Today, a possum sneezed on me.
I couldn't decide which was more newsworthy: the fact that I got sneezed on by a possum, or that I saw a possum, and it was alive! Until today, I thought possums only came in the form of dead-on-the-roadside. Well, a single counterexample put that notion to rest, and there shattered my worldview. I think I was happier not knowing the truth. As the saying goes, ignorance...paves the road to Rome.
"Oh, don't worry," said the guy with the live possum on his shoulder, "Possums don't carry germs, they're totally clean." Oh, well thank god! That's exactly what I was thinking of when the possum sprayed its marsupial mucus all over my scarf and pea coat, thanks for the reassurance old man! Of course, all I said out loud was "Thank God!" We must be civil, yes we must!
Ribbit, ribbit!* Hmmm...why was there a frog in the Google logo today? It was jumping out from where the l usually was, and because I couldn't think of any amphibian-heralding holidays off the top of my head, I did a quick google search and discovered it was in celebration of the leap day. Clever!
In other animal news, I visited Pike Place market (where I saw the live possum) and bought a statuette of a baby elephant with the fattest cheeks ever. Fat cheeks are so cute! It sounds like a frivolous purchase, but actually, if people didn't make frivolous purchases every once in a while, no one would sell anything and there would be no economy. So I was just doing my duty and making my frivolous purchase of the year. The cool thing about these statues is, they're made out of the volcanic ash of Mt. St. Helens, a mountain in WA that erupted 28 years ago. Ashes to ashes!
*That's supposed to be a transition. Think of a frog leaping out onto the next page. New page, new topic.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Spacetime's 5 Steps to Becoming Voluptuous
Do you ever wonder how spacetime became so seductively curvaceous? I've squashed the argument found on the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy into 5 bullet points:
Now, that scant, skeletal version of the argument ought to be fleshed out if anyone really wants to understand it, but sometimes it's easier to memorize now, understand later. Also, I'm a huge fan of bullet-pointing when the logic behind the words is not so clear.
If I were to strip the argument down even further, it would look something like:
Wow, that's pretty meaningless.
A third way of putting it would be:
Inertials used to be in, but now freefall is the new inertial, and freefall prefers curves. Thus, space is curved.
- By definition, inertial trajectories are the straight lines (geodesics) of spacetime
- By the Equivalence Principle of General Relativity, free-falling trajectories are indistinguishable from inertial trajectories
- By the General Covariance of General Relativity, free-falling trajectories ought to be identified as the inertial trajectories- and thus the geodesics- of spacetime
- Free-falling trajectories show relative accelerations- a defining feature of curved geometry.
- Thus, spacetime is curved.
Now, that scant, skeletal version of the argument ought to be fleshed out if anyone really wants to understand it, but sometimes it's easier to memorize now, understand later. Also, I'm a huge fan of bullet-pointing when the logic behind the words is not so clear.
If I were to strip the argument down even further, it would look something like:
- geodesic
- inertial trajectory = geodesic
- freefalling trajectory = inertial trajectory = geodesic
- => freefalling trajectory (accelerates) = geodesic (curved)
Wow, that's pretty meaningless.
A third way of putting it would be:
Inertials used to be in, but now freefall is the new inertial, and freefall prefers curves. Thus, space is curved.
McCain’s Canal Zone Birth Prompts Queries About Whether That Rules Him Out
McCain’s Canal Zone Birth Prompts Queries About Whether That Rules Him Out
Anyone else think this Times article was gonna be about a certain anatomical structure of Mrs. McCain? When I saw this title, I was like, what's the matter, we can't have presidents born from their mom's vagina anymore? Jesus, what a title. They really should refrain from putting 'canal' and 'birth' so close together in a sentence. My brain does funny things with such quasi-juxtapositions.
Monday, February 25, 2008
I Was the Block!
One of my friends most recent blog entry was about how she thinks she might be boring her readers with the stuff she's been writing lately. I made the following empathic (at first, I put "empathetic") comment:
For me, there are boring blog entries, and there are boring blog entries by friends, which are not boring. Sometimes I find interesting blogs, but I usually stop reading them eventually unless they are really good because I don't really care about the person behind the blog. For example, if they wrote about how they got into a grad school, I would feel no elation for them. But if a friend-blogger wrote that she got into grad school, I'd be thinking 'Woo! yeah! sweet!" and feel happy for her.
So about that Walk: I went out thinking I was going to be out for only an hour and a half, in order to drop off a dvd at the nearest grocery store (yeah, that shows you just how rustic an area we live in), but on the way back, I decided to take a little detour, and ...you know that block game I might have mentioned a while back, where you have to push a block around a maze and try to drop it into a hole?
I was the block!
And whoever was pushing me was really really stupid and had no sense of direction. Okay, I suppose it had less to do with sense of direction than the dead end after dead end and "not a through street" streets and "no outlet" lets that I encountered. Whew, good thing it didn't start raining. In fact it was so sunny that there was a good number of people out washing their cars or doing yard work. Hehe, I faked a British accent when I asked one of them if there was a way out that way (there wasn't of course).
Later, after I found out who won Best Make-Up Artist, I went to see Persepolis with some people I met at the French club meeting. And BOY was it lovely! The drawings and animation I mean, not the torture and war and loss of basic human/women's rights. I definitely want to get the dvd for this one, as well as read the graphic novel the film was based on.
A political story on the surface, I would say it's as much a love story and coming-of-age story. Despite the harsh nature of the political one, there were a lot of funny moments as well as quite a few sad ones that moved me in a way that Reading Lolita in Tehran never did (this sentence would read totally differently if that book title was not capitalized). It's not a matter of one story being sadder or funnier or better written than the other; rather it's a testament to the power of images over words. Or maybe my imagination just sucks.
At any rate, Persepolis (the film) captured in a few second-long images the sadness of separation, or the desolation of being homeless. What I love about animation is how it can make even the act of hitting a homeless man seem funny. Which sounds terrible, but it's true! In animated form, I guess, we sort of forget the live, 3-D consequences of hitting someone in the face with a bag, or repeatedly smashing a box of mashed potatoes over someone's head. Satrapi, the author of Persepolis, made a brilliant move in choosing to tell her "growing up in Iran" story visually.
So goes the story, but it was the artwork that I loved the most. It was done mostly in black and white, & speaking as one who doesn't know much about animation, it was inky and swirly with spongey areas showing light. There were falling jasmine petals, butterflies fluttering away like an Escher Metamorphosis, flying cars, sea waves drawn as curly-cues, even an (possibly unintentional) homage to Edward Munch's The Scream.
I think about this too when I feel the blog urge. Should I or shouldn't I tell my readers about the 2.5-hour walk I took today in Spanaway (bumblefuck), during which the most interesting thing I saw was a garage band? I thought it was interesting. But would they? What a quandary...
For me, there are boring blog entries, and there are boring blog entries by friends, which are not boring. Sometimes I find interesting blogs, but I usually stop reading them eventually unless they are really good because I don't really care about the person behind the blog. For example, if they wrote about how they got into a grad school, I would feel no elation for them. But if a friend-blogger wrote that she got into grad school, I'd be thinking 'Woo! yeah! sweet!" and feel happy for her.
So about that Walk: I went out thinking I was going to be out for only an hour and a half, in order to drop off a dvd at the nearest grocery store (yeah, that shows you just how rustic an area we live in), but on the way back, I decided to take a little detour, and ...you know that block game I might have mentioned a while back, where you have to push a block around a maze and try to drop it into a hole?
I was the block!
And whoever was pushing me was really really stupid and had no sense of direction. Okay, I suppose it had less to do with sense of direction than the dead end after dead end and "not a through street" streets and "no outlet" lets that I encountered. Whew, good thing it didn't start raining. In fact it was so sunny that there was a good number of people out washing their cars or doing yard work. Hehe, I faked a British accent when I asked one of them if there was a way out that way (there wasn't of course).
Later, after I found out who won Best Make-Up Artist, I went to see Persepolis with some people I met at the French club meeting. And BOY was it lovely! The drawings and animation I mean, not the torture and war and loss of basic human/women's rights. I definitely want to get the dvd for this one, as well as read the graphic novel the film was based on.
A political story on the surface, I would say it's as much a love story and coming-of-age story. Despite the harsh nature of the political one, there were a lot of funny moments as well as quite a few sad ones that moved me in a way that Reading Lolita in Tehran never did (this sentence would read totally differently if that book title was not capitalized). It's not a matter of one story being sadder or funnier or better written than the other; rather it's a testament to the power of images over words. Or maybe my imagination just sucks.
At any rate, Persepolis (the film) captured in a few second-long images the sadness of separation, or the desolation of being homeless. What I love about animation is how it can make even the act of hitting a homeless man seem funny. Which sounds terrible, but it's true! In animated form, I guess, we sort of forget the live, 3-D consequences of hitting someone in the face with a bag, or repeatedly smashing a box of mashed potatoes over someone's head. Satrapi, the author of Persepolis, made a brilliant move in choosing to tell her "growing up in Iran" story visually.
So goes the story, but it was the artwork that I loved the most. It was done mostly in black and white, & speaking as one who doesn't know much about animation, it was inky and swirly with spongey areas showing light. There were falling jasmine petals, butterflies fluttering away like an Escher Metamorphosis, flying cars, sea waves drawn as curly-cues, even an (possibly unintentional) homage to Edward Munch's The Scream.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Sunshine, Nails, and Funny Greek Tales
Ah! Western WA is being blessed with the most amazing weather! At least during the day. Thank you* Apollo!
In honor of the presence of sunshine, I trimmed my nails outside, on our front steps. It's actually quite liberating because when you do it inside over a newspaper, you inevitably let fly some nail shards outside the perimeter of the newspaper; if you do it over the toilet, you're haunted by the possibility that you could accidentally drop the clipper into the toilet, plus the same problem as with the newspaper. Solution: clip your biodegradable nails outside!
*Greek word for 'thank you': Efcharisto!
Also, if you ever have the urge to read a Greek tale, something short and amusing, read Daphnis and Chloe by Longus. It's a tale of young love blooming between a shepherd and goatherd. It's a tale that shows what you might have done if you didn't have friends, family, books, film, the internet, or other media to tell you how to deal with the onset of love and lust, or even what it was, these "stirrings".
In honor of the presence of sunshine, I trimmed my nails outside, on our front steps. It's actually quite liberating because when you do it inside over a newspaper, you inevitably let fly some nail shards outside the perimeter of the newspaper; if you do it over the toilet, you're haunted by the possibility that you could accidentally drop the clipper into the toilet, plus the same problem as with the newspaper. Solution: clip your biodegradable nails outside!
*Greek word for 'thank you': Efcharisto!
Also, if you ever have the urge to read a Greek tale, something short and amusing, read Daphnis and Chloe by Longus. It's a tale of young love blooming between a shepherd and goatherd. It's a tale that shows what you might have done if you didn't have friends, family, books, film, the internet, or other media to tell you how to deal with the onset of love and lust, or even what it was, these "stirrings".
Beatles Magic
Just got back from a magical night with the Tacoma French Club. Speaking in French and meeting new people was great, but what made it magical was that there happened to be some really talented musicians at the meet-up, plus musical instruments, and so the night ended with an impromptu concert for an audience of three. Unless we count doing the hat-&-cane dance to The Entertainer as being part of the band- then it would be an audience of two. So it's three. They closed with a piano-sax-bongos (we decided to leave the didgereedoo out) rendition of the Beatles "Hey Jude". Any evening that ends with a Beatles sing-along is a magical evening in my book.
Can I tell you how much I love that song? When Karen started banging it out on the piano, I threw myself back onto the couch, said, "I love this song!", and sighed with pleasure. Whenever I hear this song, I think of those late nights freshman year at Hill House, when Sarah and I stayed up until sunrise...being college students. That was the year I discovered music (coincidentally, the same year we discovered Kazaa).
Click here for a video clip of a heartrending 1950's classic love song by Jacques Brel. Called Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me). While watching, I couldn't help thinking how simian his face looked, and how full of despair his ne me quitte pas's were. If it were a prettier face singing the same words, would it be so affecting? If it were Justin Timberlake or I dunno, John Mayer singing,
Can I tell you how much I love that song? When Karen started banging it out on the piano, I threw myself back onto the couch, said, "I love this song!", and sighed with pleasure. Whenever I hear this song, I think of those late nights freshman year at Hill House, when Sarah and I stayed up until sunrise...being college students. That was the year I discovered music (coincidentally, the same year we discovered Kazaa).
Click here for a video clip of a heartrending 1950's classic love song by Jacques Brel. Called Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me). While watching, I couldn't help thinking how simian his face looked, and how full of despair his ne me quitte pas's were. If it were a prettier face singing the same words, would it be so affecting? If it were Justin Timberlake or I dunno, John Mayer singing,
would it be as pitiful, or just silly?
Let me be
the shadow of your shadow
the shadow of your hand
the shadow of your dog,
Friday, February 22, 2008
Vent
Sometimes, I feel like Michael Corleone:
"Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in!"
Or like Hermione Granger:
"I'm not an owl!" (Oh, but aren't I?)
Or like Alan Shore:
"Puddles do not ask for why not. it is cheese, breath, and wind. It is cheese." (He's afflicted with Word Salad.)
Better go runnin' tomorrow, get those endorphins kicking. Good stuff, endorphins.
Night y'all, hoot hoot,
Archimedes
"Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in!"
Or like Hermione Granger:
"I'm not an owl!" (Oh, but aren't I?)
Or like Alan Shore:
"Puddles do not ask for why not. it is cheese, breath, and wind. It is cheese." (He's afflicted with Word Salad.)
Better go runnin' tomorrow, get those endorphins kicking. Good stuff, endorphins.
Night y'all, hoot hoot,
Archimedes
Thursday, February 21, 2008
I Should Have Studied at Tully's Today
Horrible, absolutely horrid! They're playing the most godawful song at Barnes right now. I can't even begin to describe it...just to give you an idea, there's this part that sounds like a turkey gobbling, and another like an angry cat, and then a blood-curdling scream.
Why in god's name are they playing this at a bookstore? WHY?!
Why in god's name are they playing this at a bookstore? WHY?!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Cuttlefish (not a fish)
I knew cuttlefish tasted good, but I wasn't aware of the cool things they can do while they are still alive! In this article, cuttlefish are called "camouflage masters". The strange thing is, a huge part of their brain is dedicated to the visual faculty that makes them such amazing camouflagers, but cuttlefish are colorblind, having only a single pigment in their eyes (we have a three). Which means, I guess, that they have no idea what their brain & skin are up to?
Cuttlefish Facts & Comments:
Fact: They've got blue-green blood.
Comment: Because their blood-carrier is copper, not iron like ours.
Fact: They've got THREE hearts (one for pumping blood to each of their gills, and a third for the rest of their body)
Comment: I wonder which heart you have to destroy in order to kill a cuttlefish? If you destroy one of the gill hearts, will it just have a lame gill and still be alive and functioning? If you destroy the third heart, will the other two gill hearts take over, kind of like what our left eye would do if our right eye stopped working?
Fact: They only live 1-2 years (So basically they hatch -> have babies -> die)
Comment: Gee, how blessedly simple are the lives of cuttlefish
I was just going to say that someone ought to come out with a chameleon superhero: awkward nerd teen accidently gets injected with cuttlefish hormones instead of half-dead flu virus, nerd teen becomes less awkward and more heroic with the coolest disguise ever. But I just looked it up, and apparently The Chameleon, aka Dmitri Anatoly Smerdyakov Kravinoff (I love Russian names. Anginovna Chunginovsky. Doesn't that sound so cool?!!!) actually does exist. Of course, he has an identity problem. Because of his lack of identity, he made a really good spy for the Soviets and ran around in disguises that he kept in his "multi-pocket disguise vest". Hm, decidedly not as cool as the cuttlefish hormones, but I like the espionage thing.
Cuttlefish Facts & Comments:
Fact: They've got blue-green blood.
Comment: Because their blood-carrier is copper, not iron like ours.
Fact: They've got THREE hearts (one for pumping blood to each of their gills, and a third for the rest of their body)
Comment: I wonder which heart you have to destroy in order to kill a cuttlefish? If you destroy one of the gill hearts, will it just have a lame gill and still be alive and functioning? If you destroy the third heart, will the other two gill hearts take over, kind of like what our left eye would do if our right eye stopped working?
Fact: They only live 1-2 years (So basically they hatch -> have babies -> die)
Comment: Gee, how blessedly simple are the lives of cuttlefish
I was just going to say that someone ought to come out with a chameleon superhero: awkward nerd teen accidently gets injected with cuttlefish hormones instead of half-dead flu virus, nerd teen becomes less awkward and more heroic with the coolest disguise ever. But I just looked it up, and apparently The Chameleon, aka Dmitri Anatoly Smerdyakov Kravinoff (I love Russian names. Anginovna Chunginovsky. Doesn't that sound so cool?!!!) actually does exist. Of course, he has an identity problem. Because of his lack of identity, he made a really good spy for the Soviets and ran around in disguises that he kept in his "multi-pocket disguise vest". Hm, decidedly not as cool as the cuttlefish hormones, but I like the espionage thing.
Monday, February 18, 2008
5th Post of the Day!
After every tutoring session, we have to fill out a survey answering the following questions: What topics did you cover? How did it go? What can be improved?
My answer for the last one: 2nd fundamental theorem of calc; it was going well until her grandma fell down the stairs...she had to go.
My answer for the last one: 2nd fundamental theorem of calc; it was going well until her grandma fell down the stairs...she had to go.
Fourth Post of the Day
I'm drawn to transcendentalism/idealism because...
I'm wary of Emerson because...
He gives human beings too much credit- we're not that great.
- rather than saying the divine is some sort of separate entity that is superior to us all, it urges each individual to find "an original relation to the universe", saying that anyone can experience revelation, but in different ways; Emerson finds his through solitude in nature and writing- and it's that phrase "solitude in nature" that resonated with me; &
- it doesn't denounce materialism (science, senses), but says what our senses tell us is incomplete; there is more out there than what we can physically experience; this has been my claim, too, for a while, but I always went on to say that our sensory (sensual?) knowledge is the most sure-fire way to knowing reality
I'm wary of Emerson because...
- his emphasis on the individual's "intuition" is more than vaguely reminiscent of Stephen Colbert's "truthiness": truth felt viscerally, in the gut, specifically in the cilia that line the large intestine
He gives human beings too much credit- we're not that great.
The Philosophy of Where's Waldo
While reading about transcendentalism and Where's Waldo (a lethal combination), a totally bullshit idea just occurred to me, and as a future student of philosophy, I thought it my duty to share this bullshit idea with you all. Sorry, I didn't mean that- or maybe I did- or not. I don't know.
Anyway, the idea is that Waldo of the picture book series was actually inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was the leader of the transcendentalist movement of the early-mid 19th century. Just as transcendentalism's key notion is that the divine is present everywhere in nature, so is Waldo everywhere and everywhen on every page, from beaches & deep sea dives to the Stone Age, Ancient Rome,...he could be standing right next to you in that innocuous looking red-&-white striped tee. Hello, Waldo.
Someday, I will purchase a 'round-the-world ticket and travel the globe in Waldo attire the whole time. I'll take pictures and make my own version of the book.
Anyway, the idea is that Waldo of the picture book series was actually inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was the leader of the transcendentalist movement of the early-mid 19th century. Just as transcendentalism's key notion is that the divine is present everywhere in nature, so is Waldo everywhere and everywhen on every page, from beaches & deep sea dives to the Stone Age, Ancient Rome,...he could be standing right next to you in that innocuous looking red-&-white striped tee. Hello, Waldo.
Someday, I will purchase a 'round-the-world ticket and travel the globe in Waldo attire the whole time. I'll take pictures and make my own version of the book.
CPAWW: "Ice Cream Makes Your Boobs Pop Out"
That is what's going on in that picture right? Little man in brown shorts surprises woman with an ice cream in the back, woman's bikini top pops off? This whole picture is just a wild orgy on the beach if you ask me.
Thanks to the organization of Concerned Parents Against Where's Waldo, the book (or books) made it to #88 in the list of Most Banned Books of 1990-2000. Along with the likes of Toni Morrison, Stephen King, Lord of the Flies and...A Wrinkle in Time? It must be the whole tesselation thing- we simply cannot teach our children that the shortest distance between two points is not always a straight line. No, the Concerned Parents simply won't stand for such non-Euclidean hearsay.
There's another stuffed duck sitting, this time, on the display of chocolates. God help me.
James Joyce Meets Harry Potter
How did James Joyce get rid of the boggart?
He waved his wand and cried "Ridiculyss-es"!
He waved his wand and cried "Ridiculyss-es"!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Irresistable Distraction
Dude, I am such a sucker for stuffed animals.
At the Barnes cafe, in honor of the upcoming Easter holiday, I guess, there is a display of ducks sitting on the counter. Adorable, plush, buttercup-yellow sitting ducks. And that's not all! They come dressed in an equally adorable sunny yellow raincoat, matching hat and rainboots! And in their left (your right) hand- I mean wing, they carry a bag of peachios, just for you.
I really really want it. But I won't get it. Because material things aren't forever. It will only leave me poorer. But my heart richer. No, poorer! Poorer! Ok...I can already feel the desire for Quackers 'n Cheese waning. Also, I just gave it a name.
Back to philosophy of physics.
At the Barnes cafe, in honor of the upcoming Easter holiday, I guess, there is a display of ducks sitting on the counter. Adorable, plush, buttercup-yellow sitting ducks. And that's not all! They come dressed in an equally adorable sunny yellow raincoat, matching hat and rainboots! And in their left (your right) hand- I mean wing, they carry a bag of peachios, just for you.
I really really want it. But I won't get it. Because material things aren't forever. It will only leave me poorer. But my heart richer. No, poorer! Poorer! Ok...I can already feel the desire for Quackers 'n Cheese waning. Also, I just gave it a name.
Back to philosophy of physics.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I Spy...on the Spanaway Road
Today while taking a walk along 152nd street, a road about 2.5 miles long near my house, I spied the following items of roadkill:
-2 possums
-1 skunk
-1 racoon
-1 unidentifiable mass of pale ivory-colored fur
-1 blackened banana peel
That last one doesn't qualify as roadkill, I guess. But I spied it. One of the possums' head was lying 5 feet away from its body.
What a fun game!
-2 possums
-1 skunk
-1 racoon
-1 unidentifiable mass of pale ivory-colored fur
-1 blackened banana peel
That last one doesn't qualify as roadkill, I guess. But I spied it. One of the possums' head was lying 5 feet away from its body.
What a fun game!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I made it to Paradise!!
I have a confession to make. It's not anything bad, just so weird. Wait, when has weirdness ever stopped me from posting? Right, glad we got that sorted out.
I dreamt that I died and went to heaven, and heaven turned out to be an ocean of sailboats and surfers.
I distinctly remember feeling a great sense of antic-appointment. Actually, what I said was: "That's it? Just more of the same?" Well...I'd like to check out hell before I make a final decision, thanks.
I dreamt that I died and went to heaven, and heaven turned out to be an ocean of sailboats and surfers.
I distinctly remember feeling a great sense of antic-appointment. Actually, what I said was: "That's it? Just more of the same?" Well...I'd like to check out hell before I make a final decision, thanks.
Sarcasm, Irony, Deadpan
There are so many ways to be funny. Then why is it that every time I think of that prisoner in Shawshank picking up a book and reading "Alexander Dumb-ass", I think it's like the funniest thing ever? Even the 100th time around? I guess my humor level is and always will remain at the kindergarten level. To illustrate, here's a joke:
Why did everyone think the ocean was so friendly?
Cuz it was always waving!*
Speaking of funny (yes, a real transition!), I discovered the "Modern Love" section of the Times and ran across this article, so funny and sweet. I think I'll use his tactic if I ever get in a car accident. It seemed to work very well: no police, no exchanging of phone numbers, insurance companies or money- yep, pretty sweet.
*The live version includes a friendly wave with a cheesy smile at the end.
Why did everyone think the ocean was so friendly?
Cuz it was always waving!*
Speaking of funny (yes, a real transition!), I discovered the "Modern Love" section of the Times and ran across this article, so funny and sweet. I think I'll use his tactic if I ever get in a car accident. It seemed to work very well: no police, no exchanging of phone numbers, insurance companies or money- yep, pretty sweet.
*The live version includes a friendly wave with a cheesy smile at the end.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Obama in Seattle
I attended the Obama rally in Seattle on Friday! Unfortunately, I arrived 15 minutes after the doors opened, so I was one of the 3000 people stuck listening outside. Yes, it rained. But it was a fine mist! So me and my mac were ok.
Can you guess what was emphasized in his speech? Besides Hope and Delta: The Green cause of course! Since Seattle is charicaturized by granola, birkenstock-sporting, pro-organic everything, tree-huggers, this Go Green cheer was inevitable. I've never owned a pair of Jesus sandals myself, but not for lack of coveting it. 'Granola' is a term I never heard until a few months ago.
As for the environment thing, I was never into the whole tree-hugging business, and have only recently started caring more about sustaining the planet as well as myself. I have my own reasons for starting to become more conscientious about saving the environment, which is that I've gotten fond of traveling, exploring new places-whether in a city or the wide fields of nowhere- and it would be a shame to let something that makes me happy go to waste.
But if anyone wants a more scientific source of incentive for recycling, here's one: The two- sustaining the planet and yourself- are linked, if we're to believe in the Darwinian concept that our primary purpose is to make sure our genes survive. So if you believe this Darwinian concept to be true, and if you want to fulfill your primary purpose for living- ensuring the survival of your awesome genes-, then you better start recycling and emitting less greenhouse gases! Of course, if this is indeed your incentive for saving the environment, it's also true that no amount of recycling will help your purpose if you don't also commit to the duty of propagating.
Seeing the future President, even from a couple hundred feet away booming into a megaphone for a couple minutes before he headed into the arena, was ultra-exciting! There were tons of young people skipping school and tons of older people taking 3-hour lunch breaks from work in order to come see him speak. People around me were really listening to his words, nodding and cheering when they especially agreed with what he said. It was quite inspiring. And I got to put my newfound stadium whistle talent to action, hurray.
Later, I had this conversation with someone who said she would prefer Clinton over Obama, saying that his ability to inspire masses of people was dangerous because it could lead to a lack of checks and balances if he were to become President (She herself was voting for Huckabee). It's an interesting point, and if it were anyone else up on that stage enthralling 1000s of people young and old, and inspiring them to become engaged in politics and issues, I might give it more creedence. Like, if he had a toothbrush moustache (or any moustache for that matter- you know how I feel about moustaches), spoke with a gutteral h, and had a certain special symbol on his uniform, then I might be worried. Or even if he was squinty-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and spoke in a southern drawl, even then I might consider the idea of over-effective charisma coming into play.
Going off on a slight tangent, while watching the Sopranos recently, I noticed that they (the mob characters, or the writers through the mob characters) kept making the point that the mafia was no different from a business or government. They are both corrupt, and the only difference is that the corruption is acknowledged and accepted by the rest of the Family, whereas in civil society, the government and business leaders have to hide their corruption from their people under smiles and promises. This is totally true! I thought at first. So why do we so hypocritically brand the mafia as the bad guys?
But after a second round of thinking, I decided that openly accepted corruption really is worse than covert corruption, where the people are being lied to. Why? Because the empty 'smiles and promises' I spoke of is merely proof that a checks and balances system exists. (And yes, we need this checks and balances system; just because corruption is inevitable, it doesn't mean we should make it easy for it to exist and spread.) It doesn't feel good to know that our leaders could be being dishonest with us, it might make us feel like fools, but actually, it should make us feel that we have at least some power in our hands because they have to sneak around to try to carry out their dirty deeds. A higher level of dishonesty is an easy price to pay for a lower level of corruption, even though that level of corruption may never reach zero.
Of course, this is all theoretical talk. In reality, the mob is disgustingly corrupt, but equally disgustingly dishonest, and so is the government. Bleh. I'm excited for something new. Right now, at this moment, I'm not worried, I'm inspired!
Can you guess what was emphasized in his speech? Besides Hope and Delta: The Green cause of course! Since Seattle is charicaturized by granola, birkenstock-sporting, pro-organic everything, tree-huggers, this Go Green cheer was inevitable. I've never owned a pair of Jesus sandals myself, but not for lack of coveting it. 'Granola' is a term I never heard until a few months ago.
As for the environment thing, I was never into the whole tree-hugging business, and have only recently started caring more about sustaining the planet as well as myself. I have my own reasons for starting to become more conscientious about saving the environment, which is that I've gotten fond of traveling, exploring new places-whether in a city or the wide fields of nowhere- and it would be a shame to let something that makes me happy go to waste.
But if anyone wants a more scientific source of incentive for recycling, here's one: The two- sustaining the planet and yourself- are linked, if we're to believe in the Darwinian concept that our primary purpose is to make sure our genes survive. So if you believe this Darwinian concept to be true, and if you want to fulfill your primary purpose for living- ensuring the survival of your awesome genes-, then you better start recycling and emitting less greenhouse gases! Of course, if this is indeed your incentive for saving the environment, it's also true that no amount of recycling will help your purpose if you don't also commit to the duty of propagating.
Seeing the future President, even from a couple hundred feet away booming into a megaphone for a couple minutes before he headed into the arena, was ultra-exciting! There were tons of young people skipping school and tons of older people taking 3-hour lunch breaks from work in order to come see him speak. People around me were really listening to his words, nodding and cheering when they especially agreed with what he said. It was quite inspiring. And I got to put my newfound stadium whistle talent to action, hurray.
Later, I had this conversation with someone who said she would prefer Clinton over Obama, saying that his ability to inspire masses of people was dangerous because it could lead to a lack of checks and balances if he were to become President (She herself was voting for Huckabee). It's an interesting point, and if it were anyone else up on that stage enthralling 1000s of people young and old, and inspiring them to become engaged in politics and issues, I might give it more creedence. Like, if he had a toothbrush moustache (or any moustache for that matter- you know how I feel about moustaches), spoke with a gutteral h, and had a certain special symbol on his uniform, then I might be worried. Or even if he was squinty-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and spoke in a southern drawl, even then I might consider the idea of over-effective charisma coming into play.
Going off on a slight tangent, while watching the Sopranos recently, I noticed that they (the mob characters, or the writers through the mob characters) kept making the point that the mafia was no different from a business or government. They are both corrupt, and the only difference is that the corruption is acknowledged and accepted by the rest of the Family, whereas in civil society, the government and business leaders have to hide their corruption from their people under smiles and promises. This is totally true! I thought at first. So why do we so hypocritically brand the mafia as the bad guys?
But after a second round of thinking, I decided that openly accepted corruption really is worse than covert corruption, where the people are being lied to. Why? Because the empty 'smiles and promises' I spoke of is merely proof that a checks and balances system exists. (And yes, we need this checks and balances system; just because corruption is inevitable, it doesn't mean we should make it easy for it to exist and spread.) It doesn't feel good to know that our leaders could be being dishonest with us, it might make us feel like fools, but actually, it should make us feel that we have at least some power in our hands because they have to sneak around to try to carry out their dirty deeds. A higher level of dishonesty is an easy price to pay for a lower level of corruption, even though that level of corruption may never reach zero.
Of course, this is all theoretical talk. In reality, the mob is disgustingly corrupt, but equally disgustingly dishonest, and so is the government. Bleh. I'm excited for something new. Right now, at this moment, I'm not worried, I'm inspired!
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Happy Year of the Rat!
I love google's logo today- a mama and baby rodents flipping a calendar.
Also, rats are cute only in cartoon form. If those babies were real, I'd have their head on a platter in a jiff. Which is to say, I'd be standing on the highest surface available in the room and screaming my uvula off.
It's the year of the rat, baby! Hey, according to Wikipedia, I would do well in the field of espionage. If I ever tell you I work at a bank, you better think twice about it!
Also, rats are cute only in cartoon form. If those babies were real, I'd have their head on a platter in a jiff. Which is to say, I'd be standing on the highest surface available in the room and screaming my uvula off.
It's the year of the rat, baby! Hey, according to Wikipedia, I would do well in the field of espionage. If I ever tell you I work at a bank, you better think twice about it!
Ode to Another Hero
Ohhhhh Girrrrl! by the Chi-Lites. It was referenced in a Sopranos episode, and now I'm listening to it, and it's putting me in such a gooooood mooooood! Nothing like music to make your days 10 times more uplifting.
King Arthur...he's the kindest, purest soul there ever was created in literature next to Jesus (kidding kidding! I know he was probably a real historical figure blown up to mythical proportions...kinda like King Arthur actually), and it makes me sad to read about his wife and best friend taking advantage of his absolute goodness to satisfy their own happiness. In these times, it's not fashionable to "turn the other cheek" instead of standing up for oneself- it's considered meek, weak, spineless. But Arthur was none of these things. He just didn't stoop to even justifiable feelings of jealousy and vengeance because he loved Lancelot and Guenevere that much. By the end, the three friends are so close they can communicate without words half the time. This is my favorite kind of story- the kind that revolves around a friendship.
Hm, I had no plans to write about anything beyond the Chi-lites, but now I've written another rambling tribute to one of my heroes. King Arthur, Sherlock Holmes...a post about Einstein should be in the works eventually if the pattern persists. Stay tuned!
King Arthur...he's the kindest, purest soul there ever was created in literature next to Jesus (kidding kidding! I know he was probably a real historical figure blown up to mythical proportions...kinda like King Arthur actually), and it makes me sad to read about his wife and best friend taking advantage of his absolute goodness to satisfy their own happiness. In these times, it's not fashionable to "turn the other cheek" instead of standing up for oneself- it's considered meek, weak, spineless. But Arthur was none of these things. He just didn't stoop to even justifiable feelings of jealousy and vengeance because he loved Lancelot and Guenevere that much. By the end, the three friends are so close they can communicate without words half the time. This is my favorite kind of story- the kind that revolves around a friendship.
Hm, I had no plans to write about anything beyond the Chi-lites, but now I've written another rambling tribute to one of my heroes. King Arthur, Sherlock Holmes...a post about Einstein should be in the works eventually if the pattern persists. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Words of the Wise
Dude, vomiting is just not as much fun when you're sober.
Heh- I just hyperlinked vomiting to Wikipedia. Hm, it seems they've changed the picture in this entry- they used to show a blond dude upchucking fantastically into a bucket. Actually, this new picture is much funnier.
Ew, gross, it says that vomiting is "the forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth and sometimes the nose!" The nose???
Heh- I just hyperlinked vomiting to Wikipedia. Hm, it seems they've changed the picture in this entry- they used to show a blond dude upchucking fantastically into a bucket. Actually, this new picture is much funnier.
Ew, gross, it says that vomiting is "the forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth and sometimes the nose!" The nose???
Late Night Logic aka BEST TV EVER
There I go again, hyping things up, but let's just say, you don't want to have missed this. They call it Super Brawl 2008. Get your wings and pizza and let the clip roll! Or watch the whole episode on nbc.com.
The story behind the brawl takes place in 4 episodes, and it's really like one big logic game. You see, Conan and Colbert both took credit for making Mike Huckabee (it had nothing to do with Huck's Army). Conan's argument was that he made Chuck Norris with his Walker Texas Ranger lever (which is also doubly worth checking out!). Before that Walker was a fool in cowboy boots. Or is it the cowboy boots that made him a fool? Anyway, then Conan came along wielding a giant yellow lever in hand, and suddenly there are all these jokes about Chuck Norris like "Chuck Norris can divide by zero," and "There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris' computer. Chuck Norris is always in control." And so on. Anyway, we were talking about Huckabee. Chuck Norris started campaigning for Huck, which made Huck big, so the logic here is:
Chuck made Huck.
Conan made Chuck.
Therefore, Conan made Huck.
It's a simple application of the transitive property of Late Night: C made K, & K made H => C made H.
Conan also points out that by merely mentioning Colbert on his show, he made Colbert. So, even if we were to suppose that Colbert made Huck, the logic then goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Therefore Conan made Huck.
But then John Stewart comes along and shows evidence (a VHS- you know, the thing we used before DVD came along) that he made Conan, and so in fact the complete iron-clad logic goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Stewart made Conan.
Therefore Stewart made Huck.
Plato would be proud. I'm proud. And notice how Chuck Norris just completely dropped out of the picture.
The story behind the brawl takes place in 4 episodes, and it's really like one big logic game. You see, Conan and Colbert both took credit for making Mike Huckabee (it had nothing to do with Huck's Army). Conan's argument was that he made Chuck Norris with his Walker Texas Ranger lever (which is also doubly worth checking out!). Before that Walker was a fool in cowboy boots. Or is it the cowboy boots that made him a fool? Anyway, then Conan came along wielding a giant yellow lever in hand, and suddenly there are all these jokes about Chuck Norris like "Chuck Norris can divide by zero," and "There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris' computer. Chuck Norris is always in control." And so on. Anyway, we were talking about Huckabee. Chuck Norris started campaigning for Huck, which made Huck big, so the logic here is:
Chuck made Huck.
Conan made Chuck.
Therefore, Conan made Huck.
It's a simple application of the transitive property of Late Night: C made K, & K made H => C made H.
Conan also points out that by merely mentioning Colbert on his show, he made Colbert. So, even if we were to suppose that Colbert made Huck, the logic then goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Therefore Conan made Huck.
But then John Stewart comes along and shows evidence (a VHS- you know, the thing we used before DVD came along) that he made Conan, and so in fact the complete iron-clad logic goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Stewart made Conan.
Therefore Stewart made Huck.
Plato would be proud. I'm proud. And notice how Chuck Norris just completely dropped out of the picture.
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