You may have seen this video where John Stewart lambastes Oklahoma State Senator Nathan Dahm about the hypocrisy of "protecting" children from "drag show readings" while not protecting children from the leading cause of death-- guns-- and while I certainly agree with his sentiment, this little clips are the problem with social media, polarization, and how discourse is conducted today-- because the real discussion is about what people value-- and obviously conservatives value the Second Amendment and the right for manly men (and women) to bear arms and protect their traditional families-- and that's fine-- and they value that more than they value the continuum of gender and sexuality-- but no one wants to come out and actually say what they value-- even though it's inherent in legislation-- for example, New Jersey (and a number of states) value the liberty to get stoned over the mental health of children-- because the legalization of marijuana, long overdue for many reasons, definitely solves one problem-- that of incarcerating people for an absurd crime, but it does cause another problem-- a ubiquitous flood medical grade marijuana products -- and the research shows that marijuana before the age of 24 (or more than twice a week after the age of 24) can have some serious consequences on mental health-- and cause anxiety, schizophrenia, and other mental disorders-- so people need to start having serious and measured conversations about the costs and benefits of what we value-- less rhetoric and more utilitarian logic-- and while I'm rambling, the other things we need to have serious conversations about are cell phones and social media-- there's a great new Shortwave podcast on the deleterious effects of this shit-- psychologists are starting to coordinate causal data about how social media for teens leads to depression, self-harm, suicide, anxiety, and loneliness-- and we need to think about large language model AI-- and I heard this basic premise on the Ezra Klein podcast-- how we might start valuing the product more than the process, especially in writing- when the process is where you figure out that you should be writing about a different topic or you see the holes in your logic-- while Chat GPT can produce a coherent piece of writing about any topic, it's a product more than a process-- and it's the process where we think, revise, create and grow-- the product is just the cognitive journey polished up a bit . . . it would be a shame to lose that.
Here's a Leak to Make You Freak
Bottoms Up and the Devil Laughs: A Journey Through the Deep State by Kerry Howley is a book that will make you reflect on the power, pragmatism, risk, and reward of whistleblowing . . . of leaking some information for moral reasons-- the book focuses on Reality Winner and the document she leaked in order to show Americans that there really was Russian meddling in the 2016 election and the blowback from the Trump administration (and the use of the Espionage act) and the book has persuaded me that whistleblowing and leaking are just another check and balance of our government-- because the government (and corporations, of course) can engage in highly secretive and illegal activity that might need to see the light of day before it is unclassified-- and we need to remember these whistleblowers and the price they pay for releasing information-- and let's not forget Daniel Hale, either, who leaked information about the Obama administrations many errant drone strikes . . . while I'm not privy to any compelling government secrets, I did snap a couple of screenshots of this "Pest Issues" spreadsheet, which paints a vividly pestilent portrait of our rather dilapidated and porous school building (and perhaps this will encourage the town to pass the budget in order to build a new high school).
A Fun Wedding (Sort of)
My wife and I almost had a fun and relaxing time at my wife's niece's wedding yesterday afternoon . . . almost . . . the wedding was down the shore in Asbury Park at the Asbury Hotel and we were sleeping at my brother-in-law's house in Long Branch-- a beautiful spacious place with an ocean view (and we pretty much had the run of the place because Bob and Wendy were staying at the hotel-- father-of-the-bride stuff) and it was a beautiful day and we read our boys the riot act-- we wanted to have a relaxing time without incident-- Ian was supposed to help Alex move out of his dorm-- drive the minivan over and help him clean out his room- and then Ian was supposed to go to a sleepover and Alex was going to take care of the dog and then return to his dorm for the night-- but during the wedding service-- which was lovely and happening on the rooftop of the Asbury Hotel-- we got a call from Alex . . . he was getting some of his girlfriend's stuff on College Ave and then he needed to come over Landing Lane Bridge-- a skinny bridge full of traffic and he cut the turn too sharply and hit something on the edge of the bridge and popped the tire and so then he drove the van into the park on the flat tire and parked it but the spare was at home in the storage area-- we gave up on trying to get the spare back to where it belonged because the 2008 Toyota Minivan has the most inaccessible spare tire contraption known to man-- we've already had our problems with this thing-- and we had the spare in the back of the van for a while but then when tennis season started I removed it because it took up too much space-- and we didn't want Alex waiting forever in the park for roadside assistance so he walked back to his dorm and then biked home to take care of the dog-- which-- if he communicated with Ian-- he didn't need to do because Ian's sleepover was cancelled-- Ian was home and now going to a party around the block and we weren't all that happy about this development because we knew that party would be out-of-control and it seems it was-- but what could we do? we were down the beach . . . anyway, everyone survived their ordeals (although we're pretty sure Ian had too much to drink at this party) and the wedding was wonderful and the band was great-- so we had a good time, despite worrying about the kids and the state of the van-- and we rushed home in the morning, headed straight to the park, found the van, removed the warning ticket, managed to change the tire-- despite some very tight lug nuts (next time bring a rubber mallet!) and get the van to Mavis, where they replaced three of the tires but could not do the fourth because Alex bent the rim so badly that the car needs to go to an actual mechanic tomorrow to get that fixed-- so now we are driving it on the spare and hoping we can finish this project tomorrow (we did need new tires so this expedited that purchase -- yuck) and the moral is just because your kids are in college (or nearly in college) doesn't mean that they are smart.
Rain Redux Broom Dementia Redux
It's been raining all week at 3 PM . . . tennis got canceled earlier in the week but today I was able to sweep away the puddles with my big push broom and we were able to play the match-- but I left the fucking push broom at the courts again-- I am an idiot.
Million to One Shot, Doc . . .
Rainy Round Trip
Yesterday, we had an away match against JFK (Iselin) who slaughtered us 5-0 last time-- and we were scheduled to have four matches this week, so I told my players to treat the match like a practice and just work on one thing-- hitting backhand winners, drop shots, big first serves, whatever-- because I didn't want them to get worn out in a match we couldn't win-- my son Ian was playing an excellent player, maybe the best in our division (and the seven or eight seed in the county) so I made a point to not watch him because I tend to make faces that annoy him when he hits dopey shots-- and when I passed him by in the second set (which he was losing) all I said was "have fun, you're first serve looks great" and then I found out from the other coach that Ian had WON the first set 6-4 and meanwhile our third singles won because JFK was missing a player and second singles was doing well (doubles were getting smacked) and Ian lost the second set 6-3 (but he had never taken a set off this kid before) and then in the third Ian took the lead-- he was crushing his first serve-- so he was up 5-4 -- but he eventually lost 7-5 . . . he ran out of serves-- but still, a great outing for him-- first singles is no joke-- so he was very sore today for North Brunswick-- a match we could win-- but we took a ride over to my hometown and while it wasn't raining in Highland Park, it was raining in North Brunswick-- so we pulled up, I got out and chatted with the coach for a minute, and then we turned around and headed home . . . very annoying but you can't play tennis in the rain-- so now we have four matches in a row next week.
Hey Books . . . Stop Trying to be 100 gecs
I can't get a break lately with the mystery books I've been reading lately-- I'm done skewering books on my podcast (If Books Could Kill does a better job and I just want to read things that are smart-- I don't have the time and energy to debunk idiotic stuff) but I keep reading mysteries that turn into weird shitty sci-fi/horror/paranormal adventures (notably The Quiet Boy and The House Across the Lake) and not only is Adam Hamdy's The Other Side of Night a mystery gone wrong (that starts with typical mystery tropes, a tough female cop, dismissed from her job because no one witnessed a chase gone wrong-- but it wasn't her fault-- and she gets involved in a weird case because of a cryptic note in a library book, a possible suicide -- or possible death by misadventure, as they say in England-- and an abandoned child with a secret) but then turns into a shitty sci-fi novel with time travel and a total misunderstanding of the "block universe" theory-- the narrator, a physicist, writes "I embrace the block theory of the universe, because if time doesn't pass, if all moments exist simultaneously, my son and his love are out there right now, somewhere in the gathered multitude of moments"-- but obviously the author is NOT a physicist and normally I wouldn't have thought much of this sentence, just chalked it up to sci-fi mumbo jumbo, but I have been serendipitously listening to the new Sam Harris episode, which features a REAL physicist-- Tim Maudlin-- who explains some misunderstandings about this block universe theory- and the fact that time still passes within this theory and within this four dimensional space of the block-- all four dimensions means is that you need four coordinate points to locate an event-- the outlier being time-- and so I'm going to implore these genre writers to stop treating books like 100 gecs songs-- songs can mix genres easier than books because songs are shorter and you have less time to think about what's happening-- but if you have a moment to contemplate, then going from realistic crime fiction to ridiculous oversimplified time travel and sci-fi appears very silly and absurd.
Monday is the Day You Forget Shit
I keep a big push-broom in my car so that before tennis matches, I can sweep water and/or tree catkins (green fuzzy pollen shit) and samaras (helicopters) off the court-- I had to sweep quite a bit of tree debris today and then I put the broom in the corner and promptly forgot about it-- but one of the friendly adults who always plays on the courts once the match is finished reminded me to take the broom home and I thanked him for the reminder, and then in the midst of cleaning up all the other tennis equipment, I forgot the broom and I had to drive back to the park-- and then when I got home for the second time I noticed that my son Alex's glasses had arrived -- and his dorm is back in that direction but still, I'm not driving out there again.
gecs!
The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste . . . Part Two!
Put Your Money Where Your Feet Is
Yesterday, my son Ian's feet were all messed up from the previous day's tennis match-- blisters and couple of toenails that looked like they were ready to rip off, so I told him he needed to cut his toenails or they were going to get worse but he said he was too tired and that he would do it in the morning and I said, "No way you're doing that before school . . . I'll bet you ten dollars you don't cut them" and he accepted the bet and-- surprisingly, he cut them-- so I paid out the bet but I told him this was the last time I was paying him to cut his toenails . . . I really hope that's true.
Tomorrow Morning is Double Convergence Friday!
While I'm not happy about the impending rainstorm (and accompanying blustery winds) that's going to make this weekend a washout (and make it difficult to get to the 100 gecs concert in Brooklyn) I am happy that I finally finished part II of my musical taste podcast-- if my podcast site goes back up any time soon, I'll put it online-- and I'm also happy that we've reached Friday in my Year-as-a-Week metaphor . . . tomorrow morning will be the convergence.
Tennis Etc.
So much tennis . . . and some Hamlet and some persuasive speeches in Public Speaking-- and a trip to the vet for Lola's exotic UTI-- hopefully the special urinalysis culture will give us the specific bacteria in her bladder that is causing the infection . . . but summer is coming.
Too Much to Bear
From . . . Where Do They Come From?
A long day-- got up early to chip away at the new podcast episode, away tennis match in Metuchen, Catherine took the dog to the vet because she's got yet another UTI-- but we still had time to whip up a Hello Fresh meal and watch the season one finale of From . . . and it's scary and awesome-- we can't wait to check out season two.
Tracy Morgan . . . Back from the Dead
Over a decade ago, my wife and I saw Tracy Morgan perform his very profane, very insane brand of comedy at the State Theater-- the performance was underwhelming and downright weird at times; two years later, Morgan was in a limo that was struck by a Walmart truck and Morgan nearly died (another passenger, a fellow comedian, did die) but he survived, collected 90 million in damages, and returned to stand-up with a decent and celebratory Netflix special . . . Saturday night, my wife and I went to see him in a much smaller venue-- The Stress Factory in New Brunswick and he was much more entertaining-- his joes were too raunchy to transcribe here (but he did do 15 minutes on having sexual intercourse with very old women) and the crowd was either laughing hysterically, looking at each other as if to say "can we laugh at this" or doing both things simultaneously-- anyway, the house was packed, beyond sold out-- they crammed seats in every nook and cranny-- and obvioulsy Morgan is doing this because he loves doing stand-up (or sit-down . . . as he had to take frequent breaks-- he needed help to get on stage . . . unless that was a James Brown act) because he's got enough Walmart settlement money to retire . . . I don't think I'd see him again, but I'm glad he's back on his feet, making sexist, racist, politically incorrect non-sequiturs again-- actually living the life of 30 Rock's Tracy Jordan in reality.
Friday!
I went to school for five days in a row this week, but-- oddly-- I did not reach total enlightenment (nor were any prizes awarded).
My Turn!
My kids like to take turns . . . getting in trouble (euphemistically known as experiential learning).
English Department Defeats Google . . . In Bed?
The other day I was racking my brain because I knew there was some situation where you insert the phrase "in bed" at the end of a sentence, for humorous effect, but I couldn't remember when you did this (and I was kind of mixing it up with Michael Scott's catch phrase "that's what she said") and I Googled it and it didn't come up so I thought I was losing my mind and that maybe I fabricated this idea and it was not a thing in the reality of our known universe but during lunch I asked my fellow English teachers and they said this was what you did with the little nugget of wisdom inside a fortune cookie and I was like "yes!" and I have no idea where this tradition originates but that's what I was thinking about-- "you will never hesitate to tackle the most difficult problems . . . in bed."
TV . . . It's What's On TV
Catherine and Ian were resistant to watching a new show-- they wanted to forge ahead with Money Heist (which is good, bit it's five million episodes so I wanted some variety) but I reminded them that in the old days you might watch a different show every day of the week and my wife conceded that point (although Ian didn't know what we were talking about) and so we started TWO shows-- both seems similar: The Society and From . . . both shows are about being trapped in a town, both shows are creepy, and both shows are compelling-- I like From a little better-- we ended up watching two episodes-- the pilot is pretty amazing-- and I think they will both provide a nice diversion from the infinite money heist.
The Raider Bird
A few hiccups today-- no Ian at first singles (got in some trouble at school) and Jakob was very late (Patrick retrieved him) but we still managed a 5-0 win over my alma mater, North Brunswick.
Your Musical Taste . . . Part One!
New episode of We Defy Augury up and streaming . . . "The Mysteries of Your Musical Taste: Part 1" . . . the premise of this one is thoughts (loosely) based on This is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas and Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson, but I included so many examples and clips-- Glenn Gould, Little Richard, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Billy Joel, Vulfpeck, Rage Against the Machine, The Shaggs, Steely Dan, Lightnin' Hopkins, Ornette Coleman, Herbie Hancock, The Crystal Method, The Flaming Lips, Pavement, Johnny Cash, Sonic Youth, Adele, Tom Petty, Jason Aldean, Bob Dylan, The Chemical Brothers, The Wu Tang Clan, Hamilton, and N.W.A.-- that I had to stretch it into two episodes.
Talk to the Bus Driver: He Might Be Famous
On the way to tennis matches, I always make a point to chat with the van driver-- because I'm sitting shotgun and it would be rude just to stare at my phone-- and the conversation is usually the standard drivel-- which is annoying but tolerable-- but today was different: our driver was a large fairly corpulent black dude who looked to be my age, and on the way to the match we got to chatting about punk rock venues in the New Brunswick, indie bands from back in the day, the industrial band Ministry, and other related nostalgia-- then our team played the hottest tennis match ever (in April-- record-setting heat) and we beat Sayreville 4-1 . . . Ian lost to another dinker but the rest of the team came through-- and then on the way home the bus driver and I chatted about the ruins of Amboy Cinema and the great movies of 1999 and we got on the topic of superhero movies and comic books and he mentioned Luke Cage and then he mentioned that the guy who played Luke Cage-- Mike Colter-- actually played him in a movie and I was like "what?" and he said, "I'm famous" and it turns out that he was not fucking with me, our van driver was indeed famous; his name is Daryle Lamont Jenkins and he's a political activist who is credited with pioneering the technique of "doxing" bad actors-- he goes after neo-Nazis and he is a proud leader of the Antifa and Mike Colter (Luke Cage) played him in a film called Skin . . . so the moral here is: normally when you talk to the bus driver, it's going to be about traffic and property taxes and car maintenance, but once in a while, you'll run into something completely different . . . so go ahead and roll the dice (the other thing I learned on this ride is that one of our tennis players is on the Highland Park Board of Health . . . he informed us that a particular restaurant did not have permits).
So Much For Spring
Hottest April tennis practice in history . . . but we played a fun game to make the points go quickly: tiebreaker to 7, you get one serve-- so you are hitting a second serve-- but returner has three shots to win the point-- if the server can get it back in play three times, the server wins the point-- very fun and taught kids to engineer and win points quickly, with a hard deep return or a drop shot, or get to the net and finish . . . hopefully this will pay off tomorrow when we play in the 90 degree heat.
Free to Die Whenever We Damned Please
The new Plain English podcast dives into a depressing question: "Why do Americans die so much younger than people in any other rich country?" and the answer is multi-faceted, but it can be boiled down to:
1) a proliferation of guns;
2) a proliferation of dangerous drugs- mainly opioids and fentanyl-- that lead to an incredible number of overdoses;
3) a proliferation of big cars, which we drive faster and more than people in other rich nations;
4) a proliferation of health and medical issues: our diet, unequal distribution of healthcare, the fact that we drive more and walk less, which leads to poor health outcomes (aside from things we focus on, like prostate cancer)
5) the American attitude and character-- which can make us more creative and interesting and rich, but can also make us defend the proliferation of assault rifles, the right to drink giant Big Gulps, the right to not get vaccinated, the right to drive giant heavy deadly gas-guzzling cars, the right to live wherever we want and commute as long and far as we want, the right to do drugs, the right to NOT be filmed by traffic safety cameras, and the right to not provide a safety net for many of the workers in our nation . . . which provides cheap labor which is great for capitalism and may help us be the leading innovators in the world but may also help us be the best at dying as well.
Ugly First Match
Today we drove to Old Bridge- a giant group 4 school-- with a limited line-up . . . Michael was away for Passover and Akhul was sick-- and we definitely had some first match jitters; Ian played awful-- just couldn't loosen up and hit the ball-- and Ethan lost the first set 7-6 in a 21-19 tiebreaker-- some sort of record?-- they were dinking it back and forth forever-- but then he started hitting the ball and won the second set and a third set tiebreaker-- ultimately we lost 3-2 in a very very long match but if we played loosely and strategically we would have won . . . instead we played like high school boys in their first match of the season and lost.
Whatever You Believe, Please Try To Climb the Political Ladder
Easter Sunday Tennis Resurrection
This afternoon, my brother, Alex, Ian and I played some doubles at Mercer County Park before Easter dinner-- Alex hadn't played since the summer (when he played once or twice) and my brother has been playing primarily pickleball so that evened up the teams-- it was my brother and I versus the children the old men won the bulk of the games-- the only times the children won was when Ian was serving-- he's got a big first serve now-- but most importantly, much fun was had by all, especially Alex because I kept forgetting he was left-handed and hit him some very poachable balls at the net, which he slammed with glee at my brother-- my brother is not used to the size my children have grown to . . . they are both much taller than the two of us and when Alex hits an overhead off of one of my lame cross-court shots, it's coming down at a crazy angle.
Wind . . . What is it Good For?
The wind is the most annoying element in sports (except when it becomes a tornado-- then it's one of the most deadly elements) and while I love pickleball, the ball is highly susceptible to the wind-- and yesterday was the first time I ever played pickleball in a low wind speed situation and it was awesome . . . you can lob and you can really hit the ball hard (I haven't played indoors yet . . . or not since 1988 in gym class at NBTHS).
History . . . What is It Good For?
New episode of We Defy Augury up . . . I read a couple of history books and learned a few things-- but probably not as much as I should have learned: "Revolutions, Reconstructions, and a Mountain Lion."
John Mulaney Stole My Bit!
I was texting with my friend Whitney today and I recommended he listen to the album "10000 gecs"-- but I also recommended the context in which he should listen to the album . . . this is an album to enjoy with a beverage or a substance or perhaps driving alone in the car, blasting it with the windows open (but do not combine all three) and I told him when he played Track 2 (757) he should recall this moment from 2004:
it's the Outer Banks Fishing Trip and there are twenty dudes crammed into the Martha Wood cottage-- a beach shack at Milepost 12-- and it's dark and we're drunk and playing some poker and also playing some tunes-- on a CD player-- and I've got Ween's new album Quebec and I'm playing "The Fucked Jam" over and over and over, for two reasons--
number one, I love "The Fucked Jam". . . the incomprehensible high-pitched lyrics, the weird synths, the random dips and pauses that make you think this groovy abomination is over . . .
but the second reason I'm playing this track over and over is that it's driving this huge guy Tinsley, once a linemen for the W&M football team, absolutely crazy-- and he's new to our fishing trip-- he wasn't in our fraternity-- and so perhaps he's not used to my brand of humor-- but the song is really driving him nuts and I keep promising him that it's over, but then it starts again-- check out 23 seconds in, it does that dip quite often-- and then I sincerely promise him I'm going to play another track from the album-- and then I don't and I feign surprise and tell him I thought it was over . . . and this goes on and on until he finally runs around the table, pops the CD player open, grabs the disk, sprints out to the porch, shaking the house with his massive footsteps, and throws the disc into the dunes-- which was completely deserved and we laughed and laughed-- and then a few years later-- and I'm just putting this together now-- John Mulaney does his "Salt and Pepper Diner" bit, about playing the Tom Jones song "What's New Pussycat" over and over at a diner, until the people in the diner lose their mind-- and he talks about how the song has a "dip in it," just like "The Fucked Jam" and I'm just realizing that Mulaney stole my bit (although my punchline was much better-- a giant football player barreling across the porch and chucking a little discus into the darkness) and I will simply await a simple thank you for the idea that propelled him to great fame and fortune.
Tennis Canceled (Self Reflective Stretch Day)
No tennis match today-- the weather is truly ugly-- and we could probably use a bit more practice so this might be a good thing, so this afternoon (after listing to this podcast) I have been trying to some flexibility exercises and it turns out that I should stop bench pressing and start sitting on the floor, getting up off the floor, doing Asian deep squats, and hanging from bars (not hanging in bars) or I'm going to be a burden to my flexible and fit wife (who can pop up from criss-cross applesauce without using her hands) when I get older . . . although I can get up off the ground without using my hands-- but I have to twist to my knees, so I've got that going for me . . . or I could keep bench-pressing and if I need any assistance when I get old, i could just punch a young person and then tell them they need to help me or I'll punch them again (but I'll have to coax them into getting down to ground level, since I won't be able to lift myself up).
This Doesn't Bode Well . . .
Horror with Panache (or Should I Say Flair?)
Last Night in Soho, which on first glance might seem like some other kind of film-- perhaps a feminine/Anglophile version of Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris-- but the film is NOT directed by Woody Allen, it's directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver, etc) and this is most definitely stylish and dream horror movie-- and it's a horror movie that makes decent sense (unlike Barbarian) but it mainly becomes a ghoulish contest of which blonde has more style, glamour and verve: Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy) or Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie) and the film is a reminder not to romanticize the past because it might not live up to your expectation (or die up to your expectations).
Remember When Harry Potter Fought Jesus?
I've just started listening to The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling and it seems Rowling is a useful and fascinating lens with which to observe the polarization of our culture-- I also forgot (until I listened to episode 2) how crazed the conservative Christians were about banning the Harry Potter books in the late 90s because they seduced children away from the magic of Jesus and towards the magic and necromancy and divination and sorcery and spells and fantasy of Hogwarts and the Potter pantheon-- and the books were just a victim of scale, of course, because there were plenty of fantasy books with far darker magic (I vaguely remember reading The Elfstones of Shannara in middle school . . . I think there's a nuclear war metaphor in that one) but the Harry Potter books were singular in their mass market domination-- anyway, it's an interesting podcast that's got a far broader scope than just talking about some J.K. Rowling tweets.
Horror and Lunch Buffet
Last night, Catherine and I watched the horror movie Barbarian and while I will admit that every decision every single regular person made in the movie was stupid and irrational and utterly insane, I was still gripping my wife's leg in terror throughout the film-- I don't really understand the title (although the film did take place on Barbary Street . . . a rundown abandoned Detroit suburb inhabited by squatters and derelicts-- aside form one cute AirBnB?) but there were so many bad choices . . . but that's how horror movies happen I suppose-- and maybe in this film most of the bad choices were made by men, but Tess-- the leading lady-- doesn't fare much better-- nor does the female arch-villain-- but it's still a fun and crazy journey; almost as scary was our ride to Muhlenberg University this morning-- torrential rain-- but the campus was lovely, the weather cleared up, and the free lunch at the dining hall was phenomenal-- since when does college have good food?
Spring Break! Spring Break?
Long last day of school-- I covered a class so I worked every minute, plus the kids are wild animals the day before break . . . this poor girl in Public Speaking class had to do a speech today-- she was absent last class-- and the assignment was to perform either a toast or a eulogy . . . and kids often eulogize goofy stuff like bad haircuts and their motivation but she was doing a semi-serious one about her dog, a teacup Yorkie-- who died a few years ago-- and her friends got the giggles because she was describing such a tiny dog and then when it got sad, they kept giggling and it got contagious because teenagers are idiots and I pretty much regretted all my life choices that had led me to being in that room full of those teenagers on the day of Spring Break-- but we got through it and the rest of the stupid classes and then there was still tennis practice but now I'm finally home, drinking a beer, listening to Beach House, and winding down from a long fucking stretch of school.
Dave Learns Too Much Today
I took over a new class today (because Cunningham got knocked up) and my co-teacher was out, so I had to learn a lot on my own (sort of, I called Cunningham twice on the phone, to her chagrin and the students' amusement, I enlisted the aid of our two tech support guys, and I asked the students numerous questions) and this new class is called Publisher's Workshop and the purpose of the class is to create all the articles and spreads for the school yearbook and to fill the school web page with articles-- so it's serious shit-- and I learned how to log onto Cuningham's iMac (it's slow and I hate the mouse) and I learned how to log onto the Bearhub web site -- which seems like a Wordpress blog-- and I got a Canva account (different from Canvas) so I can do the layouts-- and-- most importantly-- I learned the last name of my co-teacher-- because I only knew her first name, so now when she comes back I can refer to her properly in front of the kids . . . I took the kids (there are only eight of them) on a field trip today to the secret location where they store the tissue boxes-- I go directly to this secret location instead of putting in an order with the supplies lady-- so I taught them something (but probably not commensurate with what they taught me) and then we had picture day for the tennis team and I had to deal with MORE platforms-- the UTR site-- some kids have two accounts-- and Remind and Google classroom . . . so to summarize, I'm on a lot of platforms: Canvas, Gmail, Remind, Microsoft Email, Canva, Bearhub, UTR, and probably some shit I'm not even aware of . . . what have we wrought?
Long Fucking Afternoon
My son Ian, a senior, and Ethan-- an athletic and skilled sophomore, played their challenge match today for the first singles position and it wasn't pretty; Ian had two fingers taped on his left hand from a basketball injury and couldn't hit his patented two-handed backhand and Ethan suffered from calf cramps; Ian won the first set 6-1, Ethan won the second set 6-3 and then Ian won the third set 6-4 . . . Ethan showed that he's incredibly fast and can get to almost anything, Ian hit some decent first serves, but it was mainly a war of attrition and I'd kind of like to see them play again when they are both perfectly healthy.
Almost Fucking There
The Rutgers Expos team is slogging its way toward Spring Break but there's a bunch of essays, an Excel Spreadsheet, numerous college credit forms, and a bizarre final exam (called the FIE) in our way . . . I didn't realize there were so many obstacles in my way until Stacey called them to my attention Monday morning-- but we are diligently working through them (and I guess this happens every year but I conveniently forget about all this bullshit) and once this stuff is done and we make it to Spring Break, we will be in the final stretch . . . the fourth quarter!
March Showers Are Fucking Cold
The weather apps did not concur-- my students, with their newfangled iPhones, said their Apple weather app predicted 90% rain, but my much derided Weather Underground app said it wouldn't rain until 5 PM-- and the Weather Gods went with the Weather Underground (so we got 90 minutes of tennis practice in before we got wet).
Life is Scarier Than Death
It's easier to fight a deranged possessed puppet than it is to be an executrix . . . or at least that's my argument in this week's episode of We Defy Augury.
One-on-one Doubles
gecs!
I am still obsessed with the album 10000 gecs . . . I'm sure I'll get sick of it, but I'm listening to this album the way I listened to Paul's Boutique, The Pod, OK Computer, and The Soft Bulletin (among others) and it definitely scratches my brain.
Chat GPT is a Prude
I haven't played with Chat GPT in a while, but it rained today-- resulting in no tennis practice-- so I got to screwing around and I asked it a question inspired by a Beatles lyric and this is the pablum I got . . .
Yes, "Why don't we do it in the road?" is commonly interpreted as an invitation for sexual activity. However, engaging in sexual activity in public, especially on a road, is illegal and can be dangerous for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, engaging in sexual activity in public can lead to criminal charges for indecent exposure, public lewdness, or other related offenses. Additionally, it can be unsafe as there is an increased risk of being caught by law enforcement or pedestrians, as well as potential injury from passing vehicles.
In short, it is never advisable to engage in sexual activity in public, including on a road. It is important to prioritize personal safety and follow the laws and regulations set forth in one's community.
So Many gecs
If you liked this song, then you might like 100 gecs . . . if you need some context, listen to the new Switched on Pop . . . or go all the way . . . 1000 gecs . . . or even better: 10,000 gecs!
Longest Week of the Year
El Orfanato plus Being John Malkovich Equals?
If you're looking for a horror novel with serious puppetry, Being John Malkovich level marionette skills, then check out the new Grady Hendrix novel How to Sell a Haunted House . . . some of the scenes get a little long winded, but the book is very scary, very funny, and very Southern gothic (and once again, set in Charleston) AND there is an amazing bonus flashback set piece chapter set in Boston back when one of the main characters dropped out of college and joined a radical puppet collective with demonic and anarchic tendencies-- brilliant stuff . . . and Pupkin is a worthy villain and the book has a satisfying (and fairly logical, considering the subject matter) resolution . . . Grady Hendrix is a national treasure.
Wild Times
Thus Endeth the Streak
I played pickle ball today and tennis Thursday and Friday, and I did not fall down on any of those days . . . good times.
NCAA Weirdness Has Selected New Jersey
Tennis: First Day!
Whirlwind day: reverse schedule because of testing; Cunningham had a mental breakdown because of the positioning of her horizontal oblique fetus, and the fact that she needs to buy a car, get married, do a million parent/teacher conferences, get married, plan all her classes, and grade all her stuff . . . all before the baby pops out (although if she gets chased by a fungus person, it will pop out faster than you can say "Ellie) and while I'd never wish a mental breakdown on someone, it did make me less stressed about our first tennis practice . . . things went well, I raced out of school, drove home, let the dog out, made some coffee, and made it to the courts on time-- we only had ten kids out today but that's not bad for the first day, expecting a few more; we focused on the forehand today and did two forehand games-- one where you CANNOT hit a winner-- you can only score by hitting deep topspin forehands, past the service line, until the other person screws up-- and you get TWO points if they hit the net; the other where the server only gets one serve and the returner gets THREE shots, including the return, to win the point-- so in one game you consistent heavy forehands, like Nadal, until you wear your opponent out-- in the other you try to hit forehand winners-- very fun (and I got to play and absolutely crushed it . . . although I didn't play Ian or Ethan, who will be one and two) and then I got home fro tennis and Catherine was at the chiropracter so I got right to work on dinner and made some delicious homemade meatballs (with the help of Hello Fresh) and she was very appreciative-- and now all I need is Auburn to win and I'll be in good shape.
What The Kids Are Up To . . .
Mark Leyner vs. The Internet
Back to Belleayre (But Better)
My Boss is the Best
Yesterday, I had leftover tilapia for lunch and I needed some gum before I went back to class and breathed on the students and even though my boss was on the phone when I barged into her office, she fished some gum out of her purse and gave it to me (she said she went into multi-tasking mode, like she does when dealing with her two pre-school age children).
Cold Times in Laramie
If you're looking for a grim, bloody, disturbing podcast that investigates the unreliability of memory and the possibility that all first-person accounts are distorted and tainted-- a podcast that will make you question your own memory of the life you thought you knew, then check out the newest Serial production: The Coldest Case in Laramie . . . but it's a fucking bleak story set in a bleak place and I've listened to seven of the eight episodes and I doubt there will be a satisfying resoution.
A Podcast is Worth 10,000 Words
I converted one of my podcasts to text (using Otter.ai) and then cleaned it up and made it into a blog post and it turns out that a podcast is a lot of words, a whole lots of words . . . so if you want to read a whole lot of words, here it is: "Tomorrow I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."
Adulting 201
Delayed Reaction Dave
So I was going up for a rebound Saturday and some kid continued to box me out, even though I was in the air, and I took a hard horizontal fall but I felt okay yesterday-- good enough to play pickle ball (but not soccer) but this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a train-- mainly on the right side of my body, where I hit the floor, but I was also having trouble turning my neck-- but after trudging through my day, I went out with Ian and hit some tennis balls and then we played a game of 21 and though we weren't playing hard, i almost beat him-- got to 19, made one free throw and then missed the next one, sending me back down to 11 . . . anyway, I'm drinking a Swamp Donkey Pale Ale right now, and hoping when I wake up tomorrow I feel a bit less sore.
Anyone Seen This Guy Lately?
Yikes
I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.
Sports: The Great and the Terrible
I got one sporting birthday gift for my birthday, and one sporting slap in the face:
1) Alex and Ian played together in a volleyball tournament yesterday and they did NOT get into any kind of altercation . . . unlike the last time they played some sports together . . . so this made me very happy, the fact that they played together on the same team, cooperated, and had a good time-- wonderful stuff;
2) then, once the boys got home, we sat down to eat chicken parm and watch Rutgers basketball close out the Minnesota game-- Rutgers had a comfortable lead the entire game, and we were all sitting there-- like old times-- so our dog Lola was incredibly happy and content to have her entire pack together at last-- and then Rutgers imploded and there was much yelling, even from my wife, and Lola got scared and Rutgers blew a ten point lead in the last minute-- I'm not sure why they didn't pressure the ball at the end of the game, or why they had guys in the paint when the only way they could lose was the three-pointer, but they figured out a way to squander that lead, it was like the fever dream of Reggie Miller when he scored 8 points in 8 seconds to beat the Knicks.
Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes
The day has arrived,
the day of my birth--
And while the good doctor
has passed from this place,
I'm still hanging on
still running the race,
still working the job,
still writing the posts,
still chasing the lob,
still taunting the ghosts--
I've been knocking around
for fifty-three years,
my knees are a wreck,
I can barely quaff beers--
but while I can walk,
stand and not fall,
I'll remain in the game
and play pickleball.
Various Kinds of Door Decorating
Contingency Waist Plan
If I acquire a big beer belly, I'm wearing my friend Cunningham's pregnancy jeans!
Comparing Apples and Fungi
Here It Comes . . . The Long Haul
This is it: the long haul of school that precedes Spring Break-- five-day week after five-day week, tedium and repetition and no breaks in sight-- by the end of this stretch, some teachers and students will be empty husks, others will descend into madness, and very few will learn anything of value.
That's a Lot of Words . . .
I ran my new episode of We Defy Augury through an online transcript generator (Otter.ai) because I wanted to edit it and make it a blog post, but I learned that a 29 minute podcast is A LOT of written words-- 6000 or so-- and so I tried to whittle it down a bit but the post is still over 5000 words . . . it's pretty wild how many words are spoken in a podcast episode-- maybe I'm talking too fast?-- anyway, this is an interesting method of writing something-- first you outline it, then you perform the outline, then you edit the transcript of the performance into clear prose-- here is the result of that process:
Two Creative Concepts to Help You Be More Captivating.
Sometimes High School Kids Teach You Shit You Didn't Know
Today I learned three things from my students:
1) Chronophoto is an awesome online game;
2) InspiroBot is more fun than ChatGPT;
3) a girl in my Creative Writing class thinks I sound like the BoJack Horseman character Mr. Peanutbutter.
Sometimes High School Kids Are Actually Charming and Entertaining
This morning the students in my first period Public Speaking class crushed their Demonstrations speeches-- I always get nervous before we do 82 minutes of presentations because when they are bad and awkward, time crawls-- but today was wonderful and the variety was pretty astounding: we learned how to do a card trick; rebuild a drag-racing clutch; we witnessed an adept tarot card reading; I followed some instructions on how to do a professional pirouette; a guy demonstrated on the whiteboard how to draw a bunch of cartoon heads; and a girl showed us a slideshow on how to make cake pops . . . and then she gave everyone a cake pop!
Holy Mother of Peanut Butter and Chocolate Miracle!
The College Writing Crew was embroiled in another meeting about the state of the Rutgers Expository Writing Course . . . which will now by called College Writing because they are removing the Expository element . . . because it's racist?-- so we are thinking the changes Rutgers is making might be informed by documents like the NCTE Position Statement on Writing Instruction in School-- you should really browse through this very "woke" document to get a feel for what the fuck is going on in education . . . apparently writing is used as a "gatekeeping device," which contributes to inequity-- and so "writing instruction" should not focus on "the writing" and we should not "assess and evaluate" this writing-- but instead we should focus on the writers themselves AND if we are teaching kids logic and "reason, order and control, and directness of language" then we are being "Eurocentric" and "white" and we should instead promote "dialect that expresses their family and community identity, the idiolect that expresses their unique personal identity" and "multimodal" projects-- holy shit-- I thought documents like these were the product of super-liberal think tanks or something but they are obviously being adopted by more mainstream institutions . . . this is the kind of softball that keeps people like Jordan Peterson batting a thousand and turns well-meaning commonsensical folks in Republicans-- wild and weird stuff-- and not only is this insane because kids don't need to reflect on their identities any more than they already do-- but it's also going to promote the status quo because rich white parents are going to get their white kids tutored in the "Eurocentric" values of logic and reason and direct language-- and learning to write well which IS a difficult task-- that's why it's a gatekeeping task-- it's hard!-- and while kids do engage in lots of other kinds of writing-- Instagram posts and texts and Snapchat streaks-- that doesn't mean that they are academic writers-- just as we are ALL physicists . . . we can catch balls and accurately judge how objects will fall and understand how to drive a car at high speeds-- but that doesn't mean we should all be able to pass a college physics course . . . anyway, while we were discussing all this and figuring out the best course of action for next year, I sort of lost the thread of the meeting and said, "I wish I had a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup" and Stacey said, "I've got a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup!" and I was like WTF! and she pulled a two pack out of her bag and said, "A kid gave me this before Winter Break, is that okay?" and I said, "Yeah!" and we ate them and they were still totally delicious.
Satisfying Slime?
A Couple of Crucial Creative Concepts
Hail to the Chief!
A perfect President's Day-- it was 60 degrees and sunny in February, so Catherine and I played some pickle-ball-- the whole crew was out at the courts- and then we walked into New Brunswick and ate at Destination Dogs for the first time in a long while (the burger is better than the dogs) and we stayed up late last night and watched The Last of Us in real time!
White Lotus Season Three?
If you've finished both seasons of White Lotus and you need a lampooning-the-uber-rich fix, then you might enjoy Triangle of Sadness . . . but I must warn you this movie is over-the-top in many ways-- it gets super-gross at times, it really hammers you over the head with the "rich people are clueless" theme, and it eventually takes a rather unrealistic turn of events-- but I thoroughly enjoyed it despite these flaws-- it's funny and dark and weird and Wood Harrelson has an entertaining cameo in Act II.
Impressive Nap
College Writing is a Changin'
Yesterday the current EBHS Rutgers Expository Writing team (so Stacey, Cunningham, Soder, Brady, and me) and my boss took a meeting with two coordinators from the Rutgers Writing Program (Abigail Reardon and Brian Becker) and they explained the direction the course would be taking next September-- they were already currently modeling this new direction with a couple classes but they were going to "scale up" and completely revamp the course next year; anyway, the class WAS a synthesis non-fiction argument course-- the kids read long, dense, fairly difficult college level non-fiction pieces about far-ranging adult ideas-- organized complexity, criminal behavior, economics, sexual selection, sexism in a self-designated military academy, etcetera . . . great stuff-- and they learned to use these texts to formulate a sophisticated independent academic argument within the parameters of the textual evidence provided, without tangential anecdotes, outside sources, and random bullshit . . . and they did the same task over and over, with different texts, but the rules were always the same and the grades were NOT averaged-- instead they received the highest grade they sustained on any two essays . . . so it was more of a sports model where the kids really struggled on the first two papers, generally did not pass them, but then got better and better and received a grade for how good they got at the task, not an average of all their attempts-- anyway, it was a great class, I wish I had it before I went to college-- it taught our students how to formulate a thesis and an argument, how to complicate that thesis and go beyond compare/contrast, how to weave evidence into a paragraph, how to synthesize terms and ideas from different texts, and how to parse and understand a dense text . . . but apparently kids are struggling to do this at Rutgers, according to Abby and Brian, so the course is changing drastically-- in their words, the old course trained students to be "scholars" while the new course will invite kids to be "writers" . . . so the new course has four "projects," and while they are not fully fleshed out, this is my best description:
1. a personal essay with some modeling of techniques-- they called this the "College Essay 2.0"-- and this is ironic because years ago, when we first teamed up with Rutgers, they were very disdainful about our Composition Class that we ran for community college credit because it had a lot of reading examples and modeling rhetorical devices-- they thought that was sophomoric silliness and said so-- but now they are doing this themselves;
2. a synthesis essay with 4-5 short articles and a proposal-- this sounds vaguely like what we are currently doing, but with easier texts;
3. some response to a Radiolab podcast-- this might be synthesis or it might be the bridge to assignment number four;
4. an investigation into some question you'd like to think about during your four years in college-- and this can be multimodal-- so a website or a video or whatever-- they showed us a "beautiful" example that did look very nice-- it was a website made on Adobe that had lovely (stock) images and a cool layout-- use of a template!-- and was about how music soothed this girl's anxiety and had a citation from her friend Todd . . . it was pretty much journal entries-- and they told a story about a lousy student who figured out a good topic -- cricket!-- and he wrote about the progression and evolution of cricket-playing in our locality . . . so a cute assignment and one that smart kids will run with and not-so-smart kids will struggle with . . .
anyway, I took a bunch of notes (and also noticed that the Rutgers folk were zooming from home . . . it must be nice) and you can present anything to me and it sounds fine-- I'm like, whatever, I'll do that-- but Cunningham and Powers and our boss Jess process things much faster than me (they don't call me Delayed Reaction Dave for nothing . . . I got all pissed off about our new schedule a year after it was implemented, much to the amusement of the fast-thinking ladies) and they realized that this course was a major dumbing down of the old synthesis course and that this course is very similar to our English 12 community college credit course (except that course might be more rigorous) and while we didn't raise all these issues with Rutgers, we now have to decide what to do . . . and we have some theories as to what happened at Rutgers, from clues from Abby and Brian and from our own thoughts-- first of all, it used to be that it was impossible to place out of the Rutgers Expository Writing course, so everyone took it-- even the smart kids-- but lately, you can place out of it a variety of ways-- community college credits, AP scores, taking the course in high school-- so that the kids who have to take it freshman year at Rutgers are not the best students AND there is a major decline in college applications this year, more kids are dropping out than ever, kids experienced learning loss during COVID, and Rutgers pulls from a wide variety of schools . . . SO the kids can't pass the old College Writing course-- my wife says that her lesson plans that worked for twenty years of fifth grade math no longer work-- the kids can't do certain abstract and creative thinking since COVID . . . this was a lot for me to take in, but Cunningham has already outlined a new course that scaffolds the old Expository synthesis stuff in some better manner and I guess we'll present this to Rutgers because our kids are capable of doing this course and it's really beneficial for them while the new class just seems watered down and not that relevant to writing in other disciplines . . . I'm sure there will be more to this story and plenty more to synthesize and figure out but it looks like College Writing is a changing.
Miracle at the Wawa
Yet another sentence set at the Wawa-- and NOT at the Starbucks, I might add . . . there are ZERO sentences on this blog set at Starbucks because I've never been inside a Starbucks . . . I refuse to spend that much money for coffee and-- if I followed Cunningham's orders-- this Miracle at the Wawa might not have happened at all because she wanted me to pick her up some kind of crazy sugary barely caffeinated drink at Starbucks (she's pregnant and not drinking coffee) but I told her I wasn't going to Starbucks and I would pick her up anything she wanted as long as it was at the Wawa and we had an interesting debate/discussion in front of her AP Lang. class and then I drove to the Wawa to get a sandwich and to pick up a very complicated coffee order for Stacey; I ordered my sandwich on the little touchscreen and then I built Stacey's drink, which consisted of half a 20 oz. cup of some frothy extreme caffeine Mocha Wake Up out of a big multi-multi-nozzled machine, then 1/3 cup of dark roast from the regular coffee urn, and then a dollop of Irish Creme coffee creamer . . . and then I got in line and while I was standing there, holding her giant complex coffee drink, the little cardboard band that keeps you from burning your hand broke and her 20 oz. coffee slid through the broken band and fell and-- without even thinking-- I dropped my hand two feet down, lightning fast, fucking lightning fast and I caught the cup-- and did not spill a drop-- I caught the cup with exactly the right amount of force so that it fell no farther but I didn't crush it-- it was a fucking miracle-- and-- Testify!-- the guy behind me in line saw the whole thing and he was like, "That was amazing" and I said, "Yeah, that would have been a big mess" and I was very glad that someone Witnessed this Miracle and I am certainly a Blessed Figure on this Earth.
Nothing Romantic
Catherine, Ian, and I had a fun (but not very romantic) Valentine's Day-- we watched episode five of The Last of Us, which was gripping and compelling and scary and violent and tragic-- but had zero romance-- and then we went to the Rutgers basketball game and watched Nebraska shoot the eyes out of the basket, while the Rutgers crew hesitated on threes, threw away passes, botched lay-ups, and missed free throws . . . fun to be there but what a mess.
William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!
New episode of We Defy Augury up and it's a good one-- as close to being in my Creative Writing class as it gets . . . "William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!"
Nice Work, Kids
It's official-- both my kids can properly shoot a basketball (and they learned to do it sooner than I did . . . I think it took me until I was 24 before I could shoot with proper form and spin).
Why Roger Goodell . . . Why?
It's Sunday night, I'm wiped out and want to pack it in and get ready for school tomorrow, but we're off to a SuperBowl party-- and I'm not complaining about that, it's wonderful to have friends and to be invited places-- but why not do this shindig on Saturday night?-- why torture all the working people?
Things I Learned Recently (For the Next Time)
I've now hit the age where I can have three alcoholic drinks and feel okay the next morning, but if I have four alcoholic drinks then I'll feel pretty awful the next morning . . . so that's how I felt this morning, but I took some Advil, shook it off, and went to the gym with my son-- I lifted weights but he got involved in a pick-up basketball game so we stayed for a while, and I watched the first half of the Rutgers basketball game while I was working out-- lifting weights, walking backwards on the treadmill, rowing, etcetera . . and it was stress free-- so that's what I learned-- when you watch your team while you're working out, you don't yell and scream and curse at the TV-- you release your stress through exercise . . . but then we drove home and caught the second half, and I yelled and screamed and cursed and Rutgers totally collapsed and I should have stayed at the gym for the entire game-- next time: three drinks and I stay at the gym, next time.
Game, Set, Dave is Old
When my son Ian was a sophomore I could still occasionally win a set when I played him in tennis; last year, his junior season, I could still take plenty of games off him; the past two days, we had some unseasonable warm weather so we went out and hit together and played some and it looks like now I'll be struggling to win points when I play him (but I'm sure hitting with him helps my game more than his-- so when I play my usual competitors, who are aging at the same pace I am, I'll be a leg up because of hitting with Ian, who is at the point where he's just getting bigger and stronger every day).
Pet Paradox
My vet still requires masking . . . for people-- but pets don't have to wear masks and they are the patients!
Tomorrow, I Just Might Start Playing Video Games . . . Tomorrow
Salad Days of Dave
Making a salad in the morning to bring for lunch seems like a great idea in the AM-- healthy, nutritious, delicious and fibrous-- but then when lunch time rolls around, that salad is not as appetizing, and feels a bit paltry-- especially if you forget the dressing.
That Was Only Monday?
Full on Monday today . . . as a model narrative, I told a story in Public Speaking I haven't recounted in a while-- the time Catherine and I took a bus from Damascus, Syria to Cappadocia, Turkey-- a twenty-hour ride for only seven dollars?- but the bus broke down at the border and the driver escorted us (and the dozen or so other passengers) to a decrepit mosquito-ridden gas station waiting room and then some other guy drove the bus into the darkness behind the building-- it was 3:30 AM-- and it was quite cold in the gas station waiting room so I told the driver my wife and I were cold (in my caveman Arabic) and that I wanted to get our jackets and he said the bus was broken and I couldn't do that but I finally got fed up and walked into the darkness around the back of the building and I found our bus and there were some guys inserting tubes into various hidden plastic containers in every nook and cranny of the bus-- even under the walkways inside the bus-- and then I realized why the tickets were so cheap-- this bus wasn't for transporting people, it was for smuggling gasoline over the border-- gas was subsidized and cheap in Syria and more expensive in Turkey, so after the guys had filled all the containers and canisters with gas, the bus was "fixed" and we headed to Goreme National Park-- but the bus dropped off on the main highway road sixty miles short of our destination-- the driver said a minibus would come along eventually, but instead Catherine stuck her thumb out and a truck driver picked us up and brought us all the way to our destination-- definitely one of the most scenic places we ever visited-- houses and Byzantine churches carved in the soft stone and labyrinthine underground cities to explore. . . and I told this story because I have some Middle Eastern kid in my first period class and I thought they'd enjoy it-- which they did-- but they informed me that, coincidentally, last night there was a terribly powerful earthquake right at the border of Syria and Turkey, right where our bus stopped-- so that was weird-- and then I covered PE class second period-- and I had what I now call "jailhouse" PE . . . first the kids walk in a circle and then I covered a split class of ping-pong and weight-lifting, so three premier jailhouse activities-- then another Public Speaking class, then down to the Library . . . excuse me, Media Center . . . for peer-editing, then an endless faculty meeting with an extensive presentation on the dangers of substance abuse . . . and wow, according to this lady, kids are really abusing all sorts of substances: THC, Delta 8, edibles, nicotine vapes, fentanyl, etcetera . . . drugs are easier than ever to get, hide, ingest, and abuse and she had all kinds of horror stories from the local emergency rooms-- but apparently vaping is horrible for you, vaping ANYTHING . . . heavy metals, weird particles, deeper lung penetration, unregulated chemicals and dosages-- scary stuff-- and kids are eating huge doses of edibles (or even dosing their classmates) and exhibiting some nutty behaviors . . . but perhaps we'll sort all this out on Tuesday.
Good (Dog Defecation) Deed
Today at the dog park, when this older guy's dog Max pooped in the far corner, I went and picked it up and disposed of it-- and I didn't even mention this to the dog's owner, a nice older gent named George, so this was a true altruistic act, a true good deed for which I received no credit . . . so it is now likely that upon my deathbed, I will receive total consciousness (or some such comparable benediction).
Uh . . . Wow . . . TV?
The third episode of The Last of Us-- the HBO show based on the video game with the same name-- is some very ambitious, very emotional, very amazing TV . . . the episode is really a film unto itself (it reminds me of the Station 11 episode Baby Boom in that respect) when the show takes a worthy detour in time and place to show us Nick Offerman as a survivalist prepper bizarro-world version of his most beloved character, Ron Swanson, with a compelling twist (the other fabulous cameo appearance is Murray Bartlett, another great actor who absolutely stole the show as Armand in White Lotus).
How to Get a Seat at Salt
Dave Educates the Youth?
Groundhog Day (on Groundhog Day)
It's mid-year . . . mid-terms are over and it's back to the repetitive grind; I did "first day of school stuff" in my three semester classes: learned a bunch of names, went over the rules-- no cell phones!-- and did all the icebreakers and such; covered several classes, including a couple of PE classes (one class was abysmal at ping-pong, leading me to lecture my College Writing classes about the sports they need to learn how to play before they go away to college: darts, pool, ping-pong, corn-hole, volleyball, and spike ball) and generally felt like we are on infinite repeat . . . no snow days, no breaks in sight . . . but soon enough we'll be over the hump (and it is getting sunnier in the mornings).
It's February!
Get busy, pack it in and compress yourself-- it's February, you sons of bitches, and you've only got 28 days to get it done this month . . . unless it's a leap year, is it a leap year?-- then you get an extra day and things aren't so dire.