Accismus

In the year 2009, I resolve to lose the majority of my body fat until I am a lean, long, pole-shape with no visible lumps or curves. I further resolve to be strong, clean and fit, with unobstructed air flow.

I further resolve to take care of my skin until it is flawlessly, uniformly white and smooth, with no pimples, bumps, cellulite, stretch marks, flaws, or hair of any kind.

Moving past the physical, I further resolve to iron out all mental and emotional lumps, and to be useful, inoffensive and approachable, and possessed of neither worry, anxiety, depression, appetites, ambition nor dread. I will be a placid and unobjectionable addition to any environment.

Yes, that’s right, readers: in 2009, I resolve to transform myself into a short length of PVC piping. Wish me luck!

The feminist blogosphere is all abuzz over a stupid NY Magazine article clearly published in order to set the feminist blogosphere all abuzz. Apparently, Alex Morris believes feminism has driven women to drink.

Now, don’t that beat all? The very first thing those damn liberated women of olden times did upon receiving the permission to vote was usher in prohibition/destroy the country. Now, 90 years later, they can’t stop hitting the sauce!

Freaking women. Either they’re drunks or prudes or whores or virgins or mothers or businesswomen or feminists or lesbians. But one thing’s for sure: they’re always up to something! If only they’d all pick one, good, amenable identity and conform to it en masse, it sure would make it easier to dismiss them all as individuals. But they just can’t seem to get on the same page.

Feministing:

The thing that pisses me off most about this article. . . is that drinking is a serious problem for young women and men. But instead of serious, nuanced media coverage on what to do about the drinking culture among American youth, we get article after article hawing about the consequences of equality. . . . Seriously – it’s tired. Not to mention incredibly sexist : the underlying message is that gender equality is bad for women.

So if folks are actually concerned about young women and drinking, how about we talk about the consumer culture that markets liquor (something Morris touches on before quickly returning back to feminism) or how drinking is being used to blame women who are raped? 

No joke. How many articles have their been lately about the increasing problem of binge-drinking and date rape on college campuses, and how many of these articles have arrived at the conclusion that the problem is…women being there? Yeah, maybe the problem is women being out and about, and drinking and carrying on like they’re real, live, young people. Or maybe – just maybe – the problem is men who rape women!

And as long as I’m taking the bait, check out this other asshole I ran across:

Forget what feminists, hippies, and liberals have told you in the last half century. They are all lies based on political ideology and conviction, not on science. Contrary to what they may have told you, it is very unlikely that money, promotions, the corner office, social status, and political power will make women happy. Similarly, it is very unlikely that quitting their jobs, dropping out of the rat race, and becoming stay-at-home dads to spend all their times with their children will make men happy.Money, promotions, the corner office, social status, and political power are what make men happy (as long as they win, of course, but then dropping out is by definition a defeat). Spending time with their children is what makes women happy.

You know, Satoshi Kanazawa, I think I know why you’re clearly so unhappy. You may think that you’re meant to be an evolutionary psychologist and author, but you’re lying to yourself and denying your true nature. You are actually evolutionarily designed to run fast, wrangle heavy stuff, and catch and strangle small creatures, and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the sooner you can become a truly satisfied man. I encourage you to quit all this thinking and writing that’s making you so miserable and unfulfilled, and realize your true potential as a welder/firefighter/rabbit-wringer.

Sorry for the lack of posts, but I’ve been distracted by my show, followed closely by a sinus cold, followed closely by a 30-day Notice to Vacate from my landlord, followed by an (ongoing) apartment search, and all the while working on my latest screenplay (entitled Dr. Prozac, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love NYC).

I’ll get back to updating soon.  Meanwhile, Happy Halloween, and remember to vote!!

Welcome to self-diagnosis.com. Please utilize the following symptom checker to obtain your diagnosis:

1. Do you feel that you are more unhappy than most other people?

2. Do you feel you have less energy than most other people?

3. Do you feel you have less money and less going for you, and generally fewer reasons to get up in the morning than most other people?

4. Do you suffer from anxiety, even when you are not sure what is making you anxious?

5. Are you anxious and worried when meeting new people? Do you have trouble making eye contact? Do you worry about how other people view you? If you do not talk to a friend for some time, do you begin to think that they might be angry at you? Do you obsessively run over and over the things that you said the last time you saw them, and attempt to figure out how they might have taken something the wrong way?

6. Do you often think that friends and relatives are talking unfavorably about you when you are not there?

7. Does thinking this make you cry?

8. Does crying about this then make you resolve never to speak to those friends or relatives ever again, and to make all new friends and relatives, and be a much more successful, entertaining and attractive person?

9. When you think of the sort of new person you’ll be, do you picture a particular celebrity?

10. Do you feel lonely? Isolated? Alienated? Misunderstood? Maligned? Persecuted? Overlooked?

11. Do you often overeat?

12. Do you sweat copiously, and does this sweating often humiliate you in public and/or on dates?

13. Do you worry that you smell, or that parts of you smell, but you cannot smell it, but everybody else can smell it, but they’re too polite to tell you?

14. Are you preoccupied with sex?

15. Do you often lie awake all night longing for death?

16. Do you often lie awake all night trembling in fear of death?

17. Sometimes both in the same night?

18. Do you worry that you are afflicted with an undiagnosed, terminal medical condition? When you hear that an acquaintance has been diagnosed with a condition, do you begin to see symptoms of that condition in yourself?

19. Do you have difficultly losing weight? Do you feel that you gain weight more easily and lose it with more difficultly than everybody else? Are you gassier than other people seem to be?

20. Do you have a difficult time focusing on work, hobbies, or other people when they are talking to you? Do you often wish you were somewhere else doing something different? Do you have difficulty beginning and/or completing tasks? Do you often procrastinate? Do you have a hard time remembering names, faces, and/or things that other people have said to you? Do you have a tough time working up an interest in things not immediately concerning you?

21. Do you find that what you mostly do is eat, drink and watch television, and while theoretically, there are any number of things you’d rather be doing, in actual practice, it seems that all you really want to be doing at any given time is eating, drinking and watching television?

22. Do you think that, deep down, you’re really probably very smart, but tragically, because of various problems with society right now and/or the shortcomings of various people in your life and/or a near constant lack of funds, you might never realize your full potential?

23. Are you often completely overcome with rage over something that is actually pretty trivial? When this happens, do you swear and throw things and make a total ass of yourself?

24. Do you often wish that some secret government agency would come and whisk you off the couch, erase your identity, force you to get in really good shape, and then send you off on incredibly important secret missions with an attractive and tortured partner?

25. Do you think that possibly this has already happened in your past, but your memories have since been erased, and that’s why you feel so much more unhappy than those around you and have such a vague, inexplicable sense of loss and emptiness? Or that possibly, all this (or something similar) is really happening to you right now, but you don’t realize it, because you are just a brain floating in a vat hooked up to electrodes?

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You answered Yes to all of the above.

Your diagnosis: You may be suffering from a common, yet poorly understood condition called ‘Living.’ This condition is incurable, and ultimately terminal. While there is no known cure for this horrible, painful and devastatingly widespread affliction, your doctor may be able to prescribe a number of medications that can help to relieve the more intolerable symptoms of Living. It may help to know that you are not alone – a full 100% of the world’s population suffers from Living (although less than half of that number are aware they have the disorder). Currently, there are many experts struggling to better understand the causes and effects of Living. Unfortunately, research in this area is woefully underfunded, but as more and more citizens become aware that they are themselves suffering from Living, more attention will surely be given to investigating this complex and mysterious condition.

So, I recently joined the YMCA in my neighborhood.  As it’s been over two years since I belonged to a gym and had regular access to weights, I’ve entirely forgotten my old regimen.  So, I bought a few women’s exercise-type magazines to find a couple of routines.  I usually steer clear of women’s magazines because they tend to make me both angry and depressed, and these were no exception.

I seem to recall reading Shape several years ago, and it was 95% about actual exercise, and the models were all ripped. Not anymore.  Now, it’s 95% hideously overpriced clothes, and interviews with lying celebrities (“I mostly care about being happy and healthy, and my kids!”), and advice on how not to eat, or do anything much but spend insane amounts on worthless crap.  And only 40 pages in (or 3 pages in, if you don’t count advertisements), there is an interview with Kaley Cuoco.  Apparently, she is an actor on a sitcom, The Big Bang Theory.  I’d never heard of her or the show.  She’s 22-years-old, and this is what she has to say:

I go to [spinning] class three times a week, without fail.  I always get there early so I can sit in the front of the studio, and I’m ready to go as soon as the instructor comes in.*

And:

…right now I can’t get enough of the 6-inch vegetarian whole-wheat sandwich from Subway.  I pick one up after my Spin class . . . It’s my default meal; I know exactly how many calories are in it – 260 – and I never have to think about what to order.*

And worst of all:

Diet cola is my absolute favorite drink in the world; I used to drink four cans a day.  But to help me cut down, I’ve turned it into a treat.  Now, instead of having dessert, I’ll have a can of diet soda.  Putting a limit on how often I can drink it has helped me appreciate it more.*

Oh my God, Kaley!  I want to kill myself!  You are the saddest girl in the whole world!

Seriously, I myself am far more ascetic in most respects than your average person could bear to be, and I often find my own self depressing in some ways.  But even I want to kidnap this girl and make her go on some insane sky-diving, Fleet-Week-cruising, cocaine-snorting adventure in irresponsible hedonism.  What’s the point of being rich and famous if your best idea of an awesome time is go to spin class and then eat a Subway sandwich and drink a can of Diet Coke?

Jeez.

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These quotes taken from Shape’s October 2008 issue (Vol. 28, No. 2); I don’t really know what the procedure is for footnoting in a blog post.  Please don’t sue me, Shape.  Oh, and also – your magazine blows.

I have mentioned on this blog before that I am a compulsive eater.  One easy way I have found to manage my weight is never to buy and bring home more than I plan to eat at any one sitting.  While this is a more expensive way to eat, it didn’t used to be that unreasonable.  You could generally eat for $5, and there were any number of $.99 snack food items in any drugstore or minimart you happened to pass.

Now, I understand that everything is more expensive now.  I don’t like it, but I am beginning to accept it.  What I don’t understand, however, is why there don’t seem to be single-serve portions of anything anymore anywhere.  I regularly find myself with five minutes to spare before work running into every damn drugstore all up and down the snack aisles, and there are just giant bags of chips, huge cans of nuts, jumbo pouches of trail mix.  What is this?  I don’t want seven servings of a snack.  If I take seven servings of a snack into the office, I will be eating seven servings of a snack.

The only single-serve portions available anywhere now, however, are those 100-calorie pack things, which are just totally worthless.  One hundred calories on an empty stomach just prods it enough to make it furious – you’re better off not eating.  I operate from a continuous base of low-level hunger, and when that hunger kicks from low- into high-level, I want to have just enough food in my purse to knock it back a little.  If I have more than that, I’m going to eat until I’m actually really full, and then I’m going to eat whatever small amount is left after that, because there’s not that much left and I may as well finish it.  And then I’m also still going to eat dinner three hours later anyway, even though I’m totally full, because I was so looking forward to dinner that I can’t bear the disappointment of just going straight from the office to whatever I’m working on that evening without my dinner break.  And there you have it – the Duane Read has just ruined my whole day just because it’s no longer stocking single-serving bags of nuts.

I have this dream that there would be a wonderful grocery store that caters to people like me.  This grocery store would have nothing but inexpensive, single-serving portions of all different kinds of food, and for an added bonus, maybe it could even be healthy food.  And a wide variety.

Well, actually, there is such a place.  It’s called Trader Joe’s, and there’s only one, and if you want to go there, you have to fight your way through a crowd of thousands and wait online for upwards of 45 minutes.  Wouldn’t you think, every other retailer in Manhattan, that, given the immense popularity of TJ’s, there might just be a market there that could stand to be capitalized on???

Single-servings of portable, precooked food items for $5-$6.50 a pop!!  And single-serve snacks for under $2!!!  Available at a great number of convenient locations throughout the five boroughs!!!!

Somebody cater to my specific need, damn it!

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Oh, and also, if you don’t already read Fafblog, this Sarah Palin post is a great time to start:

As a Jesus-fearing moose-hunting hockey-mom mother of five who hunts moose for Jesus, Sarah Palin is kin to the wild outdoors and appreciates its bountiful splendor as she is gunning it down from her airplane. Sarah Palin understands that America is dangerously addicted to oil, and that the only cure is more oil. . . . Sarah Palin may not know if global warming is man-made. She may not know if global warming is real. She may not know what global warming is. But if global warming is caused by abortions, Sarah Palin will fight it – by banning abortion, just in case the first couple times didn’t take.

Go, read all of it, and then read the entire rest of Fafblog, because it never fails to kick ass.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I am no fan of superstars. I resent the hell out of anything beloved by all. But sometimes somebody will deserve every last lick of praise they get, and Joshua Ferris is one of those people. I can’t even hate. TWCTTE is a fantastic novel – hilarious, relevant, charitable to everybody, and well-written. Go read it now, because no matter who you are, you’ll enjoy it. Damn it.

Remainder, on the other hand, is a whole bunch of nothing. I can’t believe I finished it. I got about thirty pages in, and thought, ‘Ah, this is very interesting. I think it’s going to go in one of several directions, and can’t wait to see which.’ Twenty pages further in, I thought, ‘Huh. It hasn’t gone anywhere yet.’ Twenty pages further in, ‘Still in the same place.’ And when I finally finished it, ‘Well. That really was just about that. All the way through.’

Wow, those are some slight reviews. So, here are some cool things this week:

Scientists got blood from stem cells:

Scientists have used embryonic stem cells to generate blood — a feat that could eventually lead to endless supplies of type O-negative blood, a rare blood type prized by doctors for its versatility.

Computer scientists thought of a good way to make use of those text boxes you have to fill out online all the time:

You may be deciphering a word from a decaying old book, helping to transform a historic text into a new digital file.

This entertainer found a way to use cicada shells to adorn herself (via CP). If you’ve never experienced the weird joy that is picking cicada shells off a tree, you should probably do that at some point. When I was a little kid visiting my grandparents in Mississippi, my Granddaddy and I used to pick grocery sackfuls of cicada shells off the trees in the front yard. We had no real object in this harvesting – I don’t know exactly what happened to the sacks full of bug shells, but it’s far more likely my Grandmother threw them out than that she wove them into her hair.

Also, this NY Times article proclaiming that coffee is nothing but good in every possible way, and even overconsumption of coffee works nothing but good effects on your body is the best news possible, and makes me feel utterly vindicated. I’m sure it’s unreliable and probably the studies behind it were funded by giant, evil coffee cartels, but I don’t care. I choose to believe it, because it is what I want to hear. Now all I need is an article saying that a cake-based diet prevents cancer.

It’s the grand reinstatement of Feminist Thursday!

First of all, let me just say I finally found a beer I can drink in good conscience. I’m less thrilled to say that it’s Fosters, as Fosters isn’t that good or widely available, and generally comes in giant oilcans that I’d rather not admit I can drink by carrying around with me. But regardless, I’m tickled pink with them for this, and happy that at long last, here’s a beer company that doesn’t feel it can afford to alienate half the population.  (Although, none of the above is really true, as Fosters advertising is just as offensive to women as all the other beer ads.)

Also, the Olympics have been going on; they’ve provided all manner of things for everybody to get pissed off about, and feminists are not left out:

First of all, are the uniforms too sexy? I don’t know, actually. While I do understand the point here, and while it’s certainly not okay for female athletes to be treated like objects. . . on the other hand, the skimpiness of women’s Olympic uniforms doesn’t really make me angry. Athletes are walking representations of what bodies can look like and what bodies can do, and you know, of course people are going to ogle them. What really upsets me is when men like (or are encouraged to like) ogling undernourished, undeveloped, weak, hairless, diminished women – listless, helpless waifs who closely resemble (or are) prepubescent girls, and whose “sexiness” lies entirely in their powerlessness. Frankly, I think the ogling of Olympian bodies is a huge step in the right direction. If only all young girls could think the best way to be sexy is to look like you can fling your date across a parking lot.

Finally, All Them are upset about this, which, yes, it’s bad, but it’s not like it’s an outrage particular to China. In the U.S., ability completely takes a backseat to attractiveness across the entertainment industry. Okay, so China was more blatant about it, choosing a pretty girl to lip-sync to a less-attractive girl’s singing. But in the U.S., we would have just had the pretty girl sing with her own crappy voice – the less-attractive good singer wouldn’t have gotten the job in any event.  What isn’t a beauty pageant, really?  America has absolutely no tolerance for the uglies – even off-camera civilians here are expected to look like movie stars.

In other (non-Olympics related) news, the UK courts decided that women who were raped while drunk deserve less compensation than those who were raped in all sobriety. Of course, there was a huge public outcry and the decision was reversed. I can’t comment on this any better than these two posts do (one and two), so everyone should just read them.

On a lighter note, how did I not know Hedy Lamarr was so cool? Apparently, she co-invented a torpedo-guiding device. She also said this:

“Any girl can be glamorous,” she said. “All she has to do is stand still and look stupid.”

Holla!

Hello, lovelies. I feel utterly fried. And scrambled. And poached. This blog’s taking an impromptu vacation. See you back here a week from today.

Ali Smith’s The Accidental has a freaking form poem flight thing in the middle of it. No book ever has the right to priss about being cute with the layout of text on page – I hate that. If there were a gimmicky little concrete poem in the middle of the greatest book ever written, I’d detest it. Short sentences, run-ons, overlapping dialogue – fine. I love me some DFW footnotes. But any actual text effects belong on motivational posters or in powerpoint presentations, not in the middle of a novel I am trying to read. I can’t stand gimmicks.

I took a poetry class in college wherein the professor went on and on about the way poems looked on the page, the shape of the thing. What were we, calligraphers? If you have something to say and you’re a painter, show it to me visually. But if you’re a writer, freaking write it! Don’t put a precious little fucking flipbook in the middle of your novel, don’t put one word on each page for a time, don’t make the paragraph look like a cat when you turn the book to the side. How trite and cute can you be? I can’t believe real critics have any patience for this kind of nonsense, but sickeningly, it seems to be increasing every year. What’s next? Music boxes that play when you flip the pages? A small hologram? A scavenger hunt? A free toy in a hollowed-out space in the middle? A plush bunny on the cover with a squeak in its tail? Come the fuck on! If you can’t blow my mind with your prose, you won’t make up for it in doodles. And the hell with you for wasting my time.

And yes, I liked House of Leaves (although I don’t consider it revelatory or anything), but it is the exception that proves the rule. And I realize graphic novels are growing in importance and popularity, and eventually there might be bleedover and to enforce a stern boundary between novel-novels and graphic-novels will be pointlessly rigid and fusty. But I’ll adjust my ideas about that when I see it. Meanwhile, I don’t want to read the free verse horridness painters from a decade back were fond of scrawling across their canvasses in metallic gold paint pens, and likewise, I don’t want a toy or a bauble in text form from a writer.

And lest I be misunderstood, my issue with all this is not its novelty, but its meaninglessness.

Ahem. Even beyond the alienating concrete poem bit of stuff in the middle of The Accidental, I didn’t particularly care for the book. I just felt it tread over a lot of really familiar territory without adding anything much. I didn’t take away any truth or insight into the human condition. But apparently, people loved this book. It was short-listed for the Booker and had mostly good reviews.

I did really enjoy the passages in Astrid’s point of view, the family’s 12-year-old girl. The family is staying in a rental house, and at the beginning of the novel, Astrid spends a lot of time trying not to touch any of the surfaces of the house, or anything in it, because she’s disgusted by the idea of all the people who have used the house before them. She arranges a sheet over the bed before lounging on it, she tears bread from the middle of a loaf rather than use a knife and so forth. I can attest to the accuracy of this portrayal; I spent a ton of time in childhood trying not to touch anything. And actually, I never really grew out of it. Even as I backpacked across Asia, I had my rituals.

I was talking to a friend about this the other day. My friend was saying something about hygienic restaurant conditions, or something to do with food. And I said that I have no squeamishness about food and don’t really stress about the conditions in which it was prepared, because, even though I know that people not washing their hands and then handling food transfers diarrhea around (hence traveler’s tummy), and even though that’s disgusting if you actually think about it…well, really, all that happens is you maybe get a little sick for a day.

I said that I really have more worries in the tactile realm – that I don’t like to touch surfaces.

And then I suddenly realized how freaking crazy that is. I mean, I always knew that my obsession over not touching anything wasn’t rooted in any actual germaphobia, and had no real base at all – that it was rather just a general feeling of squirmy discomfort. It’s just that some things you have to touch are gross, the way you find some foods gross – it’s not that you think they’re dangerous; it’s just that you don’t like them. But I never thought about how nuts it is to put any old thing inside my body, but obsess about things touching the outside of my skin. Not to put too fine a point on it, but apparently, I would rather eat feces than sit in them.

Not that the realization did away with my baseless phobia, but I thought it was worth remarking on.

Jose Saramago’s The Double did not annoy me with any gimmicks, and I did walk away from it with, I felt, greater insight into the human condition. It’s commonly advised that, if you’re not “into” a novel by 100 pages in, you should put it down and start another. I have read quite a few books, however, where I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not until I finished the very last page. Perhaps these are books that don’t so much reflect how I see the world, as explain in a complete and compelling way how the world appears to someone else (the author). So, while I don’t hook into them immediately, by the time I come to the end, I feel satisfied. The Double is one of those books for me. And the same books that I can’t figure out if I like them or not until I finish the last words are generally those about which I cannot articulate what I liked, so I have nothing else to say about this.

…now that Weight Watchers has launched its new “Diets Are Mean” campaign:

“Are you trying to be in movies? No? Then what do you want to be thin for?”

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“I think you have a lovely, womanly figure!”

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“Hell, how long’s it been since you last had sex? Give yourself a damn piece of cake!”

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“No one who’s had the day you’ve had could get by on 1500 calories.”

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“It’s just harder for you to lose weight than other people – you have a different kind of body.”

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“You went to the gym today – go ahead and have seconds!”

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“Oh, so you ate the whole pint. At least you’re not a heroin addict.”

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“If you’re being good and eating a boring salad for lunch, you should at least get to jazz it up with fried chicken strips and ranch dressing.”

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“You know, you’re a good, kind person, and you’re intelligent. If you’re also fifty pounds overweight, well, that’s just more of you to love!”

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“Skinny people look like anorexics with cancer.”

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“If you just concentrate on making yourself happy, the weight will go away on its own.”

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“Everything in moderation – even moderation!”

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“Calories don’t count on your birthday/at Christmas/on your friend’s birthday/at a wedding/on vacation/when it’s this beautiful out/on the weekends/when you’re celebrating/on Flag Day/when they’re free/when someone surprises you with a treat!!!!”

I’m already bored of Wall-E. I haven’t seen it. I haven’t really heard all that much about it. I’ve seen, I think, one preview. I’ve listened to everybody I’ve talked to in the last couple of weeks assert that it’s really very good, and that I ought to see it right away. And I’ve seen headlines of articles and blog posts about it on every site I visit – I haven’t even read the articles; I’ve just seen the headlines.

And I’m already sick of it. This is what happens to me all the time with whatever culture thing everybody goes nuts for. It’s not that I don’t want to see it, or that I wouldn’t like it on its merits. I’m sure it’s great, and I’m sure I’d love it. But I probably won’t see it, just like I never ended up seeing Juno or, well, really any movie, honestly. I think in the last year, I saw The Orphanage and Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day (both with other people, after all the movies on offer went through the rigorous screening process that is everybody else’s tastes and what they’ve already seen, so you end up left with something random, but by and large unobjectionable like The Orphanage or Miss Pettigrew), and that’s it.

It’s just that, within five minutes of a film being released, it’s freaking everywhere, and I feel like I’ve seen it, not just once, but over and over and over again.

And furthermore, I guess that some people are glad for the next cool thing, but personally (and I know I’m not the only one), I’m always drowning under a cultural backlog of things that I must absolutely see, read, experience, be up on, and whenever someone tells me that I simply must drop everything and see this thing RIGHT NOW, it feels downright rude. I have enough culture to be wading through! I don’t need somebody barging into my little culture-absorber’s library carrel and screaming, “Drop everything! We’re all seeing a movie about a robot RIGHT THIS MINUTE!” What the crap? I’m still working on seeing Juno! Are we done with that already? I still haven’t seen The Godfather. Or Say Anything. Or the first Batman – the one with Christian Bale, not the twelve Batmans before that. And I never saw Brokeback Mountain, either. Not to mention there are oodles of You-Tube videos people simply won’t speak to me until I watch now right now. So, you know what, Wall-E might not get watched right this damn minute, and he’ll just have to wait his turn, won’t he?

I’m feeling stressed just thinking about it. I realize that some people think that films and books and web bits and stand-up comics are things to be enjoyed recreationally, as they come, and need not be amassed like plunder in the various stockpiles of one’s brain. I realize that for some people, word of a new cultural sensation they’d not heard of before is a treat, not a sign of personal failure. But I think these people are of a different species from me entirely.

These are the type of people who say things like, “I’m looking for a good book to read.” A statement which I cannot believe anyone could ever utter in all sincerity. Who are these people?

Here, odd, disinterested space-people: here is my 58-page single-spaced insane book list I’ve been adding to since I was twelve years old, with titles scribbled all up and down the margins and extra Post-It notes covered in chicken scratch stuck on all over. Close your eyes and point to one. You’re welcome.

Meanwhile, I’m off to see Wall-E. I mean, The Dark Knight. I mean, STOP MAKING MUST-SEE MOVIES FOR A LITTLE WHILE, WON’T YOU?

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Speaking of glut, the 4th of July is the day for one of America’s greatest annual events: Nathan’s Famous 4th of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest, the competitive eating event of the year. I’ve mentioned my obsession with competitive eating several times on this blog, and all the heavies will be at Nathan’s this year: Kobayashi, Joey Chestnut, and my personal favorite, Sonya ‘The Black Widow’ Thomas. Thomas is a 100-lb., 5′5″ Korean woman who has consistently demonstrated an astounding ability to put away large amounts of food:

She swallowed the egg. Then she swallowed 64 more in six minutes and 40 seconds. She could have eaten more but the organizers ran out of eggs. . . . “Eggs are easy to eat,” Thomas explains. “I could eat 80 or 90.”

(My obsession with all this, however, is not so unreasonable that I would actually go down to Coney Island this morning and experience first-hand the crush of humanity crowding around the Nathan’s Famous stand there.)

Speaking of impressive athletes, click here to marvel at the mind-blowing physique of Dara Torres, 41-year-old swimmer who’s attempting to qualify for the 50-meter freestyle in the Olympics this year. If I were to pick a role-model between the two, I think eating 64 eggs in 6 minutes is a slightly more reachable goal for me than looking like Ms. Torres when I’m 40.

It’s probably a good thing all of my goals are in culture consumption.

I am so very white that when I walk around showing skin in a blazingly sunny area, like the beach, total strangers have at times expressed concern for my welfare. I look like walking kindling. I am constantly worrying about skin cancer, squinting at my moles and wondering if they’ve shifted or expanded slightly since yesterday, and so this was great news to find on my birthday:

Cassian Yee at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Centre in Seattle extracted immune cells from the patient and found that a small proportion of them, called CD4 T cells, naturally attacked a protein found on nearly three-quarters of the cancer cells. Using cloning techniques, Yee’s team replicated these cells until they had more than 5bn of them. When the cells were injected into the patient they immediately began attacking the cancer. Intriguingly, the patient’s immune system gradually began a wider offensive, attacking all the cancer cells in the body, according to a report in the New England Journal of Medicine. Two months later medical scans failed to pick up any signs of cancer in the patient.

(via TMN)

And even better, turns out that Bobby Jindal, a possible McCain VP choice, can cure skin cancer with his mind:

Jindal claims that the rite freed his friend Susan of the demon and may even have cured her skin cancer.

I guess I can stop bothering with sunscreen altogether.

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I’m sorry, I know I touched on this before, but I just have to say it again with more emphasis, because damn near every article I’m looking at today is based around some informal or vague ‘polls’ of voters talking about whether or not they’ll vote for who, and why, and what lost them, and these statements are taken as fact, and I just want to exclaim one more time for the people in the back that people’s answers to any questions posed to them ever are completely meaningless. People LIE. All the time. And not just to other people, but to themselves.

Especially when it comes to voting preferences – most people don’t want to think of themselves as straight ticket voters. They want to think they take each candidate on the strength of that candidate’s platform. But really, who over the age of 23 truly does an honest, fresh reevaluation of their entire world view with each election? Come on. You think what you think for the reasons you think it. I’m not saying that no one ever changes their mind over time (I’ve done a 180 since college, politics-wise), but you certainly can’t just wipe your brain every four years.

When someone says, ‘I don’t like McCain/Obama because [insert vague and personal objection],’ I think they almost always mean ‘I don’t like McCain/Obama because I’m liberal/conservative, but I don’t know how to cram my entire political perspective into a single thought.’ Or, ‘I haven’t thought much about this, but I don’t want to sound stupid in front of myself.’ Or, ‘I freaking hate uppity black guys, but I’ll be damned if I’ll admit that to myself, because I’d rather believe I’m a fair, cool-headed guy who just thinks there’s something shady about that Obama fellow.’

When someone says, ‘I’m voting for McCain, because I think Hillary got a raw deal,’ what they might really mean is, ‘Of course, I’ve never actually made it to the polling station in my entire life, but this year I’m determined to vote, and when I get there, that’s what I’m going to do, unless I change my mind again, or stay out late the night before.’

I sometimes tell strangers that I’m a diplomat. (Psst – I’m totally not a diplomat!!)

–

And here’s an opinion about the many people who ‘just don’t like that wife of his‘:

The Right seems to think that every educated and financially successful Black American (and/or woman, for that matter) should simply walk around thanking White folks, and saying “What, me worry?”

People’s extreme dislike of Michelle Obama has really floored me. I mean, the woman has done everything right – she’s successful in her career, active in her community, she’s smart, she’s confident, she’s a committed wife and mother with a strong marriage, she’s attractive and she made her own money…and yet somehow, it’s still not good enough.

I guess because what she’s supposed to say is: ‘I achieved, and so everybody else can, too, if they’ll just sack up and stop whining.’

And instead, she says: ‘I achieved, but that doesn’t mean that other people in my situation aren’t severely and unfairly hindered by disadvantages and prejudice.’

Which is anti-American.

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God, I’m an opinionated little bugger today, aren’t I? Maybe because I’m 27 now, and thus know it all.

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If the world is indeed made of math, there go all my chances of ever understanding any of it:

According to Tegmark, “there is only mathematics; that is all that exists.” In his theory, the mathematical universe hypothesis, he updates quantum physics and cosmology with the concept of many parallel universes inhabiting multiple levels of space and time. By posing his hypothesis at the crossroads of philosophy and physics, Tegmark is harking back to the ancient Greeks with the oldest of the old questions: What is real?

Also, this:

European researchers said on Monday they discovered a batch of three “super-Earths” orbiting a nearby star, and two other solar systems with small planets as well.

(both via TMN)

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The perfect way to bite it? Laughing at one of your own jokes:

Chrysippus (280-207BC), Perhaps the greatest of the Stoics. . . . after an ass had eaten his figs, he cried out to an old woman, “Now give the ass a drink of pure wine to wash down the figs”. Thereupon, he laughed so heartily that he died.

(via Unfogged)

Did the world end while I was in the mountains?  I wouldn’t know.  I’m not sure I would much care.  At first glance, I see that Tim Russert died, everything is still expensive, and we’re all supposed to worry about tomatoes.

It blows coming back from a vacation, and it blows even more when what you’re coming back to is New York.  (Sorry, people who heart New York.)  But, I’m back to life and back to work, and back to posting at 6:00 a.m.  Speaking of…

On becoming a morning person:

At a get-together at a friend’s house that evening, I wandered around in a sleepy, self-conscious haze. I went home at about 10 and picked up a novel to read in bed. A half-hour later, the book was slipping from my lifeless hands. So this is what being a morning person is like, I thought. It’s like being 80 years old.

So true.  It took me years to realize and accept that I’m a morning person.  It’s so square.  But I love mornings.  My favorite thing all day is the time spent drinking coffee, eating breakfast and reading the news.  The day tanks after that.  At about noon, I completely crash, and the rest of the day is nothing but a long, awful, exhausting trudge toward my distant bed.

–

Apparently, Gallagher is still touring:

I suddenly felt sad for Gallagher. At 61 years old, the man knows that the best way for him to make money is to milk his waning nostalgic value. If I was making my money doing the same thing that I’ve done most nights for the last 25 years, I’d probably be angry at my audience, too.

The first time I ever heard of Gallagher was when the girl who’d tormented me all through sixth grade, until we bonded at summer day camp over making fun of my best friend’s stubbly legs (ah, junior high), invited me to spend the night at her house.  We watched Gallagher on TV, before falling asleep on a mattress on the floor, only to wake up again four hours later because my new friend had peed the bed.

She never teased me again.

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Much like preteen girls, Japan thinks it’s fat:

When his turn came, Mr. Nogiri, the flower shop owner, entered a booth where he bared his midriff, exposing a flat stomach with barely discernible love handles. A nurse wrapped a tape measure around his waist across his belly button: 33.6 inches, or 0.1 inch over the limit.

“Strikeout,” he said, defeat spreading across his face.

I have never been to Japan, but from everything I’ve heard about it, I think I’d freaking love it there.  It seems to be a nation of silent, quick-walking, hard-working, skinny perfectionists, who have all agreed on a strict code of public etiquette and abide by it without fail.  If it only had a tropical climate, I’d be packing my bags.

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The first chancellor of American University of Iraq, Owen Cargol, has resigned from his post because of, well, this:

In a subsequent e-mail to the employee, Cargol described himself as “a rub-your-belly, grab-your-balls, give-you-a-hug, slap-your-back, pull-your-dick, squeeze-your-hand, cheek-your-face, and pat-your-thigh kind of guy.”

(via TPM)

Aren’t we all, deep down?

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Why is Amtrak mostly just in the Northeast?

Several interrelated causes. The primary underlying issue is that in places where Amtrak depends on using rail lines that are owned by freight rail companies, it’s difficult / impossible to provide frequent, reliable service. Also, clearly, in a place where the right-of-way is owned by a freight company, you’re not going to build track optimized to the needs of high-speed passenger rail. . . Giving passenger rail more priority over freight rail would be a good idea since timeliness is more important to passengers than it is to giant boxes. But ultimately if we want to move more stuff by rail, we need to build more — and more modern — track.

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Twenty-one countries prefer Obama to McCain.  Dissenting:  Jordan and the U.S.

Dear Readers,

I am camping for a week, off the grid entirely. If I do not go insane or get eaten by a bear, I will be back a-postin’ on Monday, June 16th. In the meantime, take deep breaths, hit up the archives, and just try to endure. You’ll be stronger readers for it, I promise — all seven of you.

Love,
Elizabeth

Great article about Jackson Katz, who educates men about “gender issues” that, he argues, should not be considered as such:

“As a culture, Americans first must take the step in acknowledging that violence against women is not a women’s issue, but a men’s issue,” Katz said.

. . . Katz points out a pattern that has evolved regarding how the media uses passive voice and sentences when reporting gender violence. Using a board in the front of the room, Katz helped make his point by providing the audience with a concrete exercise to illustrate the power of passive voice (see below).

John beat Mary. (active)

Mary was beaten by John. (passive)

Mary was beaten. (passive)

Mary was battered. (passive)

Mary is a battered woman. (active)

“John has left the conversation long ago, while Mary evolves into the active victim,” Katz said. “This evolution of victim-blaming is very pervasive in our society, because this is how our whole power structure is set up. We start asking why Mary put herself into a position to be beaten by John.” “If we really want to work on prevention, we need to start asking questions about John, not Mary,” Katz said. “We won’t get anything done until we start treating these issues as men’s issues and shift the paradigm at the cultural level.”

(via Feministing)

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On the other hand, sometimes blaming the victim is hilarious and satisfying (a NYC man was acquitted for physically confronting a grunter in his Equinox spinning class):

“I don’t know if there’s going to be an uprising, but the short-term message is sometimes you can get away with assaulting somebody who’s annoying,” he said.

Indeed, some of the annoyed sat on the jury.

(via tmn)

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How to win the New Yorker’s caption contest:

You are not trying to submit the funniest caption; you are trying to win The New Yorker’s caption contest.

Funny side note – not long ago, I actually met a New Yorker cartoonist (friend of a friend, who came to one of our improv shows), and what were the first words out of my mouth upon discovering his occupation?

“No kidding! I enter that caption contest every week!”

As soon as I said it, I realized: boy howdy, I bet actual cartoonists freaking hate that contest. And sure enough: “Well, that’s great,” he said. “I mean, I freaking hate that contest, but good luck to you.” (He didn’t say it in a jerky way.)

I really should have known better, because one of my pet peeves is that, when what you primarily do in life (or what you aspire to do) is creative, people who find it out will rush to explain to you how they actually do that thing, too. If you’re an actor, everybody who ever asks you what you do will be anxious to explain to you how they’re really an actor, too. If you’re a writer, you’ll be forever hearing about how your partner in conversation is really a writer, too. And I imagine that interior designers and chefs are constantly hearing about how everybody they meet is just brilliant at rearranging the furniture and cooking.

Now granted, most CPAs who declare, upon meeting an aspiring actor, that they used to act themselves in college are really every bit as much actors as whatever perpetually-not-cast “actor” they’re talking to, but my fascination with this conversational faux pas has more to do with why the CPA thinks the “actor” they’re talking to will somehow be gratified to hear that the CPA can do everything the “actor” they’ve just met can do and more, but has moved beyond it now and makes money instead. THIS IS NOT POLITE, PEOPLE!

–

Also, everyone’s fat and stupid.

Viennese artist Oscar Kokoschka had a doll made to resemble Alma Mahler (this is a letter to the doll’s maker):

“I was honestly shocked by your doll which, although I was long prepared for a certain distance from reality, contradicts what I demanded of it and hoped of you in too many ways! The outer shell is a polar-bear pelt, suitable for a shaggy imitation bedside rug rather than the soft and pliable skin of a woman. The result is that I cannot even dress the doll, which you knew was my intention, let alone array her in delicate and precious robes. Even attempting to pull on one stocking would be like asking a French dancing-master to waltz with a polar bear!”

(via Kottke)

Also, Jeremy Bentham’s corpse is an auto-icon:

As requested in his will, his body was preserved and stored in a wooden cabinet, termed his “Auto-icon”. . . . For the 100th and 150th anniversaries of the college, the Auto-icon was brought to the meeting of the College Council, where he was listed as “present but not voting”.[12] Tradition holds that if the council’s vote on any motion is tied, the auto-icon always breaks the tie by voting in favour of the motion.

Also, the creator of Pringles was just buried in a Pringles can.

–

George Packer on why it’s impossible for us to discuss Iraq intelligently:

Throughout the opinion classes, the impulse to keep a little part of the brain open to inconvenient facts seemed to have been extinguished. In magazine offices, bloggers’ bedrooms, Hollywood studios, and the White House, a fantasy war was underway, a demonstration of American virtue or a series of crimes against humanity-both of them self-serving fictions.

(via 3QD)

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On those humorless Commies:

Humour offered the early communists the same philosophical conundrums that every other area of culture offered: what belonged to yesterday and what to tomorrow? Many argued that humour could be used to ridicule the old bourgeois habits that persisted … But, said others, given that the Soviets were creating a perfect world, there would soon be nothing left to laugh at in Russian politics or society …

(via 3QD)

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Ian McEwan on why it’s probably not a good idea to romanticize the end of the world:

The apocalyptic mind can be demonising – that is to say, there are other groups, other faiths, that it despises for worshipping false gods, and these believers of course will not be saved from the fires of hell. And the apocalyptic mind tends to be totalitarian – which is to say that these are intact, all-encompassing ideas founded in longing and supernatural belief, immune to evidence or its lack, and well-protected against the implications of fresh data. Consequently, moments of unintentional pathos, even comedy, arise – and perhaps something in our nature is revealed – as the future is constantly having to be rewritten, new anti-Christs, new Beasts, new Babylons, new Whores located, and the old appointments with doom and redemption quickly replaced by the next.

(via A&LD)

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Haruki Murakami likes to run:

Sometimes I find it too hot to run, and sometimes too cold. Or too cloudy. But I still go running. I know that if I didn’t go running, I wouldn’t go the next day either. It’s not in human nature to take unnecessary burdens upon oneself, so one’s body soon becomes disaccustomed. It mustn’t do that. It’s the same with writing. I write every day so that my mind doesn’t become disaccustomed. So that I can gradually set the literary yardstick higher and higher, just as running regularly makes your muscles stronger and stronger.

. . . Working artistically is unhealthy; an artist should lead a healthy life to make up for it.

(via The Book Bench)

Okay, so I would like to retract my earlier statement about the crowded Greenpoint running track.  Today was…an inspiration.  I think I ran about 10 miles.  I don’t know where you fellows have been all winter (presumably, you can all afford gym memberships, because if this is your condition after six months of neglect, I cannot wait to see you in September), but damn. Feel free to lob your golden apples my way, boys – I find myself growing less competitive with every passing torso.

Seems everybody wants to keep the racism and lose the term for it. Here, M. LeBlanc at Bitch Ph.D. responds to Geraldine Ferraro’s recent op-ed:

Bringing up sexism or racism has become, in the minds of those outraged by accusations that they might be sexist or racist, “playing the gender card” or “playing the race card.” . . .

I’ve been astonished at the degree to which “playing the race/gender” card has flourished as a phrase and concept in the conversation about this primary race. I’ve heard it from so many bloggers, pundits, straight-up newscasters, and even some of my personal friends. I want to be as absolutely clear as I can: it’s a bogus concept, and using it makes you part of the problem.

Race and gender are not “cards” that you play, like laying out trump in bridge and winning the hand. Because when you have to bring up racism or sexism to explain what is happening around you, that means you’re already losing.

–

News that’s not news: shopping and eating cookies can help you forget about death:

The authors believe people with low self-esteem use consuming as a way of subconsciously escaping self-awareness, which is heightened by thoughts of dying. “When you indulge in shopping or eating, it helps you forget yourself,” says Smeesters.

(via Serious Eats)

Related, people in Japan should eat more cookies. So should the U.S. Army. And the Russian army.

–

Jeffrey Goldberg interviews John McCain on Israel, Iran and Obama, among other things:

JG: Let’s go back to Iran. Some critics say that America conflates its problem with Iran with Israel’s problem with Iran. Iran is not threatening the extinction of America, it’s threatening the extinction of Israel. Why should America have a military option for dealing with Iran when the threat is mainly directed against Israel?

JM: The United States of America has committed itself to never allowing another Holocaust. That’s a commitment that the United States has made ever since we discovered the horrendous aspects of the Holocaust.

In addition to that, I would respond by saying that I think these terrorist organizations that they sponsor, Hamas and the others, are also bent, at least long-term, on the destruction of the United States of America. That’s why I agree with General Petraeus that Iraq is a central battleground. Because these Shiite militias are sending in these special groups, as they call them, sending weapons in, to remove United States influence and to drive us out of Iraq and thereby achieve their ultimate goals. We’ve heard the rhetoric — the Great Satan, etc. It’s a nuance, their being committed to the destruction of the State of Israel, and their long-term intentions toward us.

(via FP Passport)

In the same interview, McCain takes issue with Obama’s willingness to talk to Iran. Here’s what Thomas Friedman thinks about all that:

Mr. Bush was also right: talking with Iran today would be tantamount to appeasement – but that’s because the Bush team has so squandered U.S. power and credibility in the Middle East, and has failed to put in place any effective energy policy, that negotiating with Iran could only end up with us on the short end. We don’t have the leverage – the allies, the alternative energy, the unity at home, the credible threat of force – to advance our interests diplomatically today.

Here’s Matthew Yglesias responding:

We’re a giant rich country and they’re a medium sized middle income country. We have military forces in two of Iran’s neighbors, we maintain sanctions on Iran that hurt their economy. Our closest ally in the country is a rich nation with a power military establishment and nuclear weapons, their closest allies in the region are non-state militia groups. We have plenty to offer Iran that would be valuable to them insofar as they’re willing to change their behavior in ways that are valuable to us. That’s all the leverage you need to start a process of negotiation.

And Yglesias on McCain:

I was walking earlier today thinking to myself, “you know, say what you will about John McCain, but he’ll almost certainly be a better President than George W. Bush so we have something to look forward to no matter what happens in America.” Then I thought to myself that to write that up, you’d need to include the all-important to-be-sure sentence. Specifically, something like “if, that is, he manages to avoid any catastrophic new wars that lead to massive bloodshed.”

Also worth a mention (although to me this doesn’t sound like as big a deal as the whole Phil Gramm thing):

Before Rick Davis began serving as John McCain’s campaign manager, his lobbying firm had a pretty cosmopolitan set of clients. For example, Ukranian billionaire Rinat Akhmetov, who has several business links to Iran.

–

A history of the L…

…and a gallery of the coolest subways. Included is the best subway I’ve ever experienced:

The Hong Kong MTR has the distinction of being one of the few subway systems in the world that actually turns a profit. It’s privately owned and uses real estate development along its tracks to increase revenue … and ridership. It also introduced “Octopus cards” that allow people to not only pay their fares electronically, but buy stuff at convenience stores, supermarkets, restaurants and even parking meters. It’s estimated that 95 percent of all adults in Hong Kong own an Octopus card and they generate more than 10 million transactions each day.

Not to mention, it’s clean as a whistle and a piece of cake to navigate.

Timely to study what works, since lately, Americans are cuckoo for public transit!!!

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The Balkans are totally safe now (well, unless you’re a woman).

The mystery of Stonehenge is mysterious no more:

The secret of Stonehenge has apparently been solved: The mysterious circle of large stones in southern England was primarily a burial ground for almost five centuries, and the site probably holds the remains of a family that long ruled the area, new research concludes.

I don’t know about you, but…SNORE!!

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For the billionth time, boys are not inherently better at math:

Boys outperform girls on a math test given to children worldwide, but the gender gap is less pronounced in countries where women and men have similar rights and opportunities, according to a study published Thursday. . . . In about a dozen countries, both sexes scored about the same. In many of those places, like in Iceland, men and women have similar opportunities and rights, according to the study, which was published in the journal Science.

(via tmn)

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On the immigration raids, generally, and why the treatment of detainees is so inhumane:

Since 2006, ICE has been dispatching teams of agents into neighborhoods throughout the country as part of a ramped-up enforcement effort called “Operation Return to Sender.” Each team must apprehend an annual quota, currently set at 1,000, of fugitive aliens. These are immigrants who remain in the United States despite outstanding orders to leave. . . . Without an accurate list of which homes actually harbor undocumented immigrants, agents often rely on race to figure out who’s here legally and who isn’t. . . .Race, in fact, is not a very good indicator of whether someone is in the United States illegally. Up to two-thirds of the people ICE arrests have never received deportation orders, frequently because their presence here is lawful. By ICE’s own admission, the bureau has mistakenly detained, arrested, and even deported not only legal immigrants but also U.S. citizens.

It goes on from there.

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There is literally no place left on Earth where you can escape the human racket:

Krause has a word for the pristine acoustics of nature: biophony. It’s what the world sounds like in the absence of humans. But in 40 percent of the locations where Krause has recorded over the past 40 years, human-generated noise has infiltrated the wilderness. “It’s getting harder and harder to find places that aren’t contaminated,” he says.

Don’t I know it, buddy.

Also, this:

Researchers have produced aerial photos of jungle dwellers who they say are among the few remaining peoples on Earth who have had no contact with the outside world.

(via FP Passport)

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Who says nothing ever changes?  Nepal is a monarchy no more:

The main palace in Nepal’s capital lowered the flag of the country’s royal family Thursday, a day after lawmakers, led by former communist insurgents, abolished the monarchy that had reigned over the Himalayan land for 239 years.

(via FP Passport)

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I’ve mentioned before, I’m a huge Michelle Obama fan.  In Phoenix, she apparently drew a bigger crowd than McCain (and the President):

This just amazes me. The wife of the Democratic front-runner outdraws, handily, both the Republican front-runner himself and the guy he wants to replace in the White House — and does so on the Republican front-runner’s home turf.

Hell yeah, she did.

–

Well, this really says it all:  a British man who originally started a charity to bring medical aid to Guyana now does most of his flying into rural Tennessee:

On a wet, spring weekend he lands his vintage World War II aircraft – once used to drop American troops on D-Day – in Lafayette, Tennessee. He bought the plane to parachute medics into the jungle. Today he is unloading dentists’ chairs from the plane into a pickup truck. By eight o’clock on Friday evening the first patients have arrived after travelling hundreds of miles. They start queuing.

(via Unfogged)