Two Things Sentence of Dave Does NOT Condone
The staff here at Sentence of Dave would like to vociferously proclaim that we completely oppose Boko Haram's mass abduction of Nigerian school girls and consequent threat to sell them into slavery . . . and that we are also totally against both mass abduction and slavery in a general sense as well and don't think either of these things should be a part of 21st century life on planet earth (we were expecting life in the 21st century to provide a cure for cancer, flying cars and beef jerky that's actually good for you).
A Stupid Discussion That Was Still Compelling
In the English office last week, a novice runner asked a question that had never occurred to me: "When you go out for a run, when do you start running?" and it turns out that many people have "starting points," such as the end of the driveway, where they begin and end their run . . . I tend to start running as I am going out the door, I jog down the steps and cut across the lawn . . . and maybe this is because of all the preparation I do before the run-- iPod, sunglasses, hands-free-dog leash/belt, poop bag, hat, orthotic inserts, etcetera . . . so that by the time I get out the door, I am impatient and fully "in the mode," but now I know that this isn't always the case . . . when and where do you start running when you go out for a run?
Dave's Meta-Joke of the Month
There are three things that are certain in the life: death, taxes, and jokes about death and taxes.
A Promise of Loyalty
While I probably shouldn't have abandoned my wife, children and dog to the slowly growing flood in our basement the other night, especially since we couldn't locate our submersible pump . . . but I would like to say in my defense that I did finally figure out who had borrowed it, though this was not until after I played in the first basketball game of the evening and -- unfortunately for my marriage -- my wife had already loaded the kids into the car (in their pajamas) and drove through the storm to the Home Depot, where she was going to purchase a new pump, when I called her . . . and she got home in time to get the pump into the basement shower so the water never went over the lip, and I got her flowers the next day, and it's not like this was a real flood, such as the one that caused a landslide to bury a village in Afghanistan, and I would like to hereby swear that if there ever is a real flood of that magnitude, I will skip Wednesday basketball night and remain with my family.
Thought Experiment?
It's best not to think about why you root for a particular team-- because, as Seinfeld points our, you are actually "rooting for the clothes"-- and Paul Lukas, the creator of Uni Watch: The Obsessive Study of Athletics Aesthetics, pushes this logic to the extreme (I heard him discussing this with Roman Mars on 99% Invisible) when he poses this dilemma: imagine that your favorite team traded all of its players, even up, for all the players on your least favorite team . . . which team would you root for?
My Kids Do Not Know How to Have Fun
My wife introduced my kids to the "license plate game" last Friday -- we were driving down Route 130 and she thought it would be good practice for our cross-country trip to try to identify license plates from different states . . . the rule being that you score a point if you are the first person to see a particular state's plate, but little did she imagine the genie she uncorked, as both my children took the game VERY seriously, and this resulted in several arguments, much yelling, some outright cheating (so that we had to introduce a verification corollary rule) and finally, just after I parallel parked the car across from the public lot, to culminate the competition, both my children bolted from the car, ran across the street (without looking both ways, or even one way) darted between cars in the parking lot, and sprinted to a white plate -- "Indiana!"-- and then argued about who yelled it first (resulting in another corollary rule: no playing the game outside the confines of the car) and two days later, on Sunday, when I was driving Ian back from his soccer game, he was still playing, even though he was alone in the back seat and I had informed him that I wasn't playing because I was driving back from an unfamiliar location, but none of this mattered, he was racking up points and soundly beating some imaginary opponent, an imaginary opponent who probably resembled his older brother.
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.
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