I was going to include some streaming vid here, but, alas, I ran out of bandwith.
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Netflix Is For Rubes
I was going to include some streaming vid here, but, alas, I ran out of bandwith.
Oh, I Forgot, The Terrorists Won
Is this just PC BS to avoid the appearance of profiling? The day a little girl like that is truly a threat is the day I defect to Canada without stopping to look back.
Well, That's Embarrassing
#3) Progressive Field, Summer 2010. I got some wicked sweet seats right behind home plate. Even though I do not prefer to stare through the screen, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to sit so close. Round about the 7th inning, there was a foul tip. The screen at the Jake does not feature the horizontal cover, just the vertical bit behind the plate. The tip screamed a touch over the top of the screen and headed to my right. The seat to that side was open, so I shuffled and leaned into my closest neighbor. Alas, the ball glanced off of my fingertips (it stung) and rattled away to another. Sorry Dad, touched it, couldn't catch it. The most upsetting part was the ruse perpetrated by the buddy I was at the game with. A wry grin on his face, he convinced me, with the help of another friend that was watching on tv, that I has been front and center on STO's coverage and looked quite the hands of stone. I have to stop believing what that dude says.
#2) Jacobs Field, Summer 2005. I am sitting on the third base side in decent seats, just past the dugout, just under the overhang. With me are the same jackass from above and a second dude, who's just hangin' out, doesn't give a flying fish about baseball. Attendance was sorta sparse and the 3 rows in front of us were completely empty. A foul comes looping towards us, but dies two rows too soon. Jackass and I lunge for it, but we both miss. There's a rattle and a clatter and before I know what's going on dude #3 has plucked the prize from its resting spot within a cup holder. Jeez oh man. Worst of all? He offered it to me. Nice thing for a friend to do, but salt in the cosmic wound.
#1) Canal Park, Summer 2004. This one is bad. Really bad. I'm watching the Aeros with a couple of college buddies and there is a set of pretty girls in the row in front of us. We're just off to the first base side, about 3 or 4 rows behind the plate. This one is pop foul. This time I'm wearing my oversized high school outfielder's mitt. The ball goes up and I turn to the guy on my right, the more athletic of the two, and I box him out. Literally. Just like goin' for a board, I drive my backside into him and push him out of the way. I'm tracking the ball the whole time and my heart is a pumpa-thumpin'. In the last moment, I realize that, like most pop-ups, this thing is coming straight down. Instead the ball is slicing back towards the plate. I make a feeble attempt to swipe it out of the air, but, of course, I miss. The ball ka-thunks right off the middle back of the chick in front of me. Ouch. Not enough beer in the world.
Ob la di. I got mine.
These guys understand. ;-j
Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.
Cheers.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Rights and Responsibilites
I've ranted on the social contract before. Still the nature of modern existence weighs upon me. The supposition is that an enlightened culture needs a set commonalities to facilitate interactions. That is, we need to know what to expect from our fellows, we need some common ground. This is all well and good, but its success is based upon a grandiose assumption: we have the ability to recognize what we are doing. I never signed the GD contract, have no need for boiler plate expectations. I have come to a point in life where I recognize that my opinions on social mores and folkways are fairly irrelevant. Still, like the brash child that I am, I ceaselessly attempt to cram the square peg of myself into the slender, round hole of the wider world. Doomed, doomed to failure.
**The true issue lies in subjectivity. While the social contract may guide (read "dictate") our behavior, nothing can alter the way in which each individual parses his interactions. It renders irrelevant every considered action because the responses to and from carry different connotations. "Hypothetical" example -- One person has found himself without many to care about or respect. Thus when this person has contact with the relative few that count, his words are designed to communicate the worth that he sees. Unfortunately, these compliments are seen as improper, as too intense, they fall as colors outside of the lines. Does this mean that we should not tell others that they are meaningful to us? Is it necessary to wrap such soliloquies within the brightly papered wrappings of subtle actions? Is this all just some game? Frankly Scarlett, I have no freakin' idea. As much as anyone might explain the "shoulds" of the world to us, it remains unlikely that these suggestions will become habitual without an innate faith in their worth.**
Let me use smaller words. I do not like being told what to do. Recently, I was blessed with the recognition to find a word definitive of myself: pragmatic. In this context, pragmatism means that I don't give a damn about social graces, especially those now antiquated. Let's examine a few that are, pragmatically, similar. Up until around 60 years ago, most assumed that women should stay in the home with the children. No attention was paid to the any abilities such women might have to do other works, no credence given to the contributions they might have made to the world. The masses were given a standard to apply and apply it they did. 30 years ago, the concept of openly gay couples prospering in the world would have been laughable, if not disgusting, to most. Today, not only are such dyads generally sanctioned, but perception has shifted to the point that such pairs can adopt children, hold places in popular culture and often step through life as fearless as any. The assumption is shifting. Now, we come to thorn in my side: the ideal of marriage. Just as there was legality surrounding the acquisition of women's rights and the court battles over gay unions continue, there is a thick legal syrup poured over the breakfast of marriage (it's a contract, yo). More importantly is the issue of stereotype. 100 years ago no one evaluated a woman based on the content of her character of the sum of her skills; she was just a woman. Nothing she could say or do could change that. 50 years ago the same was true of any gay couple, with even more stigma attached. The key is that the beholders, the great unwashed masses of America, cannot be bothered to critically observe those around them. They rely on the simplistic definitions of the current social contract (or the their own more colloquial version, see any extremist). This is the agony that I endure today based within the concept of marriage. For so many the institution represents a utopia rather than a panacea. Regardless of the the divorce statistics, many still see the nirvana of having a partner, any partner, as so wondrous as to ignore any specifics. Just like each woman, each set of homosexual partners, each person is different; each marriage is different. The end result of profiling is to frustrate and agitate those being profiled. As a white male, I suppose that I have felt less of this than many in my life, but now I am subject to full scrutiny. The aggregate expectation of marriage is a noose and a coffin. For all the hard work that everyone says that the relationship itself is, the impossibility is to fulfill others' expectation. I cannot be held to the standard of each individual's perfect marriage. Not that I give a shit what others think, but, rather, I am pretty fucking sick of missing out on the beauty of life because I'm goddamn married.
Given all of this, maybe the assumption has it all wrong. Maybe none of us has any idea at all.
** Probably irrelevant to my argument, but it's rant and this is how it came out.
Fuck it, here's the Mountain Goats.
Better audio, slightly less fun.
**The true issue lies in subjectivity. While the social contract may guide (read "dictate") our behavior, nothing can alter the way in which each individual parses his interactions. It renders irrelevant every considered action because the responses to and from carry different connotations. "Hypothetical" example -- One person has found himself without many to care about or respect. Thus when this person has contact with the relative few that count, his words are designed to communicate the worth that he sees. Unfortunately, these compliments are seen as improper, as too intense, they fall as colors outside of the lines. Does this mean that we should not tell others that they are meaningful to us? Is it necessary to wrap such soliloquies within the brightly papered wrappings of subtle actions? Is this all just some game? Frankly Scarlett, I have no freakin' idea. As much as anyone might explain the "shoulds" of the world to us, it remains unlikely that these suggestions will become habitual without an innate faith in their worth.**
Let me use smaller words. I do not like being told what to do. Recently, I was blessed with the recognition to find a word definitive of myself: pragmatic. In this context, pragmatism means that I don't give a damn about social graces, especially those now antiquated. Let's examine a few that are, pragmatically, similar. Up until around 60 years ago, most assumed that women should stay in the home with the children. No attention was paid to the any abilities such women might have to do other works, no credence given to the contributions they might have made to the world. The masses were given a standard to apply and apply it they did. 30 years ago, the concept of openly gay couples prospering in the world would have been laughable, if not disgusting, to most. Today, not only are such dyads generally sanctioned, but perception has shifted to the point that such pairs can adopt children, hold places in popular culture and often step through life as fearless as any. The assumption is shifting. Now, we come to thorn in my side: the ideal of marriage. Just as there was legality surrounding the acquisition of women's rights and the court battles over gay unions continue, there is a thick legal syrup poured over the breakfast of marriage (it's a contract, yo). More importantly is the issue of stereotype. 100 years ago no one evaluated a woman based on the content of her character of the sum of her skills; she was just a woman. Nothing she could say or do could change that. 50 years ago the same was true of any gay couple, with even more stigma attached. The key is that the beholders, the great unwashed masses of America, cannot be bothered to critically observe those around them. They rely on the simplistic definitions of the current social contract (or the their own more colloquial version, see any extremist). This is the agony that I endure today based within the concept of marriage. For so many the institution represents a utopia rather than a panacea. Regardless of the the divorce statistics, many still see the nirvana of having a partner, any partner, as so wondrous as to ignore any specifics. Just like each woman, each set of homosexual partners, each person is different; each marriage is different. The end result of profiling is to frustrate and agitate those being profiled. As a white male, I suppose that I have felt less of this than many in my life, but now I am subject to full scrutiny. The aggregate expectation of marriage is a noose and a coffin. For all the hard work that everyone says that the relationship itself is, the impossibility is to fulfill others' expectation. I cannot be held to the standard of each individual's perfect marriage. Not that I give a shit what others think, but, rather, I am pretty fucking sick of missing out on the beauty of life because I'm goddamn married.
Given all of this, maybe the assumption has it all wrong. Maybe none of us has any idea at all.
** Probably irrelevant to my argument, but it's rant and this is how it came out.
Fuck it, here's the Mountain Goats.
Better audio, slightly less fun.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Yes, There Are 2 Miley Cyrus Love Dolls
Perhaps the doll was inspired by this.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
When the Fissures Come Again Together
I'm 18 years old. I have pretty much mortgaged my potential for a thousand knives of adolescent angst. I'm failing classes and disappointing any adult that I can find.
It started snowing on Halloween and the snow plowed piles in the shopping center lots will not disappear until mid May. Today, I am standing across the street from my sister school because we're not allowed to smoke on their property. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing or why the fuck I'm doing it. I am, without a doubt, causelessly rebelling. Those around me have similar ideas, though they seem better able to keep their wits about them. My best friend is here. My girlfriend is here. There are other girls here. For a social misfit attending an all boys school, it seems as if nirvana has been granted.
Why today? Why this memory? Of all the myriad images of a misspent year, what elevates this one to worth? Oddly, perfectly, it is the smell. The temperature hovers in the 40s for the first time it what seems like an eternity and is actually about six months. The snow is melting. As ice liquefies and percolates through the soil, a rich, earthy aroma permeates every breath that I take. That is why this moment is perfect.
The pale sun pauses to sparkle among us and for just an instant we are all the limitless approximation of ourselves. For a single inhalation, the templates and trappings recede and the only matter is the taste of air. And I feel grateful, I feel brilliant, I feel at peace.
Too many years later, I can still recall every thaw since. I can taste every radiant breath of rebirth. As the memories pile atop each other, cram themselves into the overstuffed roomings of my skull, the moments become less meaningful and all of those lungfuls age in cherish like a whiskey in an oak barrel.
Living a bit further south, the winter months are more mild and the oppressive weight of a frozen world is further at hand. An apt metaphor, the lines are mostly blurred. Even so, the atmosphere remains a promise of beauty to come in cherry blossoms, bikinis and summer nights. For today I can be content with the absence of a heavy coat and enjoy children's games in an open field.
Take the time, y'all.
Cheers.
It started snowing on Halloween and the snow plowed piles in the shopping center lots will not disappear until mid May. Today, I am standing across the street from my sister school because we're not allowed to smoke on their property. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing or why the fuck I'm doing it. I am, without a doubt, causelessly rebelling. Those around me have similar ideas, though they seem better able to keep their wits about them. My best friend is here. My girlfriend is here. There are other girls here. For a social misfit attending an all boys school, it seems as if nirvana has been granted.
Why today? Why this memory? Of all the myriad images of a misspent year, what elevates this one to worth? Oddly, perfectly, it is the smell. The temperature hovers in the 40s for the first time it what seems like an eternity and is actually about six months. The snow is melting. As ice liquefies and percolates through the soil, a rich, earthy aroma permeates every breath that I take. That is why this moment is perfect.
The pale sun pauses to sparkle among us and for just an instant we are all the limitless approximation of ourselves. For a single inhalation, the templates and trappings recede and the only matter is the taste of air. And I feel grateful, I feel brilliant, I feel at peace.
Too many years later, I can still recall every thaw since. I can taste every radiant breath of rebirth. As the memories pile atop each other, cram themselves into the overstuffed roomings of my skull, the moments become less meaningful and all of those lungfuls age in cherish like a whiskey in an oak barrel.
Living a bit further south, the winter months are more mild and the oppressive weight of a frozen world is further at hand. An apt metaphor, the lines are mostly blurred. Even so, the atmosphere remains a promise of beauty to come in cherry blossoms, bikinis and summer nights. For today I can be content with the absence of a heavy coat and enjoy children's games in an open field.
Take the time, y'all.
Cheers.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Reason #1 That The U.S. Is Better Than Bahrain
I believe shot #2 is to the head.
Shake that off with a nice, uplifting story about central Ohio.
Friday, March 4, 2011
CBA Marketing Magic
FACT: The NFL is a marketing machine. A juggernaut that has rehabilitated the image of countless reckless millionaires, the League and its franchises are recognizable and adored around the world.
FACT: The NFL is so concerned with image that it is regulating the fury of contact out of the game.
FACT: The NFL is hubristic enough to take the tradition of a Thanksgiving night game and prevent the majority of us from watching it.
FACT: The NFL has not had a work stoppage since the replacement glory of '87 (cue Footsteps Falco).
CONCLUSION (if the above are true so must this be): The NFL will do anything to further gild its perception and grow the brand.
INTERPOLATION (this logically flows from the above): The Damocles Sword of a lockout has been a ruse. In a business where collusion is not only disregarded but is rule of law, all involved have played the hand dealt better than any could have imagined. While MLB and the NBA have suffered dramatically from strikes/lockouts over the past 2 decades, the NFL has latched onto the massive upside of a CBA expiration: in addition to avoiding any effect to the season, keep your sport in the headlines during downtime. While Spring Training is in full force and Selection Sunday is 9 days off, the top story remains to be the NFL. NFL Today is still on ESPN EVERY DAY. I'm not saying that there aren't issues that the two sides could be closer on, but this is a dog and pony show. "Oh, we've had 2 years to work this out, but these extra 8 days will be all we need to get this done... FOR THE FANS!!" And the Oscar goes to... I never understood how football became America's sport anyway. I think it must have something to do with short attention spans and one game a week.
I'm not getting fooled, Roger. Mark my words, despite my deep and abiding wish for the opposite, THERE WILL BE NO LOCKOUT. This is what you get when the men in the picture control the future of your game. Go wax your mustache, Arthur Blank. And all of you screw off.
Cheers.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
And Let Fall the World
Each day I become more and more convinced that I might outlive the grand ol' US of A. I understand the nature of capitalism, it's necessity. Much of the problem is due to corruption. Our culture is rife with profiteering executives simply looking to line their pockets before they get caught hand in cookie jar. There is no moral compass, no idea of social responsibility. None. Recognizing that profits are not bad, they must, MUST, come last. Provide your good, provide your service, provide it well. If, IF, you perform well enough then you cover your overhead and get your profit. If, instead, you provide a garbage product and continue to raise your rates to ensure your own reward, your organization will crumble unto dust. Unfortunately, this is now the status quo. From those who defraud the welfare system all the way to the doors of the Senate, every American is only looking out for #1.
Is there some way to fix all of this? Is it possible? Yes. Is it feasible? No. Mired in a system where the only priority aside from personal gain is the evasion of responsibility, none of our elected officials can resolve even a single relevant concern. Instead of bickering across party lines, perhaps the powers that be might solicit the advice of a variety of experts and apply the objective results in a fair manner. Does this mean everyone has to agree? No, but if the best minds in the field create a model, accept the freakin' results. Don't skew the data to serve your own ends. Vigorously represent your constituency. When the vote comes, the plurality will prevail. This is representative democracy. This is just.
When no one is willing to make concession, when perception is paramount and reality a pale cousin, then we can rest assured that our voices will fall upon the deaf. As our proxies seek only to consolidate power and shift responsibility onto the other side rather than affect any sort of positive change, the foundation becomes untenable. And the house is sure to fall.
I believe that I'll play the guitar rather than the fiddle.
Is there some way to fix all of this? Is it possible? Yes. Is it feasible? No. Mired in a system where the only priority aside from personal gain is the evasion of responsibility, none of our elected officials can resolve even a single relevant concern. Instead of bickering across party lines, perhaps the powers that be might solicit the advice of a variety of experts and apply the objective results in a fair manner. Does this mean everyone has to agree? No, but if the best minds in the field create a model, accept the freakin' results. Don't skew the data to serve your own ends. Vigorously represent your constituency. When the vote comes, the plurality will prevail. This is representative democracy. This is just.
When no one is willing to make concession, when perception is paramount and reality a pale cousin, then we can rest assured that our voices will fall upon the deaf. As our proxies seek only to consolidate power and shift responsibility onto the other side rather than affect any sort of positive change, the foundation becomes untenable. And the house is sure to fall.
I believe that I'll play the guitar rather than the fiddle.
Not Funny, Just Upsetting
Archie Comics:Atlas Shrugged::this trailer:{our "modern" abomination}. I'd explicate more thoroughly, but I have to tune my fiddle.
Riverdale: Archie Movie Trailer - watch more funny videos
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
And Let Fall the World
The following scenario is not my own, nor is it probable, but, to quote the CIA consultant of the research team that constructed it, "History repeats itself. From today to the day the invasion starts... if you combine everything, the odds are very very slim this becomes true. But when you look at the [time]line step by step, every step is a coin flip but a plausible step. So once you get there, it's plausible. And from there the next step is plausible as well. Even though the whole thing is fictional, it comes with plausible baby steps."
There are no guarantees, my friends. Imagine how the world might change in 5 short years. Find what is important. Cherish those you hold dear. And never, never, assume you will have your own tomorrow.
- 2011: North Korea faces another UN sanction over its latest nuclear test.
- 2012: Kim Jong-il passes away, he is succeeded by his son Kim Jong-un.
- 2013: Kim Jong-un is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize and featured on the cover of Time Magazine for his accomplishment of Korean reunification.
- 2014: American military withdraws from the Korean Peninsula. General Motors declares bankruptcy for the second time.
- 2015: The effects of peak oil are felt as gas prices reach up to 20 dollars a gallon due to a war between Iran and Saudi Arabia. Russia cuts off all oil trade with Europe. Survivalist literature becomes best selling in America. China's influences diminish.
- 2016: America withdraws its military from Japan and other countries overseas, focusing on its instability back home. Texas splits from the United States, border bloodshed takes place as refugees from other states attempt to enter Texas.
- 2017: Martial law is declared in the United States as its infrastructure crumbles due to lack of taxation.
- 2018: Japan surrenders to the Greater Korean Republic and is capitalized into a vassal state.
- 2019: The UN is dissolved.
- 2020: Canada closes its borders to Americans.
- 2021: Korean forces succeed in annexing many countries in East Asia. A new pandemic known as the Knoxville Cough begins to spread in the United States.
- 2022: Mexico closes its borders to Americans.
- 2023: The Knoxville Cough ravages the American public. The Korean People's Army reaches 20 million total personnel.
- 2024: The Greater Korean Republic starts launching their own satellites, claiming to bring a message of peace to the world.
- 2025: An EMP Burst is emitted by a Korean satellite, it completely destabilizes the United States infrastructure. This is followed by the Korean seizure of Hawaii and landings in San Francisco. Korean paratroopers are dropped into central United States.
- 2026: The United States is split into two as Korean occupiers irradiate the entire Mississippi River and occupy the Western side.
- 2027: The United States Armed Forces are completely scattered.
There are no guarantees, my friends. Imagine how the world might change in 5 short years. Find what is important. Cherish those you hold dear. And never, never, assume you will have your own tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Honesty & Honor
Too much of this never made much sense to me. All around me are the constructs of society, mores, folkways, rules and regulations. We're all so afraid of judgment that we hide ourselves from the world around. I'm not suggesting a filterless spew of dark secrets and deep desires, simply a common trust among our fellows. No one should have to hide in shame. No one should have to fight alone. To quote myself,
There's an old line that none of this matters if you're unhappy. So you you go down the list of things you should want - money, house, wife, kids, fast car, cocaine, star trek collector's plates, fame - and then you strike out on the path that society has laid out to get these things. You have that conversation with Tyler Durden's dad. Then, maybe you get there and it's not so great. Or maybe you fucked up 22 times and never got there at all. Maybe you're wallowing in self-indulgence at the colossal failure that your life has amounted to. Or maybe you lucked into getting everything exactly right, hit that goddamn nail right on the head. Then you get to be a leader of society. Then you get to tell everyone how you got there. Then people try to copy it. I'm not going to go off on a rant about the butterfly effect, but what works for the rooster won't work for the gander. There is not checklist, no template, no six-lane expressway to personal fulfillment. I read once that it's very difficult within the human condition to be happy unless you are flourishing. But here's the joker - you don't need to pull down six figures or marry the prom queen to flourish. All you need to do is honor yourself. How I got so deep into the mire without hearing of this is beyond me, although I suspect that it flies in the face of capitalism and the American Dream. You have to fight those things bereft of existential angst, those things that are to thine own self. No one can predict what they are and no one has the right to deem yours any less worthy than another. Chances are that you already know what these things are. They're unfolding for me as I write. There are a select few reasons not to do them, but most of us are not burdened with such weights. So go do them. Now. There will always be a thousand reasons to avoid them, scores of faces that still don't get it. Pay them no minds. This is not about instant gratification, not about base desires. Rather this about being human in it's fullest sense. If you don't do that, then you're not really alive. So I'm going to keep on talking, even if no one is listening. Strangely I'm no longer looking for any recognition, not struggling to solve the equation, find the answer. This isn't the meaning of life, but if you're unhappy I would give it a whirl. I don't have the discipline to paint a self-portrait, but I would love to sketch it for you, one streak of graphite at a time.
Ah, hell, I'm gonna play you some Justin Bieber for you cuz I have the fever. No, not really. I'll let Ed and John take us out. Cheers.
There's an old line that none of this matters if you're unhappy. So you you go down the list of things you should want - money, house, wife, kids, fast car, cocaine, star trek collector's plates, fame - and then you strike out on the path that society has laid out to get these things. You have that conversation with Tyler Durden's dad. Then, maybe you get there and it's not so great. Or maybe you fucked up 22 times and never got there at all. Maybe you're wallowing in self-indulgence at the colossal failure that your life has amounted to. Or maybe you lucked into getting everything exactly right, hit that goddamn nail right on the head. Then you get to be a leader of society. Then you get to tell everyone how you got there. Then people try to copy it. I'm not going to go off on a rant about the butterfly effect, but what works for the rooster won't work for the gander. There is not checklist, no template, no six-lane expressway to personal fulfillment. I read once that it's very difficult within the human condition to be happy unless you are flourishing. But here's the joker - you don't need to pull down six figures or marry the prom queen to flourish. All you need to do is honor yourself. How I got so deep into the mire without hearing of this is beyond me, although I suspect that it flies in the face of capitalism and the American Dream. You have to fight those things bereft of existential angst, those things that are to thine own self. No one can predict what they are and no one has the right to deem yours any less worthy than another. Chances are that you already know what these things are. They're unfolding for me as I write. There are a select few reasons not to do them, but most of us are not burdened with such weights. So go do them. Now. There will always be a thousand reasons to avoid them, scores of faces that still don't get it. Pay them no minds. This is not about instant gratification, not about base desires. Rather this about being human in it's fullest sense. If you don't do that, then you're not really alive. So I'm going to keep on talking, even if no one is listening. Strangely I'm no longer looking for any recognition, not struggling to solve the equation, find the answer. This isn't the meaning of life, but if you're unhappy I would give it a whirl. I don't have the discipline to paint a self-portrait, but I would love to sketch it for you, one streak of graphite at a time.
Ah, hell, I'm gonna play you some Justin Bieber for you cuz I have the fever. No, not really. I'll let Ed and John take us out. Cheers.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wait, I Thought You Liked School...
You're all familiar with my BCS analogy (to repair any essentially flawed construct, it must be rebuilt rather than repaired), right? Good. Our new extension is to the American higher education. We're all well aware that the early to mid stages of the system are a mess, as the taxpayers undervalue the worth of edifying others' kids with their sixpence. Compounding the issue is unchecked modern American capitalism. Adam Smith didn't see this coming, yo. Institutions of higher education (we'll just call them colleges) are big business from tuition to athletics to the textbook cartels. It is a mess.
Also, I have yet to encounter a compelling argument as to why there should not be a parallel apprenticeship option. Ex. You decide to be a plumber or a video game designer or a state senator. Then you get a minimum wage entry level job in that field. If you chose poorly and it sucks then you simply leave your inessential position and dig another. As you progress through the hierarchy of any organization, advancement would be base on merit, that is the best interest of the company. See, still capitalism. C'mon, shout me out a downside.
Colleges would still have a place, that which they held just 50 years ago, as places for intellectual debate and existential examination. I'm unsure who decided that all US students needed this well-rounded liberal arts education, it doesn't seem to have elevated our national zeitgeist (yes, I do know what that means). Instead this "ideal" has functioned mostly to fill the coffers of university presidents and trustees.
Again, even if you ALL agree with me, there would be no hope of affecting any sort of meaningful change, given the stature of those self-interested in the perpetuation of the status quo. We would have to blow it up first. At least that's a good reason for me not to shut up. The irony here is that I am a product of the country's addiction to college diplomas. Do I contribute in the manner that "they" hoped I might. Hells, no! But maybe mine is the story of Anakin bringing balance to the force -- in the most unlikely manner imaginable.
Cheers. Here's Rise Against --
Also, I have yet to encounter a compelling argument as to why there should not be a parallel apprenticeship option. Ex. You decide to be a plumber or a video game designer or a state senator. Then you get a minimum wage entry level job in that field. If you chose poorly and it sucks then you simply leave your inessential position and dig another. As you progress through the hierarchy of any organization, advancement would be base on merit, that is the best interest of the company. See, still capitalism. C'mon, shout me out a downside.
Colleges would still have a place, that which they held just 50 years ago, as places for intellectual debate and existential examination. I'm unsure who decided that all US students needed this well-rounded liberal arts education, it doesn't seem to have elevated our national zeitgeist (yes, I do know what that means). Instead this "ideal" has functioned mostly to fill the coffers of university presidents and trustees.
Again, even if you ALL agree with me, there would be no hope of affecting any sort of meaningful change, given the stature of those self-interested in the perpetuation of the status quo. We would have to blow it up first. At least that's a good reason for me not to shut up. The irony here is that I am a product of the country's addiction to college diplomas. Do I contribute in the manner that "they" hoped I might. Hells, no! But maybe mine is the story of Anakin bringing balance to the force -- in the most unlikely manner imaginable.
Cheers. Here's Rise Against --
Sunday, February 6, 2011
45 Years Ago, They Named It After A Children's Toy
I like to watch ESPN. The Sports Network does an Entertaining job of presenting its Programming. Normally the biggest buzz-kill on my channel 33 is a 2 hour block of the X-Games or some NASCAR. Both are too highbrow for my blue collar tastes. Unfortunately, I have now had to absorb 14 consecutive days of Super Bowl saturation. Some of the pieces are interesting and I particularly enjoyed the round table with their bevy of ring winners. The irritating part is that the game seems ubiquitous.
For the first time phrases like "The Greatest Day in American Sports" and "Every Sports Fan's Christmas" have been tossed around like the softballs they are. I know more about Maurkice Pouncey's right ankle than I do about my own childhood. If I have to hear Goodell say "intense negotiations" one more time, I might slap someone. And, frankly, I don't care who wins the game. Yeah, they still play a game. Lost in the ostentatious pomp and circumstance is the fact that one of two been-there-done-that's are going add another trophy to an already teeming case. Maybe, cheering for the Browns (exactly 2 playoff appearances in the last 20 years, bounced from both by the Steelers) has left me a bit jaded. In fact, I can hear the ghost of Stu Scott jiving in my ear, "Don't hate the player! Hate the game!" Fine. I hate the game. I detest the NFL. I sincerely hope that there is no 2011 season and that the league never recovers. I hope the UFL ascends to become the predominant pro league.
Sport, playing sports, watching sports, is supposed to be fun. It is meant to offer us an escape from the mundane banality of our own drudgery. Sadly, ESPN and others have taken inside access to a Jersey Shore extreme. When the minutiae of a team's practice schedule transcends to relevant information, the highway is leading straight to the danger zone.
I know that I don't have to watch. I suppose that I could just grab my highlights on-line and put Scott Van Pelt on hiatus for a month, but, for me, SportsCenter is comfort. I fondly recall waking before 8am during summer vacations and pacing through the closing the overnight Bloomberg programming. That's right, ESPN wasn't even 24-hrs back in the day. Then, I would fritter away the next four hours watching the same (by same I mean 4 replays of the 2am broadcast) episode BtBtBtB. That's how I learned to love sports, all sports, in the first place. Sure, there was enhanced coverage of the big game, on-site coverage and such. Sure, the Super Bowl was the lead for a few days. Yet no one was selling $300 tickets to stand in the cold outside of the stadium to set the attendance record.
No, they are all organ meat in the same hot dog. It is all a part of the NFL marketing machine, the country's addiction to gladiator Soma. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe the world is changing around me. My guess, though, is that the center cannot hold and this Ga-Trillion dollar mess will unravel quite soon. My Browns will fade away... again. What a shame.
For the first time phrases like "The Greatest Day in American Sports" and "Every Sports Fan's Christmas" have been tossed around like the softballs they are. I know more about Maurkice Pouncey's right ankle than I do about my own childhood. If I have to hear Goodell say "intense negotiations" one more time, I might slap someone. And, frankly, I don't care who wins the game. Yeah, they still play a game. Lost in the ostentatious pomp and circumstance is the fact that one of two been-there-done-that's are going add another trophy to an already teeming case. Maybe, cheering for the Browns (exactly 2 playoff appearances in the last 20 years, bounced from both by the Steelers) has left me a bit jaded. In fact, I can hear the ghost of Stu Scott jiving in my ear, "Don't hate the player! Hate the game!" Fine. I hate the game. I detest the NFL. I sincerely hope that there is no 2011 season and that the league never recovers. I hope the UFL ascends to become the predominant pro league.
Sport, playing sports, watching sports, is supposed to be fun. It is meant to offer us an escape from the mundane banality of our own drudgery. Sadly, ESPN and others have taken inside access to a Jersey Shore extreme. When the minutiae of a team's practice schedule transcends to relevant information, the highway is leading straight to the danger zone.
I know that I don't have to watch. I suppose that I could just grab my highlights on-line and put Scott Van Pelt on hiatus for a month, but, for me, SportsCenter is comfort. I fondly recall waking before 8am during summer vacations and pacing through the closing the overnight Bloomberg programming. That's right, ESPN wasn't even 24-hrs back in the day. Then, I would fritter away the next four hours watching the same (by same I mean 4 replays of the 2am broadcast) episode BtBtBtB. That's how I learned to love sports, all sports, in the first place. Sure, there was enhanced coverage of the big game, on-site coverage and such. Sure, the Super Bowl was the lead for a few days. Yet no one was selling $300 tickets to stand in the cold outside of the stadium to set the attendance record.
No, they are all organ meat in the same hot dog. It is all a part of the NFL marketing machine, the country's addiction to gladiator Soma. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe the world is changing around me. My guess, though, is that the center cannot hold and this Ga-Trillion dollar mess will unravel quite soon. My Browns will fade away... again. What a shame.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Generation Why?
There is no commonality of opinion on the delineation of generations. Some say than Generation Y began in 1979, others 1982, still others use the vague term "the mid-seventies" (thanks, wikipedia). Many, though, choose 1978 (see USA Today, Huffington Post, Facebook, etc). I was born in January of 1978, which puts me in at the forefront of my own amorphous cadre.
Generation X is widely considered the "MTV Generation," those who were raised by cable television. Generation Z, for lack of a better term, began in the early 90's and is just wrapping up now. These are those younger than myself (and you, most likely) that thrive via social networking and are just now coming of age. Gen Z lives in Friedman's flat world. They see a limitless future before them. They leap before they look. Gen X was angry. They raged against the machine. I watched in 1999 as they burned down the "peace wall" at Woodstock. For the most part, they have settled comfortably into suburban adulthood, comfortable in the security that a professional life affords them. That leaves me. And my fellows. In "Generation Why?"
American culture is sometimes describe as a living organism. The growing pains of out nations are thereby described in comparison to an individual person. For the sake of this discussion, I shall apply this anthropomorphism as follow --
The modern America was born in the wake of World War II and the dawn of the nuclear age. The portion of the 1940's that followed the conclusion of the war can be considered Gestation. As new expectations were defined, the world rebuilt and America with it. The Greatest Generation came home to renew the workforce and boom their babies. The nation was as young.
The '50's immortalized in program's like Leave It To Beaver, was an innocent Childhood. The decade was socially conservative to the bone. The country behaved itself and there was always the strong parental hand of total nuclear annihilation hanging overhead.
The sixties almost go without saying. They were all about Rebellion, very much like the behavior of a teen becoming a legal adult.
That adult took the 1970's to Party. Regardless of whether college is involved or not, the early 20's of most people involve a perpetual free-for-all. The lingering sense of immortality from youth is paired with a profound sense of freedom and autonomy. The drug fueled Studio 54 orgy of the pre-AIDS culture is an apt parallel.
Gordon Gecko succinctly clarified the '80's philosophy when he uttered, "Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies and cuts through to the essence of the evolutionary spirit." I cannot improve on that description. The decade is analogous to the sensation of getting that first, big professional check. It embodies The Prime Earning Years.
The nineties were very much about the same Generation X considered above. This is the time when we realized that the world does not necessarily keep its promises. The world is not fair. Someone else gets the girl, the promotion, the last doll off of the Christmas shelf. We recognized the banal, frustrating nature of adult life and it really pissed us off. We were Disenfranchised.
I'll try to be objective here as I am not a fan of the 21st century's first ten years. Fed by GW Bush and reality television, the 2000's were defined by anti-intellectual nihilism. We gave up. Adulthood sucked, but there was nothing to be done. Lop on a healthy schmear of post 9/11 paranoia and we can understand that we have not yet fully escaped the Fear and Futility of a lost decade.
This decade, the 2010's should belong to my generation. The issue is that we don't know what to do with it. We made a strong statement by electing an thoughtful and well-spoken intellectual to the presidency, but that has provided the return that we imagined. We have watched our brothers lose focus and surrender to the gears of a system that is so broken that it cannot be remodeled, it must be rebuilt. We are threatened by financial insecurity, a behemoth in the East and a hefty dose of existential angst. The present must be lived by the bard's words: "To Thine Own Self Be True." This age must not be adherent to any umbrella of normality. These colors must bleed across all lines and boundaries. Neither conservatism, nor hedonism, nor the temptation of disregard can bind us as we look forward. This is the time for us all to recognize our path and walk it tall, proud.
As a generation, we ask "why?" Why effort to such an end? Why risk the distaste of failure when the recognition of success is so unlikely? I have an answer for you, for me. We do this because it is what we are here to do. This is our time. We are talent without scope, creation beyond imagination. We are the last hope of a stubborn race. Let our names, let our deeds ring down through the centuries because we were the next to change the world. We are a force of will and a force of nature. Let us surpass expectation, let our greatness unfurl in the gale, let us tower as titans in the heavens and give our world a new archetype of radiance and grace.
Cheers.
Generation X is widely considered the "MTV Generation," those who were raised by cable television. Generation Z, for lack of a better term, began in the early 90's and is just wrapping up now. These are those younger than myself (and you, most likely) that thrive via social networking and are just now coming of age. Gen Z lives in Friedman's flat world. They see a limitless future before them. They leap before they look. Gen X was angry. They raged against the machine. I watched in 1999 as they burned down the "peace wall" at Woodstock. For the most part, they have settled comfortably into suburban adulthood, comfortable in the security that a professional life affords them. That leaves me. And my fellows. In "Generation Why?"
American culture is sometimes describe as a living organism. The growing pains of out nations are thereby described in comparison to an individual person. For the sake of this discussion, I shall apply this anthropomorphism as follow --
The modern America was born in the wake of World War II and the dawn of the nuclear age. The portion of the 1940's that followed the conclusion of the war can be considered Gestation. As new expectations were defined, the world rebuilt and America with it. The Greatest Generation came home to renew the workforce and boom their babies. The nation was as young.
The '50's immortalized in program's like Leave It To Beaver, was an innocent Childhood. The decade was socially conservative to the bone. The country behaved itself and there was always the strong parental hand of total nuclear annihilation hanging overhead.
The sixties almost go without saying. They were all about Rebellion, very much like the behavior of a teen becoming a legal adult.
That adult took the 1970's to Party. Regardless of whether college is involved or not, the early 20's of most people involve a perpetual free-for-all. The lingering sense of immortality from youth is paired with a profound sense of freedom and autonomy. The drug fueled Studio 54 orgy of the pre-AIDS culture is an apt parallel.
Gordon Gecko succinctly clarified the '80's philosophy when he uttered, "Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies and cuts through to the essence of the evolutionary spirit." I cannot improve on that description. The decade is analogous to the sensation of getting that first, big professional check. It embodies The Prime Earning Years.
The nineties were very much about the same Generation X considered above. This is the time when we realized that the world does not necessarily keep its promises. The world is not fair. Someone else gets the girl, the promotion, the last doll off of the Christmas shelf. We recognized the banal, frustrating nature of adult life and it really pissed us off. We were Disenfranchised.
I'll try to be objective here as I am not a fan of the 21st century's first ten years. Fed by GW Bush and reality television, the 2000's were defined by anti-intellectual nihilism. We gave up. Adulthood sucked, but there was nothing to be done. Lop on a healthy schmear of post 9/11 paranoia and we can understand that we have not yet fully escaped the Fear and Futility of a lost decade.
This decade, the 2010's should belong to my generation. The issue is that we don't know what to do with it. We made a strong statement by electing an thoughtful and well-spoken intellectual to the presidency, but that has provided the return that we imagined. We have watched our brothers lose focus and surrender to the gears of a system that is so broken that it cannot be remodeled, it must be rebuilt. We are threatened by financial insecurity, a behemoth in the East and a hefty dose of existential angst. The present must be lived by the bard's words: "To Thine Own Self Be True." This age must not be adherent to any umbrella of normality. These colors must bleed across all lines and boundaries. Neither conservatism, nor hedonism, nor the temptation of disregard can bind us as we look forward. This is the time for us all to recognize our path and walk it tall, proud.
As a generation, we ask "why?" Why effort to such an end? Why risk the distaste of failure when the recognition of success is so unlikely? I have an answer for you, for me. We do this because it is what we are here to do. This is our time. We are talent without scope, creation beyond imagination. We are the last hope of a stubborn race. Let our names, let our deeds ring down through the centuries because we were the next to change the world. We are a force of will and a force of nature. Let us surpass expectation, let our greatness unfurl in the gale, let us tower as titans in the heavens and give our world a new archetype of radiance and grace.
Cheers.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
If Smoking is the New Leprosy, Is Tanning the New Smoking?
Obviously smokers are now shunned and shunted into corners for their dirty, sinful behavior. At one time I held strong to the belief that I would be last smoker on the planet, now I can't use all of the coupons Camel sends me before they expire. Through the course of my lifetime smoking has transitioned from the social norm to outsider rebellion to the mark of a social pariah, but everyone always knew that it killed you. Regardless of whether we deluded ourselves into rationalizing the risks to facilitate our habit, the boldly printed labels and fanatic PSAs have been inescapable. We were all making an informed, if not healthy, life decision.
Now, in the wake of underage tanning bans sweeping through Canada, the question is begged - "Are the risks posed by tanning beds mitigated by the narcissistic vanity their use feeds?" Or to say it in a way that seems eerily reminiscent of smoking, "Is looking cool worth putting your life in danger?" Last year the World Health Organization "tagged tan beds as 'a known carcinogen' and reported [their use] to reduce immunity, mutate DNA, caus[e] eye damage and [wrinkle] skin."
Now, I don't use tanning beds, but from all I've heard there are no neon signs indicating the dangers posed the intense UV exposure. I expect the same backlash from "tanners" (ooh, a new group to ostracize) that I gave as a smoker. You become accustomed to something and then fight like hell to defend your behavior against the slights of pedantic Samaritans. I am in now way in favor of legislating personal behavior at the expense of individual freedom (Hi G-Dubs!), but if you're going to tan, and it's going to kill you, you should probably read that memo.
Cheers.
Now, in the wake of underage tanning bans sweeping through Canada, the question is begged - "Are the risks posed by tanning beds mitigated by the narcissistic vanity their use feeds?" Or to say it in a way that seems eerily reminiscent of smoking, "Is looking cool worth putting your life in danger?" Last year the World Health Organization "tagged tan beds as 'a known carcinogen' and reported [their use] to reduce immunity, mutate DNA, caus[e] eye damage and [wrinkle] skin."
Now, I don't use tanning beds, but from all I've heard there are no neon signs indicating the dangers posed the intense UV exposure. I expect the same backlash from "tanners" (ooh, a new group to ostracize) that I gave as a smoker. You become accustomed to something and then fight like hell to defend your behavior against the slights of pedantic Samaritans. I am in now way in favor of legislating personal behavior at the expense of individual freedom (Hi G-Dubs!), but if you're going to tan, and it's going to kill you, you should probably read that memo.
Cheers.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Interlude: Malthusian Utopia
Once I attempted to read Thomas Friedman's The World Is Flat. I stopped when I felt that if I read the word collaboration one more time, I would flip out 451 style. Despite his bombast and loquacity, Friedman did deliver one salient point: telecommuting is real.
Malthusian population expansion models the end of human existence due to unchecked population growth and neo-Malthusian theory takes it a step further, leading us down the road to Idiocracy by deeming fertility the new ultimate determinant in natural selection.
Only one aspect of human existence is universal; there is only one thing that we have to do. That is to die. This too shall pass. Doomsday theorists babble forever on about how x, y, or z (see nuclear weapons, climate change, carrying capacity) will obliterate humanity and that they must be stopped, at all costs. The simple fact is that some day the last human will die. Honestly, it could be tomorrow or in a future so distant that we do not have the language to describe it, but it will happen.
In high school, I had an English teacher who professed one of the greatest lessons that one can learn. He encouraged "strength, not length." That is, no 20 page paper is superior to a 4 page paper based simply on it's burgeoning size. In any set of prose, you must clearly communicate your intent and describe it accurately and effectively to the reader. Do that and don't become mired in filler.
Although I took this lesson to heart in my academic writing, as the years have gone by, I have endeavored to apply it to my life in general. Human society, especially American society, is obsessed with quantifiable metrics, i.e. length. We define worth based on such metrics. We marvel that life expectancy was once in the 30's. Clearly, we must be better than our forefather because we live longer. But do we live better? Hard to say, and a debate for another time. The kernel here is that, given a lifetime of say 70 years, it is phenomenally likely to become complacent, to procrastinate. There is always another tomorrow, until there is not. Goals are not determined, let alone achieved. The filler of modern life (reality TV, XBox, McDonald's and Starbucks) comes to dominate. Instead of seeking a method to make our lives longer, we must instill the urgency to make our lives stronger.
This is not a self-help piece, but it is also not a treatise on the meaninglessness of ourselves based on existential angst. That being said and having recognized the inevitability of human extinction, perhaps we might, as a species, try to make some lemonade out of these quintillion lemons.
It is improbable to accurately predict peak oil. Certainly the most likely methodology would be pure luck. Let us agree that it is coming, that is perceivable on the horizon. Extrapolating from the Mathusian model, the continued reliance on oil will lead inextricably to its disappearance. As this watershed is approached, oil prices and, therefore, gasoline prices will continue to rise. Despite the wave of propaganda that auto and oil companies inundate us with via television advertising, there have been no radical innovations, no flux capacitors. As laymen we can distinctly discern the rising price of gasoline. This affects everyone who drives a car. While new technologies have developed to help mitigate this sharp increase, they have been as napkins sheltering us from the hail storm - relatively worthless. We cannot feel their effects. Even if hybrids et al continue to gain market share, it will be (barring an unforeseen discovery) decades before they predominate.
So here's the creamy middle. Automobiles will become a luxury. While families might still keep a car to vacation or relocate, car owners will morph into a minority. As gas prices become unbearable, cars, by the hundreds, will simply be abandoned on the side of the road. The aforementioned telecommuting will become the standard. Given the ease with which (ugh) collaboration can be achieved virtually, the burden of fuel prices and rush hour traffic jams will melt away. Big boxes will close up shop. The next generation will do its shopping online, nearly exclusively.
So we end up leading digital lives, bereft of human contact? Not at all. As more and more people find themselves constantly at home, the concept of neighborhoods returns to reality. While chillin' with the boys who live a half hour away by car becomes unwieldy, you actually know your neighbors' names once again. As American society has become a maze of crisscrossed lines, a wasteland of drive time, we have forgotten that all of those around us are people too. More than simply place holders, we will (literally) walk this world exchanging warm greetings with our brethren on our way to the town market for necessities. As the brown vans speed from house to house delivering smart phones and toilet paper and timber, as the terabytes float unseen past our faces, we will rebuild communities around green space and handshakes. Oh yeah, no more homeless problem. They'll just live in the cars.
Obviously, this does not solve the problem of unchecked population growth. Even the prospect of an endless roadside line of rotting auto frames seems untenable. But, for as long as it could last, this blend of 18th and 21st century sensibilities seems both attainable and worthwhile. It seems strong. I hope that I get to see it.
Go buy stock in UPS, yo.
Cheers.
Malthusian population expansion models the end of human existence due to unchecked population growth and neo-Malthusian theory takes it a step further, leading us down the road to Idiocracy by deeming fertility the new ultimate determinant in natural selection.
Only one aspect of human existence is universal; there is only one thing that we have to do. That is to die. This too shall pass. Doomsday theorists babble forever on about how x, y, or z (see nuclear weapons, climate change, carrying capacity) will obliterate humanity and that they must be stopped, at all costs. The simple fact is that some day the last human will die. Honestly, it could be tomorrow or in a future so distant that we do not have the language to describe it, but it will happen.
In high school, I had an English teacher who professed one of the greatest lessons that one can learn. He encouraged "strength, not length." That is, no 20 page paper is superior to a 4 page paper based simply on it's burgeoning size. In any set of prose, you must clearly communicate your intent and describe it accurately and effectively to the reader. Do that and don't become mired in filler.
Although I took this lesson to heart in my academic writing, as the years have gone by, I have endeavored to apply it to my life in general. Human society, especially American society, is obsessed with quantifiable metrics, i.e. length. We define worth based on such metrics. We marvel that life expectancy was once in the 30's. Clearly, we must be better than our forefather because we live longer. But do we live better? Hard to say, and a debate for another time. The kernel here is that, given a lifetime of say 70 years, it is phenomenally likely to become complacent, to procrastinate. There is always another tomorrow, until there is not. Goals are not determined, let alone achieved. The filler of modern life (reality TV, XBox, McDonald's and Starbucks) comes to dominate. Instead of seeking a method to make our lives longer, we must instill the urgency to make our lives stronger.
This is not a self-help piece, but it is also not a treatise on the meaninglessness of ourselves based on existential angst. That being said and having recognized the inevitability of human extinction, perhaps we might, as a species, try to make some lemonade out of these quintillion lemons.
It is improbable to accurately predict peak oil. Certainly the most likely methodology would be pure luck. Let us agree that it is coming, that is perceivable on the horizon. Extrapolating from the Mathusian model, the continued reliance on oil will lead inextricably to its disappearance. As this watershed is approached, oil prices and, therefore, gasoline prices will continue to rise. Despite the wave of propaganda that auto and oil companies inundate us with via television advertising, there have been no radical innovations, no flux capacitors. As laymen we can distinctly discern the rising price of gasoline. This affects everyone who drives a car. While new technologies have developed to help mitigate this sharp increase, they have been as napkins sheltering us from the hail storm - relatively worthless. We cannot feel their effects. Even if hybrids et al continue to gain market share, it will be (barring an unforeseen discovery) decades before they predominate.
So here's the creamy middle. Automobiles will become a luxury. While families might still keep a car to vacation or relocate, car owners will morph into a minority. As gas prices become unbearable, cars, by the hundreds, will simply be abandoned on the side of the road. The aforementioned telecommuting will become the standard. Given the ease with which (ugh) collaboration can be achieved virtually, the burden of fuel prices and rush hour traffic jams will melt away. Big boxes will close up shop. The next generation will do its shopping online, nearly exclusively.
So we end up leading digital lives, bereft of human contact? Not at all. As more and more people find themselves constantly at home, the concept of neighborhoods returns to reality. While chillin' with the boys who live a half hour away by car becomes unwieldy, you actually know your neighbors' names once again. As American society has become a maze of crisscrossed lines, a wasteland of drive time, we have forgotten that all of those around us are people too. More than simply place holders, we will (literally) walk this world exchanging warm greetings with our brethren on our way to the town market for necessities. As the brown vans speed from house to house delivering smart phones and toilet paper and timber, as the terabytes float unseen past our faces, we will rebuild communities around green space and handshakes. Oh yeah, no more homeless problem. They'll just live in the cars.
Obviously, this does not solve the problem of unchecked population growth. Even the prospect of an endless roadside line of rotting auto frames seems untenable. But, for as long as it could last, this blend of 18th and 21st century sensibilities seems both attainable and worthwhile. It seems strong. I hope that I get to see it.
Go buy stock in UPS, yo.
Cheers.
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