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Well, now my marathon’s done, I gotta look to the future, gotta consider my next fitness goal. I think this is it.
Use your massive gut to facilitate the drinking of more beer! A large beer belly ensures the drinker more room in a crowded bar and also serves a built-in drink holder. Cheers!
Who’s with me?
Yesterday, I ran a marathon. See?
Well, most of a marathon. Sixty-one percent of a marathon, actually.
A marathon is 26.2 miles and I got through about 16 miles before my knee decided that was that and I wasn’t going any further. So while I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to complete the whole thing, 16 miles is no small achievement and I’m proud of myself. Not as proud as I could be, but still proud.
I did the marathon with Blaine. He did a lot better than I did: that he finished at all obviously means he did better than I did. He’s pretty good at this stuff, and he has a number of sub-four-hour marathons under his belt. He did a great job yesterday finishing in 4 hours 24 minutes, which is awesome considering how hilly the course was. I believe that had it been a flat course, he’d have made it in less than 4 hours, no problem. Giving him a high-five at the finish line was one of the best moments of my life.
Lookie there. Blaine, it turns out, is an endurance athlete and ballerina.
The course was out at the Camp Roberts National Guard Base. The base has been stripped to a shadow of its former glory, with buildings literally falling down from disuse and neglect. But it’s also got huge open spaces with meadows, rivers, a gazillion live oak trees, and all sorts of life everywhere you look. The track itself was all paved road, though the quality of the road varied dramatically. It was never as bad as the crappy part of my local neighborhood run, but the road has obviously seen better days.
As I mentioned before, the course was hilly. Mostly, it was gentle rolling hills that were no big deal. You have a little uphill, then a little downhill — it lets you use different muscles, so it’s actually kind of a break. But there were at least two big ones that I had to walk, and Blaine admitted to doing the same. But it wasn’t lost time. We both walked briskly and took the down-time to rehydrate or eat a gel — things that are much harder to do while actually running. One other bonus about the two big hills is I made two different friends on them. That was nice, but I don’t remember their names. I guess they were not meant to be my new BFFs.
But more than making up for the hills were aid-stations every two miles. Two miles until more food and drink is totally doable. They were stocked with oranges slices, banana halves, nut-bars, nutrition gels, water, and Gatorade. And — and I cannot overstate the importance of this — porta-potties. Forgive me if I don’t paint you a picture.
Because of how those stations were stocked, I will eschew bringing my own gels next time. I brought my water bottle with me, and would do that again; but next time I run Buzz, I’m not bringing any food since they’ve got a 26.2-mile feast of cold, functional rations.
Now, I was pretty nervous about my performance. Up until about half an hour into the run, I was seriously worried I’d get three miles in and that would be it for my stupid knee. I’d walk to the half-marathon turnaround point and trudge back, defeated and humiliated, bringing shame upon my family.
Instead, by the four-mile mark, I was feeling good, so decided I’d keep going. By the time I got to the six-mile mark/half-marathon turnaround, I decided I’d just keep going as far as I could. There were rescue vehicles if I needed one, and I’d never know how much I could do if I didn’t try. So I made the decision: I wouldn’t save anything for the trip back and I’d give it my all until I’d given it all and had nothing left to give.
And I’ll tell you, one of my proudest moments ever was seeing Blaine near the turnaround point, about 12 miles in. That felt really good.
Because the course was an out-and-back, you see each station, except the turnaround one, twice. By the time I got to the 12-mile mark the second time, it was the 14-ish-mile mark, and my knee hurt. At about 14-½ miles or so, I took a 15-minute break and sat on the grass and stretched everything I could. It was a welcome break. I saw a bunch of birds and squirrels and things. I was pretty close to the back of the pack by then, and only got passed by two old guys who were friendly. But otherwise, I was out in the middle of nowhere, and it was easy to believe I was as alone as it gets. It was a great little me-and-nature zen moment.
By the time I was finished stretching, I felt rested, refreshed, and ready to go kick some ass.
About three strides in, my knee disabused me of that idiotic notion.
“Acht!” it hollered at me. “Whut’re ye doin’ ye daft thin’? F’rteen mile’ wuzn’ enough f’r ye? Whut do ye thin’ I’m made ov?! Stop ‘r Ah’ll pain ye once agin twice ‘s mooch!”
I knew I was beat. I walked to the 16/10-mile aid station and got a lift to the finish line in by a lovely old volunteer couple in a pickup truck; the husband kept pointing out hot girls and the wife kept on pointing out hot guys. Despite the implication of failure, that ride was a hilarious high point of the day.
That I got as far as I did is a credit my overall good health — thanks, Kennedy! Thanks, my family! Thanks, my bike! — coupled with two different knee braces along with good shoes and socks. I suspect that if I’d brought a second general-purpose knee brace to replace the first one with, I’d have gotten to about the 18-mile mark, maybe farther. The brace was sort of shot by the time my knee was done — it was wet and tired from being used and sweated on. But my IT Band brace was a champ.
Since we signed up for the full marathon, Blaine and I each got a free bottle of wine. We got ours before the run. And in an uncharacteristically forward-thinking moment for us, both bottles went into the car and we didn’t have to carry them. That would have been awkward.
Also, after the run, Blaine enjoyed a cigarette(!) and though we had two giant cans of beer in the car, we didn’t open them for fear of getting a ticket or having to dump them out. We drank our giant beers while eating grilled cheese sandwiches at Tracy’s house about 15 minutes later.
I wish with all my heart I could get my beloved friends and family to experience a run like this. Being surrounded by people sharing an experience, getting cheered on by other runners, talking to volunteers, it’s a wonderful feeling, even if you’re going hella slow or doing one of the much shorter runs. It’s wonderful even if, like me, you don’t finish. The only thing the race was missing — and I say this with all honesty and zero snarkiness — was you.1
Excellent little video by my friend Anderson Cowan. It’s beautifully shot and a lot of fun. Watch with headphones, though, because there’s language.
I went to Paso Robles High School with my dad today. He teaches there, and has been assigned to a new room. I was helping him move some stuff and set up other stuff. It was, generally, a successful trip and I’m glad I helped him.
There’s also a ton of construction taking place there. In addition to lots of new buildings, old buildings are being modernized, and yet more buildings are waiting for those first buildings to get built so they can be modernized. One weird little side effect of all the construction was a sign we passed on the way to my dad’s classroom.
It probably says something about construction going on so be careful, but it looks like crap. Since it was ineffective anyway, I decided to fix it. I used a 24-inch end roll of newsprint for the paper. And since my dad is a math, geometry, and drafting teacher, I just used his equipment in the room to make the actual art.
The following, then, is the chronicle of what I did and how worked. And by the way, this is how grown men behave. I can tell because I’m 31.
I want to make a prediction about this and how long it will stay. On one hand, my confidence in the apathy of others is strong, but on the other hand, my belief in The Powers That Be utterly lacking a sense of humor — or sense of irony, considering the state of the original sign — is also pretty strong. Fortunately, my dad works there. He will give us updates as frequently as he is able. (Hi, dad!)
Fun factoids: I could not have made this post as quickly as I did without my iPhone, Dropbox, a borrowed laptop running Ubuntu, and Camera+ for the photo editing. Also thanks to my dad for that last photo. It didn’t occur to me till too late to get the far away shot. What a dummy.
update: The sign is looking a bit weathered. My kid helped me tape this up, and I kept asking her to use longer strips of tape so there would be more stickum on there, but she wouldn’t do it. So that’s her side flapping in the wind.
Ditch the sippy cups, you lame-o parents. It’s time for an upgrade. Juice boxes are SO pedestrian … so why not offer up your toddler a “Babyccino” — mini cappuccinos or frothy cups of steamed milk and foam?
They’re decaf, so that’s a blessing. (Via Coudal.)
Update: Renée informed me that “I give my baby cappuccino through my breast milk. Booya.” So I stand corrected.
The Washington state legislative branch legalized gay marriage. It’s just waiting for ratification from the governor. 90 days later, boat-loads of gay men and women will pump a ton of money into local economies by driving or flying to Washington to get married. I guess that would make them car- and plan-loads, not boat-loads, but that’s ok.
And look, actual facts, as reported by Fox “News”:
Washington state has had domestic partnership laws since 2007, and more than a dozen other states have provisions, ranging from civil unions to gay marriage, supporting same-sex couples.
Gay marriage is legal in New York, Connecticut, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont and Washington D.C.
Lawmakers in New Jersey are expected to vote on gay marriage next week, and Maine could see a gay marriage proposal on the November ballot.
Proposed amendments to ban gay marriage will be on the ballots in North Carolina in May and in Minnesota in November.
The San Francisco-based 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals on Tuesday ruled against California’s voter-approved same-sex marriage ban, known as Proposition 8.
I swear, it’s gonna be interracial marriage all over again. Your kids will condemn you for voting against same-sex marriage and you’ll deny you ever did it.
“Because nothing says ‘we should definitely have sex tonight’ quite like a picture of Archie with boobs.”
(Related: gender-swapped superheros.)
Evidently, backlighting your TV can reduce eyestrain and headaches while watching, especially when watching for a long time. The issue, it seems, is that your TV sort of fades into the background and your eyeballs freak out while trying to focus on the TV and also the wall behind the TV.
I built a weird little shelf to set a Goodwill lamp on top of for my setup. I did it to reduce glare on the screen while still having a little light so I can see my sandwich. I’d post pictures, but the best part about the setup is the you can’t really see it.
Now to get this sound issue sorted out. It’s always something.
No, really. Look:
That is incredibly cool. Even better than the real thing, no? I think I must have one. Maybe two. Maybe two in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll spray paint one one red and one brown to match the bedroom and Cassandra will love the bejesus out of it.
(Photo courtesy of fuck your noguchi coffee table.)
I doubt it. Mother Jones doubts it, too. There are too many conservative Republicans on the board — the board, by the way, that approved the horrible decision to stop funding Planned Parenthood.
State Rep. Maureen Walsh was one of just two Republicans to vote in favor of a bill to approve gay marriage in Washington state. During debate on Wednesday she gave an emotional speech explaining why. Her voice breaking at times, she recalled the death of her husband; how much she misses him, and that she cannot deny other people from being with the one they love.
I thought long and hard about making a, “look, all Republicans aren’t assholes!” joke here. But I’m not going to. All Republicans aren’t assholes. Rep. Walsh certainly isn’t. In fact, I think she’s an outstanding example of doing the right thing even when it’s hard and unpopular.
I hope everyone I know watches this and gives serious thought to why they vote Republican. (Thanks, Mike Latner.)
I’ll be honest, I could only get through about 40 seconds of this. I enjoy stupid as much as the next guy — I’m a huge fan of Jackass, after all — but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear this were a Steven Colbert parody.
But all is not lost. The good news is the Muppets responded.
I could just kiss Piggy.
The big news is that Komen “reversed” its decision to stop funding Planned Parenthood. Mother Jones looks into what, exactly, is meant by the word, “reversal,” and the answer seems to be, it’s really hard to say because what Komen said makes so little sense.
The best parts of the article, though, are when author Adam Serwer wrote that Komen won’t respond to journalists’ requests for clarification and that Komen has sent internal memos telling employees how to spin the situation.
Since Komen has not taken a clear stance on anything, I will: I’m still not buying any pink ribbon stuff.
Related to that last one about sugar, about a year ago, Princeton did a pair of studies wherein they learned that, “Rats with access to high-fructose corn syrup gained significantly more weight than those with access to table sugar, even when their overall caloric intake was the same.”
The first study showed that male rats given water sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup in addition to a standard diet of rat chow gained much more weight than male rats that received water sweetened with table sugar, or sucrose, in conjunction with the standard diet. The concentration of sugar in the sucrose solution was the same as is found in some commercial soft drinks, while the high-fructose corn syrup solution was half as concentrated as most sodas.
When I do it at all, I use honey to sweeten my coffee and tea. Just sayin’.
(By the way, the story I link to is a story, not a report, not the paper. It’s engaging and a very good read. You should take a couple minutes and read it.)
Erin Allday for the San Francisco Chronicle:
Like alcohol and tobacco, sugar is a toxic, addictive substance that should be highly regulated with taxes, laws on where and to whom it can be advertised, and even age-restricted sales, says a team of UCSF scientists.
In a paper published in Nature on Wednesday, they argue that increased global consumption of sugar is primarily responsible for a whole range of chronic diseases that are reaching epidemic levels around the world.
Sugar is so heavily entrenched in the food culture in the United States and other countries that getting people to kick the habit will require much more than simple education and awareness campaigns, the UCSF scientists said.
The opposition, at least in Allday’s article, sounds just the same as the opposition to the stop smoking campaigns: “there’s no evidence, people can make other choices, blah blah blah.”
I guess it’s true in a “guns don’t kill people, I do,” kind of way.
Susan G. Komen for the Cure is is the best known, largest and best-funded breast cancer organization in the United States. Komen is responsible for the pink ribbon. If you buy Yoplait yogurt with a pink lid, the pink lid is there because of Komen. The organization does a lot of races to raise money, and I once wrote an article about a woman who, after beating breast cancer, went to one of them to raise money.
Planned Parenthood is an organization that focuses primarily on women’s health. According to the Washington Post, only about 3% of what Planned Parenthood does is abortions, most of the rest of it being STI testing and treatment, contraception solutions, and cancer screening. But right-wing nut-jobs don’t have a rich history of looking at the whole picture and routinely. They do have a rich history of bombing abortion clinics though.
And all is not well in paradise. Komen used to donate a ton of money to Planned Parenthood, but stopped. Why? Ostensibly because Planned Parenthood is under federal investigation. But mostly, it seems to me, because Komen hired Karen Handel to be its new vice president of policy at Komen. Handel once ran for governor of Georgia promising to defund Planned Parenthood in that state.
(Quick aside on that: it really seems like the same logic as the abortion bombers to me. Kill an abortion doctor, save hundreds or thousands of unborn babies. Defund Planned Parenthood and all its cancer screening and STI treatment and contraceptives, and more women will die of cancer and STIs, meaning less abortions. So losing contraceptives is sort of the equivalent of killing a doctor. It’s a necessary evil to do the most good. Makes sense.)
Handel also retweeted and then deleted a pretty effed tweet by Jade Morey.
In addition, despite the new policy of not funding organizations under federal investigation, Komen is still funding Penn State University. Penn State, you’ll remember, is under investigation over the sexual assault scandal involving Jerry Sandusky, rapist of children.
Further lending credence to my disbelief, three key players at Komen have resigned in protest.
But all isn’t lost. In direct response to Komen, New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg donated a quarter of a million dollars to Planned Parenthood and he best summed up the entire situation:
Politics have no place in health care. Breast cancer screening saves lives, and hundreds of thousands of women rely on Planned Parenthood for access to care. We should be helping women access that care, not placing barriers in their way.
And he’s not the only one. Mule Design’s Mike Monteiro, simply by calling people to action on Twitter, is responsible for raising more than $6,000, $50 at a time, since yesterday.
Now, Brinker may be telling the truth and the decision truly wasn’t politically motivated. But, again, that’s not how it seems to me. Between the questionable hire, the inconsistent grants, the staffers quitting, and the hack-job PR, it’s clear to me that Komen, due to political pressure, has betrayed its core values.
I have decided to boycott anything with a pink ribbon and donate $10 per month to Planned Parenthood. I wish I could do more, but I’m poor.
Still, $10′s $10, and that’s more than Komen’s doing.
Ezra Klein for the Washington Post:
As you can see in the chart atop this post, abortion services account for about 3 percent of Planned Parenthood’s activities. That’s less than cancer screening and prevention (16 percent), STD testing for both men and women (35 percent), and contraception (also 35 percent). About 80 percent of Planned Parenthood’s users are over age 20, and 75 percent have incomes below 150 percent of the poverty line. Planned Parenthood itself estimates it prevents more than 620,000 unintended pregnancies each year, and 220,000 abortions. It’s also worth noting that federal law already forbids Planned Parenthood from using the funds it receives from the government for abortions.
You’ve got to see the chart. If seeing it visualized doesn’t help you see the light, you’re a Republican.
Which leads us inexorably here:
Abortions seem to be pretty much the only way all you right-wing jerks don’t want to kill people.
I have this thing where I hate having a wallet. At my job, I sit at a desk all day for three days a week, and it makes me nuts having that in my back pocket all day long.
The result is that I keep losing my wallet and I have to get a new one.
Well, my lovely wife gave me the best wallet ever. It’s bright red, made of recyclable Tyvek, is super durable, and super thin. It’s the best wallet I’ve ever owned. Seriously.
I honestly love how bright and ugly it is. I’ll never lose that. Plus, on the inside, is The Flash. He and I are the same. We run in the same boots, and I even look like him when I run, so that’a s major win.
The company has tons of other designs, many of which are not hideously ugly. But I honestly believe this is the last wallet I’ll ever own unless I get robbed. Which, if you think about it, is impossible because I, like The Flash, am so fast.
App Culture explains iTunes Match.
The service costs just $25 a year — so laughably little that it’s as if Apple went over to the RIAA and twisted everyone’s arms continuously for six months. There is no way in the world to legally download music this cheaply, anywhere. I have no idea how they got anyone to agree to this.
Essentially, you’re paying $2 a month for the right to stream high-quality versions of music you bought (…or “found” somewhere) to all your iTunes Libraries, iPhones, and iPads.That $2 a month also gives you a permanent backup of all your music, so rain-soaked laptops, crushed iPhones, or freak accidents won’t stop Pink Floyd. (In fact, nothing can stop Pink Floyd – except for the members of Pink Floyd – but that’s a matter for another day.)
But it’s not all perfect.
Your [iOS] device’s library is either local or “cloud-based”. It can’t be both. This means you can’t sync a few songs to your phone from your laptop and then, while you’re out, opt to download a few more from the cloud.
Tracks you’ve chosen to download will stay on the device, though, so this isn’t insurmountable. It just means that if you’re going on a plane or area with no network connection, you’ll need to manually download the playlists, etc. you want beforehand. (And suffer through how amazingly slow this is.)
It was a deal breaker for me. I turned iTunes Match off on my iPhone preferring to sync manually. But at home, on my iMac, I really like upgrading all my old tracks. I have a ton of music I imported using the brand new iTunes 4.1 on a beige Windows box. Crazy how much better those songs sound now.
An excellent follow-up to the previous post, Rob Delaney on what makes an attractive V. It’s just text, no dirty pictures, but there’s also plenty of bad words, so you’ve been warned. But it’s also hilarious, so you’ve been warned on that too.
Alice Bradley on no longer being an “object of desire”:
To be a young woman in our culture means that you exist, from an alarmingly young age, for the appreciation of others. Therefore, your every feature is fair game for public appraisal.
It means you become accustomed to a certain kind of gaze: a cold survey of your merits and deficits.
It means you tense up when you walk past a group, any group, of men, because you know they’re going to say something, it may or may not be positive, and either way it’s not going to leave you feeling good about yourself.
It means you can’t look sad or even neutral in public because a stranger, a man, will inevitably order you to smile.
It means you automatically flinch when a guy looking at you passes a little too closely, because you know he’s going to murmur something in your ear. You know it. And then he does, he murmurs damply into your ear, and you feel like you need to disinfect that entire side of your head and you turn and shout, “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME,” but by then you’re invisible. He’s done. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge you. No one does.
And there’s more. And then there’s the comments. The one about the woman pepper-spraying the guy’s package as he masturbated at her on the subway made me laugh.
But my question is: is this basically how it is? Is it different for small-town women? I don’t feel like I’ve ever told anyone to cheer up. The best you can hope from me is a nod acknowledging your existence. It’s hard for me to imagine dropping my drawers on the subway.
(Via Mulegirl.)
An unexpected side effect of the 2010 flooding in parts of Sindh, Pakistan, was that millions of spiders climbed up into the trees to escape the rising flood waters; because of the scale of the flooding and the fact that the water took so long to recede, many trees became cocooned in spiderwebs.
(Via Chris.)
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Outside my bedroom window is a cherry tree and I love watching the leaves change through the year. Bright green leaves, pink and white blossoms, then deep red leaves and bare branches, it’s a beautiful reminder to go outside.
And the truth is, my favorite way to experience the world is outside. I love watching movies and playing cards with my family, but compared to most things, I’d rather be outside on my bike or outside running or outside hiking. Why? Because the outdoors is amazing. Feeling weather against your skin, looking at blossoms fall in late spring, seeing the world spread out below you from the top of a hill, it’s wonderful.
We spend so much time zooming from place to place in our cars, insulated from the world. But there is nothing like zooming through wildflowers on a bike, following a 10-inch-wide track miles away from the nearest car. Out on those trails, the loudest noise is the birds. I never wear headphones when I mountain bike because I want to be close to the world, not shutting it out.
Closer and less scary is road biking. San Luis Obispo county has so many good roads with lovely views. Finding a backroad and following it to exhaustion is something I wish I could share with each and every one of you.
I go out in the world on a bike or in a special pair of shoes because I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Skies of blue unless we can pollute them to gray-brown. Seriously, I look around at the world and I wonder why we seem so determined to ruin it. Money is more important than clean air? Your “right” to 6 miles per gallon is more important than your grandkids having a world worth living in?
Consider, after all, what bright sunny days and dark sacred nights are. A bright sunny day is a day to be out with family and friends, headed to the beach, to the lake, to the mountain top. It’s time for doing, for getting stuff done, for making accomplishments. Dark sacred nights are just the same, only at home. Grilling in the back yard, playing cards and board games, sharing a bottle or two of wine, watching a great movie, sharing a kiss, sharing an experience.
I want to live in a world in which sharing time and experiences is a a goal in itself. I want to share it with those I love because I love them and because it’s a wonderful world.
The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shakin’ hands, sayin’ “How do you do?”
They’re really saying “I love you”
When we remember where we live and that our feet and hands and backs and eyeballs do what they were designed to do, it’s hard not to smile. Consider your hands: I use mine to hold my daughter’s as we cross the street. I use mine to cook meals, to fix things, to make things, to hold my wife, to shake hands with a new acquaintance who may become a new friend.
With every word I say and everything I do — everything — I’m doing it because I want my wife and daughter and my sister and my brother and my parents to love and be proud of me.
But I don’t think we’re all that different, you and I. I think that if you gave it some thought and paid attention to the actual things you do and stuff you say, it would all turn into an “I love you,” to the people you love.
I hear babies cryin’, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world
It’s impossible to say how good it is watching my daughter grow up. Watching her learn, watching her develop a sense of humor. But it’s also weird to think that she’ll never live in a world without video chatting. Computers are everywhere and one can video chat with one’s phone.
But on the other hand, the world is more complex now than it was when I was born, and far more complex than when my parents were born.
It means that for pleasure and necessity, she really will know more than I ever will. If I’m lucky, I’ll keep up. And if I’m unlucky, I’ll get left behind by a brilliant and successful girl woman who, hopefully, if I’ve done my job right, will love me anyway.
And if I’ve earned her love even when I’m an old man, then I really will know it’s been a wonderful world.
I discovered this all-girl group by accident, but sure am glad I did.
One reviewer said “one gets the idea that the band name and logo came first and the album was recorded just so they’d have an opportunity to use them,” and I kind of agree with him. The songs are all from the Glenn Danzig-era Misfits, and are diverse enough to make a pretty solid best of. It would also make a 19-minute-long best of.
The Ms. Fits didn’t change the songs much: it sounds like the project was intended to be a tribute, not a reinterpretation. But the songs have that sort of roller-derby tough-girl vibe one almost expects from girl punk bands. On the other hand, the songs sound a lot more fun than the originals do. This is really clear on songs from Earth A.D. — the girls rip it up, but there’s a playfulness I don’t hear in the originals.
The Ms. Fits don’t bring much new to the table, but it’s fun and I can recommend it. [iTunes link]
Dream Theater released an official video for Build Me Up, Break Me Down and it’s an interesting thing. There’s no live footage of the band, no staged band “playing” in a room or anything like that. Instead, it’s weird images and cool special effects surrounding the lyrics.
I think it’s probably the best song on the album and the unique video is pretty cool. Even if you don’t care for Dream Theater much, I recommend taking a look if only for the typography and weird fonty art.
But it’s also sort of repetitive. The very same sequence occurs every time they go over the chorus, for instance, so you really only need to watch to the halfway point to see everything it’s got to offer.
With the original cast, except where they’re dead. All the shows are in the U.K. and Europe. I wish I were in the 1%.
Which is it, Republicans? Less government or the elimination and/or prevention of rights? You can’t have it both ways. Unless, of course, you’re a Republican. Then, evidently, you can have it both ways. (Via Hilary.)
Fear, as we defined it in philosophy class, is the awareness of a perceived threat.
That means if there’s an axe-murderer in your closet but you don’t know he’s there, you shouldn’t be afraid of it. You have to be aware of it in order to be afraid.
At the same time, just because you’re aware of a threat doesn’t mean it’s actually threatening. For instance, the axe-murderer may just be your idiot friend pulling a prank on you. The key here is the word perceived. Or maybe a better word would be interpreted.
So fear requires two things: an object or event that can be interpreted as a threat and awareness of that threat. Set aside awareness for a moment, and let’s focus on interpretation, on perception.
A threat is something that can cause damage. The type of damage isn’t important because it’s all valid. Something that threatens your life is a threat. And something that threatens your emotional well-being is a threat and something that threatens your ability to get another beer is a threat. Obviously, something that’s life-threatening is a bigger deal than something that is beer-threatening, but both are threats and it’s ok to be afraid of them.
But different people have different abilities. That photo at the top of this essay was taken at the tip-top of Half Dome, just before my party began heading down. Looks terrifying, doesn’t it? That’s because the threat, obviously, is that of falling.
But this photo was taken on my second Half Dome trip. I’d already done it once and I knew what I was in for. I knew what to expect and this didn’t feel threatening to me any more.
Still, I did it the first time, didn’t I? I had nothing to compare the cables at Half Dome to.
Or did I?
You see, the entire world, every interaction we have with it, has a risk. More people die in cars than in shark attacks, yet there are more people afraid of sharks than of cars. Why? I think there are a million reasons, but it all boils down to faulty risk-benefit calculations.
For instance, looking stupid is threatening to our self-esteem and self-perception. So rather than accept the risk of looking stupid by having fun at Zumba class at the gym, we sit safely at home while our asses get wider. I think this is faulty because a wide ass is far more threatening to our self-esteem, self-perception, and physical health than just looking stupid.
What you risk in this situation is looking stupid. The benefit is looking and feeling better. Further, most of us don’t bother to look at the problem from other side; the risk-benefit ratio of sitting at home. The benefit, obviously, is you get to sit at home. But you risk your health and self-esteem and all that other stuff. But, again, you didn’t think of that. You just didn’t want to be the sweaty fat guy at the gym.
And this works everywhere. We’re afraid of our kids getting kidnapped or killed, so we keep them indoors. But we didn’t really look at the risks and benefits of sending the kids outside. First, look at your town. How likely is it really that the kids’ll get kidnapped? Not likely at all? Hmm. And the benefits of having them outside? They get exercise, fresh air, explore the world around them, develop an understanding of the world that doesn’t include fear. You get time with your wife and if you can tear her away from the dishes or sewing machine, you can really enjoy some real quality time. If you get what I mean, and I think you do.
But keeping them inside is safe. And we didn’t stop to consider for a moment that keeping ‘em indoors is bad for the opposite of the reasons I listed above. Plus they’ll start playing World of Warcraft and that’s more expensive than a bike.
Getting back to the cables at Half Dome, I’d never climbed anything like them before that first time. But I was a cyclist and spent time at the gym and was pretty good at hiking. So the risk was falling, but I felt like that risk was a pretty small one: I was in shape and those cables are made of steel.
Ultimately, I didn’t interpret the cables as a big enough threat, so I went.1
Besides, the benefit of climbing them would be getting to the top and having a the story, the accomplishment. I would be able to use that as material for years to come. Not doing it would eliminate the small risk of falling, but it would also eliminate the surety of an excellent subject to write about for the rest of my life.
So I climbed it. And you know what? I was right. It was well worth the risk and it’s still paying off.
The lesson, if there’s really one in here, is nothing so trite as “we have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Instead, we need to consider the things we’re afraid of. It’s not cool to be afraid of doing something dangerous, it’s limiting. And just because something’s dangerous doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just means you need to think hard about it. It means you need more practice.
Get inspired, but don’t feel like you have to go out skydiving tomorrow, especially if you have kids — the risk-benefit ratio is no good on that one. But do try new food, do go to the weird dance class, do hike farther than you think you can (bring a flashlight), and do try to be more amazing.
After all, what have you got to loose?
CNN:
Joe Paterno, whose tenure as the most successful coach in major college football history ended abruptly in November amid allegations that he failed to respond forcefully enough to a sex abuse scandal involving a former assistant, died Sunday, his family said. He was 85. …
“It is with great sadness that we announce that Joe Paterno passed away earlier today,” the family statement said. “His loss leaves a void in our lives that will never be filled.”
Jerry Sandusky could fill that void, I betcha.
The consensus on Twitter as I write this is that looking the other way while his coworker rapes people over 20 years is overshadowed by teaching people how to play football. So, good job America. Let’s go kill us some gays.
Today I chat with the author of the novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, a very compelling and provocative retelling of the story of the green-faced villain from The Wizard of Oz.
I don’t care. I’m posting this because my wife and mom are fans and thought they should know about this. I thought Wicked was too long by a third and the entire middle half was a miserable chore. Whatever. Maybe the musical was great.
USA Today reported that the U.S. shut down the New Zealand website, Megaupload, and had German and Dutch citizens in New Zealand arrested for violating American copyrights.
The site was shut down Thursday, and [Kim] Dotcom and three Megaupload employees were arrested in New Zealand on U.S. accusations that they facilitated millions of illegal downloads of films, music and other content, costing copyright holders at least $500 million in lost revenue.
Remember that video from the other day? We now have the answer to the question, “how far will they take this?” The answer is: “as far as they can.”
Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly, as inspired by Clipart Covers:
Here’s the original. Pretty good, yeah? Ok, now you make one.
[R]umors of a reunion were confirmed on their MySpace page on May 27, 2010. Their MySpace page also says that the reunion lineup will be the same as the last one before their breakup.
They’re also playing the Download festival in the U.K. and it makes me double-wish I were a Brit.1
UKJ was and still is one of my favourite bands. Their “best” songs, Everything About You and Cat’s in the Cradle are nowhere near the band’s best offerings. Their last album is stellar, if a little uneven. I think I’ll listen to these guys today.
At first blush, American Beauty seemed grand, dark, and subversive (especially to the angst-riddled mind of a high school sophomore not old enough to buy tickets for R-rated movies). The raciness of the opening scene—a found-footage camcorder clip of Jane (a pallid Thora Birch), reclining on a bed in post-sex flush, telling the camera that she wished her dad wasn’t a “horny geek boy” and “doesn’t deserve to live”—was enough to hook right into a swirling teenage psyche. The movie’s themes pander directly to the narcissism of the young—libidinous individualism, the triumph of youth over cynicism, the beauty of ordinary things (i.e. dead birds, plastic bags) over empty materialism. We responded naively and passionately—the desired effect. But we were just kids! What is so confounding now about American Beauty is how adults endorsed such juvenilia.
I think I agree. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this one, but I remember liking it a lot less as an adult. The flying plastic bag scene was flat-out stupid as a grown-up.
A big problem with the rest of Vargas-Cooper’s column is how awards-centric it is. As a fan of movies, I know that the awards shows don’t reflect my tastes and don’t matter. Complaining that American Beauty won awards that Being John Malkovich and Fight Club should have is like complaining when “designers” use Arial when Helvetica is available.
This little 4-minute video explains why Wikipedia is doing a blackout. The video’s author says:
PROTECT-IP is the latest piece of legislation aiming to chip away at your online rights in the name of protecting the entertainment industry’s business model. It’s legislation that won’t work, will give us yet more lawsuits, and will make the net worse.
Whether you lean right and hate business regulation, lean left and hate censorship, or lean neither way but hate useless legislation, PROTECT-IP is a bill everyone should oppose. I encourage you to head over to Fight For the Future and contact congress.
Known only as Arbroath, on his or her blog, called Arbroath:
The Brandling Villa in South Gosforth, Newcastle, is selling a special beer designed for dogs so that drinkers’ four-legged friends can enjoy a cheeky pint at the same time. And if their drinking makes them peckish, the pub has created a special canine menu with dog versions of human favourites, including a Sunday roast served with cat-flavoured gravy. The pub has made an effort to be a traditional pub run in a modern way, which includes welcoming dog owners with their pets to enjoy the atmosphere.
This would never happen in the U.S. for reasons that I don’t fully understand. I think that in the U.S., even if the bar named itself, “Man’s Best Friend — Bring Your Dog Because Dogs Are Welcome Inside This Establishment,” people would flip out about it. It’d be labeled unhygienic or something. People who don’t even go to bars would fight against such a thing and it would be too much of a pain in the ass and the owner would give up.
And that’s why I love America the way I do.
