getting fired over a single complaint, you probably have a more than substantial record of poor customer reports and probably shouldn’t be that surprised by your sudden termination. Then again, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you’re a stellar employee and your termination was due in fact ONLY to my complaint, in which case you really do work for a terrible company and should be glad to be rid of them, tiger.

All that to say this. I, while not fired, am very nearly once more unemployed. Tomorrow is day 9 of 9 of my McDonalds streak, and is also my last day at the restaurant. Or place. Thing. Hopefully, it also signifies the last time I’ll ever be the typical youth working in a terrible establishment for small wages at a job that doesn’t require any specialized skills. Or “skillz” for those of you who are “extreme”. If you are, stop it. In the next week, I’ll probably be writing my final assessment of this summer’s experiment and though I did meet a slew of people that are worth knowing, I don’t think I’ll be crushed if the thought “Holy Freaking Thing. It’s two in the morning and I still have sixty burritos to make.” never crosses my mind again.

Sell!

I’m going to post this before my computer can crash again.

Haragaga!

Remarkable, Dr. Barnaby.

This has got to be the fourth time I've logged in here with the intention of writing something, but ran away before I could get anything significant down. So let's get this thing started, then, shall we?

Typically, if I write about sports on here, it's going to be about the Pirates. Not so today. Today, I'd like to talk about quite possibly the most entertaing thing to ever appear on ESPN2. This thing. The World's Strongest Man thing. Holy freaking thing. This thing is more magical than anything. Thing thing thing. If you haven't seen this...turn on ESPN 2 at around 2am nightly until you happen upon it. I could probably do some research into figure out how to tell you to find it more accurately, but I don't care that much. Anyway, the concept of watching men with names like "Magnus" and "Mariusz" who are not so much on steroids as completely filled with steroids try to outdo each other with an enormously out there version of every Nickelodeon game show from the early 1990's...terrific. I guarantee you that there's a basement somewhere where the illicit drugs flow like water in order to help conversations like "Dude...we'll...TWO refrigerators. We'll make them carry two refrigerators," and "Yeah...WAIT. Kegs. Make them throw KEGS. Kegs are awesome." I've never seen any other sport in which the athlete starts bleeding simply for no other reason than that they're performing the sport.

ALSO IN NEWS...this jackass. Yes, appparently it's possible to be dumb enough to forget that Grand Theft Auto III and the real world are different. Thankfully, the jury found him guilty, not as he pleaded, which was "not guilty by mental defect". Certainly, it's a good thing to be able to submit such a plea, but not when the mental defect is "OH NO I PLAY TOO MANY VIDEO GAMES AND CANNOT DIFFERENTIATE BETWEEN THEM AND REALITY". Additionally, this is probably going to lead to even more censorship talk, which I won't comment on right now.

Finally, today is day 7 of 9 consecutive days at work, culminating with my final day ending at 6am on Saturday. Therefore...I win.

POST!

Time for Some Tender Chicken Heads

You know, usually when I sit down to write these things, it's because I've seen or heard something in the news, or have just read something online that I feel I need to either point out or add commentary to. And because I get sudden pains when I've gone too long without ending a sentence in a preposition in a written public format. Usually, those things that make click on "create post" are something newsworthy, so you might be expecting that I'll be commenting on the situation with the Russian sub that's trapped underwater or Robert Novak throwing a tantrum or something along those lines. Or because I feel obligated for no apparent rational reason.

You, sir, are mistaken. It was Ranch Dressing, a History. As for me, I could take it or leave it. I like it on, oh, I don't know, a chicken sandwich, but as for pouring the stuff on salad (defeating the purpose of eating a salad in the first place, it seems, if you're just going to pour seasoned mayo on it), I'm not much of a fan. I mean, if it's all you've got and it's a choice between that and bleach and undressed salad is forbidden by a new constitutional amendment, I'll probably go with the Ranch, but I'll be thinking about vinagrettes.

What I like is that its name is derived from a very literal ranch.

NYTimes seems to have been getting some mail following a suggestion that Pluto be demoted to non-planet status, but most of the arguments seem lackluster at best. The focus is either: "Hey now! Having more planets is cool! How dare you suggest we lose planets!" (Counter: Why not count every asteroid then, as well as comets and the like. Surely THOUSANDS of planets is more exciting.) or "Why do you discriminate against Pluto simply because it's far from the sun? It's got a moon!" (Counter: Distance from the sun should be somewhat irrelevant as things that are closer are not considered planets. Whether or not it's got a satellite or a double is debatable at least, though it does, as noted have something, though counting this as a planet criterion would force making one of the new things into a planet as it's got a moon) or "My grandchild is a freakin' genius and knows corporate icons. How dare you take away a chance for her to remember more names!" (Actually...sure. Whatever.) In the end, having another planet just makes it harder for things to align and I'd quite like to win the lottery. But whatever.

I've got less than a week of work left and I that's just fine. I'm about ready to get back to the whole studying things thing. Besides, it'll give me something to post about that doesn't include juicy Chicken Selects. Then again, thinking back on the actual lifestyle induced by studying chemistry, posting about McDonalds food is probably far from over.

All I Can Afford Is Particle Board

I try not to post about issues ongoing in the news that I learn of specifically from other blogs. That's a lie. I do that quite a bit. Here's the thing. Pat of WHYGAVS has already brought this up, but I need to comment.

Because I do.

The Pirates have unveiled the 2006 All-Star Game logo, which was designed in the hopes that it could win some variety of "ugly as sin" contest. While the design itself isn't bad and does effectively incorporate the Pittsburgh Skyline, it's also been colored using leftover egg dyes from last Easter.

Now, onto other things.

I've finally decided on my last day at this summer's Slamfest (that is, "job") and have gotten around to finding an apartment in Chicago. So times in Pittsburgh are fading quickly. Soon, I won't even be able to travel half an hour to watch the Pirates post their legendary gems without being in a sports bar. How terribly sad.

Lastly, I would like to emphasize that among those that share my birthday, evidently, are the inventor of the 'safe' elevator (that is, the inventor of the braking system that allowed them not to crash to the ground, this man, and the lead singer of Metallica, who doesn't get a wikipedia link.

It's also Independence day in Niger. Yay for that, eh.