The year: 1974. The question: What will I get for my birthday?
Answer: Evel Knieval stunt cycle. Ooooooh, yeah.
For more, check out this page on Ideal Toys (the manufacturer of fine Evel products.)
The above linked page comes complete with non-PC quote from Evel himself: “You wind it up, it goes like a little bugger, goes across the floor, grabs this little Barbie doll, throws her on the floor, gives her a little lovin’, jumps back on the motorcycle and goes whizzing out the door screaming, ‘G.I. Joe is a faggot!’ “
This quote is disturbing. I loved my toy back in the day, little realizing it was some kind of homophobic, wind-up Barbie ravisher. I just liked the vroom-vroom sound it made, man. And, honestly, most of the time it just kind of plopped over limply after you wound it up.
I -do- actually have home video of the toy in action. I’ll save that for another post!
Very excited that my ebook, Nowhere Slow: Eleven Years in Micronesia, is #1 on Amazon’s “Books > Travel > Australia & South Pacific > Micronesia” section. What that means, I don’t know. It’s just nice to be #1 in some category.
This is Scabby (his stage name). He struck a blow for brick-and-mortar, mom-and-pop, local, hip, actual meat-space bookstores by eating my Kindle Paperwhite (truly a paperweight now). I consider this a positive review of my eBook — available soon for your Kindle (but not mine.)
The insane graphic above describes the wonders that will be worked in public education by the Common Core Standards. I found it on this post by Ellie Robins at Melville House. Basically, the Standards launch a Cyberman-style attack upon your child and encase them in a robotic shell called “measurable output.” Ellie’s post and the Washington Post article it is refers to are both enlightening.
Here is my own version of this graphic. WARNING: I suck at graphics and did this quickly on MS Publisher. MS Publisher is a frustrating program for those wishing to do things. It ended up looking like washing day for the Illuminati. If you’re better at graphics, please improve upon it!
Here’s a guide to this graphic:
We will begin with MS clip-art boy in the cross-hairs. This boy is engaged in Free Voluntary Reading. He is lucky: he has access to books!
First of all the name seems as horrible as iPad used to seem (remember?) because of course you are going to call it a “paperweight.” So I began ridiculing the product even before it arrived.
Name: 2 Stars
When my Kindle Paperwhite finally came (I waited about a month), it came, ironically, in a black box. Amazon has taken a cue from Roku, Apple, and others who make box opening part of what they call the “user experience.” (I just call it life.) I know this is manipulative because, of course, what do I really care what the box looks like? Still, I am a total sucker for this kind of thing. I think it’s a genius move to make opening the box “special.” Now I’m stuck with a strange box, though. I could use it to wrap up Xmas gifts, I guess. But then the giftee would think they were getting a Kindle and be disappointed by the slightly burnt Xmas cookies the box actually contained.
Box: 5 Stars
Here’s the very best part of my “user experience” / life with the Kindle. When I took it out of the box the Kindle appeared to have a clear plastic covering of the sort you find on your new iPhone. Upon inspection (i.e. trying to lift off the plastic sheet with my fingernail) it turned out that this was the actual screen in sleep mode. It still kind of freaks me out. It’s very very cool how sharp the resolution of the screen is and also how the screen feels course or matted rather than smooth and reflective like an iPhone screen. After attempting to remove the Kindle screen because I thought it was a physical object (and in doing this I felt a bit like my dog must feel when he barks at the TV) I had to admit it: this thing is amazing. It’s practically like paper!
Screen: 5 stars
The Kindle feature that made me finally take the plunge: the Kindle Lending Library. I’m the sort of guy who reads a lot of things in the public domain: 19th Century novels, mostly, and other things of that nature that I expect to be able to get out of the library or pay, perhaps, a dollar for at a used book store. So what a killer feature: I would be able to borrow this type of book for free on my Kindle! A library! Of books!
Except that it is not a library. Read the fine print.
The first thing I did on the kindle store was to try out the lending library. I downloaded a book of links to free sci-fi novels on Amazon Prime (yes, I took that plunge too!) Why would somebody pay money for a book of links? I don’t know. Doesn’t Amazon have an easy way of navigating it’s free content? (Answer: No.) I perused the links a bit and then returned the book. When I went to borrow my next book the button for downloading into my library was grayed-out and unusable. I had failed to read the fine print: in Amazon’s “library” you can only borrow one book a month. God, I’m such a sucker.
When someone uses the word “library” I have a network of associations with that word — hot librarians, shelves full of books for the taking, smelly bathrooms, free wifi, etc. What I don’t think of is a place that allows you to check out one book a month, even if you only had that book for a grand total of twenty minutes. Ugh. What a sucker I was!
Amazon is besmirching the word library. They must be stopped.
Kindle Library: Negative One Million Stars (Until they call it “one free book a month out of a selection of mostly unpopular books” instead of a “library”.)
P.S. — There is still free content that is non-library related. I downloaded Thomas Hardy for free. Other books, such as Middlemarch, are available for $.99. So that’s cool. It’s just not a library.
Yes, the Kindle is just another money suck. If I had known that going in, rather than being duped by their “library,” I would not feel so burned. I am in the process of re-calibrating my expectations. As such, I have begun reading a book on the Kindle (Spillover by David Quanmen). Each day my score for the device crawls a little bit higher out of the dumps. After all, it did have a cool box!
Total Score: 4 stars (with lowered expectations)
Note: I have a book coming out in Dec/Jan. It will be Kindle only — so buy your Kindles now!
Recently I was looking for a place to live and was reminded of the “veil of ignorance” as popularized (?) by John Rawls in A Theory of Justice. If you had to choose where to live from the “original position” (one presumes missionary, but I could be wrong) from behind a veil of ignorance – that is, you did not know what status you would have in society– where would you choose to live? In a country where a few have wealth? Or in a more egalitarian society? Keep in mind that you have no choice of what rung of the societal ladder you will be perched upon. Rational minds go with the egalitarian society. It is the safest choice because even the lowest of the low in such a society will be better off than most people in a very unequal society. Better to be on the dole, in other words, than on the street.
If you pose this question in a classroom there is always a dude who wants to gamble that he will end up in the 1% and chooses an unequal society. He is confident that he will wind up on top because he is a good guy and a business major taking Introduction to Philosophy because he heard it would be easy. In this thought experiment there is no moral dimension to being poor, since it is randomly assigned, yet it is quite difficult to explain this to American students. It takes some imagination, in other words, to think of a place where the poor don’t deserve to be poor. This is, I think, what keeps this particular sort of student from choosing the egalitarian society.
Which brings me to taxes. If you had to choose from behind a veil of ignorance, in the original position, where to live, would you choose a place with high or low taxes? The automatic reaction might be low taxes. Low taxes means more money for me, right? Yet when enacting this thought experiment in reality while looking for a place to live, I found myself drawn to the places in America with the highest tax burdens. The reason: they are almost invariably the best places for a family to live. Better schools, better roads, better parks, better health care, better arts, better police, better services… As a lower-bracket kind of guy, working for non-profits and married to someone working for non-profits, I am happy to sneak into your high-tax district and take advantage of the rich-guy services you require. You can be as snooty as you like to my daughter while she takes advantage of your superior public schools.
What’s more, I think most Americans with families would be happy to make this choice – more taxes for better services. But somehow we have added a moral, or I guess an immoral, dimension to taxes. High taxes are bad, I suppose, if you consider the money completely wasted. Yet, one can see that in the high-tax areas (not to mention high-tax countries with free health care) people live longer, are happier, are smarter, and are currently strolling in a safe park while their kids play on the new swing set. I guess I am saying, with my move, that you should please tax me and in return I will get to live in an awesome place.
Of course, it is possible to both pay high taxes and get little to nothing in return. Take Cook County for instance where the poor pay more and services only trickle down to them eventually. (One only has to note which neighborhoods are plowed after a snowstorm to see where the revenue goes.)
So where did I end up moving? Connecticut, just south of Taxachusetts.
From the National Archives, a 1040 form from 1913. Considerably easier. Also, lower taxes. But note that the rich are taxed at many times the rate of the poor.
In this paper the semiotic meaning of the common hashtag will be considered through a post-structuralist lens, as soon as the author figures out what that means.
The author described the historical meta-narrative of the hashtag to a kindergarten class through the use of hand-puppets. Of the twenty children in Mr. Brophy’s morning group, 18 played tic-tac-toe on the researcher’s field notes, one urinated upon a carefully worded questionnaire, and another quietly picked her nose while straddling a large, stuffed Clifford the Big Red Dog and crying for “wawa juice”. As is apparent from these results, the common hashtag has burst through the semiotic prison of “search organizer” and is now used symbolically by American youth as some kind of “game board” and as a feature of their nascent performance art.
Mr. Brophy’s afternoon class was not available for study because the researcher was called away to answer a few questions at a local police station. After a three hour disquisition upon the phenomenology of epistemology in response to the query: “What is your name?” the author was let go without further questioning and with the strong admonition to always remain within 100 yards of a humanities department.
Perfect blog fodder: my new rig! Well, about 70% new. I got a new tower. I moved up from a mid-size tower to a full-size tower. Why? My eyesight is going and fishing screws out of tight places is no longer the joy it once was. Anyway this is the case: Cooler Master HAF 932 Advanced Full Tower Case with SuperSpeed USB 3.0. It feels a bit like the adult diaper of cases but nevertheless I like the case.
Despite the wheels on the bottom,the HAF 932 is the opposite of portable — I like this. It makes me feel grounded and steady. The only feature I don’t really love is the top fan-exhaust. This is great for sucking the hot air out of the case and freaking out the cat. It will be not so great when, inevitably, a child spills something on top of the case and Mountain Dew Red spritzes all over the motherboard.
The cylon-eye red light on the bottom is great. The top features a searing blue light whenever the thing is on. This means retina scars if you’re sitting back and watching a movie — I’ll probably unplug or change the blue lights on top to something less penetrating.
My last mobo (ASUS P5E3 Deluxe) featured a lot of bells and whistles that, frankly, I neither understood nor used. So I went with a slightly stripped down package this time — an ASUS P8Z77-v LX. It was cheaper than the top-of-the-line and still featured everything I needed (except the built in wi-fi, which I appreciate in a mobo). It’s got the Z77 chipset which I think is cool. Right? Anyway, so far so good.
That’s the new stuff (oh, except I got a new power source too (750W!) but I’ll leave that story for another time, when I have some distance).
The rest of my rig is:
Seagate 7500 750GB Hard disk — this is the next item to replace and the thing that’s slowing me down.
Radeon HD 6850 (Sapphire)
And all the other things I’ve had for awhile. The monitor I recently fixed myself with a solder gun and fairy dust. The printer and speakers and such are ancient (meaning more than three years old) and not worth mentioning.
So far this rig has been solid and efficient. My windows experience score is all 7.7 except for the aforementioned hard disk which is bringing it all down to a 6.1. So, for a summer gift you can get me a solid state hard disk or whatever those things are called.
In the meantime, just stay away from my rig if you are carrying a liquid of any kind — seriously, this thing has HOLES on the top.
I have been skimming the surface of what it means to devote one’s life to writing — especially memoir — and find that it is easy to dive into a thicket of truth, fiction, and everything in between.
Because I used the word “thicket” I am reminded of the tar baby but have the vague recollection that the tar baby is not an appropriate metaphor and that Uncle Remus is super racist. I haven’t read the books since childhood (I also had an Uncle Remus board game, as I recall) and can’t really comment. Nevertheless, I feel like a child made of tar. I grab for the branch of truth but little bits of me gloop off and land on fiction and pretty soon the thing that I am writing seems more true than whatever was objective fact because I have literally shed my body on this tree of fictiony-non-fiction and created not just a run-on sentence but a new truth. This truth seems “better” and “improved” by the fictional elements only because it is new. Let it sit for awhile — I usually find that whatever was closest to objective truth is actually much more interesting, if for no other reason than that it has the sheen of fact.
I am writing this because, of course, This American Life has had to broadcast an entire hour of retraction over their episode “Mr. Daisy and the Apple Factory”. Mike Daisy fabricated a tale to make a point but labeled it incorrectly as non-fiction (or, in his mental gymnastical terms “allowed it to be labeled journalism by This American Life”). Note that the previous parenthetical is not a direct quote — I made it up! But he did say something like that…
Hey man, there’s a great tradition of muck-raking fiction. I still remember Sinclair Lewis and The Jungle from high school. How about that Soderbergh fictional movie adapting the non-fiction book Fast Food Nation? There are other, better examples I am sure — the point is, labeling the thing “fiction” and framing it that way doesn’t necessarily make your point less valid, only more honest.
Which brings me to my favorite topic: me. I recently published a personal essay type piece in The Morning News (I love that site!) called “How to Officially Forget“. Because it mixes events from twenty years ago, a few months ago, and my own internal reality, there are bits of it that are completely made up. Like, for instance, my friend from Beijing does not actually have wings. But that’s clear, right? In the context? And certainly I tried to introduce some unreliability in the narrative — moments where I question my own recollection — so that those things that happened twenty years ago are properly contextualized as my own faulty memories, not researched fact. I certainly believe that it is all true — but it is quite possible that the order of events is messed up. I’m not sure if my friend gave me that stick of candied hawthorn berries at the movie theater or at a bus stop — in my narrative it’s at the movie theater. Anyway, what is not clearly marked as memory has been researched as best as one guy and the TMN editors are capable of — the name of a book that I saw, a reference to The Color Purple, some things that are a matter of record regarding Tiananmen Square.
I suppose the point is that I feel that I have been on that precipice — teetering towards fiction but hanging back because, really, if you present something as true it better be as true as you can make it. And, further, the truth is more interesting (for me) because I don’t have quite the imagination that Mr. Daisy does. I could not make up my friend — XiaoYing — if I tried. She was an original. Yes, she lived in a hutong. And yes, she was in Tiananmen Square in 1989. And if her wings are actually strap-ons held together with duct tape, I will present them as such. My memory’s angels are imperfect beasts.
9: Maybe OK album I listened to for the first time yesterday (1/3): Fleet Foxes — I forgot the name of the album. It seemed pretty good, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention.
8: Favorite Kiss: In the kitchen, while making bean soup.
7: Best New (to me) Show: I started watching “Misfits” on Hulu. Yeah, it’s good. I wish they used a more dynamic color palette, though. Like, I know everyone is washed out — must the sets be so muted too? Or is that a Hulu thing?