Overheard at kung fu.
Shifu: "You're assisting a face plant here. Some people plant roses. We plant faces."
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Senator Bennet's Reply to My Concern About the TSA
Dear Rachael:
Thank you for contacting me regarding the new Transportation Security Administration (TSA) security procedures for airline passengers. I appreciate hearing from you.
I am committed to ensuring that TSA has the resources it needs to keep our airports secure. We face serious threats to our airport security and must ensure law enforcement has the tools it needs to do its job. With that said, we must not unnecessarily surrender our individual right to privacy.
As you may know, TSA was established under the Bush Administration as part of the Aviation and Transportation Security Act in 2001 as a response to the September 11th terrorist attacks. TSA is responsible for screening all passengers and all checked and carry-on baggage in all major U.S. airports in order to prevent another potential terrorist attack.
As part of TSA's overall approach to improving the detection of explosives and non-metallic weapons at passenger screening checkpoints, it is currently exploring the use of whole-body imaging technologies for detecting concealed items carried by passengers. Whole-body imaging scanning devices offer an integrated approach to passenger screening insofar as these technologies can reveal concealed items carried on a person, including traditional metallic weapons, non-metallic weapons and explosive devices. TSA reports that all images captured by the scanners are deleted from any of its facilities or records immediately upon viewing and cannot be stored, exported, printed, or transmitted. Also, the officer assisting the passenger cannot view the image, and the officer viewing the image never sees the passenger.
In addition, TSA offers an alternative for passengers who prefer not to use the full-body scanners. The alternative procedure, a search by a TSA security officer of the same gender as the passenger, has caused public angst as some feel it is overly intrusive. According to TSA, these procedures have only been used on three percent of passengers. My office has been briefed by TSA on these procedures and we will continue to closely monitor how the agency responds to potential threats with a special eye towards the privacy rights of passengers.
It is my view that a cornerstone of training TSA officers must be comprehensive sensitivity training. Americans entrust medical professionals and law enforcement officers because they are trained professionals. We should be able to reach that same level of trust with airport security officials too.
If you would like to pass on concerns to TSA regarding your experience, you may submit written complaints at the checkpoint, which are referred to the airport’s Customer Service Manager for appropriate follow-up. You may also contact the TSA Contact Center by e-mailing TSA-ContactCenter@dhs.gov or calling 1-866-289-9673.
To help aid the TSA in investigating any matter, you can file a complaint and include the airport, date and time of travel, and any other pertinent information. For those with privacy concerns about whole-body imaging: please see http://www.tsa.gov/approach/tech/ait/privacy.shtm, or health concerns: http://www.tsa.gov/approach/tech/ait/safety.shtm. For general information, please visit: http://www.tsa.gov/travelers/airtravel/screening_experience.shtm.
I value the input of fellow Coloradans in considering the wide variety of important issues and legislative initiatives that come before the Senate. I hope you will continue to inform me of your thoughts and concerns.
For more information about my priorities as a U.S. Senator, I invite you to visit my website at http://bennet.senate.gov/. Again, thank you for contacting me.
Sincerely,
Michael Bennet
United States Senator
So basically, I'm getting: "The naked scanners are okay because the pictures are deleted and the person who gets to look at them is in another room anyway, and those patdowns you all are whining about are only 3% of travelers anyway. So it's no big deal. Suck it up."
Thanks, Senator Bennet. It reminds me that voting for you was really just voting against Ken Buck for being a total misogynist nut. Glad to know that assaultive patdowns as a form of punishment for opting out of the creepy scanners are okay when it's only a few people getting them. And that you think complete invasion and trauma can somehow be fixed by sensitivity training.
You know what? I'll trust the TSA employees like I trust other professionals when you start training them and paying them like professionals. And you also seem to be under the mistaken impression that no medical or law enforcement professional has ever abused the public trust and it's not something we should worry our pretty little heads about.
GRRRRR.
The Expendables
Toward the end of this movie, there's an odd scene that takes place in the passenger area of the Expendables' ass-kicking cargo plane of doom, where the token black guy (Terry Crews) shows off his weapons to one of his fellow mercenaries. His final weapon is an extremely shiny straight razor with a handle made of transparent, neon-yellow plastic. The sight of that weapon literally made me say, "What the fuck?"
This is pretty much a metaphor for the entire movie experience.
I really wanted to like this movie. I really did. It had the hallmarks of the ridiculous but fun action flick. Kind of like The Scorpion King, a movie that I like in a sort of shame-filled way.
There was a good amount of fake, spraying blood. There was a gun that, at the beginning of the movie, literally tore someone in half and left the legs comically standing alone for a moment while the torso splattered against a wall. There were a dizzying array of knives (most of them wielded by Jason Statham's character) which were apparently made with steel with such a strong anti-reality resonance that bone simply ceased to exist as soon as it contacted the blade.
But. But.
I don't ask for a lot of plot out of my action movies. But I do like what little plot there is to be, I don't know, coherent.
The Expendables feels less like a film and more like a series of loosely collected scenes that have been arranged randomly. And all of the dialog was drawn, half a line at a time, from a box. I think that some of the scenes were supposed to be character development. Instead, it normally amounted to two characters saying random things to each other for about three minutes, at which point the spraying blood and explosions would mercifully resume.
I wish I could give you a plot summary, but I really can't. The best I can manage is that Stallone and his group are mercenaries. Except one of them burns out and goes crazy and tries to kill Stallone in the middle of the movie, after miraculously transporting himself to and from the tiny Latin American island hell hole where the Evil General lives. There is a douchey guy in a suit, who I initially guessed must be an American politician; I was close, he was an ex-FBI agent gone evil. There was the crazy general, who spent most of his time oscillating randomly between spanish and nonsensical English. He is sort of the pawn of the douchey suit guy, who wants him to grow drugs, or something, except nothing is getting done because the general's soldiers keep kidnapping civilians and then not putting them to work in the plantations. There was the evil general's daughter, who was Stallone's love interest. There was Charisma Carpenter as Jason Statham's girlfriend, causing a strange little sideplot where Mr. Statham beats the ever-loving shit out of a bunch of jerks on a basketball court.
The movie culminates in an orgy of gunfire, stabbing, and explosions, where the douchey suit guy shoots the general and then tries to kidnap his daughter for no apparent reason, despite the fact that earlier in the movie he was all for just killing her and having done with it. And I can't even say the spraying bullets and blood were all that interesting, because on several occasions during the climactic action sequence the focus was jumping between three or four individual fight scenes with no logic or warning.
That's also how the two major car chase scenes go as well. They actually become boring because it's impossible to tell where the vehicles are relative to each other, and it's really just an unnecessary pause in the bloodletting anyway.
The movie is an exercise in wasted potential. Jet Li appears in the film, but spends most of his time getting his ass handed to him by much taller white guys. Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger appear in the movie for a combined total of five minutes and then, no doubt feeling the threat to their careers, never appear again. Mickey Rourke plays a tattoo artist who was presumably once a mercenary himself - he's quite good at throwing knives - but spends most of his time trying to develop a character that is wholly uninvolved in the plot (such as it is) and has about as much depth and charm as Sarah Palin anyway.
The movie doesn't so much end as drop in its tracks, exhausted by its own meaningless existence, with Statham making up a "poem" that had me trying to crawl between the couch cushions to escape it.
You will notice that at no point do I name any of the characters. This is because, over the course of the movie, I simply could not be bothered to learn them. The names, like the characters themselves, felt like an afterthought, a formality added to the mix to justify this as a movie rather than one hundred minutes of random people getting shot and stabbed and blown up.
Before it was over, I tried to convince myself that The Expendables was some sort of high-level satire of the action genre. What convinced me this couldn't be possible was a scene in the middle of the movie where the general's daughter is waterboarded by the douchey suit guy. That one scene in the midst of the ridiculous mess of a movie was disturbing and strong. And it also made me realize that, to a certain extent, the movie was meant seriously. Which somehow makes it worse.
We don't ask much of our action movies, but this one fails on all counts. You're better off watching nearly any other movie that any of these actors have been in. My personal recommendation would be Die Hard. Or, failing that, you'll still get better quality story and acting from - and it pains me to say this - The Scorpion King.
This is pretty much a metaphor for the entire movie experience.
I really wanted to like this movie. I really did. It had the hallmarks of the ridiculous but fun action flick. Kind of like The Scorpion King, a movie that I like in a sort of shame-filled way.
There was a good amount of fake, spraying blood. There was a gun that, at the beginning of the movie, literally tore someone in half and left the legs comically standing alone for a moment while the torso splattered against a wall. There were a dizzying array of knives (most of them wielded by Jason Statham's character) which were apparently made with steel with such a strong anti-reality resonance that bone simply ceased to exist as soon as it contacted the blade.
But. But.
I don't ask for a lot of plot out of my action movies. But I do like what little plot there is to be, I don't know, coherent.
The Expendables feels less like a film and more like a series of loosely collected scenes that have been arranged randomly. And all of the dialog was drawn, half a line at a time, from a box. I think that some of the scenes were supposed to be character development. Instead, it normally amounted to two characters saying random things to each other for about three minutes, at which point the spraying blood and explosions would mercifully resume.
I wish I could give you a plot summary, but I really can't. The best I can manage is that Stallone and his group are mercenaries. Except one of them burns out and goes crazy and tries to kill Stallone in the middle of the movie, after miraculously transporting himself to and from the tiny Latin American island hell hole where the Evil General lives. There is a douchey guy in a suit, who I initially guessed must be an American politician; I was close, he was an ex-FBI agent gone evil. There was the crazy general, who spent most of his time oscillating randomly between spanish and nonsensical English. He is sort of the pawn of the douchey suit guy, who wants him to grow drugs, or something, except nothing is getting done because the general's soldiers keep kidnapping civilians and then not putting them to work in the plantations. There was the evil general's daughter, who was Stallone's love interest. There was Charisma Carpenter as Jason Statham's girlfriend, causing a strange little sideplot where Mr. Statham beats the ever-loving shit out of a bunch of jerks on a basketball court.
The movie culminates in an orgy of gunfire, stabbing, and explosions, where the douchey suit guy shoots the general and then tries to kidnap his daughter for no apparent reason, despite the fact that earlier in the movie he was all for just killing her and having done with it. And I can't even say the spraying bullets and blood were all that interesting, because on several occasions during the climactic action sequence the focus was jumping between three or four individual fight scenes with no logic or warning.
That's also how the two major car chase scenes go as well. They actually become boring because it's impossible to tell where the vehicles are relative to each other, and it's really just an unnecessary pause in the bloodletting anyway.
The movie is an exercise in wasted potential. Jet Li appears in the film, but spends most of his time getting his ass handed to him by much taller white guys. Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger appear in the movie for a combined total of five minutes and then, no doubt feeling the threat to their careers, never appear again. Mickey Rourke plays a tattoo artist who was presumably once a mercenary himself - he's quite good at throwing knives - but spends most of his time trying to develop a character that is wholly uninvolved in the plot (such as it is) and has about as much depth and charm as Sarah Palin anyway.
The movie doesn't so much end as drop in its tracks, exhausted by its own meaningless existence, with Statham making up a "poem" that had me trying to crawl between the couch cushions to escape it.
You will notice that at no point do I name any of the characters. This is because, over the course of the movie, I simply could not be bothered to learn them. The names, like the characters themselves, felt like an afterthought, a formality added to the mix to justify this as a movie rather than one hundred minutes of random people getting shot and stabbed and blown up.
Before it was over, I tried to convince myself that The Expendables was some sort of high-level satire of the action genre. What convinced me this couldn't be possible was a scene in the middle of the movie where the general's daughter is waterboarded by the douchey suit guy. That one scene in the midst of the ridiculous mess of a movie was disturbing and strong. And it also made me realize that, to a certain extent, the movie was meant seriously. Which somehow makes it worse.
We don't ask much of our action movies, but this one fails on all counts. You're better off watching nearly any other movie that any of these actors have been in. My personal recommendation would be Die Hard. Or, failing that, you'll still get better quality story and acting from - and it pains me to say this - The Scorpion King.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Addendum to the TSA Post
Just a quick one, but I think this is very worth reading: TSA Enhanced Pat Downs: the Screener's Point of View
The basic point is, some TSA employees are incredibly unhappy with this situation as well. Which I'm not surprised about; I don't think most employees of the TSA are there because they get their jollies being jerks to travelers.
This doesn't mean that I'm changing my opinion about the porno scanners or assaulting patdowns. If anything, I am angrier. In effect, the TSA's rules have created a situation where both parties end up feeling violated, and have created a rapidly deteriorating atmosphere of hostility between screeners and travelers. How lovely. I'm sure that makes for some effective airport security.
And it's great for pilots too, apparently.
So who exactly is this supposed to be helping? Other than the backscatter scanner manufacturer. Can't forget about them.
The basic point is, some TSA employees are incredibly unhappy with this situation as well. Which I'm not surprised about; I don't think most employees of the TSA are there because they get their jollies being jerks to travelers.
This doesn't mean that I'm changing my opinion about the porno scanners or assaulting patdowns. If anything, I am angrier. In effect, the TSA's rules have created a situation where both parties end up feeling violated, and have created a rapidly deteriorating atmosphere of hostility between screeners and travelers. How lovely. I'm sure that makes for some effective airport security.
And it's great for pilots too, apparently.
So who exactly is this supposed to be helping? Other than the backscatter scanner manufacturer. Can't forget about them.
Adding Disqus
I'm not overly thrilled with how Blogger handles commenting (sadly, I think LJ does a much better job) so I'm giving Disqus a whirl. I've installed the widget now. So if it looks like all the comments on this blog have disappeared, it's not that I hate you and want to censor you (please, just pick one), or that Loki took over everything this morning and decided that you are all a giant distraction that's keeping me from paying enough attention to him. It's that I'm still in the process of trying to import them over to Disqus. Just so you know.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
TSA - "Total Sexual Assault"
The more I hear about the TSA porno scanners and their crotch-grabbing "enhanced pat downs," the more nervous I am about flying out to England in December. Because you know what? I am not okay with a wage slave in a booth looking at a ghostly image of me in my altogether. I am not willing to just trust them when they say that all the images are immediately deleted. I am also not okay with a TSA agent touching my breasts or my lady bits. No one but me, my husband, or my doctor gets access to those. And for the record, I am likewise not okay with a TSA agent touching my husband's junk. Period.
I got patted down once in Heathrow airport. It didn't bother me. The security agent also assiduously avoided my naughty bits. And contrary to popular belief, I did not in fact blow up our flight home that year. Imagine that.
Making us take off our shoes and throw away our water bottles was already pointless security theater, trying to thwart specific attacks that had already been thwarted. This is a step beyond security theater. For most of us, this is an exceptionally creepy, upsetting invasion of privacy. For those who are survivors of sexual assault, it's nothing short of inhumane.
I agree with Janiece. This is the point where we all tug our shirts straight and get some Captain in us. And by that, as she said, I mean Captain Picard:
I don't know what the environment of the DIA security checkpoint is going to be like in December. I don't know if they have the naked picture show installed there, or if they'll be insisting on the grope fest if you look at them funny. Maybe I'll get lucky and the giant, loud protest over this government-sanctioned assault will just get bigger and louder and it'll all be fixed by the time I'm flying. But I'm not counting on it. I'm already planning to be at the airport several hours earlier than normal, in case I feel it necessary to make a scene. So if I'm absent for Pat's amazing teeny sausages wrapped in bacon at Christmas this year, this little corner of the internet will know why.
I love Mike's family, and I love our friends in Brighton, and I want to see them. But the price for that should not be letting a stranger stick their hand in my crotch.
If you need a little levity to get around all the sexual assault, here's Next Animation's take on the issue. I don't recommend watching it while drinking anything.
I got patted down once in Heathrow airport. It didn't bother me. The security agent also assiduously avoided my naughty bits. And contrary to popular belief, I did not in fact blow up our flight home that year. Imagine that.
Making us take off our shoes and throw away our water bottles was already pointless security theater, trying to thwart specific attacks that had already been thwarted. This is a step beyond security theater. For most of us, this is an exceptionally creepy, upsetting invasion of privacy. For those who are survivors of sexual assault, it's nothing short of inhumane.
I agree with Janiece. This is the point where we all tug our shirts straight and get some Captain in us. And by that, as she said, I mean Captain Picard:
We've made too many compromises already, too many retreats. They invade our space, and we fall back...Not again. The line must be drawn here! This far and no further!
I don't know what the environment of the DIA security checkpoint is going to be like in December. I don't know if they have the naked picture show installed there, or if they'll be insisting on the grope fest if you look at them funny. Maybe I'll get lucky and the giant, loud protest over this government-sanctioned assault will just get bigger and louder and it'll all be fixed by the time I'm flying. But I'm not counting on it. I'm already planning to be at the airport several hours earlier than normal, in case I feel it necessary to make a scene. So if I'm absent for Pat's amazing teeny sausages wrapped in bacon at Christmas this year, this little corner of the internet will know why.
I love Mike's family, and I love our friends in Brighton, and I want to see them. But the price for that should not be letting a stranger stick their hand in my crotch.
If you need a little levity to get around all the sexual assault, here's Next Animation's take on the issue. I don't recommend watching it while drinking anything.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Coming Soon to an Internet Near You!
Exciting times! I've signed two contracts in the last week, so I'll have two short stories in print (of the real or digital variety) soon!
Transportation has found a home with Anotherealm. I'll know when it'll be appearing around Christmas, when they put up their new lineup.
The Falling Star will be appearing in Aurora Wolf's New Fairy Tales Anthology. I don't have an exact date on that either, though the publisher wants the anthology in print before Christmas. I'll post as soon as there's a firm date or when the anthology is available for purchase.
The long-suffering Isaac has finished his second go-through of Throne of Nightmares so my goal is to give it one last polish and start querying agents before the new year. Wish me luck!
Transportation has found a home with Anotherealm. I'll know when it'll be appearing around Christmas, when they put up their new lineup.
The Falling Star will be appearing in Aurora Wolf's New Fairy Tales Anthology. I don't have an exact date on that either, though the publisher wants the anthology in print before Christmas. I'll post as soon as there's a firm date or when the anthology is available for purchase.
The long-suffering Isaac has finished his second go-through of Throne of Nightmares so my goal is to give it one last polish and start querying agents before the new year. Wish me luck!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Woo at CU: The Everything Has a Price Edition
No fun name for this post, since it's short and sweet. Stuart has the dirt over at his blog.
A friend of ours let us know that there's an article about the magical "because ions makes it sound sciency!" wrist bands at the Sports Business Journal. Unfortunately, the article is hidden behinda paywall. But here's the salient point, thanks to the magic of google caching:
Now, I'm going to guess that the seven-figure thing is probably a couple of deals to encompass all of the schools, rather than per school. But still, it's a significant wad of cash involved, and that's probably why we're being told not to worry our pretty little heads about how it looks for a major research university to be promoting magical silicone bracelets that sell for something like $30. I guess infusing the material with all those "ions" is what cranks up the price.
Also?
You know, I never realized how much it actually hurts to try to laugh and sob at the same time. Until now. Official supplier of ion-infused products indeed! What next, an official university supplier of magical fairy dust? An official university supplier of wishful thinking? Or maybe just an official supplier of unicorns that fart rainbows?
I would totally buy one of those, by the way. My car's about to crap out, and I hear those babies get amazing fuel mileage and don't pollute at all.
A friend of ours let us know that there's an article about the magical "because ions makes it sound sciency!" wrist bands at the Sports Business Journal. Unfortunately, the article is hidden behinda paywall. But here's the salient point, thanks to the magic of google caching:
The seven-figure deals were each negotiated through the two leading multimedia rights agencies in the college space, IMG College and Learfield Sports, which will give Power Force marketing and media rights at most of the nation’s top colleges.
Now, I'm going to guess that the seven-figure thing is probably a couple of deals to encompass all of the schools, rather than per school. But still, it's a significant wad of cash involved, and that's probably why we're being told not to worry our pretty little heads about how it looks for a major research university to be promoting magical silicone bracelets that sell for something like $30. I guess infusing the material with all those "ions" is what cranks up the price.
Also?
On each of the campuses where Power Force made a deal, it will be recognized as the official supplier or preferred supplier of ion-infused products.
You know, I never realized how much it actually hurts to try to laugh and sob at the same time. Until now. Official supplier of ion-infused products indeed! What next, an official university supplier of magical fairy dust? An official university supplier of wishful thinking? Or maybe just an official supplier of unicorns that fart rainbows?
I would totally buy one of those, by the way. My car's about to crap out, and I hear those babies get amazing fuel mileage and don't pollute at all.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Woo at CU 2: Electric Boogaloo
Remember a week or so ago, when I was unleashing my amazing Powers of Sarcasm on the topic of Powerforce bands being sold with the CU logo? I've gotten a reply, and I thought I would share it with the internets.
To review: Powerforce power bands? Still total bullshit. Still claiming that "ions" are going to "give you confidence from within."
Reply to the e-mail I sent to the Chancellor's office:
I believe that, in legal circles, this is what's known as "the novelty item defense." Right up there with "the metaphor" defense.
Rather than write a completely separate blog entry, I thought I would simply publicly repost the reply I sent to Mr. Hilliard a few minutes ago. While I admit that I would dearly love to say some snarky, snarky things, I don't think that would be fair to Mr. Hilliard, who has been very polite to me.
HOWEVER. If you can't survive without your daily requirement of snark on this one, Please see Stuart's blog. He has taken up the baton of sarcasm and run with it most admirably.
I will admit that when I first read Mr. Hilliard's point about the other universities involved with this "novelty item," I heard my mother's voice very clearly in my head, asking me, "If all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?"
Hm, do ions help you develop psychic powers?
To review: Powerforce power bands? Still total bullshit. Still claiming that "ions" are going to "give you confidence from within."
Reply to the e-mail I sent to the Chancellor's office:
Dear Rachael:
Allow me to answer your query regarding the University’s athletic marketing of the “Power Force” Power Band.
First, let me explain that the previous response that went out to a few individuals who e-mailed Chancellor DiStefano was supposed to be a reply on behalf of the chancellor by a staff member in our Buffalo Sports Properties office, not a reply from the chancellor himself. I apologize for the way the reply was worded – it was confusing as to who the author actually was.
Regarding your query: members of the senior administration staff have carefully reviewed your concerns, looked into the University’s contract with the company that markets the bands, examined our peer universities’ relationships with the company, and reached the following conclusions:
· As you suggest, the claims of the company regarding the efficacy of the band aren’t based on firm scientific ground. However, the band is being marketed by through the athletic department as a novelty with affinity- inspired athletic branding that is unique to CU Athletics. The symbol it uses – the charging Ralphie – represents CU sports teams, not the university as a whole, and certainly not its research entities.
· In the same spirit, our sports-labeled products include everything from sweat bands to golf tees to lawn gnomes. These are all designed to create affinity and build school spirit, not to be literal representations of the University and its academic work.
· Likewise, the company is offering the same Powerforce Power Bands for universities that include Cal, Penn State, Missouri, Pitt and a host of other peer schools. These are quality institutions that, like us, have elected to promote a novelty item with an athletic logo for affinity and commercial purposes.
I appreciate your concern and that of your fellow graduate students and other skeptics. Your respect for science and the scientific method is manifest inyour concern, and your dedication to advancing our highest academic values is impressive.
We do not believe in the end, however, that novelty items like the “Power Force Power Band” are threats to these values.
Sincerely,
Bronson R. Hilliard, director of media relations and spokesperson
University of Colorado at Boulder
I believe that, in legal circles, this is what's known as "the novelty item defense." Right up there with "the metaphor" defense.
Rather than write a completely separate blog entry, I thought I would simply publicly repost the reply I sent to Mr. Hilliard a few minutes ago. While I admit that I would dearly love to say some snarky, snarky things, I don't think that would be fair to Mr. Hilliard, who has been very polite to me.
HOWEVER. If you can't survive without your daily requirement of snark on this one, Please see Stuart's blog. He has taken up the baton of sarcasm and run with it most admirably.
Thank you for taking the time to respond to my e-mail. I would like to address a few of the points that you've made, so please indulge me in that.
[Snip: Mr. Hilliard's point about Ralphie representing the athletics teams rather than the academic departments.]
My impression has always been that in the public view, the sports teams and the university are inextricably linked. The student athletes that make up our teams are just that - students as well as athletes. In many ways, what sports teams do and promote can represent the school in some very profound ways. At an extreme, bad behavior by student athletes (eg: assaults, etc) can reflect extremely poorly upon whatever school that athlete belongs to. I bring this example up not because I would in any way equate a violent assault with the promotion of a pseudoscientific product, but more to exemplify my view that the athletic team of a university is not necessarily viewed as a completely separate entity.
And likewise, while Ralphie is most assuredly the emblem of the athletics teams, he is likewise associated completely with the name of the University of Colorado at Boulder. I think that it's important to note that those of us here primarily for academic pursuits still have a certain level of team spirit and affection for our mascot. We don't view Ralphie as the property of the athletic department alone and completely separate from us either. School spirit is school spirit, whether we are taking pride in CU because we're fans of the football team or because we're building a mission to Mars - or both.
[Snip: Mr. Hilliard's point about novelty items.]
I think the salient point here, however, is that neither golf tees nor lawn gnomes are claiming to power one's "inner force" with "ions." There are novelty items, and there are novelty items.
Items that tacitly promote nonscientific or pseudoscientific ideas often get a pass with the label of "novelty item" - dowsing pendants, Ouija boards, and some very questionable medical devices spring to mind here. While many people doubtless consider pendants and Ouija boards to be nothing but silly novelties, it's also undeniable that some people do take these items, and their claims very seriously. Sometimes to their very real harm. Another example of this would be ear candles, which have not been approved for medical use by the FDA but can still be sold (with a nod and a wink) as "novelty items."
My concern here is, if we are going to promote the sale of a "novelty item" that makes such a questionable claim, where will the line be drawn?
[Snip: Mr. Hilliard's point about the other universities.]
I actually find it quite distressing that such prestigious universities are associating themselves with this company and its carefully non-specific but nonetheless embarrassingly unscientific claims. I also feel like I have less standing to voice a complaint to the faculty at those schools, as I am not a student there.
That Penn State or Cal have decided to promote an item such as this should, I think, not be a justification for CU to do so as well. Rather, this could be an opportunity for CU to lead the way in standing on principles of both scientific rigor and team spirit. We can show our team and school pride in many ways (even with the occasional lawn gnome) while subtly brandishing out academic credentials as well.
Again, I think you for your time.
I will admit that when I first read Mr. Hilliard's point about the other universities involved with this "novelty item," I heard my mother's voice very clearly in my head, asking me, "If all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?"
Hm, do ions help you develop psychic powers?
Friday, November 05, 2010
Second Chances
You may recall that back in July, Isaac helped me get a cat out of a tree. I tried to shove the poor, frightened animal into a carrier then, and it escaped. I kept an eye out for the cat after that, and thought I might have seen it a couple of times, but it was always far too wary.
A week ago, the kids that live next door told me there was a cat, hiding under one of the cars in our parking lot. It was the same cat. It was wary, frightened, skittish, but it also wasn't running away like it had been. I went inside and grabbed a bowl of cat food. Despite the fear, despite the little kids that were trying desperately to help and in reality only getting in the way and scaring the poor thing more, it came out from under the car and started eating. And eating. One of the kids went and got it a bowl of water, and it sucked half the water down.
The cat was the same one Isaac helped me get out of the tree. It was also rail thin, with big awkward feet that would have been white if its fur weren't so filthy. After it sucked down one bowl of food, the cat let me pet it, and even managed a rusty, uncertain purr and a sad, squeaky little meow.
Mike wasn't that happy when I dragged him outside to see the cat. He's always been more pragmatic than me. I was all for dragging the little cat into our house right that instant. He pointed out that it might have FIV, or feline leukemia, or fleas, or who knows what else. But he also knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep, just leaving the little one outside. My next door neighbor was in the same situation; she has two other cats as well, and he husband wouldn't have been happy to suddenly acquire a third.
So Mike and I made a deal; we'd take the cat to the emergency vet, have it checked out, and then we could keep it overnight in the spare room so I could take it to the shelter the next day.
The cat turned out to be a she, was 6-8 months old, and got a clean bill of health other than being incredibly thin - just six pounds. We sat in the chilly exam room while the vet took the cat to the back room to the quick tests for FIV and leukemia, and I sent a text message to Evan, one of my fellow grad students. He'd mentioned that he wanted a cat. I told him that I'd found one, and the first thing he asked was, "Aw, is she cute?"
For the last week, she's been living in my spare room. I've spent time with her every morning, and when I come home, and before I go to bed. She has a purr twice as big as her body, and a meow like a rusty gate. I've been just calling her Squeaker. She's sweet and loving, but also skittish; it's not hard to imagine how hard her life must have been up until now. She loves to be petted, to lean against my leg and purr. She doesn't know quite how to play right with humans, and gets a little bitey. I'm glad that Evan decided to take her. After just a day, I don't think I could have taken her to a shelter. But I can let her go to a good home.
Evan's going to make a good dad for a skinny little cat that needs a lot of love. He decided to name her Shiraz (hopefully I spelled that right). When he loaded her into his car a couple of hours ago, she was wailing and carrying on. It's hard, not being able to explain to someone that their life is about to get better, so much better.
So tonight the cat we dragged out of a tree four months ago went to her forever home. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm already missing her, but the two brats are already much happier without another cat lurking behind a closed door. I'd also be lying if I didn't admit I was crying, just a little, right now. But I think I'll get to see her again soon, in her new home.
I don't think that second chances in life are all that uncommon. They happen all the time, little opportunities to correct mistakes or backtrack on bad decisions. But I also think that the second chance to save a life, even a small, humble life, doesn't come around all that often.
A week ago, the kids that live next door told me there was a cat, hiding under one of the cars in our parking lot. It was the same cat. It was wary, frightened, skittish, but it also wasn't running away like it had been. I went inside and grabbed a bowl of cat food. Despite the fear, despite the little kids that were trying desperately to help and in reality only getting in the way and scaring the poor thing more, it came out from under the car and started eating. And eating. One of the kids went and got it a bowl of water, and it sucked half the water down.
The cat was the same one Isaac helped me get out of the tree. It was also rail thin, with big awkward feet that would have been white if its fur weren't so filthy. After it sucked down one bowl of food, the cat let me pet it, and even managed a rusty, uncertain purr and a sad, squeaky little meow.
Mike wasn't that happy when I dragged him outside to see the cat. He's always been more pragmatic than me. I was all for dragging the little cat into our house right that instant. He pointed out that it might have FIV, or feline leukemia, or fleas, or who knows what else. But he also knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep, just leaving the little one outside. My next door neighbor was in the same situation; she has two other cats as well, and he husband wouldn't have been happy to suddenly acquire a third.
So Mike and I made a deal; we'd take the cat to the emergency vet, have it checked out, and then we could keep it overnight in the spare room so I could take it to the shelter the next day.
The cat turned out to be a she, was 6-8 months old, and got a clean bill of health other than being incredibly thin - just six pounds. We sat in the chilly exam room while the vet took the cat to the back room to the quick tests for FIV and leukemia, and I sent a text message to Evan, one of my fellow grad students. He'd mentioned that he wanted a cat. I told him that I'd found one, and the first thing he asked was, "Aw, is she cute?"
For the last week, she's been living in my spare room. I've spent time with her every morning, and when I come home, and before I go to bed. She has a purr twice as big as her body, and a meow like a rusty gate. I've been just calling her Squeaker. She's sweet and loving, but also skittish; it's not hard to imagine how hard her life must have been up until now. She loves to be petted, to lean against my leg and purr. She doesn't know quite how to play right with humans, and gets a little bitey. I'm glad that Evan decided to take her. After just a day, I don't think I could have taken her to a shelter. But I can let her go to a good home.
Evan's going to make a good dad for a skinny little cat that needs a lot of love. He decided to name her Shiraz (hopefully I spelled that right). When he loaded her into his car a couple of hours ago, she was wailing and carrying on. It's hard, not being able to explain to someone that their life is about to get better, so much better.
So tonight the cat we dragged out of a tree four months ago went to her forever home. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm already missing her, but the two brats are already much happier without another cat lurking behind a closed door. I'd also be lying if I didn't admit I was crying, just a little, right now. But I think I'll get to see her again soon, in her new home.
I don't think that second chances in life are all that uncommon. They happen all the time, little opportunities to correct mistakes or backtrack on bad decisions. But I also think that the second chance to save a life, even a small, humble life, doesn't come around all that often.
Enough With the Zombie Hamburgers
A while ago, there was a rash of postings all over the internets about the sinister Happy Meal That Would Not Die or the utterly disturbing McDonald's hamburger that had been preserved since, I don't know, the last ice age or something. The conclusion of the woman with the ancient hamburger is:
Note: everything is made of chemicals. Everything.
This even got a mention on Skeptic's Guide to the Universe (#274), with many a good hypothesis as to why a hamburger might act this way. It was something that definitely could be tested scientifically, and no one had bothered.
Until now.
This is why I love, love, love reading Serious Eats. Some of the contributors are made of 100% pure WIN.
Read the post, but the punchline is that the author made his own ("all-natural") hamburger the same size as the McDonald's one and set them head to head. They both dehydrated nicely and turned into hamburger jerky. This comes as no surprise to anyone who doesn't ascribe to the idea that McDonald's is trying to destroy the world by feeding everyone food made out of plastic. Or whatever.
Of course, it's a small sample size and yadda yadda. We must need some replication! It sounds like an awesome way to flavor the air of your house with the stench of old hamburger. This would, I think, make an EXCELLENT science fair experiment for a kid with extremely tolerant parents.
Good on you, J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. Good on you, Serious Eats. You get a skeptic gold star today.
Ladies, Gentleman, and children alike – this is a chemical food. There is absolutely no nutrition here.
Note: everything is made of chemicals. Everything.
This even got a mention on Skeptic's Guide to the Universe (#274), with many a good hypothesis as to why a hamburger might act this way. It was something that definitely could be tested scientifically, and no one had bothered.
Until now.
Every day, I monitored the progress of the burgers, weighing each one, and carefully checking for spots of mold growth or other indications of decay. The burgers were left in the open air, but handled only with clean kitchen tools or through clean plastic bags (no direct contact with my hands until the last day).
This is why I love, love, love reading Serious Eats. Some of the contributors are made of 100% pure WIN.
Read the post, but the punchline is that the author made his own ("all-natural") hamburger the same size as the McDonald's one and set them head to head. They both dehydrated nicely and turned into hamburger jerky. This comes as no surprise to anyone who doesn't ascribe to the idea that McDonald's is trying to destroy the world by feeding everyone food made out of plastic. Or whatever.
Of course, it's a small sample size and yadda yadda. We must need some replication! It sounds like an awesome way to flavor the air of your house with the stench of old hamburger. This would, I think, make an EXCELLENT science fair experiment for a kid with extremely tolerant parents.
Good on you, J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. Good on you, Serious Eats. You get a skeptic gold star today.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Happy Voting Day
I can't begin to tell you how happy I am that it's election day. You know why? Because that means this will hopefully be the last day that Robert Ramirez, Grover Norquist, and some lady named Cynthia who claims to be from Arvada robocall me multiple times in the space of 24 hours and urge me to vote for Ramirez. This is even more aggravating because:
1) Robocalls leave voice mails, which I have to keep going into my mailbox and deleting.
2) I've already voted, and it sure as hell wasn't for Robert Ramirez. I'm certain he's a lovely human being, but I like my current state representative (Debbie Benefield).
3) And, let's be honest. Having Grover Norquist pulling for you is really not something to be advertised if you want to impress me anyway.
It's enough to make me want to ask for my mail-in ballot back, just so I can make sure the circle next to Debbie Benefield's name is good and dark.
There's no need to even go in to detail about the amount of spam (both digital and analog) I've gotten over the last week. Though I am a little disappointed that I didn't get any crazy mail from Focus on the Family this year. That's always good for a rage-filled cackle.
Anyway, if you're American, go vote! And while I normally try to just emphasize the awesomeness of civic duty because I don't want to sound like the Cynthia from Arvada robocall, I do have one request for this year - please remember that women are people too, and it would be nice if the government didn't want to lodge itself in our collective vagina. Shocking, I know. (PSST. That means if you live in Colorado, for goodness' sake VOTE NO ON 62! And non-high-heels wearing senate candidate Ken Buck doesn't think much of women either, it should be noted.)
And tomorrow we can all celebrate the end of robocalls and political spam for another, oh, year and a half. Right up until the Presidential race really gets cooking.
1) Robocalls leave voice mails, which I have to keep going into my mailbox and deleting.
2) I've already voted, and it sure as hell wasn't for Robert Ramirez. I'm certain he's a lovely human being, but I like my current state representative (Debbie Benefield).
3) And, let's be honest. Having Grover Norquist pulling for you is really not something to be advertised if you want to impress me anyway.
It's enough to make me want to ask for my mail-in ballot back, just so I can make sure the circle next to Debbie Benefield's name is good and dark.
There's no need to even go in to detail about the amount of spam (both digital and analog) I've gotten over the last week. Though I am a little disappointed that I didn't get any crazy mail from Focus on the Family this year. That's always good for a rage-filled cackle.
Anyway, if you're American, go vote! And while I normally try to just emphasize the awesomeness of civic duty because I don't want to sound like the Cynthia from Arvada robocall, I do have one request for this year - please remember that women are people too, and it would be nice if the government didn't want to lodge itself in our collective vagina. Shocking, I know. (PSST. That means if you live in Colorado, for goodness' sake VOTE NO ON 62! And non-high-heels wearing senate candidate Ken Buck doesn't think much of women either, it should be noted.)
And tomorrow we can all celebrate the end of robocalls and political spam for another, oh, year and a half. Right up until the Presidential race really gets cooking.
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