The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Teenagers Go On Twitter to Escape Old People Who Write Long Sentences
Danah Boyd's new book It's Complicated: the social lives of networked teens is a must read -- both for people with kids and people who just want to know what the hell is going on; Boyd extensively researched teen internet habits-- she interviewed teens around the country and also read numerous sociological works on the topic-- and her big ideas are tempered with lots of anecdotes, often in the voices of the teens she interviewed . . . and what Boyd feels these teens are saying is this: we want to hang out with our friends, and that's a lot harder to do than it once was-- as the world is overly circumscribed for our kind, and there is a lack of public spaces where we our welcome, and we have a difficult time transporting ourselves to the few places we are welcome, and no one wants to see a cluster of teenagers anywhere except a high school football game-- and when we're there, we put our phones away, unlike most of you adults-- but most of the time, the best, safest, most accessible, and most convenient place to hang out is on-line . . . and while we can usually monitor and handle what we are doing, it's difficult to hang out in a place where you can't see lurking adults, which is why we often switch forums to where our friends are and the adults are not-- and we are willing to repurpose any forum to suit our needs, which are often social, and we often forget that we are under adult surveillance when we are online, and yes, the same problems that crop up in the real world happen on-line: bullying, racism, misinterpretation, gossip, drama, but adults shouldn't intervene in this world unless they really know the actual context of what is going on, which is often difficult and encoded . . . but still, if adults use their window into the online public space with some subtlety, instead of to only to pry, then it might open up lines of communication which are otherwise often frozen during the teenage years, but the most important thing to remember is that after we do our compulsory day at school and then practice soccer, meet with the Key Club, finish our violin exercises, study for AP Bio, then we go online to be social, not anti-social, and so unless you think we are having problems in the real world, please let us alone in our online world . . . the book is a quick and relatively easy read, and it acknowledges that our networked lives are here to stay -- and neither utopian nor dystopian-- instead they reflect the society at large, and it is up to adults to help children navigate the digital world, even though it is complicated, and adults should not simply rely on the fact that kids are digital "natives," because oftentimes they are not, and need help in understanding the consequences and methods of life on the internet . . . and I'm going to really test Boyd's claims this week, as I'm going to photocopy several excerpts and see how the real flesh and blood teenagers in my senior classes react; I will keep you posted of the results.
Dave Has an Emotion Towards Canada!
While I can't pretend that I care about Canada (though I tried my darndest) I at least harbor some emotion towards our nice neighbors to the north (with the capitol city no one can name) and this emotion is jealousy, as Canada now has the richest middle class in the world, a title the U.S. once held . . . and while our rich our richer than the Canadian rich, our poor are poorer than the Canadian poor, so unless you're one of the 1%, you're better off donning a toque, buying a down vest, and learning to enjoy backbacon and poutine (but I'm NOT learning French, that's where I' put my foot down).
Lawyers, Drones, and Funny (Stuff Going on in The U.S. Government)
I am often suspicious that I have no idea how the world works, which is one of the reasons I like to read: I feel as though I'm filling an infinitely large hole in my brain, and this feels simultaneously productive and good and also desperate and futile, and so it made me happy to hear Radiolab's Jad Abumrad make the same assertion during their new podcast "60 Words"; the show explores the consequences of the Authorization for Use of Military Force Against Terrorists, a resolution passed by the United States Congress on September 14th, 2001 for obvious reasons . . . and a resolution that passed with a nearly unanimous vote-- only Barbara Lee had the foresight to see the possible problems with such a vague, broad, timeless fiat; the sixty words have authorized two wars, Guantanamo Bay detention center, and drone attacks, and the two phantom words, which were not in the original sentence, which authorizes the president to "use all necessary and appropriate force" against "nations, organization, or persons" that were involved in the September 11 attack on the United States, these two words-- which have been inserted by the government to make it easier to fight this war on terror . . . the words "associated forces," and so now it is difficult (even for congress itself) to know exactly who we are at war with, and who we can legitimately attack and kill with a drone (which is where the lawyers come in, when you want to issue a drone strike, you don't check with your commanding officer, first you check with a lawyer to see if it's legal) and while President Obama has attempted to make some inroads at ending the War on Terror, it's very difficult to stop something when the folks you are fighting haven't stopped fighting . . . and so Obama said that he was only going to use drone strikes when there is "an imminent threat" to the American people . . . and so perhaps the AUMF will eventually be repealed, but then there will be some new and powerful words that will insure that most folks have absolutely no idea what is legal and what our government is improvising . . . if you really want to learn more, read this very detailed article by Gregory Johnson called "60 Words and a War Without End: The UNtold Story of the Most Dangerous Sentence in U.S. History."
Any Venture Capitalists Out There Willing to Roll the Dice?
I had forgotten how much I hate traditional bowling, but a recent trip to Carolier Lanes reminded me: I hate sticking my fingers in the holes, I hate watching my kids struggle to chuck the ball down the lane, I hate how my wrist and forearm feel later in the day, I hate splits, I hate not making strikes, and I hate reminding my children about bowling etiquette (especially when you've got serious bowlers next to you, which we did) and so, once again, I am loudly and vociferously lamenting the lack of candlepin bowling alleys in New Jersey, and-- if someone will back me-- I am willing to quit my plum teaching job and open and run a candlepin bowling alley . . . candlepin (or duckpin) bowling is fun yet impossible, you get three tries-- which is the magic number-- the ball is small, there are no holes to mess with, the motion is smooth and easy, and it's kids love it twenty seven thousand times more than traditional bowling . . . so how much does it cost to build a bowling alley and who is going to spot me?
Least Rock and Roll Thing in the History of Rock and Roll
My friend John's band played Friday night at Teddy's Restaurant in Cranbury, and though they sounded great, I was very concerned for their image when a waitress delivered a big salad to the bassist, as salad and rock and roll do not complement each other (but they did make up for it later in the show when they drank some brown liquor).
Bring Your Child to Work Day Blues
I invited my children to join me at work on Thursday, but they weren't interested-- and my lack of children disappointed and mildly offended my high school students, as they wanted to meet them, but I can understand why Alex and Ian wanted to pass, as they would have had to get up at the crack of dawn, only to sit in a classroom and watch high school students learn about business ethics and narrative structure . . . I'm sure if I had a more exciting job, if I made candy or manufactured hand grenades or worked in the tiger cage at the zoo, then they would have made more of an effort, but high school is high school and there's no need to rush, as they will learn what it's like soon enough.
Untested and Unsolicited Dieting Strategy: Binge Gluttony
I haven't done any research, but I think it might be better if I eat all the Easter candy in one sitting, rather than parceling it out over several weeks (and I've been starting my day with jelly beans and ending it with chocolate, which can't be good) because I probably won't gain as much weight if I shove it all in my stomach at once, plus I won't be reliant on a sugar rush every two hours to make it through the day.
Luther!
The first season of Luther is fantastic, but be warned: the trope in most police shows is that things get very tense, but the police get there in the nick of time, but in Luther, they never make it.
Next Time Around, I'd Like to Be a Pharmaceutical Company
According to James Surowiecki in this week's New Yorker, the miracle drug Sovaldi will cure hepatitis C, but a single dose costs one thousand dollars, and the full treatment costs eighty grand . . . and your average hepatitis C patient makes 23,000 dollars a year, and 3.2 million Americans have hepatitis C . . . and because the people taking the drugs aren't really paying much of the cost, and insurers are obligated to cover a drug that doctors deem necessary (but insurers have "virtually zero" ability to negotiate price when a drug has no equivalent) a very strange economy has been created (and by very strange, I mean that taxpayers are going to foot the bill for our half-assed hybrid sort-of-subsidized health care situation . . . although, to play devil's advocate, perhaps eighty grand is a bargain, if it means you won't have to treat a person for a lifetime of complications for hepatitis C).
Who Are This Little Creatures Living in My House (and Why Are They Here?)
Jennifer Senior's book All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood is entertaining, engaging, and well-researched, but I have to warn you, the book does get down to brass tacks; it asks the biggest and most existential of parental questions: why the hell are we doing this? and reminds us that the modern goal of parenting -- to raise happy, creative, well-adjusted children that can achieve anything they wish-- is rather elusive, compared to "the concrete aims of parenting in the past: creating competent children in certain kinds of work; and creating morally responsible citizens who will fulfill a prescribed set of community obligations," in other words, teaching your kid the family business and the community religion, and hoping it works out for them . . . but those days are long gone, and in the words of Viviana Zelizer, children have become "economically worthless but emotionally priceless."
BearMatch.com
Terri Frana-- a forty-four year old Florida mom who was mauled by a black bear while getting bikes out of the garage for her kids-- needs to get in touch with Troy Hurtubrise, who has devoted a great deal of his life to building "grizzly-proof" home-made armor . . . I learned about Hurtubrise's exploits in a Stuff to Blow Your mind podcast called "The War on Creativity," an episode that reminds us that most great thinkers are ignored or ridiculed while they are alive, but if Hurtubrise's suit could hold off a grizzly, then it should have no problem with a measly black bear (and I'm going to watch the documentary on the subject-- Project Grizzly-- so I can see just how effective the suit is, but judging from the tests in the above video, it's bear-proof).
It's Good To Be On Fire While Playing Basketball, But It's Not Good If Your Brain Is On Fire
Sassy New York Post reporter Susannah Cahalan tackles the most difficult story of her young career (even more difficult then when she went undercover as a stripper to procure illegal butt implants) in her memoir Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness . . . as best she can, she reconstructs her battle with anti-NMDA-receptor autoimmune encephalitis, a wild and malevolent disease that runs her through psychosis, delusions, seizures, convulsions, hallucinations -- bedbugs in particular -- obsessions, lethargy, comatose behavior, loss of verbal ability and social graces, and requires much research to diagnose and a fairly long recovery filled with drugs that bloat her body and slow her mind . . . but she is one of the lucky ones who does recover -- some remain afflicted and some die-- and so she wants to tell her story so that others can benefit, because this swelling of the brain is often misdiagnosed as mental illness, though it stems from a physical swelling of the right side of the brain . . . the book is one of those "there by the Grace of God go I" stories, as the disease has no known cause, and for me (and several of my readers) it has an added dose of reality, as Cahalan recovers at her mother's house in Summit, New Jersey, and visits her boyfriend's sister in nearby Chatham, New Jersey, so while the disease seems to be something out of The Exorcist, the fact that Cahalan has to undergo the scrutiny of "Summit moms" while trying to recover her wits lends the story a suburban surrealism.
Should You Have Known?
Jean Hanff Korelitz's new novel You Should Have Known is taut, claustrophobic and gripping: a marriage unravels, a mystery unfolds, and the book within the book -- an advice book about choosing the right husband with the eponymous title "You Should Have Known"-- takes on an epically ironic role, which might seem heavy-handed if it wasn't so much fun . . . the marriage counselor married a psychopath!
Dave's Fish Joke of the Week
Two fish are swimming along in a school of their brethren and a shark appears and opens its toothy jaws, as if to engulf them all, and the one fish says to his buddy, "Hey, do you want out of this?" and the other fish says, "Of course! What should we do?" and the first fish says, "Close your eyes and follow me" and with that he swims right into the shark's mouth, and his buddy-- eyes closed but using his lateral line sense-- blindly follows into the maw of the beast . . . and then opens his eyes, and as he starts to feel the shark's stomach acid melting his scales he says, "I thought you could get us out of this?" and the first fish says, "I did, I did . . . by "this" I meant a frantic and anxious life filled with anxiety and peril."
Half a Plan
We are going fishing in the Pine Barrens and our goal is to catch a pickerel . . . but once we catch it, then what do we do?
How Many Serial Killers Are There In London Right This Instant?
Luther is a very dark but excellent British police show on Netflix; Idris Elba (who infamously played Stringer Bell in The Wire) is a detective with a checkered past that constantly haunts him, and he inhabits what appears to be a gritty version of modern East London, but is actually a parallel universe where every third person is some kind of sociopathic serial killer (it took me a few episodes to get over this absurdity, but it makes the show run at a rapid clip, unlike the world of The Wire, where it could take an entire episode to get a search warrant).
Irony Embodied
One month ago, I took a day off to take my kids snowboarding -- and I believed I had earned this day off, as I hadn't taken a sick day all year, and so this was my reward for being so healthy . . . and after I drove home from the snowboarding trip, I felt so vigorous and energetic that I went to my Wednesday night basketball game, thinking to myself: though I'm forty-four, I feel invincible . . . I can snowboard all day, and still play basketball at night, I'm made of iron, I'm unbreakable . . . and then five days later I came down with the flu, which led to severe bronchitis, and now, though I'm a bit better, I'm still mired in mucous and have a lingering cough, and though I know in my brain that there's no connection between my boastful thoughts and the virus that brought me down, my heart thinks differently.
What Kind of Burrito Do You Dream About?
Cinco de Mayo in New Brunswick may look like a bit of a dive, but they make my ultimate dream burrito . . . and it's on the menu, so I don't even have to struggle with Spanish to order; it is called the "El Mexicano," and -- like the elusive Syrian chucker -- it is two great things at once: half of the burrito is smothered in mole sauce, and the other half is smothered in verde sauce . . . and you get to choose what they put inside (I had chorizo) and it is very, very big . . . big enough that when I first saw it, I told Catherine that I would take half home (but, of course, I ate every bite).
Heroin and Hookers . . . but no Heroine
Robert Stone's Dog Soldiers is the bleak and sordid account of a heroin deal gone sour, and it is set against the backdrop of two decaying place: South Vietnam and Southern California . . . the Summer of Love is long gone, the optimism of the hippies has faded into junkie fatalism, and Vietnam is headed towards implosion; the style is a mix of Elmore Leonard, George V. Higgins, and Hunter S. Thompson, and the plot moves from philosophical to incendiary . . . you can see whay it's on Time Magazine's Top 100 Novels List . . . Stone admits that some of the fictitious adventures in the book were based on the reality of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, and that the survivalist Hicks is based on the infamous Neal Cassady, but for anyone younger than those folks, reading this is like looking back at an alien culture that once inhabited our land and then flew back into space.
It's Got Something to do with Pigs
Shane Carruth, writer and director of the nearly indecipherable time travel flick Primer, has now done himself one better and made a completely indecipherable film: Upstream Color . . . I got vibes of Wrath of Khan, Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker, and Kaufman's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Adaptation . . . though I can't promise you are going to love it, I will say this, though it's a purposefully obtuse story, it's rather easy on the eyes and ears, and it's not terribly long, so give it a shot (and then you can read this insanely long New yorker analysis of what probably happened, and how it might be inspired by both Thoreau and toxoplasmosis gondii).
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A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.