That's Logic

Well, well, well...

2009-06-14T16:29:00.001-07:00

Go here. Don't ask questions. And don't be too sad I'm abandoning Blogger.com.

Hard Ticket to Hawaii = Must See Movie

2009-06-14T01:34:00.004-07:00

So we just watched Hard Ticket to Hawaii, a movie that, if any better, would be unbearable to watch.

Here's what I mean by that: it was soooooo bad (and I think intentionally so) that it was funny and just absurd and great to watch. If it had been simply putrid trash (like Transformers) and not the actual feces of a herd of gorillas, it would have been just bad and not good. Thankfully, it was nothing close to Transformers.

It was written, directed, and produced by Andy Sedaris, and he presents an interesting story. He was a pioneer in television, specifically sports television. He directed hundreds of sports events and even won Emmys (freakin' Emmys!) for them, including the 1969 Summer Olympics. And you know that shot during football games where they just point the camera at the cheerleaders for a minute? Yeah, Sedaris invented that, even coining the name: "honey shot." Just ridiculous.

So somewhere in the early 80's, Sedaris got the idea to do a string of movies under the group title "Bullets, Bombs, and Babes." They were to include 1) Shitty no-name actors (one of which who went on to a 27 year and counting run on The Bold and the Beautiful); 2) Bullets, bombs, explosions and all those things that make Michael Bay movies so terrrble; and 3) Playboy Playmates. That's correct: everyone has Playboy Playmates - and they're always naked, all the time.

These movies have some of the worst dialogue, the worst acting, and the worst plots that have every graced a TV screen, and that's saying something considering we're including things like "Lost" and Armageddon. But that's why they're great, because stuff that bad is just so hilarious that if you don't laugh, you're clearly missing what's going on.

How the hell did Sedaris go from pioneering sports broadcasting to bullets, bombs, and babes? I have no fucking clue, but it's god damn awesome.

So....... (or "The First Blog Post after a Long Absence")

2009-06-13T19:34:00.004-07:00

This the first blog post after a long absence. I didn't bother to fact check, but it's something like forty years. Maybe fifty. It's hard to tell, really.

Anyways, these blog posts feel a lot like meeting your ex-girlfriend for the first time after breaking up ("So...how are things?"). Always a terrible experience. And this is very similar because the relationship between Blogger and Audience is in some ways akin to Girlfriend and Boyfriend (or whatever interchangeable genders fit your style): the Blogger puts out shit, the Audience reads that shit, and then comments with their own shit, and a cycle is born. In the same way, the Boyfriend (or whatever) puts out shit and the Girlfriend reads it, and gives back some more shit.

Now, what happens with the Boyfriend/Girlfriend can happen with the Blogger/Audience: shit gets ugly, one side gets upset/depressed/stupid/etc. and things, perhaps, come to an end. I suppose that's what happened here. I got tired/bored/stupid/depressed/whatever and stopped blogging. I'm pretty certain no one reads this thing, but potential readers operate in much the same way as actual readers, with concern to the Blogger.

Anyways (again), I suppose I'll write some more stuff. Thankfully for all readers, actual and potential, the NBA Finals is pretty much over, thus basketball is over, so the only sports writing will be baseball related, and I doubt I'll be writing much about America's Favorite Pastime, so there is, maybe, a God, I guess.

As for me, I found out (that is, I came upon this realization, rather than decided in any sort of autonomous fashion) that I pretty much hate most other people. Sure, there's a lot of people I really like, lots of cool people, but most of the people I meet on a day to day basis tend to suck. But then again, don't I suck, too? Aren't I just as retarded and stupid and ugly and not nice as they are? Is it all that, though? Or is it that everyone I meet doesn't give a shit about anything other than A) what's between their legs; or B) what's between their shoulder blades (their heart). You see, it's all about penis/vagina interaction (and some anus, obvs) and "how my heart feels." But isn't there a third part to that? What goes on between the ears? Shouldn't thinking and reasoning and learning be on a par with sex and love?

The world, apparently, doesn't agree.

But let's step back. Aren't I just like everyone else when I complain that the world doesn't adhere to my views? Yup. I'm just as much of an asshole as everyone else. So my complaints are stupid and don't matter and there's really no reason to voice them.

But then how do I relate? Because that second part (love) is all about relating to and with other people in a way that's more significant than "Would you like fries with that?" And how do you relate to other people when you're so distanced psychologically from them?

I don't know. That's my difficulty at the moment. That's my "conundrum" (I hate that word, btw). I'm having trouble relating to other people - fulfilling Need #2 - and thus I'm having trouble living.

It kinda sucks, you know?

Probably.

But most people will misinterpret this post as depressingly hateful/potentially suicidal. Sigh. So, relating to and with other people is like standing in a dark room trying to figure out who's standing in front of you - and the whole time you're not certain there's even somewhere there.

Colbert Raps and Michael Steele Rap

2009-03-20T15:07:00.002-07:00

Michael Steele said he wanted to bring it to the urban, inner city hip-hop crowd and so Colbert invited him to a rap battle. Steele has never come on the show but Colbert brings it rather hard in this clip.

He raps, people. He freakin' raps.

And then Michael Steele raps.

Seriously. It's ridic.

But the video won't embed correctly. Comedy Central uses some html tags blogger won't support. So go to this link and watch it there.

Do it.

This time it's Kelly's fault

2009-03-19T23:34:00.003-07:00

I can't stay away from lists, and she was doing a list she stole from someone else. Apparently you just write down thirteen things you did today, because it's "Thirteen Thursday," or some such nonsense.

1. I wondered about how easy it would be to hit someone in the bike lane on Washington just East of Mill because at night (tonight, in fact) you can't see them in your review mirror when you're at the light and start to turn right on Scottsdale/Rural. There were two of them. Thankfully I had this thought 50 feet before the light.
2. I slew the president of Mozambique with a chainsaw. I couldn't find a samurai sword.
3. I went to Starbucks and got free Starbucks because a guy I had a class with two years ago works at Starbucks.
4. I thought about going back to Starbucks later to get some more free Starbucks from the guy who works at Starbucks.
5. I didn't go back to Starbucks.
6. I considered staying on campus after class to listen to a speech by a philosophy professor from Princeton, but I got hungry instead.
7. I tried to go to Jon's choir concert tonight, but I swear he said "turn on Mill," and after spending ten minutes looking around Mill and it's offshoots, and since Jon was already in it (I was late) and couldn't respond to texts, I went to Borders instead and bought a David Foster Wallace book for an egregious 16 fuckin' dollars.
8. I vented to nobody in particular about the ridiculous fuckin' prices for a new paperback book nowadays. 16 dollars? Really? And a 57 page book of poetry by an old professor who works at ASU is also 16 dollars? Unreal.
9. I wrote a very facetious one page response/thought/thingy for a lit class and I'm a little afraid that my teacher might actually seek me out for the purpose of securing reparations for having had to read the response.
10. I wrote a blog before this one.
11. I read some stuff from the April issue of Harper's Magazine, because I somehow convinced my mom to buy me a subscription, and it came today.
12. I thought about how much of an asshole snob I am for having a subscription to both Harper's Magazine and the Sunday Edition of The New York Times.
13. I listened, throughout the day, to a lot of Dr. Dre. The Chronic and 2001 are, ahem, bombass muthafuckin' albums, biotch. Suck deeeeez nuts!

Some things I've overheard around campus lately

2009-03-19T23:16:00.003-07:00

Well, first, these two education majors in one of my lit classes are talking about where they want to student teach and, apparently, it's quite popular nowadays to go overseas, particularly to places like Costa Rica, and teach there. From what I know of education majors (and there are significant disaporas in all of my lit classes) I'm afraid for the denizens of places like Costa Rica.

But that's not what's important. What's important is that the following bit of dialogue took place:

"Oh cool. What are the other two."

"Nicaragua and Chile."

"Awesome."

They both nod knowingly.

"Where is Nicaragua?"

"I don't know."

- childish laughter -

"I was thinking it was in Africa, but that must be wrong," She pauses. "Right?"

"Year, or well, I don't know."

I had to say something.

"It's south of Mexico."

"Oh, cool. Thanks."

"Yeah, great help."

Alright, so I don't much care that they didn't know that Nicaragua was south of Honduras and north of Costa Rica, but they should have at least known (1) it's NOT in Africa and (2) it's south of Mexico. Or, hell, South America would have been acceptable.

Here's the other thing I overheard, and, really, I hear this a lot. So many times around campus I hear the following sentence in almost the exact same form: "I like to read, I just don't have time for it."

Really? You don't have 30 mins a day? I mean, if you don't want to read, cool, fuck it, I don't give a shit. Really, I don't. But please don't say you like to read but don't have time. Unless you're a triple-job working single mother of three, I'm pretty sure you have 30 mins a day.

It's All Andrew's Fault

2009-03-16T15:52:00.004-07:00

Andrew linked an article about gay marriage to me, so the entirety of this post, including the motivation, is clearly all his fault. He's wholly responsible and should be, obviously, destroyed.

The article he linked me was this one and it got me thinking about just what the hell anyone ought to do about the whole thing.

Now, I've got an idea that wouldn't work: make marriage available to any combination of two human beings (man/man, woman/woman, man/woman, or any other transgender fun you can imagine). It wouldn't work, obvs.com, because people would just lose it over such a liberalization of something so sacred [sic] and wonderful [sic] as marriage, something that's timeless [sic] and totally great [sic] and has always [sic] led to great [sic] and wondrous [sic] joy [sic].

Andrew's article discussed an idea by two lawyers on opposite sides of the California mess arguing that marriage should not be governed by the government, only by the churches. What they would like to see (really just to compromise and bring an end to the whole thing) is the government grant civil unions to anyone and then allow whatever religious organizations out there that have the desire to grant any kind of supplementary title like "marriage."

But why sacrifice the word "marriage?" I think that would just piss everyone off even more. And it seems a little strange to more or less guarantee that marriage is then a religious thing. A lot of people, religious and otherwise, would be pretty upset about that inevitable label.

I say we just try to force through my original plan: making marriage available to any combination of two human beings. It would take money, time, and a fair amount of violence, but hey, what are things like equality and justice for if not to fight and die for?

This always makes me wonder about bigamy. Is it really a bad thing? Andrew, Philippi, Fillman, and I had a chat about this a few weeks ago and I think the general conclusion we came to (at least I think it was "we"; it might have just been me, I guess) is still significant: that the follies of marrying multiple people are the result of the person and not the situation. That is, the reason so many bigamist marriages are fucked up and evil and wives get beat up or abused or not taken care of is because people are messed up, not the marriage itself.

And really is there is anything different that occurs in a bigamist marriage not in a regular ole' man/woman marriage? Surely domestic violence happens in both and surely bad shit in general happens in both. It may be that more bad shit happens with bigamist marriages, but that's probably due to the type of people that try to live bigamously, which is illegal. I can't imagine all men and women who want to marry multiple people are awful, turrrble, and just all-around shitty human beings.

It's worth a thought, I suppose.

Lakers and Boats and Stuff

2009-03-15T15:10:00.003-07:00

I realize this sort of effusion is not what everyone likes to hear but I just watched the game and I had to say something, even if it's just to the vast Intar-Web-Net.

The Lakers had a casual, 15 point lead on the Dallas Mavericks in the third quarter about an hour ago and then, in typical 2008-2009 Lakers fashion, they let it slip away and by the middle of the fourth quarter, they were down by six - at home, against the Dallas Mavericks. Dallas, btw, is the same team that gives lots of minutes to people like Brandon Bass and James Singleton.

So there's the big negative against the 2008-2009 Lakers: they get casual, all the time, and let games get away from them. A positive, though, something Keith and Jon have heard me say so many times they probably wish I would just die, is that the Lakers, when they shed their casual attitudes, are the deadliest, most wicked team in the NBA. And they shed it in the middle of the fourth, just like I hoped they would, and won by seven.

But it's that type of casual attitude that gets them in trouble, the same attitude that made them lose 13 times this season instead of only 6 or 7. They're not worlds better than Cleveland or Boston, but when they're on, they're better than anyone (except maybe Detroit when Dtown actually plays zone defense; Zone D kills the Lakers and you'd think more teams would employ it against Gasol and Odom and Bynum and Bryant and just about everyone the team).

So today's game showed the best and worst of the Lakers: the casual attitude that loses big leads and puts them in three possession holes, and the intensity and brilliant skills that allow them to overcome those same holes.

And, uh, enjoy this:

The acidity of anger and why it blows

2009-03-08T02:33:00.003-07:00

They say anger is corrosive and it's fucking true. It just eats away, rotting your insides like cancer. It just blows ass. I was really mad at a friend earlier, and maybe I still am - I have no idea - and it was awful, because being mad just really devours any sense of pleasure or happiness, so you just walk around being all terribly depressed and then further anger is spawned towards that depression and you just spiral into this abyss of rage from whence it's fucking difficult to get out.

So it's no surprise, then, that I have a huge problem (is it a problem?) staying angry right now because (1) anger eats me up and I feel awful about harboring such strongly antipathic thoughts (it makes me sick, basically, and I start feeling psychologically screwed up) and (2) it's directed towards a friend, a person whom is surely displeased/annoyed/pissed off at innumerable things I've done, so my anger justification erodes significantly in the face of my own obvious asshole-ness.

Driving home tonight, I was going over and over and around and around in my head about it all and I started feeling totally lost, this ultimate despair that nothing made sense, because I think I was justified in being angry but then I started questioning all that and finding reasons for not being angry, which made me wonder: is there a time where anger is not only justifiable but preferable? Are there events that elicit anger rightfully? Or should we disregard and try to suppress most of the irascibility we find welling up inside? I started wondering about choleric feelings and about how they just don't sit with me anymore like they used, and that maybe I was morphing into some giant vagina, or that I was becoming more sensitive or something - and I don't know if that's bad or good or neutral or what. I had the radio off purposely to induce a thinking atmosphere and so there I was driving down Hayden, the only sound that of other cars and my own tires on the pavement and my head is going fucking nuts. I'm going around in circles, I'm experiencing this awful mixture of anger, remorse, confusion, and some serious existential "wtf?" shit. Making it home was a little more difficult than it probably should have been.

But still, what the fuck? I'm no longer angry, I think, but I'm confused, utterly. I'm still convinced my anger was originally justified but I don't know if I had good enough reason to sustain it, or if it even mattered considering how much I must piss off my friend, or how much I must piss off everyone. I mean, I'm loud, I'm obnoxious, I latch onto something and repeat it over and over and over because I derive much pleasure from it - but I know other people wish I would just shut the hell up - and I'm arrogant, hubristic, not as smart as I wish I would be/think I am, and I just basically run everyone's nerves up the wall to the point where I'm not even sure why I have friends or why people put up with me. So do I have any right to be angry? Or still be angry? Or even be angry initially? Obviously without details of the specific incident you can't answer those questions in the particular, but the general bothers me quite a bit. It's fucking with my brain and I can't sleep.

This is not good all

2009-03-06T18:22:00.003-07:00

I have a deep, serious, and terrifyingly frightening problem, one with potential existential implications:

I feel intellectually isolated in the most severe way at Arizona State University...

...and it fucking blows.

A "potential existential implication" is that it's mind-fucking me to the point where I love school (because I do and stuff) and I hate school (because it's like a goddamn wasteland of washboard stomachs and pure vapidness to an extreme degree). The insipidness of overweight people who look like life used to mean something but it doesn't anymore and the awful and vast "ugh!" I feel every time I see someone wearing clothes that would probably prefer a nightclub setting - this and more makes me want to scream, in the way that guy is screaming in that famous painting called "The Scream" where his face is all contorted and he looks like he just saw the one thing that would make him, specifically him, have the worst kind of heart attack, the worst kind of desire to just die0.

And it's not just the normal shit a lot of people complain about - the party aspect, the dumb people, & c. - but it's also (and more importantly) the complete lack of desire for anything school related that just surrounds you like this fucking sludge that you can't escape, you can't elude, and you're just in it and the whole time you feel like dying or getting away or screaming or doing something potentially violent and/or absurd in that I've-just-realized-that-all-there-is-is-nothingness-and-I-don't-know-what-to-do kind of way. Imagine being caught in a tornado: it's just whirling debris and vertiginous shit everywhere and you have no control and can't do anything and it's not at all what you expected or wanted or hoped for and you wonder why they hell you even thought it would be any of those things in the first place - and what the hell do you do?

I have no idea. No one seems to care about anything at school. No one seems to have that deep passion for learning that makes life worth living, that uncompromising desire to learn and to think and to be wrong and love it and to get right answers and to want to know so bad it hurts. No one, no one is like that. I'm sinking in this wasteland of cornucopian drudgery, but what do I do? Do I suffer it for another year and graduate and then hope grad school offers better prospects? At this point, if grad school doesn't offer a number of people in close proximity with the above outlined passion, the kind of desire that kicks you in the ass if you get in its way, then what the hell is everyone doing with their lives? Why are they living? Why are they even getting up in the morning?

And why am I even here to see this, recognize it, and despair so urgently, desperately, so profoundly? What the fuck?

YouTube Videos! Yay!

2009-03-04T15:01:00.002-07:00

A "travel" in the NBA, in the general sense (there's some confusion with the technical aspects of it) is when a player takes more than two steps after picking up the ball or before dribbling, or if he establishes a pivot foot and then moves it. Watch the following and try not to die:

Here's that same one in game. It won the game, by the way - it was the final bucket that gave Cleveland a road playoff win. Look how close the ref is.

Here's some crossovers that are pretty sweet. Nothing to do with traveling but I found them in my YouTube browsing.

"The First Half is Safe, Philippi" a.ka. "Street Preachers Part Two"

2009-03-03T00:40:00.004-07:00

(My answers to Ben's questions are at the end of this. I thought, in the interest of keeping Philippi involved, I'd put the more accessible stuff at the beginning, which doesn't require any sort of foreknowledge of the other post.)

Ben posted an interesting response to that "Street Preachers" post I had a week ago and I thought I'd respond more fully in a post, rather than cram a bunch of words into a comment section. Besides, I'd rather bore everyone with this sort of talk rather than just those unlucky victims who wander into the comment section of an old post.

I suppose it's worth regurgitating the stuff I talked about in that old post, but I'd rather not. It's right there if you want it.

Why I’m Interested in Religion et al.

I think I can truly say I’ve never had any serious rumblings about God existing or whether the whole thing might be true in some fashion. I’m not sure why I say this in the beginning except to direct this explanation towards other people as opposed to myself and maybe that’s wrong. But I’m not sure.

It’s true, though, that I’ve never sat down and prayed or seriously imagined that God was real – any god, mind you, any deity or supernatural entity. It all seemed so fantastic, so other-worldly, and not the least bit true.

But as to my deep fascination with religion and the potential existence of any deity(ies): I think it has more to do with my deep desire to understand the way other people think and operate. I find the belief systems of other people so terribly fascinating, not necessarily why they do certain things but why they believe certain things. (Why they believe is more important than why they do stuff, I think, because belief, to a large extent, informs action.)

Like why people believe supply-side economics is a great way to run financial systems when they know nothing about it. Now, if they were economists or had some training/background and had a grasp of the science, that’s a different story. But so many people feel supply-side economics is the way to go without understanding the technical aspect of it one bit – and that’s fascinating. I myself only understand the science to what I would deem is a passable extent, but even that might be not nearly enough to hold a claim. Maybe it's all about belief in authorities, maybe we can't ever know a lot of stuff and so we have to put our belief in someone we think does.

This is the large reason I find belief in religion fascinating, because so much of it is predicated on very little knowledge or substance of the religion and its logical implications. So much is based on very little information given out at church or at home and yet people believe it, readily, and without much awareness of their lack of knowledge.

And that’s fascinating! I can understand why a trained missionary with a sufficient background in theology and the philosophical implications of such would believe in a God/religion. They have reasons and the reasons make sense them. But for most people, it boggles my mind. They just believe, without much care and without much to base it on. And it’s not like they’ve read the whole bible: they’ve read a few books, maybe, been told a bunch of stuff, and God just seems like an okay dude.

Perhaps it’s fear, fear that the people predicating belief on so little have the ability to affect my life in tremendous ways. I’m less afraid of the missionaries with lots of training than of the proportionately greater number of people who just believe, because if they justify belief on so little, then what else? Hating gays? Blacks? Supply-side economics? Voting for the guy who talks better? Becoming an extremist? Of worse: getting passable knowledge informed by liberal views and then hating all conservatives. It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?

That’s what interests me so much, that’s what drives me. If I can understand why people believe in God/religion with so little to go on, then maybe I can understand why people believe other things in the same manner. Of course, why not study someone’s largely unfounded belief in supply-side economics instead of their belief in God? I focus on the religious belief because we can only have so much to go on in that realm, whereas in economics we have graphs, charts, years of study and data, and lots of experts who really know what they’re talking about. Whereas with God/religion, we have a bunch of thought, some of it logical and rational, being spewed by various people claiming authority – there’s much less solid ground to stand on. Certainly economics is not infalliable, and it certainly has errors, mistakes and such (because it's an evolving science) but there's much more to rest my life on than with religion.

I’ve always wondered, too, about how to approach those who say they feel God, or it all just feels right. I’m never sure if I can just toss this thinking into the “psychological not mystical” trash heap or if it means something. I suppose it’s necessarily the most convoluted and misunderstood reason for believing because it’s so personal – only you can know, no one else can experience it. Every time I think about it, I dismiss it with the thought that if it’s so personal then I can’t possibly be involved in it and nor can anyone else. If I experience it, I experience it. If they do, they do. What can I say? I sometimes feel that my belief in God's nonexistence is visceral in the same way: it just feels right, sometimes, like it can't possibly be wrong. What can I say?

And by the way, I should talk about the background that missionaries receive, at least to my knowledge. Jon and I had various encounters with a pair of Mormon missionaries a few years ago, when they came to our house every Wednesday for a chat and what not. I’m not sure why we obliged them at first, but after a while, when our interest was clearly waning, they kept coming and that was kind of annoying. But whatever, they came. I had always heard they were schooled in basic religious philosophy – the logic behind their beliefs – but I never noticed this. I asked them some questions along logically-related paths and the answers were either vague or so far removed from logic as to appear irrelevant to my question. Now, I can’t say anything with regard to Catholic missionaries, but at least for this hapless pair of Mormon missionaries, that was my experience.

So, to encapsulate the above peripatetic thinking: I’m interested in God/religion because the reasons people believe fascinate – and infuriate – me. If they believe with such little evidence (including those well versed in the arguments) then what else will they believe?

Reading over this, I’m beginning to realize, Ben, that you’re revelation (no pun intended) of why you had such a strong interest in God/religion is turning out to be much more powerful than mine, which is based largely on why other people believe rather than why I don’t believe. Harumph – that’s sad.

Does this mean the elimination of desire begets perfection?

Nah, I’m not Buddhist. To want is to lack, and to lack is be imperfect. In other words, to not have something, whether that be strength, some sort of object, or an intangible thought for the way the world ought to work, is to lack something. And if one does not have everything, then one is imperfect. It’s an odd claim, and certainly to say that God can’t desire makes for an interesting Christian worldview.

Does this mean perfection in its entirety is an emotional state of being?

Nah, as well. I would actually think that to be perfect would be to lack an emotional state of being, for to have emotions is to be in a state in which you might lack something. Of course, to not have emotions means God can’t love (but to say God can’t want is to say as much, I suppose).

I guess this really just speaks to the incomprehensibility of God’s supposed perfection. It’s so complicated and full of potential (and actual) paradoxes and contradictions that it’s either A) horribly inconceivable both in our minds and in reality or B) something real that is, however, beyond our comprehensibility and thus we should just stop worrying about it. The latter claim is often employed to say that we can’t know God in the same way we know our neighbor Bob and so we shouldn’t try to understand him up to a certain point. Of course, this begets the question: why should I care about him at all?

Does one have to have the capacity to want without having the want to achieve perfection?

An interesting question. In some muddled form of perfection (they’re all muddled, really) it would seem that this could be the case, especially if we ascribe omnipotence as a quality of perfection. Speaking of omnipotence, I had an interesting question about it that came to me once while reading something for a philosophy of religion class: Has God done everything, committed every conceivable and inconceivable action?

If I recall correctly (and I very well may not), the logic went like this: if God is omnipotent then he has to be able to say anything and mean it – he has to have the ability to say anything and make it true. So God then would have to be able to say “I have done everything (like, say, kill babies).” And if he has to be able to say this and it’s true, then that means God has done everything (like, say, kill babies).

I remember spending days thinking about this and I never worked up the courage to ask my professor, because I was always (and still am) too insecure to approach a question I might be completely wrong about. I was always afraid (and still am) that I would be so off base I might as well quit life. I also thought I might have been on to something, which was scary.

As to my apparent equivocation of want: you might be on to something. I’m thinking, though, about your example of wanting a woman to love you and a woman loving you (alongside that want). So you’re saying that while the woman is loving you (it seems odd to say) you want a woman to love you? Hmm. I’m imaging a constant action of a woman loving you (emotionally, now, mind all those perverts out there – [that would be me]) and you desiring that a woman love you. It seems that at some point your desire would be fulfilled. I’m having a hard time reconciling the notion of you wanting something that is currently being had by you. But again, my confusion may lay in my conception of desire (hence the supposed equivocation).

My Teacher the Role Model

2009-03-02T21:41:00.003-07:00

Now, I'm not going to mention this professor's name nor the class he/she teaches (that would give it away, silly!), but I have to put this somewhere. It's too delicious a quote not to be put somewhere. Hell, maybe I'll write an article about it and other similar quotes. But honestly, feast your eyes. It really needs to contextual preface:

"I lived in a one-room studio apartment, which at 23 was pretty cool. I needed the one room, though, because I didn't want stupid roommates stealing my food and my dope."

Yes, he/she said this, in a class. Delicious. I realize that extraneous talking and things that aren't necessarily appropriate have a place in the classroom, and indeed, should thrive in that environment, but something about this particular one seemed extra-awesome. Usually, teachers talk about cannabis abuse in passing, as something "from way back when." But this guy/girl, he/she made it sound as if he/she hasn't stopped - which is kinda cool, I guess, though I myself don't dabble in the stuff (but as Jerry and George would say: "Not that there's anything wroooong with that!").

Bobby Jindal Is A Moron

2009-02-26T22:03:00.003-07:00

I actually think he's an idiot. Seriously. I'm starting to think that all the Republicans are idiots and not simply a deceptively group of nasty individuals. Who can be this stupid?

But then I remember that the American People as a collective - an aggregate of guttural torpidity -is stupid, too, so it makes sense that politicians would say monstrously idiotic things, because they know people will believe them.

But whatever, here's what Jindal - the de facto head of the Republican party it seems - said last night in the traditional other-party-rebuttal after Obama's speech to Congress:

“Today in Washington, some are promising that government will rescue us from the economic storms raging all around us. Those of us who lived through Hurricane Katrina — we have our doubts.”

If it's not obvious, wasn't it George Bush who ran things when Katrina struck? And wasn't the government's poor response the fault of the leaders of both parties at every level - federal/state/country - and not the government's structural inability to respond?

Yeah, Bobby Jindal is a moron. Tell everyone. Seriously. Ask your fellow Republicans what they think. I can't say this enough but the GOP lately has been wandering around saying horribly unintelligent things. If you support this party, please comment and tell me why. I can't understand it.

(To be fair, the Democratic Party hasn't been terribly impressive either. While they've been as legislatively ineffective as their elephantine cousins, though, they haven't been saying things that make you question reality.)

Street Preachers at ASU

2009-02-23T22:20:00.011-07:00

For the last 8-10 days, two guys have been making regular appearances on ASU's campus engaging in what is colloquially referred to as "street preaching." I've listened and dialogued with them multiple times (more listening than dialoguing) and a few things they've said have peeked my curiosity. The guy I talked to was John, and I never found out the other guy's name. John has crutches because he tore his right ACL, which probably sucks. Also, they were out in front of Coor Hall today accompanied by a number of police officers. I'm interested to know if the cops were preemptive or if there had already been an incident. Whatever.

(I'm going to say right here, just for Ben, that there will be metaphysics in this post as I talk about God and stuff. See, Ben, I DO love you.)

One thing that was very much apparent listening to John and his friend over the course of a week and a half is the belief that God wants us to go heaven, a common notion and one held by John and his friend. What bothers me is the logic, which I'm sure many Christians don't attend to: to want something is to lack that something; to lack something is be imperfect; God is a perfect being; thus, God cannot want us to go to heaven, or else he's not, as normally presumed, a perfect being.

There are those who would assert that logic, like everything, is the product of God and thus he is not susceptible to it. Of course, God gave us things like logic, speech, curiosity (and free will?) so we could discover for ourselves various conclusions about our existence. Obviously he's hoping we'll lead ourselves to faith in him. So, in the course of things, we will necessarily be employing a bit of logic (hopefully a lot) and naturally God will, at times, be in the hot seat. He must realize the limits of faith and so it seems a foregone conclusion that logical reasoning will constitute a large sum of our investigations. Hence his susceptibility to logic; otherwise, what the hell's the point?

A second idea that snatched my interest is the notion that God made everything and controls everything and so we are all subject to his will, a passage that John's friend was apt to repeat at the end of every segment he presided over (which got kind of annoying when he was attempting to draw in people at the intersection of College and University because he would say it every 45 seconds). Aside from what I already mentioned previously about God' seeming inability to want (How does he have a "will" if he cannot want? Further, if he lacks a will, is he perfect?), a few things jump out of my skeptical brain.

First, I wonder about the leap from God creating and controlling everything to our being supposed to submit cosmic authority to him. Just because he has the biggest stick doesn't mean he's right - a la Stalin, Caesar, Reagan, Bush, other dictators/totalitarians/fascists/bleh.

Second, this seems at odds with the notion that God gave us free will so we would come to him of our own accord. It's well-documented throughout the latter half of the Bible that God wants us (if he can want...) to choose him freely, without being forced. So then why isolate and emphasize his absolute power and control? Or that we're all going to hell for sinning (which is another favorite mantra of John and his friend)? This is the same tactic rulers use to subjugate populations, to bring them under an iron heel. It forces us to believe: if we don't then it's our loss and we go to hell - which blows. So aren't I forced to believe in him? (Enter Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov...if you like that book, I guess. Ben does, if I recall.)

A third point of interest was what John and I discussed while standing outside Coor Hall today: objective morality. He dialogued in support of an objective morality, "proved" by God, the Bible, Jesus, etc. I tried to wrest the conversation away from a particular instantiation of objective morality towards a more general conversation about whether objectivity exists or matters.

His view was typical (and I don't mean that condescendingly but literally): God gives us objective truth: without him we wouldn't have it; thus, we need him (notice how this doesn't argue for God's existence but for God's necessity; just because we need him doesn't mean he's there). My view was that objective morality might not exist. He rejoined with a question about how we, in that case, determine right and wrong, good and evil. I suggested the bigger club would write the history. Naturally, he wasn't pleased.

So I talked at length, explored really, about some ideas floating in my head. I thought about how we humans are so afraid of a nonobjective reality that we refuse to entertain subjectivity. We refuse to ask "What if?" We're probably afraid, I suppose, of navigating a world without a safety net from which to operate. Objectivity gives us that net, for if we have a solid, tenable base from which to work, self-justification becomes that much easier (and humans must have self-justification or we explode).

Moreover, how do we convince people to help each other if all we can rely on is power and not objective reasoning? I'm not sure. Humans have spent a great deal of time killing each other and wandering within religion rather than considering subjective realities.

And why not develop a system based on nothing and try to argue cogently for its instantiation? Certainly any tenacious skeptic will refuse to entertain anything grounded in subjectivity (even if backed up by copious amounts of logic), but we only have to appreciate them to a point. It's not a perfect system, but we've just seen that nothing will be perfect, maybe not even God, so we should all just pick something and run with it.

John, however, didn't seem to appreciate my ideas, but he was clearly aware of their severely rational nature, as evidenced by his tactic of slightly altering the subject or calling out to other people in the crowd that had since gathered to listen to us talk (it's really interesting how many people just stop by and gather closely, occasionally jumping in to vigorously and aggressively defend one side or the other). I'd apparently stumped him a few times, or at least moved too fast for him to put it all together (which isn't fair I realize - and I sympathize with him for I find myself unable at times to process everything presented to me; I sometimes need to write it down so I can properly digest it as a whole). I imagine it doesn't help, as well, that I've spent a lot of time considering God and religion, and many more ideas, perhaps, than John has come into contact with.

On that last point: I've listened to a lot of street preachers, more so since coming to ASU - they're everywhere. I'm very familiar with what they're going to say both initially and in response to various attacks and arguments. I'm also aware of the rhetorical tactics they use to get people to think twice about what they believe, especially about right and wrong. For instance, John gave me an opportunity to walk up and start talking to him by asking the passing students if they were any atheists around. I responded affirmatively and knew that he was going to immediately ask about how right and wrong are developed for me and all sorts of things about Hitler and the Nazis to whether or not I've broken any of the Ten Commandments. They tend to run through the same lines of thought while trying to deconstruct the non-Christian's views to "show" that they're of little value. Having this knowledge, it was easy to see where he was going and thus direct the conversation to my advantage and whims.

In any case, God and his Bible have a lot to offer in terms of logical puzzles. Most of them are irresolvable (as far as I can tell) and leave one in a state of constant perplexity. Sadly, many Christians (and let's not forget Jews and Muslims and they're attendant religious paradoxes) don't bother to work through them. Of course, this is really a critique of most religious people, even "hardcore" ones, who are completely ignorant of their own system of thinking. They say they're Christian but are unaware that they've admitted to the severe subjugation of women and the idea that slaves should not rise up against their masters but should sit tight and wait for heaven.

People will argue, naturally, that such notions are era-relevant, meaning they don't relate to modern times (most of the stuff in Leviticus is usually lumped into this group of "outdated precepts"). An obvious rejoinder is to question which precepts are phased out and when; also, why were they accepted into the Biblical cannon if they were time-sensitive? Why didn't God talk to someone and get things updated during, say, the 18th century? Why wasn't there a prophet every hundred years or so that would take the old and the new and save the wheat/cut the chaff? Certainly God with his limitless magisterial powers could make any of the above happen. He sent Jesus, didn't he, floods and all that stuff?

But it doesn't appear that John nor his friend have taken the time to sort all these things out, though, to be fair, I didn't directly talk to John's friend, but from what he was saying I could imagine the similarities to John.

John asked me at the very beginning why I was an atheist. I told him that all decisions are made on the basis of probability because nothing can be known with absolute certainty, a notion to which he assented. I then said that based on everything I've seen, read, discussed, and digested, it was more likely that either God didn't exist or if he did, his nature was radically different from any evident within the Western religious tradition.

After agreeing to the original idea about probability governing decision-making, he didn't appear to feel qualified to respond. I think he asked the girl next to me about Hitler.

(I should add here that Eastern religions, with their courage to embrace and revel in the contradictions and paradoxes obvious in our existence, get closer to the mark, I suppose.)

Bush, Bush Go Away

2009-02-23T22:00:00.006-07:00

Another State Press article: It was my second one. I recall it being pretty solid until the paper printed it, at which point it lost some luster after unnecessary (and somewhat puzzling) edits and cuts. But whatever. It was still pretty good after that. I suppose one should bear in mind that it was run just a few days after Obama's inauguration.

If you’ve been paying attention to the opinion pages of some of the popular (i.e. larger) newspapers during the week preceding the inauguration and the days that have followed, something will have been painfully clear: we, as a nation, want to forget George W. Bush and just get the hell on to the next guy.

The popular (i.e. larger) newspapers I’ve been perusing (which I’ll name so you can laugh at me for thinking they were/are worthy of reading) are The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Boston Globe, and The Washington Post. Excluded from the latter group’s susceptibility to derision, of course, is The State Press.

A statistical analysis (one I won’t bore you with) shows that the opinion columnists are more concerned with what Obama should do than with showing Bush the door; or with ruminating nostalgically on inaugurations; or prognosticating. Or pretty much anything other than Bush.

If we grant that opinion pages tend to follow the American psyche (because opinion columnists are a part of that psyche and are unique in that they operate outside of normal journalistic constraints on bias and neutrality), then this seems to be pandemic throughout the nation.

The New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, in “Exit the Boy King,” describes the inauguration crowd watching Bush’s helicopter fly away: “They wanted to make absolutely, positively certain that W. was gone. It was like a physical burden being lifted, like a sigh went up of ‘Thank God.’” She goes on to relate it to the catharsis of Greek drama, the emotional/spiritual release of, well, all that stuff people felt the last eight years, from the opening tip (the 2000 [stolen?] election) to the final buzzer (the crowd chanting “Nah nah…goodbye” at the inauguration).

By all accounts, the nation wants to forget. People are tired of thinking about anything Bush-related and they’re pushing him out entirely. Such categorical defenestration, though, means the national memory is ridding itself of not only Bush mistakes but also Bush successes.

But we shouldn’t forget, we can’t forget. If we do, it’s a disservice to all those who suffered the mistakes of the last eight years. I’m not, though, advocating war crimes tribunals against members of the Bush administration, but merely positing that a sweeping refusal to remember the past is a preemptive condemnation of the future.

A week after the inauguration, it’s easy to use Obama and Optimism to push past the Bush-saga, but the lessons history offers are irreplaceable and free. We need to take what we can get, learn from it, and work to make a better future.

If we push the Bush years away so absolutely, then we’re going to repeat the same follies that made us want to forget in the first place. Scary as it sounds, in four to eight years we might find our National Psyche suffering from another mismanaged presidency, making strong attempts to wipe it away. We can’t allow that to happen.

Channelling Mr. Wallace

2009-02-21T15:07:00.007-07:00

Horne wants me to start putting my ASU State Press articles on here and, as usual, I can't say no to him. I'll put up the ones that have already run in some sort of loosely constituted chronology - which means whenever I just get around to throwing them up, adding some pictures and clicking buttons.

David Foster Wallace, in “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction,” spends a good deal of time talking about the nature of television consumption and the effect it has on people. He presents, to us, that we’re being watched, a lot. Every time we leave the house, other eyes look at and judge us, wonder about us, he says. We’re aware, though, because we, too, stare and ogle at strangers on the subway, in their cars, on sidewalks and in restaurants. We watch and are watched in turn.

And some are better than others at being watched. Some can take the light of the stage, the prying eyes of a faceless crowd – and others can’t: they fail, flounder, at the thought of anonymous voyeurism. In the same way many of us fail miserably in front of the camera, the man with a clipboard encouraging us to ‘act natural’ (and us struggling to make that contradiction a reality), the same way many of us feel under the gaze of strangers, wilting in the heat of other humans.

Wallace describes the ability of those people who can stand the heat as “watchableness”; they appear “unself-conscious,” able to “bear the psychic burden of being around other humans.” While they may be a wreck internally, externally they’re able to operate as if under no pressure at all to live up to the expectations of others, of society – and regular self-conscious people decline to bear this burden.

According to A.C. Nielsen and Co., 99% of American households own a television and it is on six hours a day; the average American (in all households, television or not) watches nearly four hours of that total six. When we watch television, we see people who are unself-conscious, acting natural in front of millions of people who are gawking and gaping at their furniture. They possess the watchableness we only dream about. And the more television we consume, the more we’re convinced that, in Wallace’s words, “the most significant quality of a truly alive person is watchableness.” Bearing the psychic burden of others appears, to us, integral to the pursuit of a meaningful, human (i.e. social) existence.

As television consumption emphasizes our social liabilities, our individual realities become more unpleasant. Our self-consciousness is intensified after consuming daily reinforcements of our own inability to respond naturally under observation, four hours a day, twenty-eight a week, one hundred and twelve a month…you get the picture. This increasing self-consciousness makes reality more unbearable, and so we seek escape (perhaps, more escape). We desire other worlds, fantasies, places to which we can flee to get away from it all, our nagging wives, nagging jobs, distant children – everything; we escape, if only for thirty minutes.

And that’s the hook: we begin to escape from reality to television because television made reality more unpleasant. That repudiation of social contact, which originally led many of us to television, is exacerbated by it, so that we’re reliant more and more on television to help us escape. It’s the irony of ironies: the very object that prolongs our suffering eases it temporarily. It’s like a salve that reopens the wound as soon as it’s done working: there’s no restorative effect – it’s a tourniquet for the pain of self-consciousness, unwatchableness.

Thinking

2009-02-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

So I think I might throw some Google Ads up on this baby and see what happens. I realize how aesthetically unpleasing it will be, or should be, but I've been talking to some people and I thought I'd give it a try. It's not guaranteed to give me much of anything, but I mise well try.

So, you know, don't throw up when you see them, I guess.

Where's the line between funny and racist?

2009-02-19T18:39:00.004-07:00

I'm not sure if this is a racist photo. I don't think it is. I think it's funny. But then I have to ask myself "Why is it funny?" My answer: I don't know. Maybe it's the frowning black people (frowns are funny and the deeper and more ridiculous the frown, the funnier it is; and maybe black people have a better physical makeup so that frowns are deeper and more ridiculous; does that make me racist?). The word "shenanigans" is clearly funny in itself. I think what might make it funny as well is this: a bunch of serious people wearing serious clothes, frowning, and the word "shenanigans" is like BAM. Is it funnier because they're serious and black? I don't know, maybe. Is that racist? I don't know.

Then again, why is there a random white guy in the back right? Am I racist for thinking he's a little out of place?

Would this be nearly as funny if it was all white people frowning? I'm not sure. I think "no," but why? Why is it funnier if it's a bunch of black people? I think it falls back to the notion that "black" physiology makes for deeper, more ridiculous frowns. Also, maybe it's that we always think about black people protesting something or other and so we think of older black people as frowning all the time (because racism gets better only slowly). Of course, is it racist to think of older black people as frowning about racism all the time?

I just don't know. But that picture is damn funny.

I Told You

2009-02-18T08:19:00.003-07:00

So you know how people are always crying about how dangerous football is? About how too many people get injured and that they almost die and that stuff is really serious and awful?

Bullshit.

By proportion, in America, a greater percentage of people die in horse racing than any other sport. Yup. 128 deaths per 100,000, which beats out skydiving (123), motorcycle racing (7), and the Pussy Sport boxing (1.3). So yeah, football's not dangerous at all. And that's logic. [Please, someone understand I'm being facetiously stupid, here?]

I need to say this next one because it speaks to all the dumb white people out there, because only dumb white people 'play' this sport. 180 people die a year, worldwide, due to sports fishing. Let me repeat.

180 people die a year due to sports fishing.

And, as we all know, only white people get into boats and run around a lake speed fishing. This is the highest number of deaths per sport per year. Dumb white people drink and fall over the boat, hit their head and drown. No joke. That's the given reason for the high death rate. That's the leading cause of death in the Official Dumb White Person Sport. Falling into a lake. And dying.

So take that football. Pssht. Pussy sport.

Doug Collins Everybody...

2009-02-17T09:01:00.003-07:00

"Anytime Detroit scores more than 100 points and holds the other team to below 100 points, they almost always win."

Something that Needed to be Said

2009-02-15T09:37:00.002-07:00

Kevin Durant is incredible. It's a shame he's not in the All-Star Game.

That is all.

But I love taking notes...

2009-02-12T20:47:00.004-07:00

So there's a couple of people in one of my lit classes who doodle and draw, all the time, the whole time. Occasionally they slump in their seats as if to change the inevitably monotonous routine. They seem mirror images of one another until you look closer, though. The first one, the guy, only draws outside of the margins of the notebook paper he's using for "notes." He clearly thinks he should be writing something down, so he keeps the white space clear just in case he feels like being a student. He even asked me today what he missed in class on Tuesday, as if some external action might contradict and change the internal mechanism. But of course he knows he won't actually take notes. He's just going to continue drawing. (He might, ahem, love coloring [even if it's spelled all British-like in the picture].)

The second one, a girl, draws everywhere. She's inside the margins, outside, up, down, everywhere. I swear I've seen her almost draw past the page onto the desk a few times, though she caught herself each time. This girl is not deluding herself at all. She's not taking any notes, and she knows the future is bleak for that situation changing. If it makes up for anything, though, she does draw class-related things. Today she was drawing "Huck Finn" in beautiful, calligraphic lettering with a light purple pen that she bought who the hell knows where. We've been on Huck Finn/Mark Twain for a two weeks now so her last few pages are riddled with "Jim's" and "Huck's" and "Twain's" within and without the margins.

But hey, at least she's not deluding herself. Notes are for losers, and she knows it.

Awesome cartoon from around the time Israel killed itself some Palestians

2009-02-12T18:08:00.003-07:00

Some Updates and Thoughts

2009-02-10T23:41:00.007-07:00

The Delay. I've been away a while, obviously, and it's really been the fault of the new semester. I have one more class than I did in the Fall, but that's not quite what's keeping me busy. It's that I'm taking four literature classes and a 200 level French course - so I've got at least 60 pages of reading to do every night, with the occasional writing assignment (which come often, considering the volume of classes with involved writing elements), and all the while I'm studying French and trying to sound less and less like some stupid white kid trying to speak a foreign language. Certain words and phrases are coming along better than others. If it involves a "tr" or a "pr," then fuckin' forget.

Obama. What to say about Obama. Well, he's done better than anyone could have expected, considering what we all thought about his naivete with Congress and what we perceived as a steep learning curve. He's pulled only one punch thus far that I've noticed, and that was his refusal to call out the centrists on Capitol Hill for destroying a stimulus bill that was already too weak to begin with. But hey, before that he said "I won so stop bitching, GOP," "My bad, I take responsibility," and "Kobe Bryant is the best player in the world." And yes, he actually said that last one.

But where did Obama go wrong? Well, it came rather late into his Presidency, thus far - meaning a few days ago. He said, roughly, "Pass my stimulus bill or there will be catastrophe." Now, that's fuckin' bullshit, Obama, and you know it. Fear-mongering is never a good thing; it's always bad. If you have to use fear to further an agenda, then you should let that agenda slide, or, if it's the only way you can convince people of what you're saying, then fuck the people - they don't deserve whatever it is you're trying to push. So, please, no fear-mongering. Those ball sucking bastards for the last eight years gave us enough of that shit.

Philosophy. Another thing I've been pondering is probably more in line with what Philippi's been suggesting lately: some philosophy. Now, this is religious philosophy, and maybe he wasn't interested particularly in that aspect of philosophy, but that's what he's getting.

I've been thinking about the Grand Inquisitor's story, a passage (a long one, too) in The Brothers Karamazov (a book by Fyodor Dostoevski) where Ivan Ilyviecheksfiehfiejsl tells a story about Jesus coming back to Earth because he sees mankind suffering and wants to end it. Aside from not raising the question of why he waited so fuckin' long, the story talks about the central issue in Christianity, a question that all Christians need to answer before they continue putting their faith in whatever the hell it is they put faith in:

Why do humans suffer?

It's that simple (and complex) of a question. You can't be a Christian without answering this question. And if you "are" and haven't, you're a moron. But think about it: why do humans suffer? How can religion, Christianity specifically, account for the horrible horrors humans have suffered for, um, ever? In the story above, the Grand Inquisitor asks this very question, repeatedly, of Jesus, who says nothing. Eventually, Jesus walks up and kisses the GI and then leaves. The point is that love is the answer, and always will be, but that doesn't really answer the question, and I think Dostoevski knew that. He was just as confused as the rest of us. He was attempting to be a good Christian but had doubts, lots of them, because he's really fuckin' smart, and smart people read the Bible and wonder about a lot of things.

In 1981, Rabbi Harold S. Kushner attempted to answer this question and wrote a book about it called "When Bad Things Happen to Good People." His basic premise is that for humans to be human we have to have the free will to choose between good and evil. That, he sort of assumes offhand, is what makes us human. And for this to obtain, God has to let there be evil in the world; he has to let us choose for ourselves. Thus, bad things happen to good people because humans make bad choices. (Notice how nothing is ever God's fault? I've yet to see a theologian come out and say "Well, shit, guys, we never thought of it: a BAD god! Why, we never thought that was even possible!")

Aside from annoying the shit out of me, I think Kushner's got some problems. First, he assumes that free will is what makes us human, and I'm not so sure - about what makes us human, that is. He may be right, but being "human" seems to be so complex that to sum it up with a simple idiom about free will seems dissatisfying. And it also negates the very real possibility that we even have free will. Read up on determinism and see if you're not a little bit interested.

Second, he assumes that God has to be an inherently good figure, a premise for which there's little evidence. Of course, there's little evidence for the contrary, that God's an inherently evil figure, but that's the point: we got nothing. We've got a shitload of good things going on and a shitload of bad things going on: who's to say he's one or the other with any certainty? Who's to say he's even there at all?

And third, he assumes an omni-benevolent God that somehow gets around the paradox of watching bad things happen to humans while having the power to stop it. If a God is all-good, then he can never do anything wrong or evil or bad. Thus, he can't possibly watch us all suffer; it would go against his nature and his ability to do something about it. So belief in a God that's omni-benevolent seems difficult: God loves us unconditionally and can never do anything wrong and yet lets us shit on ourselves with reckless abandon.

In the scheme of things, this is just another paradox that theologians know about it, everyone one of them, but refuse to talk about it. Seriously, ask a pastor/preacher/religious-guy-waving-a-bible-in-your-face about some paradoxes involving God's perfections and he'll give you the run around - or better yet, he'll say we can only understand God analogously, and thus we can't know the answer to everything. But we can still put unconditional faith in God?

You might not be interested, but if we presume to know God analogously, then we might as well give the whole thing up: analogical predication can't work. Ask me later if you're interested in the ten minute explanation.

So this all gets us back to why humans suffer and how a Christian needs to satisfy the question before adopting supreme faith in God. Kushner's got some funky ideas that are easy enough to understand to get him on the best-seller's list but he doesn't really satisfy. His system would work, I suppose, if we consider God to be imperfect, to be one of us. Maybe he's just really powerful, but not ultimately, (WARNING: Latin phrase ahead) in extremis. He wants us to live and be free and so he watches us, like an ant farm, and intervenes occasionally but makes everything difficult to know and understand, even himself, and so we're left to wander to the world wondering if he's there at all.

That's a possiblity, and certainly one that's been entertained on occasion, but here's why it bothers me: if God is this way, just a watcher and an occasional actor with finite power, then why should I even care what he thinks? He's just me but with a bigger stick. He's another powerful politician. He needs to do something to get my vote, and until he starts feeding the poor and fixing that big hole in the middle of the world called Africa, I'm not voting for him.

Now, normally I would introduce another religious question and talk about it...and then another one...and probably another one. But I'm sure I'm the only one interested in this stuff. Hell, most Christians don't give a shit, so why should anyone else? Anyways, here's a photo for you.

Tears for Keith (And Hopefully Nadal)

2009-01-30T03:50:00.003-07:00

I'm staying up again to watch tennis. I had a feeling Nadal would struggle against Verdasco so I stayed up, hoping to be rewarded. It paid off. The match isn't over, but it's 1-0 Verdasco and a 4-5 Nadal lead in the second set.

But that's not what's funny. Here's what's funny: a commercial came on advertising the basketball game this Sunday between the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Detroit Pistons, referring to the teams as "Eastern Titans."

That's funny. Detroit stopped being an "Eastern Titan" about two months ago. Just ask Keith. Wait, don't. He might cry.

FeDeReR Roxxors My Suxxors

2009-01-29T03:07:00.003-07:00

After closing out the second set with Supreme Authority (and going up 2-0 against Roddick), Federer spent the break in between admiring the replays of himself on the Giant Screen in the arena. While Roddick tried to collect himself with internal (though very audible) admonitions and rebukes, Federer leaned back in his chair and smiled as scene after scene on the Giant Screen (really: it's probably about 20ish feet wide) showed his tennistic* prowess from the last set. He may have imbibed some water. I think, though, that replays of his own Insane Ability may have satiated any bodily desires he may have had.

*Probably not a real word.

For the Love of the Game?

2009-01-29T01:11:00.003-07:00

I'm staying up late to watch the Australian Open Semifinal Match between Roger Federer and Andy Roddick. Because of the time difference (I think it's 18 hours ahead, as in , tomorrow [er, well, tonight for them]) it's on at 1:30am. So here I am, school and everything, preparing for what's hopefully an epic tennis match.

Just to spite me, I bet God will make the match a straight set doozy...meaning my staying-up adventure will be for naught.

But that's not likely. Federer has regained his legendary form (The Velvet Sledgehammer!) and Andy Roddick is playing out of his mind with a serve that could, literally, kill someone. He's consistently serving at around 120mph or something - which means people could die and shit.

But Federer has consistently crushed Roddick. In fact, if not for Federer, Roddick might have four Grand Slams instead of one. He's been to four finals and lost three of them - all to Federer. He's lost nine single's titles to Federer. So, without Federer, Roddick might have had three more Grand Slams under his belt along with three ATP Masters Series Tournaments and six tournament wins.

Tough luck, I guess.

For juxtaposition's sake, here's what Federer has been doing for the past few years: out of a possible 20 Grand Slams over the last five years, Federer has been to the Finals in 16 of them and won 12. The four he lost were all at the hands of Rafael Nadal...meaning he might have gone 16/20 if not for that Spaniard. Crazy. He's got 13 Grand Slams, one less than Pete Sampras who holds the record, and he's still 27, which, while not young for tennis standards, is still a ripe age, especially when you're sicktastically good. Aghassi won a Grand Slam at age 33 (which is stupid old) and Sampras won one at 31. So he can keep it up, I think.

Federer won 13 Grand Slams in 39 attempts whereas Pete Sampras won 14 in 54 attempts. So, yeah, I'd say he's retardedly-good, as in, I'm-a-savant-and-I-play-piano-really-well-and-drool-at-the-mouth. Some people argue about whether he's faced as stiff of competition as Sampras, but whatever. I'm just gonna sit back and watch.

For the record, I don't care who wins. Roddick was always cool, even when I never really paid attention to tennis, and Federer is just unreal and beautiful, in that way that's difficult to look away from. Besides, I want him, badly, to break Sampras record, by, like, three or four slams. I think he can do it, considering his talent and his age.

Whatever, it's 1:35 and about to start.

Teachers that Don't Think

2009-01-26T21:52:00.005-07:00

Three of my English teachers have administered mini-lectures on their anti-"inappropriate use of technology in my classroom" stances. It's been pretty blah. Here's what they say, more or less, about laptops specifically:

"If you use laptops to look at Facebook, Myspace, or whatever, other people can get distracted by that. They look over and see you on websites and what not and they get distracted."

So basically, looking at websites is distracting to other students because those other students will look at them over your shoulder. I gues that makes sense?

Well, as much as I'd like to dispute other students being distracted by someone engaging in non-note-taking activity on their laptops, let's grant that it's entirely, 100% true, all the time.

Students, then, are distracted and so you shouldn't be allowed to do anything on your laptops other than take notes. Well, in that case, typing shouldn't be allowed because in a classroom filled with, at first, only the teacher's voice, even one person typing can be loud as hell. So, right away, typing is out. That, or people have to type really softly. Try that sometimes, and keep in mind you have to keep up with a teacher who's not going to pause much.

But here's my favorite consequence of this anti-"inappropriate use of technology" stance: you can't let people with nervous ticks in the classroom. Yes, I just. Said. That. If other students are going to be distracted by Facebook on someone else's laptop, then anyone with a nervous tick is going to be just as much as a distraction. So there you go: teachers who adopt this stance for this reason have to put a disclaimer in the course catalogue: "No nervous ticks. Drop them or drop my class."

I may be a dick, but seriously, just sayin'.

Curious Case and Some Curious Reactions, Which I Expect No One To Read

2009-01-25T23:05:00.004-07:00

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

I don't know who all has seen this movie among people I know, or what their reactions were, but I liked it. Broadly, it was tender, excellently crafted, and - most significantly - beautiful.

But a bunch of people disagreed. It was received favorably from most critics, but a number of them couldn't forgive what they saw as a "lack of passion" in the movie, specifically between Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. I think they simply misread the parts and the people, but I'll leave that till later.

What prompted this post, really, though, was the awful review (both in terms of perspective and execution) offered by a fellow opinion columnist at the ASU State Press. His reasons for disliking the film consist in pointing out that it didn't make much money and that it doesn't "feel" as good as other top-winners at the Academy Awards - he mentions Titanic, The Godfather, and Ben-Hur approbative examples.

Well, first, box office gross is a notoriously misguided and stupid angle to take when critiquing a film (emphasis on 'stupid'): not only have a number of low-grossing films won awards/been nominated for awards (how about last year's No Country For Old Men and There Will Be Blood?) but the only way it reflects on a movie's quality is in the summation that "it wasn't interesting to the American public." And, for fuck's sake, when has that ever mattered? Geez. That's pretty much an affront to art everywhere, in any time.

And second, what can we draw from this idea that it didn't "feel" like other big winners? I'm not sure. I can understand a certain feeling that the films he mentions might elicit (though not Titanic; that movie was good, but it wasn't deserving of a bazillion awards [it had the fortune, though, of competing in a weak year for cinema - seriously, check the list: As Good as it Gets, Good Will Hunting, LA Confidential, and The Full Monty; solid films, but none of them quite legendary or unique]), but "feeling" is certainly a bad way of judging a film. Any film by David Lynch is guaranteed to draw ire for being nasty, strange, disturbing, but that doesn't mean the films are bad, just different than mainstream.

It seems we can easily dismiss this weak attempt as, well, something, though I couldn't say what. Perhaps it merits a response next week in my own column.

The top critics that have reviewed it have offered unfavorable sentiments that consistently point to a few things: 1) the acting chops of the cast; 2) the lack of "passion/chemistry" between Pitt and Blanchett; and 3) the film's familiarity and similarity to Forrest Gump (which was written by Eric Roth, who also wrote Curious Case).

1) We can first look towards the Academy, comprised of over a thousand members, people who act, direct, produce, write, and so on, who nominated multiple members of the cast for awards. They aren't always correct in determining winners, but they do a fine-excellent job, for the most part, in selecting nominees. Aside from the Academy, we can look to our own sense of the film's acting. Curious Case didn't include acting performances that we normally consider "great." That is, it wasn't like The Godfather where scenes were tense and crazy and wild and angry and passionate and just really all around front-of-your-seat wow. And it wasn't like No Country For Old Men where scenes were so weird and and full of intricately constructed dialogue that we were forced to concede "greatness" because of the sheer ability it takes to execute such scenes with the kind of precision and delicacy that Josh Brolin and crew provided.

Curious Case was different, though. It's power emanated not from Al Pacino scream-fests nor Javier Bardem creep-fests, but rather, from tender, tranquil scenes that required nuance beyond the capabilities of even your run-of-the-mill strong actors. Button's father had to engineer a performance that spoke to a man beset with copious amounts of guilt, the kind that eats away at you in a way that makes you want to melt, as opposed to blow up. Tilda Swinton, an affair of Pitt's, had to show a sort of stern and aloof tenderness that didn't require over-the-top acting, but a kind of reserved passion, an adulterer who didn't want to give too much away, even though she was loving and reveling in every minute. And Pitt himself was a paragon of reservation, but I'll get into that later with 2). Other parts merited large amounts of acclaim, but to save time (and fascination) I'll leave it to you to see the film and judge for yourself.

2) And here we are. The claim that there was little or no passion/chemistry between Pitt/Blanchett seems to disregard both Button's character and a number of scenes in the movie. Button's character was a walking exposition in how to be reserved yet precise and assertive. Button, possibly because of his unique situation, constantly sat back and observed everything and everyone around him. So, a portrayal of such is going to give a non-detailed watcher the feeling of a lack of passion/chemistry. But Pitt's character was always observing. What made the film so great was the fact that Pitt's character grew emotionally and psychologically. By the end of it, he was the one giving advice as opposed to being the ever-ready listener. To miss this seems strange because it was pretty important to the overall story arc.

And there were many scenes full of chemistry. Every scene before the full-on "we're totally in love with each other" part towards the end was drenched in reservation on Pitt's part and the friendly, immature, self-consciousness of Blanchett. As it progresses, you see spats between the two, and a sort of defiance in Pitt as he tries to continually win her love and stay by her side. Eventually, they fall totally in love, to the point where they're so comfortable with one another that a mere look or a few words will say everything at once. So I can see critics mistaking this sort of peacefulness for a lack of chemistry, but it's still a mistake.

3) I'm not sure how this one detracts from the film's overall awesomeness, but I'll try. I think the claim is that because it seems similar to Forrest Gump it's somehow less cool and less unique (and thus less good?). Eric Roth did write both, and there are similarities in terms of plot and narrative structure, but there the similarities end. Where Forrest Gump concerned itself with intertwining one guy's life with the historical events of his time while exploring that guy's place in society, Curious Case explored everything and more without putting too much emphasis on historical context. Benjamin Button's life involved the complexities of race, prejudice, love, passion, struggles, and the overarching thought that life is dragging you someplace and though you have some control, you're largely at its whim. A big point in Curious Case was that we're put in situations we can't always control and it totally sucks balls to have to make any decision, much less the right/best one. But, as usual, we do the best we can.

So where the two films part is where they become unique. In fact, I think Curious Case explores much stronger ideas and themes than Forrest Gump and, partly because of it, is a better film. Eric Roth seems to have shed the somewhat superficial nature of his earlier film for the strong, yet strikingly placid, temperament of his latest.

I could say more, but this post is already long past the point of normal motivation to read. And I think I've proved my point, or at least drubbed the points of some other people. Of course, watching the film is the best way to decide for yourself. So, you know, find three hours and give it a go.

Sports Related but Anyone Can Enjoy It! Yay!

2009-01-25T00:28:00.008-07:00

I've been watching a healthy amount of tennis the last seven days, partly because I'm beginning to like tennis - a lot - and partly because the Australian Open (the first major of the tennis calendar) began seven days ago. In any case, other than getting better at recognizing all things tennis, the more complicated noodlings and what not, I'm admiring more and more the fans.

Tennis is unique among "Sports the American Public Cares About," which includes football, baseball, basketball, tennis, hockey and maybe a few others (that's the general order of popularity, too): it's an individual event, one in which, literally, the cream rises to the top. It's incredibly transparent, which is awesome and usually unheard of; the transparency, though, is mainly the result of 1) a lack of calls that require complicated officiating and 2) the ease at which competitors can review calls - any calls - they think went the wrong way. The fact that it's an individual sport and very transparent means the best people win the most often, an attribute that's highly attractive and addictive.

But here's what I like about the fans: they cheer, scream, hoot and holler whenever anything cool, awesome, incredible or inspiring happens, no matter who is the progenitor of such a moment. There are loyalties, to be sure, but even if you're in love with Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal, you'll make some noise if Andy Murray does something incredible. In your other mainstream sports, this is not likely to happen. The only time a fan will fawn over a non-team-player's action is if it's really ridiculous, like when Nate Robinson blocks Yao Ming (Nate is 5'8" in heels and Yao Ming is 7'6" straight up) or when Kobe or whoever hits a stupid turn around jumper with two seconds left on the clock and three guys in his face. But if, say, Kobe makes a similar shot in the second quarter or something, the average non-Lakers fan will usually snarl in disgust (because they hate Kobe and whenever Kobe does something awesome, they get angry [because it's a constant reminder of their deep desire to cheer for awesome talent and their inability to do so when it's someone they hate/isn't on their team]).

Of course, part of this disparity between tennis and football/basketball/baseball/et al is the reality that one is a team sport with teams holding camp in a specific geographic location (and geographic loyalty has a certain hold over people's inclinations) and the other is an individual sport in which athletes represent various countries, rather than specific geographic locations. When multiple athletes originate from the same location (in this case a whole country) it's harder to have loyalties. You're all at once loyal to the location (the country) but you can't possibly be loyal to all it's members, because they interact and play eacher and so on. It's like rooting for the Clippers and the Lakers; they're both from Los Angeles and they play each other all the time, the same division and conference, and so it's difficult to be loyal to both. It's a lot easier to be loyal to, say, the Lakers of LA and the Knicks of New York because they play each other rarely, if at all. It's easier to keep loyalties intact if they never come into conflict.

Since tennis operates on a different fidelital (is that a word?) level, it's easier to hoot and holler for different players and it's a lot harder to hold loyalties to a specific player. It's also difficult to sustain loyalties because players get old and retire after a while. And, unlike a team sport, you can't stay loyal to a franchise as it keeps replenishing players and coaches and staff and whatever. When a guy retires from tennis, you have to pick another guy, or another couple of guys. I imagine most tennis fans do something like this: they naturally root for one country, usually the one they're from, and then they latch on to individual players, even players from outside the country of loyalty.

Even so, people don't stay stock still or snarl in disgust when the guy whooping the ass of the guy they root for makes a sick play on the baseline; they bang their head, of course, in empathetic anger and frustration, but only after first marveling at the sick play on the baseline. When you watch tennis, the crowd will respond almost uniformly to each player. There's usually a difference, but it's only noticeable to a small degree, or to a degree that's irrelevant/doesn't matter/who cares. In fact, this unform hooting and hollering makes most matches feel more intense than the first or second round boredom it normally would feel like. In Big Team Sports, regular season games sometimes feel lackluster, for whatever reason, and others feel like playoff games, with the crowd going crazy and especially if the two teams are close together, where the fans split 50/50 in terms of representation. When one side does something the place erupts; if the other responds, the place erupts. That's how tennis feels all the time. It's great.

Tonight, Roger Federer, best player in the world, one of the greatest to the play tennis, was getting his ass kicked by some 6'5" Czech youngster, and the crowd was responding by cheering the Czech youngster. But everytime Federer started to claw his way back, they let him know they still cared about him, and that he was still awesome. If you were looking to discriminate between loyalties, you'd be confused. It doesn't matter, though, because the crowd was responding to good tennis, not regional/ethnic/whatever loyalties. Of course, when Federer got his shit together and won three straight sets to complete an incredible comeback, the crowd let him know that they enjoyed every minute, every grueling, "will he or won't he?" moment. But people cheered just as much for the effort that the Czech guy put up in order to make the great match possible.

I think what it amounts to is this: in tennis, people are there to 1) watch their favorite players and 2) enjoy the hell out of the sport. If two players play well and give a good match, people are going to let them know. And when it's not too eventful, people still whoop and jump because of regional/ethnic/whatever loyalties. It's win-win-win.

And, just for kicks, I should mention that not all fans of Big Team Sports react this way. Keith and I, for instance, marvel at any awesome basketball play, even if it is the result of, say, some Spurs player we loathe (which would be all Spurs players, come to think of it). This indiscriminate cheering makes things interesting when attending games, because people start to think I'm either a) a moron or b) epileptic. At a recent Suns/Hawks game, for example, some girls in front of us thought we were from Atlanta because I screamed, Braveheart-like, whenever Zaza Pachulia so much as touched the ball. "Paaaacchhhhuuuulliiiiaaaa!" would ring out across the stadium and people started staring. Confusion erupted, though, because I would yell every time Steve Nash ran up the court and shot a stupid, "this-isn't-real" three pointer. So, you know, there are exceptions to those ridiculous people who paint their skin red and white and attend Nebraska Cornhuskers games wearing nothing but shorts and giant corn on the cobs arm guards.

Kobe and Clutch and Why Jon Will Be Mad at Me

2009-01-24T01:04:00.008-07:00

A recent Basketbawful (a sports blog) post took to task the idea that Kobe Bryant is "clutch"; two things were readily apparent: one, no one is really sure what "clutch" means, least of all the author of the relevant post, and two, the guest author was an admitted life-long Celtics fan. Take from that what you will.

The accusation that Kobe is not "clutch" was supported by copious amounts of statistical data compiled by Those Great Men at 82games.com, a website devoted to the painstaking job of compiling all manner of NBA statistics. The stats were laid bare, conclusions were drawn, and cheers went up to the heavens. (This post, I suppose, will be better understood if one has read the Basketbawful post, which I assume many of you haven't; but I'm not worried because the people who would read this kind of post (the current one) all the way through are the people who have read the Basketbawful post.)

But let's ask some questions: how was the data compiled? 82games.com takes "clutch" to be any action taking place with five minutes left in the 4th quarter or overtime (which is five minutes long). The implication here, then, is that "clutch" is simply whatever statistical data one might amass in these narrow chronological constraints. That's a fair enough assessment, but it fails to take into account all sorts of things, like the effect a player has on his team and the defense (the way they space the floor, the way his teammates react and play, and the way plays are run and defended based on a certain player being on the floor) or the ways in which the player amasses statistics inside these narrow chronological constraints.

For instance, let's say Kobe Bryant is guarded man to man for most of the game with the occasional double team, but when the second half of the 4th quarter comes around, the defense begins pressuring him more by double teaming much more often and bringing weak-side help almost every possession he touches the ball. In that case, his shots are going to be much more difficult to both obtain and make, and his avenues for passing will deteriorate as the space around him closes in (the double/triple teams). Also, his ability to steal and/or block the ball may be mitigated if a team forces the ball away from him on defense so that other, weaker defenders are seeing most of the action. All of these things combined make one wonder if a greater statistical prowess inside these chronological constraints is really a measure of "clutch-ness."

Shot selection is itself the most obvious area where things are going to be different. In the final five minutes, Kobe will see the toughest and densest defensive structures teams have to offer and the types of shots he takes are much more difficult than the average basketball shot, or even the average Kobe shot. Most of the game he's doing things like running into the lane and taking jumpers, laying it in, dunking, pick and pops, rolling under screens, catch and shoots, and so on. In the final five minutes, though, he's dribbling the ball, observing the defense, and then he might run at the defender, create space and attempt a turn around fadeaway jumper (with the added pressure of this being a must-make bucket) or he might go at the defender and watch the defense collapse, forcing him into a situation where he has almost no avenue to shoot but an even smaller avenue to pass - so he's forced to rise up and attempt a shot, often with his left hand. And the fact that he makes these shots - at all - is incredible.

And that's another issue with the 82games.com statistics: it doesn't differentiate between Kobe taking these kinds of shots and Sasha Vujacic taking an open three-pointer made possible because Kobe drove into the lane and drew defenders. Statistically, relevant to field-goal percentages (which are apparently very important and meaningful), these shots are the same and thus have the same power. Well, if Kobe Bryant is making 48% of his crazy, awkward, absurd shots and Vujacic is making 60% of his open threes, which one is more clutch? Does it matter? Are they the same?

Kobe makes 77% of his "clutch" shots unassisted whereas Dirk Nowitzki makes 50% of his unassisted. Does this matter? Kobe's shots seem harder; is that more clutch? Is it more clutch to be able to take more assisted shots? But doesn't that mean your team is better able to rotate and get open shots? Do the statistics differentiate between clutch minutes played when a player is playing alongside four idiots and he has to take a lot of dumb shots (such as Kobe during the years 2005 to 2007ish)?

And speaking of dumb shots, what about late game situations where a team is down by a large amount (say 20) and so is indiscriminately taking 3's? Most of these are going to rim out or brick horribly, and yet they will count towards "clutch" statistics. Phil Jackson will not take his starters out until 60 seconds left in the game, unless his team is up/down by 20-30. If it's a 15 point game, Phil will keep Kobe and co. in the game until there's under a minute remaining. So shots in this situation, for the team that is down, are going to be haphazzard and rushed - and yet count the same as other "clutch" shots. And since Phil is more likely to keep his players in the game to be taking such indiscriminate shots, Kobe is going to be taking more useless shots that have a low percentage to begin with. And there's no way to make better shots in these situations: with time almost gone and the deficit so large, any team with any player is going to be rushing possessions and attempting poor shots. If you play with Phil, you'll be in this situation more often than if you play with, say, Greg Poppovich, who takes his starters out of 15 point games at the three minute mark every time.

So clearly there's a problem with identifying statisical prowess as the main component of "clutch-ness." But what else is there? I mentioned a certain aura a player brings to the court, perhaps bolstering his teammates or whatever, and maybe that's it, but honestly, it seems a very difficult attribute to ascertain. Statistics alone will not guarantee - or even hint - at a possible definition. These numbers, because of their neutral mode of compilation, cannot show or explain any more than we want them too. They are simply a measure of what was physically gained and lost, but not how, why, or when it was gained or lost, which is very important if you're going to draw the types of conclusions from them that people have attempted to do.

And Jon will be mad at me for this sort of argumenation, because he'll think I'm just deconstructing whatever hurts Kobe and/or the Lakers. Also, he'll feel I'm just deconstructing for the purpose of deconstruction (though I'm not sure what that means). A constant grievance laid against me is that I staunchly defend (somewhat irrationally) the Lakers and its members against any and all criticism. This if, of course, not true and I'd like to think I'm less biased than, say, Bill O'Reilly or your average social conservative. Obviously, though, it's hard to determine bias when someone is talking about something they love/appreciate/like a lot: how do we discern between me engaging in argumentative discussion because I see something wrong and between me engaging in argumentative discussion because I want to find something wrong? I guess we don't. We have to hope and trust (and watch and learn, too) in order to know if I'm arguing for altruistic reasons. Ideally, whatever ideas I present will be examined in their own light to see if they do, indeed, obtain (thus clearing me, perhaps, of bias?).

Anyone who knows me (or reads this blog, I suppose) is aware that I like to argue - even lost points that have no meaning/relevance. I'll argue anything, or discuss anything, just because life is interesting. When I argue about Lakers and Lakers paraphernalia, am I doing so because it's interesting and I find something wrong with the opposing view, or because I'm adament in my pursuit of making the Lakers et al. the greatest?

Your decision. But it seems likely to be the former, as opposed to latter, because I argue and discuss so often and about so many things. It seems more probable that I'm doing so because I like to argue/discuss than because I'm over-protective of the herd.

The End of the First Week (I'm going to get flak for this post)

2009-01-22T21:27:00.007-07:00

Well, almost the end of the first week. In any case, I'm pretty much aware of how things are going to go and how they're not.

But no one cares about that. Let's talk about something else.

The syllabus: my discussion teacher for fiction writing (grad student) has an interesting one. The thing you notice right away is the abundant use of bold and italics throughout...which is unsettling to the eye and probably unnecessary. If you look out of for these sort of things, you're in the clear for nearly the first two pages until the bottom of the second page where you're greeted with "I will check attendance..." and so on. In that same paragraph she uses "*'s" (four of them around two words) to emphasize, as well. I can't imagine what reading her fiction is like.

Here's a good one: "Respect for your peers is not only appreciated, it is mandatory."

Four sentences later she italicizes an entire clause. This clause is surrounded by a number of sentences about sexual harassment, which is a strange paragraph to include in a syllabus, much less speak out loud with special emphasis (which she did). I'm hoping she had a past experience (probably not a good one), otherwise I'm seeing this as a little weird.

I guess, on second thought, I shouldn't be "hoping she had a past experience" because that means someone was sexually harassed, which, um, sucks.

Another awesome sentence: "Written, one 1/2 page (typed), constructive critiques of each of your peers' work on workshop days are a large part of your participation grade." If you had to guess, what guess would you guess as to what (exactly) I find displeasing (very) about that sentence (sentential-ly)?

Here, I'll emphasize everything I find odd/weird/interesting/bad: "Written, one 1/2 [sic] page (typed) [sic], constructive critiques of each of your peers' work on workshop days are a large part of your participation grade." It was difficult to point out mid-sentence, but she wants this constructive critique to be "written" and also "typed."

And one final treat: "(This outline is subject to change at my discretion as needed or desired.)

I suppose it's a little mean to critique her syllabus in this way, but honestly, I had a hard time doing anything else while she read every word *out* ^loud.^ Plus, she's a fiction grad student, so she, like, writes fiction - a lot.

I'll give her the benefit of the doubt; she's nervous, even though (as per her word) she's taught four or five classes. Here's why I think she's nervous (italics added by me, this time): "There are no excused absences, but in the case of emergencies, that's obviously not the case." This came after talking for a few minutes about how there were no "*excused*" absences, under any circumstances, whatsoever. She was implicating, through certain words and what not, that even illnesses wouldn't be excused, and I'm sure she actually said the words "if you're sick..." But then she ends with that beautiful sentence and cleared everything up.

Another reason I think she's nervous: She has high self-esteem, she's very comfortable with who she is and what she's about - which is great. The problem, though, is that people who are comfortable with their lives and who they are as people sometimes realize that others look at this in an odd way. People who are this sure tend to stand out as a different and no one likes to stand out; 'cause that's weird and people stare. So she's aware of this and therefore a little uncomfortable in front of the class, which is ironic. She's uncomfortable because she's comfortable.

The textbook for my American Lit class is called "The Norton Anthology - American Literature: Shorter Seventh Edition." Most of that's true, but not the last three words, specifically shorter. Seriously. The book (tome, really) is 2800 pages long, thick, dense, weighs five pounds, and reminds me vaguely of Jason Alexander. I'm certain that if dropped on my cat, it (the cat) would no longer be a cat, but would look much like the cat from Boondock Saints - which, after receiving the business end of an accidentally discharged pistol, resembled puddy and mush, thick soup sprayed across the wall.

It's the kind of book that, if dropped on a table from a 12 inch height, would thunder ominously, like the beginning of a small quake or the beginning of a Michael Bay movie.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

2009-01-19T22:36:00.004-07:00

I saw a guy on the news today start to say "Rosa Parks": he got through "Rosa" and had opened his mouth to say "Parks" but he was unable to finish - a cameraman jumped from off-screen to tackle him out of his chair. Another cameraman deftly slipped into his chair and finished the telecast. It appears they were prepared for an accident: the cameraman who finished the telecast was already wearing a jacket (though you could see his greesy black techy shirt underneath; give him a break, he's trying).

And that, my friends, is what you get for trying to talk about someone other than MLK on his own fuckin' day. You can talk about Obama, but the second you spend more words talking about him than MLK, game over. Seriously, don't test this. The universe has a way of kicking ass.

In other news, school starts tomorrow. My books for Tuesday classes weigh 9 pounds. I only have two classes. And they weigh nine pounds. If I bring my laptop and a spiral notebook or two, combined with the backpack and various pens and other accessories, we're looking at maybe eighteen pounds, sixteen minimum. On Mondays, though, it's worse, because I have two big books and a night class with another big book, along with laptops, pens, etc. I'm gonna need back supports for my already creeky physicality to get through the spring, I think.

Also, Kelly and I have a class together, MWF. Now, we're split on where to sit. I like to sit in the back, or at least on the side, because I have a psychological thing about seeing as much of the room and students as possible. It's weird. I don't get it, but it is what it is. Kelly, though, prefers the middle, and she's okay with the front row (sic). We'll have to draw straws or rock-paper-scissors this shit.

Oh and that picture, which is a white girl from Texas dressing up as Aunt Jemima, is implicated in the following event: the girl pictured and a group of her friends decided a few years ago to celebrate MLK Day by dressing up in stereotypically black ways (I guess they also meant "as well-known black people" too; pause for a moment and consider what you would dress as). The president of her university's NAACP chapter found out and saw the photos, quickly notifying local authorities who were quick to rain down bombs and corrosive acid in order to fight the onslaught of funny costumes.

The girl and her friends (a few of whom are black) said they started the tradition as a way of celebrating their black friends (who apparently loved the idea and joined in on the fun themselves). The public, of course, was outraged. But hey, if there were some black people in on the ground floor and they thought it was funny and liked it, then I don't see a problem. In any case, if I were to go, I would dress up as Uncle Jemima, for those of you who've seen the relevant SNL skit.

Prose Ailment (Or Virus Or Disease Or Something)

2009-01-17T03:27:00.004-07:00

My writing has been suffering lately, and not in terms of content and volume, but in terms of style. It's lacking that quality that used to make it sparkle. See? I just said "used to make it sparkle." That, if anything, is an indication that something is wrong.

What I mean is that my writing has become turgid; simple; unrealized garbage. My writing used to speak both in what it said and how it was said and now it seems to perform only the former. Gone are the days, it seems, when I would write in a way that would inform my topic, or inform something, anything. My prose is now simple, straight, direct, and lackluster. It's nearing obscurity and normality. Examples are abundant in the majority of my last 10 or so posts.

I don't think I'm the only sufferer of this disease - "inferior writing." I think it's a common disease (or virus or whatever; I'm no linguist, I won't attempt to identify it's biology) among writers in my generation (or, in my case, people who aspire to be writers). Lots of what I read has that quality where it could have been written by anybody, by some random person. I've no way of telling who authored most things I read, today, and that's bothersome.

Perhaps the reason things got this way is this: in an age of ever-increasing information volume-flux and the abundance of mediums through which to communicate and transfer this information, people are demanding, possibly subconsciously, writing that is more direct, straight, and narrow, writing that doesn't dance around a point for the sake of dancing, writing that doesn't speak in awkward sentences in order to further the point of the piece. People who read blogs and other mediums want prose that is easy to understand, easy to ready, and that gets to the point without meandering through the woods first, even if there's an intellectual and artistic purpose behind such meandering - for instance, the way I'm meandering and repeating myself in this paragraph in order to emphasize the antithesis of what I'm identifying.

People have no time for art, anymore, especially in writing. Writing is perhaps the most difficult art to consume appropriately, because it takes the most time. Or at least that's the pathology. People feel they can look at a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, whatever and get whatever there is to get in a relatively short amount of time, and then move on to the next ~~victim~~ piece. And the same can't be said for writing, which requires applied reading, thinking, and re-reading in order to comprehend whatever the hell is being said. It's much faster to look twice and three times at a piece of marble than it is to re-read Moby Dick. So folks don't have time, they say, to do "art writing" - which to their mind is anything not related to the media and the news.

For this reason, blogs, to attract attention and a healthily dispersed demographic, tend towards journalistic writing as opposed to artistic writing, which causes a decrease in the volume of good writing out there. And hence the explanation to my current prose woes.

As you've no doubt discovered, I've regained some of my prowess in this very blog post, but it all seems unnatural, a little off, somehow, to be writing fluidly and artistically after indulging in garbage newspaper script, a practice that came much too easily for me to be at all comfortable about the future.

The information influx, Total Noise to David Foster Wallace, is having a profound effect on everything, and we - I - keep discovering new consequents to its antecedents.

And School Begins

2009-01-16T00:16:00.002-07:00

If it wasn't clear from the title, school starts, next Tuesday.

We have Monday off in order to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr., but if you so much as think about Rosa Parks or the Black Panthers, prepare for a beatdown. This is about MLK, bitches, not "other people who had a significant hand in the Civil Rights movement and deserve as much credit." Besides, MLK beat his wife and slept around - I never saw Rosa smoochin' other dudes. If she did, maybe we'd have Rosa Parks Day. So next time you think about joining up for an historic cause, make sure you sleep around and hit some women so we can designate a whole day to remembering you.

...

The beginning of a new semester is another one of those times where you sit back and reflect on all the cool things you planned on doing over the break and never did. Like after summer. Like after spring break. Like after that week of school you took off in order to road trip (but instead spent smoking pot and watching Dragonball Z). And, the most awesome-est, like on New Year's Eve when you remember all of last year's resolutions, a psychological shock that forces you into heavy drinking and the fondling of strangers.

So here I am at the onset of another semester and I'm remembering all those things I said I was going to do, and didn't:

- Have lunch/hang out with multiple friends from high school I haven't seen in a while (Mitch Gamso and Erin Reily come to mind)

- Go camping in the Superstitions, or at all (Philippi and I had the crazy idea to spend a few days freezing our asses off; unfortunately, we were unable to rally enough local support.)

- Get a job (Ha! Come again?)

- Read a lot (Well, okay, I read a lot more than anyone else I know and a lot more than even dedicated readers do, but I was thinking something along the lines of 6 hours a day; I ended up averaging about 3 to 3.5, so I guess it wasn't that bad. [Production definitely suffered on weekends, though, which is why my average was less than 4; if you take weekends out, it would probably jump to 4.5-5 - go me.])

- Not spend a ridiculous amount of time watching, reading, and talking basketball with Keith, Jon, and, sadly, myself. (I watched a game a day, two on half the days. And I think Keith would prefer I didn't call him randomly to talk about some statistic I just read about and not continue the conversation further.)

Well, that's a solid number of promises I didn't keep. I'm awesome.

What promises did I keep? Well, I almost kept the promise about reading and I hung out with two people I hadn't seen in a while, but about which I had no promises. So, you know, I did something.

And what does the new semester bring? Lots of reading. I got my books in today, which I ordered off of Amazon.com under face value (eat that ASU bookstore!), and they each weigh as much as my fat cat. Thankfully, I have three classes on MTW and two on TTH so I'm not committing myself to carrying an exorbitant weight of books all the time. Oh wait, I have a labtop. Dammit, I'm screwed.

And in other news, I'm seeing Paul Blart: Mall Cop tomorrow with a crew of people. If I didn't text you, it means I don't have your phone number, but you're invited anyways! Call me. Despite all the flack I've been receiving about how bad the movie looks, I'm still convinced it's going to be funny. Kevin James has a good track record of being funny, though his only cinematic input has been that gay-but-not-really fireman one with Adam Sandler, which I heard wasn't too bad. But the previews let it be known that it was entirely a Sandler production, including the writing, so here's to a movie that's all James, all the time. Let's see if he delivers.

This is Excellent

2009-01-14T01:38:00.003-07:00

There's a great passage in a David Foster Wallace essay I'm reading: it's brilliant, funny, and truthful. The context is a discussion he's started about how contemporary fiction writers ((he wrote the essay in 1990) should respond to the reality that irony, once the sole reservation of the postmodern artist, is now squarely and completely in the hands of television. The explication of that sentence is rather long, and difficult - the essay is 60 pages and the book is 9x6, which means on regular 8x10 paper it would be somewhere in the vicinity of 46 pages - but it's only necessary to know that it's about writers reacting to the reaction to society. Got it? Cool. Here's what he said:

"One obvious option is for the fiction writer to become reactionary, fundamentalist. Declare contemporary television evil and contemporary culture evil and turn one's back on the whole spandexed mess and invoke instead good old pre-1960s Hugh Beaumontish virtues and literal readings of the Testaments and be pro-Life, anti-Fluoride, antediluvian. The problem with this is that Americans who've opted for this tack seem to have one eybrow straight across their forehead and knuckles that drag on the ground and really tall hair and in general just seem like an excellent crowd to transcend. . . most of us will take nihilism over neanderthalism."

What a lively way of calling Christian Conservatives neanderthals. And the essay, up to this point (I'm about 45 pages into it), has been extremely reserved and descriptive (i.e. non-prescriptive). So this interjection and actual prescription comes as 1) a surprise and 2) an instance of what appears to be a necessary truth.

Oh, and I guess this means I've started reading David Foster Wallace, after writing that post (my second or third, four hundred years ago) about his virtual nonexistence among my generation before his suicide (which catapulted him into the stratosphere of Rock Gods who've died [Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin, etc.] because, even at 46, he looked and talked like a Rock God - and committed suicide, all existentially and stuff). I've read a dozen of his essays, some short stories, and a speech or two - I haven't gotten to the novels, yet - and my only report is that he has, thus far, the most brilliant mind I've come across in a long, long while. Explanation is unnecessary - this guy is the shit.

Pride and Prejudice at 2 in the Morning

2009-01-13T01:48:00.006-07:00

So I watched the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice; this is at least the 8th viewing. I know, I know, it slips me closer and closer towards either homosexual or, at least, viably effeminate. But I can't help it: the damn thing is beautiful, if not brilliant, and seeing as how its origins lay within the loins of one of the great novels man (or in this case, woman) has produced, I can hardly be disparaged for enjoying such craftmanship.

I find myself whiling away the afternoon hours, and occasionally those interstices that make up the pre-dawn, considering the merits of the two accepted cinematic versions of Austen's classic. There are, of course, other nonacceptable (as opposed to unacceptable) cinematic versions of the book, but they're uneventful. Laurence Olivier was involved in a 1940 production, but it's memorable only because Aldous Huxley, of Brave New World fame, had a hand in the screenplay. A serial version for the BBC station appeared in 1980, but it involved no one of any fame and thus garnered little attention, even if it was a tolerable adaptation. Other televisual serials appeared, and often, in 1938, '52, '58, '67, and the best one, that of '95. This version, slotted for television in six 55-minute installments, used Colin Firth as the stoical Mr. Darcy, which thrust him (Firth, that is, not Darcy) into the greater spotlight, pushing him towards the precipece of global (or at least Western) celebrity. It's also memorable because it 1) was decently directed, which can't be said of the others, 2) adapted the story and book excellently, and 3) had the fortune of containing good actors and actresses, which, aside from Olivier's brief appearance, can't be said of the others, or at least as generously. Then, of course, there's the 2005 version with Keira Knightly appearing as the rebellious Elizabeth Bennett. It is these last two that plague my thoughts.

Whenever a story is reproduced several times, at least twice, audiences are compelled to determine which version is best, or better. The same proclivity arises with Austen's novel, but I've as yet been unable to choose between the 1995 serial and the 2005 film. After much consternation and deliberation, I think I've decided they're both admirable and deserve equal attention, but for different reasons.

The most significant difference between the two is the way in which each applies itself to the audience. The 2005 version, being only a third the size of the 1995 serial in length, scores direct hits with specific scenes, and powerful acting, as well as beautiful cinematography. The scenes in which the camera is constantly flowing from room to room, person to person, while lines of dialogue float amid and around your 1st person perspective are absolutely astonishing in their ability to transcend normal filmmaking, normal exposition. The estates obtained for filming are breathtaking and as period relevant as you can probably get without traveling to the early 19th century. It's power also lies in its ability to deliver the story in a short amount of time (comparatively), and the superb acting by Donald Sutherland and Keira Knightly. The adaption, too, is key, because it gives you the most potent material possible while keeping the story intact. Every scene is memorable and desirable, and the entire effect is cohesive and strong.

The 1995 serial, however, applies itself in a strikingly different manner. It's power doesn't rest in the ephemeral imagery of Joe's Wright's 2005 version, nor is it found in most scenes or the actors themselves. No, the power of the 1995 serial is sublime, like that of a wave coming into shore. When you sit and wait for the tide to come in, rhythmically as it is wont to do, you first feel the water rushing underneath you, and then rising and rising and rising until the water gains a sufficient amount of volume and velocity to move you, body and everything, further inland. At first you're surrounded by water, and by the end of it you're smothered, submerged. That's the power of the 1995 serial: every scene, every line of dialogue, every shot of the countryside, every event, every installment is a gallon of water, added to the wave as it begins to coalesce around you, gaining that volume and velocity necessary to move you, except this time you're moved pyschologically. It swarms over you, almost in opposition to the powers of Wright's adaptation, in as distinct a manner as possible, and yet it educes the same feelings, the same results, the same admiration.

I could go on: the way Mrs. Knightly represents Elizabeth Bennett is sligtly different than Jennifer Ehle's version, but each involves aspects that remain true to Austen's design. They both emphasize a different part of Elizabeth's nature, and neither encompasses the whole, nor should they. And the same can be said for Mr. Bennett, the father, and the ways in which Donald Sutherland and Benjamin Whitrow apply themselves to his creation: each involves characterizations that are true and perfect, and yet the individual emphasis in specific areas works marvelously for their individual adaptations.

There are other things, as well, but enough. I'm liable to grow a vagina if I continue much longer.

The point remains, though, that above all the various adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, the 1995 serial and Joe Wright's 2005 film remain together, yet alone, as the supreme vessels for Austen's magnificent literature.

Yeah, The Movie Just Finished and It's 5 am

2009-01-12T05:02:00.005-07:00

Yeah, yeah, I'm a loser. I didn't watch the movie this Christmas and it was eating at me. Reading wasn't working, neither was writing, and I couldn't sleep. So Love Actually it was. And Pride and Prejudice is in the player waiting on me to finish this post.

Billy Mack rocks. I like the first time he's playing with the ladies pictured above and the drummer has her legs spread...it's rather seductive - and blazingly hot.

The weird English dude is on some British television show. It's on right after a show featuring another guy from this movie, the dude who's a stand in for the porno people. He works in a hardware store, just so you know.

Ah, Hugh Grant. What can I say. I've seen this movie, Notting Hill (my favorite), Nine Months, Music and Lyrics, Sense and Sensibility, Two Weeks Notice, and others I can't remember off the top of my head. I suck balls, I get it. No need to remind me over and over (Keith, Jon, Biggie, Brian...)This guy is easily the most admirable. Also, I really like this picture, which seems to be a test shot, because it's definitely not a shot from the film.

Is it sad that I identify with Jamie so much? (And that I was absolutely in love with Aurelia the first time I saw this movie?) Maybe it's the writing. Maybe it's his passive interpersonal relationships. Maybe it's his love of Portuguese women and his desire to learn their language in order to better love them. Personally, I like to think it's his fear of eels when they jump into the lake. I can definitely see myself screaming about eels swimming around my ankles.

In any case, this movie is incredibly good and if you don't love it, then you're smelly, like a big, smelly, tuna fish that's out of water (and thus more pungent).

Christian Politics and Social Conservatism

2009-01-11T15:57:00.004-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me how adeptly Christian Conservatives are able to internally reconcile their Bible with their voting practices.

Try this one out: the supreme anti-Darwinists are Social Darwinists in practice. Makes sense, right?

They consistently practice and encourage economic institutions and policies that browbeat the poor into situations where they are left to scrape through life on their own, and then come right back and argue that evolution and survival of the fittest is all a load of crap. Christian Conservatives are, without a doubt, one of history's great group of ironists.

Matthew must not have been their favorite chapter. In 25, Jesus reprimands those who failed to see him in the poor and downtrodden, who failed to give him food and clothing because he was dressed as a beggar: "I was hungry, and ye fed me not." He says later "Depart from me, ye cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels." Fire and brimstone, the favorite imagery of pastors, cast back upon them.

Or Luke 18:22: a ruler asks Jesus how he might come to know heaven and God, and Jesus responds: "Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor." This notion seems a far cry from megachurches, inequality, and laissez-faire economics.

So how is it that the original anti-Darwinists came to sustain such dangerous Social Darwinism? Well, it was through a combination of ignorance, evil, and an utter lack of dedication to their book. I suppose it's nothing new, though, considering history.

Think, though, for a moment about the lack of credibility the Christian right maintains because of this. Or, at least the lack of credibility they should maintain. Sadly, even fewer non-Christians know the words that Jesus said, and that's impressive considering the number of Christians who are vastly ignorant of their own creed. How does this world, this nation, this community of peoples allow such absurdity to sustain itself? Here is a group of people hellbent (literally) on defying egalitarian principles and their own book, and yet they proclaim to be the children of God, the ones who preach and spread his gospel. Again, the great ironists of history are here before us, in our own backyard, peddling their contradictions and heresies.

It's this kind of bullshit that infuriates me to the point of non-lucidity. My friends are familiar with this stage, when I slip into a passionate state of anger during which I'm unable to do much of anything we might call rational. But sometimes irrational behavior (violence?) is necessary to overcome irrational and despotic institutions like the Christian right.

Personalities and Stuff (Not Sports Related, if you were wondering)

2009-01-11T01:26:00.006-07:00

Do we change? Yeah, probably.

It's easy for me to start out with something lame (and moronic) like "Do we change?" but hey, it's trite for a reason: it works to introduce the subject (and also to lame-enize the author).

I was hanging out with Philippi, Keith, Jon, and Elizabeth today and I was thinking about how people act and how they operate in given situations. My mind was focusing on changes over the years. Philippi and Jon drew most of the attention because I've known them much longer than the other two (though I'm confident I could write the thesis to Keith's psychology).

Philippi does certain things in certain contexts with regularity, a consistency you don't normally see. I don't want to editorialize as to whether this consistency is good or bad - I don't much care - but I do want to say that not only is he consistent from situation to situation, he's consistent over the months and years. I could give specific examples, but be satisfied with first-hand evidence from a guy who watches shit like this on an all-too-regular basis. Besides, offering specific examples may or may not offend Philippi; that wouldn't be cool. I only offend people to make them and others laugh, not to hurt them (unless I'm mad or whatever; then I can be a bitch: a group of my friends took an informal vote a while back and it was unanimously determined, much too quickly for me to feel at all comfortable about it, that I was the most able to rip someone apart using words. Apparently I've a gifted a tongue for doling out verbal lacerations and psychological beatdowns.).

Jon is also rather consistent, but only after he made a particular change years ago. This one I'll talk about because a) I don't think it will offend him (it is, to my mind, a positive change) and b) I don't much care (love ya bro). Jon used to be rather shy (alright, really shy). He was insecure about his weight and used to get in a trouble a lot with teachers and other kids and stuff. Nothing severe, but he would talk back a lot, and he was very hurt when insults were thrown his way. In fact, and this is awesome, he once told a rather verbally abusive P.E. teacher in the sixth grade to "fuck off." Beautiful. That was good for a solid two days of suspension, I think (our Dad was ~~excited~~ pissed).

This continued into high school where he played in the marching band (for all four years). Now, band, especially high school marching band, is a place where people can develop their psyches without being embarrassed. People can become lesbians, escape the jock life, and embrace the geek life, all within the confines of marching band and without fear. Everyone is screwed up, no one feels comfortable about who they are, and so change is easy and natural (and expected).

This is the turning point for Jon. He's musically talented and so he didn't feel insecure about playing his, or any, instruments. Also, he was free from the fat jokes that murdered his previous adolescence. This allowed Jon to develop and nurture one of his singular, and powerful, talents: charisma, filthy, absurd, ridiculously powerful charisma. Jon can become friends with anyone, anywhere, anytime. People trust him much quicker than they would trust, say, me. I come off as technical, potentially pretentious, and reserved, whereas people see Jon as fun-loving, crazy, slightly unpredictable (but in a good, I'm-in-love-with-James-Dean-way), and extremely affable. People like him, immediately. People have to make up their mind about me. I have to work harder to gain the affections and trust of others, and it's usually a subserviant trust, one in which they respect me for ability and then begin to trust me. My friendships take years to develop; Jon's incubate overnight.

So here's Jon, large and in charge, no longer insecure about being overweight (or anything, really), and he's got this ability to transcend all cliks and be seen as affable and likeable by everyone. The change from Freshman to Sophomore year is, literally, shocking. The photos prove it, too: the Freshman picture, Jon is bald, wearing a basketball jersey, wearing a slightly demure, unsure smile; in the Sophomore picture, he's wearing a totally out of style Hawaiin dress shirt, and he's adorned with both crazy wild man hair (both head and facial) and a carrraaazzy Jon-smile for which he will be eternally known. Jon, in other words, finally came into his own, and lucky for him it was at the beginning of high school.

So Jon made this change and he's clearly different because of it. Philippi is mostly the same, and that's fine, too (his changes, I think [and I could be wrong], were really about adapting his current abilities to new situations, whereas Jon developed new abilities). He's as well off as Jon is in life, he just took a different route. And this is what I find interesting: that people come into their own lives at different times, in different ways. It makes sense intuitively but it's fascinating to see it "in action." Two people who've developed over the years in different ways, right next to me.

Of course, I'm not really sure what I've done to change, if at all. I think my own significant change, if there has been one, was a recognition that natural talent wasn't going to get me to the places I wanted to go, a rationalization that came to fruition a few years ago, six months or so after high school. It's funny what community college can do to you, as long as you don't let it crush your soul.

I think I'm still the same guy when dealing with relationships, but I think the external effects are different because I've changed atmospheres. In high school, it was easy to make friends; there were a lot of people looking for someone who was stronger than they were (I don't mean that condescendingly), and I attracted some. Weaker personalities are drawn to stronger ones. Sadly, these sorts of relationships don't last very long, because they're predicated on very little intimate material. The ones that have lasted (the count is low) are due to many long hours spent trying to figure them out. Real work had to be put in to sustain some of them; others were left to die a slow death.

Outside of high school, most people have usually found a stronger personality, or are more sure of themselves and are thus not in the market for one. The demand, then, is smaller, hence my inability to gain traction in new people's lives (there are exceptions, of course: Peter and Brian spring to mind). And so the pool of people I've come to know as "friends" has shrunk from its huge high school and immediate post-high school number to a much smaller one.

Is this bad? Eh, I don't know. While there's a certain pride and power you get from being able to summon eight people, minimum, on any weekend night, and some weekday nights, to go for dinner and a movie (and fifteen, minimum, for planned parties), it eventually becomes a strain trying to sustain every relationship to a point that's satisfactory to both parties. Friends have been "let go," so to speak, meaning we haven't spoken in sometime, if for no other reason than that we each got busy. It's sad to think that I may have wittled down my friend list in the same manner one would pick baseball teams at the park; it's a sad reality that I cannot sustain twenty relationships at a level of intimacy past acquintance. Maybe others can, but I find it perplexing, difficult, and frustrating. "If there's little pleasure involved, then why am I doing it?" is the usual rationalization.

I sometimes think it's strange to analyze interpersonal relationships with as much detachment as I do. This a probably the reason I was not able to sustain those twenty relationships.

As the Rod Turns...Andrew will like this post

2009-01-09T13:34:00.004-07:00

Well, if anything else, I have to admire Rod Blagojevich: he's an incredible politician. If I was totally ignorant of those tapes the FBI or whoever had, I would think he was a beautiful person with a mind for good things for the people of Illinois. He's smart. He has a photographic memory. The latter allows him to prepare a ten minute speech and memorize it in less time than it would take to present. That's awesome.

The Illinois State Legislature - the House specifically - impeached him today. So Rod comes out swinging in a press conference. He framed the impeachment proceedings from the House as being the product of antagonism against his policies and bills, which, of course, he talked about and lauded as great stuff for the little people who reelected him. And that last part, the reelection, he emphasized in order to grace himself more fully as a martyr of the people. God, this guy is good.

He talked about healthcare, mostly, and he had a number of regular citizens, most of them diseased, old, or both, standing/sitting next to him to emphasize the point. I have to say, the points he made about healthcare (he also emphasized his involvement with a bill that granted citizens better access to medication across the Canadian border, which has been replicated in other states since its inception in Illinois) were pretty astute, and, as I said before, in a vacuum, they would be great advancements.

By framing his impeachment as an "us vs. them" situation, with the "good ole' boys" from Springfield (who are probably white) standing against the People (who will be seen as black) and their standard-bearer, the star-crossed governor, he has managed to turn the event away from FBI tapes and senate seats, which is an accomplishment, seriously. Of course, he's only turned the event in the minds of Illinois citizens. Politicians, commentators, and analysts haven't changed a bit, but if he gets the hearts and minds of the Illinois citizenry, he's won himself a ticket out of impeachment.

The penultimate paragraph in his speech implored the very House that impeached him to hurry up and approve a bill the Senate passed two months ago that would, in Rod's words, keep Illinois families in their homes. He spoke about this for a minute, but it didn't matter, the damage was already done: he'd just called out, legitimately, the people who are caught up in lynching him - AND they're alone in their embarrassment because the Senate already passed the bill! The people of Illinois are waiting for the House to hurry up and help them. This all plays perfectly into the anti-House fervor he's hoping to whip up among the people of Illinois. This is beautiful stuff, and we should all step back and admire it...and then sink our teeth into morality and truth and what not. But just sit back for a minute and admire a situation that is being handled better than even Clinton could have managed. This guy is great. I'm supposed to hate him, but I can't get enough - he's so quick!

The ultimate paragraph, and possibly my favorite, was a quotation from Tennyson - about the fourth or fifth British poet he's cited in speeches defending his credibility in the past few weeks. The passage talked about living life and not yielding to the external (and implicitly evil) pressure from others. In other words, it was a beautiful passage that illustrated perfectly the situation he's trying to describe. And each of his British quotations have been as illustrative. And this guy knows he's ridiculous! Honestly, I'm starting to admire this guy a lot more than I should. But I can't help it: genius is inspiring and beautiful, even if it's implemented for less than benevolent purposes.

Even if this guy is impeached, we need to find something for him to do, because he's incredibly sharp, flexible, fox-like, and smart. It would be a waste of human talent to not have him operate as a CIA analyst or something. This guy's too good to go to jail.

Thoughts

2009-01-09T00:35:00.003-07:00

I've been writing a lot recently. Not sure what any of it's about, or why I suddenly have the inspiration to put pen to paper and produce something other than blog posts, but whatever. I won't fight it. This shit doesn't come often.

It is random, though. I found myself writing a lengthy character sketch that started out as a description of a poker table. And I don't know why I started out describing a poker table. Later, I started writing a short narrative about a particular experience and now that's turned into a real story, or at least the beginnings of one. Where does it come from?

The uneasy part about it all is the inability to discern whether or not any of this is, um, good. And I'm not even talking about if people are going to read things I write, like mainstream people and what not. I'm talking about good from the standpoint of literary fiction, of writing for writing's sake. How do you tell? Unless it's eerily similar to something someone has already done, how do you tell if it's good or not?

It seems especially difficult if you're like me and you have a distinctive tone and feel and style to your fiction writing, one that's easily identifiable from among the many. You can pick up twenty random books and it's probable that all of them will be written in the same manner: action, dialogue, plot, "normal" sentences and style. Varieties exist, but the rule of thumb that you should write how you speak, or how others speak will still apply. So most books you pick up have the same drawl to them, the same lilt, the same speech patterns. I don't write that way. I'm different, difficult, perhaps. Will this be accepted? Probably not.

Go Lakers, or something.

Israel Kills Palestinian Civilians: No One Cares

2009-01-07T02:09:00.003-07:00

Alright, so it's not entirely fair to say "no one cares," but a few calls from UN highups about them being naughty and some big bold letters on the front of newspapers isn't really "caring." When George Bush (or Barack Obama, in time) finally tells Israel to

SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

then I'll be satisfied that "someone cares."

Honestly, when Israeli civilians bite the bucket, it's called "Civilian Deaths," and when Palestinian civilians meet their maker, it's "Casualties of War." That's some ugly discrimination, people.

When people find out that I'm antagonistic towards Israeli foreign policy, I'm labeled an anti-Semite. So for all those keeping score, disliking aggressive, non-egalitarian policy is apparently equivalent to anti-Sematism. So, you know, Ghandi and MLK were anti-Semites, and so was Jesus, apparently. That whole "love thy neighbor" thing didn't count for the Jews, I guess.

Seriously, though, people need to be aware that Israel deserves as much flak for the shitmess that is the Middle East as Palestine, Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Hamas, and blah blah blah. It's not right that Hamas fires rockets into Israel every day, but it's also not right that Israel keeps supply trucks from entering Gaza, disallowing civilians there the right to eat, drink water, and, you know, basically live. And they've been doing this for months and months; this isn't something new they've started along with the ground offensive. They've been indirectly killing Palestinians for a while, now.

So fuck the Israeli Government for enacting these obviously immoral policies, and fuck the Israeli people for implicitly (and explicitly, in some cases) supporting it. And fuck all the people who think it's a good thing.

We have to fight for the right to live, the right to be free, and the right to be safe, and that counts for Jews, Muslims, Israelis, and Palestinians - all of them. If you're going to pick sides, err on the side of life, not Israeli or Palestinian bullshit.

I'm posting a lot right now. Why?

2009-01-06T14:24:00.003-07:00

Various sports sites (nba.com, espn.com, and si.com) like to have little previews written up for each game played on a given day. I enjoy reading the basketball previews because there's always something funny, like just now, when I read the preview for the Los Angeles Lakers/New Orleans Hornets game tonight (it's on NBATV at 8:30, if anyone wants to watch; you all loooooove sports). The preview had about 27 sentences (I say "about" because they had some quotes from players and coaches, and I tried to average out their length) and 7 of them talked about the New Orleans Hornets. SEVEN. That's it. Just SEVEN. And it was the final 7 sentences, too. The first 20 talked about the Lakers and their battle with the Celtics for the top seed in the league, as well as a revisit of the NBA Finals last year where the Lakers got crushed. The best part is that the 7 sentences the Hornets got said, in short, "Hornets lost their last game, won the game before that, and lost both games to the Lakers earlier this year by wide margins." So, you know, no one cares about the Hornets, I guess.

Let the 111th Congress Begin!

2009-01-06T13:41:00.004-07:00

Every newspaper had an article about the opening of the new Congress today, which is fine. Aside from the drama concerning the Senate appointee from Illinois to fill Obama's old seat (the Democrats won't seat him; they say he's not cool enough) and former Minnesota Senator Norm Coleman deciding he won his senate race when the vote recount said otherwise (Al Franken beat him by 225 votes), a bunch of nominal figures presided over the opening ceremony, and the New York Times captured it perfectly on the front page:

Doesn't this sum up American politics for the last 250 years? Four old white men, smiling vaguely, wearing similar suits? Certainly the trend is changing with all kinds of "exotic foreigners" being elected to office, least of all the presidency (the Founding Fathers would shit themselves if they heard), but these four guys are trying to hang on until the end. Dick Cheney is on the left and Joe Bieden is in the middle, but the other two guys look like carbon copies of the people standing to their right. The dude on the far right looks like Joe Bieden's older brother and the other one looks like Dick Cheney with more hair. All four seem like they were attempting the "Ben Franklin" look at some point in their lives. Weird.

But seriously, how awesomely absurd. This is the picture the Times ran. Is that a sign? Do they want a peaceful return to the Good Old Boys Club? Maybe. And maybe they didn't think that some stupid kid from Arizona would take this perspective on their picture.

Take that, Photographer Philippi!

2009-01-06T00:20:00.001-07:00

Anger Management

2009-01-05T23:40:00.004-07:00

Let us first, before anything else, enjoy my post title. It's relevant to the topic AND it's also the name of a recent movie with Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson. Eh? Genius. Every blogger must do this, by the way. It's in the rules that blogger.com makes us follow. We have to come up with blog post titles that are witty and relevant, or they kill us. That's why so many people do it, just in case you thought it was because every blogger sucks balls.

I get angry over the most stupidest retardedest awfulest things ever. When I'm doing poorly at something, I'm pissed. If my brain just can't wrap itself around a video game, for instance, I'll go absolutely bananas. And I'm not even sure what the hell that means. If I can't make something work for me, can't get something to "click," then I'm furious, and I sound like a little baby, though I look like a big, fat one.

It's really bad; just ask anyone who knows me. Keith probably knows this better than anyone, other than Jon, of couruse, who has the advantage of being my brother (and thus was present for all of my prepubescent tantrums over Pokemon and Metal Gear Solid). For some reason, though, I'm more likely to bust up in front of Keith than anyone else. I think it's because he, unlike everyone else, puts up with my shit long enough for me to come to my senses. Good man, that Keith.

During these situations, I occasionally gather enough self-discipline to shut up and think, calm myself, and try to sort through things. More often than not, serene contemplation yields excellent results and I return to the activity in question and dominate. Like when I'm just sucking balls at NBA Live 09 (basketball video game, if you're a noob): I'm yelling and whining and bitching and stinking shit up pretty bad(ly). But when I calm down, get a drink, turn the game off, and bring myself back to non-stratosperic levels of anger, I'm able to turn the game back on and win some games.

Or when I played Disney Think Fast Trivia (don't ask) the other day on my Wii, and Philippi and I were tied after two rounds: the third round consisted of picking the Hercules muse that was different out of a lineup, and it was competitive: whoever got it right first got the points. Well, I might as well have taken a dump in my pants; that might have been more effective. I was applying myself to the game in the wrong way and Philippi was getting EVERYTHING. I thought the hair was going to be a factor that changed during successive rounds and so I kept looking at the hair right away, even after four straight answers that consisted in determining who was wearing the glasses. I kept thinking I was going to be right that I messed it all up and gave Philippi four trillion points. I was pissed, of course. But then I settled down, concentrated, and went on to rape Philippi rather savagely in the next two rounds to win the game by a mile. He's still limping.

So when I turn into an asshole playing a game, I just have to calm down and, in the words of that black guy whose hand got bitten off by an alligator (crocodile? What's down there in the bayou?) in Happy Gilmore, "go to my happy place." My happy place, sadly, doesn't consist of that hot chick from the movie in sweet sweet lingerie, nor does it involve a little person, with the appropriate cowboy attire, riding a toy horse. It does, however, as in the movie, contain Shooter McGavin wearing a kiss mask while making out with my grandmother.

What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that I'm a little bitch. I whine a lot. I get angry if I'm losing. And I blame everything and everyone (usually Fillman) but myself. But beware the moment when I shut up and my eyes glaze over: I'm about to whoop some ass.

No Sleep (I'm sure that's the name of some death metal song)

2009-01-05T00:58:00.004-07:00

I'm listening to the sound of rain falling in some jungle somewhere, or maybe it's just someone's back porch. Who cares. In any case, it's what I use to *attempt* to fall asleep; and if my emphatic "*'s" weren't a big enough clue, "attempt" is the key word.

I have trouble sleeping. I think most people do. I used to think most people just said they had trouble sleeping, but I'm starting to think that was just another instance of me being a stupid douchebag, a phase in my life I'm trying to move past. But I do have trouble sleeping. I suffer from hyposomnia, like all new parents and coke addicts. This isn't insomnia, by the way, where there's no sleep. Hyposomnia is "little sleep." Thanks to my knowledge of Greek prefixes, you just got a lesson in linguistics, bitches.

But yeah, I can't sleep, hyposomnia, whatever. And it's all my brain's fault, that jerk. Here's an analogous situation to my brain when I try to sleep: you know that scene in some movie/cartoon where there's a hallway with doors on each side, and people run in and out of the doors, back and forth, very fast, one group chasing another, with weird, campy music playing, and people come in and out of doors at random, sometimes with their friends, sometimes with their pursuers and when they notice it they share a laugh and keep running? Yeah, that's my fuckin' brain - all the damn time.

When I was younger and playing guitar/piano/throat six hours a day, music would be zipping in and out of my head all night. A melody here, chord change there, some dream about being a rockstar in the middle, and it sucked. It made sleep a pain, a chore, so I would just not to do it. Why take out the garbage when you could just sit around and play some more Halo, right? That's how I approached it.

Well, that's not true. That's how I eventually approached it. I initially tried finding ways to fall asleep. I figured I just needed to relax my mind, focus it more, and things would become calm, placid, like a lake without ripples on the surface. I had some mild training in meditation, so I would give it a try each night. Well, my brain did focus, but it only made me more aware of everything - sounds, thoughts, Jesus, and so on. I researched it in a book or something and found out that meditation actually makes sleep harder, because you're not really relaxing your brain in the sense that it wants to sleep, but rather, you're relaxing it as preparation, for something: war, sex, World of Warcraft all-nighters - stuff like that. So that shit didn't work.

So then I tried counting sheep, and that would always end up being absurd. I would start out imagining a line of sheep individually leaping over some fence in a grass field, and I would count. Well, naturally, my brain sub-subconciously developed a rhythm and I began to count within the context of this meter I'd created. And now here's where it gets absurd: whenever I'm "thinking rhythmically" like this (it happens a lot), my brain will quickly start to screw shit up. Seriously, it starts making things difficult and I can't stop it. In this case, it began making the sheep jump at odd intervals, so that they were no longer in rhythm. And then if I somehow wrestled my mind into making things normal, the fence would start getting higher, which would again affect the rhythm. And if I started counting faster, the sheep would start taking longer to show up in the "pre-jump" area. No shit, this is my brain, people. It's ridiculous.

So, yeah, I quit that sheep jumping stuff. I then tried counting, just straight numbers. Going up from 1 in whole number order got boring, and didn't do anything but piss me off (at some point 401, 402, 403, and 404 gets annoying, not tiring). So then I started counting back from large numbers by three, as in: 100, 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82, 79... This never made me fall asleep, and so I would start at larger and larger numbers, or I would continue into negative integers once I hit zero, or I would start at a negative integer and go up. I tried a number of things (awful/unintentional pun), and nothing worked. So I dropped that as well.

And that's when I started listening to falling rain. I'd previously tried jungle music, nature sounds, birds chirping, but it was all stupid, and it kept my brain awake as it tried to simultaneously predict what sounds were coming next and attempt to force a rhythm to the sounds of nature, which wasn't very successful. It's hard to sleep when your brain is pulling itself in multiple directions without your input.

But falling rain did it, for a while. Something about the consistency of rain was soothing. This particular track had a good rain storm that had thunder strikes dotting it like pimples on a fat kid, and so if my brain were to get too comfortable inside the rhythm of the rain, thunder would blow up the whole thing and force me out of it. So it worked, for the most part. I would close my eyes and imagine myself sitting on some porch in Missouri watching the rain...and I would drift asleep.

I think now, though, I need a new track, because it's not working anymore. I say a new track, and not a new method, because I think my brain has figured this one out, its rhythms, its thunder hits, its changes in rain dynamic intensity, and so it's remembering everything as it happens, locking into the rhythm, and keeping me awake. Hence the blog post at 1:16am after a long day of little sleep, which followed three straight days of long nights of little sleep. Hence my pounding headache. Hence - oh whatever.

Sleep sucks, it always has, and I'm just gonna read until I pass out. That always does the trick, though my pass out time always varies. Sigh. At least it consistently hits the endzone (unlike my Dallas Cowboys - OH!!!!).

Oh and sorry Philippi: no pictures for you. Oh yeah, and I got that job at the ASU State Press. So here's to someone actually desiring that I write for them. Wow. Take that one, world.

The Morality of International Democritization

2009-01-02T02:44:00.003-07:00

International Democritization is not a new concept. The idea that a nation would try to apply its own "successful" governing principles to other parts of the world, promoting its own system above all others, is an activity every empire has found the need to implement. That the United States, another, newer empire, is doing the same, and plausibly seeking to do it elsewhere, is no surprise. The question, though, is whether international democritization, in the case of the United States (it was international autocratization for Alexander the Great and Caesar), is a good thing and, separately, something the nation should be actively seeking.

At the outset of any discussion surrounding this question is the obvious observation that it is contradictory and ironic for a democratic nation to force "freedom" onto foreign subjects. This notion has to at least be considered, because it underwrites the entire operation. International democritization aims to spread freedom and democracy to the world, yet it often manifests itself as a large and powerful country forcing a small and weak country into a political system with which it is probably unfamiliar. There is a swath of rhetoric directed towards letting the people of the country in question determine their fate, their government, but their options are limitated to which kind of democracy they are allowed to have. If the people in Iraq, for instance, voted overwhelmingly to be represented by a monorchial authoritarian government, I have a sneaking suspicious the United States, and the international community at large, would veto any such measure.

Once we manuever past this uncomfortable realization, we are confronted with the question of whether a country should do it in the first place. From a security perspective, it might be rational to consider toppling unpleasant regimes, so as to further guarantee the safety of a country's citizens, but then is it rational to impose the same style of government onto that subject country as the host's own? Maybe it is the thought of a victorious country that since it is, in fact, victorious, its political system is right and better, so to use another would be wrong. Whatever the reasoning, it needs to be reexamined and, at the least, reconsidered broadly.

But is it a good thing at all to trample in someone else's business? From a moral standpoint, it would seem we are all culpable in making the decision to stop abuse, death, and murder by any tyrant, anywhere in the world. The Rwandan genocide, for example, appears as a black stain on the international community, and the lack of involvment combined with the veritable flood of verifiable evidence supporting the genocide's existence would seem to argue that the United Nations is an awful piece of shit and its respective members are all total and complete assholes. But on the other hand, where does one draw the line? Is it then the responsibility of the international community to topple every abusive regime the world over? Here arises the issue of absolute morality and whether a community can even agree on what morality is in order to defend it. If a group of nations cannot decide what counts as abuse, then how can they mount a unified front against it? And so we are left with the sinking feeling of impotence, of inaction and inability, of confusion.

What are the problems, then, of international democritization? Well, for starters, the nation builder must understand the history of the region. The United States, to the contrary, has failed, repeatedly, to do their homework when they have set out to spread freedom to the world. They have been constantly and unerringly ignorant of the focus country's demographics, culture, and political tendencies, which causes all manner of havoc when the conflict ends and nation building commences. Was there a plan to rebuild Iraq after toppling Saddam? "No," admitted Donald Rumsfeld, George W. Bush, and Dick Cheney. Was there a plan to rebuild Vietnam? No, but we never got a chance to botch that one. And the same goes for Korea, as well, or Guatemala, or Panama, or Guam, or the Philippines, or Venezuela, or Nicaragua, and so on. The United States has seen fit to topple and remove dozens of regimes over the past 150 years, but has seemed ill-prepared each time to successfully install a new, functioning government. It seems to me they eventually recognized this weakness, because they began letting indiginous warlords and generals institute dictatorial governments in the aftermath as long as they swore semi-allegiance to the United States, or at least agreed not to give in to Soviet advances.

What stresses the mind when considering democritization are the complexities of the activity. A country must be aware of indiginous populations, cultures, languages, and tendencies; they must understand that it is a long and arduous process that requires a substantial amount of time and money, and possibly military occupation; they must submit to the realization that their government might not be the best government; and they must recognize that the activity, as a whole, is going to become uncomfortable and negatively viewed by the host country's electorate. The decisions required are going to be mesmerizingly difficult, and producing a system of answers that is free of contradictions and problems will be all but impossible.

So what is a country to do? I do not know, and I do not think we will ever produce a sufficiently qualified answer. The complex nature of the issue and task is so overwhelming at times that considering all the variables consistently is super-diffcult, if not impossible, which lends credence to the reservation that an answer is not possible. It is particularly saddening, disheartening, that the issue is so complex as to be inpenetrable: how is a country to operate, then? Is it to base its international policy on the whims of whichever leader is currently holding court? Is it to ascribe to some doctrine of action beforehand and merely institute fitting aims in the future? Or is it to struggle, obviously, with the pain of incomprehensibility, the anguish of its inability to divine the correct course?

Probably the first and second, but hopefully the third.

Holidays, New Years, and Such

2009-01-02T02:18:00.004-07:00

If I were any other blogger, this is where I would say "So, I haven't posted in a while" and then justify my non-posting with a laundry list of activities that have kept me busy. Instead, though, I'll write a sentence about how it's a general trend among bloggers to start off with "So, I haven't posted in a while" and then...you get the point.

Christmas was rad, I guess. I got around 18 books, some stupid shit I didn't need/want, and, best of all, a Pau Gasol jersey from my dad. It's resting across the back of a chair in my room, ready at a moment's notice to be worn, for any occasion. Or, more likely (as has been the case), to be put on for a short strut around the house, and then promptly removed after getting all kinds of hell for it. (Little do they know: I wear it in my room 'cause it's freakin' cool, man.)

The Lakers, ahem, beat the Celtics Christmas Day, which may have eclipsed the Gasol jersey in terms of "Best Gift Ever"; the jersey might win out, however, because, unlike the Lakers Over-the-Celtics win, I can wear it and feel awesome. The game, specifically, was a blast, mainly because it didn't seem to be one officiating error after another, which tends to ruin the pleasure of watching the game while diminishing its relevance in judging teams.

I have a friend who argues that the refs (for David Stern) made the Celtics win last year in the finals. He actually went so far as to say that the Lakers, as a team, were paid off to lose dramatically. His prediction, now, is that this year the Lakers will beat the Celtics in a rematch, garnering a ratings bananza.

While I would agree that we don't know all the facts about NBA officiating and that even if nothing ill is occurring, Stern and Co. are doing a good job producing a public perspective that views the situation differently. I wish officiating was more transparent, or rather, transparent at all. But there's no evidence to suggest that the Lakers were paid off; it's an incredible claim, to say the least. My friend's main reference point was that the Lakers were so dominant in Western playoff bracket that their collapse in the Finals can't be explained. I should address this seperately.

The Lakers, to that point, had yet to face a defense that was focused on shutting down the ability of a single player to dominate. The Nuggets didn't play defense at the time. The Jazz played defense only inside of Utah, and the Spurs don't play the same defense as the Celtics; they don't focus on shutting down single-player domination, but rather aim to disrupt the entire offensive system.

The two times the Lakers faced the Celtics in the regular season, Kobe couldn't make buckets, the scoring was lopsided, and the Celtics dismantled the Lakers easily. And this was because their defense is structured so that players like Dwayne Wade, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant, and Joe Johnson can't single-handedly propel their respective teams to wins. Now, it's not fullproof nor is it effective in every situation, but it works a very respectable amount of the time. Hence, the Lakers collapse in the Finals (which was due to more than just defensive structure, but this is the crux). So it's a bit absurd, and a little misinformed, to flat-out assert that the Lakers collapse can't be explained.

So while I agree that the NBA's lack of transparency should make us suspicious, I'm not ready to defend a view that thinks everything is conceived, but it's an issue I'm constantly rethinking and researching, if only because information is hard to come by. Also, the discussion is much broader than just "refs make bad calls because David Stern says so" but I'm not going to go into an analytical treatise on the subject (even though it sounds fun).

New Year's was fun. Keith, Brian, and myself got some food, drank some tasty beer, and played Halo 3 all night. Now, that doesn't sound your typical New Year's bash, but it's no big deal. I'm unconvinced that New Year's Eve has to be inundated with crazy partying and slosh-fests. In fact, I see it as merely another reason to have giant parties, but not a day on which you must have a party. Also, it seems strange that we do the same things at bars as we do in someone's living room, but somehow, a bar is more preferable. I'm still unsure as to why this is the case, especially if your group of friends doesn't interact all that often with strangers. I can see a case being made for the bar, but overall, the activities and the conversation are the same. It seems, though, that people are less willing to have fun in someone's living room than at a bar. Who knows.

That's about all for now. School starts in two weeks or something, so I guess that's soon or whatever. I'm taking a billion classes, it seems, and will be reading something like 600 pages each week, along with constant French work. So that should be fun...I guess.

This Might Be Interesting...or Maybe Not

2008-12-21T00:39:00.005-07:00

I'm reading a book right now (The Know-It-All) about a guy who read the entire Encyclopaedia Brittanica - just for kicks. Well, he also has some inferiority issues regarding his father and brother-in-law, but it was, mainly, just for kicks. He's admitting, quite readily, that he's not retaining nearly as much information as he would have liked, and this brought up an interesting topic, concerning how we remember shit we read.

Do we have a better shot at remembering something we understand? Like if I read an article about some obscure legal matter, will I be less likely to remember it than, say, an article about Kobe Bryant's shooting technique? Or maybe it has to do with interest; you have a better chance of remembering if you're interested in the subject - the more interested, the better I imagine. So if I read an article about something I understand and I'm interested in it, I'll remember it better?

I have no idea.

But I do know that I'm not remembering nearly as much as I did when I was younger. I would read a book when I was 13, some Fantasy book about dragons and shit, and I'd remember everything - plots, names, events, etc. I would watch the news and remember all the stories and relevant details, and now I listen to the news and can't remember what station I was watching ten minutes later. My brain must be decreasing in ability or something, 'cause I clearly suck more than I used to.

Of course, that might be my fault. I was brilliant when I was 13, and then I stopped caring about learning and education for a good six years. I'm paying the price now as I feel like a dummmmer more often than I'd like. I spent six long years playing guitar, pretending to learn, reading only what classes assigned as homework, and playing Final Fantasy video games over and over again. I used to read a book a week, and BIG books, too, 1000 page tomes written by some author who enjoys producing treatises within the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre. Now, I keep telling myself I don't have that much time to read, which is clearly a lie. But I'm doing better than high school, where I literally read 30 books in four years, which is awful for me. Going from a book every week/week and a half to one book every seven weeks? That's terrrrble.

But at least I'm makig progress, now. Hopefully, I can regain my brilliant prepubescent form, and remember what I read and hear, instead of barely engaging my brain when I read/hear things.

Getting old just makes you dumb, I guess. This chronology seems counterintuitive. Hmmm...Screw adulthood.

My Non-Future

2008-12-18T21:51:00.007-07:00

Print-based media is on the decline. Newspapers are filing for bankruptcy. The average American reads less and less every year. Books are being purchased at an alarmingly decreasing rate.

And I'm going to be a writer.

What the hell was I thinking? At least with philosophy I was always guaranteed a teaching position, even a meager one, in some corner of the States; people are taking philosophy classes with greater frequency (there's no change in the number of majors, just the number of people taking classes). So if I were to have continued philosophy, I was guaranteed a job, of some sort, even considering an ailing and soon to be depressed economy. But with writing, I'm guaranteed nothing but a good read every time I head to my throne (all men, in case you didn't know, are Toilet Kings). I'm going to have to work, really hard, for everything I get.

And the worst part is this: nearly every book we call a "classic" would never be printed if written today. If a book doesn't look marketable and doesn't sell right away, it's a dud, and it's sent packing. So the only feasible way of being a writer is to write trash - hence the popularity of Nicholas Sparks et al. Certainly, Sparks' writing isn't worthless, but he's nothing special. He sells, and in these trying times of print-based media recessions, that's the only thing to be.

Since I have a tendency to shy away from writing crap just so it will sell, I might not make it. But I hold on dearly to the sneaking suspicion (blind hope, really) that if something comes along that is GREAT it will sell. The logic there is that above average meal will not sell, probably, but way above average meal will sell because it's too good to be ignored. This implies that I'll actually write something that's way above average. At least I have a goal, I guess.

I could always, however, write short stories and essays. That seems to be the presiding way authors make their living in today's world. They write novels, for sure, but make their gravy through a combination of teaching and selling short stories and essays to magazines on a monthly basis. The novels they do write are only on occasion and sell mainly on the basis of the author's popularity from other ventures. So that's a possible "life design," if you will (you don't have to).

In spite of the economic woes and the downturn of general interest in literature by the American populace, I'll try to be a writer. Hopefully, I'll wind up somewhere better than a gutter in Atlantic City, wearing a dress, with a vague recollection of the night before. If nothing else, I can compare each event in my life to the previous and things should seem sterling.

And, on a related note, I have an interview with the ASU State Press. I applied to write an opinion column, and here's hoping that they let me do it.

Updates and Stuff

2008-12-17T20:02:00.002-07:00

The Hawks just lost because Joe Johnson couldn't make a free throw. Well, they would have had to stop the Celtics from getting a shot off in under three seconds and THEN win overtime. But still, all he had to do was make the free throw...

I changed my layout. Again. I have a feeling I'll become similarly disgusted with this one, as with the rest, and it will change to something less repulsive. Maybe my egalitarian disgust with most templates I've found thus far will lead to me create my own. Maybe.

SEAN MARKS is playing in an ACTUAL REAL NOT FAKE NBA GAME. If you know who SEAN MARKS is, you'll be as EXCITED as I am. If not, just continue reading.

Philippi came over today. We had lunch. And tea. And, well, you know, that. He took a picture of a sword on my table (that's exactly what it sounds like) and now he put it on his blog. I should clearly get some credit for any additional traffic it brings.

I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, and I'm even working on an essay. It's all crap, I'm sure, but in the off chance it's something more than putrid, toxic waste, I may be on to something.

I don't know who half the players on the Hornets are. It's like after Paul, Peja, West, Chandler, and Posey, it's a series of people probably making more money than they deserve. With a lot of teams, especially the good ones, I can name whole rosters and know who everyone is and why they're (supposedly) important. But with the Hornets, that same explication is just not possible. Think they'll win a championship? Yeah, me neither.

I watched (yeah, so sue me) a special on the White House holiday decorations (now you know why you should sue me), and it was entertaining. It was on the Home and Garden channel, which, as of last week, I now have in HIGH DEFINITION. So top that, bitches: HGTV in HD. Hawesome (intentional 'h'). But it was kind of cool seeing all the things they do. Aside from the usual trees, lights, garlands, and what not, they had gingerbread representations of the houses (estates, really) of Jefferson (Monticello) and Washington (Mount Vernon). I thought these were particularly interesting. The big tree in some-specific-room-whose-name-escapes-me has an ornament from every state and they just happened to show the Arizona one, because it was especially badass or something (and by badass I mean: full of actual tomalies ['cause fake ones are lamesauce]). So that was cool.

SEAN MARKS is playing a lot of minutes in this game. Ridiculous. When he played garbage minutes in Phoenix, his most voluminous stat would be fouls and no one commits fouls in garbage minutes. So, you know, that's respectable, I guess. But he's actually a decent big-man-who-gets-paid-a-lot-because-he's-big. He's not doing too bad.

Keith's got a shindig on Friday for his birthday. Should be fun. I'm broke, but I'll manage.

And that's about it.

That Big Freakin' Hydra

2008-12-15T23:55:00.004-07:00

I have too many books. They're fuckin' everywhere, man. I can't get away from them, and for every one I read, two more reveal themselves from under my bed, or behind others books on shelves. It's like the Community of Books is a big freakin' hydra that won't die. And that's debilitating to your psyche, you know, because every time you want to feel that beautiful feeling of accomplishment, of progress, you discover something (more books whose existence were as yet unknown) and it totally reverses all that good shit, replacing it with futility, exhaustion, and an attraction to nihilism. That's not good.

But the Community of Books isn't like a normal hydra (normal as far as a mythical constructs go), because a normal hydra can be stopped by putting acid on the recently decapitated stumps, where heads were a moment before. In the realm of fantasy, that kills that shit right out, and no more heads pop up. So to defeat hydras, you just need a sword, some acid, and some courage. But to defeat the Community of Books Hydra, you need to stop people from writing new books, at least until you catch up to a meaningful position in the race. But that's not really possible; acid won't even help you here, even though just seems like it would help you in most situations (think about it). So you're stuck. You have to just keep reading. Maybe a stop in the purchase of books until a sufficient amount have been read is a good idea? But no, I'll still see the new books even if I don't own them. Sigh. Such is my life.

Not Sure

2008-12-11T15:02:00.005-07:00

I was going to write something deep for Philippi, again, but decided on fart jokes instead.

So, what you would call the definition of a surprise?

A fart with a lump in it.

Hahahahahahah!

So this teacher asks one of her students, "Johnny, can you use the word 'definitely' in a sentence, please?"

Johnny replies "Hmmm...Do farts have lumps in them?"

The teacher, taken aback, responds "Well, no, they don't."

"Well," Johnny begins, "I definitely have shit in my pants."

HahahahHAHAahahfhahahh!!!!11!!!1121!!!1112!12!!!

Why do farts stink? Well, God's an equal opportunity employer. It wouldn't be very nice to leave the deaf people out of all the fun.

BLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH

And now, one of my favorite blonde jokes. Enjoy.

There's this new blonde school teacher, and she's starting her first day at a nearby elementary school. She's really excited and wants to make a great first impression on all the kids. So during recess, while the kids are playing soccer, she sees a boy standing away from everyone else, all by his lonesome. She hears duty calling and hops to it.

"Are you alright?" She asks sweetly.

The boy quickly and awkwardly assures her that everything is fine and so she went back to where she was standing. After a few minutes, though, she noticed that the boy was still standing apart from all the other boys; he hadn't joined the group. Well, it was time for a teacher to be a teacher. She approached him again.

"Are you sure you're not feeling left out or anything? Do you want me to be your friend?"

The boy was clearly struggling with something, and through the embarrasment of it all, he responded, "Maybe. Sure."

The teacher, emboldened, continued, "Alright! So, tell me, why are you standing here all alone?"

"Because," the boy starts, "I'm the goalie."

S:LDKFJS:DKLFEIOSN:IFNFK:LDJ!J!I@U(*@Y&*(#YUHKJDNFJFE*U*#FH

That's some classic joke-telling right there. You won't here Dane Cook deliver this much gold in a single evening, much less a five minute blog post. Comedy Central should give me a 30 minute special, like they do with all the other average to poor comics. Also, I'm a winner.

Final Post from that Ridiculous History Class

2008-12-09T09:42:00.000-07:00

I already posted something just before this class started, but then it began, and things started happening. I couldn't help but post a final blog, if only to include the following discussion that just took place.

So at the beginning of class, people (including the professor) started talking about changing the time of the final: instead of showing up at 7:30 am, we would show up at 8:00 or 8:15 or whatever. The "change talk" began because the prof decided that it would "totally uncool" if people came in late just because they didn't want to wake up early. And then it got stupid ludicrous.

First, people started calling out random times with passion and judicious authority, which meant they were whining and complaining and felt their opinion mattered. Then the prof said we should take a vote, at which point some girl, with all seriousness, said "Not everyone is here, so we can't take a fair vote."

Really? So, she was concerned with a truly egalitarian assessment rather than the fact that since everyone is not here today, which she alluded to with her statement, not everyone would know the time of the final was changed. I mean, honestly, she said that because not everyone is here, we can't take a fair vote, but she didn't think about that same "not everyone" knowing about the change we might make? Good Stephen Colbert, woman, you're in a PHILOSOPHY class.

Anyways, the professor started squinting and thinking really hard, and finally came up with "I just don't know guys. I just don't know if we can figure this out." Brilliant. And this guy wrote an incredible thesis for his doctorate on the interpretations of ancient philosophy and its relevance and importance in today's philosophical debate. No joke.

After another minute of this tomfoolery, we abandoned the cause, as a group, and moved on to the lesson he had planned for today. Now, we have a final Thursday, and he's teaching entirely new material Tuesday. That, more than anything else, sums up the absoludiculocity of this class.

Some Thoughts about Things

2008-12-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

I think I'm becoming more and more disappointed with Obama's selections, but I suppose I should reserve the full extent of my judgment until a few months down the road.

I think the Lakers have a more talented squad than every other team in the NBA, but somehow, they're less consistent, less cohesive as a team than, say, the Celtics.

I think Finals Week is going to be easier than I thought (I'm 20% through and that's the case so far).

I think it's funny that Philippi has finals next week. Sucker!

I think I'm going to miss my history of philosophy class ("Democrats have always been poor"; "I'm not doing anything with your best interests in mind").

I think Bush is surprising me and the world with his lack of pardons, thus far. There's always Monday, January 19th!

I think we could all use a break, even if Finals are easy. Sometimes you need to kick back and watch six hours of television.

I think December is a good time to reflect on the stupid shit we did the past 15 weeks, and why repeating it would be a bad idea.

I don't think January works nearly as well for that same reflection.

I think Christmas, or the Holidays or whatever, is a little less vivid this year, but only because I feel more frantic and busy than I did last year, or any year.

I think I might actually go somewhere with writing, and no, not to the gutter of some forgotten road in the still slightly romantic Midwest (though that would make a good story).

I think if my history teacher showed up on time, we may have actually learned something this semester.

I think if that same teacher would stop wearing a lame excuse for cowboy hat, I wouldn't mind so much that we didn't learning anything.

I think I shouldn't have to pay $100 for a passport.

I think it's funny that I'm better at speaking Chinese after one night of vaguely serious application than half of Paco's 101 class (which meets five days a weeeeeeeeeek).

I think putting a horrendous amount of extra vowels in words is ridiculous, but I do it anyyyyyywaaaaaaays ('y' is a vowel and not a vowel in the same word!).

I think I'm actually learning French.

I think it's funny how I go through ASU and never say a word to the dozens of people I see regularly whom I was friends with/knew in high school.

I think you should be able to wear a sweatshirt in Arizona to escape the frigid winter mornings and not have to worry about sweating through the afternoon hours later that same day.

What do you think?

The Coming Apocalypse: Finals Week

2008-12-07T16:09:00.000-07:00

Normally, finals week wouldn't be such a big deal, but somehow I've managed to put off studying until, like, this morning. That usually means I've looked over things and attained a general idea of what I need to study and how long it will take, but this time, nothing. I've done jack and it may show in my grades.

So I devoted this whole day to studying and crapping my pants. I may eat, intermittently, and only in small portions. The less time I spend in the bathroom, the more time I have to study. And, you know, post a blog.

All of these images illustrate how I feel about the next seven days. If words don't do it, these pics will. I think my sentiments lie exactly between the "Oh Shit Them's a Lot of Guns" picture and the one below, where children find out why they shouldn't bury themselves in the sand.

So feel free to vent on this post about how much you feel like dying because of finals. And if you don't feel this way, say something anyways so we can all hate you (read: be jealous).

Birthdays, High School, and Retardation

2008-12-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

In what is surely not a coincidence, today is International Disabled Persons Day.

My birthday is, like, now. I’m a year older, and they say you’re supposed to sit back and contemplate these things the more they happen. I’m 21, which is approaching geriatric, so I’ll sit down and pontificate on birthdays and shit.

I’m immediately reminded of high school, which means I’m not far enough removed to forget the Glory Days. And, let’s be honest, if you had been there for my Glory Days, you wouldn’t forget them either. Anyways, birthdays in high school were often many things: stupid, boring, exciting, full of hugs and cookies, wedgies from “friends,” and the occasional shout out in the middle of class by the teacher that you spent too much time with off school premises (whoa!).

My favorite parts about high school birthdays, though, were the reactions from people, who, inevitably, forgot. While everyone was congratulating you on another year survived, inquiring about presents and birthday parties, and wondering when would be a good time to buy you dinner (because they’re too cheap to buy you a present), these people were standing around, sheepishly, trying not to radiate the “I Forgot” aura. They failed, of course.

But what’s interesting about these reactions is that they can be broken down into two distinct groups: Male and Female. Every reaction goes one of two ways, and I’ll give general examples. The actual reaction is in quotes, and the inevitable internal commentary in response is in parentheses.

The Male Reaction:

“Ah, man, I forgot your birthday, bro! Totally sorry, dude, but I’ll make it up to you: you can forget my birthday.”

(Well, at least he understands that other guys, like me, don’t like responsibility. He’s revoking my obligation to remember his birthday because he forgot mine. Good man.)

The Female Reaction:

“Oh, it’s your birthday? I’m so sorry! I totally forgot!”

(Fake sympathy is terrible. Stop it. And, wait, do I even know you?) “Oh, I wish you would have told me!”

(You want me to go around shooting my load about how my birthday is coming up? Yeah, that’s not vain.)

“If you would have told me, I would have made you cookies! Or brownies!”

(Treats don’t make it better, especially not conditional treats that might have been. And you’re offering cookies and brownies? Why not a cake? Oh yeah, because a cake actually takes effort, and it’s meaningful. Cookies are what you do when you forget to make food for the company picnic.)

“Alright, you know what? I’m going to make you cookies tonight, and I’m going to bring them tomorrow. That’s what I’m going to do.”

(Sigh. I hate you. Go die in a ditch somewhere. Ugh! No! Don’t hug me! Gaaaahhhh…)

And that’s the other thing: it’s apparently an acceptable practice in high school to hug everyone on their birthday. People who would never think about touching you, much less coming near you, feel the sudden urge to hug you. It’s all very strange. Girls will come up and say “happy birthday!” and then do one of those Girl Hugs where their body is into it, but their mind is counting to three. Guys try to do some intricate handshake and usually end up Man Hugging you. You know, where you grasp hands and then tightly and awkwardly clap each other on the back for a few seconds until you separate and try not to look into the other guy’s eyes.

Birthdays in high school are very strange. The whole day, the person is bombarded with people hugging them but not meaning it; people hugging them, meaning it, and trying not to show it; and people trying to make up for forgetting.

I suppose this is why we all graduate in four years (unless you’re a dummmmmer!): we can’t stand having another birthday under these circumstances. In college, no one knows, remembers, or cares, and that’s a good thing, because birthdays should be left to friends and family. Who wants strangers and mildly friendly peers wishing you a happy birthday?

Unless of course it’s that girl whose number you’re trying to get. Playfully using her ignorance of your birthday to get her to pay for your next meal (and thus go out with you in public) is a totally cool thing to do.

Now some final, and general, birthday thoughts:

I’ve survived another year and I’m no better for it.

Apparently I can buy alcohol, as if they means something.

My dad’s birthday is also today. When I was born, he lost his job. Interpretation: I was the best birthday present EVER!

December is full of birthdays: Mine, my late Great-Grandmother (2nd), my 7th grade teacher’s daughter (7th), Keith (19th), my uncle (10th), my ex-step-grandparents' next doors neighbor's son (7th), and my other uncle (31st).

A bunch of people have my same birthday (and it is my birthday, not theirs): Ozzy Osbourne, my dad, Warren Jeffs, Julianne Moore, Bucky Lasek, Lindsey Hunter (old NBA player), and Marcus Williams (young NBA player).

Today, in 1929, Herbert Hoover told the Congress that the worst effects of the stock market crash were over. Man, was he a prophet.

So here’s to me: may I survive another year.

Thoughts and Things About Tolerance and Stuff

2008-12-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

(Due to the stream of consciousness nature of this post, I’ve left it unedited. So ideas and things that don’t make sense and that don’t fit together are probably side by side. But it’s how I was thinking at the moment. So the second idea might supersede the first, though I may not have made that clear. Have fun, kids.)

There’s a prevailing idea that we should be tolerant of other people’s beliefs and ideas. There’s another idea that says that everyone is entitled to their opinion. I’ve been wondering lately if maybe both of these statements are incorrect, or at least misguided. Of course, these are just thoughts and do not necessarily reflect any definitive position on my part. I have to include that statement, otherwise I’ll be quoted as believing something I might not believe. These are thoughts, wanderings, musings, and should be treated as such. If I solidify my position on anything that follows, I’ll be sure to send out postcards letting everyone know. (har har)

It’s usually assumed that we should be tolerant of what other people think and that we should be tolerant of someone else’s opinion, even if we think it sucks. But I’ve been thinking about racism and discrimination: should we tolerate racist beliefs? Should we allow someone to perpetually hold that one group of people is inferior to another and thus deserves less attention legislatively (or whatever)? The standard response is to say that they can hold those beliefs but that their practices should be voted down by ‘the people.’ Well, why even let them hold the beliefs? If our society takes a hard stand on certain issues, such as racism, then why should we ‘let’ people hold beliefs that go against those positions? I think we can agree that the Civil Rights Act of ’64 and the Voting Rights Act of ’65 will not and should not be overturned, so why should be let people think differently? Shouldn’t they be punished or ostracized?

What is the difference between being a racist and institutionalizing racism? The difference, it seems, is the scale of effect. In the first instance, only those in the immediate vicinity are affected, but in the second, whole towns, cities, and states are affected. So should we discriminate between objects of which we are tolerant? We are being legislatively intolerant but socially tolerant. If we are going to be intolerant of legislative discrimination, shouldn’t we be intolerant of social discrimination? It seems a person should be penalized when they act in a racist manner.

I’m really not sure on any of this. The original thought stems from an ongoing discussion I’ve been having with my brother about a friend of his. The general discussion concerns marriage (whoa!) and his friend voting for Proposition 102. Jon and I have been trying to rationalize why he voted for the proposition, and other things, and we came to a place where I started thinking about being tolerant of thoughts but not laws.

This friend of Jon’s voted for Prop 102 for a number of reasons. One reason was that a school in Massachusetts apparently sent home a “diversity backpack” that included a number of children’s books that were meant to introduce children to different races, different cultures, and different ‘lifestyles’ (one book involved a child’s life growing up two fathers). Jon’s friend was afraid that if Prop 102 passed, his child might be introduced to things he either a) didn’t want his son to know about or b) he wanted to first teach his child about.

I can see his reaction, to an extent. I suppose it would seem natural to want to teach my child about something like homosexuality, sex, and so on. But then I started thinking: why? Why should I feel the need to be the first to let my kid know about vaginas, black people, and men kissing men? If I feel the schools are doing an adequate (for argument’s sake) job of teaching my kid history, math, and so on, why should I do the job myself on other issues? But this is an issue I’m not entirely certain on, so I’ll let it go.

Another thing is that I think our schools need to teach tolerance, aggressively. A lot of parents don’t want their children to know about this or that and so they fight the school until they school drops the issue. And then their children grow up hating non-whites, Jews, gays, and so on. Why should be let this continue in our society? It only seems natural that people grow up and start voting down equality if no one is educating them properly.

So why should we let Johnny Smith go through school without learning tolerance for other cultures, other ideas, other lifestyles? I think Jon’s friend’s kid should be taught these things in school, otherwise, he’s a longshot to grow up tolerant and egalitarian-minded. He’ll grow up just like his dad, voting away the rights of his fellow humans.

The other focal reason as to why his friend voted for Prop 102 was that he himself didn’t believe in homosexuality or marriages between them, and he didn’t want his kid to believe so either. It stems from his belief in the Mormon Church; he is, as is the lingo nowadays, LDS. This is what brought me to this notion of social tolerance of what our laws deem to be bad ideas. I think this man is very backwards in this thinking and that his judgment is clouded. Moreover, his beliefs appear irrational to me. But the standard operating procedure is to be tolerant socially and then vote down his ideas in the legislative arena.

I find a problem with this, however. To me, the issue of marriage and homosexuality is one of equality, and if ‘the people’ don’t vote ‘correctly,’ then inequality is being encouraged and augmented in an apparently free state. So what happens here? What happens when a majority of the electorate thinks along non-egalitarian lines? Can we have a society that works on equality? I think not. And so that’s where I get this idea of being socially intolerant of bad ideas.

This, of course, brings up the issue of what’s bad/good/etc. and whether or not each person should be entitled to live in an area that fits his belief system. That’s all nice and everything, but I sure as hell ain’t moving so some discriminatory Mormon can have all the land. But then again, why should he move? And there’s the problem: who moves? Who leaves and forms a separate state? I think he’s an idiot, he thinks I’m a sinner: and who’s right?

Well, obviously, I am.

This has been a lot of rambling and wandering. Somewhere in there I may have formed a loose connective of rational thought. If that’s the case, awesome. If not, have fun trying to fit something together.

Final Update: Might Lead to Rioting

2008-11-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

Class just finished up, and we've talked about nothing. He spent the entire hour and fifteen minutes talking about two subjects that are not going to be on the test. Furthermore, the topics aren't even of interest, even to me. So, awesome. Another wasted class period that would have been much better spent sleeping on a bench outside.

Sweet.

Live Update from that Philosophy Class Again

2008-11-25T09:13:00.000-07:00

So the professor comes in late and starts messing around with the computer. After a minute or so, he decides he doesn't know how to get rid of that giant, loud clicking sound the mouse does whenever you, um, click. It wouldn't matter except the volume on the computer is at full blast, so every click is a sonorous roar. But the professor apparently doesn't know about computer volume adjustments, so we're stuck with it.

Next, he realizes he doesn't have his slides on the computer, and why? Because he forgot his flash drive, or, as he calls it "that thing (motioning a sword thrust with his hands) you plug into the computer." So we're going "old school."

This is a bad move. I'm taking notes on my laptop, and when my keyboard strokes are as loud or louder as his lecturing, we've got a problem. Even when you take into account the thunder my sausage fingers create as they rapidly tap out the veritable nonsense he's spewing, he should still be louder. It's a small room, for Stephen Colbert's sake.

Now, I made a vow (surreptitious, at best) to take good notes this class period to prepare myself for finals preparation. But I needed to type this blog. Fortunately, he spends the first fifteen minutes of every class going over what we talked about the last time (in a way that's easily as complicated and indiscernible as the first time we learned the material). So I have time to mess around, write a blog, read ESPN articles, etc.

In any case, his unnecessary preamble is nearly over. Back to the trenches kids.

Oh, and some ManLove. Well, it's ManLove if you're an awkward sadist (FILLMAN)
.

A One Room Window

2008-11-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

I am very insecure. I’m constantly in need of someone who will reassure me of my own intelligence. When I write something, I have to read it in front of people so I can tell by their initial, visceral reactions if it’s good or not. I don’t do this for purposes of revision and critique but because I need to be told that what I’ve written is funny, or smart, or witty, or good, or whatever. It’s an obsession, one that nourishes my psyche, and one without which I would cease to function normally.

But that last assessment brings into question the normality of my state of being if I’m in a perpetual cycle where my psychology is dependent on other people qualifying my work as good. I tell myself, out of habit and from some vague defense, that I’m simply unsure of the qualifications I give my own work; as the author, it’s difficult, so I tell myself, to judge with any measure the potency of my products. This, of course, is absolute bullshit. I know something is good right away and that’s the reason I read it aloud. I feed off of acceptance and compliments that I know I’ll receive. I turn that into the energy that keeps me going, keeps my mind in a sound condition.

But again, one must then question my soundness of mind if it’s wholly dependent on the positive judgments of others. I’m partially correct, though, when I say that I’m not qualified to measure my own work, but only in the sense that I’m not a good enough judge to say, with distinction, what a piece is worth. I can give a better than general estimation of the merits of a piece, but I can’t necessarily differentiate between great and excellent. I can most of the time, but not in every case, whereas I’m able to differentiate between great and average every time. Like any skill, it’s a work in progress.

I think sometimes that it’s natural to feed off of the support of others, to find nourishment and inspiration in their kind words, but I imagine that to say as much about my psychological insecurities is to spin them in a positive way, which is probably more than I ought to do. I suppose, though, that a realistic assessment of anyone’s psyche will produce an embarrassing framework, so maybe we all find nourishment in a different event, an event that we normally wouldn’t glorify. And perhaps my insecurities are no different than those belonging to friends and strangers alike. That isn’t to say we should accept them, but that, despite what I’m constantly longing to be told, I’m just like everyone else, at least in the sense that I’m psychologically inferior to whatever golden standard we might objectify.

But that’s what makes us human, I guess, that in a broad sense we’re less than perfect, and more particularly, we’re never fully aware of our own psychology, a psychology that is always unstable and weak. We may show strength at times, and even possess the stamina necessary to undergo traumatizing events without slipping into a psychological nightmare, but at some point, we’ll discover a weakness, a glaring one that seems to outweigh, or at least out-produce, the strengths. And in this, we are all brothers.

But maybe that’s another way of comforting myself, by saying that my mental infirmity is no more apparent than anyone else’s. By claiming brotherhood in some possibly fictitious community, maybe I feel better about being psychologically dependent on others (and, in my superficial mind, weak because of this).

I wonder, though, if this argumentation, this deliberate attack on my disposition, is detrimental to my overall well-being. Perhaps our irrationality is the one thing our rationality should keep away from, for maybe it’s the contradictions inside us that make life meaningful – and livable. If we’re entirely rational, life is robotic and without the guilty pleasures of knowledgeable sin, where you knowingly do something you think is wrong, if only because it feels good. But if we live life entirely irrational, we wouldn’t have the ability to recognize the distinctive pleasures each event gives in life: every pleasurable event feels the same. We’d also, I imagine, spiral into a web of chaos that no amount of external intervention could abate.

Maybe I can explain this through example: In my logic class, which is purely concerned with rational ideas, we were learning how to identify relationships in a symbolic language we were using called predicate logic. We were translating English sentences concerning loving into this language, and a guy made a mistake in how he formed a sentence. He said Lxy (x loves y) instead of Lyx (y loves x), which he thought were the same. To this thought our professor replied “It is the tragedy of the human condition that loving is neither a reciprocal nor symmetric relationship.”

Here we were, some forty of us, sitting in a class applying the rational parts of our minds to a task requiring absolute precision and abstract detachment, and we were presented with a thought that was grounded in the irrationality of human psychology and relationships. To fully appreciate the entirety of our professor’s statement, we had to take equal parts rational and irrational and see every side. On one hand, it’s logically true, in the universe of discourse we were dealing with, that loving was not symmetric, that just because x loves y, y doesn’t necessarily love x. And on the other hand, it’s a wholly realistic concept that required, additionally, our irrational selves to identify the irony and find pleasure in such a statement. It reminded me that at any given moment, we may have to call upon both halves of our minds, though they stand in contradiction, in order to understand the world and those around us.

So it’s probably the case that my insecurities are less than desirable and that a more ruthlessly efficient life might be lived outside of them, but I think I’ll stick with them, knowing that the kind of meandering, awkward, and at times depressing journey I wish to take is right at my fingertips.

I Love Clifton

2008-11-18T14:36:00.001-07:00

Props to Biggie for finding this shit. It's golden.

A Two-Way Street: Some Philosophy for Philippi

2008-11-17T14:07:00.001-07:00

Life is hard.

This is a fact, a certainty, and an absolute. How we define “life,” though, is nothing short of a mystery. But that’s not my focus. My focus is on life, however you wish to define it, being hard. It’s a roller coaster, with lots of ups and downs. Its successes and failures ebb and flow stylistically like waves on a shore, but thematically they are predictable in an entirely different sense.

The tide coming and going is predictable to the extent that moon patterns are predictable (which they are, strongly), but life's successes and failures are much less identifiable. They would be more applicable, in terms of predictability, to skin pigmentation in newborn children.

The way they work is that a person’s genes hold the information necessary for a range of pigmentation. If, for simplicity, we take all skin pigmentation to be on a scale of 1-100, then let’s say all dark is between 80-100 and all light is between 1-20. When a person with a range of 1-20 has children with a person with a range of 20-40, the child will be somewhere in the middle of those ranges. It is random, but it will be towards the median of the two figures. So unless there is a mutation, two people with ranges of 1-20 will never have a child with very dark skin complexion or dark skin complexion at all, really.

This works for my conceptualization of life’s successes and failures. I view 80-100 (outside of the light/dark split and merely based on the numerological aspect) to be a person who works hard, prepares, researches, and educates oneself on an extreme level. 1-20, then, belongs to people who do almost no preparation, put no effort into anything, and do not make any attempt at educating themselves. A higher a person is on the scale, the greater the probability that they will have more success than failure. The ebb and flow of their life will tend to swing differently than someone lower or higher. This is not exact science, obviously, but it is a way of viewing life and the effort one puts into it.

So it is no surprise that someone like myself has successes and is “good” at a variety of “things,” for I put effort into life, or at least more effort than others. So it is no surprise that I’m a decent writer, a good reader, I’m musically talented, and so on, because I’ve put time and energy into those ventures – and it’s paid off.

But life was/is hard. It wasn’t easy, relatively speaking, for me to pick up the guitar and become accomplished. I had to spend hours and hours and hours going over scales and patterns and chords and what not. I didn’t spend a few Sundays plucking the strings; I spent an entire summer, seven days a week, six to eight hours each day playing guitar, or piano, or singing. So it is no surprise that I have the skills in that area that I do, because I put effort into that shit.

It would be easy for me to say at this point that to achieve success is merely the result of hard work. To a large extent, this is true, but there are exceptions and strange things can happen. Just as a mutation can cause drastic results in skin pigmentation, so can mutations cause drastic results in life.

An example of an analogous “mutation” would be a person who is, for some reason or another, naturally disposed to music. For that person, it might only take a single summer to become proficient on an instrument. While I believe there exist people with greater dispositions in certain fields, I do not believe that this disposition can be void, or negative. I think we all are disposed to every field, with varying amounts of disposition, but I think it works on a scale of gradation. There is no zero and only positive integers. So one person could be “highly gifted” musically while another can have almost no talent whatsoever, but they can still develop talent, albeit at varying speeds and, possibly, different ceilings. It might take more than a single summer; hell, it might take four, five, or six summers, but they can still achieve some level of success.

So failure in a particular field is merely the result of a lack of effort. Person A might need twice the amount of effort necessary for Person B to achieve similar results, but they can still achieve those results.

I suppose I should be explicit about “success” and “failure.” I’m using a broad interpretation with little relevant detail applicable to real events. When I say failure in a particular field is merely the result of a lack of effort, ‘failure’ should be interpreted not in terms of material wealth or critical acclaim, but in terms of ability. One might assume that ability, at some point, entails the previous two, but that’s not the case. Some of the greatest musicians never hear their songs on the radio.

In any case, the ebb and flow of one’s successes and failures can be, to a degree, ameliorated by how much work we put in. Even someone with huge stockpiles of natural ability in every conceivable field still needs to invest time and effort, even if the amount is relatively miniscule comparatively. Everyone must work in order to alter the natural ebb and flow of their life’s successes and failures.

It seems intuitive that we should aim for the 80-100 range. I did say that the higher one is on the scale, the greater the probability of successes outweighing failures. But perhaps one finds more meaning in life when they dwell in the lowly depths of the 1-20 range. Perhaps they find something more substantial than anything observable from the upper echelons. Or perhaps they don’t. I tend to think that every range has its own merits, its own knowledge to impart, its own meaning, and that a truly meaningful life might be lived by experiencing them all. Then again, I might be postulating using some pseudo-combination of mathematical precision and thematic chronology that really says nothing about the merits of each range and only attempts to qualify them inside my own head.

In that case, I’m wrong to some and right to others. I’m contributing to someone, somewhere, even if the road that leads me to such a person is circular.

I don’t believe all of what I’ve said here is wholly true, for theories and analogies about life can never be entirely right. Furthermore, theories and analogies about life are never wholly false. They all have something meaningful to say about some aspect of existence.

What I’ve written here is merely an attempt to say something meaningful. I realize that someone with little musical disposition will be hard pressed to equal Mozart or Beethoven in any respect, but I do believe efforts towards that end are not without meaning or substance, and are certainly not wasted. If anything, maybe more meaning is available when one reaches for the stars and fails; maybe we learn more about who we are and what this shit is really all about when we try and don’t succeed. Then again, maybe we just fail, and the only meaning lies in success. But I’m not one to judge, for I’ve found meaning in both. My failures have taught me at least as much as my successes. And perhaps the meaning inherent in success is overshadowed, in my life, by the blissfully arrogant catharsis that sweeps over me in such events. Perhaps whatever education I might have received, were I receptive, is blown away by my egoistical excesses.

And then again, perhaps not. Perhaps the only lessons are the ones found when we fail to fly.

The Way of Life, Bitches

2008-11-15T14:37:00.001-07:00

I should write a book. I'm going to call it "The Way of Life, Bitches" and put this picture on the front:

Double Post! For Philippi and Co.

2008-11-14T10:38:00.000-07:00

(The first today was really long, so I'm sure no one will read it. With my readers in mind, I put the shorter of the two second so it would appear first, thus enabling everyone to read it without glossing over the other one.)

I seriously considered writing fourteen posts in fourteen days, all of which would have been sports-related and of substantial length.

The ideal situation was that Philippi and Co. would begin to read every post out of habit and friendship; but after venturing a meaningful amount of words into the post, they would be confronted with two options: either quit reading (because they're bored as shit) or continue reading (because they've made it this far, they mise well finish).

In either future, I would have won, for I would have successfully wasted 5-10 minutes of their time. And perhaps they would have been slightly demoralized psychologically, which would have been a plus.

But seeing as how I did not implement my plan, I must suffice with telling you in order to gain the mild satisfaction of knowing that you know that I know how awesome things could have been.

I win.

Well, sort of. I win in a I'm-Tracy-McGrady-and-I'm-better-than-you-unless-it's-the-fourth-quarter kind of way.

Let's Be Respectful but Honest

2008-11-14T00:34:00.000-07:00

The more I learn about the American Revolution, the more inglorious it becomes. If anyone wants to have a discussion on this, I am more than willing to bite (but of course, no one cares so I’ll continue talking to myself).

Our nation views the Revolution as something of a miracle, a momentous event in history that foreshadowed all the greatness in the future of the United States. There were the self-evident truths that would later become the calling card of the country (at least conspicuously). And since Jefferson wrote those words in June of 1776, the nation has adopted them as personal mantras and the world has known, forever and ever amen, that America stands for such things (I’m jesting slightly, people).

Then there was the Continental Army, the ragtag group of soldiers that stood up to the greatest military force the world had yet seen. Headed by His Excellency, George Washington (the mythic hero of all space and time who can do no wrong [and didn’t, surely]), the army defeated a very stalwart entity and gained freedom (the catchword of the last 200 years) for the colonies, freeing them from the tyranny of an oppressive government, an overbearing monarch, and wrongful taxation.

And finally, there was unity, great and awesome unity; it sprang forth from the Well of Freedom and engulfed the Nation so readily, so rapidly, that we came together, banded as brothers and sisters among chaos, and stood up to the Axis of Evil (Great Britain and Great Britain accessories, er, mercenaries [Scots and Germans]). We were so unified it was freakin’ ridiculous, people. And though we have had trouble over the last 200 years, we have remained one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Really, it’s a beautiful narrative, one deserving of a Pulitzer of something, or maybe the Newberry considering its childish bravado and fantasy. But in any case, the reality of it is quite comical; and by comical I mean, hella-different.

About the only thing I can agree with from the above is the first statement: the American Revolution was a miracle, perhaps even a miracle of miracles; and, most certainly, it foreshadowed all the “greatness” in the future of United States. From an outside perspective, the collective colonies were betting against the house and the house was Great Britain. And the first rule of casino gambling? The house always wins. Always. Unless you count cards. In that case, the house loses. Unless you get caught. In which case they take all your shit and beat you up. Unless you’re black. Then they kill you.

But seriously, people, it was a freakin’ miracle…at first! After some examination, one realizes that Great Britain had to fight two wars: one over land and one over minds. The war over land seemed a foregone conclusion until one recalls that America was a pretty big place back then, considering relevant spaces in Europe and such. It was a lot of ground for 40,000 British troops to secure, and ended up costing them the war. The colonies were entrenched in their own houses, and so it was very difficult to hold entire swaths of countryside because the British couldn’t control the population – they simply didn’t have enough manpower.

And the war over the minds of the people was also a foregone conclusion. A good deal of colonists were pissed off as it was, but when British troops started fuckin’ shit up, killin’ people randomly, and burning down houses, those still harboring loyalist sentiment sobered up pretty fuckin’ fast. And by sobered up I mean, grabbed a gun and started shooting back.

So the miracle of miracles is really a superficial consideration. A sober analysis reveals a less complicated plot structure. Don’t get me wrong, it was still hard and shit, but we had a lot more going for us than we all realized at the time.

But on to the self-evident truths. These awesome words guaranteed equality for all (without initial qualifications in the Declaration itself). And that’s it. Er, they were supposed to guarantee equality for all, but then people realized that they couldn’t possible let people who didn’t own land vote. Nor could they let non-whites and women vote or own land. I mean, come on, that would be preposterous, right? Oh, and let’s not forget slavery. When you perpetrate mass enslavement against a single race of people you can’t go around talking about self-evidential equality for all. But this point is well observed and so I’ll say no more.

As for these words becoming an American Mantra, I feel that is correct. We did, eventually, get a bunch of stuff right, even if it took us countless generations of obviously immoral conduct to straighten things out. We’re still a long way from a truly egalitarian society in which these self-evident truths are fully guaranteed to all, but hey, it’s a work in progress.

Now we’ve come to my favorite part, the Continental Army. We’ve been led to believe that it was made up of freedom fighters, those hardened revolutionaries who fought for justice and equality and dove nose-deep into the trenches against British regulars. This, of course, is fiction. The far majority of “soldiers” that constituted the Continental Army for most of the war were immigrants – Scots, Germans, Irish-es, and so on – who, frankly, had no better prospects. Work was scarce and the army gave three square meals a day (on most days), and so service was a good idea. A great deal of the born-in-America Americans were militiamen who mostly disregarded orders, came and went as they pleased, and tried very hard not to do much of anything. So, once again, the immigrants were doing work that no one else wanted to do. Sound familiar?

All this jabber about George Washington being the Greatest Entity in the History of the World is a far cry from the guy himself. Sure, Washington had a number of great and admirable principles that he mostly stuck to. Sure, he led the army through some awful times and somehow came out on the bright side. But he was human. He was just like the rest of us. He had his faults (SLAVERY!) and was no saint or god or king or whatever the hell everyone calls him. The faster we view him as a human, as one of us, the faster we’ll be able to realize some of his victories and accomplishments in our own time. When you put him up on a pedestal, you make him psychologically difficult to imitate.

And this goes for all the Founding Fathers, and for anyone we put ahead of ourselves on some other plane outside of our dimension, because they were so amazing or whatever. Drop the extra-dimensional superlatives and realize that they began life as a simple person, just like you and me.

A lot of the self-evidential truths we fought for, as I mentioned, disappeared into the air. The claim that we freed ourselves from a tyrannical, oppressive, and taxing regime is true. And so is this: we gained a regime that was, at times, tyrannical, oppressive, and taxing. Certainly, we were better off with the new style, but to say that we went from one extreme to the other is to misunderstand what happened.

Our Great National Unity has remained intact, so the assertion goes, since that fateful day somewhere in the years 1775-1787 when we made all this shit happen. Aside from the Civil War, whose name implies disunity, I might add, we have had our schisms, our monumental differences, and numerous episodes in which all hell could have broken loose at any moment. And those are the real miracles, the times in which we didn’t disseminate into various warring factions like so many tribes. The fact that we are still connected as a single nation is incredible and we should be proud of this. But do not assume constant unity nor a unity that permeates the whole country, at any time.

So do not say our Declaration of Independence has always rung true or that the Pledge of Allegiance speaks sacred and necessary truths. Furthermore, don’t get angry at people who point this out (like me). For if liberals are always pointing out our faults, then conservatives are always trying to hide them. (Obviously, this isn’t true in every liberal/conservative case. It’s merely a rhetorical flourish that is correct more often than not.)

What I’m trying to say is this: I’m fine with recognizing events in history for what they were, but I’m totally not fine with all the absolutes we throw around – unified forever, freedom for all, unqualified tyranny to unqualified democracy. We serve ourselves and each other much better when we throw absolutes in the trash and reveal the shifting aggregate that is history, our history, and acknowledge our faults, support our strengths, and move on to a better future.

If we continue to view our history as a sparkling, placid lake with very few ripples, most of which were minor, then we do ourselves a disservice. Make no bones about it: history will avenge itself through repetition if we sustain our current thought

Clever Title That Says Something About My Post

2008-11-12T01:26:00.000-07:00

The Lakers/Mavericks game tonight was either a turning point or an indication of growth for the Purple and Gold, but I’m not sure which (and it’s not really important). The maturity they showed in Dallas against a team that could do no wrong for the first 30 minutes was truly an improvement over last year’s team, by a mile.

When the Lakers of Last Year were down in a game by double-digits, they, like all young/immature/bad teams would start doing things outside of their normal routine in order to erase the deficit – rushing offensive possessions, shooting errant three-pointers, and driving recklessly in the lane in hopes of drawing fouls. But great teams do none of this when they are behind. And the Lakers of Last Year were no great team. They were a good team. They should have been in the middle of the pack with all the other good teams, and the only reason they looked like a great team was because the Best Player in the World started at the 2.

And this was also the only reason they erased a number of double-digit deficits. But when they did, these last year Lakers never did so in a “good” way, a way that shows how good a team is as opposed to how good an individual player is. In erasing deficits, they never showed poise or maturity, but rather, the same qualities evident in the first quarter were evident in the next three; it was simply the difference-making of #24, Kobe Bryant, Best Player in the World, that turned the tables. For Kobe’s main goal in deficit games was to “fuel a comeback.” Usually, he would score a billion points in the last two quarters, single-handedly beating the other team, or he would spark a resurgence through a nasty three-point play or a “lick-my-balls-you-stupid-defender” three point shot. In any case, it was all about him – winning the game or lighting a fire under his teammates.

For example, against the Spurs last year in the Western Conference Finals, the Lakers were down big in the first game of the series, at home in Los Angeles. In the second half, Kobe scored a billion points, shredded the Spurs’ defense, and won the game by himself. A few games later a similar situation occurred, but this time, Kobe simply made a few big plays and the rest of the team woke up and delivered a comeback win.

Last night, however, everything was different. The Lakers of This Year showed why they are a great team, and no longer the good team of yesterday. They were down by double-digits nearly the entire game, until they made a run in the third and eventually took the lead near the start of the fourth. But what fueled the comeback? It wasn’t Kobe, it wasn’t veteran leadership, and it wasn’t Bench Mob Pandemonium – it was poise and maturity.

For great teams understand that what fuels comebacks is the same thing that wins games normally: consistent play, which means sticking to the formula. When a great team goes down big, it’s usually because a number of things aren’t going well. Their shots aren’t falling, even easy ones, they’re getting outrebounded, and they aren’t drawing as many fouls as the other team. When a great team wins, the reverse is true. So all a great team needs to do is stick to the formula and play consistently; eventually, shots will start falling and they’ll get more rebounds and fouls than the other team. The negative blips, in other words, will average out over the course of a game if a great team sticks to the formula.

To see examples of this, watch the Boston Celtics against the Raptors last week or the Lakers last year where they stuck to the formula no matter the deficit and eventually won the game. Or watch the San Antonio Spurs against the Suns almost every time to see consistent play end up the winner in the long run. It’s what wins games, it’s what erased deficits in the third and fourth quarters, and it’s what makes a team great.

And this is exactly what the Lakers did last night. They didn’t do anything different over the course of the game, they just played Lakers ball every quarter, from start to finish. In the beginning, they were missing every rebound, drawing almost no fouls, and missing lots of shots, especially the easy ones. Eventually, things started to turn around and in the last quarter and a half, they outrebounded, shot a better field goal percentage, and drew more fouls than the Mavs. In the end, their game averages were the same as their season averages. All it took was time and consistent play. No Kobe heroics and no Bench Mob Pandemonium. Simply poise and maturity.

The Lakers of Last Year would have relied solely on Kobe to get something going. The Lakers of the last year’s playoffs would have occasionally relied on their Bench Mob doing crazy, unheard of things to get them through a tough game. But they never played consistent, formulaic ball. Fittingly, the Lakers of This Year do all three, and last night showed their true transcendence as a great team.

So other teams beware, especially the Western Conference: the Lakers of This Year are no longer a good team with the Best Player in the World at shooting guard; they’re a great team with the Best Player in the World at shooting guard.

You’ve been warned

You

2008-11-11T00:49:00.001-07:00

Your Creator told you to love. Your Savior told you to love. Your book, your beliefs, your worldviews – they all tell you to love. So why don’t you love?

You are greedy. You want love all to yourself. You want to love who you want to love and enforce legislation that disallows others the same luxury.

You are a bastard.

You are treason to your Book, treason to your God, treason to your Savior.

You are treason to the Love you so dearly profess.

Universal Love does not consist in keeping others from marrying whomever they choose. Universal Love consists in loving – and that’s it.

So you are a bastard, a horrible piece of garbage disguised as something better. You should be ashamed, but it is impossible, because to know shame is to be human. And you are not human. You are less than human. You are garbage.

Go through your Book and tell me where Universal Love requires hate. Go through your Book and tell me where Universal Love requires discrimination, the augmentation of inequality, the complete dissolution of the egalitarian spirit your Savior taught you to embrace.

Your arguments, your reasoning, and your “logic” all fail. Time and again, your “rational” theses about homosexual marriage stand inert in the face of true, rational thought. They stand inert in the face of Universal Love.

So you are a bastard, a horrible piece of garbage disguised as something better. Return to the woods and live like the animal you truly are.

Role Models and Bad Asses

2008-11-09T00:57:00.001-07:00

Why is it that we see athletes as role models? And further, why is it that we feel justified penalizing them when they do not act accordingly?

The dominating view is that athletes are role models because they are in the national eye very prominently and children look up to them. Moreover, they should be penalized in their respective leagues for doing things not in keeping with this view. Our children look up to them and when they do “bad” things, it tells our children such an action is permissible.

So let’s examine what’s happening here. Child A looks at Person X, sees them do Action a, and decides that Action a is permissible because they look up to Person X. The child likes a person, an athlete in this case, and seems to logically deduce that whatever that person is doing must be alright for him to do, as well. And so, presumably, they do those things.

What about books? What about TV shows? There are characters involved that children could and do look up to, ones that also do things that we would consider “bad.” Should we then make our children avoid anything written by Dostoevsky? Avoid TV shows like House which has a character you love that’s an arrogant asshole? These mediums, and others, have characters whom our children look up to; and a number of these characters have qualities we would normally find deplorable and do things we would not want our children doing. So why not treat them in the same manner as athletes?

Now, some will argue that these are all fictitious entities and so they can’t be fairly described in the same way as athletes. But the return question should be: what’s the relevance? Fictitious or not, they are role models for our children.

And what about dead people whom we look up to and view as role models? Certainly Henry Ford is seen as a role model, but he was a tyrannical boss and hated Jews. Do we tell our children to hate him and not see him as anyone special or important?

No, of course not. The problem with all this is a misaligned desire to have our children pick role models who are perfect, in every way, and that’s not only impossible, but stupid. Yes, stupid. If everyone tried to have role models that were perfect they would be disregarding that part of life that isn’t perfect, an understanding of which is essential. (And don’t tell me you can just pick Jesus as a role model; if you think he’s perfect, blow me.) When children fail to recognize that life is shitty sometimes, they fail to live in the same reality as everyone. They fail to see what it means to be human, what it means to live and die in this world. And thus they fail to live correctly.

We should tell our children to respect and admire the good qualities in all people while deploring the bad ones. So Henry Ford's ingenuity and business sense should be admired, while his ethics and Jew-hating should be despised. Or Einstein's genius, and not his penchant for adultery. Or George Bush's...wait, that doesn't work.

Anyways, I want my child to look up to Terrell Owens. Yeah, he’s an arrogant dickhead, but he’s also fucking amazing. He’s one of the best athletes in the world, he’s an incredible wide receiver, and he’s a better basketball player than half the NBA. So if my kid comes home and puts his poster on the wall, good. I’ll make sure he recognizes the arrogant dickhead part, and that’s that.

So let’s stop penalizing these guys for doing stupid shit off the field. If the guy gets caught with an ounce, so what? He gets arrested, pays the fine, does his shit for society, and that’s enough. The NFL shouldn’t feel the need to further exact justice on the guy. And they shouldn't be worried about how others view their league, either, because no one actually cares if they're all criminals, as long as Sunday is still entertaining. Can you imagine a parent saying "Timmy, you can't watch football because only criminals play"? And parents shouldn’t get all pissy about someone being a “poor role model.” If you do, shut up, you’re dumb. Teach your kid how to differentiate between right and wrong.

The End and the Beginning

2008-11-04T23:35:00.000-07:00

"[P]eople of the world - the scale of our challenge is great. The road ahead will be long. But I come before you to say that we are heirs to a struggle for freedom. We are a people of improbable hope. With an eye toward the future, with resolve in our hearts, let us remember this history, and answer our destiny, and remake the world once again."

"It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children. But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins."

Funny and Hillary-tastic

2008-11-04T13:53:00.000-07:00

A classic, a real gem.

At 1:22, I wet my pants.

Pistons Defense and Kobe the Asshole

2008-11-03T14:16:00.000-07:00

So the Pistons defense has looked interesting after two games. They beat the Pacers 100-94 and the Wizards 117-109. They're defensive efficiency rating is worse than Golden State who don't actually have a defense. They just let the other team shoot the ball at the bucket a couple of times until it inevitable makes its way back to their end of the floor.

Now, the Pacers and Wizards are bad teams, but defensive efficiency doesn't lie. They gave up a lot of easy shots. Also, the Pacers scored the same amount of points against the Celtics who lost by a billion. And the Wizards, against the No Defense Nets, managed a low 85. So the Pistons are a little rusty defensively...at least that's what Keith is hoping, I bet.

And the Iverson trade? the analysis of it is simple, and boring. But I will mention that Keith cried when he found out that his new Pistons-bench-player-who-should-play-more was thrown into the trade. Goodbye Cheikh Samb, hello Keith's tears.

And now to Kobe vs. Blazers: Or, The Most Talented Asshole on the Court vs. Some Dudes From the Park

Just to annoy Jon, I’ll talk about Kobe’s greatness for a minute and then say why he was an huge asshole against the Blazers on Tuesday.

Against Portland, he really showed his developing ability to judge the game, to decide when and what to do at every turn. He was more or less a team-first player in the first two quarters: he grabbed 8 rebounds, a steal or two, 5 assists, and only scored 6 points. And his team was up by close to 20 at the half.

In the first three minutes of the third quarter, the Blazers went on a solid run. The Lakers defense was collapsing, they couldn’t buy a bucket, and things looked ugly for a minute. At around the 9 minute mark, Portland scored an easy basket to cut the lead to seven and Kobe immediately called for the inbound pass. If they had been paying attention, Portland probably would have forfeited on the spot.

Kobe took the ball up the court and went around the Bynum pick at the top of key. Przybilla was waiting for him on the other side, right next to Bynum. Instead of going around him, which would have been oh-so-easy, Kobe went right into him, hard, drawing the foul. His reaction afterwards told the story: he immediately dropped the ball to the ref, high-fived some teammates, and completely ignored Przybilla who was muttering death threats and giving him The Stare from about 6 inches away. Kobe had planned it; he grabbed the inbound pass at the other end knowing full well he was going to go hard at the first Blazer he saw, no matter who it was. He knew it was time to shed his assist-throwing nature for the moment and score some points (and be a dick about it, too).

And the next few possessions were a testament to that prediction. That same possession he calmly tossed in a three point dagger. After a wasted Blazer possession, he went all the way to the rim, right at Przybilla again, making the layup and drawing the foul, sending Przybilla to the bench. On the replay, you can see Kobe veer slightly away from the basket in order to go into Przybilla for a foul; he has a clear path for the easy dunk, but as Przybilla turns around lamely, Kobe leaps into him and makes the acrobatic layup. After sinking the and-one, he watched the Blazers screw up another possession. Kobe then taunted Brandon Roy at the other end by standing behind the three-point line two feet from the Blazers bench. He kept pivoting his foot, over and over again, and eventually threw up another casual three pointer. I suppose the Rookie of the Year Award is rarely given for defense.

So here it is, another performance that shows Kobe for exactly who he is on the basketball court: the Most Talented Asshole. He plays the game incredibly well, judges what to do and when to do it (which is a new improvement), and then when he erupts for points, he can’t help but flip the other team the middle finger. In this case, he might as well have raped Przybilla’s underage teenage sister right in front of him. I mean, he drove at the guy twice when he didn’t have to just to draw fouls and put him on the bench. Tactically, it was a smart move because with Oden out, Przybilla was the only guy on the Blazers above 6’9”, but still, teenage sister, honestly.

So there you go, Jon. Kobe earned himself, simultaneously, the awards for Asshole of the Week and Player of the Week. Oh, and the Celtics lost by a billion. Did I mention that?

The New York Knicks: A Shakespearean Tragedy

2008-11-02T18:55:00.000-07:00

Watching the Knicks play basketball is painful. It’s like watching the D’Antoni Suns without all the good players…which means it’s like stabbing yourself in the eye with rusty, disease-ridden scissors: you’re immediately pained by sharp things being in your eye and you’re in a world of trouble later when you develop cancer or something.

The Knicks live and die by the three. They take three-pointers almost as often as everything else, and they miss about 70% of the time. Under D’Antoni, they’re doing a great job of passing the ball, but it’s ugly to see four quick passes in rapid succession (that’s double quick!) and then see Richardson, Crawford, or Robinson lob a bomb that inevitably bounces off the front of the rim into the prepared hands of an opposing frontcourt player. And that’s the best part: opposing big men know that the bucket is going to rim out or whatever and so they’re uber prepared to get the board, but the Knicks frontcourt? Clueless. They think it’s going in every time and so they’re out of sight before the ball is halfway to the hoop. If they just accepted that it’s going to bounce off way more than half the time, they could have a number of offensive rebounds and good, solid putbacks. Instead, they’re left with an empty possession and a fast hustle up the court to the other basket because of a fast-break opportunity. That’s painful to watch.

And all of the players on this roster seem ill-suited for, um, basketball. Or rather, they seem ill-suited for basketball that requires a team effort. They seem more prepared for street ball in Philadelphia than professional ball in New York Fuckin’ New York. Sure, I just said they pass the ball well, but that doesn’t mean they play team basketball. That just means the ball is moving hands. What happens is the ball moves hands, a lot, and then someone eventually decides it’s up to them to take the shot. So you’ll see the ball go from Robinson to Randolph to Crawford back to Randolph for the turn around jumper off the double team. Or sometimes you’ll see this weird circular passing thing that happens where the ball will go all the way around the perimeter and back until someone takes the misaligned three pointer (missing it, of course). Duhon will run up the court, stop at the top of the key, throw the ball to Crawford in the corner, who will immediately throw it back to Duhon (which the defense NEVER saw coming, right?), who will fake throwing it back to Crawford and instead “surprise” everyone by throwing it to Richardson in the other corner, who was open earlier, but not anymore, and still fires the three anyway.

What it comes down to is this half-hearted effort to take in D’Antoni’s system. They pass the ball well, but they still think that everyone on the team sucks and so each person will take it upon himself (or herself, in the case of Randolph [it’s the manboobs]) to drive ineptly to the basket or pull up short and take the jumper (because they see Kobe do it every night). The only difference is that Kobe is ridic (or Jordan, or Iverson, or Melo, or Wade, and occasionally James [at the pull up jumper specifically]).

Here’s an example that just happened: the ball movement was good, and eventually it came around to Malik Rose on the wing. Rose, in typical fashion, decided that if everyone was just going to pass it, he was going to take it to the rim (muttering “silly bitches” under his breath, for sure). So he dribble fakes, drives to the rim, gets by his defender surprisingly, and just past the rim he tries to do a reverse layup in the manner of Dwayne Wade. Unfortunately, his hand didn’t get high enough and before he could even release the ball, it hit the bottom of the rim (clunnnnggg!). Rose got fouled and so he had a chance for mini-redemption, but it didn’t matter; the damage was done.

What seems apparent with the Knicks is an influx of ego. Every player was recruited by Isiah Thomas in the past and given a bigger salary than they were worth, and immersed in an environment of me-first living, which automatically translated to the basketball court. All of the scandals and turmoil surrounding the organization over the past few years helped mold the players into solid egoistic basketball playing both because everyone else was doing it and because it was probably safer to think about your own neck in such a hotbed of shit and frustration. If you made better stats than the next guy, you had a higher probability of staying on when the inevitable roster implosion occurred. So D’Antoni has to work against this mountain he inherited, work against the entrenched psychological mindsets of his entire roster. They are confronted with something entirely new and in contrast with Isiah-ball and they’re not sure if they should open themselves up to it. They think it’s still safer, for the first year, at least, to play egoistically so when the real roster implosion occurs, they’re not cut.

Paychecks are paychecks and after a tenure inside Madison Square Garden, it’s unlikely other teams are going to pick you up before March. Anyone want aging, overweight frontcourt players? Randolph and Curry. Wild, shoot-first point guard with no respect for team games? Marbury. Awful, me-first ball players with little use for fundamentals? Robinson, Richardson, Crawford, Rose, blah blah blah the whole damn team

It Feels Good to Be a Lakers Fan

2008-11-02T13:57:00.000-07:00

"Los Angeles Lakers: Kobe, Kobe, Kobe. God, I'm sick of Kobe. Will he or won't he be traded? The drama never ends. But this team isn't going to be a contender with or without Kobe. Yes, yes...it's a good time to hate the Lakers."

Basketbawful.com, October 30th, 2007

"The Los Angeles Lakers won 57 games in the toughest conference in the history of everything and went to the NBA Finals after destroying the reigning champions en route."

Paraphrase of NBA.com, June 2008

Hmmmm....

Response to Jon: The Kobe Debate

2008-10-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

I UNDERSTAND IF ONLY JON READS THIS CONSIDERING ITS LENGTH.

Jon (my brother) is a Celtics fan. I am a Lakers fan. Argument is obviously a natural entailment. He has currently brought against Kobe an argument that he is a bigger douche than Garnett (in an indirect way) and, somewhat implicitly, that he hasn’t earned as many awards as others or played as well as some in certain clutch situations (knocking him in general as a player). Now, I could spend days responding, but I figure one lengthy post was enough.

(Jon's post was in the comments section of my post about fanhood or whatever)

1 Deserved League MVP (to say he didn’t deserve it is false; to say someone else deserved it more would make more sense considering your angle about CP3)
10 time All-Star (youngest player to start an All-Star game)
6 All-NBA First Team (every year since 2002 except 2005)
2 All-NBA Second Team 2 All-NBA Third Team
6 All-Defensive First Team (every year since 2002 except 2005)
2 All-Defensive Second Team Youngest player to be named to an All-Defensive team; youngest player to start a game
[Six consecutive years (excluding 2005) Kobe made both the All-NBA First team and the All-Defensive First Team]

And to address the litany of things you bring against him: Though he has no Finals MVP awards, he was instrumental in the Lakers three-peat. In virtually every game they won, and even many they didn’t, Shaq and Kobe had great statistics and made the win possible. If Shaq was fouling out or on the bench due to foul trouble, or when Shaq was sluggish, Kobe repeatedly took over the game (usually in the 3rd and 4th quarters) and secured the win. If Kobe was sluggish, on the bench, etc., Shaq would take over the game. They were totally together in every way on the court. Every time Shaq wasn’t putting up 30, Kobe was, and vice versa (and sometimes together). In fact, during the last two championship years, Kobe averaged 28 points or more during the playoffs, both years (and during the first championship, he averaged close to 22). So I’m pretty sure his relationship with Shaq was symbiotic in that neither could have come close to doing what they did without the other. People say this and state the relationship to be 80/20 in Shaq’s favor, but that is to simply be ignorant of what happened. It’s more like 60/40 or closer.

The lack of Defensive Player of the Year awards doesn’t really count for much considering only one is given out every year and he is known less for his defense than his offense; however, his defense is stellar, as evidenced by his selection to All-Defensive First and Second teams 8 times (and All-Defensive Third team twice). Also, Kevin Garnett won the award in his 14th or 15th year in the league; does that mean Garnett was only good defensively this past year? It could, but obviously for Garnett it doesn’t, because he’s been selected to the All-Defensive Team nearly every year. Kobe is the same way; he’s never won the award, but he’s been on those teams nearly every year. And how many incredible defenders never won the award or won it very late in their careers?

Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year? Really? It’s given to “the athlete or team whose performance that year most embodies the spirit of sportsmanship and achievement.” Looking at the list, they give it to people and teams who win multiple championships, win MVP’s and championships, or play the game for a thousand years (Brett Favre and Cal Ripken). Kobe embodies a few of those, but how many people embody those and don’t get selected? And what if someone’s amazing performance in one sport is eclipsed by someone else who had a greater performance? Such as Shaquille O’Neal getting the League MVP and the Finals MVP in 2000 but losing the SI award to Tiger Woods who won three of the four majors that year. The very next year, 2001, Curt Shilling and Randy Johnson shared the SI award for doing exactly what Shaq did: winning “league” MVP (Cy Young for Johnson) and the Finals MVP. And Kobe could get the award for 2008 because he got the MVP and the Gold Medal, but it’s more likely that SI would give it to the USA Olympic Basketball Team as a whole or the Boston Celtics as a whole. So the SI award isn’t a fair judge of anything, really.

He was sixth man…for what little he played of his rookie season and most of his sophomore season. But sixth man awards go to players who are really good but happen to come off the bench. Kobe didn’t attain really good status (or at least consistent really good status) until the last half of his sophomore year – his SECOND year in the league (how many can say that? Bird? Magic? Jordan? Etc.?) and at the tender age of 19 (and only Wilt Chamberlain, Oscar Robertson, Moses Malone, and Lebron James can say that). And in that sophomore year, he was runner-up in the Sixth Man award race, losing to Danny Manning of the Suns. A statistical comparison shows that he and Kobe had roughly the same production off the bench. So Kobe was right there with him. Besides, Danny Manning was 31 and an 8 year veteran while Kobe was 19 and in his second year.

He also didn’t get Most Improved because his improvements came during the second half a season; so when he came around the next year for a breakout, he had already had, technically, that breakout. It’s the same reason Andrew Bynum won’t get the award this year because he “broke out” last year, even if it was only 30 games.

You point out a few examples from a few games (out of thousands, mind you) where Kobe played poorly. But what about the many times Jordan sucked balls and his team lost? Or Jordan scored 60 but still lost? These examples are meaningless.

And SunsFanBlog guy confused the Shaq/Kobe feud, as do most people. Shaq was being a douche, always has been a douche, and everyone was fed up with it. The team had to get rid of one of them, and Kobe was younger and had, presumably, more better days in his future. The details are that Shaq repeatedly showed up for training camp out of weight and shape, never prepared; he always blamed everyone but himself in post-game conferences when they lost; and he only took credit for himself when they won in those same conferences. Shaq has always been an arrogant douche bag, worse than anything Kobe did. If Shaq wasn’t funny (and ridiculously good), no one would listen to him. That said, I still like Shaq, and always have. But to say that Kobe was a little bitch, or something, is to totally misunderstand the situation. In fact, there’s video evidence of Kobe and his teammates during interviews around that time talking about how Shaq blamed everyone but himself, was always out of shape, would sit out longer with injuries because he wanted to, and on and on. So I’m not making this up, or just believing Kobe. The team was sick of Shaq. If you want further evidence, look at what he did in Miami after one bad year: he sat most of the season with lots of injuries (that trainers have since claimed weren’t that serious or time-worthy) and then when he got traded to the Suns, he’s back up and ready to go in a day or two. So I like Shaq, but honestly, he was more than deserving of blame in getting kicked off the Lakers. Kobe deserves blame, too, but showed more poise and clearheadedness (and more love for the game) than Shaq.

And I won’t even address the rape situation; you can’t argue with an angry guy like SunsFanBlog.

So most of this didn’t address Kobe being a douche, but most of what you cited didn’t either; so it’s all good. But Kobe can be a bit of a douche (and a huge one, especially early in his career), much like anyone and everyone. But the difference between Kobe and Garnett is that Kobe has matured, somewhat; he is not nearly as much of a douche as he was five years ago, whereas Garnett is 32 and still a douche. You will recall the Suns/Celtics game where Garnett repeatedly got angry at Stoudemire, instigated a double technical, and went at him hard a couple of times for no reason (didn’t even have the ball two of those times). So while Kobe has grown up, realized some of his errors, and made amends and progress towards fixing them, Garnett still does douchy things when his team is losing, badly.

I will say that Kobe’s first two years without Shaq were awful and he was partly to blame. He had an awful team, sure, but he didn’t make many efforts to bring them up, to raise their game as Lebron has done. He quickly got over that, however, and the Lakers of 06-07 were much better, and the year after went to the Finals with basically the same squad (Gasol obviously was an addition). Farmar, Odom, Vujacic, Walton, Turiaf, Mihm, etc. have all gotten significantly better over the past few years, and the last year and a half has been to Kobe’s credit. He started encouraging them as a leader, which he hadn’t done before. I don't want to give him sole credit, for that would depreciate what each player did for themselves, but it had to be healthy having an encouraging, incredible player next to them.

(And, just for comparison, Garnett went to the conference finals in 2004 with a decent Minnesota team, but did worse than Kobe or the same every surrounding year until he was put on the Celtics. Obviously, Garnett deserves a lot of credit for the team atmosphere on the Celtics this year, but adding to a positive team atmosphere and raising the game of those around you are two different things. I would say Paul Pierce and Doc Rivers deserve most of the credit for the bench development.)

So yes, Kobe has been a giant douche bag, yes, Kobe has done a lot of stupid things, and no, I won't defend a lot of his actions over the past 11 years; but judge him by who he is, not who he was. The last year and a half, he has matured, grown as a person and a player, has said in different interviews that he feels this way, that he feels closer to his family and his children, and that he’s past all of his boyish nonsense that pervaded most of his early career. Hell, during the Finals last year after a particularly bad loss, he read a Harry Potter book to his two daughters for hours, saying it was the best thing he’s done in a while. So judge him by who he is, not who he was.

Oh, and that uncyclopedia thing was extremely crazy and very hilarious. haha Here it is if you didn't see the comment Jon left: http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Kobe_Bryant

Dr. Sir Charles Barkley, PhD (and DPhil, MPhil, and J.D.)

2008-10-27T22:59:00.000-07:00

Go here.

I've said it before, and I'll be saying it for years, so I might as well say it now, too: Charles Barkley, in spite of his awful speech mannerisms, is a very intelligent person. When you actually hear the ideas behind the broken speech patterns, whether he's discussing Dirk Nowitzki's ability to knock down the outside jumper or the issue of racism in this country, you have to respect him, have to acknowledge he knows what he's talking about.

I've heard Charles give interviews on CNN and Fox a few times, and he just recently sat down for a longer interview with CNN a few days ago, and that link up there is the transcript. I encourage people to read it and get through his disjointed sentences so you can see that this man is very smart. And not only is he smart, but he isn't afraid (and never has been) of saying the right thing,t he direct thing.

For instance, whenever he has the opportunity, he encourages black people to "stop killing each other, get an education, and don't make fun of people who are trying to get an education" (para.). And he further recognizes and points out that the main issue in this country (and the world, he seems to think) is the conflict between rich and poor. It's cliche, old, and most people hate to hear it, but it's true: we can never get away from rich against poor, haves against have nots. And Charles sees this, understands it, and wants to combat it. He even lays out the role the president should play in America, the way it "ought" to be, according to Dr. Sir Charley Barkely, PhD.

I guess I just can't get over how smart he is, considering he's the same person who read the words "I am a dumbass" on a teleprompter when the boys at TNT pranked him. He was so into his reading he read the line right off, realized his mistake, and cracked up laughing.

And remember, kids: Charles is NOT a role model (cue mid-90's music).

The Wild World of Fanhood

2008-10-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

In the sports world, you are only allowed to have to one favorite team per sport. You can only cheer for one team per sport, unless you are rooting for a team that beat your team in that sport. Also, it is preferred, but exceptions are grudgingly allowed, that your favorite teams in each sport be located in the same state/region (preferably state). Finally, it is mandatory to hate in a very extreme, almost comical way, the legendary/current rival(s) of your favorite teams, in their respective sports. If a hated rival is located in the same state as your favorite team in a different sport, then you have to forfeit one of the two teams, in one of the sports – and immediately adopt a new team with compatible rivalries.

Now, I can see why this is the standard operating procedure. Intense sports loyalties are, to be honest, very fun. Going to a game and being able to instantly relate with thousands of other people who are thinking the same things you are is an incredible experience. If you don’t like sports, pick one and get to it; it is something you will not find anywhere else. Trust me, I spent the first 18 years of my life hating sports (or at least remaining ignorant of them). Now I love them, and for good reason. And intense sports loyalties are more easily grounded, and observable, if a person only likes one team per sport. If you like more than one team in a particular state, the loyalty will be even more intense, and more recognizable (and appreciated, probably) by other loyalists. So the above rules make sense, initially.

But then I wonder about sports writers, broadcasters, analysts, and so on: these guys do what I wish I could get away with around my friends (without being ridiculed) – they watch everyone, love everyone, but still, somehow, against all odds, retain their intense loyalties. Why can I not get away with that?

Let us break it down. For whatever reasons, I am a loyal fan of the Dallas Cowboys, the Los Angeles Lakers, and the Arizona Diamondbacks.

I became a Dallas fan in 1996 (though I didn’t start following them consistently until a couple of years ago) during the Super Bowl when I was eight years old. The whole family had gathered to watch it (almost no one actually liked football; it was just an excuse to get together and eat homemade ice cream) and everyone in the room, including the children (me excluded) was cheering against the Dallas Cowboys, but not necessarily for the Pittsburgh Steelers. So, naturally, being a stupid kid who wanted to stand out, I started rooting heavily (as much as an eight year old can muster) for the ‘Boys, America’s Team. Thus was born my lifelong fanhood.

I became a Lakers fan because of one reason, which eventually led to thousands of other reasons: Kobe Bryant. I absolutely cannot get enough of this guy. I followed him a lot when I was younger, but never got into basketball. I was really fascinated, and still am, with his dominating mindset and his brain process that tells him he is always going to win. Now, that is an overly used phrase, but most times, it is misapplied; almost no one can match Kobe in this area, which is why it is aptly attributed to him. So, eventually, I fell in love with basketball, and now my school work suffers six months out of the year. People say I am a bandwagon fan, but I actually started following Lakers basketball during the two seasons they were awful, not too long ago. So, yeah, eat that, smelly pants.

And I became Diamondbacks fan because, well, I like the guys, what can I say. It would have been much easier to transfer into the Red Sox Nation because my dad was born and raised in Massachussetts and my brother has adopted his Sox loyalty, but I didn’t. I’m not really sure why; I just like the D-backs.

Now, with these loyalties I break all sorts of rules, all over the place. I’m surprised some committee hasn’t called me to testify on my own behalf before they blacklist me from nba.com forever or something. I mean, first, I live in Arizona. Both the Lakers and the Cowboys have rivalries here – the Lakers against the Suns who are in their division and the Cowboys against the Cardinals which is a huge game every year (mainly because there are as many Cowboys fans as Cardinals fans here). Also, the D-backs have division rivals in California, the home of the Lakers: the LOS ANGELES Dodgers and the San Franscisco Giants. So things are pretty much ugly on this front.

So how do we reconcile it? Well, honestly, we don’t. But I have to say that what drove my fanhood, initially, is not regional loyalty or some sense of patriotism for my city or something, but rather, my interest in players. I was driven to the Lakers by Kobe, I was partially driven to the D-backs because of Brandon Webb, and I was helped along, over the years, towards full-fledged Cowboys Fan status because of people like Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin, Terrell Owens, and Deon Sanders. And, while we’re at it, I have a billion players in every sport whom I take a great deal of interest in, and thus, I enjoy when their teams win (unless it’s against one of my Fav Five Minus Three). And so, my Celtic sports gear a little bit ago, while simultaneously holding a very strong loyalty to the Lakers, was seen as heresy. I liked Boston because I like Garnett and Allen. When I realized how big of a douche Garnett could be, my loyalty to the two players slipped, and the shirt and hat haven’t been seen in public in quite some time.

But that’s what should happen. Or, at the least, should be allowable. As long as I keep my original loyalties, and never waiver, what’s the big deal if I root for other teams (conflict-free, that is)? I wanted the Hawks, desperately, to beat the Celtics in the playoffs last year, and why? Because Josh Smith made me want to shit my pants every time I saw him play. And I wanted Phoenix to beat Dallas because the more I get to watch Amare and Steve Nash, the better I feel. But in the end, if the Lakers don’t win, I’m pissed (and I was; ask Keith – we didn’t talk basketball for three weeks).

So let’s not let intense fan loyalties blind us to the merits alternative forms of sports worshipping. They are all acceptable, and should be allowable publicly, and not just in private. (I know every guy on ESPN is like this. And what about coaches? Do they ever ditch their childhood loyalties, even if they coach for some other team? I’m sure they do.)

And some predictions, why not. Lakers win the championship if they stay healthy, and Kobe wins second MVP even if the team doesn't stay healthy. Diamondbacks due worse next season than they did this season because they failed to engineer a system in which they are able to keep all their good players. And the Cowboys are a mess, but I’ll give them a 70% chance of reaching the playoffs once Romo comes back, assuming they don’t lose three straight or something (which scares me).

John McCain's Struggle

2008-10-22T20:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed how John McCain seems like he has lost his soul? As in, literally lost that possibly existent thing we all talk about as holding those intrinsic and specific ideals that make us unique? The John McCain of 2000 (or hell, 2005) was strikingly different than the John McCain of 2007 and beyond – but we all know that, it is old news. But have you ever looked at the man?

There are telling moments when he seems physically pained; it is almost as if his mind is tearing itself apart. He has turned against so many things he strongly believed in before (or at least strongly supported) and it is as if his entire person has not acclimated yet to the new approach. You can tell, after watching enough videos, that his perpetual and giant smile is forced. He has a normal smile, as do all people, but the politician smile he never acquired until recently. Usually, John McCain, when not speaking, will have a solemn, pensive look on his face; I have seen it dozens of times. Now, however, when he is not speaking, he wears this large, overly extroverted smile and after enough viewings, you can see where his face twitches a bit, where his cheek bones struggle to stay as close to his eyes as possible, and where his eyebrows look as if they want to sit down for a bit. Before, he used this smile when speaking, or when laughing, and so on, but now that it is a constant adornment of his façade, it is tiresome, to us and him. This is merely the beginnings of the deconstruction of this man, a simple external feature.

Watch a portion of a speech or a response to a debate question that concerns the Bush tax cuts as well as something else. When speaking about the other issues, he carries himself with a certain air, speaks with a certain confidence and familiarity that you see in people who are sure of themselves, sure of what they are saying, and feel a certain intimacy with it. When McCain begins arguing the positive aspects of a policy that renews the Bush tax cuts, there is a change, sometimes subtle, sometimes very obvious. His sentences flow less smoothly, his sense of intimacy with the subject lessens, and his demeanor seems to shift slightly. Deep down, he is clearly not comfortable with what he is doing and it is tearing him apart.

Watch him give stump speeches at rallies. Watch him stumble through those call and response segments where he gets the crowd fired up and motivated to sustain their fervor through the whole speech. Those little games, those little toys and tricks of political speeches that involve stating a certain position or a fact, listening to the crowd react unfavorably, and then tearing it down to great applause and cheers – they do not sit well with John McCain, who is clearly unsettled every time he has to sustain a broad smile for forty-five minutes while giving some awful speech that is short on details and long on rhetoric (and not good rhetoric, either).

Compare this to Barack Obama, who also favors a different kind of speech-giving, who is more comfortable espousing the ins and outs and ups and downs of policy than the Martin Luther King, Jr. rhetoric that soars above the universe. The difference? Obama does not show his discomfort. In the 90’s, Obama was an awful speech giver; he would drone on and on about policy and laws and the constitution, boring the hell out of his listeners. It was only when he met a guy (whose name I cannot recall from memory) who told him what he was doing it all wrong and encouraged him to educate himself on “the great speech givers” and their techniques. Soon after, Obama began perfecting the rhetoric he is very well known for today and the rest is, as they say (I usually do not say, however), history. Though Obama would rather write an essay for the Harvard Law Review about the inherent vagueness of some constitutional principle, the reasons the Framers wrote it as such, and the positives of such a framing, he foregoes his own longings and gets the job done He feels much better dealing with details, wrapping his mind around the ins and outs of a problem, and working it all over like kneading bread dough. There is a certain pleasure to it, and a rhythm that develops that becomes intoxicating, and I am sure that is one reason Obama finds it so appealing. But no matter how uncomfortable the rhetoric may seem to him, he finds a way to get through it without anyone noticing. McCain, however, has not.

So why is John McCain so opposed to these changes? It seems that he has a very strong loyalty to his principles. Whatever his principles may be, he likes them best and wants to stick with them. And this should come as no surprise and should, after all, seem rather intuitive, for the conservative mind has a stronger tendency to place importance on things like loyalty and tradition. Irrespective of the pros and cons of such a mindset, it is the way it is. A liberal mind, for contrast, is going to tend towards ‘tolerance’ (or what they see as tolerance) and change (or what they see as change). So it is no large surprise that McCain would find such changes as he has been making throughout the campaign to be uncomfortable and unnerving. This also explains why Obama can so easily disguise whatever discomfort he may have in shifting positions to reflect the center on issues or engaging in exorbitant amounts of rhetorical speech at rallies: his mind is naturally more open to change and new ideas, so it is easier to accept certain things to gain ground.

So whether or not I agree with John McCain’s principles, the man has them and he strongly wants to stick to them. But he is also a rambling, gambling man, a straight-shooter who “does what he wants,” so to speak. I honestly think he tends towards maverick-ism because he likes standing out. He did so constantly during his military service; he was considered a brash, young buck of a pilot, sort of a Tom Cruise/Top Gun character. So maybe the reason he originally opposed the Bush tax cuts was because he was still steaming about his demonization in the Republican primaries and wanted to stick it to the President – it would make him a maverick, a standout among the crowd, just what he has always been.

So when he modifies his positions to look like a standard Republican candidate, it must eat his heart up inside. It must feel like some acidic disease is slowly devouring his organs, gradually assimilating destruction to his entire body. His spirit must be crushed every time he repeats a party line, every time he compliments Sarah Palin, and every time he shuts his mouth and lets his advisors do some dirty work.

So watch McCain next time, try to notice the little ticks, the changes in intimacy and familiarity, the constant struggle to sustain that inhuman smile. Watch him and feel his pain, feel his hurt, feel the emptiness in the room as he searches for his soul from among a sea of devils (though he may be one as well). Watch him die on stage, for Pro-America America