Of Fractions and Factions

So one of the truisms of my childhood is that "Knowing is half the battle." Various members of the military services told me this, often after saving a child who had gone swimming too soon after eating, or who had inadvertantly set fire to his sisters bedspread with napalm. You know stuff like that. Then the GI Joe hero, who was as we all know, a "Real American" would counsel the wayward child about why you shouldn't do dangerous thing XY or Z. This after an episode in which people shot at one another with laser guns that appear to have the lethality of the gun they use for price checks. But I digress.

So I, and nearly everyone in my age cohort knows that knowing is half the battle. However, it was only today that I realized this helps to explain just why we've been struggling in Iraq. The neo-cons were not fans of GI Joe. They didn't and still don't believe that intelligence (either in its CIA or IQ forms) matters. Hell, they wouldn't have to be GI Joe fans, they could have read Sun Tzu the ancient Chinese general. "Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories." See there's that word "know" again.

So we find ourselves commiting too few troops to a country where we don't know the culture, didn't know the politics, and still don't know what we hope to achieve--apart from electoral success; sadly Republican electoral success not Iraqi.

But then I got to thinking, if knowing is half the battle, we're starting out in an awful hole, but we're tough we've got great weaponry. We can win a full battle despite that kind of deficit. Then I remembered the words of the great General Woody Allen (you remember Bananas, clearly he must know something) who once said that "80% of life is showing up." So that further taxes our plan, because not only do we not know what we're doing, we don't have enough people there to not know effectively. I'm not really good with fractions, in fact I'm as good with fractions as the neo-cons are with identifying the rival factions. If my math is right we should only be fighting 10% of the battle. (1/2 of 20%).

I like those odds. Now if only Roadblock could have come into the White House just as young George and Dick were about to send troops into battle, and explain in strangely compelling yet overly simplistic terms why that was invasion was a bad idea, and how to make diplomatic allies using things you can find around your house. Instead he was out somewhere making sure that little Timmy didn't open a Swiss army knife incorrectly. Fucking Roadblock.


UPDATE:
Maybe the administration did watch GI Joe. In the episode where Scarlett gives the "Now you Know" tip she explains that "You can learn to water ski if you keep trying" And when he fails to water ski she tells him:"That's because you quit trying... You'll never win if you give in." See if you cut and run, you'll never be able to water ski. Or win the hearts and minds of a divided and complex nation. Same skill set really.

UPDATE II
Man, GI Joe is filled with mixed lessons. While Scarlett says that you'll never win if you give in, Lady Jaye explains that: "There's nothing chicken about being smart. If you stop and think there's almost always a better way." Ahh, the revealed wisdom of GI Joe. See George and Dick, you wouldn't have been chicken, you'd have been smart. Oh, and avoided thousands of deaths, a billions of wasted money. That too.

I saw this spoof ad, "Congressman, call me," posted on Daily Kos (I think). Usually these sorts of spoofs are pretty bad, and beat one joke into the ground. This is really pretty solid stuff. It gets the timing and pacing down of the Harold Ford ad and really works with that. A little heavy on the Mark Foley stuff, but still, it's nice to see some people can make funny parodies, given that SNL has abdicated that role.

Photos Galore!

I'm going to write a post-party recap, soon. But until then, I'll share a bunch of photos from the evening.

It was a great time. Singing, dancing, drinking, general silliness. Various groups of friends got along swimmingly. All in all you could hardly ask for a better time.

Again, I will post more later, but till then enjoy the photos. Be sure to check out JJ's photos, he has nearly 5 times as many posted I as do. A must see for participating in the voting below.

In the comments feel free to vote on the following things

1. Best costume (you may vote even if you didn't attend)
2. Costume that best fit the person wearing it (ie, the costume that seems the best extension of the person it covers)
3. Costume you wish you came up with.
4. Costume or photo most likely to end the wearer's hope of a political career.

Sour Caroline

Aaron, and the assembled guests of this year's Halloween Party offer a stirring rendition of the Neil Diamond "classic."



Shockingly, I'm not drunk here. I am just that attrocious a singer.

My voice never seemed so bad
So bad, so bad, so bad!
I'm inclined to think it never should...
Be heard.

UPDATE
Apparently, at least according to Liz this video is not without a bit of controversy. Like the Zapruder film and the film of Big Foot this is important both for what it captures but also for the debate it can inspire. Is the really awful voice mine? Liz believes that the videographer, JJ may be drowning out my similarly bad voice with his own? Could this be true? Am I really Pavorati-esque and this video captures errant notes from another source. Or am I really that loud and that off-key. You make the call.

What am I to make of this interaction

Yesterday as I left my office to go grab lunch and otherwise empty sidewalk was suddenly occupied by a well-bearded man (I'm guessing at least two years of effort) wearing a fairly nice seater, riding a bike with one hand and in the other flailingly pointing an expensive digital camera and seemingly random sights. As I approached the corner, I paused to allow him to pass without risking a collision. He turned to no one in particular--I'm fairly certain he wasn't talking to me--and said, "Of course they should go, only a truly passive-aggressive person could engineer such a meeting." As he said this I noticed another woman walking toward him. I'm not sure if he was talking to me, or about me. Though he rode on and made lazy circles in the driveway of the parking garage snapping unfocused (in all senses of that word) photographs. Then he shakily pedaled back the direction from which he had come, and continued to take photographs.

What on Earth am I to make of this? Art installation? Crazy guy? Eccentric? Highly functioning schziophrenic?

Comcast Update

While our server is being rebooted and refitted and hell, maybe recycled, I figured I'd take a second to update the status of our Comcast woes. After talking with someone in Corporate Marketing, a person with a direct line (always a good sign when a person answers the telephone with their name instead of the company's name) my woes are no more. Our heroine in this case, Tracy, sorted things out. We're only being charged for the service we initially signed up for and are, I must say, quite pleased with the resolution of the matter. I'm still annoyed at the process I had to endure to get here. But, I have to give credit to Tracy and others in the organization for working through the byzantine org chart that must confound them daily to get something done. Kudos.

The crazy on this one goes to 11

In response to the Michael J Fox ad where he talks to the voters of Missouri about the importance of stem cell research for finding cures for many diseases, a group opposed to such research have put out a new ad. Apparently they're recruiting religious folks with some connection (sometimes) to Missouri to explain why it's a bad idea. And focus on the fact that science can't promise you a solution quickly. Yes, that's exactly the point, if it's going to take years to solve the problem, not acting today will not hasten the solution. It's not like God has sent a memo to the scientists promising them a cure in X years, and if we just wait till then we can save all this money on research. To say nothing of the fact that I cannot fathom an honest reason why any of these people care about this issue. Fox, suffers from Parkinsons. This seems to me a person invested. Why does Kurt Warner care? Oh right because he's incredibly religious and we're supposed to believe that somehow these embryos which are not life now, are being killed because they're being prevented from sitting around and not being life later. To me it's so painfully Ludditic that it makes me wonder whether or not the Amish look down upon them. Do you figure they say, "Man, I fear zippers, but Holy Shit Ephraim, that guy is the intellectual heir to Lucy."

And is it me or does it look like Kurt Warner is being interviewed in either a church basement turned comedy club, or a mimimum security prison. Really, you make an ad with all these "celebrities" and choose to film it in front of a background that makes the Westerville North AV Club Greatest Hits look like Crouching Tiger? That's certainly a strange choice.

Another thought, why on earth do I care what Patricia Heaton thinks. Newsflash, just because You Loved Raymond doesn't mean I care. First the notion that anyone, let alone everyone loved him is faulty. So let's not pretend you get to speak for, or in any way share a single opinion held in common by "everyone." Okay.

Mike Sweeney weighs in on this. I'm sorry if you don't have the requiste sense to quit any sport that forces you to play for the Kansas City Royals, then you have lost my respect. If you don't immediately start honing your bocce ball skills, and searching out strange Guinness records that you can achieve the very moment you are assigned to play for that team, you are definitionally lacking the basic sense to make let alone share anything resembling an informed judgement. You have to imagine that continuing to play for the Royals may well be one of the diseases for which stem-cell research promises a cure. Come on Mike, you're shooting yourself in the foot here. Also, and I realize this is, as so much of this rant is, largelry unrelated to the ad...but seriously, how are you going to be a DH and only hit 8 home runs. I'm taking political advice from a religious zealot batting .258 with 8 home runs. Has anyone contacted Sid Bream to see what he thinks?

Finally and most skull crushingly, neuron-assailingly, viewer-as-dog-with head-tilted-and-a-blank-expression-inducingly there is Jim Caveziel. I don't know of anything that Jim Caviezel has done apart from star as Jesus for Mel Gibson's flog-a-thon. And I'm sure for the target audience he's a good fit. "Hey, if Jesus is against this, then it's gotta be bad." Fair enough. But the ad starts with Caveziel speaking to the viewer in Aramaic. Are you fucking kidding me? Is there some huge enclave of long suffering speakers of Aramaic tucked into the Ozarks?

Is this some new faddish term created by Frank Luntz. Is this like Soccer Moms, and NASCAR Dads? Aramaic Advocates. Is this really a voting bloc that's not motivated. And if so, is there really any question of how they're voting? My head hurts just contemplating the moronic ideas that were rejected so that this little gem of idiocy could live out its life. I only wish that this idea might have been sacrificed to science instead of growing up to be what I can only, and too generously describe as full-on nuts.

Comcast Customer Service Model

I've spent a decent portion of that past 3 weeks on the phone with various representatives of Comcast. Without rehashing a story that I can now tell in my sleep, having presented it to everyone in Comcast, and potentially a fairly sizabel portion of the shareholders, Jess and I continue to be screwed over. We're being charged an amount I can only assume is comensurate with a package of channels that would include one that, like Clarence in It's a Wonderful Life, details the world that would exist were you not born. Maybe another channel that accurately predicts PowerBall numbers. Whatever the array of channels that Comcast believes is justified by these charges does not and has never appeared on our television. Sadly the package for which we did contractually agree to pay, does not exist in their world. Amazing that.

So needless to say it's been a lot of frustrating calls. These calls are made all the more frustrating by the endless litany of options, press one for this, press two for that. It's a fucking choose your own adventure book, except without a plot. It's like a giant senior art installation by some lame no talent conceptual artist who hates me. So I press and I press and I press and I follow endless decision trees only to talk with a person imbued with very little capacity to focus on the matter at hand or aid me in gaining any resolution to it. Each of the people with whom I have spoken has just enough information or authority to be tantalizingly close to solving the problem. And yet each is formally and permanently unable to acutally do something. Somewhere, the people who wrote the telephone flow chart must have also written the Comcast org chart. I can only assume that it's an org chart that they borrowed from Al Qaeda. How else can you explain a system whereby everyone has just enough information to carry out their minute task, and yet no one, in the entire organization understands the roles and responsibilities or even the field in which the others works. It's perfect, when we find that Comcast has Channels of Mass Destruction the entire organization will have impenetrable plausible deniability. And at that time, at that very moment, I just hope I'm able to be watching the Food Network. I'm doubtful of that.

Who Let the Dogs Out

Since when were puppies such a key feature of political ads. It's odd. I can think right now of three ads I've seen that feature puppies this cycle alone. And that's without even searching for them. I mean I guess there is the grandaddy of them all, the Nixon Checkers Speech but this year there have been a profusion of ads predicated upon candidates like and treatment of puppies. Seriously, someone call up Arby's and tell them to give Baha Men the afternoon off because this political season it's all about: Who Loves the Dogs Most, Woof, Woof.

Dick DeVos

The best is this anti-Dick DeVos Ad

Michael Steele
There's a Michael Steele ad about puppies.According to the ad he loves puppies. And a DSCC ad in response.

Harold Ford
And now in response to the awful ad against Harold Ford (about which I blogged below) there's a Ford ad where he invokes the threat of injury to the canine class. Amazing stuff.

You'll note that no one invokes attacking a cat as a sign of evil. I hear it polls very well to be a cat kicker.

====
UPDATE. I checked for legislative score cards from the ASPCA. Turns out Ben Cardin (Steele's opponent) scored a 83% from the Humane Society of America in the most recent scorecard I could find, and that Harold Ford was only at 50% agreement. No information on Dick DeVos, or Michael Steele

October 25

Today is the fourth anniversary of the plane crash that killed Paul Wellstone, Sheila Wellstone, Marcia Wellstone, Tom Lapic, Will McLaughlin and Mary McEvoy as well as the two pilots. Some were friends and coworkers of mine, people with whom I shared jokes, work, and laughter. Many were and are sources of inspiration. And, especially for Paul and Sheila these weren't just people whom one deems inspirational because they've died. Paul would be no less an inspiration to me were he sitting in St. Paul doing a crossword puzzle. He was an inspiration in his life, not just a man elevated to that status by an untimely death.

It's always a bit of a tough day for me. I remember where I was, what I was doing, the momements that came after and it's a natural day for me to think of where my life is and where it's heading. For the past four years it's been a vaguely religious holiday, not in the sense that I elevate those people or that moment to something beyond the regular, but rather that I take the day to think about my life, to think about my choices, to think about fate and fortune and my friends. It's a day on which to be thankful, contemplative, and most of all a day on which to rededicate myself to action on issues of justice and democracy. It's a day to remember what's worth fighting for.

It's a day, though not the only day, when I choose to reread Tom Harkin's speech from Paul's memorial. I've excerpted parts here below. If anyone wants the full speech I can email it or post it in the comments.

He was my best friend in the Senate.

But, in truth, Paul Wellstone was one of those rare souls who so many saw as their best friend. He had a powerful authenticity that made a miner in the Iron Range know he was as important to Paul as the President of the United States.

He never had to proclaim his decency. It shone forth in great acts of political courage and small acts of human kindness. He never had to say he cared.
...
The hard-working folks he cared about most didn’t have lobbyists or influence. But they had Paul Wellstone. And he truly was their best friend.
...
Paul may have talked a lot, but he meant every word. He showed the way to lead is by following your conscience.

And when injustice was proposed, or unfairness was advancing, or selfishness was on the march, Paul would go into battle and he did not care if he was the only one. He may have suffered from a bad back, but he had a spine of steel.

Everyone called him Paul. Not just his colleagues, but staff and citizens alike. He wouldn’t have it any other way. No one ever wore the title of “Senator” better – or used it less.
...
Paul was the soul of the Senate. Sometimes he cast votes that even some of his friends disagreed with on war or on welfare. But when he did, he was the mirror in which we, his colleagues, looked at ourselves and searched our own hearts.
...
Paul Wellstone didn’t just dare to imagine a better America – he helped build it.

Because of what he did, family farmers will have a better future. Because of what he demanded, mental illness will someday soon be treated equally in our health care system. And because of who he married – and because of Sheila’s passionate charge – more women and children will find safe harbor from the scourge of domestic abuse.

Paul was a hopeful man. Green was his color. The color of springtime. The color of hope. And the color of that bus he climbed aboard 12 years ago as he set out on his way to a better America. But Paul never meant it to be a solo voyage. He wanted us all on board. Now we must continue Paul’s journey for justice.

So tonight, I ask you: Will you stand up and join together and board that bus?

For Paul Wellstone, will you stand up and keep fighting for better wages for those who mop our floors and clean our bathrooms; for those who take care of our elderly, nurse the sick, teach our kids, and reach out to the homeless?

For Sheila, will you stand up and keep fighting for our families so women and children will be safe from domestic abuse?

For Paul, will you stand up and keep fighting for cleaner air and cleaner water – to protect the environment for our children and our future? For Paul, will you stand up and keep fighting for peace, understanding, and an end to exploitation of women and children around the world? For Paul, will you stand up and keep fighting to end discrimination based on race, gender, religion, ethnicity and sexual orientation? For Paul, will you stand up and keep fighting for the poor, the homeless, those left on the roadside of life?

Let’s get on that green bus together. Let’s keep moving to a better America. Let’s stand up and keep fighting – and keep saying yes. For justice. For hope. For life.
For Paul.

Pontius Pilates

I met Liz today for a mid-day pilates class. In the past I've jokingly derided the class as being for girls and teased her about it. Mostly I was afraid that I'd go and be in really awful shape and embarass myself.

I went today and was surprised by a few things. 1) My "core" is pretty strong. I have decent abs. They're relatively strong and seem to do the job. 2) It's odd to have someone barking out commands for which you have literally no idea the context or meaning. I was told to suck, and tuck, and swivel, and elongate, and who knows what else. Steve the teacher was enthusiastic and kind of like a good gym teacher. Gruff, but he cared about making sure people did things right. It was nice. It also reminded me that it's the first time I've ever taken an athletic class, or dance class. I cannot make my body look like someone else's without a lot of thought. So not only was I contending with foreign words and largely foreign movements, I was fighting my basic prediliction to fuck up anything requiring rhythm and spacing. I breathed at incorrect times, I rocked up when I should have gone back. I move right instead of left. I was a man with two left feet and three right arms. It was like playing twister in a foreign language with a brutal case of AD/HD. That said, it was quite a bit of fun, and I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow.

Part of the reason I broke down and went is the constant hectoring from Liz, but more of it is related to my goal of getting rid of my tummy. As I said, I'm really quite strong in the core. None of the sit-upish movements were hard. I can crunch like Big Foot driving through a peanut brittle factory. And yet I have this little tummy. Reminds me of what small boys have, a rounded little belly--though mine is covered in hair, which makes it exactly 100% less cute. I'm not by any objective means overweight, or out of shape, but I'm in a strange shape. I have no arms or legs or chest, and yet and semi-strong. And then I have this tummy, this silly little bulge. It's quite odd. So I'll see what pilates has to offer me in this regard. I'll bend and twist and turn and caper and maybe I'll end up with a six-pack, if not, I'm sure I'll end up amusing my classmates. Nothing so funny as a hairly gangly man trying to pose and rock and suck in his belly.

Know when to run

So Kenny Rogers is by all observable evidence a big cheater-head. Granted, he's cheating in a time-honored way. In baseball cheating by doctoring the ball is common and it's given a tsk-tsk and ignored. But that's because people are rarely caught, and certainly even less frequently caught, uh..."mud handed," in the World Series.

Now, according to nearly everyone the substance on Kenny Rogers' hand is pine tar. It's useful for getting a better grip on the ball, and allows a pitcher to generate a little more velocity because of a tighter spin on the ball.

Rogers' claims that it was a patch of mud. Just simple mud that happened to be there and you know he never noticed it. Surely that explains the matter. I mean I was a pitcher in little league and many were the times when I'd be shocked to find out that I was wearing boxing gloves while pitching. Or I'd look down and realize I was holding a parasol. Things like that happened basically every start. Because how on earth could a pitcher be expected to know what was on his hand. They're rarely used in the performance of the duty, and surely in a game as important as home start in the World Series, Kenny Rogers wouldn't be focused on details such as his pitching hand. Instead I'm sure he was calculating the bond rating for the City of Boise, or crafting a rebuke to Nietzsche's notion of the ubermensch. You know things like that. But mud, or pine tar on his hands, never.

And then there is the little matter of the fact that he's had the same mud on the same hand in the same place for at least three starts-- including his last two. I have to strongly caution Kenny Rogers to avoid all contact with dirt. I suggest placing his hand in the case used by David Duchovny in Zoolander.

I guess there is another explanation, one that's so obvious that it's sad. Maybe the Detroit Tigers have been tragically skimping on their dugout budget and have a terrible shortage of toilet paper. I guess that's another explanation. I wonder if we'll hear that one. I wonder if Moises Alou can offer insight on these matters.

Ain't No Valley Low Enough

The RNC attacks Harold Ford. It's an emerging strategy. The RNC or similar committees release ads that are so offensive, so salacious, so ridiculous that the media covers the ads, gives them free air time. The media then has two talking heads on and tries to present the ads as a balanced news story. With one person arguing for logic, decency and truth and the other simply saying, "Well, it makes you wonder what kind of a person, so and so is." Then the reporter says, "Well, I guess it'll be up to the voter's to decide. And now for a check on your local commute..."



I wonder what it would be like if other news were covered like this.

REPORTER: A recent claim by Mr Williamson that what many call his "dog" is really a 140 million year old Apatosaurus has certainly inspired some lively discussion and worried the town of Oak Grove. Here to debate this matter are two experts. First Ellen Anderson, a person with eyes and an IQ capable of processing the information transmitted by their functioning rods and cones, and formulating into coherent mostly-syntactically correct English the observations they inspire. And on the other side a potted plant. However it should be noted the potted plant does have a Post-It note with the words, "sure it is, I mean look at him," written in crayon.

REPORTER: Ms. Anderson you claim that Mr. Williamson's pet, is a "dog." While he maintains that it is in point of fact an ancient dinosaur. What evidence can you muster to prove him wrong?

SANE PERSON: Well, let's see. Um, I looked at the dog. And it sure looks like a dog. In fact it looks exactly like a standard poodle. Oh, and I know that when I went to school we learned that the dinosaurs were extinct. And then just to be sure I wasn't misremembering I went online and looked up information about dinosaurs and sure enough, yup extinct. I did however learn that it's now an Apatosaurus and not a Brontosaurus, but either way, his dog isn't really what you'd call a dinosaur. It's more an eye-sore.

REPORTER: Interesting, and yet, Mr. Williamson has made the claim. And we've done some research about it. According to The Center for Being Clinically and Irredeemably Bat-Shit-Howl-at-the-Moon-Crazy, "Six out of toenail claims of dog-dinosaur transubstantiations are real by both objective and reactive as well as subtractive measures and additionally a still larger popcorn out of fishing lure percent of people who fail to see dinosaurs do so because they lack the unicorn gene which allows them to see in an extra dimension. Now to our other expert, a potted plant.

PLANT: (silence)

REPORTER: Let me see if I understand, you're saying, or rather sporting a Post-It that says, "sure it is, I mean look at him." Well clearly it's an assertion that has both sides very excited. I guess we'll have to leave it up to you to decide. There's just no way for us as a news organization to ever identify and publish objective truth. It's only through a back and forth debate between two opponents given equal credit and creedence that truth can ever surface.

How come?

How come, "It goes without saying" never actually results in "it went unsaid?"

Some geeky data analysis

So I took some time after work to analyze the various responses to the Color-Song challenge. Incidently, David G pulled out a remarkable 41 songs. Now, did he stick to the 5 minute limit, I don't know. He's an honorable guy, I figure it's unlikely he violated the rules.

So a couple of fun pieces of data from these songs and my little analysis:

Top 10 Most Commonly Listed Songs
Yellow submarine (13)
Paint it black (9)
Orange crush (8)
Purple haze (8)
purple rain (8)
Blue suede shoes (8)
Back in Black (7)
Mellow Yellow (6)
Yellow -Cold Play (5)
Yellow Ledbetter (5)

I also took a little bit of time to analyze the overlap between various people's lists. For instance the people with whom I overlap the most are: Michelle (9), David (9), Melissa (9)and ABJ (8). It makes sense that Michelle, Melissa and David would overlap a lot with me as they had the three highest scores, and therefor have the greatest likelihood of overlapping. But ABJ scored 19 which is in the middle tier. The mean being 21.4, and the median being between 19 and 22...making the mean and median pretty close. I guess being friends all these years, and living together Sophmore year might explain the overlap between ABJ and me--hell we even overlap initials, and sisters' names.

More fun facts
Of the 147 individuals songs listed 11 of them also included the word "eye." For those of you keeping track of the relative popularities of eye colors w/r/t song titles: Blue (5), Brown (2), green, red, black, and mixed all get one.

Another interesting thing to note is that certain colors are far more likely to inspire songs, or at least ones that we can remember. As you might imgagine Blue and Black lead the way, by a good margin. Here is a silly little bar chart indicating the number of songs for each color.

ROY G. BIV

Libby and I were chatting today and she mentioned that a friend made her a mix cd comprised (composed?) exclusively of songs with colors in the title. I shot back a couple of guesses as to the mix contents, turns out I didn't get a single one correct. Which means that there must be a lot of songs with colors in the name. So here's a little challenge for each of you. Open an email browser or word document. Give yourself 5 minutes and no other resources, and see how many songs with a color in the title you can come up with. In cases where there are several songs with same title indicate the artist. Then copy those songs and post them in the comments. I'm trusting everyone will be on the honor system and not spend extra time researching, asking for help or thinking about it. And I certainly trust that no one will read the comments before they make their list. It'll be be interesting to see which of my friends has the best range of both song recall, and color recall.

I'm betting on Brian or JKD. I think one of them might break 35. Then I'm betting on JJ, if he reads this, I'd figure he gets 30.

For what it's worth, in five minutes I came up with 24 (though I think some are likely no good). I think some of them may be erroneous. It's much harder than I would have expected.

If anyone gets above 30, you can color me impressed.

Negative.

I don't know that I'm particularly well versed in science. I think I have a passing understanding of some of the ideas. So I'm really dubious of this product. The product, Enviga is marketed by Coke and billed as being not low calorie, not no calorie, but negative calorie. The implication being that drinking this soda increases metabolic action and so three cans a day will burn between 60-100 calories.

I have a couple of problems with this. My first concern is scientific/semantic.
The claim that this beverage has negative calories, suggests that this product unlike any other concept I know of can possess the absence of something. Bread doesn't have negative cholesterol, rather it doesn't have cholesterol. You cannot state it affirmatively. It's the absence of a real thing, not the presence of a fake one.

Secondly, the name Enviga is just misleading. I assume it's supposed to be pronounced like envigorate, but as a friend of Silberman points out, that's exactly wrong, because given that calories are energy, this product will “help you lose energy!”

That's right, it's the opposite of RedBull. It's a Lethargic Drink. It's Lazy-ade.

Like Green Vegetables

So I'll admit that for most people making calls for political campaigns is not a hobby. It's not a recreational activity. It's something you do because it's good for the country. It's the equivalent of eating leafy green vegetables. You do it because experts tell you it will help you lead a better life.

Well I went to the DCCC (D-trip, if you're cool) last night and I piled on the veggies. Several of us decided that as DC residents we have to do something, and calling for candidates in other states is a good start. Now usually I'm a Senate snob, but with the Foley stuff, and the general momentum I think is spreading around the country more and more House races are in play than ever before. And thankfully a certain someone had the foresight to structure the DNC to focus on 50 states. Who could that be? Oh, right Howard Dean. How about that. So smart. So now that we have competitive races popping up like mushrooms on the shit of 6 years of Republican control---we need to get the volunteer army up and moving. There are new races being added to the list of competitive ones every day. We're making progress. But like good teams, good campaigns know that the best time to push harder is when your opponent is weakened. We need to capitalize on this energy and make it stick, otherwise the next two years will be even more awful than the past two.

All of which is to say...if you have free time go here and sign up to call. The calls are easy, the staff is well prepared (I say this with more than a little prior experience). Several friends and I are going this Tuesday. It's important stuff. If you don't live in DC, I'm sure there is a place near you that needs your help. If ever there was a time to become a band-wagon progressive it's now. Come aboard, volunteer, get yourself a button. Get invited to the victory party--but first make some calls and ensure it's a victory party.

Apparently in Iowa he Warner-ed out his welcome.

So even before he declared his bid for the Presidency Mark Warner is undeclaring. Man, that's a crummy exploratory committee. When you have to send a search party out for the exploratory committee, that's bad. Here's the thing, when you form one of these committees, you gotta get Marco Polo not Chris Columbus. Get someone who can do some real exploring, not wandering around.

But Mark Warner not running doesn't seem that bad to me. He's got a ton of cash he can spread around to other Prez candidates, or other races. He's still in the running for VP and he may well run in 2008 to fill the seat then vacated by John Warner. So that means we have a well funded, rational guy who decides to run for Senate. That's a fine thing. And it makes Virginia a more purple state for the Democratic Presidential nominee. These are all good things. In the end it looks like no one loses in this deal.

Maximus Ridiculous

While chatting with Shamik about his incredible desire to heckle a friend's email I wrote: On my command, unleash heckle. A sort of oblique reference to Russell Crowe in Gladiator: On my command, unleash hell.

So after Shamik admits it's a reference with which he is unfamiliar I decide to translate it for the MIT-inclined: On my command prompt, unleash DOS.

My pride at coming up with this little joke reminds me of a fitting Modest Mouse lyric, one that seems to apply to the situation-- "You should be ashamed to be so proud of what you've done."

The challenges of fitness.

"The trouble with jogging is that, by the time you realize you're not in shape for it, it's too far to walk back." Franklin P Jones

As though additional distractions were needed

As though I needed additional distractions, Rob just sent me a link to a website where you can play tons (250) of old Nintendo games. I played a little ExciteBike. Turns out it's far harder than I remember. And I'm quite bad at it. I guess it's a challenge to overcome.

I can see both my childhood and my workday flashing before my eyes. Sad, really.

I was always pretty bad at video games. I'm sure I'll still stink at TecmoBowl. I'll be bad at DoubleDragon. Though maybe I'll have retained my skills at MegaMan II. That and BaseballStars are the only games I was ever any good at. We shall see.

Hair today...gone tomorrow

So while trimming my beard this morning, I accidently went from taking 1/8th of an inch off to having just 1/8th of an inch left. Basically I was using my electic razor to clean up some stray hairs, and slipped up and lost a patch of beard about 1 inch wide by 2 inches long. This prompted my "decision" to shave the beard off. This means I again look like I'm twelve years old. Coupled with my new childish haircut I look awful. But what can you do. So I'll go barefaced for a while, and probably before too much longer I'll neglect the facial hair and it will grow into a might roaring torrent of beardly excess. But for now I'll accept getting carded and asked whether I'm in Cub Scouts and how my Tee-ball team did this season.

Alas.

Limbo in Limbo

The Pope just "abolished" (strange choice of words) the concept of limbo. Now unbaptised babies don't go to hell. Like dogs, all babies go to heaven, which is great, I'm all for it.

Pope Benedict XVI, after deliberation by Vatican theologians, is abolishing the concept of Limbo that put the souls of unbaptized infants at risk.

While it was never a formal part of the church's doctrine, the existence of Limbo was taught until recently to Catholics around the world, The Times of London said. Limbo was described in Britain as "a place of rest where the souls of the just who died before Christ were detained."

So this begs a couple of questions in my mind.

1. What does the church believes happens to all those good souls who lived before Christ. They used to be stuck in limbo. Is the church saying they never were? Is the church saying that now that the Pope has made this decree that they're all rushing up to Heaven? Won't that make it tough for St. Peter to sort through everyone. Do they get a handstamp for re-entry in the event the next Pope re-establishes limbo?

2. So all babies go to heaven. Doesn't that erase original sin? When do babies start sinning now? Is it the first time they spit up on mommy's new cashmere sweater right before she and daddy go to the Opera? Is it the first time they pee on the person changing their diaper? How about when they start singing the Wiggles?

3. Limbo a concept based on no tangible evidence, a notion created through faith is now overturned. How does that argument work? It's amazing to just decide that something based on faith doesn't exist. What evidence do you use to argue that something that never had evidence in the first place is no longer true. Turns out our belief that God has a beard is wrong. Now we believe that God must have a goatee and an eyebrow ring. Why? Um, because it was revealed through careful reading of ancient scriptures, and our local tattoo artist screwed up my girlfriend's tat and that's what the God looks like on her lower back.


UPDATE

4. From Liz's friend Paige:

And Liz, before I read the article, I had this great image of the pope standing next to a limbo line screaming, "No! No! I prohibit you from seeing how low you can go!"

I wanted to make a joke about that kind of limbo and just couldn't. This is perfect.

Regionals

I'll try to write more about Regionals. It was an amazing weekend, filled with emotion, laughter, highs and lows. It was everything I love about this sport and the people who play it. These two photos from the weekend seem to best encapsulate why I love the sport.

The first is Chris Shulze making an amazing catch over, under, around the through defenders. He eventually comes down with this score. He's an incredible athlete, and a really swell teammate. It's nice to have him around, to be sure.



The second photo, also from the game against Hooray is of me hugging Liz. Those who know me will appreciate the image. It's the emotion, the friendship, the concern and the love of your teammates--that's the fundamental part of the game for me. That spirit, that community, it means everything. I think this photo captures that feeling pretty well.