Ramblings for the Evening (9/9/05)

(The following is my opinion, if facts are wrong then I apologize, but no suing.)
The Miseducation of Students:
This is utterly depressing to me. With the recent events of Hurricane Katrina, parents and "concerned citizens" are once again trying to change what can and can't be taught in our schools. Forget the whole Intelligent Design debate, this is much worse. After 9/11, these same people tried to change what could be taught in Social Studies and English classes. They believed that high school students were being inundated with too much imagery of death and war, so they wanted all aspects of war (such as Vietnam) removed from the curriculum. A teacher I know in California told me that the school board was actually thinking about removing World War II from the curriculum. WORLD WAR II! Hey, let's forget the last major conflict between multiple nations and the whole Holocaust thing, because, well, students are seeing TOO much right now.
Well, with the aftermath of Katrina, schools in Kansas are seriously trying to change the curriculum. No more Vietnam and don't talk about the Chicago Fire, the Great San Francisco Earthquakes, or the 1927 Hurricane in Louisiana. No, no, no, that would frighten these kids.
Look, this falls into the whole "abstinence sex education" thing. Regardless of how you feel about sex, the students need to learn about how sex works and how to protect themselves. If you want to tell them, "DON'T DO IT!" that's fine, but they need to understand what it is they could be doing. History is the same way. If we forget the past, we are doomed to repeat it. One teacher I know was told off by a parent, because he talked about 9/11. Wow! Should students just bury their heads in the sand whenever this happens? Another teacher told me that he was told by his administration not to talk about what happened to Nixon, because it's, "too political." Come on!
I don't know if I've talked about books being banned in a previous post, but I will be talking about it again. The fact that MacBeth was banned recently in certain parts of this country, because it has witches in it is preposterous. If I read Harry Potter, I am not a Satanist. Same thing with Shakespeare. Kids see alot of death in their video games and TV, so let them see it in books too. No wonder more kids are becoming illiterate.
Minnesota Drivers:
I've talked about this before. No offense, Minnesota, but no one here knows how to drive. Period. Today, as I drove home, a woman moved all the way from the right lane to the far left (going across two other lanes to do so) then slowed down to 45. I'm not kidding. The guy in the pickup truck with the Arctic Cat sticker (which, honestly, kinda screams white trash) and the whiskey plates (paired with the Arctic Cat sticker, that defintely is white trash) got upset. After almost rear-ending me, he zooms by on my right screaming AT ME, then (and this is my favorite part) he rolls down his window and throws a plastic bottle at my windshield. Granted it was empty, but that's hardcore....AND it's not my fault we were going so slow. Sheesh. Add to the fact that I witnessed an accident while a car was trying to merge on to the highway (big surprise), and I wonder what the heck people are learning in Driver's Ed? Hell's Bells. This is the only state I have ever been in (and I am a freaking NEW YORKER) where the drivers couldn't care less about the pedestrians. I was once tapped and knocked down by a cab driver in NY. He stopped, got out, apologized, and offered me a free ride home. Two months after moving here, I was bumped in downtown Minneapolis, and the driver got out and asked for my insurance card (if I had one) and my license in case there was damage. Not to me, mind you, but to his car. It was one of those moments where I looked for a big stick in order to hit him with...hard. I never found it. I say unto you, Minnesota Drivers, LEARN TO FREAKIN' DRIVE! Learn to merge, look around, and for God's sake: Leave you anger outside when you drive.
A Little Hypocrisy
Just a few hits of hypocrisy. Ok?
Jim Rome: You cannot talk smack about a guy making a homophobic and/or mysoginistic comments when you are still proud of the fact that you refered to Jim Everrett as, "Chrissy," called him, "a woman," and talk about how great it was. As I recall, that's what got you fired from ESPN the first time. Whenever you talk about that moment, you're being a hypocrite.
Americans: Countries around the world have donated a great deal of money toward the Katrina Relief fund. You may no longer sit there and bitch about how evil France is, when they have given money and you haven't. A colleague of mine talked about how the French are bastards. When I explained that they gave money, he said, "So?" I asked if he had given any money, and he hadn't. That's hypocrisy.
Oh, and I gave money, so if you try to tell me that I need to give more or give again, you can just shut up.
Christians: When you sit there and talk about how the "Islamic Extremists" are crazy and then you pray to a water mark on a wall that, "looks like Mary and the Baby Jesus," you're just as crazy. That water mark? I made it when I peed on the wall. The fact that it looks like Mary is coincidence. Granted, Christians don't blow people up (unless you count starting a war), but the fact that you give money to a guy on television saying that God talks to him shows how crazy and hypocritical you are. Oh, and at least the Muslims don't believe that they are literally eating the body and drinking the blood of the man they pray to.
The 20 Million Dollar Man: No. You cannot use that money to go to a space station. You must turn around and give that money to fixing our country. Sorry.
Waiter, My Soup is...Floating: In Orlando, Florida, a landlord is suing two restaurateurs for not moving into their new building. Why aren't they moving? Well, they claim the building is haunted. That's right, HAUNTED! People have seen apparitions around the building. The lawsuit wants the judge to decide if the building is haunted, aand if it is, then he or she has to decide if it would interfere with business. Come on! Make it the theme of the restaurant. "If you're soup floats on it's on, it's free!" "Ketchup seeps from the walls!" The fact that 2.6 million dollars is at stake here is even sadder. If you were the judge, what the heck would you think? "Ok, prove to me it's haunted...without using The Ghosthunters." Would he or she have to spend the night? Could this be like a Scooby-Doo episode, and it's really Old Man Caruthers? This is ridiculous.
I hope everyone has a nice weekend.

You're Spoiled

In today's Star Tribune, people wrote in to complain about writers, TV, and people in general ruining the ending of books and movies and such. For something like Harry Potter, you really can't avoid hearing about things. This is usually why most people go out right away and read the books...otherwise you learn aspects that you don't want to know.
I personally don't see this as a problem. Maybe it's because as a reader, I'm not goal-oriented, but process-oriented. Let me explain:
1. Goal. Ok, when you read, you have the goal of getting to the ending. For example: you read a murder-mystery, and all you want is the name of the killer. You also want to see what happens to the killer.
2. Process. You want to see how the detective/hero/heroine solves the crime. You want to see if you can piece the clues together before they do. For example, in one current extremely popular novel (ok, DaVinci Code), all the clues for who the bad guy is are in the text. If you read the book looking for them, they pop out. If you just read to get to the end (and the identity), then you miss the subtle clues.
Film does the same thing. One of the most famous films that people either go for the process or go for the goal is The Usual Suspects. Is you just want to know who Kaiser Soyze is, or you try to figure it out before Agent Kujan.
At the same time, many people hate the process people. Why? We're the ones who, during a poorly written mystery, figure out everything quickly and say, with oh...an hour left, it's this person.
The angriest I ever saw a goal-oriented person was at my wife's company Christmas party last year. They went to the The Mystery Cafe and watched a dinner theatre show (and quality) about a boss being murdered. Sadly, I knew what was going on by the appetizer. When someone asked me, I told them my opinion and thoughts. It turned out I was right...and she was pissed.
There are other ways, however, people get to the answers they want. When my father, for example, gets a book that he just wants to get to the point of, he reads the first 40 pages and the last 40 pages. "Everything," he tells me all the time, "is answered in those 80 pages. It doesn't matter how long the book is. The first and last 40 pages."
Some books and some movies, however, no shun this idea. Occasionally an author or film maker gives the audience the ending and then the rest of the novel or film is piecing together how that happened (I like those stories). Examples? Memento is a great one.
I understand that it's really frustrating when someone gives away the ending, but look at this way. If you know what's going to happen (or in certain think you know what's going to happen), then start looking at how the author or director (or writer) is guiding everything toward that ending. Are their clues or signs? Does someone or something foreshadow? Make it interesting. I'm sorry if so many people are upset by learning the ending of the new Harry Potter book, but start looking now to see if there are clues.
Have a great day.

Reading's Labor Lost

If you need proof that people don't read anymore, then I have a story from my Labor Day that will enlighten you.
As I mentioned before, I spent most of my weekend painting my house. I couldn't finish due to the weather as well as my ankle (my foot, today, is mostly purple....I could be a Vikings fan I guess). Anyway, I needed more primer and a taller ladder in order to due the higher portions of the house. So, I went to Home Depot to procure those items. When you walked into the Fridley Home Depot, there was a giant sign. When I say giant, I mean 11 feet tall and 7 feet wide with huge lettering. You could not miss this sign when you walked in. You couldn't. The sign dealt with the Home Depot State Fair Coupon Sale. Essentially, you go to the fair and bring a coupon from the Home Depot Center at the fair, and you get a bunch of money off of certain items. It was just that simple. Explained just like that on the board.
So, with hurt ankle and a wee bit of exhaustion, I grabbed a heavy ladder and went to get in one of the two lines that were open. Now, it's Labor Day. Most people are off from work, yet HD had only two lines open. So as I stood there halfway down the plumbing aisle, I listened to stupid conversations around me. Fast forward to fifteen minutes later. Finally, there is one person in front of me, and she is checking out. She finishes, and I step up. Just as the cashier is about to scan my ladder, the woman returns with a popping vein in her forehead. The man behind me steps up and pins me in. Now, there's a frothing mad woman in front of me, a man who's pinned me in behind me, and no place to put this ladder without possibly hurting myself. I asked the woman to move and was told, "In a minute...Wait your turn!"
Here's where the reading part comes in to play. It seems that the woman was charged full price for some solar lights that she was sure were on sale. The conversation went as follows:
Cashier: Miss, they're on sale if you have the coupon. You didn't give me the coupon.
Lady: What coupon? What are you talking about?
Cashier: It was on the sign with the sale prices Miss.
Lady: No it wasn't.
Cashier: Yes it is, Miss. It's right there on the top. (He points.)
Me: Please, could you just move a little so I don't drop this ladder on you?
Lady: Could you please not be so rude!? God! (She moves to look at the sign, the cashier moves with her. After a few seconds, she returns and talks to the cashier again.)
Lady: That's not very clear. It expects you to read the whole sign. Most people would just look at the numbers.
Cashier: Regardless, Miss, it says that you must have a coupon to get the discount. You didn't give me the coupon.
Lady: I want to speak to your supervisor. You have done a terrible job here today, and I think this is your fault. Not mine, yours.
(The cashier shrugs and looks sheepishly at her. Then he pages the supervisor. The Lady continues to berate him as he starts to check me out.)
After I paid, I heard the lady explain that she was mad because of nine dollars. NINE DOLLARS! She treated this guy like crap, held me up as well as the rest of the line for nine dollars. Beyond that, however, the cashier told me that more than half his customers that day had not read the sign carefully. They all complained (not as much as her, however) that the sign was unclear. It wasn't. From the moment I walked in, I could tell the sign was talking about the coupon. It said, "Bring your coupon from the State Fair Home Depot Center and save on these items." It said that TWICE. No one reads anymore. We glance over it. The only way it would have worked is if it was on a TV screen.
That's not only place where I see this anymore. Forget that most students don't look at the board unless told to, people just don't look at things unless told. Life has to be turned into stereo instructions for alot of people now.
At least that's my opinion.

Too Hoite Toite?

Ok, so I wasn't going to post anymore this weekend, because I was supposed to be painting. However, the rain, hail, and my ankle are creating problems in that department. Yes, my ankle is still the size of a grapefruit, but I'm trying to "walk it off." There's no real pain anymore, just a swollen foot and ankle that hurts when it's touched, but not when it's moved.
On to the point of this post. I went out on a double date last night with another couple. Jill and Derek (you may recall Jill from a previous post) met us at Chiang Mai Tai (obviously I mean my wife and I....You know, because my mistress and I don't go to Uptown...sheesh). The highlight of the evening, however, came after dinner over at The Brave New Workshop. They are currently running a show I recommend called Shut Your American Pie-Hole; or Discount Family Values. It was brilliant. Sure, it was only their fourth preview, and at times the show was rough, but overall it was extremely funny. The audience learned "What Would Terri (Schiavo) Want", that Dr. Laura did porn (sadly true), and many other funny aspects of our society. BNW usually uses word of mouth to help people go see the shows, so I am sending it out there to you, my dear readers, to go and see this show. It's brilliant.
Very few people truly understand satire. I myself have a section of my Senior English class dedicated to teaching the students about the literary technique. What's interesting, however, is that a great deal of people (because of beliefs) don't find much satire funny now. I remember watching The Simpsons with my mother-in-law, and she didn't like that they were making fun of the current government. I believe satire is also the greatest form of comedy, because it assumes that the audience is knowledgeable about the subject. Fart jokes can be funny. Slapstick a la The Three Stooges? Sure. Satire, however, is lost on a great deal of people, because the humor is too "high." The greatest example of this is Huckleberry Finn. Twain wrote the book to be a satire of 1840's Southern America. After being published, Twain (nee Clemons) was already being accused of racism. At one point in the 1930s, Twain's "views on blacks" were used by racists to explain why minorities needed to be "put in their place." Even now people ban Huckleberry Finn in schools and libraries, because they see it as racist. Yes, the character is known as "Nigger Jim," but again, in 1840s America, he would have been known that way, aaaannnnnddd the book is satire (Remind me at some point to discuss my feelings on banning books).
I could go on, but I shouldn't. In conclusion, I recommend Shut your American Pie-Hole, I recommend reading Huck Finn again, but seeing it as satire, and I recommend everyone doing something super-fun today and tomorrow before the school year begins.

Ramblings for the Morning (9/3/05)

Unfortunate By-Lines:
In today's Variety section of the Star Tribune, there is a story about three people using a GPS system across France (thought of Michele). The problem, however, is the by-line of the story (under the headline). The story touts: "When another woman joined them on a driving trip through France, this married couple experienced a special joi de vivre." Folks, maybe it's just me, but that sounds like a tag line for a porno. Now, the "woman" in question turns out the be the female voice of the GPS system, but if you don't read the article, it sounds like something a la Skinemax (or Cinemax for the uninitiated). Still, it's not as bad as a New York Post by-line which was about a girl going to DC to argue for housing rights, and the by-line read: "Girl goes down for freedom."
Pain in the Ankle:
So I'm painting my house. It's tan and lacks a certain...joi de vivre. So, we picked a new color: Behr Paint's 240F-4 (or Tiny Fawn). If you want to see it, go to Behr, go to their color workbook and look it up. I like it, but that's not the story. Last night, I wanted to hit all of the corners and such with primer before wrapping up for the day. Well, I was tired, and on the ladder, annnnd not paying attention. As I was coming down, I fell. I landed on my right foot, which rolled. I managed to save the paint and the brush, but my ankle swelled up three sizes. My wife said it was now (from top to bottom) the size of a softball. I, being the macho idiot I am, refused to stop until I was finished...a half an hour later. This morning the swelling has gone down, but it's still hard to walk. My saving the paint from spilling reminded me of another time I went off a ladder. You see when I was in college, I did a great deal of theatrical lighting. Why? Well it was my major. Anyway, I was working on a light, and the clamp broke. For some reason, it didn't have a safety chain, so it started to fall. I, in a moment of idiocy, or bravery, or whatever, dove off the ladder, caught the light and rolled so that I would hit the ground first instead of the light. That hurt. I don't know how high I was, could have been fifteen feet or so, but the light was saved. It did not break, and neither did I. There was a giant bruise on my back, and I was very sore for a few days, but, to me at least, the important thing was the light. The painting was the same thing to me. I had to get the job done before I would allow myself to relax and deal with the pain. Is it a macho thing? A goal-oriented thing? I don't know.
That'll be it for now. I will be taking the long-weekend off to prepare for students and to paint.
Have a fantastic end of summer party, folks.

The Power Napper

I've said this before, but it bares repeating. If Arm Wrestling, Poker, and, even now, Rock, Paper, Scissors (RPS) are considered sports, have their own leagues, and are televised, then I want to create the next big sport: The Power Nap Challenge. It's either that or we do construction as sport (though we have the Great Outdoor Games already). So, here's how The Power Nap Challenge works:
1. There are two contestants and various "classes" of the challenge.
2. The classes could contain the following:
A. Fastest to REM sleep
B. Quickest to sleep in fifteen, ten, or even five minutes.
C. Longest amount of sleep in obstacle filled course (this includes car alarms, screaming babies, etc.)
3. Each contest has to have a wacky nickname a la Boxing. So it could be Drew "Sandman" Smith, or "Snoring" Ana Gamble. Feel free to chime in with your own nicknames.
4. There will be no use of illegal substances (such as Nyquil or other medications with drowsy side effects). However, stuffed animals or "blankies" will be allowed.
Oh I know, dear reader, you're wondering, "Leab...what the hell?! How could watching a person sleep be exciting?" Think about Poker? It's the strategy and the commentators that make it work, right? So we get John Madden to do the sleep commentary:
"So, he got in the bed here (circle). Ok, not the way I would go, but it works. He pulls up the blanket, and BOOM, he's in the ready position. He lost a few moments when he moved the pillow (circle and draws arrow), which allowed his opponent to settle. Not good. This one's going to go to the clock.
5. If the sport takes off, then eventually, like football, a male-oriented knock-off staring former Playboy bunnies will be formed. ANNND, this will definitely appeal to all peeping toms and lovers of voyeurism out there.
Not liking "The Power Nap Challenge"? Afraid it will be won mostly by teenagers? Then what about construction as a sport. Fastest to put up a skyscraper! Quickest with the nail gun on dry wall! Best painting job!
Yes, I get that both sound boring, but how is it any different from Poker, Arm Wrestling, or RPS? Well, those three "sports" can be done drunk. Seriously. You may not necessarily win, but you can get plastered and try. Look at this article in the City Pages, which talks about RPS. It used to be that you had to be good-looking, rich, or a smooth talker to get free drinks. Now you have to win a few rounds of RPS. Life has sure changed. I blame the young people...
Seriously, though, why wouldn't "The Power Nap Challenge" work? We already televise drivel like Poker (which is incredibly boring), Pokemon battles (on ESPN 2 at 3 in the morning), and Cricket ( a sport, though interesting at times, can last several days...DAYS!). So let's move to napping. We can even use a cool "night vision" look just like on reality TV.
Who's with me? Anyone? No? Ok, then how about Competitive Egg Toss? The Bachelor Games (these include taking random cooking ingredients and making dinner, most beers in a minute, and the brat toss)?
Let me know what you think or give me some ideas of your own. You know the drill.

Do You Mind If I Take This?

Here's the thing about all the chaos in New Orleans that I find unbelievable: Look beyond the fact that members of the government and weather services have been warning about this day. Forget the fact that gas is about to almost double in price (though it's still less than, say, Ireland where it's $7 (U.S.) a gallon). The thing that I find unbelievable (and slightly funny) is that police in New Orleans are ignoring the (and I quote), "peaceful looters." Is this going to become a trend? Could you imagine a person breaking into your home and being told by the police, "Well, they were doing it peacefully. We need to concentrate on the gangs." So, I have come up with a plan.
Hey, we all need some extra cash to pay for gas (and I agree with Chris Rock: gas is going to be hellaciously expensive very soon), so why not take a road trip to the French Quarter and do some "peaceful looting"? Think about it:
1. Go to a bank: Well, officer, I believe that I will be entering that bank and procuring some fiduciary means for myself. Have a nice day.
2. Go to a Wal-Mart, "borrow" a few gas cans, then go to a gas station: Well, officer, with the gas prices so high, I figured I would head down and to the local petrol station and give myself a supply which would in turn save me money and allow me to spend more money on saving the rainforest or even lovely New Orleans.
3. Go to a jewelry store: Officer, with my anniversary coming up, I would like to give my wife something special to show her how much I love her. That's why I dove underwater, smashed the case, and took the $21,000 necklace. Wouldn't you do the same?
I figure that all of those are pretty peaceful. Sure, I had to use the word, "smash," but I figure that the rest are nice and docile.
Anyone up for a road trip?

Praise Meatball!

I absolutely love (and I'm using the word love here) this. It's very funny and very original. If you haven't heard of Pastafarianism before, check out this selection from Wikipedia in order to understand how it developed. I mean ending every prayer with "Ramen" instead of "Amen"? Every college kid could get behind that. Those of you, dear readers, who have been to college know the importance (and affordability) of Ramen Noodles.
It just goes to show you: The lack of pirates in this world is what is really destroying the environment. Come on oil companies! Get behind this initiative.
Hopefully you enjoy the Flying Spaghetti Monster as much as I do.

Randomly Overheard

Before I tell you about the most random conversation I heard tonight at Alleygators, I want to make two announcements:
1. Welcome to my new reader only known as Suzie. We're glad to have you and hope to see you around more often.
2. AFFL. I'm stumped. How about some more clues?
(Warning: The following conversation contains profanity. Get over it...no suing either.)
So tonight, while my wife was playing volleyball, I was reading and listening to the people around me. Two girls at the next table had, what had to be, the conversation of the night. Here's how it went:
Girl 1: It's just so hard to date now.
Girl 2: I know! It's like he was making fun of me just because I don't like single guys.
Girl 1: Seriously?
Girl 2: Yeah! Ken was the first single guy I have ever dated....And you know what? I don't like it.
Girl 1: You don't?
Girl 2: No, I really like the married guys better because they pay more attention and give more stuff.
(At this point, I have almost spit my drink out.)
Girl 1: Really? I've never been with a married guy.
Girl 2: It's SO much better. You get the attention you deserve. I don't think I'll ever date a single guy ever again. They're not as predictable. Married guys are EASY. They have to bring gifts and stuff. It's great. If they start to fuck up, you can threaten to talk to the wife. It's great.
Girl 1: I've never done it, but maybe I should. It sounds great.
Girl 2: (muffled name) gave me that new TV. He also helped me get the car.
Girl 1: Seriously?! Damn! I HAVE to try that.
At this point my wife's team is finished and returns, so I can't hear the rest of the conversation.
Does anyone else see a problem with this conversation? Is it just me? I don't think I'm a prude but that conversation really bothered me. She's proud of dating married guys....That's so crazy. I can be very understanding, but choosing to go after married men because of the gifts they give is super shallow...at least in my opinion.

Ramblings for the Morning (8/30/05)

Kinky Friedman:
I find it hysterical that Kinky Friedman is getting buzz for his bid for governor in Texas. I like his music, and I think he's a smart guy. More than that, however, I like the fact that he is running a campaign that is unlike most politicians. For example: his slogan is: "Why the Hell Not?" That's brilliant. If he keeps this up, he could win in the same way Ventura did here in Minnesota. College kids voted for Ventura, because he was someone different, and people fed up with all these career politicians wanted a breath of fresh air. Friedman could win in the same way. One of the major points he is hitting on is the need for Bio-Diesel so that we aren't, as he puts it," dancing to the Saudi's jukebox." Sure, he'll get slammed by his opponents for many things. You want a list?
1. "You're not a politician." That's a typical arguement.
2. "You're Jewish." That's been already thrown at him. He can't run Texas, because he's a major minority.
3. "You're Bio-Diesel idea is a bunch of hippie nonsense!" Just wait for it.
Why do I think Kinky would be good for Texas? Because he asks, "WWWRD. That's What Would Will Rogers Do." Look him up and read about his feelings toward politicians. It makes sense.
Online Dating:
I promised a friend I would talk about this. Ok, how do I feel about online dating or dating on the internet? Well, it's a double-edged sword...just like real dating. Yup, you can meet someone online, and they seem absolutely great. At the same time you can meet someone in "real life" and discover he or she is insane. The arguments against online dating usually come around to the same argument: You don't know who you're talking to. But even face to face, you don't really know who you're talking to. Sure, I believe in face to face, because I read people better. I see their body language, their eyes, the way they say things, and that helps determine who they are.
It's extremely hard to date in modern society once you leave school. Why? Well we have to work. It's really hard once the grind gets going to go out and meet people (wow, alliteration). That's why online dating is great for some people. Hell, USA Today just ran a story this morning about senior citizens using online dating. Old people in retirement homes are using online dating to meet each other. If nothing else, it can give someone companionship. Sure, there are psychos out there, but there are psychos EVERYWHERE.
The bottom line: I, personally, wouldn't use online dating, because I can't read a person then. At the same time, someone might (and I really stress the might) be more honest when online versus in person.
Stale Popcorn:
I'm getting really sick and tired of the people who equate low box office grosses with moral values. It's not because of the "lack of moral values in films," people have stopped going to movie theatres. No, the answer is two-fold:
1. Most movies are not fun and original anymore. Dukes of Hazzard and Bewitched were TV shows. Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Herbie, and The Longest Yard were all remakes. Were there no good films this summer? No, there were some great films. Crash, though it makes mountains out of coincidences, was poignant and beautiful. March of the Penguins was a great look at nature. Overall, however, it was all sequels and remakes. If we've seen it before, we don't want to see it again. A broken down car with a fresh coat of paint is still a broken down car.
2. This is more important. Why pay between $18-25 bucks a person (that's a ticket, popcorn, and a soda) to sit around with other people who may treat the experience like TV, when you can pay $4 to rent the film three months after it comes out and watch it in the privacy of your own home. You need food or bathroom break? Just pause it. You can't do that in the theatre.
Just stop trying to say that it's because of the moral values. Oh we hate the violence...except when it's happening to Jesus in The Passion. Look, Mel Gibson recut the film and re-released it, and no one really came out to see it. Was it morals then? No, it was because of DVD.
And while we're on the topic of morals and such, don't use The March of the Penguins to extoll the wonders of marriage. Don't use a documentary about nature for political reasons. The people arguing this forget about two things:
1. The penguins are only monogamous for the year, then they switch partners. Would that be ok with us humans then? "Sorry, honey, year's up. I'm going to Candace."
2. They forget that there are documentations, real documentations by scientists, that show penguins have instances of homosexuality. That's right, males with males, females with females. Many Americans don't want gays to marry, but it's ok if penguins do? Come on.
Hope everyone has a nice day.

The Rage of God

It was believed, once upon a time, that severe weather was, "God being angry at the people who did not believe in him." That's right: You don't believe in the awesome power of God? Shazam! You get swept out in a flood. However, I find it fascinating that if you really look where severe weather hits in this country, almost all the spots are where hardcore Christians live. Seriously. The entire South is susceptible to hurricanes. Look at Louisiana and Mississippi yesterday. Wildfires anyone? They hit Wyoming and Utah hardest. You want a tornado to rip off your roof or blow away your trailer? Go to Texas or most of the midwest. What happens in the Northeast? That whole "Godless" area, as it was once described, where the heathens live. Well, there's snow.
I just find it absolutely fascinating. If, in fact, weather is created by God, then why hit those areas only? You ever hear about Maine getting hit by a tropical storm?
Maybe I'm oversimplifying, but last night on one of the cable news stations, they had a person on who was rescued from a house, and he was quoted saying, "Why would God do this?"
I have mentioned before how I feel about the whole Intelligent Design thing, and I'm not going to go into it again. However, why, why, why do so many people feel that God has done this to them? "Hey my house burned down, well it's God's fault." No, it's because you left that cigarette burning on the couch. Many people are so quick to blame God for the bad, ask God for the stuff they want, and thank God for the good. I cannot stress this enough: God is not a cosmic bellboy. God doesn't hear you and go running to answer your prayers.
You want my honest opinion (and if you're still reading this: you do)? I think the very essence of God came from an episode of Futurama. Seriously. Bender, the robot, gets shot into space and as he's flying, he picks up a colony of aliens that live on him and think of him as God. They eventually die (nuclear holocaust). Along the way, he is pulled into a star cluster that talks to him. It is conceivable that this is God (a question posed by Bender). His advice? "When you do it right, people won't think you've done anything at all." Isn't that the best idea? God is a force that is away from us, and we can look to for guidance, but he doesn't answer (no matter what signs YOU think you get) and instead looks to you to make your own way.
It's free will. We make our choices. God doesn't push us around like a chess piece. If that were the case, then what's the point of bettering yourself when God has a plan for you?
Now back to my original point: God doesn't create the weather. We know how a thunderstorm works. It's not God bowling, it's pressure meeting. Yes, it is funny, to me at least, that the most devout areas of this country get hit the hardest. Maybe I'm just mean.

A Bullet-Ridden Knight

So Marion "Suge" Knight got shot. Is anybody surprised? The Game, a noted hip-hop rapper (and member of the G-Unit, I believe), said, "the shooting devestated hip-hop culture. It's real tragic, and I wish him (Knight) the very best." Knight has spent time in jail for, well, bad deeds as it were, Tupac and Biggie have been killed (or so we're supposed to think), and "Street Life" is still glorified. My favorite thing, however, is that 50-Cent, who has a film coming out about his "thug life", said, "People have to change." Hey, that's all well and good, and I agree with Mr. Jackson, but then how can the culture change when most of the songs deal with pimping, killing, stealing, or women? I like hip-hop. I listen to Outkast (even before they were super popular), De La Soul, Fugees, and more. Yet, it takes the shooting of a record producer for them to think about change? Forget that the people buying their albums may be shooting each other. Who cares about the consumer? Heck, when two of the biggest stars died, did it stop then? No. In fact Diddy (then Puff Daddy) rewrote a great song by the Police for Biggie, while others did Tupac tributes.
I just find it sad that people will say, "This must change," but they will never make the effort to fix it. Not while it can make money. Kids want to be pimps and gangstas, because that's what's "cool" now (or poppin or whatever you want to say). As long as someone pays for the CDs and goes to the concerts, they don't care if a person here or there dies.

I'm Back (8/29/05)

I have returned. What an interesting trip, which is a nice way of saying that it had good times, bad times, drama, and even comedy. Of course that's what always happens when you see family, right? We ended up spending more time in Connecticut then New York, but it was worth it. So let's hit the highlights:
My Father: You remember him. The man who may or may not be a secret agent. Well first of all, today is his birthday, so happy birthday Dad! My father was the source of the trip's funniest moment. You see, he's been working very hard on prepping his classes for the new school year (you'll recall he's a professor) as well as keeping up with his other ventures. So, he wanted some ice cream for nice break. Well, my wife and I were heading out to pick up dinner for the whole family, so he tagged along in order to get his, "chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles." There is a little ice cream shoppe on the way to the pizza parlor, so we stopped. It was warm, and there were a great deal of people in line to get their frozen treats. One group waiting was a bunch of mentally challenged kids from a nearby camp. Extremely excited about ice cream, the kids were happily waiting in line and singing and laughing. Well, my father wanted that ice cream, so he walked in, looked around, and when he heard them ask for the next person in line, he stepped up to the counter in front of all those kids and ordered his ice cream. My wife, the good midwesterner, was shocked and turned red with embarrassment. The kids didn't really seem to notice, but the counselors did.
Later that night, as we sat around dinner, I recounted this story to my family. Here was a distinguished professor of history pushing mentally challenged kids out of the way in order to get ice cream. It would have been funnier if it had been some captain of industry. (Lee Iacocca pushes little kid out of the way in order to get hot dog...FILM AT 11!)
My Sister and My Neice: My sister is moving to a house in Connecticut. This was the true point of my trip. My wife and I are somewhat savvy when it comes to carpentry and other home improvement aspects. The house my sister is moving into is from the early 20th century (maybe 1907 or 08). It needed some work. My job, beyond moving boxes and such, was to repaint the outside of the house, which I did. However, we should begin in New York with the moving company.
Leaving her apartment in NY was tough for my sister, but she believes that her daughter should be raised outside of Manhattan. So to get her (and some of my parents') stuff up to Connecticut, they hired Moishe's Moving Company. Now the funny thing about Moishe's is that here is a company with an incredibly Jewish name and out of the truck came a Hispanic crew. It was strangely funny. Only one guy spoke English which meant that my rudimentary Spanish came in handy.
My neice, who loves people, flirted with every single one of the guys. If she dropped her pacifier, they would drop the box they were carrying and get it for her. (Who says women don't have power?) When they arrived in CT, the guys wanted to see her. They asked about her. It was cute (and slightly creepy).
Back to the house, however. It needed some work. I spent an hour scrapping off old paint from just one side of the house, then I had to prime it. When I finally could paint the house with the color we matched, it was after 9 PM. There are no lights outside the house, and it is in the middle of a forest. Thus, armed with painting equipment and a flashlight, I figured out how to do it. I held the flashlight in place using my shoulder and neck, then I started painting. While I doing that, my wife and my mother were cleaning the entire house (which looked like it hadn't been touch since 1907)from top to bottom. If I were a little kid again, I would love this place. It's in the forest, it has a huge lawn area, and it has all these hiding places and nooks in it. It's perfect for a kid.
I wish my sister and my neice the best of luck and happiness in this new place. I think that as soon as you can make it your own (meaning live in it for a while) you'll love it.

Ramblings for the Morning (8/24/05)

Greetings from Vail! Currently I am hiding behind some Aspen trees in order to escape the people who think I am a celebrity (oh, I wish I were kidding). With that in mind, here are some ramblings to keep you satiated until I return from New York (my next stop).

Vail: I will talk alot more about this when I return, but Vail is GORGEOUS. Oh my. I've been walking here a whole bunch, which I love doing. There are some odd things about this town, however. For example, I have been followed around by people with cameras, service people, and more. My wife and I were on a nice simple walk around Lionshead Village. Everywhere we went, people would say, "Good morning, sir. How has your stay been so far?" Now, I would think that they would do this for anyone, but we decided to experiment (it's the scientists in us) and watch to see who else they talked to. No one. Not a single other person. Even worse, on Monday, I was followed for two miles by this group of tourists who kept taking pictures and whispering around me. Finally, as I sat outside the Betty Ford Alpine Gardens, one of them asked me, "Can I take my picture with you? I'm a big fan." Now, I have no clue who they think I am. Maybe it's Grunberg again, maybe it isn't. So, I politely said, "I'm not who you think I am. Sorry." The response? "Sure, sure. You celebrities always say that." And with that, I took a picture with this person, apparently making their day. If it was a prank, it wasn't funny. Other than that, it's been awesome.

School Starts SOON: One last hurrah before I have to return to the classroom. Yup, instead of months, or even weeks, it's now down to days and hours before the new year begins. Am I excited? Yes and no. I look forward to seeing alot of my students, but I haven't missed grading those papers.

Salespeople: Look, if your a sales or marketing person, and you read this blog, congratulations. I applaud you for reading this. However, You may not EVER treat some badly, because they aren't in sales. My wife is an engineer, which is why we are in Vail. She had to go to a sales meeting in order to make sure they all understood the product. During the opening reception, my lovely wife was treated very badly. They ignored her, they talked down to her, and they talked to ME (a teacher, for pete's sake) more than her. She was called, "Sweetie", "Honey", and worse. Look, if you're going to act like scum, I am going to treat you like scum. That's why I made fun of you, picked on the fact that you were single and needed prostitutes, and told jokes where salesmen were the butt of them. If you can't take the heat of being picked on, then don't pick on others. It's a good life lesson, kids.

Quick Note of Hypocrisy: I want to make something clear: I don't want to turn this blog into political rants. There's alot of that out there. However, I want to address a few things regarding politics, so let's begin:

1. It's totally hypocritical to be completely and utterly upset about abortion and stem cells, but not care that men and women are dying left and right in Iraq as well as not be upset that an innocent man was killed in Britain. You can't say that one person's life means more than another's and then argue that all life is sacred. That's hypocrisy

2. You can't use God as a weapon. If you pray to God and say that people against your way of thinking should, using Pat Robertson as an example, "be assasinated," that's hypocritical and not really very Chrisitan.

3. Intelligent Design supporters: Just admit that this isn't about God. What it really and truly is about is that you don't want to think about the fact that the very first human may have slept with a monkey-like creature. Ever see evolution at work? Perhaps a animal is born that is different from the others? Well, he or she is going to have to get with the original animals in order to procreate. The first human would have to have slept with a monkey and produced another human and on and on it goes. Just admit that you don't care about the God aspect, but you really believe that evolution means that we may have slept with animals and that upsets you. I bring this up because of conversations I heard out here in Colorado. My personal thoughts? If you can bring me scientific data that helps show that Intelligent Design is real, then maybe I'll think about it. Until a REAL scientist (and Deepak Chopra is NOT a scientist) shows me otherwise, I'm going to avoid the whole thing. Oh, and remember that we once thought that God gave us sickness if he was angry. So if I know a priest who has cancer, does that mean he was "bad"?

4. My last thought on this political stuff for awhile: It's totally and utterly hypocritical to blame all of the world's problems on the other guy. Hey guess what? All of America's problems aren't solely because of Liberals/Democrats or Conservatives/Republicans. That's right, folks, we are ALL to blame. We are all guilty of screwing up the world. God can't fix it, only we can, and right now, we can't even look at each other unless we think the same way. I blame Liberals/Democrats for making it difficult to talk about anything in this country, but I blame Conservatives/Republicans for trying to make me feel guilty about the things I like to do. If you want to me to call a friend African-American instead of black, that's fine, but if he tells me otherwise, you don't tell me he's wrong. At the same time, if you want me to not smoke or drink or whatever, you cannot accept money from those companies. Also, I will never, ever, feel guilty about premarital sex. Leave God out of any discussion with me when it comes to politics. I don't think God tells me who to vote for, and I sure hope you make up your own mind on things instead of listening for God to tell you what to do.

As I said before, I will be in New York until next week. So, I will try to read the blogs and maybe even write, but I promise nothing. I hope this little entry is enough for now.

Quick Note (8/19/05)

Well I had written out this beautiful post talking about civility and such...and Blogger lost it. I don't have time to rewrite the whole thing, because I'm in the middle of a surprise party for my wife. As the lovely Michele pointed out: "Love makes us do stupid (and crazy) things."
I will be away for the next two weeks (or so). First to Vail, Colorado, then to New York. I will attempt to look in on other blogs and write (if I can). If not, then have a nice few weeks sans me.

My Kind of Time...

I don't sleep much anymore. I used to be proud of the fact that I could be in top form with only 4 hours of sleep. It was my advantage. Everyone else needed those eight hours, but I could keep going. My sophomore year of college, I worked on an outdoor production of Little Shop of Horrors. The set was huge (about 65 feet wide and 10 feet tall). Because we were outdoors and in the middle of "the quad", we had to stay with all of the equipment all of the time, which meant sleeping out there. Hey, it was always fun to go your first class in the same clothes as the days before smelling like death. People thought your were just doing the Walk of Shame (yes, you are to note the sarcasm). When it was my turn, I just wouldn't sleep. It wasn't a problem back then. Go a night without sleep? Hell, you could make it up later. I remember sitting in a desk watching over everything while everyone else slept. At two or three in the morning it was like heaven. There was no light and no noise except for the wind. You could look up and just see all of the stars (that were visible from that part of St. Louis). As someone who believes in some of the zen qualities of life, those moments were precious in a way.
I grew up in a household where both my parents worked very hard. My father essentially had three jobs and my mother two. Dad would go to bed around 4 or 5 in the morning and get up around 8. He never faltered. It was quite amazing, and it's probably the reason why I can go without sleep (at least I hope it's genetic). Sure, I get cranky, but who doesn't when they don't sleep?
Still, I love the time between 2 & 5 in the morning. No one is around, most sensible people are asleep, and the world is quiet. Think of our world as a radio. From sun-up to after the evening news, it's like Motorhead blasting at level 11. There's so much to take in and process, and we have to then apply what we've learned through the filter of our beliefs. It's draining. I tell my students that work, to me, isn't hard, but living in reality is. After 11, that's party time. We head out to the bars or what have you, and become party people. Zany stories are shared, etc. We can't stop being "on" until we get away from it all.
In the musical Guys and Dolls, Sky Masterson sings about how his kind of time, "is the dark time." That's the stretch of time I mean. No one is out and about. This is when the radio is shut off. Before 24-hour channels, there would be nothing on TV or radio or whatever after a certain hour. Now, you can find whatever, whenever.
We're losing that time now. Urban areas are growing (or sprawling as it were). I live in Robbinsdale, which is outside the city of Minneapolis. On the three levels of "major cities", Minneapolis is a third-tier city. Cities like New York or Los Angeles are first tier. Second tier cities are slightly smaller, such as Detroit or St. Louis. Then there are the third tiers, such as Minneapolis or Nashville. You get the idea. Because it is third-tier, it's smaller, quieter, and not as bright. You go to New York, and you have to go pretty far away from the city to keep the lights from affecting your view of the stars. I live pretty close to the city, but at three in the morning, you can see the stars because there's less light affecting the view.
I find this time not only relaxing, but it's the best time to think about things. There's nothing to affect your mind. If I'm up, I start thinking about the world and such. (I don't really want to get political on my site, because there's too much out there already. If asked, I will share my thoughts, but I don't like getting political.)
Try it sometime. Take a Saturday and sleep in late. Then go about your day and do whatever you have to until that 2 in morning hour. You'll find three things happen:
1. The world slows down.
2. Your mind works at a different pace
3. You have the ability to concentrate on things better without those distractions.
Maybe it's just me. I'm not really an insomniac, more of a workaholic or thinkaholic actually. Once your life hits routine (and if you're working and married, and/or have kids, it will), you'll find that it's harder to take time to think. Not to work, not to relax, just to think.
And now, I have to get ready and go to work. Have a nice day folks.

Mr. Optimist & Mr. Pessimist 8/17/05

Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Optimist and Mr. Pessimist will debate my fortune cookie's message:
"Today it's up to you to created the peacefulness you long for."
Mr Optimist, you're up first.
Mr. O: Ok, we can look beyond the fact that there is a typo (created where they mean create) to see that this message is the very essence of being positive. You have to take charge and make your peace. And, better than that, the message is saying that you get the peace you want if you make it.
Mr. P: Oh, I remember when I was that naive. You're not seeing the forest for the trees. Look, it's not saying that you will get the peacefulness you want, it's saying YOU have to MAKE it. Beyond that, why is it up to me? Does this message truly realize the life situation that Leab here is in?"
I want to interrupt you gentlemen for a minute. Um, last time you debated as if I wasn't here AND you insulted me. I won't have that this time. Please continue Mr. Pessimist.
Mr. P: No one cares what you think Leab. Now, back to my point: If you have to create your own peacefulness, then how does this message really help you?
Mr. O: You're missing the real message here. You can't just sit back and hope that God or Fate or Time or the Universe will give you what you want. You have to go out and make it. You want inner peace? Create it. You want more money? Find that job and get it! You have the power, so use it.
Mr. P: That's nice. Go tell that to the guy on the street. "Hey, buddy, you may be poor and have no where to live, but if you go out and try, you can get that job and save your family. Look, Optimist, while you're living in La-La Land, the rest of us are here in reality. Sometimes we need help. This message says no one can help you.
Mr. O: Ah, but that's not what it says...
Mr. P: Yes it does!
Mr. O: No it doesn't!
Mr. P: YES IT DOES!
Mr. O: NO IT DOESN'T!
Ok, kids, break it up. Mr. O, you have the floor. Mr. P, we let you have your say so be quiet.
Mr. O: It DOESN'T say that no one will help you, it says that you have to find what you need. You want someone to help you? Then you need to seek them out and ask for help.
Gentlemen, we're about out of time. Can we have your final summations? Mr. Optimist?
Mr. O: This is a positive message. It says that if you want something, you have to go out and get it. You have to use the power of positive thinking to help you get achieve your goals.
Thank you. Mr. Pessimist?
Mr. P: Once again, this is a wake up call to everyone. This message says you are on your own and can only help yourself. Secondly, this message says that while others are given what they want, YOU have to make your own way. Hey this guy over here was given greatness, but you...you have to go your own way if you want even a chance.
Thank you gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, thank you for being a part of this. If you wish to comment, feel free.

Possum in the Cooler

Hmm, I get the sense that many of you were scared off by yesterday's topic. Let me see if I can give you something that is true, yet bizarrely funny.
When I was in college, I moved into an apartment my sophomore year. I knew I wanted to be away from campus near the city, and I knew alot of the people that would be living around me. I did, however, meet one interesting character: Tom.
Tom lived in the building A of the apartment complex. I was in B. His window was directly across from my living room. I never really found out how old he was, but his hair was peppered with gray. He also lived alone, played alot of golf, and was never without a beer in his hand. I'm not kidding about that last part. Whether it was 8 in the morning or 10 at night, Tom had a Bud in his hand. It "HAD to be a Bud," he once told me. He was one of those guys that was really friendly, but once you started talking to him, you had no clue what the heck he was talking about at the time. I returned home from class one day to find him sitting on a lawn chair drinking a beer and reading a magazine. With a Poison album blaring from his apartment, he got up and stopped me to talk about a girl in his magazine (yup, it was that kind of magazine). I had just been through a particularly bad test, so I wanted to get into my apartment and relax. As he kept talking to me and I kept trying to go, I never got the impression that our topic had changed from the girl. I guess it had, however, because he told me he was talking about his job. I never caught the change in topic.
Tom was, however, a good example of why you don't drink all the time. I remember one night I was eating dinner outside. The night was gorgeous, and the sky full of stars. I loved nights like that when I was in college. You could sit on the stoop or fire escape, have a nice dinner, and people watch around the neighborhood. Well, as I sat there that night, I could hear screaming and the sounds of a struggle. I ran around the corner to see Tom, bleeding from his arms and left leg and sitting on top of a cooler that was making noise. It sounded like screams and scratches. Now, put yourself in my position. Here's a guy who you know is drunk most of the time. He's bleeding, but still holding his beer and smiling, and he's sitting on top of a big cooler that's rattling and making noise. What's your first reaction? Mine was, "What the hell are you doing?"
What he told me was quite possibly the funniest and saddest (at the same time) answer:
"Duuude. I was out here with the barbeque drinking a beer when I saw something coming near my meat. I didn't know what it was, so I decided to investigate. I fell over and there was this...thing baring it's teeth at me. I tried to move, but it attacked me and bit my leg. I grabbed it, and it bit my arm, so I slammed its head into the ground and then threw it in the cooler with my beer. I don't want to move, because it might get out. Can you get me the phone?"
So here's what happened: Tom was drunk, he feel and found a possum and its babies. The possum freaked out when Tom tried to shoo it away and almost stepped on a baby possum. The animal attacked, and Tom threw it into his cooler where it drowned.
I ended up calling Animal Control to take away the dead possum and its babies. Tom also had to be checked (along with the possum) for Rabies. The genius almost got arrested as well, because someone had called the cops. The officer who showed up was a woman, and Tom started hitting on her and harassing her. If I hadn't sat him down and sobered him up a little, he would have gone to jail. The cop later asked me why I was helping him. "Why not let him go to jail? He's got to learn his lesson." I looked at her and told her the truth, "I don't know. I get the sense that if someone doesn't help him now and then, he'll hurt himself...or die." She just looked at me and said, "You're a good person. Stupid...but a good person."
I often wonder, even now, if the cop was right. If a person has no connection to you, should you still care? You don't know the guy on the street, so if he asks for money, should you ignore him? I guess I helped Tom because it was also a way of helping me.
In the end, I moved out of my apartment and into the house next door. I never saw Tom again after he tried to crash a party at my house one night where he groped a friend of mine and was later arrested for punching through a police cruiser window (I'm not kidding). He just disappeared.

Step to the Line

How many of you have been in a fight? I don’t mean a play fight or a verbal match. No, I mean a donnybrook. A slobberknocker as it were. It’s a very strange experience. There’s a combination of horror, adrenaline, and pride all mixed into a giant ball of rage.
It can all start with a word. Just one wrong word can make a person summon up the energy needed to throw that first punch.
We like to believe that we are civilized (a topic I will post on later). We want to see people debate using words. Yet, there is something about a fight. Deep down inside in places we don’t want to talk about, we want to see the debaters grab swords and duel. We want to see blood. Rome could be considered the very pinnacle of civilizations, yet their method of entertainment was quite bloody. Why do most people watch NASCAR? They want to see that crash where the tire shoots into the crowd and crushes the fat grandma. It’s also why wrestling is so popular, why people slow down at car crashes, and why we watch the Three Stooges (though the last features no “real” pain).
So when that first punch comes, or you throw that first punch, it’s not as quick as the Hong Kong Films make us think. For the sake of this post, we’ll discuss it as a punch coming at you.
I have this ability, so I am told, to use words like a weapon. I’ve talked before about how words have the power to hurt someone much deeper than a beating. Scars on the outside from a kick to the face will fade, but verbal beatings and scarring never fade and are very hard to heal. There have been children who have overcome the beatings given to them by their parents, but a child who is never hugged, never told he or she is loved, or is cut down no matter how often they succeed will often hurt more.
So, having understood this idea since I was a child, I always made sure to have the proverbial “ammo”. One thing you’ll learn, my younger readers, is that if you’re on a college campus, in a high school, or at a job, and you just sit and listen to everyone else talk, you’ll learn things about the people around you that they may not want you to know.
At one point in my college career, I had a very bad break up (again, a topic for another post). Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE, on the campus knew about it. On one particularly rainy day, I grabbed a hot sandwich and sat up in the catwalk of the theatre and ate my lunch. Unbeknownst to the class occurring below me, I was listening to them talk about me. I was the discussion du jour. However, they then branched off from me to talking about their bad breakups and other juicy gossip about other classmates and even faculty members. One girl, in particular, talked about how this one guy made her gain 20 pounds. Now, fast forward two weeks. I’m at a party, and this same girl is trying to give me crap about a life choice. I turned to her and said, “Your thighs look a little chunky. Did Brad break up with you again?” Her face turned red, her mouth hung open, and she just stared at me. That’s the power of words. You take what you know about people, and you twist it like a knife.
Imagine you’ve said something to the wrong person. You’ve insulted his manhood (I’m using the “he” pronoun, because I have never hit a woman, I’ve never had a woman hit me, and I would NEVER hit a woman, even if she punched me in the face or kicked me in the groin). Better yet, let’s use a real example. A person makes a racist statement about the students you teach. You decide to cut into him about the fact that his grades are low, his mind is closed, and his ex-girlfriend told you, over a few pints, that he was the lousiest lay since that eunuch in France (if you don’t get it: he’s bad). From the moment you say the last part, you can see the anger flash into his eyes. This is the moment that our civility melts away. Our primal nature takes over and tells us, “hurt, kill, murder, destroy!”
From the moment his body turns, you know what is coming. The body is turning, the arm is moving back, and the open hand is now a closed fist. In short, this person is going to use man’s first weapon against his fellow human.
Most people will tell you that it’s all a blur, but in truth, time does in fact slow down. Your brain kicks into high gear in order to help you prepare. Thousands of computations and strategies fly through your head. If you been in multiple fights, then you’re figuring out not only where you need to block, but also what points on your opponent’s body are now vulnerable. The surroundings come into play. Do you have the ability to move? Do you need to move? Does this guy have friends that can hurt you? In the time it takes for you to read the first three words of this sentence, a person could have already knocked you out with one punch. This is what I mean about your brain going into overdrive.
Now his arm is coming around, and you’re wondering how high it is, where it's going, etc. When a person takes a swing at you, they often go for the face. Most people have never been in a fight, so they think it should be like the movies. One punch and the bad guy goes down. It’s not that easy usually. Yes, you can knock someone out with a good punch to the chin. Several nerves in the chin are connected directly to the brain. If you hit those nerves hard enough, they will spasm, and the person will drop. How often does that happen? Not very. Fights are also rarely as clean as in the movies. Two men who square off care more about winning rather than using The Queensbury Rules. A kick to the groin? Some guys don't think twice about it. Eyes and ears are even fair game. It only takes about eight or nine pounds of pressure to remove an ear from the head. That's not much folks.
Maybe you judge the punch right and move out of the way or block it. Perhaps you misjudge, and the punch connects. If the person misses, you have to spring back quickly. Take advantage of their mistake. However, if they hit, it's a different story. Think about the movies again. Whenever that famous actor hits the bad guy, there's a sound. A loud sound that sounds like, "Wo-pow!" In real life, there is no sound if the fist is closed. That is, unless, it connects. If you are hit in the face, you hear the bones and muscle of the fist grind against your own bone, muscle and tendon. The crowd may not hear it, but you certainly can. The sound, along with the pain, resonates to your brain. Think of a sonic boom: the plane passes by, then you hear it. It's the same principle. The fist, foot, or head connects, and you hear it in your brain before the pain blooms.
What happens next depends on who you are. I've seen people get punched and just stand there holding back their rage. I knew a guy in college who was hit in the back with a baseball bat. He got himself up, turned the to person who did it, and said, "I've turned my cheek. Hit me in my chest....I dare you." Others, seeing that they would be hit, ran. With fight or flight, sometimes we run. Me? I've never known better. I defended my students in the very same building where I was gaining my Master's. That's right: I had a fight with a fellow Master's student. It was a mistake (make a note of that, kids, Mr. Leab is saying that fighting is not the right way to go). Why? Well, honestly, words can do more damage if focused in the right places.
Hopefully, however, you never need to throw that punch. If you do, however, make sure you keep your thumb on the outside of your fist. You hit someone with that digit inside, and it's broken.

Life At Your Fingertips

When not teaching (which would be also known as the parts of summer before and after Summer School), I work for a publishing company that puts out a book (and a CD-ROM) dealing with lots at different auction houses around the world (such Christies, Sothebys, PBA Galleries, and more). It's not the most fascinating job, and I spend most of my time working with these catalogues and my computer.
What's interesting to me, however, is how I have turned my desk into my personal space. I hadn't really thought about how people personalize their desks or their cubes until I started looking around one day while working on a catalogue. Directly above the screen I look at is a picture of my wife. I keep this picture here not only to make me smile but to also remind me of why I'm working. When I get frustrated, I look to that picture for serenity.
Next to that picture is a stress ball with a smiley face on it. I got that ball at a party in college. I was able to throw three rings over a coke bottle while inebriated. That ball was my prize. It sits on a piece of metal that was cut by a laser (the first gift from my wife).
Next to that is a game: Curious George's Fishing Puzzle. When I was in college, my friend Liz gave me this game as a gift. She knew how much I liked Curious George (I still do). I can still remember when Liz gave me the box. It was my birthday, and I was hanging out at her place. She came to the living room with a big smile on her face. It just made her beam. You have to understand that Liz didn't smile very often, so to see her smiling was, in itself, a gift. She handed the box to me and gave me a hug. Other than my wife, she is the kindest person I know.
Next to that box is my latest addition to my Curious George collection. A Curious George Stress Toy. It's George sitting on a ball. I don't use it, because it's so darn cute.
I am not the only one who tries to personalize their space. At her work, my wife has a cubicle. Ever seen the movie Office Space? Her work area looks ALOT like that. Cubicles everywhere, heads bobbing up and down. It's quite funny. Anyway, for our anniversary, I snuck into her cubicle and left flowers, a gift, and a note. Her area is nicer and bigger than mine, but I was struck by how many pictures of us she had up. Beyond just a photo of us from when we got married, she had photos from our travels together, photos of friends, she even had some Minnesota Wild stuff (she wasn't into Hockey before we got together). There was also a book shelf where she kept a book I gave her (it's called Bad Cat, and I highly recommend it to anyone who owns a cat). I haven't been at her cubicle in a while, so maybe it all changed. I guess I won't know until the next time I sneak in to do something...devious.
The more I think about it, the more I see how people try to block out the mundane and starkness of their workspaces. Look, work isn't meant to be fun. If it was, it would called Super Action Fun Time. It's not, it's called work, because it hurts just to say it. WORK. Your body rolls with the word as if pushing it out. So, pictures of loved ones, knick-knacks, even books or music helps to overcome the pain of being at your job. Sure, if you're a waiter, you don't have a work space, but you still keep something on you to help you get through the shift. I know a guy who works as a waiter (when not acting) at Vincent: A Restaurant. He really doesn't enjoy his job, but he carries a picture of his life partner with him to remind him of why he's doing it.
Maybe you agree with me, or maybe you don't. Everyone has their own way of coping with the drudgery of work. Sometimes we personalize our spaces to bring the outside world to our dark workspaces. Ever see The Simpsons' episode where Homer puts up all the pictures of Maggie to block the sign Burns put up? That's what we're doing. That's why people get upset when the boss says, "No personal items!" We want our worlds, our lives, to be with us. We want to be happy.
On a different note, I will be taking a short break from the ole blog (probably just until Monday, maybe Tuesday). I will return soon with more stories, thoughts, and the like.