have I encountered in America? I've not been to another country, except a brief jaunt across the border into Mexico, although vacationing in southern California (which I stubbornly refer to as Cali, to the annoyance of my family) felt like a weird hybrid. The hispanic culture is so pervasive that entire neighborhoods are bedecked in spanish-language billboards and street signs, my cousin lives with a hispanic woman, and with the palm trees and pervasive smog it certainly feels like a foreign land.
It was a change moving from the slopes of Colorado to the hills of Pittsburgh, but not nearly so drastic. Mainly, Pittsburgh is dirtier.
28.2.06
1.2.06
The Ghost of Lumberg
I was a little worried about myself this evening, because after being made a supervisor at my place of Werk I have had two Bill Lumberg moments. In case you haven't seen Office Space, he's the typical Hellhole Office Mealymouth Boss Guy, the type who'll approach you about doing extra work with that "sorry, buddy, but 'ya know we're kinda gonna have to ask you to do this thing, here, yeah, super sport, thanks a ton" attitude, non-commital and falsely apologetic.
I totally used that voice, without even realising it, when I had to ask someone to go do an extra job. He called me on it, which is good, and I was sufficiently embarassed.
The second time was when I was announcing a new office policy. Basically, the more you screw up, the more crap work you get. An unwritten rule since time immemorial, we were to put it in writing, and I had approved this with all the other managers that are higher up than I. I thought it would be kinda cool to make it like a Contest! that no one wants to win. In that spirit I prepared a wall-sized poster that said "Announcing a Fun New Office Contest / Policy!!!" The rules and current leaderboard were placed right below it. Publicly visible, it would have the effect of reminding people to do their jobs, and what little embarassment they suffered would serve to ensure that they did not repeat their mistakes.
The first person who's name was on the leaderboard saw it as I put it up and became extremely irate. It wasn't cool, he said, to just impliment a new policy without giving the victims fair notice. I replied that if he had been doing his job, this wouldn't be an issue. We argued a bit more, and I decided to take the poster down in favour of placing notes in the mailboxes of the offenders. I worried about the decision for a short time afterwards, questioning my motivation for the poster. Did I really just suffer from some sick need to embarass people? Was it based on how much I'd been teased in public as a schoolkid?
No, I decided, I was not trying to avenge my nerdy past. The answer is actually much simpler, and it's the same reason I had the most fun of my life in Navy ROTC indoc. I enjoy, for lack of a better phrase, getting my ass kicked. It has always spurred me on to improve myself, and I am always grateful for it. Other people, however, would react very differently to the same stimuli, and this I must remember.
I totally used that voice, without even realising it, when I had to ask someone to go do an extra job. He called me on it, which is good, and I was sufficiently embarassed.
The second time was when I was announcing a new office policy. Basically, the more you screw up, the more crap work you get. An unwritten rule since time immemorial, we were to put it in writing, and I had approved this with all the other managers that are higher up than I. I thought it would be kinda cool to make it like a Contest! that no one wants to win. In that spirit I prepared a wall-sized poster that said "Announcing a Fun New Office Contest / Policy!!!" The rules and current leaderboard were placed right below it. Publicly visible, it would have the effect of reminding people to do their jobs, and what little embarassment they suffered would serve to ensure that they did not repeat their mistakes.
The first person who's name was on the leaderboard saw it as I put it up and became extremely irate. It wasn't cool, he said, to just impliment a new policy without giving the victims fair notice. I replied that if he had been doing his job, this wouldn't be an issue. We argued a bit more, and I decided to take the poster down in favour of placing notes in the mailboxes of the offenders. I worried about the decision for a short time afterwards, questioning my motivation for the poster. Did I really just suffer from some sick need to embarass people? Was it based on how much I'd been teased in public as a schoolkid?
No, I decided, I was not trying to avenge my nerdy past. The answer is actually much simpler, and it's the same reason I had the most fun of my life in Navy ROTC indoc. I enjoy, for lack of a better phrase, getting my ass kicked. It has always spurred me on to improve myself, and I am always grateful for it. Other people, however, would react very differently to the same stimuli, and this I must remember.
23.1.06
A grand idea
formed itself in my head one day. I wrote a letter to the governor of PA once, offering some encouragement on a recent speech outlining new energy strategies for the state. It was heartening, somewhat, to hear such a powerful politician acknowledging the severe crisis that awaits us all in the quite-near future.
To follow up on it, and ensure some kind of action or at least dialogue, I would approach all the professors in relevent fields here at Pitt and get them to sign a memorandum calling for more serious study of alternatives, power-down strategies, and possible implimentation of necessary technological, legal and societal changes. A real dialogue would be opened up and we would begin to raise community awareness of the coming changes and how we could meet them. The Guvner, having taken the first steps already, would use our plan to begin moving Pennsylvania towards a sustainable post-carbon civilisation, and our example would be a seed, a resource, and a beacon to other states and nations as the reality of declining oil supplies began to take it's toll.
Then I watched the latest episode of Battlestar Galactica. In it, the main character Adama tells one of his pilots, who he had previously ordered to assassinate a superior officer, "It's not enough to survive. One has to be worthy of surviving." And I wondered, are we really worthy of surviving? As a nation? As a species? I know some great people, and we've done some great things, but I have a hard time answering that question in the affirmitive. Maybe we aren't.
To follow up on it, and ensure some kind of action or at least dialogue, I would approach all the professors in relevent fields here at Pitt and get them to sign a memorandum calling for more serious study of alternatives, power-down strategies, and possible implimentation of necessary technological, legal and societal changes. A real dialogue would be opened up and we would begin to raise community awareness of the coming changes and how we could meet them. The Guvner, having taken the first steps already, would use our plan to begin moving Pennsylvania towards a sustainable post-carbon civilisation, and our example would be a seed, a resource, and a beacon to other states and nations as the reality of declining oil supplies began to take it's toll.
Then I watched the latest episode of Battlestar Galactica. In it, the main character Adama tells one of his pilots, who he had previously ordered to assassinate a superior officer, "It's not enough to survive. One has to be worthy of surviving." And I wondered, are we really worthy of surviving? As a nation? As a species? I know some great people, and we've done some great things, but I have a hard time answering that question in the affirmitive. Maybe we aren't.
4.12.05
It took a Japanese cartoon
to make me love music again. For anyone who has ever shown the slightest interest in anime, BECK (no relation to the musician) is a must see. I point to an English fansite because it might be more useful for folk who don't speak Japanese. Also, I got the fansubs through Anime-Empire, who appear to do an excellent job.
What I like about BECK: first of all, I know everyone in it. The gifted guitar hero. The shy geek with hidden talent. The goofy friends, the aggressive hot girl, meathead bullies, all of them. Hell, there are even shades of my dad in the insane guitar/swimming teacher Saitou-san. The characters are so real, for the most part, that you can't help but connect with them almost immediately.
Second, it's a story about rock and roll, written by and for people who obviously love the music. They love it in a way that we no longer do. Exploring this soundtrack and a number of other rock bands from Japan, I'm pretty convinced that the best rock no longer comes from America. In fact, we've probably been behind the UK for some time since the mid-90's saw the demise of Kurt Cobain. (Did he ever wonder how often his name would be written when he was gone? Probably not.) But bands like the pillows are better than just about anything on the radio these days, at least, those radio networks that play new music. Apparently, now many of them are robotic as well, which further eliminates the possibility of good NEW rock being played to radio listeners.
Third, it's a beautifully told story about life, one boy's in particular, but also the lives of everyone around him. There are no space battles, no giant robots, no killer cyber-brains, and none of the fake raunchy Capital D Drama that we pass off as storytelling in most of our television shows. For twenty-six twenty minute slices of time, I lived another life.
That is storytelling. Plus, I totally fell in love with the lead female character. Well, not really, but I wanted to.
What I like about BECK: first of all, I know everyone in it. The gifted guitar hero. The shy geek with hidden talent. The goofy friends, the aggressive hot girl, meathead bullies, all of them. Hell, there are even shades of my dad in the insane guitar/swimming teacher Saitou-san. The characters are so real, for the most part, that you can't help but connect with them almost immediately.
Second, it's a story about rock and roll, written by and for people who obviously love the music. They love it in a way that we no longer do. Exploring this soundtrack and a number of other rock bands from Japan, I'm pretty convinced that the best rock no longer comes from America. In fact, we've probably been behind the UK for some time since the mid-90's saw the demise of Kurt Cobain. (Did he ever wonder how often his name would be written when he was gone? Probably not.) But bands like the pillows are better than just about anything on the radio these days, at least, those radio networks that play new music. Apparently, now many of them are robotic as well, which further eliminates the possibility of good NEW rock being played to radio listeners.
Third, it's a beautifully told story about life, one boy's in particular, but also the lives of everyone around him. There are no space battles, no giant robots, no killer cyber-brains, and none of the fake raunchy Capital D Drama that we pass off as storytelling in most of our television shows. For twenty-six twenty minute slices of time, I lived another life.
That is storytelling. Plus, I totally fell in love with the lead female character. Well, not really, but I wanted to.
17.11.05
Holy Hell
I've discovered the AZN. The Asian Something Network on our digital cable package. There was just a commercial for the Circus Circus in Las Vegas, and it's the kind of thing that could only work in countries that are not this one. Or at least, on people that have not read H. S. Thompson, and who do not know the true story of that hideous pig hideaway.
This network is something else, though. It's like someone took all the surface duds of American pop culture, changed the names and the basic facial bone structures, and spun it back out in a subdued MTV format. There's a short film on called That Mischevious Ravi. The family store is called 7-Food. All the commercials on the network are American except for the all Asian cast. Even the fracking car commercials. Ford is releasing cars in other markets that they're not releasing here! Jeebus!
What's it been, like a month? And this is what inspires me to write?
This network is something else, though. It's like someone took all the surface duds of American pop culture, changed the names and the basic facial bone structures, and spun it back out in a subdued MTV format. There's a short film on called That Mischevious Ravi. The family store is called 7-Food. All the commercials on the network are American except for the all Asian cast. Even the fracking car commercials. Ford is releasing cars in other markets that they're not releasing here! Jeebus!
What's it been, like a month? And this is what inspires me to write?
23.10.05
We are watching
the airline industry collapse. There are some factors, such as poor business planning, that are entirely within the ability of airlines to correct. There are others, such as fuel prices, the cost of jet fuel, and the expense of fueling their jets, that are beyond anyones ability to change in the foreseeable future.
That's why I'm going home again this winter. I'll fly to Colorado, then drive to California with me Pops, and I will soak in every last detail of my journey because it may well be the last one I ever take.
Call me pessimistic. Ticket prices are already more expensive this year than they have been, and we're still months away from the peak travel season. Perhaps the airlines will make one last major push to drop prices in order to convince people to jet across the country for the holidays, but it seriously may be the last. All the romance of airline terminals and pressurized cabins and baggage claims will be gone within our lifetimes, and in the shorter term they will become unavailable to most Americans (especially as the rich-poor wage gap continues to widen due to high energy costs).
Speaking of high energy costs, I picked up a small space heater for this winter, and it's already proven it's worth. My room is easily the poorest-insulated in the house, yet it is many degrees warmer than any other. I'll be adding plastic insulation, replacing bulbs with CFLs, and buying a "Draft Dodger" or two (cute little draft socks that sit below the door). What bothers me now, that I just realised, is that the attitude most people are taking is that Yes, this winter will be Diffficult, but things will Get Better. There is little sense that our NG crisis is permanent, or that we are on the cusp of the post-carbon-energy era. For myself, I can't shake the feeling that a door is closing, rapidly, and that by the next springtime our reality will have been severely altered.
That's why I'm going home again this winter. I'll fly to Colorado, then drive to California with me Pops, and I will soak in every last detail of my journey because it may well be the last one I ever take.
Call me pessimistic. Ticket prices are already more expensive this year than they have been, and we're still months away from the peak travel season. Perhaps the airlines will make one last major push to drop prices in order to convince people to jet across the country for the holidays, but it seriously may be the last. All the romance of airline terminals and pressurized cabins and baggage claims will be gone within our lifetimes, and in the shorter term they will become unavailable to most Americans (especially as the rich-poor wage gap continues to widen due to high energy costs).
Speaking of high energy costs, I picked up a small space heater for this winter, and it's already proven it's worth. My room is easily the poorest-insulated in the house, yet it is many degrees warmer than any other. I'll be adding plastic insulation, replacing bulbs with CFLs, and buying a "Draft Dodger" or two (cute little draft socks that sit below the door). What bothers me now, that I just realised, is that the attitude most people are taking is that Yes, this winter will be Diffficult, but things will Get Better. There is little sense that our NG crisis is permanent, or that we are on the cusp of the post-carbon-energy era. For myself, I can't shake the feeling that a door is closing, rapidly, and that by the next springtime our reality will have been severely altered.
11.10.05
A Powerful Funk
Settled on my brow this evening. It was one of those infamous Grey Days in Pittsburgh, when no rain fell, no sun shone, and the wind was just cold enough to remind you that summer has ended. My professor for history writing has serious doubts about my ability to pull enough research for my term paper, and I know that he is justified. As a part of my reasearch on cold war era SAM silos I watched the documentary "Fog of War" about Rob MacNamera, and it was useless for my topic but tragically fascinating for my inner Historian. He sat in front of the camera and with almost reptilian calm discussed the war that we never fought, the one in which 58,000 Americans died because of a lack of understanding, and it made me depressed and fearful because we are so obviously repeating the same mistakes all over again.
I told my friend Wonko that the neat thing about history is that you can tell who's learned from it. The unfortunate corollary is that you can tell pretty damned easy who has not learned from it, and this would include just about everyone in politics today. We're living through a massive tragedy that never had to happen.
The walk home always gets me down too. There are too many people, for one, and almost no human beings. Cigarette smoke gets puffed at you, sluts yell insult-greetings across the crowded streets, crazy people mumble at ghosts and ask you for change. You have to detour around half-dried vomit-splatters.
I took a route through a hospital parking lot, following a pair of flighty dancers chatting about who did this and who said that. We all pass a mother and two children sobbing on a sidewalk corner, yelling No! and Oh my God... I felt the same tears in my eyes, and suddenly all the desires I had for relaxing the rest of the night seem selfish in the face of whatever loss they'd suffered. I didn't know them, but I loved them.
Then I walked through a gang of thuggish teenagers on a street corner just outside my house and it made me want to tear and rend the world. Don't they know people are suffering?
As I walked up to my door I saw that my Netflix DVDs had arrived, three red bundles of fantasy. So I could spend the rest of the night escaping.
I told my friend Wonko that the neat thing about history is that you can tell who's learned from it. The unfortunate corollary is that you can tell pretty damned easy who has not learned from it, and this would include just about everyone in politics today. We're living through a massive tragedy that never had to happen.
The walk home always gets me down too. There are too many people, for one, and almost no human beings. Cigarette smoke gets puffed at you, sluts yell insult-greetings across the crowded streets, crazy people mumble at ghosts and ask you for change. You have to detour around half-dried vomit-splatters.
I took a route through a hospital parking lot, following a pair of flighty dancers chatting about who did this and who said that. We all pass a mother and two children sobbing on a sidewalk corner, yelling No! and Oh my God... I felt the same tears in my eyes, and suddenly all the desires I had for relaxing the rest of the night seem selfish in the face of whatever loss they'd suffered. I didn't know them, but I loved them.
Then I walked through a gang of thuggish teenagers on a street corner just outside my house and it made me want to tear and rend the world. Don't they know people are suffering?
As I walked up to my door I saw that my Netflix DVDs had arrived, three red bundles of fantasy. So I could spend the rest of the night escaping.
6.10.05
Proof #397
that Macs are easier to use than Windows PCs:
I got a Razr when I re-upped with my cell service. This is slightly ironic since I'm the kind of guy who guards my phone number with almost the same zeal as I guard my SSN. Point being, I'm not the type to be using it very much, but it was free and every gadget geek is obligated to acquire the most awesome hardware he can.
I was under the impression from the reviews on the Internets that it would be possible to use MP3 ringtones and customise the display with my own pictures and so forth, by downloading them from my computer. The Razr has both a standard USB port and Bluetooth, and since Ruri is an older iBook and didn't come with Bluetooth, I thought it might be possible to use the cable to transfer da goods.
Silly human. iSync will work with calendars and address books, but not simple file transfers. So I went on a search for some software that would let me do it with a Windows laptop, since we have a bunch of those at work and I could possess one temporarily. After ONE HOUR of downloading software that said it would work then didn't, searching Motorola's help site and dozens of other cell phone sites and trying to find the drivers, all I could get was a form for buying, at $29.99, the sync package from Moto that would enable the basic communications features I was seeking.
So I gave up. I Grabbed a 17" PowerBook, turned the Bluetooth on, paired the device, and sent my files over. It took three minutes with built-in software to accomplish on a Mac what it would have taken thirty bucks and two Install Wizards to do on a PC. That is proof #397.
I got a Razr when I re-upped with my cell service. This is slightly ironic since I'm the kind of guy who guards my phone number with almost the same zeal as I guard my SSN. Point being, I'm not the type to be using it very much, but it was free and every gadget geek is obligated to acquire the most awesome hardware he can.
I was under the impression from the reviews on the Internets that it would be possible to use MP3 ringtones and customise the display with my own pictures and so forth, by downloading them from my computer. The Razr has both a standard USB port and Bluetooth, and since Ruri is an older iBook and didn't come with Bluetooth, I thought it might be possible to use the cable to transfer da goods.
Silly human. iSync will work with calendars and address books, but not simple file transfers. So I went on a search for some software that would let me do it with a Windows laptop, since we have a bunch of those at work and I could possess one temporarily. After ONE HOUR of downloading software that said it would work then didn't, searching Motorola's help site and dozens of other cell phone sites and trying to find the drivers, all I could get was a form for buying, at $29.99, the sync package from Moto that would enable the basic communications features I was seeking.
So I gave up. I Grabbed a 17" PowerBook, turned the Bluetooth on, paired the device, and sent my files over. It took three minutes with built-in software to accomplish on a Mac what it would have taken thirty bucks and two Install Wizards to do on a PC. That is proof #397.
2.10.05
This struck me
as odd, and sad. I think they've missed the point:
Let me zoom in on the top of the container, in case you missed it.
Yes, friends, this coffee is superior because it is Patriotic.
I have no idea why. Why? Why? Why?
Let me zoom in on the top of the container, in case you missed it.
Yes, friends, this coffee is superior because it is Patriotic.
I have no idea why. Why? Why? Why?
27.9.05
There are few
words, phrases, or expressions that suit my mood at approx. 7:15 AM this day. This is when I saw Charlie Gibson sail a courteous greeting at Bill O'Rielly, welcoming him to Good Morning America.
Here's the phrase:
What the FUCK?
Ow. Oowoww. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.
This happened just after they introduced Robin Roberts live from some disaster zone, wearing a t-shirt that said "GMA - Getting It Done." When a news organisation has to try out new action-oriented slogans while covering a token rebuilding effort in the middle of the worst natural devistation in a hundred years, you know you're in trouble.
Or you're in the Twilight Zone! Doo dee doo doo, doo dee doo doo! That's how What the FUCK?-ed up it was.
Here's the phrase:
What the FUCK?
Ow. Oowoww. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.
This happened just after they introduced Robin Roberts live from some disaster zone, wearing a t-shirt that said "GMA - Getting It Done." When a news organisation has to try out new action-oriented slogans while covering a token rebuilding effort in the middle of the worst natural devistation in a hundred years, you know you're in trouble.
Or you're in the Twilight Zone! Doo dee doo doo, doo dee doo doo! That's how What the FUCK?-ed up it was.
25.9.05
I just told
Lindsay B. to follow the dream that I abandoned. She seems to have something I don't, a belief in the basic goodness of Humans, which should make her far better equipped to write in a way that people will pay attention to.
It follows that I do not have a belief in the basic goodness of Humans. This has been said before, and is the primary source of my tendency to be an asshole, which I have just realised creates a very serious feedback loop of Negative Vibes. It is easy to feel superior or inferior to people when you believe that a person can be either. It is hard, in the course of a day, not to believe it honestly. I watch people throw trash out their car window and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the consequences of littering. They are ignorant." I hear people talk about how awesome their drug and alcohol use makes them feel, and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the effects these have on the human body and spirit. They are self-destructive."
I watch parents shopping with their fat children, buying them candy and junk food and yelling at them to quit running around, and I think, "These people have no idea the damage they wreak upon their heirs. They will cripple the civilisation that sustains them. But I know better."
All of which is despicably self-congratulatory, and yet, feels right. I suppose that's just as scary as listening to some crazy Revelationist describe the lake of fire that we'll all be cast in to, for they are no less certain of themselves. This is my weakness.
It follows that I do not have a belief in the basic goodness of Humans. This has been said before, and is the primary source of my tendency to be an asshole, which I have just realised creates a very serious feedback loop of Negative Vibes. It is easy to feel superior or inferior to people when you believe that a person can be either. It is hard, in the course of a day, not to believe it honestly. I watch people throw trash out their car window and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the consequences of littering. They are ignorant." I hear people talk about how awesome their drug and alcohol use makes them feel, and I think, "I have a superior understanding of the effects these have on the human body and spirit. They are self-destructive."
I watch parents shopping with their fat children, buying them candy and junk food and yelling at them to quit running around, and I think, "These people have no idea the damage they wreak upon their heirs. They will cripple the civilisation that sustains them. But I know better."
All of which is despicably self-congratulatory, and yet, feels right. I suppose that's just as scary as listening to some crazy Revelationist describe the lake of fire that we'll all be cast in to, for they are no less certain of themselves. This is my weakness.
19.9.05
Could it be true?
Am I really watching a fat woman outside this cafe hand out pamphlets by Jews for Jesus? What kind of spiritual/racial/personal clusterfuck is going on there?
At least we're heading for the End Times. Not in the silly teleport-the-nice-ones-to-Heaven kind, but the social upheaval that will likely result from the extraordinary cost of natural gas heating this winter. Combined with a real gas / refinery shortage and the orgy of debt spending that will surely come with the Shopping Season, these factors will start causing real problems for an awful lot of folks in the near future. I had a long talk with mum the other day about what I really believe will happen, and why I'm not doing more about it - educating people, writing, working for environmental groups and so forth.
It comes down to the fact that there's damn-all we can do at this point. The disease - growth-dependent capitalism and mass consumerism - has spread too far. The cancer is now in virtually every system. The body feeds its growth. To kill it is to kill the host.
Us.
So yeah, researching old ABM missile systems for history class isn't exactly the foremost thing on my mind right now.
At least we're heading for the End Times. Not in the silly teleport-the-nice-ones-to-Heaven kind, but the social upheaval that will likely result from the extraordinary cost of natural gas heating this winter. Combined with a real gas / refinery shortage and the orgy of debt spending that will surely come with the Shopping Season, these factors will start causing real problems for an awful lot of folks in the near future. I had a long talk with mum the other day about what I really believe will happen, and why I'm not doing more about it - educating people, writing, working for environmental groups and so forth.
It comes down to the fact that there's damn-all we can do at this point. The disease - growth-dependent capitalism and mass consumerism - has spread too far. The cancer is now in virtually every system. The body feeds its growth. To kill it is to kill the host.
Us.
So yeah, researching old ABM missile systems for history class isn't exactly the foremost thing on my mind right now.
6.9.05
Ah well.
I assured me mum that when the Navy finally arrives at New Orleans in force, some serious relief can get underway. The small boat capacity alone, together with all that helo space parked right next to the worst of the flooded areas, would make a huge difference. That is, if FEMA were interested in utilising them. Or if they felt like allowing people to leave the city. Is any of this real? How fucked up in the head do you have to be?
Something tells me that Bush could have waited a week before nominating a ghost like Roberts for Chief Justice of the Supreme Fucking Court, which raises the question of Why Now. Abysmal poll numbers and clearly videotaped incompetence during the nation's largest modern disaster relief effort, together with the blatant efforts at spinning massive death and utter destruction point to a lame effort to divert some smidgen of attention from his failings. I shouldn't even be able to consider this about anyone, it's wholly inhuman, but with these jokers...
Something tells me that Bush could have waited a week before nominating a ghost like Roberts for Chief Justice of the Supreme Fucking Court, which raises the question of Why Now. Abysmal poll numbers and clearly videotaped incompetence during the nation's largest modern disaster relief effort, together with the blatant efforts at spinning massive death and utter destruction point to a lame effort to divert some smidgen of attention from his failings. I shouldn't even be able to consider this about anyone, it's wholly inhuman, but with these jokers...
1.9.05
Yes. The Devistation
is indeed nearly complete. It now appears certain that a number of "actionable items" were in the works to repair critical weaknesses in the levies and pumps that kept the water out of the New Orleans bowl. Funded in large part by government monies, these plans were cast aside as the more critical War On Terr'r sucked funds away from all sources. The Treasury, which once boasted of a tremendous budget surplus, has been wiped out, so that all our national savings, the product of past productivity, are gone. There is no room in the current budget - indeed, there could be said to be negative room, as the deficit en masse continues to grow. And all future plans, especially planned programs like Medicaid and Social Security, are endangered by this Terr'r. Is it scary, or merely strange, that we are siphoning funds from the entire American space-time continuum, past, present, and future? It no longer seems real.
I, like a not-insignificant portion of My Fellow Americans, have been to The City That Was. My time was spent wandering the old street fronts during Mardi Gras, the peak time for partying and chicanery of all sorts. I have fond memories, what memories remain intact, and of course the human loss should be enough to sadden even those who have never ventured outside their home counties. In the end, that's all there is in the state of LA. Loss.
I, like a not-insignificant portion of My Fellow Americans, have been to The City That Was. My time was spent wandering the old street fronts during Mardi Gras, the peak time for partying and chicanery of all sorts. I have fond memories, what memories remain intact, and of course the human loss should be enough to sadden even those who have never ventured outside their home counties. In the end, that's all there is in the state of LA. Loss.
30.8.05
Yes, Journal,
it's been a while. If Future Self is reading this, then he might be asking, why? Why did you shut off the treadmill and park yr. keister on the couch for more than two months, eating delicious donuts and drinking expensive forms of coffee?
Part of it was the exasperating prospect of trying to keep up with all the bloggable news - it's a Shit Storm, allright, and only the most dedicated of reporters will venture out into it on camera, shouting futile weather-truisms into their microphones while expensive waterproof parkas slap and flutter around their jaws.
I return because my prof in Writing Seminar for Majors, and to a lesser degree my sister, reminded me that we learn by doing. A gross Tonne of writing will be required of me this semester, and I must get the juices flowing again. Time to plug the treadmill back in and start sweating. Ruri's desktop has been recast, I am living in a new abode (equipped with wireless Internets and 48-inch TeeVee, the techie equivalent of a split morphine/caffine IV drip), and mum supports my plan of moving to Ireland and working for Apple when all this school nonsense is over with.
Blammo! Back into the Life.
Part of it was the exasperating prospect of trying to keep up with all the bloggable news - it's a Shit Storm, allright, and only the most dedicated of reporters will venture out into it on camera, shouting futile weather-truisms into their microphones while expensive waterproof parkas slap and flutter around their jaws.
I return because my prof in Writing Seminar for Majors, and to a lesser degree my sister, reminded me that we learn by doing. A gross Tonne of writing will be required of me this semester, and I must get the juices flowing again. Time to plug the treadmill back in and start sweating. Ruri's desktop has been recast, I am living in a new abode (equipped with wireless Internets and 48-inch TeeVee, the techie equivalent of a split morphine/caffine IV drip), and mum supports my plan of moving to Ireland and working for Apple when all this school nonsense is over with.
Blammo! Back into the Life.
16.6.05
Extremely Strange ad
of the day: Microsoft's web based XP Media Version flash ad, which claims, among other things, that "It will make your teeth whiter."
's True.
's True.
9.6.05
I'm sure the transcript
will be available somewhere online, but I had to get this down before it left my head.
In a report on ABC News, Bob Woodruf is exploring the parts of North Korea that North Korea wants him to see. In the capital of Pyongyang there is a large school for young children which lavishes them with money and attention, what few fruits of Kim Jong-Il's retarded economy can be directed their way.
The kids put on a remarkable music and dance performance for visiting dignitaries, and Woodruf ends his broadcast with something along the lines of, "It's remarkable what children can learn when the state is willing to teach them."
This has some interesting implications, and they cut both ways. On the one hand, there is clear evidence that a well-funded state standardised educational system benefits children, adults, and society. If every citizen were able to read and write coherently, and were fluent in not only the language of math and science but of art and music as well, is there any doubt that all of America would be richer in ways money cannot count? On the other, only the most careful monitoring by it's populace can keep the government from teaching it's own revised history, as the abuses of the governmental monopoly on telecommunications that North Korea so adeptly demonstrates.
Fascinating bits like this are mainly found on ABC, although their coverage of Jesus is second only to the Cornerstone Network and tends to irritate me. I particularly liked the bit about hand-fishing being made legal again in rednecked bits of the nation if only for Charlie Gibson's deadpan one-word response after the peice ended: "Okay."
In a report on ABC News, Bob Woodruf is exploring the parts of North Korea that North Korea wants him to see. In the capital of Pyongyang there is a large school for young children which lavishes them with money and attention, what few fruits of Kim Jong-Il's retarded economy can be directed their way.
The kids put on a remarkable music and dance performance for visiting dignitaries, and Woodruf ends his broadcast with something along the lines of, "It's remarkable what children can learn when the state is willing to teach them."
This has some interesting implications, and they cut both ways. On the one hand, there is clear evidence that a well-funded state standardised educational system benefits children, adults, and society. If every citizen were able to read and write coherently, and were fluent in not only the language of math and science but of art and music as well, is there any doubt that all of America would be richer in ways money cannot count? On the other, only the most careful monitoring by it's populace can keep the government from teaching it's own revised history, as the abuses of the governmental monopoly on telecommunications that North Korea so adeptly demonstrates.
Fascinating bits like this are mainly found on ABC, although their coverage of Jesus is second only to the Cornerstone Network and tends to irritate me. I particularly liked the bit about hand-fishing being made legal again in rednecked bits of the nation if only for Charlie Gibson's deadpan one-word response after the peice ended: "Okay."
8.6.05
I find myself
pining for the end of our world. Particularly after a bad day on the bus, full of smelly noisy freaks who yell into their cell phones then yell at strangers about what they were yelling about before. The GODDAMN ENDLESS MINDLESS THUMPING of the downstair's neighboor's stereo. My German teacher asked us why we enjoy camping. "Nich so viele leben" was my reply- "Not so many people."
My inner Destroyer longs for a semi-lawless wasteland of abandoned cars and looted store fronts. I'm even fine with being lost to the Die Off that some have posited will by necessity come with the end of cheap fuel. Being aware of both the remarkable damage we're doing to our planet and the near-total apathy we feel towards it, my mind is peirced by a constant ache, and perhaps the only cure for such pain is for the cause - what we so pompusly call Western Civilisation - to be removed.
Right now that part of me is ascendant. Every day that passes I long intensely to stand amongst the rubble of America. Tyler Durden leaps to mind;
My inner Destroyer longs for a semi-lawless wasteland of abandoned cars and looted store fronts. I'm even fine with being lost to the Die Off that some have posited will by necessity come with the end of cheap fuel. Being aware of both the remarkable damage we're doing to our planet and the near-total apathy we feel towards it, my mind is peirced by a constant ache, and perhaps the only cure for such pain is for the cause - what we so pompusly call Western Civilisation - to be removed.
Right now that part of me is ascendant. Every day that passes I long intensely to stand amongst the rubble of America. Tyler Durden leaps to mind;
In the future I see, you're stalking elk through the deep forest canyon that surrounds the ruins of Rockefeller Center.
6.6.05
I feel a little
used now. The Fam and I had gone to see Star Bores Episode 3: Revenge of the Pith (-y Dialogue). It's the least sucky suck of the three sucks, but that still implies an unfortunate degree of suckage. Basicaly, mum fell asleep twice and we all laughed and cringed whenever a character talked. Every time they started talking, in fact, I found myself waiting for them to stop. And I kept hoping, against all evidence and past experience, that it wouldn't turn out to be a complete disaster.
It is. But the worst moment came when I caught a commercial for Burger King that featured new Star Wars merchandise in the kiddie meals. I realised then, as I suspected all along, that the new movies weren't really about the story - you could sum up the plot of all three in a fortune cookie - but about the Merch. The bulk of Lucas's profits won't come from theater tickets, but from cross promotions and plastic figurine sales, from an epic sort of exploitation. And I gave my money to the machine responsible, believing that I had to participate in this cultural phenomenon. It is a culture of Blind Consumption, and now I feel used.
It is. But the worst moment came when I caught a commercial for Burger King that featured new Star Wars merchandise in the kiddie meals. I realised then, as I suspected all along, that the new movies weren't really about the story - you could sum up the plot of all three in a fortune cookie - but about the Merch. The bulk of Lucas's profits won't come from theater tickets, but from cross promotions and plastic figurine sales, from an epic sort of exploitation. And I gave my money to the machine responsible, believing that I had to participate in this cultural phenomenon. It is a culture of Blind Consumption, and now I feel used.
1.6.05
I'm only through the
first installment, but this series in Harpers is fabulous for many reasons. Having grown up in Colorado Springs, and having many direct tussels with the Fundamental folk, I delight in reading that they've forsaken the center of the city - which is highly walkable and bikable - for the "exurbs" of the north and east. If NASCAR is the perfect sport for christianity (making simple and endless philisophical circles until The End of The Race) then their weird desire to make the exurbs the center of their revolution is also perfectly appropriate. Suburban development is by definition soulless, with every house and street mind-numbingly identical, across states and countries. Any calling to faith that demands unquestioning obiedience to one line of ideology seems to me as horribly conformist as those off-white Lego brick family boxes.