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Posts
How should strong AI alter philanthropy?
3 hours ago
Monday, December 28, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Vampires
Rostam from Vampire Weekend has a side project, which releases July 7th.
http://dscvry.net/
I like electronic music, but the vast vast majority of it is pretentious and at bottom NOT ENTERTAINING. Vampire Weekend is nothing if not entertaining, and I really enjoy that mentality applied to electronic music. The Postal Service with less sentimentality and more fun. There's such a vast world of music these days, and it's so easily accessible and malleable. This is indie music that created by people who enjoy the creations of Timbaland and are happy to admit it. Very fresh.
http://dscvry.net/
I like electronic music, but the vast vast majority of it is pretentious and at bottom NOT ENTERTAINING. Vampire Weekend is nothing if not entertaining, and I really enjoy that mentality applied to electronic music. The Postal Service with less sentimentality and more fun. There's such a vast world of music these days, and it's so easily accessible and malleable. This is indie music that created by people who enjoy the creations of Timbaland and are happy to admit it. Very fresh.
Blogs are cool
Wanted to share with y’all a cool exchange from The Atlantic’s blog world. I read both Sullivan and Coates regularly (I prefer Coates because Sullivan is too angry), and it’s really cool to see a couple of big-time journalist/bloggers have this serious conversation for all the world to see. This is a completely new thing in the world, only possible in the past few years. Good to be alive now.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Day of rest
Breakfast goes only until 10:00 here, so although I was asleep by 10:30 last night, I set an alarm knowing how tired I was. A good thing, as the thick shades and soft sheets kept me asleep until my phone started buzzing at 9:30 this morning. For breakfast there was cereal, eggs, toast, and tomatoes (apparently I could also have had beans, further evidence that the english are an odd lot). Coffee too, the European version of which I have become fond of in my two weeks here. I´m not sure what the difference is, but it seems smoother, less acidic. More pleasant to drink and easier on the stomach too.
After breakfast I went up to the roof patio, which looks out of the whole river valley, green and gold hills divided by highways and railways branching out from Cordoba just a few miles east. One train line, heading straight west to Sevilla 100km distant, runs just a few hundred yards south of where I sit. Far enought not to be distrubing but close enough that I watch each flying by with boyish interest. The high speed "AVE" trains, in particular, make a perculiar whistling noise at full throttle. Some sort of resonence in the rails, I presume.
I read and wrote there until the sun became too bright and hot, retreating first to the shade and then downstairs for a cold bottle of wine. I lay in bed for a time, watching what seemed to be a thousand birds playing in the orange tree outside my window. By 2 o´clock I was pleasantly drunk and, now a bit hungry, wandered out to find some food before everything closed at 3pm. I found a little pizza place, labeled simply "Restaurante," and was pleasantly surprised to get a menu in English! I quickly devoured most of the pepperoni pizza while listening to the colorful banter of the staff and friends up by the bar. Spanish is a very beautiful language, pleasant to listen to even (or perhaps especially) when you don´t understand a word of it.
I walked slowly home then and after such an exhausting morning fell fast asleep for my own siesta. I slept for almost three hours then, bringing my total for the day to 14! Mission one well on its way to being accomplished. After a workout and shower, I switched to a now-open room upstairs to be away from the street noise which had intermittently disturbed me last night. That task complete, I came out to enjoy the evening air on the roof patio. The sun, just short of setting behind the castle above, still shown bright enough to warm by head and neck. I read in just that spot while the town woke up below me. Eventually the sun went down and I put on some music instead, sitting there until the stars came out and then returned to my room for sleep and another busy day on the other side.
After breakfast I went up to the roof patio, which looks out of the whole river valley, green and gold hills divided by highways and railways branching out from Cordoba just a few miles east. One train line, heading straight west to Sevilla 100km distant, runs just a few hundred yards south of where I sit. Far enought not to be distrubing but close enough that I watch each flying by with boyish interest. The high speed "AVE" trains, in particular, make a perculiar whistling noise at full throttle. Some sort of resonence in the rails, I presume.
I read and wrote there until the sun became too bright and hot, retreating first to the shade and then downstairs for a cold bottle of wine. I lay in bed for a time, watching what seemed to be a thousand birds playing in the orange tree outside my window. By 2 o´clock I was pleasantly drunk and, now a bit hungry, wandered out to find some food before everything closed at 3pm. I found a little pizza place, labeled simply "Restaurante," and was pleasantly surprised to get a menu in English! I quickly devoured most of the pepperoni pizza while listening to the colorful banter of the staff and friends up by the bar. Spanish is a very beautiful language, pleasant to listen to even (or perhaps especially) when you don´t understand a word of it.
I walked slowly home then and after such an exhausting morning fell fast asleep for my own siesta. I slept for almost three hours then, bringing my total for the day to 14! Mission one well on its way to being accomplished. After a workout and shower, I switched to a now-open room upstairs to be away from the street noise which had intermittently disturbed me last night. That task complete, I came out to enjoy the evening air on the roof patio. The sun, just short of setting behind the castle above, still shown bright enough to warm by head and neck. I read in just that spot while the town woke up below me. Eventually the sun went down and I put on some music instead, sitting there until the stars came out and then returned to my room for sleep and another busy day on the other side.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Introductions
Al-Mudawar Rural Casa is an unremarkeable stucco building on a quiet side street in Al Modovar del Rio, 25km west of Cordoba, Spain. I opened the engraved and thickly banded metal door into a dim entryway with whitewashed walls, beautiful brown and blue tiled floors, and an arched exit facing a bright central courtyard. My room is simple but equally beautiful. Two twin mattresses are supported by a black wrought iron frame, the bars of the headboard twisting and twinning like snakes and vines. It´s flanked with matching 3-tiered night stands, each topped by small, red-shaded lamps matching perfectly the bright red of the bedspread. Facing is a tall bureau in finely-grained wood matching the brown-tiled floor. Over the bed hangs a finely wrought lamp, which itself hangs below a broad star of David, finely carved in wood stained to match the floor and bureau.
So often in my travels for work, nothing but my pants and shirts leave the suitcase. Unpacking all my tshirts, socks, and even shoes into this many-drawered bureau, knowing I´d be here long enough for the bother, was a surprising pleasure.
After all this, the bathroom is the true beauty. Special attention has been given to the stucco here, with small diamonds pressed into a not-quite-random pattern. The tile rises half-way up the wall, white bordered with deep green in three different styles. The wash stand is tiled in a lighter green. It supports a shining copper spout above a clearly hand-made bowl painted in swirling blue, orange, red, and two shades of green. Above it all hangs another hand-wrought lamp, this one set with finely-etched orange glass.
After a quick shower to wash of the grime of travel (with ample pressure and hot water, thankfully), I set out to find some food. This turned out to be my first encounter with the famous Spanish siesta. The restaurants and shops nearby were almost all closed. I had thought that the siesta lasted from 3pm-5pm, and perhaps that´s true in the cities, but here it is a rather longer affair. The folks of smaller towns prefer, it turns out, to take their ease until 9pm. My attempt to fulfill biological needs thus foiled, I took a bit more circuitious route back to the inn. Perhaps related to the siesta tradition, I found the people immediately very friendly. I had to tell at least three old ladies "no habla español" after they just walked up to be and started talking!
Eventually I made it back to Al-Mudawar, whereupon I decided taht wine was the best option to fill my stomach until the restaurants opened again. This proved pleasantly efficient, although booze as food is a project of diminishing returns. I felt fine (read: drunk) for a while, but eventually the hunger catches up even more fiercely than before. I wandered out of the hotel at about 8:30, hoping that someone might take pity on the confused Americano. Turns out that they´re strict about their siestas. I was allowed to sit down early, even got a beer for my trouble, but no menu was provided until about 10 after 9.
The wait turned out to be well worth it. I started with a gespacho, "Andaloz" style. It was creamier than the usual, luxuriously so, and came initially with no other vegetables at all. To this were added fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and onions, leaving them crisp and tastey. This soup was thoroughly delicious, outshining the main course by a wide margin. The latter was baked cod, drizzled with herbed olive oil and a roasted red sauce (I think). It was good, very good, but was nothing I hadn´t had before, and too rich besides. The soup, on the other hand, was creamy beyond any tomato soup I´d had before while remaining crisp and bright as any salad I can remember.
I enjoyed all of this in the midst of a growing street festival. My table was under almost constant assault from small children, who ran freely down the steep street and from one house to the next, including the restaurant on whose patio I was relaxing. I left the fiesta behind and headed home, thoroughly exhausted and pleasantly full. I fell hard asleep to the cacophony of nightime birds and running children in the street outside my window and the neighborhood all around.
So often in my travels for work, nothing but my pants and shirts leave the suitcase. Unpacking all my tshirts, socks, and even shoes into this many-drawered bureau, knowing I´d be here long enough for the bother, was a surprising pleasure.
After all this, the bathroom is the true beauty. Special attention has been given to the stucco here, with small diamonds pressed into a not-quite-random pattern. The tile rises half-way up the wall, white bordered with deep green in three different styles. The wash stand is tiled in a lighter green. It supports a shining copper spout above a clearly hand-made bowl painted in swirling blue, orange, red, and two shades of green. Above it all hangs another hand-wrought lamp, this one set with finely-etched orange glass.
After a quick shower to wash of the grime of travel (with ample pressure and hot water, thankfully), I set out to find some food. This turned out to be my first encounter with the famous Spanish siesta. The restaurants and shops nearby were almost all closed. I had thought that the siesta lasted from 3pm-5pm, and perhaps that´s true in the cities, but here it is a rather longer affair. The folks of smaller towns prefer, it turns out, to take their ease until 9pm. My attempt to fulfill biological needs thus foiled, I took a bit more circuitious route back to the inn. Perhaps related to the siesta tradition, I found the people immediately very friendly. I had to tell at least three old ladies "no habla español" after they just walked up to be and started talking!
Eventually I made it back to Al-Mudawar, whereupon I decided taht wine was the best option to fill my stomach until the restaurants opened again. This proved pleasantly efficient, although booze as food is a project of diminishing returns. I felt fine (read: drunk) for a while, but eventually the hunger catches up even more fiercely than before. I wandered out of the hotel at about 8:30, hoping that someone might take pity on the confused Americano. Turns out that they´re strict about their siestas. I was allowed to sit down early, even got a beer for my trouble, but no menu was provided until about 10 after 9.
The wait turned out to be well worth it. I started with a gespacho, "Andaloz" style. It was creamier than the usual, luxuriously so, and came initially with no other vegetables at all. To this were added fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and onions, leaving them crisp and tastey. This soup was thoroughly delicious, outshining the main course by a wide margin. The latter was baked cod, drizzled with herbed olive oil and a roasted red sauce (I think). It was good, very good, but was nothing I hadn´t had before, and too rich besides. The soup, on the other hand, was creamy beyond any tomato soup I´d had before while remaining crisp and bright as any salad I can remember.
I enjoyed all of this in the midst of a growing street festival. My table was under almost constant assault from small children, who ran freely down the steep street and from one house to the next, including the restaurant on whose patio I was relaxing. I left the fiesta behind and headed home, thoroughly exhausted and pleasantly full. I fell hard asleep to the cacophony of nightime birds and running children in the street outside my window and the neighborhood all around.
Here at last
I arrived to a cloudy, warm afternoon in Cordoba. Despite repeated assurances to the contrary, from multiple people, I discovered quickly that English skills are almost totally absent here. I had come hoping to rent a moped, but my rudimentary Spanish (¿Donde puedo alquilar una motocicleta?) was unequal to the task. I made my way to the "Mezquita," a very old (9th century) mosque-turned-cathedral (13th century). The old stone and almost deserted streets excited me as I approached the city center, but close in I discovered that the structure was surrounded by a solid ring of hostels, hotels, bars, and restaurants. Charming as some of these appeared, they too had their attendants, in the form of dozens of tour buses and their middle-aged, map-clutching occupants. I had thought I might stay in Cordoba first, but had a backup room reserved in a small town about 20km west, just in case. The tour buses and the bustle they brought steered me quickly to the latter option.
By this time I was growing quite frantic with hunger. A bus would have been the cheaper option at that point, but it meant a long walk back to the train station and an unknown wait. A 30€ taxi fare (which, I might add, was negotiated entirely in Spanish) seemed the better option, so off we went in search of this "Al-Mudawwar Rural Casa."
I saw the town from miles away. It covers the eastern slope of a tall hill. The hill juts south from the main line forming the northern wall of this river valley. The town is capped at the hill´s highest and most southernly by a great medival fortress. It looks out over the broad valley, standing watch, I imagined, for the Moorish invaders from whom this land was reconquered in the 13th centrury. The town´s whitewashed walls and tile roofs fall steeply away below, and it was through these narrow, steep streets that my intrepid cabby navigated for close to 30 minutes. He stopped frequently for directions (having dismissed the printed map I offered with a stream of passionate Spanish and hand-waving), but these seemed to lead away from the target as often as not. Finally, we found the inn. I was so relieved that I attempted to give the cabby a 10€ tip; I think this may have offended him, for he yelled that it was too much and insisted on only the previously agreed upon fare. I did not belabor the point, turning instead to my new home for the week.
By this time I was growing quite frantic with hunger. A bus would have been the cheaper option at that point, but it meant a long walk back to the train station and an unknown wait. A 30€ taxi fare (which, I might add, was negotiated entirely in Spanish) seemed the better option, so off we went in search of this "Al-Mudawwar Rural Casa."
I saw the town from miles away. It covers the eastern slope of a tall hill. The hill juts south from the main line forming the northern wall of this river valley. The town is capped at the hill´s highest and most southernly by a great medival fortress. It looks out over the broad valley, standing watch, I imagined, for the Moorish invaders from whom this land was reconquered in the 13th centrury. The town´s whitewashed walls and tile roofs fall steeply away below, and it was through these narrow, steep streets that my intrepid cabby navigated for close to 30 minutes. He stopped frequently for directions (having dismissed the printed map I offered with a stream of passionate Spanish and hand-waving), but these seemed to lead away from the target as often as not. Finally, we found the inn. I was so relieved that I attempted to give the cabby a 10€ tip; I think this may have offended him, for he yelled that it was too much and insisted on only the previously agreed upon fare. I did not belabor the point, turning instead to my new home for the week.
Tales of the rail
Barcelona was most prominently, this morning, grey and smoggy. From the airport, I boarded a clean, bright, modern commuter train that would put anything in the US to shame. The city we rode through, however, had an almost third world feel to it. Grime and water marks covered brighly colored but architecturally uninspired apartment blocks, butting up to the train tracks with only a narrow strip of rubble and trash in between. I´ve read that Spain has the most ambitious rail infrastructure program in the EU; all well and good, but perhaps there are other matters to which they might divert some small amount of those funds. Not unique though, I hear China´s the same way.
I did enjoy a wonderful dash of humanity at the main rail station this morning. I was waiting in line to purchase my ticket to Cordoba when two guys about my age walked up and asked in Spanish where I was going. Feeling embarassed about my rudimentary skills in their language, I replied with only "Cordoba." They seemed disappointed by this, but after conferring for a moment asked, in English, if that went by way of Madrid. I replied affermatively, and they then offered me, free of charge, an extra ticket to Madrid for the 10:00 AVE (the Spanish high-speed line)! 10 minutes later I had exchanged this for a ticket all the way to Cordoba, saving me a cool 60€. Humanity is good, I think. Especially the spaniards.
After leaving Barcelona we passed for two hours (going, and this is way cool, over 150 mph) through drab, stone strewn hill country. This land had none of the majesty of the mountains I´ve known before, nor the stark beauty of South Dakota´s badlands. This might have been forgiven if there had been much in the way of vegitation, but some peculiar feature of the climate in this corner of the Iberian peninsula must stifle the plants even as it wears the hills down to rubble.
At about 12:30 we made our last stop before Cordoba in the city of Zaragosa. I stepped off the train to admire briefly the very beautiful architecure of the trian station there. America´s inattention to municipal architecture is a sure sign of our decadence and decline. I stood there snapping pictures amid a crowd of party boys chanting something to one among them wearing nothing but a speedo (or briefs, perhaps?) and a head-to-toe coat of gold paint. A Spanish bachelor ritual, perhaps?
We pulled out of the station, under the first blue skies I´d seen thus far, into a different Spain. The crumbling hills drew apart, with wide rolling vallies in between and natural terraces of green and brown up their sides. This is what the American southwest would look like with an extra foot or two of rain each year. So here we are in the Spain I have heard so much about.
I did enjoy a wonderful dash of humanity at the main rail station this morning. I was waiting in line to purchase my ticket to Cordoba when two guys about my age walked up and asked in Spanish where I was going. Feeling embarassed about my rudimentary skills in their language, I replied with only "Cordoba." They seemed disappointed by this, but after conferring for a moment asked, in English, if that went by way of Madrid. I replied affermatively, and they then offered me, free of charge, an extra ticket to Madrid for the 10:00 AVE (the Spanish high-speed line)! 10 minutes later I had exchanged this for a ticket all the way to Cordoba, saving me a cool 60€. Humanity is good, I think. Especially the spaniards.
After leaving Barcelona we passed for two hours (going, and this is way cool, over 150 mph) through drab, stone strewn hill country. This land had none of the majesty of the mountains I´ve known before, nor the stark beauty of South Dakota´s badlands. This might have been forgiven if there had been much in the way of vegitation, but some peculiar feature of the climate in this corner of the Iberian peninsula must stifle the plants even as it wears the hills down to rubble.
At about 12:30 we made our last stop before Cordoba in the city of Zaragosa. I stepped off the train to admire briefly the very beautiful architecure of the trian station there. America´s inattention to municipal architecture is a sure sign of our decadence and decline. I stood there snapping pictures amid a crowd of party boys chanting something to one among them wearing nothing but a speedo (or briefs, perhaps?) and a head-to-toe coat of gold paint. A Spanish bachelor ritual, perhaps?
We pulled out of the station, under the first blue skies I´d seen thus far, into a different Spain. The crumbling hills drew apart, with wide rolling vallies in between and natural terraces of green and brown up their sides. This is what the American southwest would look like with an extra foot or two of rain each year. So here we are in the Spain I have heard so much about.
First impressions of Spain
There is something very meditative about traveling alone. The reaction from so many people this week has been "Alone? You mean without anyone else?" Then they nod in this particular way. I think it´s short for "weird but cool," but maybe that´s just what I want to believe. Traveling alone is lonely, certainly, but there is also something particularly focusing and energizing about throwing yourself into a new place completely on your own. I woke up at 4am this morning, 5 minutes before my alarm, alert and excited for this brand new thing I was about to see and do.
Heavy lids stayed away through the long lines at Schipol and onto the plane. This excitement stayed until about the time they rolled through with the duty-free cart and 2€ tea. I was reading The Prodigal Summer at that moment, and I remember having to read each paragraph 2 or 3 times for the rest of the flight. I wasn´t tired enough (yet) to sleep, but nor was my brain in any position to make sense of such arcane concepts as english syntax.
Then they announced that we would be landing soon, and I swear it was like three shots of espresso (or a stout dose of provigil, if you prefer). I got off the plane to the thick air and smell particular, apparently, to all spanish-speaking countries regardless of longitude and latitude. That, at least, was familiar.
Heavy lids stayed away through the long lines at Schipol and onto the plane. This excitement stayed until about the time they rolled through with the duty-free cart and 2€ tea. I was reading The Prodigal Summer at that moment, and I remember having to read each paragraph 2 or 3 times for the rest of the flight. I wasn´t tired enough (yet) to sleep, but nor was my brain in any position to make sense of such arcane concepts as english syntax.
Then they announced that we would be landing soon, and I swear it was like three shots of espresso (or a stout dose of provigil, if you prefer). I got off the plane to the thick air and smell particular, apparently, to all spanish-speaking countries regardless of longitude and latitude. That, at least, was familiar.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Hamsterdam
We're working at a small hospital about 30 minutes from Amsterdam, called "Spaarne Ziekenhuis." For those of you not familiar with the Germanic languages, yes, that does mean "sick house," which for we Americans used to our euphemisms is weird but is the way of things here in this part of the world. Also the way of things is that they are very nice all the time and have holidays like every other week. Today is "Ascension Day" in Holland, which is in celebration of Jesus going back to heaven. This is funny because Holland is like one of the 5 least religious countries in the entire world. Like I said, they like their holidays. I cannot say I blame them, being that we Americans spent the holiday in a windowless room in the sick house, "pushing through to the home stretch," as my boss put it.
I did have free time this weekend, wherein we went to Amsterdam and all that one is supposed to do there. Which mostly involved walking all over the damn place. We also saw the Heineken Experience. This is a museum in theory, but mostly it's just a huge, elaborate advertisement that you walk through. That said, it was pretty cool. Mostly because there's beer involved. Two glasses of beer are included with admission, and we snuck a couple more. Later, Nema convinced us (me, Rachel, and Melissa) to go to creepy sex show "just so we could say we did." This was mostly what you'd expect, gross and expensive out of all proportion to what it was worth. I had previously agreed to a maximum of 15 Euro, but then we got there and it was 25, and I really couldn't refuse at that point. Well anyway, that's checked off the list. By far more exciting was these raspberries I bought at a little shop near the Heineken place. These were 5 euro for well under a pint, which is an insane price, but oh my jesus they were good. There's a picture attached.
We also went on a canal tour and visited a cafe. Both of these were as you'd expect. On Sunday, I went by myself to the Rijksmuseum, which unfortunately was mostly closed for renovation. I did see some cool rembrandts (a small fraction of their collection) and like 2 second-rate vermeers. I should have gone to the van gogh first, now I have to try to squeeze it in tomorrow before I leave for...
Spain! Yes, that's right, I fly to Barcelona on Saturday at the ass-crack of dawn. I'm flying some cheap European airline, so wish me luck. they only allow 5 kilos of carry on, so I will have to be strategic and hope my checked bag makes it through. Assuming all goes according to plan, I'll be taking the AVE (highspeed) train to Cordoba, finding a "pension," and then doing nothing but drink, read, eat, and draw for 6 days. Maybe a day-trip to the ocean. Maybe. First, I need to find a Spanish phrase book. I am going by myself to a small city in a foreign country whose language I don't know. Again, wish me luck.
I did have free time this weekend, wherein we went to Amsterdam and all that one is supposed to do there. Which mostly involved walking all over the damn place. We also saw the Heineken Experience. This is a museum in theory, but mostly it's just a huge, elaborate advertisement that you walk through. That said, it was pretty cool. Mostly because there's beer involved. Two glasses of beer are included with admission, and we snuck a couple more. Later, Nema convinced us (me, Rachel, and Melissa) to go to creepy sex show "just so we could say we did." This was mostly what you'd expect, gross and expensive out of all proportion to what it was worth. I had previously agreed to a maximum of 15 Euro, but then we got there and it was 25, and I really couldn't refuse at that point. Well anyway, that's checked off the list. By far more exciting was these raspberries I bought at a little shop near the Heineken place. These were 5 euro for well under a pint, which is an insane price, but oh my jesus they were good. There's a picture attached.
We also went on a canal tour and visited a cafe. Both of these were as you'd expect. On Sunday, I went by myself to the Rijksmuseum, which unfortunately was mostly closed for renovation. I did see some cool rembrandts (a small fraction of their collection) and like 2 second-rate vermeers. I should have gone to the van gogh first, now I have to try to squeeze it in tomorrow before I leave for...
Spain! Yes, that's right, I fly to Barcelona on Saturday at the ass-crack of dawn. I'm flying some cheap European airline, so wish me luck. they only allow 5 kilos of carry on, so I will have to be strategic and hope my checked bag makes it through. Assuming all goes according to plan, I'll be taking the AVE (highspeed) train to Cordoba, finding a "pension," and then doing nothing but drink, read, eat, and draw for 6 days. Maybe a day-trip to the ocean. Maybe. First, I need to find a Spanish phrase book. I am going by myself to a small city in a foreign country whose language I don't know. Again, wish me luck.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Greetings from the future
Not much to report from the future, except that it's very green here. I think that may have something to do with being below sea level and about 5 miles from the ocean though, rather than the rapidly advancing season. Hard to say what Hoopdorf was like 7 hours ago.
I got on the plane yesterday at 9pm (US Eastern time zone). We all filed on and glowered up at the business class. We become so used to certain luxuries, like upgrades to first class. When I learned that Northwest doesn't upgrade on international flights, I was highly indignant.
Thank god for Ambien. Sat down and popped 15mg of zolpidem while they served our dinner. We had a choice of chicken alfredo pasta and chicken stir fry. Definitely went with the latter, though I can't really account for the name. As the ingredients (sauce, chicken, diced red peppers, and rice) were served in neat, well-defined piles, the "stir" part refers perhaps to the method of consumption? The latter half of the name is equally unaccountable, as hot steam is the only cooking method any of this dish saw. Nevertheless, it was delicious, mostly on account of the sauce, which was a pretty solid imitation on the Three Cup Chicken sauce available at my favorite restaurant Nattspiel.
While waiting for dinner and the arrival of the drug in my brain, I watched the movie Taken. This movie stars Liam Neeson as an ex-CIA "preventer" (reference was made to the standard generically ominous and exciting Beirut) whose teenaged daughter is kidnapped by human traffickers during a trip to Paris (to follow U2 around Europe, of all the dumb reasons). This comes, of course, after her world-wise father agreed only reluctantly to allow his baby to leave the country, after protesting that he knows "how the world really is." A very somber fellow, this Brian. Fortunately, the kidnapping happens while Kimmy (they ladel the diminutive form on thick for extra sentimentality) is on the phone with her father (back in LA). So he gets very angry, flies to Europe, and kills like 327 Albanians. Maybe not the best movie for before bed, but pretty good I'd say. I fought against increasingly leaden eyes through the last 10 minute or so, and fell thoroughly asleep within about 12 seconds of the credits rolling.
Holland is green. Lots and lots of green. Our hotel, a standard issue Courtyard Marriott, is in the middle of a damn park! I can see horses going by out my window! So that's pretty cool. Before we could enjoy that though, a trip to the nearest town was in order. Not much is open on Sundays around here (damn lazy Europeans), but we needed food. So we found the awesome tapas place. Then wandered around a cozy dutch town that I'm sure is like many others. Can't wait to see more.
Now, I must focus on staying awake for 3 more hours. Oy!
Until next time, enjoy some pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/joelamartin/Europe09#
I got on the plane yesterday at 9pm (US Eastern time zone). We all filed on and glowered up at the business class. We become so used to certain luxuries, like upgrades to first class. When I learned that Northwest doesn't upgrade on international flights, I was highly indignant.
Thank god for Ambien. Sat down and popped 15mg of zolpidem while they served our dinner. We had a choice of chicken alfredo pasta and chicken stir fry. Definitely went with the latter, though I can't really account for the name. As the ingredients (sauce, chicken, diced red peppers, and rice) were served in neat, well-defined piles, the "stir" part refers perhaps to the method of consumption? The latter half of the name is equally unaccountable, as hot steam is the only cooking method any of this dish saw. Nevertheless, it was delicious, mostly on account of the sauce, which was a pretty solid imitation on the Three Cup Chicken sauce available at my favorite restaurant Nattspiel.
While waiting for dinner and the arrival of the drug in my brain, I watched the movie Taken. This movie stars Liam Neeson as an ex-CIA "preventer" (reference was made to the standard generically ominous and exciting Beirut) whose teenaged daughter is kidnapped by human traffickers during a trip to Paris (to follow U2 around Europe, of all the dumb reasons). This comes, of course, after her world-wise father agreed only reluctantly to allow his baby to leave the country, after protesting that he knows "how the world really is." A very somber fellow, this Brian. Fortunately, the kidnapping happens while Kimmy (they ladel the diminutive form on thick for extra sentimentality) is on the phone with her father (back in LA). So he gets very angry, flies to Europe, and kills like 327 Albanians. Maybe not the best movie for before bed, but pretty good I'd say. I fought against increasingly leaden eyes through the last 10 minute or so, and fell thoroughly asleep within about 12 seconds of the credits rolling.
Holland is green. Lots and lots of green. Our hotel, a standard issue Courtyard Marriott, is in the middle of a damn park! I can see horses going by out my window! So that's pretty cool. Before we could enjoy that though, a trip to the nearest town was in order. Not much is open on Sundays around here (damn lazy Europeans), but we needed food. So we found the awesome tapas place. Then wandered around a cozy dutch town that I'm sure is like many others. Can't wait to see more.
Now, I must focus on staying awake for 3 more hours. Oy!
Until next time, enjoy some pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/joelamartin/Europe09#
Friday, April 3, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Crazy brits
Like our own military, the brits tested LSD on their troops back in the 60s. (Incidentally, the CIA also tested LSD on unsuspecting johns at several Los Angeles brothels). The brits recorded the episode for posterity, and here it is for your enjoyment. Much lighter than my last post. I can't wait till this stuff gets legal again. Maybe when I'm 50.
http://www.videosift.com/video/LSD-tested-on-British-Troops
http://www.videosift.com/video/LSD-tested-on-British-Troops
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Riveting, disturbing
Be warned, this is rather disturbing. A first hand account of hypothermia. But riveting if you can stand it.
http://outside.away.com/outside/magazine/0197/9701fefreez.html
http://outside.away.com/outside/magazine/0197/9701fefreez.html
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The mysterious banking crisis unraveled by your friend Joel
Here's how it happened:
Big Fucking Bank (BFB for short) wants to package up mortgages into fancy packages and then sell them.
In order to do this, they divide the mortgages up into bundles of varying risk (called Collateralized Debt Obligations, or CDOs). The "junior" CDOs pay higher returns because they might not get paid back (if the underlying mortgages go sour). The next most "senior" get less return, but will get paid back before the junior. This proceeds up the line till you get to "super-senior" CDOs. These have low returns, but are guaranteed to be paid back.
There's always a risk that a given mortgage won't be paid back though, so BFB needs to keep a certain amount of money on hand, just in case, to pay off the senior bundles.
Or anyway, that's normally what happens. Instead, BFB bought insurance on the super-senior CDOs from a friendly company called AIG. These are called "credit default swaps," CDS for short. This insurance was expensive (so AIG got rich), but not as expensive as just leaving cash laying around as collateral on the CDOs.
Since this was super-senior debt, AIG's risk-management folks happily sold the insurance. Since the chance of having to pay a claim was incredibly low (theoretically), AIG only kept a little money on hand in case the claims went sour.
BFB's guys knew better though. They knew that AIG was deep into this business, so they had a lot of insurance policies on very similar CDOs. They also knew the nature of these super-senior bundles, which is such that they only way they could go sour (i.e. need the insurance) was if there was a broad, nationwide decline in property value. Unfortunately, exactly the same risk applied to all the super-senior CDOs, so if one failed (triggering a claim AIG would have to pay), they would all fail (triggering billions in claims that AIG had no way of paying). Thus not a single CDS had any chance of being paid in the event of a claim.
Nevertheless, the BFB guys had to take out the policies to "prove" that they had their obligations covered. Here's the real genius though. They knew that a broad drop in housing value would trigger all of these insurance policies at once, which would bankrupt AIG. So rather than buy insurance elsewhere (since no one else would sell such garbage) or find other ways to make money (the CDOs were too profitable), BFB hedged by taking massive "short" positions on AIG itself.
During the course of 2008, sure enough, house prices declined nationally. This had two impacts. First, BFB took a massive paper loss on their CDOs, because no one wanted to buy them anymore and the rules of accounting state that securities have to be "marked to market value." As a result, BFB didn't have to pay any taxes on the money it was still making from other activities. Second, AIG, as predicted, was unable to pay off all the suddenly-due CDS claims. So the government steps in and "bails out" AIG, which turns around and gives the money to BFB.
So the end result is that AIG is dead and BFB has the nice cash cushion they avoided in the beginning, along with the profits from short-selling AIG, which by the way they didn't need to pay taxes on because of the "loss" they took on the CDO. And BFB knew this all along.
Ladies and gentlemen, fuck me silly and call me Shirley, we the people just got taken to the cleaners, used and abused, and dare I say raped by a bunch of smart and slimy finance majors. God Bless America.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Dude gets a new asshole
Holy shit, John Stewart tears Jim Cramer (and CNBC even more) a huge new brown eye. Some of this is like Curb Your Enthusiasm-level uncomfortable. Watch clip 3 especially, it's some serious shit. Money quote "I understand you want to make finance entertaining, but it’s not a fucking game."
Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Monday, March 2, 2009
What the fuck happened?
Ok, I know this is pretty dry stuff, but this is too important to not post. If you're like me, you've been hearing about this whole credit crisis, and maybe you've had this basic idea of what went wrong. Something like "People got greedy, took on a bunch of risk that was stupid, and then got burned." Maybe a little more detail, maybe a little less. But if you're like me in another respect (less likely), you felt vaguely itchy about not really understanding the whole mess. I mean, the world is fucking ending (I don't actually recommend reading that), and I don't really get why. Until now!
Wired to the rescue. Fucking inspired journalism. Here's what happened.
Wired to the rescue. Fucking inspired journalism. Here's what happened.
Humans: A species on the brink
You know how national geographic and animal planet always have programs with this title? Well it turns out that like 20,000 years ago they could have made one about us. The average population of humans during the pre-Neolithic era (I don't actually know what that means, but it's before 12,000 years ago) was fucking 2,000 adults! throw in some old people and babies and we're at maybe 5,000 worldwide. Holy shit! There are many endangered species with numbers in this range. Granted that we didn't have a huge population of intelligent and selfish super-primates fucking with us. But still.
Oh, and it turns out that this fact explains why babies are adorable.
Oh, and it turns out that this fact explains why babies are adorable.
Resistance is futile
There was a time when I tried to resist Death Cab. K remembers those days fondly. These days, I have to agree with Peter.
Monday, February 23, 2009
A modern evil
Namely, caffeine. Last week, I undertook an experiment. It seemed to me that caffeine was becoming more of a habit (usually in the form of soda or tea) but that it was having an overall negative effect on me. You all know what I'm talking about. I get my fix, feel great for a while, then round about 11am I start feeling like my head is full of silly putty. So I take another hit, feel fine for a couple hours, and then spend my afternoon trying to pretend that I understand the words coming out of other peoples' mouths. The alternative was just to up the ante, but I'm worried about this:
The results are in, and I highly recommend it. Seriously, my life it better without that shit. Now I only drink caffeine after 6 pm (still a useful keep-me-up for the evening, and somehow I don't get the brain-death like I do during the day). Also useful as a laxative, of course.
The results are in, and I highly recommend it. Seriously, my life it better without that shit. Now I only drink caffeine after 6 pm (still a useful keep-me-up for the evening, and somehow I don't get the brain-death like I do during the day). Also useful as a laxative, of course.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The coolest thing yet
Ok, so the suburban wastelands are turning into, um, wastelands. We have a president who I would kill to just sit and bullshit with (ok, I'm a dork). And in the not so distant future you will be able to surf through the motherfucking air over the French Alps from your fucking living room.
So for all I've been talking about this "quarter-life crisis," I need to suck it up. Life is fucking cool (especially #3).
So for all I've been talking about this "quarter-life crisis," I need to suck it up. Life is fucking cool (especially #3).
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Phoenix
I've been following this story closely. The twists and turns are mind boggling. At first, we all suspected that he was just taking a lot of drugs. Ackam's Razor, right? These guys think so. Also, the rocking back and forth in public is never a good thing. This explanation fits our desire for celebrities to humiliate themselves quite well. Then, last week, Mr. Phoenix appeared on the Late Show with David Letterman (I wish there was a way to type it like the announcer says it, but it just looks stupid). Three words for you. O. M. G. If you haven't seen it, enjoy (if you can stand it):
This performance was so absurd that I became convinced the whole thing was just a hoax. Could Joaquin Phoenix be fucking with us? These insightful analysts think so(for your own good, I recommend skipping to about 3:55, otherwise you will loose about 5712 brain cells per second).
But here's where it really get complicated. Last week, in the space of one youtube interview, everything go crazy.
At first, he seems like he's just fucked up. In the middle of a television interview, the man says (well actually mumbles) "I can't remember what I was saying, what was I saying?" I say that sometimes, but as most of my friends will tell you, I'm kind of bad at life. If a previously normal person says something like this, you can't help but think drugs. And the rocking back and forth in public doesn't help. But then it twists and turns. The man busts out a short lesson in rap history, saying various non-stupid things about guys like Ice Cube, and then says pretty lucid shit about his upcoming album (apparently he wanted it to be a valentine's day present to himself. Or maybe to me). So I'm thinking, ok, maybe this is legit. The latter sentiment is only emboldened by this:
A bit fuzzy to tell for sure, but maybe just maybe he's good. Or at least doesn't suck. At a minimum, the beat sounds cool.
I dunno. I'm more excited for this new joint to drop than I have been since I got my first tape (New Kids on the Block, if you must know) back in 86. But I'm open to other theories. Is he legit? Is this a documentary in progress? Or drugs?
On a related note, I'm currently trying to figure out the difference between hip-hop and rap. I mean, I know that one's a "culture" and the other's not, but I'm just talking about the music. There's music that's one and there's music that's the other. It's been proposed that it's like porn, you just know it when you see/hear it. But I'm unsatisfied. So if you think you're smart, tell me what makes hip-hop hip-hop, and not rap (and visa versa).
This performance was so absurd that I became convinced the whole thing was just a hoax. Could Joaquin Phoenix be fucking with us? These insightful analysts think so(for your own good, I recommend skipping to about 3:55, otherwise you will loose about 5712 brain cells per second).
But here's where it really get complicated. Last week, in the space of one youtube interview, everything go crazy.
At first, he seems like he's just fucked up. In the middle of a television interview, the man says (well actually mumbles) "I can't remember what I was saying, what was I saying?" I say that sometimes, but as most of my friends will tell you, I'm kind of bad at life. If a previously normal person says something like this, you can't help but think drugs. And the rocking back and forth in public doesn't help. But then it twists and turns. The man busts out a short lesson in rap history, saying various non-stupid things about guys like Ice Cube, and then says pretty lucid shit about his upcoming album (apparently he wanted it to be a valentine's day present to himself. Or maybe to me). So I'm thinking, ok, maybe this is legit. The latter sentiment is only emboldened by this:
A bit fuzzy to tell for sure, but maybe just maybe he's good. Or at least doesn't suck. At a minimum, the beat sounds cool.
I dunno. I'm more excited for this new joint to drop than I have been since I got my first tape (New Kids on the Block, if you must know) back in 86. But I'm open to other theories. Is he legit? Is this a documentary in progress? Or drugs?
On a related note, I'm currently trying to figure out the difference between hip-hop and rap. I mean, I know that one's a "culture" and the other's not, but I'm just talking about the music. There's music that's one and there's music that's the other. It's been proposed that it's like porn, you just know it when you see/hear it. But I'm unsatisfied. So if you think you're smart, tell me what makes hip-hop hip-hop, and not rap (and visa versa).
Friday, February 13, 2009
Enough said
I haven't used this blog much to promote any agendas, but this just struck me too much. Ken Starr is an asshole and these people are so real. The whole issue of marriage rights is often in such abstract terms, but in the end the tide turns on things like this. These are real people with real families. Enough said.
Courage Campaign
Courage Campaign
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
On Radio Joel lately
For those who are interested, wanted to share what's been hot on my turntables (by which I mean my ipod) this week: Bon Iver (omg, amazing), The Format, Common, Josh Ritter, Masta Killa, Snow Patrol (yes, cheesy, I know), and Pale Young Gentlemen (Madison, what?). And Vampire Weekend, but they've been in the rotation non-stop for like 4 months.
What are you listing too? I'm interested.
What are you listing too? I'm interested.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Babies are crazy
This be some crazy shit. If found myself drawn into this saga thoroughly. Good mental health break.
Introductions
A chain Facebook note has put unbearable pressure on me to post a "28 things you may or may not know about me" list. I'm posting it here instead. Enjoy.
1. I love pickles more than pretty much anything. Specifically Clausen Dill Minis (with or without extra garlic). I hate sweet pickles though.
2. People often object that pickles are not a valid favorite food. If forced, I will tell you that my favorite non-pickle food is spaghetti. Observe:
3. I have been to 41 states. Every state except Connecticut , Vermont, Maine, North and South Carolina, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Oregon, and Alaska. I would like to visit all of these at some point, except Oklahoma. That state is pointless.
4. I have never been to Europe. This is something I'm pretty embarrassed about.
5. The reason I haven't dealt with this travesty is that I got hooked on snowboarding a few years back. So now my travel money goes to that. I haven't decided yet whether this makes sense.
6. Until recently I had a beta fish. My roommate moved to Australia and left it with me. I named it Reggie but he died last week. This probably had something to do with me being bad at life.
7. Talking about politics is lame and annoying.
8. I'm a complete junkie for politics. Like hours per day disappear to this shit.
9. I am known far and wide as a shitty driver, with good reason. I've never gotten a speeding ticket, but I've had 5 at-fault accidents. When I tell people how much I pay for car insurance, the reply is invariably "Holy shit." Either that or "Sweet baby Jesus."
10. I don't really like the Facebook. Sometimes this makes me feel like an outsider.
11. My mom has always had this weird disdain for salt. I grew up under the impression that is was wildly unhealthy. As a result, I never once put salt on an item of food (unless a recipe called for it) until about a year ago.
12. My very low sodium consumption results in me not retaining any liquid, so I have to pee like 12 seconds after I drink anything, alcoholic or otherwise. Or anyway, that's what I tell people is the cause of my pregnant-woman bladder.
13. I eat out a lot and feel guilty about it all the time.
14. I'm a damn good cook and want to do it more, but I work too much and so I'm lazy. So if you want someone to cook for you, just ask. I will be stoked.
15. When I was 17, I enrolled briefly at the United States Naval Academy. Drinking was not allowed there. After two months, I transferred to the University of Wisconsin. Drinking is all we did there.
16. I work for a software company. No, that does not mean I can fix your computer.
17. I hate wet socks. So. Much.
18. Allow me to elaborate. I keep a spare pair of socks at my office, principally as insurance against the very minor chance that the socks I'm wearing get even slightly wet.
19. I secretly want to have very carefully matched and fashionable outfits. Instead I have like 20 t-shirts that I wear in various mostly-random combinations with two pairs of jeans. This seems to work well.
20. I listen to music approximately 37 hours per day. My tastes are divided pretty evenly between heavy metal, hip-hop, nerd rock, and roots/folk rock (or in rare cases a combination of these). Hip-hop is the big deal right now. Common especially.
21. My favorite band is The Mars Volta. I have three framed concert posters on my wall from this band, and each probably decreases my chances of getting laid at any particular moment by about 30%. You do the math.
22. I have the ability to dislocate my shoulders at will. Do not ask me to do this, because it is intensely painful. Unless you're into that, I guess. I probably won't though unless you have boobs.
23. My favorite part of a woman is her waist. Mmmmmhmmmmm.
24. I have read Ender's Game at least 15 times. I once read it 5 times in a row.
25. On a related note, I recently cried at the end of The Road (by Cormac McCarthy). I really want to read it again (or maybe 15 times), but I keep putting it off because its so upsetting. The book is seriously fucking badass.
26. Returning to nerd-dom, I've read The Wheel of Time fantasy fiction series (grand total of about 5000 pages) 4 times. Then the author died of a weird blood disease without finishing the series. Fuck.
27. I was serious when I mentioned before that I love pickles. I drink pickle juice on a fairly regular basis (especially during or after drinking, it being the only real hangover cure).
28. I used to be a dog person and looked upon cats with mild disdain. Then I was introduced to these little buggers, and I'm completely and totally hooked:
1. I love pickles more than pretty much anything. Specifically Clausen Dill Minis (with or without extra garlic). I hate sweet pickles though.
2. People often object that pickles are not a valid favorite food. If forced, I will tell you that my favorite non-pickle food is spaghetti. Observe:
3. I have been to 41 states. Every state except Connecticut , Vermont, Maine, North and South Carolina, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Oregon, and Alaska. I would like to visit all of these at some point, except Oklahoma. That state is pointless.
4. I have never been to Europe. This is something I'm pretty embarrassed about.
5. The reason I haven't dealt with this travesty is that I got hooked on snowboarding a few years back. So now my travel money goes to that. I haven't decided yet whether this makes sense.
6. Until recently I had a beta fish. My roommate moved to Australia and left it with me. I named it Reggie but he died last week. This probably had something to do with me being bad at life.
7. Talking about politics is lame and annoying.
8. I'm a complete junkie for politics. Like hours per day disappear to this shit.
9. I am known far and wide as a shitty driver, with good reason. I've never gotten a speeding ticket, but I've had 5 at-fault accidents. When I tell people how much I pay for car insurance, the reply is invariably "Holy shit." Either that or "Sweet baby Jesus."
10. I don't really like the Facebook. Sometimes this makes me feel like an outsider.
11. My mom has always had this weird disdain for salt. I grew up under the impression that is was wildly unhealthy. As a result, I never once put salt on an item of food (unless a recipe called for it) until about a year ago.
12. My very low sodium consumption results in me not retaining any liquid, so I have to pee like 12 seconds after I drink anything, alcoholic or otherwise. Or anyway, that's what I tell people is the cause of my pregnant-woman bladder.
13. I eat out a lot and feel guilty about it all the time.
14. I'm a damn good cook and want to do it more, but I work too much and so I'm lazy. So if you want someone to cook for you, just ask. I will be stoked.
15. When I was 17, I enrolled briefly at the United States Naval Academy. Drinking was not allowed there. After two months, I transferred to the University of Wisconsin. Drinking is all we did there.
16. I work for a software company. No, that does not mean I can fix your computer.
17. I hate wet socks. So. Much.
18. Allow me to elaborate. I keep a spare pair of socks at my office, principally as insurance against the very minor chance that the socks I'm wearing get even slightly wet.
19. I secretly want to have very carefully matched and fashionable outfits. Instead I have like 20 t-shirts that I wear in various mostly-random combinations with two pairs of jeans. This seems to work well.
20. I listen to music approximately 37 hours per day. My tastes are divided pretty evenly between heavy metal, hip-hop, nerd rock, and roots/folk rock (or in rare cases a combination of these). Hip-hop is the big deal right now. Common especially.
21. My favorite band is The Mars Volta. I have three framed concert posters on my wall from this band, and each probably decreases my chances of getting laid at any particular moment by about 30%. You do the math.
22. I have the ability to dislocate my shoulders at will. Do not ask me to do this, because it is intensely painful. Unless you're into that, I guess. I probably won't though unless you have boobs.
23. My favorite part of a woman is her waist. Mmmmmhmmmmm.
24. I have read Ender's Game at least 15 times. I once read it 5 times in a row.
25. On a related note, I recently cried at the end of The Road (by Cormac McCarthy). I really want to read it again (or maybe 15 times), but I keep putting it off because its so upsetting. The book is seriously fucking badass.
26. Returning to nerd-dom, I've read The Wheel of Time fantasy fiction series (grand total of about 5000 pages) 4 times. Then the author died of a weird blood disease without finishing the series. Fuck.
27. I was serious when I mentioned before that I love pickles. I drink pickle juice on a fairly regular basis (especially during or after drinking, it being the only real hangover cure).
28. I used to be a dog person and looked upon cats with mild disdain. Then I was introduced to these little buggers, and I'm completely and totally hooked:
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Can we move to Spain?
I have been saying this forever. We should have siestas every day. Americans spend like $1 billion per year on self help books, another billion on therapy (maybe more), and like $10 billion on depression drugs. If we had a two hour break every day in which we could (depending on mood) a) sleep b) drink sangria c) have sex or d) eat, we would not need these things. See, it pays for itself.
We should start a “siesta club.” It’ll be like a support group except for something cool instead of something shitty. We’ll all promise to take siestas and give each other shit if we do not (for example, “Couldn’t take a break to get mildly drunk? You’re such a slave to The Man, man).
We should start a “siesta club.” It’ll be like a support group except for something cool instead of something shitty. We’ll all promise to take siestas and give each other shit if we do not (for example, “Couldn’t take a break to get mildly drunk? You’re such a slave to The Man, man).
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Missing socks anyone?
I generally operate on the assumption that my dryer will eat at least one, maybe two socks each time I do my laundry. It is for this reason, and this reason alone, that three or four weeks often pass between loads of laundry at the Joel residence. It seems that I have been unfairly blaming by washer/dryer however. I now know to keep an eye out for the various felines in my apartment building. Infernal creatures. They're so adorable and awesome, but really it's a trick; they just want my undergarments.
This irks my butt
In the interest of pluralism and tolerance, it is often said by very well-intentioned people that religion and science can and should coexist peacefully. I suppose that it's not necessary for them to clash - at least, science need have no quibble with religion - but it turns out that in practice there are almost inevitable pitfalls. These come in two forms. From the science side, you have folks like Richard Dawkins who feel a need to proselytize against religion. When I was a 20 year old philosophy major who smoked like 72 blunts a day, I felt a similar need (which even then I suppressed since it was in poor taste). But guys like Dawkins just don't get over it. He's been a vocal atheist for years, penned numerous articles and books on the matter, and now gone so far as to buy bus-side advertisements. Seems pathological to me. In the end though I think guys like this are basically harmless. No one to whom religion is important is going to pay him any attention. Has even one person been "converted" by Dawkins' "science"? Doubtful. Mostly he preaches to the choir.
From the other side, we've got something a bit more insidious. Bear with me as I digress for a moment. Organized religions (especially Christianity) have been put in a bit of a bind over the past couple centuries. Despite the fanciful theories of some apologists (my college history of science professor, for one), it's hard to say with a straight face that the church has not been a consistent antagonist of science. Unfortunately for the Holy Father and his associates, science has marched right on, and our view of the world has become increasingly physicalist over the past 500 years. More significantly, that progress of knowledge has underpinned the enormous progress made in the real world over that same time. To the point that the church has been in a state of pretty steady retreat, alternately opposing and then accepting quite a litany of discoveries: the printing press; heliocentrism; the circulation of blood; and of course evolution. The links are mostly referring to the Catholic Church, since that was the most cohesive and the largest Christian institution until the past 200 year. The Protestant faiths have been to varying degrees more (e.g. Southern Baptists) or less (e.g. Unitarians) conservative in this respect. The example of evolution is perhaps the best example of this growing equivocation.
It was perhaps inevitable that the faiths would give this fight up in the end, and begin to co-opt and appropriate the science they once opposed. The examples of this are numerous, but one I saw recently has me particularly heated. The Catholic Church, you see, opposes all forms of birth control. This is as crazy as it sounds. They apparently know this, and know too that many of the faithful ignore it (but probably feel guilty about it anyway, which is really my core complaint about Christianity). I know a number of Catholics, and most of them are or have at one time or another been on birth control. It's the responsible thing to do if you have sex kids. Well anyway, the church (this is true of our evangelicals too) knows this, but also knows that aversion to abortion is quite a bit stronger. So the plan is this. Fake up some official documents saying that chemical contraceptives actually cause abortions, sprinkle in some references to scientific studies (but don't actually cite anything real), and voila! You have thousands of people avoiding a safe and effective contraceptive (Plan B) based on a lie.
Excuse me? What the fuck, wasn't Jesus pretty clear about lying?
I don't mean this to be an anti-religion diatribe. But it is exactly this sort of thing that gets in the way of the sort of peaceful coexistence of believers and non-believers that Obama spoke of at his inauguration. Do atheists do stupid things? Of course, see above. But do they do evil things (like spreading unequivocal lies that make life worse for people who look to them for guidance) in the name of their beliefs? Not that I know of. The Catholic Church and Southern Baptist Convention still do.
Friday, January 23, 2009
It's official
This is the cutest animal on earth. It is the cutest animal the will ever exist. Case closed.
The slow loris
Also here, and here.
Unfortunately they are not good pets, or so Yahoo Answers says.
The slow loris
Also here, and here.
Unfortunately they are not good pets, or so Yahoo Answers says.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Stunning revelation
I had always been under the impression that the gyro (apparently aka "donor kebab") was an ancient and traditional dish of vaguely middle eastern / Mediterranean descent. Oh how wrong I was. So sad.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Life improvements
Last week I made a minor purchase, a 7 megapixel digital camera. In high school, I worked at a camera store in Golden Valley. At that time I had a Nikon N60 SLR, which was my most prized possession, but I really aspired to a digital camera. These were not brand new at the time, but they were pretty cutting edge. And by cutting edge, I mean that a 3 megapixel (that's right) Nikon digital SLR cost....wait for it...2 geezles. Yeah. Oh, and they could store like 43 pictures, which was hot.
Well anyway, last week I spent way longer than I needed to at Circuit City. Although I am notoriously terrible at making these sort of consumer-product decisions, this time it was not my fault. As you may know, Circuit City is going out of business (my friend Nick emailed us a link exactly 12 minutes after this article was posted with the subject "Buy shit NOW!!!"). Well in their news release, Circuit City's VIPs blame market conditions and tightening credit terms for their demise, but I have a different explanation. How about that their employees are fucking stupid??? Hm? This camera I was looking at said something about "Smile Capture Technology," which sounded intriguing. So after looking around expectantly for an employee (unsuccessful), I wandered over to the nearest counter, where a 16 year old wearing a red shirt to match his face was busy picking his nose, and asked for help. This kid stared at me blankly for about 7 seconds, nodded vaguely, and walked into the back room. About 17 minutes later, this gangly (but comfortably 20-something) dude comes up and asks how he can help me. Hopeful, I asked him if he could explain this "Smile Capture Technology" to me. My mistake. Grabs the camera, pokes around in the menus for a good minute, and then declared smugly, "Well it's technology that captures smiles." Seriously. No, I'm not kidding. Exact words. I don't know how to portray a long and dumbfounded pause here with any impact. Oh. My. God.
So anyway, this guys was on me like butter on bread for the next 30 minutes while I unnecessarily pondered a more expensive option (an unfortunate side effect of disposable income). I think he was autistic. I did my best to ignore him, and eventually settled with great agony on this fancy little number. The pain was worth it. Cybershot + Picasa = Crazy Delicious. My life is better because of this device. I always want to take pictures, but my SLR is too big to drag around, and denies me immediate gratifications. So now I am more creative (or anyway, I have an outlet for whatever creativity I have), and my bank is only slightly lighter. Upon hearing this tale, the aforementioned Nick made exactly the same purchase. Good choice dude.
I recommend that everyone do the same. You will sleep better and get 99 virgins. True statement.
Well anyway, last week I spent way longer than I needed to at Circuit City. Although I am notoriously terrible at making these sort of consumer-product decisions, this time it was not my fault. As you may know, Circuit City is going out of business (my friend Nick emailed us a link exactly 12 minutes after this article was posted with the subject "Buy shit NOW!!!"). Well in their news release, Circuit City's VIPs blame market conditions and tightening credit terms for their demise, but I have a different explanation. How about that their employees are fucking stupid??? Hm? This camera I was looking at said something about "Smile Capture Technology," which sounded intriguing. So after looking around expectantly for an employee (unsuccessful), I wandered over to the nearest counter, where a 16 year old wearing a red shirt to match his face was busy picking his nose, and asked for help. This kid stared at me blankly for about 7 seconds, nodded vaguely, and walked into the back room. About 17 minutes later, this gangly (but comfortably 20-something) dude comes up and asks how he can help me. Hopeful, I asked him if he could explain this "Smile Capture Technology" to me. My mistake. Grabs the camera, pokes around in the menus for a good minute, and then declared smugly, "Well it's technology that captures smiles." Seriously. No, I'm not kidding. Exact words. I don't know how to portray a long and dumbfounded pause here with any impact. Oh. My. God.
So anyway, this guys was on me like butter on bread for the next 30 minutes while I unnecessarily pondered a more expensive option (an unfortunate side effect of disposable income). I think he was autistic. I did my best to ignore him, and eventually settled with great agony on this fancy little number. The pain was worth it. Cybershot + Picasa = Crazy Delicious. My life is better because of this device. I always want to take pictures, but my SLR is too big to drag around, and denies me immediate gratifications. So now I am more creative (or anyway, I have an outlet for whatever creativity I have), and my bank is only slightly lighter. Upon hearing this tale, the aforementioned Nick made exactly the same purchase. Good choice dude.
I recommend that everyone do the same. You will sleep better and get 99 virgins. True statement.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Ugh, palestine
Take a look at this op-ed. Maybe I'll elaborate on this more later, but the facts are so naked. Israel has done all sorts of terrible, stupid, and immoral things in the occupied territories, but in general they have a pretty practical view of the whole thing as far as I can tell. See the quotes from leaders of both Hamas and Hezbollah for a contrast. How can anyone with a straight face think these people can be dealt with on a rational level? What the fuck is Israel supposed to do with people like this on the other side?
All sorts of left-leaning folks make the case that the radicalism of these two organizations has it's roots in Israeli abuses. I submit that based on the statements in Mr. Goldberg's article, the rhetoric is both deeper and older than anything Israel has ever done. Why don't we ask Nasrallah whether his opinions about Jews and Israel are based on anything that's happened in since 1940? I think he'd say something like "Well all of those are bad, but it's much deeper than that." He has to; to say otherwise implies that a negotiated solution would be possible as long as Israel "made up" for those wrongs. And clearly, neither he nor Hamas wants coexistence, concessions or not.
All sorts of left-leaning folks make the case that the radicalism of these two organizations has it's roots in Israeli abuses. I submit that based on the statements in Mr. Goldberg's article, the rhetoric is both deeper and older than anything Israel has ever done. Why don't we ask Nasrallah whether his opinions about Jews and Israel are based on anything that's happened in since 1940? I think he'd say something like "Well all of those are bad, but it's much deeper than that." He has to; to say otherwise implies that a negotiated solution would be possible as long as Israel "made up" for those wrongs. And clearly, neither he nor Hamas wants coexistence, concessions or not.
War crimes
I sent an email to Andrew Sullivan of The Daily Dish yesterday:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andrew-
Many thanks for your informative, insightful, and often relentless blog. I found my way here after your article a couple months back in Atlantic and have struggled to keep up since (enjoying every minute). So much more satisfying than the usual MSM (even my “usual,” the NYT).
Writing for the first time to ask about your ongoing discussion of the crisis in Gaza. Specifically the question of “war crimes.” Your more recent post presumes that the scene you describe in the former is in fact a war crime. I don’t pretend to be an expert on this topic, but I wonder if you could elaborate on this. Obviously, children sitting around their dead parents is terrible, but is it really your position that it is now the responsibility of armies to search for and evacuate the wounded-but-not-killed? And that failure to do so constitutes a war crime? It’s entirely possible that this is a settled question that I’m just not aware of, but it strikes me as a massive expansion in the moral responsibilities of our militaries. From my (and I presume your) perspective, maybe this is ok, but is that really the consensus?
I consider myself pretty “centrist” in this whole Israel/Palestine question. My understanding of the far history in the conflict is limited, but I take it that Israel’s capture of territory following the 1967 war, and especially the subsequent expansion and spread of “colonists” within the West Bank and Gaza, are fundamental and basically illegal catalysts for this whole conflict. On the other hand, the Arab world has provoked them mercilessly since then, most particularly with insistence by various players that Israel should not exist at all. More insidiously, given Hamas’ pervasive use of human shields, it strikes me as difficult to fault Israel for any civilian casualties in the conflict. Doing so sets up an impossible dilemma for modern states in general and Israel specifically. Hamas can strike at other states and then melt back within their civilian sympathizers with the expectation that moral concerns and media coverage will force the other state to stay their hand. This arrangement puts a state like Israel, which is admittedly fallible and mistake-prone but generally seeks to behave morally, at the mercy of a “state” actor like Hamas which deliberately seeks to kill civilians and (perhaps worse) uses its own citizens as human shields (I am playing with some ideas from Philip Bobbitt here, if you’re interested). It strikes me that this is parallel to the question of paying off hostage-takers. We don’t generally do so, even if it means civilian deaths, because paying ransoms would reward the perpetrators and thereby cause more deaths by encouraging hostage-taking. Similarly, western states may be erring in putting too much into avoiding collateral civilian casualties. Certainly we should negotiate and make every attempt to draw these actors out of the civilian populations. But this only works if the end game to the negotiation is overwhelming and unflinching force. Right now, groups like Hamas get to have their cake (inflict pain and embarrassment on Israel) and eat it to (Israel responds with enough force to kill civilians, making them look even worse, but not enough to actually wipe out Hamas, for fear of collateral damage). As an alternative and hyperbolic thought experiment, would any Gazan neighborhood be likely to tolerate militants in their midst if they knew that Israel was willing to level the whole thing, people and all, to eliminate the militant cell?
He wrote back:
joel
not evacuating children from war zones is legally a war crime. the
issue is whether there were israeli troops aware of the kids who did
not evacuate them or get them to hospital. some of them were abandoned
for days in those conditions. but we'll see what emerges
Really?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andrew-
Many thanks for your informative, insightful, and often relentless blog. I found my way here after your article a couple months back in Atlantic and have struggled to keep up since (enjoying every minute). So much more satisfying than the usual MSM (even my “usual,” the NYT).
Writing for the first time to ask about your ongoing discussion of the crisis in Gaza. Specifically the question of “war crimes.” Your more recent post presumes that the scene you describe in the former is in fact a war crime. I don’t pretend to be an expert on this topic, but I wonder if you could elaborate on this. Obviously, children sitting around their dead parents is terrible, but is it really your position that it is now the responsibility of armies to search for and evacuate the wounded-but-not-killed? And that failure to do so constitutes a war crime? It’s entirely possible that this is a settled question that I’m just not aware of, but it strikes me as a massive expansion in the moral responsibilities of our militaries. From my (and I presume your) perspective, maybe this is ok, but is that really the consensus?
I consider myself pretty “centrist” in this whole Israel/Palestine question. My understanding of the far history in the conflict is limited, but I take it that Israel’s capture of territory following the 1967 war, and especially the subsequent expansion and spread of “colonists” within the West Bank and Gaza, are fundamental and basically illegal catalysts for this whole conflict. On the other hand, the Arab world has provoked them mercilessly since then, most particularly with insistence by various players that Israel should not exist at all. More insidiously, given Hamas’ pervasive use of human shields, it strikes me as difficult to fault Israel for any civilian casualties in the conflict. Doing so sets up an impossible dilemma for modern states in general and Israel specifically. Hamas can strike at other states and then melt back within their civilian sympathizers with the expectation that moral concerns and media coverage will force the other state to stay their hand. This arrangement puts a state like Israel, which is admittedly fallible and mistake-prone but generally seeks to behave morally, at the mercy of a “state” actor like Hamas which deliberately seeks to kill civilians and (perhaps worse) uses its own citizens as human shields (I am playing with some ideas from Philip Bobbitt here, if you’re interested). It strikes me that this is parallel to the question of paying off hostage-takers. We don’t generally do so, even if it means civilian deaths, because paying ransoms would reward the perpetrators and thereby cause more deaths by encouraging hostage-taking. Similarly, western states may be erring in putting too much into avoiding collateral civilian casualties. Certainly we should negotiate and make every attempt to draw these actors out of the civilian populations. But this only works if the end game to the negotiation is overwhelming and unflinching force. Right now, groups like Hamas get to have their cake (inflict pain and embarrassment on Israel) and eat it to (Israel responds with enough force to kill civilians, making them look even worse, but not enough to actually wipe out Hamas, for fear of collateral damage). As an alternative and hyperbolic thought experiment, would any Gazan neighborhood be likely to tolerate militants in their midst if they knew that Israel was willing to level the whole thing, people and all, to eliminate the militant cell?
He wrote back:
joel
not evacuating children from war zones is legally a war crime. the
issue is whether there were israeli troops aware of the kids who did
not evacuate them or get them to hospital. some of them were abandoned
for days in those conditions. but we'll see what emerges
Really?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Monkey humor
So here's a question. Chimps on TV are always funny. Always. They don't even have to do anything especially funny. In the video below, the best moments are just when the chimp is sitting there with some random object grinning like an idiot (or doing that weird stick-shaking thing that apparently they all learned from 2001: A Space Odyssey).
So what I'm wondering is this. Are these guys trained to act in a particular way that humans find amusing? Or, like videos of guys's getting hit in the balls, are chimps just inherently funny?
So what I'm wondering is this. Are these guys trained to act in a particular way that humans find amusing? Or, like videos of guys's getting hit in the balls, are chimps just inherently funny?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Not much better
I've been thinking a lot lately about myself. Lots of real soul searching, writing, and thinking about my job, love, and life in general. Today I read this article (be warned, pretty disturbing) by Nicholas Kristof (link) about human trafficking. I won't try to speak more eloquently on the subject than Mr. Kristof, he writes regularly and with a pretty committed heart about this subject. I'll say only that of all the causes that we can pay attention to, this one may take the cake. It is pain and suffering on a horrific scale, inflicted not because of weather or earthquakes, political fights or ethnic conflicts, but just plain old evil, greed, and apathy. The Somaly Mam Foundation does good work, and right in the worst parts of this thing.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Circus circus?
I was recently told about a book about circuses (unfortunately, no one could remember the title). The thesis was/is that the circus was the birth of american (world?) pop culture, and that the celebrity following we do today is a direct descendant. So is this more or less exciting than bears dancing on colorful balls? And is it better or worse because it's for a cause?
Waxing time!
Waxing time!
Monday, January 5, 2009
That's some fucked up shit right there
I'm sitting on a plane behind a drug rep from Pfizer, and watching over her shoulder with a mixture of fascination and horror. She's writing a "Practitioner Report." Here's a sample:
55082 (Stillwater)
Knowles (#24 potential, #88 actual)Continue with the increased attention and 'positive tension.' Celebrex sales still good but could be better. Befriend PAs, Keep up on Nap business.
Adrien (#10 potential, #21 actual) Way up since June, sky's the limit. Like's consistent but not too frequent contact. Continue with weekly call, schedule lunch in Feb. Celebrex down last couple months, keep after that.
How sick is this? She has a database that shows every physician and all the drugs they're prescribing, presented alongside alternatives (such as generics) and graphed over recent months/years. Something just feels so wrong about this to me. I know they're a business and they've gotta make money, but medicine should be about what's best for the patient. Why? Because everyone pays for drugs except the one making the decision (the "practitioner"). Publicly, the drug companies say that they're merely "educating" the physicians, but this little snooping shows the lie in that. Why rank physicians if you just want to make sure they know about the facts? The logic must be that their drugs are so good that the more you know the more you sell. Right.
I have an urge to publicize this. I have her name, and real names of the doctors. Does everyone know that they do this?
Whenever and wherever
The world speaks in the most remarkable and surprising ways. I got on a plane this afternoon and started writing about authenticity. I hadn't gotten to it yet (before this thing happened), but what I had in mind was how much I've been stressing, more and more lately, about figuring out what I'm "supposed to do." This sense that life is slipping by and I'm wasting my time. But the insight that I wanted to write about was that this whole mentality is perhaps missing the point precisely. We are letting life slip by precisely when we live "forward," like this, when the future (the not-now) is more important than the now. Even when I am not planning for the future, still I am not in general living now. My time away from work feels so much like placeholders, like "something to do." I think I have been increasingly aware of this phenomenon in recent months, yet I don't know what do otherwise. The moments of living should be the rule rather than the exception, and yet they are unusual. I think back to a hike Kathleen and I took this summer out past Middleton. That was so great, but not because of the particular place or event, but because we were exploring. I look back on this and think, "I wish I could do that sort of this more often."
What I crave (what all of us crave), is creation or exploration (are there other things I'm missing?). I think we get paralyzed because both of these seem so big. I dream of a job where I can do one or the other, as though this is the only format in which such endeavors are satisfying. What I wanted to write about was this insistence that my job is the key to living authentically. That if and only if I can figure out the right direction for my entire life will I be living right, will I live authentically (as opposed to the superficiality in which I generally find myself). Many of us seem caught up in this. Even those I would consider very authentic, like Kathleen, struggle with this desire to integrate living and working, and this frustration when we can't have the whole thing (when the integration is not complete). But maybe that's the wrong approach. I'm going to say provisionally that it is definitely not the right approach. That instead we can just create and explore (or do whatever else is right for you) whenever and wherever we can. Nothing revolutionary here, I suppose, and yet who of us is doing this? No one I know.
So this is what I was thinking about, how to bring these things into my life. How in this new year I want to make my job just a job and do a lot more living in the rest of the space.
Resolution #7 - Create or explore something new every day.
And then I sit down next to this woman on the plane. She's reading a book full of pictures and essays and quotes, all with little "assignment" notes underneath. Like "Assignment 52: Take a flash picture underneath your bed" below a page of dust bunnies, long-lost socks, and annoyed felines. Fascinating stuff, and I'm so enthralled that she catches me looking over her shoulder (yes, I'm a classy guy, I know). Well it turns out she's an artist, and artists sort of have to appreciate voyeurism. So she's very nice about my awkwardness, and insists that I take the book for a while. The book is called Learning to Love You More," and there's a website too. They put up these "assignments" (or others submit them) on their website, and then visitors post their efforts. The book is a collection of these projects.
So I will try to do one of these a day (unless I stumble upon an independent option). I recommend that everyone do the same.
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