The Test 82: Fill in the Trump

The bigliest, most beautiful, classiest Test ever, inspired by this Car Seat Headrest song . . . a great great test, I'm certain you're going to love it.

The Problem is You, Dave

More often than I'd like, I jack my phone into a charging cord that is not plugged into any sort of electrical outlet, and then at some unspecified later time, I get really annoyed and think my battery doesn't hold a charge.

No Spoilers (No Shit)

I finished S-Town this afternoon, and I won't spoil anything-- other than the fact that my previous prediction (Bitcoin!) was idiotic . . . you couldn't invent the ending to the story of John B. McLemore (and neither could I).

Spoiler? Only If Dave is as Smart as John B. McLemore

I am just starting episode five of S-Town, the fantastic new podcast from the producers of This American Life and Serial, and I have a bold out-of-the-box prediction (especially considering the Flannery O'Connoresque Southern Gothic tone of the story) and I promise my speculative conjecture won't spoil a thing if you haven't started listening, but I'm making my guess and it's Bitcoin.

Why Do We Walk So Far For Ice Cream?

The Median Voter Theorem-- an idea based on Harold Hoteling's theory of spatial competition, which Anthony Downs linked to the U.S. two party political system-- makes perfect logical sense; both ice cream trucks (or political parties) should move toward the middle of the block to capture the median voter (while still being the closest and most appetizing option for the extreme voters as well) and thus the two parties should move closer and closer together (while still remaining discernible) but for various reasons that Tyler Cowen outlines in his new book, reasons such as lobbyists, stasis, financiers, entrenched budgets, complacent participation in democracy and elections, the lack of meaning behind most policy, entrenched budgets and discretionary spending, and a bunch of other shit, this rational model doesn't apply any longer . . . and this is really really strange and means that the polarized political world that we now live in is much weirder than you might imagine . . . so watch the video, and then come up with your own theory on why we're completely insane and willing to walk a really long way for ice cream, and if you really want to be depressed (and intrigued) by stasis and stagnation, and the possibility of an apocalyptic reset that will not only drain the swamp, weed the garden, and possibly set fire to the wicked, read Tyler Cowen's fantastic, precise and intelligent book The Complacent Class: The Self-Defeating Quest for the American Dream, and if you're looking for something more metaphorical, literary, and Southern Gothic, then check out the podcast S-Town . . . but be careful about digesting them in combination, as you'll be in for an ugly ride.

Dave Returns! With the Usual Drivel . . .

My wife and I escaped from the children this weekend and enjoyed some unscheduled time in the City of Brotherly Love . . . and while we certainly experienced some love, it was mainly of the segregated and gentrified sort-- 13th Street near McGillin's pub is no longer gritty and urban, it's now a wonderful upscale strip of restaurants, bars, and coffee shops catering to young hipsters . . . here's a quick and dirty rundown of some of the stuff we did and saw:

1) after hiking over to the Edgar Allan Poe National Historic Site, which is a bit of a haul from center city but definitely worth a stop, we wandered into a Trump Rally, which was fairly small (apparently it got bigger and wilder as the day went on) and while it was pretty tame, it did have the usual jingoistic chanting, an African-American representing Black Lives Matter with a megaphone in an argument with a bearded Trump supporter, and some people off to the side with a fantastic sign condemning everyone; the sign read:

LUKEWARM CHRISTIANS LIKE TRUMP 

WILL BURN IN HELL WITH ALL LIBERALS

REPENT AND OBEY JESUS 

which is a statement I've got to admire in its candid comprehensiveness and straightforward sentiment;

2) we saw the horror movie Get Out, which is funny, scary, and satirizes race relations in America-- I highly recommend the film, it's totally entertaining . . . and soon after, when we were walking through a slightly sketchy area that harbored some prostitutes and homeless folks, a rather tipsy African-American woman yelled, "White people stink!" at my wife and me, and I told her she should go see Get Out, which would certainly confirm her hypothesis;

3) we ate at some excellent places: Lolita, Pub and Kitchen, Sampan, Dan Dan, and Misconduct Tavern.

Questions of Dave Part IV

Did the lobbyists who perpetuate our flawed and byzantine healthcare system conspire with the lobbyists who block tax reform?-- because they both have an interest in preserving systems that squeeze the maximum profit out of every step of the equation-- and why do these folks hate the American people so fucking much?

Questions of Dave Part III

Now that music is essentially free (Spotify, YouTube, etc.) and streamable, will creditors grant amnesty to those who are still delinquent on their BMG Music Service and Columbia House Cassette of the Month club bills, because they fell prey to the negative option payment mechanism?

Questions of Dave Part II

At what rate must you consume a 48 ounce plastic jug of garden fresh Costco salsa in order to finish it before it goes sour?

Questions of Dave Part I

Cat and I are leaving the kids with my parents and heading to the City of Brotherly Love for the weekend, so I'll provide you some questions to ponder while I'm off the reservation:

1) how many hours of vintage Van Halen concert footage must I force my children to watch before they can truly appreciate the preteen portrayal of Van Halen in the "Hot For Teacher" video?

Dave's Brain = Random Band Name Generator

From the man who provided this phenomenal (but inappropriate) band name, gratis, here's another . . . it's a bit more intellectual, perfect for some math-rockers looking for a moniker:

The Algorithms of Delphi. 

Dave Has No Need For Telepathy

It turns out that my new mind-reading machine is fairly useless-- I thought it might be interesting to read Donald Trump's mind, but his thoughts are identical to his tweets-- and every time I used it on people in my general vicinity, they were thinking the exact same thing: Dave's here! Awesome!

Telepathy of Dave

Just got my new mind-reader operating, so I pointed it at Paul Ryan's brain and found this gem: people will enjoy their own subpar healthcare more if a bunch of other people they know don't have any healthcare at all.

Dave + March = Mirror Madness

I was tired today, despite a good night's sleep and I just realized why . . . I'm exhausted from watching all that NCAA basketball-- that's right, I'm physically tired from sitting on my butt, vicariously competing-- because my mirror neurons were firing like crazy for much of Saturday and Sunday afternoon: in fact, scientifically, it's like I played 80% of those games, because that's the percentage of neurons that fire when you're watching sports (as opposed to playing sports) and I watched quite a few games (the weather was lousy on Saturday) so really I'm probably more tired than some of the kids who were playing, plus I battled plenty of monsters during Kong:Skull Island . . . so I more than earned this beer I'm drinking, and I can't wait to get another phenomenal workout next weekend.

The Test 81: Of What It Is Made

This week on The Test, Dave and Stacey learn that a lot of stuff is made of other kinds of stuff . . . and Cunningham knows what that stuff is . . . not only that, she also knows how to dispose of old soup; so play along and see if you know of what things are made (you should also notice a vast improvement in sound quality, as I learned how to use the level controls on my digital audio recorder).

King Guam

Kong: Skull Island is an entertaining mash-up of Apocalypse Now and every archetypal monster-movie trope; while it certainly has it's share of horrific deaths, it is far more fun than Logan . . . and John C. Reilly has the most fun of anyone in the film, he plays Hank Marlow-- his name is certainly a nod to the narrator of Conrad's Heart of Darkness-- a WWII pilot who crashed on the island in 1944 while engaged in a dogfight with a Japanese plane; both soldiers survive the crash, battle a bit on the sandy beach and in the jungle, and then become friends, bonding over being scared shitless by Kong; we then flash-forward nearly 30 years to 1973, and a government and military crew is sent to map Skull Island and look for resources (but an especially dour John Goodman knows there is more in the jungle) after the crew is properly hazed and scattered by an angry, territorial Kong, one group meets Marlow in the jungle, and though Marlow's friend has died, Marlow has made it through the years and preserved much of his sanity, thanks to some friendly (but creepy) natives . . . so he's a little wacky, but certainly no Kurtz-- and while he's got no idea about what's happened in the civilized world for the past three decades, he is an expert on Kong and the skull-crawlers and everything else Skull Island related (but Samuel Jackson just won't listen to him, his character has been broken by the Vietnam War and just wants to defeat something, anything, and that thing is Kong) and take my word for it, take the kids and go see it, it's a visual spectacular that puts the new Jurassic Park to shame, but more importantly, I just learned Doug Mack's travelogue The Not Quite States of America: Dispatches from the Territories and other Far Flung Outposts of the United States that there was a situation quite similar to Hank Marlow's on the island of Guam: Sergeant Shoichi Yokoi survived 28 years in the jungle of Guam, 20 of them with two companions and the last 8 years alone (his companions starved to death) and he survived by eating "rats, frogs, snails, shrimp, coconuts, and other tropical fruit" and trapping eels; he lived in a cave with bamboo shelves and a bamboo ladder to the surface, and while he didn't have to contend with giant lizards and a godlike monstrous ape, he did make it home, marry, and live to the ripe old age of 82, which is why I pronounce him (posthumously) King Guam.

Breaking News!

Occasionally, the master becomes the student, and a good teacher will accept this turning of the tables and try to glean as much wisdom as possible from the situation; yesterday was one of those days, as a very informed pupil in my Creative Class enlightened me about several items of pop-cultural significance:

1) rapper extraordinaire Jay-Z is married to pop icon Beyonce!

2) rapper extraordinaire Kanye West is married to professional celebrity Kim Kardashian!

and if you'd like more up-to-the-moment celebrity news, tune in tomorrow, when I explain what the term "Brangelina" means (that's a joke, I know all about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, but I sincerely had no idea that Jay-Z and Kanye West are both married . . . it doesn't seem to fit their lifestyles).

Missing Ari Shaffir

Last week, I nearly descended into madness, and this week, my podcasting partner Stacey flirted with her own lunatic demons; over the weekend, I received a few cryptic texts from her about some white whale of a project she was pursuing . . . she was collecting a multitude of obscure audio clips, scribbling notes (in various colors of ink) in a marble notebook, recording live audio bits on her phone, organizing aforementioned clips into some kinds of order only she could understand, and she told me she needed to record a bunch of audio before our usual podcasting session for The Test . . . so Monday night she recorded her manic notes, and then I gave her a crash course in GarageBand and left my old Macbook with her so she could try to stitch it all together together during the blizzard, and while she suffered several digital setbacks and nearly gave up (one of her texts to me, while she was deep in the process, said simply: "My life sucks") she persevered and put together a compelling, rather intense, possibly satirical, very-meta Serial-style show investigating the "disappearance" of comedian Ari Shaffir . . . so The Test proudly presents a Stacey Powers original: Missing Ari Shaffir.

DST Is Easier to Deal With When You Don't Have to Go to Work

Where It Hurts, a noir crime thriller set on Long Island-- but nowhere near the Hamptons-- is about as dark and violent as the genre gets, and Reed Farrel Coleman has a deft touch with an extensive set of characters; they materialize one after the other, each the star of a short chapter, each providing a small piece to the puzzle retired cop Gus Murphy is trying to solve, each character broken in their own special way, each piece of information similarly fragmented . . . this was a perfect blizzard read: I couldn't put it down . . . and I didn't need to.

Pun of the Century?

My friend Terry would not shut up yesterday about the imminent blizzard-- he kept abreast of the weather forecast on a minute-to-minute basis and streamed this information to the office in a constant cascade of meteorological bombast-- but moments before final dismissal, justice was served . . . I had a lexical epiphany and called him a "snow-it-all," and for a few hours, my self-esteem was riding high and I was much impressed with my wit, but after some research, I found out that "snow-it-all" is already defined at Urban Dictionary, so though I did think of the term in the moment, I can't take credit for coining up it.