Dress to Impress

A horse is a horse of course of course unless its…Eclyse?

The zorse (or hebra, zedonk, or zebroid) is a cross between a male zebra and a female horse, and has gained quite the following in Europe.  According to the Daily Mail:

For while most zebra-horse crossbreeds sport stripes across their entire body, Eclyse only has two such patches, on its face and rear.

The one-year-old zorse was the accidental product of a holiday romance when her mother, Eclipse, was taken from her German safari park home to a ranch in Italy for a brief spell.

There she was able to roam freely with other horses and a number of zebras, including one called Ulysses who took a fancy to her.

When Eclipse returned home, she surprised her keepers by giving birth to the baby zorse whose mixed markings betray her colourful parentage.

The foal was promptly given a name that is in itself a hybrid, of her parents’ names.

Now she’s become a major attraction at a safari park at Schloss Holte Stukenbrock, near the German border with Holland, where she has her own enclosure.

Udo Richter, spokesman for the park, said, “You can tell she is a mix just by looking at her. But in temperament she can also exhibit characteristics from each parent.

“She is usually relatively tame like a horse but occasionally shows the fiery temperament of a zebra, leaping around like one.”

Horses and zebras are often crossbred in Africa and are used as trekking animals on Mount Kenya.

Sporting the black and white look quite effectively last night at the NBA Draft was Nick Young, now a member of the Washington Wizards:

And then of course there was Jeff Green, staying true to his Georgetown roots and choosing Burberry:

Looking not quite as good in stripes is Joakim Noah last night at the NBA Draft, where he was drafted 9th overall…seersucker suit?  Are you serious?

For a real lesson on how to wear the seersucker, turn to Project Beltway, where it looks like the trip to the outlets last week paid off for my college roommate…remember, it is all about the shoes.

Putting the Maniac in Wrestlemania

I have never been a huge fan of pro wrestling, mostly because there are too many morons out there who think it is a sport rather than entertainment, and then try to conduct body slams on their best friends on the trampoline in their backyard and end up hurting themselves or their victims.  That and the girls are pretty intimidating (Vince McMahon’s own daughter, a high school classmate of mine, suits up for the ring).  But the recent death of Chris Benoit highlights the darker side of wrestling even more - the lifestyle it induces, too often riddled with steroid use and violence, often from roid rage.  Early, tragic deaths are not uncommon for wrestlers, as seen by this list:

Famous Wrestlers That Have Died Since 1985 Before the Age of 65

Chris Von Erich - 21
Mike Von Erich - 23
Louie Spiccoli - 27
Art Barr - 28
Gino Hernandez - 29
Jay Youngblood - 30
Rick McGraw - 30
Joey Marella - 30
Ed Gatner - 31
Buzz Sawyer - 32
Crash Holly - 32
Kerry Von Erich - 33
D.J. Peterson - 33
Eddie Gilbert - 33
The Renegade - 33
Owen Hart - 33
Chris Candido - 33
Adrian Adonis - 34
Gary Albright - 34
Bobby Duncum Jr. - 34
Yokozuna - 34
Big Dick Dudley - 34
Brian Pillman - 35
Marianna Komlos - 35
Pitbull #2 - 36
The Wall/Malice - 36
Leroy Brown - 38
Mark Curtis - 38
Eddie Guerrero - 38
Davey Boy Smith - 39
Johnny Grunge - 39
Vivian Vachon - 40
Jeep Swenson - 40
Brady Boone - 40
Terry Gordy - 40
Bertha Faye - 40
Billy Joe Travis - 40
Chris Benoit - 40
Larry Cameron - 41
Rick Rude - 41
Randy Anderson - 41
Bruiser Brody - 42
Miss Elizabeth - 42
Big Boss Man - 42
Earthquake - 42
Mike Awesome - 42
Biff Wellington - 42
Ray Candy - 43
Nancy Benoit (Woman) - 43
Dino Bravo - 44
Curt Hennig - 44
Bam Bam Bigelow - 45
Jerry Blackwell - 45
Junkyard Dog - 45
Hercules - 45
Andre the Giant - 46
Big John Studd - 46
Chris Adams - 46
Mike Davis - 46
Hawk - 46
Dick Murdoch - 49
Jumbo Tsuruta - 49
Rocco Rock - 49
Sherri Martel - 49
Moondog Spot - 51
Ken Timbs - 53
Uncle Elmer - 54
Pez Whatley - 54
Eddie Graham - 55
Tarzan Tyler - 55
Haystacks Calhoun- 55
Giant Haystacks - 55
The Spoiler - 56
Kurt Von Hess - 56
Moondog King - 56
Gene Anderson - 58
Dr. Jerry Graham - 58
Bulldog Brown - 58
Tony Parisi - 58
Rufus R. Jones - 60
Ray Stevens - 60
Stan Stasiak - 60
Terry Garvin - 60
Boris Malenko - 61
Little Beaver - 61
Sapphire - 61
Shohei Baba - 61
Dick the Bruiser - 62
Wilbur Snyder - 62
George Cannon - 62
Karl Krupp - 62
Dale Lewis - 62
Gorilla Monsoon - 62
Hiro Matsuda - 62
Bad News Brown - 63
Bulldog Brower - 63
Wahoo McDaniel - 63

What is even more pathetic is that after the media outlets reported that the death was part of a murder suicide, in which Chris strangled his mentally retarded son and killed his wife before hanging himself, and that steroids were found in the house traced back to an outsourcer under investigation in Florida for illegal distribution, Vince McMahon and the WWE claimed that we should use caution before pointing fingers:

The head of World Wrestling Entertainment says he’s worried about a “rush to judgment” on whether steroids played a role in a double-murder and suicide involving pro wrestler Chris Benoit (ben-WAH’).Steroids were found in Benoit’s Georgia home but Vince McMahon tells N-B-C’s “Today” show that a number of other prescription drugs were also found. He says it’s all speculation until toxicology tests are in. That could take weeks.And McMahon says “other pressures” could have been a factor.A W-W-E lawyer says Benoit (ben-WAH’) had argued with his wife over the care of their mentally retarded son in the days before the family was found dead.

McMahon says what happened is a “horrific tragedy” but he says “there was no way of telling this man was a monster. 

Because no monster commits the murder of his child and wife, right?  and your sport had nothing to do with his use of drugs?

Clearly there has always been, and will continue to be, a steriod problem as long as the public endorses the artificially induced bodies of the wrestlers they support.  It is high time we at least begin to examine the sport and its management and hold someone accountable.

In the latest of strange twists, it appears as if a Wikipedia user edited Chris Benoit’s profile hours before the murder suicide, editing the content to include the death of his wife.

 The computer-generated time and date stamp of the Benoit entry are listed as 4:01, 25 June 2007. Wikipedia.org lists its entries according to Universal Time, also known as Greenwich Mean Time.

Further investigation, according to Wikipedia.com, shows that one hour after the first edit reversion, another anonymous edit by 125.63.148.173 using unwiredAustralia.com.au, a wireless Internet service provider, was made adding about the aforementioned personal issues: “which according to several pro wrestling websites is attributed to the passing of Benoit’s wife, Nancy.”

That edit was reverted less than 20 minutes later, with the following comment: “Saying ’several pro wrestling websites’ is still not reliable information.” The second edit was made by a computer in Australia from a wireless network, according to Wikipedia.org. 

Full article here.

How did someone know of the imminent death of his wife/predict this? Who is this mystery person? Had Benoit tipped them off?  Why did they not act on this information?  Or was this just the darkest of pranks/coincidences?

 

Eavesdropping

Some of my favorites from Overheard in New York:

Girl #1: Did you hook up with Josh last weekend?
Girl #2: Yeah, we got really drunk and I blew him and we did anal. I dunno if I want to lose my virginity with him, though.
—86th St, Bay Ridge 

Thug handing 20-dollar bill to clerk: Be careful! Let it dry — I just made that.

–Deli, 137th & Broadway

Thug on cell: I don’t know where I was, but they’s Germans everywhere in this hood! They on my left, right. Damn! [Looks around anxiously] Now I know how Patton felt, son!

–14th & Driggs  

Mother: Don’t you ever do that again! [slaps child hard]

Child, calmly: Well, are you happy with yourself?

–Union Square

Man: I just don’t get it! Just last night you were complaining about how you never try anything new, but you feel like you should.
Woman: Ok, well ordering the roast duck is a little different than a threesome, Tim.

–13th & 3rd

God Squad lady: Praise Jesus! You won’t be saved without Jesus! You have to start believing in Jesus to be saved! Jesus will always be there for you!

Suit #1: Would it be so awful if we pushed her out when the doors open?
Suit #2: No. Jesus will save her.

–4 train

Older woman: Excuse me, miss?

Younger woman: Yeah?

Older woman: Your veil, your burqa is very beautiful. I didn’t know your people were allowed to wear it in bright colors.

Younger woman: It’s not a burqa, it’s a poncho. I’m Jewish. It’s for the rain. I got it at TJ Maxx.

–53rd & 7th

Guy, staring at girl: You look like someone I know.

Girl: It’s me.

Guy: Oh, hi Alexis. You look different at eight in the morning.

–C train

Girl #1: I’m funny.

Girl #2: No you’re not.

Girl #1: Yes I am. Everyone says I’m hilarious.

Girl #2: Of course they do. That’s because you aren’t pretty.

–Virgin, Union Square

Chick: Omigod, I totally want an Asian baby. Asians make the best mixers. Like vodka.

–49th & 10th

Wannabe cartographer: There are two Washington DCs. One is in the upper corner of the map, and the other is like forty-five minutes away from Maryland.

–Wall Street

Student: Now I don’t know if this is something I thought of or if Satan said it.

Professor: Actually I said it last class.

–Columbia lit class

Drunk ponytailed guy: So, like what’s our situation?

Girl: Ummm, what do you mean?

Drunk ponytailed guy: Like do you … want me to come up?

Girl: What part of your ponytail makes you think I’d go home with you tonight?

–Bleecker & MacDougal

Guy #1: Shut up! Why are you so obsessed with sombreros? Every time I talk to you it’s sombreros, sombreros, sombreros!

Guy #2: Isn’t this, like, the first time we’ve ever talked?

Guy #1: Yeah, and it’s about sombreros, isn’t it?

–NYU

Bus driver on intercom as it starts to rain: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey… C’mon, everybody!

Entire bus, singing: You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you — please don’t take my sunshine away.

Chick: I think that was the least-New York moment of my entire life.

–M79 bus

Mom to screaming child: Shut the f*** up!

Man: Yeah, keep telling your kid ‘Shut the f*** up’ so he can grow up and steal my car someday.

–6 train

Conductor: If you do not step away from the doors the train will keep sitting here, you will not get where you are going, and I will still get paid.

–S train

Mom: What are those?

Daughter: Sour Patch Kids.

Mom: Can I have one?

Daughter: No.

Mom: Why not?

Daughter: I paid for them.

Mom: And I gave you life. Now give me one.

–Near NYU

Blonde: So, where is she from?

Friend: Croatia.

Blonde: Where’s that?

Friend: It’s, like, by Italy.

Blonde: Ohhh, like Czechoslovakia.

Friend: No, Croatia. Near Bosnia and Serbia.

Blonde: Oh, so it’s like Russia.

Thug: Croatia, bitch! Former Yugoslavia! Remember, they had a civil war and broke up into five countries?

Blonde: [Stares blankly.]

Thug: Jesus Christ, study a f***in’ map. Even Tara Reid knows where it is.

–6 train

The subway doors open. A hobo enters, holding a bottle of windex in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other.

Hobo: Which is the better time to read Dostyevsky? Winter?

He sprays the windex.

Hobo: Or Spring?

He squeezes toothpaste out of the tube.

Japanese girl: Spring!

Hobo: You are correct.

–F train

Chick: How come we’re always talking about how the Jews were persecuted? Lots of people have been persecuted. My people have been persecuted, too.

Professor guy: Um…This is “Introduction to Jewish-American Literature”.

Chick: …Yeah, but still.

–Waverly Building, Waverly Place

Jappy girl #1: So like, I couldn’t believe what happened to Erica*, but like, I think she’ll be ok. I mean, she’s gonna marry some guy who went to Penn instead of some guy who went to Princeton, and she’ll have a country house in South Hampton instead of like, East Hampton, but I think she’ll be ok.

Jappy girl #2: Oh yeah, I think she can handle it.

Jappy girl #1: Poor thing.

–The Dalton School

Tourist mom: Excuse me, miss, do you know how to get back to Manhattan?

Hipster girl: I’m sorry, I don’t really have the energy to give you fake directions right now.

–Brooklyn-bound F train

Hobo to man running for the train: You better run faster! That’s the last train in the world!

–W 4th Street A/C/E platform

Black woman: Move, nigga! Shit, if Kramer can say it…

–Whole Foods, Union Square

Father: Come on, hurry your ass up, nigga. I mean… Hurry up… son.

–50th & Broadway

Hobo: I will tell you the rules of being a goddamn New Yorker: one — when you see a suspicious package, do not fucking tell anyone. If it has money in it, well, then you can take the money, but it probably doesn’t, so don’t say anything! Also, when you are in the city, do not refer to Sixth Avenue as ‘Avenue of the Americas’ unless you wish to sound like a complete moron!

–Brooklyn-bound F train

Pilot: We’re on our way to New York where the weather is cold and icy, just like my prom date back in high school.

–Jet Blue flight 114 from Ft. Lauderdale to JFK

Guy: Did you try rebooting?

Chick: Of course.

Guy: Because that’s the first thing you should try doing when you–

Chick: –Look, half the guys I’ve dated have been in tech support. I’ve picked up a hell of a lot more than just VD. I know about rebooting.

–NYU

Yuppie: You know, that’s a very expensive beer you’re not drinking.

Girlfriend: Can’t we have one night where you don’t quote American Psycho?

Yuppie: Oh, he bought her Chardonnay. Don’t worry, I’m not a Chardonnay guy.

Girlfriend: Whatever. Just don’t nail-gun me in my sleep tonight. Again.

–Iggy’s on Rivington

Technician: It will cost a hundred and fifty dollars to have our technicians look at it.

Girl with computer problem: A hundred and fifty dollars?! No way. I’d rather spend that on alcohol.

–Apple Store Genius Bar

Fashionista gets off elevator, bumping into guys on her way out.

Balding Greek guy: You know what she needs? A good dick up the ass, that’s what she needs!

Black guy: That’s what all them bitches need.

–1407 Broadway

Hobo #1: Bitches is crazy, crazy. Had no choice but to fuck that squirrel.

Hobo #2: Nooo, nooo.

Hobo #1: Yup, yup. That squirrel was worth five cents.

Hobo #2: Nooo, I’ll tell you how much that squirrel was worth. $15.98.

–St. Johns Pl, Park Slope

Hobo: I want to cum on your face.

Young woman: Uhhh… Well, at least he’s being up-front — putting all the cards on the table. I guess I respect that.

–27th & 10th

Old, disgruntled customer: I wish I was young again.

Cashier: Do you believe in reincarnation? You could just kill yourself.

–Deli, Lex Ave, between 38th & 39th

Student: Didn’t the ancient Romans also eat lying down?

Professor: Yes.

Student: That’s really bad for your digestion.

Professor: Well, it was good for having sex with the hired help after.

–Bard High School Early College

Young boy #1: Today is the day your mother birthed you and you only got five dollars?

Young boy #2: We got troubles.

–Prospect Heights

Buddhist: Excuse me, sir, are you a New Yorker?

Obvious New Yorker: Go fuck yourself!

–Union Square

NYU student: So, I think I’m just going to tell my girlfriend, ‘You know, I’ve been going to the gym a lot, working out, watching what I eat, and I think you should, too.’

Friend, as all receptionists stare: Yeah, no — you really can’t say that.

–Palladium Gym, NYU

Wannabe thug on cell to girlfriend: Look, I gotta be single. All I wanna do is get money, stay fresh, dress fly, and fuck bitches.

–Penn Station

Chick: I can’t believe you can talk about how much you love your country, and you don’t even pay taxes!

Dude: I’ve paid more taxes than you’ve sucked dick. Which is a lot.

Chick, after long pause: I don’t know why you’re walking so fast — nothing’s happening when we get to your apartment.

–4th St & the Bowery

Teen thug #1: You met her in rehab? Son, you was only there three days…!

Teen thug #2: Yo, but check this out — she’s 35!

Teen thug #1: Son, she gonna drop yo’ ass when she finds out how old you are!

Teen thug #2: I already told her.

Teen thug #1, after long pause: Shit, then she a pedophile, son!

–F train

Girlfriend: Ugh, I have the worst taste in my mouth.

Boyfriend: That’s ’cause you’re a whore.

Girlfriend: … I don’t get it.

Boyfriend: Your mouth tastes bad ’cause you suck too much cock.

Girlfriend: Oh my god! You’re such an asshole!

Boyfriend: I love you, baby.

–Shea Stadium

Late twenties girl: Were you part of that food fight Friday night?

Early thirties guy: Yeah, I got hit with a buttered roll. Someone actually buttered the roll before they threw it.

–6 train

Chick: I had such a hard time when I lived here. People were always calling me a slut. Always, always, always, always.

Guy standing next to her: Yeah?

–Outside the W Hotel, 17th & Park

Ghetto chick: Excuse me! Excuse me! What’s the name of the towers that got knocked down?

Incredulous passerby: Umm . . . The World Trade Center.

Ghetto chick to thug boyfriend: See! I told you it wasn’t none of that twin towers. You thinking of Lord of the Rings.

–Vesey St

School child #1: Yo, Tupac is still alive.

School child #2: Yeah, I heard that, too. I heard he’s strippin’. He’s a stripper in LA.

A small child with them gets off train.

Old woman: Get back on the train! [Small child gives her the finger with both hands and runs away.]

School child #1: Yo, who is that kid?

School child #2: I don’t know. I saw him in the bathroom. He was takin’ a shit and he came out and smiled at me… And that’s how I know him.

–G train

Suit: I don’t know why people still aren’t over the Nazis. They’re really sorry.

–Park Slope

Teen girl #1: Yeah, so John totally wants me to give him head even though I barely know him and we’ve never even hooked up.

Teen girl #2: That’s so weird.

Teen girl #1: I know! It’d be such a slutty thing to do. And I’ve never even given a blowjob before.

Teen girl #2: Yeah, totally.

Teen girl #1: Then again, I feel like giving head is something I should do before I turn 16.

Teen girl #2: Good point.

Teen girl #1: So I’m totally going to do it.

Teen girl #2: Awesome, I can give you tips!

–Metro-North

Girl: Honey, are you listening to me?

Guy: No, I was thinking about putting my dick in your mouth.

Girl: Oh.

–Central Park

Little sis: I don’t know. I’m just really confused. Like, how am I supposed to know what I want in a guy? You know? Like, what’s your perfect guy?

Big sis: One with 6 weeks to live.

Little sis: Huh?

Big sis: Nevermind… God, that would be great, though.

–1 train platform, 23rd St

Lyrics

You know I’d sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on race between the light
You had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
Now you act a little colder like you don’t seem care …
But believe in me baby and I’ll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
’cause I’ve run every rod light on memory lane
I’ve seen desperation explode into flames
And I don’t want to see it again …

Write What You Believe

(sc: flickr yonas1, erin m , Twinkie Town)

The Evolution of Facebook and Its Users

“Hey have you heard of Facebook?”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s…it’s like out facebook, but online… I dunno…a friend from UPenn sent it to me…here, I’ll invite you.”

“Ok, whatever.”

This conversation, between my college roommate and I, took place on April 4, 2004.  Five minutes later I clicked on his email, registered on this thing called Facebook, and lo and behold, I had access to a profile of my roommate.  Big freaking deal.  I asked a few friends around Georgetown about Facebook, but no one knew what it was, and by the end of the month I had three friends.

About a month and a half later, I was up to 100.  Then a couple of hundred more by fall.  By the time I graduated, a day barely went by when I didn’t check the Facebook to see who else was on (this was before automated updates, which took all the fun out of stalking people).

Clearly I remember the days when Facebook was just a curiousity shared by few, when only the Ivies and select schools had access.  I watched as more and more schools were added, first the Tufts and Bucknells of the world and then gradually even local community colleges.  I rued the day that Facebook became open to high schoolers, when this close social network became infested with “14 year old kids” excited to be invited by as many college students as possible.  Most recently Facebook has expanded its services to absolutely anyone with an email account, and, even more significant, has attracted superfulous applications galore. 

I missed out on the Friendster craze, and was always wary to join MySpace.  MySpace was too interactive for me, encouraged to much creativity (read: time and effort) and seemed to have boundless uses other than the one I was really excited about when Facebook gained some popularity - to connect to pals from high school I had lost track of and create a rudimentary social network.  Eventually MySpace dealt with scandal after scandal, known for its pedophilic stalkers, and being censored by the military for troops abroad.  The security seemed minimal, and it was just too much clutter for me to sift through.  Besides, all my college friends, who mostly went to top tier schools, were on Facebook, so why bother?

This topic is looked at in a new light Dannah Boyd’s “Viewing American Class Divisions Through Facebook and MySpace”.  Hardly a piece of academia, it still makes some interesting, if not controversial, points.  She, like me, agreed that high schoolers saw Facebook as the cool, college thing to do, while MySpace for many was framed as negative by the media.  However, she goes on to write that “good” kids are going to Facebook, while MySpace continues to attract a much different crowd: 

“MySpace is still home for Latino/Hispanic teens, immigrant teens, “burnouts,” “alternative kids,” “art fags,” punks, emos, goths, gangstas, queer kids, and other kids who didn’t play into the dominant high school popularity paradigm. These are kids whose parents didn’t go to college, who are expected to get a job when they finish high school. These are teens who plan to go into the military immediately after school.”

Obviously the above statement makes a lot of assumptions, which is countered by her portrayal of Facebook, and the hegemonic teens who prefer it over MySpace:

“Most teens who exclusively use Facebook…are very aware of MySpace and they often have a negative opinion about it. They see it as gaudy, immature, and “so middle school.” They prefer the “clean” look of Facebook, noting that it is more mature and that MySpace is “so lame.” What hegemonic teens call gaudy can also be labeled as “glitzy” or “bling” or “fly” (or what my generation would call “phat”) by subaltern teens. Terms like “bling” come out of hip-hop culture where showy, sparkly, brash visual displays are acceptable and valued. The look and feel of MySpace resonates far better with subaltern communities than it does with the upwardly mobile hegemonic teens. This is even clear in the blogosphere where people talk about how gauche MySpace is while commending Facebook on its aesthetics. I’m sure that a visual analyst would be able to explain how classed aesthetics are, but aesthetics are more than simply the “eye of the beholder” - they are culturally narrated and replicated. That “clean” or “modern” look of Facebook is akin to West Elm or Pottery Barn or any poshy Scandinavian design house (that I admit I’m drawn to) while the more flashy look of MySpace resembles the Las Vegas imagery that attracts millions every year. I suspect that lifestyles have aesthetic values and that these are being reproduced on MySpace and Facebook.”

I agree that I fall into this category that prefers the aesthetic nature of Facebook, but I believe that this stems from the original intent of Facebook.  Facebook was not concieved as another MySpace, but a type of “OurSpace”.  It was meant as an elite social network, which quickly expanded (for surely corporate reasons) beyond the original dozen colleges.  But it still centered on the school community, requiring users to belong to a university via email.  Its first feature was groups, a means to band classmates together.  When high schoolers could join, it was still only via invitation, clearly obstructing certain individuals (from a different class?) from joining, but still centered around universities.  The social network tool is prized by those in colleges, who look to life beyond and want to interact with classmates.  The corporate culture had LinkedIn and other sites, the high schoolers had MySpace. 

So I can understand why “customization” wasn’t the quickest development to be incorporated into Facebook, and by nature this drew in people who want to fit in, scope out a culture, and adapt.  The MySpace users I knew were either only on because they were social butterflys and Facebook didn’t exist, or because they had bands or other artistic tendencies which conveniently found a homepage.  But I think the author neglects to take into account the needs and personality of this ‘alternative’ culture.  Even the most stubborn of friends have signed up for Facebook by now, realizing that posting reminders of when their band is in town is just as important and effective as leading them to a MySpace page with live music, and that networking is important for everyone.  The author does stress that class has little to do with income and more with attitude, the ability to network and get what one wants when one needs it.  I agree to a certain extent with this statement, and if Facebook opens this ability to a whole new set of users, beyond the crust of society, more power to it.

Facebook is quickly adopting a corporate mentality, while its pages are trying to attract  and appease the most fringe users.  Graffiti is available, music and videos can be uploaded, even external services are being mimicked such as Ebay.  I for one have not yet grown comfortable with these changes, and perhaps it is because of my “hegemonic” outlook and refusal to be once again a part of the masses.  The article “How Facebook could crush MySpace, Yahoo! and Google” points out that the worldwide appeal of social networks is growing, and soon Facebook may be an “all-encompassing portal”.  However, class-centric or not, even the writer expresses hope  that MySpace, with its ‘alternative culture’, is replaced:

“…If there is going to be a supernetwork, I’d much rather have it be clean and navigable like Facebook than spam-filled and occasionally creepy like MySpace.”

For now, it is a popularity contest, and it will probably be the “jock”, not the “geek”, who comes out on top.

 

Ugly Dogs

It has come to my attention that there is, in fact, a “World’s Ugliest Dog Competition” (yeah, who knew?). Which I think is kinda like bragging about the ugliest girl you hooked up with, but whatev, there is a prize. This year’s winner is Elwood, who I think got robbed finishing seocnd palce last year:

More variations of Elwood can be seen here.

If you ever feel the need to see ugly dogs, visit the Sonoma-Marin Fair, or look at the other entries and cast your vote.

Come on Pee Wee Martini, 2008 is your year.

Rape - Not there is anything wrong with that

From Gawker, just too good to pass up:

Jerry Seinfeld Bombs With Pro-Rape Crowd

Yesterday, Radar tried to gin up some controversy around a joke made by Jerry Seinfeld. Rush & Molloy reported that the comedian, promoting his new film Bee Movie, said of bees, “They have no crime, they have no drugs, they have no rape. A little rape, but it’s not that bad.” Radar sensed an opening and plowed through, calling a few anti-rape activists and asking them to comment. Predictably, they were outraged. But what of those on the other side of the issue? How did they feel? Gawker investigated.

Craig Taylor, director of the National Organization for Nonconsensual Encounters, says he has trouble understanding why Seinfeld would make such a joke, particularly in the context of a film for children. “It surprised me, frankly, because I’ve always been a Jerry Seinfeld fan,” he says. “But this was kind of half-assed. There’s plenty funny about rape. It’s offensive that this was the best he could come up with. We deserve better. Hey, let me pour you another drink, your glass is almost empty.”

Donald Attlee, the executive director of No Means Maybe, had a similar reaction. “Rape is comedy gold,” he says. “This is the best Seinfeld could do? Working in the pro-violence field, we get accused of not taking things seriously enough. But just because you’re a comedian doesn’t mean that everything that comes out of your mouth is funny. I mean, he could make a whole set out of ‘forced entry’ jokes alone. This was a missed opportunity.”

Meanwhile, YAIMO, the Your Ass Is Mine Organization (great gift shop, btw), responded with an admonitory statement: “Rape is not only a joke. It’s a time-honored tradition and, occasionally, a bonding ritual for young men who are unsure about their sexuality and need to reassure themselves that they’re ‘okay’ through violent and degrading attacks. It is also chock-a-block with comedic potential. The fact that Seinfeld did so little with the material is a disservice to the entire rape-affirmative community.”

Seinfeld has since apologized, telling Rush & Molloy, “I was only referring to the insect world. I’m sorry if anyone got upset. I have a long history of including rape bits in my stand-up act, and was, in fact, the first comedian to do a date rape joke on Johnny Carson. And the last episode of my show included prison rape material. But I want to assure everyone my next HBO special, ‘Tied Up and Assfucked’ will be full of top-quality sex assault humor. Did ya ever notice how rohypnol costs twice as much as ketamine? What’s the deal with that?”

Seinfeld Bombs With Anti-Rape Crowd [Radar]

Name That Baby

Are you not entertained?

LeBron James had his second son born last week. Yet another thing that you can do when you are an NBA superstar: name your newborn Bryce Maximus James. It turns out “Gladiator” is James’ favorite movie, so he named his son after the main character, played by Russell Crowe, a general turned gladiator who restores the Roman Republic. No pressure Maximus, er, Bryce. Good luck living up to that name.

The art of naming babies, has, in fact, become more complicated than anyone could have imagined. According to a recent article, parents hire out consultants to help them pick their children’s names, taking into account factors such as positive association and even check search engine rankings:

When [Abigail] Wilson, now 32, was pregnant with her first child, she ran every baby name she and her husband, Justin, considered through Google to make sure her baby wouldn’t be born unsearchable. Her top choice: Kohler, an old family name that had the key, rare distinction of being uncommon on the Web when paired with Wilson. “Justin and I wanted our son’s name to be as special as he is,” she explains.

Well, at least Maximus probably has not been taken. My parents pretty much found a way to the opposite of what parents are doing now - I don’t even think they had agreed on a name for me and my twin brother when we were born (we were Baby A and Baby B). When they did finally settle on a name, they gave my brother and I the same initials, plus refused to give us a middle name, even though they have middle names and my other siblings do. I can’t begin to explain how confusing this is when pretty much your intials are all you use growing up in school. But I guess I can’t expect much from someone who, after naming my oldest brother Patrick, decided that since they were giving their firstborn an Irish name, they might as well go all the way and give him the middle name Oliver, since the middle initial O leading into our last name would accentuate the “Irishness” even more. For the record, we have zero Irish heritage.

National Geographic published a recent list of the top baby names in each state in 2005, as well as the top baby names by decade. In Connecticut, the top baby names are Olivia and Ryan, in DC it is Sophia and William. Interestingly enough, most states shared the same top baby names - Emma was the top name in 18 of the states, Jacob in 19 of the states. Texas’ most popular boy’s name is Jose, clearly an indication of the growing Hispanic community. Eight states had Madison as the top name, which I found interesting considering I have yet to meet one Madison in my life. Come to think of it, I have not met an Emma yet either.

The top baby names in 2005:

Jacob 1 Emily
Micheal 2 Emma
Joshua 3 Madison
Matthew 4 Abigail
Ethan 5 Olivia
Andrew 6 Isabella
Daniel 7 Hannah
Anthony 8 Samantha
Christopher 9 Ava
Joseph 10 Ashley

The top baby names by decade are:

Michael 1995 Jessica
Michael 1985 Jessica
Michael 1975 Jennifer
Michael 1965 Lisa
Michael 1955 Mary
James 1945 Jessica
Robert 1935 Mary
Robert 1925 Mary
James 1915 Linda
John 1905 Mary

Popular names are becoming less popular, the article points out. Nearly 4.5 % of girls born in 1945 were Marys, while in 2005, Emilys only accounted for 1.2 % of the baby pool. Maybe one day Maximus will be on this list.

Blogging don’t come easy…

 From LifeClever, 10 tips to overcome blogger’s writer block:

1. Lower your standards
Blogs aren’t novels, so don’t start a post by worrying about being perfect, insightful, original, or even grammatically correct. Take Anne Lamont’s advice: begin with a “shitty first draft.” Let yourself write a big stinking pile of poo. Good writing, like good design, is a process of iteration and editing.

2. Start with a headline
Do you feel pressure to write a full-length piece? Don’t. Instead, brainstorm headlines for articles you would like to read yourself. It could be as crazy as “How to Get Great Hair Like Sanjaya” or as controversial as “Why Design Education Sucks Today.” Even if you don’t end up writing the article, you’ll create an arsenal of ideas to inspire you when you’re stuck. To get started, check out Brian Clark’s excellent series on writing magnetic headlines.

3. End with a deadline
Never start a post without a deadline. I really believe in Parkinson’s rule: work expands to fill the amount of time available. If you don’t have a deadline, you’ll never finish.

4. Eliminate distractions
Use clever writing tools such as Writeroom (Mac) and Dark Room (Windows) to eliminate all distractions on your computer. You’ll see nothing but words on a screen, not even an oppressive clock. Outside the computer, find a quiet room, silence your mobile phone, lock out the pets, and turn off your TV.

5. Write at dawn, not at dusk
Even if it’s just a hobby, don’t blog before bed and after a long day’s work. Take a cue from Leo Babauta of Zen Habits and 15-year old blogging phenom Glenn Wolsey. Both schedule a time to write in the wee mornings. It’s quieter, your mind is fresher, and you avoid making excuses like “I’ve had a long day, I’m just too tired to write.”

6. Take a break
Who says you have to blog non-stop or even every day? Hit the gym, go to the movies, take a vacation, and spend time with your loved ones. After all, doing real meaningful things is what inspired you to blog in the first place. If you don’t blog today, the world doesn’t end.

7. Automatically spawn ideas with HitTail
HitTail analyzes the words on your blog and makes suggestions for related topics you can write about. It’s free and a great source for getting relevant inspiration based on your past writing. If used wisely, it’ll even help boost your site’s traffic.

8. Get a little help from your friends
Blogging doesn’t have to be a solitary journey. Run headlines or ideas by your friends, and ask what they think. Chances are, they’ll point out new ideas and angles you’ve missed.

9. Capture ideas before you lose them
Ideas for articles come when you least expect them. It happens as you’re walking to get a donut, commuting to work, or even on the toilet. To stop your thoughts from vanishing, always carry an easy-to-use device to jot down ideas as you get them. You can go as high-tech as a T-Mobile Sidekick (my personal favorite) or as low-tech as a little Moleskine notebook.

10. Breathe
After recently taking my first Yoga class, I’ve turned into a true San Franciscan. My biggest realization? My habitual shallow breathing contributes to a lot of tension, blocking the flow of ideas and thoughts. I know its cliché, but take a moment to breathe deeply. It’s easier to unstuck yourself when both your mind and body are relaxed.

Lobbyists for Hire

Harper’s Magazine article

The Game

Browsing through some of the blogs today, it seems as if the common theme is an offering of how-to tips on picking up girls.

Some example posts:

-Using cheesy humor.

-Handling younger girls.

-Having a swagger and confidence.

-And there is always small talk.

For those interested in a book with more than its fair share of gaming strategy, check out New York Times writer Neil Strauss’ “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists“. Strauss recounts the advice given to him by Mystery, a master pickup artist who holds seminars teaching men the art of seduction, and chronicles his own misadventures in trying to get laid. The advice can seem a bit, well, sketchy by some standards, and in the end he discovers that all the one liners in the world do not help him get the woman he loves so much, but it can be entertaining and does hit on some good points.

A sampling of some basic rules:

1. Smile when you walk into a room. See the group with the target and follow the three-second rule. Do not hesitate - approach instantly.

2. Recite a memorized opener, if not two or three in a row.

3. The opener should open the group, not just the target. When talking, ignore the target for the most part. If there are men in the group, focus your attention on the men.

4. Neg the target with one of the slew of negs we’ve come up with. Tell her “It’s so cute. Your nose wiggles when you laugh.” Then get her friends to notice and laugh about it.

5. Convey personality to the entire group. Do this by using stories, magic, anecdotes and humor. Pay particular attention to the men and the less attractive women. During this time, the target will notice that you are the center of attention. You may perform various memorized pieces like the photo routine, but only for the obstacles.

6. Neg the target again if appropriate. If she wants to look at the pictures, for example, say “oh my god, she’s so grabby. How do you roll with her?”

7. Ask the group, “So how does everyone know each other?” If the target is with one of the guys, find out how long they’ve been together. If it’s a serious relationship, eject politely by saying “Pleasure meeting you.”

8. IF she is not spoken for, say to the group “I’ve sort of alientating your friend. Is it all right if I speak to her for a couple of minutes?” They always say, “Uh, sure. If it’s okay with her.” If you’ve executed the preceding stpes correctly, she will agree.

9. Isolate her from the group by telling her you want to she red something cool. Take her to sit with you nearby. As you lead through the crowd, do a kino test by holding her hand. If she squeezes back, it’s on. Start looking for other IOIs.

10. Sit with her and perform a rune reading, an ESP test, or any other deomonstration that will fascinate and intrigue her.

11. Tell her, “Beauty is common but what is rare is a great enery and outlook on life. Tell me, what do you have inside that would make me want to know you as more of a mere face in the crowd?” If she begins to list qualities, this is a positive IOI.

12. Stop talking. Does she reinitiate the chat with a question that begins with the word “So?” If she does, you’ve now seen three IOIs and can….

13. Kiss close. Say, out of the blue, “Would you like to kiss me?” If the setting or circumstances aren’t conducive to physical intimacy, then give yourself a time constraint by saying, “I have to go, but we should continue this.” Then get her number and leave.

Strauss also includes a glossary of all the lingo he picked up under Mystery, such as:

Group Theory - noun: the idea that women are usually accompanied by friends, and to meet her a man must simultaneously win the approval of her friends while actively demonstrating a lack of interest in her.

PAIMAI - noun [pre-approach invitation, male approach invitation]: a nonverbal action or series of actions meant to induce a woman or group to notice a man and passively express interest in meeting him before he actually approaches her.

Push-Pull - noun: a technique used to create or increase attraction, in which a man gives a woman indications that he is not interested in her followed by indications that he is. This sequence can take place in a few seconds - such as taking a woman’s hands and then dropping them as if you don’t trust her yet - or over time, such as being very nice during one phone conversation but then very distant and abrupt during the next one.

Yes-Ladder - noun: a persuasion technique in which a person is asked a series of basic questions designed to elicit positive answers, increasing the likelihood that the person will also respond in the affirmative to a final, open-ended question.

Where do I fall in all of this?

MPB - noun [male pattern blindness]: some men’s inability to recognize that a woman is attracted to and interested in him until after she leaves and it’s too late to act on it.

Company Picnic

Today our company had its Summer Outing, which basically consisted of driving out to the boondocks of Virginia to a farm, and was by far the lamest company outing I have ever been to. First of all, most people don’t even go - its a bad sign when people choose to go to work over free beer and food. Part of that is the distance that one has to drive, as the farm is way out past Dulles towards Leesburg, never the best of commutes. I luckily got a ride, during which I mostly amused by self by describing to the native Virginian giving me a ride why I hate Virginia, stressing one of my views by pointing out the awful uninspired housing developments being constructed along the highways to our destination.

When we finally arrived we were greeted by some volunteers who gaves us name tags as well as a $5 Starbucks gift card, which I’m told they promptly ran out of for everyone else. I took a quick tour of my surroundings, which consisted of picnic tables, a sand volleyball court, two horseshoes pits, and face painting. It was at the face painting table that I ran into my boss, who brought his little son with him. Which basically amounts to what these company picnics are - an occasion to show off your children. I was almost tempted to bring a child along of my own to make things more interesting, perhaps I would not have been as bored. I chatted with my boss for a bit, noticing that he and his son were wearing the same pair of shoes. Aww…how cute! I then tried to convince the lady at the face painting to give me the Spiderman treatment, but nothing doing.

So I wandered back to where my coworkers were sitting at the picnic tables, where they had chosen to whip out UNO. As exciting as the prospect was to play UNO on my off day, an extra juggernut was thrown in when it tuns out that pretty much no one knew how to play. I mean, come on. Its UNO. 3 and up. What did you grow up playing anyway? Then we had to explain it to the rest of the table, and after a couple of rounds, people caught on. I won like three games in a row, then decided to see what else was going on. I lingered at the horseshoes pit for a bit, and talked to a few of my coworkers there, none who I knew. They explained to me the rules of the game, but I didn’t have a partner so it didn’t look like I would play for a while.

Finally the food came out, whch was pork, chicken and hamburgers, cooked in a kettle grill, along with chicken salad, corn bread, watermelon - the usual picnic stuff. The food was pretty good, which I was happy about. My coworkers insisted the only point of the picnic was the raffle, and that they would leave right afterwards. I thought this was stupid, might as well do something while we are here. Besides, when I asked whether they ever won, they said no, some consultants who aren’t even at the picnic always manage to win.

So I wandered again, and after seeing three people mess around on the volleyball court decided to join in and get a mini game going. I am not a great volleyball player by any stretch of the imagination, but athletic enough to get the ball over and chase the errant hits coming from the other side. I even dove for the ball a bit, which actually resulted in me getting a nasty sand scrape along my right arm.

The game subsided after a bit and I headed back to the picnic tables, only to notice the raffle was in full swing. My coworker noticed my bleeding arm, and promptly pulled a bottle of Purrell out of her bag so I could apply some. Man, did that burn. I let out a sound of shock as I applied it, and then was given some more in my hand.

Right at this time my coworker started tugging at my shoulder and telling me they called my name. I gave her an incredulous look, certain she was pulling my leg, but then others chimed in. So I hurried up to the stage, arm bleeding and with a hand still full of Purrell, probabaly looking very flustered. I graciously accepted an envelope with my bleeding hand (the other had Purrell) and quickly returned to my seat. When I opened the envelope (as others crowded around me in anticipation) I discovered I received a $75 gift certificate to the Clydes Restuarant Group. Sweet.

Others muttered that they never win anything, how come I did, and I should take them out. And then they got up and left for home, and since I needed a ride, I had to go with them rather than meet and talk to people. Maybe I will take them out, but I’m just glad I won something. I like to think that the fact I tried to make the most of the day off made me a deserving candidate, though, and I felt some redemption…

Happy for the Work

We often hear that Americans are workaholics, that they refuse to enjoy all the money that they make, that they “live to work”, not “work to live”. A recent article by AEI’s Arthur Brooks examines this phenomenon, coming to the conclusion that despite this disparity in lifestyle, Americans are happier than Europeans. Some highlights:

“The average U.S. worker takes 16 days of vacation each year, less than half that typically taken by the Germans (35 days), the French (37 days) or the Italians (42 days).”

42 days strikes me as ridiculous. Throw in weekends and mandatory holidays, that is not a lot of work days.

Two reasons are cited as why Americans work more than anyone else:

“In the puritanical version of Christianity that has always appealed to Americans, religion comes packaged with the stern message that hard work is good for the soul. Modern Europe has avoided so melancholy a lesson.”

Second, we are under the yoke of hard-bitten capitalism. London’s Daily Telegraph reports that the heavy U.S. work effort does not result from a special affinity Americans have for work; rather, it is because we are “terrified of losing [our] jobs” in a labor environment in which workers have few of the protections Europeans enjoy.”

It seems as even though Americans may not have a special affinity to work, we certainly do equate being employed with a level of success, partly because we know how competitive the landscape is, and that our best efforts are rewarded.

“Among adults who worked 10 hours a week or more in 2002, the General Social Survey (GSS) found that 89% said they were very satisfied or somewhat satisfied with their jobs. Only 11% said they were not too satisfied or not at all satisfied.”

This doesn’t necessarily surprise me. “Somewhat satisfied” seems a rather low bar to set, although I can see why responses in Europe may differ. Given the relative choices for employment in the US, individuals rarely would enter into a field that they wouldn’t at least be satisfied working in. Additionally, Europeans, considering the presence of labors unions and government regulation, may feel that there is more that can be done for them.

“Imagine asking people something like this: “If you were to get enough money to live as comfortably as you would like for the rest of your life, would you continue to work or would you stop working?” Certainly a high percentage would answer in the affirmative? Wrong again: In 2002, the GSS found that number to be less than a third of all workers. And once again, there is no difference between those at different levels of income or education. 69% of working class folks say they would keep working even if they didn’t have to.”

I probably would answer in the same way, but I am not sure how helpful this question is without comparing it to the European response. If I had enough money to stop working, this would mean that the options of what work I could engage in would be fairly limitless, and I could work in a field which would interest me. Most people do not pick a job that is their hobby for financial or job security reasons, but this goes out the window if one is already provided for. Additionally, there is certainly a sense of self-worth which goes along with being a part of the labor force and contributing to the community, one that is different than that felt in Europe. Americans of any class are much more likely to contribute to a charity, while in Europe certain individuals are guaranteed government payments while not working and gladly accept them.

“For most Americans, work is a rock-solid source of life happiness. Happy people work more hours each week than unhappy people, and work more in their free time as well. Even more tellingly, people with more hours per day to relax outside their jobs are not any happier than those who have less non-work time. In short, the idea that our heavy workloads are lowering our happiness is twaddle.

Obviously, there is a point beyond which work is excessive and lowers life quality. But within reasonable bounds, if happiness is our goal, the American formula of hard work appears to function pretty well.

This may be one reason why Americans tend to score better than Europeans on most happiness surveys. For example, according to the 2002 International Social Survey Programme across 35 countries, 56% of Americans are “completely happy” or “very happy” with their lives, versus 44% of Danes (often cited in surveys as the happiest Europeans), 35% of the French and 31% of Germans. Those sweet five-week vacations and 35-hour workweeks don’t seem to be stimulating all that much félicité. A good old-fashioned 50-hour week might be a better option.”

I agree that at a certain point long hours limit happiness, but bankers working 80 hr weeks often use money as a measuring stick of success, and work hours do not fit into the equation as they do for other professions. Ultimately, I believe Americans enjoy work, period, more than the Europeans, and the number of hours, whether 35 or 50, makes little difference. Americans embrace the pressures of work, and gain more happiness out of their job accomplishments and the byproduct of their success (money) than Europeans do. Increasing hours at work usually is a byproduct of increased responsibility, something we have always equated with personal accomplishment. Spending less time with the family always has a price, but when Americans equate that price to a better living in which they feel they can more readily provide for their family, this is understood as an acceptable sacrifice. The other factor is that increased work hours, if tied to increased pay, allows Americans to do what they do better than anyone else - spend money. Most Europeans, whether they are well off or lower middle class, enjoy much of the same opportunities to enjoy their capital. Houses do not vary in size as they do in America, cars are similar, and vacations consist largely of trips to Spain and Italy, etc. It is also no wonder that Americans also derive their happiness from material goods. Whether it be buying that new sports car or a new Playstation, often our sense of happiness is tied to our ability to play as hard as we work. While most Europeans may devote more time to family, we devote more money to our families, with a penchant for trips to Disneyworld, going to sports games, signing kids up for little league teams, and buying them the latest toys. The basic benchmarks that Americans use to distinguish their successes from that of their neighbors - education, neighborhood, job title - are limited by varying extents for Europeans. Whereas Americans have the opportunity to enter into a university to study liberal arts for four years, and then told that by hard work and acumen they can rise to the highest of any professions, the education system abroad often dictates by high school through tests what course of study and professions are available. This is not to say the job mobility is completely restricted, but the perception of “opportunity” certainly differs than in the U.S.. This sense of opportunity, rather than entitlement, may indicate why Americans have reason to whistle while they work.

While we are on the topic, this City Paper article indicates the downside of this culture, in which some will go to any lengths to get ahead.

Miller Time

Fitting In at the Ivies

I can think of better ways to fit in:

“For her Yale senior project, financial aid student Aurora Nichols took pictures of three months’ worth of her mundane purchases and displayed them alongside her classmates’ abstract paintings. This prompted quite a bit of attention for Aurora on campus, including a profile in the Hartford Courant in which Aurora revealed some less-than-flattering assessments of class dynamics at her alma mater. Then, on the autoadmit message boards, the richies tore her a new one.”

Gawker article link here. 

I enjoyed the comments though:

 - Being one of the poors I can excuse. But why can’t she just be more attractive?

-Her story is proof that elites lower the bar for poors. 5th in her class at a TTT high school, and a 1440 SAT should not be getting her into Yale.

-She sounds like a bitch. I took the fucking Greyhound, and she rides the Amtrak and whines about her free ride to Yale? Fucking whore.

-god. i hate poor people.

-girls can always get married.

-Blessed are the poors, for they shall be attacked on the Internet by a bunch of anonymous tools.

- or to summarize…

 
 

Allison Stokke

Allison Stokke, known for her pole vaulting skills (cough, cough), has been rumoured to have been in talks with Nike for a marketing deal. For now, it seems as if Nike is keeping a distance, but there is always Playboy…

As if the Bible wasn’t enough to memorize already…

The Vatican today issued another version of the 10 Commandments today, to help direct car drivers in their everyday lives:Cardinal Martino noted that the Bible was full of people on the move, including Mary and Joseph, the parents of Jesus — and that his office is tasked with dealing with all “itinerant” people — from refugees to prostitutes, truck drivers to the homeless.

“We know that as a consequence of transgressions and negligence, 1.2 million people die each year on the roads,” Martino said. “That’s a sad reality, and at the same time, a great challenge for society and the church.”

The document, “Guidelines for the Pastoral Care of the Road,” extols the benefits of driving —family outings, getting the sick to the hospital, allowing people to see other cultures.

The “Drivers’ Ten Commandments,” as listed by the document, are:

1. You shall not kill.

2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.

3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.

4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents.

5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.

6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.

7. Support the families of accident victims.

8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.

9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.

10. Feel responsible toward others.

By the way, think the Pope wants his car back?

Booger Sugar

Will Ferrell Wins Funniest MF at Guys Choice

The Legacy of one Mr. Jeff Green

It is finally over. Jeff Green, the 6′10″ junior Georgetown Hoyas forward, who led his team to Sweet Sixteen and Final Four appearance, has decided to forgo his senior year and remain in the NBA draft. Surely lottery bound, he has weighed his decision carefully, knowing full well with teammate Roy Hibbert returning the Hoyas would be a consensus preseason favorite to win the 2008 NCAA championship, a feat not accomplished by a Georgetown team since 1984. However, between private on-campus workouts, talking to GMs, and advice from JTIII and his agent, David Falk (of Jordan fame), it became apparent he had put himself in a great position in the draft, and barring winning a championship, had little more to prove at the Hilltop. His accolades piled up during a fantastic career, one in which he won co-Big East Rookie of the Year, Big East Player of the Year, Big East Tournament MVP, and NCAA Tournament East Regionals MVP. A steadying and mostly dominating presence on the court, he helped spark both a underacheiving veteran team over the hump and guide a talented but young team to unforseen heights. A slow start to his 2006-07 season, in which the guard play struggled through growing pains, culminated in one in which he executed the Princeton offense as few had ever seen, always playing within himself, giving the Hoyas that rebound, assist, steal, block, drawn charge, or momentous dunk when they most needed it. Always mature beyond his years, it was an absolute pleasure to watch a much maligned college powerhouse rise to glory under the direction of such a classy individual and true basketball talent.

Many people have not had the chance to witness Jeff Green during his three years as a Hoya, but to say that he singlehandly resurrected the Georgetown legacy would not necessarily be an understatement. When I attended Georgetown, John Thompson was no longer the coach and his assistant Craig Esherick was struggling to keep the program “relevant”, as the Washington Post put it. For a school with such a rich history, one of the few private schools with continued success in the most popular college sport, this was unimaginable (and ultimately unacceptable).

The Hoyas transcended the sport in the 1980’s, when John Thompson, or Pops, as he is called, took black players under his wing, the team adopted a bruising defensive mentality, and just wore oppenents down while the 6′10′ coach worked the refs. Although some saw the great Hoya teams as nothing but a bunch of thugs, the black culture (and inevitably hip hop culture) glavanized around the team’s success and saw in a overtly vocal Pops someone who had commanded respect and could speak for them. While most DC sports struggle locally, the Hoyas gained a true national following, to the point that at one point they were the biggest sellers of NCAA merchandise (with former Hoya Iverson leading the NBA in jersey sales as well). Ever notice how in the tv commercials of African children, you aways manage to see one wearing a Hoyas shirt? Yes, we lead the nation in Peace Corps volunteers, but this also reflects how broad the fan base had become.

When I attended Georgetown, this was a distant memory. Pops had left years ago, but there was hope that the best power forward in the conference (save for perhaps Carmelo’s freshman year) would be enough to get the program on the right track. However, Michael Sweetney’s teams struggled to advance in the NCAA tournament, and then even to win. The lowpoint was 2004, the year before I graduated, in which the team went 13-15 overall and 4-12 in the Big East. Overtime losses abounded, and despite having the only player in the country to average 20 ppg and 10 rpg, this was not enough. We had turned down the NIT Tournament the previous year, having missed out on the NCAA tournament, because, as Esherick put it, “the student had to focus on academics.” It would be the first time Georgetown did not attend a postseason tournament since the introduction of the NIT (we had one of the longest streaks at the time). This year, in 2004, we were not even invited. Not even one of the 100 best teams in college basketball. I remember walking to the front row of games, in cavernous MCI Center, because nobody was there. Not even students were willing to attend games.

With the oust of Esherick, in came JTIII. Soft spoken, Ivy league educated, and aware of the vast legacy left by his father, he at least was expected to give a face to a dying program. Bringing along a Princeton point guard in Jon Wallace, he inherited two players he convinced to honor their committments to Georgetown, the 7′2″ Roy Hibbert, a plodding, goofy big man, and 6″10 Jeff Green, an underlooked local player before he shot up the charts with his senior year performances. JTIII brought with him Pete Carill’s Princeton Offense, one that took time to learn and few expected elite athletes to have the discipline to follow, much less athletes of Georgetown reputation. Forced to play out of position, he took over the center spot as Roy skipped rope, worked on a baby hook, and ran laps around the Georgetown campus to be effective in the minutes he was forced to play because of Sweetney’s NBA departure and the lack of players. With a dazzling array of moves for someone beyond his years, his superb passing abilities and strength led him to fit right away into the Princeton offense and gel with the existing veterans. With basically the same team that garnered four Big East wins, the Hoyas finished with an 8-8 record, and went on to the semifinals of the NIT tournament. Green, a unknown coming into the season, was awarded co-Rookie of the Year.

The next season was marked by a victory over number 1 ranked Duke, a game I had the honor of attending. There are no superlatives that could describe the intense atmosphere in the arena, nor the euphoria that gripped DC - yes, DC - after an utterly dominating victory. It was the first win over a #1 team since 1985 for the Hoyas, and vaulted them into the polls for this first time in years. January 21 would not be a fluke, and neither would Green’s excellent showing on national TV. He would lead the Hoyas to the Sweet Sixteen, losing last minute to the eventual champions Florida. But amid his stroking three pointers and overpowering players down low, and executing perfect passes to backdoor cuts, fear was back.

His last season as a Hoya has firmly cemented him in Georgetown’s deep history, almost making it regrettable he could not be included on the All-Century team that was celebrated that season in honor of 100 years of Hoya hoops. Clutch shot after clutch shot, with last seond heroics against Notre Dame in the Big East tournament, a momentum changing, jaw dropping dunk against NCAA second round opponent (and rival) Boston College, and a last second game winner versus Vanderbilt in the Sweet Sixteen, he seemed to will the Hoyas back to the Final Four. The collective confidence the team possessed in the Elite Eight game versus UNC was the difference, and for a man who smiled a lot, I never saw him with a bigger grin than wathcing him celebrate with his teammates on the floor after the East Regional victory, singing the fight song, and knowing he, as much as anyone else, had led the Hoyas back to the Final Four.

The Hoyas utimately fell to Ohio State, led by man-child Greg Oden, and many wondered where Jeff Green was with his clutch shots and playmaking. Well, the answer was he was just being Jeff Green, the consumate team mate who never forced that action and trusted in his coach and his teammates. The supporting cast fell short, Conley blew by the Georgetown guards, and perhaps Green didn’t do what he usually had never been asked to do - play for himself - but the Hoya team, as well as Jeff Green, could go home knowing they had completed what was perhaps the most exciting and rewarding season ever in the history of the program, and the powerhouse is back. Perhaps as imortant, the Hoyas are changing the perception of college basketball and black athletes.

Next year’s team returns the 7′2″, NBA bound phenom center who handled Oden and disposed of everyone else, an emerging star in DaJuan Summers, an energetic and talented Ewing, Jr., and five guards ranging from the best shooter in the NCAA (Wallace), a defensive stalwart (Rivers), a throwback street baller (Sapp), a quick penetator (Wright), and a combo guard who makes living getting into the lane and to the rim (Freeman). Success is never guarenteed, but the buzz is back, the recruits believe in JTIII, the reputation of Georgetown is changing, and the team can be seen everywhere from the Metro ads to the back of the New York Post. Alumni are attending games, hanging out with younger grads, and former Hoyas are making their way back to the Hilltop to be part of once again a tradition unrivaled.

Shopaholic

This weekend was all about shopping. For me, an unusual thing. Not because I don’t like to (I do) but usually between time, money, and the knack for never finding stuff I need when I need it, most of my wardrobe hasn’t changed much yet between school and being a young urban professional. But apparently my college roommates were going to a premium outlet in VA, so this seemed like a good opportunity to at least make a small dent at less cost than the retail stores in DC.

The outlet actually had a pretty good variety of stores, from Coach and Lacoste to Old Navy and Nike. I found that some of the stores had very limited selection, and some had clothes that I am pretty sure were leftovers from the year, but, hey, there were some good deals. I admittingly do not need to wear a suit and tie each day to work, so I was a bit less compelled to spend money on these items, but my friends both needed to add some quality and variety to their daily wear. In one roommate’s case, he took full adavantage, and I believe walked out with Tumi suitcase, a Coach belt to match a seersucker suit, a Coach wallet, a blazer, cufflinks, ties, shirts, a spring suit, a pair of wool slacks, a Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and I am sure countless other items I was not around to watch him buy.

Some highlights for me:

-I bought some Nike Dri-Fit tennis shorts in the Nike store, along with some socks, and…a #55 Georgetown jersey. They didn’t have any other jerseys in the store, so I thought it was cool they had Georgetown gear. It was priced down (at least from Gtown bookstore prices) and after discovering that a “Small” basketball jersey is in fact quite long, decided to buy it (hey, I figured it was the least I could do now that Roy Hibbert came back for his senior season). Annoyingly, the rest of the store included a plethora of UNC stuff or was Carolina blue. Bah.

-The Old Navy outlet store was ridiculous. Old Navy, along with Aeropostale, is already one of the least expensive places to shop, so I knew I could find some stuff. I walked out with four boxers for $14 total and a pair of board shorts for $7. Not bad.

-I ran into the jeans store, and after a quick scan realized this wasn’t going to be easy. All I wanted were nice blue jeans, nothing fancy, but the jeans all had intricate back pocket designs, cuts I had never heard of, and prices far out of my range. How great of a denim is this? Bulletproof? I asked the kid working behind the counter for help, since I didn’t understand the sizes (they seemed European or something). He promptly pointed out to me that I was in the women’s section.

As he led me to the men’s section, whose jeans frankly looked just as intricate as the womens’, he asked me where I was from. Wondering how this would help me select the perfect pair of jeans, I responded “DC”, to which he replied, “Where is your accent from?” Wait, I have an accent? “You speak funny”. Thanks. I don’t even have a Connecticut accent, although I wish I did have some sort of accent, that would be fun. So I guess it turns out I speak funny. My coworkers told me I did not have an accent, but did have a tendency to pause in odd places. Oh well. English truly is my second language then I guess.

-Jos. A. Bank had a sale in which shirts and ties were $10. Pretty sweet, although I already have more shirts and ties than I need. I did end up getting a navy balzer though, which was priced $200 below retail price. As I was trying it on in front of the mirror, one female customer walked by and said I looked very handsome, with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Yes, yes, but what is your opinion on the jacket?

I ended up getting it, and as I was checking out my friend poointed out that the buttons looked very patriotic (they had some eagle insignia on them). I lamented that it didn’t have gold buttons like a traditional blazer might have, but commented that I liked the look. The man who had helped me pick it out informed me that you cna get any button you want, right down to Civil War buttons. Well, I’ll just have to remember that pursuit for another day.

The day concluded with a Starbucks frappacino and Nathans Chili Hot Dog from the food court. Not a bad day at all.

Continuing with the theme, Sunday was Target day.

I have never been to a Wal Mart, but have been in a Target a couple of times, and since I did need a few items, especially a charcoal grill for my deck (4th of July potential?), I tagged along. My friends scoffed at the Target we were going to, but it did have a food court in it, which makes it more legit than the one I had been to before back in CT. While my friends hunted for a vacuum cleaner I browsed around, and although the DVDs I have to admit were cheap, decided to just grab a few essentials (no thanks to you expensive D.C. CVS). We also bought a slew of stuff for the Fourth of July, which apparently will involve us wearing American flag hats/tiaras. This will go well with the American Flag boxers my friends bought Saturday, I guess. Other fun items included a 1000 piece puzzle of the Las Vegas strip and the New York City skyline.

My friends were checking out by the time I met up with them, so I needed to get into a different line, while they loaded the car with their stuff. I put my items I was holding in my hand down, and instructed the Target cashier I would be right back. I ran back to grab the grill and lugged the box up to the checkout area only to find…all my stuff was gone. In that whole 60 seconds I took, those friendly Target employees took my items away, even though I expressly told them not to.

So I put down the heavy box with the Weber grill, and raced back to get what I had had, and after not even finding everything, came back, where thankfully the Weber grill box remained. I got in line behind a lady who had literally one item left, a bottle of shampoo, and was swiping her card, when a Target employee approached me and asked if I was ready to check out.

Um, yes. That is why I am in line.

She grabs my items off of the coveyer belt, and scurries off to another checkout counter three rows down. Cursing, I grab the hefty box once more and make my way down there, only to find that standing between me and my items is another Target employee, who apparently thought it was ok to cut me in line…to buy a Dr. Pepper.

Great.

I throw down the box, and at the sound of the heavy thud behind him he turns around, and realizing what he had done (and apparently oblivious to the items before him, placed there by his coworker, who was now at the cashier’s spot), he apologizes and lets me go ahead. As she starts scanning my items, he coos, “Ooooo…a grill. You barbequing tonight?”.

I turn around to see the Target employee, with a boyish grin on his face and blonde streaks in his hair, still holding that Dr. Pepper, looking at me expectantly.

“Uh, yeah.” I mumbled something, and turned around to hand the cashier a Target gift card.

“Steak?”

“Huh?” I turn around.

“You cookin’ steak?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“That’s $27.98,” says the cashier. I swipe my card.

“Yum, sounds good….when should I arrive?”, he asks with a coy look on his face.

“Uh…well…” I sign the receipt, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

“You need help with that?”

Yeah right.

“No, thanks, I’m good”. I grab the box under both arms and somehow manage to balance the bag with my other items on top.

“I’ll bring the potato salad!” he shouts after me in a sing song voice.

Thanks Target. Great customer service, I look forward to Wal Mart already.

Blind is the New Gay

Not sure what this newscaster was thinking…but I credit the co-anchor for not even missing a beat. Still hilarious.

Man Vs Wild

From Elephant Dung to Urine, This Man Does It All

I have been hearing about the TV show Man Vs. Wild for a while now, but hadn’t seen it yet until yesterday. For those unfamiliar, it is a reality television show starring “Bear” Grylls, a Brit who puts himself in extreme situations in the wild and depicts extreme survival techniques, including drinking his own urine and escaping quicksand. In this particular episode, he was placed on top of a mountain in Alaska, and armed with nothing but skis and the clothes on his back, had to be rescued. He proceeds to ski down, slide down a glacier (or “glass-ier” as he calls it), make his way through thick brush, make a makeshift tent out of pine branches and avoid black bears for the night, find an abandoned skiff (which of course sinks), swim through arctic cold water, catch and eat raw fish, and finally hail a boat passing through. I was mesmerized/incredulous for most of the show, whether it was because of his funny accent or his sheer ability to put himself in some of the difficult/stupidest situations I have ever seen. Either way it is pretty much must-watch television.

I did some research on Bear, and it turns out he was in the UK Special Forces, where he was trained in unarmed combat, desert and winter warfare, combat survival, medics, parachuting, signals, evasive driving, climbing and explosives. However, he was injured in a freak accident in 1996, when a parachute exercise in southern Africa went wrong, his canopy ripped, and he spiraled toward earth from 16,000 ft at twice the normal speed, resulting in three broken vertebrae and the loss of feeling in his legs. He know holds a rank of Lt. Commander in the UK’s Royal Naval Reserve. He proceeded to become the youngest Briton ever to climb Everest and return alive, doing so at the age of 23. So naturally he continues to throw himself into danger by hosting a survivor TV show. These days he lives on a converted barge on the River Thames with his wife Shara and his sons Jesse and Marmaduke, and also owns an island on the Welsh coast, which includes a nature reserve.

Another similar show, Surivorman, depicts a Canadian, Les Stroud, who must survive the elements in a remote location for seven days with little food or equipment. The main difference here is that Les does not have the luxury of a camera crew, he instead must film all sequences himself, carry arou