The photo to the left shows pretty much all the tangible results I currently have for my summer long research project. It is essentially a square compass, minus the needle and magnet. It took much of the night to produce and will be useful when taking photos of potential mercury monitoring sites.
Hopefully, in a week-and-a-half, when the research comes to an end, Miller and I will both have some more exciting results to share with you. Until then, you can simply stare in awe of my fantastic engineering feat.
Federal Judge Richard Posner, in his amazing joint blog with Nobel laureate Gary Becker, describes outsourcing as "a form of vertical 'de-integration.'" Although I doubt his is an original definition, it does clarify the nature of that overburdened term.
Modern market growth makes vertical integration inefficient. When the market for an input is small so that one large corporate buyer demands the the vast majority of the product, it is effective to merge the input supplier and purchaser. But a trend toward specialization due to larger markets increases the number of input demanders, making it sensible for input suppliers to exist independently of their customers. At root, the decision between integration and outsourcing is calibrated by, "the tradeoff ... between the agency costs involved in directing people’s work and the transaction costs involved in arms-length contracts." As Posner notes, nothing definitionally connects outsourcing and the export of domestic jobs to foreign nations. But labor outsourcing is a common manifestation of vertical de-integration.
The impact on American jobs is no different between outsourcing a component of an American company to an Indian contractor and hiring an Indian worker to work in India or the United States at that company. As the demand for cheaper foreign labor increases, the wages of foreign workers gradually reaches parity with their American counterparts. In fact, according to The Wall Street Journal, a few Silicon Valley companies recently brought jobs previously exported to India back to the United States, because it was cost-ineffective to keep them abroad.
Outsourcing, in the foreign labor sense, is a tremendous asset to the global economy. It is also nearly impossible to halt. An example that springs to mind is Napoleon's Continental System, the French embargo of British imports to Continental Europe. Although French cotton manufacturers flourished as a result of what can be thought of as an extreme protectionist policy, the Continental gap between supply and demand was compensated by smuggled British cotton goods. Much of the garb worn by la Grande Armee was manufactured across the Channel.
Many of the jobs the United States are outsourcing come from blue collar industries anachronistic to a modern economy. Why should the United States preserve iron-ore mining through tariffs when Brazilians can perform the same job for less cost? Why should Midwestern farmers receive billions of dollars in farm subsidies when impoverished agriculturally-oriented African nations can grow the crops instead? In those two cases, American subsidies and tariffs stifle sensible trades.
As a result of outsourcing, Americans collectively receive lower prices. That benefit is spread across a nation, while the negative aspects of outsourcing are borne by a small number of individuals left out of work. As a result, the incentive to pursue political action is greater for those left without a job than the masses who get cheaper goods. As Robert Reich advocated as President Clinton's Labor Secretary, the government can provide a useful service by financing job retraining. Although the labor market automatically corrects without it, minimizing the time required to change jobs improves market efficiency and lessens the growing pains of "vertical de-integration."
Some thoughts on today's trades in the NBA and MLB:
Garnett to the Celtics: So I've revised this analysis three times in the past hour. First I destroyed the trade since it leaves the Celtics with nothing besides the big three. Then, I hesitatingly approved of it, since the Ray Allen trade had gotten the team stuck somewhere between rebuilding and going all out, and this trade officially put them in the going all out category. Now, I'm going to have to admit I have no right saying anything on the trade. I always bash ESPN commentators for not knowing what the hell they're talking about, and when it comes to the NBA, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I couldn't recognize Al Jefferson if he was standing right in front of me with a Celtics jersey on.
I stopped intensively following basketball when the Knicks started sucking. All that TNT ever shows is the West, and that's pretty much all I ever watch (since I go to school outside the New York region). Now, I'm no longer an NBA fan; I'm a Gilbert Arenas fan.
Louis Castillo to the Mets: At first, this trade really bummed me out. Ruben Gotay has been playing great as of late, and I've loved to watch his Reyes like excitement. Just yesterday, I started to imagine a Gotay, Wright, Reyes infield for the next decade. However, nothing gold can stay, and this move is a great insurance policy should anything go wrong with Gotay. We know what we're getting in Castillo--a great fielder who can get on base, maybe show some speed, and has playoff experience. Can't argue with that, considering we only gave up two fringe prospects. (Sorry I used "we" so much).
Mark Texiera to the Braves: Bring it on Atlanta.
Kyle Lohshe to the Phillies: Loshe's Stats: 6-12 with a 4.58 ERA. Bring it on Philly?
When I was younger, two-on-two football at the dead-end was a highlight of my life. The field was small, and a bit awkward in shape, but the games were great. My neighbors and I would play into the night, ending only when it was too dark to see or when one of our parents called us in.
As we got older, and the field grew proportionally smaller, trick plays became more and more common. More often than not, an eternal huddle would be followed by a failed, uber-complex play. Sometimes, though, it worked.
By way of deadspin.com comes video of a trick play which went exactly according to plan. The QB pretends something's wrong with the ball and goes onto scamper for a touchdown untouched. You can draw your own conclusions, but if you ask me, a play like this should stay at the dead end and not enter an actual game.
If anyone could translate the title of the post, I'd be thoroughly discouraged.
For those who have no clue what it means, it says: "Elvis Presley is confused and shocked."
It's written in one of the world's youngest languages: emoticon.
An article in the"Sunday Styles" section of today's New York Times describes the spread of emoticon from teenager's IMs to adult's workplaces.
"THERE was a time, of course, that emoticons seemed intrinsically youthful. Just as children shared the special ability to see Big Bird’s magical friend Snuffleupagus on “Sesame Street” — a character who was long supposed to be invisible to adults — they seemed to easily recognize that the characters 3:-o represented a cow, or that @>--> -- symbolized a rose or that ~(_8^(I) stood for Homer Simpson.
But after 25 years of use, emoticons have started to jump off the page and into our spoken language. Even grown men on Wall Street, for example, will weave the term 'QQ' (referring to an emoticon that symbolizes two eyes crying) into conversation as a sarcastic way of saying 'boo hoo,'" Alex Williams writes.
Before this post, I had never written a single word in emoticon--I'm not really the emotional type and emoticon was not offered at my high school. However, even if you do use the language, I think you'll have a hard time figuring out what some of the symbols mean. Below is a test of your emoticon IQ. The definition of each symbol can be found here. Good luck!
JT and I got a glimpse of the Korean Peninsula in Hadley, Mass. today. Korean Restaurant only has six tables and booths, and a small floor for traditional pillow seating, but there was no wait. How is this possible, when the restaurant is immensely popular amongst college students and townsfolk? Impeccable service and efficiency provide the answer.
As we drove into the parking lot, the waitstaff sprang into action. The door swung open ahead of us; we were quickly and courteously escorted to a table. Tea and water was instantaneously provided. Our waiter perfectly gauged the time we need to peruse the menu and find something not too spicy and not too squidy. JT ordered a seemingly unadventurous chicken and noodles dish that managed to exceed his expectations in ennui. I couldn't decide between exotic seafood entrees, so I settled on a medley of eel, squid, and octopus on rice. Six sides accompanied the main course: sour cucumber, spicy bean sprout, mild and hot radishes, kimchi, and soy sauce soaked potato (the taste of which still lingers in JT's mouth).
Although the quality of our food was only slightly above average by our stooped standards, it issued forth from the kitchen within five minutes of our order. Korean Restaurant chef versus microwavable TV dinner -- that would be a tight time trial. Moreover, when JT and I finished our water about 30 seconds after eating a first piece of kimchi, the waiter teleported in, refilled our glasses, and, thankfully, left the pitcher.
The only unpolished waitstaff performance came at the end, when we received change for 30 dollars instead of 20. Alerting the waitress to her mistake, we returned 10 dollars and prepared to exit. But back she came, with a box of chocolate-covered cylindrical wafers in tow, to express her gratefulness for our honesty.
One day, JT and I will have frequented Korean Restaurant enough times to deserve a small patch of wallspace. Guests write their names and brief messages on the wall; only about half are in Hangul. A memorable scribbling celebrated the signatory's first publication in the Journal of Bateriology. If at Amherst I ever accomplish the momentous, I will celebrate the occasion with a brief inscription after a Korean Restaurant dinner.
The past few weeks haven't been so great for sports.
Michael Vick got indicted on dog fighting charges. Tim Donaghy got busted for gambling. The leader, and foregone winner, of the Tour de France, was removed before the end of the race for suspicious activity. Barry Bonds hasn't retired yet. And Who's Now hasn't been cut.
If the AFL championship weren't today, this might have turned out to be the worst month in sports history.
I can't speak for the Tour de France (since the majority of Americans never cared about it), but I'm pretty sure that in the long term, these scandals will not at all negatively impact professional sports in America. Sure, Atlanta Falcons ticket sales might go down for the next few seasons and this past year's NBA playoffs may appear a bit tainted.
But in the long run, the scandals will be tiny chinks in the armor of professional sports. They'll be forgotten, cast off as isolated acts of wrongdoing.
However, if you're a sports fan and feeling a bit down with the current state of things, I've got the cure! When Miller and I were driving home from dinner, we heard a fantastic rap song about basketball. After some Google searching, it turns out to be "Basketball" by Kurtis Blow. The song, plus video, is sure to cheer you up. Make sure to watch the video till the end (or at least till the 3:10 mark).
After writing my comic book supervillain post, I felt the sudden urge to ramble about Dick Tracy bad guys. Instead of overwhelming this blog with evil, I graciously relented until today, when criminality got the better of me.
Dick Tracy was a phase I went through after cars, dinosaurs, and superheroes. Chester Gould created such vivid characters that I would spend endless hours acting out battles and scenarios. In fifth grade, my culminating piece of writing was modeled on Dick Tracy. No one died, but my protagonist did pop the tires of a gangster's car with bullets from a Tommy Gun. Mrs. Elder didn't approve of the violence, and my masterpiece got a V (for very good) instead of the desired E (for excellent).
Gould would have probably received a U (for unsatisfactory), because he exploited every conceivable form of death and mutilation in Dick Tracy. Flattop drowned after getting caught between the struts under a dock. Littleface's ears were amputated after a frostbitten night in a freezer. The Brow was impaled on a flagpole after placing Tess Trueheart's foot in a time-released spiked clamp. (Actually, Tracy knocked him out a window onto the pole after flinging a glass inkwell into the Brow's grotesque forehead.)
In the heyday of Dick Tracy, most of the villains were gangsters or Nazis. Pruneface (real name, Boche, an offensive name for a German in French) was a Nazi agent who tinkered with poison gas. Flattop was modelled on Depression-era gangster Pretty Boy Floyd; both harkened from the Cookson Hills of Oklahoma. Tracy's archenemy was the Big Boy, a crime boss modeled on Al Capone, who masterminded a litany of crimes and attempts on the yellow-coated detective's life. Early in the strip's history, the Big Boy bumped off Tess Trueheart's father, Tess being the girlfriend of Tracy.
The greatest facet of Dick Tracy's enemies was the vivid physical manifestation of their evil. The Mole issued orders to the underworld from his subterranean lair. Large claws, beady eyes, and a pointed snout made him a facsimile of his insectivorous namesake. Gargles ran an extortion ring, forcing his victims to buy fake mouthwash. The Evil Influence used his overpoweringly hypnotic eyes to rob and murder. For three consecutive Halloweens, I dressed up as Influence by blanching my face and adorning trenchcoat and fedora, attempting to imitate Gould's cadaverous creation. In Dick Tracy,as in comic books, the criminal is as indispensible as the crime fighter. Although comic villains never benefit from lives of crime, my imagination has stolen from them countless treasures.
I don't like too many of the Asian dishes served at Valentine Dinning Hall, be it the ubiquitous Orange Ginger Chicken, tonight's Sweet and Sour Chicken, or several others. They're a bit too heavy for my taste.
However, each time one is served, I can count on one thing--there will be a bin fortune cookies at the end of the buffet line.
Fortune cookies are great. They're fun to eat. They illuminate the world. And they are an instant conversation starter.
For example, today's fortune: "Courage is grace under pressure."
Huh?
This led to a conversation of what is grace. And then to how we (Miller and I) act under pressure.
Eventually, the conversation led to this week's important question--are fortune cookies an purely American/Western dish or are they actually served in China?
I learned this summer that California Rolls are not served in Japan (I guess I should have realized this given the name), and it'd be interesting to know if the same is true for fortune cookies in China.
Cool kids do not go on Ferris wheels. Ferris wheels are for those who can't stomach the other rides. Ferris wheels are boring.
This is perception I had back in the day of summer camp amusement park adventures. Why waste time and money going in a slow, useless circle when I could ride on a Roller Coaster or get all wet on a Log Flume?
The race began in 1999, when the 443 foot London Eye was built in commemoration of the Millennium. It was a huge hit, and since then, massive wheels have opened or are being built in China, Singapore, Malaysia and Australia. These new "observation wheels" are a bit different from the romantic, private wheels of yesteryear.
"Unlike the seating in their older counterparts, the observation wheels feature climate-controlled, rotating capsules that can hold up to 40 people, and can be reserved for business meetings, birthdays and weddings. Capsule amenities include leather seats, plasma screens, refrigerators and bars," Douglass Heingartner writes. A ride costs $20 to $30.
Unlike the race to have the World's largest building, which can seemingly go on up forever, this race apparently has its limits.
You see, as the diameter of the wheel increases, so does the riding time, and this presents a problem. Heingartner explains:
"The call of nature is another barrier to height. 'The biggest constraint is the amount of time people need to be away from the toilet,' Mr. Vocking said. A spokesman for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, another builder of giant wheels, said studies indicate 35 to 45 minutes is the longest people are willing to wait."
It doesn't seem to far out of the question that toilets will eventually be added to each car. Heck, as the population of the World continues to grow and land grows scarcer, I say we stick houses on Ferris wheels. If the wheel's tall enough, you won't even notice it's rotating.
In all honesty though, it would be pretty cool to stick a Ferris wheel smack dab in the middle of the Capital Mall. Once Thomas Jefferson sinks, I say we re-memorialize him with a Ferris wheel.
I woke up this morning to a nice little thunderstorm. With all of my day plans ruined by the bad weather, I headed towards the television in the common room. The first time I went, there was some kid passed out on the couch. But an hour later, he was gone, and I was finally able to watch some TV.
About a half-an-hour into my TV viewing, I was met by my old friend--Who's Now. It was Lebron James v. Derek Jeter.
Stuart Scott went around the panel to get initial thoughts on the match-up. Unknowingly, panelist Mike Greenberg came up with a way to some how make Who's Now great.
He said that his four year old kid would only be able recognize two athletes, and they are Derek Jeter and Lebron James. At first, I was some what taken aback. ESPN's paying him just to tell us who he kid recognizes? But then I realized that Greenberg was in fact on to something huge.
For the Final Four of Who's Now, I propose that ESPN bring in a panel of four-year-olds. For each match up, Stuart Scott should place a picture of the two athletes on different sides of the room. Whoever's picture the toddlers go to should win.
Now, does anyone know of any four-year-olds starring in summer movies?
Miguel Helft writes, "This fast-growing GeoWeb, as industry insiders call it, is in part a byproduct of the Internet search wars involving Google, Microsoft, Yahoo and others. "
One phrase stood out--"Internet search wars." Is the battle between an ant and my shoe a war?
The article got me thinking, does anyone actually use a search engine other than Google, and why?
According to Wikipedia, in May 2007, 56.3% of the total Internet searches were conducted on Google. 21% were done via Yahoo! 22.7% used other various engines.
This is a quite a surprise to me. It's like roughly half of the searchers chose to go to Williams when they got into Amherst. Or chose to watch an MLS game on TV when they had front row tickets to a Mets game.
The rise of Google has been striking. It is the slickest, most efficient, and most powerful search engine out there. It has a hell of name too. However, it clearly has not risen as high as I thought. It will be interesting to see if it can literally triumph in the search engine "war" and put the competitors out of their misery, or if one day, another jump start will come by and become king of the web.
Last week's issue of The New Yorker featured a lengthy but entertaining profile of Mort Zuckerman. A mogul in the true sense of the word, Zuckerman accumulates cash, properties, publications, television appearances, miles in the air, political connections, philanthropic positions, and famous girlfriends like my shoulders collect dandruff -- quickly and silently. "Zuckerman speaks softly, except when he shouts, which he does occasionally, at people who work for him or to make himself heard as a commentator on 'The McLaughlin Group,' the Sunday-morning talk show. Quiet-talking is a power tactic, and Zuckerman has mastered it."
Zuckerman, left, on a panel with Al Gore and Roger Ailes.
After amassing a fortune as chairman of Boston Properties, the power-hungry billionaire decided to play a hand in the course of history. The purchase of three influential publications allowed him to acquire such a role. The Atlantic, U.S. News and World Report, and the New York Daily News target three different audiences and provide Zuckerman a bully pulpit from which to advance his views.
As a hawkish Democrat, Zuckerman often plays a convincing neoconservative, a characteristic especially noticible in his McLaughlin Group punditry. During the lead-up to the Iraq War, Zuckerman was a strong supporter of invasion; even in 2004, his Daily News endorsed Bush. Only recently, like so many others, has he started to come around to reality. "[He] now deems the war, and the Administration, to be a disaster, though one worth seeing through; he supports the surge."
On McLaughlin Group, one often catches him after a policy mission to Israel. The Jewish State's Ambassador to the United Nations, Dan Gillerman, considers Zuckerman to be a "roving ambassador to and from the United States and Israel." Often annoyed with Pat Buchanan's de facto anti-Israel rhetoric, Zuckerman takes over the group's Middle East discussions at McLaughlin's behest and maps out the real picture, or a synthesis of the pictures perceived by the D.C. emissarial establishment and Tel Aviv government.
Influence is a finite commodity, valuable due to its scarcity. Through persistence, charm, and shrewd business acumen, Zuckerman makes out with a fair share of the available stock. As the chairman of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, he holds the highest position in the hierarchy of Jewish advocacy institutions. Abraham Foxman, head of the Anti-Defamation League, calls the rank "the King of the Jews," making Zuckerman a latter-day Solomon; a representative, in Ambassador Gillerman's eyes, of the Jewish people, not just Israel or the United States.
A small but significant clique of powerful Jews share Zuckerman's bellicose foreign policy views. Zuckerman labels Iran an irrational actor, Lebanon a haven for Hezbollah, Hamas a band of terrorists. Iraq's WMDs embodied a mortal threat to the Jewish State. Like coreligionists Paul Wolfowitz and Douglas Feith, Zuckerman often takes stances in response to the worst-case scenario for Israel. And those who simultaneously breathe the rarefied air of neoconservatism and wield political power often make decisions that create unpredictable and dangerous results.
Tap water is for washing vegetables. It's for brushing teeth. For cleaning retainers. But putting in your mouth and drinking it? Repulsive.
Bottled water must come from the pristine Springs of Maine or snow of Alaska.
No more Aquafina for me and hopefully no more for you.
Wait a second. I just had an idea!
Let's say you've been having Aquafina for years and didn't know it came from the tap. You've stayed healthy and been perfectly satisfied with your high quality H2O. Why not just buy an empty, reusable bottle and fill it up with water from the tap?
You'll save money, plastic, and maybe even Polar Bears. It simply makes too much sense.
"If the new research is correct, it may say that something in the environment seeded what some call an obesity epidemic, making a few people gain weight. Then social networks let the obesity spread rapidly.
It may also mean that the way to avoid becoming fat is to avoid having fat friends."
From anecdotal evidence, I'd say you're more likely to become obese if your friends eat slow. Hardly a day goes by at the dinning hall when I eat more than I need simply because my eating partner is a sloth of an eater.
On a some what related note, Gilbert Arenas chimed in on the obesity epidemic in his most recent wave of blog greatness:
"I’m still on my diet too. It’s going well, I’m ripped baby! Of course I’m still tempted by Cheetos. I just said I’m still on a diet, but I didn’t say I don’t cheat away from the diet. Of course I do. I’m an American! We eat bad!"
Not much phased Proganochelys. Equipped with neck and tail spines in addition to thick plates of armor, this Mesozoic monster even wielded a spiked club at the end of its tail. No wonder the earliest known turtle had no need for neck retraction.
Certain traits did foreshadow the form of future tortoises. Large otic openings flanked the head. Carapace and plastron armor consisted of fused dermal bone connected to the ribs. Sprawling legs emerged from fenestrae on the corners of the torso.
But only one major evolutionary event was to further alter the morphological character of the Order Testudines. Approximately 50 million years after the known specimen of Proganochelys roamed the earth, which was transpiring about 210 million years ago, turtles split into two major phylogenetic groups, the pleurodires and cryptodires. Pleurodires are side-necked tortoises. Most extant pleurodires are indigenous to Asia. In contrast, cryptodires retract their neck as one normally expects of a turtle -- they pull it in straight. The true distinction between the two groups lies in the mechanics of the jaw adductor muscle.
For many years, paleontologists speculated that turtles represent the only surviving anapsids, or vertebrates without holes in the sides of their skulls. This viewpoint was revised in recent years. Scientists realized that previous studies implicitly assumed that since turtles don't have cranial holes (temporal fenestrae), they must be most closely related to anapsids. Instead, it was proposed, why not test a phylogenetic reconstruction where turtles are a branch of the diapsids (vertebrates with two temporal fenestrae on either side of the skull) that had filled in the fenestrae? Genomic studies quickly confirmed this hypothesis, and turtle were grouped with the extinct pareiasaurs near the lepidosauromorphs (lizards).
Almost 300 million years after turtles lumbered onto the stage of life, most living species are on the brink of disappearing. Many have already passed, in our lifetimes. In southeast Asia, the situation is most dire, with over half of 90 native species threatened with imminent extinction.
The Asian turtles' predicament is driven by the newfound prosperity of China. Demanded as an ingredient for food and traditional medicine, the price fetched by chelonians has skyrocketed throughout southeast Asia. The growth of the problem has accelerated for almost 25 years. The pace of the acceleration quickened in the 1990s when the yuan became easier to convert to other currencies. To quote a New York Times article from eight years ago, "In the marketplace, the price of a single turtle can range from a few dollars to more than a thousand. The three-striped box turtle, or Cuora trifasciata, from Vietnam has a reputation among the Chinese as a cure for cancer, and Dr. Kiester said a Vietnamese collector could sell one to a dealer for $1,200 -- about six times the average annual income. As a result, that turtle has become extremely rare."
Herpetologists find more turtles at restaurants than in the wild, even in national parks. "The high value of wild-caught turtles has turned much of the rural populace of Southeast Asia into a kind of enormous net of collectors, making it almost impossible for researchers to see turtles first. For example, Dr. Platt said he considered himself lucky to have seen two Sulawesi Forest Turtles in the wild, a first for a Western biologist, though the species was readily available for sale."
Most humans are ignorant of or impassive about the fate of turtles, but not everyone has stayed complacent during the slaughter. Richard Ogust, a writer from Manhattan, metamorphosed into an activist after visiting China and observing the travesty firsthand. Eventually, Ogust accumulated 1,200 rescued turtles in his penthouse.
A highly acclaimed documentary recently aired on PBS tracks Ogust. Although I have not yet seen the movie, titled The Chances of the World Changing, an online summary informed me of Ogust's life during the filming. Unable to care for his vast number of turtle tenants, Ogust started developing a nonprofit institute dedicated to breeding and safeguarding freshwater turtles and tortoises that would also provide space for his collection. But property deals failed to materialize, and the institution could not get on its feet; public lauding never transformed into monetary support. Forced out of his penthouse, Ogust pitched a tent beside the warehouse that now housed his turtles, in New Jersey. Ultimately, the turtles were dispersed to a variety of preservationists across the country.
Turtle farming, a growing practice throughout China, is flourishing as turtles disappear in the wild. But farming fails to stem the tide of illegal harvesting, and most varieties of turtles are economically infeasible to farm, due to their long periods of maturation. The only true solution is environmental activism. Hopefully, a core of educated Asians can eventually change the tastes of their brethren. Maybe those great chelonian monuments of evolution can exist beyond my lifetime as something beside future fossils.
This past weekend, at the Amherst Farmer's Market, I had a Popsicle like none that I had ever had before. It wasn't of some action hero with bubble for eyes or some cartoon icon with bubble for its nose.
No. It was a cantaloupe Popsicle, and it was awesome. It was pretty small, but the sweet taste lasted until the very end, unlike other, cheaper Popsicles which lose their taste with time. It had an unusual but at the same time, was unusually refreshing.
I haven't done a top five list in a while, and I thought the time was right to make one. The cantaloupe Popsicle got me thinking to a time long ago in my life when Ice ream Trucks reigned and sticky hands were the norm. A time when you didn't have to go to a Farmer's Market to get a decent Popsicle. I've decided to list out my favorite Ice Cream Novelties of all time. If you think I've left something out, or disagree with my analysis, please comment.
Here goes:
5. Bubble Play: I wasn't planning on putting this into the top five, but then I discovered the name. Priceless. The first few bites into the hard, stubborn gum ball are always great. 4. Firecracker: The only ice-based Popsicle on the list, this is great for holidays on the beach. There are few better ways to show off the Red, White, and Blue than with a Firecracker in your hands and the coloring smeared across your face.
3. Creamsicle:I don't think I'd ever got one from an Ice Cream Man, but creamsicles are great for storing in the freezer. They have the perfect texture.
2. Chocolate Chip Cookie Sandwich: One precaution--do not eat this straight on, it can be killer between the front teeth. Other than that, this is a heck of a dessert. Whoever thought of mixing Chocolate Chip Cookies and vanilla ice cream was a culinary genius right up there with Remy the Rat. 1. Chocolate Covered Vanilla: Don't let the lame name fool you. This novelty might not have the glitz and glamour of Bubble Play or the Firecracker, but it packs quite a punch. The key is the texture of the outside chocolate. This novelty comes in all sorts of variety, and the chocolate coating must be crisp; it cannot instantly fall apart into splinters at contact. If produced correctly, few desserts are better.
Honorable Mention: Pop-Ups. Snoopy. Chocolate flavored soy Popsicles--I've never had one, but my mom has them so often, they have to be good.
Awful and overrated: Chaco Taco! (One of my least favorite foods ever).
Just overrated: Anything that comes in a cone.
Pathetic: The tiny, plastic cups of ice cream you have to eat with a wood stick.
Drew Carey is a stand up comedian. Bob Barker was a stand up guy. His jokes were lame, but it didn't matter. There was a certain aura that surrounded Barker, which made the show so popular. He had the voice, the hair, and the admiration of all the ladies.
Carey is funny, but he is no way lovable. Furthermore, compared to Barker's majestic voice, Carey's is nasal and annoying.
Could Carey take on Happy Gilmore? No way.
It will be interesting to see if "The Price is Right" can survive. I tend to believe that Barker was bigger than the show.
Even Joe Biden is afraid for his own life. A man caressing his "baby" -- an automatic assault rifle bought during the 1994 semi-automatic gun ban -- submitted a Youtube video asking the slew of Democratic hopefuls about their stances on gun control. Biden responded by identifying the questioner as one of those people who shouldn't be able to own a gun, and subsequently muttered that he hopes his remark won't result in his murder. Kucinich might also put the Senator from Delaware on his hitlist -- when the candidates were asked one aspect they like about the candidate to their left, Biden informed the audience that his favorite thing about the Congressman from Ohio is his wife.
From left to right: loser, loser, winner.
Mike Gravel let loose barbs upon the other candidates, accusing Hillary, Barack, and Edwards of taking money from the evil corporate interests. He also took a train instead of a jet, if anyone cares. The cameramen loved low-angle closeups of the Alaskan senator's mug as it spewed vitriol all over the stage.
Kucinich, the other zero percent chance of winning longshot, is obviously supported by telecom companies. Every utterance out of his mouth involved telling people to text message the letters P-E-A-C-E. No information was provided as to where you should direct the text.
Senator Dodd, 62 years old, of Connecticut, has a two-year-old and five-year-old at home, and finds it hard to support them on the income of a public servant. Barack reassured him after a question on the minimum wage, "You're doing fine Chris." One thing the Senator seemed secure about was his age. His Youtube campaign video stated that, in effect, growing a white mane proves how much experience one has. By that standard, you might as well vote for Gravel, or Biden. Or even Edwards, considering that he probably transplants every silver sprout with a nice brown tuft.
Speaking of Edwards's hair, why does he take fashion advice from Donald Trump? The Senator from North Carolina is quite the environmentalist, providing habitat for some endangered muskrat upon his scalp. Whenever Edwards was directed a query, the question as stated proved inadequate and was promptly changed to one that addressed a more "basic," or "underlying," issue at hand. Not even a nation that scores 29th (am I quoting Richardson right?) in some science and math test of its children against unspecified enemy countries falls for the obfuscating baloney of that Southern windbag. That's why he's currently in last, with five percent of the vote, on the Drudge Report "Who Won?" poll.
This debate stripped Bill Richardson of much of his previous appeal. Standing at his podium, bleary-eyed, belly paunched, the Governor of New Mexico touted his N.R.A. creds and effort to remove candy from public schools. Apparently all illegal immigrants will also receive free health care under the universal insurance to be swiftly implemented when Richardson moves into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue -- because "they're Americans, too," even though, technically, they aren't. But Richardson did crack one of the funniest jokes of the evening. All of his opponents shared the same likable characteristic -- they would make excellent vice presidents.
Hillary Clinton told the audience why "the best man for the job is a woman." Well, she admitted, she can't help that she's a woman. Extremely articulate and astute, Hillary even remembered the names of four video submittees from a montage sequence (albeit probably with the help of her notepad). While Richardson was up there babbling about how he wants our troops out in six months -- using the executive prerogative of the New Mexico governship, of course -- and Kucinich ranting about how he never voted for the war in the first place, Hillary wondered why the Administration doesn't even have a plan to start withdrawal, and why, when she asked about it in a Senate hearing, Bush's cronies accused her of being "unpatriotic." In the debate, Hillary never strayed into ad hominem attacks. Although she answered questions in a fashion equally equivocal to that of her colleagues, on some issues she actually propounded pragmatic-sounding proposals. For example, Hillary contends that no land troops should be sent to Darfur while they are thinned to the breaking point in Afghanistan and Iraq; instead the military should enforce a no-fly zone and provide support for humanitarian relief.
Finally, the man of the hour, Barack Obama, that upstart Senator from Illinois. The internet and myself agree that he won the debate. By staying away from anti-Hillary rhetoric and sounding like he has a vision, Barack came across as cool and charming. As summarized in his Youtube video, Barack = change, even if it only stems from his race. When asked if he is black enough, Barack replied, "You know, when I'm catching a cab in Manhattan ... in the past, I think I've given my credentials."
In the beginning of the summer, for one of my first posts on this blog, I categorically bashed the planned YouTube Democratic Debate. I really enjoy watching political debates, and I thought the YouTube videos would get in the way. It thought it was too informal. Some how, I figured, it was too Democratic.
Tonight's YouTube debate was not a great debate. I got that part right. But it was great entertainment, and I'm glad they had it.
This format should not become the norm, but it is an excellent complement to the typical, more formal debates.
The YouTube debate did not uncover much about the candidates polices that we hadn't already heard. But it gave us a unusually large glimpse into the President's personalities. This is very important.
Above all else, you want to vote for a Presidential candidate that you can trust. This trust can only be established when you get to know the candidates and see who they really are. If you live in Iowa or New Hampshire, you can do this in a diner or corn field. If you live in Connecticut, Massachusetts, or Minnesota, you have to find other ways.
The YouTube debate made the candidates as unscripted as they're ever going to get on TV. Yes, the majority of responses were the typical stock answers, but there was verve and personality mixed in much more often than usual. Biden joked about the "baby" turned gun. Dodd joked about his hair. Hillary joked about her sex.
Edwards was put on the spot as to how he didn't separate religion from politics, and his response failed miserably. Gravel was challenged about his quote that American soldiers in Vietnam died in vain, and his answer hopelessly meandered to something about to ice cream (with sprinkles?).
Just as importantly, the YouTube debate was great for attracting young voters, like me. I watched the debate in a room filled with college students, and we were laughing half the time. Sometimes because of the candidates asinine answers, but more often because of their humor, or the humor of the YouTube videos. It's not often that you're going hear candidates joke about each other's wives.
As with past debates, I still cannot understand why candidates continue to completely ignore questions to instead get in their scripted B.S. The voters realize what they're doing and certainly don't like it. When at the table with Vladamir Putin, and asked a tough question on Nuclear Disarmament, do we want President Dodd to start blabbing about immigration reform? Or President Edwards to go off about wicked big business?
Part of being a great leader is responding promptly and appropriately to any situation that may arise, no matter how unpredictable it may be. By skirting around questions or completely ignoring them, the candidates do not convey a sense of leadership. Why don't they understand this and just answer the darn question? I'd rather hear a somewhat unsatisfactory answer to a question than a completely scripted response that fails to address the question at all.
Some other thoughts:
Obama Won.
Dodd, Edwards, and Richardson Lost.
Gravel, please leave.
Biden. I really like you. But just take a deep breath and calm down.
Why were so many of the questions from the East Coast? It seemed like at least 75% of the clips were from the Eastern U.S.
The opening bit, showing the YouTube videos that didn't make the cut was completely unnecessary. If they didn't make the cut, why show them? Let's hear from the candidates, not rejected YouTubers.
This feels just like ranking Super Bowl Commercials, but I'm going to have to say my favorite YouTube clip was this one:
To complement JT's picture from Amherst College, here's the view from the Holyoke Range.
Atop Long Mountain, looking west toward Mount Norwottuck.
Atop Long Mountain, looking southwest.
Atop Rattlesnake Knob, looking east toward Long Mountain.
Atop Rattlesnake Knob, looking north. The red arrow points out Memorial Hill at our fair College, with the towers of UMass looming only a few pixels behind as specks.
JT, another reasearch fellow, and I set off after a slightly too filling lunch upon the longest hike of my life. From Amherst College, the Holyoke Range looks like a line of hills, roughly level with the top of Memorial Hill. After traveling to the ridge, I can tell you that hill is the word used by people who haven't made the journey.
The Holyoke Range stretches over 50 miles. It represents the erosional remnants of a basaltic lava flow from the early Jurassic Period, almost 200 million years ago. Before the Atlantic Ocean formed, there was a series of failed rifting incidents in what is now the Eastern United States. Analogous to what is now happening in the Great Rift Valley of Eastern Africa, an upwelling of magma spread the crust under paleo-Massachusetts, creating a rift valley and lava extrusions in the thinnest areas. Also related to this event was the deposition of sediment in a deltaic setting inhabited by a variety of dinosaurs, resulting in the preservation of dinosaur footprints. With the lithified material currently located in the Connecticut River Valley, Edward Hitchcock, the third president of Amherst College, collected many specimens, thereby amassing the largest assemblage of dinosaur footprints in the world. It is now housed in the College's Natural History Museum.
Sorry we haven't churned out too many posts this weekend. Usually, the weekend is primetime for posts, since we generally don't have much else to do. However, this weekend was a bit different than normal. Miller and I were busy--busy climbing to the "Notch" of the Mt. Holyoke Range.
I can't speak for Miller, but I am not exactly the adventurous type, and to me, this was quite the adventure.
Typically, to hike to the Notch, Amherst students drive to The Notch Visitor Center and go up from there. It probably takes an hour or so.
For some reason, this didn't seem right to us. A hike should not be preceded by a drive to a nicely paved parking lot.
Instead, we decided to leave by foot from Amherst, and not stop until we made it to the Notch. We didn't care how we got there; in fact, we didn't really know how we were going to get there. All we knew is that were not turning around until we reached our destination. If it meant sleeping in the woods for the night, so be it.
I am proud to say that we did not have to sleep for a night.
5 1/2 hours and roughly 14 miles (we think) in, we made it to the Notch Visitor Center. Along the way, we faced our fair share of troubles.
The Robert Frost Trail (which we thought we could take all the way) suddenly ended with a field of tall grass.
A motorcyclist completely dressed in black circled around us on a completely deserted road. He said he thought one of us was his friend. I almost wet my pants.
If you couldn't tell, I'm trying to make this seem as hardcore as I can. It makes me feel kind of good about myself. It makes me feel like Bear Grylls--the pure definition of hardcore.
Even if it wasn't as "H" as I am trying to make it seem, it was a great way to spend a day. It might have been wiser to bring along better mapage, but it definitely would not have been as enjoyable an experience.
Next up? Mt. Everest or Mt. Holyoke. We haven't decided yet.
Whatever we decide, we'll be sure to recount our experience on the VD.
(Note: The above photo is of the Holyoke Mountain Range, taken from the Amherst College War Memorial.)
I don't think I need to say much more about Who's Now. Every one's been on top of it, including Sports Illustrated, WFAN, and Deadspin.
Just now in Newsweek, I read a column by Devin Gordon that consisted of a bashing of ESPN as a whole, with Who's Now as the centerpiece. There was one line in the piece that grabbed my attention more than anything I've read or heard since T.I. met SportsCenter met Jessica Biel.
"It has led to the occasional gaffe, like ESPN's decision to cancel its well-regarded drama 'Playmakers' after the NFL complained about the show," Gordon writes.
Did he say Playmakers? Wow. I completely forgot about that show. Can I get it on DVD from the Amherst Library?
There is so much to say. I don't remember the show too well, but I'll do my best to highlight the characters and plot lines that made this one of the most audacious, ridiculous, and great shows to ever appear on the tube.
First, there was Demetrius Harris, aka DH. Played by Omar Gooding, aka the host of "Wild and Crazy Kids." DH was the up-and-coming star running back who hung with the wrong crowd and made all the wrong decisions. In the defining moment of the entire season, a doctor used a catheter to insert clean piss into DH, so that he wouldn't fail an impending drug test (he had gotten high days before). Watching the pee insertion was probably one of the most bizarre, disturbing, and uncomfortable moments ever on cable TV.
Then there was Leon Taylor, the aging veteran running back, played by Russell Hornsby. As far as I can remember, the guy was a complete di** who cheated on his wife, cheated in football, and solely cared about advancing his career. Oh, I just found some more about Leon that I had forgotten--he beat his wife.
There was Eric Olczyz, played by Jason Matthew Smith. He was big, good, and like everyone else on the show, completely messed up. He impregnated some random girl on a one night stand. He had to see a shrink because of post-traumatic stress. Yet, for some reason, he was always my favorite character.
Then there was the gay player, who had to hide his secret. There was the head coach, who had cancer. There was the equipment guy, who wanted to start a career in college coaching. And there was the theme song, which was freaking awesome. Here's a clip of the intro, to remind you of the show that was.
I had to go through espn.go.com/eoe/playmakers to refresh my memory on a lot of this. Here is a passage I read while searching the site which embodies the greatness and awkwardness of the show. It is in the summary for Episode 8:
"While lifting weights, Guerwitcz learns that Trent King went off steroids because it was affecting his performance in the bedroom. Guerwitcz uses the steroid excuse when his machinery doesn't work with August. Later, on a tip from Trent King, Guerwitcz gets help in the bedroom with some of Trent's manly medication."
I really don't understand why the NFL would want ESPN to cancel it. Shame on them.
Today, the St. Louis Cardinals were dealt a terrible blow--it was announced that ace pitcher Chris Carpenter will have to go under the knife and have Tommy John Surgery. He will not return until the middle of next season.
Today, a teenager may have been dealt what he thinks is a terrific opportunity--Tommy John Surgery. According to a cover article in today's New York Times, Tommy John surgery is trickling down from the big leagues to little league as overworked arms lead to more and more injuries. Yet, some teenagers see Tommy John Surgery as a risk-free path towards a stronger arm and faster pitches.
Jere Longman begins the story: "While examining a 17-year-old pitcher for a knee injury last year in Nashville, Dr. Damon H. Petty was asked a chilling question by the teenager and his father: If reconstructive elbow surgery were performed on his healthy throwing arm, might he gain some speed on his fastball?"
In short, Tommy John Surgery consists of "harvesting a tendon from the forearm or below the knee, then weaving it in a figure-eight pattern through tunnels that have been drilled in the ulna and humerus bones that are part of the elbow joint," Longman writes. This is no run of the mill surgery, yet teens and minor leaguers are voluntarily going under the knife.
I hope that aspiring ball players don't watch Rookie of the Year anytime soon...
With the proliferation of Lasick eye surgery in professional sports, along with the implications of this article, I'm beginning to wonder if there should or can be a line drawn between medically related treatment and purely athletic-motivated treatment. Do we want our athletes to be artificially athletic? The outrage over steroids has shown that we do not. Steroids were initially intended for medicinal use and soon got into the wrong hands with the wrong intentions. In the coming decades, I suspect that unnecessary surgery will replace the unnecessary steroids of today as the means to cheat your way to athletic stardom.
First his wife gets a prime time slot on NBC, and now today, David Beckham gets a prime time spot on ESPN.com. The Beckhams seem to be getting in every one's way as of late. If you tried to go to ESPN.com during the day, you probably had a hard time reading much of anything. That's because the front page was largely covered by an advertisement for what was suppossed to be Beckham's first game in the MLS this Saturday. Beckham is likely not going to play because of a hurt ankle, and the ad has since been taken down.
I'm glad that Beckham's first game will not come against a World class opponent in Chelsea. I want his first game to be in Salt Lake City or Houston. I want to see his reaction when he realizes the level of play he has sunk to. I want to see if he sinks down to level of the competition or can rise above it.
I am honestly very excited to see Beckham in the MLS. However, I won't be watching until he's playing against other MLS teams.
Anton Bruckner and Carl Nielsen are composers who revolutionized orchestral music in widely different ways. But underlying both their styles of experimentation was an obsession with thoroughgoing and methodical thematic modulation.
Bruckner as a silhouette entering heaven. He is greeted from left to right by Liszt, Wagner, Schubert, Schumann, Weber, Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck, Haydn, Handel, and Bach, at the organ.
Bruckner's Seventh Symphony, the most popular of his oeuvre since its release, passes motives through every conceivable key, mode, possible dynamic, and section of the orchestra. The observation that Bruckner's orchestral effects echo the rumblings of an organ loft remains a proper cliche. All of the symphonies' finales let loose the brass like organ stops; supporting harmonic oscillation takes after pedal point. Although his idiosyncratic style broke with tradition, Bruckner's music is exceptional in its simplicity. As the final movement of the Seventh approaches its climax, for example, the composer repeats his theme over and over, with each iteration only gaining an interval and layer of sound until the ultimate blast of affirmation. Gustav Mahler, one of Bruckner's greatest admirers, described the man as "half simpleton, half God."
A standing Nielsen with the members of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet. Nielsen wrote a great quintet for the group, and concerti for the flautist and clarinetist.
Nielsen tinkers with melodies so that even his grandest symphonic edifice bears structurally compromising cracks. His most mature music is proliferated with so many flutters that the trill and turn are more substantive than the occasional outburst of melodic meat. As a result of these meanderings, Nielsen's music is extremely hard to play. Osmo Vanska, maestro of the Minnesota Orchestra, claimed before a concert with the piece on the program that Nielsen's Sixth, subtitled "Sinfonia Semplice" ("Simple Symphony"), is the hardest symphony ever composed. Amongst clarinetists, it is common knowledge that his Clarinet Concerto is the most technically ardous piece in the repertoire -- upon receiving the manuscript, dedicatee Aage Oxenvad of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet grumbled that to have written such obscure and squeaky sequences of notes, Nielsen must have known how to play the clarinet. In contrast to Brucker's late masterpieces, which conclude with the heraldically triumphant, in full praise of the Almighty (he intended to write a major key final movement for the unfinished Ninth Symphony), the Nielsen Clarinet Concerto and Fifth and Sixth Symphonies leave earthy and esoteric afterthoughts. Composer and Nielsen scholar Robert Simpson writes, "The tense Clarinet Concerto, hitting every nail ruthlessly on the head, is the finest since Mozart's masterpiece, and the problems it raises will have powerful significance while there is trouble in the world."
Games and sports are inherently more fun when you have a chance of winning. What fans do you think are happier: Spurs fans or Knicks fans?
But how does it feel when you have absolutely no chance of winning? Well, to figure it out, you can either start rooting for the Royals or try to beat the Chinook computer in checkers.
According to an article from NYT.com, scientists at the University of Alberta have created a computer that cannot lose a game of checkers. Named Chinook, the computer has spent 18years playing out the 500 billion possible positions. I've heard highly unsubstantiated rumors that Yahoo Checkers is looking into buying Chinook.
I have little doubt that Chuck Norris could beat the computer, even if he started with just one checker.
A recent study by Japanese scientists reveals that the production of 2.2 pounds of beef is equivalent to driving 155 miles at 50 miles per hour in an "ordinary car" in terms of greenhouse gas emissions. Moral of the story: those obsessed with minimizing their carbon footprints must embrace vegetarianism.
Humorously, the majority of global warming agents released in beef production comes in the form of cattle CH4 -- gastrointestinally produced methane. Methane sequestration seems like a pork barrel proposition on the horizon.
Diehard global warming activists who can't break carnivory should try suppressing their own flatulence, with the added benefit of eliminating a negative externality inflicted upon the general populace. As a correlative measure they ought also to cut their consumption of beans.
The reduction of meat consumption not only combats global warming, but is also humane and healthy. If the United States consume less meat, maybe the nation can start averting the growth of its obesity epidemic.
In the old comic strip Pogo, the character Churchy decides to fight air pollution by stopping breathing. Unfortunately, although there are myriad ways to eventually halt global warming, none present a panacea. Small alterations of habit, like unplugging your cell phone charger, are a good place to start.
Barry Bonds is two home runs away from tying Hank Aaron's all time mark. He is on the verge of breaking sport's most sacred record.
I couldn't care less.
About two months into the season, I gave up hope that Bonds would simply fall apart physically and fall short of the record. Since then, I've resigned myself to a world in which Bonds is the home run king, and thus I haven't had to follow the quest towards 755. When he does break the record, I won't feel anything.
Tom Verducci has a great article in this week's Sports Illustrated, not about Bonds, but Hank Aaron. It gave me a very good sense of who Hank Aaron is, and what he went through on the road to 755. Verducci also adds some much welcomed editorializing:
"Even when Barry Bonds holds the record, Hank Aaron can still be the people's home run king--and 755 can still be the number in which we believe," Verducci concludes.
I have to agree.
25 years from now, on ESPN Classic, you'll be more likely to see Hank Aaron running around the bases surrounded by chaos than Barry Bonds jogging around the bases alone.
As for Bud Selig, I think he has to go watch Bonds break the record. If he does not watch Bonds, then what's to be done with the record books at Cooperstown? By ignoring Barry, Selig will set a precarious precedent. He will tacitly admit that Bonds cheated and that his record is illegitimate.
Was Selig at Busch Stadium to watch Mark McGuire break the single-season home run mark? I'm not sure. But if he was, then I think he has to go to Bond's games. Either that or Bond's numbers should be erased from the record books.
ESPN won. They put Jessica Biel on Who's Now and I went out of my way to watch it. I don't feel very good about myself right now. For the first time ever, I felt some shame while watching ESPN, and I kept looking over my shoulder as the segment ran on.
Here is the reason Biel gave for choosing Steve Nash over LaDainian Tomlinson:
"I know what that guy looks like, and he's pretty hardcore."
Clearly, Biel was chosen to be on the panel for her sports prowess. I see a bright ESPN future for her. A Tony Kornheiser-Jessica Biel combo on PTI seems quite inevitable and unbeatable.
Given the ratings boost that I'm sure accompanied Biel's appearance, I can see an ESPN buyout of Playboy coming in the next 5-10 years.
Earlier today, I returned from field work that included a trip to Canada. Border patrol agents from both nations have become extremely suspicious. The traveler is guilty until proven innocent.
For the geologist, a commonly encountered problem is the transportation of rocks across borders. My professor imparted the parable of an Australian colleague who brought specimens to the United States making sure to bleach and scrub every square millimeter of their surfaces. Authorities are paranoid that foreign microbes will hitch a ride on the rock.
The paleontologist should never identify fossils as such; simply call them stones. In the mind of the C.B.P. employee, there is no difference between a common brachiopod and a Native American artifact.
Of course, there is no force field between New York and Quebec preventing the movement of microbes. But there does exist an unexpected linguistic wall. Not a single word of English dwelled in the hotel attendent's vocabulary. When my professor unsuccessfully tried to communicate our room number verbally and then with fingers, I had to intervene with quatorze. To obtain a cot for our room, I initially attempted to improvise a word for the desired object. After a couple minutes of floundering in French, I realized that je veux trois lits (I want three beds) would solve my problems.
Broader conclusions can be drawn from the lack of bilingualism in Quebec. Much of the region must be isolated from the rest of Canada or the United States. The city we visited is an outer ring suburb of Montreal, not an isolated bubble. A multilingual Quebecois colleague asked me if I thought the paucity of English speakers was at all surprising, understanding that to foreigners, there is an expectation that bilingualism is the norm. He then informed me that he was born and raised in the town in which he now resides, suggesting that geographic mobility is not common amongst French Canadians, even the most cosmopolitan.
The provincialism of Quebec is true for most of the world. In my home state of Minnesota, most natives return at some point in their lives, and a good number never live outside the state at all. Most small American cities are minimally connected to a metropolis through business, let alone foreign nations. Why should the inhabitants of a small town in Quebec need knowledge of a foreign language when most of them work as blue collar workers, or at service jobs that create a self-sufficient, although extremely codependent, local economy? The illegal immigrants of Los Angeles have few incentives to learn English although they regularly interact with English speakers. The varied dialects of provincial France yields another example, or Kafka's German in Prague.
Even as globalization allows for unprecedented economic codependence, it marches on silently through most of the world, only noticed when the Goodyear factory shuts down in that small Quebec town, or when Pop-tarts start to occupy the shelves of a depanneur. Companies extend tentacles across borders, disregarding the artificial barrier.
In some instances, globalization provides regions with greater cultural isolation. As Tony Judt points out in Postwar, tiny ethnic localities in European nations are able to rake in funds from the E.U. to preserve their cultural sanctity. If anything, these subsidies further decentralize Europe into a patchwork abstract. This centrifugal phenomenon is found even at the national level, giving more autonomy to provincial regions from the central government than at any time in the recent past--Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland are an example that immediately springs to mind, in addition to Quebec.
Consider that the provenance of most of our material possessions spurs very few of us to learn Mandarin. There simply is no need.
If you're planning to go on vacation in the summer of 2008, let me recommend Beijing. Even if the Olympics aren't your thing, China is offering a gimmick like none other--a guarantee of perfect weather.
According to Reuters, China plans on firing rockets into the sky to scatter incoming rain clouds during the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. While I don't know the science involved, it seems like it would be a lot easier, cheaper, safer, saner, and possible to simply build a roof. Even I agree that sports might not be important enough to launch rockets into the sky.
Some may think that this is simply B.S. spit out by the Chinese government. However, according to Reuters, China has frequently used chemical-filled rockets to induce rain in Beijing. Now, the question is how they're going to stop the rain with rockets. Good luck with that.
Don't be surprised if one of the rockets heads towards Milwaukee...
One of the funniest segments I've ever watched on TV was ESPN personality Kenny Mayne trying out to be a ball-boy at the U.S. Open. It was priceless to see his interaction with the high school kids who were simply looking to get a great summer job (sorry, YouTube doesn't have a video).
Now, instead on TV, we've got Who's Now...
Anyway, Kenny Mayne has apparently written a book. Awful Announcing dug up a YouTube clip to prove it. I am not too sure how much I want to read a book by Kenny Maybe--comedy on TV does not necessarily translate to comedy in print. To be perfectly honest, I find his sarcasm to be a bit over-the-top at times. I'm not sure I even believe that Mayne wrote a book.
But I know I'm more likely to read something by Kenny Mayne come July 21 than something by J.K. Rowling. Sorry Harry, but I stopped caring about you two books ago.
If there's one sport that is in worse shape than ice hockey, it is bike racing. Even before the whole blood doping epidemic, not too many people cared about it, but now, the sport is enveloped by a cloud even bigger than Barry Bond's head.
Yet today, the solution to the sinking sport came from the most unlikely of sources--a dog who lost his way.
During today's stage of the Tour de France, a dog walked across the street right where bike riders were speeding by. Let's just say there weren't any signs alerting the riders of the dog crossing. The dog colided with Marcus Burghardt of Germany and both tumbled to the ground (see YouTube clipe at end of the post). Luckily, neither were seriouly hurt.
Now why can't this become the norm for the Tour de France. Remember the simple computer games when you drive/sled/ski down an obstacle filled course, trying to avoid animals, road blocks, and oncoming trucks? Well, the Tour de France should make the game come to life. Throw some more dogs onto the track. Add some roaming cows, some landing planes, some confused children.
Make the course short, so that endurance won't matter as much. It will be a true test of hand-eye coordination (and insanity). In a couple of years, everyone will be watching.
I think of myself as a pretty avid sports fan, yet there are a number of rules/strategies that I just don't understand. Most I can push aside as too intricate or rare to bother myself with.
However, there is one unknown rule that I really want to uncover--the checked swing. I have absolutely no idea what makes a checked swing a strike. What's it have to do with the writsts? Does it have something to do with the first/third base line? What does the first/third base ump know that the homeplate one doesn't?
I hate how I can't ever yell at the TV over a checked swing, since I never know what's the right call. Checked swings can have a very large impact on a game baseball, and I am oblivious to what a checked swing is. I get the sense sometimes that no one knows what makes a checked swing.
Please help me. What is an umpire looking out when deciding whether a checked swing should be a strike?
The photo to the left shows pretty much all the tangible results I currently have for my summer long research project. It is essentially a square compass, minus the needle and magnet. It took much of the night to produce and will be useful when taking photos of potential mercury monitoring sites.
From left to right: loser, loser, winner.
Atop Long Mountain, looking west toward Mount Norwottuck.
Bruckner as a silhouette entering heaven. He is greeted from left to right by Liszt, Wagner, Schubert, Schumann, Weber, Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck, Haydn, Handel, and Bach, at the organ.
