thirdofthemonth

Official Bodily Function Euphamisms

2008-01-09T11:22:00.000-05:00

Everyone knows what you mean when you go into a bathroom and declare that you are "going #1" or "going #2". I kind of like it; it's not terribly crass and it comes in handy when you only have one small bathroom and you have to decide who gets to go first after a long car ride (#1 obviously). But I always thought that it was an overly cute way of referring to urine and feces.

Until my building installed new two-way handles on it's toilets because we are in a drought and have to conserve water. The sign gives careful instructions that you should pull the handle "Up for #1" and "Down for #2", "depending on your needs." That's right; I shit you not. The official instructions for peeing and popping are "#1" and "#2".

Happy Third of the Month!

2008-01-03T17:59:00.001-05:00

Today is the first Third of the Month in 2008. This provides us with an excellent chance to start the year off right. New state, new job, new puppy (forgive me, oh Peaches!), new opportunities to appreciate one's own existence.

So stock up on moist towelettes, put on some plaid (if you even own any plaid anymore, this being 2008 and all...), and marvel at how absolutely perfect you are. The Colbert Report is back and after today we hopefully won't have to hear about Iowa for another 4 years. What could be better?

Cats and Dogs Living Together...

2008-01-02T11:59:00.000-05:00

Mass hysteria!

The Peaches is about to get a new big sister. That's right. Somehow the boy convinced me to adopt a dog. Up until last weekend, when the Peach was terrorized* by his sister's dachshunds, it's possible she had never seen another animal up close before. She did not handle it well. She made sounds I didn't think were possible to be made by a house cat, even such an exotic beauty like my Peaches.

So, in the span of two years I have gone from a completely pet-free** existence to running a zoo. And he made me buy him a book on raising chickens for Christmas. Chickens! Scratch that zoo thing; we're going to have a whole frickin' farm. A farm! And no Chinese delivery! And last night I ate dinner at a chain restaurant. A chain restaurant! I swear, this town is killing me.

But my cat is certainly going to kill me in my sleep if I let this dog take over. She's been known to hold a grudge. And urinate in my laundry.

*Now I have been told that "terrorize" is too strong a word but what else do you call it when the little vermin ate all her food while my precious baby cowered in fear underneath the bed?

** I do not consider my fish to be pets; they are decor.

Defende Nos in Proelio...

2007-12-31T16:33:00.000-05:00

Growing up in the northeast you couldn't swing a dead cat around by a rosary without hitting a Catholic church. Here in North Cacalacky we are not so blessed. It as thus made me appreciate more the majesty and thoughtfulness of my parish in New York, or at the very least its professional choir. But having enjoyed a lovely evening of singing carols at Love Feast last month, I am saddened to announce that one tiny little Methodist church has more singers who can carry a tune than the entire Catholic population of Durham.

And it's certainly not for lack of trying. Oh, do they try. Encouraging as it is to see an enthusiastic congregation at each Catholic church in the city, genuineness of faith is no excuse for laziness. Making mass a pleasant experience requires more than just showing up and at the very least requires the cantor to get her vowels right, particularly if she isn't bothering to pay attention to the key. Why, oh why, must we sing Gaelic folk songs and Caribbean allelujahs when there is nary an Irishman or a Jamaican in the place? And surely someone close to the "choral director" is aware of a mass setting that was not written by Marty Haugen.

But the hand-holding. Oh the hand-holding! As if I didn't have enough crosses to bear down here, I have to suffer through the whole congregation grabbing each others' hands, sometimes across the aisle, during the Our Father, as if that's the best time to invoke traditional camp-fire activity. And color me a literalist, but I don't think you can call it the Agnus Dei (tr. "Lamb of God") if you don't say, um, "Lamb of God." Look, if I wanted to kum-ba-ya like in a hippy-dippy liturgical clusterf*ck, I'd be Protestant.

So, anyway, this was the (extremely uncharitable) mindset I was in when visiting the future in-laws in an even more southern state (Georgia) for Christmas. We came dangerously close to going to an Episcopal church for midnight mass until God stepped in and totally got us lost and made us run out of gas. Providence is either truly mysterious or simply a synonym for absent-minded. Needless to say we went to the little local church the next morning and prayed for the best...

... Boy, you sure do find those RadTrads in the strangest places. Now I admit I used to troll the Catholic blogs back in the day (still do sometimes) so I knew they existed but I'd never seen any up close. And these guys were good! It was very subtle; you had to know what to look for. Everything was just a little bit off, like those bells I haven't heard since I was a kid or when the little altar boy stuck a plate under my hand just in case I spilled a few crumbs of the Eucharist. Little stuff that made you go hmmmm.

Again, everything was just a little off, that is until the end of the mass, when the entire congregation prayed, in full Stepford unison, for St. Michael the Archangel to protect them from the demons and evil spirits that prowl the world in order to prey on good souls. Oh yes, they said "prowl".

It was that moment when we knew we had to flee lest we be discovered, moderate cradle Catholics in the bowels of the RadTrad beast!

But the kicker (and this is where I really believe that the good Lord is testing me by fire) is that in the midst of a clearly conservative, traditional congregation complete with totally suppressed prayers to heavenly warriors, I still had to hold hands during the Our Father! Will the indignities never end!

No Soup For You!

2007-12-14T09:25:00.000-05:00

There are three things in life that are certain: death, taxes, and the Wall Street Journal's hatred of China. China, on the other hand, hates me. Or at least the Chinese do. Or at least the Chinese and/or non-Chinese who own Chinese restaurants in Durham.

Alone for dinner last night, without the car, I did some laundry and settled in to order some food. Having planned on ordering Chinese all day I as really jonesin' for some hot and sour soup. So I kicked off my shoes and called the closest restaurant and asked if they delivered. The woman replied by asking me my address. I told her where I lived (which is no more than 0.5 miles away).

She replied "Is that an apartment or a home." I answered that it was a home.

Then she says, "Oh, we never delivered there before."

"No, this is my first time calling."

"Oh, then I don't think we deliver. Sorry." And then she hung up!

So I called her back. I politely told her I thought we got cut off. But no, she assured me that she hung up on me because she won't deliver to a home. Only to an apartment. (This was of course beginning to feel like this time that a store in Prague wouldn't take my credit card because it wasn't Thursday.) But then she clarified. They only deliver to Duke Apartments. In case you are wondering, those apartments are a) sketchy and b) about three times farther away than my house. So, yeah still crazy but in a different way.

It turns out, however, that it wasn't only this crazy lady who wouldn't deliver to me. Not one single Chinese restaurant in a 5 mile radius (and there are more than you might expect) would deliver. Period. What do sick people do in this town? Meals on Wheels? Clearly there is room for a new product here without even having to come up with an original idea.

Now, had I known this illogical non-delivery policy that has plagued my city, I would have just walked the half mile to the China Inn and been done with it. Except it was raining. Oh, and Durham has no sidewalks! That's right. There are no sidewalks. I'm like not even exaggerating. If you were to take the ratio of sidewalks to streets it would be like 1:45623579.

Sometimes this town confuses me.

Happy Third of the Month!

2007-08-03T18:02:00.001-04:00

Well, I believe it has been over a year since you last received a greeting on this day. This is not to say that I haven't been voraciously extolling my own virtues in the meanwhile. Far from it. I have been, idiomatically at least, loving myself up one side and down the other for the better part of this year.

In the intervening months I have defended my thesis, published a portion of said thesis in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, moved to Roosevelt Island, and lined up a post-doc at a prestigious university with an infamous lacrosse team. That university is not, unfortunately, in New York City. Which means this September we will be moving our humble little family (me, boy and cat) to the South. I will therefore have to not only learn what it's like to own a car and drive everywhere I want to go, but to like grits and Duke basketball. I think I'm up for the challenge (the grits at least).

So, since this is a day of happiness and joy, I will not dwell on how I will miss the vim and vigor of the Greatest City on Earth, but rather focus on how the streets of North Carolina will presumably not smell like the men's room at Penn Station every time the temperature gets above 73 degrees. I will also focus on how I will have a yard and porch and a grill and not pay 65% of my salary towards rent! Maybe I can afford some new plaid underwear...

Love yourselves. You deserve it.

The Many Indignities of New York City

2007-07-30T13:16:00.000-04:00

I have discovered that as the days draw nearer to our departure from New York, the less I am able to tolerate the thousands of indignities that New Yorkers are constantly subjected to. For eight years, which happens to be all of my post-college adult life, I have sung the praises of New York; it truly has become my home and I am, of course, scared and reluctant to leave. It is at times both horrific and majestic, filled with mystery and misery. To be concise, I am a city-boy at heart, even though I hail from the suburbs and in general loathe other people.

But that does not mean that I do not have the right to be treated with respect. And who is capable of hurling insult after injury upon New Yorkers better than the MTA?

This weekend, as many other weekends in the past, the F train was running on the V in the Queens-bound direction. When that happens, a straphanger can do one of two things to get to Roosevelt Island: either take the F all the way into Jackson Heights and transfer to a Manhattan-bound train, or get off at 53rd and Lexington and walk to the Tram. For able-bodied persons, the latter is the better option.

Unless you listen to the announcements. At every stop starting at 14th St. the conductor informed us that, to get to Roosevelt Island, one should get off at Queens Plaza and take the shuttle bus the MTA has graciously provided for affected passengers. Oh glory days! A shuttle bus! That wasn't sarcasm; to me, above ground is always preferable to below. So we stayed on the train.

And the shuttle bus would have been a great option. If there had been a shuttle bus. See, when we got off the train and asked the attendant to give us a shuttle bus ticket, he informed us that there wasn't one and he had no idea why we thought there would be one and that we would have to get back onto the train, which had now departed, and take it to Jackson Heights and switch trains.

I understand service interruption; it is a necessary evil when it comes to public transportation. I begrudgingly accept poorly worded signs alerting me of such changes. What I do not accept is being lied to. And the worst part is, no one cares. The conductors don't care; the attendants don't care; the MTA certainly doesn't care. And you can't complain to anyone. Well, I mean you can certainly complain to people (I suggest your co-workers and/or loved-ones) but you aren't going to get any retribution.

That's why you should focus your energy on complaining about things that can have satisfactory outcomes. Like when a taxi waits until the last minute, after the lanes have split, to get into the exit lane on the BQE, rather than wait in the long line of cars like a respectable human beings do, and you have a cell phone and his easy-to-remember 4 digit license plate, you can file a reckless driving claim on his ass with the TLC. That, my friends, is satisfying.

I am, of course, terrified that my general rage at people who do things that piss me off is going to be turned into road-rage that will get me injured. But I am counting on the general passivity and cordiality of Southerners to keep me sane in the Carolinas; but a more likely scenario is that their general lackadaisical congeniality will, um, piss me off.

Sad Tableau

2007-07-24T14:41:00.001-04:00

This morning I was riding the 6 train and as I descended into the subway, I saw something that truly saddened me. An old man, probably in his sixties but with a hunched over stance and white hair and moustache that made him look much older, was scrubbing graffiti off the wall. Of course, the first thing that popped into my head was that episode of South Park where someone drops a deuce in the urinal and it leads to Kyle being blamed for September 11th.

Although graffiti can be considered a valid art form, this was just straight up vandalism. And this poor man, who has probably labored a great deal in his life, was forced to clean up after some horrible thug who has no respect for his neighbors. Heartbreaking. It's as bad as taking someone's newspaper in his own home. And that's seriously bad. It's almost enough to make my middle-class white guilt overcome by liberally-educated homosexual sense of entitlement.

Gingivectomy

2007-07-20T15:53:00.000-04:00

That's what the dentist did to me today.

Sure, I went in for a routine cleaning and sure, I haven't been flossing as much as I should and my gums are a little swollen. And I do know that, left untreated, gingivitis can kill you. Or at least I've always been suspicious of it.

But I thought that all the dentist would do was scrape some plaque off my teeth and give me a good tongue lashing for not flossing. But noooooo. She wanted to perform a gingivectomy to rid me of loose gums that apparently were creating deep pockets around my teeth for plaque to reside. She referred to it as "recontouring my gum line," which sounded a little too Park Avenue for my taste (forgetting for a second that my dentist was located on Park Avenue) but which I accepted because that's what you do when you are lying back in a chair with a bright light shining in your eyes and a masked woman poking your gums with a metal prod.

She attempted to ease my mind, though, by assuring me that she wouldn't use the "blade" but rather "just the sharp tool". I will not bore you with the subsequent gory details of my dental procedure, except to make note that it involved lots of blood. And when I rinsed and spat, I am positive I saw parts of my gum wash down the tiny little sink.

The upshot, of course, is that I have a killer new smile. Or at least I will when the new gaping holes in my gums heal over.

Illiterate Ph.D.s

2007-07-19T16:35:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, somebody in my building took my copy of the Wall Street Journal. I know someone took it because it was in the hallway waiting for me when I left for the gym, but when I returned it was no longer there. So I used my tightly honed powers of deductive reasoning to conclude that someone took it.

Now, it's possible they were confused. Apparently the guy who delivers the paper to us can't walk thirty feet down the hallway, perhaps because of some affliction to his lower appendages (although were that the case he perhaps would have chosen a less mobile profession), and instead merely tosses the paper out of the elevator and doesn't care where it lands. Sometimes it lands in front of someone else's door. Sometimes it barely makes it out of the elevator. It has never made it in front of my door. So maybe that's why someone took it.

Maybe someone saw the paper on the floor and said to themselves, "Hmmm, isn't it nice of the building to leave this copy of the Wall Street Journal just lying here for anyone to take. Hey, I like to read! Maybe I'll read this paper!" Or maybe they said to themselves, "Hey, perhaps in a drunken stupor I accidentally ordered the Wall Street Journal to be delivered to my hallway, and even though I can't remember doing it, I'm going to pick it up and read it anyway!"

Except the problem with my little hypotheticals, which might seem reasonable to the casual observer, is that they neglect a very salient fact: the person who picked up my paper mistakenly cannot possibly know how to read. How do I know this very important and what might be considered highly improbable piece of information?

I know this because if they could read, they would have seen the big fat address label that does not have their name on it.

The kicker, of course, is that every single apartment on my floor has at least one Ph.D. living in it. It baffles the mind that, in an entire floor of Ph.D.'s, there lives someone who is not capable of reading an address label.

Either that, or one of my neighbors is a gigantic douche.

15 Seconds of Fame

2007-07-18T11:07:00.000-04:00

As some of you may know, Emerson and I, along with my friend Jennifer, tried out for the second season of VH1's The World Series of Pop Culture, hosted by none other than our local news idol, Pat Kiernan of NY1. Needless to say, we did not succeed. Even though we studied for months. We didn't even pass the test. Although we are forbidden under the fullest penalty of the law to say what went on in that room, I will say that it required more knowledge of the WB than even I was capable of cramming into my brain. It's a shame. Stupid Gilmore Girls!

We had chosen what, in our opinion, was the kick-ass-est team name ever: "There Is No Dana". We even showed up to the auditions dressed as nerdy paranormal investigators. And I thought for sure that no one would get to see us. But I was wrong. In the intro to the first episode, where they showcase scenes from the written test, there we are in all our test-taking glory! Emerson even got a close-up!

Of course, I am still bitter about not getting on but I am tickled pink that last year's winners, El Chupacabra, got knocked out in the first round. I always thought those hacks got lucky!

Fun Summer

2007-07-17T14:10:00.000-04:00

The boy and I had a very pleasant Sunday in the sun a few days ago. We began by getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and schlepping down the street to our newly acquired car that has its own newly aquired parking space at the Motorgate Parking Garage above the Gristede's on Roosevelt Island (which is where we live, of course). Then we drove to Target because we realized in our hasty planning that in order to properly enjoy the beach to which we were headed we were going to need to purchase beach chairs. This, a day after we made a special trip out to Target for other necessary sundries.

And of course, because we can't do anything ordinary, we didn't go to a popular, common beach like Jones Beach or Coney Island. No, we had to find the quiettest beach in the five burroughs; a beach that no one in their right mind would want to go to because it is impossible to reach by public transportation and nearly as impossible to reach by car and doubly impossible to park once you get there because you need a fishing license to do so. Oh, and it also had to be the former home of supersonic air defens missiles. I give you: Fort Tilden. Let me just say that New York Magazine didn't mention the $50 fee for a parking permit!

Regardless, we found a beautiful spot on the beach which wasn't nearly as vacant as I was led to believe but was still far quieter than any other beach in the metropolitan area. It was also probably windier. The wind, in fact, prohibited me from properly applying my spray-on sunscreen. To wit, I have horrible streaky bright red sunburns all over my legs, in very uncomfortable locations.

That didn't deter us, however, from having a pleasant work out at the gym and then having dinner in Long Island City at a delicious Thai place, Tuk Tuk. I had the pinapple coconut duck curry. It was exquisite. Then we had a scotch at our new favorite outside bar, LIC, on Vernon Blvd., where we were serenaded by a local band that specialized in surf music. I kid you not.

As it was, I enjoyed my weekend immensely. It fit well into our theme for the summer which is: "Fun Summer". Not original, I know, but then again it wasn't me who came up with it. Next Fun Summer weekend? Blueberry picking and Harry Potter reading....

Triumphant Return!

2007-07-17T10:04:00.000-04:00

After about a year, I have decided to return to blogging. I'm not entirely sure what prompted it but I'm certain that it has something to do with ego and self-esteem issues. And maybe akrasia.

So I hope to keep this up. You can expect me to blog about the usual stuff. Pop culture. My goings-on about New York. Probably a little intelligent design creationism thrown in amongst some other sciency stuff. Gay marriage. Maybe my gay marriage, if we ever get around to setting a date. I might even talk about some politics, like how the vice president's quasi-QM metaphysical musings about his state of existence rival the existential poetry of the former Secretary of Defense. Or how much, no matter how hard I honestly try, I still can't like Hillary Clinton. And if I'm really lucky, I'll get to turn this into a Mike for Prez blog.

But more likely than not I'll just complain about things that piss me off. Like the smug sense of entitlement every person in this city seems to have. Or how people never exit at the back of the bus. Or how livery cabs merge in front of you on the BQE at the very last second even though they, of all people, should certain know better.

Oh, and I'll probably extol the virtues of plaid on a regular basis.

Stem Cell Lies

2006-07-21T11:51:00.000-04:00

Michael Fumento, the National Review's go-to guy for science stuff, has a particularly nauseating essay in this week's issue dealing with embryonic stem cell (ESC) research in the wake of the President's veto. It deals with a letter written to Science by three prominent ESC researchers taking to task a list that's been floating around claiming that adult stem cells (ASC) can treat upwards of 70 some-odd diseases, whereas ESCs haven't cured anything. Science has a nice article this week on the reality of some of those "cures", most of which are in foreign countries with undocumented, anecdotal results. These scientists are correct to take issue with Congress touting out "patient testimony" as evidence of ASCs curative powers.

Fumento gets riled up, however, by the supposed dishonesty of these scientists by downplaying the curative potential of ASCs, claiming that they are apparently "at odds" with the whole medical community. Why? Because they claim “adult stem cell transplants from bone marrow or umbilical cord blood can provide some benefit to sickle cell patients” and “hold the potential to treat sickle cell anemia” [emphasis Fumento's]. He claims that, no, ASCs have full curative power:

An article from the May 2006 issue of Current Opinion in Hematology notes that “there is presently no curative therapy” for sickle-cell anemia other than allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell transplantation. “Hematopoietic” means from marrow or blood; “allogeneic” means the cells are from another person. Seminars in Hematology (2004) states, “. . . curative allogeneic stem cell transplantation therapy” has “been developed for sickle cell anemia.” Meanwhile, “. . . curative allogeneic stem cell transplantation therapy [has] been developed for” sickle-cell anemia according to Current Opinions in Molecular Therapy (2003), while “hematopoietic stem cells for allogeneic transplantation” are “currently the only curative approach for sickle cell anemia” observes the journal Blood (2002).

What does everybody seem to know that the Science writers and editors don’t?

Hmmm. I'll tell you Mr. Fumento. They know you need to read more than one sentence into an abstract. Take the Curr Opin Hematol article. Fumento needed to only read the next sentence: "This therapeutic option, however, is not available to most patients due to the lack of an HLA-matched bone marrow donor." Wow. One curative therapy exists and it remains unavailable to most patients. I'd say that, on the whole, allogenic stem cell transplantation therapy holds potential and provides some benefit to patients as a group, which is how we generally think of the benefits of a therapy. And since immunocompatibility is a major problem for organ donations (which stem cell transplantation essentially is), that's why the all the papers he cited go on to talk about gene therapy to overcome that problem. I'd hardly say the powers of ASCs were falsely underplayed:

Sometimes it prints easily falsifiable studies, such as this, attacking the usefulness of ASCs.

Yes, it is easily falsifiable, as in, one can attempt to falsify it by

reading the literature. However, as is obvious from reading, oh say,
the entire article, one realizes that ASCs aren't nearly as useful as
you'd like to believe.

Will ESCs help us in our pursuit of the holy histocompatibility grail? Maybe, maybe not. Point is, ASCs probably won't because they are a lot harder to manipulate. Studying ESCs is basic science research and may provide some clues towards this manipulation by helping us understand early differentiation, for example. And that research needs to be funded by the federal government.

Fumento ends, of course, by implying that the recent South Korean stem cell debacle shows that Science is a "propaganda sheet:"

Other times it falsely promotes ESCs. That culminated in January when the journal was forced to retract two groundbreaking ESC studies that proved frauds.

Yes, but it didn't falsely promote ESCs. The journal itself was defrauded by the authors. And it immediately retracted them. It was not intentional and not only was the journal defrauded but the peer-reviewers and several co-authors as well. Not everyone involved with the publication of data is expected to independently verify every detail of the work submitted.

Whatever one's opinion on ESC research is, I simply abhor when irresponsible "journalists" misrepresent science. Abhor. Like I abhor Richard Gere. Oh yes, that much.

Alternate Side Parking Rules

2006-06-20T15:51:00.000-04:00

New Yorkers have this funny little ritual that they go through several times a week if they own cars and it goes by Alternate Side Parking Rules, whereby for about an hour and a half two or three times a week, one of the sides of the street gets cleaned and must be cleared of traffic. Which means if, oh say, you've borrowed your sisters car for the week while she's studying in Italy so you can go to Costco and run other errands and drive out of the city on the weekend and generally just get a respite from public transportation, you can't just leave it on the street until you need it. No, you have to move it between the hours of 9:00 and 10:30 so that the Department of Sanitation can clean the street, which in my seven years in this city I may have seen happen once.

Anyway, I used to think this little annoyance was amusing and I got a cynical bout of schadenfreude every time I saw people double parked across the street waiting for the magical time when they can move their cars to the other side and leave them there for upwards of three whole days!

That is, I was amused until it happened to me. When I arrived on Sunday night I was determined to park on a side of the stree where I didn't have to move the car until at least Tuesday. This meant either parking on the other side of 96th St. (the horrors!) or trying to fit my sister's little Elantra in a small space between an Infiniti and a Pathfinder. SUVs are, of course, the bain of my existence but this one took the cake. I asked the boy to get out and see if I could fit. He said yes, which would have been the correct answer if the Pathfinder didn't have a spare tire the size of Minnesota sticking out the back. Bumper to bumper I was fine. But bumper to tire? Nope. The Elantra's hood was just two inches too high for that. I managed to wedge myself in, but by the time I realized I couldn't get the car closer than a foot and half to the curb, there was no going back.

I did manage to find a space this morning, however, after only 45 minutes. By the end of the week I'll be a pro. Just in time to return the car to Connecticut and go another seven years without ever having to pray for inclimate weather so I can hear those blessed words on the morning news: "Alternate side parking has been suspended city wide...."

The Light at the End of the Tunnel...

2006-06-20T14:43:00.000-04:00

... is October, baby! A little later than I wanted it to be but whatever. My committee meeting went swimmingly. And in just four short months I am going to insist that you all start referring to me as "Dr."! Apparently my work on the modification of bilayer mechanical properities by poly-unsaturated fatty acids, specifically the interplay between changes in elasticity and curvature, was a hit with the biochemists!

I'm on tonight and my hips don't lie....

Happy Anniversary!

2006-05-18T11:55:00.000-04:00

To marriage equality!

The DaVinci Code

2006-05-10T11:54:00.000-04:00

I am torn by the fact that Ron Howard is not putting a disclaimer up about Opus Dei when the film gets released this month. I am torn because I detest Opus Dei and would like people to have a disfavorable opinion of them, but I do think that they warrent a fair treatment. Granted, the story is fiction, and piss-poor fiction at that (give me Umberto Eco anyday). But of all the crap that Brown made up, Opus Dei is the only organization a) introduced to the general population by this drivel and b) still around. I think the Vatican is fair game in the same way that "the government" is appropriate as the Big Bad in a conspiracy story.

That said, however, I do get a tinge of delight at the twisted portrayal of Opus Dei. All fundamentalism should be stamped out.

Happy Third of the Month!

2006-05-03T17:45:00.000-04:00

Ah, spring has sprung. It's wet and breezy with wild temperature fluctuations and inconceivably high levels of airborne allergens. Not to mention the fact that the vaguely acidic smell that has been permeating my department's restrooms comes not from infrequently emptied trash bins but from the toxic vapors emanating from the broken wasteline from the gross anatomy lab above us. If I wasn't in the daily habit of inhaling enough methanol to blind an elephant, I might be worried.

But not today.

Because today is about happy thoughts. Happy thoughts like how ludicrously awesome Prison Break is. Will Sarah Wayne Callies actually break the law and help Wentworth "I'm Secretly Black" Miller escape? Who is this "Company", an international conglomerate of corporations that control all world politics (aka the Elders of Zion) and why are the messing with Patricia Wettig? And don't you think Patricia Wettig's name seems to be missing a consonant?

All these questions, however, can gleefully distract us from our true mission today: to spread love and joy and self-appreciation everywhere! Some may say that my infatuation with self-satisfaction is merely a casualty of the self-esteem movement of my childhood, a "this is your brain on drugs" childhood, which admittedly made heroin look tasty rather than horrifying (had I known the dangers of "bad" cholesterol (which is of course an idiotic oversimplification of an essential and vital mammalian sterolic compound that we really shouldn't be attempting to moralize by placing value judgments on it)) I'd've probably been terrified. If I had been a product of the "drugs will make you stick your entire hand in your mouth" childhood, I might have stayed of the crank... the self-love crank that this!

So if you're having difficulty finding your inner high today and you can't get a hold of some methanol, might I proffer a suggestion: take a dozen moist towelettes and remove them from their deliciously square foil wrappers. Layer them on top of each other and place them firmly over your nose and mouth. Secure them by tying a bandanna (preferably plaid) around your head and breath normally. Ignore the burning sensation in the middle of your cerebellum. As your eyes begin to well up with tears of joy and wonderment, think upon the meaning of the Third of the Month and try to stay awake until the euphoria hits you....

Mmm Tastes Like Chicken

2006-03-29T11:07:00.000-05:00

This weekend the boy and I went to the Darwin exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History. I highly recommend it, and not just because they take a nicely produced swing at Intelligent Design Creationism. In a serious of video discussions Ken Miller, Eugenie Scott and Francis Collins, among others, neatly lay out the definition of a theory and discuss why ID isn't one.

But that is not the focus of the exhibit; the focus is Darwin's journey from simple observations to his detailed, revolutionary idea. The whole exhibit has a very Victorian feel and you get a true sense of how pathologically curious the man was, as evidenced by the fact that he ate every species he came across to see what it tasted like. Seriously. Apparently those endangered Galapagos iguanas taste like chicken.

And while the IMAX movie of the Galapagos islands enhanced the experience, it really isn't all that necessary; it's too short to actually give you any scientific detail, although widescreen IMAX movies of nature are always pretty cool.

Not Ludicrous Enough

2006-03-21T16:47:00.000-05:00

Last night was the best night of my life. Well, recently at least. Why? Because Ludicrous Prison Break is back on the air! It was fantastic! There are all these really tense moments. Is he gonna get the chair? Is he not gonna get the chair? Is Sarah Wayne Callies '99 gonna come through and talk to her daddy? Was Wentworth Miller going to be able to stop staring off into middle distance long enough to plead with her eyes? When are they finally going to get to make out? Are they going to have a torrid off-screen romance? Is Abruzzi coming back from his stint with VW? Are Michael and Sucre ever going to make out? Are they going to kill off Veronica so I don't have to suffer through any more of Robin Tunney's horribly affected phrasing? And doesn't Patricia Wettig rock?

Big Boys Don't Get Do-Overs

2006-03-20T15:25:00.000-05:00

As you probably know, I am not a big fan of unions. Especially greedy ones. The TWU is no exception. Perhaps you all remember that strike back around Christmas? That illegal strike? Remember it was about how the MTA wasn't given the workers what they wanted? Remember how, when they didn't reach an agreement, the MTA wanted to go to binding arbitration? Kind of like how every other union/management dispute is settled. Because arbitration and mediation is how adults who cannot come to an agreement settle their differences.

Remember how the TWU didn't want to go to binding arbitration because they didn't want to lose a say in their contract? And remember how the MTA backed down to virtually all the union's demands and how the union president, Roger Toussaint, agreed it was a fair contract? And remember how the union got to take a vote on it and get their say? And remember how they rejected it and how the MTA said, "fine, we'll go to binding arbitration, like adults."

Well, now the union wants another chance to vote. See, they didn't understand what they were voting on. It's not like they had weeks to read the contract. It's not like every news program and newspaper in the city reported what was in the deal ad nauseum. No, they weren't properly informed. They want to try again.

I'm sorry. Adults don't get do-overs. You had your choice. You struck for three days, illegally, when you didn't get your way. Then you were handed a nice, sweet deal, when the MTA had every legal and rational reason to push for binding arbitration. And you said no. And now, when it looks like you're going to be forced into binding arbitration against what you originally wanted, you want another vote?

"We believe that the MTA should be held to the terms that they agreed to in December, and that the MTA should not get into the business of dictating to the union when and how we ratify a contract," says Mr. Toussaint. Oh really? Dictating? Kind of like how you dictated the MTA when and how you were going to go to work? Are you so egotistical as to think that the workers are the only entity that matters? Earth to Roger: socialism lost. You have management to deal with, the ones who have to sign off on your contract. And don't forget about those pesky little subway and bus riders. We're just a bunch of irritating gnats.

You had your chance to sign the MTA's contract offer and you blew it. Adults go to a mediator. Children pitch a fit when they don't get their way and then demand everyone let them try again. And when you act like children, you deserve to be treated by children.

Not My Fault...

2006-02-02T10:01:00.000-05:00

I intend to return to blogging as soon as my schedule calms down a bit.

I have resurfaced, however briefly, to inform everyone that I am in no way involved in this. A worm that attacks everyone on the third of the month is, in fact, blasphemous! That is not in the spirit of the Third of the Month! It is not about wanton destruction or vandalism! It is about loving yourself and cherishing yourself and protecting yourself from sadness and malaise. And plaid. Never forget that ultimately this day is about plaid....

So, grab a stack of moist towellettes, don your favorite pair of plaid boxers (or if you have any shirts left over from the mid 90s) and start updating those virus definitions! And stop downloading porn from random spam! (And no, the irony of this worm's method of attack is not lost on me...)

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

2005-12-07T09:23:00.000-05:00

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a dinner party in my honor thrown by what I would like to call my rich Jewess benefactor, the lovely woman who endowed the fellowship that makes my PUFA research possible. Now, I've know some wealthy people; I have been to parties of wealthy people; I have some wealthy people in my family; heck, my cousin went to one of those pre-schools that cost more than Dartmouth did.

But I have never been to a home where you could stand at the toilet in the guest bathroom and relieve yourself while staring at a Picasso. An actual Picasso. In the guest bathroom.

And the clincher is that this apartment, in all its glory (and it was fantastic), was on the not-so-impressive middle floor of a not-so-impressive building on Park Ave. And still the only place they could find for the Picasso was the guest bathroom.

I need to invent something. Pronto.

Unmitigated Gall

2005-11-22T11:13:00.000-05:00

I am having a bad morning, and it's not because I only had toast and jam for breakfast. No, I am having a bad morning because I am wet. I am primarily wet because of the rain; I realize, so is pretty much everyone in New York today. However, I could be less wet because I do own an umbrella; an umbrella that I'm very careful to keep with me at all times because you never know when the sky is going to open up and pour down on you and make you wet. And God knows there's little I hate more than being wet all day. Which is why I carry an umbrella with me at all times.

So why am I wet today? Because some asshole (and I only use that word because it's the nicest thing I can think of) stole my umbrella from the hallway outside my door where it had been drying overnight. Oh, that's right. Some un-neighborly fuck-twat took my umbrella from me on a soggy, rainy, cold morning two days before Thanksgiving! This godless asswipe of a thief took my ratty, ugly pop-up umbrella on a day when the owner (me) probably (definitely) really needed it. I would have bought another one but I didn't have enough cash on me to buy an umbrella because, oh gee, because I hadn't planned on needing to buy an umbrella this morning. Because I own one.

But I'm really angry at myself. I'm angry because I never leave my umbrella outside of my apartment. I never leave my umbrella outside of my apartment because I am a paranoid person who thinks very little of other people and I always had this irrational thought that if I left a cheap umbrella outside my door someone would probably steal it. And I always knew, deep down, that it was an irrational thought. Who would steal an umbrella? People cannot really be that thoughtless and cruel to their neighbors. That's what I thought to myself last night as I returned to my apartment with a soaking umbrella and left it outside to dry.

Well apparently my irrational fears were perfectly rational. The world is apparently filled with heinous, uncaring, unloving, selfish fuckholes. There are only seven other apartments in my building. And I swear to God I will find the fucker who stole my umbrella and I will not hesitate to rip his thieving arm from his socket and beat him to death with the bloody stump.

Calgon! Get Me Up Outta Here and Take Me Somewhere!

2005-10-25T17:18:00.000-04:00

The boy and I have taken to watching music videos in the morning, in order to stay apace of what the kiddies are listening to these days (or at least what's on MTV). It has been thoroughly enlightening, since I don't listen to the radio. It has made me come to appreciate the wonderfulness that is Kanye West's "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" and "Gold Digger".

But our story doesn't start with MTV or Kanye or bling related hip-hop. No, our story today begins with late night channel surfing a few months ago. The boy was asleep, but I was a bit wired so I started flipping through channels until I came across the local PBS station from New Jersey, you know the one that plays that scenic tour of Italy twelve times a day? Well, at 3:30 am I was taken aback to learn that, instead of some dreary travelogue, PBS was showing some "hipster" youth jumping up and down on top of his piano, acting like an asshole. I mean, come on. An edgy jazz pianist? Sneakers and shaggy hair alone will not make you cool. Especially when you're banging away on your piano keys like a teenaged boy popping his cherry (lots of show to camouflage a lack of talent) while singing a sophomoric version of "I Could Have Danced All Night". Needless to say, I wasn't in a particularly sharp state of mind at the time and didn't know quite what to make of this spectacle.

So I put it out of my mind.

Until last week when this tool showed up on MTV. Apparently he's famous. Apparently people really like him. And apparently they have all had lobotomies. His name is Jamie Cullum and let me give you a taste of his youthful wisdom:

So what game shall we play today?
How about the one where you don't get your way?
But even if you do,
That's okay.

Trust me, it isn't any more interesting with music. Anywho, let's break it down, shall we? The only defining characteristic of this "game" is that the chick he's after doesn't get her way. But, he says, even if she does get her way, he's totally fine with that. But since that was the only defining characteristic of the game he was suggesting, he's really saying that he doesn't care what game they play. Which might be mistaken for deep, if the song manages to not put you to sleep by the time you hit the chorus.

He's a got a few more gems in there, too. Like:

I opened the door and you walked in,
(Sniff) The scent of wild jasmine.

Honestly. Do women smell like anything other than jasmine or vanilla? I don't even think I know what jasmine smells like. But what I do know is that rhyming it with "walked in" is about as lame as rhyming
"get your way" with "okay"...

Or how about this one:

And who'd have thought that entertainment,
Lies in the winter of your discontent.

Oooh, Jamie Cullum read a book! Lesson 1: when you want to look smart (but aren't) quote Shakespeare.

Alright, I got one more:

Now, sit at the table, face to face,
Queen takes pawn, check or checkmate!

Check or checkmate. Got that? Lesson #2: when you want to look smart (but aren't) make references to intellectual games. Like chess. Or backgammon. Or the one where you don't get your way.

Now, for a final observation... Compare what you read above with the following:

Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz

I think the answer is obvious...

Maggie Gallagher Is A Whiny Bitch

2005-10-21T16:08:00.000-04:00

After a week of guest-blogging on The Volokh Conspiracy, that's about the most charitable thing I can say about her. Over the past few years I've read much of what she has written and I always thought it boiled down to "sex makes babies so we shouldn't allow gay marriage" which of course makes that kind of sense that doesn't. So I was generally interested in seeing what she was going to say in a series of posts geared toward lawyers. Five days and approximately 20,000 words later I've discovered she basically thinks that "sex makes babies so we shouldn't allow gay marriage".

I feel justified in making the judgment that I do (ie, Maggie Gallagher is a whiny bitch) because that's about the level of sophistication her arguments took ("like the first ingredient is a husband and a wife, duh").

I also feel justified in critiquing what she has to say because we are equally qualified to comment on marriage and social policy. We both have undergraduate degrees from ivy league schools (Dartmouth '99; Yale '82) in fields unrelated to social policy (Chemistry; probably English and since none of her biographies seem to indicate what it was, I'm guessing it has nothing to do with government or sociology). We both have published an equal number of peer-reviewed articles on marriage (zero; zero). We both worship the whore of Babylon (Catholics, you know). We both have a checkered past with payments for expertise (she was payed by the Administration to espouse their policies in print; I was payed by a university to "volunteer" my time a local high schools). She's married and I'm not, but I'm gay and she's not so as far as "gay marriage" is concerned I think we can call it a wash. The only thing she's really got on me is that she's "thought about marriage" an awful lot; me probably not nearly as much. But if thinking a lot about something can be considered a qualification, I think Oslo's a bit behind on giving me my Nobel.

With that out of the way, I was going to go over her arguments post by post, but I've decided that they aren't worth taking a look at in that much detail because she tends to repeat herself a lot. Instead I'll look mostly at her last entry. According to "bad time management" we do not get treated to the

theories of the cognitive nature of social institutions, the relevance of the New Institutionalist Economics’ understanding of isomorphic institutional change, the developing legal pressures in Canada to repress opposition to its new normative understanding of marriage, or even why I think the most likely outcome of same-sex marriage is not polygamy but to the end of marriage as a legal status.

which is a shame because something substantial like that is what I was interested in hearing. Instead we get treated to five days of "sex makes babies, duh" rhetoric. My guess is time management has nothing to do with it; my true belief is that the woman has absolutely no qualifications whatsoever, let alone knows the definition of "isomorphic". Ok, that was a bit harsh, but for all her grandstanding and considering the venue I would expect something a little less sophomoric. She spent a great deal of time making a case for the importance of procreation to marriage, which is becoming more and more like a strawman argument. Not many same-sex marriage advocates argue against the importance of marriage and child rearing; what I've been searching for these past few years is a reasonable argument to connect "sex makes babies" with "gay marriage will end marriage as a legal status".

Maggie seems to be making three general arguments against same-sex marriage. 1) Analogies to no-fault divorce; 2) Connections to generativity; and 3) "Gender matters".

On the first point, I believe she is misguided. She brings up the history of no-fault divorce and the mantra about someone else's divorce not affecting your marriage. The disconnect here is that, in the case of no-fault divorce, it is easy to see how a climate of divorce might effect, not necessarily current marriages, but the decisions of the next generation to get married. If the next generation grows up in a world where individual marriages are statistically less permanent, two people entering into one might also treat it as less permanent. After all, monogamy is hard. But what exactly does the marriage of the gays down the street do to heterosexual marriage? It's not exactly as if same-sex marriage would realistically make a straight person think that he could just as easily marry someone of the same sex. So what does it do?

Dissociates marriage from generativity, obviously. If the gays down the street can get married without having children, what does that say about my marriage? Well, according to Maggie, "marriage as a public act is clearly no longer related at all to generativity, and the government declares as well it has no further interest in whether children are connected to their own mom and dad." Really, Maggie? But people are still having babies. Husbands will continue to be responsible for the children of their wives, presumably their children. And what about that so-called "sterility strawman"? Her answer, I must cite in full:

A subtler argument sometimes made is this: well, we have some non-procreating couples in the mix. Why would adding SS couples change anything? Two points: SS couples are being added to the mix precisely in order to assure that society views them as “no different” than other couples. This intrinsically means (if the effort is successful) downgrading if not eliminating the social significance of generativity (procreation and family structure). The second truth is that both older couples and childless couples are part of the natural life-cycle of marriage. Their presence in the mix doesn’t signal anything in particular at all.

Really, Maggie? Older couples and childless couples are part of the natural life-cycle of marriage? How? How exactly, if they aren't generating any children, can they be part of the natural life-cycle of marriage? Because they are a man and woman? That's borderline tautological. She's trying to defend the definition of marriage as between only a man and a woman based on procreation (not child-rearing, by the way) and generativity, but a male-female couple who cannot participate in either procreation or generativity are still part of the natural life-cycle of marriage precisely because they are a man and a woman and not two men.

See, according to Maggie, gay marriage is filled with gender contradictions:

Gender doesn’t matter, except when orientation is involved, in which case gendered sexual desire matters so much we are morally obligated to restructure our most basic social institution for protecting children, so that all adults get their needs for intimacy and social affirmation met equally. Orientation, as a classification, assumes gender is a real and significant category of human existence; but apparently only for gays, and not for children.

But gender does matter, obviously. It matters equally for heterosexuals as it does for homosexuals; it just doesn't matter so much for the institution. Maggie would like to believe that marriage has nothing to do with adult intimacy, and while maybe the government doesn't care if you love your spouse, perhaps Maggie forgot why she got married. Children are the ultimate expression of love, but I'm guessing it is not exactly for the sheer love of children and the future of the human race that Maggie chose her particular husband. But what I don't understand is the above statement in light of Maggie's (reluctant) support for single and gay adoption. Her constant bleating of "mothers and fathers matter" can obviously be halted if a child can be saved. What her real beef seems to be with is artificial reproductive technology (ART) and alternative family structures, but that's a whole other can of worms I'd rather not get into.

It is important to make the distinction, though, because the burning question which she is unable or refuses to answer is why, given the current state of ART and of adoption laws, how the very important role that marriage plays in connecting children to their fathers will diminish any faster with a small number of gay marriages. And her focus on sex is also very confusing and contradictory; her position seems to be that all procreative sex should occur only within marriage and if you can only have non-procreative sex you cannot get married. Well, exactly what kind of message does that send exactly? That sex outside of marriage is fine as long as it doesn't result in any babies?

I do think there is an elephant in the room (like there always is): Maggie finds gayness icky.

I really do think, btw, that this is what bothers most ordinary people: an instinct that their government, against their will, is telling them (and will re-educate their children) that everything they know about marriage (like the first ingredient is a husband and a wife, duh) is wrong and must now change. Upon penalty of being officially labeled bigots by their government. And everyone knows its open season on bigots in our society.

Well cry me a river, Maggie Gallagher! You might be labeled as a bigot if you oppose same-sex marriage! I oppose affirmative action and hate crimes. Many consider that bigoted. But I've got some convincing (I think) arguments that say affirmative action harms minorities and society as a whole, and we would all be better off without it. Can Maggie offer any convincing reason why gay marriage is harmful to gays? Why yes, she can! Societies can't survive without marriage and since gay marriage will obviously cause the downfall of marriage in Western society, western civilization will crumble and be replaced by something else that isn't so gay-friendly. See, this society is the best we're going to get, so we should just be grateful we aren't hanged to death for our perversions. Yes, that's really her argument as to why gay marriage isn't in the interest of gays.

Color me unimpressed.

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-10-03T15:36:00.000-04:00

Ah, it's that time again. The fall weather is nipping at our door. Well, not today; it's like 80 degrees. But soon it will be.

Last month we took a Third of the Month hiatus because we were basking in the rays on Fire Island, not thinking about the horrible tragedy that was assaulting our nation. Normally, we would have celebrated in our usual cynical form but this one, at the time at least, seemed too soon and too crass, even for me. Although some of you may remember my September 11th limerick (email me for details), you should keep in mind that I was shell-shocked and not thinking straight.

Anyway, enough of this depressing crap. Let's remember what this day is really about! It's about loving yourself and loving yourself often. The world is looking up. I was in Connecticut for a wedding on Saturday which happened to be the day that civil unions went into effect. I got to hold a baby and it shit on me. The president has, I believe, completely isolated his base this new Supreme thingy. And the plaintiffs are kicking butt in Dover. Who could ask for anything more! (Toyota!)

So, wear plaid. Always carry a moist towelette. And watch Sarah Wayne Callies '99 on Prison Break tonight. She's trapped in the hospital wing of the prison during a riot, but she's still managing to out act everyone in a three mile radius; and it's only a matter of time before she can out stare Wentworth Miller into middle distance.

The Paraphrasation of Mimi

2005-09-21T10:09:00.000-04:00

The boy is obsessed (obsessed!) with Mariah Carey. He tries to defend it using literary theory or post-modernism or deconstructionism or some crap like that. Point is, every morning we have to scour the music video channels to see if we can find a Mariah Carey video. And it usually takes us about 30 seconds.

The big one these days is "Shake It Off" where Mariah, soaking in a tub full of rose petals, manages to paraphrase one of the simplest commercial phrases of all time, namely "Calgon, take me away!" In Mariah's brilliant rendition: "Like a Calgon commercial I / really gotta get / up outta here / and go somewhere"... Just in case you thought "take me away" wasn't clear enough, Mariah breaks it down, she "deconstucts" it, so to speak, so that we, the audience, really understand not only the essence of the original pop culture reference but exactly how Mariah is feeling, at that moment, in the tub.

As a side note, a verse was cut (for time) which went like this: "Like a Wendy's commerical I / really gotta find / out where the beef / went up and got to"...

When Politicians Promote Peace, Everybody Loses

2005-09-19T18:20:00.000-04:00

Last week, as many of you know, the UN was celebrating its 60th anniversary. At the same time, the fashion world was celebrating Fashion Week for like the 16th time this calendar year. With all the self-congratulatory mental masturbation going on you'd think it was the Third of the Month. But no. See, the Third of the Month, while all about loving yourself, doesn't involve pissing me off.

So, I needed to walk to the subway last week to get a new Metrocard, so I decided to take the 6 down to Hunter College. Being the lazy git that I am, I decided that, rather than walk the 4 blocks in the muggy heat, I'd take the M66. After all, I could see the bus down the street, between Park and Lex. So I waited. And waited. And waited. I got through Donna Summer's "I Got Your Love" and Madonna's "Holiday" before the bus managed to cross Lexington. And why? Because apparently all of Midtown was rerouted to the Upper East Side because a few diplomats need to be able to not be assassinated.

But that's not it. I had to watch three very able-bodied young women walk all the way from the back of the bus to get out the front, instead of the back, prohibiting the woman in the walker from exiting in a timely fashion and further delaying our embarkment just long enough for another train to arrive and forty more people try to pile on to go the four blocks that I was too lazy to walk. Fortunately I had Maroon 5 and Electric Six to keep me company (God bless my iPod).

It would have been ok, except that when the bus finally got to 1st Ave, this other woman (herinto refered to as "the ho") suddenly realized, after about four thousand people exitted, that she wanted to get off. This ho managed to yell "back door!" without dropping either her cell phone (presumably it was her conversation that had kept her too distracted to see the entire bus had vacated) or her nail polish, quite a feat. A feat that managed to allow just enough cars in front of the bus that it got held up through THREE LIGHTS before it got to York and was able to let the rest of the people off.

It took me twenty minutes, TWENTY MINTUES, to travel four blocks. And I was neither given a free ticket to Fashion Week nor compensated for putting up with the traffic, save for the pleasure of getting to hear a diplomat's punk-ass kid double park his SUV outside of my apartment, crappy-ass ghetto music loud enough to shake my couch, so he could get a kebap. Well, I can forgive him that because we got some damn good kebaps in our building....

Together At Last...

2005-09-19T18:01:00.000-04:00

I have only two google alerts set up to notify me weekly on the two topics I find near and dear to my heart; intelligent design and gay marriage. I was shocked this week to see one story appear in both alerts! I mean, it is from Renew America, but still, it heartened me to realize that someone else shares the same interests that I do...

WARNING: People with any knowledge, however scant, of either science or philosophy should refrain from reading the above cited article, as it may cause nausea, upset stomach, insomnia, itching, burning, redness, dry eye, mental retardation, epilepsy, consumption and, in rare cases, death.

Absence of Proof...

2005-08-04T16:41:00.000-04:00

I'm almost finished with Ken Miller's fantastic book, Finding Darwin's God (which I'll probably comment on at some point), and what with the president's recent statements about intelligent design, a thought popped into my head that I thought I'd get down.

Recently, Rick Santorum has been flip-flopping about teaching ID in schools but he recently said

We should lay out areas in which the evidence supports evolution and areas in the evidence that does not. And as far as intelligent design is concerned, I really don't believe it's risen to the level of a scientific theory at this point that we would want to teach it alongside of evolution.

I'm happy about the second sentence but the first sentence illustrates perfectly the problem with this entire brouhaha. There is much evidence that supports evolution; only the crazy young earthers deny that. But there is no evidence, and I mean actual evidence, that does not support evolution. I'm not talking "gaps" in the fossil record, kiddos, I'm talking actual evidence that does not support evolution. I'm not even asking for a direct contradiction, just some actual piece of biological evidence (whatever that word means!) that doesn't help evolution one iota.

But see, there isn't any. The closest you can come is claiming that there is no direct line of evidence to support the transition of one species into another. All we have to do, though, is keep digging and we're sure to find it. Because lack of evidence for evolution is not evidence against.

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-08-03T18:01:00.000-04:00

It's August. It's hot as balls. I have a wicked scary talk to give in a week. And the president just said that he thinks we should teach "Intelligent Design" in public schools. But I'm not going to let that get me down. I'm going to get out there, like I do every month, and spread the good news! Today is a day that we should think of nothing but ourselves, nothing but the beauty that God bestowed upon us, the beauty that allows us to walk proud and tall (unless we are short) and say "I am what I am!"

But, not all self-love is selfish. We can love ourselves by helping others. And by helping others we get a glimpse of what it is like to be in someone else's place, or even a place in our own past; a place that was dark and foreboding and sad and ugly before we got Queer-Eyed. For example, I believe that every time we teach a child the joys of molecular cloning and immunoblotting (like I got to do today) we celebrate ourselves. Sure, we may be sacrificing precious time in the laboratory but we are at the same time educating the youth of America in a monetarily well-compensated way. I do this not only for myself but because I learn from the children as well. See, I believe the children are our future. We have to teach them well and then let them lead the way. In the spirit of the Third of the Month we must show them all the beauty they possess inside and give them a sense of pride, to make everything easier. And then, when we have opened ourselves up, we can let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be.

Yet remember, the Third of the Month is ultimately about appreciating yourself and all the unique qualities you have to give to the world. You are special just as I am special. I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow. I figured, if I fail or if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe. No matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity! Or my moist towelettes! Because today, the Third of Month is happening to me, as it should be happening to you. I found it right inside of me. It's really easy to achieve because learning to love yourself is what the Third of the Month is all about.

So if, by chance, that special place you've been dreaming of leads you to a lonely place, find your strength in plaid....

Inadequacy

2005-07-22T16:47:00.000-04:00

I'm brushing up on my knowledge of ion channels in order to procrastinate from working on my dissertation. I have just been treated by the author of the book I'm reading to some of the contributions of Arrhenius, Fick, Einstein and Nernst to electrochemistry. He has also, however, made it a point to mention that they were 28, 26, 26 and 24 respectively when they made such major contributions as the dissociation of strong electrolytes, aqueous defusion flux and microscopic random walk of particles. At 27, I have just learned how to graph something in Excel and how to open up a bottle of nitric acid without burning myself. Needless to say, I don't feel as smart as I used to...

Survival of the Fittest

2005-07-20T17:50:00.000-04:00

In creationist or ID circles, "survival of the fittest" is often accused of being a tautology and thus completely meaningless; of course the fittest survive! They're the fittest!

Setting aside for a moment the many problems with trying to whittle down the extremely complex theory of modern evolution to an oversimplified soundbite, I intend to show that "survival of the fittest" is only a tautology if evolution were a logical argument rather than a scientific argument. A logical tautology can be obvious or it can be subtle. "No vegetarian eats meat" is a tautology because by definition someone who eats meat cannot be a vegetarian. Recently I was told in an on-line discussion that "no conservative calls himself gay". Pointing out that there are many gay conservative pundits I was corrected; they are obviously not really conservative. Because to this commenter, the definition of conservative requires heterosexuality.

Well what about "survival of the fittest"? Is that a tautology? Logically, perhaps. By definition, an organism's level if fitness is directly related to the probability of its survival. But evolution isn't a logical exercise; it's a scientific endeavor. And evolution doesn't revolve solely around "survival of the fittest". In fact, it is only the second half of the true (and admittedly less impressive) soundbite: variations exist in nature and those organisms with more favorable variations survive.

Tautological or not, the "survival of the fittest" is merely an observation. But as a soundbite it obfuscates the truly fascinating observation underlying evolution: that organisms need to survive in the first place; that they vary, if ever so slightly, and that variation helps them interact with a changing environment. "Survival of the fittest" is indicative of the fact that the earth is not Eden. An organism may be best suited for the environment it finds itself in and less suited for a different environment. But since its environment isn't static, it finds itself in competition with other organisms for food, for shelter, for a mate.

Of course "survival of the fittest" is a painfully obvious observation. Evolution addresses why survival is necessary. Both a creationist and a "Darwinist" would say that it's because the earth is not Eden but only the evolutionist asks whether or not it is the imperfections in the world that create such changing diversity. In Eden, "survival of the fittest" would be meaningless because there would be no "survival"; there would be only life and death (if at all) in a regular cycle.

Happy Extremely Belated Third of the Month

2005-07-11T18:25:00.000-04:00

Like always, July's Third of the Month falls at a very (in)opportune time: my anniversary. This year was year two. Judging by how some relationships go, that's like a golden anniversary. Regardless, it fell at a very busy time. Some of you have voiced disappointment by my lack of good cheer. But I think everyone is entitled to a summer break.

Me, I'm breaking right now. It's six o'clock and I have a little too much beer in me. Paid for by the boss. For no good reason.

So love yourselves. Yay moist towellettes. Whatever. You know the drill. Plaid rocks.

Procrastination

2005-07-01T12:05:00.000-04:00

I was wondering what I was going to do to procrastinate today. Well, apparently O'Connor announced her retirement from the Supreme Court today so I'll probably spend the rest of my day here...

Pride (In The Name Of Love)

2005-06-22T18:05:00.000-04:00

I normally avoid everything to do with gay pride, not because I'm not proud of my "family" but because like all family reunions, the big ones tend to bring out the embarrassing crazies. In our case, the drunk Aunt Ritas include, but are not limited to, "chicks with dicks", men who think formal wear can include tight sleeveless "cocksucker" shirts, and "Democrats".

So when you score an invite to the mayor's party at Gracie Mansion on one of the most beautiful nights of the year, you don't say no. And so I didn't; although I probably would have done well to say no to that last glass of sauvignon blanc. For those of you who've never gotten to have your picture taken with a politician, I recommend shoes with good ankle support, because if you linger just a split second too long that mofo's gonna move you along. Forcefully. For a man of modest stature, our mayor has one hell of a grip.

There were blessedly only two gay jokes, one about Abe Lincoln and the other about a dancing queen. And then we had to hear the mayor's version of what kind of music the queers like to listen to, which includes, but is not limited to, ABBA, Donna Summer, Madonna, and Outkast. It was so offensively accurate that I found myself unable to pass judgement in good conscience. And nothing makes me more unhappy than being unable to pass judgement. But then a waiter flittered over with a tray of rainbow striped star cookies and everything was OK again.

Homespun and Corny Principles

2005-06-17T15:32:00.000-04:00

This month in Policy Review, Lee Harris addresses the notion of tradition and its place in society's past, present and future. It's long but I think it's an essential read. He spends a good deal of article describing tradition, rejecting some definitions, favoring others and putting the role of tradition into perspective. While there is much that my more right-leaning side agrees with, it is good basic overview of the role tradition plays in our history, or at least a "conservative" overview. I was especially fond of his "tradition as recipe" analogy. It is not enough that one passes down the knowledge of how to make the family recipe, he says; one must also pass down the cook. And yet even more important, one must teach that budding young cook how to replace himself in the next generation.

He then describes the role of the family which culminates in the "shining example":

This is the highest ethical contribution of the family — setting for the child not merely the minimal acceptable ethical baseline, but the promotion of its most cherished ethical ideal in the form of our developmental destiny — what Aristotle called our telos. In short, what we want to be when we grow up.
But a telos, to be the focus of a concrete ambition, must exist in the form of an actual individual who has fulfilled this ambition in an exemplary way. Such an individual we will call a shining example.

To Harris, the shining example is lacking in our society. We are striving for abstract ideals set out by the intelligentsia that we can never hope to achieve. What we need is real exemplary models, something tangible. Someone to look up to, not a paragon of virtue, per se, but someone who overcomes his weaknesses to prevail. Harris implies that the intelligentsia, which is apparently in conflict with middle America, is destroying this.

And as you can easily guess, all this leads directly into the current marriage debate. And I think it does so a little abruptly. Harris never really explains exactly why gays should not seek marriage, except that we should respect the mysterious ethical traditions of middle America, without ever really telling us what they are. But if we delve deeper we can see what he means. We should respect their shining examples. He claims there will be tragedy if middle America loses its ethical fundamentalism.

If the reflective class, represented by intellectuals in the media and the academic world, continues to undermine the ideological superstructure of the visceral code operative among the “culturally backward,” it may eventually succeed in subverting and even destroying the visceral code that has established the common high ethical baseline of the average American...

I was with him right up until this point, the point where he sets up the divide: gay America is a product of the "reflective class", the abstract ideals people and not-gay America is the ideological superstructure, the group that will pass down the family recipe along with the cooks. Gay America is striving for an abstract ideal; not-gay America is striving to be like its "shining examples".

To Harris, who is himself gay, homosexuals have rejected middle America even if some of them are a product of it.

Even the most sophisticated of us have something to learn from the fundamentalism of middle America. For stripped of its quaint and antiquated ideological superstructure, there is a hard and solid kernel of wisdom embodied in the visceral code by which fundamentalists raise their children, and many of us, including many gay men like myself, are thankful to have been raised by parents who were so unshakably committed to the values of decency, and honesty, and integrity, and all those other homespun and corny principles. Reject the theology if you wish, but respect the ethical fundamentalism by which these people live: It is not a weakness of intellect, but a strength of character.

And then to the gays:

But there can be no advantage to them if they insist on trying to co-opt the shining example of an ethical tradition that they themselves have abandoned in order to find their own way in the world.

What Harris fails to see is that many gays have not abandoned the ethical tradition of the ancestors. I am not, despite my education, estranged from my middle American roots; I am a product of it. Middle Americans have their shining examples, their good parents who mold their children into good parents who mold their children into good parents. They want them to have honesty, decency and integrity. To Harris, these middle Americans are "passing on, through the uniquely reliable visceral code, the great postulate of transgenerational duty: not to beseech people to make the world a better place, but to make children whose children will leave it a better world and not merely a world with better abstract ideals."

I cannot speak for all gays, but that is exactly what I would aspire to. Yet I have a tragic flaw, but so do many other straight couples. I cannot "make children". But that does not mean I cannot aspire to rescue a child from a situation where he cannot see any shining examples, any honest, decent people. Committed spouses. Committed parents. This does not mean that I cannot impart my transgenerational duty, my duty to actually help make a better world, not just one with better abstract ideals.

Because a world with marriage for gays would in fact be a better world.

Harris concludes that gays are outside of middle America and that they have no place trying to squeeze their way into it. He concludes that they shouldn't co-opt middle America's shining examples. Note, however, what Harris thinks of a shining example:

The shining example does not need to be the paragon of all virtues; in fact, he must not be. This is because what makes the shining example shine is not his immunity to human frailty, but his ability to rise above it when he encounters it in his own nature.

So what makes the Goodridges not shining examples? Or any of the other gay couples who have made families and committed themselves to each other for decades? Who have honesty and decency and integrity? As Harris points out, a shining example is not immune to human frailty; he overcomes it.

In essence, Harris is saying that homosexuality is a frailty. It is a weakness. And gays have overcome nothing. They have failed. This is the "hard and solid kernel of wisdom embodied in the visceral code by which fundamentalists raise their children". Homosexuality is a sin.

Harris tells me I am free to reject middle America's theology, and I do. But I am entreated to respect their "ethical fundamentalism", which is not a weakness for them but a "strength of character". But the only thing I that separates me from them, is that I haven't beaten my sexuality.

See, this isn't about honesty, or integrity, or decency, or any other homespun or corny principle. This is about homosexuality being wrong, being a weakness, being something to overcome. Lee Harris may think that; but I don't. And neither do hundreds of thousands of other gay Americans. My sexuality is a blessing, not a curse.

But I can tell you something that many gay Americans have overcome; the twisted lure of the gay underculture. The club-hopping, body-waxing, AIDS-infested, drug-addicted, free-loving promiscuity that plagues the community. And how have they overcome it? By forming stable, committed relationships in the face of the temptation of debauchery on the one side and the push away from "decent" Americans on the other. Ironically they found that stability in the values of middle America, the very middle America Harris claims all gays have abandoned. But he wants them to look elsewhere because to co-opt those values would be detrimental to "a fundamental ethical baseline below which [civilization] cannot be allowed to fall." One can only infer that that ethical baseline must not be lowered to include homosexuality as a virtue.

Well I will not take Harris' advice and beat "a rapid retreat from even the slightest whisper that marriage ever was or ever could be anything other than the shining example that most Americans still hold so sacred within their hearts." He wants gays to have their own shining examples. Well there are thousands of gays, right now, overcoming vices and raising children who will raise children that will make the world a better place. Just like their straight counterparts. My shining example looks conspicuously like their shining example, except while my shining example isn't necessarily gay, theirs is definitely not.

So, Mr. Harris, we have found our shining example which we've created "out of [our] own unique perspective on the world" and it looks an awful lot like middle America's. That's not so surprising when most of us came out of middle America in the first place. It probably means that our sexuality doesn't necessarily make our perspectives all that unique. Or at least any more unique than any other individual.

That said, I'd now like to participate in my transgenerational duty and get married. Is that ok now, middle America?

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-06-03T13:17:00.000-04:00

Do you know where your moist towellettes are? Probably all used up from May, eh? Whew, was that a rough month let me tell you, and not in that good way.

But right now I'm preparing to go to Fire Island! That's right, watch out muscle queens cuz Mikey is going to party hardy! With three other straight couples! Nowhere near Cherry Grove or the Pines! But that's ok, if things get dodgy, I should be able to escape readily; I'm bringing my swimmies. And I've got fourteen hours of beach mixes on my iPod, including one that will make me think I'm in Cherry Grove. I can't lose.

So while I'm chilling on the beach in 80 degree weather we're supposed to be having this weekend, I'll be not thinking of any of you. If I don't come back with a little color, I'm blaming the trannies, who of course would never be caught dead wearing plaid and so they obviously don't know shit about shit.

Touch of evil, suckers!

Stem Cell Angst

2005-05-27T15:21:00.000-04:00

Don't be fooled. The current bill in Congress to expand stem cell research has nothing to do with catching up to the South Koreans or opening up a back door for reproductive cloning. All it would do is expand the availability of embryonic stem cells to already created embryos that have been set to be discarded by fertility clinics.

Some say this is about ethics and that we should err on the side of caution when it comes to using federal money for something that certain people find morally objectionable. Morality aside, the president's initial ban and veto is a real danger to the autonomy of science. It would be a more consistent position (and safer for government science in the long run) for ESC research to be considered outright illegal. The reality of the situation is that the NIH is by far the major funder of American medical research, as well as employing many of the top scientists in the country. Congress and the president should not be able to micromanage what can and cannot get funded. If, as some say, no American taxpayer should be required to fund from her own dollars what she regards as a moral outrage, what is to stop the public from pushing to pull all federal research in HIV? Or other STDs? Or genetic disorders that primarily affect Jews like Tay-Sachs disease? Or to stop funding on individual, peer-reviewed grants that they deem morally repugnant, like Congress attempted to do a few years ago on certain AIDS and transgendered studies? I am a huge supporter of federalism, but states and private companies cannot and shouldn't have to pick up the slack in this arena of national interest (even though they seem to be doing a good job of it). If the American people feel that it is important to fund medical research with federal tax dollars, they should accept what the scientists deem promising enough to fund and not second-guess the peer-review process.

Yet if its ethics you are concerned with, consider this: when Bush limited the stem cell lines government scientists were allowed to use, ESC research was about 3 years old. That's worse than saying it was in its infancy as a science. In those days, the only way they could get ESCs to proliferate was to grow them on a layer of mouse "feeder" cells, which we have recently discovered have contaminated the approved cell lines so that they are probably unusable. In fact, it is quite possible that to attempt to use these lines for any therapeutic treatment would be unethical, given their state. In other words, the ban itself is probably unethical, since the president is more or less saying that he gives scientists permission to continue to pursue therapeutic uses of ESCs as long as they continue to use cell lines that would be unethical to actual use therapeutically.

But of course this never comes up. Nor does the fact that it was politicians and pundits in the 80s that started using the term "embryo" for any stage past a fertilized egg; to an embryologist you have to progress considerably farther. Nor is mentioned that fertilization and conception are functionally two different stages; that women have eggs that are fertilized much more frequently than they conceive.

Of course ethics is about peoples opinions, but they need to have informed opinions. And for anyone to conflate the current debate over the expansion of ESC research with the advent of human cloning is particularly uninformed.

The Worst Week Ever

2005-05-19T12:19:00.000-04:00

My friend, Phatiwe, passed away last Thursday after a grueling year with cancer. She was 27. I spent the next five days in Boston, mourning with my friends, all of whom came rushing up as soon as they heard. It was extraordinarily unpleasant. As were the numerous phone calls to people I hadn't spoken too since after graduation, having to hear the elation in their voices because I'd called quickly fade when they were told why. It's not something anyone should have to do. Ever.

We did send her off proper, though. She left explicit instructions on what bars we had to crawl to and made sure we wound up in Chinatown when we were done, gorging on crab rangoon and roast duck. Typical; even after she was dead she managed to tell us what to do. And after we settled up the bill at one of her favorite hangouts, the bartender told us that the first round was on Phatiwe; I think it's the first time I've ever cried in public.

She was loved by many, many people; the funeral home couldn't hold everyone who came. She had a few dozen high school friends and co-workers, as well as us. But aside from her parents, the ol' college gang was the most visibly broken up, especially Jen who had been the only one left in Boston to take care of this miserable experience for the past year.

I realized throughout this whole crapfest that you really do form something important during those late night runs to Denny's in West Lebanon. When you live together at such a young age, you get very close. You grow up together. Phatiwe, Sandra and I spent the first snowstorm of our freshman year making snow angels in front of Baker Tower. We spent the last snowstorm of senior year making snow angels in front of the New Dorms. The only difference is that, in the latter case, I had drunken a whole bottle of gin and was only wearing a T-shirt. See, we grew up.

No one deserves to die, but if they did Phatiwe should have been the last in line. She was a beautiful, compassionate person, even to the end when she didn't want anyone to have to see her losing. Which isn't surprising when you consider that she would grow her nails out specifically so she could attain maximum maiming during a game of Egyptian Rat Screw, guaranteeing that you would never have a chance to win ever again.

And yet for all the suckiness, I've come to appreciate how special my friends truly are and how goddamn lucky I am to have them. Really, really lucky. For all the growing up we were supposed to do in college, it was those stupid, childish antics that really bound us together. Well, Mom, I think I finally grew up.

And it fucking sucks.

May: When Everyday Is The Third of the Month!

2005-05-10T17:23:00.000-04:00

With all this wonderful weather and my brawls with lit tobacco products, I nearly forgot that May is a very, very special month. Every May the rest of the world recognizes the mission of the Third of the Month, the importance of loving yourself to your truest and fullest capacity. While you're convincing yourself of how wonderful you are, you might want to think of one of the numerous ways that your time and effort can benefit others. And don't worry if you're new to the joys and wonders of the Third of the Month; help is available for all those who need it. And don't be shy. Don't be embarrassed by the fact that you love and cherish your uniqueness. You're not the only one. And there's absolutely nothing wrong about treating yourself right. Unless you're doing it wrong.

Where Does The Time Go?...

2005-05-10T16:57:00.000-04:00

I have told myself that I will have the discussion to my paper written by Friday, when my advisor returns from a meeting. This morning I wrote the word "Discussion". This afternoon I decided it needed to be underlined.

I think I'm off to a good start.

Embarrassing Celebrity Crushes

2005-05-06T12:00:00.000-04:00

We all have them. We don't want to admit it, but we do. That celebrity that gives you that little tingle whenever you see them but you don't want to tell anyone for fear of being mocked? Yeah, that one. Sure, we all have those crushes that no one bats an eye at; the crushes that everyone else has so it's universally ok. Like my unbearable crush on Orlando Bloom and my unnatural attraction to Nicole Kidman (or maybe it's the other way around). Or more recently, Seth Meyer, who's both cute and relatively funny.

But then there's the uncool ones. Like a close personal friend of mine has always had a thing for Diedrich Bader, the guy who plays Osgood on "The Drew Carey Show". Or yet another friend has a thing for Rachael Ray. These are unnatural, unwarranted obsessions and should remain undisclosed.

Yet as a cleansing ritual of sorts, I am going to confess to the whole world my embarassing celebrity crush: Donovan Patton. Yes, that's right, the guy who replaced that Steve guy on Blue's Clues. Got that? Blue's Clues. It's really disturbing. I sometimes can't leave my apartment in the morning because I have to watch the whole show just in case that today is the day he takes his shirt off at the end. It's sick. I am a sick, twisted individual. I need to put out of my misery.

Fatty Acid Head

2005-05-06T11:16:00.000-04:00

I have learned, much to my dismay, that the first witness called in the Kansas "kangaroo court" on Intelligent Design was William Harris, a leading authority on the importance of fish oils to human health.

My heart weeps.

Cinco de Que?

2005-05-05T17:26:00.000-04:00

I've never been a huge fan of Cinco de Mayo, probably because I dislike tequila and Mexican food usually gives me gas. But I thought I should say something today because it does have a pretty cool date this year, 05-05-05.

But really, why the heck do we even care about this holiday? It's not like it's Mexican independence day; it's not like anything really important happened. So the Mexicans defeated the French at Puebla during the Napoleonic Wars. Big whoop. I mean, I guess by some stretch of the imagination you could say that that little tiny Mexican army kept the French from aiding the Confederate Army which subsequently allowed the Union to win the War of Northern Aggression. But by that same stretch of the imagination you could say that I have long, flowing hair or that the Cubs have a chance of winning the penant this year.

And yet, for some reason we still celebrate this stupid holiday. Oh well. Viva la Mexico.

Massaging the Data

2005-05-04T14:36:00.000-04:00

I feel it is my job, as a scientist and a sane human being, to point out everything that is wrong with Maggie Gallagher. She has an article in the NRO this week calling for more money to help "protect" marriage. Pretty much it's the same old crap. But I'd like to point out two small issues I have. One is with statistics. She says:

The most striking (and underreported) results are those of the 2004

UCLA freshman poll released earlier this year, which surveys 290,000

college freshman. Between 2003 and 2004 the proportion of college

freshman who support gay marriage dropped almost three percentage

points, from 59.4 percent to 56.7 percent. This is the first recorded

drop in support for same-sex marriage among college freshman since the

question was first asked in 1997.

Well, aside from the fact that I am completely unable to find this poll on the internet, we should look carefully at those numbers. I'm no mathematician, but even with 290,000 people surveyed, I know of no drop of 3% that can be considered statistically significant; the margin of error doesn't improve that dramatically with a greater sample size. So maybe the reason it's underreported is that it isn't terribly striking. Even all of the other polls she cites as showing that Americans are increasingly opposed to gay marriage aren't that dramatic.

The Pew poll, which asks “Do you strongly favor, favor, oppose, or

strongly oppose allowing gays and lesbians to marry legally?,” showed

Americans’ opposition to SSM climbing from 53 percent v. 38 percent in

July 2003, to 60 percent v. 29 percent in the latest August of 2004

survey.

Notice how the question specifically asks for one of four choices and yet she lumps them into two. It be interesting and important to know how committed the citizenry is to their opposition. These are minor points, but it's the subversive ways that people use numbers and facts to support their positions or make small changes seem significant, that are subtly manipulative.

And then there's an interesting omission at the end of the article:

Two years from now, one-third of the country is likely to be living

with gay marriage. Pending court decisions in California, Washington

state, New Jersey (along with Massachusetts) are likely to produce a

fragmented marriage system despite overwhelming public opposition. And

other states, like New York, are taking a different route: forbidding

the performance of gay marriages in-state, but recognizing gay

marriages performed in nearby Massachusetts or Canada.

Where is Connecticut, which just approved civil unions that are significantly close to gay marriage, and did so legislatively? I'm hard-pressed to believe that Maggie Gallagher missed that little development. No, the reason that Connecticut isn't mentioned is because it doesn't fit into her nice little model of judical tyranny and forced acceptance. It doesn't matter that some of the country might actually want to be living with gay marriage. Nor does it matter that public opposition to gay marriage in Massachusetts is waning and that the citizens there are not punishing gay marriage-backing legislators but rather rewarding them. Because for people like Maggie Gallagher, the voice of the people is sacred and absolute, but only as long as the people are agreeing with your position.

Happy Belated Third of the Month!

2005-05-04T14:00:00.000-04:00

If you're like me, your Third of the Month breezed by in flurry of self-indulgence and treating yourself like a god among gods. And like all good Thirds of the Month, it should have had its ups and downs, its pleasures and pains, its climaxes and denouements.

Yesterday was the 25th annual Vincent DuVigneaud student symposium. I gave a talk. I failed to win. Again. I am, however, not bitter. There were too many other more egregious injustices in the judging process to take the blow personally. And even though I did a kick-ass job of bringing it down to a plebeian level, nobody really appreciates biophysics.

So, I decided that, rather than drown my sorrows with a plethora of alcohol, I was going to celebrate my wonderfulness with a plethora of alcohol. And celebrate I did. It was just like old-times; free booze at Griffis, followed by a crowded TJs, polished off with Red Bull at the Banshee. Got into a fight with the lit end of a cigarette (my second loss of the day). Hung out with some cool people from Ithaca, one of whom was painfully cute. Pretty much how the Third of the Month should be. Only with cash prizes coming my way.

That said, wear plaid; it's good for your soul. Use moist towelettes; they're good for your health. And try to eat fatty fish several times a week. It's good for your ion channels.

It's Been Awhile...

2005-04-28T17:25:00.000-04:00

... and I've been busy. But much has happened to me since in the past month; let's see...

Went to San Diego.
Got lost in Mexico.
Got overheard.
Saw Cher.
Believed.
Pissed off the Jersey trash behind me for dancing.
Was strong enough to take them in a battle of wills.
Left happy.
Saw some stand-up.
Laughed.
Saw more stand-up.
Laughed more.
Got accosted by a drunk vet from Korea.
He was a strong kid.
Got very depressed.
Wrote a talk.
Went to Double Happiness.
Got two happinesses.
Wrote blog entry.

What's Wrong With Kansas? Part Deux

2005-04-07T17:50:00.000-04:00

The Board of Education in Kansas has been flip-flopping over evolution since 1999, when they voted to teach creationism alongside modern evolution. That decision was reversed a few years ago when certain fundamentalist board members were replaced. Well it's back. The Panda's Thumb has great coverage of all things evolution. This is the latest from Kansas. Apparently there is going to be a hearing next month in which the Kansas Board of Education plans to fly in dozens of pseudo-scientists to testify on behalf of Intelligent Design. Can't they be doing something better with their tax dollars? Like actually teach actual students actual science?

Sometimes I want to kill.

What's Wrong With Kansas?

2005-04-06T17:52:00.000-04:00

Or Connecticut, depending on the way you lean. As I right this, the CT State Senate is discussion the much hyped civil union bill. They've already rejected an amendment to the bill that would include language defining marriage as between a man and a woman. I know because I've been stalking them.

This is monumental because Connecticut, my blessed home state, would become the first state to enact civil union legislation without court intervention. No one can complain that the process was usurped from the elected representatives. (Well, I guess they can still complain...)

This comes on the heels of Kansas becoming the 18th state to ban same-sex marriage in a state constitution. It's interesting to see the way both processes are working. One is brave, the other cowardly. Not because of what each state is trying to do, but how they are trying to do it.

See, voting is private. You go into a little booth and make a decision and don't have to tell anyone what you decided. Legislative voting, however, is public. People can go into a little booth and vote to treat gays as less than equal citizens and no one needs to know. But if everyone had to wear little buttons on their lapels with how they voted, they'd be singing a different tune. Because no one wants to be accused of being intolerant. But with secret ballots, there's no danger of that. They don't have to back up their convictions.

Why didn't the Massachusetts legislature tackle the gay marriage issue sooner? The court gave them ample time to get the constitutional ban wagon rolling, but they sat on their asses because no one wanted to be accused of being intolerant. Every voter in Kansas who voted for this amendment should be forced to go up to a gay person, look them in the eye, and tell them that they voted to keep him or her from marrying the person that they love.

Because if you feel that strongly about marriage, you should tell the people you're affecting to their faces, and not hide anonymously behind a curtain. That's something a coward does.

UPDATE: Well the bill passed the Senate 27-9. That's fairly definitive. It should pass the House next week.

I Cannot Sit On My Heels

2005-04-04T17:24:00.000-04:00

This morning on the bus, I was sitting behind a woman of Asian descent who was apparently studying English. The piece of paper she was reading had two columns, the first with a sentence in English, the second with a sentence in what appeared to be Chinese or Japanese. This is not all that unusual. What was unusual, however, were the sentences she was learning how to say. The first four on the list were:

That is so humiliating!
This law violates the First Amendment.
Her back was turned when she was shot.
I cannot sit on my heels.

Say what? I cannot sit on my heels? What does that even mean? And why would this woman need to learn how to say it? She might as just run around saying "I can eat glass."

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-04-03T17:02:00.000-04:00

Time to pull out that plaid and treat yourself right. No titty bars or crap like that. No binging neither. Nope, that's not for a day like today. Today is when step back, take that deep breath, no matter what we're doing, and appreciate what God gave us. Today is the day to use the expensive facewash and walk to the store instead of taking the bus. Today is the day that you crack open that good bottle of wine you've been saving for a special occasion. Because today is the day that is the occasion that doesn't need an occasion. We shouldn't need an excuse to love ourselves but we often forget.

But not the Third of the Month. We should never forget about ourselves on the Third of the Month.

This Third of the Month, I'm going to share with you a little thought I had yesterday. As we all know, the Pope has died. I feel sad and I don't know why. I think he was a pretty good Pope. He poped during some hard times and had the purest of intentions. But I really have nothing to compare to. And that was my thought. That part of the Catholic mass where we pray "for John Paul our Pope, Edward our bishop..." etc? Well, I've gone through a bunch of bishops but I've never heard anything else there beacause I've never known any Pope other than JPII. And in a week or two, I'll never hear it again. And I thought, wow, that's weird, especially since it was the first thought that popped into my head.

Anywho. Love yourself. Because that's what the Pope wants.

Oh, and he wants us to always use moist towelettes because cleanliness is next to popeliness.

A Night With The Boys

2005-04-02T15:04:00.000-05:00

So the ball-n-chain is away for the weekend, so last night, being Friday and all, I decided to have a night out with the boys. You know, engage in despicable debauchery and wake up the next morning in shame and disgust. This was after an afternoon of trying to find my house from space, so I felt that I deserved some sort of unencumbered fun. Of course, as luck would have it I was miserably hungover from the night before so I remained sleepy the whole evening.

Suffice it to say, the evening in question began by meeting up with Stan and Mick (their names have been changed to protect them from possible Internet scandal) at a wine shop in Gramercy to taste Chianti Classicos, so right off the bat our evening is shaping up to be, um, semi-debaucherous? We did give the snooty sommelier a nasty look when he was being petulant.

We then traveled a few blocks downtown to go to Ye Olde Bar or something like that, one of the oldest bars in the city, where we had burgers and beer and talked about the Pope. We were also the youngest people there. After my meal, I just felt sleepier. So we went to the Flatiron Lounge and drank fruity, overpriced, turn-of-the-century cocktails in a classic 20s New York atmosphere. I spent the entire time ogling one of the waiters without my partners in crime noticing (I think) while we talked about how fruity our drinks were and what a pussy Stan was for not finishing his because it was too strong.

We then cabbed it down to the Lower East side to just miss a band playing at Arlene's Grocery. I felt a little hipper, even though I was wearing a fuchsia gingham shirt. I guess it's OK, because Stan was dressed like a bank teller and Mick looked like he'd been run over by a Kenneth Cole outlet store truck (sorry, dude, I just never liked that sweater; I think it's the collar). We talked about sex while listening to the current band make up for lack of talent and profundity with sound level and guitar rape.

It was then that it began to rain. Physically and metaphorically. That was when Stan decided we needed to go to a strip club. I'm always up for a little whoring with my drinking, but I wasn't about to pay $40 to get into Scores so I could be snubbed by a bunch of strippers I couldn't give a shit about looking at anyway. But I hadn't seen a breast since San Antonio so, of course, I was game. We decided to tourist out and go to where Seventh Avenue meets Broadway.

We told the cabby to take us to "Times Square". Around 43rd St. we told him that was fine. He politely explained to us that Times Square went from 42nd St. up to 47th. "We know," I said indignantly, "we live here."

So the three of us wandered around Times Square for a bit, trying to find the right place to go, while making up our personalities. We were from Dayton, Ohio, in for work. Stan was a QA manager, Mick was a marketing associate (I think) and I was a project manager. I was the married one looking for a good time.

Not sure of where to go, we chose a small gentleman's lounge right off Broadway. (If by "gentleman's lounge you mean "bordello", then yes). It cost us ten bucks apiece to get in. When Mick ordered a whiskey, we were told they only had light beer, juice and soda. Uh-huh. We were three of five men in this place, to about a dozen women. All of whom where aggressive saleswomen as well as aggressive pole dancers, which was amazing because the music was vaguely minimalistic hip-hop and not very danceable. Although I guess straddling a pole and swinging around it with your panties halfway towards your ankles doesn't really require that much rhythm.

I would have gladly taken a lap dance, if only for old times sake (oh Crazy Horse II, how I miss thee!) except they didn't do that. They did, however, give private shows. $100 for 20 minutes. 40% tip to the girl. Unless you wanted full service. Mick told me the word "happy ending" was used when he was being given the gritty details. Well, I don't know about that but I do know that I felt dirty. Very very very dirty. And I've done some dirty things. Hell, a good chunk of the country thinks I do dirty things every day. But this, oh this was new levels of dirty. I didn't even do anything and I felt dirty. And slightly nauseous. When we fled, Stan tried to cover for us saying that I was getting nervous about my wife. Like the hook-- I mean strippers -- cared. Oh Stan. So lovable with his perfect synergy of shame and shamelessness.

We couldn't go home after being that dirty; we had to clean off, physically and metaphorically. So we went to Tonic on Times Square, the saddest bar in the world. It could very well have been smack in the middle of Dayton, OH, thinking it was a trendy New York City bar. We drank watery G&Ts and watched clueless tourists taking pictures of each other wearing last year's guido shirts with disposable cameras. Let me put it this way, the second floor was closed for a private party for the auto show.

I was in bed by 2. After a very hot, very anti-bacterial soapy shower. I haven't had a proper confession in over 5 years but I think it's time to do some penance. Lots and lots of penance.

Questioning Darwin

2005-03-23T17:46:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about science education recently, having just given a two-day lab on bacterial transformation to a group of high school freshmen in the Bronx. It's really a great lesson; the kids get to transform bacterial with GFP and make them glow green. It shows them, first hand, the concepts of cloning, antibiotic resistance, and the link between DNA and protein expression. It really piques their curiosity. Which is what science is supposed to do. And why I was both pleased and dismayed by an article in the WaPo today.

The author goes on for a bit about some old high school history teacher that made him question everything and made history fun for him, whereas his science classes were boring and rote memorization. And if it's one thing the IDers have done for him was show him that biology can be questioned in the same, exciting way.

And it can. But not the way that IDers do it. He writes:

The intelligent-design folks say theirs is not a religious doctrine.
They may be lying, and are just softening up the teaching of evolution
for an eventual pro-Genesis assault. But they passed one of my tests.
They answered Gould's favorite question: If you are real scientists,
then what evidence would disprove your hypothesis? West indicated that
any discovery of precursors of the animal body plans that appeared in
the Cambrian period 500 million years ago would cast doubt on the
thesis that those plans, in defiance of Darwin, evolved without a
universal common ancestor.

See, that's all fine and good. That is a great way to disprove Darwin's hypothesis. Only such an ancestor has yet to be found. And until it has, evolution has not been disproved. Now, this author must turn around and ask the IDers how to disprove their hypothesis. What? They can't do it?

See the difference? Not questioning the facts of Darwinism in a science class is bad teaching. Bad teaching is a problem that is entirely exclusive from whether or not evidences for intelligent design or theories of irreducible complexity should be presented to students. If students aren't being forced to ask tough questions in their science classes, they aren't being educated properly.

But to introduce ID, specifically, alongside evolution and proffer it as another possible explanation is like teaching medical students that mental illnesses can be diagnosed by phrenology. Sure, there are probably a few doctors out there who may think that that is an alternative method, but any curriculum that gave phrenology any semblance of credence would be laughed out of accreditation. Saying that our current methods of diagnosis are incomplete, however, is a whole other story...

Don't Piss Off a Scientist

2005-03-18T16:00:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week, P.Z. Myers lambasted some recent idiotic ID claims by David Berlinski of the dreaded Discovery Institute, which actually does more than just attack science (who knew?). Honestly, he's more restrained than he should be. When I was working on an Evolution v. ID workshop a few months ago, I spent many a day fuming at my computer (or the boy) and when I heard William Dembski speak to a bunch of Christian fundamentalists I nearly curled up under my seat and cried. Which is presicely how Myers (and other scientists) feel:

So what should I do in a debate with some sleaze like Berlinski, who
pulls this kind of dishonest crap? Spend 20 minutes teaching the
audience about Hardy-Weinberg, pull up the results of a half dozen
studies, and get all technical and detailed? Or walk across the room,
beat him unconscious with any one of hundreds of readily available
books that demonstrate his dishonesty, and kick him until he pukes?

And better yet, when Berlinski's essay had devolved into random babbling:

What the hell…?

This doesn't even make sense; all I can imagine is that Berlinski,
sitting in his little fantasy bubble, imagining how biology works
without ever consulting reality, has drifted off into some bizarre
alien plane where he is now warring with his own misconceptions.

Check out the article...

Bad Store Layouts

2005-03-14T13:35:00.000-05:00

It's a well-known grocery store trick-o-da-trade to design your aisle layouts to maximize sales. The tricks are many and varied. For example, items that you want the shopper to focus on are usually on a shelf that's about 5'2" from the floor, because that is the average eye-level of a middle-aged woman which is your average supermarket shopper.

Apparently the shelf-stockers at Rite Aid didn't get the memo. This weekend I injured my back (or re-injured as it's a recurring injury from my more youthful, collegiate days) and so I hobbled to the drug store to look for some nifty product marketed especially for and yet not necessarily designed especially for back pain, like Doan's or something. And maybe some sort of insto-heating pad or other nifty contraption to make me feel better. And they had a plethora of back pain specific products, since this is America and we must be given 534,297 choices for everything.

And the were all on the bottom shelf. The shelf I couldn't reach because I couldn't bend over due to the back pain I was trying to alleviate by purchasing a back pain specific products that Rite Aid had convenient put on the bottom shelf.

I ended up purchasing plain old generic ibuprofen because a) it was cheaper and b) I could reach it.

Thoughts On My Commute and Stuff

2005-03-11T10:53:00.000-05:00

There are a few things that are nice about not living two blocks from where you work. First, I get to ride the bus. Now many people probably think that that is a horrible thing, but I take it shortly after rush hour now so it's pretty empty. And I get to see new faces. The same new faces. I have bus buddies. And my own special seat. And I now know which buses are the good ones and which buses are the bad ones. I'd never stopped to think before about how relatively few buses were on one single line.

But maybe one of the best things about commuting is the advancements I've made towards entering the 21st century, technology-wise. First, I thought it was cool that I was the first kid on my block with DVR. TV watching becomes a whole new experience with it. But better than that, now I have an iPod. And all of a sudden I see the world through different eyes. The world has a soundtrack now. And I notice more and more people with those white earphones in their ears. It's like an Apple cult. See, there are bus buddies and there are iPod bus buddies.

And to even one-up myself, yesterday Amazon delivered my iTrip, so I can play my iPod through my receiver which is attached to my kick-ass surround sound system. Just think, less than two years ago I was stuck watching network television in real time and only able to listen to a Sublime compilation CD which was stuck in the broken CD drive of my five-year-old iMac in my apartment with only one floor.

More Shameless Self-Promotion

2005-03-10T10:14:00.000-05:00

Often in my free time I get into long, heated discussions on other people's blogs. But sometimes I write letters to the editor. Rarely do I do so because it's harder to be short and concise than blustery and long-winded. So, ladies and gentlemen, yours truly has just had a letter to the editor published. Granted, it was for the Cornell Daily Sun up in Ithaca, so I had a better chance of getting in than the general public, but it's still a letter and it's still print and I have officially defended evolution in a more public arena.

Go me.

It's also interesting to see the editorial process in work. The letter was not edited for content or clarity, however they chose to emphasize in the title what I would have considered the minor point (that ID isn't a testable hypothesis) rather than the major point which was evolution is not a theory of origin.

Oh well. Go me anyway.

What's Worse for Western Society?

2005-03-08T14:53:00.000-05:00

Polygamy or same-sex marriage?

This is the question that I think all opponents of SSM should be thinking about when the argue so vehemently against it, because I am afraid that the more they push against gay marriage and against the acceptance of homosexuality in general, the more likely polygamy will be to follow.

I think it is safe to say that polygamy is generally harmful to our society and I don't think I'd get any arguments from SSM-opponents. I'm not convinced that any new style of polyandry is actually beneficial to a significant enough population to outweigh the backwards slide to women's equality that would undoubtedly occur due to the use of polygamy by more inherently misogynistic populations, namely your more fundamental branches of Mormonism and Islam. We should, of course, be concerned with the possibility of polygamy in the United States since traditional polygamy is gaining popularity world-wide.

It is clear to many supporters of SSM, however, that polygamy does not naturally follow from gay marriage, yet to many SSM opponents it remains a mystery as to why this may be the case. The reason that SSM opponents find the slippery slope argument so compelling is because of the way they have been forced (and are forcing the rest of us) to shape the debate. And this all comes down to the refusal to choose to recognized sexual orientation as a suspect and protected class.

If sexual orientation were considered along with religion, race and sex, then the entire debate is an open/shut case. Restricting marriage to opposite-sex couples discriminates against gays, therefore gays should be allowed to marry. End of argument. The conservatives don't get their way, necessarily, but they get to keep marriage defined as a monogamous relationship. It would then be up to the polygamists to come up with a specific reason why they have the fundamental right to marry more than one person and why this would not only be beneficial to society but not harmful to an already protected class, oh, let's say women. I do not think that this would be an easy task, especially considering that a judge in Utah already found a compeling state interest in defining marriage as a monogamy.

But without any legal protection of sexual orientation, gays are forced to look outside of legislative means in order to secure protection for their families, namely suing in court. This leads to two problems for those of us who wish to keep the lid clamped firmly down on polygamy. First, marriage equality has to be argued for in terms of freedoms of choice (right to choose one's life partner) rather than on suspect classes. Second, arguments in favor of OSM-only have to exclude both SSM and polygamy.

While Gabriel Rosenberg (and others) makes some brilliant arguments for same-sex marriage based on sex discrimination, as well as against polygamy, it is becoming increasingly obvious that liberal-leaning courts will probably rule in favor of SSM not based on sex (which while articulate an argument, often comes across as clever world-play and manipulation of a system), but rather rule based on issues of privacy. And that leaves the door wide open for polygamy. Understand that I'm not making claims of a slippery slope. It's still possible to argue against polygamy even if the SSM debate is won over privacy; it's just that it's going to be a bit harder.

This leaves us with the opposition. How do they argue against SSM? Their two main pieces of ammunition seem to boil down to tradition and procreation, neither of which are terrible blows to polygamy. If we take a broad look at tradition, we lose to polygamy almost immediately, since polygamy was practiced not only by our own cultural ancestors but by the more recent ancestors and living relatives of a population of our country as well. And even if we limit the tradition argument to the traditions of our own country, since the Constitution was ratified, the traditional argument against polygamy is stronger, but not absolute given that the Church of Latter Day Saints has its roots in America and practiced polygamy in territories controlled by this country. And the procreation argument makes absolutely no sense against polygamy, since many children born out of wedlock could potentially benefit from having their father marry their mother, even though he is already married to someone else. In fact, it can be argued that outlawing polygamy can have a detrimental effect on those children, since it seems extraordinarily important to SSM opponents that children have "mothers and fathers" and that they be married to each other.

So what does that leave us? What's the bottom line? Same-sex unions cannot be stopped. They are legal in Vermont and Massachusetts and we can hopefully add Connecticut to that list soon, not to mention the millions of informal arrangements gay couples have already made. The path to recognition of homosexuality as a non-deviant orientation is well underway. Gays are already having families and the government has a compelling interest to protect its citizens, even ones that might not have 100% popular approval. Any evidence for the harm gay marriage causes to society is tenuous at best; the harm of polygamy, however, is well-documented.

So in arguing against same-sex marriage, we don't automatically exclude polygamy; but by arguing in favor of same-sex marriage, we can reinforce the importance of monogamy to a healthy society. It is essential for opponents of same-sex marriage to figure out exactly what about "traditional" marriage is important enough to fight for and what ideas can be sacrificed. Is it monogamy? Or heterosexuality? Or simply misogyny?

Activist Judges on the March

2005-03-03T14:49:00.000-05:00

This week, the Supreme Court held, in a 5-4 decision, that the execution of juveniles is unconstitutional. Five unelected, robed men and women (women!) have decided, once again, what the American people can and cannot do. It should be up to the legislature to decide whether or not we can kill children, not a bunch of intellectual elites.

Our society has had a long history of executing children. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake at the age of 14 for being a witch. Are we to deny other children the honor of being martyred? We've been executing juveniles in the country for over 350 years! Before we were even a country! I'm sure we would have executed those Columbine kids if they hadn't done it themselves. Actually, that's a great point. The teenagers themselves like to execute each other so why does the government need to step in? For the few who don't want to be executed?

People will say we've been on the wrong side of this. But who are these people? Blue-staters? Europeans? Personally, I don't think we should be even looking at the Europeans for help. Their society is in such a decline that women are abandoning their husbands to get implanted with lesbians' babies just so they can have abortions! It's madness!

And it's not like executing children is discriminatory. They are being treated just like every other citizen who does something to get them executed. Where does it say that a child has the right not to be executed? Why are these unelected judicial elites inventing constitutional rights that aren't there in the first place? Where in the Bible does it say "thou shalt not execute kids"? Nowhere is where.

If we want to preserve the union that our forefathers intended us to have, we must stop these elite bastards from rewritting all of our laws and morals. Pretty soon they'll be telling us that we can't execute Michael Jackson because he has the mentality of a child. Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with executing children, at least after they've been born.

It's the Third of the Month...

2005-03-03T13:17:00.000-05:00

... do you know where your plaid is? I can tell you where mine is but I can't show you since it would be considered sexual harassment to my fellow labmates.

But we don't worry about silly things like sexual harassment on this day, do we? Nope. Not today. Today is the day that everyone is without judgment or regret or anxiety, even if your figures which you'd assumed were statistically significant are not quite in fact entirely unlike statistically significant. No, we don't worry about these things today. How did that line go in that edgy 90s musical? Today for you, tomorrow for me? Well, guys, today is for you you you!

Treat yourself to something special today, like maybe instead of a normal cup of coffee in the afternoon you get a half double decaffeinated half-caf, with a twist of lemon. Or instead of taking the bus home, take a cab. Or instead of committing sodomy, spice it up with a little gommorrahy. Do whatever suits your fancy; and do it twice. At least. Because you're once, twice, three times a wonderfully awesome person. Each and every one of you. Even those of you who stumbled onto this page because I somehow offended you in a blog comment box. Yes, even you.

Because while the Third of the Month is about celebrating your own very special uniqueness (which, by virtue of it's uniqueness is automatically special and can't be modified by a comparative since something can't be less unique if it's unique, but I digress), it is also about celebrating our humanity. Everyone's got some humanity, even Ann Coulter and James Carville. Heck, I bet buried deep down there somewhere, even Saddam Hussein's got a little humanity. If he'd celebrated the Third of the Month a little bit more we probably wouldn't even be in this pickle. Not that I think that the Third of the Month can cure all of our ills. Not at all, but it can sure make you forget about everything but the beauty that is you (at least for an average of 3-8 s).

So love yourself. And give me a shout out for my one year blogoversary! Because it was this day, one year ago, where I started my semi-daily web-musings. And I still don't average more than 100 hits a day, no matter how many times I mention the Gotti boys or Charisma Carpenter's breasts.

Go moist towelettes!

Dawkins and the Pope

2005-02-24T17:40:00.000-05:00

This weekend there was an article about Intelligent Design in the New York Times Magazine. While the author doesn't say anything particularly new, one paragraph at the end pretty much sums up my entire position about evolution v. theism, namely that it's not an either/or situation. He writes:

One beauty of Darwinism is the intellectual freedom it allows. As the arch-evolutionist Richard Dawkins has observed, ''Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist.'' But Darwinism permits you to be an intellectually fulfilled theist, too. That is why Pope John Paul II was comfortable declaring that evolution has been ''proven true'' and that ''truth cannot contradict truth.'' If God created the universe wholesale rather than retail -- endowing it from the start with an evolutionary algorithm that progressively teased complexity out of chaos -- then imperfections in nature would be a necessary part of a beautiful process.

He perfectly juxtaposes an avowed atheist and an avowed theist in the same paragraph, something that needs to be done more frequently. I'm becoming more and more convinced that we need an organization called "Christians for Darwin" or something like that. Kind of like "Jews for Jesus" only not as cult-y...

I'm Just Mad About Saffron

2005-02-22T13:17:00.000-05:00

Like most environmental art, The Gates must be viewed from afar, because if you get up too close, you realize that they are made from cheap, industrial plastics and are proportionally off. However, if you don't look to closely and just amble through the park beneath the billowing fabric, it's quite breath-taking, even though Christo and Jeanne-Claude fail to convince us that Home Depot orange is really "saffron".

It did, however, lead to an amusing exchange between me and the boy. I, of course, began to immediately sing "I'm just mad about saffron / Saffron's mad about me". Of course, it was badly off-tune. A short while later, we were looking for baked goods at Two Little Red Hens and they had orange fabric in the window with a sign that said "We're Just Mad About Saffron". The boy was quiet for a while and then asked, in sheepish bewilderment, why the bakery had a sign up with the same words as my stupid, ficticious song. He apparenlty didn't remember the ubiquitous Gap commercials of 1999. Or Donovan. Or bananadine.

I wonder what life would have been like if he'd continued to think I made that warped song up. Apparently he didn't have hippy parents.... E-lec-trical banana!!

Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

2005-02-22T12:30:00.000-05:00

Was it because I lied when I was seventeen?

California, for those of you who care, was fun. But wet. Very wet. The first five days I was in Long Beach, which, because I lacked a car and couldn't go anywhere, reminded me very much of every other convention town I've ever been in. They even had a Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. The conference (Biophysical Society) was long but good, chock full of lipid-y goodness. The National Lecture left something to be desired, although some of the pretty videos of protein synthesis at the atomic level was pretty damn cool. I have no idea what science is going to be like even ten or fifteen years down the road, let alone when I'm an old man.

My poster presentation was long and arduous but I got some good feedback. And yes, for those of you who have never gone to a science conference before, it really is pretty much just like a science fair. Two prominent scientists who'd gotten into a pissing fight over their differing models a few days earlier resumed their battle over my data while I stood by in wonderment, like watching a ping pong match. It was flattering that they chose me to argue over, to say the least.

The Long Beach aquarium was wonderful, mainly because they let you touch stuff. The Queen Mary is a very big boat. The House of Hayden is a very bad goth bar. And the beach, while admittedly long, isn't so much a beach as it is a garbage dump.

And then, it rained. A lot. Just in time for my vacation part. The boy arrived late on Wednesday and after a delicious breakfast of crepes in the "East Village" artsy neighborhood, we rented our car and went to Hollywood! The Ho-Mustang, as I like to call it, was a sweet ride. 2005, less than 400 miles and shiny silver. I felt good driving into Beverly Hills.

I made a few observations while I was there:

1) Smoking isn't as anathema as I had thought it would be in California, although I'm assuming there's a huge difference between the Bay Area and LA. Cigarettes were sold in bars and as far as I could tell, everyone smoked.

2) Celebrity's do exist. In actually real life. I shouldn't be that shocked, considering I live in New York, but I've seen very few since I've moved here, probably because I don't get outside of the Upper East Side all that much. And don't pay attention even when I do. But I had two, genuine, A-list celeb sightings. First, I dined next to Tyne Daly at Lucques. I don't consider that all that exciting because a) I was in an upscale restaurant in West Hollywood and b) she's on Judging Amy. But she's definitely A-list. Second, after a miserable experience at the Museum of Television and Radio which was less of a museum and more of a warehouse of old Apple IIe's, we were driving around the neighborhood, in the rain (which was a running theme) and, stopped at a stop-sign, I spied a well dressed woman walking briskly. "Does that look like Rachel Griffiths to you" I asked the boy. As if on queue, the woman turned and looked at us. And it was most definitely, without a doubt, Rachel Griffiths, which was really exciting because a) she was just, like, walking on the street in the middle of nowhere (relatively speaking) and b) she's like totally on Six Feet Under which is like the totally most awesome show ever!

3) The desert is both beautiful and scary. Saturday we drove out to Palm Springs in search of a Starbucks mug. Needless to say, when it wasn't raining, the dark rolling clouds over the mountains, the vast expanse of white windmills and pink sunset were, um, breathtaking. If I had any semblance of writing ability I would attempt to say something poetic. However, in the dark, in the rain, with massive amounts of flooding and gigantic looming windmills, the desert is, um, terrifying.

4) It is extraordinarily disconcerting to be showering when the only thing separating you from the bedroom and the person watching TV in it is a glass wall which doesn't quite entirely fog over all the way.

That said, rain and all, it was a great trip. Except for the 8 hour airplane fiasco getting back, the landing in the snowstorm (FYI, planes: they land on snow), and the world's scariest taxi-ride back where the cabbie kept stopping to fix his windshield wipers when he should have been stopping to replace his tires.

More Miscellaneous Crap

2005-02-11T13:46:00.000-05:00

I wanted to post about this talk I went to on Tuesday in which William Dembski spoke about Intelligent Design and Robert Shapiro of NYU responded. I also wanted to comment about Connecticut, New York and gay marriage. I've also had this short essay that I've been thinking about writing about polygamy....

But I have to leave for California in an hour. So it will all have to wait. I will, however, leave you with an image of the view from my old balcony, this time at night:

A World Without Pat Kiernan Reading the Papers to Me in the Morning at Forty Past the Hour...

2005-02-08T09:05:00.000-05:00

... is like a world without sunshine. Color me crazy, but I don't want to live in that kind of world, a world in which I have to actually read the papers myself.

Miscellaneous Stuff

2005-02-07T19:35:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, besides being the Superbowl, was also another important day. The Gipper would have turned 94. God rest his soul. "Republicans believe every day is the Fourth of July, but Democrats believe every day is April 15." The man was a genius, even if his wife's "Just Say No" campaign was a dismal, misguided failure.

And speaking of old people, I also realized that the Third of the Month used to have a very special meaning for them, up until 1997 and probably never again after 2042. Apparently, social security checks used to be received on the third of every month! How exciting that right around 1997 was when the Third of the Month was first celebrated in its official capacity, back when we, no stranger to plaid or moist towelettes, began to spread the self-actualizing joy that is the Third of the Month to the myriads of people who need an excuse to love themselves. I think that old people getting money is an extremely appropriate way the Third of the Month can be celebrated. Are we not doing good for others by paying into social security and doesn't doing good for others in turn help us appreciate our own marvelousness? Or have I been sitting in front of my computer too long trying to link a linear Y axis to a logarithmic one and scale by a factor of RT?

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-02-03T15:54:00.000-05:00

Well, the Third of the Month is upon us again and, if as if history was mocking me, I'm pretty much in the same boat that I was in last February around this time. According to my records I was hopped up on Day-Quil and stressed about my poster for a conference. Today I'm still getting over my miserable cold from last month and stressed out about my poster for a conference. But unlike last year, tonight I'm going to see a kick-ass friend perform in the one-act play of another kick-ass friend. Neither of these kick-ass friends knew each other until I joined them together with the awesomeness that is me.

See how awesome I am? See how awesome this day can be?

So what do we do on a day like today? We love ourselves. We love ourselves because, even though that frickin' groundhog saw his shadow and that I'm still exhausted from my move u-town, I still love myself enough to treat myself to an evening of off-off-off-Broadway drama. Because this day isn't about how much colder it's inevitably going to get; it's not about how you're never going to get this damn poster finished; it's not about how you've piddled the day away in meetings.

It's about how smart and beautiful and wonderful you are.

And how much you love plaid.

Oh, and moist towelettes. Don't ever forget about the moist towelettes....

Time Warner Cable v. Drug Pushers

2005-02-02T17:25:00.000-05:00

My move has apparently coincided with the loss of my introductory high speed internet rate. It also has apparently coincided with rate increases. They slapped a big ol' package at me without my being aware of it so that now I have HBO, Showtime, Starz! and Cinemax, plus On Demand plus Roadrunner plus DVR, all for a whopping $132 a month. A hundred and thirty-two dollars a month! Well, all I really want is HBO. With DVR I never use my On Demand and I hardly ever watch movies on the other channels. But to only keep HBO, Roadrunner and DVR will cost me $119 a month. One hundred and nineteen dollars a month! So for 13 extra dollars I get three more channels and On Demand.

What I could is drop stuff like the internet, or the DVR or even HBO. But I can't! I'm addicted. And why? Because when I first signed up there were all these wonderful introductory offers and they were cheap! And then they started offering me more features! And I bought more! And then they raised the price, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't get rid of DVR! Do you know how hard it is to watch live TV and not be able to rewind or pause?! Do you?!?! It's so frustrating to be watching someone's provincial, regular TV and be a slave to real-time and predetermined time-slots. You see the problem, don't you? I can't stop. I just can't. And it keeps getting more and more expensive and I keep paying and paying and sooner or later I'm going to realize that 4 premium channels isn't enough and I'm going to have to order a sports package or get a TiVo or something. Because TiVo is smarter than DVR. Actually, I think I do need a TiVo.

See, the thing is, I told myself I could cancel my account at any time, if it got too expensive. But what's too expensive really? In the whole scheme of things. I'm not poor. I can afford it. Maybe not after I buy me an iPod, but I can finance it. Hell, I have good credit. I've got that 20 minute commute now; I need that iPod.....

Oh God. Somebody. Please. Stop. Me. Ah! Amazon! Damn you and your super-saver shipping!!!!

Farewell, Sweet Balcony...

2005-02-02T10:35:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I turned in the keys to my apartment. I was there for almost four and half years. That is a very long time. Last night I had some friends over to help me say goodbye and only two of them even knew me before I'd lived there.

There is something extraordinarily monumental about something like this and it seems as if it happened all so fast.

That was my first real apartment. I entered it with a futon and some old Dartmouth posters. I left it with whole living room set and bonafide art. I threw the best party the graduate school has seen in a long time. I threw the best New Year's Eve party I'd ever been to, which included both vomiting and fire. I learned to grill and roll sushi in that apartment. I spent so much time on my balcony that I invested more money on lanterns from Pier 1 than I spent on bedding. I learned the ins and outs of horticulture there (well, more the outs than the ins, as my rotting parsley will attest to). Lisa and I performed "Once More With Feeling" in its entirety in that apartment. With a sword. Sam coated every wall with some form of alcoholic beverage. I came out in that apartment. I changed thesis labs and turned my life around in that apartment.

I fell in love in that apartment.

And I wonder, will that apartment see such levels of debauchery again? Will it's new inhabitants set fire to the window by grilling with an open flame? Will they leave fish on the balcony to rot throughout the winter because they completely forgot about it? Will my beloved Contessa return when spring comes and wonder where I am? Will the new inhabitants hurl objects from seventeen floors, some of them lit? Will the labs at SKI wonder where that guy who used to have blue hair and sunbathe half naked on the balcony went off to?

Well I'll tell you where he went off to. He moved into a pre-war duplex in the East 90s, where he has is first real lease, his first queen bed and his first (and hopefully last) real boyfriend to share it with. I guess I'm moving up in the world, even though I've moved down about 15 stories.

So to say goodbye, here I am (you'd think that's the only shirt I own), and my beautiful view. And if you look closely, you can see the Chrysler Building in all it's glory....

Where Have They Been Hiding?

2005-01-31T10:11:00.000-05:00

I've lived in the city for over five years now and when you live and work in a place as bustling and diverse as New York, you tend to see a myriad of people. But one thing I've never really seen before is children. Oh sure, on the weekends you see teenagers playing basketball in the park or young families at brunch. Or at lunch-time you see small kids being strolled by differently shaded nannies, especially here on the UES. But I've never really seen any schoolchildren. You know, pre-teen to teen, hang out at mall, text each other on their Sidekicks kind of schoolchildren. I always knew in the back of mind that they must exist somewhere, just like you know, way deep down, that every time you watch American Idol, Randy is going to look more like a woman than he did in the previous episode until one day the horrible secret will be revealed that he's really Star Jones and you go "Aha! I just knew it!" You know, that kind of nagging suspicion that it is impossible for this city to be inhabited only by multi-ethnic adults and Aryan toddlers. So where are these pre-teens? And do they ever show themselves? I mean, I have seen Kids, so they must be somewhere.

Well I found them. Apparently they only come out in the wee hours of the morning, before I usually get out of bed. And they all travel via the Second Ave bus.

Microsoft Strikes In The Most Unlikely of Places...

2005-01-28T17:06:00.000-05:00

So, in case anyone was wondering, my research is on polyunsaturated fatty acids (PUFAs), specifically long-chain PUFAs, and they generally come in two varieties, omega-3 or omega-6. The omega means that the first double bond (or first locus of unsaturation) is the third (or sixth) position from the terminal carbon. Carbons are usually named from the head-group, beginning with the alpha carbon, followed by the beta and gamma carbons, etc, but when you're talking about 22 carbons, for example, that gets unwieldy.

Now, if you read the literature, you often see omega-3 or n-3 interchangeably. Now why n, do you ask? I've often wondered that. Classically, omega and n aren't really related. And if you look in the literature, the terminology only changed in the past five or ten years. Before 90s, they are never referred to as n-3 or n-6 fatty acids. What's up with that?

Well, I will tell you. Microsoft apparently doesn't use standard symbol encoding, so when transferring from Word to Adobe or a Postscript printer, omegas magically turn into ns and they are a pain to get back. And somehow, over the years, the fatty acid community has just come to accept the fact that n-3 = omega-3.

Damn you, Microsoft!!!

Gays and Wealth

2005-01-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

An idea that is often floated around is that gays, as a group, are wealthier and more successful than the average bear. This is often used by gay supporters as evidence that they will generally make good homes for children, are useful members of society, are more creative, etc, etc. It's also used by the far right to show that gays aren't really an underprivileged class since they do so well financially and occupationally.

But does this mean that gays are actually more successful or that gays who have come out of the closet are more successful? Or, similarly, does one's success help determine the ease with which he can accept his sexuality? Successful people have access to better psychiatric care; they are more prone to live in urban areas, which are more liberal; they tend to have jobs where the barriers to success are no more than women and probably less so; and they tend to be more self-confident due to their current or projected affluence that the negative social and emotional consequences may not affect them as much as if they were in a stifling or confining work environment.

Basically, what I'm getting at is that there may be the same ratio of gay to straight factory workers as gay to straight stockbrokers or academics, it's just that they're not very visible. Although it's hard for me to pinpoint why I'm smarter than the average bear.....

Fine Dining...

2005-01-25T17:33:00.000-05:00

This week is Restaurant Week, and so the boy and I decided to have lunch a V as well as Nougatine at Jean-Georges, and what I came out of the experience is that Mr. V prefers his diners to be uncomfortable with no where to comfortable put their feet.

Given that, I have to say that my food was excellent. At V on Monday I started with the celery root and chestnut soup with pancetta, warm and nummy. I followed with the Neiman Ranch steak and sweet potato fripps. The steak came with a delicious carmel soy sauce that was a pleasant blend of savory and sweet and the meat itself was grilled to rare perfection. For dessert, a banana strudel. Simply divine, even if the gold leaf all over the place was a bit tacky.

I much prefered my lunch today at Nougatine, however, even though the tables were even worse for comfort. I started with the parsnip soup, with citrus aspic, tangy croutons and baby cilantro. God I love parsnips. I followed with a breast of chicken in a mushroom glaze over a bed of wild mushrooms, spinach and turnips. Also divine.

Now I'm off to our departmental opening where I hope to get pleasantly smashed on wine so I can forget the fact that my neck has become about half an inch bigger than my collar.

The Sky Isn't Falling!

2005-01-21T22:49:00.000-05:00

The 1996 Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) remains intact, as a Florida judge rejects a lesbian couple's request to have their Massachusetts marriage recognized. If California follows suit , further DOMA challenges will probably be harder to win. I do, however, wonder how the likes of Rick Santorum (spit, spit) will react if New York voluntarily decides to accept them. DOMA's very clear on this; no state can be forced to accept the marriage of another state. It doesn't say they are prohibited from accepting them.

This, of course, means that next to Virginia, Florida has to be the least gay-friendly state in the country. Where are Mrs. and Mrs. Rosie O'Donnell when you need them?

From the Mouths of Babes

2005-01-19T18:18:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the beginning of the so-called "revolution in evolution" in Dover, PA, and thankfully the earth hasn't spun off its orbit yet. So let's see how effective this "revolution" actually was by seeing what the ninth-graders actually thought of the 1 minute long statement about Intelligent Design:

"I really wasn't paying attention."

"If they're going to teach that, then they should teach everything — like Rastafarianism."

"It (the statement) was kind of confusing."

"I feel that, if they (the board of education) are for something, then there should have been discussion allowed. I was wondering why we weren't allowed to ask questions?"

Well ladies and gents, there you have it. The great Intelligent Design revolution. A confusing statement that no one really paid attention to and left the kids more confused than they were to begin with. I guess that's what happens when you let bureaucrats decide what goes into a curriculum....

I Don't Know Whether to Laugh...

2005-01-19T16:07:00.000-05:00

... or cry. Or vomit.

I wish I had watched the O'Reilly Factor last night. Bill takes on evolution...

"But, what if it turns out there is a God and He did create the universe and you die and then you figure that out? Aren’t you gonna feel bad that you didn’t address that in your biology class?"

I can't... I mean it's just... I think that...

Shit.

Read the whole thing. Preferably on an empty stomach. And pay careful attention to his argument that human cloning isn't science because it hasn't happened yet...

God and Torture

2005-01-18T16:38:00.000-05:00

I was perusing the National Review on-line this afternoon and I read two things that I need to comment on. The first was about George W. Bush and God. It's mostly about how often God is mentioned in presidential inaugural addresses. Mostly....

Despite all this history, if George W. Bush mentions God in his second inaugural, especially in a meaningful way, he can expect to be attacked by those abysmally ignorant of U.S. history, by those clueless as to the real meaning of separation of church and state, by those seeking to expunge any vestige of God from public life.

I, for one, couldn't care less if the president mentions God in a speech and while I'm not terribly ignorant of U.S. history, I think it is very important to hear how he mentions God. Andrew Sullivan, who is sometimes a bit paranoid about these things, has brought up a few points in recent weeks. First, when apparently a GOP insider said "Mitt Romney is going to have a hard time connecting with the social conservative base of the party given his Mormon faith--just a fact of life. For what it's worth..." Second, when Bush himself in an interview said "On the other hand, I don't see how you can be president at least from my perspective, how you can be president, without a relationship with the Lord."

Having faith should not be anathema to holding public office but it shouldn't be a prerequisite. And apparently, to be a Republican now, you have to be of a particular faith because apparently Mitt Romney, who is uber-conservative, will have a hard time getting support because he is Mormon. So, the question I have about God and Bush, when the president mentions God in his inaugural address, how much do the politics of his religion (not his religion itself) affect his public politics? His intentions, not his reference to God, are what is dangerous to a secular society. We shouldn't expunge God from public life but we shouldn't try to get Him involved in politics.

The second article that caught my eye was one defending Alberto Gonzales' testimony during his confirmation hearings....

With the facts separated from hyperbole, Senator Cornyn turned to the substance of Gonzales's legal thinking. The Democrats arranged for a handful of witnesses to criticize Gonzales, but none of them truly refuted (or even rejected) his legal stance. Indeed, the witnesses — a pacifist opposed to the war in Afghanistan altogether and two law deans specializing in international law — seemed, by the conclusion of Cornyn's questioning, to have little argument at all. To the senator's principal question, "Did they agree that all lawful means to gather intelligence likely to save American lives should be permitted?," they all answered affirmatively.

This may all be fine and good; I too believed that Gonzales acted legally. But just because terrorists aren't entitled to the Geneva Convention doesn't mean that they aren't entitled to human rights. I certainly don't believe that the the level of questioning should be kept to name and rank, as the Geneva Convention requires, but we certainly don't need to haggle over how far we can go without actually reaching the level of torture.

We're America. We're supposed to go above and beyond the call of duty. We go above and beyond with foreign aid, with protecting the world from terrorism, with personal freedoms for our own citizens. Shouldn't we be going above and beyond when it comes to preserving human dignity, no matter how ignoble or barbaric the human in question might be? And when did it become un-conservative to care about human rights?

We're either that kid that everyone hates because every teacher loves him and gets straight A's and is captain of the lacrosse team and homecoming king, or we're the kid that everyone hates because he beats all other kids up on the playground and won't share his ball unless he makes up all the rules. Quite frankly I'd rather be hated because I'm generally better than everyone else, not because I carry a bigger stick.

It's Colder Than A...

2005-01-18T11:09:00.000-05:00

Witch's tit or a snowman's balls? That was the erudite debate I had last night. In case you don't live here in the City, we've been having unusually warm weather for January. For example, last week we had a day or two in the 60s. The 60s! But yesterday the temperature dropped to the teens, below 0 wind chill. So it was a lot colder than we'd been used to.

So we were walking to the Banshee for an after dinner drink when the subject of how cold it was came up. Jen said it was colder than a snowman's balls; I said it was colder than a witch's tit. We were thus at an impasse. Which was colder? We settled on the snowman's balls but for entirely different reasons. Jen maintained that the witch's tit would be at normal body temperature whereas part of the function of the testes is to maintain a temperature slightly less than 98.6 (95 I think) in order for sperm to be happy. I claimed that a tit would have a much lower temperature than 98.6 because external body temperature is significantly different than internal body temperature. However, a witch's tit is only metaphorically cold whereas the snowman's balls are literally made of snow and ice and would therefore be colder in general.

Now it's your turn: what's colder, a witch's tit or a snowman's balls? And why?

Santorum and Intelligent Design

2005-01-17T17:53:00.000-05:00

Don't get me wrong; I have extraordinary little respect for Rick Santorum, if any at all. Which is why I find it fitting that language he adopted when drafting an amendment to the No Child Left Behind Act (which I have less respect for than Santorum) is now being used to defend the constitutionality of teaching Intelligent Design in public schools. To his credit, he doesn't support Intelligent Design, but says:

"I am not an advocate for intelligent design and I do not believe that public schools should be teaching biblical creationism in the science classroom... However, I do believe that evolution should be taught as a theory — not fact. It's important to teach the controversy of evolution so that students fully understand the depth of discrepancies regarding Darwin's evolution theory and the increasing number of respected scientists beginning to question evolution."

I have so many problems with this.

First of all, evolution is taught as a theory. A scientific theory. Which is based on virtually irrefutable facts. A scientific theory is also unifying and predictive. The theory of Intelligent Design is narrowing and predicts nothing scientific. This is not the colloquial definition of a theory. If there is any problem with the teaching of evolution it is that proper scientific definitions and terminology aren't being emphasized.

Second, while it is indeed important to understand the discrepancies regarding Darwin's evolution theory, it is even more important to understand how respected scientists have been modifying and adapting his theory for 140 years and how most of what his original theory predicted has been verified by reputable science. These "respected scientists" that Santorum references are not evolutionists of any kind. And this is important class: They are generally chemists, biochemists or mathematicians. They do not have training nor have they contributed any original research to the field of evolutionary theory or the origins of species. Not one "respected scientist" that has come out in favor of Intelligent Design has ever formally been involved with any research regarding this topic. Got that?

Look, if a judge is seeking expert testimony on the mental state of a defendant, he's going to ask a psychiatrist not a cardiologist. Just because they're both doctors doesn't mean that they can speak with equal weight on specific subjects. So why is it that IDers can't find any scientist who has a Ph.D. in evolutionary biology to come to their defense? I'll let you think of the answer.

Right now, I'm going to get back to chiding Rick Santorum, who is unabashedly Catholic and who should know that the Vatican has formally supported evolution but not Intelligent Design. You don't see the Pope rushing to endorse it so why should our public schools? Come on, Rick! Be a good Catholic! You're so great at keeping the gays from marrying and eroding the culture, why can't you help us keep this obviously fundamental Christian crap-ola out of our schools? You're right, our kids should be encouraged to think independently, but they should also be taught to think correctly.

The Weirdest Compliment I've Ever Received

2005-01-17T12:54:00.000-05:00

In an email from a colleague:

So here's the story...you have the greatest blood ever. In particular, you
have kick-ass PMNs. As such, we're going to save you until Olivia needs
blood later this week...

So, in addition to my many other talents and positive qualities I can add "kick-ass PMNs" to the list, whatever that means. New York Blood Center eat your heart out! I got someone that wants to pay me for the greatest blood ever. Boo-ya-ka-sha!

I Am Not Making This Up

2005-01-14T10:46:00.000-05:00

Dave Barry, beloved humorist and social commentator, retired from his weekly column last week. I, for one, will sorely miss him. Slate has a nice send off piece, very befitting of someone whose 22 year career was riddle with booger jokes. When I was growing up I used to read his column religiously as well as all his books. He certainly helped define my sense of humor. When I was in high school, I had a brief stint writing a humor column for the newspaper. To say that I borrowed Dave Barry's style would be an understatement. Of course, I was leagues behind him. I do think that some of him has bled into my more satirical writing, such as my intense love-affair with parenthetical comments, as well as his qualifying statements declaring the veracity of his too-funny-to-be-false stories. He's one of the few writers who could consistently make me laugh out loud. Of course, I haven't read him much recently, but I do go back every now and then and pick up one of his books from the eighties or early nineties. Back when he used to be funnier.

More On Dover and ID

2005-01-12T16:18:00.000-05:00

The following is the text of the four paragraph statement that will be read to ninth-graders in Dover, Pennsylvania next week, regarding Intelligent Design Theory (my emphasis):

The Pennsylvania Academic Standards require students to learn about Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and eventually to take a standardized test of which evolution is a part.

Because Darwin’s Theory is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. The Theory is not a fact. Gaps in the Theory exist for which there is no evidence. A theory is defined as a well-tested explanation that unifies a broad range of observations.

Intelligent Design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin’s view. The reference book, Of Pandas and People, is available for students who might be interested in gaining an understanding of what Intelligent Design actually involves.

With respect to any theory, students are encouraged to keep an open mind. The school leaves the discussion of the Origins of Life to individual students and their families. As a Standards-driven district, class instruction focuses upon preparing students to achieve proficiency on Standards-based assessments.

Pay careful attention to the bold-face type. What is my mantra, people? Say it with me, all together: The theory of evolution is not a theory of origin! While the statement is, I believe, technically correct insomuch that Charles Darwin would probably support abiogenesis over divine creation (but he's dead so we can't very much ask him) the modern theory of evolution picks up only after life began. It's a given.

It's bad enough that these poor children have to be put through this crap; it's insult to injury that the clarifying statement is WRONG. Wrong wrong wrong.

I am, however, extraordinarily pleased, pleased to the point of tears, in fact, that all but one of the Dover science teachers wrote a letter of protest requesting to opt out of reading the statement. In the letter they write:

INTELLIGENT DESIGN IS NOT SCIENCE. INTELLIGENT DESIGN IS NOT BIOLOGY.

INTELLIGENT DESIGN IS NOT AN ACCEPTED SCIENTIFIC THEORY.

I believe that if I as the classroom teacher read the required statement,

my students will inevitably (and understandably) believe that

Intelligent Design is a valid scientific theory, perhaps on par with the

theory of evolution. That is not true. To refer the students to "Of Pandas and

People" as if it is a scientific resource breaches my ethical obligation to

provide them with scientific knowledge that is supported by recognized

scientific proof or theory.

Tears, I tell you, tears. I've taught in high school classrooms before and worked closely with teachers. Being a high school teacher is a thankless job. Dealing with administrations and school boards can be one of the most frustrating experiences ever. It can beat you down and just make you accept whatever stupid idea they throw at you because it's easier than rocking the boat. The fact that these eight teachers had the integrity to stand up and identify this idiocy for what it truly is gives me hope for the future. For someone who's life mission is going to protect and strengthen science and science education in this country, it's heartening to know that I don't have to look very far for help.

These teachers are truly unsung heroes, being called saboteurs by the anti-evolutionists. Well I say, when the anti-evolutionists have a theory that can actually hold more water than evolution, bring it on! But until then, go back to church. Or read some Thomas Aquinas.

La Cage Aux Faboolous!

2005-01-12T12:35:00.000-05:00

Last night I saw the revival of La Cage Aux Folles at the Marquis Theater. It starred Gary "I Wish I Were Nathan Lane Because Anything He Can Do I Can Do Backward And In Heels" Beach and Daniel "I Was Tony Nominated But All Anyone Can Remember Was That I Was The Butler In The Nanny" Davis. They were (bad drag queen pun alert), ahem, Divine. It really is a touching story. Well, what there is of story, since this is really in the classic vein of the old-school Broadway musical. It's main draw was really a bunch of men in drag performing acrobatics and a kickline that would have put the Rockettes to shame. Oh, and the requisite penis gags.

I was especially pleased that they kept it set in France and that they didn't try to overtly pull any references to the current state of politics and anti-family policies of the current administration. Gary Beach's "I Am What I Am" made me sniffle, although I officially maintain it's my lingering cold. I kept thinking about how it must have been received in 1983; it's not a shy piece. The show is not Jerry Herman's best, but I'd definitely recommend it for the season. Considering the garbage Broadway has been dumping on us lately, it's quite refreshing.

Leeches!

2005-01-11T15:44:00.000-05:00

The other night the boy and I decided to use that whole Movies OnDemand feature of my extraordinarily expensive cable. Rather than get something good, like Kill Bill, or professional wrestling, we opted for a B horror movie called Leeches! (complete with exclamation point).

I was not previously a fan of low-budget horror movies but I have since been convinced of their appeal. You see, in Leeches!, the "plot" is as follows: There is a community college swim team who are taking steroids (oh no!) and are fond of walking around in their speedos everywhere and/or taking off their shirts. They are also fond of swimming in the local lake, which has leeches. The leeches are fond of sucking the blood of the swim team and so they end up growing really big (from the steroids, remember) and terrorizing everyone.

So pretty much the movie consisted of slow, pan-up shots of nearly naked Abercrombie models with similar acting skills being sucked dry by giant leeches which were quite clearly hand-puppets. One of the swimmers was a resident biology geek (Abercrombie model with glasses!) who was able to fill in the requisite plot holes with painfully obvious astute scientific concepts.

I think my favorite scene was when one of the swimmers was tied to the bed by his girlfriend who left him there to go get condoms and while she was out, leeches sucked him dry. Of course, the slowly crawled up his nearly naked body while he moaned, thinking it was his girlfriend.

There was, of course, deliciously humorous homoerotic subtext, mostly coming from the overly macho main asshole character, Steve-o, played by some blond with horrible poofy hair who was apparently also played River Garvey Carpenter #4 on One Life to Live. (Now, I don't watch soaps so I don't know exactly who River Garvey Carpenter is or why there needs to be four of him. But there you go.) He also apparently is allowed to do things with Jason that Jason's girlfriend doesn't need to know about.

So, in conclusion, I suggest that you go out and rent Leeches! immediately, especially if you like to see almost naked boys being erotically sucked by leeches in something that is almost, but not quite entirely unlike porn. Of course it would have been so much better if we'd been given even just one butt shot.

Kyrce Swenson Is A Big Fat Whore

2005-01-08T16:42:00.000-05:00

WARNING: This post contains very, very, very bad words that should not be read by anyone. Please proceed at your own risk....

If you're name is Kyrce Swenson, and you used to be a filthy, unemployed loser who lived in East Harlem, I have news for you: you are the biggest, wettest cunt in the world. That's right. Kyrce Swenson is the biggest, filthiest cunt in the world. What kind of whorish, filthy cunt sits in her apartment, unemployed for two years while trash and cat filth and moldy, rotting food builds up around her? Kyrce Swenson, that's who! What kind of twat-licking douche breaks eggs in the refrigerator and then doesn't clean them up for six months while they sit and fester and grow new species of mold? If you said "Kyrce Swenson is that kind of douche!" then you'd win a gold star! Because that's the kind of twat-licking douche Kyrce Swenson is. What kind of ass-licking cunt-whore signs a sublease agreement, moves out of town because she hasn't been able to find the perfect socialist, pinko-commie leftist job to suit her nutbag fantasies, and then doesn't resign her lease, even though she had a legal, binding agreement to keep the apartment? That cunt-whore would be none other than Kyrce Swenson. I mean, come on people! How big of a fat, lazy cunt-bag do you have to be to NOT SIGN A PIECE OF PAPER? I guess you could be as fat and lazy a cunt-bag as Kyrce Swenson. Because that's just the kind of cunt-bag action that someone as lazy and whorish as Kyrce Swenson would do. Because in case you didn't know, Kyrce Swenson is a big, fat, lazy, cunt-licking, twat-sucking, worthless piece of horseshit. Just in case you didn't know.

Oh, and if you are Kyrce Swenson, and you are reading this right now, you can go fuck yourself.

More Intelligent Design Hooey

2005-01-06T17:51:00.000-05:00

Over at IntellectualConservative.com, Robert Meyer has a thoroughly unoriginal article about intelligent design. In it, he (or course) winds up comparing scientists' committal to the theory of evolution as "blind religious faith" and goes on to lament that one can't "convey honest skepticism without banishment." And this is what is wrong with this entire debate, if we can even call it a debate. How are we ever going to get anywhere in this discussion if we can't get past name-calling and false comparisons. Here's part of the passage that really struck me:

It seems curious, though, that some evolutionists and non-theists, such as Stephen J. Gould and Francis Crick, were not comfortable with the classical Darwinian paradigm of gradual changes via natural selection. Both came up with theories of origin, which made the need for intermediate types a non-factor.

First of all, and I cannot stress this point enough, Darwinism is not a theory of origin! Get that, people? The theory of evolution is not about the origin of life but the origin of species, the diversity of life on earth.

Second, note who Meyer evokes as supporters of evolution: Gould and Crick. Atheists. Naturalists. Hawkins often comes up as well. He's pretty much an atheist too. Do you know who doesn't come up ever by proponents of Intelligent Design as an example of an evolution supporter? The Pope. Or any other scientist who believes in evolution and God. The Discovery Institute, the major funder of ID "research" has one atheist. How often do you think they mention him? So often that you'd think he's the only atheist in the world that believes in ID (probably because he is). But how often to you here them talk about all of the thousands of scientists whose faith, true faith in God, isn't shaken by the notion that we might have evolved from apes? The hundreds of thousands, no, millions of people in the world who have absolutely no problem with evolution and still believe in God? Never, ever mentioned.

He continues to lament the fact that he perceives the debate as being loaded in favor of evolution:

We must also denounce the farce of objectivity. Science is supposed to take you where the evidence leads, and must have a patina of skepticism about it. Yet how many evolutionists are rooting for the universe to be a specific way, namely without an ultimate purpose or meaning.

Well now, Mr. Meyer, that's a totally different question, isn't it? The world being full of purpose or meaning? That's philosophy. He's correct to point out that people who use evolution as proof of the non-existence of God are overstepping the bounds of what science can tell us and are approaching religious dogmatism. But just because some people are misinterpreting what the theory of evolution can tell us doesn't mean that we need to replace it with one that has significantly less (if any) scientific credibility.

Happy Third of the Month!

2005-01-03T20:33:00.000-05:00

If you can even call it that. Happy, I mean. Of course it's the Third of the Month. I've been up since six. Six! In the morning! Fuck New Year's resolutions; I much prefer my beauty sleep. Today is supposed to for me, me, me and I'm tired, tired, tired. But not as grouchy as some people I know who are quitting smoking against their will. But that, I say, is the best way to celebrate yourself; treat your body right!

That's why I'm going to sleep by nine tonight. Because I deserve it after my illness ridden holiday.....

Go moist towelettes!

Requiem For a Cop

2004-12-30T11:27:00.000-05:00

As most of you probably know, Jerry Orbach passed away a few days ago. Me, I was heart-broken. He was, in short, a New York institution. He was the reason I watched Law and Order. In college, I once planned a Jerry Orbach movie marathon (although I can't remember if it actually happened). May he not be forgotten. Nobody puts Jerry in a corner. Nobody.

Hello, It's Winter!

2004-12-21T17:42:00.000-05:00

That's kind of how I feel about the term "Season's Greetings". It's extraordinarily impersonal and actually downright stupid. That's why I'm happy the boy and I had a Christmas (not Holiday) party a few weekends ago. I don't mean to make anyone feel out of place or anything, but 'tis the season. And it's not like Christmas can't be appreciated by everyone. Heck, I usually celebrate Bastille Day and I don't have an ounce of French in me.

But regardless of whether or not you are a godless heathen who can't stand the thought of someone genuinely wishing you well, today I give you permission to say "Season's Greetings". Because today is, um, the first day of winter. Hello, Winter!

And Season's Greetings!

Not So Unique Insight...

2004-12-16T15:31:00.000-05:00

It's interesting that many of the same groups that insist that we "teach the controversy" over evolution also support abstinence-only sex-ed programs. It's as if it's ok to expose children to differing opinions on science but only one opinion on sex. Hmm.

Hail Holy Queen...

2004-12-08T15:00:00.000-05:00

Ave Maria gratia plena Dominvs tecvm
Benedicta tv in mvlieribvs
Et benedicta frvctvs ventri tvi, Iesvs
Sancta Maria, mater dei
Ora pro nobis pecatoribvs
Nvnc et in ora mortis nostrae

Once a year I get to fully indulge in goddess-worshiping paganism. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception is my favorite church holiday because Mary, um, kicks ass. Protestants just don't understand. To be sure, there is a lot more subtlety to Marian theology than Dan Brown might have you believe, and us good Catholics can easily tell the difference between goddess-worship of the divine feminine and Marian devotion. No matter what science or the lavendar mafia might be trying to do, we all have a mother, even the Son of Man. Ours might not be as chaste or as gentle or as sinless as the Blessed Virgin, but she helped make us who we are and we should be proud.

Happy Third of the Month!

2004-12-03T11:52:00.000-05:00

What have you got to feel good about today? Me, I'm going to be getting on a plane to Pittsburgh this afternoon. Whoopee! I'm hoping it's going to be as exciting as Queer As Folk makes it out to be. Somehow, however, I'm guessing not so much.

But I'm not going to let that get me down! No sirree bob! Me, I'm looking on the bright side. It's the holiday season. We need to cheer up and spread joy and love. When you think about all the troubles in the world and you don't know what to do, just look around to see a child without a friend, and you'll know it's up to you to set a good example for the years that lie ahead. Remember, "suffer the little children" is what the Bible said! Save the children! Save the children!

Wow. That was a, um, wow. So anyway, today of all glorious days, we need a little Christmas. When the little baby Jesus comes, he wants to know that you love yourself, because in loving yourself, you can better love others. "And a little child shall lead them" is what the Bible said! Just as I shall lead you, every Third of the Month, toward the ultimate expression of your true wondrousness!

And moist towellettes.

Oh, and I finally remembered to wear plaid today.

Disgusting, Absolutely Disgusting

2004-12-02T15:53:00.000-05:00

I cannot begin to articulate how absolutely repugnant and nauseating this incident in Louisiana is. Scroll down to read the "Student Behavior Contract" a seven-year-old had to sign because he explained to a classmate that his mother was a lesbian. And the teacher is suing the mother for defamation!! Pro-family, my fucking ass.....

Fisking Intelligent Design

2004-12-02T15:42:00.000-05:00

An article, by Robert Meyer at American Daily, came across my desk recently that, in my mind, sums up the problems that arise when we try to debate evolution. It illustrates several of the misconceptions about evolutionary theory as well as exposes some of the rhetorical defenses anti-evolutionists stand behind, especially the concept of "elitism". It is important to fisk it in its entirety.

As the debate over Intelligent Design vs. evolutionary theory tends to

flair up now and again, it is important to register some observations

about the nature of the controversy.

Darwinian evolution, or at least some contemporary derivative

of it, is the predominant, if not the exclusive view of origin taught

in public school. To justify such deference, we note that presumed

intellectuals will smugly characterize any opposition as an argument of

science versus superstition, or the like.

First of all, Darwinian evolution is not a "view of origin" the way the author intends (and his readers will assume) it to be; it is the predominant view of the origin of speciation, not the origin of life. The scientific view on the origin of life is called abiogenesis, the hypothesis that life arose via chemical reactions from non-living material. Abiogenesis is much less supported than evolution, is not taught as fact in schools (or if it is, it should not be) and has little to do with Darwinism. It is important that this distinction be understood before a proper debate can ensue.

Secondly, we see that in the second paragraph the author has already characterized evolutionists as "intellectuals" who are "smug" and think of all other arguments as merely "superstition". If anti-evolutionists want evolutionists to respect their opinions, they should respect ours.

This proposition of science in contrast to theology, philosophy or

superstition sets up the classic false dilemma. Consider the statement

that the only valid knowledge is that which can be empirically

verified.

This is the first misleading statement that anti-evolutionists often make, that science is in contrast to philosophy or theology. And the author, below, will embrace his false dilemma as willingly as he tries to condemn it. The only valid scientific knowledge is that which can be empirically verified. We gain human knowledge from many aspects of our lives. There are theological truths that require certain criteria to be valid. But truth cannot contradict truth; that is, knowledge of our human existence gleaned from theology and philosophy cannot contradict nor be contradicted by knowledge gleaned from science. Evolution says nothing about our soul or our morality, nor should it.

It must be ascertainable through the five-senses, testable,

observable, subject to falsification. If not, then such information is

basically unintelligible and meaningless. We ask how many of these

categories are representative of evolutionary theories? Who has

observed the evolutionary theories we casually postulate with little

mental reservation? Who has replicated Evolution in the laboratory.

Evolutionary theory was not, and is not, casually postulated. Darwin came up against great opposition when it was first proposed. The evidence for the theory, now more than before, is overwhelming. But even more glaring is the author's misconception of what is testable and observable. In order for things to be tested in a laboratory they do not need to be completely replicated. We do not need to recreate a heart to know that it beats and pumps blood. "Replicated" is of course a deliberate word choice, because while evolution hasn't been replicated it most certainly has been observed. It is observed daily by scientists working in fields of genetics, physiology, biochemistry, paleontology, practically every life science field.

Whenever the fossil record is presented as a witness against evolution,

we see retooling of the processes, but never doubt about the

plausibility of the theory itself. How would Evolution be falsified if

indeed it could be? Reasonable questions–but don’t dare to ask them

without being quickly branded a stark-raving mad fundamentalist. If

both ID and Evolution are metaphysical theories, why give one

consideration over the other with a virtual monopoly?

To my knowledge the fossil record has never been presented as a witness against evolution. To be certain, there are gaps in the fossil record. Bu these "reasonable questions" are indeed being asked by scientists, and answered by scientists. Simply because evolutionary theory doesn't answer every single question now doesn't mean that it never will. In fact, the more scientists search, the more these "gaps" in the fossil record are filled in by consistant, plausible data. Evolution is not metaphysical; interestingly enough neither is ID. It's also very clear that this author has never actually studied ID or he would know that ID is a biochemical hypothesis for an intelligent creator, not a paleontological one and therefore invoking gaps in the fossil record is a red herring. So I will pose my own "reasonable" biochemical question; if irreducibly complex biological structures are evidence of a planned design, how do ID proponents explain the unused, primitive, useless genes that are peppered throughout the genome of every organism?

That brings us to the issue of academic freedom. It is applauded when

it is used to question the boundaries of conventional morality, it is

sneered at when it is applied in opposition to the presuppositions of

orthodoxy pertaining to scientific naturalism. We are told that few

“credible” scientists doubt Evolution. Maybe that’s because few

scientists who are skeptical of Evolution are perceived as “credible”.

One is indicative of the other. When your career is threatened, it is

easy to be swallowed up in “groupthink” and consensus. Doubting

Evolution might make one a “yokel”, but it still won’t solve the many

independent problems of evolutionary theories.

Now we see that the author is embracing the false dilemma that he earlier chided. By using the terms "orthodoxy", "naturalism" and "doubting" he places evolution in terms of metaphysical philosophy. But it is not. Some scientists do embrace scientific naturalism as a worldview. Let them. It's not necessary to understanding and accepting evolution. Not believing evolution. No one believes in evolution; they either accept science or reject science, preferably on its merits. No one believes in the theory of gravitation (which ironically is less understood scientifically than evolution). No one believes in the theory of relativity. The question is, are you going to let accept or reject evolution or ID based on its scientific merits? One might take evolution and use one's understanding of it to formulate a naturalistic philosophy of life. But in no way does that take away from the validity of evolution as a scientific theory.

We wonder what it is that evolutionists fear? If they are correct on

the basis of overwhelming scientific evidence, then comparisons with

competing theories of origin will fold like a deck of cards.

Interesting. We don't fear anything other than bad science. I hate to break it to the author, but ID has folded like a deck of cards. Those uncourageous scientists who cave to "groupthink"? They don't exist. Any serious examination of ID, and it folds. The scientific community has thoroughly debunked ID. Which is why we don't want it taught in schools. When another valid, better theory comes along to replace the perfectly good one that we have, then we'll teach it. There are a few people in this country who believe the earth is flat. Should they be given equal time to the round-earthers?

But they don’t want such comparative analysis to take place. You see,

these Intelligent Design theories sound convincing to people who don’t

understand the technicalities, principles and nuances that preoccupy

enlightened minds. That is part of the reason given for the poor

showing by Evolutionists in their debates with Ceationists. You might

think they would realize that there are only so many people of 160 plus

IQ’s on the far reaches of the Bell Curve. It is hard to build a

movement on a body of thought that is so esoteric. But folks have a way

of stumbling over their own hubris. What they want is to have their own

oligopoly of philosopher-kings to reign in the ignorant throngs of

rabble.

And that is where anti-evolutionist really annoy me; the accusation of the hubris of the educated elite. I wouldn't presume to tell my doctor what was wrong with me because I'd watched a few episodes of ER. I trust that he knows more about medicine than I do. Sure, I don't get the "technicalities, principles and nuances that preoccupy" his "enlightened mind", but I think he knows a bit more about it than I do. So when a group of trained mathematicians tell you that all the information theory supporting intelligent design, laid out by a man who has never published a single peer-reviewed article in a reputable (or even disreputable) mathematics journal, and whose book was reviewd by philosophers not mathematicians, is wrong and that you are being misled, it is not merely because evolution is esoteric and they want their own oligopoly of philosopher-kings; we teach evolution in schools because we want the masses to not be ignorant. Pretending that ID is valid science would keep them ignorant.

Recently, a popular local editorial writer, saw fit to compare intelligent design with Egyptian mythology, featuring a god who masturbates the universe into existence. And yet don’t non-Creationists have their own counterpart in the ludicrous propositions of “panspermia” theories? Personally I don’t have the faith to believe that a universe of impersonal matter created itself out of nothing, and then evolved into meaning, purposefulness, logic and reason.

It seems that the promulgation of evolutionary theories have little to do critical thinking, and more to do with eliminating any considerations about the implications of the Creator’s existence.

And finally we return to the original false assumption, that evolution eliminates any considerations about a divine creator. Evolution eliminates any considerations that God created man de novo by scultping him out of clay. Science informs only one aspect of our lives; theology informs another. Evolution is not abiogenesis and evolution does not exclude a creator. People who support ID are uncomfortable about evolution because they think it calls into question their purpose and spark of divinity. Evolution denies the existence of a soul only if you let it. We shouldn't give it more power than it should have.

Guess Who's Done...

2004-12-01T18:56:00.000-05:00

... with all their Christmas shopping with 24 days to spare. Go ahead. Guess....

Things That Piss Me Off

2004-11-30T17:12:00.000-05:00

I haven't blogged in awhile because I've been busy with the holidays and my birthday (turning 27 was a real drag). I just spent two afternoons in a row teaching high school students the wonders of DNA profiling and they kept calling me mister. Godammit. I am so not that old. So during break time I had to bond with them over [adultswim]. Until it was time to talk again and then I had to make them turn off their computers and be quiet. I felt so frickin' old.

Now, I'm pissed off because my tech didn't change the nitrogen tank last week because he's an idiot even though he was told and now I'm out of nitrogen and can't do any work. You'd think that that would be a good thing but no it just pisses me off because I was supposed to work all night.

You know what also pisses me off? Intelligent Design. It's so frickin' stupid. I've been working on a workshop using evolution and intelligent design to illustrate correct and incorrect uses of the scientific method. I thought all the research I did was going to make me more informed and able to better articulate how idiotic "creation science" is. But no. It's just made me angrier that there are such ignorant, stupid people in the world. Just read this idiotic display of, well, idiocy by Kelly Holowell, quite possibly the world's worst scientist. Is it possible, just possible that the Jews decided to circumcize their boys at 8 days because they noticed that they bled a lot if they didn't wait that long, instead of the other way around? How does this crap get published? And repeated? People can't have brains this small. It's not possible.

And Pakistan! Pakistan pisses me off. Check out Bernard Henri Levy's book Who Killed Daniel Pearl? and you'll see what I mean. Ally my ass. It's unbelievable that this book, or the role of the ISI (Pakistan's shadow government) and al-Qaida in everything bad happening in the world, hasn't gotten more American press. Actually, scratch that. It's not unbelievable. It's par for the course for a country as wacked as this one. Do you realize that not one major Hollywood director has publicly denounced the murder of Theo van Gogh? Not one.

Why? Why are there so many stupid people in the world? Why?....

What To Watch

2004-11-11T16:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been doing a pretty good job of staying off of political blogs lately. This could be that I've been busier at work. It certainly doesn't have anything to do with will-power. But regardless I've decided to take this moment, post-election, post-World Series, to educate you all on what you should be watching on television, since I have DVR and can pretty much watch everything all at once, in whatever order I feel like it.

First, let's start with non-reality television. I have this inkling that reality television is increasing the quality of writing on the small screen, due to a decreased supply and increased demand (although not if you turn on ABC, where any day of the week you can see some mediocre sitcom with fat husband doing something incompetant and a skinny, beautiful wife berating him until he threatens to send her to the moon). So this season be sure to check out some goodies:

Arrested Development started its second season last week, and it is better than ever. An impeccable cast, completely with sharp writing and new twists on classic sitcom tropes (and no annoying laugh-track) makes this appointment television for Sunday nights. Look for Justine Bateman guest starring as a love-interest for Michael (her real-life brother, Jason Bateman). Trust me, hilarity will ensue. But if that doesn't float your boat, Portia di Rossi is still America's hottest real-life lesbian.

After that, take a quick jump to HBO, home of the best original programming on cable television, and tune into the third season of The Wire, by far the best show on television ever. Ever. Ever. Don't worry about catching up. Just watch it and get immersed into the seedy underworld of drugs, sex and politics. In Baltimore! If, however, you are a purest and you do need some background, Season One just came out on DVD. Buy it. Or buy it for me for my birthday. Season Two, while just as good as the rest, takes a side-trip into the world of drug smuggling, and so not much plot is advanced with regards to our favorite hot street dealer Stringer Bell and his soldiers, so you can skip it if you're just concerned with continuity.

Next, take a jaunt over to Comedy Central where South Park began its 9th season right before the election. Oh yeah, those boys are back, hot off of Team America and ready for poignant real-world satire. All I have to say is Giant Douche v. Turd Sandwich. And while you're there, you might want to stick around for Drawn Together, ostensibly a "Big Brother"-esque cartoon. In actuality, it's less a reality-show satire than absurdist pop-culture parody a la Adult Swim on the Cartoon Network (unfortunately Sealab 2021 is on hiatus). But it's not that bad.

Ok, now we jump into Thursdays, which has always been must see TV. But gone is the angsty nihilist humor of the 90s. Joey is, ironically, too smart for all that. No, instead you should start your night on the channel that began with trashy, racy soap opera and will no doubt die with it. That's right, kiddies, the OC has moved to Thursdays! And after you get your fix of attractive, back-stabbing teens, surf on over to NBC and watch attractive, back-stabbing businessmen and -women. My money's on Jen M. all the way!

And lastly, but not leastly, if you have the joys and wonders of DVR, or even HBO On Demand, postpone The Wire for a bit and check out My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss. Critics be damned, I laughed my ass off. Especially if you like The Apprentice. At least those contestants have some modicum of respectablity. But watching a bunch of mid-level ass-kissers praise the amazing quality of shitty champagne and being served ground-up Spam passed off as duck liver pate, you'll never look at reality television the same way again. If it continues to be this funny, I'll rank it right up there with The Joe Schmo Show.

So there you have it. If it's Sunday, Wednesday or Thursday, you know what I'm doing with my time. Hey, I spend $100 a month on cable; I might as well get my money's worth....