Pugs Only

Where a Pug belongs?

2009-05-19T19:40:00.000-05:00

Pugs. In. Outfits.

2009-05-17T16:30:00.001-05:00

Back On Track

2009-05-08T11:12:00.000-05:00

A Plea To Enlarge The Rock

2009-04-15T08:29:00.000-05:00

Northwestern University is always casting about for icons and traditions. We keep building things and sticking things in the ground and telling people they’re historical, but we’re not fooling anybody. What do you think of when you think of Northwestern? What is the physical definition of this place? What object will act as our representative to the world? Every likely option has serious shortcomings. The Technological Institute is too functional, Lake Michigan is too impersonal, and University Hall is frankly unspectacular. We erected The Arch in the glorious and thoroughly historical 1970s and, while iconic enough for parents, photographers, and visiting dignitaries, it has proven to be too modern and disingenuous to truly capture the spirit of our beloved University in physical form.

Lacking a more magnificent option, we Wildcats resort to worshiping The Rock, that ragged, chintzy flake of granite awkwardly plopped at a random south campus crossroads. The dubious and unwelcome “gift” of the class of 1902, The Rock was originally a fountain; naturally, it failed very quickly at this purpose, then failed again as a drinking fountain before administrators decided to cut their losses and just let it be a solid piece of stone. Even this rather modest role proved too much in 1989, when to accommodate new landscaping, The Rock was stripped of its remaining dignity and moved some 20 feet (The Rock should move us, not the other way around.) and dropped along the way: it cracked and crumbled and had to be glued back together like a broken lamp in a poor home, or some soulless, overgrown Humpty Dumpty.

For all its many deficiencies in historical value, moral character, and aesthetic pleasantness, if we could only correct the most conspicuous of The Rock’s failings I believe it could finally fulfill its purpose as the symbol of our University and lead Northwestern into a brave new era of light and justice. I speak, of course, of The Rock’s inferior size.

I for one am sick and tired of The Rock being so small. Our college’s rock should be grand and imposing and monumental, as big as the combined power, potential, and hope of every student and scholar at Northwestern. A glimpse of The Rock should fill each student with the same warm spreading feeling of pride and belongingness associated with barn raisings, World Series victories, and The Star Spangled Banner set to fireworks.

Every time I see my university’s rock I should think, “This rock has shattered my conception of vastness.” I walk by our current Rock and think, “This rock is about the size of a large van.” This thing doesn’t even really deserve to be called The Rock. It is more of a Rock, or just a rock, as in “There is a rock in front of Kresge Hall” or “I have a rock in my shoe.”

I want it to be vast beyond reason. I want people to mention it in whispers, if at all.

Imagine The Rock as it could be, a creaking purple monolith towering over campus like the maggot-polished skull of some elder god. It emits a curious odor with a hint of prestige, like graveyard soil and mulled wine. People seem drawn to the Rock, and when they walk by they move like iron filings in a magnetic field. Alumni snap off involuntary salutes. Passing eagles are moved to tears.

This is The Rock Northwestern deserves. This is The Rock Northwestern needs.

Like every goal worth pursuing, the expansion of The Rock will require sacrifice. This need has arisen when times are thin, resources scant, circumstances straitened. Buildings, jobs, and even lives will have to be given up for the sake of a larger Rock.

But can you put a price on pride? On happiness? As goes The Rock, so goes Northwestern. Let’s keep our University relevant and thriving. Let’s bring honor and majesty back to campus. Let’s enlarge The Rock.

Suspect: Tirth Patel

2009-02-26T15:57:00.001-06:00

Damn it!Somebody needs to take care of this thing

2009-02-19T02:11:00.002-06:00

And it might be me.
If I get enough comments (at least from some of the "writers" on this blog), I will continue making posts.

Actually, I might still write just for the heck of it.

For starters, here is something I will brag about(relevant details in bold:

http://www.dailybruin.ucla.edu/news/2009/feb/11/quiz-bowl-team-places-first-division/

Since I know a lot of you are not actually click on the link, I will post the article anyway:

"Down by 60 points in the final, tie-breaking round of the intercollegiate quiz bowl, UCLA answered four questions in a row on Saturday to rally for the win in a narrow 170-160 victory over Arizona State University.
The UCLA quiz bowl team’s win brought the end of a 15-round tournament that had lasted for nearly 11 hours, said Ravi Menghani, a medical student at UCLA who helped to direct the event.

The four undergraduate students on UCLA’s quiz bowl team answered hundreds of trivia questions to beat 10 other teams from colleges across the western United States including USC and Stanford University, Menghani said.Teams competed head-to-head in a Jeopardy-style tournament that consisted of toss-up questions worth 10 points for a correct answer or negative five points for an incorrect answer.
Quiz topics ranged from academic subjects like history and medicine to general trivia and pop culture, Menghani said.

“We really did not expect to win,” said Tirth Patel, a second-year microbiology, immunology and molecular genetics student who led the UCLA team.

In fact, the tournament could not have begun any worse for UCLA, Patel said.
“Our first game of the morning was just horrible,” he said. “We lost against Cal Tech, the final score being something like 395-40 points.”
The team recovered to dominate over the rest of the tournament, finishing the day with a 13-2 record.

The quiz bowl, which was held in Bunche Hall, is the first stage in an annual contest organized by National Academic Quiz Tournaments, Menghani said.
UCLA will go on to compete at the national level against 31 undergraduate teams in the Intercollegiate Championship held April 3-4 in Dallas, Texas.

“We fought very hard for this, and a lot of the games were really close. At the end
it was like an unexpected but pleasant surprise to get first place,” Patel said.
The UCLA team consists of Patel, third-year biochemistry student Jeffrey Buenaflor, first-year mathematics student Ian Drayer and second-year biochemistry student Chris Ngoon.

All are members of the UCLA College Bowl Club, which meets twice a week for two hours at a time to prepare for upcoming events, Patel said.
On top of this, Patel said he intends to spend added time working with his team to train for the national tournament, which he said will be “on a whole different level” from any event his team has participated in so far.
Despite the time commitment involved, Patel said college bowl is easily worth doing.

“Being a science major, I usually don’t get to take that many literature or art
classes, so College Bowl allows me to learn about subjects that I otherwise would not have studied,” he said.“I also get to meet people from around the country with different majors and different backgrounds but who all have an interest in college bowl.”Menghani, who helped found the UCLA College Bowl Club in 1999 as an undergraduate student, said he agreed.
“This is a great way to have fun with your friends and to learn about trivia in a non-stressful setting,” he said.

He added, “And you don’t have to worry about getting a bad grade.”

A certain Mr. Rezac's training might have helped.

Cheers,

TKP

12.18.08

2008-12-19T00:14:00.001-06:00

Josh,

I'm thinking about an art project where I choose 10 citations at random from 10 books in the library and then write an experimental research paper around them. Sources may include an exploration of Irish heroin culture, the December 1989 newsletter of the London Maritime Society, and an encyclopedia of prominent Japanese businessmen. I wonder what I’ll prove. Instead of filling in blank spaces in the web of knowledge this project will bridge gaps that don’t exist. Really, I suppose the only thing any of these sources will have in common (if I make the selection as heterogeneous as I plan to) will be the fact that they were all randomly selected by me for this project. Perhaps their synthesis will offer a glimpse into my subconscious. Or a Dada commentary on the pointlessness of artifice and human creativity. Or a waste of time and paper.

he's so dumb he doesn't even know he's alive

I’m slipping through a dark Wisconsin on a big silver train. My eyelids are heavy and the actresses on all the laptops and portable dvd players seem more beautiful than usual, as if they had just been born. Hair falls in perfect blond ringlets or even sheets of deep red, well-lit faces say improbable things. They’re like ghosts, strange phosphorescent spirits flickering on the laps of those too poor or too senile or too Amish to fly. Real girls are not as pretty and at the same time much more beautiful.
I am surrounded by sleeping women. Diana is dozing off to my left. A girl with an enormous Semitic nose and tight black jeans is spread across two seats on the other side of the aisle. She is still wearing her glasses, as is the middle-aged woman majestically napping in the seat in front of her. I could never sleep with my glasses on, unless if I were quite drunk and didn’t think about it. Even then, they would probably fall off and be crushed underneath me. The middle-aged woman is awake now. She’s wearing a lot of jewelry; her empty coffee cup has a lipstick stain on the mouthpiece. She looks across the aisle, out the window of the strange old man sitting in front of me. She has drawn the worn blue curtain over her own window. A male child stumbles by, corrupting the feminity of the scene. A gay University of Chicago student stands, stretches, and walks off. A sturdy bald man whose elaborate head and neck creases make him resemble a Star Trek alien walks briskly past. I am alone with the sleeping women again. Diana’s mouth is slightly open. The middle-aged woman is asleep again. I’m going to get a crick in my neck if I keep twisting to observe the girl with the big nose. Her nose seems to get bigger every time I look at it. She’s wearing black chuck tailors, and something about her ass seems right to me. I like when the female form seems appealing and complete in and of itself. Am I being clear? When it can’t be measured in inches and pounds. We’re passing through a small town, a little oasis of orange light in deepest darkest Wisconsin. It’s not very big, but it’s probably the biggest town for miles. Farmers come here to buy underwear. We’re further north now—the river is frozen solid. I normally spend my time in the observation car, but it was too full of happy couples. One guy even had a guitar. A woman in her late thirties looks wrong in a baggy blue American Apparel dress (she is just too old for the blasé ironic kissing boys and getting wasted ethos of that dress) and shepherds her three daughters past me to the dining car. Diana is dead to the world. The middle-aged woman seems to have found her groove, as the bizarre mechanical idiom has it. She raises a hand heavy with rings and bracelets to her mouth for a moment. Her shirt is made of some shimmery white material, maybe satin or silk but probably polyester. I’m going to try to sleep.

Let’s look into how breasts are used to sell things. Honestly I’m most interested in developing some sort of metric to classify the degree and type of breast exposure in advertisements for a variety of products, then applying that metric to a variety of ads and examining the results. I guess you could examine it from one direction or the other: either evaluate how people respond to breasts in advertisements, or look into how advertisers use breast imagery. I’d prefer the latter method, because A. it involves the examination of ads rather than a big psych study with a shit ton of participants and B. I find advertisements very interesting in the way they reflect and influence our society. Questions: what sort of breasts (size, shape, etc) and what sort of breast exposure techniques (i.e. exposed skin v. form fitting tops) are deployed for what sort of product and in what sort of medium? Obviously ads for beer, action movies, and other awesome things will feature tons of tits, but commercials for more family friendly products will often feature subtle but noticeable boobage. For example, the box for my parents’ new television features a little color graphic of a happy family of three basking in the high definition warmth of their new idiot box, mom and dad half-embraced (a full hug would of course obscure one person’s view of the television) with Junior tucked between them. Just to the left of Junior’s head, mom’s pink blouse has flopped open a bit, giving interested shoppers a nice view of about three quarters of mom’s left tit.
What sorts of products are most associated with breasts? Have advertisers attempted to create a mental parallel between their product and breasts? Does packaging or logo design reflect this intent?
What about breasts in motion? Can a jiggle sell products that a pleasing line simply can’t? Maybe the jiggle is appealing because it reveals something of the texture of breasts as well as their shape. Can still images be manipulated to create the impression of motion, and hence an impression of texture? Where are the tactile ads? I want to be able to pet that puppy on the toilet paper and cup that tit on the cardboard cut out.

Man I sat down at this computer ready to moan for man but writing that “tits in advertising” research proposal cheered me right up. Some days I think I should be an advertising executive. People need to have things sold to them. Probably good money if you’re smart. Plus it would piss Sam off.
New business cards, maybe just a triple card we could present to clients:
Max Kuehn: Idea Man. Josh Mattson: Grease Man. Sam Walker: Asshole Man.

I’m going to take your advice once more and get a shorter letter out faster instead of laboring over this fucker for another week and squeezing out one more page. I’ll probably be there to watch you open this.

Yours,
Max

Pretentious title: The Bridge To Nowhere: A Subconscious Research Project. The key to every thesis is a good pretentious title with a colon in it. I Can Count To Thirteen Backwards: A History Of Angry Drunks. End Days: The Apocalypse In Retrospect. Lubricity: A Hodgepodge Of Nonsense.

Heute Auf Deutsch

2008-12-11T12:27:00.000-06:00

Maxwell Kuehn
Deutsch 321
Professor: Helmut Müller-Sievers
12/9/08
Finale Aufgabe

Wenn man „Revolution“ hört, denkt man an Unruhe, Unstabilität, und besonders Änderung. Eine politische Revolution ändert die Regierung, eine technologische ändert die Maschinen, eine kulturelle ändert die Ideen—nach einer Revolution ist alles verändert. Aber man muss nur an das Wort „Revolution“ denken, um die größere Kompliziertheit des Konzepts zu sehen: eine Revolution ist eine Umdrehung, eine kreisförmige Bewegung, und deshalb endet sie, wo sie begonnen hat. Eine echte Revolution kann nicht nur den Zustand ändern; sie muss auch diesen neuen Zustand mit dem Alten schlichten, muss die neuen Ideen in die alte Struktur integrieren, um die Änderungen angenehmer, und deshalb dauernder zu machen. Ohne diese Versöhnung wird eine Revolution flüchtig und unerfolgreich sein, und ferner ist sie keine Revolution, weil sie nicht zurückkommt. Diese falschen Revolutionen können auch nach hinten losgehen und reaktionäre Folgen haben, genau das Gegenteil davon, was die Revolutionäre gewollt und erwartet haben. Zum Beispiel, in der französischen Revolution, schmiss das französische Volk den tyrannischen König weg, dann bekommen sie noch einen größeren Tyrann mit Napoleon. Sowohl „Das Erdbeben in Chile“ als auch „Die wunderlichen Nachbarskinder“ handeln von eine Revolution, und beide enden wo sie begonnen haben, aber nur das Letztere ist erfolgreich, weil die Revolutionäre ihre ungewöhnliche Glauben in die größere Struktur der Gesellschaft integrieren.
Als „Das Erdbeben in Chile“ beginnt, brauchen unsere Protagonisten, das junge Liebespaar Jeronimo und Josephe, eine Änderung: sie werden bald sterben. Josephe geht zu ihrer Hinrichtung und Jeronimo bereitet sich vor, sich zu erhenken. Die Gesellschaft hat sie verurteilt und ihre Tode scheinen unabwendbar. Das Erdbeben, eine Art von natürlicher Revolution, ändert diese Unabwendbarkeit—Josephes Hinrichtungszug ist zerstreut, Jeronimos Gefängnis ist zerstört, und die Häftlinge sind befreit. Das Erdbeben zerstört nicht nur Gebäude, sondern auch die ganze Ordnung der Gesellschaft auf den Kopf stellt. Tausende von Unschuldigen sind verletzt und getötet, weil zwei Verbrecher gerettet sind—es ist „als ob das Firmament einstürzte.“ Diese Unordnung der Hierarchie der Erde dauert noch eine kleine Weile. Alles wird noch besser für die Flüchtlinge. Jeronimo und Josephe sind wiedervereinigt mit ihrem Sohn, Philipp, und sie verbringen eine perfekte Nacht, zusammen und frei. Diese Nacht ist total anders von dem vorherkommenden Tag, und repräsentiert das Extrem dieser Revolution, 180 Grad umdreht von dem Alptraum, mit dem die Geschichte beginnt. Die Familie ist nicht getrennt, sondern zusammen; die Sonne scheint nicht, sondern der Mond; und die Familie ist nicht in der Stadt, das große Symbol der schlimmen Ordnung der Gesellschaft, sondern in der Natur, wo alles unglaublich friedlich und schön ist. Jede Umdrehung kommt aber immer zurück zu dem Anfang, und die Nacht muss eventuell enden. Der Tag kommt noch ein Mal und Josephe will eine Messe besuchen, und deshalb geht die Familie zu einer Kirche, und zurück in die Gesellschaft. Jeronimo und Josephe glauben, dass eine Revolution passiert ist, aber leider irren sie sich. Obwohl die Stadt physisch verändert hat, der grausame Geist der Intoleranz besteht. In das Erdbeben, das die Familie als ein Zeichen der Vergebenheit und des Segens Gottes versteht hat, findet der Priester, der Sprecher der Gesellschaft, nur göttliche Wut und Zorn, eine Bestrafung für die Verbrechen von Jeronimo und Josephe. Diese Revolution benötigt den schlüssigen Schritt, der Schritt indem die alte Gesellschaft sich ändert. Wenn die zwei versuchen sich der Gesellschaft wieder anzuschließen, kommen sie in Kontakt mit der gleichen Furcht, Ignoranz, und Unduldsamkeit, die sie fast getötet hat, und natürlich sind die erfolglosen Revolutionäre noch verfolgt. Diese Revolution, wie die französische, ist nicht nur erfolglos, sondern hat den gegenteiligen Effekt. Statt zwei relativ zivilisierter Todesfälle, die wir am Anfang der Geschichte erwarten haben, werden vier Leute, einschließlich ein Baby, von dem Mob sehr brutal hingerichtet.
Wenn man diese Geschichte liest, ist es klar, wo unsere Helden irren: sie sollten einfach nicht zu der Kirche gehen, sondern direkt nach Spanien fliehen. Warum gehen die Parias zurück zu den Leuten, die sie erst gestern unrecht behandelt hatte? Die offensichtliche Antwort ist, dass Josephe „ihr Antlitz vor dem Schöpfer...legen“ will, um Gott für ihre Rettung zu danken. Unter dieser Lust, Gott zu denken, aber, liegt ein tieferer Trieb. Josephe fühlt sich getrennt: sie rebelliert gegen die Kirche und die Gesellschaft, aber sie fühlt sich auch als ein Mitglied davon. Sie ist Bürgerin und eine Christin, und gleichzeitig Verbrecherin von bürgerlichen und christlichen Gesetzen. Dieser Zustand folgt zu innerem Konflikt und psychologischer Pein. Mit ihrer Rückkehr zu der Kirche versucht Josephe diesen Konflikt aufzulösen. Es gibt einen guten Ausdruck für dieses Gefühl von innerem Konflikt: Verzweiflung. Verzweiflung heißt zu zweifeln (wie Josephes Zweifel, ob sie der Gesellschaft angehört oder nicht), und zu zweifeln heißt zwei zu sein. Hier finden wir einen Grund für die kreisförmige Natur der Revolution. Der Bruch mit der Gesellschaft teilt die Seele und führt zu Verzweiflung, und man muss die Alte und die Neue zusammenbringen um diese Verzweiflung zu vermeiden.
Es gibt so eine erfolgreiche Revolution, die diesen schweren Auftrag ausführt, in Goethes „Die wunderlichen Nachbarskinder.“ Wie „Das Erdbeben,“ hat Goethes Geschichte auch eine scheinbare Unabwendbarkeit, die die Gesellschaft bestellt hat, und die ein Liebespaar trotzt. Tatsächlich gibt’s zwei davon: die von den Eltern arrangierte Ehe zwischen den Kindern wenn sie noch ganz jung sind, und die von der Gesellschaft geförderte Ehe zwischen dem Mädchen und einem anderen Mann, einem Bräutigam, der „von Stand, Vermögen, und Bedeutung“ ist, aber der nicht von dem Mädchen geliebt ist. Die erste Ehe ist relativ leicht vermeidet; die Kinder sind einfach so feindlich zu einander, dass die Eltern ihre Entscheidung aufheben. Die zweite Ehe ist viel schwerer zu vermeiden, weil die Braut und ihre Bräutigam schon verlobt sind, aber gleichzeitig ist sie notwendiger zu vermeiden, weil die Braut eine leidenschaftliche Liebe für den Jüngling entdeckt hat. Das Mädchen ist zwischen zwei riesenheftigen Notwendigkeiten verfangen. Sie ist tief und leidenschaftlich in den Jüngling verliebt, aber sie hat irgendwem anders ihre Hand versprochen, und die ganze Macht der Gesellschaft drängt sie, diese Versprechen zu halten. Goethe betont die Strenge ihrer Pflicht mit überflüssigen Adjektiven. Sie muss den Bräutigam absolut heiraten; es ist nicht nur eine „Notwendigkeit,“ sondern eine „unwiderrufliche,“ „unabänderliche“ Notwendigkeit. Zwischen dieser Schuldigkeit zu „Welt und Familie“ und ihre unbezweifelbare Liebe kann die Braut nur Verzweiflung finden, solch eine ungeheure Verzweiflung, dass Selbstmord ihr einziger Ausgang scheint.
Wenn ihr ehemaliger Nachbar dem Brautpaar eine Verlobungsfeier auf einem Schiff gebt, ruft sie ihm „Nimm dies zum Andenken!“ und springt ins Wasser. Der Jüngling springt auch und rettet sie, dann schwimmt er mit der fast gestorbenen Braut zu einer Insel. Diese Insel, wie das schöne Tal in „Das Erdbeben,“ ist wie eine andere Welt, ein unglaublich perfekter natürlicher Zufluchtsort von der Unterdrückung der Gesellschaft. Als ob sie in einem Traum, oder vielleicht ein Märchen, sind, finden das Mädchen und ihr Geliebter auf der Insel „gute Leute, ein junges Ehepaar,“ die mit „einem lichten Feuer“ und „Pelze [und] Felle“ das Mädchen wieder ins Leben rufen. Durch diese qualvolle Rettung, und seine eigene Verzweiflung, als er sie gestorben gedacht hat, entdeckt der Jüngling seine eigene Liebe für das Mädchen. In diesem natürlichen Refugium, frei von dem amoralischen Einfluss der Gesellschaft, finden die Nachbarskinder Heilung, Heilung für die Körper und Heilung für die Seelen. Sie sind verändert, neu bekleidet, nicht nur physisch, „von Kopf zu Fuß,“ sonder auch geistlich, „von innen heraus.“ Sie entscheiden sich zu heiraten, und die Ehe, die die Familien originell geplant hat, einzugehen.
Auf den ersten Blick, wenn man daran denkt, diese endgültige Entscheidung zu treffen, was am Anfang geplant war, kann all die Agonie und Verzweiflung die Protagonistin zwecklos und unnötig scheinen. Am Anfang sagen die Eltern, dass die Nachbarskinder heiraten sollen, und am Schluss stimmen die Kinder zu. Warum müssen so viele Leiden passieren, um den originellen Zweck zu erreichen?
Die Antwort ist, dass der Endzweck der Kinder von den Plänen der Eltern in einer kleinen aber ganz wichtigen Art abweicht, und nur durch die Unruhe einer Revolution können sie einen glücklichen Ausgang finden. Wenn die Gesellschaft plant, die Nachbarskinder aus finanziellen, praktischen Gründen zu heiraten, war die erste Erwiderung der Kinder—einfach nein zu sagen—kindisch, oberflächlich, und keine Lösung. Ihre Schlussentscheidung kommt näher an das was die Eltern wollen heran, ist aber auch weiter entfernt davon—sie werden heiraten, aber nicht wegen der gemeinen Gründen der Eltern, sondern weil sie einander lieben. Nur durch diese Doppelrebellion finden die Nachbarskinder ihr Glück. Mit dem ersten Schritt gehen sie weg, dann kommen sie zurück—eine echte Revolution. Eine Rebellion, die einfach „nein“ zu alles sagt, kann nur zu Zweiheit, und deshalb zu Verzweiflung, führen. Man kann die Umstände ändern, aber die Änderung wird immer unerwartet, vielleicht scheinbar kleiner als was man erwartet hat, aber letztlich wichtiger und tiefer sein.

When You Dance You Remind Me Of Sylvia Plath

2008-12-08T13:41:00.003-06:00

This blog has sunk to the level of an electronic clipboard. Please enjoy if interested this letter of rec i just wrote for one of my professors.

December 2008

The Faculty of the Slavic Department
Department of Slavic Languages and Literature
Northwestern University
1860 Campus Drive
Evanston, IL 60208-2163

Dear Slavic Department Faculty,

This letter is intended to serve as a recommendation for Professor Seamas O’Drsicoll in support of his third year review. I would like to take advantage of this opportunity to explain why I believe he makes such a valuable contribution to your faculty.

I first became acquainted with Professor O’Driscoll during the Spring Quarter of my freshman year. He, along with Susan McReynolds and Kate Baldwin, was one of three professors teaching Confronting Capitalism, the second half of the expanded freshman seminar offered through the Kaplan Humanities Scholars program. In addition to listening to the many lectures delivered by Professor O’Driscoll to the entire class, I was a member of the smaller discussion section that he led.

Professor O’Driscoll’s lectures were among the best I’ve heard at Northwestern. Faced with the challenge of presenting difficult and complex works and ideas to freshman, he performed exceedingly well. The texts we worked with, such as A. O. Hirschman’s The Passions and the Interests and Chernyshevsky’s What Is To Be Done, could easily have seemed confusing, boring, or pointless in the hands of a less able or enthusiastic teacher. Through his engaging lecture style and finely crafted supplementary materials, Professor O’Driscoll made even the driest texts interesting and relevant.

Lecture took place in the morning, which made for groggy and distracted students, so Professor O’Driscoll would open every class by teaching us a greeting in Gaelic (one of several languages he speaks fluently) and having us speak it back to him. It was a simple and entertaining activity, but I believe it was very helpful in keeping the class focused, engaged, and awake. Once his students were alert and attentive, Professor O’Driscoll proceeded to address his topic in a clear, accessible and informative manner, always willing to pause to answer a question or clarify a point, and always working to show us the real world relevance of what could often seem like very abstract ideas. Highly relevant quotes, clear diagrams, and images mined from the most obscure depths of the Internet were effectively used to support and expand the professor’s rhetorical arguments. Especially complex lectures were often accompanied by a handout with a clear outline and important quotations for easy reference.

While lecture offered Professor O’Driscoll a chance to demonstrate his excellent formal teaching skills and thorough, insightful scholarship, I feel that his best work was done in the more intimate discussion sections. Here he was able to engage with students one-on-one, not only clarifying but also expanding upon the points made in lecture, encouraging us to challenge one another’s conclusions and to find connections between the material and our own lives. Each section began with a clear discussion outline written on the chalkboard, but Professor O’Driscoll was always willing to alter his plans on the fly if the conversation moved in an interesting new direction. By constantly monitoring our grasp of and excitement about the material, Professor O’Driscoll was able to make sure that slower students were never left behind and more advanced students were never bored.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of my discussion section with Professor O’Driscoll was the personal touch he added to what could have been a stale, purely academic debate. He offered us stories and examples from his own life, both in academia and in the advertising field. For example, during our study of Marx, Professor O’Driscoll was able to make the difficult concept of commodity fethishism more accessible with an demonstration drawn from the world of advertising. He invited us to recall commercials we had seen for Coca-Cola and the ideas and feelings they conveyed. By examining the message of the advertisements and our own response to them, we were able to see how a can of Coke can be much more than a simple beverage. Later, when each member of the class was asked to reveal the product he or she most fetishized, Professor O’Driscoll did not exempt himself, sheepishly revealing his desire for a pair of outrageously expensive Italian loudspeakers. Thanks to human moments like this one, Professor O’Driscoll never intimidated the class with his obvious intelligence and energy. He certainly led the discussion, but as a first among equals rather than a stern and aloof intellectual dictator.

In addition to augmenting our conversation by revealing and discussing his own personality, Professor O’Driscoll showed a clear interest in the mind and personality of each individual student. After only a few classes he had learned enough about us that he was able to use examples he knew would be relevant to us, to encourage brief debates between specific individuals for the benefit of the class as a whole, and to divide us into equal and effective groups. One class period in particular leaps to mind: our task for the day was to parse Ben Jonson’s drama The Alchemist and examine the conflicting economic philosophies behind each character. Professor O’Driscoll divided us into four groups, three of which worked to interpret and explain a section of the play to the rest of the class. The fourth group was a bit more unorthodox, made up as it was out of theatre majors and other expressive people, but well suited to its task: performing a vital portion of the play for the rest of the class. I felt this arrangement was very effective. The actors were able to more effectively engage the material on an emotional and performative level, while the audience gained deeper insight into the characters and the ideas they represent. By knowing his students well and assigning tasks accordingly, Professor O’Driscoll was able to enhance the learning experience of everyone involved.

Professor O’Driscoll’s passionate and infectious enthusiasm for the course material is mirrored in his high level of dedication and competence outside of the classroom. Syllabi and other course documents were always made available online in a timely manner. Assignments were promptly and fairly graded, with ample and constructive commentary and criticism. While I never attended his office hours, I did speak with Professor O’Driscoll several times after class when a concept in class or a comment on a paper was unclear. He welcomed and encouraged these conferences and was always willing to listen to my questions and offer helpful and friendly advice.

Seamas O’Driscoll is a skilled scholar and teacher with an enthusiasm for learning and a willingness to use every available resource and technique to transmit this enthusiasm to his students. I personally feel lucky to have taken a course with him, and I plan to take more in the future. I give him my wholehearted support in this review.

Sincerely,

Maxwell Kuehn
Sophomore, WCAS

Special No Pugs Edition

2008-06-03T14:30:00.012-05:00

For those of you who don't know already, my father and I recently embarked on a mission to start shaving the old fashioned way, with a brush, lather, and an straight-up razor blade. We didn't quite go whole hog and buy straight razors and strups, but a safety razor can still fuck your face up pretty good, as you can see in this picture taken a few weeks back:

eat shit and die

My dad's been having more success back in Brainerd, and just today I finally got some of the excellent results he's been raving about. I had a pretty nasty beard. It was so long I was considering growing it out and starting a beard club with Sam, because generally the longer your whiskers are the trickier, and bloodier, the shave.

I was a little worried stepping out of the shower today, but after three passes and one tiny nick, I had the best shave of my life. This photo isn't really high enough resolution, as you cannot actually touch my chin through your computer screen, but if you compare with the above image perhaps you can get some idea of how wicked smooth my face was this morning.

flawless victory

In other news:

PUGS PUGS PUGS ALL THE TIME PUGS PUGS PUGS

ALL WE KNOW IS PUGS

2008-06-02T11:03:00.000-05:00

WELCOME TO NEW PUGS ONLY BLOG

2008-05-28T12:03:00.002-05:00

PUGSTRAVAGANZA

2008-05-14T15:46:00.004-05:00

Life Is Rough! Read These Facts To Get Tough!

2008-05-13T00:36:00.001-05:00

Hater n*ggas marry hater bitches and have hater kids

2008-05-08T21:23:00.008-05:00

Some major hating from my man Kanye West, it's a pretty amazing rant. Via his blog:

"Yo, anybody that's not a fan; don't come to my show. For what?! To try and throw ya'll two cents in? Ya'll rated my album shitty and now ya'll come to the show and give it a B+. What's a B+ mean? I'm an extremist. It's either pass or fail! A+ or F-! You know what, fuck you and the whole fucking staff!!! I know I shouldn't dignify this with a comment, but the reviewer threw a jab at all the artists. I just wanna know when was the last time you enjoyed yourself. If you can't have fun and lose yourself at this tour it's a good chance you're a very miserable person. I actually feel sorry for you guys. Your job forces you to not have fun anymore. Grab a drink, holla at some nice girls, and party bitch!! You don't know shit about passion and art. You'll never gain credibility at this rate. You're fucking trash! I make art. You can't rate this. I'm a real person. I'm not a pop star. I don't care about anything but making great art. Never come 2 one of my shows ever again, you're not invited and if you see me...BOW!! This is not pop, it's pop art!"

Here's the original post, including the article he's responding to.

I'm Back Attacking the Mic

2008-05-08T20:21:00.006-05:00

No need to worry, I already got my "Revenge". Now that it's after the win, my platinum plaques are my friends. You know who's back to bootleggin' again, but I got paper to spend, so that's gonna come to an end. I'm gonna show 'em how to attack with a pen. I'll get my victory win, I show it happened again. Because I'm back, that's right I'm back
-Chamillionaire "Guess Who's Back"

This blog may be on the verge of dieing, but if it does I'm going down with it. I abandoned my fellow hater's in a time of need, and I'm sorry. You see my friends, there is so much hate in the world, but we need so much more. The Beard Review says "up the beard ratio" (truer words have never been spoken), but i say "up the hater ratio". For that purpose this blog must push on. I promise to not abandon this blog again, and I'll try to post as often as I can. So with that said I leave you with this.

We Take A Break From The Hate For Pug Time

2008-05-05T21:07:00.001-05:00

HEY WIDETITS

2008-05-01T22:59:00.004-05:00

IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR THE TOP GUN

YOU FOUND HIM

COLD TURKEY

2008-04-15T14:12:00.002-05:00

COLD TURKEY, SHITHEAD

2008-04-12T22:09:00.003-05:00

Big Trouble In Haters Ball

I fear this blog is in its dark age. I have lost total faith in it and I believe that only one man can resurrect it... Jack Burton. I recently had a hideous high ankle sprain that put me completely out of commission for three days. In those three days I watched Big Trouble In Little China about five times. This movie catapulted into my top ten in one short week. It has everything, action, comedy, suspense, romance.... and above all, Jack Burton. Jack starts by driving a load of live pigs to San Francisco Chinatown to be butchered. On the way he speeds through a heavy rainstorm while talking on his CB radio while eating a massive wall martish looking sub. When he arrives all hell breaks loose. Today my pal Ryan Petagno and I mounted a 102 inch antenna to my car and hooked up a CB to it. After watching this movie you may be inspired to do the same.... So if you ever hear somebody on channel 19 rambling on about nothing in particular claiming to be Jack Burton it's probably me. So there it is... I refuse to believe that the internet can be as fun as cruisin' up the road with a CB in your hand harassing truckers just for the hell of it.

2008-03-05T18:57:00.002-06:00

Bang Bang Boom

2008-02-15T15:51:00.003-06:00

So our professors in my crazy honors freshman seminar thing (where we learned about the history of modern thought and read a shit ton of books and wrote a lot of papers) asked us to design a t-shirt for the group. I came up with this beauty:

And my well-meaning, very Irish professor Seamas O'Driscoll emailed me back suggesting as kindly as he could that I should change my motto to something a little less pessimistic.

You know what? I don't think I will.

He...... Defected.....

2008-02-11T19:45:00.000-06:00

I must apologize for my lack of posts, I have brought disgace to myself, my family, and the Shaolin temple. In this post I will attempt to draw hate away from myself to another prick. I don't know if anyone has noticed but it appears as though the janitor (Kurt Hukriede) has defected possibly to another blog. It reminds me of MGS3 where every third character defected away from or to the motherland: Russia. I guess I don't have much else to say... oh, scratch that. I got a hookah for an early b-day present; it's pretty sweet. If anyone has never tried smoking a hookah I would highly recomend trying it.

The tobacco is as sweet as fresh nectar and it as smooth as silk. I will go to bed now, farewell.

Early In The Eveing, Round About Supper Time

2008-02-05T17:56:00.000-06:00

This blog has been lacking in hate lately. Let's try to rectify that.

1. 3 out of the 5 psychological studies I have participated in have deceived me. I am now super-paranoid that I am being deceived at all times. Fuck you, psych grad students, for toying with my trust.

2. Word on the street is that my next paper in my Humanities class will be a personal polemic against something that pisses me off, in the voice of the Underground Man from Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground. I need something I can rip into for 1800 words. Right now I am torn between people from California, people from Brainerd, and myself. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

MOCKINGBIRD

2008-01-28T23:00:00.000-06:00

I participated in a psychological experiment today. I was deceived, but at least I got $3.75 out of it. It is a little complicated, so bear with me.

I sat down at a table opposite another dude. We were given the following rules:
1. One person will be player A, the other will be player B.
2. Player A will receive 10 quarters. He may keep as a many as he wants, and put as many as he wants into an envelope.
3. The quarters put in the envelope will be tripled and given to player B.
4. Player B may now divide up the quarters as he sees fit and send as many as he wants back to player A, keeping the rest for himself.

For those of you keeping track at home, the most equitable situation would be for player A to send all 10 quarters and for player B to split the resulting 30 quarters in half, resulting in 15 quarters per person.

Experimenter dude let us sit and discuss strategy for a minute. We both agreed to do the most equitable thing, and also acknowledged that even if we were planning to screw the other guy we wouldn't have said it. The experimenter returned and held out a tupperware with two slips of paper in it and told us each to draw one. We were instructed not to open it in order to avoid "awkwardness." We took our slips and my counterpart was escorted to a separate room.

I opened up my slip and discovered that I was player A. I was a little bummed about this, because I had wanted to count up my 30 quarters and toy with player A's fate in my head. As it was, I just tossed all 10 quarters in and sent it off.

As I was waiting there, I noticed that there was an animal-themed word find laying on the table. Of course I started to fill it out. I was so busy circling "PARAKEET" and "WHALE" that I barely had time to push the word find aside when experimenter guy came back in. I'm not sure why I tried to act like I wasn't doing the word find. There's a psychological question for you--was I worried that I was breaking some kind of rule? Was the word find even supposed to be there?

In any case, the experimenter gave me the envelope back from player B. Lo and behold, it contained only 2 quarters. What a shithead, I said to myself. Keeping $7 in quarters all to himself. Then I realized that I very well might have done the same thing and I felt a little more understanding.

The experimenter asked me to move over to a computer on a nearby table, where I completed a little electronic survey about my feelings, rating statements on a scale from 1 (strongly disagree) to 7 (strongly agree). They were all "I feel betrayed by the other player" and "I hope something bad happens to him/her." I think my feelings of "Eh, it's $3" were pretty well conveyed.

THEN I played a little computer game, vaguely reminiscent of the Jack Attack from the excellent computer trivia game You Don't Know Jack. I was given four categories of words: self (I, me, my, mine, self), other (their, them, they, other), respect words (worthy, strong, respectable, etc), and disrespect words (weak, despicable, disrespectful, etc.). Before each round I was given a set of one or two categories (self, other and respect, self and disrespect, etc.), and I was only to press the space bar when those words came up, ignoring the other words.

After a few rounds of that, experimenter guy showed up and explained that the other player had felt guilty and had sent me some more quarters. The envelope he handed me this time had another 10 quarters in it.

The experimenter typed in some password and a filled in another survey, this one all about if I forgave the other player for his transgression or not. I pretty much did. Then I did some more word association reaction time games, and then worked on the animal word find some more.

I got pretty paranoid about the word find. I was certain that it was the true focus of the test.

Other guy came in with experimenter dude and we were debriefed. As it turned out, both slips said "player A" on them, and we both got only two quarters back, and then got 10 more when "player B felt guilty." In some other trials, the participants will not get the extra 10 quarters. As someone who just took his first Intro to Psych exam, I can tell you that that's your independent variable right there.

I guess the hypothesis was that IF you didn't get any more quarters and IF you indicated that you still forgave the other player, you would do better on the "self/disrespect" rounds than on the "self/respect" rounds.

Then, for "ethical reasons," we both got 15 quarters. I plan to use it to launder my sheets.

My sister and her roommate Elise, who sit around all day and talk about psychology, were skeptical about the validity of the experiment. I still think it should have been about the word find.

P.S.: The wet shaving supplies arrived the other day and yesterday I did my first wet shave. Conclusion: it felt cool, but I did not get a very close shave. I think I need some practice. For now, check out this hilariously insulting "Are you a straight razor guy or a safety razor guy?" Jeff Foxworthy-style page from www.classicshaving.com, your one stop shop for all your shaving needs. It makes me (a "safety razor guy") sound like a squealing ninny.

Raisin' and Razin'

2008-01-27T16:50:00.001-06:00

Do you see that pointy house in the middle there?

I am now contractually obligated to pay the rent there for a year, starting next October.

Awesome!

And In God's Name They Built A Barbed Wire Fence

2008-01-23T23:17:00.000-06:00

So about this blog...

I carry on regular correspondences with about four people, plus my parents. I only have so many ideas and observations. This blog tends to lose out. Sorry about that. If you've just gotta have the latest, mail me a letter:
Room 4037
1820 Chicago Ave
Evanston, IL 60201

1. I have decided to get a house with 7 other dudes next year. I signed a goddamned lease yesterday and wrote a check for fifteen hundred goddamned dollars and signed about 5 goddamned forms promising that I won't cover every surface with lead paint or use the Americanium in the smoke detectors to make a dirty bomb. I am extremely excited at the prospect of living in this house. I can almost taste the memories. Also the regret.

2. One other absorber of my blog-type attention has been, you guessed it, another blog. Part of my enormous special humanities seminar thingy is a weekly blog. All my blogging practice finally paid off; people, my professors included, liked my blog. They were all amazed by my flippant tone and adept application of silly photographs.

Last quarter we just wrote about the readings, so while my posts may have been enteretaining for other people who had spent the last week reading Francis Bacon's New Atlantis or Denis Diderot's Encyclopédie, I don't think you folks would have found them to be of that much interest.

This quarter, however, we're getting more precise blog assignments, often only tangentially related to the readings. I think my latest one has enough universal appeal to appear on this blog. Let's give it a try, shall we?

Focus text for the week: Max Weber's The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, in which Weber argues that our modern capitalist system arose in part because of a deepening of religious irrationalism among Protestants. Ascetic Calvinists and Methodists came to associate worldly financial success with the favor of God, and these frugal, hardworking suckers formed the basis of capitalism as we know it today.

Prompt:What are modern day examples of asceticism in American culture? Do they seem to have any relationship to capitalist economic behavior? Back up your examples by linking to a relevant image on the Web.

I Know I'm A Million Times More Humble Than Thou Art

I wasn’t so sure about this topic at first. I got the feeling that it was just going to lead to 48 blog posts about the Amish and all the quilts they sell. I'm still not sure about the image thing: I hope Weird Al is up to snuff.

Then I figured there could be some interesting observations made about how the Amish are pretty damn economically backwards because they’re preternatural industriousness is far more than offset by their stubborn Luddism (I hate myself so much after writing that last clause. “Luddism,” much like “paradigm” and “dichotomy,” is a word that should be used once ever 8 years).

I like to think I know a thing or two about the Amish. I have driven by their buggies. I have purchased baskets from them. I have ridden the train with them. I saw the excellent movie Witness with Harrison Ford, and the less-than-excellent movie For Richer Or Poorer with Tim Allen and Kirstie Alley.

In my mind, the Amish cleave pretty closely to Weber’s idea of the Protestant work ethic. Inspired by their religion, they lead simple, frugal, hardworking lives, avoiding indulgence of the senses by luxury or sins of the flesh. They work the land and craft simple artifacts, all for the greater glory of God.

And yet, despite their extraordinary work ethic, the Amish are not a dominant economic force in America. There are no Amish multi-national corporations (AmCorp). Amish never seem to show up on those lists of the world’s richest people.

Given the limitations that they place on themselves (limited technology, no work on Sundays, etc.), the Amish are quite economically successful--more so than, say, a bunch of Kaplan Scholars would be, given a plot of land and a couple of hoes. But, from the point of view of today’s economic leaders, aren’t those self-imposed limitations rather sinful?

For the most successful, the only luxury that should be given up is the luxury of doing things that cost money or weaken investment return. Any other asceticism is selfish and immoral. Money spent on a suit that increases your respectability and allows you to close a deal, or on a jet that gets you where you need to be on time, is money well and morally spent. Modern business people, the corporate grinders of the NY Times article, could accuse the Amish of being prideful and prone to luxury, maintaining their old-fashioned lifestyles for their own pleasure at the expense of making money, being more successful, and participating in and enriching God’s world.

In fact, I snooped around a bit and came across an interesting group of Christians who are doing their best to evangelize the Amish. According to their website, the Mission to Amish People, or MAP, seeks not only to “reach the Amish people with the gospel of Jesus Christ in accordance with Mark 16:15,” but also to help them to acquire such “basic life skills” as” applying for a Social Security card, completing employment applications,” “preparing for job interviews, finding a residence, acquiring home furnishings,” and “opening bank accounts and understanding practical financial management practices.” Here are some Protestants (Baptists, to be precise) who want the Amish to get over themselves, give up their man-made guidelines, and come join the real world.

Fun Amish fact from Joe Keim, executive director of the Mission to Amish People:
“The Beechy Amish are considered to be the most liberal group of all, and yet even they follow their own man-made rule book (ordinance letter). For instance, they are allowed to drive cars, but their rule book says that they are not allowed to buy a car newer than two years old, and within six months they have to paint the car black, including the bumpers.”

Also, here is a hilarious photo of Joe and his family, sun-dappled on the train tracks.
Kinda makes you proud to be an American, you know?

Fun with Limericks:

So Professor O’Driscoll asked our class to come up with a mnemonic device for remembering the main point of Weber. We didn’t have too long, so I only finished about half of my limerick. I spent another 20 mintues on it after class and came up with this:

There once was a fellow named Weber,
Who knew why the Lutherans loved labor:
To prove to the rest
That you’re one of the best
You’ve just gotta earn more than your neighbor

I had to use “Lutherans” because I needed two syllables and you can say it “Looth-runs.” This is not so easy with “Calvinists.” I figured “Lutherans” could be a stand-in for all Protestants.

I had a little trouble with the central couplet. I got the impression that Calvinism was really more about proving your status as an “elect” to yourself, not to others, so I tried

To prove to yourself
You aren’t headed for Hell

But “self” and “Hell” don’t really rhyme. I tried

To prove to the ladies
You aren’t headed for Hades

and

To prove to the dreck
You’re among the elect

But again, the latter didn’t really rhyme, and the former seemed inaccurate because Calvinists weren’t really all that into the ladies, at least not openly. Plus, what about the Calvinist chicks?

Heh heh. “Calvinist chicks.”

I think maybe I’ll compose a whole series of Important Economics Thinkers Limericks. I think that would be a really great use of my time.

Adam Smith defied all expectations
When he said in his The Wealth of Nations:
“An invisible force,
Will lift all up, of course,
If each seeks his own compensation.”

Now, what rhymes with Malthus?

The Big Payback

2008-01-15T00:04:00.001-06:00

My CA (like an RA, except with a Community instead of a Resident), Andy, is a good natured Chinese man who is always trying to get our apathetic wing to join together and do fun team building activities. Nobody does, but that doesn't stop Andy from trying. Lately, in a shocking display of anti-hall unity behavior, several residents have torn down the little signs with our names on them that Andy lovingly affixed in the days prior to our arrival. Andy has rallied back from this blow by proposing a hall-wide contest to design the new door signs with a $30 prize. Here is my template:
I am counting on no one else entering this contest and my becoming the de facto $30 winner.

Also I would get a sweet dinosaur on my door.

P.S.: When I handed this to Andy, he said "Awesome!" in a very convinced tone. I think he was happy someone entered his contest.

Dark Fire Shall Not Avail You

2008-01-11T00:40:00.000-06:00

So I got an email from my pappy the other day in which he suggested I check out the following videos on wet shaving, i.e. old timey lather and safety razor shaving. I think this may have something to do with my enormous post-Christmas shaving related blunder (I spent $80 on an electric razor I wasn't too sure about and ultimately decided wasn't worth it. I paid for it in CASH [xmas money from my grandma] and DIDN'T KEEP THE RECEIPT).

Anyways, my pa offered to help me out financially with wet shaving start up costs and I may have to take him up on the offer.

Also:

Earwax Spooning

2008-01-03T13:46:00.000-06:00

Goddamnit, Japan, why do you have to be so creepy sometimes?

I mean, look at this.

Yes, that's what it looks like. A girlfriend lap pillow. For $95.

Japan...look, I'm not gonna hate on you. Life is tough, what with the high priced pillows and repressed sexual urges.

But, c'mon, Japan. Get your shit together.

1.1.08

2008-01-01T13:53:00.000-06:00

"An American near Billy wailed that he had excreted everything but his brains. Moments later he said, 'There they go, there they go.' He meant his brains. That was I. That was me. That was the author of this book." -Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five.

Well hell, it's 2008. Let's blog a bit, shall we?

I had a pretty shitty New Year's Eve. On New Year's Eve Eve, I ate a turkey dinner with the family, got a malt at Perkins with a certain Muslim acquaintance of mine, and went bowling with Sam Walker and Sam Walker's girlfriend and Sam Walker's sister.

Later I said goodbye to my guests with a slight quiver of nausea in my midsection. I tried to get to sleep, but my stomach was having none of it. I decided that this was one of those unfortunate situations where I just had to throw up, get whatever it was out of my system, and eat an extra meal the next day to make up for it. I was wrong.

I'll spare you the gory details. Let's just say ~~I was up all night shitting and vomiting~~ that by the next morning my body contained very little digestible material. By 7 a.m. I was all emptied out, but still feverish, achey, and not at all interested in food. In the past 36 or so hours, I've eaten 5 club crackers and a banana.

I've been told by some experienced sources that my symptoms are similar to those of food poisoning. My only question is, what could I have eaten that triggered this full-body flush-out? It wasn't the turkey dinner, as no other member of my family got sick. I didn't eat anything at the bowling alley. Really, the only unique thing I ate was that chocolate malt from Perkins. Can you get food poisoning from a malt?

Today I have outwitted my body by not putting anything in it for it to expel. Count it!

2. I saw I Am Legend the other day. I thought it was pretty good.

***SPIZOILER ALIZERT***

I have an odd relationship with zombie movies. Zombies scare me worse that pretty much anything (my boggart would definitely be someone I cared about as a zombie) so while I don't like to think about them all the time, they can be very effective when I want to get freaked out. Will Smith was ballin', of course, and there was a very good, heartwrenching "killing a zombie of a friend" scene, but the zombies themselves were disappointing, both visually (they were all rubbery and stretchy and shitty CGI-y) and conceptually. Half of the fear in any scary story comes from realism, from the idea that it could really happen. There is not a universally accepted archetype for zombies, as there is for vampires, for example (i.e. killed by sunlight or a stake through the heart, drink blood, etc.), so in every zombie story it is the creator's responsibility to establish plausible and consistent (and therefore more real and more terrifying) zombies.

I Am Legend fails on this count. The zombies are batshit crazy and cannot speak or use weapons, but they show signs of human-level intelligence. Also they're super strong for some reason? And as I said before, they look terrible, which does nothing to add to their credibility.

At least they got Will Smith. What a bankable SOB. $76 million in a weekend.

Fuckin' A, Will Smith.
Fuckin' A.

Berserk

2007-12-28T23:41:00.000-06:00

In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entidy or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above?

At least it is true, that man has no control...

Even over his own will.

I'm Posting Up In The Manner Of A Mailbox

2007-12-20T18:02:00.000-06:00

FLASH:

One.
Great Halloween costume idea: Micheal Cera as Pauly Bleeker in Juno.

He's the one who isn't pregnant.

All you need is some sweet bright yellow short shorts with matching arm and headbands, a maroon shirt, some long socks with running shoes, and a perpetual air of awkward confusion. Bonus points for having 6 other guys in the same outfit run with you all day.

Actually, I really liked how those dudes were always running through the scene. Dressing up as such and running around town would be a pretty good activity. If I had any sort of lung capacity. Or non-lazy ass friends.

Two.
My current xmas list for people with little money and vast stores of music who care about my well-being:

music: old/new wu tang, new ghostface, nas (illmatic), new Common, basshunter, beck-- midnite vultures, Kleptones, Replacements

This Idea's Got Legs

2007-12-18T13:04:00.000-06:00

Samuel H. Invisible:
man there are these two dudes I always see in my dining hall, they are like a hilarious comedy duo but in real life
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:52:35 AM)
there is one fast talking, skinny Indian guy, and his bro is this enormous lumbering white guy with a serious brow ridge.
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:52:47 AM)
they are like the human equivalnet of "2 stupid dogs"
josh says: (12:53:57 AM)
ahaha
josh says: (12:53:59 AM)
what are their names
josh says: (12:54:04 AM)
write a pilot for their sitcom
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:54:36 AM)
I do not know there names
josh says: (12:54:46 AM)
amil and ted
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:54:48 AM)
and actually I am surprised that I have not made some up
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:55:31 AM)
amil (high pitched): hey ted hey ted hey ted!
Ted (sloooowly): What, amil?
amil: burritos today, ted! Istn' that fuckin great!
josh says: (12:55:45 AM)
ahaha
josh says: (12:55:54 AM)
amil is always coming up with plans to get laid
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:55:55 AM)
Ted: I dunno, amil. Sometiems burritos give me GAS! (FARTS)
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:56:04 AM)
and ted's always fuckin em up
josh says: (12:56:04 AM)
teds like a mamas boy
josh says: (12:56:09 AM)
yeah
josh says: (12:56:13 AM)
teds mom is always busting them
josh says: (12:56:22 AM)
like drinking budweiser in the basement or something
josh says: (12:56:23 AM)
ok
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:56:28 AM)
ted's last name: farley
Samuel H. Invisible says: (12:56:34 AM)
Mrs. Farley!

P.S.: My astronomy class, in addition to inspiring a lot of prose, has proved to be a fruitful source for "Yo Momma" jokes thanks to the Universe's abundant supply of incredibly old and massive objects.

Examples:
Yo momma's so fat if she eats one more cheeseburger she’ll exceed the Chandrasekhar limit and detonate in a type 1a supernova.
Yo momma's so old her Hertzsprung-Russel diagram’s main sequence turn off occurs at the K spectral type.

A Hater Never Admit He Hate

2007-12-14T20:46:00.001-06:00

It's been a while since I've posted, but I've got some email hatin' to get off chest. I was checking my email tonight and noticed i had an email from UK NATIONAL LOTTERY AWARD 2007. Normally my spam blocker is excellent, so I decided to actually read it, if only for some good laughs and to build up some unnessecary rage.

This is what I discovered:

ONLINE NOTIFICATION

We are pleased to inform you November, 2007 of the result of the winners ofthe UK NATIONAL LOTTERY ONLINE PROMO PROGRAMME, held on the 26th of November,2007.
You have therefore been approved to claim a Lump sum pay out of £1,000 000 (One Million Pounds Sterling) in cash credited to file XYL/26510460037/06.
Which means you are one of the winners of the Uk Online National Lottery.To file for your claim, please contact our claims agent;

Mr. Pinkett Griffin
Email:infolottery30@yahoo.co.uk TEL:+447045721629

Provide him with the information below:
1.Full Name:
2.Full Address:
3.Marital Status:
4.Occupation:
5.Age:
6.Sex:
7.Nationality:
8.Country Of Residence:
9.Telephone Number:

Congratulations once more from all members and staff of this program.
Sincerely, Mrs. Rose Wood
UK NATIONAL LOTTERY.

Honestly, Mrs. Rose Wood, they couldn't think of a better fake name than that. Were they starring at the hardwood floor when they came up with that beauty. The pricks couldn't even get the adress infolottery@yahoo.oc.uk they needed to add 30 to the end it. The really sad thing is some poor chap is probably gonna fall for this. But I wouldn't really feel sorry for him, if you're dumb enough to actually send your personal information to "Mrs. Rose Wood", you deserve to have your identity stolen. I wonder what Everett True would do to these bastards if he got one of these emails. My bet is he'd give them all a hearty whack in the gut with his umbrella in response to the email, and then throw them all off of a train for the way they spelled "programme".

I Am Back In B-Town. Let The Celebration Begin?

2007-12-11T21:45:00.000-06:00

Today I was driven by boredom to spend money on things. I spent about $60 at Target on various items which will remain anonymous until December 25th. I then spent $6 on myself at Fleet Farm (including $3 [three fucking dollars!] on a pair [2!] of quality grip exerciser things). What a selfless person I am.

Man, I could spend a lot of money at Fleet Farm. It truly is, as its promotional socks proclaim, the "Man's Mall."

I wish I could somehow use the power of the hater to praise something instead of hating on it. Let's get some scientists working on this, immediately, chop chop, let's go! If this theoretical "anti-hate" is developed sometime in the foreseeable future, I would apply it to Fleet Farm first. Then to the meal of breakfast. Then to pugs. No, wait, pugs in silly hats. Then pugs.

P.S.: What is the funnier way for my dad to accidentally combine facebook and myspace?

1. Myface
or
2. Spacebook?

My vote is for #2.

Drop Yer Cocks And Grab Yer Socks

2007-12-08T15:43:00.000-06:00

Oh Hell, It's Time For Another Edition Of:

This Week's Hater: Everett True

The latest Historical Hater is a little bit of a departure from Messrs Douglass and Diogenes, but he's such a hardcore hatin' SOB that I'm willing to bend the rules slightly.

His name is Everett True, and while he's not historical in the sense of being an actual person, he is from HISTORY; more specifically, from around the turn of the century. Around 1906, a couple of dudes named A.D. Condo and J.W. Raper were apparently just so towering pissed off about all the irritating people in the world that they created Mr. True, a ludicrously fat asshole with a bowler, an umbrella, and a fucking temper, and gave him his own comic strip, The Outbursts of Everett True.

He's like the embodiment of this blog. This intro page could be a damn mission statement for the Hater's Ball.

The comic strip's structure is simplicity itself, 2 panels of pain which efficiently distribute the two requirements of any hate-on:
1. The hate-worthy action (Everett gets pissed)
2. The hating (Everett lays down the law)

Everett True does not take shit. He dishes it out, most often in the form of a savage beating, often involving his umbrella. He hates without prejudice or concern for authority, brutalizing (or at least threatening) cops and priests just as easily as perverts and inconsiderate assholes. Hardcore.
From time to time, especially when dealing with pests who happen to be of the feminine persuasion, Everett will exercise some restraint, merely humiliating his victims, or causing them extreme emotional pain, without actually beating them to a pulp.

We may not always be familiar with the specific problems Everett seeks to solve with his cartoonishly large fists (I hadn't even heard of Roos evelt's reformed spelling before this strip, or had problems with a sleeping car hog), but I think we all know what he's feeling, and we support his willingness to take action while we merely draw comics, or, say, write blog posts.

I thought it would be fun to look over past gripes we've had on this blog and ask, What Would Everett True Do?

My "Cool Side of the Pillow" problem: Throw the entire staff into a gutter, then destroy their printing press
Bundy's Amtrak problems: Administer a brutal beatdown to the entire Amtrak system, trains and all, with his umbrella
Tirth's arrogant UC Berkeley problem: Toss them out of a window, saying "Think you're the only university in California, eh? Well let's see if you can fly, hot-shots!"
The whole world's Tom Brady problem: Straight up mutilate him

Understand, I'm not advocating violence as a solution to all your problems. I'm just saying that if we were all a bit more assertive like Everett True, the world would be a better place

Rollin' And Scratchin'

2007-12-07T12:58:00.000-06:00

I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night, but I did get some sweet dreams out of it. Does anyone else find that they dream more when they don't sleep well?

I've forgotten far more than I've remembered, but the largest section I remember took place in Minneapolis, in a dream version of 1708 Como. I showed up and Sam and Josh looked like they were up to something. I asked Josh what was up, and he told me that they were going to be interviewing some chicks to be Sam's new girlfriend (apparently dream-Sam was single).

Anyways, I laughed at that and asked them where they were going to conduct the interview. They conducted me into a room which does not exist in the real 1708 Como, an enormous unfinished space just off the living room, with filthy concrete floors and beams sticking out everywhere and carpet mats and shitty chairs all over the place. Kind of like my basement, except bigger and on the ground floor.

I cackled and cackled at the idea, and said "You'd better be interviewing them next to some huge hole in the floor!" Sam directed my attention to the far corner of the room, where a beat up table and some chairs were set up next to a gaping hole in the concrete. I laughed some more and helped them move some tables together.

At this point, Zach Norlin showed up with two girls in cocktail dresses and my cousins' Marble Maze set. Now for those who don't know, Zach Norlin is a gangly tool from Missy Ho, and Marble Maze is an awesome game where you build a race course for marbles out of these plastic tube things, then race marbles down it. I could only find this picture, so you'll have to imagine a much larger, more complex set.
As far as I could tell, the interview was going to consist of seeing which girl could build the best marble maze, which in dream-logic seemed like a pretty good criterion for being Sam's girlfriend. The girls didn't do much though. It was all Norlin, and he fucked it up pretty badly. You see, marble maze depends upon gravity, so it takes some planning to make a course that will function and a structure that will support your course, all with a limited number of pieces. Norlin just slapped it all together and it failed, spilling marbles all over the greasy mat of carpet.

Other tidbits of dream:
1. I was with my mother, examining some very strange looking dogs. They were about pug-sized and jet black, but they were clearly young puppies. We wondered what kind of dog would have such big puppies. An adult version then showed up, as if in reply to our question. It was a huge, black, rough-cut kind of dog, unlike any I've seen before. Kind of like Richard Walker's enormous German Shorthair that I met in like 5th grade, but bigger, thicker, and blacker.
2. At my cousins' house, Amelia was doing the dishes and Sam (Cohoes, my cousin) was working on something in the living room. He quoted some line and we all laughed. I walked into the kitchen and went for the cookie jar in the pantry. It was full of these things that looked like fig newtons, but instead of figs they had meat inside of them. They were yummy. I walked into the back porch and saw that my mother was walking the enormous black dog towards the house. Otto was sitting on top of the washing machine and wanted to get really excited, but I calmed him down.

Possible interpretations:
1. I am excited to see my friends and family. And Zach Norlin.
2. Marble Maze is sweet.
3. I was kind of hungry when I went to bed.
4. The dog was a grim and I am in mortal peril.
5. Salami Newtons are going to be the next big thing in snackable food items this holiday season.

P.S.: I am working on a groundbreaking kind of hater post. Probably publish tomorrow, depending upon how, you know, "papers" for "classes" for "grades" progress today.

Oh Goddamnit

2007-12-04T19:55:00.000-06:00

Oh Goddamnit.

God.
Damn.
It.

Just got the email from the goddamn literary magazine.

The winner of the naming contest is...The Cool Side Of The Pillow.

I shit you not. The Cool Side Of The Pillow.

The Cool Side Of The Motherfucking Pillow.

Goddamnit.

I don't know if I can, in good conscience, work for a publication with such a stupid fucking name. I don't think I can even write for them. I'd rather leave essays under rocks around town than have them published under that idiotic piece of shit name.

Salt in the wound: I was foolish enough to mention a passing willingness to work on advertising in my application, so I am now Advertising Manager for this shit-rag. I think I may have to resign that particular position because I cannot stand our fucking name, and I think our ads might have to include it. And I am not, I repeat, I am not going to tape a single goddamned flier to a single goddamn wall. I also do not plan to spend my time begging local businesses to by ads in a magazine with such a bad name.

GODDAMNIT.

ON THE OTHER HAND, I could abuse my position and sabotage the magazine like a straight gangster. Just have some very neat-looking ads that fail to mention who we are or what we do. Also, destroy our printing press.

Fucking A. I should just start my own fucking magazine. I'll call it Pug Fancy. Gonna be great.

Fuck.

Castrated Astronauts=Castronauts

2007-12-04T15:30:00.000-06:00

I'm working on that Star Wars post. It will be epic.

My main problem now is that I don't have Revenge of the Sith here at school, so the full post cannot be completed until sometime after my winter break starts...which is in about 6 days. Yes, friends and readers, thanks to a combination of Northwestern's wacky quarters system and a lucky draw on my finals schedule, I will be taking the train back to the MPLS on Monday, December 10th.

I would like to spend a few days in the Cities, righting wrongs and spinning plates, but I worry that with all the U of M kids busy studying for finals they will not be ready to host a guest. Any thoughts on this, children of the Twin Towns? And Josh, "I won't be studying for my finals anyways" is not a valid response.

I have papers to write, so I will leave you with this little tidbit, found last night in the library:
I can't say for sure what was going on here. I can only hope that some poor senior was struggling to decide which school to go to for graduate work and decided to simply apply some formal logic to the situation.

These Are The Grippers That Changed The World

2007-12-01T14:49:00.000-06:00

My last post was noticeably lacking in hate. This one is still generally positive but there's always a little vitriol to be found in demonizing the competition.

In my search for a sign for my door and a grip exerciser, I have come across that most excellent of Internet phenomena, the insane niche culture: groups of geographically disparate people who use the Internet to discuss and intensify their personal obsessions. These people used to collect the items of their choice and sit in the basement with them after work, counting and cataloging. Now they go on the online and chat for hours with fellow enthusiasts, create websites devoted to their common interests, and so on and so forth.

In my role as casual shopper I did not delve too deeply into these little subcultures, but what I did encounter was highly entertaining.

1. The sign

I am now thinking that a neon sign will be too expensive and clunky to be practical. I am now looking for a simple OCCUPIED-type sign, with the words printed onto some translucent plastic with a bulb mounted behind it. At first, however, I was thinking neon would be the way to go, so I asked Google for some information, and of course the Internet was happy to oblige. If I were to purchase a neon sign, it would be from this guy. He is just so devoted to neon signage. He believes in it with all his heart. Check the quote:

High impact, eye catching, real glass tube neon sign. This characteristic glow can attract customers like nothing else, virtually burning your identity into the minds of potential and future customers. Neon signs can be left on 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year...for decades. There is no light form in existence that has the visual impact of neon.

(I realize this is a company, not necessarily driven by one man. I just prefer to think of it as one man's dream.)

If his business has an actual physical location, I’ll bet he’s got an awesome neon sign for his neon sign store.

2. The grip exerciser

An Amazon search revealed there to be three basic categories of grip exercisers:

A: the crappy, overpriced little plastic toy/rubber squeeze ball you'd expect to find at Sharper Image, for yuppies who are tired of having their tennis rackets slip out of their hands after 2 martinis.

B: the New-Age feel-good weak-ass gripper with pleasing plastic contours and comfort-gel grips and inspirational messages printed on the side, designed for neo-hippies who had to get hand surgery after snapping a tendon in a disastrous bicycle collision (probably while high on illegal drugs) at a jam-band music festival, and who now need to do 10,000 reps at 3 pounds of resistance in order to get back their previous Wet Noodle grip strength.

C: The he-man woman-hater’s steak-and-potatoes gripper, made from cold-rolled steel and razor blades, for large men in trucker caps who want to be able to tear license plates in half.

Obviously I was most interested in group C. While there were several options, this line of products, from the subtly-named company Captains Of Crush, had the highest customer rating and by far the most reviews, many of which are hilarious (sample post titles: I will crush you, These babies are no joke!!, and The Ferrari of Hand Grips!!!).

This was clearly the gripper of choice for the real grip-happy subculture. I mean, check out the product description:

"Warning: Captains of Crush Grippers can be extremely addictive and the side effects of proper use include bigger forearms, a stronger grip and fewer aches and pains from the elbows to the fingertips. Captains of Crush Grippers from IronMind are known worldwide as the gold standard for building and testing grip strength. Available in ten strengths, there is a model perfect for everyone from rehab patients to World's Strongest Man winners. These are the grippers that changed the world, taking what had been a cheap, imported plaything and turning it into a serious training tool: Captains of Crush Grippers are known wherever strong men and women gather, and are used by champion athletes, elite military and public safety personnel, government leaders, CEOs, celebrities and extraordinary people of all ages, sizes and shapes. No. 1: Most people who lift weights can't close this gripper."

The company produces several models of the gripper, differentiated by difficulty, all the way up to the legendary No. 3 gripper. This particular contraption is so difficult to close even once that there is a special certification process for being able to do one rep on the No. 3. Dudes who do nothing but drive their trucks around and squeeze grip exercisers speak about the No. 3 in hushed tones. I have a feeling I could park a car on this thing and it wouldn’t budge.

Now, as much as I would love to have a “Captain of Crush” certificate to frame and hang on my wall, as I said earlier I think that I will need to physically test out my grip exerciser before I purchase it, to make sure it isn’t too difficult, or too easy, to use.

P.S.: "dialog" or "dialogue"? "catalog" or "catalogue"? I want to use the "ue" endings but firefox is telling me otherwise.

Things I Am Contemplating Purchasing

2007-11-29T19:02:00.001-06:00

I have an easy work study job where I sit around and do homework. Fort this I am paid roughly $115 every two weeks.

I do not have a girlfriend. I do not have bills to pay. I do not buy a lot of drugs or alcohol. I do not have a life. I'd say on average, I spend about $20, cash or debit, a week.

This leaves me with about $70 in discretionary spending money that I never use. I'm considering beginning a new habit, where when I want something I purchase it.

Understand, the desire-->purchase connection has been quite weak for me so far in my life. I have taken after my mother, who spends so much time researching her possible purchases and making sure she is getting the absolute best deal that she is to be commended whenever she purchases anything at all. My sister and father, on the other hand, do this weird thing where they see something they like and they exchange some money with a merchant to obtain the object of their desire.

Things I am considering buying:
1. A small neon sign/light up sign of some sort, to hang outside my door and plug into a light bulb socket to electrical outlet adapter in one of the phone booths, so when I come to my room I can just reach into the phone booth and flick the switch and people will know I'm home. All the neon signs I've found in casual searches have been for alcoholic beverages, which I guess would not be all bad if I could get one for Schlitz.
2. The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare. I'll buy this for about $20 any day now.

3. A grip exerciser. I think it would be a good way to burn off a lot of the excess energy I get sometimes, and also to strengthen my grip, obviously. The only problem with purchasing one on the online is that I do not know if it will be too difficult/too easy/uncomfortable. This purchase may need to be made in meatspace.

4. I don't know. Books?

Keep It Clean

2007-11-29T18:05:00.001-06:00

I'm sorry about the lack of activity around here everybody.

I know I've gotta be the motive force around here to a certain extent.

I've been having an eventful college experience, I swear. It just isn't like high school, and high school is pretty much all I've blogged about.

College has been very odd for me so far. I haven't found any lifelong friends, or even space-filling semi-friends, people to hang out with until someone I have a real connection with comes along. I'm having some real problems with anxiety, and more often than not it manifests itself as a kind of manic, nervous energy. I feel and act kind of insane, which is a new thing for me. I think I've kind of cultivated an image as a lunatic (what with the furious one man dance parties, solitary night walks, and a tendency to look you in the eye and not break contact. Also I get twitchy sometimes) and while that can be fun (making people unsettled just by being around is an entertaining experience) I don't think it is for me. It's kind of exhilarating, but that just makes it more disturbing.

I am trying to settle down and get a little less nuts, and writing is one of the ways I do that. This is not the kind of writing I'm used to doing, though, not Manly Mustaches plays of wit and observational comedy. This is heavy madness and wine shit.

So I write letters (write me a letter please. 1820 Chicago Ave/Rm 4037/Evanston, IL 60201. You will make my day, and I will write you back.), and I write stories (my fiction production is way up, and for whatever reason, my astronomy class alone has inspired me to write about 6000 words), but I do not write blog posts.

Also, my excuse for the past few days is that my laptop's Internet (I try to always capitalize the word "Internet," as it refers to a specific place. I also capitalize "Universe." Is this correct?) connection is utterly fucked up. I'm actually getting way more done when I can't read webcomics all the time, and I'm getting by on the bare necessities by coming to the library (where I am right now), so I have not been extremely motivated to fix the problem. I might get around to it before I come home for Xmas, but I doubt it.

In the spirit of self improvement I think I will post here more. I'll give you a preview of posts to come, shall I?

1. What I want for Christmas. Pretty self explanatory. Actually, I have been having a very positive cash flow at college (over a hundred bucks a week from work study, with very few expenses [I do not have fun]), so I'll probably end up buying several of the items before you get a shot at them. Don't worry, I'll crow over my new purchases on the blog, probably.

2. A recent edit to my facebook profile has provoked some angry responses among my fan base. The contentious passage can be found under the "Favorite Films" heading, and reads as follows:
"...Star Wars (in descending order: V, IV, III, VI, II, I)..."
The placement of a prequel above a member of the original trilogy has angered some of my stodgier acquaintances.
While I am of course entitled to my opinion, in the spirit of good will towards men and all that nonsense I plan to hold a screening of both Revenge of the Sith and Return of the Jedi, after which I will post about my final judgment.

3. There are a couple of small, unlocked rooms, across the hall from my room, which used to be for pay phones. Now they are for nothing. I plan to change that. It will be a craft project, with Christmas lights and house paint and neon signs and maybe a Virgin Mary. I will keep you updated/ask for advice.

Who's the G.O.A.T.?

2007-11-26T22:09:00.000-06:00

Alright guys, I wanna get your opinion. I want to know who you guys think is the greatest martial artist of all time.

Let's start with Steven Seagal. Bad hair, tight blue jeans, over sized dress coats, and horrible one liners. No matter how cheesy he is, you can't deny his skill. Besides being an accomplished martial artist, he also plays in a god awful band, called Thunderbox. (Thunderbox is slang for tiolet). I think Seagal is a good candidate, but I feel he is too cheesy to be taken seriously.

If anyone has ever seen this movie, they would know that it took these two out of the race.

From the very start Bruce Lee was my inspiration. From what I've seen he was the fastest man this side of hell. In most of his movies his moves had to be slowed down because otherwise it all looked like a special effect.

Chuck Norris gets made fun of a lot, with all of the Chuck Norris jokes. But most people don't know that he was the international karate champion 8 years in a row.

These two are towards the top of the list.

Aside from his cheesy American made movies, Jackie Chan has made several masterpieces; where not only does he use his trickery but his martial arts skill. If you've never seen the Legend of the Drunken Master, you've yet to see the REAL Jackie Chan.

Then there's this guy... a true American Legend. Just kidding, I had to throw that in.
And now for my favorite: Tony Jaa. This guy has better stunts than Chan, better kicks than Bruce Lee, and on top of it all he is a world class gymnast. If you've never seen Ong Bak or the Protector I would highly recommend seeing them. Tony Jaa has my number one vote.

Bundy, I apologize for forgetting J.C. Van Damme, he's one of my favorites... much better than David Carradine. For a white guy from Brussels Belgium this guy has some really good flexibility. But then that's my problem with the guy; all he does is these really choreographed head kicks, he's not all that fast and his combinations leave much to be desired. But hey, that could just be the director.

The Legend Of The Rollerblade Seven

2007-11-26T00:51:00.001-06:00

I've got hate just boiling out my eyeballs, but my dorm room Internet connection is fucked up, and I want to be able to properly give form to my hate, do it justice, so I will not attempt to peck it out here, on this library terminal at one in the morning.

Actually, my hatred levels are pretty neutral right now, because my seething anger towards Tom Brady is balanced out by my wholehearted support of American Gladiators, which I am informed will be making its triumphant return to network television at some point in the near future.

Although now that I think about it, the American Gladiators I know and love is the one I see on ESPN Classic when I'm staying in hotels. It has Nitro and Malibu and Sunny and everyone wears unitards and headgear. Now I fear that Malibu is dead of liver failure related to his steroid use and my beloved American Gladiators will be rendered unrecognizable by those nefarious coastal television fat cats who are bringing it back for money-related reasons. I have visions of high production values and non-roided out Gladiators, of advertisements for Mountain Dew plastered on the once proudly red, white, and blue foam-padded equipment, of hip new events which will not do justice to the campy intensity of the old show.

American Gladiators always used to be all "Malibu is a ridiculously over-muscled California surfer dude! Those tennis balls are going at over 100 mph! Look at the size of that fucking foam rubber ball!"

Those were the days. Now it's going to be all "The new Gladiators are named Xtreme and Sk8er and Grrrl! They are extreme but totally healthy and don't do any steroids! LISTEN TO THAT TOP 40 POP GO!"

I was going to give up but my hate fueled me OVER THE TOP on this post.

Hate hate hate hate hate.

I am looking directly at a guy who looks a hell of a lot like Jesse Keller. It is unsettling.

Oh, I almost forgot: Fuck you, Tom Brady.whatta douche

WARKAT

2007-11-21T23:34:00.000-06:00

It is my opinion that Americans are very set in their ways when it comes to sports. Soccer is the number one sport in the world, but Americans play football and easy sports that dont take much skill. Think of all the fat slobs you see on the sidelines of a football game that don't get any playing time on a high school varsity team. In soccer there isn't one person on the team who is a slouch... except for maybe the goalie (i.e. Tim Halvorson.) There is an asian sport called sepak takraw where if you aren't highly trained and very flexible you would look like a total fool on the pitch... even more so than soccer. Takraw, or warkat spelled backwards, is a game much like volleyball. There is a net, a ball, and there are three players on each team. You can only touch the ball with everything but your arms and hands, much like soccer, you can even head the ball over the net. The sport originated over in malaysia or thailand many a year ago. It was originally played with a ball made out of a wicker like material about the size of a large grapefruit, now it is made out of plastic. I apologize for the bad layout, i've never tried pictures before. The purple ball looks exactly like the one my brother sent me. I have tried playing this before and it is very hard but pretty fun. So if your ready for a real man's sport try soccer; or, if you want to reach a level even beyond that try takraw. Look this up on you tube some time, it is absolutely nutz.

All Aboard The Hate Train

2007-11-20T20:19:00.000-06:00

I got towering pissed at myself yesterday night. There was a meeting for a new campus literature magazine that I want to be a part of, and I fucking forgot about it. I was playing Star Wars video games instead.

I was irrationally angry and had to take a half hour angry walk to walk off all my anger, but I did have some reasons for being so miffed at myself:

1. I've been having trouble finding things to do on campus, and this magazine was going to be one of my things. I had grand plans to be an editor and everything and start wars to increase circulation and have my last words be the name of childhood sled. But no. I played Star Wars video games instead. Now I'm the guy who missed the second meeting. Fuck.

2. This was the meeting where they were going to choose the name for the magazine. I sent in a list of my own, which I obviously would have been fine with, but the other potential names they listed in an email....well, I'll let you judge for yourself.

Max's list:
Empty
Bang
Nadir
Solstice
Northwestern Literary Review

Their list:
Whatnot
The Flipside
Etc.
Windows and Mirrors
...And Your Little Dog Too!

"...And Your Little Dog Too!" I shit you not. I think that might be the worst name possible, and I just know they chose it. If this magazine ends up being called "...And Your Little Dog Too!" I will not be able to join it. I will have to become its worst enemy.

Hindsight: Things are not as bad as I thought they were. I can still definitely be a major player in the magazine. People hate to take responsibility for anything, so I figure if I'm dedicated I should be able to run the place in a couple of years. Also, I heard from a guy I know who went that they did not decide on the name, they just held the preliminary vote, and votes will be accepted by email for the rest of the week. Plus, the guy voted for Solstice. I think I might too.

In conclusion, if your hate level is too low, just think about a magazine named "...And Your Little Dog Too!" and you'll be back on the Hate Train in no time. In fact...I am proud to introduce the Hate Train. For when you're just so pissed about something or someone that you just have to run a train on 'em. A Hate Train.

Rest assured, the Hate Train will only be deployed in the most hate-worthy of circumstances.

Journal Of A Plauge Year

2007-11-19T10:01:00.000-06:00

I had a pretty good evening on Saturday.

I have been feeling right on the edge of sick lately, and I am lame, so I decided to take it easy for the evening. I needed some exercise, though, to ensure good sleep, so I took a walk.

The weather was terrible, 35 degrees, rain, a steady 35-40 mph wind out of the east, coming off the lake. I bundled up in underarmour and my waterproof shell and walked out to the lakefill.

NU Primer: A few decades back, Northwestern decided to fill in a few acres of Lake Michigan and create an artificial little peninsula. Now it is like a very nice little park right on the lake, called the lakefill.

I was the only person in the whole lakefill. I walked down to the shore and watched the big breakers roll in and smash themselves against the rocks. The wind rocked me back on my heels. The sky was huge and dark and reached out to the distant horizon. I really like having the lake nearby.

Anyways, on my walk home I stopped into a classroom hall to warm up. I noticed a perfectly good-looking chair sitting in the hallway with a little sign taped to it that read "Please Dispose." The chair appeared to be nicer than my standard issue dorm chair, so I followed the note's request and lugged the seat back to my room.

I like my new chair. It is comfortable and has armrests. It is like a chair one would find in a hotel room. The arms and legs are a little loose, but I have temporarily solved that problem with superglue and duct tape. One day I will probably sit in it and it will collapse beneath me, but the I will get a good laugh out of it and go back to my old chair.

Primary (New) Chair

Auxiliary (Old) Chair

GO

2007-11-18T22:24:00.000-06:00

Well, this is my first blog, so I'll try not to bring too much disgrace to Hater's Ball.

I work at Menards in Baxter, I love it, people ask me how I'm doing and I tell them I am living the American dream. I was relaxing one fine afternoon after a terrific day at work when I got a phone call. I didn't recognize the number, but picked up anyway. There was a young lady on the other end of the line, she was a receptionist for a company named Vector. They sell knives and things of that matter. She asked me if i wanted to set up an interview and I agreed. A few days later, my girlfriend and I took a trip to St. Cloud for the interview... but destiny had other plans for me. Like an idiot I missed my turn and we found ourselves on a street with nothing but Asian restaurants. It was about 5:30 at this point and I was very hungry, we came upon a place I had heard about... it was called Sawaat Dee, which in Thai means "hello." I thought about asking for help finding Vector, but I gave into temptation and pulled the car over. It was one of the greatest meals of my life and I have no regrets. After the meal we decided to hit the mall (the interview was out of the question at this point). We walked around and came upon a shop on the outskirts of the mall, there wasn't anyone inside. The shop sold a vast variety of board games and puzzles. I was looking for a rubik's snake (an item which had eluded me for many a year). Again, another fruitless search. I kept looking around the shop and came across a game called GO. It was an oriental game with no real equal in the west. If you ever watch a Kung Fu movie that was supposed to have taken place a long time ago, they always play this game. I got home and read the instructions, it was pretty vague and didn't explain much; I forced my dad to play a game with me and it was actually pretty fun. I would encourage any skeptics to rush out and buy this game. Well, it took a long time for me to get to the point... and for this I apologize. So long for now, I look forward to next time... I wish to add a little spice to this blog, this blog will be very spicy.

Of Dire Straits and Anatomy Lessons

2007-11-18T22:07:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since my precious writing adorned the hallowed cyberspace of this blog.

Here is a brief tale of what I did over the weekend (Maxwell, make sure you tell this to your grandkids):

Turns out, colleges do not have knowledge bowl. Instead, they prescribe to this beast called Quiz Bowl. For those of you who may know (and not know), quiz bowl is radically different from KBowl:

a) Questions are longer (sometimes painfully so)

b) Individuals elements of the team have a chance at glory with tossups (the part where people buzz in individually if they know the answer. No conferring is permitted)

c) Occasionally, (as it happened this saturday) answers like Dire Straits come up.

This Saturday, the University of California, Berkeley was hosting the WIT (Western Invitational Tournament) and UCLA was sending a team to play. Unlike some other clubs like the University of Chicago, our club lacks funds and as a result we have to drive up for about 6-7 hours wading through the notorious L.A. traffic.

The drive back is not as bad as the drive up, except that two weeks ago (when we were returning from a similar tournament at Stanford) our car was pulled over and the driver duly ticketed for speeding some 13 miles over the posted limit.

The actual tournament is quite fun, all for the following reasons:
a)It is always fascinating to meet numerous characters, some of whom have been playing collegiate level quizbowl since 1999. (or in more abstract terms, eternity)

b)This is perhaps the only place where two totally unrelated things like Dire Straits and The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp turn up at the same time.

c)Individual top scorers and winning teams get "prizes", which usually comprise of well-worn used books like "The manual on exorcism" and "Catch-22".

This description of quizbowl brings me to today's real agenda: the introduction of

the first recipient of which is going to be UC Berkeley for arrogantly calling themselves California (or the even more annoying covariant CAL). Shame on them for ignoring the presence of other entities that are also named California or have that term included as a part of their name.

Further reading for those interested in the quirky realms of quizbowl: UCLA Lexicon

Sippin' On Haterade

2007-11-18T16:30:00.000-06:00

I missed posting last week due to a lack of hate, so I'm coming back this week with twice (or at least 1.5 times) the hate brought upon the world last time. So, without further ado, here's what I'm hatin' on this week.

Monkeys- Normally I am a huge fan of primates, but there is some disturbing monkey related news coming out of India. In northeast India there is a case of monkeys on the lam. According to the article, "troupes of monkeys are out of control in India's northeast, stealing mobile phones and breaking into homes to steal soft drinks from refrigerators, lawmakers in the region have complained." These monkeys need to be stopped.

Political Correctness- In Australia, they have worse problems than even a kangaroo on the lam. Santas in Sydney have been told not to say "ho ho ho", because "it may be offensive to women." According to the article, they have been told to say "ha ha ha" instead. Bitch please, "ho ho ho" is a Christmas (or I guess should say "Holiday") tradition, let the Santas speak.

The Police- The police are at it again, this time in Italy, shooting, and killing, an Italian soccer fan and starting a riot. I'm not sure if any of the Italians read this blog, but this is sad news coming from the land of our Italian brethren. Fuck tha police.

Minnesota Sports- Every Minnesota sports team that matters (sorry Wild, I'm not a hockey fan) is terrible this year. The Vikings are trash, the Timberwolves are terrible, and Gopher football probably couldn't even beat the Warriors. The only thing Minnesota had going for it was Adrian Peterson, but now he's injured.

That's it for today, I'm pleased I was able to work two NWA videos into the post, I'll be back next week with more hate. Just remember, if you're feeling hate inside you don't hesitate to express yourself (sorry, I had to put in one more).

It's That Time Again

2007-11-15T18:53:00.001-06:00

What time you ask? Time for another installment in our continuing series of...

Diogenes of Sinope

Diogenes was an ancient Greek philosopher. He thought that the people of Greece were weak-minded fools who lived in needless luxury, and in addition to loudly telling them so, he practiced what he preached. He lived his life in the simplest way possible, wearing rags, sleeping in a broken pot, urinating (and masturbating) in pubic, and begging food off of strangers. Diogenes destroyed one of his only possessions, a small wooden bowl for holding water, when he saw a beggar drinking from his cupped hands.

People said he lived like a dog, and he proudly accepted the comparison. Dogs live their lives honestly and straightforwardly, barking, shitting, and sleeping when and where they felt like it. Basically, they're the haters of the animal kingdom. The name of his school of philosophy, cynicism, is derived from the Greek word for dog.

Diogenes was the disciple of the founder of cynicism, Antisthenes. Antisthenes was, as you might expect of the founder of cynicism, a total dick, and he subjected Diogenes to some nasty initiation ordeals before accepting him as a student (Brad Pitt's browbeating torments of recruits in Fight Club were reportedly inspired by Anisthenes' tactics). Diogenes took it all in stride and went on to far surpass his master in fame.

Diogenes became so famous, in fact, that Raphael included him (centuries later) in his masterful tribute to Greek philosophy, the School of Athens. See the key below to figure out who's who.Key:
1-27: Chumps
28: Stone Cold Hater
29-56: Chumps

Sometimes he would wander the streets in the day, carrying a burning torch and holding it up to people's faces. When they asked him what he was doing, he would say "I am looking for an honest man." Needless to say, he never found one who fulfilled his requirements.

One mark of a great hater is a willingness to keep it real, even when faced with very real possibility of getting your ass beat/killed. When Alexander the Great was at the peak of his power--that is, when he was the ruler of the majority of the known world--he came to Corinth to meet the famous philosopher. He found Diogenes, sprawled in the sun, and asked him if there was anything he could do for him. Diogenes replied "Stand out of my sunlight." This was to the most powerful man in the world, a man who could have had Diogenes killed (or fucking killed him himself, right there) on a whim. This is a guy lying on the street in the USSR, and Stalin walks up to him and says "Can I do anything for you?" and the guy on the street replies "Yeah, go fuck yourself."

But Diogenes kept it real. Ice. Fucking. Cold.

Alexander was impressed, and reportedly said "If I were not Alexander, then I should wish to be Diogenes." Alexander got owned, but he recognized a genuine hater, and gave Diogenes some respect.

I just read about another version of their meeting on Wikipedia, where Alexander comes upon Diogenes picking through a pile of human bones. Alexander asks him what he's doing, and the philosopher replies "I am searching for the bones of your father but cannot distinguish them from those of a slave." I think that one might be even more badass.

Diogenes loved to hate on people who obsessed over how they would be buried, because after they died, they were going to fucking dead, so why should they care what happens to the meat? When he died, he left instructions that his body be thrown outside the city walls so wild animals could feast upon his flesh.

Hardcore to the end.

Phantom of the FUCK AMTRAK

2007-11-14T17:48:00.001-06:00

Good evening everyone. Since this is the Hater's Ball, I'm going to tell a little story about why I hate Amtrak.

As some may know (probably not many because I come off as an uncultured republican bastard), I am an ENORMOUS fan of Phantom of the Opera. The story it tells and the themes inherent in every song are too good to be true. And the music is to die for. Andrew Lloyd Webber surely is a musical genius. I recommend picking up the live original London recording featuring Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman and Steve Barton if you have the means.

Anyway, so I'm basically fucking obessed with this musical, right? Well, the folks and Ms. Maggie Freiday are heading out to Baltimore this Thanksgiving to chill with me and visit some relatives. Ms. Freiday also happens to be a PTO fan, by the way.

So, since PTO is playing on Broadway, only 2.5 hours away by train, I figured it would be very nice to see this production with my paramour. At $111.50 a piece for front center mezzanine seats, it was going to be awesome and surely the experience of a lifetime.

But then came Amtrak.....250 FUCKING DOLLARS ROUND TRIP FOR ONE TICKET! Are you kidding me? This is enough to make me turn into a fuck-the-government libertarian asshole. How do those bastards get off charging that much money for a ride on a shitty train? I am pissed. Granted it is Thanksgiving weekend, but fuck....Amtrak ruined my life.

But this cheered me up. Antonio Banderas can actually sing....check out this performance he did with Sarah Brightman....and check out the heels on his shoes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S88rkpPu8_g

Old Gray Acorn Ain't What She Used To Be

2007-11-13T17:11:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving is in a day and a week. I am as excited as I have ever been to go back to Brainerd.

While there I will eat:
1. Pasta with Parmesan and nutritional yeast.
2. turkey
3. mashed potatoes
4. popcorn
5. a sharp cheddar cheese sandwich with corn chips

College is not being satisfying the same way high school was sometimes.

I talked to Josh Johnson today, he said he's got some sweet Menard's posts brewing, but he's got to get to his girlfriend's house before he can post them, as he does not have the Interweb at his dad's place. Shocking, I know. Josh Johnson is willing to overcome great barriers to complain about Menard's on the web.

I forgot to listen to Hannah Burchill's Goddamned Radio Program again today. Fuck.

Paint It An Inch Thick

2007-11-11T11:16:00.000-06:00

Here is my dream from last night. I recount it because it features two other contributors to this blog, and everybody's favorite villain, Sam Walker:

I was in downtown Evanston (the first ring Chicago suburb of about 70,000 where Northwestern is located) in a restaurant (there are a shitload of restaurants in Evanston) with Kurt.
It was free day, or something, and they were giving out popcorn chicken and turkey bagel sandwiches. The dude making the sandwiches was like a slightly Hispanic version of Tirth. It was extremely weird. He gave Kurt and me some popcorn chicken, which was delicious, and then a turkey sandwich on a garlic bagel with extra garlic.

A little later Sam Walker showed up, and I told him there was a food giveaway. He got excited and went and got a turkey bagel sandwich from Hispanic-Tirth. I wanted another sandwich so I went to tell Tirth, but he was super-busy. He saw me though, over the crowd of people demanding sandwiches, and gave me a little head nod so I knew he knew.
I kept coming back at the wrong time for my sandwich and Tirth was getting really exasperated. I ran into my sister, Maya, and my cousin Amelia and gave them hugs, but they seemed extremely ambivalent about my being there.

Someone delivered me a note from Tirth that said something like "Max if you are done orbiting the Earth perhaps you can orbit the Universe!" I do not understand it. It seems kind of like an insult Tirth would use? In any case, I was extremely amused and happy that my sandwich was ready. I went up to the counter and while Tirth made the sandwich Sam and I talked about all the flavors which went into the turkey garlic bagel sandwich. There were half-eaten sandwiches all over the place.

I think I woke up before I got to eat the second one.

A New Challenger Approaches

2007-11-09T20:50:00.000-06:00

Yo peeps.

I have another issue for the blog's consideration:

A certain Mr. Josh Johnson has petitioned for blog membership.

I personally support Mr. Johnson's request. Dude can tell a funny story. Plus, I think he would add a unique viewpoint to the blog.

Questions/Comments in comments for this thread.

Hater Nation- I Need Your Help

2007-11-08T17:40:00.000-06:00

Today I purchased two fish for my dorm room and they need names. Post you ideas here, for one or both of the fish, and the winning names will be chosen within a week.

Throwback

2007-11-08T12:38:00.001-06:00

Remember These?

Courtesy of Brainerd Dispatch archives

Those were the good old days. The Nuclear Balloon Arrows were on the top of the game, emus were immensely popular (remember that trip to the emu farm, Max, that was classic), a war raged between the Momsons and Crohnsons, and Josh Johnson didn't call me at 3:00 in the morning.

I Do Push Ups On Neutron Stars

2007-11-07T17:43:00.001-06:00

I'm retiring another piece of notebook paper to the electronic vaults of the Internet.

I kind of pushed this one to the edge of reason. At this point it's not really that useful as a reference. It's just got too much information to be properly accessed.

...and the backside:

2007-11-05T15:37:00.001-06:00

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of posts on...

Todays Hater for the Ages: Frederick Douglass

This dude was hardcore. He was a 6'3" escaped slave who made a living telling white people how horrible they were.

When he was a slave, he earned a reputation for being difficult. At 16, he was sold to a farmer with a reputation as a "slave breaker." So what did Freddy D do? He beat the shit out of the guy. Problem solved.

He loved to hate on the hypocritical religious zealots of the South. Just check the quotes:

"I assert most unhesitatingly, that the religion of the South is a mere covering for the most horrid crimes - a justifier of the most appalling barbarity, a sanctifier of the most hateful frauds, and a dark shelter under which the darkest, foulest, grossest, and most infernal deeds of slaveholders find the strongest protection."

"I prayed for twenty years but received no answer until I prayed with my legs."

"Once, in a heated controversy over the wisdom of giving the Bible to slaves, he asserted that it would be 'infinitely better to send them a pocket compass and a pistol.'"

Badass.

When Douglass got sick of being a slave, he dressed up as a sailor, forged himself some papers, and rode the train up north.

At Abraham Lincoln's funeral, the dude who was giving the eulogy sucked. Douglass was in the crowd, and he had such a mad reputation as a public speaker that the crowd called for him to speak. Douglass got up and delivered, on the spot, an amazing eulogy for the fallen President. Hardcore.

A final quote, just for Bundy:

"I am a Republican, a black, dyed in the wool Republican, and I never intend to belong to any other party than the party of freedom and progress."

Because The Whole Internet Won't Read Itself

2007-11-04T01:18:00.000-05:00

First click this one.

Then click this one.

Then take a deep breath.

Then click this one.

And then click this one.

Sippin' on Haterade

2007-11-02T14:21:00.000-05:00

Here at Hater's Ball, the slogan is "Hate: It's What We Do", but so far the hate level has been minimal at best. For this reason, I've decided to implement a (hopefully) weekly feature called "Sippin' on Haterade."

Things I'm hatin' on this week.

Not having administrative privileges- I was going to add links and maybe change the color scheme a little, but I guess it will have to wait for now.
Paumbert Livingston- If you have a Facebook account, you gotta read some of his posts here, in one of the many Stephen Colbert groups. He's a straight-up playa hater, and his logic makes absolutely no sense.
Precalc Homework- It just takes way too long to do.
The South Carolina Democratic Party- I know Colbert wasn't serious about running for president, but he paid the fees and did everything necessary to get on the ballot. I was really hoping to see him in one of the Democratic debates, that would have been, quite possibly, the greatest moment in TV history. As an undecided voter, I might vote Republican in '08 just to stick it to those bastards.
Shaving- No Shave November is upon us, and I am participating once again.

That's all the hate I can dish out this week. I'll be back next week with more ice cold Haterade.

Randy Quaid: The Working Man's Bobcat Goldthwait

2007-10-31T10:43:00.001-05:00

We need some links and such on this page. I don't think we need to go as far as we did with the mustache blog, but some blog links at least would be very convenient. I've forgotten how to add these; are they in the html thing somewhere?

Why is it that when you wish someone a happy Halloween they look at you funny? Any good costumes/stories? Because I've got nothin'.

I had a very terrific moment this morning. I got up late, my milk had spoiled, and I had no other breakfast food, so I went to work with the prospect of not eating until 1:30 p.m. My boss wasn't there when I showed up, so I sat down and stared at the wall (my job consists of doing copying for professors who do their own copying). 15 minutes later, my boss shows up, sits down, and says "Muffin?"

She had been at a breakfast meeting and had swiped an extra muffin for me. Awwwww yeah. She even had a bottle of OJ to wash it down.

Man...that was a nice turnaround.

P.S.: Tim Burton and Johnny Depp are going to team up on a major motion picture version of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I saw this as a play at CLC once, and it was basically a musical about how murder can solve all of your problems. I wonder how the movie will be....maybe, maybe kinda dark?

Johnny Depp on set, looking kinda dangerous

Dennis Quaid: The Working Man's Harrison Ford

2007-10-30T01:08:00.000-05:00

I'm in the middle of an intense week: midterm today, another tomorrow, paper due in a week, field trip to the art museum Thursday, Halloween Wednesday, words words words.

Quick hits:

1. Why is Kurt not on here yet?

2. For each person, there are certain albums which he or she can listen to all the way through, again and again, all day long. Not every record will work every day, but most days at least one will stick. Here are my all-day-long records:
Houses of the Holy
Abbey Road
Remain in Light*
Pet Sounds
London Calling
The College Dropout
Neil Young Live at Massey Hall, 1971
Purple Rain
Talking Book
Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)
Hunky Dory

*today's record

3. So I understand that Mase is a really sweet rapper. Can anybody direct me to the sweetest Mase records which I should start listening to?

4. Things I miss about Brainerd:
-The pugs: they are cute and affectionate and will sit on your lap and fulfill your need for touch.
-Playing sports with friends: My friends here don't play sports, or they're way way better than I am (i.e. Tay at basketball).
-Illuminati, either at my house with candles and popcorn or at Holbrook's with pizza and GAME FUEL.
-Listening to music and eating food at Pammy's
-Gumshoe meetings

5. I took my first mid-term today, in Astronomy, and I'd be willing to bet I got between 95 and 100 %. Knowing stuff about stars is kind of one of my things.

A rat-faced Californian acquaintance of mine showed up for the mid-term obviously high. He was sitting there glassy-eyed, telling me how awesome the lighting fixture was. I was like, you know what else is neat? ASTRONOMY.

Why the fuck would you do that before a big test? Goddamn people can be dumb sometimes.

6. We need to get more people reading this blog.

The portrait of an intellectual as a Mafioso

2007-10-29T18:14:00.000-05:00

I am taking this social philosophy class called "The History of Modern Thought:The 17th and the 18th centuries" which, other than giving me 15 units of Honors (for completing the three courses in this year-long sequence), also happens to be one of the most imaginative classes I have ever taken in my whole life.

Since hyperbole seems to be the general theme of today's post, it is time to talk about one of the most greatest philosophers of all eternities, who also happened to be one of the most exaggerating fellas ever: François-Marie Arouet, or as we better know him, Voltaire.

Voltaire was born in the general mass of time that we now call the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries and he lived an absurdly long life of 84 years.He wrote a lot of stuff in his lifetime and was known for his patent (U.S. Patent number 55-3442A) wit and hyperbole.Most importantly, he did much to prove that an intellectual's life could assume a number of extremely fascinating dimensions generally associated with the Mafia, that dark realm of the Godfathers.

My meticulous research regarding this connection brought up the following:

1. In his early literary career (probably somewhere around the 1730's) he ran into some Aristocrat.We neither know what Voltaire did to get on this bloke's nerves, nor do we know his identity.But what we do know is this:

That dude got together a bunch of his cronies, and beat Voltaire up in a darkened alley one fine evening and left him there.

2. Later on, Voltaire visited England and was so fascinated by the political and social system that he became an Anglophile and began circulating among the highest social circles, leading some to speculate that he was a spy for the English against the French.

3. Even much later (in the 1770's), Voltaire was so revered in France, that he was actually considered one of the cultural living legends. Yet, this skeptic intellectual, (by now well-versed in the techniques of deception) chose to live real close to the Swiss border, just in case he needed to flee from the French authorities.

4. It is also speculated that his name might come from a number of clever Latin puns, including volte-face (spinning to face your enemies)

Is that what this smile is about?

P.S. Tyler Jensen, one of my buddies from last year (AP Bio and AP Lang) apparently sustained serious head injuries while playing football against Alexandria.There is a Facebook group dedicated to his speedy recovery.Shocking business this.

Traveling Through Hyperspace: It's Not Like Dusting Crops

2007-10-28T23:23:00.000-05:00

Let's take stock of the past couple of days in Max's life, using the categories of work, play, and cranberry-themed postcards:

I spent yesterday carousing with friends, watching Star Wars, writing postcards, calling home, eating delicious Thai food (including a warm bananas and cream dessert thing that blew my mind), going to Toshi's Station to pick up some power converters, and generally having a grand old time of it. Also, I got an excellent postcard that my mom sent from Tomah, Wisconsin, in the throes of Cran-Fest:

Work: 0
Play: 60
Cranberry-themed postcards: 100
Total life points: 160-Not bad.

I spent today trying to get a thesis statement for my paper (TTGATSFMP), eating, TTGATSFMP, eating, walking, TTGATSFMP, banging my head against the wall, and blogging.

Work accomplished: 0
Enjoyment had: 0
Cranberry-Themed Postcards: 0
Total life points: 0-Fuck shit damn.

The JHU Rundown

2007-10-28T17:43:00.000-05:00

As I'm particularly frustrated by my overwhelming load of homework right now, I figured I'd finally tell everyone about JHU. It's pretty long, but fuck you, you're going to read it and you're going to like it. so here it is:

I. Classes

First of all, this picture is of "Big Doug" Poland, whom I'll talk about later. Okay, so like I've told many - they don't fuck around here. It's true that I don't know what other colleges are like. But the insane curve complimented by the fact that this place has quite a science reputation to uphold makes for some intense work. I'm being a teensy-weensy bit dramatic, though.

1. Chemistry - it's fairly easy because I've already done it. I can't imagine people doing this class with no prior knowledge of chemistry. Thank the Lord for the Reeves-Harmer tandem. Anyway, I'm really happy because "Big Doug" is my prof - just look at him. If you think he looks crazy now, wait until you watch him do calculus on the Ideal Gas Law.

2. Calculus - this class is a joke (why the FUCK did I have to get a 3 on the AP exam!?). Some little Korean guy teaches it and you can't understand him, but that doesn't matter because Blong taught me enough, surprisingly.

3. Expository Writing - it's the only humanities class I have and it isn't difficult per se, but it is "tough." Humanities here are VERY easy from what I'm told, but I happened to pick a scientific expos topic, so it's a fair amount of work.

4. Chem lab - it is so much fucking work that i want to kill myself every sunday at about 11:00 PM/10:00 PM Central. It's easy, but extremely time-consuming, due to Dr. Sig Fig Nazi.

5. Physiological psychology - it's the biology class from hell. I don't even know how to describe it, other than it has instilled in me a deep hatred for neurons, glia, the third ventricle, and action potentials. Actually, I just pretty much hate studying the brain now. Too bad, neuroscience was going to be my major - how ignorant pre-freshman can be. Thank God I figured it out earlier than later. It's not the utter difficulty of the class that bothers me so much, but the subject matter. It's like talking about the SAME damn thing over and over again, just different parts of the nervous system with tiny little differences that are almost impossible to keep track of. The lecture on "Sex and the Brain" was pretty kick ass, though. I saw two rats humping.

II. The Campus

The campus is incredible. I really dislike art and that shit, but the campus architecture is amazing. The campus itself is pretty small and very navigable. I live right next to the library (the library is the bottom-most building in the picture and you can't see my dorm, because this photo is of just the Gilman quad thing), so that's cool, and there's plenty of open grass for playing football or frisbee. I wish the Indian kids would let me play cricket with them, but I don't know what the hell they're doing. Anyway, the library is awesome. All the lecture halls and classrooms are awesome. Pretty much everything is awesome. Except for the food.... whole-wheat pizza, soggy french fries and a Sierra Mist every day. Thank God for vitamin supplements. But that's the price you pay for an otherwise good campus.

III. Life

Life is overall pretty good. There's a ton of stuff to do on campus, and fun is abundant. However, the rumors are more or less true about Hopkins - if you're a premed, you're in the library 10 hours a day. The competition here among future doctors breeds intensity - but that's a totally different story, I'll tell you all about that stupid shit another day. When you're not in the library, Baltimore is a very fun city. The Inner Harbor (in the picture) is really sweet - you could probably spend every day there and never get bored. There's a ton of shops and restaurants, and enough "street magic" to kick David Blaine's ass. I saw some lady dressed as a pirate on a unicycle juggling fire sticks yelling obscenities at children - it was tight as hell. That's the upside of Baltimore. The down side involves one mugging at gun point, another at knife point, and cab drivers. People throw the word "ghetto" around like it's nobody's business, but you have not seen a ghetto until you walk around Baltimore. I fear for my life, wallet, and anal virginity (these are in order of importance, of course) every time I walk two blocks away from campus. But life is good otherwise, and "Charm City" certainly is charming if you go to the right places.

So there you have it, three important aspects of college at the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. It has its ups and downs like anything, but overall I'm extremely pleased with my experience so far, and I'm very happy with my choice. I hope you've enjoyed...I predict another post involving "Big Doug" fairly soon.

The ghost rider

2007-10-28T16:40:00.000-05:00

Live blogging from the San Diego area, the nation's "nice weather" capital...

Yesterday, I took the Amtrak from Union Central, Los Angeles, to Oceanside, CA, a reclusive town generally obscured by its gargantuan next-door neighbor San Diego.

To some, the idea of traveling on an Amtrak may seem abhorrent, but to me, this was a ride on the Palace of wheels itself. (India by rail- 8 days, starting at $1995)

Why? Well here is a modest comparison:

A mundane occurrence in Mumbai, the financial capital of India

The Surfliner that took me to my destination yesterday

To The Virgins

2007-10-27T19:16:00.001-05:00

For several years now I've been making these to do/ideas lists. I write down tasks to be completed, terms to investigate, quotes to remember, small sketches, and so on and so forth. I think I'm going to make this a regular feature on the blog. I suppose the main danger is that my knowledge that my scribblings will become public will influence them in some way, but my handwriting is so shitty anyways that you folks will probably have a hard enough time deciphering DO LAUNDRY, much less the secret list of girls I like.

P.S.: Yesterday I GOT THE LED OUT for the first time. Over the Hills and Far Away is now one of my favorite songs to listen to really loud while dancing in my dorm room.

This Is How We Do It

2007-10-27T12:27:00.000-05:00

Welcome welcome, one and all, to the Hater's Ball!

This post will not be in verse, because that's just not how we do things around here.

Once upon a time there was a blog. It was created by Sam Walker, believe it or not, at the behest of Andrew Kubas and myself. It was fun for a long time. Then it died.

You're welcome to go check it out. It will be preserved for the sake of the archives, and so when The Hater's Ball comes to the fore of the worldwide psyche, the inquisitive billions will be able to peruse our progenitor at their leisure. I suppose we'll add on a link when we get time.

Now then: you all have interesting lives, or so I've been led to believe. Post about them! Comment on those posts! Comment about those comments! Carouse and celebrate! Eat, drink, and be merry!

If I may paraphrase from a somewhat earlier post:
Welcome to the best thing the internet has going for it. The Hater's Ball. Or as I like to call it, America's Homepage. It's mine, at least.

Check in here for all things mustache, all things bright and beautiful, and all things in general.

Welcome home, Planet Earth.