Question:
"Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can't locate the U.S. on a world map. Why do you think this is?
Answer:
"I personally believe... that U.S. Americans are unable to do so... because... Uh... some people out there in our nation don't have maps... And... uh... I believe that our education, like such as in South Africa and... uh... the Iraq, everywhere, like, such as...And I believe that they should... Our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S... uh...Or, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries...So we will be able to build up our future... for our [children]."
Yesterday I went to a community pool in Baltimore and, to my surprise, it wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. In fact, I could envision myself going with my own kids someday, if I ever have kids. Community pools are much more common in this part of the country for some reason. Out West, I almost never hear about them.
The first surprise was that it wasn’t as chaotic as I expected. The kids were orderly and well-behaved in general. A second surprise was that it seemed relatively clean. As far as I could tell, nobody peed in the pool or pooped their swim trunks.
The best part was the plentitude of grippy basketballs and an 8-foot rim up a slope behind the main pool. What does that mean to a guy like me? An opportunity to throw one down, that’s what! I did just that, in fact, when my brother-in-law wasn’t looking. Then, I asked him, “Hey, you think I can jam this?” And I sort a stooped a little bit to make myself look shorter. His first response was “Yes,” and I thought I hadn’t stooped enough, but then he reconsidered and changed his tune, “No, you can’t dunk on that rim, Tom.”
Famous last words. I proved him wrong when I leapt up and slammed that ball home, through the rim, and into my face, sending my glasses hurtling to the floor. “It doesn’t count if you hurt yourself,” smirked my brother-in-law. But he knew he was wrong about me, oh yes. He was wrong indeed.
Besides that, I realized that the pain one feels from walking barefoot on the grass – and therefore twigs, little pebbles, and other sharp things from Mother Nature – is highly correlated with one’s weight. At 180 pounds, I could hardly walk without feeling the hurt, while my nephew, at perhaps 25 pounds, seemed not to feel a thing.
I’m back East – Baltimore to be precise – and here are a couple quick observations: (1) the insects are really loud at night and (2) it’s like a tropical rain forest around here. A third observation is that my three-year-old nephew wants to be called “Baby Jaguar.” Calling him anything else makes him very grumpy.
As for the insects, I actually like their chirping and buzzing and whirling. When you add it all together, they sort of blend into a soothing chorus, like a ceiling fan. It makes me feel comfortable and I’m glad they are there.
I also like the humidity at night. In Northern California, it’s often too cold to wear shorts at night, even if the day was hot, because of a large temperature drop and a virtual lack of humidity. Here, it’s warm at night and very pleasant. The humiity from dusk onward has a certain calmness to it that I miss.
The air on the flight here was not as calm. Someone on the plane – I think it’s unfair that I automatically assume that it was a man – was farting NONSTOP from San Jose to Phoenix. This begs the question, “if somebody farts on a plane from San Jose to Phoenix, but nobody hears it, did it really happen?” The answer is an unequivocal “yes, it did,” I’m afraid, “it certainly did.”
Rally racing is awesome. Here's some proof.
I think I like it because it's totally awesome. But if I had to dig a little deeper into my feelings for it, I'd say I like it because it totally rocks.
And also because there's more perceptible action in rally racing. The cars have to make dozens of hairpin turns, for example, rather than going around an oval hundreds of times. They drive on dirt and gravel, even snow, so that makes the traction more precarious. And there's a sense of danger too, since the drivers have to navigate narrow winding roads at speeds in excess of 100 MPH, while gracefully navigating sharp turns.
That pretty much means it's cool as hell, if you ask me.
Today I experienced something very new, something I had never seen in a movie, read in a book, or heard anecdotally from a friend. It was inconceivable. It was incongruous. It was...unsanitary.
I am talking, of course, about hearing snores from a stall in the men's room. Apparently one of my esteemed coworkers fell asleep while sitting on the crapper, drawers at his ankles, toilet (presumably) unflushed.
The deep, rhythmic breaths - borderline snores, I'd say - tipped me off to the drowsy drifter as I was standing at the urinal. "Should I flush the toilet and risk waking him?" I asked myself. I flushed after a moment's consideration. I had not fallen asleep, after all, so I had no excuse.
I first heard of the town bearing my surname in the early 1990s when my college roommate just happened to live there for a few months. What were the chances of my roommate going to live in the town of Kehl for summer, I asked? Anyway, here is a picture to prove it exists.
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After searching long and hard for my match, I think she found me instead:
Good DAY !!!
I have seen your profile and it became very interesting to me to read about you.
I am an educated girl, with a harmonious body;
my height is 5 ' 7 ",
My weight is 120 pounds.
I ask you to write me on this emai: fdsafdsa(at)gmail.com
I would like to send you some of my pictures and I will be pleased to answer you if you write me back.
Faithfully, Natasha.
PS I would like to ask you that you wrote to me on email: fdsafdsa(at)gmail.com
It's clear that we have lots in common. I, too, have a harmonious body. I, too, have a Gmail account. I, too...well, that may be it. And to be honest, I don't know what a harmonious body is. Maybe it's just not meant to be, Natasha. It's just not meant to be.
You know how every once in a while, a band releases an album that you just love? You don't know if you'll love it in a couple months, or even in a couple weeks, but you know that you love it now?
The new Queens of the Stone Age CD, Era Vulgaris is just such an album. I like it so much that I actually found the lyrics online and sang along to them this morning in my living room. No, I wasn't in my pajamas. Yes, I used to do the same thing as a kid.
Here is my favorite verse from the song "Turning on the Screw:"
Scared to say what is your passion
So slag it all, bitter's in fashion
Fear of failure's all you've started
The jury's in. Verdict: retarded
I'm so tired, I'm wired too
I'm a mess I guess I'm turning on the screw
I may even buy the CD to support the cause rather than rely on whatever small fee the band gets as a result of my download from Y! Music. Now that is saying something.
Well, according to Wikipedia it was a Van Dyck because it included a moustache. Anyway, it's gone now. Goodbye, Goatee. Maybe you'll be back before you know it.
I wore that facial hair for about 17 months and even though that doesn't sound like a long time, when I look at myself in the mirror, I don't immediately recognize myself. I'm also not sure if I like the new look, which is funny because it's really the old look. I wonder what that says about my self-esteem!
I may compromise a little as a result of my misgivings and grow what's called a "royale," again according to Wikipedia. That will at least give me something to fiddle with when I'm thinking.
Netflix is great because I can watch movies without feeling the opportunity cost of watching a bad movie - I pay a flat fee for as many movies as I can watch a month, so I'm not really losing anything but time. And what is my time worth anyway? Not too much, when it comes down to it.
The point is that with Netflix I was inspired to watch "A Streetcar Named Desire" last night. I'm glad I did.
What a wonderfully disturbing story about insanity and two opposing forces destined to collide! It also reminded me of a theory that is probably well known in story-tellling circles/film school and it may even have a name, but since that's not my world, I'll just pretend it's mine for the moment. It seems that a great technique to interest viewers is to incorporate references to events or places that took place in the past and to treat them with great import. In A Streetcar Named Desire, the mystery events were Blanche's "loss of Belle Reve," a loss that was explained only at the end and from her point of view. In Star Wars IV - VI, the unexplained include Darth Vader's background, the Senate, the rise of the empire, etc. I'm sure there are lots of other examples, which I'll gladly note in post scripts as I think of them!
This technique adds a level of depth to the story that makes the audience feel that they are voyeuristic, that they are joining a story already in progress, that the story isn't being told because we are watching, but because it is actually happening, and we just happen to be there. It's immersive.
So if I ever write anything, I'll be sure to include that technique. If I don't forget, that is.
