Football star Michael Vick was sentenced to 23 months in a federal jail today for his "involvement in a dogfighting ring." This is an unfair conviction because of who Michael Vick is. Now, I could be saying that because Vick is a celebrity, he and his co-defendants were treated in an unfairly harsh way to send a message, but I'm not. I could be saying that because Vick grew up in Virginia, he should be judged by the prevailing morals of the southern culture, which seems to be fairly permissive of dogfighting at least according to Whoopi Goldberg (go to around the 1:45 mark of the video,) but, I'm not. I could argue that Vick has been targeted unfairly because of his status as a popular Black figure in Atlanta -- an argument that was explored in "A History of Mistrust" by Wright Thompson, but I'm not. It is hypocritical to sentence Michael Vick to almost two years of jail time for acting as an owner, financier, and profiteer involved in dogfighting while lauding, supporting, and idolizing him as a participant in very similar activities throughout his life as a football player.
The first time I saw Vick play football was on September 23, 1999 when he was a red-shirt freshman (otherwise known as a Sophomore who didn't play football his first year at college... I tried to claim that I was one in my second year at Rutgers, but it didn't get me very far...) at Virginia Tech University. This was the third game of the season. Vick had missed the second game after being carried off the field in his first game. Running towards the end zone, Vick had shown such speed, agility, courage, fearlessness, elusiveness, cleverness, and yes, aggression that he refused to stop until an opponent managed to flip Vick completely. Vick still made it into the end zone for a touchdown, but he sprained his ankle when he hit the ground. If you never saw Vick play, check out this video (musical accompaniment by Ludacris, flips around 0:44 mark.)
Why is this relevant? The same qualities that made Vick successful in football are the ones that I imagine would make a pit-bull successful in dogfighting. Yes, you say, but dogfighting is a horrible, violent, and often fatal activity, where the dogs get no reward out of it, whereas football is a sport whose participants are rewarded beyond reason.
I'm not sure this is true. Dogfighting is clearly violent, and football players who do not train well enough to make the NFL are not taken out and shot or electrocuted and killed (although encouraging college kids to concentrate solely on football and to ignore academics and then to set them loose with no support after they don't make the NFL is a violation itself, but that's another story...) but, football itself is no less violent then dogfighting.
In the past year, a Buffalo Bill, Kevin Everett suffered a life threatening spinal cord injury during a game. More and more information has been coming out about the effects of the repeated concussions that many football players have had and continue to have. Retired players have suffered from severe depression, early onset dementia and Alzheimer's (and we're talking about mid-forties early,) leading to suicide and death. Even if your brain manages to make it through, your body most likely will not. Bo Jackson a legendary athlete had his career ended when he tore his hip. The great quarterback John Elway recently had knee replacement surgery at the age of 47. Linemen in the NFL (and increasingly at younger ages) are usually 300+ pounds, which puts an incredible toll on their bodies.
Quite simply, playing football at a high enough level for a long enough time will kill you. But football stars like Michael Vick are fawned over by fans, paid millions of dollars by team owners. Yet Vick is thrown into jail for lavishing the same twisted funding and adoration (remember, little to no mercy is shown to football players who don't perform either, see Ryan Leaf, see the NFL's bizarre refusal to fairly compensate retired players, see team's abilities to cut a player at any time) onto fighting dogs.
I actually saw Vick in an airport once. He was reading a magazine, waiting for a flight to Atlanta when a man approached him:
"Hey, are you Mike Vick? I love playing you in Madden!"
I think Mike Vick just got played in real life.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Birthday Party 2007
Thanks to everyone who came out to my birthday party! Without further ado, check out this slide show of photos taken by YOU, the party-goers... (god, that trope is getting played out!)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Recalling New Orleans, Part One
To continue my theme of being absurdly remiss in my blogging duties, I am only now, almost two weeks after I got beck from spending a week in Louisiana, going to write about it.
I went down with a group from my company, Return Path, to a Habitat for Humanity build near Mandeville, Covington, and Abita Springs, three small towns on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. As you might remember, the day after Hurricane Katrina hit, everyone was relieved at how little damage it had done. Then, the levees which held Lake Pontchartrain in its basin burst and the lake flooded South, towards New Orleans. The neighborhoods on the South Shore of the lake were among the hardest hit areas and many of them have not been rebuilt -- some probably never will be.
Instead, the neighborhoods on the North Shore of the lake have seen their populations triple in the last year and a half. Needless to say, this has been a bit of a strain on the infrastructure (the traffic (almost) rivals New Jersey!) Also similar to parts of New Jersey, the North Shore neighborhoods are home to many who commute into the big city for work everyday. Instead of the being the Bridge & Tunnel crowd, these folks could accurately be called the Causeway crowd, because to get to New Orleans they drive across the lake on a 23 mile bridge! Check out this google map to see this wonder.
I left New York a couple of days early with my friend and colleague, Russ, with plans to enjoy the various delights of New Orleans before we got down to work. Unfortunately, we had chosen to fly AirTran, so we spent a lot of time waiting around in La Guardia airport with a group of people, who like us, were fated to spend an unwanted night in Atlanta due to various plane and customer service malfunctions. Luckily, we were stuck with some nice people, some of whom were from New Orleans, so we heard a few interesting stories.
The most remarkable of them came from Amanda, a young woman whose extended family are almost all firemen in New Orleans. Apparently, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, firemen were forced into all sorts of first-responder duties, and among the various responsibilities of the job was the issuing, by the FBI of "drop guns." A "drop gun," we found out, is an untraceable gun with no serial number which, when given out, went along with instructions to -- if you ended up needing to use it -- drop it.
In more light-hearted news, we were (supposed to be) flying on the same day as the NFL draft and the Atlanta Falcon's star quarterback, Michael Vick, happened to be flying from the same gate as us. Despite being distracted by the blingiest chain I've ever seen, I caught a snippet of conversation between him and a white male admirer in his mid thirties, "You're great, man! I love playing you in Madden!"
When we finally made it to New Orleans, it was a real pleasure. Canal Street and Bourbon Street are busy, bustling, and unbelievably smelly. At night the bars feature cover bands or, worse, karaoke. On the upside you can buy funny T-shirts (the best we saw bore the message, "FEMA emergency plan, 'Run bitches, run!'") and get colorful alcoholic beverages in large plastic cups to go. We had more fun on Frenchman street several blocks away where there are several great jazz and blues clubs (try the Apple Barrel) and a great restaurant where I had one of the most exquisitely wonderful meals in recent memory. My guess is that everything is amazing, but I can personally vouch for the Fried Chicken, Mac 'n Cheese, and Mustard Greens.
Thank you for making it through part one, and please tune in to part two, when our intrepid heroes discover the joys of stuffed ices, the omnipotence of the word "baby" in Louisiana vernacular, and get our hand dirty with some building.
I went down with a group from my company, Return Path, to a Habitat for Humanity build near Mandeville, Covington, and Abita Springs, three small towns on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. As you might remember, the day after Hurricane Katrina hit, everyone was relieved at how little damage it had done. Then, the levees which held Lake Pontchartrain in its basin burst and the lake flooded South, towards New Orleans. The neighborhoods on the South Shore of the lake were among the hardest hit areas and many of them have not been rebuilt -- some probably never will be.
Instead, the neighborhoods on the North Shore of the lake have seen their populations triple in the last year and a half. Needless to say, this has been a bit of a strain on the infrastructure (the traffic (almost) rivals New Jersey!) Also similar to parts of New Jersey, the North Shore neighborhoods are home to many who commute into the big city for work everyday. Instead of the being the Bridge & Tunnel crowd, these folks could accurately be called the Causeway crowd, because to get to New Orleans they drive across the lake on a 23 mile bridge! Check out this google map to see this wonder.
I left New York a couple of days early with my friend and colleague, Russ, with plans to enjoy the various delights of New Orleans before we got down to work. Unfortunately, we had chosen to fly AirTran, so we spent a lot of time waiting around in La Guardia airport with a group of people, who like us, were fated to spend an unwanted night in Atlanta due to various plane and customer service malfunctions. Luckily, we were stuck with some nice people, some of whom were from New Orleans, so we heard a few interesting stories.
The most remarkable of them came from Amanda, a young woman whose extended family are almost all firemen in New Orleans. Apparently, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, firemen were forced into all sorts of first-responder duties, and among the various responsibilities of the job was the issuing, by the FBI of "drop guns." A "drop gun," we found out, is an untraceable gun with no serial number which, when given out, went along with instructions to -- if you ended up needing to use it -- drop it.
In more light-hearted news, we were (supposed to be) flying on the same day as the NFL draft and the Atlanta Falcon's star quarterback, Michael Vick, happened to be flying from the same gate as us. Despite being distracted by the blingiest chain I've ever seen, I caught a snippet of conversation between him and a white male admirer in his mid thirties, "You're great, man! I love playing you in Madden!"
When we finally made it to New Orleans, it was a real pleasure. Canal Street and Bourbon Street are busy, bustling, and unbelievably smelly. At night the bars feature cover bands or, worse, karaoke. On the upside you can buy funny T-shirts (the best we saw bore the message, "FEMA emergency plan, 'Run bitches, run!'") and get colorful alcoholic beverages in large plastic cups to go. We had more fun on Frenchman street several blocks away where there are several great jazz and blues clubs (try the Apple Barrel) and a great restaurant where I had one of the most exquisitely wonderful meals in recent memory. My guess is that everything is amazing, but I can personally vouch for the Fried Chicken, Mac 'n Cheese, and Mustard Greens.
Thank you for making it through part one, and please tune in to part two, when our intrepid heroes discover the joys of stuffed ices, the omnipotence of the word "baby" in Louisiana vernacular, and get our hand dirty with some building.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
More Dribs and Drabs
Whoa. So much has happened since my last entry. Lots of things that can be referred to by a single phrase: Imus, Virginia Tech, Spring, a few big sporting events: the NBA playoffs have begun, the NFL draft (also known as American Christmas) is right around the corner, and my beloved Penguins have been ceremoniously booted from the best postseason in all of sports, the Stanley Cup Playoffs. I will deal with each of these events in reverse order and uneven depth. For those of my readers (I know, by all appearances, I only have one, but she's schizophrenic) who really want to skip the sports stuff, move on to paragraph 5.
First, the Penguins. I guess you shouldn't complain too much when the four best players on your favorite team are all under 21. They'll be back next year for another shot at the cup. Also, it turns out that Sidney Crosby, the best player on the team (and probably the world) was playing the last few weeks of the season with a broken foot. Also, it might have been unhealthy for me if they had gotten any farther in the playoffs. During the four games that I was able to watch, I would estimate that I breathed about 18 times. Total.
The NFL draft is this Saturday and Sunday in New York, and I would really be tempted to go if I weren't going to be flying to New Orleans to work on a Habitat for Humanity build with a group from my company, Return Path, which generously encourages its employees to do community service. You might ask why I would want to attend an event that consists entirely of a man marching up to a podium, reciting a name, and then walking off, only to be repeated more than 250 times over the period of two days? Why? Events that attract WAY more interest then one would imagine, like the announcement of a paternity test or a fairly simple talent show, are fascinating, and that ESPN and the NFL have somehow managed to
bottle this magic and make it appear each year towards the end of April.
I'm going to skip the NBA playoffs. They were basically just filler in my opening paragraph, although I am watching a particularly entertaining game right now between the number 1 seeded Dallas Mavericks and the number 8 seeded Golden State Warriors (are there any other sports teams that use a euphemism to refer to their geographic location? The Big Apple Knickerbockers? The Lone Star State Stars? The Armpit-of-America Devils?)
Spring finally seems to have arrived, and not a moment too soon. It has sparked several SNOD days, and for me several SAC days -- days of Sneezing Almost Constantly.
About Virginia Tech, a few things jump out at me. First of all, I was surprised at how quickly people started joking about it. Usually after any horrible thing, there are at least a few days during which that subject is out of bounds for humor, but it seemed to me that the Virginia Tech shootings became fodder for jokes pretty quickly. Also, while I think that we might want to make it a little harder to get a gun legally in this country, I'm a bit hesitant to blame violence in movies, the chosen cultural scapegoat for this act. Listen, as someone who sat through 3 and quarter hours of almost constant violence in the movie Grindhouse earlier this week, I am all for less violence in movies. Or at least less gross, gratuitous violence. Or, at least more sex... it doesn't make sense to wait to decide which pieces of our culture inspire horrible acts until after they happen. And after all, millions of people who have watched violent movies have turned into non-serial killers, so actually, watching violent movies must have a calming effect, right, right... (how's my math, did I carry the 3?)
Talking about bizarre cultural scapegoats, how did the Don Imus witch-hunt (not to say he didn't have it coming) turn into a referendum on the state of hip-hop? Or, as this article points out, the assumed state of him-hop, since it doesn't seem like anyone is actually paying attention to the actual state of hip-hop, which is currently more bubble-gummed out then blinged-out, and more prankster than gangsta.
I was actually watching the game in question, (it was hard to find a bar near Union Square that was showing a women's basketball game, but Russ and I persisted, despite being told by a less than helpful bartender to "try a butch bar on second Avenue") and like Imus, I was struck by the contrast between the teams. Tennessee's women's basketball program is by far the best program in the country and basically can have it's choice of all the best players. And, it seems like whoever is casting has a predilection not just for the most talented players, but also for very pretty, nicely made up white girls. Meanwhile, Rutgers is a state school in New Jersey, and our team was almost all black girls from places like Newark, Camden, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I'm not making a judgement, I'm just saying that, especially if you've read a little sports history and know that sports has often been a proxy for racial tension/warfare, it was glaringly obvious that something interesting was going on.
For an interesting perspective on Imus, check out my old boss, Richard Rein's column on the subject. Rein dug out some old notes from 1975 when he was assigned by a Cleveland area publication to profile Don Imus, who had just broken out into the national radio scene a few years before, after spending time as as a railroad brakeman, a country & western singer, and a small-town DJ!
First, the Penguins. I guess you shouldn't complain too much when the four best players on your favorite team are all under 21. They'll be back next year for another shot at the cup. Also, it turns out that Sidney Crosby, the best player on the team (and probably the world) was playing the last few weeks of the season with a broken foot. Also, it might have been unhealthy for me if they had gotten any farther in the playoffs. During the four games that I was able to watch, I would estimate that I breathed about 18 times. Total.
The NFL draft is this Saturday and Sunday in New York, and I would really be tempted to go if I weren't going to be flying to New Orleans to work on a Habitat for Humanity build with a group from my company, Return Path, which generously encourages its employees to do community service. You might ask why I would want to attend an event that consists entirely of a man marching up to a podium, reciting a name, and then walking off, only to be repeated more than 250 times over the period of two days? Why? Events that attract WAY more interest then one would imagine, like the announcement of a paternity test or a fairly simple talent show, are fascinating, and that ESPN and the NFL have somehow managed to
bottle this magic and make it appear each year towards the end of April.
I'm going to skip the NBA playoffs. They were basically just filler in my opening paragraph, although I am watching a particularly entertaining game right now between the number 1 seeded Dallas Mavericks and the number 8 seeded Golden State Warriors (are there any other sports teams that use a euphemism to refer to their geographic location? The Big Apple Knickerbockers? The Lone Star State Stars? The Armpit-of-America Devils?)
Spring finally seems to have arrived, and not a moment too soon. It has sparked several SNOD days, and for me several SAC days -- days of Sneezing Almost Constantly.
About Virginia Tech, a few things jump out at me. First of all, I was surprised at how quickly people started joking about it. Usually after any horrible thing, there are at least a few days during which that subject is out of bounds for humor, but it seemed to me that the Virginia Tech shootings became fodder for jokes pretty quickly. Also, while I think that we might want to make it a little harder to get a gun legally in this country, I'm a bit hesitant to blame violence in movies, the chosen cultural scapegoat for this act. Listen, as someone who sat through 3 and quarter hours of almost constant violence in the movie Grindhouse earlier this week, I am all for less violence in movies. Or at least less gross, gratuitous violence. Or, at least more sex... it doesn't make sense to wait to decide which pieces of our culture inspire horrible acts until after they happen. And after all, millions of people who have watched violent movies have turned into non-serial killers, so actually, watching violent movies must have a calming effect, right, right... (how's my math, did I carry the 3?)
Talking about bizarre cultural scapegoats, how did the Don Imus witch-hunt (not to say he didn't have it coming) turn into a referendum on the state of hip-hop? Or, as this article points out, the assumed state of him-hop, since it doesn't seem like anyone is actually paying attention to the actual state of hip-hop, which is currently more bubble-gummed out then blinged-out, and more prankster than gangsta.
I was actually watching the game in question, (it was hard to find a bar near Union Square that was showing a women's basketball game, but Russ and I persisted, despite being told by a less than helpful bartender to "try a butch bar on second Avenue") and like Imus, I was struck by the contrast between the teams. Tennessee's women's basketball program is by far the best program in the country and basically can have it's choice of all the best players. And, it seems like whoever is casting has a predilection not just for the most talented players, but also for very pretty, nicely made up white girls. Meanwhile, Rutgers is a state school in New Jersey, and our team was almost all black girls from places like Newark, Camden, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I'm not making a judgement, I'm just saying that, especially if you've read a little sports history and know that sports has often been a proxy for racial tension/warfare, it was glaringly obvious that something interesting was going on.
For an interesting perspective on Imus, check out my old boss, Richard Rein's column on the subject. Rein dug out some old notes from 1975 when he was assigned by a Cleveland area publication to profile Don Imus, who had just broken out into the national radio scene a few years before, after spending time as as a railroad brakeman, a country & western singer, and a small-town DJ!
Friday, April 06, 2007
In a New Jersey State of Mind
This Sunday the sixth and a halfth season of The Sopranos will begin. I was a Sopranos doubter to begin with -- not only because I have a built-in suspicion of anything that popular, but also because I couldn't get past the fact that Soprano is a silly last name. Luckily for me, I got over that a couple of years ago and beginning with episode one, season one, I watched every single episode of the first five seasons to prepare for season six, which aired last spring. I have to admit that my nervousness about these last nine episodes almost outweighs my excitement. The first half of this last season was sub-par at best and I really hope that they blow us all away (and some of the characters) this spring.
New Jersey, homeland to myself and the Sopranos, is a strange place with strange inhabitants, real and fictitious. There is a lot of petty crime -- let's see if you can pick out the fact from the fiction (Sopranos style):
For the answer, click on this link.
Another theme seems to be driving in dubious circumstances:
For the answer, click on this link.
So, call your goomah, start cooking some pasta, buy some capicola, and tune in to HBO this Sunday at 9:00 p.m!
New Jersey, homeland to myself and the Sopranos, is a strange place with strange inhabitants, real and fictitious. There is a lot of petty crime -- let's see if you can pick out the fact from the fiction (Sopranos style):
Two successful business men with questionable pasts are on their way home from a country house, but can't resist stealing crates of expensive wine that are being loaded into the back of the restaurant that they stop to eat at.
A man wedges a coin into the fish scale at the supermarket in Newark so that he doesn't have to pay full price for his seafood.
Three people steal $12,000 dollars worth of underwear from Victoria's Secret in a mall in Jersey City.
For the answer, click on this link.
Another theme seems to be driving in dubious circumstances:
A man crashes his car into a deer (of course, for insurance purposes, the deer hit him,) while driving with his colleague's girlfriend -- rumors fly.
A man wins his appeal after being convicted of driving an industrial vehicle under the influence of alcohol because drunk driving laws don't apply if the vehicle doesn't go on highways and doesn't carry passengers.
A doctor specializing in erectile dysfunction suffers an embarrassing episode of his own when the guests at his daughter's wedding are the victims of a large-scale car thieving operation.
A doctor specializing in erectile dysfunction suffers an embarrassing episode of his own when the guests at his daughter's wedding are the victims of a large-scale car thieving operation.
For the answer, click on this link.
So, call your goomah, start cooking some pasta, buy some capicola, and tune in to HBO this Sunday at 9:00 p.m!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Notes from the Animal World
Hello faithful reader. Once again, I must apologize for the vast swaths of time between blog posts. Soon you will be so used to the pauses that I will be able to stop apologizing or, conversely, perhaps I should start just posting the apologies and nothing else. Now, apologies, that's something that I could probably write more frequently.
A few nights ago I played with a little white cat, which reminded me of the endless amusement that animals can provide. But can they experience amusement? According to an article on livescience.com, "studies by various groups suggest monkeys, dogs and even rats love a good laugh." The article is a fairly hum-drum affair, mostly trying to convince the reader that animals have a sense of humor because they look and sound to humans like they are laughing. Having lived with a couple of cats for a while, I know that people love to attribute human emotion to animals by seeing human-like reactions and emotions exhibited by their pets. I am convinced that one of my cats, Calypso, was self-conscious about playing in front of people, so whenever I played with her, I would look in the other direction. Obviously absurd, but I still think I'm right. Anyway the article was worth reading just for this gem, "Although no one has investigated the possibility of rat humor, if it exists, it is likely to be heavily laced with slapstick!"
Later, I read an article on cnn.com about an elephant in Sri Lanka who was playing in a game of polo and ended up rushing off the field and crushing the opposing team's bus. Geoffrey Dobbs, the dope who organized the game was stunned. "I've been playing for seven years and it has never happened before," he said. "Elephants are quite short-sighted, and if there are sudden movements in front of them, they can sometimes be unpredictable." Really? I might think about not trying to get them to play a game where balls fly suddenly back and forth in front of their faces, huh?
Unfortunately, elephants aren't the most deadly animals in the world. It's probably the mosquito, which, by carrying and spreading viruses, kills millions of people every year. The AIDS problem in Africa? My friend Julia might yell at me for saying this, but I don't think a disease that kills as slowly as AIDS will ever get addressed until the disease that kills more, younger people at a faster rate gets solved. Luckily, there is some good news as these two articles show. Uhh, this one and this one.
As for the human animal? Well, now that you're done reading this blog, I would seriously consider reading the New York Times review of Robert's Steakhouse in the Penthouse Executive Club. I will leave you with this excerpt:
"In the end, though, the steaks are the thing. The steaks and the conversation.
A few nights ago I played with a little white cat, which reminded me of the endless amusement that animals can provide. But can they experience amusement? According to an article on livescience.com, "studies by various groups suggest monkeys, dogs and even rats love a good laugh." The article is a fairly hum-drum affair, mostly trying to convince the reader that animals have a sense of humor because they look and sound to humans like they are laughing. Having lived with a couple of cats for a while, I know that people love to attribute human emotion to animals by seeing human-like reactions and emotions exhibited by their pets. I am convinced that one of my cats, Calypso, was self-conscious about playing in front of people, so whenever I played with her, I would look in the other direction. Obviously absurd, but I still think I'm right. Anyway the article was worth reading just for this gem, "Although no one has investigated the possibility of rat humor, if it exists, it is likely to be heavily laced with slapstick!"
Later, I read an article on cnn.com about an elephant in Sri Lanka who was playing in a game of polo and ended up rushing off the field and crushing the opposing team's bus. Geoffrey Dobbs, the dope who organized the game was stunned. "I've been playing for seven years and it has never happened before," he said. "Elephants are quite short-sighted, and if there are sudden movements in front of them, they can sometimes be unpredictable." Really? I might think about not trying to get them to play a game where balls fly suddenly back and forth in front of their faces, huh?
Unfortunately, elephants aren't the most deadly animals in the world. It's probably the mosquito, which, by carrying and spreading viruses, kills millions of people every year. The AIDS problem in Africa? My friend Julia might yell at me for saying this, but I don't think a disease that kills as slowly as AIDS will ever get addressed until the disease that kills more, younger people at a faster rate gets solved. Luckily, there is some good news as these two articles show. Uhh, this one and this one.
As for the human animal? Well, now that you're done reading this blog, I would seriously consider reading the New York Times review of Robert's Steakhouse in the Penthouse Executive Club. I will leave you with this excerpt:
"In the end, though, the steaks are the thing. The steaks and the conversation.
Meet Foxy. When I visited Robert’s on Valentine’s Day in a mixed-gender group (not all that unusual at the restaurant), she approached our table to hawk neck and shoulder massages, also $20 apiece.
“Foxy,” I began, then stopped myself, wondering if I was being too familiar. “Are you and I on a first-name basis, or should I address you as Ms. Foxy?”
“You can call me Dr. Foxy,” she said.
“Is that an M.D. or a Ph.D.?”
“Yes,” she answered."
Monday, February 12, 2007
Dribs and Drabs
Although I have been advised against it, I can't resist putting together another potpourri of interesting stuff I've run across on the Internet recently. Plus, it's not like I've done a comprehensive survey about whether my readers like this type of entry -- the conclusion was conclusive, but the sample size was one.
My last blog left of with some commentary about Barak Obama, race, and politics. So, while I will include this New York Times article on the subject, and mention that I had the great pleasure of watching the original Shaft on a (the?) big screen at the MOMA the other night, and that it is actually quite a good movie which makes some interesting social and racial points, and which towards the end of the movie actually allows some black nationalist/pan-africanist characters turn a fire-hose onto some white people (as Dave Chapelle might say, "If I had my way, we'd do this in every episode!), I will start this blog with a more fanciful political issue: George Bush and the cheeseburger.
Apparently there is a war of words and petty government officials (should that be "petty petty government officials) over the birthplace of the hamburger. Both Athens, Texas and New Haven, Connecticut are claiming they their thriving communities incubated and produced the first hamburger on earth. There is a resolution in the Texas legislature right now that would declare Athens the winner of this beefy contest. Mayor John DeStefano Jr., of New Haven had this to say, "We are even the birthplace of George Bush who wants people to think he's from Texas. So yes, the hamburger is as much a New Haven original as President Bush. Get over it, Texas." The mayor of Hamburg has no comment on the situation, except to insist that he may or may not be a jelly-donut.
In other news, government spends a lot of time doing some very silly things. There is a proposal in the New York state senate to ban the use of iPods, Blackberries, and other such handheld electronica while crossing the street. This reminds me of a story I once heard about a man who was pulled over for DWPTF or Driving While Playing The Fiddle. He got off with a warning.
Finally and I hesitate to even include this, because really it's far more sad than it is funny, we end up in Florida where an appeal court upheld the conviction of a 16 year old girl and a 17 year old boy who "violated child pornography laws" after they photographed THEMSELVES naked and also "engaged in unspecified sexual behavior." Far from following the lead of such possible role models like: Paris Hilton, Pamela Anderson, Tommy Lee, or Dustin Diamond of 'Screech' fame, these two kids kept the photos to themselves. But, somehow, and to me, the parental hand looms in this situation as clearly as if it were visible, the police found out about the situation and decided to prosecute. This is totally sick. I understand laws intended to protect children, but how can anyone possibly think that these two kids or any others will have their lives improved by this ridiculous misuse of the Judaical system.
Well, I don't want to keep you (or me for that matter, I'm getting sleepy!) any longer, but suffice it to say that video games make your eyes better, cell-phones can burn, and a pro-basketball player is involved in a hit-and-run birthday caking incident. Lucky for him he wasn't in Florida.
My last blog left of with some commentary about Barak Obama, race, and politics. So, while I will include this New York Times article on the subject, and mention that I had the great pleasure of watching the original Shaft on a (the?) big screen at the MOMA the other night, and that it is actually quite a good movie which makes some interesting social and racial points, and which towards the end of the movie actually allows some black nationalist/pan-africanist characters turn a fire-hose onto some white people (as Dave Chapelle might say, "If I had my way, we'd do this in every episode!), I will start this blog with a more fanciful political issue: George Bush and the cheeseburger.
Apparently there is a war of words and petty government officials (should that be "petty petty government officials) over the birthplace of the hamburger. Both Athens, Texas and New Haven, Connecticut are claiming they their thriving communities incubated and produced the first hamburger on earth. There is a resolution in the Texas legislature right now that would declare Athens the winner of this beefy contest. Mayor John DeStefano Jr., of New Haven had this to say, "We are even the birthplace of George Bush who wants people to think he's from Texas. So yes, the hamburger is as much a New Haven original as President Bush. Get over it, Texas." The mayor of Hamburg has no comment on the situation, except to insist that he may or may not be a jelly-donut.
In other news, government spends a lot of time doing some very silly things. There is a proposal in the New York state senate to ban the use of iPods, Blackberries, and other such handheld electronica while crossing the street. This reminds me of a story I once heard about a man who was pulled over for DWPTF or Driving While Playing The Fiddle. He got off with a warning.
Finally and I hesitate to even include this, because really it's far more sad than it is funny, we end up in Florida where an appeal court upheld the conviction of a 16 year old girl and a 17 year old boy who "violated child pornography laws" after they photographed THEMSELVES naked and also "engaged in unspecified sexual behavior." Far from following the lead of such possible role models like: Paris Hilton, Pamela Anderson, Tommy Lee, or Dustin Diamond of 'Screech' fame, these two kids kept the photos to themselves. But, somehow, and to me, the parental hand looms in this situation as clearly as if it were visible, the police found out about the situation and decided to prosecute. This is totally sick. I understand laws intended to protect children, but how can anyone possibly think that these two kids or any others will have their lives improved by this ridiculous misuse of the Judaical system.
Well, I don't want to keep you (or me for that matter, I'm getting sleepy!) any longer, but suffice it to say that video games make your eyes better, cell-phones can burn, and a pro-basketball player is involved in a hit-and-run birthday caking incident. Lucky for him he wasn't in Florida.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Common Sense
One of my favorite columnists, Bill Simmons, thinks that sports teams should employ common-sense assistant coaches. These people, whose expertise might only have been formerly employed playing countless hours of sports video games would be on hand to point out the obvious. A couple of items in the news recently have had me feeling like people should pay me to common-sense-advise. Unfortunately, I haven't received any offers, so I guess I will just vent my common sense here.
As you may have noticed, the 2008 Presidential race has unofficially begun, with a plethora of candidates beginning their undignified scramble to Washington via New Hampshire, Iowa, Ohio, Florida, Pennsylvania, yeehaaawww! Perhaps the biggest splash so far has been made by the Democratic Senator, Joe Biden, who, on the day he declared himself a candidate, also made an inopportune comment about fellow Democratic candidate, Barak Obama. What Biden said, was that Obama was the "first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy."
Of course, he immediately issued apologies left and right, calling Obama, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson to try to diffuse the backlash that threatened to destroy his campaign before it even began. There a couple things that are wrong about this story. First the specific and then the general:
How can Biden play this off by saying something like, "Oh, I called, Al and Jesse, and we had a good talk, they understand what I was trying to say." What Biden was trying to say is that Obama is young enough (and not of African-American heritage) to campaign, unencumbered by the racially divisive politics of the civil rights era. Lets see, who, if not Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (Carol Moseley Braun or whatever her name was) could Biden have been thinking of when he said what he said? That he had to tag on Obama's aesthetic advantages over those two could not have made his apologies any easier to take.
The link above in the parenthesis is to a New York Times article whose grand thesis was that Barack Obama actually seems to be getting less support from Black people than Hilary Clinton is -- the tone -- shock. I really don't understand how this is a shock. It's an unfortunate catch 22 that any black candidate with a realistic chance of winning a major political contest (Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice (sounds like a mexican dish,) Barack Obama, that guy from Pennsylvania, etc.) must be people who appeal greatly to the 90% or so of the population that isn't black. Not to say that it is impossible for a black politician who appeals to white people appeal to black people, but... I think it's a lot easier for a white politician to have that type of cross-over appeal. And after all, Hilary Clinton's husband is in the African American Hall of Fame (whoever wrote the article felt the need to include this gem, "this is not in any way an effort to say that Clinton is an African American") while Obama's boyfriend is not even out of the closet... no, I mean, Obama's wife isn't a celebrity.
But the general problem with this whole thing is that the campaign creeping earlier and earlier is really quite damaging. Biden is just the first of the candidates to have to weather the storm of political scandal. I can't see any of the candidates making it through the year and a few months before the primaries actually begin to be held without some seriously damaging comment, story, photograph, etc. -- not unless they are incredibly boring people who are totally uninspiring to the hordes of bored news reporters (and I guess bloggers,) who are now being forced to cover this nonsense for longer than ever before. We're going to end up scaring off most of the good candidates (to be candidates) and then eliminating or damaging the rest of them during the marathon primary season, so by the time it's time to have a "meaningful debate between the two parties" the two candidates are going to be so scandal ridden and exhausted that our chance of actually having that debate will be even less above zero than it usually it.
My second common sense story has to do with Michael Vick, a football player being caught in an airport with a water bottle that had a secret compartment in it. The whole world went nuts until it was discovered that there wasn't actually any marijuana in it. Since then everyone has been falling over their own lack of cojones to apologize to Vick and to point out that they and everyone else were to fast to jump to conclusions. No one, no where has even paused to pose the question: if Vick wasn't smuggling weed, what was the secret compartment for? Hmmm, here's a FREAKISHLY quick athlete who is being paid millions and millions of dollars that are contingent on his remaining FREAKISHLY fast. Gee, what else, other than weed, might he be smuggling?
As you may have noticed, the 2008 Presidential race has unofficially begun, with a plethora of candidates beginning their undignified scramble to Washington via New Hampshire, Iowa, Ohio, Florida, Pennsylvania, yeehaaawww! Perhaps the biggest splash so far has been made by the Democratic Senator, Joe Biden, who, on the day he declared himself a candidate, also made an inopportune comment about fellow Democratic candidate, Barak Obama. What Biden said, was that Obama was the "first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy."
Of course, he immediately issued apologies left and right, calling Obama, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson to try to diffuse the backlash that threatened to destroy his campaign before it even began. There a couple things that are wrong about this story. First the specific and then the general:
How can Biden play this off by saying something like, "Oh, I called, Al and Jesse, and we had a good talk, they understand what I was trying to say." What Biden was trying to say is that Obama is young enough (and not of African-American heritage) to campaign, unencumbered by the racially divisive politics of the civil rights era. Lets see, who, if not Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (Carol Moseley Braun or whatever her name was) could Biden have been thinking of when he said what he said? That he had to tag on Obama's aesthetic advantages over those two could not have made his apologies any easier to take.
The link above in the parenthesis is to a New York Times article whose grand thesis was that Barack Obama actually seems to be getting less support from Black people than Hilary Clinton is -- the tone -- shock. I really don't understand how this is a shock. It's an unfortunate catch 22 that any black candidate with a realistic chance of winning a major political contest (Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice (sounds like a mexican dish,) Barack Obama, that guy from Pennsylvania, etc.) must be people who appeal greatly to the 90% or so of the population that isn't black. Not to say that it is impossible for a black politician who appeals to white people appeal to black people, but... I think it's a lot easier for a white politician to have that type of cross-over appeal. And after all, Hilary Clinton's husband is in the African American Hall of Fame (whoever wrote the article felt the need to include this gem, "this is not in any way an effort to say that Clinton is an African American") while Obama's boyfriend is not even out of the closet... no, I mean, Obama's wife isn't a celebrity.
But the general problem with this whole thing is that the campaign creeping earlier and earlier is really quite damaging. Biden is just the first of the candidates to have to weather the storm of political scandal. I can't see any of the candidates making it through the year and a few months before the primaries actually begin to be held without some seriously damaging comment, story, photograph, etc. -- not unless they are incredibly boring people who are totally uninspiring to the hordes of bored news reporters (and I guess bloggers,) who are now being forced to cover this nonsense for longer than ever before. We're going to end up scaring off most of the good candidates (to be candidates) and then eliminating or damaging the rest of them during the marathon primary season, so by the time it's time to have a "meaningful debate between the two parties" the two candidates are going to be so scandal ridden and exhausted that our chance of actually having that debate will be even less above zero than it usually it.
My second common sense story has to do with Michael Vick, a football player being caught in an airport with a water bottle that had a secret compartment in it. The whole world went nuts until it was discovered that there wasn't actually any marijuana in it. Since then everyone has been falling over their own lack of cojones to apologize to Vick and to point out that they and everyone else were to fast to jump to conclusions. No one, no where has even paused to pose the question: if Vick wasn't smuggling weed, what was the secret compartment for? Hmmm, here's a FREAKISHLY quick athlete who is being paid millions and millions of dollars that are contingent on his remaining FREAKISHLY fast. Gee, what else, other than weed, might he be smuggling?
Friday, January 19, 2007
The Subway and the Soviet Union
Riding the subway home from work today, my eye rested on a whole bunch of other eyes. No, don't worry dad, I wasn't making eye contact in the New York subway system, these eyes were on an advertisement put out by the MTA.
The ad, part of the MTA's continuing campaign to prevent potential terrorist attacks features a resolutely multi-racial set of eyes, which we are supposed to believe represent the population of the five boroughs. Although they are on average, less bloodshot, sleepy, and suspicious than what I would expect from a random sampling, I am willing to suspend my disbelief, and take them for what they are meant to be.
As for what they are meant to be doing, I am not so sure. The text below the eyes reads, "There are 16 million eyes in the city. We're counting on all of them." The message I believe, is that if we are to prevent another attack in New York, we (New York residents, commuters, and visitors,) must all remain constantly vigilant -- keeping our eyes open for suspicious behavior at all times.
I have a couple of issues with this message. The first one is simply that I'm not sure if it will work. One of the most interesting things about the September 11 hijackers is that on September 11, up until the moment they rose from their seats and announced that they were terrorists, they hadn't done anything that was illegal certainly, or even all that suspicious. It wasn't illegal to book one-way tickets for a group travelling together. It wasn't illegal to have box-cutters, not even in your carry-on. Of course there have been other examples of people doing highly suspicious things and then trying to do something violent. A prime example would have to be that ten foot tall dude who was caught trying to set his shoe on fire! But, my point is just that you don't necessarily have to be suspicious to blow something up, and even less so if you were trying to do something even creepier, involving a chemical or biological weapon. Even if we assume that someone attacking New York City is going to be acting a little bit funny before he or she attacks, the question remains... how is that any different from a normal New York commuter?
My second issue with the ad is less tangible. It just feels a little creepy to me. As I looked at the eyes in the subway today, a name came into my mind: Pavlik Morozov. I took a Russian history course taught by Greg Hand in high school, and along with the former Soviet Republics (you can remember these by the easy mnemonic device, "ELBUM GAA TUTKK R") was the story of Pavlik Morozov. Little Pavlik, as the story goes, did his duty as a loyal citizen of the Soviet Union, and at the age of 12, denounced his father to the authorities for some type of traitorous behavior. His father was tried and convicted, and sent to Siberia, or Gulag, or Gaol, or whatever the Russians called the pokey back then (1930s I believe.) Angry members of the family killed Pavlik, who was then held up as a martyred exemplar of the ideal Soviet youth all over the country. School-children learned his story, and operas were written and performed, but I'm afraid -- not listened to (even Soviets are human.)
Okay, so, there is clearly a difference between one government teaching children to betray their families and another asking commuters to keep their eyes open and report what they see. But, what can I say, Morozov was the name that flew into my mind on my way home today. I don't want to keep my eyes open on my commute home and I don't want other people keeping their eyes open at me. I just don't think it's worth it. I'm not sure how much it will improve our chances of not being attacked by a foreigner and I'm pretty sure that creating an heightened atmosphere of distrust (and let's not forget that people would not actually be looking at me, they would be looking at light-brown skinned people...) can only inspire more violent acts between Americans. Maybe this would get filed as violent crime and not terrorism, but I don't think that's a trade that I would like to make.
The ad, part of the MTA's continuing campaign to prevent potential terrorist attacks features a resolutely multi-racial set of eyes, which we are supposed to believe represent the population of the five boroughs. Although they are on average, less bloodshot, sleepy, and suspicious than what I would expect from a random sampling, I am willing to suspend my disbelief, and take them for what they are meant to be.
As for what they are meant to be doing, I am not so sure. The text below the eyes reads, "There are 16 million eyes in the city. We're counting on all of them." The message I believe, is that if we are to prevent another attack in New York, we (New York residents, commuters, and visitors,) must all remain constantly vigilant -- keeping our eyes open for suspicious behavior at all times.
I have a couple of issues with this message. The first one is simply that I'm not sure if it will work. One of the most interesting things about the September 11 hijackers is that on September 11, up until the moment they rose from their seats and announced that they were terrorists, they hadn't done anything that was illegal certainly, or even all that suspicious. It wasn't illegal to book one-way tickets for a group travelling together. It wasn't illegal to have box-cutters, not even in your carry-on. Of course there have been other examples of people doing highly suspicious things and then trying to do something violent. A prime example would have to be that ten foot tall dude who was caught trying to set his shoe on fire! But, my point is just that you don't necessarily have to be suspicious to blow something up, and even less so if you were trying to do something even creepier, involving a chemical or biological weapon. Even if we assume that someone attacking New York City is going to be acting a little bit funny before he or she attacks, the question remains... how is that any different from a normal New York commuter?
My second issue with the ad is less tangible. It just feels a little creepy to me. As I looked at the eyes in the subway today, a name came into my mind: Pavlik Morozov. I took a Russian history course taught by Greg Hand in high school, and along with the former Soviet Republics (you can remember these by the easy mnemonic device, "ELBUM GAA TUTKK R") was the story of Pavlik Morozov. Little Pavlik, as the story goes, did his duty as a loyal citizen of the Soviet Union, and at the age of 12, denounced his father to the authorities for some type of traitorous behavior. His father was tried and convicted, and sent to Siberia, or Gulag, or Gaol, or whatever the Russians called the pokey back then (1930s I believe.) Angry members of the family killed Pavlik, who was then held up as a martyred exemplar of the ideal Soviet youth all over the country. School-children learned his story, and operas were written and performed, but I'm afraid -- not listened to (even Soviets are human.)
Okay, so, there is clearly a difference between one government teaching children to betray their families and another asking commuters to keep their eyes open and report what they see. But, what can I say, Morozov was the name that flew into my mind on my way home today. I don't want to keep my eyes open on my commute home and I don't want other people keeping their eyes open at me. I just don't think it's worth it. I'm not sure how much it will improve our chances of not being attacked by a foreigner and I'm pretty sure that creating an heightened atmosphere of distrust (and let's not forget that people would not actually be looking at me, they would be looking at light-brown skinned people...) can only inspire more violent acts between Americans. Maybe this would get filed as violent crime and not terrorism, but I don't think that's a trade that I would like to make.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
This is a blog. A what? A blog. Oh, a blog...
Most of my blog entries are not really appropriate for a blog. The conclusion I reached in an earlier entry (also, not really a true blog entry...) is that an authentic blog should be a survey of the websites that the author has been visiting lately -- a compendium if I will. And, it looks like today, finally, I will.
Recently a big news story in the New York metropolitan was the mysterious "natural gas" smell that covered the city and its neighbors a few days ago. As almost always happens when a funny smell occurs, people immediately blame New Jersey. We New Jerseyans get a little bit prickly about this. I particularly enjoyed a quote from Stan H. Eason, a spokesperson for Jersey City, who said, "'We’re going to get some industrial fans out and blow the smell back over to New York,'"
In other news from my home state, the state legislation is seriously considering making some important changes to the constitution. Nope, not gay marriage. No, not the death penalty. No... it was a five letter word!
Aside from horrid smells, and word choice, some of you might have noticed Bush's national announcement of the "troop surge" in Iraq. My first instinct was to question whether or not our Commander in Chief needed to make such a public display of increasing our troop numbers by a paltry ~12 percent? Having been convinced by one of my trusted advisers that this was, indeed, appropriate, I've distilled my objection to this: seeing as basically no one believes that 20,000 troops is going to make a significant change in the military situation in Iraq, then Bush' motivation must have been to make a significant change in the political situation in the United States, and I'm not really sure he should be trying to make political hay while the kids die. On this subject (and this is where the link comes in...) I read a New York Times column by Maureen Dowd (which is "reprinted" on someone else's blog, because you have to pay to read certain Times articles on-line these days.) In it she tries to psychoanalyze President Bush by making an elaborate allegory to his college days. She describes Bush in the following way:
"Junior was known as an extremely aggressive player in the venerable Parker Brothers board game, a brutal contest that requires bluster and bluffing as you invade countries, all the while betraying alliances. Notably, it’s almost impossible to win Risk and conquer the world if you start the game in the Middle East, because you’re surrounded by enemies."
Here's my beef. All psychological or military accuracy aside, if you are going to waste almost 24 column inches of the New York Times with a board game allegory, you should really get your facts about the game straight. You cannot bluff while playing Risk. I've never seen anyone attempt to bluster their way into a better position. Nor are there usually any alliances to betray. Risk is actually a game that is skewed to the defensive (when two players role equal numbers on the dice, the defender wins,) and rewards good positioning and overwhelming numerical superiority.
Sorry about that... it's just something I'm passionate about, and I hate when someone sullies such an important topic with politics.
I went to an art show in SOHO that my friend and ex-housemate Amanda Thackray was exhibiting at. The show was fairly political, intermittently sophomoric, and to my unrefined mind, over-priced. But, it did provoke the following conversational gem, which I wish someone had overheard and reported on this nifty website:
Ezra: What is that terrible noise?
Noise: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Amanda (with no hesitation): I think it's either a fire alarm or art.
The curse of the yellow piece: a woman was hospitalized after playing poorly in a game of Trivial Pursuit. Which would suggest that perhaps it isn't such a trivial game after all. I love the fact that the person who reported on the incident felt the need to report that the woman in question was, in fact, playing as the yellow piece. I especially enjoyed that because I ALWAYS play as the yellow piece. I think it's because yellow is the color of the history questions or maybe because Nero Wolfe's pajamas are yellow.
My motivations are sometimes less than clear. But if you are interested in history, especially if you have ancestors who immigrated to this continent from England, then you might be interested in this little history thing, which doubles as my last link of the day. Enjoy!
Recently a big news story in the New York metropolitan was the mysterious "natural gas" smell that covered the city and its neighbors a few days ago. As almost always happens when a funny smell occurs, people immediately blame New Jersey. We New Jerseyans get a little bit prickly about this. I particularly enjoyed a quote from Stan H. Eason, a spokesperson for Jersey City, who said, "'We’re going to get some industrial fans out and blow the smell back over to New York,'"
In other news from my home state, the state legislation is seriously considering making some important changes to the constitution. Nope, not gay marriage. No, not the death penalty. No... it was a five letter word!
Aside from horrid smells, and word choice, some of you might have noticed Bush's national announcement of the "troop surge" in Iraq. My first instinct was to question whether or not our Commander in Chief needed to make such a public display of increasing our troop numbers by a paltry ~12 percent? Having been convinced by one of my trusted advisers that this was, indeed, appropriate, I've distilled my objection to this: seeing as basically no one believes that 20,000 troops is going to make a significant change in the military situation in Iraq, then Bush' motivation must have been to make a significant change in the political situation in the United States, and I'm not really sure he should be trying to make political hay while the kids die. On this subject (and this is where the link comes in...) I read a New York Times column by Maureen Dowd (which is "reprinted" on someone else's blog, because you have to pay to read certain Times articles on-line these days.) In it she tries to psychoanalyze President Bush by making an elaborate allegory to his college days. She describes Bush in the following way:
"Junior was known as an extremely aggressive player in the venerable Parker Brothers board game, a brutal contest that requires bluster and bluffing as you invade countries, all the while betraying alliances. Notably, it’s almost impossible to win Risk and conquer the world if you start the game in the Middle East, because you’re surrounded by enemies."
Here's my beef. All psychological or military accuracy aside, if you are going to waste almost 24 column inches of the New York Times with a board game allegory, you should really get your facts about the game straight. You cannot bluff while playing Risk. I've never seen anyone attempt to bluster their way into a better position. Nor are there usually any alliances to betray. Risk is actually a game that is skewed to the defensive (when two players role equal numbers on the dice, the defender wins,) and rewards good positioning and overwhelming numerical superiority.
Sorry about that... it's just something I'm passionate about, and I hate when someone sullies such an important topic with politics.
I went to an art show in SOHO that my friend and ex-housemate Amanda Thackray was exhibiting at. The show was fairly political, intermittently sophomoric, and to my unrefined mind, over-priced. But, it did provoke the following conversational gem, which I wish someone had overheard and reported on this nifty website:
Ezra: What is that terrible noise?
Noise: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Amanda (with no hesitation): I think it's either a fire alarm or art.
The curse of the yellow piece: a woman was hospitalized after playing poorly in a game of Trivial Pursuit. Which would suggest that perhaps it isn't such a trivial game after all. I love the fact that the person who reported on the incident felt the need to report that the woman in question was, in fact, playing as the yellow piece. I especially enjoyed that because I ALWAYS play as the yellow piece. I think it's because yellow is the color of the history questions or maybe because Nero Wolfe's pajamas are yellow.
My motivations are sometimes less than clear. But if you are interested in history, especially if you have ancestors who immigrated to this continent from England, then you might be interested in this little history thing, which doubles as my last link of the day. Enjoy!
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