On saying 'no' to the black & white brownies.

Yeah fucking right.

Detox.

Alright, after a week of eating everything that I felt like eating, topped off with ribs, cake and beer tonight with J&A, I'm going into detox starting today. If I do happen to go out for New Year's Eve, I will not be drinking; I figure it may well take me three weeks of constant diet and exercise to make up for my week-long binge, and the sooner I start, the better. I satisfied my cravings, so now, I just have to say no to the black & white brownies. I love them hard, but they don't love me.

Rockstar.

The birthday present from my parents. Any resemblance to Bono is entirely by design.

On coming back from a week of homecooking.

I currently have in my kitchen, approximately, five thousand pumpkin bars, sixteen thousand brownies, a thousand pieces of fudge, and enough chicken and noodles to fill a large tub. You know, give or take.

Crackpipe.

This. Is. Hilarious. And just in time for the Holidays! Have a good weekend everybody; I'm in Humboldt until Thursday the 29th (my birthday), so do be merry and joyful and enjoy the assload of food.

Layers.

So I was watching this fantastic movie today, Layer Cake, starring the new 007 Daniel Craig, and my biggest celebrity crush Sienna Miller (despite her still smoking those blasted cigarettes). Anyway, it's a very slick, very clever movie (and fits in nicely with my recent British kick), but the ending took the wind right out of my sails. I hate to give it away, but seriously, it's one of those things where you're watching and thinking 'Ah, I hope they wrap this up in good order' and then the ending comes and the only words out of your mouth are "Fuck me."

It's still an awesome film, but bloody hell.

Career.

So I've considered it before, but after reading this NY Times article about premium drinks and the bars that serve them, I think I might just forget about journalism and professional politics and such. After all, the tip on a $1,500 cocktail would help soothe the realization that I won't change the world. Besides, it's probably a great career; you have an excuse for sleeping in, plenty of downtime to read and exercise, and you get to laugh at the little yuppies and hipsters as they waste away into the night.

PS: In the recipe for the 'World Cocktail': 4 Drops of 23-carat edible liquid gold. My ass.

The long awaited slippery slope finally presents itself.

Indeed.

Think about it. Many Jews weren't keen on leaving Germany because they figured the rampant anti-Semitism would blow over, and heck, they'd survived plenty of other storms in the past by keeping a low profile. And even as the SS pushed them closer and closer to the abyss, people thought "this is it, this is the absolute bottom." It is a pretty long way from relegating a people to particular professions, to forcing them to register and wear Yellow Stars, to putting them into ghettoes, to killing them, isn't it?

So we fight erosion of civil liberties at every turn, no matter what the justification from the State might be. That is the 'eternal vigiliance' of which Jefferson spoke. The Constitution doesn't guarantee any rights. The Senate doesn't safeguard our liberties. The President doesn't protect us. Only we the People do. Once we abdicate our responsibility to be skeptical of our government, to engage in oversight, to scrutinize its every deed, we lose that liberty we're supposed to defend.

Game Over, Pt. 2.

Atrios is on fire. As, indeed, we all should be.

"You're talking shit."

Ladies and gentlemen, let me be very clear: this is the most brilliant show I've ever heard in my life. And by brilliant, I mean absolutely demented.

Game over.

On the subject of the president knowingly violating the law, this says everything I want to, and more.

Well read.

I started this book at the very beginning of the semester and I swear I'm going to finish it within the next week, so that I can then finish this book. Then I'll get around to finishing a few others, like this one, and perhaps this one, and then I can get around to starting this most important book (while knowing that I need to finish this other most important book). And if I have some downtime, I might finish the post-WWII period of this book too. But that might be getting a little greedy.

Mmm, coffee.. Pt. 2.

Now they have a competition for latte art.

"As long as I got a job, you got a job. Understand?"

RIP John Spencer, 'Leo McGarry' on the West Wing. Perhaps fate deemed that I spend the last two days watching West Wing DVDs for season two, which may have been the greatest season of any television show in history. Not five minutes ago I watched the end of perhaps the most cinematic TV episode ever, 'Two Cathedrals', and I then logged on only to find this tragic news. For those of you familiar with the episode, it ends with a fitting song while McGarry and the rest of the staff watch Bartlet put his hands in his pockets, look away, and smile at the question of whether he would run again for president. John Spencer was the backbone of that show; his acting, personality, and charisma was of a finer calibre than most others in the business and friends, that is indeed saying something.

Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it’s written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We’re fools to make war
On our brothers in arms
–Dire Straits, 'Brothers in Arms'

Congressin'.

Via Eschaton, this congressman gets his priorities right; too bad the rest of the House has its head lodged between the buttcheeks of Rupert Murdoch.

Mrs. Claus.

Dammit I love Christmas.

Process.

So I've realized that applying for graduate school sucks. See, last year I didn't get to the part of the actual filling out of the application forms; I had only had recommendation forms sent in and taken the GRE by the time I decided to call it off for a year. But now I'm trying to get these two schools (NYU and SFU) taken care of before Christmas, and today I find out about another program: the Globalization Studies track in Dartmouth's MALS program. It really sounds like it would be right in my wheelhouse, as I'm all for interdisciplinary approaches to modern history, poli sci, sociology and, *cough*economics*cough*. And it's not due until 15 Feb., which gives enough time to round up yet another batch of recommendations if I choose to shoot for it. But definitely no warm-weather options this year; the deadline for USC's Politics & International Relations PhD program has already passed. Had I been up for committing myself to five more years of this stuff, I would've jumped at it.

As if I'm not gonna be immersed in politics and international relations for the next five years anyway. Dammit, at least I would've gotten paid for it *and* lived in Southern California. It might steal your soul, but maybe I'd finally get a tan.

On obsessing over my weight.

This morning at the Rec I weighed in just over 141 pounds, which was a little lighter than I was expecting considering my lack of cardio exercise lately. I'll probably work out every day until I leave for home next Friday evening, and during my week at home I'll probably go to the Rehab & Fitness Center a few times until I come back on 30 Dec. Considering my weakness for elk steak, mashed potatoes, homemade bread, cookies, and anything else my mom sees fit to cook, I'm curious as to what my weight will be when I go to the Rec again on 3 Jan., so please feel free to state your guess in the comments. Hey, blogs are for nothing if not overwrought vanity; myself, I'm gonna go with 143 pounds, if only because I'll force myself into a massive calorie deficit within the next week.

I may need help.

Tidings of comfort and joy.

One of the things about not having TV is that you miss the little things, like this 'War on Christmas' exchange between Sam Seder and Bob Knight (no, probably not *that* Bob Knight) that Atrios managed to capture for us. How the Santa Claus/Al Queda link somehow escaped us is beyond me.

I'd very much prefer not to take these people seriously, but I have a feeling that sometime soon I'm not gonna have a choice. I knew this whole thing was out of hand when Bill O'Reilly a few weeks said that 'Every business in America should be on their knees thanking Jesus for being born and giving us the Christmas shopping season.' Because yes Bill, the non-existence of day-after-Thanksgiving sales is the only way our world would be changed in the past 2,000 years had Christ not been born. What an ignorant pusswad.

Is there any place I missed?

create your own visited states map

From Keith!

Kal-El.

I was reading, for reasons passing understanding, this message board about the content of the new Superman Returns trailer, and somebody asked why there would be flashbacks to Clark Kent's youth if the movie is a 'semi-sequel' that supposes he has been gone for a few years after the first movie ends. The response was that people need to be reintroduced to the character.

Reintroduced to the character? It's freaking Superman. Hello? Truth, justice, the American way? Unnecessary cape and ridiculous briefs? We know the guy, alright. But that doesn't mean we don't like watching hijinks about learning to fly and seeing gratuitous shots of how flat Kansas is.

On the Morality of War and the Power of Words, or: What I want to be when I grow up.

Since I was a junior in high school I wanted to go into journalism. No, I didn’t want to just go into journalism; I wanted to be absorbed in journalism, to be a throwback to the old-school guys, to be Henry in The Paper who finally gets to yell ‘Stop the presses!’ This went through several phases of wanting to be, in order: a cityside reporter for the New York Daily News; the next Hemingway; a correspondent for the New York Times; a page designer for really any major paper; an assistant editor for Rolling Stone; the next HST; and finally a page designer for a major magazine, before I finally burnt out and dropped out of the J-School (which was a primary motivator for coming to KU in the first place).

It’s a little odd, yes, considering that most of the past decade of my life has revolved around journalism to the point that I was recruited out of Humboldt to start and being the founding editor of a community college newspaper, that I would then give up a prime slot in journalism school. But by the time I got here I just didn’t see the J-School as giving me the guidance and education that I craved; I felt that at least majoring in history or poli sci would give me the tools I needed to truly understand the world around me. The journalistic training could come on the job. Thus I decided that my only contact with journalism would be in token slots as an editorial board member for the Kansan, while I pursued what I thought would be my actual calling: a PhD in sociology, leading to a professorship and the possibility of writing books exposing and destroying the idea of American exceptionalism.

But always in the back of my mind was that twinge of envy when read a barbed, reasoned column in the Guardian, or saw a stunningly designed magazine or front page (a fix that not even two years as designer of the Jayhawker can seem to cure). I had been reading the works of Lewis Lapham, Frank Rich, and James Fallows for a few years, and appreciated the depth and breadth of their columns and essays enough to know how they achieved it: years of study combined with writing whenever and wherever they could. I realized that I had, in a pique of purity and indignation towards the state of journalism and J-Schools in our modern society, perhaps gone about this the wrong way. Reading Hendrik Hertzberg last winter confirmed it.

I bought his compendium, Politics: Observations & Arguments, 1966-2004, last August, but due to the pressures of 18 course hours (plus said yearbook duties and the hassle of a crash course in applying for grad schools) I didn’t get around to it until winter break. While I read it all in the matter of a week, it was not one of those books that hit me right away; the wit, the complexities, the vitality, and the process of reflection that Hertzberg used in his writing were all notable at first glance, but they took a while to sink in. So did the issues he wrote about.

A year later and I’m still rereading his essays, much more so than I am with any other writer (and considering the guys I mentioned above, that’s saying something). I could say that Hertzberg and Lapham and Rich have influenced me to apply to the School of Journalism at NYU, specifically its Cultural Reporting and Criticism master’s program, but more importantly it was the understanding that they crafted their style to get their positions, and then used the freedom of those positions to use that style to its greatest advantage, that pushed me towards that program. (Realizing that I’m not ready for a five-year doctoral commitment now, despite how much I love social theory, was also, admittedly, a factor.) Will it all be moot if I can’t figure out how to pay for a year and a half in NYC, attending a graduate school of journalism? I hope not, but whatever the outcome of the next few months of waiting, I’m pretty sure that this gut feeling is the right one; it’s possible that by burning out and dropping out of the J-School, I’ll end up with an even stronger love of journalism, and a better intuition for where it’ll take me.

••••

I bring all of this up by way of responding to a recent blog posting by my colleague from this summer, Vince Myers. Vince is a committed conservative, as he has made clear many times, and I have found his writings to be thoughtful and clearly rooted in his ideals. On the issue of Iraq, we have a history of clashing over U.S. policy and the future of that nation in the midst of a continued insurgency.

When I said that reading Hendrik Hertzberg’s book didn’t fully hit me at the time, one of his essays was an exception then, and continues to be today. Though written over two decades ago while Hertzberg was editor of the New Republic, his “Why the War Was Immoral” is I believe a classic in essay writing; the demolition he delivers to the twin pillars of the rationale behind the Vietnam war is as stunning in its brevity as it is in its ethical & political examination of that turbulent time.

Hertzberg finds that with Vietnam, there were those two pillars to why we were there: the geopolitical and the moral. He exposes the geopolitical ‘domino’ theory for the straw house that it was: our Cold War understanding of Communist aggression/expansion was rooted more in fear than in reality. It was combined with the notion that we should continue the war in Vietnam because to pull out would show weakness: “We said we would fight, therefore we must fight: at many a juncture along the way that logic seemed compelling. But it was not a compelling reason to fight forever. Our guarantees were not worthless. It was the war that was worthless. (35)”

Dispatching this, Hertzberg than focuses on why the war was said to be moral, because it would save South Vietnam from communism. “And to the extent that the war was fought for this aim, it was fought for a moral aim. But this says no more than that the war was fought with good intentions rather than evil ones, which is saying very little. If good intentions were enough, there would be no neoconservatives. (35)”

He finds in examining the moral case for war that for it to be sustained, “the war must be judged to have been winnable–winnable, moreover, at a lower cost in suffering and death and than the cost of a communist victory. (36)” But as he explains, there had to have been a point where victory can be reached, where the cost-benefit balance tilts our way, where the suffering can be justified, where North Vietnam would have given up. This point didn’t exist.

“If the North Vietnamese were willing to accept limitless casualties, if they were willing to pay any price, than the war could not have been won except by the physical destruction of North Vietnam and the killing of a large proportion of its people. … Of course no American wanted to kill everybody in Vietnam. Americans are not monsters. But Americans are not losers, either. Americans are winners. But the logic of winning in Vietnam was inescapably the logic of genocide. We did not lose in Vietnam. We chose not to win. (37)”

In writing this essay Hertzberg is responding to Norman Podhoretz, who wrote that victory was beyond our the moral capabilities. “Yes, it was beyond our moral capabilities–except that what he understands as a moral failure I understand as a moral success. It wasn’t cowardice that finally impelled us to quit. It was conscience. (37)”

••••

One of the things that always infuriated me about the anti-war movement was the ‘No war for oil!’ signs and slogans. The mindset that the war was all about material gain, about staffing the oil fields with Halliburton men and stacking the tax rates in favor of foreign contractors permeated the entire movement before the war started, and refuses to go away. It is a dangerous, debilitating mindset, one that has hindered the movement in ways that they don’t even understand yet. Because, you see, the war was in fact about oil.

Not in terms of seizing tankers and bringing back $1.20/gallon gasoline; that would negate the need for ANWR. No, the war was about oil in that it was about power; if the world is a chessboard, than the Middle East is the center four squares. Control it and you dictate the rest of the board; you don’t even need to occupy those squares, but simply have your knights, rooks or bishops in a position to strike with one move and reestablish dominance.

In the middle part of the century, we wanted control and friendly relations with Middle Eastern nations in order to satisfy our oil needs as we became a superpower engaged in a struggle that would eclipse all geopolitical rivalries before it. To have access to the petroleum reserves would allow our military and economy to function at full-out expansion; anything less was unacceptable. And thus we chained ourselves to sultans and monarchs who governed with an iron fist, just as we allied ourselves with murderers and despots in Vietnam and Latin America to curb ‘aggression’.

Now, however, it’s not our oil needs that satisfied, but the rest of the world. The Middle East accounts for a fraction of our total oil inflows; the lion’s share of our petroleum comes from this hemisphere, with Canada as our biggest supplier, followed by Mexico and Venezuela (Hugo Chavez will be a topic for another day). But, the rest of the industrialized world isn’t as diversified as we are (or perhaps simply doesn’t have the kind of sway that have historically claimed within this half of the world). The European Union and Japan have been much more dependent on Middle Eastern oil for the past few decades; the East Asian tigers revitalized that part of the world and in a hurry during the 1990s, and caused massive economic and social changes to their nations. Now the elephants are stirring; India and China are ever increasing their economic output, which means industrialization, which means new money, which means cars. Lots of them. And no emissions standards to hold them back either.

By holding onto the center of the chessboard, the U.S. is desperately clinging to its power over the developed and developing world. Keeping military units in stationed in the Middle East allowed the U.S. to effectively say to those industrialized countries “You want to step in and take care of this? No? Okay then.” When we invaded Iraq, it was a further step to reassert our control; by grasping to a geopolitical (stopping the spectre of Islamic fundamentalist theocracy) and a moral (spreading democracy) framework, we bet the house on the prospect that the rest of the world would respond and work with an America that has only the best interests of the world at heart. It is clearer now, more than ever, that we have lost that bet.

Thus my frustration at the protestors I mentioned above; they are looking at the world through glasses that do not fit anymore, and thus they fail to address the greater injustices of a global culture that allows for despots and democracies to operate unhindered in the guise of neoliberalism. I do not subscribe to the theory that we are in the midst of an American Empire; I believe we had our empire, and are now on the tail-end. Our economy is showing signs of strain that were not thought possible in the late 1990s; every day trucks full of U.S. hard currency roll into the Chinese central bank to finance our debt. Brazil will surpass us in agricultural output by the end of the decade; we are losing our industrial capacity in the name of unfettered global capital; we are eroding our scientific and technological edge in the name of intelligent design. Our moral credibility decreases with each new mention of black sites in Europe and elsewhere; we have failed to heed the lessons of Abu Ghraib and Guantánamo, and in so doing consigned ourselves to a shame that could have been avoided had we heeded the lessons of the Trail of Tears. Our military is tied down in Iraq to the point that we may be witnessing in front of our very eyes the destruction of the modern volunteer army, and certainly the national guard system; if needed to operate in a theater of war in the near future, there is much reason to fear the responsiveness of units and troops called upon to fight a war by people whom I swear to God seem to have never read a history book.

There is reason to debate policy in Iraq. There is reason to believe that our policies are not working, just as there is reason to believe that perhaps we can pull it out. But any and every discussion must start with a frank and solid grounding of our aims and our capabilities to fight and ultimately win in Iraq. Is there a point at which we can claim victory in Iraq? This presumes that the insurgency will eventually draw down and fail; this presumption, in history, has been the cause of too much suffering and destruction to keep rolling the dice. How much is enough? A half a trillion dollars and 3,000 U.S. soliders? A trillion dollars and 5,000 soliders?

Too often we look at the cost-benefits and try to find that magic equation that will solve everything, but terror and democracy and nationalism can’t be plugged in like regular integers. They are factors that govern the actions of men more so than armor plating or dollar bills, and thus they are beyond our capabilities to control or fight. The North Vietnamese were prepared to sustain losses we couldn’t even imagine in order to drive out what they perceived as an occupying army; in throwing numbers at the variables, we failed to see the absurdity of the equation. At the time we could explain and justify it, but how can we do so now?

Seriously people, what the hell?

I haven't posted anything about the whole Paul Mirecki situation, hoping beyond hope that cooler and brighter minds would eventually prevail. I was wrong.

Pod people.

I don't know whether to be impressed or frightened. Via Coudal.

GRE, One Year On: Is it possible that I'm dumber now?

Last December:
Verbal: 630
Quantitative: 610
Analytic: 5.0

Today:
Verbal: 580
Quantitative: 670
Analytic: ???

Damn adaptive mode testing; the first five or six questions basically determine how high a score you'll get, and with the verbal it's all so random with regards to what vocabulary you're gonna get thrown at you. At least universities in Canada don't require the GRE. Score!

Dammit, Pt. 2

I can't believe I forgot to celebrate my one year anniversary on Facebook. I mean, I celebrated Annie's birthday (and my last overnight shift at Oliver) last night with a CoB at Tim's ghettoplex, but this totally slipped my mind. When I think about the amount of time I have spent on Facebook over the last year...wait, no I don't want to think about it, because I might start weeping.

Holes.

Freaking Italians and their fashion ideas.

Actually, it's pretty cool; the Winter Olympic medals since 1992 have been very creative and aesthetically pleasing, and these are no exception. The ribbon is particularly inspired. My faves have always been the Lillehammer medals with the disc of granite, though the execution of the Salt Lake medals was very well done (they were also hyooge).

Holy #@*$!

If you're registered with the NY Times, then you must absolutely watch the video clip connected with this article about Reggie Bush, the standout running back at USC (which was always my hopeful alma mater; no offense to KU) who is also the presumptive Heisman winner. The seven and half minutes of video is from his high school days, and it is some of the sickest football footage I have ever seen. The number of plays in which the man is able to elude an entire defense is mindblowing; it's literally like watching a Bruce Lee movie, where he just takes guys one at a time. And stay for the end of the video; the punt return at the end will make you laugh yourself silly.

Eh?

It's days like these that start to make me wonder: And I want to move to Canada?

Course, Vancouver surely isn't that bad. And I very well could have been the only person in this country Thursday morning watching Parliamentary debate on the vote of no confidence on CSPAN. It was exciting television though; they allow heckling and applause, there are four parties represented, and most of all, every once in a while somebody starts talking in French without setting a car on fire.

Travesty.

Take a look at this bowl schedule. Nevermind the sheer number of bowl games, or the product tie-ins and sponsorships, and cast your eyes towards the bottom of the schedule. Anything pop out at you? Look out of place?

THERE ARE NO GAMES ON NEW YEAR'S DAY!!!!

Yes I know that New Year's falls on a Sunday, but that's never stopped things before; I distinctly remember the Rose Bowl being played on a Sunday while the Tournament of Roses parade was held on Monday a few years back. For the life of me I cannot understand what is happening here; it was bad enough when they decided to make the national championship game on 2 Jan. instead of the First of the year, just to bump up the ratings. Then it was 3 Jan., then 4 Jan., then last year the Humanitarian Bowl was played after the BCS title game.

The best idea I ever heard for college football was to make the regular season end on the first Sat. in December with the conference title games and Army-Navy. The next weekend you start an eight-team tournament at the sites of the higher-seeded schools, with the losers in those games slotted into the Sugar and Fiesta Bowls while the winners went to neutral NFL sites (such as Giants Stadium or Arrowhead) for the national semifinals the next weekend. (And while we're on the subject, is there not a cooler term in all of sports than 'national semifinal'? I consider it one of the reasons why the NCAA basketball tournament is so very special, but I digress.) The two teams that lose in the semis would then play in the Orange Bowl, while the national championship would be in the Rose Bowl, every year, starting at 4pm PST on New Year's Day.

Would it be perfect? Hell no. But in the California sunshine, after that glorious parade, who the hell would care?

On spreading holiday cheer.

I think my reindeer ornament needs a name.

Incomunicado.

Been out of town for a few days. Somebody say something about bowling?

El Frente.

The NTLF is dead. Long live the NTLF!

The beast within.

Via Atrios, a frank look at ourselves and our seeming ease with torture.

When the smoke finally clears, and we can see past that dramatic day on 9/11 and put the threat of islamic fundamentalism into its proper perspective, I wonder if we'll be able to go back to our old ethical framework? I'm not so sure we will even want to. It's not that it changed us so much as it revealed us, I think. A society that can so easily discard it's legal and ethical taboos against cruelty and barbarism, is an unstable society to begin with.

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

And they say cartoons are for kids.

Plastic.

The people who make the baggies that the cereal comes in inside the box need to get their fucking act together. That is all I have to say about that.

True colors, pt. 2.

What this guy says.

True colors.

I've never trusted Bill O'Reilly. I couldn't stand him or his show, his books or his falafels, but up until now I thought him as really nothing more than an annoyance. Now, courtesy of this transcript at ThinkProgress.org, we see just how O'Reilly feels about his fellow countrymen.

There are too many disturbing comments in here to truly do justice to, but it is the overall tone that is most illuminating, the tone of righteous indignation that some people would dare to challenge the notion that we are in the midst of "World War III." This is a man who best exemplifies the words of the movie The American President: he claims to love America, but clearly can't stand Americans.

"Many women enjoy visiting bars and having men buy them drinks in exchange for a casual conversation."

Via Pandagon, the (soon to be) world's loneliest idiot asshole.

Quantified.

From Keith! Damn these things are addictive.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.1
Mind:	7.6
Body:	7.8
Spirit:	7.1
Friends/Family:	5.3
Love:	2.9
Finance:	7.1
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Antidisestablishmentarianism Industries.

The title of the movie is Copy Goes Here, in case you didn't catch it from this page. These people are wondrously clever, and if you don't check their regular site every day, it's past time that you did.

The new-ness of it all.

If you're wondering whether or not you're at the wrong blog, well, you might be right. I changed not only the look but also the title and subtitle; Hemingway is gone (but not forgotten), and I put in his place a quotable of my own. Blogger didn't have many to choose from, but I'm very quickly warming up to this; the only downside was the loss of some of my customizations on the sidebar, but that's okay. It's good to be reborn every once in a while.

In other news, chicken and noodles, with a hefty slice of homemade bread to sop up the juice, is incredibly fucking good. Also, bear shits in woods.

What does this picture say to you?

I love the Veer website; it's cute, it's dynamic, and goshdarnit they make some cool t-shirts. They also have this cool little survey up. I happen to be Smack in the Middle of Popular and Independent Thought. Which I guess explains my infatuation with both Rainer Maria and Kelly Clarkson.

That's it.

Being as this marks the second time that this has happened now in the span of about six years, I think we can now conclude that Kansas just said that it no longer wants its students to even think about going to the likes of a Berkeley, Michigan or NYU, let alone a Stanford, Harvard or Princeton. Furthermore, there are billions of dollars to be made in medical and biotechnological research in the future, and this state will get none of it. Way to think this one through guys!

Where's the instant replay when you want it?

"And if NFL cheerleaders can get summarily fired for drunken lesbian bathroom sex, well, that's not the America I grew up in." - A blog comment on washingtonmonthly.com.

I imagine these girls will be getting a call from Miller Lite soon.

Vengeance is mine.

Keith! has a poll going on. (scroll down a bit) Those who have voted against me shall die a quick, silent death at my quick, silent hands. Not to in any way intimidate those who haven't voted yet, of course.

Precious.

You brought a joy to our lives that cannot be equalled, and will not be forgotten. We love you and miss you dearly. Rest in peace.

Shoot me.

I am now in my 25th straight hour of being awake. I am also a little sore from working out especially hard this morning in order to induce fatigue, thus facilitating sleep (in theory). And the Nebraska drumline is literally in the parking lot across the street. In the words of my good friend Strong Bad: "I thought I knew what ridiculous was, until this day."

The perfect conversation.

At Oliver, this morning around 1:45am:

Ryan: I want to become a ninja.
Kyra: *seriously, quietly* You could totally do that.
Ryan: *just as serious* Yeah.

What's next, books?

I was informed this afternoon that the KU libraries are cutting back on their newspaper subscriptions. Not the New York Times or the Lawrence Journal-World, but the newspapers that one usually can't find at their local Borders, such as the Mail & Guardian from South Africa, or the Indian Times, or other assorted publications that are essential not just for researching those areas, but also for helping international students keep in touch with home. I was told instead to look online for the M&G when I asked about what we're supposed to do for those foreign newspapers. God I'm sick of this university.

Political ninja strikes back.

And to continue the point from yesterday, Harry Reid gives 'em hell. Me wonders if Bill Frist even knew about Rule 21.

Tricks.

No trick-or-treaters tonight. I'll have to find some use for all this crack I had purchased to hand out. Damn kids; since when did they learn to say no to drugs?

Political ninja.

And it's worth noting, while we're on the topic of the Supremes, that Harry Reid, the Senate Minority Leader from Nevada, is fast becoming my favorite politico. While I've previously mentioned my disdain for the Democratic Party itself, and some of the various interests that have strangled it, I still retain a lot of respect for certain Democrats: Eliot Spitzer, attorney general and future governor of New York; Brian Schweitzer, governor of Montana; Barack Obama, Senator and rising star from Illinios; and, as I seemingly betray my indie credentials, Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts, who has made a passionate, lifetime cause out of achieving healthcare and education for those left behind by the machine that is our national economy.

I add Senator Reid to the list because of the masterful way in which he has been playing the game in DC the last few months; his skill as Minority Leader has been below the radar for most of his term, but beginning with the Miers nomination he has shown the Republican Party his true face. Reid suggested Miers to President Bush, and on the day of the nomination came out and spoke highly of her. Then, he sat back and watched as the conservative movement began to tear itself apart over this 'stealth' candidate for the high court. When the nomination went down in flames last week, Reid was able to stand up and ask that if Miers couldn't satisfy the radical wing of the GOP, then what? Through his devotion to the Senate's role to advise and consent–meaning that he has regularly sought to work with the president on nominations of this sort–Reid has provided plenty of cover for the Democrats and the moderate Republicans to safeguard the Supreme Court. It is political jiujitsu, the way it's supposed to be done. I think Reid should wear a Batman costume tonight.

Hearts and minds.

The Kos has just posted the perfect summary of what the battle for the Supreme Court means for the nation. Course, I'm actually of the opinion that Roe should be overturned for several reasons, notably because it won't change anything, but also because of why it won't change anything: a clear majority of the population does not agree with arch-conservatism. If the reactionary right wing of this country thinks that they have the votes, or that the electorate will agree with them, then I say let them shoot their load; it's about time they learn Democracy 101, and it oughta be the hard way.

Journalism, Canadian style.

I've often been both intrigued and impressed with newspapers from the other English-speaking countries, but none more so than Canada. The Toronto Star publishes probably the neatest Sunday paper in the world, while the sheer diversity of the national dailies and their front page treatments is refreshing in a country that practically encourages blandness. Today's Hamilton Spectator is a case in point: I could never see the Kansas City Star or the Dallas Morning News trying something like this.

The last time I saw this type of a front page, it was The Sun in London printing, on the day of England vs. Brazil in the 2002 World Cup: 'This page is cancelled. Nothing else matters.' Well, I think the editors in Hamilton found something that matters more.

Jeebus, Pt. 2.

I just now saw a black Hummer drive past with a Mizzou logo painted on the side, three Mizzou flags flying from the windows, and a tiger tail hanging from the rear windshield wiper. Honestly, what the hell is wrong with that state?

Jeebus.

Missouri man arrested after machete attack in downtown Lawrence

Yes yes, there is obviously more to the story than what the headline reveals, but the question still remains:

Why didn't we let Missouri secede from the Union when we had the chance?

Revisions.

"Kent State Natl Guard Fends Off Violent Protestors." Excuse the quality of the graphics, but the main point is still very much right on target. Via the Kos.

Bandwidth, Pt. 1 & 2.

Today is some annual band competition and festival over at Memorial Stadium, which means I've had to put up with freaking high schoolers and their drums for the better part of the day. At least I was able to find the publishing/typography/design section of books at Watson Library to spend an hour combing through every shelf and title. Such a nerd.

And I just looked up my broadband summary for how much bandwidth I've used from the cable company. My monthly fee includes 6GB of bandwidth; on this, the 22nd day of the month, I'm approaching 7GB. iTunes and the Apple trailers page are really killing me here. Yeah, that's it.

Many chickens were harmed in the production of this.

Last night at J&M's, after suffering for two hours for our correct order to arrive, then digging into six meals for less than $20:

Jeff: This is my dream: a Chinese buffet in my house! If we had a heat lamp and a sneeze guard, oh my God!

Ryan: You realize we have five different chicken dishes here? And we only ordered three of them?

Michelle: So we're pretty much sharing at this point.
Jeff: Yes yes, the three meals in the middle are community food.
Ryan: Mao you bastard, eat your heart out.

See and be seen, Pt. 2

This is getting ridiculous. Upon leaving work this morning, and with a print of the proposed yearbook cover in hand, I ran into Joah in the Union and walked her to class, then on the way back passed by Kathy from this summer (though it didn't seem as though she recognized me). This afternoon I walked to the library to return books and passed by my journalism professor from three years ago now who still knew my name from a 500-person lecture class. And of course, most pleasantly I was returning to class in the Fraser Hall basement during break and saw dearest Mischa studying on a couch. So I sat with her and we had our usual great/packed conversations where we cannot stop talking before I headed back to class, whereupon I realized that they were all waiting for me to return so that we could get on with it. If I had known that I would've stayed longer with Michelle to discuss the red fishnet stockings. Oh, oh yes.

Shocked, shocked I tell you!

To find that people actually still drink Budweiser. Two words people: Shiner. Bock. Or, Boulevard. Wheat.

And just to pile on even more: "Anheuser-Busch says the game's instructions called for water to be consumed during play, not beer." Hmm, I doubt anybody tasted a difference. BURN!

This is not the way it was supposed to go.

The 'victory lap' was supposed to be a joyous jog through my extra year at KU, not the stumbling bumbling fast walk that it is in danger of becoming. Though I got one of the few perfect scores on my Latin American history midterm yesterday, I got less than exemplary marks in my other two classes: a 61 in Feminist Theory and a 76 in Religion & Society, both curved by the way. What happened? Ridiculous study errors. I forgot that I was allowed a cheat sheet in my Theory class that would've allowed me to write down the authors of our 20 articles with said articles and main ideas; without that, I lost 30 points on the first page alone of the test. And in R&S, I was frazzled by that history class that I did a quick review of my notes and failed to grasp that cults and new religious movements are the same damn thing, thus costing me essay points. Granted this is one test, and it is easily balanced out by the second tests (which I will know how to study for in a much better and efficient manner) and the papers that are due in both classes, but it is disconcerting to sit there for an hour and think 'Dammit, am I gonna have to drop this now so it doesn't bring down my GPA?'

These scores are but the latest in a series of doubts I've had about whether this year was a good idea or not. My original plan back in March was to stay here for a semester and take a few classes (because I was already locked into my lease again and had a job lined up for the fall), before going off to some big city to get an internship at a journal or publishing house. Then I decided to do the yearbook again and the 'extra year' was born. But it turns out that my jobs are not hardly the type of challenging/satisfying work that one would like, the yearbook is giving my fits in terms of dealing with our new publisher, and everybody is still looking at me funny like 'What are you still doing here?' I am now asking myself the exact same question.

Oh I'll stay and finish this out; I've never been one to back down. And it's not like things would be any simpler had I decided not to stay for the year, but in the back of my mind I'll still wonder about the roads not taken. It remains though that there is a job at hand, and I must complete it. I'm still bored to death, but at least now I have a challenge. There is nothing I cannot stand more than the idea of professors thinking that my abilities and understanding are lacking (same goes with yearbook publishing representatives); it is time now to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I'm all out of bubble gum.

Now they tell me.

Via Kathy (side linkie):

You Should Get a MFA (Masters of Fine Arts)

You're a blooming artistic talent, even if you aren't quite convinced. You'd make an incredible artist, photographer, or film maker.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

See and be seen.

Upon sitting down on Wescoe Beach for the first time this semester, within two minutes I saw one of the guys from the Duke TiP staff, somebody who just graduated from my high school, and one of my editors from last year. Considering the odds, I think I'll be investing in some Powerball tickets for Wednesday.

Caveat Emptor.

Why does the Jayhawker cost $35 with a bunch of pictures I could take on my own?

From the 12 Oct. Free for All in the Kansan. But he had to pay $35 to find that out! Hahaha! Sucka!

Superheroes are made, not born.

To be honest, this is Dave Egger's truly heartbreaking work of staggering genius. Now if only the rest of society could step up to the plate.

Holy Crap! Pt. 2.

Apologies to all of the Nobel Prize winners, but I do think this is much more deserving. Via Coudal.

Dammit.

Holy crap!

I'm sure the champagne is being poured in College Park today. As soon as I saw the headline 'Game Theorists Win Nobel Prize for Economics', I thought of Lee. Suffice it to say, one of the winners is a professor at Maryland, who 'showed ''that a party can strengthen its position by overtly worsening its own options, that the capability to retaliate can be more useful than the ability to resist an attack, and that uncertain retaliation is more credible and more efficient than certain retaliation.''' Thanks to Lee, I kinda understand what that all means. I *knew* there was a reason I started rereading Naked Economics yesterday...

Things I Love, #37.

The utter chaos and resplendence of "I'll Believe Anything" by Wolf Parade, off their new album Apologies to Queen Mary. The first 3'45" are all over the place, leading to a final minute of straight-out, clear-cut rock, and yet it all has purpose, driving forward towards not just anything, but something. Perhaps even everything.

On running stairs in 35 degree weather.

Hey Mr. Cold Front,

You know that guy running the stairs in Memorial Stadium this morning? Yeah that was me. How do you like them apples? Notice that sweatshirt and pair of windpants I left sitting on the bleachers? That's what I think of your near freezing temperatures; I got by just fine with my tights, Nike Pro tee-shirt and a long sleeve shirt. It's called layers you lazy bastard. Was that really all you got? Think if you plunge the mercury down from a low of 70 when I ran stairs on Tuesday to 35 this morning that it's really gonna stop me? Let me tell you, my friend; it's gonna take some freakish combination of ice, snow and lightning to keep me from putting in 45 min. of launching myself up those stairs. And I'll believe that when I see it. So good try sucka; don't feel bad, cause you're not the first to fail in this particular endeavour.

–Ryan.

PS: If you could kinda take it easy on the wind chill next time, that would be great. Thanks.

Talent.

Forget Lance. I'm talking about the t-shirt designers (bottom of the page).

Upside down.

This weekend was most unexpectedly spent rereading an oft-ignored section of my bookshelf: Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. When I read them a few years ago I thought they were the greatest books ever written, and even though in the span of time since I had somewhat renounced nearly everything Rand wrote in favor of, the same thought has remained in the back of my mind:

The Cub Tracks 2001, the first issues of the Greyhound Express, the Jayhawker MMV and 06: They exist because of me. I made them possible. I did them because I looked at a blank sheet of paper and thought what could be. No other reason was needed.

Being at a crossroads in my academic & professional life, it was an almost mindblowing experience to reread the words of Howard Roark and Gail Wynand and Francisco d'Anconia this weekend (even if they are all bloated characters in very bloated books); it will take me some time to make sure I am comfortable with my political leanings (if I have any at all). I can state this: I have been done with the Democratic Party for a long long time; in fact, I may have never even started. Tom mentioned that he is a 'libertarian socialist' the other night on the phone, and I liked it at the time, but still have difficulty saying it with a straight face. It's a conflict for me: I agree with many facets of libertarianism, but I can't seem to shake my hope/belief that government can and should provide a safety net of such proportions as to make capitalism work even better. After all, "Free trade stops wars. And you figure out a way to fix the rest." All I know for now is that I want to go into publishing, and I want to do it as quickly as possible so that I can create, and edit, and earn money, so that I may live the life of unbridled joy and passion that I always wanted. To read Rand, no other reason is needed.

Other notes on the weekend:

• Had a great time Friday night with my friend Julie from the staff this summer, which continued through much of Saturday morning. In doing so, I made my first return appearence at Abe & Jake's Landing since the infamous 'Night of the passing out on the sidewalk before walking home in the darkness without getting run over and the next morning discovering a gash across my chin, the creation of which I'm still clueless about.' Needless to say, none of those things happened again.

• Wanted to study. Tried to study. Should have bloody well studied. But alas, it was of no use. I will go into my Feminist Theory midterm on Tuesday after half a semester of not taking notes. I know the theory, but there's so many names. Get used to this phrase: I've done graduated, suckas!

• Same goes for work on my Latin American conflicts paper; however, I will try hard on that because I might need a good recommendation from this instructor. In all liklihood I won't need it, but it never hurts to have a hyooge ex-marine who got his PhD in three years tell people that I'm his best student ever.

• Discovered the most incredible music in a long long time, and this includes Arcade Fire, Interpol, DJ Tiësto, and even The Decemberists. But I'm keeping it a secret, for only a select few as I deem worthy of listening to such sublime works of art. Or for whoever asks me.

Might as well be a parking lot.

Lower Manhattan will receive more retail space now that the planned International Freedom Center is no longer being planned for the WTC site. I'm not nearly as into the politics and particulars of whether this is for the best in terms of what Lower Manhattan needs, but I wanted to share this quote from the NYT article (registration req'd):

"The International Freedom Center was an obstacle not simply for the families, the first responders and all those who were personally affected by the events of Sept. 11," Ms. Burlingame said in a telephone interview, "but for all Americans who will be coming to the World Trade Center memorial to hear the story of 9/11 and that story only.

As a historian (as well as an American, a lover of peace & liberty, and a general man of letters), I take great offense to this. The story of 11 Sept. 2001 simply cannot be separated from the timespan of world events or the blanket of geopolitics and social issues that surrounds it, nor should it. If there is one thing that history teaches us, it is that no action takes place in a vacuum; events have both precursors and consequences. There was going to be a museum already dedicated solely to what happened that day; that we have lost what may have been an exquisite venue (and perhaps the only one of its kind) to bring about an increased understanding of why and how is to me just a further continuation of the tragedy.

Way more indie.

Than I'll ever be. Via TMN (in side linkie)

On meeting up with somebody you haven't seen in far too long.

Thank you; we really must do it again sometime soon.

PS: Damn you Starbucks. I swear you people are evil.

The end of me.

I'm already in love with the liquid form; now a low-fat, low-sugar popsicle? Starbucks really is going to take over the world; coffee-bloated carcasses with frozen smiles will be laying about the place. Starting first with my own.

This does not bode well.

Three times in the last five hours I've tried to go to sleep, and the one time I succeeded I was promptly called by a fundraiser from the Kansas Order of Police, or what the hell ever. Why was I trying to sleep at 5pm? Because tonight is my first eight-hour, 11pm-7am security shift at Oliver. So here's to becoming a zombie by sunrise. It won't be the first time I've gone 24 hours without sleep; the most recent occasion was a date in KC with a girl whom I stayed up with until 6am, watching three movies and drinking chai as the snow fell.

Aside from work this morning and aborted attempts at sleeping this evening, the rest of the day was rather spectacular. My good (and longest-active) friend, Lori, came in from Hays, as her boyfriend was attending a conference in our fair town. We met up at 11am and went downtown, where we walked around to build up an appetite (and where I ran into Mily on her way to class) before I introduced her to the glorious bounty of Free State. We then went to Borders and looked around, before going to a design shop on 8th St. where I found a most amazing café; it's on the site of the Nova Cyber Cafe, but I'm sure it has a new name (I just don't remember) and it serves food, much of which sounded so very good. I'm going to try to make it there for breakfast this weekend; maybe tomorrow morning after I get off work and do my exercise, unless I'm, you know, actually tired. Afterwards we came to my apartment where I gave her a copy of my Jayhawker, the Annual MMV and we had some of my mom's cookies which she had graciously mailed for me and J&M–oatmeal raisin and peanut butter! Lori and I walked across campus to the union where her boyfriend was at, and we talked for a bit before they went onto KC for a weekend of sightseeing; I do hope they make it to everything they want to see.

Me? I get homework and a weekend of diet and exercise to make up for all of the eating out I've done this week; granted it was all in celebration of something or other (such as mi bicicleta which arrived on Monday and which Jeff generously built for me on Wednesday), but that does not make the calories go away any quicker. And yes, I am acutely aware that I should not be worrying about my weight. Hence the title; see you when I'm awake.

Hahahahahahahaha...

...hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

From the rooftops.

Good Night and Good Luck. Paradise Now. These two movies should be shown in every theater in the country for free this fall. The Republic would be the better for it.

Yes it's inspired, but so very creepy..

Marc Jacobs better be an alumnus of Penn State. That is all I have to say. (click on the Spring/Summer 2006 show link)

Beer Volcano.

It's been one of them days; glad to know that some people are out there spreading the truth.

Lee, you know what we said about shooting lightning bolts from our hands?

Honestly, how I am supposed to do homework when I stumble across a headline like this?

Semicolonic.

I *heart* semicolons; everybody else can suck it. See how easy that is!

Mmm, coffee..

Now this is art. Courtesy of things magazine [in side linky].

The greatest week in the history of newspaper redesigns.

A new Sun rises in Baltimore, courtesy of NewsDesigner.com. This confirms it: I am a nerd.

This is insane.

The Guardian, in celebrating today's switch to the Berliner format, is now offering their subscription-based digital edition for free to all users for the next two weeks. Should England win tomorrow in the Ashes, I may wet myself.

I should really be sleeping right now.

But for a (maybe) 12min. nap this morning, I've been up now since 1:30am when I was woken up by a party outside before having to go work at OliHall at 3am, where I was until noon except for an hour off to take said nap and eat breakfast. The sleepiness hasn't struck me yet though, so I've exercised, ate some lunch, watched an episode of Family Guy, talked to Michelle, talked to my parents who are taking it easy this weekend after dad's surgery, and then watched a bit of football with the new neighbors. And now I find this excellent blog post that may not be the last thing I put on here related to Katrina, but I think it's a good capstone piece on the choice now facing America: are we going to take these people at their word ever again?

Inspired.

The biggest design change I have ever seen is happening on Monday. That the Guardian (heretofore referred to as the best English-language newspaper ever) is switching from its current broadsheet size to the Berliner format has been known for quite a while. What wasn't known was how categorical and extreme the redesign would be.

In a word: Inspired. Brilliant. Extraordinary.

This is a make-or-break gambit for the Guardian; while other upmarket papers in Britain have seen substantial gains in readership when they switch down to the tabloid size, this is still seen as a risky move for the Guardian. Why? Because the Berliner is not a size most people are familiar with; there's concern over how it will fit in boxes and on newsstands; and because in a country filled with several national daily papers that are all now tabloid, it might've made sense to remain the one lasting broadsheet (ie: the Wall Street Journal here retaining its 15" width when everybody else is going the USA Today route down down down to 11.5"). Anyway, I think this is a stunning effort across the pond, and I do hope that the Guardian will have a great Ashes headline to mark the new era on Monday.

Some Kansas pride, thank you very much.

Jeff just pointed me to Demockratees, which has some of the best t-shirts I've seen in a while. I may have to make a run on these shirts soon and get into the game; with Dear Leader now at 40% approval rating, this is not the time to rest up.

Bloody brilliant.

Wow, first post from work; how exciting. Um, right. So, with the Ashes entering its end-game at the Oval, and England standing naked in the gaze of history with a chance to beat Australia for the first time in two decades, I took it upon myself to learn the rules of cricket. Which I did for the most part before I read this, which goes beyond cricket to the heart of pretty much everything.

Accountability.

Just to be clear so that everybody is on the same page: holding our leaders accountable for the actions while in office is not a blame game. It is, in fact, the essential and most crucial part of a democratic republic. Yes we must work hard at the rescue and recovery operations on the Gulf Coast and prepare for the rebuilding of New Orleans, but there are quite a few people in this country and in the government who are not piloting helicopters, digging through rubble, identifying bodies or handling logistics at this point in time. Those people are therefore able to ask and investigate questions of 1) who was responsible and 2) why they failed.

Nobody is blaming a hurricane on the president; they are, however, concerned about the state of readiness that he has promised to the nation in regards to a catastrophic event. They are not blaming him for the flooding of New Orleans, which would've likely occured in a reduced state had the levees been completed; they are asking why he felt the need to eat cake and play a guitar while it happened. We are not saying that the president should himself be danging from a helicopter to rescue people; we simply gasp that he would keep said helicopters on the ground for a photo op when the evacuation was in its most harrowing stages.

And this is not even getting to the fact that FEMA Director Brown still has a job. And that Dick Cheney is just now letting us know that he still exists. And that Condoleeza Rice was shoe shopping and taking in a Broadway show while Germany and Canada were offering expert flood rescue assistance, aid that was denied until it became too embarassing and dangerous for us not to.

Any mention of a 'blame game' is quite simply bullshit. Mistakes are allowable if they are quickly remedied and learned from. However, if there is anything we've learned about this Administration, admitting a failure is worse than the failure itself. And that is our tragedy.

Choices.

Vacation:
North America v. South America.
Europe v. Oceania.
Western Hemisphere v. Eastern Hemisphere.
Urban v. outdoor.
Wild experiences v. sublime reflection.
Strangers v. solitary.
Water v. land.
Vancouver v. Patagonia.
Sau Paulo v. Hawai'i.
Kayak v. café.
Museum v. hike.
Sport v. camp.
Spain v. Germany.
Sweden v. Iceland.
Alps v. beach.

Life:
Teaching v. publishing.
Coaching v. editing.
Devil I know v. Devil I don't.
MA now v. MA later.
NYU v. Simon Fraser.
GRE v. no GRE.
Magazines v. yearbooks.
Writing v. photography.
Internship v. school.


This is not funny.

In pictures.

I'm normally not one to keep banging the drum on something, but this must be understood.

Literally all the time.

I just listened to FolkAlley.com on my iTunes for the past six and a half hours. Even when I was taking my nap at 7pm. Awesome.

What if?

The latest post by my good friend, Lee, whom I have the utmost respect for, deserves all of the pairs of eyes that can read it. I won't add anything that I didn't in his comments, except to say: what if terrorists had bombed the levees along Lake Ponchartrain and flooded a New Orleans that wasn't evacuated? If I was capable of shuddering even more after this week, it would be at that thought.

Is it possible?

I went out with Michelle last night to get some coffee (or in her case, some piña colada mix) at Java Break, and while discussing my recent propensity for an organic lifestyle, she asked if I'm becoming a hippie. This took me aback at the time, but thinking about it today I started to worry. Indeed, I do spend more and more time in the natural foods aisles at the store, and I've been eying these particular Nike Considered boots; but I've also been looking at getting a scooter for wherever I move to after Lawrence, I've been buying New Belgium beer due to their impressive environmental record, I've had a recent kick for wanting to go outdoors and be one with nature, and I've been listening to FolkAlley.com nonstop. Am I really becoming a hippie? I knew Chipotle would come back to bite me in the ass someday.

Averting their eyes.

Again, CAP provides the most comprehensive overview of the issues facing us with the aftermath of Katrina. Atrios is also on fire, and for good reason. If some people aren't and I mean impeached when all of this is said and done, then I have no more faith in the Republic.

Ri-goddamn-diculous.

This posting by Kevin Drum and the continued fine efforts by the Center for American Progress are incredible, if only because they further illustrate the point that must be made crystal clear: the people in charge of our national government are completely and totally incapable of either understanding reality or making action. I believe we may be at the point of criminal incompetance.

To be expected.

The scope of the events of the past week in New Orleans are beyond my abilities to properly accumulate or reflect upon here, so I'll point you to a couple of my favorite blogs who are assessing on what I know best: the political ramifications. This is by no means to reduce the utter devastation and chaos of that region: we are hearing reports of dead people in the streets, women giving their babies to federal officials because they can't get out, no water, no food, certainly no electricity. Those are the things that need to be taken care of; what I mean to write just a few sentences about is how effectively that is being done.

Which is not at all effectively, and unlike previous events, we know exactly why that happened. Some will say that this is no time to be politicizing the disaster, or to be pointing fingers. I say fuck you. This is a city that lies below sea level, next to the sea. It has faced many potential calamaties before. Every level of government knew what could and would happen should one of the most powerful storms of recorded history strike New Orleans. What President Bush said this morning is a lie, and he damn well knows it too. FEMA had response plans ready to go at the beginning of the decade, but we know what became of that.

This is much too jumbled to be a good post, and for that I apologise, so for now I'll just say this: this needs to be politicized. This is indeed the very essence of a political matter. People are dead and dying, a city is in ruins, and the person who could've done something about it was eating cake and playing a guitar while New Orleans was nearly swept out to sea. The nature of his response is beyond shocking; it is now expected.

The people of Louisana would've liked to have had their National Guard on hand this past week; they would've liked some federal money to have gone towards finishing the levee system; they would've liked for more helicopters to be available for rescue and recovery operations. In these respects and many many more their leadership has failed the most basic test of any legitimate government. But you wouldn't know that from the conservative commentators among us, whose absurdities you can find on Eschaton and Washington Monthly and Daily Kos, to name a few, who claim that the people who were left in New Orleans in large part deserved their fate because they didn't leave. That they were poor, had no means of transportation, or no means to sustain themselves outside the city is not deserving of relief, only scorn. That they are taking bread and water because the government is not providing it after five days is still 'looting' to these pundits. Can't these people respect private property?! Can't they just die?!

My heart goes out to every single person in Lousiana and Missisippi, and to everybody that is affected by their troubles, and I wish beyond anything else that I had the capacity to help relieve this tragedy. But that's in the hands of the people who refuse to be destroyed by this, who will refuse to let a city like New Orleans remain submerged. A nation will have their back.

You'll like this.

One hundred and one things about me, probably a good 60% of which you might already know (70% if you're particularly lucky).

Scheduling. *to be said with the British accent so as to make the 'ch' soft*

Starting after next weekend, I have a rather weird 'every other weekend' shift schedule at Oliver. On 'A' weekends I'll be at the desk from 9pm-midnight on Saturdays, then 9am-3pm on Sundays. On 'B' weekends, I'll blast through a 3-7am security shift on Saturday mornings, come home to workout and eat a bite of breakfast, then head back to handle the desk from 9am-noon. So vastly different circumstances for each weekend, but that's exactly how I want it, because there are concerts and football games and such things to be had. Or, you know, sleep.

'This is Oliver Hall.'

By 1am this morning I was suitably scared with the sheer volume of information and procedures that I had to know for my newest job: deskie/security asst. for Oliver Hall. Afterall, I was only a third of the way through my first shift and I had been blasted with numerous responsibilities. But then the 'trial by fire' portion ended and all of the kids went on their way, and I realized that the real fun occurs on the security shift from 11-3am, which I have tonight. That's when, during rounds, one gets to go around and write up people for being loud or drinking in the dorm. Not that I want to do paperwork, but I think one good experience of a late-night beer bust will be good...if only because I didn't get to do that with Duke TiP this summer. We have a meeting tomorrow night where we will get to pick our regular, permanent shifts for the rest of the semester; I am hoping beyond hope that I can get 9am-3pm on Saturdays and Sundays; I'll take anywhere from 3-9pm if I have to, and I suppose I could handle the midnight-3am as long as it's the deskie shift.

Some of you might be asking 'Why a deskie? Why a third job?' The short answer: Because I want to take a trip abroad (my first) next May, after classes and before Duke TiP starts in June. The longer answer though is that two of my jobs – deskie and graphic designer (for the Union, which I started last week) – are meant to cover enough of my living expenses this year so that I can use my yearbook salary for the Big Trip as I've taken to calling it. Living expenses means, of course, food and such, but I've also found some necessities such as a new pair of adidas casual shoes and some new bootcut jeans, as well as a watch, various other clothing items, and perhaps an object of desire off eBay. This, however, comes after paying off the credit card bill for la bicicleta.

What is the destination for the Big Trip? This is one of the two things that has been racking my brain during the past week (the other being an issue of such yearbook geekdom that I don't know whether or not I could even bring it to a forum like this). As far as destinations go, Barcelona is the absolute top of the list, and has been since I was, oh, about nine years old and watching the TV in a transfixed state during the summer of 1992. Over the years I have read and heard so much about it that, instead of making me fear an anticlimax when I do actually go, has only whetted my appetite. However, I am rather ambivalent to go to such a wondrous city by myself; it just seems like the sort of place that one should experience with a good friend (or perhaps more than a friend), considering the amount of time that I would like to be there.

The other question with regards to this vacation is what I hope to do with it. Barcelona would be amazing as an urban setting unlike no other, but part of me would like to see and enjoy some unbelievable nature through hiking and kayaking and such activities. Stockholm is on the shortlist, as is Iceland, as I think I would enjoy the cool Scandanavian feel, especially in May. On the other side of the world is New Zealand, which I've heard nothing but exceptional things about with regards to the bountiful scenery and things to do in said scenery. If I already had some background in mountaineering I would strongly consider Patagonia; if I had learned how to kayak I would think about the Greek Islands. The Vancouver area, a bustling hip city with plenty of water (obviously) and Whistler-Blackcomb nearby for hiking, might be ideal for the activities I want to do, but is not someplace that I would consider 'abroad.'

So I don't know. I am leaning farther and farther towards Spain as I read more about excursions outside of Barcelona (please, as if I would have time once I get embedded into Montjuic and Las Ramblas), and as I reread my still well-kept copy of The Sun Also Rises. If only I had thought to take some refresher courses in Spanish this year and also a night class or two to give myself enough hours; I think that would've worked out well. But these things always look better in hindsight. And that's enough for a Saturday; enjoy the weekend all.

And just like the movies.

I've always been a fan of the Apple Trailers page, especially lately with the unbelievable new films that are coming out soon. I actually wonder if I'll be able to see all the ones I want, of which you can just go down the list: Little Manhattan, Jarhead, Shopgirl, Two for the Money, The Constant Gardener, Proof, Lord of War, Thumbsucker, Walk the Line, and perhaps most exciting of all: Rent.

Say hello to 5:50am again.

Gotta exercise sometime. Hell, if nothing else it'll get me into the frame of mind for working my midnight-3am shifts at Oliver this weekend. And yes, that is a plural.

Anyway, goodnight all; it's been a grand summer.

18,726.

Again via Coudal: the answer to everything I've pondered over the last 22 years of my life. Not that I really follow on the math, but there are some big words in there so I'll trust the guy.

Unintended sexual innuendos, Pt. 1 of hopefully many many more.

While picking up my diploma in Strong Hall today, I passed by a bulletin board that asked the eternal question: Is America a melting pot or a tossed salad?

My money is number two, but then again I just live in Kansas.

Seriously people...

This is bullshit. Via Coudal.

Home.

Yesterday while in Humboldt:

Ryan: You have plenty of years left; you can do lots of things! Just name something and do it!
Mom: Bring peace to the Middle East.
Ryan: *pause* Yeah, that's likely.
Mom: Hey, I know! How about play with my grandkids?! *stern look* Oh, that's right...
Ryan: *longer pause, stares into space* Alright, the first thing you need to do is study the historical context of Middle Eastern conflicts, then you can get to the contemporary situations and figures involved...

Pop rocks.

I've said more than a few times this summer that Kelly Clarkson pisses me off. Every time she comes out with a new single I think "Okay, this will be the one that sucks." But 'Miss Independent' is the only one that I hate; all the rest since are absolute winners. I went crazy over 'Behind These Hazel Eyes', and I'm loving 'Since U Been Gone'; the girl rocks out, and now I can't wait for the next one.

Goodbye.

For all of the heartwarming smiles, the amazing women, the fantastic wit, the Blockbuster trips, the piñata busting, the outstanding guys, the Munich conquests, the jello snarfling, and the most wonderful times that a guy could have, thank you so very much. Each of you touched my life this summer, and all of it for the better. You will always be in my heart of hearts, never to be forgotten or replaced. You all brought out the best that I had to offer, and I could not have possibly asked for any more than that. The luckiest man in the world drove home from KCI this evening, crying to be sure, but also smiling at knowing that for two months, he got to be part of the most special thing he has ever known. And friends, that ain't bad.

Melancholyonthedaybefore.

Duke TiP 2005 ends in a couple of days and I am experiencing a maelstrom of emotions right now. I had no idea what I was getting into at the beginning of June, and now I absolutely do not want this comraderie to end. Having the opportunity to meet and befriend all of these great people is truly one of the best things that has happened to me; for the first time I felt like I was surrounded by a group of highly qualified, totally committed individuals who were all so very very funny and amazing. And we all welcomed each other into this fold, and some occasional hiccups notwithstanding, we sooo made it work.

But most of them will be leaving on Sunday or Monday, after our staff party Saturday night (which unfortunately counteracts with J&M's wedding that night, so I have to miss parts of both). I do have a sense of sadness at opportunities missed this summer: to go out more, to exercise better, to tell a girl (or several of them) the things that I never seem to be able to say.

Last night we had a compliment meeting, where we open the box of compliments and read them aloud for the whole staff to hear. It's supposed to be for small things like 'Good job with dinner duty' or 'You guys rocked with the dance decorations', but I used my compliments for a few people to overarch the entire summer. There is no way I was able to say all I wanted to to these people, and perhaps I never can, but I can state right now that my life will never be the same after this summer and these people, and perhaps all that matters is that they at least know that.

Storytime with Ryan.

So the kids made piñatas the other night...


But they were ugly...


So we decided to redecorate...


And we did...


And it was good...


So we played in the office...


And we played some more...


And it was good...


Until we got fired.



For more on our glorious evening, Keith's Flickr.

Kansas, my ass.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

With sincerest regards, my time in Lawrence is complete. After shopping today for new clothes, I was driving back home when I saw a man walking towards Mass St. He was wearing only a sheet around his waist and long white gloves on his hands & arms, while carrying two paper sacks. I kept looking for a sandwich board warning of impending doom but those belonged to the 'Honk for Choice' ladies on the other side of the block.

Wally World.

Tonight at Wal*Mart:

Lee: I can't figure out which one is stonger! I mean the Mega is definitely less strong than the Mega Mega, but you have Maximum, Ultimate and Extreme!
Ryan: If you have a 1-10 scale, you can't have three different kinds listed as a 10! It's not right!
Lee: I'm gonna have an anyeurism! I just need a light-medium, but it's giving nothing but extra and super. Does a 7 count?
Keith: This LA Looks is in a 7.
Ryan: But that's a different brand; would a 7 there count as say a 9 over here?
Lee: Gaaahhhh!!

Keith: I think we should take Carol's candy and pour it in the pinata.
Lee: We can't. It's locked.
Keith: You always ruin my plans and dreams.
Lee: I'm a realist.
Keith: Damn you and your logic!

At McDonalds drive-through:

Cashier: Pull up to the parking spaces right up there and we'll bring it out to you.
Lee: *looking at the sign for said parking spaces* What the fuck!? You can't have a sign that says Drive-Thru Parking Only!
Keith: Two spots!

Winner.

In honor of Keith's linkie & write-up...
Saturday night, TiP Dance:

Ryan: So you got pulled down here by Samantha and Carol?
Keith: Yeah, but I was reading in the bathroom when they came up. So they had to wait. Therefore, I win.

Afterwards, during 'Aerobics' practice:

Lee: This part is very important; we have to be flawless people, so focus.
Keith: *in back row* I can't believe [Harry Potter] ended like that!

Last night, TiP Office:

Alex: *looking at Keith* If I had a K on my guitar, I'd play it right now. *pans to Ryan and Lee* Same with R and L. But I don't, so I'll just play an A for Alex.

Deadpan.

Yesterday at Oliver...
Dinner, following airport duty:

Ryan: Yeah, so I'm not used to having a cellphone, so when I got a call on Michelle's I'm just like 'Wait, my shorts are vibrating.'
Carol: Wow, that's got to go in the termbook somewhere.

Before the all-camp meeting:

Ryan: I wrote this post called 'Hell is being single and not knowing why, part two.' Part one is definitely analytical while part two is more historical in nature.
Lee: I love how you can just deadpan that. You've got about the best comedic timing on the staff.
Ryan: Self-deprecation is a real gift.

Spectrum.

Last night at Oliver:

Ryan: [with hand gestures] So if this is the far right of the political spectrum and this is the far left, then I'm right.. about.. here. [points in the air]
Vince: You're above the spectrum?
Ryan: Among other things.

Hell is being single and not knowing why, Pt. 2.

Honestly, why the fuck is it so hard? It's 1:20am on a Saturday morning and I'm sitting here and my head has been spinning for days and days on end. Sure I could attribute that to the job and my utter lack of a break due to driving people around (which is a pleasure to do, but my gosh it wears on you), but there is another distinct factor, and that is all of the amazing women that I've been surrounded with all summer.

Now some of them may read this blog, or at least some of my co-workers, but this isn't about them. Or at least it shouldn't be. It's about how I grew up thinking that this was supposed to be straight-forward: you meet a great girl, you dig her, you tell her she's a great girl and that she should dig you back, and there you go. My experiences though have been anything but.

Why? Well for that we have to do a little segment I like to call 'How did we get here?' When I was in high school, I didn't really meet that many people outside of my school or hometown. My life focused on Humboldt High; I wanted to leave it desperately, which is why I tried to do everything I could to enhance my record for college. Anyway, I didn't really interact with new girls all that much (there's also the fact that I was the *friend* for all of the girls at the school); my first date wasn't until after I graduated. I was left out on the entire experience of 'boy meets girl, boy dates girl.'

So college was when I had to pick up the learning curve for all of this stuff, and over the last few years I've gotten exponentially better at talking to new people, and especially women. I've gotten to a point where I can truly be myself in a lot of situations that I had never dealt with before I moved to Lawrence.

Until lately. There is this one girl I know who has me absolutely bum-fuzzled; everything I've learned about myself in the last few years goes out the window when I am around her, and my mind comes to a halt and says 'Fuck man, hell if I know.' So I stand there and think 'Should I mention this? No I shouldn't mention this. Hey I could talk about that? Shit, nah. How close should I stand? Did I just laugh at that?' And this goes on and on until she walks away and then I replay everything that happened, wondering why I didn't do the things I should've.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing on her, but that unfortunately I become so paralyzed with the fear of trying too hard that I end up not trying hard enough, and that's a fine fucking line anyways, let alone when you're always on guard against looking like a dork or seeming transparent.


Ugh, I'm tired and I've been wanting to go to bed for the last couple of hours. Tomorrow I might regret putting such personal stuff on here, but for tonight it's all out on the table.

I spent a lifespan with no cellmate
The long way back
Sandy, why can't we look the other way?
You're weightless, semi-erotic
You need someone to take you there
–Interpol, 'Evil'