Dispatches from the Political Warzone

Being the educated readers that you are (a recent survey found that the average education level of RoSA readers was a dual MD/PhD -- so if you haven't educated yourself to that level, my sarcastic "thanks" for dragging down the average) you probably know something about the political struggles taking place in our nation's capital. It turns out that our sleepy little neighborhood in suburban northern Virginia is in the midst of a similar upheaval. Political machinations are afoot at The Compound. See exhibit A, a two-sided letter slipped under my door sometime in the middle of the night:

 

Basically, what I can discern from this is that a new, power-hungry "Coalition" of owners is trying to seize power from the incumbent Board Members of the Compound, and the incumbents (the people who left this note under my door) are trying to rally support to their cause with a mostly pointless letter with fear-mongering phrases like "checkmate," "smug with power," and "hidden agendas." (To their credit, the math lesson of 459 minus 40 equaling 419 was educational and enlightening. Thank you, Letter Writers, for the crash course in advanced subtraction)

Yes, my friends, the Compound -- which I half-jokingly view as the homeowners' association equivalent of something between a debtors' prison and Fascist Italy -- is apparently in the midst of a legitimate coup d'état and possible revolution: think Napolean in 1799, Iran in 1953/1979, or Chile in 1973. Although, admittedly, you wouldn't know it by looking outside. Just a bunch of nice-looking old folks out walking and enjoying the spring weather.

This felt like a Taliban night letter had been delivered to my door while I was sleeping. I admit that the letter contains no explicitly-stated threats, but were there implied ones if I don't do what the letter-writers want me to? Are my kneecaps going to get broken? Am I going to get beat up and thrown down our garbage chute (which is totally fine with the Compund rules so long as it doesn't happen between 10PM and 7AM) if I don't comply?

I enjoy watching the chess game of political maneuvering take place between countries, but having it so close to home is kind of exhilarating. I can only hope that this feud culminates into some sort of Machiavellian bloodbath and Mrs. RoSA and I get to spectate as these idiots tear each other apart a la the battle at the OK Corral. Viva la Revolucion, everyone (maybe)??

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Photo(s) of the Week -- Blaming "Them" 20 Dec 2010

Well, I went and supported Mrs. RoSA and some friends at a combined 5K/10K run this past Saturday called "The Christmas Caper." (We're all familiar with the reason I don't run anymore.) It was early, it was cold, and it was icy on the running path -- which, fortunately for my half-frozen self, made for an amusing experience when compared to other running events that I have spectated.

Ben H ran the 10K in a full Santa outfit. I personally like this one, which shows off the Santa Mullet in all its glory, flowing in the wind.

As awesome as this was, the more entertaining and/or confounding spectacle was this creepy guy, who stood, unmoving and sentinel for at least 25 minutes, about 50 yards from the start line, with an enigmatic shirt:

"They" are such convenient scapegoats for everything, aren't they? "They failed to forecast rain, so I didn't bring an umbrella to work today and now I'm soaked."  "They are doing nothing but advancing the left- / right-wing agenda."  "They climbin' in your windows, snatchin' yo' people up, tryin' to rape 'em, so ya'll need to hide yo' kids, hide yo' wives,...and hide yo' husbands."

Awesome. Happy Monday and an upcoming Merry Christmas to you. Enjoy your week.

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"I'm a Moron" Series - Part 3: Food Injury

Can't believe it's been a year+ since I last wrote about having an "I'm a moron" moment. I assure you, it is not from lack of idiocy on my part. Far from it.

Anyway. To the present.

You know those thin metal lids they have on Yoplait yogurt containers? I think I just cut my tongue on the torn, jagged edge of one -- just because I was trying to get the extra 0.034 oz. of yogurt on the inside of the lid.

Are these things FDA-approved? Or have they managed to somehow fly under the radar? Yoplait's brazen disregard for public safety is appalling. They should just start putting syringes in their yogurt and call it good. Or flip us the middle finger in their commercials. The gesture of either of those is about the same as these lids, in my opinion.

Man. It's like a papercut. Only infinitely more humiliating.

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Signs? Coincidences?

Remember in Signs when a sober and pre-anti-Semitic version of Mel Gibson is talking to Joaquin Phoenix about how some people view events as "signs" or miracles and more than mere coincidence? In times of indecision, a lot of us look for the sign that will show us which is the correct decision to make.

I had one of those moments of indecision this past weekend.

Josh M (of the faux-stache) and Dave (of the beard) and I had planned to stay at a friend's place in Charlottesville, VA on Friday night and then head to Fayetteville, WV early Saturday morning to check out "Bridge Day" (more on this adventure later). As I am currently working a crappy work schedule, I was feeling exhausted Friday morning and told both of them I was wavering on going. Both of them tried to talk me into going. JoshM attacked via IM and Dave pounced via cellphone. A classic pincer attack.

Me: Man, I am not feeling good. These night shifts are killing me...I don't if I can handle this weekend.
JoshM: What?!? I gotta convince you to go.
Me: Good luck.
JoshM: Dude, did Dave tell you about the Elton John concert?
Me: The what??
JoshM: The guy we're staying with down in Charlottesville may have four tickets to the Elton John concert tonight.
Me: I don't know how to reply to that.
JoshM: Yeah, I know. Four guys going together to an Elton John concert is a little suspect. But I hear he puts on a pretty sweet show.
Me: Ech. I don't know how much Elton John I could handle.
JoshM: That's the thing. The tickets are free, so we can say we rubbed shoulders with some sissies and then bail if it's lame and not feel bad about it.
Me: I don't know if I want to be able to say I rubbed anything with anybody at an Elton John concert.

And so I remained unconvinced. Dave tried his best over the phone, but I still couldn't decide if I was up for it.

Then, it happened.

After I got off the phone with Dave I walked into the grocery store to buy some stuff. As I was going through the aisles, I realized that the music playing over the PA was "Rocket Man" -- an iconic Elton John song. This was my sign. Mel Gibson was right (about signs and miracles; NOT the Jews). And while Elton John would not be my first choice, I was meant to go on this road trip.

I called Dave on my way home to let him know I was in, and told him to call me when he was on his way to pick me up. He called a few hours later to let me know he was almost to my place:

"We're on our way. Oh yeah, dude...in the interests of full disclosure...we didn't get the Elton John tickets..."

I never thought I would be so crushed to miss an Elton John concert... But what about "Rocket Man" playing in the grocery store? What about my sign?

It's an absolute conspiracy, and I collectively blame Mel Gibson, Sir Elton John, and M. Night Shyamalan for my misfortune.

Reader: How do you explain this? What did the sign mean?

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The Dora Incident -- Photo(s) of the Week 11 Aug 2008

Title: "The Massacre at Durham"
Location: Durham, NC
Year: Aug 2008

Took a much needed vacation this past week with the family. Young children are hilarious to me; it's always amusing to me how short kids' attention spans are, while they simultaneously retain so much.

One of my nieces, Elise, is absolutely obsessed with "Dora the Explorer" (I'm convinced that no one, since the Nazis in the 30s and 40s, has conducted a more successful brainwashing and propaganda campaign than the creators of this show.¹ Children are infatuated with this cartoon character who, in my opinion, lacks the complexity needed to be a lead character for a successful TV series), to the point that she has her cousin, Alice, saying "Dora, Dora" when I'm pretty sure Alice has no idea who Dora is. I'm telling you: Propaganda.

Fascist conspiracy theories aside, Elise got rewarded with five crayons shaped like Dora for doing something right.


Five minutes into playing with them, she accidentally handled one of the Dora crayons too roughly and snapped its head off. "We have to fix Dora. We have to fix Dora" she kept imploring me. "Get scissors, get scissors. We have to fix Dora."

I didn't know what scissors had to do with piecing Dora back together, but I convinced Elise to cut (hah!) her losses and play with the remaining four Doras that remained intact.

30 minutes later, this scene greeted me:


The carnage was harrowing.

So much so that I expected Elise to look at me with contempt like Russell Crowe does at the crowd in Gladiator after that one fight scene where he killed like six guys, and then yell "Are you not entertained?! Are You Not Entertained?!" and then spit disgustedly and throw her sword to the ground. Something like that.

Instead, she moved on to playing with something else.

(Green Dora will walk again, albeit with a limp. The other four weren't so fortunate)

1 - That's RIGHT. I made that analogy. Hyperbole strikes again. If I don't post within a week, the Dora Gestapo found me.

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How I Ended Up with a B.A.

A lot of people talk about "defining moments" in their lives; where it all became clear and they made a critical decision, turned their life around, [insert optimistic fluff]

I can point to a couple of those in the route I chose to take in my college education. I mean, how did a kid that did Knowledge Bowl [Captain my senior year] and Science Olympiad in high school, and seemed destined for some sort of hard science degree in college (not to mention the obvious-- Asian!), end up with a liberal arts degree?

Two anecdotes.

I had a great friend in high school, Warren, who was one of the popular kids. His only quirk was that he was a serious conspiracy theorist. I'm talking "Big Brother is out to get me" -type stuff; he had read all kinds of books. One day he came with me to my computer networking job (like I said: nerd) because he wanted to see what I did. Apparently, I did something to impress him...although I didn't know until later the extent.

I walked into class the next day and a mutual friend of ours, Neil, came right up to me.

-"Dude, you'll never believe what happened with Warren in CWP (Current World Problems) last period."
-"What'd he do this time?"
-"We got onto some topic and everybody was yelling back and forth the room at each other. This went on for a couple of minutes and in the middle of it all, Warren stands up and yells: 'It's not going to matter. You want to know why?! Because when we grow up, and Josh D [we'll leave my last name out of this] owns all of you, you're all going to be nothing but a bunch of barcodes. So you'd better get used to it!' It was unreal. The class was speechless."

So was I.

-"...So, Josh. When you take over the world, I've got a spot as a favored minion, right?"
-"Uh, sure, Neil. Yeah."

I decided then and there that if I continued on my nerd/science track, I would end up being a dictator. I wasn't going to let that happen. That set the stage for my complete break with science. The complete break would come a few years later.

*****

I took Chem 105 my sophomore year at BYU. While I don't doubt the professor's PhD status (ok, I sometimes do), our ability to learn was severely hindered by his completely Battlefield Earth teaching. Almost every single concept he "taught" to us could, in his mind, be demonstrated by blowing up a hydrogen balloon at the end of class. Apparently explosions and mayhem are really solid, proven pedagogical techniques. Demonstration of the Law of Entropy? Redox reactions? Only thing I remember about these concepts is explosions. My roommate who had class in the same room after mine would be waiting for me afterwards, and as I walked out he would just say, "Another hydrogen balloon today, huh?" It was like witnessing the Hindenburg go down 12 times in a single semester.

One day in this class we were discussing electron clouds and orbits. The dialogue between the professor and a student went something like this:

-"Professor X [no, sorry "X-Men" fans...the "X" is for purposes of anonymity], the textbook says that the orbit is where the electron has a 99.99% chance of being."
-"That's correct."
-"So where is it the other 0.01% of the time?"
-"It could be anywhere, really. The room next door, Mars, another solar system..." I remember slamming my chemistry textbook shut. Science sure does a great job of explaining things. "...now if you'll allow me to demonstrate with this balloon. Could somebody turn off the lights...?"

I think that could be the defining moment when I gave up on science.

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Conspiracy Theories

I'm toast.

I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but-- (I just realized I've written in multiple posts in the past: "I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but..." so that could be proof that I actually am; like how I'm convinced that the ladies who clean the bathroom at work wait patiently for me personally to get up and walk to the bathroom, then right before I get there, set out the "Cleaning: No Entry" sign just so they can watch me walk awkwardly down the stairs to the next bathroom).

Not the point.

I am convinced that airlines have this diabolical plan to render the entire population completely ineffectual, lazy, and useless. It's called business class, and they're just waiting to pounce on your decision to turn yourself into a dependent, completely non-self-reliant individual. I am barely-functional proof of it.

Let me back up. Work flew me to Japan on business class. After being pampered like that, most anybody would say something along the lines of: "I can never fly anything but business class ever again. Anything else would be torture."

I'm expanding that naive perspective to encapsulate all aspects of my life: "I can't do anything on my own again. Ever." Let me give some examples:

1. When I sit down -- anywhere -- I expect someone to be asking me what kind of drink I want as soon as I've settled in. My roommates have been less than accommodating.

2. When I want to go to bed, I swear at whatever piece of furniture I'm sitting in for not mechanically lying flat and doubling as my bed, all in the push of a button. Dragging myself to bed requires too much effort now.

3. Where are my slippers when I come home, roommates?

4. Airline food is notoriously gross and disgusting; usually unrecognizable for what it's supposed to be. But when I'm served food that I don't recognize because it's too fancy, it's a different story. I was worried I would eat the food incorrectly and embarrass myself around all these in-reality rich people. What I now refer to as "commoner food" (burgers, sandwiches, potatoes, etc) is all revolting.

5. 11 newly released movies are not at the touch of my fingers anymore. What is that?!? If I want to watch Beowulf , decide it's semi-boring, and then want to watch Michael Clayton, then go back to Beowulf because I don't feel like reading a book, that is my prerogative. The effort of packaging up my Netflix'ed DVD's and sticking them in the postal drop box is now an exhausting process.

6. Why won't my roommates take my damn jacket, hang it up when I come home, and bring it back to me when I'm ready to leave?

How am I supposed to be self-sufficient again? Stupid airlines.

I will say another thing. Flying business class developed a superiority complex -- all the comedians talk about it, because it is true: You watch those poor saps trudging back to coach, and you feel sorry for them. Class separation in its pressurized, self-enclosed, and finest form.

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Underground Addictions

Another confession.

Everyone has different smells that they enjoy. Most people like flowers or the ocean or new car or some other smell that is easily marketable in a Febreeze can.

For me, it boils down to sharpie markers and gasoline. Something about stepping out of the car at a gas station and having that smell hit my olfactories is -- how does that old cliche go? Like a warm blanket? That's not right, but I can't think of anything better.

Am I addicted? Well, you won't see me buying cases of extra-potent sharpies out of some guy's trunk in a 7-Eleven parking lot at 3AM. And you probably won't find me underneath an overpass huddled over a bucket of gasoline. Gas prices are so high now, drugs are probably cheaper anyway.

I'm not much for conspiracy theories, but this tendency to sniff markers after unscrewing the cap isn't my fault. This was ingrained in me since my preschool days and I am not accountable... I blame Sanford.

"Who?"

You know, the company that decided to produce those scented colored markers that you used for coloring stuff when you were little. They teach you to get strung out before you can string simple sentences together! This preempts marijuana as the "gateway drug" by YEARS.

I seem to remember reading in one of my psychology classes that the best way to learn about something is to engage as many of the senses as possible; not just the sight and sound that are usually accompanied with school, but, if possible, to engage smell, touch, and taste as well. I suppose that this was Sanford's guise for this product. But do I really need to be reminded of what black licorice smells like when I'm struggling to just color within the lines? Honestly.

And how the hell is turquoise a representative color for mango?? (I looked up their product listing)

So thanks, Sanford. I may have a solid idea for what cherry smells like, but now I'm trapped in a cage of your making.

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Dietary Scapegoats

Whether we like to admit it or not, we are subject to the influence of what 'experts' tell us. In some ways we have to be; none of us has the time (or interest...or patience...) to be an expert in everything (even though I know we've all met those people who talk so much they've convinced themselves that they do, in fact, know everything).

I've found that this is the case with food and nutrition. Do we really understand what all of these vitamins and minerals that we are supposed to be getting in our daily diet really do for us? Phosphorus? Iron? How many Vitamin B's can there be? Should we place a cap of 12 on Vitamin B's and form a Vitamin F category to simplify things?... So many questions...and because most of us are too lazy to figure it out, we're keeping GNC in business just to fill our daily quota.

Another thing I've noticed, though I haven't been around too long: The FDA seems to find a new nutritional villain every couple of years -- I'm not one to conjure up conspiracy theories, but I think it's just because someone at the FDA is getting bored and feels like shaking things up. The following is a roughly chronological list of nutritional stuff I've noticed over the last couple of decades that have more or less been deemed evil by the nutritional community:

• Fat / Sugar: These were always pretty obvious to us. Fat...well, made you fat. Sugar was the obvious culprit of rotting teeth and increased weight.
• Cholesterol / Sodium: As far as I can tell, these became the scapegoats in the early 90's as a result of increased awareness of heart disease.
  
• Nutrasweet: Oh, the irony of creating a substitute for sugar that ends up being a suspected carcinogen. I heard somewhere that this is also responsible for male infertility.
  
• Carbs: I've never seen something condemned as quickly as carbs were after the Atkins' revolution came about. Carbs have slowly worked their way back into our hearts, but the initial blow to the relationship indicates that it will never be the same.
  
• Trans Fat: This is the current hot topic. If you even mention the word in a restaurant the place is immediately evacuated.
  

I have a couple of predictions for the future:


Well, I think the lesson to be learned here is just try to eat healthy and don't worry about percentages.

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