Life is Hard for Some People

How to Give a Truly Thoughtless Gift: An Ode to the Obama Administration

2009-03-12T00:30:00.002-04:00

Woo-eeeee! Thank God we have Barack Obama here to improve our reputation abroad. In the past two months or so, we have managed to improve our reputation abroad so much that we can afford to offend both the United Kingdom and Russia! Gordon Brown, British Prime Minister, got us a bunch of cool historical things to do with ships, ending the slave trade, Kenya, and Winston Churchill. And we got him…twenty-five classic American films. A thoughtful gift for a man who is quickly losing his eyesight. And instead of giving the Russian Foreign Minister a button that says “reset” as Mr. Biden suggested in a speech, Hillary Clinton handed him a button that says “overcharged.” Well, Mr. Lavrov, we know how you feel.
In that spirit, and in case you are planning ahead to celebrate Christmas in July, I have compiled a list of truly thoughtless gifts you can get your friends and family. It is important to move past the offensive but obvious gifts, like booze for an alcoholic in recovery or running shoes for the paralyzed, into gifts that really convey your brazen self-absorption.
Here are some rules of thumb:
1. Give something you would not want.
2. Re-Gift whenever possible.
3. Attack the core of the recipient’s identity.
4. Be on the cheap side.
5. Be late. Belated thoughtless gifts say, “Not only did I ignore you, I forgot about the occasion.”
6. Extra credit will be awarded to those givers who receive thoughtful gifts from the person to whom they give a thoughtless gift.
7. A copy of either of Barack Obama’s well written books is always appropriate.
For your mother, I recommend a book about parenting. Especially good if she has no kids at home. It says, “Here are the myriad ways in which you failed me.” Save that for Mother’s Day and you will get bonus points for being ungrateful on a day you were supposed to be especially grateful.
Your fathers deserve something…remarkable. How about a children’s movie. An annoying one with lots of baby talk and no funny jokes intended for adult viewers. He doesn’t want it, you don’t want it. That DVD will sit there, unopened, collecting dust in the corner of some living room.
Your significant other should definitely receive some kind of cleaning supply. And I am not talking vacuum cleaner. I mean, how clichéd can you get? I am talking a veritable bouquet of cleaning liquids—dish soap, wood varnish, disinfectant, multi-surface cleaner, etc. These little tokens of your carelessness are the tri-fecta: first, the recipient probably already has them in his or her house; second, if he or she didn’t, he or she would just go out and buy them yourself; and third, they signal dissatisfaction with your recipient’s ability to maintain his or her home.
Your siblings should get subscriptions to the TV Guide Magazine. That little gift that keeps on giving will give them second rate reviews and gossip and provide them with no information that isn’t already widely available online or in the local newspaper. Salt in the wound! Your sibling will be reminded of your self-absorption every week when the TV Guide comes in the mail.
Your friends should get framed photographs of you hanging out with people they don’t know or don’t like at events to which they weren’t invited. It is a special way of saying, “You are just one of one hundred and ninety friends. Don’t expect special treatment. I have been really busy handling my domestic crises and really haven’t been able to give you much thought.” Always nice to hear.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Polling Place

2008-11-04T09:38:00.000-05:00

This election, more than any other in my life, has been conducted at home and abroad. Obama gave a campaign speech to crowds of concert-goers in Germany. Pollsters are calling Europe and Asia and the Middle East and Puerto Rico and asking them who they think should be President of the United States. And I like their thinking, I really do. It’s cool to know things that aren’t very useful. I have always prided myself on being a fount of useless information: Woodrow Wilson was the last President to write his own speeches for example. And when he left office, he stole all the booze from the White House. So these polls are valuable to the extent that they’ve added to my knowledge of irrelevant trivia. I mean, if we didn’t poll, how could we ever guess that Europe, that bastion of fiscal conservatism, would go for Obama? Is that less predictable than a poll that shows that most people prefer cancer-free lives or believe there really is alien life in outer space? But why aren’t we polling felons, preschoolers, and other disenfranchised and “pre-enfranchised” groups? I’m interested to know what they think about something in which they have no say.

The foreigners (and Puerto Ricans) are also blogging prodigiously about this election. It is not enough that they are being called and asked specifically for their opinions, they are offering them unsolicited and in great detail. Lest you call me hypocritical, let me remind you: I am a registered, informed voter, blogging, though peripherally, about an election in which I participated. For these people, I think the election is a little like another American obsession—the Tragic Death of Playboy Model and Gold-Digger, Anna Nicole Smith. Think about it… it wasn’t news, it had no direct effect on our lives, and yet for days on end, Americans were tuned in and riled up about the death of a reality TV star. The best part is that 85% of Americans told pollsters at Rasmussen Reports that her death got too much media attention and 59% thought the coverage was at best fair—that is, 44% of Americans thought that the coverage should be improved even though there was too much of it. Almost the same percentage of Europeans think Obama would be a better President.

I think the big problem here is the democratization of News. I just saw a feature on foxnews.com which allows viewers to report their own news, cleverly titled "uReport." Just video things and post them. I haven’t checked out any of this content, it scares me too much. I suspect much of it comes from the same people who, with their cavalier approach to grammar and spelling, post ad nauseum to news websites. I don’t care what they think about the news. And I certainly don’t want to know what they caught on film using the camera on their cell phone. Nor do I particularly want their opinion to influence public or foreign policy. More baseless opinions are not as useful as fewer well-founded, considered arguments from experts. But while we are after baseless opinions, I guess it’s ok that we are asking foreigners who they want to vote for. Why not? It’s probably better than pollsters asking Americans how to improve coverage of Britney Spears' latest custody battle.

An interesting contrast: When Angela Merkel was elected in Germany on November 22, 2005, Americans were glued to their television sets and blogging furiously as well. Except they were wondering whether or not Nicole Richie was anorexic. And that is almost as important as who is Chancellor of Germany. A close second really.

A Celebration of Actions without Consequences

2008-10-02T14:59:00.001-04:00

In honor of the massive Congressional bailout this week, I think it’s time for us to really thank God for moral hazard. Let’s all get busy doing stupid things and avoiding the consequences:

First, let’s all buy some mortgage-backed securities. A ton of them. In fact, I will challenge you to corner the market for mortgage backed securities before I do. When they fail, and we lose all of our money, and a bunch of other people’s money too, I’m going to demand that Congress give me a few hundred billion dollars to restore confidence in our decision-making processes. Never mind that we made bad decisions. Why should we have to suffer for our own stupidity?

Second, I am going to open a car company. It is probably best to hire a bunch of people so you can intimidate the government into heavily subsidizing me. Oh, and backing my pension plan when I make bad business decisions. I am not going to worry about producing high quality cars or cars consumers want to purchase. However, when I fail, I am certainly not going to blame it on that. It is definitely someone else’s fault and someone else (probably the government) should do something about it for me. Yes, I will take cash or check, Madam Speaker.

Someday, when I have children, I am not going to require them to study or do any kind of homework. Instead, I am just going to yell at the teachers. Then I am going to complain when my school doesn’t pass minimal government education standards. How can it possibly be my child’s fault that he or she is fifteen and cannot read? After all, he’s received A’s for the last ten years. Oh, and standardized tests are racist and unfair. It is not fair that my child won’t graduate from high school just because he cannot add fractions together.

Finally, I am going to get a job working for the government. I am pretty persistent, even if I am lazy, and I think I can work my way up the ladder by virtue of my longevity alone.

I don’t think I would really thrive in a job where my advancement is dependent on my performance. Isn’t any other incentive structure tantamount to discrimination? Isn’t that Un-American? They always say that a rolling stone gathers no moss, but a rolling stone is going to roll down and not up this bureaucratic ladder.

Of course, there are some things for which there should be consequences. Like making money. If I happen to make it big on the stock market, please tax me until I can’t take it anymore. Capital gains are the unforgiveable sin, the venial sin, to borrow the Catholic structure. Oh, and Heaven forbid I start a small business. That kind of behavior must be stamped out. Extinguished. STAT. Eighty percent of American businesses are undermining the notion that Americans need the government to provide them with sustenance and patronage. Unacceptable. Un-American. And I won’t stand for it any longer. So tax ‘em into the ground. I bet the government will use the backbreaking amount of money it took from the businesses to provide them with a social safety net. They are going to need it.

I <3 Pop Music

2008-07-10T13:05:00.003-04:00

Hey baby girl, I’ve been watching you all day (all day x3)
Yes, I have been stalking you.
Man that thing you got behind you is amazing (amazing x3)
I like your butt.
You make me want to take you out and let it rain (let it rain x3)
Hopefully you will be wearing a white tee shirt.
I know you got a man but this is what you should say
Based on these firm foundations for a relationship, I think you should break up with your boyfriend.
Why don’t you tell him that
Seriously! Tell him! I really like your butt.
I’m leavin' never lookin' back again
I have already deleted your phone number from my cell phone.
You found somebody who does it better than he can
Hopefully it isn't statutory rape, he's kind of young.
No more making you cry, no more them gray skies
His previous wish that it rain during our courtship never came to fruition.
Girl we flying on the G5 G5
But he does have more money than you.
And we're leavin' never lookin' back again
We're wearing those blinder things they put on horses.
So call your shawty and tell him you found a new man
I'm a little confused. I thought "shawty" was a term of endearment for women.
The one who’s so so fly, the one that keep you high
In the previously mentioned G5 airplane. I do not mean to imply that we would use illicit substances.
Have me singing all night like like Oh oh oh oh(repeat)
Our neighbors have complained to the landlord.
man she gon' be singin Oh oh oh oh oh(repeat)
Once they called the police.
Now if I talk it girl you know that I will walk it out (walk it out x3)
Just like if I pulled a muscle jogging on the treadmill or something.
Man I’ll put my money (money) where my mouth is (mouth is x3)
That's just a figure of speech, I wouldn't actually do it. Money carries a lot of germs.
Cause you're the baddest little thing that I’ve ever seen (ever seen x3)
Bad means good in this case. Like when Michael Jackson said it.
So Ima ask you one time if you got a man
Are you dating anyone right now?
Why don’t you tell him that I’m leavin’ never lookin' back again
Never ever ever ever ever.
You found somebody who does it better than he can
Of course, that's only hypothetical, we've just met.
No more making you cry, no more them gray skies
All this sunshine is really putting me at risk for skin cancer.
Girl we flying on the G5 G5
Once you fly private, you can't go back. You just can't. It is simply unbearable.
And we're leavin' never lookin' back again
I've torn the rear view and side view mirrors off my car. It is unsightly. Pun intended.
So call your shawty and tell him you found a new man
"We've only just met, but he really likes my butt."
The one who’s so so fly, the one that keep you high
Wasn't Sugar Ray so fly? And look where he is now, reporting entertainment gossip on the CW.
Have me singing all night like like Oh oh oh oh oh(repeat)
You are quite the drill sergeant in rehearsals, I'm told.
man she gon' be singin
I mean, it's just pop music, who cares about vocal technique?
She gon' be singin, she gon' be singin,
Careful not to let the repeated notes get flat. That's always a danger.
she gon' be singin oh you gon' be singin Oh oh oh oh (repeat)
This kind of endurance can only come from serious classical opera training.
Don’t stress, don’t stress, don’t stress
Stay calm.
Just tell him to the left left left
Make the "L" shapes with your hands if you have to. That always helps me.
Don’t stress, don’t stress, don’t stress
Breathe normally.
Cause we gone, and we gone, and we gone
I hope other people won't think I stalked you all day and then kidnapped you.
No stress, no stress, no stress
Everything is OK. Really.
Girl you deserve nothing but the best
Like private jets! First class is too... pedestrian.
No stress, no stress, no stress
I'm not going to tell you again. STAY CALM.
Girl you need to tell him
If you won't, I will.
That I’m leavin’ never lookin' back again
Save your dignity and stop asking me about it.
You found somebody who does it better than he can
At least he says so anyways...
No more making you cry, no more them gray skies
I think the sun damage to my skin will be counterbalanced by the reduction in my frown and worry lines.
Girl we flying on the G5 G5
I told you twice, don't call it a G4.
And we're leavin' never lookin' back again
I know how to gouge out eyeballs and I will do it if I have to.
So call your shawty and tell him you found a new man
It would be more honest to say that he found me.
The one who’s so so fly, the one that keep you high
He's promised me a penthouse.
Have me singing all night like like like Oh oh oh (repeat)
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (ascending scale)
man she gon' be singin Oh oh oh oh (repeat)
Hopefully I won't get vocal chord blisters.
She got me singin all night like like like like Ooooooh
But if I do, I won't go to that guy who botched Julie Andrews' surgery.
Man she got me singin
It was really a shame to lose a vocal talent like hers to overuse.
She got me singing, oh she got me singing
I can't stop, even though I've tried.
She got me singing, girl you got me singing
AHHHH Make it stop, please! [Fade Out.]

Minutes of the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space

2008-06-02T21:47:00.000-04:00

The chairman called to order the fifty first meeting of COPUOS (the Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space) by pounding his right fist against the Star Trek Fleet Admiral medal on his left shoulder. Members present, Algeria, Austria, Benin, Bolivia, Brazil, Cameroon, Canada, Chad, China, Colombia, Ecuador, France, Greece, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Kazakhstan, Lebanon, Libyan Arab Jamahiriya, Mexico, Mongolia, Morocco, Netherlands, Niger, Nigeria, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Republic of Korea, the Russian Federation, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Slovakia, South Africa, Sweden, Switzerland, Syrian Arab Republic, Turkey, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the United States of America, and Uruguay, responded by pounding their medals, reflecting their respective committee rankings. Members attending by instant messenger, Australia, Burkina Faso, Czech Republic, Hungary, Iraq, Pakistan, Romania, Sudan, Thailand, and Venezuela, responded by rapidly typing the United Nations Approved “Winky Face” emoticon: “;)”. The delegates from Albania, Argentina, Belgium, Bulgaria, Egypt, Germany, India, Iran, Kenya, Malaysia, Nicaragua, Portugal, Spain, Ukraine, and Viet Nam were not in attendance. They will review these minutes when the 2008 Comic Book Convention, held in Indianapolis, Indiana, adjourns next Wednesday.

1. The Committee discussed the election of New Officers and the Conference of Honorary Titles. The delegate from Burkina Faso nominated for Chairman the delegate from Morocco via instant message, the nomination was seconded by the delegate from Sierra Leone and approved on the condition that NASA maintain its shuttle launch pad in Morocco. The Committee unanimously approved a renewal of the three year term of the Vice Committee Chairman from Japan. Honorary Titles were conferred on several members of the Committee:
a. The Delegate from Canada was named Petty Officer on Deck for his resourceful performance in last weeks Dungeons and Dragons Sub-Committee Meeting and Tournament
b. The Delegate from Romania was named E.T. for her prompt and reliable communication between her National Office and United Nations Headquarters. Also, she usually gets homesick by the end of the annual committee meeting.
c. The Delegate from Turkey was named Mr. Freeze for her insistence on air-conditioning at all committee and sub-committee meetings, her preference for frozen margaritas and daiquiris, and her blue-ish toenail polish.
d. The Delegate from Malaysia was named SpaceGodzilla because everyone present agreed that would be pretty sweet.
New Officers and Honorary Title Holders agreed to reconvene in six months to prepare for the 2009 annual meeting.

2. Mr. Milad Atieh interrupted the meeting and caused mild confusion when he asked for directions to the Conference on the Global Subjugation of Women. The Delegate from China directed Mr. Atieh to the meeting of the United Nations Committee on Human Rights. The delegate from Romania speculated that Mr. Atieh would be disappointed if he discovered that the meeting was meant to discourage the subjugation of women. Delegates from Australia and the Czech Republic responded by the Official United Nations sanctioned Instant Message code—“*giggle snort*.” The Delegates from the United States, Austria and Canada responded by actually giggling and snorting. The Delegate from China suggested that China’s Delegate to the United Nations Human Rights Commission was enthusiastic about the meeting and that his enthusiasm did not bode well for women who wished to avoid subjugation.

3. The Finance Committee, chaired by the Delegate from the United States, offered a special presentation entitled “NASA Wheedles Bazillions of Dollars from Congress and You Can Too!” which focused on the difficulties of acquiring exorbitant sums of money from legislative bodies. Preferred methods included hiring master criminals to hold the entire universe hostage by threatening nuclear attack. Delegates from countries governed by dictators, military juntas, and totalitarian regimes were excused from the sub-committee meeting.

4. The meeting adjourned after a recap of The Annual Picnic and Outdoor Star Wars Movie Marathon, held on May 14, 2008. The Delegate from Iraq seemed piqued by the festivities when he typed, “DIE EVIL SCUMMMMMM!!!!” into the committee chat room window. He later clarified his remarks by apologizing for entering text in the wrong window—he’d meant to type into his First Person Shooter video game on the other screen. After this brief digression, the event was unanimously praised as an appropriate commemoration of George Lucas’ Birthday.

The meeting was adjourned and members filed out in eager anticipation of next year’s meeting and next Wednesday’s Magic Trading Card Swap.

Life is Hard for Hillary Clinton

2008-01-10T20:18:00.000-05:00

William Jefferson Clinton spoke yesterday in support of his wife by calling Barack Obama’s message of “hope and change” a “fairytale.” He might as well have said, “If you favor ‘hope’ and ‘change,’ go ahead and live in your dream land. But if you oppose these foofy ideals, join those of us with our noses firmly planted on the grindstone, trudging along through this mucky New Hampshire snow on our way to what we hope will be the White House, even though it might be more of a light gray because of all that pollution around the DC Metro Area.”

Well, that’s a pretty hard choice to make, Mr. Clinton. Thank you for putting it so clearly. Really. I’m grateful for it. I couldn’t tell the difference between the Dems, except that John Edwards couldn’t possibly be serious about running again, I mean he already lost to John Kerry. You’d think one embarrassing defeat would be enough for a lifetime. Then there’s Kucinich who’s never going to win because most Americans, even the ones who’ve graduated from high school can’t spell his name. (I don’t mean to insult Mr. Kucinich and his family, I am pretty disappointed in the spelling skills of Americans with high school diplomas.) Oh, and then there’s Mike Gravel, but he’s from Alaska, so we can safely ignore. Say what you will about American’s readiness for a female or African American president, we really aren’t prepared for a President who’s from somewhere other than the contiguous forty eight.

But Barack and Hillary had me confused. They cosponsored protectionist legislation limiting trade from China, they are relatively inexperienced Senators, and they both represent “firsts” for minority communities. Oh, wait—women constitute fifty one percent of Americans, so I guess in addition to Ms. Clinton opposing “hope” and “change,” she has the same set of chromosomes as the majority of Americans. We’re running into all kinds of differences.

Another thing Mr. Obama and Ms. Clinton have in common is that neither one gets my vote. I mean it’s irrelevant to them for a number of reasons. First, Indiana doesn’t have a primary until March and the nomination will be sewn up by then. Second, I’m a registered Republican, so I can’t vote in the Democratic Primary.

However, if Hillary wants the nomination to be sewn up with her name on it, she should be worried about Billy’s endorsement. A few days before Iowa, her mom and daughter came out to support her. Then, in New Hampshire, she locked up her husband’s vote. She’s been campaigning for months and she’s just now recorded the endorsements of her immediate family. That seems to be a clear sign that she’s in for an uphill battle. By this time, I bet most candidates are seeking votes from people who didn’t A) give birth to them, B) spring from their wombs, or C) share a bed with them at any time in their life. Those people are the kinds I’d want to have before I announced my candidacy. I certainly wouldn’t want them on the fence during primary season.

Quarter-Life Crisis

2007-12-26T20:26:00.000-05:00

Lately I’ve been undergoing a little bit of a Quarter-Life Crisis. Much like the more common Mid-Life Crisis, a Quarter-Life Crisis is about direction, as in, at this point in my life I should have one…

Given that I don’t have a particular direction, I’m exploring careers. I know what I want: a salary that provides for the kind of lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed, very little stress, and a time commitment of fewer than 45 hours a week.

To meet these rather stringent standards will be difficult, but I’m casting a wide net in hopes of striking career path gold. Generally, I’m searching for something that is primarily predictive, rather than reactive. It is also essential that I avoid consequences. I am left with two alternatives:
1. Meteorology: Have you ever heard of a meteorologist being fired because he or she didn’t accurately predict the weather? Nope. I would look out the window about five minutes before I gave my weather report, confirm my suspicions by consulting my Magic 8 Ball, then go on air. I don’t think I would do too much worse than anyone else. If I realized I was missing out on major trends in weather (thunderstorms, hurricanes, tornadoes, etc.) I would just watch someone else’s program and say basically the same thing they said. There could hardly be any proof that I didn’t have any professional integrity. When I make mistakes, all I would have to say is “Gee, it’s the weather, it’s sometimes unpredictable. That’s why I always carry an umbrella!” And, best of all, except in the movies, there is never an emergency conference of meteorologists. (cf Day After Tomorrow, where an emergency conference of meteorologists get together to—wait for it—do absolutely nothing to combat global warming.)
2. Economist: You might think being an economist would be pretty hard, but lets just run through some classic goofs in economics: Malthus predicted the end of civilization in the early 1800’s, Marx predicted the end of capitalism and the rise of communism starting in the 1840’s, God knows how many people thought Reagan was wrong about his tax cuts, and Ben Bernanke thought he didn’t have to regulate sub-prime lenders because they weren’t banks and therefore had no impact on the Federal Reserve. So basically the top economist in the United States can say, “You don’t call yourself a bank, so must not be one, so even though you lend millions of dollars per year and are funding one tenth of our economy with what might as well be monopoly money, I will look the other way.” And I read Malthus and Marx in college, even though they are pretty much undeniably wrong. Irrationality is a staple of economic prediction: the U.S. economy has less than five percent unemployment and has for some time, but if I call that a recession, I bet I can get on the Six O’clock News to talk about it. So about once a year, I will consult my Magic 8 Ball, learn what’s happening in the American economy, and then shamelessly exaggerate.

Unfortunately, these kind of jobs are hard to come by, probably because everyone else has figured out how sweet they are. I, however, am confident that I can rise to the top by shameless self-promotion, outlandish statements, and a couple lucky breaks.

So watch for my name in the coming months and years. If you see it next to a statement about what’s going to happen next, offer me your silent congratulations. Oh, and seek a second opinion. And a third.

Just a thought...

2007-10-28T22:21:00.001-04:00

Lately at work, I’ve been wondering what would happen if I didn’t. Work, that is. I’m pretty sure the economy wouldn’t collapse. I’m not that instrumental in its continuance. Probably, someone else would take my place pretty quickly, that is, after all, the beauty of the division of labor. But what if they didn’t? What if we all agreed that next Tuesday, just for example, we all stopped. Not quit, but stopped. Would the world end? Probably not.

I remember sitting in calculus in high school and realizing that for me, calculus was math for math’s sake. It’s not like addition and subtraction, where your teacher can say with a straight face and a clear conscience that you will use this every single day. I won’t use calculus every single day and my life would not be materially affected if I couldn’t find the area under a curve. I’ve begun to feel the same way about most work. It is work for work’s sake, like those stupid worksheets you remember from high school that you completed so that the teacher could do something other than teach, like read a romance novel.

So I’ve decided to be a conscientious objector to work, along the lines of Tolstoy and his Dukhobors. I don’t recommend that we strip naked to demonstrate our extreme pacifism and give up all our possessions. Instead, we should just move to a new continent and peacefully resist society’s oppressive demand for our (futile) toil.

I’m not saying it will be easy. We would have to accustom ourselves to this level of scientific advancement. But this isn’t so bad. Remember when internet came through a wire and made dinosaur sounds and jammed the phone line? I’m posting this using internet floats around in nothingness by some miracle of science! That’s pretty sweet. My cell phone is small and has a full keyboard. My computer is impossibly light. We have microwaves, toasters, George Foreman grills, lights that simulate the sun’s light and machines that simulate peaceful night noises. I’m not sure we’re going to get much better than that. Remember: we're not digressing, we're just stopping. In our tracks. But we still get cute shoes.

There are a few down sides. It seems we will not get past our dependence on fossil fuel because after we stop working, we are not going to develop any alternatives. So it’s goodbye ANWR. But all that global warming we will create with our continued use of fossil fuels will elongate the growing season in much of the Northern Hemisphere, especially Northeastern Europe. The Kremlin will thank us for our efforts. They may finally be able to use the resources locked in the Siberian permafrost, including all that natural gas. I guess we won’t run out for quite some time!
And speaking of Russia, we can finally implement communism. We won’t need any incentives for innovation because we will all stop working. And all of our labor units will finally be interchangeable. As producers of…well…nothing, we all make an equally valuable contribution to society. (Oooh! A benefit I did not foresee…equality of outcome rather than just of opportunity. What luck!)

Unfortunately, not everyone gets to stop. There are somethings I can't live without. Doctors, for one. Hair stylists. Waiters and busboys. Lawncare workers. IT support personnel. Concierges. But we don't need gas station attendants, bank tellers, lawyers, engineers, architects, researchers, lab technicians, or grocery store clerks. (Everyone knows those automated checkout things are more fun anyways...)

OK. I won’t lie. There are some flies in the ointment. But we do get ointment. And the flies wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t attractive. So think on it. Let it just kind of vegetate. And remember, if we go through with this, you can join this idea in vegetating. Sounds pretty good, huh?

How To: Live Alone

2007-09-05T21:43:00.000-04:00

September is a special month. It is my birth-month, it marks the beginning of school and the beginning of fall, and it was one year ago this month that I first lived alone. I’ve come to the conclusion that living alone is the ideal situation for a young, spoiled but charming twenty-something. I don’t know if I could go back to having a roommate these days. So, in honor of this great anniversary, this entry is a do it yourself guide to living alone, offered in the form of a list of Do’s and Don’ts.

DO:
DO Drink milk from the carton. Celebrate the fact that you could spit on your clean dishes without spreading any germs, not that I endorse spitting on dishes, that’s weird. But definitely don’t get a dish dirty just for a glass of milk, drink from the carton. After all, it’s all yours.
DO Listen to bad music. There’s no one to comment on your passion for power ballads, Chinese opera or pre-meltdown Britney Spears.
DO Crank up the volume and sing into your hairbrush. Everyone knows power ballads, Chinese opera and pre-meltdown Britney Spears are best enjoyed live and you’ve got to make due somehow until the tour comes along.
DO Buy individual servings of everything. My freezer is stocked with individual servings of my favorite pasta sauce, individually frozen chicken and my coffee maker makes one venti cup of coffee. They even sell wine in individual glass bottles. Amazing.
DO Hit the snooze button seventeen times. When a certain nameless roommate of mine used to do this it drove me crazy. I really could have killed her. I now enjoy oversleeping in nine minute increments.
DO Get a pet. People roommates are overrated, no offense to my past roommates. Pet roommates are not overrated.
DO Lose yourself in a sulk if you want to. You will notice there is something lost in your inability to ruin a roommate’s day with a truly bad mood, but go ahead, your mood swings belong to you.
DO Stay in on a Friday night. Enjoy solitude. Revel in it. Own it.

DON’T:
DON’T Rush into the bathroom in the morning to get to the shower before the hot water runs out.
DON’T Listen to music on headphones.
DON’T Call your friends to get a consensus on which movie to watch tonight. Go ahead. Watch Steel Magnolias again. You know you want to.
DON’T Hesitate to invite friends in for the weekend. You don’t need anyone’s permission anymore.
DON’T Be afraid to leave your apartment alone too. Your apartment will always be your space. Enjoy your own time at a museum gallery or coffee shop.
DON’T Ignore your neighbors. Let’s face it. You could choke on dinner and die any day of the week, left to be eaten by wild dogs. Without roommates who will notice unless the neighbors notice you haven’t come or gone in a while?
DON’T Forget to call your mom. Same principle as above, but she loves you more than your neighbors and may notice faster, depending on your consistency in contacting her.
DON’T Stay in your pajamas all day Saturday. Sure, no has to see you, but it’s just undignified.
DON’T Investigate the strange sounds you hear at night. It’s probably nothing and you probably won’t figure out exactly what it is anyways. Sometimes it’s just best not to know.

Back Home Again...

2007-07-25T22:23:00.000-04:00

I thought the Civil War was over. Seems I was wrong. Moving back to Indiana has taught me that there are a few wayward souls who are not quite ready to move on from a defeat they suffered… 142 years ago.

I have lost count of the number of confederate flags I’ve seen as I drive around Indianapolis. They’re on bumper stickers, they’re on the windows of apartments, they’re tattooed on arms, and they’re screen-printed on t-shirts. My first impulse is to punch the offender in the face. My second is to make the wearer aware of the bigotry of his beliefs. But lately I’ve started to reflect on the deeper causes of this affinity for the Confederacy. A professor told me the root of the longing for the land of inequality and lack of opportunity lies in the lack of agency would-be-Confederates when they peruse the changing world around them. He may be right. But every time I see one of these reminders of the *ahem* War for Southern Independence, I’m reminded of two things: history, and the fact that Indiana loses at everything.

Let’s start with Indiana’s impressive list of records:
1. We are the fattest state in the Union. As the U.S. must also be the fattest nation, that prize was hard-fought and is, I’m sure, well-deserved.
2. In 2005, Indiana had the highest foreclosure rate in the country. This year, we’ve dropped to fourth in the nation, behind Louisiana, Georgia and Michigan. Anytime you are competing for a prize like “highest foreclosure rate” with states who have suffered one of the worst natural disasters in history, the decline of the automotive industry, and being…well…Georgia, you know it is bad news bears.
3. Indiana used to be home to one of the winningest coaches in college basketball history. We sent him down to Texas after he…wait for it… physically and emotionally abused his players, assaulted students, and (I think worst of all) started losing.

Which brings us to history. We won the Civil War. Indiana was on the side of the good guys. The guys who didn’t say, “Mr. Lincoln, I reject the Constitution, and now I will declare war on the Union. Having carefully examined the principles of the American Founding, I can tell you I’d rather not live in a nation where all men are created equal. I’m pretty sure God made some people unequal and I’d like to found a nation on that principle, if you don’t mind.” All told, Indiana lost 26,672 men during the war, to combat and disease. But we lost most of them fighting for the Union.

Indiana is not a plantation state. We weren’t growing cotton before the war, and we haven’t started since. Hoosiers were small farmers. They didn’t have anything in common with the brains, society, or economy behind Succession.

Once I get down from this high horse, I’ll get to the point. Of all the things we Hoosiers do wrong—overeat, borrow more than we could ever pay, keep deluded and egotistical basketball coaches on the payroll until they’ve really passed their prime—we did the Civil War right. And we should celebrate it. Until we do, Indiana will always be known as the place where the morbidly obese lose their homes in short sales while they stand barefoot in a corn field wishing they’d been on the losing side of one of the bloodiest wars in American History.

Olympic Controversy

2007-05-01T12:26:00.000-04:00

Ah, the Olympics. The sporting event that gave us the movies Miracle and Cool Runnings and launched Tonya Harding to super stardom. As you well know, the Winter Olympics features many hotly contested events, including but not limited to:

1. Hockey
2. Bobsledding
3. Ice Dancing
4. Curling
5. Toilet Seat Discuss

Oh wait! I forgot! There are two different, but easily confused Olympic Games! There are the Winter Olympics, which occur every four years in various mountainous, snowy regions, and the Brown Duck Olympics, which are an annual event in Jasonville, Indiana. Haven’t heard of the Brown Duck Games? Probably because you’ve been using the names interchangeably and never knew the difference. At least that’s what the United States Olympic Committee seems to believe. That’s why they’re suing the Jasonville organizers for copyright infringement. Since everybody knows and loves the Summer Olympics, I’m just going to have to assume they are referring to the Winter Olympics.

In order to clear up the confusion, I’ll tell you a bit about both the Winter Olympics and the Brown Duck Olympics:

WINTER OLYMPICS: The Winter Olympics features Biathlon, Bobsleigh, Curling, Ice Hockey, Luge, Skating, and Skiing events. Athletes compete as representatives of their native countries. They are already national champions when they arrive at the Games. On the line are medals, money, fame, and national prestige. Television coverage features insights into the personal lives of the athletes and is plagued with poor audience ratings.

BROWN DUCK OLYMPICS: The Brown Duck Olympics features Toilet Seat Discuss, Broomstick Javelin, and Rock Put events. As many as fifteen athletes from across Greene County compete for medals, glory, and a chance to be interviewed on the local news. The only entry requirement is that they wear Brown Duck Carhartt work clothes.

Obviously, you can understand the confusion. Both Winter Olympics and Brown Duck Olympics are Arbiters of International Achievement in their respective arenas. Both Olympics champion athletic accomplishment. And both are sources of pride for their respective host communities.

The only difference then, is that the Winter Olympics is unfairly biased against poorly funded, sparsely populated, flat, warm areas and the Brown Duck Olympics is, well, non-discriminatory. I’m sure the Jasonville organizers would allow any community with the requisite little league baseball diamonds to host their prestigious event. Not so with the Winter Olympics! Cities must apply to a rigorous, but easily bribed, selection committee to win the opportunity to fall deeply into debt hosting an event no one watches on TV. And not once has a city without mountains or unlikely to see snowfall in February won the opportunity to host the Winter Olympics. And don’t even get me started on their discriminatory policies toward rural areas.

The point is this: the Winter Olympics is an untenable tradition. Sooner or later, global warming will catch up with the snow and make traditional winter sports obsolete. In the mean time, the Winter Olympics committee should open its mind to new ideas and stop picking on the little guy. Come on, it’s time to get a life.

You've Got (No) Mail

2006-10-20T23:09:00.000-04:00

One of the bad things about being in college is that I rarely get mail. Apparently no one loves me enough to send me letters. Not even my mom. Geez! But mail is kind of a double edged sword and one of the great things about being in college is that I rarely get mail. That means I don’t get carpet cleaning coupons, missing child notifications or bills. The fact that I don’t get mail is indicative of my blissful state of irresponsibility.

The one piece of mail I get consistently is from my bank. No, it’s not a credit card offer—I think we can all agree that would be a pretty bad idea. It’s my monthly bank statement.

I’m pretty sure there’s something I supposed to be doing with these things, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it is. Some people can look at them and see mistakes they know how to correct. Some people can look at them and make important financial decisions. I look at them and see all the things in life I don’t understand.

A better person than me would take this opportunity to learn something. It’s safe to say that I am not that better person.

I take all of my monthly mail and tear it in to pieces and throw it away. Why should I keep a piece of paper around to remind me of my own stupidity? I don’t need that. In fact, my monthly statement makes me angry with the bank. It’s not like I need send monthly reminders to other people to let them know I’m pretty smart. Does Chase Bank need some kind of validation of their awesomeness? Do they think we don’t already know how smart they are?

I have heard tell that you can “check” your bank statements against your receipts. But who keeps those? I hate it when I participate in retail therapy and the sales girl tries to finish my session with a reminder of the real world. Jerks! I mean seriously. You can’t even go grocery shopping without someone trying to give you a piece of purse-cluttering paper. It’s not like grocery shopping is worth the hassle of cleaning out my clutch. They shouldn’t even call grocery shopping “shopping.” It hasn't earned the title.

I think the good news is that I have another nine months until I—to use my father’s euphemism for graduation—“enter the real world.” At that point, I guess I will have to figure out these things. I’m going to have to learn to love grocery shopping. I’m going to have to keep my receipts. I’m going to have to learn to read my bank statement.

I think I will start early by saving my bank statements. Perhaps I will preserve them in a time capsule so that future generations can learn how a frivolous college student spends her money. Or I could make a scrap book. Or maybe I will use them in a papier mache project.

Dammit Feminists, You've Taken My Princesses

2006-10-13T18:01:00.000-04:00

Someone should call Child Protection Services. Our nation’s children are being deprived of an important aspect of youth. The new Disney movies are alarmingly devoid of Princesses. In fact, new movies in general are alarmingly devoid of princesses.

Undeniably, Disney has suffered a decline of late. Gone are the days of Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and, my personal favorite, the Little Mermaid. And they’ve been replaced by…by what? By Herbie: Fully Loaded, Hunchback of Notre Dame and Lion King 1.5. The re-release of the Little Mermaid has only emphasized the gaping disparity in Disney quality.

But what is the cause of these quality control issues? I think we can credit it to the feminist movement.[1] Actually, I think we can credit most problems of the 21^stCentury to the feminists. But the end of the Disney Princess Dynasty is especially tragic.

At first blush, Disney Princesses are not out of line with the larger feminist movement. They are strong independent women who come of age under trying circumstances and become better people in the process. Cinderella overcomes a wily step-mother and conniving, ugly sisters. Snow White endures exile and numerous attempts on her life made by her jealous step-mother. Sleeping Beauty is also exiled and attacked by a jealous old hag. And then there’s the Ariel. She goes behind her father’s back to become human and realize her dream of being “part of [our] world.”

So what’s the deal? I believe the feminists have three serious problems with the Disney Princess.

Disney Princesses find themselves, true. But they find themselves in the arms of a man. A feminist doesn’t need a man in her life to achieve self-actualization. She only needs herself and Simone de Beauvoir.
Disney Princesses come from broken homes. Usually, their mother is inexplicably gone or dead. The step-mother is almost always a witch. Homes reconstructed in this manner have created an entire generation of lost Royal Disney Daughters. These movies undermine the feminist notion that broken homes produce well adjusted children with the same frequency as unbroken homes.
Disney Princesses promote the idea that good people are beautiful and bad people are ugly. This promotes the ideal that women with “unconventional” body types are, necessarily bad.[2] But on the other hand, it promotes the idea that women can be smart and beautiful.

The real problem with the feminist critique of Disney Princesses is this: A feminist protagonist makes a bad movie. I don’t care to watch movies where ugly girls find mediocre young men. I can find that in my real life.

[1] Thank you Stephanie Claire Melkonian.
[2] Where would I be without Emily Kathryn Bell?

Indiana Lessons: Catfishing 101

2006-09-20T17:01:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, while at dinner with my family, I learned something. Surprise!

Apparently, you can fish for catfish using only your arms. First, you go to a place with catfish (perhaps a special river). Second, you insert your arm into the river. Third, you wait. When a catfish (now, this is the gross part) suctions its way up your arm to your elbow, you jerk your arm out and then flip the catfish onto the riverbank. Then I guess you kill the catfish and eat it.

Short Disclaimer: I have only heard tell of this practice and I personally know no one who participates in this activity. I do not recommend that anyone use this entry as a guide for wilderness survival.

A Second Short Disclaimer: Catfish have teeth like things. This method may hurt more than other, traditional, methods of catfishing.

For those of you who do choose to use this in your next hunting and fishing expedition in spite of my warnings, I also can suggest a location for you to try your hand: on the side of highway 67 between Indianapolis and Martinsville. I think you just stop your truck on the side of the road and walk until you run into a river. You can also stop at a “campground” advertising overnight stays and the opportunity to fish for $3 on a painted piece of plywood. As you might suspect, I have not taken them up on this offer.

Alternatively, persons who crave catfish may choose to buy it from the grocery store. I checked www.peapod.com, you can have it delivered to your front door with twenty four hours notice.

I, for one, rest easier with the knowledge that I can have all the catfish I want without ever wallowing around on a riverbank for one. Phew! What a relief! I know you share my feelings about the necessity for reliable catfish suppliers.

Order quickly, I can assure you I will and I am going to stock up. In a frenzy of Google productivity, I have also searched for some catfish recipes. You can do many things with catfish. For example: you can barbeque it, you can roast it, you can bake it, you can blacken it, you can even serve it in a lovely Cajun etoufe. The phrase “spoiled for choice” comes to mind.

Long story short, I have discovered so many ways to serve catfish that I am thankful I don’t have to lay on my stomach with my arm in a river waiting for a catfish to give me a hickey.

2006-09-20T17:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, while at dinner with my family, I learned something. Surprise!

A Second Short Disclaimer: Catfish have teeth like things. This method may hurt more than other, traditional, methods of catfishing.

Alternatively, persons who crave catfish may choose to buy it from the grocery store. I checked www.peapod.com, you can have it delivered to your front door with twenty four hours notice.

Long story short, I have discovered so many ways to serve catfish that I am thankful I don’t have to lay on my stomach with my arm in a river waiting for a catfish to give me a hickey.

Um Mr. Blahnik? I need some new shoes.

2006-09-16T22:57:00.000-04:00

This summer, I have discovered a new hobby. I have, with the completion of my first half marathon, officially become a runner. I’m going to take this opportunity to congratulate myself.

However, there are some problems with my new passion. I like that runners smile and wave at each other when they pass on trails. I like flying down Bloomington’s rolling hills. I like the feeling of running with the wind at my back. I love running past the thirteen mile marker. I think it’s even better than the feeling of running past the finish line. (Although that was pretty fantastic too.)

I also love shoes. I am an equal opportunity shoe lover. I love flats and heels, stilettos, wedges, stacked pumps, kitten heels… I love round toes, pointy toes, square toes… I love practical black shoes, impractical Kelly green shoes and (of course) anything pink. My favorite pair of shoes is a particularly gorgeous pair of violet suede round toe pumps with metallic silver accents. I won’t leave home without them. These shoes are so special that they’ve inspired nervous breakdowns.

The problem is this: My two twin loves are at odds. After the completion of my half marathon, it was time for a new pair of running shoes. My mother took me to a very hard core running shoe store where a very hard core running shoe saleswoman fitted me for some very hard core running shoes.

I admitted the need for larger shoes and even accepted the necessity for “stability” shoes. I think we can all agree those were some MAJOR concessions, especially for a footwear connoisseur like me.

When the saleswoman and I had agreed on the classification and size, she brought me three pairs to try on. In my life, I have never seen three uglier shoes all grouped together. It was almost a crime. Three shoes, three brands, all were white with blue lines. In all three, the shade of blue was every eight year old boy’s favorite color. You know—the color I didn’t like when I was eight.

Out of pure desperation, I threatened the saleswoman with tears if she didn’t bring out some girl’s shoes. Seriously. I am not at a place in my life where I can just run in any shoes. I need shoes that look like a girl runs in them. I’m drawing my line in the sand and I’m not going to back down. (Maybe I should just go back to ballet. There was an activity with GREAT shoes: baby pink and satin with extra long ribbons!)

Eventually, I met with some success. I have “cranberry” accented running shoes. They aren’t perfect, but let’s face it: I’m never going to find suede or patent leather “stability” running shoes. They aren’t going to have fashionable wedge heels. But do they have to be hideous? Can’t somebody (ANYBODY) make running shoes that are also girly shoes? Is that too much to ask?

Running is not a manly activity like rugby or field hockey. Sure. Manly girls run. But so do girly girls. Who is going to make shoes for us?

Pluto Demoted: World Crisis to Follow

2006-08-26T15:58:00.000-04:00

I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Pluto is no longer a planet. It’s not enough to anymore to simply orbit the sun and have gravitational force strong enough to make the body spherical. If you want to be a planet, you must also clear the immediate surrounding area of other objects.

Pluto failed at this last requirement. Basically, if we had kept Pluto’s planet title, we’d have to promote three other solar bodies to planets. I think we can all agree that it’s easier to have eight planets than twelve.

To replace the classic mnemonic device, “My Very Earnest Mother Just Served Us Nine Pickles” to remember Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto, I suggest “Mice Very Easily Jar Single Unhappy Nebraskans. Those of you who are educators can thank me later.

Educators are not the only ones who will have to adjust some things after the dust settles on this planet thing. Planetariums will have to reorganize experiments. Textbook authors will have to rewrite entire chapters. And most importantly, astrologers will have to rework their charts.

Seriously. If Pluto’s not a planet anymore, who will direct the volatile emotions of Scorpios? The Wall Street Journal interviewed a renowned Australian astrologer named Milton Black. He claims “Scorpios can be extremely explosive, and very direct, and this could be the trigger that makes them explode.” Translation: Pluto may get so mad at its new galactic role that it sends one twelfth of the population into psychological collapse.

Here are some tips to assist you in navigating your way through the coming days and weeks:

1. Every twelfth driver will be experiencing some MAJOR road rage. Be warned.

2. Every twelfth waiter is going to spit in your soup. Stick to dry entrees and BYOB.

3. Go to work in an insane asylum. Those jobs can’t be outsourced and the industry will see a boom as one twelfth of the population is institutionalized.

4. Sales of Chinese placemats will skyrocket. The planets aren’t constant and can’t be relied upon, but no one’s moving the years around.

5. A few more marriages will end in divorce. All those people who married Scorpios thinking their signs were compatible will break it off now that a non-planet rules the sign.

6. The Apocalypse: According to my sources, Condoleezza Rice, Hillary Clinton and Laura Bush are all Scorpios. Condi, who has carefully orchestrated the diplomatic efforts of the State Department, will act rashly and the situation in the Middle East will devolve. Laura will leave a child or two behind. Hillary…well…she won’t change that much.

I don't ask for much from this life.

2006-08-24T20:24:00.000-04:00

Someday I will have a black Mercedes sedan with a bright blue license plate. My car will have the back windows tinted. It will always be immaculately clean. I will never see the front seat of my ‘Cedes. I will sit in the back.

Bright blue is not my favorite color. It is the color of a livery license plate.

The livery license plate dates back to the days when the moneyed classes had to hire a staff of people to care for their horses and maintain their carriages. *sigh* I don’t know for sure, but I’d guess that those were the days.

The livery license plate also comes with certain privileges. First, they are the ones who get to use the standing only spaces by the doors of important office buildings. Second, they incur the envy of those in the know but not (yet) in enough money.

But having enough money is not the only issue. You also have to justify (at least to yourself) that the expense is worth it. That would be pretty easy under either of the following two circumstances:

1. Your time is too valuable to waste in commute and you have to travel too quickly to take advantage of public transit. If, for some reason, your job requires more time than can be allotted to the office, one solution is to work during your commute. Along the lines of Humphrey Bogart in the classic film Sabrina, be sure to let your driver overhear your phone conversations. That way he can send his child to an expensive cooking/finishing school on the Continent so he/she will be prepared for your (rather democratic) nuptials.

2. You are such a bad driver that the combined cost of your insurance, car maintenance and moving violation fines are significantly higher than the cost of a full time driver and his insurance. To simplify the math, I am holding the cost of car, fuel and standard maintenance constant. Aspire to greatness, but the chauffer alone is going to cost you $46,000 a year, and that doesn’t include his insurance. On the other hand, long before you approach the point that hiring a driver makes fiscal sense, your license has been confiscated so you don’t really have a choice. Public transportation is never a choice. It is a necessity.

In my case, it will be a long time before I am important enough to earn a livery license plate on my sleek Mercedes. Therefore, I will have to work hard to incur driving expenses.

Wish me luck. Perhaps you should also stay off the roads. I’m on a mission.

PETA 1 Food Snobs 0

2006-08-22T20:45:00.000-04:00

Thank God someone’s keeping score. Otherwise we might have missed PETA’s big victory this week. In Chicago, it is now illegal to sell foie gras. Those people who have made fattened duck liver pate a staple in their diet will have to go to Schaumberg or (Heaven forbid) Skokie to get their fix.

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals finally have something to celebrate. People Eating Tasty Animals will have to sate their hunger with one less option on the menu.

As a resident of Chicago, I will sleep better tonight with the knowledge that no one has been force feeding any ducks on my watch. I’d just die to think that somewhere there was poultry abuse going down. I think this ban on the sale of foie gras should count as a major victory for those feelers of animal pain and champions of animal rights, PETA.

I can also attest, as a resident of Chicago, that I have never ordered any foie gras at any restaurant. Nor have I purchased any at a grocery store. In fact, I’ve never eaten with anyone who has either ordered foie gras in my presence or, to my knowledge, purchased any at a store. I’d love to tell you that I took a moral stand on the pressing issue of abused ducks, but the truth is I hate birds. I certainly have no problem eating them. In fact I find their continued existence irksome. So a tireless advocate of avian rights I am not. I just don’t really like fattened duck livers and I don’t know many people who do. If I want to eat foods high in fat, I want ice cream or French fries like a normal person.

The point is, by my (unscientific) estimation, PETA has managed to save about six ducks from being overfed. Instead, these ducks will be roasted and served with a red wine sauce, maybe with some asparagus and couscous on the side. For that, I am eternally grateful. I like roast duck a lot.

PETA’s initiatives don’t usually meet with this kind of success. What’s different now? I’m guessing the opposition wasn’t very organized. The people who care the most, food snobs, are by definition snobby. The seventeen people who care deeply probably don’t even like each other, not to mention people who don’t really care for foie gras. They couldn’t really get a grassroots opposition campaign off the ground. So they had to forfeit.

Fortunately for the rest of us, PETA has once again missed the point. Even if we discount all of the unethical treatment people endure and prioritize poorly treated animals, foie gras is hardly the biggest issue we should confront. What about veal? Or abused puppies? And kittens who have not been spayed or neutered? There are bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

And someone should tell PETA that ducks fed organic duck feed are happier. They also taste better. Makes ‘em a little bit gamier.

The Worst Sound in the World

2006-08-17T23:27:00.000-04:00

If I had to make a list of pet peeves, at the top would be the Chicago accent. It’s the bright A sound. It grates on my ears until they bleed with the pain of poorly spoken English. What is it about people from Skokie that makes them unable to say Chi-cAH-go? Why do they find it necessary to launch the word from their nostrils like an ICBM?

I find it so obnoxious that I am going to capitalize every A in the rest of this post while I tell you All the greAt things About the windy city.

No description of ChicAgo would be complete without the MAgnificent Mile—shopping district of internAtional repute. It’s got every mAjor depArtment store: Nordy’s, SAk’s, MAcy’s And NeimAn’s. Not to mention ChAnel, Louis Vuitton And Brooks Brothers. And the best pArt? Nine percent sAles tAx. The rest of the city sets it At 8.75%, but we’d like to stick it to the tourists who visit our fAir city by chArging them An extrA .25%. Y’All cAn thAnk us lAter.

The LAke Shore—mile After mile of pArk. It’s got running trAils, bike trAils, picnic AreAs, not to mention gorgeous LAke MichigAn. Check out North Avenue BeAch to check out the beAutiful people. You will need to designAte someone to be Vice-President of Checking People Out. The LAke Shore hAs everything I’ve ever wAnted in the greAt outdoors plus fire pits.

Wriggleyville—home of the fAmous Wrigley field And the ChicAgo Cubs. They’re known the world over As the lovAble losers but I think it’s importAnt to know that they’re our lovAble losers. As A greAt professor once sAid, the Cubs Are kind of like the French except thAt the French Are in their second century of rebuilding. Those losers Are not loveAble.

Historic Hyde Park—home of my fAvorite Ivory Tower, the University of ChicAgo. We won the first HeismAn trophy. We split the first Atom. And we hAve more Nobel Prize winners thAn you.

The Art Institute—All I hAve to sAy About this greAt institution is thAt you hAve to go see the ChAgAll window. It’s breAth-tAking.

PizzAriA Uno—It’s not the sAme As the chAin. It’s AmAzing. It’s unbelievAble. They invented the deep dish pizza (with the sAuce on top of course) And they mAke it better thAn Anyone. It’s the only pizzA worth the hour And A hAlf wAit. Trust me.

A finAl note: my other ChicAgo pet peeve is this: SuburbAnites who tell people they live in ChicAgo. I know you wAnt to, but you don’t. Stop lying. You’re only from ChicAgo if you’ve ridden the Red Line north of HowArd and South of GArfield. All you kids from EvAnston, Skokie And the Region (somebody remind them they’re in IndiAnA.

Suburban Manifesto

2006-08-14T15:57:00.000-04:00

A spectre is haunting America—the spectre of suburban sprawl. All the powers of the Midwest have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: the mom and pop store, the town square, the local church, and the Chicago City Council.

Where is the chain superstore that has not been decried as suburban sprawl by local shops? Where is the strip mall that has not hurled back the branding reproach of suburban sprawl against the more successful malls, as well as against other new expansions?

Two things result from this fact:

I. Suburban sprawl is already acknowledged by all America to be itself a power.

II. It is high time that suburban sprawlers should openly, in the face of the whole world, publish their views, their aims, their tendencies, and meet this nursery tale of the spectre of suburban sprawl with a manifesto of the phenomenon itself.

The enemy is not urban sprawl. Cities are beautiful. Urban sprawl has architectural merit. Suburban sprawl has no aesthetic value. It’s big and ugly. The walls are corrugated aluminum. The façades are cinderblocks broken up with doors and small windows. The homes are identical—they are vinyl siding monstrosities. The churches connote storage units before they do Heaven.

I’m not in favor of keeping Wal-Mart out of small towns. Just the opposite. Wal-Mart is the world’s largest private employer. Towns of all sizes are indebted to Wal-Mart. I see a strong resemblance between Super Target and perfection. There is something great about a store that sells patio furniture, all six seasons of West Wing and 24-packs of diet coke. Don’t get me wrong.

But we’ve all read Fountainhead. We know that there can be beauty in utility. We know that the world is better for the extra effort. Is it suddenly too much to ask? We can have spacious, efficient interiors with elegant exteriors.

And since when did everything have to be so far apart? Why do I have to get on the highway to get from Target to Cracker Barrel? The buildings are so rectangular they’d form the pieces to the easiest game of Tetris ever. Let’s pack ‘em in like little sardines.

The beauty of suburbia is that you feel like you’re in a small town but you still have access to the excitement of a big city. The beauty of a small town is that everything’s close together.

The new suburbia is not associated with a great city. And it no longer feels like a small town. Vote accordingly with your dollars.

Life Lesson Friday: How to Talk your New Husband into Cooking

2006-08-11T15:47:00.000-04:00

NOTE: My dear, sweet mother would never do anything like this to a man as great as my daddy.

In the battle of the sexes, women tend to face the most formidable opposition in the kitchen. During courtship, the way to a man’s heart may very well be through his stomach, but after you’ve got the ring, it’s time for the bait and switch. In order to ensure an equitable division of labor in the kitchen, the tasks of cooking and cleaning must be divided between husband and wife.

To accomplish this momentous task, I have four simple rules:
1. Less Dishes are More—Let’s say you plan to serve asparagus. Asparagus can be steamed, sautéed or grilled. Any of these options require at least the following dishes: a pot or pan, a spatula, a cutting board, a knife and a serving dish. And that’s all before it reaches the dinner plate. Or it can be served raw. That only requires dinner plates. You can even plan to eat it with your fingers, saving on critical silverware items.

2. Serve Economies of Scale—At first, there are only two of you. Most recipes are for at least four people. This means you can cook once and eat twice. In the spirit of Rule Number 1, you can divide the food straight from the cooking pans into halves on two plates then cling-wrap the plates for refrigeration after you finish eating the first night. For a stubborn husband, use reminders like, “Oh, honey, you don’t want to eat too much tonight, what will you have tomorrow?” or “Careful not to get any food on the edges of the plate, dear. I’d hate for the cling wrap to come unsealed in the ‘fridge over night.”

3. Serve it When it’s Done—If you finish cooking at 4:30, then dinner’s served. If you finish at 8:15, guess what? Dinner’s served. Don’t worry about convenience. Don’t even think about planning.

4. Persistence and Dedication—Don’t be the first to crack if you want to come out of the kitchen with a victory.

According to experts, your new husband will experience a four stage process over the course of approximately two weeks. [1] First, he will be puzzled. He’s not quite sure where the lines are for criticism just yet. Second, he will be in denial. He will claim that you are working your way through a normal learning curve. You have to outfox him and work to cook consistently inedible food. Third, he will experience a short period of disappointment because, let’s face it, your skills don’t match his mother’s cooking. Finally, he will begin to accept cooking inadequacy as a fact and work to solve the problem by learning to cook himself.

Finally, I have four foolproof recipes to get him cooking in no time.

Mama’s Pecan Pie:
Sprinkle granulated sugar allover the bottom of the pie tin. Gently lay crust on top. It doesn’t really matter what else you do here. The sugar will caramelize on the bottom of the pan and you won’t be able to get the pie out. WARNING: Do not serve to persons with dentures or to those who may soon undergo any dental procedure.

Delicious Chicken Surprise:
Prepare chicken with your favorite combination of spices. Bake in tepid oven for three hours. Serve chicken. The surprise is that the chicken will still bleed at this point.

Quiche Lorrain’t:
Prepare traditional quiche Lorraine with milk, bacon, onions and Swiss cheese. Substitute more milk for the eggs. Bake until it sets. Hint: It won’t ever set without eggs. Serve in bowls.

Fancy Frankfurters:
In a 9X13 casserole dish, place twelve hot dogs side by side. Cover with sliced cheddar cheese. In a separate bowl, prepare powdered biscuit mix, be sure to avoid thorough mixing. Pour biscuit batter over cheddar cheese. Bake inadequately in an oven heated to 350°F. You’ll know it’s done when the hot dogs are tepid, the cheese is 70% melted and the biscuit batter is lumpy but still doughy. Serve every Friday so you can call him at work and say something like, “Sweet Cakes, can you guess what day it is? Yup! It’s Fancy Frankfurter Friday!”

[1] The cited expert is my mother. Let me tell you, it’s great to have the opportunity to learn from a master. I LOVE YOU MOM!

I Love the UN, Part 2

2006-08-10T17:00:00.000-04:00

Of the thirty one hundred NGOs with consultative status at the UN, three hundred thirteen are explicitly women’s groups. That’s ten percent. And you know what? Thank God. I was concerned that women might be underrepresented in the Man’s World of international politics. Turns out, I was wrong. Here is a sampling of a few of my favorites. Just like yesterday, I’ve let the groups speak (mostly) for themselves.

Coalition of Activist Lesbians—these girls work with the U.N. Convention to eliminate all forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW). Between that and keeping the flannel industry booming, they must be busy. Thank goodness they have time to talk to the UN. http://home.vicnet.net.au/~coal/welcome.html

International Association for Feminist Economics--We are a continually expanding group of scholars, policy professionals, students, advocates and activists interested in empowering and improving the well-being of women-and other under-represented groups-around the world. I have not taken many economics classes, so correct me if I’m wrong here. I thought economics was based on math. I didn’t think math had much to do with gender. So what are feminist economics and how are they different from real economics? http://www.iaffe.org/

S.O.S. Femmes en Detresse—these lovely ladies work on a concrete, practical level providing services to women in difficulty. At the same time the association carries out policy advocacy- and awareness raising work on issues of violence against women and on the need to strengthen women’s rights in Algeria. If they provide knights in shining armor, sign me up. http://www.sos-femmesendetresse.org/article.php3?id_article=24

Sociologists for Women in Society—SWS is an international organization of social scientists—students, faculty, practitioners, and researchers—working together to improve the position of women within sociology and society in general. Are they concerned we won’t find continued use for women in society? I’m pretty sure everyone is in favor of women in society, they shouldn’t restrict membership to sociologists. Everyone should join this one. http://newmedia.colorado.edu/~socwomen/about/about.html

Women Against Rape—these girls want official condemnation of sexual violence, including racist sexual assault and the abuse of power and authority. They have opposed sexism and other discrimination by the police, Crown Prosecution Service, barristers and judges. They must face incredibly tough opposition from WIFR (Women in Favor of Rape). I mean really. Can’t we just assume everyone is against rape and get rid of the lobbying group? http://www.womenagainstrape.net/WhoWeAreContactUs/WhoWeAre.htm

World Alliance for Breastfeeding Action—WABA is a global network of organizations and individuals who believe breastfeeding is the right of all children and mothers and who dedicate themselves to protect, promote and support this right. WABA acts on the Innocenti Declaration and works in liaison with UNICEF. Why does it sound like New Mothers Gone Wild? Can we all agree that is something we’d rather not see? http://www.waba.org.my/wwaba.htm

World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts—WAGGGS is a worldwide Movement providing non-formal education where girls and young women develop leadership and life skills through self-development, challenge and adventure. Girl Guides and Girl Scouts learn by doing. I’m not going to judge this one. Even Kofi needs his cookies. Also, the UN could use some practice making situpons and completing the Herstory Badge like my Daisy Troup did in kindergarten. http://www.wagggsworld.org/en/about

There is one women’s group I would like to see talking to the UN. It’s not there, so I think I’m going to start it. It’s called Women Against the United States Payment of United Nations Dues or WAUSPUND for short. We’re making t-shirts. It’s going to be glorious.

I Love the UN, Part 1

2006-08-09T16:48:00.000-04:00

The following is a partial list of NGOs in Consultative Status with the UN. These groups, among others, may advise the UN on policy issues in their area of expertise. In 1948, there were 45 Consultative NGOs. Now there are more than 3100. The blurbs are taken almost entirely from each organization’s website. Seriously.

Art of Living Foundation—The Art of Living Foundation is the largest volunteer based Non-Governmental Organization in the world. The Foundation's service projects, programs on yoga, meditation and stress elimination have benefited over 20 million people representing all walks of life, religions, cultures and traditions. Sign me up to save the world through yoga and meditation! http://www.artofliving.org/

Befrienders Worldwide—we work worldwide to provide emotional support, and reduce suicide. We listen to people who are in distress. We don't judge them or tell them what to do - we listen. And I have no problem with that, in fact I support it. The question is, unless the UN is standing on some kind of window ledge thinking about jumping, why is it listening to them? http://www.befrienders.org/

Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility—
1. We foster and support public discussion of, and public responsibility for decisions involving the use of technology in systems critical to society.
2. We work to dispel popular myths about the infallibility of technologies.
3. We challenge the assumption that technology alone can solve political and social problems.
4. We critically examine social and technical issues within the information technology profession, both nationally and internationally.
5. We encourage the use of information technology to improve quality of life.
6. We party like it’s 1999
http://www.cpsr.org/

European Bureau for Lesser Used Languages—In today's EU there are some 46 million speakers of European lesser-used, regional and minoritised languages. EBLUL, with a mandate from its democratically elected Member State Committees, represents the interests of these language communities at regional, state and European level. They tried picketing the General Assembly but no one could read the signs. http://www.eblul.org/

International Federation of Hard of Hearing People—The International Federation of Hard of Hearing People consists of National Associations of and for hard of hearing and late deafened people, and parents' and professional organizations. The board members of IFHOH carry out their work on a voluntary basis. They are working to help non-member countries develop consumer based organizations which can provide leadership for their people with hearing loss. Please note: this organization is separate from any organization promoting the interests of deaf people, whether or not they have become deaf or were born that way. http://www.ifhoh.org/

Private Agencies Collaborating Together—PACT is a networked global organization that builds the capacity of local leaders and organizations to meet pressing social needs in dozens of countries around the world. Our work is firmly rooted in the belief that local communities must be the driving force in ending poverty and injustice. Do we have to collaborate together? Just wait until I start my competing organization, PACABO—Private Agencies Collaborating All By Ourselves. http://www.pactworld.org/

World Leisure and Recreation Association—The goals of the commission are connected with the three magor goals of WLRA (Discovery, Delivery and Advocacy) in the following ways: a) by promoting awareness of the significance of leisure and recreation in older peoples lives b) by giving visibility to the rapidly increasing numbers of older people by the Association c) by providing a discussion of global issues affecting older poeples leisure worldwide d) by conducting quality research, providing meaningful education, and effective management focused on leisure in the later years and e) by supporting the development of national policies and programs pertaining to the interests of needs of the elderly. And they’d love to get right to work on those goals, just as soon as they finish watching this bocce ball tournament on TV. http://utopia.duth.gr/~yharahou/wlra.htm

Little People are Shorter than Me

2006-08-08T16:51:00.000-04:00

As the shortest person in my family, I have long borne the brunt of mean-spirited jokes about my stature. My teenage cousins have given me noogies for years now, and my little sister surpassed me in height when she was twelve years old. Even worse, my own mother recently informed me that she prefers tall grandchildren to short ones. She thinks I should be sure to marry someone significantly taller than I am to makes sure my progeny are acceptable in her eyes.

To make myself feel better, I’ve decided this installment will deal with people so short that their height is classified as a disability. That’s right, we’re going to make fun of Little People.

The term “Little Person” is an umbrella term which encompasses both dwarfs and midgets.

Although there are more than two hundred varieties of dwarf, most of which have their origins in genetic defects. The threshold height for dwarfs is about four feet ten inches for a fully developed adult male, females are about four feet nine inches short. Some dwarfs are as little as three feet tall. The most common cause of dwarfism is skeletal dysplasia. Essentially, bones and cartilage do not form correctly. This kind of malformation affects between .0025% and .005% of the population. People who are dwarfs because they have skeletal dysplasia are often disproportionate. They have relatively long torsos and large heads with short arms and legs.

Midgets, on the other hand, are quite a different category. They are also unusually short, but are always appropriately proportioned. Again, the height cut-off for midgets is four feet ten inches. Midgets generally suffer from a shortage of growth hormone and other pituitary gland disorders. They do not like to be called midgets because they believe the name is pejorative. I can understand that, given that I use the term to mean “the group of people my mother is most happy I cannot claim membership in.”

Little people are perfectly suited for many lines of work, including but certainly not limited to:
1. Jesters in the Spanish Court
2. Professional Wrestling
3. Mini-Me Impersonators
4. Boom Rigging Attendants, (they won’t have to duck to tack or jibe)
5. Objects to be Tossed by Midget Tossers during Midget Tossing Competitions
6. Professional Skateboarding
7. Models for Persons Imitating the Art of Diego Velazquez

What is White Trash?

2006-08-07T17:25:00.000-04:00

Urban Dictionary, the popular online reference, defines the social group "White Trash" largely in economic and geographic terms, or through association with Paris Hilton. While socio-economic status, geography and affinity for or aversion to Paris Hilton are each valid means of categorization, I am not convinced Urban Dictionary has truly captured what it means to call someone white trash. I shall attempt to rectify this shortcoming now.

White trash is not just confined to lower income brackets or to rural America. And it is certainly not limited to poor people in rural America. White trash is just as prevalent in the upper income brackets and in urban areas.

A person who is white trash is, first and foremost, uncultured and content to remain so. She has not heard of Jane Austen but has read every harlequin romance ever published. He subscribes to Motorcycle Monthly, R.V. Maintenance and NASCAR Review, but won’t read The New Yorker while he waits in his dentist’s office. She owns four uncoordinated Louis Vuitton bags but can’t name three other couture houses. He’s seen Alan Jackson and Kid Rock in concert four times each, but does not know the difference between a piece of music and a song.[1]

The common factor in each of these four scenarios is not that the consumer is without disposable income. White trash individuals consistently purchase “low” rather than “high” culture items when high culture is a legitimate option. This sort of monochromatic consumption is almost excusable in remote areas where choice is limited by geography. It is, however, completely unacceptable to live in a large city and avoid the opera, the symphony, museums and exhibitions.

Of course, I believe that people should be allowed to spend their money where ever they’d like. I do not advocate subsidizing the arts. And I have no problem with harlequin romances, obscure interest publications, Louis Vuitton, Alan Jackson, Kid Rock, or rural America.

A person who wishes to avoid the moniker “white trash” should actively avoid concentrating his or her disposable income in any single area. Instead, he or she should have as large a consumption bundle as possible. Thus, the White Trash Threshold varies based on levels of disposable income. The more money an individual has, the larger the variety of culture he should consume. Obviously, the converse is also true: the less disposable income an individual has, the less he or she can be expected to consume. The geographic distinction is analogous. Ballet options in Rutland, North Dakota (pop 220) are significantly limited when compared to those in New York City, New York (pop 8,104,079). It is acceptable to never see the ballet in Rutland, it is unacceptable in New York.

Budget accordingly.

[1] A song must have words, a piece of music is a more general term.

Life Lesson Friday: How to End a Failed Relationship with Poise and Dignity

2006-08-04T16:07:00.000-04:00

The subject of this Life Lesson Friday is rather unpleasant. Nobody likes to admit it’s time to end a relationship, but once you’ve come to that conclusion, it’s difficult to chart a coherent course of action.[1] Here are a few tips and a Break-Up Mad Lib to make the whole process easier on you both.

When you’re breaking up, make it quick. It’s like tearing off a Band-Aid, the faster the better.
1. Sit down somewhere public where your significant other will be too embarrassed to make a scene.
2. Have alternate transportation plans so you don’t have to walk or drive her home after you’ve broken the news.
3. Have any personal effects you may have retained from your significant other in a box with you so they will not have to come by and get them.
4. DO NOT START DATING THEM AGAIN. People don’t change that much. The same reason you want to break up with them today will be the reason you want to break up with them again. And again. And again. Do yourself a favor and just say no to the break up/make up game.
5. If you’ve been dating for more than a month and a half, you’re not in middle school and you live in the same town, you can’t break up on the phone, by email, in a letter, over AIM, etc. You’ve got to do it in person. Suck it up.
6. Don’t wait until you’ve found someone better. That’s just classless.

Now that you’ve absorbed these useful pointers, you’re probably wondering what to say. Well I’ve solved that problem as well. Simply complete the Mad Lib below then read it to your soon to be ex-girlfriend/boyfriend.

Hello, [Boyfriend/Girlfriend’s Name]. So glad you could meet me here at [Place Name]. You look [positive but vague adjective]. Do you realize we’ve been dating for [length of time]? That’s [length of time in months/nine] human gestation periods and it’s just too long. You are a [positive but vague adjective] person and I’m sure you will find someone worthy of you someday soon. It’s really not you, it’s me.

For a while now, I’ve begun to notice that you tend to [irritating verb] frequently. It makes me want to [painful verb clause (i.e. scrape my eyeballs out with a spoon)]. Also, you tend not to [necessary hygiene activity] frequently. I really find that [negative adjective].

So when I say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” you can feel safe in the knowledge that I’m lying to you. And do you really want to be with someone who lies to you? [brief moment for response] I didn’t think so.

Anyways, the long and short of it is that this relationship is just not meant to be. In fact, I was speaking with [Pick One: God/Jesus/Buddha/The Dali Lama/Mother Earth/Pope Benedict the XVI] and [he/she] really agrees with me. [God/Jesus/Buddha/The Dali Lama/Mother Earth/Pope Benedict the XVI] is leading me in a new direction. A direction without you. And it’s time for me to get going.

[1] For 42 signs your relationship has failed, please refer back to last Friday’s Life Lesson

Fat People Actually Think They are Healthy People

2006-08-03T17:38:00.000-04:00

According to a Thomson Medstat survey, 40% of people classified as obese or morbidly obese claim to practice healthy eating habits and exercise “vigorously” three times per week. The study also found that persons of normal weight eat no fewer meals or snacks than obese persons.

Just to be crystal clear, these people have a Body Mass Index of thirty or higher. To see if you qualify, divide your weight in pounds by your height in inches squared and multiply by seven hundred three. Overweight people score between twenty five and thirty and normal people score between eighteen and twenty five. Healthy eating habits are detailed at www.mypyramid.gov. Vigorous exercise is activity that causes large increases in heart and breathing rates.

Barring divine intervention, it is basically impossible to rigorously follow the guidelines, frequently exercise vigorously and be classified as morbidly obese. You just can’t do it. These people are clearly lying. The question, then, is this: How do they get away with it?

Morbid obesity is not like six alpha mercaptopurine sensitivity [1] or Hydroxyglutaricaciduria.[2] I don’t even know what those things are. You could very easily say to me, “the reason I am the way I am is because I am particularly sensitive to six alpha mercaptopurine.” I would smile, nod and believe you. But the morbidly obese wear their disease on their sleeve, so to speak.

To the morbidly obese, I offer this advice:

1. Don’t lie to me. I am neither stupid nor blind.

2. Follow the lead of the truly great and truly obese: Marlon Brando. You’ve got to own it.

3. Actually exercise vigorously and practice healthy eating habits. Pretty soon you will convince me.

[1] For more information on six alpha mercaptopurine sensitivity see http://www.webmd.com/search/search_results/default.aspx?query=6+alpha+mercaptopurine+sensitivity+
[2] For more information on Hydroxyglutaricaciduria you will have to look somewhere other than webmd.com they don’t have any articles on the subject. That’s how rare it is.

Fun and Easy Craft Project: How the Women's Lib Movement has Ruined Women

2006-08-02T16:24:00.000-04:00

I have been looking around at the new fashions for fall and have noticed the following short-coming: There are hardly any hand-knit lace accents on this season’s sweaters, jackets or dresses. Not to be deterred, I have come up with a solution; I’m going to knit my own! So you can all join me in my embellished apparel, I have included the pattern.[1]

Cast on 15 stitches, knit 1 row.
Row 1: k2, yo, k2tog, k1, yo, k2tog, k1, skp, yo, k1, k2tog, yo, k2.
Row 2 and all even rows: *k3, p3, repeat from *, end k3.
Row 3: k2, yo, k2tog, k1, yo, k2tog, k1, skp, yo, k1, k2tog, yo, k2.
Row 5: k2, yo, k2tog, k2, yo, k3tog, yo, k2, k2tog, yo, k2.
Row 7: k2, yo, (k2tog) twice, yo, k3, yo, (k2tog) twice, yo, k2.
Row 9: k2, yo, k2tog, k1, yo, k2tog, k1, skp, yo, k1, k2tog, yo, k2.
Repeat rows 1-10 for pattern.

Perhaps we will gather together in a small space without climate control and work together! I’ll bring the knitting silk we’ll desperately need. Also, you’ll note that I’ve reproduced the pattern in a small font size so we must squint to read it. That way we can pretend we don’t have the convenience of high watt light bulbs. Don’t worry if you’re not sure what the letters stand for, I don’t either. But I’m certain that trial and error will produce the yards and yards of lace we’ll need to trim our modest, floor-length skirts. I expect have my lace finished sometime before Christmas, 2075.

Just to put this in context, in the Victorian Era, we would have squeezed this knitting project between getting up at dawn, sewing our own clothes on the brand new pedal-powered treadle sewing machine, raising babies, some nominal farm-work (like retrieving eggs from chickens), and raising babies. Thank God we didn’t have to worry about making informed decisions at the polls or we might have run out of time to make all that lace.

The point is, Victorian women did it all: they ran successful households, raised families—don’t tell me that’s less work than a full time job—and still had time to make lace. Also, these women could understand that pattern without ever going to an institution of higher education. So what’s changed since the 1860’s? We became educated. We became enfranchised. We became employed. We became liberated.

But are we more intelligent? More useful? Better off? The answer is a resounding NO! I want suffrage, sure. And I believe an educated population should choose its leaders, so I’m happy to be in school. But I’d trade a job and “liberation” for the ability to read that pattern any day.

When the FemMaj claims to represent women, remember this: they don’t represent me.

[1]T his is by far the simplest pattern I found in an extensive (4 minute) search of the “internet,” another resource unavailable to Victorian women.

10 Ways to Spot a Libertarian in a Bar

2006-08-01T11:56:00.000-04:00

1. They are all boys. Most girls understand that we need a few rules. Boys are less likely to understand the idea of ordered liberty.

2. He is wearing nerdy boy clothes—i.e. a white t-shirt, a sweater vest, wrinkled khakis and the leather jacket his mom bought him in the fifth grade. Is it more sad that the coat still fits him twelve years later or that he thinks it still looks good twelve years later?

3. He has messy hair. It was recently trimmed, but he has some serious bed-head, and not in the good way. More in the “I don’t own a mirror” way.

4. He’s with fewer than three friends. Libertarians don’t really make lots of friends. They tend to be paranoid about their contact information and are hesitant to release it to their acquaintances. This makes it hard to organize them in groups.

5. He is standing outside the bar. He’ll tell you he prefers the unfettered feeling of the great outdoors. Don’t believe him. It’s late at night and he’s chilling out on a sidewalk. There is nothing great or unfettered about it.

6. He can’t get in because he doesn’t believe in government identification. Libertarians don’t believe the government should have the right to determine who can and cannot drive. Nor should they have such critical information as his height, weight, eye color and birthday on record. He refuses to get a driver’s license and the bar won’t take his birth certificate and baby picture as ID.[1]

7. The libertarian in the bar is the one smoking pot. College libertarians have considered their political priorities and have placed marijuana legalization at the top of the list. Obviously this is a group that is going places.

8. He thinks he’s way cooler than he is. In my experience, libertarians have incredibly inflated egos. They seem to think that everyone secretly agrees with them but that no one is gutsy enough to come out and say it. This “Me Against the Music” mentality makes our libertarian friend believe he has dared to be different. This is categorically untrue.

9. Because he’s so cool, he hits on all the girls. They smile politely and then laugh at him once they are inside. Actually, girls don’t save this behavior for libertarians. We’ll find ways to laugh at you no matter what. We’re resourceful.

10. His mom has to pick him up from the bar because he can’t drive. He’s still hitting on girls from the back window of her station wagon. None of them offer their phone number. At this point, they don’t wait until he’s gone to laugh at him.

[1] Look up Libertarian Presidential Candidate Badnarik. He refuses to get a driver’s license. It’s hard to tell if this is on principle or out of necessity as he has been pulled over so many times that he probably couldn’t get a license even if he wanted one.

10 Ways to Spot a Communist in a Bar

2006-07-31T14:01:00.000-04:00

1. Communists wear Anarchy T-Shirts and cargo pants, all in drab colors. The handy thing about commies is that they are quite willing to label themselves. It saves time and lets other bar patrons who to avoid.

2. No makeup. Commie girls are low maintenance. They won’t be restrained by your bourgeois conventions of beauty. They know they are just fine the way God made them. Except they don’t believe in God.

3. As you know, communist economies fail so commies must cut corners where they can. To make ends meet, they cut costs by wearing their hair in dreadlocks. This allows them to save on haircuts, shampoo, conditioner, hairspray, hairdryers, straighteners, curling irons, hair ties, brushes, combs, gel, mousse, and pomade. Obviously these savings are well worth the sacrifice of having ugly hair.

4. They accessorize with tattoos. Some people say the only safe tattoo is your mother’s name because it won’t ever change. That’s not true for communists because they don’t acknowledge the legitimacy of the traditional family structure. If you want something that will really last, cover yourself in the symbols of your movement and inscribe the names of its intellectual fathers into your biceps.

5. Communists take turns drinking from the same pitcher. Don’t think of it as “my beer,” think of it as “our beer.” If they all had glasses, it would be too much like something they could call “private property.” And just in case you’re a germaphobe, remember, alcohol sterilizes so you have nothing to worry about.

6. They make the guy with the most money pay for everyone. Think of it as ‘trickle-up economics.’ If we work together, we can start redistributing income from the bottom up!

7. They don’t buy drinks, they just walk up to other bar patrons and “share.” Sometimes commies confuse this behavior with meaningful social interaction. If a communist approaches you in a bar, let him or her know that your drink is just that: yours.

8. Communists aren’t quite sure what a factory looks like, but they bet it’s wa-a-a-ay grosser than this bar. They don’t want to be there and they don’t think anyone else does either. They’d really rather just have a drink of “our beer.”

9. They don’t know the Cold War is over and that they lost. Although it’s no fun to be the bearer of bad news, if you see a commie in a bar, go ahead and let ‘em know. It may be unsettling at first, but they will be better off in the long run.

10. They aren’t smiling. How could they be when you just told them all that bad news?

Life Lesson Friday: How to Recognize a Failed Relationship

2006-07-28T14:32:00.000-04:00

1. He hasn’t called you…ever.

2. She says she would have called you back but her voicemail is broken.

3. She pencils you in, forgets about the date then calls to cancel three weeks later.

4. You’re a party of one at a table for two.

5. You’ve been dating for a month and he/she still can’t spell your last name.

6. Your parents like you and they hate him. So does your sister, so does her best friend’s cousin’s boyfriend’s Great Aunt Mildred, so does the perfect stranger walking down the street…

7. Your best friend says it needs to end. You trust her to pick out your hair color and your swimsuit. Doesn’t she get some say in your boyfriend?

8. You two break up and make up like it’s your job.

9. Your boss is beginning to think it might be your job.

10. He is involved in a committed relationship with someone else.

11. She is “still trying to find herself.” This is a relationship. You aren’t treasure hunters.

12. He’s married or she’s separated. True love waits…until it’s final.

13. He/She is unemployed and has been for years.

14. He/She is forty seven and still in school.

15. She’s been out of school for two years, but she’s still using Daddy’s credit card.

16. He/She is on the list of registered sex offenders in your area.

17. You’re still dating and it’s been four years.

18. He lives at home with his parents. And he still has a curfew.

19. You’ve never met any of her friends.

20. You went to your Great Uncle Bernard’s funeral alone.

21. You went to his Great Aunt Gertrude’s funeral alone.

22. You went to your company Christmas party alone.

23. You went to dinner last Saturday alone.

24. You can’t remember what it’s like to do something with someone.

25. He proposed marriage to someone else while you were dating.

26. He’s old enough to be your father.

27. You’re hanging on to her until you find something better.

28. He/She still plays D&D religiously.

29. Your dog thinks he’s a loser. (Dogs know.)

30. Her dog thinks she’s a loser.

31. He doesn’t call when he says he will.

32. Her name is Candi, Candee or KandiLyn.

33. His Mom has trouble remembering your name, she doesn’t have Alzheimer’s and you have been dating her son for a year and a half.

34. Last year he got you something you wanted for your birthday. This year he re-gifted.

35. She hasn’t seen her parents in seven years and they aren’t in a maximum security penal facility.

36. When you say, “Maybe it’s time to find a new job; you’ve been a Whopper Flopper for six years now,” he says, “Oh come on now baby…don’t let the man get you down. I gotta do my own thing for a while right now.”

37. He/She has not learned the basic rules of grammar and/or cannot spell words that are too simple to make the SAT lists. (I know that’s not really a relationship issue, but we should work together to weed these people from the gene pool.)

38. Just ‘cause she dances go-go, that don’t make her a ho no, but there’s a good chance she is.

39. He doesn’t try to impress your father.

40. About once a year you find out about another surprise child he’s fathered with another woman.

41. He’s in the "movie" business, but the studio's not based in Hollywood.

42. He/She is gay and doesn’t know it yet. But his boyfriend/her girlfriend sure does…

Now that you know it’s time to call it off, what do you say? Be sure to end it with dignity and tell the truth. Say it with me: “It’s not me, it’s you.”

10 Ways to Spot a Liberal in a Bar

2006-07-27T09:01:00.000-04:00

1. Liberals are wearing jeans, t-shirts, flip flops and carrying backpacks—even after they have graduated from high school. They haven’t heard of irons and it shows.

2. They have “stylishly” messy hair. It is usually poorly maintained. Boys can hardly see out of the hair that flops over their eyes. Girls have long, stringy hair and no layers. I have three words for liberals in bars: DEEP CONDITIONING TREATMENT. You can even find one that wasn’t tested on animals.

3. Liberals are the ones having deep conversations about big life issues. They say things like “I just…I just don’t know how he can sleep at night when everyone knows he drives a car like that.”

4. Lefties sit in groups of two or three in booths. They don’t do well in crowds. It’s hard to plan the protest against the destruction of the habitat of the ring-tailed shrew if you’ve got to yell across the bar.

5. They still like white guys with guitars, but they can do without the drums. Liberals are the ones swaying with their eyes closed when emo music comes on. The quintessential liberal song ends with a skinny white boy yelling “your kind of truuuuuuuth is just a ghost of your lies.”[1]

6. Everybody knows liberals can’t hold their liquor. That’s why you can always find them nursing drinks. Liberals prefer insufflated consciousness altering substances which may or may not be used to alleviate the suffering of cancer patients in some western states if you catch my drift.

7. Both male and female libs drink appletinis. If his drink is garnished and it’s not a corona, he’s a lefty. If his drink is pink, he’s a lefty. If his drink is also served in bottles, he’s a lefty.

8. Liberal girls are liberated. As such, they will hit on boys like it’s their job. In fact, they advocate an addendum to the proposed Equal Rights Amendment which allows legal recourse for any male who is not an equal opportunity dater and discriminates against forward, liberated women.

9. Liberal boys are ok with girls who hit on them. They don’t feel emasculated when girls do all the legwork in the bar.

10. Liberal boys secretly want to buy liberal girls a drink, but they are afraid that it is inappropriate in the post women’s lib world. In a world where you can’t open doors, push in chairs or stand when a lady enters or exits the room, who’s to say you can buy her a beer? They don’t want to push the envelop because they are afraid of the righteous indignation of liberal girls. Talk about a new world order.

[1] The song is by Bright Eyes. “It’s called It’s Cool we can still be Friends.” I have rarely laughed harder ever in my life.

10 Ways to Spot a Conservative in a Bar

2006-07-26T13:00:00.000-04:00

1. Chinos, especially if they are in unusual colors. Girls, look for the boys wearing faded kelly green or sky blue chinos. Boys, find the girls in baby pink miniskirts. Everybody adds a ribbon belt (embroidered with sailboats, whales or martinis) and a polo. Avoid the popped collar. (That look is so over.) Also—this is key—the clothes will fit. Conservatives don’t walk around with their boxers hanging out of their pants or their bra straps showing. We have class.

2. Hair should be neatly styled. Conservatives have well maintained coifs. Liberals don’t. Boys should stay away from girls with lots of split ends. Girls, don’t be anything more than polite to him unless you can see his eyebrows. He’s a varsity conservative if he’s got a side part. Liberals will let their hair get all out of control, just like their protests. Conservatives keep it in line.

3. Her makeup will be tasteful at all times. He won’t be wearing any. Girls will keep the makeup within reason—no crazy colors or application techniques. It’s war paint, not face paint.

4. They have tan lines. One hand may be lighter than the other from long afternoons spent on the country club links. Or perhaps he or she has chic goggle lines from a recent skiing trip in Aspen. Better still, a swimsuit line from last weekend’s regatta… *sigh*

5. Conservatives cannot dance. While they are certainly willing to get down with their bad selves, the sight can be…uninspiring. The best part about conservatives breaking it down is that they almost never know how bad they really are. This lends a certain gravity to the performance.

6. Conservative boys are pounding back America’s Beverage of Choice: Beer. That is not to say young, male conservatives don’t like their hard liquor, but they like it in shots and they don’t waste time or calories on chasers. Conservative girls will drink cocktails and beer quite willingly. They are the ones who pretend they don’t take shots, but gentlemen, if you ask twice and say please they may be convinced.

7. Conservatives name drop like it’s their job. If he/she hasn’t told you which congressional Christmas cards he/she gets in the first three minutes of conversation, he/she is not conservative. Move along.

8. Conservatives have good taste in music. And they like to sing along. We’re the ones with our arms around each other’s shoulders swaying and singing along when Bon Jovi, Tom Petty and any other white guy with a guitar and a drum comes on.

9. Conservative girls are the ones not hitting on boys. They know their place. A conservative girl will catch your eye from across the bar, but it is the duty of the conservative boy to walk over and strike up a conversation.

10. Girls remember—we don’t have time for young men who don’t at least offer to buy us a drink. Liberal, conservative, democrat, republican, doesn’t matter if he doesn’t believe in chivalry.