Sedona is a weird place-- it's incredibly beautiful, a town set within red rock buttes, mesas, and spires, with a clear shady stream running down the Oak Creek Canyon and then right under Route 179 . . . it's essentially like placing a bunch of houses and restaurants and shops inside Arches National Park, but there's more vegetation and the weather isn't as severe . . . check out the pics at Captions of Cat if you need some visuals . . . so you've got a super-touristy and rather cheesy "uptown" and then high-end galleries and the Tlaquepaque Arts and Crafts Village, which is essentially a giant outdoor sculpture in the form of a ritzy shopping mall-- I've never seen anything like it-- and there are houses in the hills owned by celebrities-- our guide mentioned Nicholas Cage (who was in a film called Red Rock West) and Walt Disney and Al Pacino and Lucille Ball . . . but then there are umpteen miles of hiking and biking trails, so you've got all the outdoors people wandering around, and then there are the vortex people and the hippies and the psychics and the folks living in a van in the hotel parking lot and the dude sleeping in the botanical garden . . . it is a wacky mix of high end resort, low-end tourist trap, retirement community, and outdoor wonderland . . . we did a few hikes, into Fay Canyon, which was shady and had some excellent rock climbing at the end, and around the Airport Mesa, which offers the best views, but we also rested our legs one morning and took a Jeep Tour to Soldiers Pass . . . our guides name was Dan and here are a few things we learned on the trip:
1) Dan wears a cowboy hat, carries a .41 caliber pistol, a rare size which he claims shoots flat and straight, hails from Connecticut, and-- like Andy Bernard-- went to Cornell . . . this totally amused me, but he's been out West since 1991 and has lost all traces of East Coast accent and mannerisms;
2) Dan is very proud of the fact that his Jeep Tour Company-- Red Rock Western Jeep Tours-- has the exclusive rights to the Soldiers Pass route, which features the Devil's Kitchen Sinkhole . . . and he pointed out that this sinkhole is seven times bigger than the Pink Jeep Tours sinkhole on the Broken Arrow tour . . . my sinkhole is bigger than your sinkhole kind of stuff;
3) my wife believes Dan is legally blind-- which is a bit scary, considering some of the steep slickrock trails he navigated-- but she might be right, his sunglasses we extraordinarily thick and he couldn't see the large Cooper's hawk perched on a tree in the middle of the trail until we pointed it out to him . . . despite this possible disability, he did a fantastic job not driving off any cliffs;
4) we saw the Seven Sacred Pools, high in the red rocks, and learned that in the desert, dirty water is clean and clean water is probably contaminated with arsenic and/or mercury . . . and these dirty little pools were full of tadpoles and frogs;
5) Dan knows a great deal about botany and zoology, and we all listened intently when he told us about the thirteen species of rattlesnakes and the deal with Mormon tea (it's stronger than coffee, a Mormon loophole!) and about the shaggy barked juniper that Walt Disney used as a model, and he also knows a great deal about geology, but we usually zoned out when he talked about sediment and erosion and tectonic plates . . . although I did like the fact that the Devil's Kitchen Sinkhole increased in size in 1989, a consequence of the Bay Area earthquake that cancelled the World Series and I now know the correct definition of a butte (it's not a rock formation shaped like a butt).
My Bad . . . Mules Are Awesome
I would like to take back all the awful things I said about mules and mule tours in yesterday's post: mules are integral part of the Grand Canyon experience and a wonderful way for families to bond on vacation, mule-riders are in now way lazy and/or mentally deficient, and mule defecation is vegetable-based, fragrant and biodegradable-- mules are wonderful and practical hybrid animals put here on God's green earth to serve mankind, they are honorable and loyal and their reputation for kicking people in the head and giving them brain-damage is a rural-legend . . . and this retraction was in no way influenced by my new friends at the North Rim Mule Train Concession Lobby Consortium . . . and there is also no connection between the NRMTCLC and my decision to change the name of this blog to Awesome Mule Train of Dave.
The North Rim: Many Pros and One Big Shitty Con
First of all, if you're going to visit the Grand Canyon, I would urge you to go to the North Rim-- or look at my wife's lovely pictures-- here are a few reasons why:
1) it's desolate . . . though it's a much farther drive than the South Rim, you travel through the immense wilderness of the Kaibab National Forest to get there, and there's really only two places to stay-- the lodge and campgrounds, which require a reservation up to a year in advance, or the Kaibab Lodge and adjacent campground, which are located five miles from the park entrance . . . we stayed there in a rustic little cabin (which still had electricity and fantastic water pressure in the shower) and the cabins are at the foot of the forest, overlooking enormous meadows . . . the kids had a blast exploring and building structures with fallen logs and you feel like you are really in the middle of nowhere (no wifi, but there is a general store that sells full-strength beer);
2) the North Rim is several thousand feet higher than the South Rim . . . so the temperatures are much cooler-- we went from 105 in Moab to lows in the 40s and highs in the 70s-- the weather is extraordinary for hiking, and-- even better-- when you get to the highest viewpoints on the North Rim-- which are near 9000 feet-- you can see across the Canyon and over the South Rim, for up to a hundred miles, there are vast plains and scrubland, layers of rock, moving cloud shadows, distant mountains . . . it's hard to take it all in . . . the South Rim is a bit of a tourist zoo but the views into the canyon are still profound, so if you've been to the South Rim, imagine that view times three, minus the crowds, and add a cool mountain breeze and the smell of the juniper and pinyon pines;
3) the North Rim lodge has loads of comfy deck chairs at the edge of the precipice, so you can read and look at the view, until your children get kicked out of the gift shop because they were making too much noise playing the expensive hand-made Native American flutes . . . Alex explained that they do have a bucket of plastic disposable mouthpieces so playing the flutes is obviously encouraged; I surmise from this that the boys must have been making a LOT of noise, because the shopkeeper came over and asked them if they had 200 hundred dollars, and told them that if they didn't, then they needed to leave;
4) the lodge also has rows of comfy leather couches inside, these are perfect for collapsing in after a long hike, and they look through a giant window across the canyon . . . the restaurant is also good and offers similar views-- I had the fry bread covered in elk chili and it was delicious-- this must be a National Park thing, because I had a similar meal in the Badlands;
5) the hiking and driving along the rim is fantastic, especially all the little hikes and Native American ruins on the way to Point Royal and Point Imperial;
6) lots of wildlife-- we saw wild turkeys, a coyote, a Kaibab squirrel, and mule deer-- but there are also bobcat and bison and beavers and lots of other creatures whose names do not commence with the letter B;
and here is the con:
7) there is only one trail on the North Rim that heads down into the Canyon, the North Kaibab Trail-- and it is a marvel of engineering and offers beautiful views BUT . . . and I wish we had been warned about this-- they allow mule tours for the first two miles of the trail and so the trail is covered in mule shit and there are puddles of mule urine . . . once you get through the Supai Tunnel, this ends, but at that point you are WAY down in the canyon and you need to think about turning back if you are doing a day hike . . . and EVERYONE we talked to loathes the mule tours, including one candid ranger-- and loads of other rangers were rebuilding the trail because of the mule tours, so I'm sure they hated this private concession as well, which doesn't even give much money to the park-- and if you paid ninety dollars for a mule tour, understand that everyone else on the trail hates and despises you, because on the way down, hikers have to pass the mule trains and on the way up the mule trains pass you, and while the mule-guide assured us we wouldn't get kicked, and told us to just "plow on through," I wasn't very confident about this-- mules have a reputation for kicking and when you're on a precipice trail a mile above the Colorado River, you don't want to be near a mule's ass . . . anyway, if you're one of the folks who took a mule tour down the trail, understand that you are ruining the trail for everyone else-- it absolutely reeks, the dirt is soft and torn up, and this mine-field of poop and urine should not be the final reward for the intrepid hikers that walked the twenty-some miles from the South Rim to the North Rim . . . it's astounding that the National Park Service allows this . . . the only explanation is tradition-- it has been done for a long time and I'm sure for some people it evokes the Wild West, but the thing you don't get in The Searchers is that it reeked to high heaven in the Wild West . . . I could understand if there were mules for those with disabilities because it is tough hiking, especially coming back up, but there's actually no reason to go down into the canyon-- you don't need to do this, on foot or on a mule, as the hikes and views on the rim are wonderful-- and there are enough trails up there, to designate one for mule-riding, but the North Kaibab trail is the only trail that goes into the canyon on the North Rim, so to cover it in a layer of mule defecation and flies seems bizarre . . . and for those of you who were wondering, a mule is a sterile cross between a donkey and a horse, and I hate those fucking things.
1) it's desolate . . . though it's a much farther drive than the South Rim, you travel through the immense wilderness of the Kaibab National Forest to get there, and there's really only two places to stay-- the lodge and campgrounds, which require a reservation up to a year in advance, or the Kaibab Lodge and adjacent campground, which are located five miles from the park entrance . . . we stayed there in a rustic little cabin (which still had electricity and fantastic water pressure in the shower) and the cabins are at the foot of the forest, overlooking enormous meadows . . . the kids had a blast exploring and building structures with fallen logs and you feel like you are really in the middle of nowhere (no wifi, but there is a general store that sells full-strength beer);
2) the North Rim is several thousand feet higher than the South Rim . . . so the temperatures are much cooler-- we went from 105 in Moab to lows in the 40s and highs in the 70s-- the weather is extraordinary for hiking, and-- even better-- when you get to the highest viewpoints on the North Rim-- which are near 9000 feet-- you can see across the Canyon and over the South Rim, for up to a hundred miles, there are vast plains and scrubland, layers of rock, moving cloud shadows, distant mountains . . . it's hard to take it all in . . . the South Rim is a bit of a tourist zoo but the views into the canyon are still profound, so if you've been to the South Rim, imagine that view times three, minus the crowds, and add a cool mountain breeze and the smell of the juniper and pinyon pines;
3) the North Rim lodge has loads of comfy deck chairs at the edge of the precipice, so you can read and look at the view, until your children get kicked out of the gift shop because they were making too much noise playing the expensive hand-made Native American flutes . . . Alex explained that they do have a bucket of plastic disposable mouthpieces so playing the flutes is obviously encouraged; I surmise from this that the boys must have been making a LOT of noise, because the shopkeeper came over and asked them if they had 200 hundred dollars, and told them that if they didn't, then they needed to leave;
4) the lodge also has rows of comfy leather couches inside, these are perfect for collapsing in after a long hike, and they look through a giant window across the canyon . . . the restaurant is also good and offers similar views-- I had the fry bread covered in elk chili and it was delicious-- this must be a National Park thing, because I had a similar meal in the Badlands;
5) the hiking and driving along the rim is fantastic, especially all the little hikes and Native American ruins on the way to Point Royal and Point Imperial;
6) lots of wildlife-- we saw wild turkeys, a coyote, a Kaibab squirrel, and mule deer-- but there are also bobcat and bison and beavers and lots of other creatures whose names do not commence with the letter B;
and here is the con:
7) there is only one trail on the North Rim that heads down into the Canyon, the North Kaibab Trail-- and it is a marvel of engineering and offers beautiful views BUT . . . and I wish we had been warned about this-- they allow mule tours for the first two miles of the trail and so the trail is covered in mule shit and there are puddles of mule urine . . . once you get through the Supai Tunnel, this ends, but at that point you are WAY down in the canyon and you need to think about turning back if you are doing a day hike . . . and EVERYONE we talked to loathes the mule tours, including one candid ranger-- and loads of other rangers were rebuilding the trail because of the mule tours, so I'm sure they hated this private concession as well, which doesn't even give much money to the park-- and if you paid ninety dollars for a mule tour, understand that everyone else on the trail hates and despises you, because on the way down, hikers have to pass the mule trains and on the way up the mule trains pass you, and while the mule-guide assured us we wouldn't get kicked, and told us to just "plow on through," I wasn't very confident about this-- mules have a reputation for kicking and when you're on a precipice trail a mile above the Colorado River, you don't want to be near a mule's ass . . . anyway, if you're one of the folks who took a mule tour down the trail, understand that you are ruining the trail for everyone else-- it absolutely reeks, the dirt is soft and torn up, and this mine-field of poop and urine should not be the final reward for the intrepid hikers that walked the twenty-some miles from the South Rim to the North Rim . . . it's astounding that the National Park Service allows this . . . the only explanation is tradition-- it has been done for a long time and I'm sure for some people it evokes the Wild West, but the thing you don't get in The Searchers is that it reeked to high heaven in the Wild West . . . I could understand if there were mules for those with disabilities because it is tough hiking, especially coming back up, but there's actually no reason to go down into the canyon-- you don't need to do this, on foot or on a mule, as the hikes and views on the rim are wonderful-- and there are enough trails up there, to designate one for mule-riding, but the North Kaibab trail is the only trail that goes into the canyon on the North Rim, so to cover it in a layer of mule defecation and flies seems bizarre . . . and for those of you who were wondering, a mule is a sterile cross between a donkey and a horse, and I hate those fucking things.
How Did We Survive?
Yesterday, we traveled from the evergreen forests and vast meadows of the Grand Canyon's North Rim all the way to the red rock desert of Sedona . . . it was 48 degrees in the morning at the North Rim, and 95 degrees at noon in Sedona . . . but the biggest difference was technological: we had no wifi at the North Rim-- and these are the things we wanted to look up during our stay up there:
1) the veracity of the word "spackler," we were playing lots of Bananagrams and I used that word . . . but it looks like it's not a word;
2) the exact genetic origins of a mule . . . more on this tomorrow in a profanity-laced description of the North Kaibab trail;
3) the actual time . . . apparently, Arizona does not subscribe to Daylight Savings Time (but the Navajo Nation does) and so every ride was a crapshoot, because the GPS took this into consideration . . . sometimes . . . and we were operating with four different times-- the car clock said one thing, Cat's phone another, my phone a third time, and the clock in our cabin had a fourth (correct) time, but we never bothered to set anything to the correct time;
4) birds . . . we saw little blue birds (probably Pinyon Jays) and little birds with red heads and yellow bodies and all sorts of hummingbirds and we couldn't identify any of them;
5) the name for a group of ravens . . . everyone knows a group of crows is called a murder, but we kept seeing groups of ravens (usually consuming roadkill) and we didn't know that we could have referred to them as a "conspiracy" or an "unkindness" or a "constable";
6) what a decoy spider looks like;
7) if we could see Phil Torres getting attacked by a spitting cobra on a reality science show which never aired . . . we learned about this on a podcast called Talk Nerdy and the episode is great but you can't see the footage.
1) the veracity of the word "spackler," we were playing lots of Bananagrams and I used that word . . . but it looks like it's not a word;
2) the exact genetic origins of a mule . . . more on this tomorrow in a profanity-laced description of the North Kaibab trail;
3) the actual time . . . apparently, Arizona does not subscribe to Daylight Savings Time (but the Navajo Nation does) and so every ride was a crapshoot, because the GPS took this into consideration . . . sometimes . . . and we were operating with four different times-- the car clock said one thing, Cat's phone another, my phone a third time, and the clock in our cabin had a fourth (correct) time, but we never bothered to set anything to the correct time;
4) birds . . . we saw little blue birds (probably Pinyon Jays) and little birds with red heads and yellow bodies and all sorts of hummingbirds and we couldn't identify any of them;
5) the name for a group of ravens . . . everyone knows a group of crows is called a murder, but we kept seeing groups of ravens (usually consuming roadkill) and we didn't know that we could have referred to them as a "conspiracy" or an "unkindness" or a "constable";
6) what a decoy spider looks like;
7) if we could see Phil Torres getting attacked by a spitting cobra on a reality science show which never aired . . . we learned about this on a podcast called Talk Nerdy and the episode is great but you can't see the footage.
Miscellany
A few odds and ends:
1) if you want to see a plethora of dune buggies, Moab is the place-- they are apparently street legal in Utah-- and they are everywhere . . . riding on the BLM trails, parked in downtown Moab, in garages in our condo neighborhood, and being pulled on trailers; I don't know how people endure the dust and sand, but they certainly look like a lot of fun;
2) everytime I see a Pet Waste Station with plastic bags and signage urging dog owners to clean up after their pets, I really miss Sirius . . . and watching the Family Guy episode when Brian gets hit by a car didn't help;
3) the Moon travel guide on Arizona describes the North Kaibab Trail-- which we'll probably be hiking as you read this-- as "twisting down improbable routes hard against the cliffs, with nothing but your sanity keeping you away from the gorge."
1) if you want to see a plethora of dune buggies, Moab is the place-- they are apparently street legal in Utah-- and they are everywhere . . . riding on the BLM trails, parked in downtown Moab, in garages in our condo neighborhood, and being pulled on trailers; I don't know how people endure the dust and sand, but they certainly look like a lot of fun;
2) everytime I see a Pet Waste Station with plastic bags and signage urging dog owners to clean up after their pets, I really miss Sirius . . . and watching the Family Guy episode when Brian gets hit by a car didn't help;
3) the Moon travel guide on Arizona describes the North Kaibab Trail-- which we'll probably be hiking as you read this-- as "twisting down improbable routes hard against the cliffs, with nothing but your sanity keeping you away from the gorge."
Grand Canyon: The Sequel
We are probably off the grid right now, on the desolate North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and the views are probably breath-taking, and the magnificence of the canyon is most certainly awe-inspiring, overwhelming and profound, but don't worry-- because if Steve Martin's character in the Lawrence Kasdan film Grand Canyon is any indicator, then we'll be back to our normal grouchy, sarcastic selves by the time we get home to New Jersey.
One Last Epic Day in Utah
Our last full day in Moab we:
1) got up at the crack of dawn and drove into Arches one last time-- we hiked through the Windows region and saw a big-eared jackrabbit . . . for pictures, head to Captions of Cat;
2) drove through dirt, gravel, sand, and rock to Mill Canyon Dinosaur Trail and Copper Ridge Dinosaur Trail . . . Mill Canyon is the place to see a lizard sitting on a rock that contains giant leg bones of his long extinct cousin-- if a lizard could understand irony, would this be irony?-- and Copper Ridge is the place to see giant Diplodocus footprints right next to perfectly preserved Allosaurus footprints, you can see the claw indentations of the Allosaur and you can see where the herbivore made a sharp right turn, possibly to check out the lurking predator . . . this happened 150 million years ago but the footprints, pressed deep into the shale, look like they could have been made minutes before . . . kudos to our Toyota Sienna minivan for making it out to these sites, as the roads are suggested for only high-framed four-wheel drive vehicles;
3) drove out to Canyonlands National Park and hiked to the Mesa Arch, which sits atop a five-hundred foot cliff, and then climbed on top of Whale Rock, which offers panoramic views of the entire region-- you feel like you are on top of the world . . . and, as a bonus, the rock really does look like a whale, blowhole and all;
4) ate at the Moab Diner, which has great green chile verde sauce . . . I am sampling the chile verde sauce everywhere we stop, and this stuff holds up, though my favorite batch so far was at Snooze in Boulder, with a close second at Jilbertitos #1 in Glenwood Springs;
5) endured another dust storm, apparently whenever the weather is pleasant in Utah, it's not actually pleasant, it's foreboding.
1) got up at the crack of dawn and drove into Arches one last time-- we hiked through the Windows region and saw a big-eared jackrabbit . . . for pictures, head to Captions of Cat;
2) drove through dirt, gravel, sand, and rock to Mill Canyon Dinosaur Trail and Copper Ridge Dinosaur Trail . . . Mill Canyon is the place to see a lizard sitting on a rock that contains giant leg bones of his long extinct cousin-- if a lizard could understand irony, would this be irony?-- and Copper Ridge is the place to see giant Diplodocus footprints right next to perfectly preserved Allosaurus footprints, you can see the claw indentations of the Allosaur and you can see where the herbivore made a sharp right turn, possibly to check out the lurking predator . . . this happened 150 million years ago but the footprints, pressed deep into the shale, look like they could have been made minutes before . . . kudos to our Toyota Sienna minivan for making it out to these sites, as the roads are suggested for only high-framed four-wheel drive vehicles;
3) drove out to Canyonlands National Park and hiked to the Mesa Arch, which sits atop a five-hundred foot cliff, and then climbed on top of Whale Rock, which offers panoramic views of the entire region-- you feel like you are on top of the world . . . and, as a bonus, the rock really does look like a whale, blowhole and all;
4) ate at the Moab Diner, which has great green chile verde sauce . . . I am sampling the chile verde sauce everywhere we stop, and this stuff holds up, though my favorite batch so far was at Snooze in Boulder, with a close second at Jilbertitos #1 in Glenwood Springs;
5) endured another dust storm, apparently whenever the weather is pleasant in Utah, it's not actually pleasant, it's foreboding.
Utah: People Get Stuck On Rocks Here
Here are some other fun things to do in and around Moab:
1) drive into the mountains and do the Manti La Sal loop road-- 100 degrees in Moab but up at the Squaw Springs trailhead it was 77-- the hike had phenomenal views of the red rock valley, but once we entered the gate, there was a fair bit of cow poop on the trail, and we saw one cow ahead in the brush, but she ran away-- the rest of the drive was incredibly scenic but also hair-raising, narrow switch backs and no guard rails . . . we ate lunch at the bottom of the loop at Lion's Park and watched a youngish girl get stuck on top of a climbing boulder-- her siblings were up and down in a flash, and left her there, crying, wearing flip flops on her hands and feet, and it took her parents twenty minutes to coax her down;
2) hike up to some Allosaurus tracks on a tilted slab of rock and view the nearby petroglyphs;
3) read a Tony Hillerman mystery-- I finished my first, A Thief of Time . . . it's full of four corners topography, Native American mythology, pot hunting, shady archeology deals, wild places, anthropology and murder;
4) hike the Mill Creek Trail . . . it runs past several swimmin' holes, and though the signs warn that the water is contaminated with giardia and e coli bacteria, this didn't stop the locals from diving right in-- we mainly waded through and across the stream, until we made it to the waterfall, which is in a beautiful spot protected by a sandstone ledge roof . . . there is a rope which the locals use to scale the falls, and then they jump down into a rather shallow pool-- as a bonus and fitting end to the day, we got to see a college-aged tourist climb the rope and clamber to the ledge . . . a local girl gave him advice on how to get up, and then, like the little girl earlier in the day, he didn't really know how to jump down-- and his mom started freaking out a bit-- and finally, another guy told him a side route down and he disappeared . . . but then we saw plenty of locals jump off the cliff, and no one broke their neck, and then-- a double bonus, a windstorm rolled in just as we got to the car, sand started flying, tumbleweeds actually tumbled, and the entire neighborhood came out of their houses to enjoy the show.
1) drive into the mountains and do the Manti La Sal loop road-- 100 degrees in Moab but up at the Squaw Springs trailhead it was 77-- the hike had phenomenal views of the red rock valley, but once we entered the gate, there was a fair bit of cow poop on the trail, and we saw one cow ahead in the brush, but she ran away-- the rest of the drive was incredibly scenic but also hair-raising, narrow switch backs and no guard rails . . . we ate lunch at the bottom of the loop at Lion's Park and watched a youngish girl get stuck on top of a climbing boulder-- her siblings were up and down in a flash, and left her there, crying, wearing flip flops on her hands and feet, and it took her parents twenty minutes to coax her down;
2) hike up to some Allosaurus tracks on a tilted slab of rock and view the nearby petroglyphs;
3) read a Tony Hillerman mystery-- I finished my first, A Thief of Time . . . it's full of four corners topography, Native American mythology, pot hunting, shady archeology deals, wild places, anthropology and murder;
4) hike the Mill Creek Trail . . . it runs past several swimmin' holes, and though the signs warn that the water is contaminated with giardia and e coli bacteria, this didn't stop the locals from diving right in-- we mainly waded through and across the stream, until we made it to the waterfall, which is in a beautiful spot protected by a sandstone ledge roof . . . there is a rope which the locals use to scale the falls, and then they jump down into a rather shallow pool-- as a bonus and fitting end to the day, we got to see a college-aged tourist climb the rope and clamber to the ledge . . . a local girl gave him advice on how to get up, and then, like the little girl earlier in the day, he didn't really know how to jump down-- and his mom started freaking out a bit-- and finally, another guy told him a side route down and he disappeared . . . but then we saw plenty of locals jump off the cliff, and no one broke their neck, and then-- a double bonus, a windstorm rolled in just as we got to the car, sand started flying, tumbleweeds actually tumbled, and the entire neighborhood came out of their houses to enjoy the show.
Don't Know Much About History, But . . .
I admittedly don't know many of the details of history-- I'm more of a big-picture guy-- but I am smart enough to recognize that Peter Frankopan's tour de force book Silk Roads: A New History of the World is not only precise and vivid with the details, but it will also make you revise your big-picture ideas as well . . . here are a few passages that I liked:
1) Early Christians had to battle against prejudice, bringing anguished cries from writers such as Tertullian (c. 160-225 AD), whose appeals have been compared by one distinguished scholar to Shakespeare's Shylock: we Christians "live beside you, share your food, your dress, your customs, the same necessities as life as you do," he implored . . . just because we do not attend Roman religious ceremonies, he wrote, does not mean that we are not human beings . . . "Have we different teeth or organs of incestuous lust?";
2) Once, wrote the historian al-Mas udi, the ancient Greeks and Romans had allowed the sciences to flourish; then they adopted Christianity . . . when they did so, they effaced the signs of learning, eliminated its traces, destroyed its paths" . . . science was defeated by faith . . . it is almost the precise opposite of the world as we see it today: the fundamentalists were not the Muslims, but the Christians; those whose minds were open, curious, and generous were based in the east-- and certainly not in Europe;
3) The reality of the story was very different . . . although the days that followed the assassination of Franz Ferdinand saw a series of misunderstandings, discussions, ultimata and permutations that would all be impossible to recreate, the seeds of war grew out of changes and developments located many thousands of miles away . . . Russia's rising ambition and the progress it was making in Persia, Central Asia and the Far East put pressure on Britain's position overseas, resulting in the fossilization of alliances in Europe.
1) Early Christians had to battle against prejudice, bringing anguished cries from writers such as Tertullian (c. 160-225 AD), whose appeals have been compared by one distinguished scholar to Shakespeare's Shylock: we Christians "live beside you, share your food, your dress, your customs, the same necessities as life as you do," he implored . . . just because we do not attend Roman religious ceremonies, he wrote, does not mean that we are not human beings . . . "Have we different teeth or organs of incestuous lust?";
2) Once, wrote the historian al-Mas udi, the ancient Greeks and Romans had allowed the sciences to flourish; then they adopted Christianity . . . when they did so, they effaced the signs of learning, eliminated its traces, destroyed its paths" . . . science was defeated by faith . . . it is almost the precise opposite of the world as we see it today: the fundamentalists were not the Muslims, but the Christians; those whose minds were open, curious, and generous were based in the east-- and certainly not in Europe;
3) The reality of the story was very different . . . although the days that followed the assassination of Franz Ferdinand saw a series of misunderstandings, discussions, ultimata and permutations that would all be impossible to recreate, the seeds of war grew out of changes and developments located many thousands of miles away . . . Russia's rising ambition and the progress it was making in Persia, Central Asia and the Far East put pressure on Britain's position overseas, resulting in the fossilization of alliances in Europe.
Ranger Mike Inspires Dave to Endure the Heat
High Painless Drifters
Gold stars for my kids on Sunday morning, they got up without prompting or complaint at 5 AM, and we hiked the Devil's Garden and primitive loop trail, the longest in the park-- when we hit the trail (6:30 AM) it was shady and 60 degrees, and six miles and three and a half hours later, upon our return it was only 83 degrees . . . not bad at all in the desert; the hike was astounding, lots of arches, including the longest in the world (Landscape Arch) and the aesthetically pleasing Double O Arch; the kids enjoyed all the rock climbing-- we hiked along narrow slanted precipes, atop slender rock fins, into shady gullies and canyons, and along a few exposed high plains looking out over the mesas and mountains and spires of red sandstone; there was also plenty of wildlife-- we saw deer, jackrabbits, lizards, a snakeskin, and a little toad with beautiful red spots (aptly named the red-spotted toad) and while none of these animals would be particularly exciting out of context-- a bunny is a bunny and we often have deer on our front lawn-- but when you see something moving through the red sand and cacti and sage and stone of the Moab desert, the feeling is extraterrestrial, like witnessing life on Mars . . . for some pictures of this stuff (especially sunrise on Balanced Rock and the red-spotted toad) head over to Captions of Cat and for posterity, if my kids get in big trouble in the future (which they certainly will) they can refer to this post for a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Hiking Boots Are For Sissies
Though we got a bit of a late start (by desert standards) and didn't get to the trailhead until 7:30 AM, we decided to tackle the most famous and popular hike in Arches National Park, Delicate Arch; when we arrived, the parking lot was already half full and there were a fair amount of people walking into the red rock desert . . . we were well-prepared for the heat and the slickrock, with our sun hats and hiking boots and plenty of water-- the hike is over three miles, with a strenuous steep ascent without much shade, but apparently-- if you're really tough and Asian and came by tour bus-- then you make the hike much more difficult by wearing completely inappropriate clothing and footwear; we saw Asian folks wearing heavy jackets, jeans, flip-flops, dress shoes, wedge heels, carrying umbrellas in one hand and cameras in the other . . . and despite these encumbrances, they moved along at a decent clip; in order to embrace this challenge and do America proud, I am going to do my next Arches hike in sandals, long underwear, sweatpants, and a sweat-shirt, while carrying a laptop computer and a lit sparkler . . . and I did harness my inner-Asian when I descended low on the slickrock bowl below the Arch to take a picture of my family-- my wife said I was making people nervous because I was close to the rim and not looking at my footing and she reminded me that many people fall while snapping pictures, a fact I did not know . . . anyway, despite the late start and the biting gnats that only swarmed Catherine (a very rare occurrence, according to the ranger) and the line of people waiting to get a picture inside the Arch, it was still beautiful at the top (and quite cool, I guess because of the shade, the desert, breeze, and the altitude) and it was a fast walk down (with an excellent side trail to see some petroglyphs) and then we stopped for lunch at The Moab Brewery, which now serves full strength beer . . . the last time Cat and I were there-- twenty years ago-- they only served 3.2 beer, so that's a major improvement, but we still heard the waiter give a long, apologetic explanation to the table next to us about why they couldn't order a flight of beer . . . in Utah, you can't order more than two drinks at a time-- even if they're just shot glasses of beer-- and the two drinks can't both be liquor drinks, so you can order a shot and a beer, but not two margaritas (according to this waiter, who sounded like he'd done this spiel a million times before) but he told them once they chugged their two shot glasses of beer, they could order two more . . . and then drive 80 mph to the next bar . . . and if you need more visuals to understand all this gibberish, head over to Captions of Cat.
Denver to Moab: Ice Your Beer!
Utah: the land where you can legally drive 80 mph, but you can't buy full strength beer in the grocery store (and after white-knuckling it along the scenic route into Moab-- Route 128, which is an incredibly scenic route, as there are no unsightly guardrails to ruin the views-- so after navigating that, I really wanted a cold beer . . . but the good stuff I bought in Colorado was warm, and the only full strength beer available in Moab was in the State Liquor Store . . . and they only sell that warm . . . warm? . . . and the stuff Cat bought in the supermarket in Utah was 3.2 . . . because that's how Utah supermarkets roll, and that information was extremely difficult to find on the label, so I did the usual stupidity and put some cans of warm Colorado beer in the freezer, then went to the pool, then came back and tried to pour a cold one, only to find it was frozen slush . . . so next time I'm coming through, I'll remember: ice your beer in Colorado if you want a cold one in Moab).
Things To Do in Boulder and Denver When You're Dead (Tired)
While the ride from Jersey to Boulder nearly killed me, I miraculously recovered-- I'm not dead yet!-- and did some things, such as:
1) catch up with Jason at his favorite beer and burger joint (Reuben's Burger Bistro) while watching the USMNT get annihilated by Argentina . . . I recommend the River Runners Pale Ale, the Escape to Colorado IPA, any of the Renegade beers, and some better goal side defending;
2) eat a gigantic breakfast burrito (the size of my thigh, Jason claimed) smothered in thick and delicious green chile sauce at Snooze an AM Eatery;
3) hike to the Royal Arch in Chautauqua Park . . . the view of Boulder through the arch is spectacular but the park is quite busy-- apparently no one in Boulder works, they just hike around (even if they're old or pregnant or have to carry a small child in a pack) and so I had to park down the road and hike to the park and the trail is steep and rocky in places, so I was sweating up a storm by the time I got to the top (because I overhydrated to deal with the altitude and so I had plenty of liquid in me to sweat out) but I did NOT get a high-altitude headache-- I'm getting smarter about this: I took it easy the night before, only drank four beers at Reuben's, and then drank plenty of water during the hike-- despite this my legs felt like jelly on the way down;
4) drink a few Norns Roggenbier at the Fate Company in Boulder-- good stuff;
5) wander around the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge before and after I picked up my wife and kids at the Denver airport . . . Ian caught a toad, we all saw lots of prairie dogs, and the jackrabbits and the buffalo roamed;
6) enjoy the Denver Art Museum and the food truck festival just outside;
7) sample the rattlesnake/pheasant, buffalo, boar, and beef wrapped in bacon dogs at Jim's Biker Bar;
8) reference a '90's noir movie that I barely remember . . . stay tuned for a Red Rock West allusion!
1) catch up with Jason at his favorite beer and burger joint (Reuben's Burger Bistro) while watching the USMNT get annihilated by Argentina . . . I recommend the River Runners Pale Ale, the Escape to Colorado IPA, any of the Renegade beers, and some better goal side defending;
2) eat a gigantic breakfast burrito (the size of my thigh, Jason claimed) smothered in thick and delicious green chile sauce at Snooze an AM Eatery;
3) hike to the Royal Arch in Chautauqua Park . . . the view of Boulder through the arch is spectacular but the park is quite busy-- apparently no one in Boulder works, they just hike around (even if they're old or pregnant or have to carry a small child in a pack) and so I had to park down the road and hike to the park and the trail is steep and rocky in places, so I was sweating up a storm by the time I got to the top (because I overhydrated to deal with the altitude and so I had plenty of liquid in me to sweat out) but I did NOT get a high-altitude headache-- I'm getting smarter about this: I took it easy the night before, only drank four beers at Reuben's, and then drank plenty of water during the hike-- despite this my legs felt like jelly on the way down;
4) drink a few Norns Roggenbier at the Fate Company in Boulder-- good stuff;
5) wander around the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge before and after I picked up my wife and kids at the Denver airport . . . Ian caught a toad, we all saw lots of prairie dogs, and the jackrabbits and the buffalo roamed;
6) enjoy the Denver Art Museum and the food truck festival just outside;
7) sample the rattlesnake/pheasant, buffalo, boar, and beef wrapped in bacon dogs at Jim's Biker Bar;
8) reference a '90's noir movie that I barely remember . . . stay tuned for a Red Rock West allusion!
President Obama! Explain this Political Policy Paradox!
President Obama has been pushing for new regulations on the payday loan industry, and has spoken out very clearly against predatory lending: "If you're making a profit by trapping hardworking Americans in a vicious cycle of debt, then you need to find a new way of doing business," but -- ironically-- one of his policies has caused people struggling financially to take out a similar loan . . . in order to "rent" tires . . . because the price of tires has increased enormously due to a 35% punitive tariff President Obama placed on Chinese tires, which were flooding the market and driving down prices (you can learn all about this by listening to Planet Money Episode 467: Tires, Taxes, and the Grizz) but the long and short of it is that the United Steelworkers Union lobbied for the tariff, and Obama proudly saved 1200 US jobs in the tire industry, but Planet Money figures that it would have cost 48 million dollars to pay those workers, but the tire tax is costing US citizens 1.1 billion dollars in tire costs, thus people can't afford tires and so are "renting" them from predatory lenders, being trapped in a vicious cycle of debt, and paying much much more for their tires than they would have if Obama would not have intervened . . . and so I wonder if the President is aware of this irony-- he's a smart guy-- and just has to live with the awareness, because saving jobs and catering to special interest groups is a part of politics, or if he doesn't realize the paradox in his policy and see that he's created the exact situation he has tried to eradicate . . . someone pass this post to him, and he can defend himself in the comments (but you better watch out for zman, Mr. President, his comments are incisive and funny and might be the end of you).
Topeka to Boulder . . . Not as Close as It Looks on the Map
I made it to Boulder and it's beautiful (but quite hot) but I nearly lost my mind in Kansas . . . and if you're a fan of Sentence of Dave, then you'll really appreciate this-- I got incredibly pissed off TWICE, once on each leg of my journey, each time when I realized I had an hour more to drive than I thought because of the time change (I hate time changes) as I was relying on the GPS, which based its ETA on adjusted time (and so I got pissed off at Central and Mountain time, respectively) and I also learned that listening to stand-up comedy album after stand-up comedy album, one after another, each angrier and edgier and more political and weird than the last, is a great way to stay alert, but also a recipe for going crazy, podcasts are a lot more mellow . . . anyway, here's how I killed eight hours yesterday:
1) Patton Oswalt Feelin' Kinda Patton;
2) Slanted and Enchanted Pavement;
3) Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots The Flaming Lips;
4) No Respect Rodney Dangerfield;
5) Fashion Nugget Cake;
6) Funkadelic America Eats Its Young;
7) Shame-Based Man Bruce McCulloch;
8) Sheryl Crow Tuesday Night Music Club;
9) Rant in E-Minor Bill Hicks;
10) Born to Run Bruce Springsteen . . . of course;
11) Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything;
12) The Test, episodes 34 and 37 . . .
and, yes-- I know it is narcissistic and absurd to listen to your own podcast-- but I was really losing my mind and it was nice to hear the sound of my own voice, interacting normally with other people and here's a few things I chose not to do: I did NOT stop at Eisenhower's Boyhood Home and Library, nor did I care to take a gander at the World's Largest Czech Egg or the Kansas Auto Racing Museum . . . maybe next time, when I'm in a self-driving car, I'll have the robot driver pull over so I can check out the Czech egg.
1) Patton Oswalt Feelin' Kinda Patton;
2) Slanted and Enchanted Pavement;
3) Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots The Flaming Lips;
4) No Respect Rodney Dangerfield;
5) Fashion Nugget Cake;
6) Funkadelic America Eats Its Young;
7) Shame-Based Man Bruce McCulloch;
8) Sheryl Crow Tuesday Night Music Club;
9) Rant in E-Minor Bill Hicks;
10) Born to Run Bruce Springsteen . . . of course;
11) Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything;
12) The Test, episodes 34 and 37 . . .
and, yes-- I know it is narcissistic and absurd to listen to your own podcast-- but I was really losing my mind and it was nice to hear the sound of my own voice, interacting normally with other people and here's a few things I chose not to do: I did NOT stop at Eisenhower's Boyhood Home and Library, nor did I care to take a gander at the World's Largest Czech Egg or the Kansas Auto Racing Museum . . . maybe next time, when I'm in a self-driving car, I'll have the robot driver pull over so I can check out the Czech egg.
Cross Country Again: Jersey to Pittsburgh to Topeka
I have driven out West five times now; once with my buddy John-- we made it all the way to Montana before I blew four of the engine rods of his Jeep Wagoneer-- and once with Catherine, we took the Jeep all the way to the Grand Canyon, and once with Whitney-- we lost our minds in Kansas but finally did make it to Boulder-- and once with the entire family, again to Montana, and now this time-- alone-- and I've made it Topeka (the family is flying in to Denver on Thursday morning) and I'm not doing this again until we have self-driving cars . . . but while it was a long way, I had a great pit stop at John's place in Pittsburgh and watched the NBA finals and I had far more to listen to than on the previous trips; I don't remember what John and I listened to in the Wagoneer, but I had to take the bus home (John and Ryan abandoned me and flew, but I didn't want to spend the money) and all I had were two cassettes -- Dead Letter Office by R.E.M. and The Velvet Underground & Nico-- and a yellow walkman, so I listened to those over and over . . . with Catherine I guess we listened to CD's and talked (this was the mid '90's) and I don't remember what Whitney and I listened to because we mainly played stupid games, including drafting bizarre "Olympic" teams from among our fraternity brothers-- the events were darts and pool and such-- and these teams offended a lot of people once we arrived in Colorado (plus we were very very hungover, so if we listened to anything it was at a low volume) and our family trip two years ago we were stocked digitally and listened to plenty of podcasts, including Professor Blastoff and This American Life . . . for this trip I have a smartphone loaded with stuff, and so here is an incomplete list, for posterity, of how I killed twenty hours alone, driving from Jersey to Topeka:
1) Squarepusher Go Plastic-- yikes, like being inside a broken computer;
2) Slate Money;
3) Paul F Tompkins Impersonal;
4) Norm Macdonald Me Doing Standup;
5) Wilco Summerteeth;
6) Beck Odelay;
7) The Grateful Dead Live/ Dead;
8) Jimmy Smith All the Way;
9) Shut Up You Fucking Baby David Cross;
10) Maria Bamford Ask Me About My New God;
11) The Replacements Tim;
12) Chris Rock Never Scared;
13) Christopher Titus Norman Rockwell is Burning;
14) several episodes of Planet Money;
15) several episodes of Vox's The Weeds;
16) an episode of Invisibilia;
17) some Rush Limbaugh . . . when discussing the Orlando alligator incident, he claimed that "animals don't think" and "alligators don't think" and "your dog doesn't think," which flies in the face of all current research, and then he ranted about how there is no gun show loophole and that the Obama administration is redacting the fact that the Orlando shooting was connected to Islamic terrorism because the administration doesn't want to offend Muslims;
18) Husker Du New Day Rising;
19) a fantastic episode of This American Life: Tell Me I'm Fat;
in other notes, I did NOT stop at "The World's Largest Wind Chime" and I had a delicious burger and two local pints of beer at Henry T's in Topeka.
1) Squarepusher Go Plastic-- yikes, like being inside a broken computer;
2) Slate Money;
3) Paul F Tompkins Impersonal;
4) Norm Macdonald Me Doing Standup;
5) Wilco Summerteeth;
6) Beck Odelay;
7) The Grateful Dead Live/ Dead;
8) Jimmy Smith All the Way;
9) Shut Up You Fucking Baby David Cross;
10) Maria Bamford Ask Me About My New God;
11) The Replacements Tim;
12) Chris Rock Never Scared;
13) Christopher Titus Norman Rockwell is Burning;
14) several episodes of Planet Money;
15) several episodes of Vox's The Weeds;
16) an episode of Invisibilia;
17) some Rush Limbaugh . . . when discussing the Orlando alligator incident, he claimed that "animals don't think" and "alligators don't think" and "your dog doesn't think," which flies in the face of all current research, and then he ranted about how there is no gun show loophole and that the Obama administration is redacting the fact that the Orlando shooting was connected to Islamic terrorism because the administration doesn't want to offend Muslims;
18) Husker Du New Day Rising;
19) a fantastic episode of This American Life: Tell Me I'm Fat;
in other notes, I did NOT stop at "The World's Largest Wind Chime" and I had a delicious burger and two local pints of beer at Henry T's in Topeka.
The Test 54: Name That Comic
This week on The Test, Stacey demonstrates her uncanny ability to recognize stand-up comics by voice alone . . . Cunningham claims to have the same ability, but you'll have to be the judge on her uncanniness; I provide the clips, see if you can identify the comic and theme (and, most importantly, see if you can keep up with Stacey).
Sucking It Forward
In preparation for our cross country trip, I took the van to Glow Express Car Wash on Route 27 in Edison, so I could vacuum all the dirt, leaves, sand, turf pellets, and garbage from the floor and the mats (as we would be tracking in new and exotic dirt, leaves, sand, and garbage on our trip and I didn't want the fancy new vacation debris to get confused with the old Jersey debris) and I pulled in front of the second vacuum on the right of the dumpster (this is important) and inserted four quarters and the vacuum was totally lame, barely any sucking power, a waste of a dollar . . . but I sucked up what I could and then switched to the vacuum directly to the right of the dumpster and this is the vacuum you want, it's a beast (at one point, when I slung it over my shoulder so I could proceed to the next section of the car, it attached itself to my back, like a giant sucking python, and I had trouble removing it from my shirt) and then as I was pulling out, job completed, a woman was pulling in front of the lame vacuum, and instead of letting her suffer the way I did, I opened my window and told her the deal and she thanked me profusely and that was my good deed for the day.
Fantastic Moments in Coaching Part 1
Last night, we ran travel soccer tryouts for the U-9 kids, and I was in charge of organizing the drills and games; I had lots of help though-- several other coaches and some youngsters-- and things were going smoothly, until I asked the twenty-one first and second graders to form a circle inside a big square made of cones . . . apparently, little kids CANNOT organize themselves into a circle: they kept getting into a weird lumpy line and then I would say, "That's a line! Not a circle!" and then they would bunch into the corner of the square (as far away from me as possible) and I was trying to send kids to either side and then have the rest fill-in and the other coaches were helping and the kid-assistants were trying to help, but they were laughing so hard they weren't of much use and finally a mom stepped in-- thank God-- and had them all hold hands, so that they formed a ring, and then they all took two giant steps back and we did the drill (which was a mess, and it works great with kids a little bit older) and when I told my wife, who teaches elementary school, she said that it's developmental, little kids can't make a circle until they get to fourth grade . . . and sometimes, they have trouble beyond that: as evidenced by this this fantastic moment in teaching.
5 Soccer Games and a Wake
I apologize in advance for being a one-upper, but I definitely one-upped Four Weddings and a Funeral yesterday: I watched five soccer matches and attended a wake . . .
1) at 9 AM, while entering grades and checking email, I watched England vs. Wales . . . I was rooting for Wales-- I love to see England choke in these big tournaments-- and England won 2-1;
2) at noon, while eating a delicious five dollar lunch special (chicken cheesesteak) at The General Saloon, I watched Ukraine vs. Northern Ireland, and I was rooting for the Ukraine, in honor of my buddy Roman . . . and the Ukraine lost;
3) we then attended my friend, co-worker, and podcasting partner Stacey's father-in-law's wake;
4) at 3 PM, while I was getting my kids ready for my son's travel team semi-final game, we watched Poland tie Germany . . . I was rooting for Poland, of course . . . no one but the Germans root for Germany;
5) at 6 PM, I watched my son's semi-final game . . . they had a heroic win against a better team in the quarter finals, and they went up 1-0 on this team, who didn't look quite as skillful but was more organized, and my son's team eventually lost 2-1 . . . and I was rooting for my son's team, of course, so that was the toughest loss of the day;
6) at 9:30 PM, I watched the US beat Ecuador, and I couldn't lose because I was rooting for both sides, as I'm a US citizen of course, but I have some Ecuadorian players on my soccer team who were decked out in full Ecuador gear at my son's game and I'm a big fan of the Galapagos Islands . . . so a 2-1 US win in a fast-paced game was all I could ask for . . . and, as a bonus, before and during the game we listened to Phil, who is a soccer guy, sing and play music on his guitar and they set up cornhole in the back room of Pino's, so it was an excellent end to a soccer-filled day of mindless rooting, which was briefly interrupted by a reminder of our ephemeral mortality.
1) at 9 AM, while entering grades and checking email, I watched England vs. Wales . . . I was rooting for Wales-- I love to see England choke in these big tournaments-- and England won 2-1;
2) at noon, while eating a delicious five dollar lunch special (chicken cheesesteak) at The General Saloon, I watched Ukraine vs. Northern Ireland, and I was rooting for the Ukraine, in honor of my buddy Roman . . . and the Ukraine lost;
3) we then attended my friend, co-worker, and podcasting partner Stacey's father-in-law's wake;
4) at 3 PM, while I was getting my kids ready for my son's travel team semi-final game, we watched Poland tie Germany . . . I was rooting for Poland, of course . . . no one but the Germans root for Germany;
5) at 6 PM, I watched my son's semi-final game . . . they had a heroic win against a better team in the quarter finals, and they went up 1-0 on this team, who didn't look quite as skillful but was more organized, and my son's team eventually lost 2-1 . . . and I was rooting for my son's team, of course, so that was the toughest loss of the day;
6) at 9:30 PM, I watched the US beat Ecuador, and I couldn't lose because I was rooting for both sides, as I'm a US citizen of course, but I have some Ecuadorian players on my soccer team who were decked out in full Ecuador gear at my son's game and I'm a big fan of the Galapagos Islands . . . so a 2-1 US win in a fast-paced game was all I could ask for . . . and, as a bonus, before and during the game we listened to Phil, who is a soccer guy, sing and play music on his guitar and they set up cornhole in the back room of Pino's, so it was an excellent end to a soccer-filled day of mindless rooting, which was briefly interrupted by a reminder of our ephemeral mortality.
The Test 53: Last Words
This week on The Test, Cunningham knocks it out of the park with a fantastic quiz on famous last words from literature-- not only are her excerpts well-chosen, but she pronounces them trippingly on the tongue . . . until number seven, that's when things get weird; as a bonus, Stacey explains why she couldn't name her dog Walter White, Cunningham is right again, Dave explains the difference between white power and white powers, and Stacey's eyes get mad at her brain . . . this one is a classic, check it out, keep score, and see if you know your ass from your Waymunding.
Teach Your Children (to swim) Well
Politically and diplomatically, the word is doing a much better job addressing the looming threat of global climate change-- cheers for humans-- but, unfortunately, we may be past the point of no return, and the mainly self-enforced emissions regulations countries are placing on themselves are probably a drop in the bucket . . . this isn't one of those catastrophes like a pandemic, where if you get the vaccine to half the people then you save half the people-- which isn't perfect, but it's better than nothing . . . but with global warming, if the ice melts-- and it's melting-- then there's not much you can do to reverse that . . . so while you should find inspiration and solace in the cooperative spirit of mankind, you'd also better check the elevation of your house; I live right next to a floodplain: best case scenario, I'll have a fishing dock off my back porch (and possibly a great view of the park, if the house just below me gets flooded out . . . not that I'm rooting for this to occur, but if we're already past the point of no return, then you've got to find the silver lining) and worse case we're completely swamped and get cholera from contaminated drinking water . . . anyway, we should probably let Donaldson Park return to being a wetland, so it can absorb some of this water (and the soccer fields are so awful that this would be no great loss) but I think we'll avoid doing radical things like this until it's too late, because that's just the way people the American people operate (or at least according to Winston Churchill, who famously said, "You can always count on Americans to do the right thing-- after they've tried everything else . . . Hurricane Sandy wiped out the Jersey Shore and people went and rebuilt their houses-- with government and insurance money-- right back in the same places, hoping they won't have to do it again in their lifetime) and while we may eventually use a fairly simple and sound Carbon Emission Tax, which I learned about while listening to this 2013 Planet Money podcast, but we probably won't do that until things get really dire, and by then most of the readers of this blog will be old or dead, and it's fine if our grandkids have to deal with the problem, in fact, I've heard that a bit of flooding builds character, which is just what our robot-reliant grandkids will need in spades.
Keeping It Real (Literal)
On Saturday, my son twelve year old son was on the phone with Catherine and I was in the kitchen, and we were ironing out lunch plans-- either I was going to cook something or Catherine was going to pick something up on her way home-- and it was one of those awkward, ugly attempts at communication: Alex was talking on the phone and I was trying to follow the conversation from my end, but only hearing one side of it, and so I was yelling things to Alex so that he could convey them to Catherine, and finally, I needed some logistical information so I could figure out the options-- and I should point out that my son Alex is a smart kid-- and I asked him-- "Where is mommy right now?" and he replied, "On the phone!"
I Know What Google Wants (But They Know I Know)
According to Laszlo Bock, Google's Senior Vice-President of People Operations, if you are being interviewed by Google and the interviewer asks you to rate yourself as a software engineer on a scale of one to five, with five being the highest, and you are a man, then the answer that correlates with the most success at the company is "four" and if you are a woman, then the answer that correlates with the most success is "five," and this is probably because men tend to overrate their abilities, and so a man with some intellectual humility and an attitude that he can grow to be better tends to work out well, and since women are generally more accurate when they reflect on themselves and not usually as confident about their abilities as men, then a woman who rates herself as a "five" is probably not only very skilled but also quite self-assured, and this has worked out well for Google . . . but now this information is out in the world (like the classic "old school" Google interview questions such as: why are manhole covers round?) and so Google knows that I know these numbers, and I know that they know that I know, and so this is how I am going to proceed:
1) I'm going to learn some software engineering skills, enough so that I'm a "three" on the scale;
2) this actually means I'm a "two" on the scale since I'm a man and I tend to overrate myself;
3) judging by how I did in my 8 AM PASCAL class in college (D) and my wife's analysis of me: "you have a huge ego, your self-esteem is out of control, and you think you can do anything," I would probably be over-estimating significantly and I'd actually be a "one" on the scale;
4) then before my interview I'm going to dress as a woman, and wear a long-chestnut colored wig, so that I'll look like a female version of Brad Pitt . . . very beautiful, but also a bit manly;
5) and, during the interview, I will rate myself a four and a half, which is the perfect rating for a gender-bending female/male Brad Pitt look-alike and I will definitely get hired, and while my lack of coding skills will soon be discovered, there's no way Google is going to fire a transgender Brad Pitt look-alike, and so my job security will be insured, until I quit and write my tell-all memoir . . .
6) unfortunately, now Google knows this plan, so I'm going to have to do the exact opposite . . . or am I?
1) I'm going to learn some software engineering skills, enough so that I'm a "three" on the scale;
2) this actually means I'm a "two" on the scale since I'm a man and I tend to overrate myself;
3) judging by how I did in my 8 AM PASCAL class in college (D) and my wife's analysis of me: "you have a huge ego, your self-esteem is out of control, and you think you can do anything," I would probably be over-estimating significantly and I'd actually be a "one" on the scale;
4) then before my interview I'm going to dress as a woman, and wear a long-chestnut colored wig, so that I'll look like a female version of Brad Pitt . . . very beautiful, but also a bit manly;
5) and, during the interview, I will rate myself a four and a half, which is the perfect rating for a gender-bending female/male Brad Pitt look-alike and I will definitely get hired, and while my lack of coding skills will soon be discovered, there's no way Google is going to fire a transgender Brad Pitt look-alike, and so my job security will be insured, until I quit and write my tell-all memoir . . .
6) unfortunately, now Google knows this plan, so I'm going to have to do the exact opposite . . . or am I?
The Chinese Curse, American Style
If you want to hear some scary political stuff, listen to Dan Carlin's new episode of Common Sense: Disengaging the Lizard Brain . . . he wonders if our country needs a post-civil-war style reconstruction to assuage the absolute hatred in our country between liberals and conservative, and he doubts the country can proceed forward without doing something about this antipathy . . . both of our presumptive presidential candidates are regarded as loathsome by their detractors-- and this hatred isn't restricted to those of the opposite party-- there are plenty of Democrats who won't vote for Clinton, and plenty of Republicans who won't vote for Trump . . . and while I'm sure most of it is hyperbolic, there are a lot of people claiming they'd rather move to Canada then endure a Trump or Clinton rereign; Carlin wonders if it would be better to break America into five separate countries and let people go their separate ways, rather than continue in this manner; Ezra Klein, who hosts Vox's policy podcast The Weeds, has studied a corollary to this idea . . . his article "No one's less moderate than moderates" explains that the American moderate is "a statistical myth," and that people labeled moderate tend to have a diverse variety of extreme opinions-- some of the opinions may be to the left and some may be to the right-- but there's no moderation of thought and logic . . . we're talking about people who want legalization of recreational marijuana and want a much harsher immigration policy-- they aren't moderate in either opinion but the mean of the two categorizes them somewhere between liberal and conservative, and so Klein argues that when we say moderate we actually mean what corporations want, because corporations don't want radical changes in policy in any direction . . . and while it's best not to think about this stuff too hard, because if you do then you might begin to think our country is a powder keg, and that this presidential election might light the fuse, it did make me reflect differently on the tired cliche "America: Love it or Leave it," which I just saw written on the side of a landscaping company trailer which was parked on my block . . . "love it or leave it" is a either/or logical fallacy if I've ever heard one, and it makes no sense whatsoever . . . the phrase leaves no room for revision (although that's not particularly catchy . . . America: love it or revise your thoughts about much of our government policy and look for diplomatic solutions that will mollify the polarization between the political parties) and also presents an option that's damned close to begging the question . . . most American don't even have passports, let alone the ways and means to emigrate to another country.
Sketchy Samaritan
Yesterday afternoon, I was walking my dog and he pooped for a second time-- but I did not have a second bag-- and so I sheepishly left the poop where it lay, but I am a responsible dog-owner and I hate it when other people don't clean up after their dogs, so I made note of where I was: Third Avenue across from a brick building, I walked the dog home, and then I got on my bike (armed with a plastic poop bag) and rode my bike back to the scene of the misdemeanor . . . but there's a lot of brick buildings on Third Avenue and I didn't take exact note of the cross street nor did I register exactly where he pooped . . . so I parked my bike against a tree and began my quest for poop . . . and while I knew I was doing the right thing, and I knew I was being a good person, I certainly don't think it appeared that way to the people walking and driving past . . . in fact, I think I looked downright weird, plastic bag open, searching the ground from corner to corner . . . and so from here on in, I'm always going to carry two bags when I walk the dog (a lesson I should have learned long ago).
I Did Not Receive a Tip
Turn the Dial and Lose That Smile
If you've got Netflix and you've been overly sanguine lately, and you're looking to a way to quell your cheerful alacrity, I suggest Happy Valley (irony!) if you want to be scared, anxious, and depressed for twelve episodes and Short Term 12 if you want to be scared, anxious and depressed for ninety minutes . . . both are visually compelling, well-structured, and emotionally exhausting . . . and don't let them fool you, they both start with relatively humorous scenes, but it's a trap!
The Test 52: The Test Test
Believe it or not, Stacey, Cunningham and I have been recording our podcast The Test for a year now-- we did a trial run in Stacey's classroom last June (which never aired due to poor sound quality) and we've produced an episode a week since then; Stacey starts season two with a meta-bang (my second favorite kind of bang) by administering a test on tests . . . I do fairly well, and-- season two plot twist-- so does Cunningham . . . so check it out, keep score, enjoy the new intermission music, see how you do, and welcome to season two.
Dave Revises His Thoughts on Unemployment in Greenland
For nearly thirty years, I thought Vizzini's threat to Andre the Giant was the height of humor: "Do you want me to send you back where you were? Unemployed . . . in Greenland!" but now that I've listened to the Embedded podcast "The Arctic" I'll never hear that line the same way again . . . I learned that Greenland has the highest suicide rate in the world, and the tragic phenomenon is pervasive among young people-- there isn't much work, the isolation is daunting, firearms are plentiful, and knowing someone who has committed suicide increases the chance that you will commit suicide . . . and everyone in Greenland knows someone who committed suicide; you can read about it here, but I recommend listening to the podcast, it's absolutely compelling from the first minute, but I warn you-- this will ruin a very funny scene from The Princess Bride.
Dave is Romantic (when it's convenient)
From time to time, I'll buy my wife flowers, but I never have them delivered to her place of work-- I'm too cheap and having flowers delivered is exorbitantly expensive-- but Friday was our sixteen year anniversary, and I had a half day at school (prom!) so I bought some flowers and delivered them to my wife's school myself (and then I tipped myself for the effort).
Baking Is Insanely Difficult
I heard an advertisement on a Hidden Brain podcast for some veggie crackers made in a "nut free bakery" but I'm more interested in the rival bakery, across the road, that is run by madmen and lunatics.
Old People Can Have Senioritis Too
I've been spending my days with a bunch of disaffected/soon-to-graduate teenagers, and I think their senioritis might be contagious because lately I've been having trouble getting my sentence up in the morning . . . or maybe I'm just worn out from trying to finish Ibsen's A Doll's House in the final days of school with these kids-- I love this play, but it's very realistic, which was quite revolutionary for its time, but if you're a senior in the final days of school, then realistic = boring (although in all three of my classes today, the person playing Helmer misread "tarantella" as "tarantula" and everyone agreed that the ending would have been much more exciting if Krogstad was eaten by a giant spider).
Camera Redux
The first sentence I wrote for this blog was short and sweet:
"I am shopping for a new digital camera because my wife has a habit of leaving things on the roof of our car,"
but I have grown more prolix over the years, and so this time around I'll provide you with more details; last week, my wife said, "I did something stupid," and then she told me that she left her fancy Canon digital camera (with detachable lenses and accessories like that) in the high school auditorium . . . she took some pictures while Alex performed at the middle school concert and then her tooth hurt so badly (botched root canal) that she left it in the aisle and I freaked out a little bit and said things like "Did you call the school?" and "Did you email Craig?" and "Are you sure you left it there?" and she said yes, she did all those things, and that I wasn't supposed to react like that, and instead I was supposed to say, "Don't worry about it honey, I'm sure someone will find it," and I said, "Okay, you're right, I'm sure someone will find it" and someone did . . . and --more importantly-- they gave it to the office and, now that I've thought about it, leaving a camera in an auditorium, which is stationary and rarely full of people, is a major improvement over leaving it on top of the car and then doing 70 mph on Route 18, and so what I should have said was, "Okay, no big deal, that's much safer than leaving it on the roof of the car" and the next time that this happens, that's what I will say.
"I am shopping for a new digital camera because my wife has a habit of leaving things on the roof of our car,"
but I have grown more prolix over the years, and so this time around I'll provide you with more details; last week, my wife said, "I did something stupid," and then she told me that she left her fancy Canon digital camera (with detachable lenses and accessories like that) in the high school auditorium . . . she took some pictures while Alex performed at the middle school concert and then her tooth hurt so badly (botched root canal) that she left it in the aisle and I freaked out a little bit and said things like "Did you call the school?" and "Did you email Craig?" and "Are you sure you left it there?" and she said yes, she did all those things, and that I wasn't supposed to react like that, and instead I was supposed to say, "Don't worry about it honey, I'm sure someone will find it," and I said, "Okay, you're right, I'm sure someone will find it" and someone did . . . and --more importantly-- they gave it to the office and, now that I've thought about it, leaving a camera in an auditorium, which is stationary and rarely full of people, is a major improvement over leaving it on top of the car and then doing 70 mph on Route 18, and so what I should have said was, "Okay, no big deal, that's much safer than leaving it on the roof of the car" and the next time that this happens, that's what I will say.
Can YOU Hear the Hum?
Not only have I never heard "the hum," but until a few days ago, I had never heard of the hum . . . but apparently-- according to this New Republic article by Colin Dickey-- the hum is a constant noise that by some estimates two percent of the population experiences, a thick low inescapable buzzing sound that makes some people depressed and crazy . . . which is totally understandably, my son was bouncing a ball in his room the other night for ten minutes and I nearly cracked; the hum might be due to tinnitus, but no one is sure and there's not an exact correlation with people who experience ringing of the ears, and there haven't been many experiments to find the source of the hum, so the jury is still out, but geophysicist David Deming believes it might be a result of very-low wave frequency (VLF) aircraft communication with submarines, as these waves can penetrate most anything . . . anyway, the real question is: can YOU hear it?
Highs and Lows of our One Night Trip to Philly
Considering we were only away for one night, our trip to the City of Brotherly Love had plenty of highs and lows:
1) listening to Steve Buscemi's audio tour of Eastern State Penitentiary was spooky and excellent-- and the kids really enjoyed the ruined ambiance, the haunting anecdotes, and the punishment cells . . . plus, I coerced my son Alex into asking me if I believed in ghosts;
2) after touring the penitentiary, we decided to eat at Bridgid's instead of Jack's Firehouse-- both are great places and Jack's is right across from the jail-- but when we got to Bridgid's, we learned they were serving brunch . . . yuck . . . nobody in my family even deigns to say the word "brunch," let alone eat it and so we turned around and walked back to Jack's and they were serving brunch . . . but this turned out to be fine, because they had regular lunch stuff on the menu as well as brunch stuff, and my kids were highly amused by the finches that kept sneaking in through the big firehouse doors and stealing cornbread;
3) on the ride to Philly we listened to stand-up comedy, something my older son has gotten into lately-- and I tried to turn him on to Steve Martin and Steven Wright, but those early comedy albums aren't recorded all that clearly and the compression is terrible so it's hard to hear the jokes and then if you turn up the volume, the applause and screaming between bits blows out your eardrums;
4) we settled on Jim Gaffigan, he's funny, my son loves him, his voice is crystal clear and his albums are not only family friendly, but he also makes plenty of jokes about hotel rooms and hotel pools, which was perfect, since we were staying in a hotel with an indoor pool;
5) just as Jim Gaffigan predicted, the hotel pool was kind of gross-- it was a billion degrees in the pool room, too hot to lounge and read, and there were some very young kids in the pool, who would have probably urinated into the water if they weren't so dehydrated from the heat;
6) my kids loved Rocket Fizz, a store full of weird candy and "gourmet" soda-- Alex got a grapefruit pop that was tolerably good, and Ian got some sweet marionberry concoction called Martian Poop, which he had trouble finishing . . . but he kept the bottle as a souvenir;
7) we had been walking all day, and we kept on walking-- we started in the museum district (we were staying at the Sheraton) and went all the way down Arch Street, through the old city, out to Penn's Landing and then down to this new spot, Spruce Street Harbor Park, which was full of food trucks and corn hole and giant chess and hammocks and live music and weird hanging lights and would have been fun, if it wasn't insanely packed with people, and so we kept on walking, to South Street and ate at a place called Nora's which had decent authentic Mexican food and incredibly authentic Mexican weather (I sat next to the little portable air-conditioner which was maintaining between 86 and 85 degrees) and I was slurping down lots of their super-spicy churrasco salsa so my balding head was covered with droplets of sweat which my son said looked like "warriors ready to do battle in a forest";
8) after ice-cream on South Street, we took our first family Uber and the driver was super nice and full of information and she arrived quickly, which was fantastic because it was starting to rain;
9) the kids were happy watching a Harry Potter marathon and I was happy to pass out at nine;
10) I was not happy to be awoken at 1 AM by my wife, who told me I needed to find a 24 hour pharmacy and get my son allergy medicine and ibuprofen, because he had a terrible earache-- I blame the gross pool-- and I was less happy when I found a Walgreens and it was closed and then I walked a long way in the rain to a Rite-Aid, and then couldn't get the Uber app to work on my wife's phone, and so I took a regular cab back to the hotel . . . the driver was indifferent;
11) the medicine worked and my son passed out, but I couldn't fall back to sleep-- probably from all the stimulus of walking the city streets late at night-- lots of sketchy folks, drunk people, and restaurant workers finishing the late shift;
12) the hotel pool was closed Monday morning, and so the hotel gym was overrun with kids-- I bailed on my workout after a few minutes;
13) we had trouble finding a spot for some breakfast food and finally settled on Dunkin' Donuts-- yuck-- and the stools were all taken and my son Alex sat on the floor and started eating his Boston creme, until we explained to him that if you're civilized, you usually don't sit on the floor of a grubby chain restaurant in a major city and eat donuts-- Alex is twelve years old, so you'd think he'd know this;
14) we had a great time at the Drexel Academy of Natural Sciences . . . it's not the Museum of Natural History, but it's still full of great stuff-- and the film on how they make the museum dioramas is worth the price of admission-- there are zero bones in those stuffed animals-- and we got to see a possum up close and personal, they are perhaps the most ugly misshapen mammal in North America (and yes I considered the armadillo in that calculation).
1) listening to Steve Buscemi's audio tour of Eastern State Penitentiary was spooky and excellent-- and the kids really enjoyed the ruined ambiance, the haunting anecdotes, and the punishment cells . . . plus, I coerced my son Alex into asking me if I believed in ghosts;
2) after touring the penitentiary, we decided to eat at Bridgid's instead of Jack's Firehouse-- both are great places and Jack's is right across from the jail-- but when we got to Bridgid's, we learned they were serving brunch . . . yuck . . . nobody in my family even deigns to say the word "brunch," let alone eat it and so we turned around and walked back to Jack's and they were serving brunch . . . but this turned out to be fine, because they had regular lunch stuff on the menu as well as brunch stuff, and my kids were highly amused by the finches that kept sneaking in through the big firehouse doors and stealing cornbread;
3) on the ride to Philly we listened to stand-up comedy, something my older son has gotten into lately-- and I tried to turn him on to Steve Martin and Steven Wright, but those early comedy albums aren't recorded all that clearly and the compression is terrible so it's hard to hear the jokes and then if you turn up the volume, the applause and screaming between bits blows out your eardrums;
4) we settled on Jim Gaffigan, he's funny, my son loves him, his voice is crystal clear and his albums are not only family friendly, but he also makes plenty of jokes about hotel rooms and hotel pools, which was perfect, since we were staying in a hotel with an indoor pool;
5) just as Jim Gaffigan predicted, the hotel pool was kind of gross-- it was a billion degrees in the pool room, too hot to lounge and read, and there were some very young kids in the pool, who would have probably urinated into the water if they weren't so dehydrated from the heat;
6) my kids loved Rocket Fizz, a store full of weird candy and "gourmet" soda-- Alex got a grapefruit pop that was tolerably good, and Ian got some sweet marionberry concoction called Martian Poop, which he had trouble finishing . . . but he kept the bottle as a souvenir;
7) we had been walking all day, and we kept on walking-- we started in the museum district (we were staying at the Sheraton) and went all the way down Arch Street, through the old city, out to Penn's Landing and then down to this new spot, Spruce Street Harbor Park, which was full of food trucks and corn hole and giant chess and hammocks and live music and weird hanging lights and would have been fun, if it wasn't insanely packed with people, and so we kept on walking, to South Street and ate at a place called Nora's which had decent authentic Mexican food and incredibly authentic Mexican weather (I sat next to the little portable air-conditioner which was maintaining between 86 and 85 degrees) and I was slurping down lots of their super-spicy churrasco salsa so my balding head was covered with droplets of sweat which my son said looked like "warriors ready to do battle in a forest";
8) after ice-cream on South Street, we took our first family Uber and the driver was super nice and full of information and she arrived quickly, which was fantastic because it was starting to rain;
9) the kids were happy watching a Harry Potter marathon and I was happy to pass out at nine;
10) I was not happy to be awoken at 1 AM by my wife, who told me I needed to find a 24 hour pharmacy and get my son allergy medicine and ibuprofen, because he had a terrible earache-- I blame the gross pool-- and I was less happy when I found a Walgreens and it was closed and then I walked a long way in the rain to a Rite-Aid, and then couldn't get the Uber app to work on my wife's phone, and so I took a regular cab back to the hotel . . . the driver was indifferent;
11) the medicine worked and my son passed out, but I couldn't fall back to sleep-- probably from all the stimulus of walking the city streets late at night-- lots of sketchy folks, drunk people, and restaurant workers finishing the late shift;
12) the hotel pool was closed Monday morning, and so the hotel gym was overrun with kids-- I bailed on my workout after a few minutes;
13) we had trouble finding a spot for some breakfast food and finally settled on Dunkin' Donuts-- yuck-- and the stools were all taken and my son Alex sat on the floor and started eating his Boston creme, until we explained to him that if you're civilized, you usually don't sit on the floor of a grubby chain restaurant in a major city and eat donuts-- Alex is twelve years old, so you'd think he'd know this;
14) we had a great time at the Drexel Academy of Natural Sciences . . . it's not the Museum of Natural History, but it's still full of great stuff-- and the film on how they make the museum dioramas is worth the price of admission-- there are zero bones in those stuffed animals-- and we got to see a possum up close and personal, they are perhaps the most ugly misshapen mammal in North America (and yes I considered the armadillo in that calculation).
The Test 51: Dave Does a Song Quiz?
This week on The Test, after weeks of fanfare, I finally unveil my first song quiz, and while I make my case on how it is far better than any of Stacey's song quizzes, empirically, this may not be the case (as the ladies discover) but despite the problems, we still have a good time-- see if you can figure out the overarching theme from the seven clips (and as a bonus, I reveal my plans for season two of the show).
Textbooks Matter
I've been binge-listening to all the old episodes of Vox's policy podcast The Weeds-- and while I'm not sure if I'm retaining all that much, I am learning how little I know about how government policy works-- which is always the first step in getting smarter-- anyway, this episode taught me about a Brookings Institution study by Thomas Kane that finds that good textbooks are clearly linked to academic success (especially in fourth and fifth grade math) and buying new textbooks is an easier solution than replacing mediocre or poor teachers with better teachers-- it's much harder to find good teachers and/or train them, and firing bad teachers takes time and resources-- and the gains from having a good textbook are significant, as Kane explains:
student achievement would rise overall roughly an average of 3.6 percentile points . . . although it might sound small, such a boost in the average teacher’s effectiveness would be larger than the improvement the typical teacher experiences in their first three years on the job, as they are just learning to teach . . .
which is a HUGE gain, because the difference between a first-year teacher and third year teacher is the difference between pandemonium and order; I also learned all about the new education policy that replaced No Child Left Behind in this episode and why there might be less standardized testing in our future. . . and this article is a nice summary of some of the lessons learned from what didn't work with the previous national education policies . . . and the takeaway from this rambling sentence is that you've got to feel dumber to get smarter.
student achievement would rise overall roughly an average of 3.6 percentile points . . . although it might sound small, such a boost in the average teacher’s effectiveness would be larger than the improvement the typical teacher experiences in their first three years on the job, as they are just learning to teach . . .
which is a HUGE gain, because the difference between a first-year teacher and third year teacher is the difference between pandemonium and order; I also learned all about the new education policy that replaced No Child Left Behind in this episode and why there might be less standardized testing in our future. . . and this article is a nice summary of some of the lessons learned from what didn't work with the previous national education policies . . . and the takeaway from this rambling sentence is that you've got to feel dumber to get smarter.
Higher and Higher Dudgeon
Nothing puts me in a higher state of dudgeon than having to look up exactly what "high dudgeon" means (and now that I know what it means, I'll be using the phrase to put other people in a state of high dudgeon at my overbearing prolixity).
Cold > Heat
When it's cold and I'm tired, I fall into a deep, dreamless slumber, but when it's hot and I'm tired, I get listless and crabby and my feet swell and I want to start a land war in Asia.
Dr. Ferrari Makes You Go Faster
I knew Lance Armstrong had been involved in a doping scandal, but I didn't understand the extent until I listened to the Planet Money episode "Lance Armstrong and the Business of Doping"-- I will warn you, in case you're vasovagal like me, that there's plenty of blood in this episode, but I learned plenty: cycling is a team sport, so not only did Armstrong have to use the services of the aptly named Dr. Ferrari, but so did his teammates-- it was just as important that their blood was super-rich-- and this required a large-scale cover-up, plenty of subterfuge, and a code of silence . . . but there is a silver-lining, it seems that large-scale doping may have been curbed a bit recently, as winning times are much slower than they once were . . . but it's only a matter of time before the riders figure out some other way to super-charge their bodies; anyway, if you're not familiar with the specifics of the scandal, this is a good place to start.
Words of Wisdom from One Sibling to Another
My older son gave this piece of advice to his younger brother: "You can't really make yo'mama jokes to me because we come from the same mother."
When You're 46, Jargon > Slang
While it's embarrassing and cheesy for folks over thirty to use the lexicon of the youth-- I try to never use slang in front of my students unless it's obviously ironic-- but I did learn some excellent terms that I can sprinkle into conversation this week, I picked them up while listening to Vox's super-wonky policy podcast The Weeds:
1) dark fiber . . . is not bran cereal, it's a term for fiber optic cable that is not being used-- no light pulses are going through it, so it's "dark" . . . during the dotcom boom, shitloads of fiber optic cable was laid, and then the bubble burst, but the infrastructure was in place, just "dark";
2) shadow inventory . . . is not a bunch of captured souls in Satan's warehouse, it's the properties in the real estate market that are in foreclosure or haven't been listed because people are waiting for the market to improve, and this makes it difficult to peg the supply because there's al this inventory in the shadows, lurking . . . this reminds of the the term "overhang" in the diamond market, which refers to the massive amount of shadow inventory that prevents used diamonds from being worth anything near what a new one costs;
3) decouple . . . we're not talking trains, we're talking about decoupling health care from employment, which has its pros and cons, but mainly pros-- which is why most first world nations do it that way . . . anyway, while I won't be using any of the new slang words I learned in the near future (although once I turn seventy-five, I'm using all the youthful slang, because nothing is more hysterical than a really old codger claiming "this shizzle is off the hook") but I'm certainly going to try to work this new economic jargon into my daily conversation, preferably, all in one long intimidating sentence.
1) dark fiber . . . is not bran cereal, it's a term for fiber optic cable that is not being used-- no light pulses are going through it, so it's "dark" . . . during the dotcom boom, shitloads of fiber optic cable was laid, and then the bubble burst, but the infrastructure was in place, just "dark";
2) shadow inventory . . . is not a bunch of captured souls in Satan's warehouse, it's the properties in the real estate market that are in foreclosure or haven't been listed because people are waiting for the market to improve, and this makes it difficult to peg the supply because there's al this inventory in the shadows, lurking . . . this reminds of the the term "overhang" in the diamond market, which refers to the massive amount of shadow inventory that prevents used diamonds from being worth anything near what a new one costs;
3) decouple . . . we're not talking trains, we're talking about decoupling health care from employment, which has its pros and cons, but mainly pros-- which is why most first world nations do it that way . . . anyway, while I won't be using any of the new slang words I learned in the near future (although once I turn seventy-five, I'm using all the youthful slang, because nothing is more hysterical than a really old codger claiming "this shizzle is off the hook") but I'm certainly going to try to work this new economic jargon into my daily conversation, preferably, all in one long intimidating sentence.
The Test Turns 50!
This week on The Test, Cunningham teaches us a lesson about finishing strong-- not only does she quiz us on the closing lines of some famous novels, but she also finishes the episode with a rousingly inspirational peroration . . . Stacey and decide that we prefer to start like a ball of fire and then fizzle . . . and that's exactly how we perform on this test.
New Slang (for Dave)
I've learned a lot of new slang in the past two weeks, from both the youth and the elders of society:
1) mansplaining . . . this is when a woman explains something and no one listens, but then a man explains it the same way, but LOUDER and people pay attention;
2) cut a bitch . . . as in "if this shizzle continues I may have to cut a bitch," which indicates that all other methods have been exhausted and the only alternative may be violence . . . I'm not sure if you can substitute "bee-otch" for bitch in this idiom;
3) lit . . . this means "off the hook" or extremely fun and excellent, as in "that party was lit" or "that eight AM literature seminar on The Great Gatsby was lit"
4) PMS . . . is an acronym that stands for Pointless Man Speculation . . . e.g. this blog;
5) shipping . . . is the desire to put two people (fictitious or not) in a relationship and I have no idea how to use this one in context . . . apparently it happens in fan-fiction, but I heard it used to describe reality . . . and you can "ship" for people to get together, so-- perhaps-- we were shipping for Mr. Burns and Smithers to finally get together?
1) mansplaining . . . this is when a woman explains something and no one listens, but then a man explains it the same way, but LOUDER and people pay attention;
2) cut a bitch . . . as in "if this shizzle continues I may have to cut a bitch," which indicates that all other methods have been exhausted and the only alternative may be violence . . . I'm not sure if you can substitute "bee-otch" for bitch in this idiom;
3) lit . . . this means "off the hook" or extremely fun and excellent, as in "that party was lit" or "that eight AM literature seminar on The Great Gatsby was lit"
4) PMS . . . is an acronym that stands for Pointless Man Speculation . . . e.g. this blog;
5) shipping . . . is the desire to put two people (fictitious or not) in a relationship and I have no idea how to use this one in context . . . apparently it happens in fan-fiction, but I heard it used to describe reality . . . and you can "ship" for people to get together, so-- perhaps-- we were shipping for Mr. Burns and Smithers to finally get together?
Layers and Layers of Layers
"The Good Wife's Guide," an article in the May 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly, has been floating around the internet for many years-- you may have come across it-- but if you haven't, the article features eighteen tips on how to keep your husband happy . . . here are a few telling excerpts:
1) Have dinner ready;
2) Prepare yourself . . . touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair;
7) Prepare the children . . . minimize all noise;
14) Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night;
16) Arrange his pillow and speak in a low, soothing voice;
17) Remember he is the master of the house;
18) A good wife always knows her place;
and if this advice sounds absurdly chauvinistic and sexist, to the point of being satirical, that's because it is: there's never been a magazine called Housekeeping Monthly and the article is a hoax-- though many people don't know this (including, apparently the history department in my school-- one student of mine said they did a detailed analysis of the article as a historical document and the teacher had no idea that the article is an internet meme) and I think this is because so many people want to believe the article-- liberals want to use it as a document that concretely and definitively shows the oppression of women and their rights and intellect, and conservatives (check the comments on the link to the article, they're excellent) like it because it reminds them of a past that never actually existed . . . while women's rights has come a long way, Lucy's desire for true equality might be a more accurate depiction of the sentiment of the time . . . but what I really wonder about the piece is if it is liberal propaganda or conservative propaganda-- was it created by a feminist to sow discontent or was it created by a conservative with nostalgia for family values . . . or perhaps it was it created by someone with a great sense of humor; after teaching a lesson about these issues yesterday, and using the hoax-article (the kids were properly appalled, and some of them thought the article might be a fake . . . except for the kids who studied it in history class) while I was driving home, I saw a "Republicans for Voldemort" bumper sticker and had exactly the same layered epistemological-ontological thoughts-- was that bumper sticker made by a Democrat for other Democrats, to disparage Republicans, or is it a fun and ironic way to celebrate being a Republican . . . or is Voldemort actually a Democrat, and these Republicans for Voldemort a vocal minority?
Holy Sweet Mother of Nipple Miracles
Everyone who reads this blog is aware that miracles bestow themselves upon me with incredible frequency, and so it will be no surprise that when I walked into the English Office yesterday morning and one of the female teachers-- who will remain nameless-- said to me "That's it! I can see your nipples again! I've been biting my tongue since September, but every morning when you walk in here-- maybe it's cold outside-- but your nipples are hard and poking through your shirt!" and this started a large-scale-nipple-dialogue with the other teachers in the room and we determined that women have to worry about protruding nipples but men do not (someone remarked that the teacher that made the comment about my nipples had thought far more about my nipples than I ever had . . . because men don't worry about their nipples) and this coincidentally tied in to the Susan Sontag essay we were reading in class, called "A Woman's Beauty: Put Down or Power Source," because Sontag claims that beauty is an "obligation" for women and that they are taught see their body in "parts, and to evaluate each part separately . . . breasts, feets, hips, waistline, neck, eyes, nose, complexion, hair, and so" and they need to fretfully and anxiously scrutinize each of these-- and protruding nipples are verboten-- while in men good looks are "taken at a glance" and have to do with the "whole" and so after we read a bit of Twelfth Night, where Olivia expresses the same sentiment, then I showed the class the infamous Mean Girls clip, where Cady learns that there's far more than fat and skinny, and that your hairline can be weird, you can have man shoulders, your nail beds and your calves might suck or your pores might be too large . . . and I had forgotten-- miraculously-- that the scene starts with Regina's mom and her boob job (they're hard as rocks) and her incredibly sharp nipples, that stab Cady . . . bringing the discussion full-circle: a miracle in every way, shape, and form!
Dave Uses His Phone-Camera-Device!
It was 6:30 AM and I had just finished getting dressed for work, but when I passed by my son Ian's room, I noticed he wasn't in his bed-- instead, he was sitting in a laundry basket, ostensibly staring out the window, and since he's usually still sleeping when I leave for work, I wondered if this was a normal early-morning-ritual (he looked very meditative, especially with the early morning sun streaming through the window) and so I asked him if he normally pondered the oncoming day from the comfort of a half-full laundry basket-- which I found rather creepy, especially since it appeared he was going to be sucked into the light (run to the light, Carol Ann!) but it was something much more mundane: the laundry basket happened to be in front of his bookshelf, and he wasn't looking out the window in a contemplative state, he was perusing his collection of books, deciding which to read in bed, because he had woken up so early.
Running Cost-Benefit Poop Analysis
The more intricate the treads are on your fancy running shoes, the more difficult it is to remove the dog poop.
The Test 49: Where Do Bad Folks Go When They Die?
This week on The Test, Stacey challenges Cunningham and I to ponder seven existential questions, and Cunningham decides this is her "most favorite test" and that she wants to discuss these topics exclusively . . . then she promptly forgets the question and thinks she'd like to relinquish control of her free will; Stacey considers spooky stuff and I offer my unadulterated opinion of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and then we out our heads together and figure out the meaning of life (pretty much).
Sports Don't Build Character: They Reveal It
Yesterday, we played a team that slaughtered us 6-0 two weeks ago, and we were missing two of our best players-- both goalies-- so I wasn't particularly hopeful about our chances, but we packed it back and played everything to the outside and my son Ian played goalie in the first half-- he was very excited for this assignment and we went to the field early and trained (because he hadn't played goalie all season) and he played fantastic, and our defense picked up everyone goal-side, and then our other goalie played even better in the second half, but we were taking a beating; they were bigger and faster than us, and had a habit of kicking, tripping, and running us over from behind, and we went down 1-0, even though we were producing lots of chances, and then-- in the second half-- we finally finished one and tied the game and we were excited and pushing hard to score another and my son went down hard -- and this was the second time in the game that he got fouled so hard that he was seriously crying, real tears, and he's a tough kid who generally gets hammered because he dribbles too much and deals with hard fouls every game-- but for the second time one of their players kicked him from behind, this particular time he beat a kid on the dribble and the kid teed off and kicked him in the back of the knee and then kicked him in the head after he went down-- and so I lost my temper, which admittedly should not have happened-- you're supposed to keep your cool in front of the kids-- but the opposing team was consistently hurting my players, so at least I had good reason, and I told the ref and the opposing coaches that their team's behavior was disgraceful and the other team's coaches told me that if my players "stayed on their feet" and stopped "flopping" then there wouldn't be any problem and then things got chippy and ugly and the game ended up a tie, which I thought was a fantastic result, especially since we far outplayed them and there were six or seven totally ugly fouls committed by the opposing side, with no direction to do otherwise by their coaches (despite the fact that whenever my kids foul, my assistant and I pointed out the problem . . . and the last time we played this team, they were equally as rough, but that ref really took charge of the game and told kids what they were doing wrong . . . this ref called some fouls but didn't really take charge) but this is all run-of-the-mill stuff, HERE IS THE IMPORTANT PART, the part of the story that made me more and more indignant as the day went on, though I was laughing about it when it happened: after the game, the the player who scored for us-- and I can't impress on you how small this kid is, he's the smallest kid on our team, and we have a small team-- he was shooting around with my son and some other players and the ball rolled behind the goal and the opposing head coach, who was next to his car, about to leave, picked up this little kid's ball-- and the kid was walking toward the coach to get the ball (a new ball he just received a week ago for his 11th birthday) and instead of rolling it back to him, or passing it back to him, or even just leaving it, the head coach picked up the ball and he PUNTED it as far as he could, over the high fence and deep into the dog park . . . and this opposing team hails from the town where I work, a large and fiercely competitive soccer town-- so cheers to the Vultures, your valiant draw made an adult behave like a complete and utter idiot.
Nine Point One Thumbs Up For the New Radiohead Album
A Moon Shaped Pool, Radiohead's new album, is an easy-listening-electronica-opera, and it manages to sound like a missive from the future, without sounding like sci-fi . . . I love stuff that actually sounds like science-fiction-- The Crystal Method's Vegas and everything by Underworld and The Future Sounds of London and, of course, OK Computer-- but this album is beyond that: it doesn't sound like the present reflecting on how music in the future will sound, and it isn't didactic-- it isn't music that reflects the direction the future is (hypothetically) headed . . . in other words, it doesn't sound anything like Kid A . . . the sounds decay, the lyrics repeat, and every note has some extra production subtly attached to it . . . and if you don't believe me, check out the Pitchfork review . . . I don't know how they come up with the decimal, but they gave it a 9.1 out of a possible 10.
Dogs Like to Eat Cactus?
My dog rarely chews up anything, but when he does, it's alway something special:
1) he chewed up this;
2) and these (but he hasn't done that for a long time)
3) and my Vibram Five Fingers (good riddance)
4) and a live mole, that he flushed out of the snow in Vermont
and most recently, he chewed several pieces off my cactus, but he didn't eat them-- instead he left them in the cushions of the couch . . . I can't wait to see what he chews up next!
1) he chewed up this;
2) and these (but he hasn't done that for a long time)
3) and my Vibram Five Fingers (good riddance)
4) and a live mole, that he flushed out of the snow in Vermont
and most recently, he chewed several pieces off my cactus, but he didn't eat them-- instead he left them in the cushions of the couch . . . I can't wait to see what he chews up next!
Political Paradox of the Week!
American conservatives tend to be against abortion, but they also tend to be against paid-maternity-leave . . . if there's anything upon which bizarro-world candidates Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton should debate, it's this bizarro-world American paradox-- America has some of the strictest abortion laws in the world, yet we are on the short list (with Oman and Papua New Guinea) of countries which offer no paid-family leave . . . from a logical standpoint, these two policies shouldn't exist in the same country . . . America . . . love it or leave it.
Notes to Future Self
We watched the time-travel movie Primer in philosophy class last week, and while the plot of the movie is close to incomprehensible (although there are plenty of explanations out there on the internet . . . but those are incomprehensible too) the central premise is easy enough to understand; Abe and Aaron keep looping back in time, in a rather short span, and they screw with their future selves-- Chuck Klosterman calls them "ethical Helen Kellers" . . . and this makes a terrible mess of their lives, their relationships, their careers, and their physical well-being; this leads to some mundane questions which we all need to address-- because we are all slowly traveling into the future:
1) how should you ethically behave towards your future self?
2) what do you owe to your future self?
3) are you your future self?
4) is your future self someone else?
and while my philosophy class had a great time with these questions (and my examples . . . Past Dave decided to get a tattoo of a giant lizard ripping out of Past Dave's shoulder . . . he had very little consideration for Future Dave, but-- on the other hand-- Past Dave started diligently practicing the guitar in his twenties and travelled around the world, giving Future Dave some rudimentary musical skills and some vivid memories of the Middle and Far East . . . and so you should realize that when you go for a run, you are helping out your future self, but when you drink a bunch of beer and eat a cheesecake, then not so much) and this finally led us to a very weird place, because the newest findings about human memory conclude that every time we recall something, we alter that memory slightly, and our cells and tissue are dying and being replaced all the time . . . and so our Future Selves really are quite different than our Past Selves-- in a sense they are a person only tangentially related to our Present Selves . . . and so it is difficult to be super-concerned with them, yet we know if we start saving money now, or learning Japanese, then this Future Person might really benefit, and this logic finally leads to the Ship of Theseus thought experiment and the ultimate question: is this Porsche really a Porsche?
1) how should you ethically behave towards your future self?
2) what do you owe to your future self?
3) are you your future self?
4) is your future self someone else?
and while my philosophy class had a great time with these questions (and my examples . . . Past Dave decided to get a tattoo of a giant lizard ripping out of Past Dave's shoulder . . . he had very little consideration for Future Dave, but-- on the other hand-- Past Dave started diligently practicing the guitar in his twenties and travelled around the world, giving Future Dave some rudimentary musical skills and some vivid memories of the Middle and Far East . . . and so you should realize that when you go for a run, you are helping out your future self, but when you drink a bunch of beer and eat a cheesecake, then not so much) and this finally led us to a very weird place, because the newest findings about human memory conclude that every time we recall something, we alter that memory slightly, and our cells and tissue are dying and being replaced all the time . . . and so our Future Selves really are quite different than our Past Selves-- in a sense they are a person only tangentially related to our Present Selves . . . and so it is difficult to be super-concerned with them, yet we know if we start saving money now, or learning Japanese, then this Future Person might really benefit, and this logic finally leads to the Ship of Theseus thought experiment and the ultimate question: is this Porsche really a Porsche?
Double Dipping
I tried my darndest to get a decent (yet discreet) workout at our last faculty meeting-- calf raises, leg lifts, chair dips, wall sits, and lots of plyometrics-- and while it wasn't the most comfortable way to exercise, I was still paying closer attention than the people poking at their cell-phones.
Nocturnal Semantics
The opossum is certainly a synanthrope, but still generally reclusive and nocturnal, and so when the dog and I saw a mottled stiff tailed creature ambling across the road this morning, it took me a second to realize it wasn't a very ugly cat-- and then I wondered what it was doing up at this hour, and if a nocturnal creature is up early in the morning, walking groggily, does that mean it's up early or has it stayed out far too late late?
The Test 48: What Is It Based On?
This week on The Test, we learn that some stuff is based on other stuff, and that stuff might even be based on something else . . . and Cunningham nearly cries and Stacey-- right or wrong-- is nothing but confidence; as a bonus, there is a debate about who is better looking: Tina Fey or me . . . so play at home, keep score, and see if you can do better than "medium."
Interest in Pinterest . . .
I'm going to come clean and admit that last week I went on Pinterest-- several times-- to look at ways to hang planters by a bay window-- ostensibly this "research" was for a Mother's Day project-- but the fact of the matter is that I really enjoyed browsing the indoor plant ideas on the site, and now I want to build a "plant wall" in addition to hanging some plants, so I guess this means I'm transitioning (not that there's anything wrong with that) or maybe I've hit menopause . . . anyway, I'll keep you posted and as soon as the project is done, and I'll put up a picture (maybe I can even put a picture on Pinterest!)
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