First, you will all be glad to know that I was FBI (first bitch in) at this weeks hash. =) It is the first time I was first in anything athletic as far as I can remember, so I am pretty geeked. It was a good trail and some good fun.
I have been thinking about last week's post and my participation in various things, including clubs, schools, relationships and even this blog. I know it is horridly cliche but I'll say it anyhow; in most cases I think you get out what you put in. If you try to be positive and make things better, in most cases you might get that back. If you don't, at least you made an effort and it was probably a little less boring than just standing around and bitching about it the entire time.
I'm not going to get too personal but there are a lot of things in my life I would like to improve, so this may become this summer's mantra. What is yours?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Bicycles
I don't really know much about bikes, but I do know they are awesome and I would rather go ride than write about them. I got a book about the history of bicycles, but it just made me want to ride instead of keep reading, so I didn't get too far into it. Here's your article for this week:
-A really dry summary of the development of bikes
-Some misspelled words
-A picture of weird, early bikes, the highlight of the article
-Assert biking is better than running to generate controversy
-This is getting too long, time to wrap it up: bikes are great
That's my article, pretty much just like the other articles but shorter. Biking > blogging.
Friday, May 29, 2009
I'm inside your head.
Sometime in the near past I had briefly, and rather poorly in my opinion, written about the very subject of writing. Today, however, I want to talk about the opposite end of things. The physical act of reading. We're the only species that reads. How weird is that? I mean, talk about an activity we all do every single day. Seriously, try and think of a day you didn't read anything. Not a road sign. Not the numbers on your phone. Not even the outside of a box of cereal. Nothing. I can't really come up with anything. Even when I was camping, I'm fairly certain I would glance at a watch or the words on somebodies shirt. I've had days I don't even go to the bathroom, but I don't think a day has passed, since acquiring the ability, that I didn't put somebodies words in my head
That is what you're doing, after all. I think it's the closest thing we have to telepathy. I mean, it's not perfect, but so what. I can leave my thoughts and ideas (written in my voice) somewhere, and anybody passing by will take them into their brain. Haha, I'm having idea-sex with your brain! You may have never actually heard the sound of my voice, but you still hear it spoken. Who's voice do you hear it in? Yours! But you didn't write that, I did! Maybe you've invented a voice for me.
I think I invent voices for people I've not met (which are very similar to mine) but if I know you, then there is a chance it's in your voice. Unless I'm reading something I really like. Then it might take on a voice of it's own. A passionate voice. Maybe I'm the only one that hears voices...
As much as I enjoy the issue of reading/writing, I'm hardly qualified to discuss it, and even I think the subject is only interesting for a couple paragraphs. Let's move on to something else.
Oh, so we had some capacitors exploding on our video cards in the lab this week. How sweet is that. We tried to get the company to give us a new one (for the one that had totally died on us) but they really promptly rejected our request. Now, usually, I believe you can get further with these people by being nice. Something about this rejection letter, however, really set me off. I will not post the letter I wrote here at this time, but it was pointy (something about "while i'm no video card manufacturer, having a total of 15 capacitors explode on 6 cards with successive serial numbers within the same week seems like a poor design"). Oh, and I didn't just send it to the dude who rejected me. I sent it to every company email address I could find. Within 5 minutes (it was in the wee hours of the morning, mind you) I got an email back from the president. After a short correspondence with him, he personally backed my warranty request. And not for just the one dysfunctional card either, but for all 6 that are getting kind of "explodey" with age. So hooray! 6 new video cards for our lab!
First I find out violence with food makes it taste better (that's called 'tenderizing', bunny) and NOW I know that acting bitchy at 3am makes people do what you want. I feel this is the start of a whole new chapter in my life!
These -> http://getbuckyballs.com/ are like the most fun I've had with a toy in years, and I had a slinky! The day I got them, I sat on my floor for 3 hours and played with them. The next day, I brought them into my office (full of physicists) and we all ended up sitting in a circle on the floor, playing with them, for like 1/2 an hour. Take into account, we had things to do. Some of us are trying to graduate, some of us had meetings to go to, but we had totally and completely reverted to a child-like "show and tell" session. I guess I could best describe them as physicist silly putty, but that hardly does it justice. Seriously, if you have 25 bucks to blow, pick some up. If nothing else, it's really fun to walk into a room full of physics students on a Tuesday morning and shout "Everyone! Gather in a circle! We're going to play with my balls!"
p.s. If you are interested, I think you can type in the code: GetBucked and receive 10% off. Alternatively, ThinkGeek sells them, and it might end up being cheaper to buy them there after shipping and such.
p.p.s. So, I'm not very good at photography. But I AM really good at breaking into old abandoned asylums, and photoshopping the crap out of what i find. Voila!
That is what you're doing, after all. I think it's the closest thing we have to telepathy. I mean, it's not perfect, but so what. I can leave my thoughts and ideas (written in my voice) somewhere, and anybody passing by will take them into their brain. Haha, I'm having idea-sex with your brain! You may have never actually heard the sound of my voice, but you still hear it spoken. Who's voice do you hear it in? Yours! But you didn't write that, I did! Maybe you've invented a voice for me.
I think I invent voices for people I've not met (which are very similar to mine) but if I know you, then there is a chance it's in your voice. Unless I'm reading something I really like. Then it might take on a voice of it's own. A passionate voice. Maybe I'm the only one that hears voices...
As much as I enjoy the issue of reading/writing, I'm hardly qualified to discuss it, and even I think the subject is only interesting for a couple paragraphs. Let's move on to something else.
Oh, so we had some capacitors exploding on our video cards in the lab this week. How sweet is that. We tried to get the company to give us a new one (for the one that had totally died on us) but they really promptly rejected our request. Now, usually, I believe you can get further with these people by being nice. Something about this rejection letter, however, really set me off. I will not post the letter I wrote here at this time, but it was pointy (something about "while i'm no video card manufacturer, having a total of 15 capacitors explode on 6 cards with successive serial numbers within the same week seems like a poor design"). Oh, and I didn't just send it to the dude who rejected me. I sent it to every company email address I could find. Within 5 minutes (it was in the wee hours of the morning, mind you) I got an email back from the president. After a short correspondence with him, he personally backed my warranty request. And not for just the one dysfunctional card either, but for all 6 that are getting kind of "explodey" with age. So hooray! 6 new video cards for our lab!
First I find out violence with food makes it taste better (that's called 'tenderizing', bunny) and NOW I know that acting bitchy at 3am makes people do what you want. I feel this is the start of a whole new chapter in my life!
These -> http://getbuckyballs.com/ are like the most fun I've had with a toy in years, and I had a slinky! The day I got them, I sat on my floor for 3 hours and played with them. The next day, I brought them into my office (full of physicists) and we all ended up sitting in a circle on the floor, playing with them, for like 1/2 an hour. Take into account, we had things to do. Some of us are trying to graduate, some of us had meetings to go to, but we had totally and completely reverted to a child-like "show and tell" session. I guess I could best describe them as physicist silly putty, but that hardly does it justice. Seriously, if you have 25 bucks to blow, pick some up. If nothing else, it's really fun to walk into a room full of physics students on a Tuesday morning and shout "Everyone! Gather in a circle! We're going to play with my balls!"
p.s. If you are interested, I think you can type in the code: GetBucked and receive 10% off. Alternatively, ThinkGeek sells them, and it might end up being cheaper to buy them there after shipping and such.
p.p.s. So, I'm not very good at photography. But I AM really good at breaking into old abandoned asylums, and photoshopping the crap out of what i find. Voila!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The McGurk effect.
So that interview I posted last week about synesthesia reminded me of a cool perceptual illusion I learned about in college called the McGurk effect. It turns out that we naturally integrate information from multiple sensory modalities without even realizing we're doing it, and that when those multiple sources of information conflict, crazy shennannigans ensue.
In the classic experiment, McGurk spliced video of a person producing one sound ("ga") with audio of them producing another ("ba"). The crazy thing that they found was that instead of perceiving just one sound or the other, the perception would often be an average of the two inputs, and actually come out closer to a "da" than anything else.
This makes a lot of sense phonetically, because the major difference between a "ba" and a "ga" is where you momentarily stop the outflow of air before letting it out in a little puff. With a "ba", you stop the outflow of air with your lips in the front of your mouth, while with "ga", you stop the air by pushing the body of your tongue back up against the roof of your mouth (right in front of your uvula). On the other hand, "da" is made by pushing the tip of your tongue up against the roof of your mouth towards the front. If you think about it, that spot is smackdab in the middle between the back of your mouth and your lips. Yay phonetics!
Here's a youtube video of the McGurk effect in action. I watched it a bunch of times, and for me, the "da" only pops out if I really stare at the lips. Otherwise it's pretty muddled or sounds more like a "ba" to me. Try closing your eyes too, or watching it with the sound off:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFPtc8BVdJk
I think it's pretty cool how automatic the integration of our senses is. If it wasn't so automatic, ventriloquists would have to get real jobs and they wouldn't be able to dub over swear words realistically in network tv versions of movies...
also, the very fabric of our shared reality would be ripped asunder, or something equally dramatic.
Free tip of the day: next time you're having a hard time hearing someone at a party, try looking really closely at their lips instead of cocking your head. It helps a bunch.
In the classic experiment, McGurk spliced video of a person producing one sound ("ga") with audio of them producing another ("ba"). The crazy thing that they found was that instead of perceiving just one sound or the other, the perception would often be an average of the two inputs, and actually come out closer to a "da" than anything else.
This makes a lot of sense phonetically, because the major difference between a "ba" and a "ga" is where you momentarily stop the outflow of air before letting it out in a little puff. With a "ba", you stop the outflow of air with your lips in the front of your mouth, while with "ga", you stop the air by pushing the body of your tongue back up against the roof of your mouth (right in front of your uvula). On the other hand, "da" is made by pushing the tip of your tongue up against the roof of your mouth towards the front. If you think about it, that spot is smackdab in the middle between the back of your mouth and your lips. Yay phonetics!
Here's a youtube video of the McGurk effect in action. I watched it a bunch of times, and for me, the "da" only pops out if I really stare at the lips. Otherwise it's pretty muddled or sounds more like a "ba" to me. Try closing your eyes too, or watching it with the sound off:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFPtc8BVdJk
I think it's pretty cool how automatic the integration of our senses is. If it wasn't so automatic, ventriloquists would have to get real jobs and they wouldn't be able to dub over swear words realistically in network tv versions of movies...
also, the very fabric of our shared reality would be ripped asunder, or something equally dramatic.
Free tip of the day: next time you're having a hard time hearing someone at a party, try looking really closely at their lips instead of cocking your head. It helps a bunch.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Inconclusive
I did a few days of on-and-off data research trying to get to the bottom of what causes the racial profiling phenomenon in the US. I was hoping to find out commonalities in the areas that had the highest disparities of black vs white traffic stops, arrest rates, and court convictions. I have a hard time believing that cops all over the country, who often have very few similarities in their upbringing, education, socio-economic background, etc. would all belong to this secret club practicing this forbidden form of law enforcement. Needless to say, I didn't solve it, but I did find some interesting facts that changed my perspective.
The disparity is much higher in the north and north-east, almost non-existent in the south and south-east, and moderate on the west coast. The disparity is also fairly inverse to the concentrations of black populations, with the exception of states with mostly white suburban/rural populations and mostly black urban populations - these latter states, like New York and Illinois, all made the top ten list. The states with the lowest disparities correspond to states with the highest poverty levels - which could mean instead that more affluent states have higher disparities, it's hard to say which is which.
In the west coast, south-west, and west-central regions, methamphetamines are by far the greatest drug threats, and all of these states have much lower disparity rates. All of the states with the highest disparities are cocaine and heroine states. White cocaine use rates are higher by far, and blacks only marginally use more heroine than whites by rate. However, white drug charges are more likely to simply be possession, and there is less associated crime, as black drug charges tend to be more urban, which lends to violence over selling territory and associated prostitution. Also, black dealers are much more likely than white dealers to openly operate a public drug house, instead of selling only to selected clientele (I believe that's simply a matter of the cost of powder cocaine vs the costs of heroine or crack, and the associated neighborhoods related to those drugs). Every state in the top ten highest racial disparity group reported the presence of Colombian drug traffickers, the lowest states did not - again possibly just cocaine related or possibly related to the intricacy level of a state's drug trafficking.
Some of the numbers suggest racial profiling is out of control, some of the data suggest it may not even exist. There are also factors I was unable to find the relevant information I needed, like a breakdown of rural/suburban/urban arrest rates by race. I found a recurring higher conviction rate among black arrests than white - which may be institutionally racist or may be an expression of economic status, e.g. being able to use private lawyers instead of court appointed or taking a case to trial instead of a plea bargain. And while a map of conviction disparity has little in common with a map of americans who never finished high school, it shares most of the major hot-spots as a map of americans who finished less than nine years of school.
Apparently, to a certain degree, "racial profiling" is the practice of targeting poorer, undereducated people in wealthier areas for drug investigations. It's no secret that intercity populations tend to be poorer nor that many intercity populations are disproportionately black. It's also not news that drugs are a big problem in poor areas not that intercity schools have high dropout rates. Lacking the rest of the data I would need to say with any degree of certainty, there is at least a strong set of relationships to start to tie the available data together (data that admittedly comes from a range of different organizations, some of which are the same organizations accused of racial profiling). For me, at least, it's looking more and more like there is a set of influencing forces at work in this issue that don't get the attention they deserve, and there are a lot of possible reasons, racism is a much hotter topic than say, the role underfunded school systems play on the criminal makeup of intercity neighborhoods, or how targeting cocaine instead of methamphetamines in the war on drugs puts more blacks in jail than a fair treatment of the drugs would (but even that may be a matter of fighting that war in big cities instead of the country as a whole).
I'll keep looking, but for now... inconclusive. What have you got?
The disparity is much higher in the north and north-east, almost non-existent in the south and south-east, and moderate on the west coast. The disparity is also fairly inverse to the concentrations of black populations, with the exception of states with mostly white suburban/rural populations and mostly black urban populations - these latter states, like New York and Illinois, all made the top ten list. The states with the lowest disparities correspond to states with the highest poverty levels - which could mean instead that more affluent states have higher disparities, it's hard to say which is which.
In the west coast, south-west, and west-central regions, methamphetamines are by far the greatest drug threats, and all of these states have much lower disparity rates. All of the states with the highest disparities are cocaine and heroine states. White cocaine use rates are higher by far, and blacks only marginally use more heroine than whites by rate. However, white drug charges are more likely to simply be possession, and there is less associated crime, as black drug charges tend to be more urban, which lends to violence over selling territory and associated prostitution. Also, black dealers are much more likely than white dealers to openly operate a public drug house, instead of selling only to selected clientele (I believe that's simply a matter of the cost of powder cocaine vs the costs of heroine or crack, and the associated neighborhoods related to those drugs). Every state in the top ten highest racial disparity group reported the presence of Colombian drug traffickers, the lowest states did not - again possibly just cocaine related or possibly related to the intricacy level of a state's drug trafficking.
Some of the numbers suggest racial profiling is out of control, some of the data suggest it may not even exist. There are also factors I was unable to find the relevant information I needed, like a breakdown of rural/suburban/urban arrest rates by race. I found a recurring higher conviction rate among black arrests than white - which may be institutionally racist or may be an expression of economic status, e.g. being able to use private lawyers instead of court appointed or taking a case to trial instead of a plea bargain. And while a map of conviction disparity has little in common with a map of americans who never finished high school, it shares most of the major hot-spots as a map of americans who finished less than nine years of school.
Apparently, to a certain degree, "racial profiling" is the practice of targeting poorer, undereducated people in wealthier areas for drug investigations. It's no secret that intercity populations tend to be poorer nor that many intercity populations are disproportionately black. It's also not news that drugs are a big problem in poor areas not that intercity schools have high dropout rates. Lacking the rest of the data I would need to say with any degree of certainty, there is at least a strong set of relationships to start to tie the available data together (data that admittedly comes from a range of different organizations, some of which are the same organizations accused of racial profiling). For me, at least, it's looking more and more like there is a set of influencing forces at work in this issue that don't get the attention they deserve, and there are a lot of possible reasons, racism is a much hotter topic than say, the role underfunded school systems play on the criminal makeup of intercity neighborhoods, or how targeting cocaine instead of methamphetamines in the war on drugs puts more blacks in jail than a fair treatment of the drugs would (but even that may be a matter of fighting that war in big cities instead of the country as a whole).
I'll keep looking, but for now... inconclusive. What have you got?
Special Report: Failurefest May 09
Sorry to barge in but I have some breaking news.
The A/C compressor bearing was loose in my lady's car allowing to serpentine belt powering it to slip off. This can be repaired for the low low price of $700.
The couple renting our house split up and one of them is leaving. You cannot imagine how awesome it is to loose a renter from 625 miles away.
Finally in local news 4.46% of my laptop's hard drive as been scanned up 0.01% from this morning. According to recent reports only 884hrs remain. 2 sectors were recovered while 8 remained unrecovered, 60 have been scanned.
The A/C compressor bearing was loose in my lady's car allowing to serpentine belt powering it to slip off. This can be repaired for the low low price of $700.
The couple renting our house split up and one of them is leaving. You cannot imagine how awesome it is to loose a renter from 625 miles away.
Finally in local news 4.46% of my laptop's hard drive as been scanned up 0.01% from this morning. According to recent reports only 884hrs remain. 2 sectors were recovered while 8 remained unrecovered, 60 have been scanned.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Failure Extravaganza.
So it's Memorial Day weekend a time to remember all those who have fallen in service of our country. Indeed they deserve more than a long weekend and exceptional deals on a new car but it's America baby. Still a moment of silence feels appropriate, please stop reading for 2 minutes.
OK, now that's out of the way. My Memorial Day weekend is one I will never forget, I finally decided to install Windows 7 RC1 on my primary desktop PC. I was originally avoiding this task since I figured I would have to kill my Vista partition, split the drive and install both Vista and 7. I have a very old motherboard and drivers for Vista were not easy to come by. All of my anxieties were relieved when I learned of the "Shrink Partition" command built into Vista's storage management. This nifty little right-click option allows you shrink a partition to a desired size limited only by the free space and the number of fucking-unmovable system volume information files you have.
See this would have been really fucking simple except I've had the hard drive almost completely full so I have unmovable sector blocks scattered all over hell, including the end of the partition. So the fancy ass shrink volume fuck you option only netted me 7GB of a possible 70GB. All that only after a defragged and killed off anything that might be immovable (hibernate.sys, pagefile.sys). Was all that bullshit enough fuck no. Self important Windows 7 needs 16GB of space to stretch out and enjoy itself with. Are you fucking kidding 16GB?
I poked around the intertubes and found GParted Live CD which would allow me to shrink the partition with only a small amount of semi-permanent damage. Of course the first ISO of GParted Live I burnt to a disk wouldn't boot, causing me to try PartedMagic which also didn't boot. Eventually I downloaded another copy of GParted Live, burnt it, and it worked fine. Actually its a really sweet partitioning program. I was able to shrink 140GB down to 70GB and move it to the end of the drive. All from a GUI. However, because Windows is fucking awesome you need to have an install disk handy to repair the master boot record. Which I had and which I did.
After all this hoop-la I finally get Windows 7 installed. Guess what it's fucking boring. It looks mostly like Vista, actually Vista looked cooler. The user interface is a bit better and shit runs faster. My desktop still sucks though, it's old and always will but at least now it's cutting edge suck. Not the kind of suck you mother pulls out.
Now for the meaty part of the story. I'm having such a jolly good time with 7 on my desktop I decided I should do the exact same thing to older ass Presario laptop. However there is an extra catch. The entire hard drive is encrypted so I have to undo that before I can start dicking around with the partition spacing. OK, no problem Truecrypt does this on the fly from Windows XP. I fire up the full decryption and viola in 8hrs I can start installing. With about 20% remaining the fucking power goes out in the entire fucking county.
We actually heard the tell tale explosion from the substation near our apartment. Now you're probably thinking "K it's a laptop with a battery and Truecrypt was written by pros who keep this shit in mind." And you would be totally correct except this laptop is old like 1999-2000. When I got around to checking on it, the battery last ~15 minutes, I saw the extra awesome balloon tip "write error ... corrupt ... bullshit." So while this might be unrelated to the power outage it still happened. I deferred the decryption and shut the laptop down.
Without a power my fiancee and I started to party like it was 1780. Scrabble by candle light, I lost by 60 points. I had a Q, X, and, Z. Losing with those is an embarrassment according to Scrabble savants. I was also in the process of making dinner when the power when out so we were getting a bit hungry. We found some flashlights, then found some fresh batteries and made our way to the car. When our sole mode of transportation roared to life we noticed the roar was a bit off. This noise continued until we left the parking lot when it suddenly "broke loose". We opted to turn the car around, since it was still running, and inspect the engine compartment. There were no warning lights on so that was promising. When I popped the hood open I immediately noticed the source of the disturbance. The serpentine belt for the A/C unit was loosely flailing round. We shut the engine down and tried to slip it back into place, fail. I then tried to removed it, also fail. Of course there was another belt in the way. We gave up and returned to the apartment. As a point of interest, the serpentine belts were just replaced a few weeks go, along with a new timing belt and water pump (which were also improperly replaced ~1 year by a different mechanic). We're looking to purchase a newer car and I would like all of the mechanical connection to be chain or gear drive I'm tired of fucking belts.
Eventually the power returned and I got back to decrypting my laptop. Well tried to, it wouldn't boot into Windows XP. Being as the last error I saw involved hard drive corruption I tossed in SpinRite and put it to work recovering sectors. As of right now its 2.29% done with 644hrs remaining and has already found 7 unrecoverable sectors. I'm going to let it keep going since I'm not sure what else to do.
My score for this weekend. Up one new operating system. Down one car, down one laptop, lost at Scrabble to a girl.
Does anyone have any opinions on an Infinity G35x, BMW 325xi, Honda Accord, Subaru Outback Coupe or Chevy Malibu?
What about netbook like laptops? I'm leaning toward an Ideapad S12 with the Ion chip but maybe an HP 12" or Dell 12".
OK, now that's out of the way. My Memorial Day weekend is one I will never forget, I finally decided to install Windows 7 RC1 on my primary desktop PC. I was originally avoiding this task since I figured I would have to kill my Vista partition, split the drive and install both Vista and 7. I have a very old motherboard and drivers for Vista were not easy to come by. All of my anxieties were relieved when I learned of the "Shrink Partition" command built into Vista's storage management. This nifty little right-click option allows you shrink a partition to a desired size limited only by the free space and the number of fucking-unmovable system volume information files you have.
See this would have been really fucking simple except I've had the hard drive almost completely full so I have unmovable sector blocks scattered all over hell, including the end of the partition. So the fancy ass shrink volume fuck you option only netted me 7GB of a possible 70GB. All that only after a defragged and killed off anything that might be immovable (hibernate.sys, pagefile.sys). Was all that bullshit enough fuck no. Self important Windows 7 needs 16GB of space to stretch out and enjoy itself with. Are you fucking kidding 16GB?
I poked around the intertubes and found GParted Live CD which would allow me to shrink the partition with only a small amount of semi-permanent damage. Of course the first ISO of GParted Live I burnt to a disk wouldn't boot, causing me to try PartedMagic which also didn't boot. Eventually I downloaded another copy of GParted Live, burnt it, and it worked fine. Actually its a really sweet partitioning program. I was able to shrink 140GB down to 70GB and move it to the end of the drive. All from a GUI. However, because Windows is fucking awesome you need to have an install disk handy to repair the master boot record. Which I had and which I did.
After all this hoop-la I finally get Windows 7 installed. Guess what it's fucking boring. It looks mostly like Vista, actually Vista looked cooler. The user interface is a bit better and shit runs faster. My desktop still sucks though, it's old and always will but at least now it's cutting edge suck. Not the kind of suck you mother pulls out.
Now for the meaty part of the story. I'm having such a jolly good time with 7 on my desktop I decided I should do the exact same thing to older ass Presario laptop. However there is an extra catch. The entire hard drive is encrypted so I have to undo that before I can start dicking around with the partition spacing. OK, no problem Truecrypt does this on the fly from Windows XP. I fire up the full decryption and viola in 8hrs I can start installing. With about 20% remaining the fucking power goes out in the entire fucking county.
We actually heard the tell tale explosion from the substation near our apartment. Now you're probably thinking "K it's a laptop with a battery and Truecrypt was written by pros who keep this shit in mind." And you would be totally correct except this laptop is old like 1999-2000. When I got around to checking on it, the battery last ~15 minutes, I saw the extra awesome balloon tip "write error ... corrupt ... bullshit." So while this might be unrelated to the power outage it still happened. I deferred the decryption and shut the laptop down.
Without a power my fiancee and I started to party like it was 1780. Scrabble by candle light, I lost by 60 points. I had a Q, X, and, Z. Losing with those is an embarrassment according to Scrabble savants. I was also in the process of making dinner when the power when out so we were getting a bit hungry. We found some flashlights, then found some fresh batteries and made our way to the car. When our sole mode of transportation roared to life we noticed the roar was a bit off. This noise continued until we left the parking lot when it suddenly "broke loose". We opted to turn the car around, since it was still running, and inspect the engine compartment. There were no warning lights on so that was promising. When I popped the hood open I immediately noticed the source of the disturbance. The serpentine belt for the A/C unit was loosely flailing round. We shut the engine down and tried to slip it back into place, fail. I then tried to removed it, also fail. Of course there was another belt in the way. We gave up and returned to the apartment. As a point of interest, the serpentine belts were just replaced a few weeks go, along with a new timing belt and water pump (which were also improperly replaced ~1 year by a different mechanic). We're looking to purchase a newer car and I would like all of the mechanical connection to be chain or gear drive I'm tired of fucking belts.
Eventually the power returned and I got back to decrypting my laptop. Well tried to, it wouldn't boot into Windows XP. Being as the last error I saw involved hard drive corruption I tossed in SpinRite and put it to work recovering sectors. As of right now its 2.29% done with 644hrs remaining and has already found 7 unrecoverable sectors. I'm going to let it keep going since I'm not sure what else to do.
My score for this weekend. Up one new operating system. Down one car, down one laptop, lost at Scrabble to a girl.
Does anyone have any opinions on an Infinity G35x, BMW 325xi, Honda Accord, Subaru Outback Coupe or Chevy Malibu?
What about netbook like laptops? I'm leaning toward an Ideapad S12 with the Ion chip but maybe an HP 12" or Dell 12".
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Gulf Coast Mensa
Greetings from Houston, Texas!
I am writing you from the Regional Gathering sponsored by Gulf Coast Mensa. Technically, I am not in Mensa. I tested and was accepted in September, but have not paid dues. My boyfriend and our roommate are both members and they basically talked me into testing during Austin Regional Gathering so that the other folks wouldn't look down on me during Mensa events I would attend with them in the future. This was their justification, not mine, and since I wasn't paying the $40 I approached it as one might approach Kinky Friedman as Texas Governor - "Why the hell not?"
I can tell you that neither I nor my boyfriend exactly fit the bill for the typical Mensa demographic. Most of the membership is of at least middle age (40-45 +), white and male. This isn't a criticism, just an observation. I can't help but wonder about this observation. What is it about Mensa that makes this the dominant demographic. Here are some of the thoughts I've tossed around.
1) The test is developed primarily by those who are white and male, therefore the test's definition of success is most likely to reflect the reality of those who created it.
2) People in other demographics genereally have more to be concerned with than taking an intelligence test to join a social club. Maybe the test is an unjustifiable luxury or waste of money.
3) The organization has not sought to actively recruit those of other backgrounds.
All or none of these may be the case, but it does give me a lot to think about. There is a great deal of pride in being a Mensan that is on display at these gatherings. There is frequently talk about what it means to be a Mensan and how these sorts of gatherings are an escape from the "normal world" where intelligence is not well accepted or even frowned upon.
I'll tell you the truth - I barely passed physics. I know that this is not does not necessarily define my intelligence, but surely it is some sort of indication of it. Also, I never felt like I was made into an outsider because of my "intelligence" (I'm not trying to be silly about the use of quotation marks, so hopefully you know what I am getting at). Honestly, in some respects, I feel more like an outsider here because I don't share a common experience with these folks who are allegedly my peers as far as IQ is concerned.
Additionally, there is kind of a culture of pride at underachievement that kind of turns my stomach. For example, a blub describing a guest speaker on a program described him as an engineer that has successfully avoided doing real work for over 12 years. How is that supposed to be an accomplishment? Is the fact that someone is squandering his intelligence supposed to impress me? Now, the regional gatherings are supposed to be fun. There is a lot of eating, drinking, merryment, and great presentations/ talks. Today I saw the ear of a grey-horned owl and met a blacksmith who discussed his hobby and watched some bellydancing. However, there are often some serious discussions too. At dinner on Friday, a member with whom my boyfriend and I are friendly asked my boyfriend why he thought the world was going to hell. (I assume he was referring to our country's current economic state.) My boyfriend's response was that it is probably the result of a lot of intelligent people just sitting around eating and drinking.
I am writing you from the Regional Gathering sponsored by Gulf Coast Mensa. Technically, I am not in Mensa. I tested and was accepted in September, but have not paid dues. My boyfriend and our roommate are both members and they basically talked me into testing during Austin Regional Gathering so that the other folks wouldn't look down on me during Mensa events I would attend with them in the future. This was their justification, not mine, and since I wasn't paying the $40 I approached it as one might approach Kinky Friedman as Texas Governor - "Why the hell not?"
I can tell you that neither I nor my boyfriend exactly fit the bill for the typical Mensa demographic. Most of the membership is of at least middle age (40-45 +), white and male. This isn't a criticism, just an observation. I can't help but wonder about this observation. What is it about Mensa that makes this the dominant demographic. Here are some of the thoughts I've tossed around.
1) The test is developed primarily by those who are white and male, therefore the test's definition of success is most likely to reflect the reality of those who created it.
2) People in other demographics genereally have more to be concerned with than taking an intelligence test to join a social club. Maybe the test is an unjustifiable luxury or waste of money.
3) The organization has not sought to actively recruit those of other backgrounds.
All or none of these may be the case, but it does give me a lot to think about. There is a great deal of pride in being a Mensan that is on display at these gatherings. There is frequently talk about what it means to be a Mensan and how these sorts of gatherings are an escape from the "normal world" where intelligence is not well accepted or even frowned upon.
I'll tell you the truth - I barely passed physics. I know that this is not does not necessarily define my intelligence, but surely it is some sort of indication of it. Also, I never felt like I was made into an outsider because of my "intelligence" (I'm not trying to be silly about the use of quotation marks, so hopefully you know what I am getting at). Honestly, in some respects, I feel more like an outsider here because I don't share a common experience with these folks who are allegedly my peers as far as IQ is concerned.
Additionally, there is kind of a culture of pride at underachievement that kind of turns my stomach. For example, a blub describing a guest speaker on a program described him as an engineer that has successfully avoided doing real work for over 12 years. How is that supposed to be an accomplishment? Is the fact that someone is squandering his intelligence supposed to impress me? Now, the regional gatherings are supposed to be fun. There is a lot of eating, drinking, merryment, and great presentations/ talks. Today I saw the ear of a grey-horned owl and met a blacksmith who discussed his hobby and watched some bellydancing. However, there are often some serious discussions too. At dinner on Friday, a member with whom my boyfriend and I are friendly asked my boyfriend why he thought the world was going to hell. (I assume he was referring to our country's current economic state.) My boyfriend's response was that it is probably the result of a lot of intelligent people just sitting around eating and drinking.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Niyazov's Turkmenistan
Saparmurat Niyazov, Father of the Turkmen PeopleFriday, May 22, 2009
aw man!
So I'm laying in bed, thinking about all the things I did today:
1.) Finally bought a decent bike. Goodbye car, hello silly looking helmet.
2.) Cleaned kitchen. This is, by all means, only a relative description.
3.) Went out to the store three different times, yet not once did I manage to purchase the one item I intended to purchase today. Salad Bowl, you continue to elude me!
4.) Met an interesting new girl working the apartment office who relayed to me some interesting things about the three years she spent in Hollywood, moving back to Michigan because her fiance was here, but he just broke it off 3 weeks ago. "Oh manm" I thought to myself in quotation marks, "I should write a blog post about this chick. She's so cliche it hurts ma brains!"
"OH CRAP," said the brain moments ago (again in quotation marks for some reason), "I forgot to blog post."
So that's it. A lame post because I was so 'busy' today I didn't come up with anything worth writing. On the plus side, I think it'll be fun interviewing a girl who's life is that frighteningly cliche. I really want to know what she aspired to become. I want to ask her what her favorite movies were growing up. Now she rents apartments to people, and the reason she came back to Michigan just broke up with her. Ouch.
1.) Finally bought a decent bike. Goodbye car, hello silly looking helmet.
2.) Cleaned kitchen. This is, by all means, only a relative description.
3.) Went out to the store three different times, yet not once did I manage to purchase the one item I intended to purchase today. Salad Bowl, you continue to elude me!
4.) Met an interesting new girl working the apartment office who relayed to me some interesting things about the three years she spent in Hollywood, moving back to Michigan because her fiance was here, but he just broke it off 3 weeks ago. "Oh manm" I thought to myself in quotation marks, "I should write a blog post about this chick. She's so cliche it hurts ma brains!"
"OH CRAP," said the brain moments ago (again in quotation marks for some reason), "I forgot to blog post."
So that's it. A lame post because I was so 'busy' today I didn't come up with anything worth writing. On the plus side, I think it'll be fun interviewing a girl who's life is that frighteningly cliche. I really want to know what she aspired to become. I want to ask her what her favorite movies were growing up. Now she rents apartments to people, and the reason she came back to Michigan just broke up with her. Ouch.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Good Times
Today, I must apologize for the short post. I can not write you a decent entry because I can not stay in my current location at this "public" computer very long. I am on the road today and did not bring my laptop because I was supposed to come back home. However, there was some troubles and I had to stay at a seedy hotel... it's better than the axmurderer hotel I stayed at last time. I can not stay in my current location long because I am writing from what appears to be a combination restaurant/pet shop/brothel and there are many people around me, no front on the store, just open air, and there is really loud techno music playing. Some guy just looked at me like he wants to sell me for parts.
On that note, I will leave you with my happy thought for the day: My 2007 Chevy Silverado will only have 20K miles on it when I return to the US. By that time, the government will have all the trucks officially pussified so they get 32 miles to the gallon. This means I will be able to sell my used truck for more than I paid for it and purchase a fleet of Obamamotors Changemobiles with the profit... or, at the current rate of the housing market, I will buy Sterling Heights, Michigan.
Oh yes, the 60 year old lady moping the steps to the hotel asked what room I am stying in. We didn't tell her, but I definetly am going to acquire some sort of blackjack or shive before I return.
Thisisafakename
On that note, I will leave you with my happy thought for the day: My 2007 Chevy Silverado will only have 20K miles on it when I return to the US. By that time, the government will have all the trucks officially pussified so they get 32 miles to the gallon. This means I will be able to sell my used truck for more than I paid for it and purchase a fleet of Obamamotors Changemobiles with the profit... or, at the current rate of the housing market, I will buy Sterling Heights, Michigan.
Oh yes, the 60 year old lady moping the steps to the hotel asked what room I am stying in. We didn't tell her, but I definetly am going to acquire some sort of blackjack or shive before I return.
Thisisafakename
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Hi team. This week has been a hectic week. Sounds like it has been for a number of us. Since I have not had the opportunity to write anything worthy of your time, I thought I'd cede my post to a couple of good articles I've come across in the past week.
Here is an interview of Richard Cytowie, one of the world's leading researchers on synesthesia. Very cool stuff:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=when-senses-intersect
Here is a well-written article about the modern-day attention span...
Here is an interview of Richard Cytowie, one of the world's leading researchers on synesthesia. Very cool stuff:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=when-senses-intersect
Here is a well-written article about the modern-day attention span...
In Defense of Distraction
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
This is dedicated to the great north-eastern norwhals.
It's easy for us as humans to get caught up in unimportant things. At the very bottom of the barrel, someone may get upset or even lose sleep over the elimination of their favorite contestant on American Idol, Survivor, or The Biggest Loser. Then even those of us who can muster a shred of human decency still get upset by a dent in our 1997 Toyota, getting called when we're on the No Call list, or having our pizza show up late enough to be annoying, but not quite late enough to be free. In fact, on any given day, one of us might be sad, angry, confused, embarrassed, or any of a whole slew of negative emotions over things as trivial as... an 8MB/sec download speed, having only 2/3 of a bowl of cereal left in the box, being behind two other people in the checkout line, stepping in a puddle, seeing an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/friend/boss/coworker/etc. while walking down the street, a light bulb burning out, sand in one's shoe, clouds, ants, or really just about anything. Most advanced race on the planet?! Please.
Now let's play hardball. Surely your wedding, pregnancy, PhD, CEO position, becoming a four-star general, or some other fanfare achievement is worth while. Maybe. A little bit? No.
To date, about 74 billion people have existed. A very small handful have been important. We'd still be here without any of them. Not one person comes to mind when I think about *critical* humans. Earth hasn't had it's Death Star to destroy in a small time window right before it became fully operational. We haven't dealt with alien invasions where only one scientist in the world is capable of preventing our annihilation. I guess penicillin was neat - it wasn't necessary and someone would have found it even if Fleming hadn't.
Even if one single person managed to cure cancer, land on mars, win WWIII, and win an Oscar in the same year, we still could have done without her. Humans are the new cockroaches - throw wars, famine, disease, natural disasters, and anything else you like at us, and there's still going to be way too many of us - in fact, despite everything that's happened in human history, there's more of us now than ever!
I'm sitting here by myself in the near darkness, typing out a whiny blog post that no one is going to read about why everything is stupid, instead of living in South America, surrounded by sexy underage whores with assault rifles and liquor bottles, while I shoot black tar heroine directly into my ocular cavity while my friends and I place bets against our personal safety and juggle flaming, poison-tipped chainsaws and live on a diet of nothing but filet mignon and top-shelf gin and tonics.
Absolute best case scenario - I publish a few books some kids have to read in a class no one cares about for a few years or I end up making a enough money to sleep with some B list celebrity. The only thing worse than knowing this sad state of affairs is the fact that I'm too apathetic to do a damned thing about it.
Now let's play hardball. Surely your wedding, pregnancy, PhD, CEO position, becoming a four-star general, or some other fanfare achievement is worth while. Maybe. A little bit? No.
To date, about 74 billion people have existed. A very small handful have been important. We'd still be here without any of them. Not one person comes to mind when I think about *critical* humans. Earth hasn't had it's Death Star to destroy in a small time window right before it became fully operational. We haven't dealt with alien invasions where only one scientist in the world is capable of preventing our annihilation. I guess penicillin was neat - it wasn't necessary and someone would have found it even if Fleming hadn't.
Even if one single person managed to cure cancer, land on mars, win WWIII, and win an Oscar in the same year, we still could have done without her. Humans are the new cockroaches - throw wars, famine, disease, natural disasters, and anything else you like at us, and there's still going to be way too many of us - in fact, despite everything that's happened in human history, there's more of us now than ever!
I'm sitting here by myself in the near darkness, typing out a whiny blog post that no one is going to read about why everything is stupid, instead of living in South America, surrounded by sexy underage whores with assault rifles and liquor bottles, while I shoot black tar heroine directly into my ocular cavity while my friends and I place bets against our personal safety and juggle flaming, poison-tipped chainsaws and live on a diet of nothing but filet mignon and top-shelf gin and tonics.
Absolute best case scenario - I publish a few books some kids have to read in a class no one cares about for a few years or I end up making a enough money to sleep with some B list celebrity. The only thing worse than knowing this sad state of affairs is the fact that I'm too apathetic to do a damned thing about it.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
as usual
as usual, i'm late
behind on damn near everything and i have 2 exams staring me down. one tomorrow morning and one tuesday morning. i am looking forward to having at least some of my life back come noon cdt tuesday.
i am not in a state of mind to really think of anything deep or philosophical or whatever (not that i ever would anyhow, or even call it that) - let alone, post my pseudophilosophy on a blog. that said, i'll give the customary apology in advance for, everything really, including the lack of capitalization.
so......thinking...of... what to write about
monogamy?
sure!
i've been wondering lately if it is really truly possible at all angles. i mean, sure people point to the past and say, such and such couple has been together 50 years etc etc or they mention swans or some other bird known for monogamy. i can't speak for the swans, but as for the rest i say "?"
first, because there is no way of knowing what kinds of things those 50 year couples do. if they're anything like the folks in my family, it is likely someone got cheated on at least once.
also, as an advice column addict, i read a lot of dan savage (who does a lot of advising on sex and relationships). generally, he seems to be an advocate of open sexual realationships where appropriate (or, shall i say, where he deems appropriate). in short, there is no telling what kinds of arrangements these folks have. and don't even get me started on the polygamists and polyamorists.
i think about this from time to time because, well, i think everyone has at least once found themselves in a relationship and desiring another person. i'm just wondering which is better for our sanity, forming these bonds that may (and probably do) have a limited shelf life, or admitting to ourselves how these relationships are fixed in time and come what may.
i am also supposing some severe social consequences on both ends, of course.
to put this into an example, is it more psychically dangerous to pretend in the family and the monogamy that produces it or to create a society where that is not the expectation (or something in between)?
behind on damn near everything and i have 2 exams staring me down. one tomorrow morning and one tuesday morning. i am looking forward to having at least some of my life back come noon cdt tuesday.
i am not in a state of mind to really think of anything deep or philosophical or whatever (not that i ever would anyhow, or even call it that) - let alone, post my pseudophilosophy on a blog. that said, i'll give the customary apology in advance for, everything really, including the lack of capitalization.
so......thinking...of... what to write about
monogamy?
sure!
i've been wondering lately if it is really truly possible at all angles. i mean, sure people point to the past and say, such and such couple has been together 50 years etc etc or they mention swans or some other bird known for monogamy. i can't speak for the swans, but as for the rest i say "?"
first, because there is no way of knowing what kinds of things those 50 year couples do. if they're anything like the folks in my family, it is likely someone got cheated on at least once.
also, as an advice column addict, i read a lot of dan savage (who does a lot of advising on sex and relationships). generally, he seems to be an advocate of open sexual realationships where appropriate (or, shall i say, where he deems appropriate). in short, there is no telling what kinds of arrangements these folks have. and don't even get me started on the polygamists and polyamorists.
i think about this from time to time because, well, i think everyone has at least once found themselves in a relationship and desiring another person. i'm just wondering which is better for our sanity, forming these bonds that may (and probably do) have a limited shelf life, or admitting to ourselves how these relationships are fixed in time and come what may.
i am also supposing some severe social consequences on both ends, of course.
to put this into an example, is it more psychically dangerous to pretend in the family and the monogamy that produces it or to create a society where that is not the expectation (or something in between)?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
A few of the odder national identities
Thisisafakename's post about being an American abroad made me think about how we define nationality. For the most part, such identities form naturally but since nationality creates groups politicians have been able to induce feelings of identity in some absurdly artificial ways. For example, Italy has had a pretty sharp distinction between its northern and southern regions. While these differences are real, the Italian fascist party Lega Nord decided to invent a fictional region, Podania, uniting all of Italy north of the Po River into a separate nationality. While the area occasionally united for defense against France or the Holy Roman Empire, its various cities more often fought each other. The party claims one Alberto da Giussano as the region's hero, who valiantly fought in one of the few moments of regional unity in the 12th century. Or at least he fought valiantly in a poem, because outside of the invention of an author, da Guissano never existed. Politicians for the Lega Nord also came up with an anthem, a camping van, a soccer team and militant youth group so I guess that's pretty much the makings of a country. The soccer team went on to beat a league of soccer teams fielded by ethnic groups without their own countries. Hooray! I guess most nationalities are artificial at some level, but few are so crassly invented by a political party for the purpose of whipping people into xenophobic frenzy. There are other fairly artificial national identities, like Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan, both of which were created for political purposes. Stalin didn't feel comfortable with the notion of a large bloc of Muslim Turkic peoples at the southern edge of his empire, so he took various historical elements and re-wove them into Kyrgyzstan. Much of the country's notion of identity comes from the epic poem of Manas. At about a half-million lines, the poem is the world's longest poem and has existed for centuries. However, its story and its hero are not particular to Kyrgyzstan, but to the vast region and its Turkic peoples. Stalin had bureaucrats write versions of the oral histories with all of the events occurring within the newly created borders of the country, thus giving the people a unique identity from their neighbors, who now were descended from Manas' enemies. Now Manas and the poem are the main cultural elements the Kyrgyz people point to that separates them from their neighbors who share their language, ethnicity and religion. Turkmenistan is honestly too bizarre to cover in the remainder of this post, so I'll leave it until next Saturday when you can read about the wonderful Saparmurat Niyazov who used his absolute power to rename bread after his dead mother. I really miss that guy.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Black Hole Coffee
Today I shall share with you my recipe for Bunny D's Black Hole Coffee, a drink so dark and massive (in flavor) that after crossing the event horizon (sipping it) you will never be able to escape it's entanglement. Oh sure, you'll go on living your life in seeming normality. You'll probably even manage to walk away from the cup. And yet, you will have been changed. Your friends and family will say you are somehow different... something different. So head my warning, and only attempt the creation of this dark brew if you are truly prepared to step through the precipices of this universe and into another. Somewhere darker. Before I get to the recipe itself, it is probably best I chronicle my discovery.
A history: Last summer after a healthy reexamination of my budget, I decided I was spending far too much coffee. Not store bought coffee mind you, but rather individual cups purchased from coffee shops. I was up to at least 2 cups a day. Having recently come into possession of a multiple number of coffee makers, I found this expense silly and vowed to drink more at home. I would sample all the different varieties and brands the local stores could offer me, and yet found them lacking. "This coffee needs more of a punch," I said aloud to nobody after several cups, "more shazam, more vim, more... darkness!". I recall it came to me in a dream. Or maybe the shower, I do a lot of good thinking in the shower. Anyway, I realized that the simple act of rebrewing a coffee.. double brewing as it were, could enhance the flavor. Coffee brewed with coffee, it was so obvious! At the same time, the weather was growing increasingly warm outside so my research was slowing shifting over from development of hot coffee to the iced variety. It was under these conditions that the formula became clear to me.
Looking back now, it is so clear I was playing with forces I did not... forces I COULD not comprehend. What a fool I was, toying with coffee grounds like I was god himself. Alas, this is hindsight only. With this history and further warning, I shall now present to you the secrets of the black hole coffee. Why? I know not. Perhaps the coffee really has taken control at this point, and it is no longer my own soul at the keyboard. Or perhaps Friday snuck up on me, and I had no idea what to post about. Either way, I shall tease the foolhardy reader no more.
First and foremost, know that there is not one particular brand of coffee ground required to achieve a cup of black hole coffee. For certain, the darker blends will lend themselves to collapse much sooner, but with enoughrepetitions of the cycle described below, any variety will eventually achieve flavor densities required to form a dark singularity, and collapse inwards on themselves.
Step one: Brew a pot of coffee
Step two: Pour half of the brewed pot into ice cube trays. Place these in the freezer, and allow them to form "coffee cubes". Store the unused remaining coffee in the fridge, sealed tightly. Discard the used grounds from the machine.
Step three: Once the cubes are frozen, pour the remaining refrigerated coffee into the top of the coffee machine to use as the "water" for the next round of production. Put fresh grounds into the coffee machine. Prior to the actually brewing of this cup, take the iced coffee-cubes out of the freezer, and place them inside the coffee pot.
Step four: Brew the 2nd generation coffee directly onto these coffee cubes.
The purpose of step four requires a small discussion of the troubles facing iced coffee production. In the traditional method of brewing iced coffee, regular coffee is brewed and then has ice cubes added or simply refrigerated to achieve a "cold" temperature. Adding ice cubes will dilute the coffee, and allowing it to sit will cause it to "leak" some of it's aromatic flavors, as well as take on any surrounding tastes in the fridge. The second common method is to "cold brew" coffee, by using cold water in grounds instead of hot. The issue with cold-brewing is that many of the rich subtle flavors in coffee require heat to be properly extracted from the grounds. Try making a cup of cold water brewed coffee, and you'll see what I mean. It is lacking. Ah, but hot brew coffee directly onto ice cubes, here lies the trick! The hot water (or coffee in this case) will open up the grounds like we desire, but when the hot coffee drips directly onto the ice cubes, the flavors become frozen... locked in as it were. Thus, we have begun the accumulation of taste, rather than the dilution.
From here, it is a simple task of repeating steps two through four until the coffee-singularity is achieved. With each successive cycle, the newly brewed pot will become darker and richer. Various flavors and varieties can be interwoven together. Somewhere along this path, you will feel a change in the pot. You will know when it is done. Last summer, I believe I kept the same batch running for about 2 weeks, grinding through the cycle at least 25 times. Out of this womb of science and desperation, black hole coffee was born. Seriously, it's quite the drink. You will be changed. I have said my piece, now leave me to my own dark fate.
A history: Last summer after a healthy reexamination of my budget, I decided I was spending far too much coffee. Not store bought coffee mind you, but rather individual cups purchased from coffee shops. I was up to at least 2 cups a day. Having recently come into possession of a multiple number of coffee makers, I found this expense silly and vowed to drink more at home. I would sample all the different varieties and brands the local stores could offer me, and yet found them lacking. "This coffee needs more of a punch," I said aloud to nobody after several cups, "more shazam, more vim, more... darkness!". I recall it came to me in a dream. Or maybe the shower, I do a lot of good thinking in the shower. Anyway, I realized that the simple act of rebrewing a coffee.. double brewing as it were, could enhance the flavor. Coffee brewed with coffee, it was so obvious! At the same time, the weather was growing increasingly warm outside so my research was slowing shifting over from development of hot coffee to the iced variety. It was under these conditions that the formula became clear to me.
Looking back now, it is so clear I was playing with forces I did not... forces I COULD not comprehend. What a fool I was, toying with coffee grounds like I was god himself. Alas, this is hindsight only. With this history and further warning, I shall now present to you the secrets of the black hole coffee. Why? I know not. Perhaps the coffee really has taken control at this point, and it is no longer my own soul at the keyboard. Or perhaps Friday snuck up on me, and I had no idea what to post about. Either way, I shall tease the foolhardy reader no more.
First and foremost, know that there is not one particular brand of coffee ground required to achieve a cup of black hole coffee. For certain, the darker blends will lend themselves to collapse much sooner, but with enoughrepetitions of the cycle described below, any variety will eventually achieve flavor densities required to form a dark singularity, and collapse inwards on themselves.
Step one: Brew a pot of coffee
Step two: Pour half of the brewed pot into ice cube trays. Place these in the freezer, and allow them to form "coffee cubes". Store the unused remaining coffee in the fridge, sealed tightly. Discard the used grounds from the machine.
Step three: Once the cubes are frozen, pour the remaining refrigerated coffee into the top of the coffee machine to use as the "water" for the next round of production. Put fresh grounds into the coffee machine. Prior to the actually brewing of this cup, take the iced coffee-cubes out of the freezer, and place them inside the coffee pot.
Step four: Brew the 2nd generation coffee directly onto these coffee cubes.
The purpose of step four requires a small discussion of the troubles facing iced coffee production. In the traditional method of brewing iced coffee, regular coffee is brewed and then has ice cubes added or simply refrigerated to achieve a "cold" temperature. Adding ice cubes will dilute the coffee, and allowing it to sit will cause it to "leak" some of it's aromatic flavors, as well as take on any surrounding tastes in the fridge. The second common method is to "cold brew" coffee, by using cold water in grounds instead of hot. The issue with cold-brewing is that many of the rich subtle flavors in coffee require heat to be properly extracted from the grounds. Try making a cup of cold water brewed coffee, and you'll see what I mean. It is lacking. Ah, but hot brew coffee directly onto ice cubes, here lies the trick! The hot water (or coffee in this case) will open up the grounds like we desire, but when the hot coffee drips directly onto the ice cubes, the flavors become frozen... locked in as it were. Thus, we have begun the accumulation of taste, rather than the dilution.
From here, it is a simple task of repeating steps two through four until the coffee-singularity is achieved. With each successive cycle, the newly brewed pot will become darker and richer. Various flavors and varieties can be interwoven together. Somewhere along this path, you will feel a change in the pot. You will know when it is done. Last summer, I believe I kept the same batch running for about 2 weeks, grinding through the cycle at least 25 times. Out of this womb of science and desperation, black hole coffee was born. Seriously, it's quite the drink. You will be changed. I have said my piece, now leave me to my own dark fate.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Deep thoughts, intense observation, child-like curiosity, and communication problems. These could probably describe ones feelings during the beginning of a teenage relationship (or any relationship involving engineers,) the George W. Bush Administration, or any intoxicated person. However, today I will discuss none of these. These words also describe myself during the first few months of my relocation to Thisisafakecountry. Today I would like to share with all of you a little bit of my thoughts and my life from a displaced but still internal perspective.
When I made the first major move of my life from the rust belt to the West I had a little bit of adaptation to undergo. Besides adapting to climate and the challenges of "Big City" living, I had a little bit of culture shock to deal with as well. I laughed at how everyone assumed I liked guns, NASCAR, and Big 3 made automotibles. Yes, they were correct, but I still laughed. As locals jested about the morbidly obese, pasty white, smoking bretheren of mine I soon realized that I needed to kick the habit, get some sun, and hit the gym. With my latest relocation I have some vastly different stereotypes to deal with. First and foremost, being an American here in TIAFC, everyone assumes I am wildly rich. This is helpful for meeting women, but not the kind of women that you want to import to the US. It is not helpful when you are walking home on crowded streets with a laptop in your backback. Luckily, thus far, the second stereotype has prevented issues. That would be the belief that as an American, I am genetically designed to kick ass. This is laughable at the least. I am by no means intimidating and the closest I have been to fighting involved hockey skirmishes. However, whenever I am introduced to new people in a casual setting they almost always comment on how strong I must be and want to know how many fights I have been in. These people could most certaintly kick my ass, so I always respond with "enough" because none is enough for me. People also want to know who the U.S. is going to attack next. This question is normally asked with a few different tones of fascination, annoyance, and fear. Jokingly, the question is normally followed up with a "You should go after -insert least favorite country of the natives- " Yes, the world knows we are prone to fight and they don't understand it, but they mostly respect it. It's a pretty humbling moment to explain that we sacked Iraq due to bad information. Yes, my government shit the bed. No I don't like it.
On a more personal level, one of my favorite things to do to friends is let them listen to my i-pod. Everyone expects me to have it loaded with hip hop. It normally takes about 5 minutes before they ask, "What, no 50 Cent, no Beyonce, no Techno?" At least over here I can listen to Kelly Clarkson without being judged. (I know, you just judged me, and I am OK with that.) Another more personal detail I have had to deal with is explaining to people (coworkers, business partners, friends) that I just do not want hookers. Refusing a hooker to them is like refusing to breathe air. After saying no I almost always have to answer the following questions, in this order: You do like women, right? Yes. You do like sex, right? Yes. Then why don't you want a hooker? I don't want to have my crotch rot off. You have been with a woman before, right? Yes. And you don't want a hooker? No. Hmmm. O.K., well, we're going to go get some girls, see you tomorrow. No problem, I'm going to go home and think about how complex my frickin' life is compared to yours and try to not think about the fact that I could be making videos for a future porn site right now. To this date, there are no plans for "www.thisisafakecountrygirls.com"
This leads me to another point, that being that decent, responsible American's have complex lives when compared to most others. With plenty of time to think about this, it is becoming more apparent to how our society is grooming us in the states. I was taught by my parents and my society to obey the laws, respect others, help others in need, be polite, be hygenical, be efficient, work hard, earn what I get, think not only for the present but also for the future, and to love my God. The list goes on, but I think you can get the point. Trying to be responsible and ethical in our society is a full time job. I'm not saying others in the world do not have these similiar beliefs and thoughts, but I am learning that we seem to take it to an entire different level. My coworkers joke about how I say thank you to everything, hold the door for people, get out of the way of traffic, say pardon me when trying to get by people, or actually try to stand in line at the McDonalds and not elbow my way through the crowd. I am sure you can physically see my inner turmoil at the local McDonalds. I am taught to stand in line, not shout, and wait my turn. This is a far cry from the mob the cash register and yell to get the attention of the cashier to get your order situation that is actually present. So I stand there, thinking about how bad I want a double cheeseburger and a coke, watching people elbow past me. Take a step forward, cut by someone. Feel remorse for cutting in line (mob.) More people cut in front of me. Anger. Hunger. Push my way to the front. More remorse. Someone behind me yells and gets the attention of the cashier. They take their order. More anger. They finish their order, another behind me starts yelling. I turn and say, "Ah, Ah, Ah!" They look at me like, holy shit, a white guy. I turn around and order. I get my food, sit down and eat as the entire restaurant stares at me as I eat. This is every time I order a damn hamburger.
Lastly, to an almost humerous extent, I take everything I do here way too serious at the moment. When I was in the states I really hated hearing about how American's have a bad rap in foreign countries. I always wondered just what kind of asshole is representing us over wherever. So one of my goals while being over here is to make sure I am not one of these people. It started off as making sure that I am all the things I listed above. However, it has gotten ridiculous. I am trying to be good at everything I do because I know people are judging the US by my actions. This includes drinking, eating whatever crazy thing shows up on my plate, exercising in the gym, playing sports, playing pool, fooseball, and trying to be clever. Perhaps this spiraled out of control on the basketball court a couple months ago. My coworkers love to play basketball so they took me one day. I explained to them that I was not very good but they assumed that I was not very good by American terms, meaning I was going to destroy them but Kobe can school me. Well, when I got to the court, there were actually about 15 courts. Almost all of them had a game going on it. As soon as people started to see me, it was like a TV timeout. Great, not only do I suck at basketball but now I have a crowd expecting to see my inner Steve Nash. Well, after about 5 minutes of playing I was told it was OK for me to try hard to beat them. I explained that I was. The viewers got restless. This progressed to laughter and head shaking. Yes America, I failed to represent your basketball capabilities, and for that I am sorry.
Thisisafakename
When I made the first major move of my life from the rust belt to the West I had a little bit of adaptation to undergo. Besides adapting to climate and the challenges of "Big City" living, I had a little bit of culture shock to deal with as well. I laughed at how everyone assumed I liked guns, NASCAR, and Big 3 made automotibles. Yes, they were correct, but I still laughed. As locals jested about the morbidly obese, pasty white, smoking bretheren of mine I soon realized that I needed to kick the habit, get some sun, and hit the gym. With my latest relocation I have some vastly different stereotypes to deal with. First and foremost, being an American here in TIAFC, everyone assumes I am wildly rich. This is helpful for meeting women, but not the kind of women that you want to import to the US. It is not helpful when you are walking home on crowded streets with a laptop in your backback. Luckily, thus far, the second stereotype has prevented issues. That would be the belief that as an American, I am genetically designed to kick ass. This is laughable at the least. I am by no means intimidating and the closest I have been to fighting involved hockey skirmishes. However, whenever I am introduced to new people in a casual setting they almost always comment on how strong I must be and want to know how many fights I have been in. These people could most certaintly kick my ass, so I always respond with "enough" because none is enough for me. People also want to know who the U.S. is going to attack next. This question is normally asked with a few different tones of fascination, annoyance, and fear. Jokingly, the question is normally followed up with a "You should go after -insert least favorite country of the natives- " Yes, the world knows we are prone to fight and they don't understand it, but they mostly respect it. It's a pretty humbling moment to explain that we sacked Iraq due to bad information. Yes, my government shit the bed. No I don't like it.
On a more personal level, one of my favorite things to do to friends is let them listen to my i-pod. Everyone expects me to have it loaded with hip hop. It normally takes about 5 minutes before they ask, "What, no 50 Cent, no Beyonce, no Techno?" At least over here I can listen to Kelly Clarkson without being judged. (I know, you just judged me, and I am OK with that.) Another more personal detail I have had to deal with is explaining to people (coworkers, business partners, friends) that I just do not want hookers. Refusing a hooker to them is like refusing to breathe air. After saying no I almost always have to answer the following questions, in this order: You do like women, right? Yes. You do like sex, right? Yes. Then why don't you want a hooker? I don't want to have my crotch rot off. You have been with a woman before, right? Yes. And you don't want a hooker? No. Hmmm. O.K., well, we're going to go get some girls, see you tomorrow. No problem, I'm going to go home and think about how complex my frickin' life is compared to yours and try to not think about the fact that I could be making videos for a future porn site right now. To this date, there are no plans for "www.thisisafakecountrygirls.com"
This leads me to another point, that being that decent, responsible American's have complex lives when compared to most others. With plenty of time to think about this, it is becoming more apparent to how our society is grooming us in the states. I was taught by my parents and my society to obey the laws, respect others, help others in need, be polite, be hygenical, be efficient, work hard, earn what I get, think not only for the present but also for the future, and to love my God. The list goes on, but I think you can get the point. Trying to be responsible and ethical in our society is a full time job. I'm not saying others in the world do not have these similiar beliefs and thoughts, but I am learning that we seem to take it to an entire different level. My coworkers joke about how I say thank you to everything, hold the door for people, get out of the way of traffic, say pardon me when trying to get by people, or actually try to stand in line at the McDonalds and not elbow my way through the crowd. I am sure you can physically see my inner turmoil at the local McDonalds. I am taught to stand in line, not shout, and wait my turn. This is a far cry from the mob the cash register and yell to get the attention of the cashier to get your order situation that is actually present. So I stand there, thinking about how bad I want a double cheeseburger and a coke, watching people elbow past me. Take a step forward, cut by someone. Feel remorse for cutting in line (mob.) More people cut in front of me. Anger. Hunger. Push my way to the front. More remorse. Someone behind me yells and gets the attention of the cashier. They take their order. More anger. They finish their order, another behind me starts yelling. I turn and say, "Ah, Ah, Ah!" They look at me like, holy shit, a white guy. I turn around and order. I get my food, sit down and eat as the entire restaurant stares at me as I eat. This is every time I order a damn hamburger.
Lastly, to an almost humerous extent, I take everything I do here way too serious at the moment. When I was in the states I really hated hearing about how American's have a bad rap in foreign countries. I always wondered just what kind of asshole is representing us over wherever. So one of my goals while being over here is to make sure I am not one of these people. It started off as making sure that I am all the things I listed above. However, it has gotten ridiculous. I am trying to be good at everything I do because I know people are judging the US by my actions. This includes drinking, eating whatever crazy thing shows up on my plate, exercising in the gym, playing sports, playing pool, fooseball, and trying to be clever. Perhaps this spiraled out of control on the basketball court a couple months ago. My coworkers love to play basketball so they took me one day. I explained to them that I was not very good but they assumed that I was not very good by American terms, meaning I was going to destroy them but Kobe can school me. Well, when I got to the court, there were actually about 15 courts. Almost all of them had a game going on it. As soon as people started to see me, it was like a TV timeout. Great, not only do I suck at basketball but now I have a crowd expecting to see my inner Steve Nash. Well, after about 5 minutes of playing I was told it was OK for me to try hard to beat them. I explained that I was. The viewers got restless. This progressed to laughter and head shaking. Yes America, I failed to represent your basketball capabilities, and for that I am sorry.
Thisisafakename
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Are you sleep deprived or just happy to see me?
I just finished my semester as of last week, and that final 2 week push of writing papers and case studies reminded me of something I've been meaning to share...
Throughout most of college, I had a very predictable work habit: whenever I had a major class assignment I would put it off until the very last minute, then pull an intense tea-fuled all-nighter to finish it the night before it was due. Full disclosure: at one point freshman year, I actually managed to do this in order to write a 1-page paper.
The whole idea behind this strategy was that if I tilted the playing field far enough in my disfavor, I could stop worrying about my work being 'good', and instead worry about it being 'finished'. That, and prior to these intense bouts of effort I could hang out with my buddies for whole care-free weeks at a time. As much as I beat myself up about this pattern, I do have to admit that it worked. The pressure definitely had a clarifying and motivating effect on my thought process.
After pulling a successful all-nighter, I'd be absolutely euphoric the following day. I'd ride my cloud of accomplishment (or at least my cloud of not-quite-utter-failure), down to the People's Market, our student-run coffee collective, before floating over to class to turn in my assignment and then promptly crashing. If you can believe it, those feelings of manic euphoria were among the most intense emotions I've ever felt, and I attributed them to actually meeting goals and not caving into fears.
"Wow, it feels great not to fail!" I'd think. "What should I do now? ...I know, I'll go smile at that grumpy lady who works in the cafeteria! Maybe I'll pick her a flower!" (this is an artist's rendition: my thoughts didn't begin to approach this level of coherency).
My senior year, I took a Neuroanatomy course where in passing, the professor mentioned something that finally revealed EVERYTHING I HAD BELIEVED ABOUT ALL-NIGHTERS WAS A LIE. Well, sort of. Remember how I had been attributing all those sparkly-bright feelings to my sense of accomplishment? Well, turns out that sleep deprivation generates feelings of happiness and euphoria completely on its own. In fact, the positive feelings are so strong and reliable that it has been shown to alleviate symptoms of severe chronic depression in about 40-60% of patients during clinical trials. The effects are fleeting, with depressive symptoms usually returning once patients sleep, but it's now sometimes used in conjunction with medication as a way to 'jumpstart' more positive emotion cycles, which can then be maintained by pharmaceuticals or therapy. There's a whole bunch of research on it and everything. Holy crap, right?
One theory about why sleep deprivation has this effect on mood is that it disrupts normal functioning of the limbic system (a deep structure of the brain associated with emotional regulation). In non-depressed individuals, this disruption leads to giddiness, euphoria, and really stupid jokes, while in a subset of individuals suffering from chronic depression, it totally alleviates their symptoms. Because of this finding, researchers hypothesize that a particular subset of individuals suffer from chronic depression directly effected by problems with limbic system regulation. Just a theory, but I think it's pretty cool.
So, why did I decide to write about this apart from its self-evident awesomeness? This little anecdote always stuck with me because it was a really clear, personal example of how we attribute causation using the information we have, even when that information is only a piece of the whole picture. Before I knew anything about the direct neurological effects sleep deprivation had on emotions, my actual behavior was the only piece I had to interpret the feelings I experienced. While I'm certain that finishing my work would have made me feel great even if I had gotten enough sleep all those times (although to be honest, I've yet to fully test this empirically), it was the combination of those feelings with the strong limbic boost that made me feel the way that I did with that level of intensity. I think it was kind of like getting all "I love you man" when drinking; the behavior isn't due entirely to the booze, but that 8th beer really helps when it comes to telling your buddy how you've really felt all this time.
Now for the $3 moral of the story:
I try to take all this as reminder not to be too rigid in my convictions, especially regarding causation, because it's hard to know if my conclusion has really been based on all the pieces. This reminder is important for me, because I have a strong tendency to try to explain, understand, and contextualize pretty much everything I come across. I don't think this is the worst of tendencies all-in-all, but reminders like this help me keep it in check.
...
Further reading for sleep deprivation:
Here's an abstract review I found that talks about a bunch of studies on sleep deprivation and depression:
http://www.psycom.net/depression.central.sleepdep.html
Here's a really interesting review of sleep deprivation as it relates to decision-making in the military. I get get a kick out of the picture of military commanders getting all giggly like 11 year-old girls at a sleep-over until I remember they have bombs.
Here's the abstract:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/sites/entrez
and here's the actual article:
http://imagesrvr.epnet.com/embimages/pdh2/xap/xap63236.pdf
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Mah bad!
Hey folks. I know you're expecting a poorly thrown together tuesday post about some random thought I stewed over for a day or two. Well, I'm pretty busy dealing with my second mid-life crisis, so the old think box has been a little distracted. But, not one to shrug responsibility, here's... something.
How are criminals keeping up? Sure, many crime levels aren't what they were in the late 80s and early 90s, but it seems like it should have gone way down, not sort of down. Consider the advances in forensic technologies, increased understanding of criminal psychology and criminal profiling, more highly specialized law enforcement units, better surveillance options, easier wire taps, more informants, better inter-agency cooperation, cell and satellite phones, real-time gps, credit card tracking, phone record data bases, instant DMV plate results, and on and on and on.
Police standards are going up, more and more cops have four year degrees, attend longer academies, and have more formal continued training opportunities. What are criminals doing to keep up with all of this? There's no indication that perps are better educated or highly trained, there's an increase in computer crimes and fraud, but the violent crime rates are holding strong - still just people with guns and knives killing, raping, kidnapping, blowing stuff up, and keeping the ratings on cable news high.
I don't get it. Maybe I'm naive and simply expect too much of our justice system. In my mind, more resources and better trained cops should be out-pacing criminals unless they have some parallel increase in competency that I'm completely failing to imagine. I can see where the internet provides a lot of information pertinent to a successful criminal career, and, although often as misleading as they would be educational, perhaps the prevalence of law enforcement related television shows and media (both the realistic and highly fictionalized) help prepare the self-motivated criminal understudy learn where to avoid errors. By in large, though, it seems like nothing's really changing.
Ideas? Thoughts? Glaring omissions of pertinent lines of thought?
How are criminals keeping up? Sure, many crime levels aren't what they were in the late 80s and early 90s, but it seems like it should have gone way down, not sort of down. Consider the advances in forensic technologies, increased understanding of criminal psychology and criminal profiling, more highly specialized law enforcement units, better surveillance options, easier wire taps, more informants, better inter-agency cooperation, cell and satellite phones, real-time gps, credit card tracking, phone record data bases, instant DMV plate results, and on and on and on.
Police standards are going up, more and more cops have four year degrees, attend longer academies, and have more formal continued training opportunities. What are criminals doing to keep up with all of this? There's no indication that perps are better educated or highly trained, there's an increase in computer crimes and fraud, but the violent crime rates are holding strong - still just people with guns and knives killing, raping, kidnapping, blowing stuff up, and keeping the ratings on cable news high.
I don't get it. Maybe I'm naive and simply expect too much of our justice system. In my mind, more resources and better trained cops should be out-pacing criminals unless they have some parallel increase in competency that I'm completely failing to imagine. I can see where the internet provides a lot of information pertinent to a successful criminal career, and, although often as misleading as they would be educational, perhaps the prevalence of law enforcement related television shows and media (both the realistic and highly fictionalized) help prepare the self-motivated criminal understudy learn where to avoid errors. By in large, though, it seems like nothing's really changing.
Ideas? Thoughts? Glaring omissions of pertinent lines of thought?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
So today I am a little late because I am writing to report to you on an event called Hashing. It has nothing to do with Hash - it is actually a drinking club with a running problem.
I learned about it through a friend of my boyfriend's during our time in DC. I like to run. I like beer. It seemed like a decent enough combination.
Today I ran (and walked a bit too) through about 6.2 miles of trail and brush in 90 degree heat. It was great.
Here is how it works. First, you have the Hares who set up the trail, provide the food and beer and try to ensure everyone has a nice time. You show up to the start, someone takes your $5, you have a beer and socialize until it is time to begin the run. You follow a trail, usually marked with flour or chalk until you reach a check. From there, you search for where the trail leads next. You may eventually come upon an F, which means it was a false trail and you have to turn around and find your way to the real trail. This happened to me at least three times. You keep going until you find a beer checkpoint (there is usually at least one), where everyone regroups and has a beer or two and then the run goes on to the next beer check or eventually the end.
When you get to the end, there is water, food, and of course, more beer. After everyone comes in and fills their bellies it is circle time.
Before I get into circle time, I should explain that this is a long term sort of group. There are people who have participated in hundreds of hashes, easily. I would estimate the average age of a hasher is about 45, at least among the group I was with. Given the clubby nature of the group, there are nicknames. Everyone has a name and it is usually made up of a perverted pun. Vagina, cum, wank and other such words being in your name are par for the course. And - you are named - you do not choose your name. It is given to you, usually based on what has happened at previous hash events you have been a part of.
Now, circle time. First, all the the virgins (first time hashers) come to the circle. Songs are sung, always ending with drink it downdowndowndowndown. At that point in the song, you have the option of chugging your beer, pouring over your head, or spilling it down your shorts. The songs are what you would image pirates or sailors singing. They are loads of fun. After the virgins drink, the time comes for accusations - the Hares are accused of making a shitty trail, the front running bastard is accused, racers (called racists) are accused and the circle of drinking and song goes on.
It was a load of fun. Contrary to what one might think of when they hear about this kind of event, it is friendly environment where people have food, drink (more drink) and silly fun. I think I might make a regular thing of it.
Cheers!
I learned about it through a friend of my boyfriend's during our time in DC. I like to run. I like beer. It seemed like a decent enough combination.
Today I ran (and walked a bit too) through about 6.2 miles of trail and brush in 90 degree heat. It was great.
Here is how it works. First, you have the Hares who set up the trail, provide the food and beer and try to ensure everyone has a nice time. You show up to the start, someone takes your $5, you have a beer and socialize until it is time to begin the run. You follow a trail, usually marked with flour or chalk until you reach a check. From there, you search for where the trail leads next. You may eventually come upon an F, which means it was a false trail and you have to turn around and find your way to the real trail. This happened to me at least three times. You keep going until you find a beer checkpoint (there is usually at least one), where everyone regroups and has a beer or two and then the run goes on to the next beer check or eventually the end.
When you get to the end, there is water, food, and of course, more beer. After everyone comes in and fills their bellies it is circle time.
Before I get into circle time, I should explain that this is a long term sort of group. There are people who have participated in hundreds of hashes, easily. I would estimate the average age of a hasher is about 45, at least among the group I was with. Given the clubby nature of the group, there are nicknames. Everyone has a name and it is usually made up of a perverted pun. Vagina, cum, wank and other such words being in your name are par for the course. And - you are named - you do not choose your name. It is given to you, usually based on what has happened at previous hash events you have been a part of.
Now, circle time. First, all the the virgins (first time hashers) come to the circle. Songs are sung, always ending with drink it downdowndowndowndown. At that point in the song, you have the option of chugging your beer, pouring over your head, or spilling it down your shorts. The songs are what you would image pirates or sailors singing. They are loads of fun. After the virgins drink, the time comes for accusations - the Hares are accused of making a shitty trail, the front running bastard is accused, racers (called racists) are accused and the circle of drinking and song goes on.
It was a load of fun. Contrary to what one might think of when they hear about this kind of event, it is friendly environment where people have food, drink (more drink) and silly fun. I think I might make a regular thing of it.
Cheers!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
4th Amendment
*Note: Plenipotentiary was unable to be near a computer today, so I'm posting this on his behalf* -bd
A lot of people have been writing about deficient news coverage and the oversimplification of ideas, so I'm going to take a current news topic, find a tired dichotomy and present a new idea with some historical context. The Supreme Court has been getting a lot of attention lately with Justice Souter's pending retirement. Other than the speculation over the identity of new appointments, there seems to be a fascination with boiling down all legal philosophies into originalists vs. judicial activists. Take the 4th amendment (search and seizure) as an example. Since modern criminal defense largely involves trying to exclude evidence from trial, the 4th amendment is probably the most commonly cited amendment. Conservatives (originalists) argue the protections of excluding evidence into court are absent in the Constitution and exonerate criminals on technicalities. Liberals defend the exclusionary rule on the basis that it protects innocent people from over-aggressive police searches, as intended by the Framers. In practice, these positions become contorted. Of course, defense attorneys don't cite the amendment but rather the precedent of cases that interpreted if a search was legitimate. Most 4th amendment cases that make their way to the Supreme Court hinge on whether a search occurred at all and thus whether the amendment's protections apply. Touching someone's bag is not a search, but squeezing the bag is. A drug-sniffing dog is not a search, nor are any sort of mechanical or electronic detectors. These decisions strike me as narrow cornerstones of jurisprudence regardless of their consequences. How did we get here?
Starting at what is roughly the begining, 17th century Britain saw trade increase. When Parliament passed customs on imported goods, a legal system was needed to justify search and seizure of smuggled goods. The Exchequer would issue general warrants, also called Writs of Assisstance to allow customs agents to search goods without any restrictions on the time or location. In modern legal terminology, customs agents did not need to secure a warrant beforehand or establish probable cause to execute a search. These warrants were obviously controversial in colonial Massachusetts. The issue of requirements for warrants became important when a radical British MP, John Wilkes, was arrested for sedition against the government. Wilkes filled suit against the secretary who ordered the warrant as well as the agents who carried it out, claiming the government had illegally trespassed on his property. Setting another legal precedent, Wilkes also filed for punitive damages to stiffle future illegal trespasses. Wilkes was ultimately victorious and his case made an immediate impact on legal thinking during the Framing era. In both Colonial and then American courts, lawyers would frequently file and win trespass actions against the police. Warrants, even when properly issued, did not protect the police or judges from judicial action. The Court currently argues between two standards. One is whether citizens have a reasonable expectation of privacy (set by Johnson v United States in 1948). The other standard relies on whether police had probably cause to execute a search.
Many would claim that by enumerating proper legal procedure, citizens gained protections against improper searches. However, other legal scholars like Akhil Reed Amar argue that this process protects officers from trespass suits and therefore strays from the original intent and practice of the 4th amendment in the Constitutional era. I find this to an interesting argument because although its obviously an Originalist argument, it runs counter to anything either bloc of Supreme Court Justices would argue. Amar argues that warrants stray from the 4th amendment which hurts the police and innocent victims of searches. Both harms rise from favoring a standard of probable cause over reasonableness. The difference has to do largely with a means/ends debate. Under the legal standards of probable cause, searches are justified by police officers rationale for a search which is supporting by the production of evidence. If a search bears fruit, the rationale of probable cause is vindicated. Reasonableness, Amar claims, should demand that searches and arrests be carried out in a manner fitting the circumstances. On face, I'm leery but at least Amar's argument is interesting. If police carry out a search and obtain evidence, but do so in a brutal or unreasonable fashion, they can be subject to suits filed by the victims. There is no way to fit a discussion of the manner in which searches or arrests are carried out into a standard of probably cause. Amar also argues that some searches are reasonable for cases like kidnapping but not for shoplifting. By sticking with probable cause, any manner of search is justified regardless of the circumstances or crime police suspect has occurred. I guess I might not mind if there's a road block to search cars during a kidnapping case, but the same road block to search for shoplifted goods is patently absurd but currently justified by probable cause.
I wanted to write about one author's views on the 4th amendment because I think that there is a real discussion going on in legal circles, a discussion that all too often goes on unheard by those outside the field. Its difficult to find where to begin wading into a specialized area, like Constitutional law and history, but since everyone on this blog has fairly advanced training we might be able to introduce each other to some new and interesting ideas.
A lot of people have been writing about deficient news coverage and the oversimplification of ideas, so I'm going to take a current news topic, find a tired dichotomy and present a new idea with some historical context. The Supreme Court has been getting a lot of attention lately with Justice Souter's pending retirement. Other than the speculation over the identity of new appointments, there seems to be a fascination with boiling down all legal philosophies into originalists vs. judicial activists. Take the 4th amendment (search and seizure) as an example. Since modern criminal defense largely involves trying to exclude evidence from trial, the 4th amendment is probably the most commonly cited amendment. Conservatives (originalists) argue the protections of excluding evidence into court are absent in the Constitution and exonerate criminals on technicalities. Liberals defend the exclusionary rule on the basis that it protects innocent people from over-aggressive police searches, as intended by the Framers. In practice, these positions become contorted. Of course, defense attorneys don't cite the amendment but rather the precedent of cases that interpreted if a search was legitimate. Most 4th amendment cases that make their way to the Supreme Court hinge on whether a search occurred at all and thus whether the amendment's protections apply. Touching someone's bag is not a search, but squeezing the bag is. A drug-sniffing dog is not a search, nor are any sort of mechanical or electronic detectors. These decisions strike me as narrow cornerstones of jurisprudence regardless of their consequences. How did we get here?
Starting at what is roughly the begining, 17th century Britain saw trade increase. When Parliament passed customs on imported goods, a legal system was needed to justify search and seizure of smuggled goods. The Exchequer would issue general warrants, also called Writs of Assisstance to allow customs agents to search goods without any restrictions on the time or location. In modern legal terminology, customs agents did not need to secure a warrant beforehand or establish probable cause to execute a search. These warrants were obviously controversial in colonial Massachusetts. The issue of requirements for warrants became important when a radical British MP, John Wilkes, was arrested for sedition against the government. Wilkes filled suit against the secretary who ordered the warrant as well as the agents who carried it out, claiming the government had illegally trespassed on his property. Setting another legal precedent, Wilkes also filed for punitive damages to stiffle future illegal trespasses. Wilkes was ultimately victorious and his case made an immediate impact on legal thinking during the Framing era. In both Colonial and then American courts, lawyers would frequently file and win trespass actions against the police. Warrants, even when properly issued, did not protect the police or judges from judicial action. The Court currently argues between two standards. One is whether citizens have a reasonable expectation of privacy (set by Johnson v United States in 1948). The other standard relies on whether police had probably cause to execute a search.
Many would claim that by enumerating proper legal procedure, citizens gained protections against improper searches. However, other legal scholars like Akhil Reed Amar argue that this process protects officers from trespass suits and therefore strays from the original intent and practice of the 4th amendment in the Constitutional era. I find this to an interesting argument because although its obviously an Originalist argument, it runs counter to anything either bloc of Supreme Court Justices would argue. Amar argues that warrants stray from the 4th amendment which hurts the police and innocent victims of searches. Both harms rise from favoring a standard of probable cause over reasonableness. The difference has to do largely with a means/ends debate. Under the legal standards of probable cause, searches are justified by police officers rationale for a search which is supporting by the production of evidence. If a search bears fruit, the rationale of probable cause is vindicated. Reasonableness, Amar claims, should demand that searches and arrests be carried out in a manner fitting the circumstances. On face, I'm leery but at least Amar's argument is interesting. If police carry out a search and obtain evidence, but do so in a brutal or unreasonable fashion, they can be subject to suits filed by the victims. There is no way to fit a discussion of the manner in which searches or arrests are carried out into a standard of probably cause. Amar also argues that some searches are reasonable for cases like kidnapping but not for shoplifting. By sticking with probable cause, any manner of search is justified regardless of the circumstances or crime police suspect has occurred. I guess I might not mind if there's a road block to search cars during a kidnapping case, but the same road block to search for shoplifted goods is patently absurd but currently justified by probable cause.
I wanted to write about one author's views on the 4th amendment because I think that there is a real discussion going on in legal circles, a discussion that all too often goes on unheard by those outside the field. Its difficult to find where to begin wading into a specialized area, like Constitutional law and history, but since everyone on this blog has fairly advanced training we might be able to introduce each other to some new and interesting ideas.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Good morning Snake God, how are you today?
Today, you woke up and feared for your own mortality. This is understandable. Attempting to find some solace from what you believe to be an unavoidable fate, you have decided to become a practicing member of the Bamileke tribe. You move to the western highlands of Cameroon, and tomorrow when you awake, death shall have no meaning to you. As a Bamileke, you have no death. Granted, when the breath has left your body, you will be buried by your family and friends. However, you are destined to become an ancestor of the family, so long as you had at least one legitimate child anyway. As an ancestor, you shall be tasked with defending your family from evil spirits. In order to receive your protection, your descendants will dig up your skull after it's been in the ground a few months and keep it in a sacred place, guarded by a living legitimate heir. Animal skulls have no power, obviously, only the skulls of men. See, as a Bamileke, you know that skulls have the ability to communicate with the higher powers that inhabit this world (and beyond). The holder of such a skull will be able to discuss matters, and plead for assistance, from the former inhabitant. Using the ancestor as a sort of mediator, the holder will be able to grant wishes or request things directly from the “creator”, Si. Your job as an ancestor, however, is temporary. You know that you will eventually be reincarnated into a future family member. The family itself will come to recognize you again, when one of their children begins to show habits and attitudes that they know you possessed. In fact, as a recently reincarnated, you will swear to have perfect memory of your more recent former lives, with memory fading as the generations go back. In this way, you no longer have anything to fear from death.
But perhaps this morning, you already come prepared to face your ultimate demise. Perhaps you fancy yourself more of a snake worshiper who values knowledge and insight. If so, oh man, have I got a job offer for you. You see, you now worship the god Lebe, the old-man serpent of the Dogon people. Living in the central plateau region of Mali, your people first came to this fertile land centuries ago, led by Lebe Seru, the first Dogon ancestor who chose, at the time, to take on the form of a snake. Not wanting to forget the past, soil from your ancestral homeland was brought on this pilgrimage, and in each city, an alter was constructed by mixing this old soil with the soil of this new place. This was the first way in which Lebe was worshiped by your people. Since then, these original alters have grown in size and grandeur, with each generation adding a little something. As you have gotten up in age, you wake up one day to find a note from the rest of the village telling you not to bother going out today. See, the communities old Hogon (high priest) has just died, and without your input or consent, the town had long ago decided that YOU would be next in line. Why would they decide such a thing without your input? Well, to be honest, being a Hogon isn't exactly something the Dogon people aspire to. Your job, from now until death, will be to preside over decisions on the cultivation of soil, and who shall have children. Where will you gain the celestial insight to lead over these town meetings? Why, from the magical snake spit of course. Every night when you fall asleep, a mystical snake shall slither up next to you. He shall lick you. He shall lick you all over! Be glad of it, as it is the snake spit covering your body that shall give you sustenance and the strength to live another day! This is because, covered in snake spit, YOU are now magical. Hooray! Wouldn't want to wash that off of course, so no showers. Also, don't want it to rub off on the ground, so you'll be wearing shoes for the rest of your life. Also, you wouldn't want to accidentally rub it onto anyone else, so you're forbidden from making any form of contact with anyone from here on out. This includes your wife and kids. Also, just to be safe, you're forbidden from sweating. Let's just say you shouldn't leave your hut... actually it's forbidden. So yea, happy snake spit days for you! And yea, you do have this job until you die. Oh, but the good news is we know exactly when you're going to die! It shall be on the day you fear the snake. So, relax why don't you? The towns gotta go plan for your replacement in secret from whoever that guy is.
Know any recovering heroin addicts? If so, they might have a promising career choice ahead of them as Bwiti priests. See, Bwiti is sort of a hybrid religion of Fang and Christianity. All Bwiti rituals focus around a sacred plant called iboga. See, the Bwiti believe that one day there was this little pygmy dude who got hungry. Looking around, pygmy dude see's a tree with some really delicious looking fruit waaay up top. The pygmy, being a brave, strong, but very hungry fellow, climbs up to the top of the tree and starts just nashin on the fruit up there. Meanwhile, god is just wandering around the woods somewhere nearby, and he's bored. God is, I should say, kinda a doof. He comes over to the pygmy in a tree and thinks “ah, someone to talk to.. finally!” and shouts up to the pygmy “HEY! Wanna hang out?”. Problem is, pygmy didn't hear god coming, he's too busy snacking down on some delicious fruit. So, when god yells at him, he's kinda startled and does what any of us up in a tree would do if god started yelling at us. He fell. He fell out of the tree, and he died because the tree was so very high up and god is a douche and didn't even try to save him. “aw man,” says god, his evening plans for hanging out with this fruit gathering pygmy now ruined, “what am I gonna do now... I'm so BORED!”. And you know what happens when god gets bored don't you? He starts acting like a jackass. So god gathers up this poor pygmy dudes soul (since it was kinda his fault) and starts cutting off the dead spiritless pygmys fingers and toes. Why? I told you, gods a weird kid. Anyway, he spends the rest of the day wandering around to woods planting the dead pygmies fingers and toes around the woods. Ever since, iboga plants have sprung up at those spots. SACRED PLANT ORIGIN. Anyway, back to your heroin addict friend. See, much of a dork as god is, the Bwiti figure somebody gotta go talk to him, presumably so he doesn't go around startling anymore poor pygmies. So, they start eating copious amounts of iboga, which has a hallucinogenic effect in small amounts, but at high enough concentrations, puts you into a day long coma. The Bwiti believe that it is in these comas the soul can wander from the body to go hang out with that dork god in the afterlife. Too much of iboga will, unsurprisingly, kill you. But, as of 2002, it was patented by some gal at the University of Miami as an effective treatment for the addiction of heroin. So there you go. I didn't even know you could patent a plant. “Yea, that shrub over there? My idea.” I'd think that god would be pissed at that kind of arrogance, but from what I know about that guy, he's probably too busy trading pokemons and flicking peoples ears.Of course, if you are are born a Yoruba (quite possible, as they are one of the largest tribes in all of west Africa), which god you serve isn't really up to you. When you are born, your parents take you to a babalawo, who will tell them which orisha (mini-god that acts in the service of man) they should serve. Of course, as you get older, you can serve multiple gods. Maturity! The popular ones include Shango (the god of thunder and lighting), Orunmila (goddess of divination and fate), Eshu (messenger of supreme god), and Ogun (god of iron and war).
Actually, he's so awesome, let's talk about Ogun for a minute. If you ever find yourself in a sudden desperate need to drink blood, there is a good chance you've been possessed by Ogun. You see, it was Ogun's machete that first cut the paths that made earth habitable for men. He is the patron saint for smiths, soldiers, truckers, mass transit workers, and pretty much anybody working with metal. He is also considered the most just of the gods, and as such, presides over trade agreements, notaries, and contracts. He's so popular, you can actually use the phrase “I swear to Ogun” instead of “I swear to God”, presumably before protesting your innocence on something. If the matter you are swearing about doesn't get resolved on the spot, and you find yourself in court, being a loyal follower of Ogun that you are, when you take an oath to tell the truth before taking the stand you will not place your hand on a bible, but rather a chunk of iron. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you KEEPER OF IRON AND WAR!”
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Your Back Yard Is A Death Trap... Tonight @ 10!
Lets face it, news outlets in the US have officially jumped the shark. This has been happening for quite some time, (And it happened in the UK decades ago) but it seems to be growing at a breakneck pace the last few years. The predictability of news coverage is laughable to say the least. When I was back in the US last week, much to my dismay, so was the swine flu. I was not jealous that the swine flu received more attention than me, in fact, I was hoping to go under the radar as much as possible. Seeing this media frenzy really got me thinking about how angry I am at the quality of news we Americans are provided with and has thus prompted me to provide you the people with... well... more of the same only different.
My first and foremost topic will of course be that of the swine flu. I guess when I was on the plane they decided to change the name to A-flu or something of the sort but that's just putting lipstick on a pig. (I know, I know, I went there) Seriously, however, what in the hell is going on? I was in the airport watching CNN World and I thought for a moment that Ebola had been unleashed upon North America. I couldn't hear any of the conversations taking place but I was starting to think that I would get off the plane to find bodies in the street. Much to my surprise, the only outbreak I noticed when I got out of the airport was that of Japanese cars on the highways. Different story, different time. The radio was crammed with people giving speeches about the swine flu, the newspapers were headlined with swine flu, the only thing really lacking from this outbreak were people with swine flu. By the time I had left over 1000 people had been admitted to hospitals with the swine flu! OMG! I assume that this many people in the same time frame had also checked into hospitals because they pooped a living insect. Don't they realize that fear mongering is only cool when you are smoking? (Unless of course you are the president... oh yeah, never mind.) Fortunately for all of our souls it appears that the A-flu is actually more of a E-flu or maybe even an I-flu. Leave it to the media, however, to squeeze water from a stone. Latest reports are that a long time ago there was another flu that was not a very big deal but then, once it got done with summer vacation and back to school shopping for the latest fashions at Kohls, it killed the starting quarterback, knocked up the head cheerleader, and punched the cool teacher in her oven. Yes, the A-flu has a high school drama "mark my words, I will show you all" attitude and we needed to know about it because there are not enough young, beautiful, white girls missing to fill a one hour time slot.
Besides fear mongering, the news also is getting out of hand with celebrity happenings. True, most celebrities are chalk full of intelligent information and insightful political views, but I really don't give a damn about Madonna adopting Sudan. I am a little torn about who to point a non-blinged finger at: the news or the viewers on this one. It's a little bit of chicken-and-the-egg if you ask me. Regardless, it's ridiculous that so many people have such unfulfilled lives that they need to buy a newspaper to see pictures of some stupid kid with a stupid name. The real story should be how the kid will be forced to suffer with parents that think it's a crime to eat a fish or even worse, be forced to under go electronic shock therapy to relieve their soul from the wrath of Xenu. Those of us who are old enough to recall when Princess Diana died (Every local channel broke away from normal broadcasting at my house during a tornado warning, so I was especially moved by this.) also recall thinking how fricking ridiculous it was that her car was actually being chased by... pirates? pedophiles? snakes? Nope, cameramen. I recall thinking, "why in the hell were they chasing her car? Who gives a damn if she was out on a date? Why don't I know if the tornado is going to hit my house?" I understand there is nothing to do in England but they really need to find some hobbies. Quit dreaming about living other peoples lives and try living your own, who knows, maybe it will be enjoyable.
My final rant about news outlets is that about twisting the words of what people actually say. Good grief, this is annoying! Lucky for the news most people actually do not think, so they get little rebuttal in what they report. I don't remember how long ago it was but I do recall the Pope taking a lot of slack about a comment he made about AIDS and condoms. The Pope, a man sworn to celibacy, actually had the audacity to say that condoms promoted the spread of AIDS. Holy piss did this get him into a heap of trouble. What kind of an ignorant man would say such a thing when condoms are the second best protection around for any STD? Well, that would be the man who is trying to promote the best protection around for STD's: abstinence. The guy didn't say that condoms give people AIDS. He said that they are promoting the spread of AIDS. How can that be? Well, fact is, there are a lot of people in the world who just can't afford an education. They live in slums and share watering holes with others. Their day is spent finding food and trying not to get shot. Suddenly, Bono shows up with a container of rubbers and says, here, use this, it will protect you from AIDS. Now, we have a population equipped with carnal instinct and Trojans, but know nothing about disease. When you enable people with a "no worries" attitude they will indefinitely go ape shit until, well, there are worries.
I understand that these three topics only touch the surface on how news it making all of us dumber and more frightened every day, but these are the first three topics I thought about. My fourth would have been the convenient "How your children will die in your backyard" stories that always seem to be conjured up whenever there is none of the above to smear across the screen. If kids don't learn that falling and sharp objects hurt, how the hell are they supposed to survive? These kids are going to go reverse- double backward- ape shit when they get away from their parents and will end up getting taken out by a squirrel.
Thisisafakename
My first and foremost topic will of course be that of the swine flu. I guess when I was on the plane they decided to change the name to A-flu or something of the sort but that's just putting lipstick on a pig. (I know, I know, I went there) Seriously, however, what in the hell is going on? I was in the airport watching CNN World and I thought for a moment that Ebola had been unleashed upon North America. I couldn't hear any of the conversations taking place but I was starting to think that I would get off the plane to find bodies in the street. Much to my surprise, the only outbreak I noticed when I got out of the airport was that of Japanese cars on the highways. Different story, different time. The radio was crammed with people giving speeches about the swine flu, the newspapers were headlined with swine flu, the only thing really lacking from this outbreak were people with swine flu. By the time I had left over 1000 people had been admitted to hospitals with the swine flu! OMG! I assume that this many people in the same time frame had also checked into hospitals because they pooped a living insect. Don't they realize that fear mongering is only cool when you are smoking? (Unless of course you are the president... oh yeah, never mind.) Fortunately for all of our souls it appears that the A-flu is actually more of a E-flu or maybe even an I-flu. Leave it to the media, however, to squeeze water from a stone. Latest reports are that a long time ago there was another flu that was not a very big deal but then, once it got done with summer vacation and back to school shopping for the latest fashions at Kohls, it killed the starting quarterback, knocked up the head cheerleader, and punched the cool teacher in her oven. Yes, the A-flu has a high school drama "mark my words, I will show you all" attitude and we needed to know about it because there are not enough young, beautiful, white girls missing to fill a one hour time slot.
Besides fear mongering, the news also is getting out of hand with celebrity happenings. True, most celebrities are chalk full of intelligent information and insightful political views, but I really don't give a damn about Madonna adopting Sudan. I am a little torn about who to point a non-blinged finger at: the news or the viewers on this one. It's a little bit of chicken-and-the-egg if you ask me. Regardless, it's ridiculous that so many people have such unfulfilled lives that they need to buy a newspaper to see pictures of some stupid kid with a stupid name. The real story should be how the kid will be forced to suffer with parents that think it's a crime to eat a fish or even worse, be forced to under go electronic shock therapy to relieve their soul from the wrath of Xenu. Those of us who are old enough to recall when Princess Diana died (Every local channel broke away from normal broadcasting at my house during a tornado warning, so I was especially moved by this.) also recall thinking how fricking ridiculous it was that her car was actually being chased by... pirates? pedophiles? snakes? Nope, cameramen. I recall thinking, "why in the hell were they chasing her car? Who gives a damn if she was out on a date? Why don't I know if the tornado is going to hit my house?" I understand there is nothing to do in England but they really need to find some hobbies. Quit dreaming about living other peoples lives and try living your own, who knows, maybe it will be enjoyable.
My final rant about news outlets is that about twisting the words of what people actually say. Good grief, this is annoying! Lucky for the news most people actually do not think, so they get little rebuttal in what they report. I don't remember how long ago it was but I do recall the Pope taking a lot of slack about a comment he made about AIDS and condoms. The Pope, a man sworn to celibacy, actually had the audacity to say that condoms promoted the spread of AIDS. Holy piss did this get him into a heap of trouble. What kind of an ignorant man would say such a thing when condoms are the second best protection around for any STD? Well, that would be the man who is trying to promote the best protection around for STD's: abstinence. The guy didn't say that condoms give people AIDS. He said that they are promoting the spread of AIDS. How can that be? Well, fact is, there are a lot of people in the world who just can't afford an education. They live in slums and share watering holes with others. Their day is spent finding food and trying not to get shot. Suddenly, Bono shows up with a container of rubbers and says, here, use this, it will protect you from AIDS. Now, we have a population equipped with carnal instinct and Trojans, but know nothing about disease. When you enable people with a "no worries" attitude they will indefinitely go ape shit until, well, there are worries.
I understand that these three topics only touch the surface on how news it making all of us dumber and more frightened every day, but these are the first three topics I thought about. My fourth would have been the convenient "How your children will die in your backyard" stories that always seem to be conjured up whenever there is none of the above to smear across the screen. If kids don't learn that falling and sharp objects hurt, how the hell are they supposed to survive? These kids are going to go reverse- double backward- ape shit when they get away from their parents and will end up getting taken out by a squirrel.
Thisisafakename
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
GUYS. Remember how I mentioned that I really liked psychology, chaos science, and rigid thinking vs. creativity? Well, I just came across some research that makes me very happy:
I recently read an interview of Barbara Fredrickson in The Sun magazine (a really lovely example of Hippy Lit, by the way). She's a psychology professor at UNC Chapel Hill that looks at the effects of positive emotions on perception, productivity and overall well-being. In the course of the interview, she explained some research she did with a retired industrial psychologist Marcial Losada, where they showed that by assessing an overall 'positivity ratio' (calculated by looking at things like the proportions of positive vs. negative comments, people talking out their butts vs. asking questions, focus on self vs. others), they could predict the overall productivity and creativity of business teams, as well as as the long-term stability and contentment of a marriage.
It sounds pretty commonsense when it's put like that, I know, but the critical piece of their work is that the whole setup in NONLINEAR, and their predictions rely on Lorenz equations. More positivity didn't simply lead to better teams or marriages; a critical positive/negative range of about 3:1 to 11:1 was required. They call this the Losada zone. Below the range, businesses slowly fail and people get divorced. Above that range, things fall into a rut. But within that zone, teams, marriages, and individuals all thrive.
In fact, they show that the Losada range can be described as a strange attractor (an example: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorenz_attractor).
The elegance of strange attractors is that they produce stable long-term states that are nonetheless infinitely variable in their output.
They're saying that our ability to be truly creative and durably flexible as groups and as individuals relies on that combination. I can't begin to describe how awesome I think this all is.
I could write about this for a long time, but I have finals to work on. Instead I'll let these folks speak for themselves...
two online articles by Losada:
http://pos-psych.com/news/guest-author/200812081289
http://pos-psych.com/news/guest-author/200812091298
Losada and Fredrickson's first collaborative paper:
http://www.unc.edu/peplab/publications/human_flourishing.pdf
I recently read an interview of Barbara Fredrickson in The Sun magazine (a really lovely example of Hippy Lit, by the way). She's a psychology professor at UNC Chapel Hill that looks at the effects of positive emotions on perception, productivity and overall well-being. In the course of the interview, she explained some research she did with a retired industrial psychologist Marcial Losada, where they showed that by assessing an overall 'positivity ratio' (calculated by looking at things like the proportions of positive vs. negative comments, people talking out their butts vs. asking questions, focus on self vs. others), they could predict the overall productivity and creativity of business teams, as well as as the long-term stability and contentment of a marriage.
It sounds pretty commonsense when it's put like that, I know, but the critical piece of their work is that the whole setup in NONLINEAR, and their predictions rely on Lorenz equations. More positivity didn't simply lead to better teams or marriages; a critical positive/negative range of about 3:1 to 11:1 was required. They call this the Losada zone. Below the range, businesses slowly fail and people get divorced. Above that range, things fall into a rut. But within that zone, teams, marriages, and individuals all thrive.
In fact, they show that the Losada range can be described as a strange attractor (an example: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorenz_attractor).
The elegance of strange attractors is that they produce stable long-term states that are nonetheless infinitely variable in their output.
They're saying that our ability to be truly creative and durably flexible as groups and as individuals relies on that combination. I can't begin to describe how awesome I think this all is.
I could write about this for a long time, but I have finals to work on. Instead I'll let these folks speak for themselves...
two online articles by Losada:
http://pos-psych.com/news/guest-author/200812081289
http://pos-psych.com/news/guest-author/200812091298
Losada and Fredrickson's first collaborative paper:
http://www.unc.edu/peplab/publications/human_flourishing.pdf
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Second murder in the JonBenet Ramsey circus?
A few days ago, I was reading a book about unsolved murder cases, pretty standard stuff. There was a short bit in it about the Ramsey murder, but it had a few details I either never knew or had long forgotten - regardless, I had some time on my hands, so I decided to solve the Ramsey case.
Did I? No... I still have my same original thoughts on the matter, and those are of little relevance. I may, however, have come upon a string of coincidence too powerful to ignore. A conspiratorial task force, guilty at the least of being blindly biased and completely not helpful to the investigation, at worst, guilty of murder.
Alright, let's do this.
- JBR was killed late Dec. 25 or early Dec. 26, 1996.
- In 1998, the Boulder police department hired retired investigator Lou Smit to help on the case. Smit had helped solve some similar crimes in the past (or as similar as cases get to this mess).
- After a few months, Smit quit, claiming the BPD was focusing too narrowly on the Ramseys and not enough on his lone outsider theory.
- Smit then took a job working for the Ramseys. It's pretty highly questionable to go from having privileged law enforcement knowledge of the case to working for the two top suspects. "Questionable" here would mean "illegal" in most cases.
- The Ramseys hire quite a few other retired investigators and a few more lawyers, like Ollie Grey, John San Agustin, and Ellis Armistead.
- The Ramseys also hire a famous psychic to help find the murderer. That psychic is Dorothy Allison. She works with police sketch artists to come up with a drawing that looks quite a bit like John Mark Karr. Comparison
- Michael Tracy, professor of journalism at the University of Colorado, makes a number of documentaries about the case, appears in several news interviews, and basically just interjects himself wherever he can into the public limelight over the JBR case. In one documentary, Tracy talks about a prime suspect, but doesn't give a name. The film does, however, show a picture of the case file, with the number clearly visible and easily referenced. This was the first that John Steven Gigax would be tied to the case.
- Gigax was linked to another person of interest in the case, Micheal Helgoth. Helgoth is important.
I need to list a few problems in Lou Smit's theory before moving on. Smit believed that someone knocked JonBenet unconscious with a stun gun, due to two sets of identical abrasions on her body, two small red squares, spaced like that of a stun gun's diodes. For one, no one has been able to come up with anyone ever being knocked unconscious by a stun gun, that's not what they do, and even if it did rarely happen, no one would could expect to use it to that end. Two, the marks on her body don't resemble stun gun burns. Too dark, too deep, and too still. When you get stunned, you jerk around and flail, so stun gun burns are always streaks, never dots.
Smit also liked to rely on evidence that either never existed or was explained in some other way. One example is the foot print on the suitcase. He's the only one who ever saw it, and he saw it in photos only, but it was important to his theory. Also, the palm print on the cellar door, which turned out to belong to JBR's half-sister, is *still* used today by people to rule out her parents as suspects. The Hi-Tec boot prints turned out to be her brother Burke's, but still factored into Smit's theory of a lone outsider.
I'd also like to note that despite the repeated idea that she was killed during a sexual assault, her vaginal abrasions were minimal and her hymen was mostly intact. No foreign DNA was found in or on her body, just her clothing. The slight tear of the hymen is believed to have been caused by the handle of a paint brush, consistent with a staging, not with a sexual assault.
Alright, Michael Helgoth, and the reason I'm writing this post:
Police were introduced to Helgoth when his "friend" John Kenady gave the police a pair of boots like the ones from the JBR case and said he knew who killed her. He said he found them after he had "permission" from the police to investigate the JBR murder. The police obviously deny this.
Here's the good part. Helgoth was already dead. He committed suicide... by shooting himself in the chest... with his left hand... through a pillow... after surrounding himself with 1) his Hi-Tec boots, 2) his stun gun, and 3) a baseball cap his family had never seen before with the letters "S.B.T.C." on it - the signature on the ransom note.
Wow. A right handed guy shoots himself in the chest with his left hand, after surrounding himself with things that no-one but the Ramseys' "special investigators" thought had anything to do with the case. Helgoth's friend, John Gigax, would go on to take the brunt of Michael Tracy's finger-pointing wrath. Well, before it was proven that Gigax was out of the state that Christmas at least.
The coroner never thought there was stun gun. The forensic experts never thought there was a stun gun. The stun gun company experts proved the marks couldn't have been from a stun gun. And stun guns can't knock you unconscious. But that didn't stop Helgoth's stun gun from figuring in prominently to his bizarre, highly suspicious suicide.
An odd remark made by an internet forum poster about Helgoth's death struck me, they mentioned it was odd that he'd shoot himself through a pillow, since he would often discharge weapons freely on his property. Then someone commented that maybe he knew something about forensics and was trying to reduce the blood spatter. Odd for many reasons, but mostly because there was blood spatter - on his left hand, his supposed firing hand, the hand that was on the wrong side of the pillow. Of course, the idea that *whoever* was responsible had some forensic-mindedness is also interesting.
The Helgoth autopsy was very brief. He was quickly cremated, and then his house was torn down, as part of a deal where the city purchased the family's home and junk yard. Helgoth didn't know the Ramseys, the Ramseys didn't know him, the boots weren't a match, and the DNA wasn't a match.
I'm almost done, I promise. Admittedly, this is where it starts to get a little out of hand, so I'll just say stuff and let you work it out for yourself.
Smit retired from the El Paso county sheriff's office, where he used to work with John San Agustin. Ollie Grey was an El Paso private investigator. Smit had worked with Dorothy Allison on the Heather Dawn Church case back in El Paso. Michael Tracy is a professor of journalism at the University of Colorado, and worked along side Bill Reynolds, a UofC journalism professor. Reynolds was a family friend of the Ramseys' and even played Santa for the children in 1996. Tracy claimed to get information from both the BPD and from Lou Smit's team. And sure enough, of all the people in the world who could have exchanged emails, it was Tracy who brought John Mark Karr to the police's attention, over comments made in an email, after the two had been exchanging emails for years. Karr, of course, knew nothing about the case, had the facts wrong, and didn't match the DNA, nor the profile of a violent sadistic pedophile murderer, but instead insisted that he had been in love with JonBenet and basically just wasted police time and money.
Every single weird thing in this case comes back to the same two people, Lou Smit and Michael Tracy. No one takes Tracy seriously anymore after all the times he was so incredibly off-base when trying to force the evidence to force Smit's theory. The fact that the two of them traded information and have collaborated with each other on several documentaries only makes it more suspicious.
Was Karr a long term setup? Maybe. It's shady but I can't say anything for sure.
Helgoth, on the other hand, REEKS of setup. Here's a guy not tied to any of this in any way, other than that he had a criminal record, who ends up killing himself in one of the most awkward ways after setting evidence that would incriminate him, *only* in Smit's version of the events (which have repeatedly been proven false in almost every capacity), within several feet of his final resting position. A lot of people have speculated that Helgoth was killed by a friend, a co-conspirator, or the real murderer. No one seems to have thought the evidence points towards someone who will apparently stop at nothing to see that Lou Smit's theory prevails (and thus the Ramseys' innocence).
There are plenty of odd coincidences left in this case, but I've said what I wanted to say.
Did I? No... I still have my same original thoughts on the matter, and those are of little relevance. I may, however, have come upon a string of coincidence too powerful to ignore. A conspiratorial task force, guilty at the least of being blindly biased and completely not helpful to the investigation, at worst, guilty of murder.
Alright, let's do this.
- JBR was killed late Dec. 25 or early Dec. 26, 1996.
- In 1998, the Boulder police department hired retired investigator Lou Smit to help on the case. Smit had helped solve some similar crimes in the past (or as similar as cases get to this mess).
- After a few months, Smit quit, claiming the BPD was focusing too narrowly on the Ramseys and not enough on his lone outsider theory.
- Smit then took a job working for the Ramseys. It's pretty highly questionable to go from having privileged law enforcement knowledge of the case to working for the two top suspects. "Questionable" here would mean "illegal" in most cases.
- The Ramseys hire quite a few other retired investigators and a few more lawyers, like Ollie Grey, John San Agustin, and Ellis Armistead.
- The Ramseys also hire a famous psychic to help find the murderer. That psychic is Dorothy Allison. She works with police sketch artists to come up with a drawing that looks quite a bit like John Mark Karr. Comparison
- Michael Tracy, professor of journalism at the University of Colorado, makes a number of documentaries about the case, appears in several news interviews, and basically just interjects himself wherever he can into the public limelight over the JBR case. In one documentary, Tracy talks about a prime suspect, but doesn't give a name. The film does, however, show a picture of the case file, with the number clearly visible and easily referenced. This was the first that John Steven Gigax would be tied to the case.
- Gigax was linked to another person of interest in the case, Micheal Helgoth. Helgoth is important.
I need to list a few problems in Lou Smit's theory before moving on. Smit believed that someone knocked JonBenet unconscious with a stun gun, due to two sets of identical abrasions on her body, two small red squares, spaced like that of a stun gun's diodes. For one, no one has been able to come up with anyone ever being knocked unconscious by a stun gun, that's not what they do, and even if it did rarely happen, no one would could expect to use it to that end. Two, the marks on her body don't resemble stun gun burns. Too dark, too deep, and too still. When you get stunned, you jerk around and flail, so stun gun burns are always streaks, never dots.
Smit also liked to rely on evidence that either never existed or was explained in some other way. One example is the foot print on the suitcase. He's the only one who ever saw it, and he saw it in photos only, but it was important to his theory. Also, the palm print on the cellar door, which turned out to belong to JBR's half-sister, is *still* used today by people to rule out her parents as suspects. The Hi-Tec boot prints turned out to be her brother Burke's, but still factored into Smit's theory of a lone outsider.
I'd also like to note that despite the repeated idea that she was killed during a sexual assault, her vaginal abrasions were minimal and her hymen was mostly intact. No foreign DNA was found in or on her body, just her clothing. The slight tear of the hymen is believed to have been caused by the handle of a paint brush, consistent with a staging, not with a sexual assault.
Alright, Michael Helgoth, and the reason I'm writing this post:
Police were introduced to Helgoth when his "friend" John Kenady gave the police a pair of boots like the ones from the JBR case and said he knew who killed her. He said he found them after he had "permission" from the police to investigate the JBR murder. The police obviously deny this.
Here's the good part. Helgoth was already dead. He committed suicide... by shooting himself in the chest... with his left hand... through a pillow... after surrounding himself with 1) his Hi-Tec boots, 2) his stun gun, and 3) a baseball cap his family had never seen before with the letters "S.B.T.C." on it - the signature on the ransom note.
Wow. A right handed guy shoots himself in the chest with his left hand, after surrounding himself with things that no-one but the Ramseys' "special investigators" thought had anything to do with the case. Helgoth's friend, John Gigax, would go on to take the brunt of Michael Tracy's finger-pointing wrath. Well, before it was proven that Gigax was out of the state that Christmas at least.
The coroner never thought there was stun gun. The forensic experts never thought there was a stun gun. The stun gun company experts proved the marks couldn't have been from a stun gun. And stun guns can't knock you unconscious. But that didn't stop Helgoth's stun gun from figuring in prominently to his bizarre, highly suspicious suicide.
An odd remark made by an internet forum poster about Helgoth's death struck me, they mentioned it was odd that he'd shoot himself through a pillow, since he would often discharge weapons freely on his property. Then someone commented that maybe he knew something about forensics and was trying to reduce the blood spatter. Odd for many reasons, but mostly because there was blood spatter - on his left hand, his supposed firing hand, the hand that was on the wrong side of the pillow. Of course, the idea that *whoever* was responsible had some forensic-mindedness is also interesting.
The Helgoth autopsy was very brief. He was quickly cremated, and then his house was torn down, as part of a deal where the city purchased the family's home and junk yard. Helgoth didn't know the Ramseys, the Ramseys didn't know him, the boots weren't a match, and the DNA wasn't a match.
I'm almost done, I promise. Admittedly, this is where it starts to get a little out of hand, so I'll just say stuff and let you work it out for yourself.
Smit retired from the El Paso county sheriff's office, where he used to work with John San Agustin. Ollie Grey was an El Paso private investigator. Smit had worked with Dorothy Allison on the Heather Dawn Church case back in El Paso. Michael Tracy is a professor of journalism at the University of Colorado, and worked along side Bill Reynolds, a UofC journalism professor. Reynolds was a family friend of the Ramseys' and even played Santa for the children in 1996. Tracy claimed to get information from both the BPD and from Lou Smit's team. And sure enough, of all the people in the world who could have exchanged emails, it was Tracy who brought John Mark Karr to the police's attention, over comments made in an email, after the two had been exchanging emails for years. Karr, of course, knew nothing about the case, had the facts wrong, and didn't match the DNA, nor the profile of a violent sadistic pedophile murderer, but instead insisted that he had been in love with JonBenet and basically just wasted police time and money.
Every single weird thing in this case comes back to the same two people, Lou Smit and Michael Tracy. No one takes Tracy seriously anymore after all the times he was so incredibly off-base when trying to force the evidence to force Smit's theory. The fact that the two of them traded information and have collaborated with each other on several documentaries only makes it more suspicious.
Was Karr a long term setup? Maybe. It's shady but I can't say anything for sure.
Helgoth, on the other hand, REEKS of setup. Here's a guy not tied to any of this in any way, other than that he had a criminal record, who ends up killing himself in one of the most awkward ways after setting evidence that would incriminate him, *only* in Smit's version of the events (which have repeatedly been proven false in almost every capacity), within several feet of his final resting position. A lot of people have speculated that Helgoth was killed by a friend, a co-conspirator, or the real murderer. No one seems to have thought the evidence points towards someone who will apparently stop at nothing to see that Lou Smit's theory prevails (and thus the Ramseys' innocence).
There are plenty of odd coincidences left in this case, but I've said what I wanted to say.
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