December 14, 2007

Oxford Commas and Sex Toys? Yes, and Yes

Thanks to a Wikipedia article on one of my favorite grammatical conventions, I learned that the following phrase once appeared in The Times, Britain's paper of record, in a description of a Peter Ustinov documentary:

"[H]ighlights of his global tour include encounters with Nelson Mandela, an 800-year-old demigod and a dildo collector."

I knew Nelson Mandela was a cool guy, but I had no idea how cool. Well, England, that's what you get for discouraging Oxford commas.

BONUS: "Oxford Comma" is also the title of a delightfully catchy song by the new "it" indie band, Vampire Weekend. They're a bunch of preppy guys (or that is, at least, the image they cultivate) who met at Columbia University, and they keep getting compared to Paul Simon in everything I've ever read about them. I lurve Paul Simon, so obviously, I had to check them out, and their music is really good. So go check them out and listen to "Oxford Comma" on their Myspace page (and then leave Myspace because it's a horrible site for anything other than listening to free tracks).

Posted by Barzelay at 3:33 AM | Comments (2)

November 29, 2007

Farrah Olivia, Chef Morou's Restaurant

On our two-year anniversary, Jeanette and I went to Farrah Olivia, the restaurant of Chef Morou Outtara. You may know him from such shows as The Next Iron Chef, or NPR Food. The style of his restaurant is New American with West African influence, and it's mostly some damn delicious food.

While Morou's food isn't at the pinnacle of sophistication (Le Bernardin?), nor does it have the layers and layers of subtlety of such a restaurant, it is nevertheless elegant and complex. His dishes are not designed, like those of many top restaurants, to "challenge" his diners. And that's Morou's greatest strength: he isn't above a crowd-pleaser. Indeed, go to the menus on the website linked to above and read the entrees. One doesn't read them and wonder how such a dish could possibly be good (like one might at WD-50 or The Fat Duck). Nearly every one of them instantly looks like it will be a fucking flavor party so delicious that you'll be licking your plate afterward. And mostly, they deliver.

First of all, we got a great recommendation on a Meritage from our waiter. That was one of the high points of service, as he had basically no clue about any of the (admittedly, fairly high-level) questions I asked about the food prep, and he was also quite glib the entire time. But the wine was absolutely amazing. I also loved the wine list. For each varietal (and a list of blends) it had wines at every price level--literally a bottle at $30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90... Spending a bit more doesn't mean you'll enjoy the wine more, but it does help you center in on what you can afford. Anyway, I really, really loved this wine.

Warm bread was served with four different spreads, instead of the usual butter. There was honeyed butter (awesome), bok choy pesto (meh), sundried tomato spread (Jeanette's favorite), and horseradish and cottage cheese (weird, and I don't like either of those ingredients, normally, but it was actually not bad).

We got an amuse bouche of truffled, cured ham with corn flan and some kind of mushroom sauce. This was a good indicator of what was to come, with deconstructed dishes, every component of which could be enjoyed on its own, and which usually came together pretty well, too.

Appetizers were delicious. Cinnamon roasted quail with (cured?) mission figs ingeniously wrapped around quail legs for finger-food appeal, a fuyu and persimmon "yolk" (probably a soidum alginate-based spherification of a puree) that was delicious, spiced port reduction, and a small salad of apple, feta, and something. The quail was served boneless, and was not as tender as I imagined it to be, but everything was spot-on flavorwise. And again, what a crowd-pleaser.

Butter-poached lobster with tapioca and roasted banana cream was good, but there was way too much bland tapioca. Luckily, eating around it was easy, and everything else was delicious. You know how when you eat bananas, there's that certain odd tartness in your mouth that you don't really get from many other things (passionfruit has a similar, but different thing going on)? Well, that goes really well with butter (Bananas Foster, anyone?) and they both go really well with lobster.

Deconstructed caesar salad was very good, with parmesan flan, crushed croutons, and fresh sardines (salty, but not pickled like the icky, canned ones). There wasn't even close to enough lettuce to eat with the quantity of the other ingredients, and the only reason I can think of for this dearth was that the Chef liked the pretty presentation when it was only four small leaves of romaine. Nevertheless, this was an appetizer salad, not an entree salad, and by the end, we were by no means hurting for quantity. What was here was really tasty, but other than being deconstructed, and using great ingredients, it didn't offer much of a spin on the usual caesar salad. Parmesan flan was good, but not enough of a twist.

The entrees were both excellent, with few flaws. Slow-roasted lamb with palm fruit BBQ sauce couldn't possibly not be good. It was served with palm oil powder (I guessed powderized with maltodextrin, which the Chef later confirmed), a very faithful version of Southern collard greens (all the way down to the lack of seasoning), a fried dauphine-type thing, and, in a twist on the typical mint jelly with lamb combo, there was clear mint "caviar" on the plate. The mint caviar was another example of what must have been a minty sodium alginate solution dripped into a calcium chloride bath to form spheres with a gel skin. Problem is, these were either left too long in the calcium bath, or were made too long before the dish was served, because these were gelled all the way through and didn't "pop" in your mouth like I assume was intended. Nevertheless, everything was perfect except the texture of the mint caviar, and it all went together very well. The palm powder was an excellent counterpoint to the barbecue sauce, and the lamb would have been great even without any adornment.

The other entree was spice-rubbed venison loin (yes, we got a lot of game to go with our lovely Meritage) with a port-reduction, wild mushrooms and baby onions, and sweet-potato fritters. Venison was cooked perfectly rare (at our request) and everything else was exquisite. A perfect (and very satisfying) dish.

For dessert, I opted for the lemon cheesecake with candied citrus segments (lemon and maybe sour orange) and thyme syrup. The thyme syrup was good but superfluous, but Jesus Christ the cheesecake and candied lemon went together well. When tasted on its own the cheesecake was great, the candied lemon a bit too tart, but when alternating bites between the two, they worked together so well! This was really inspiring. Every bite had a delicious palate cleanser followed by a blast of creamy richness. Eaten this way, it was like every bite of the cheesecake was tasting it for the first time. So good.

The other was an apple strudel with coriander caramel, sour cream ice cream (delicious), and cherry-apricot compote. The apple strudel itself was good, but nothing special. Every one of the supporting players, however, was excellent. I've seen sour cream ice cream (or buttermilk ice cream, or scalded milk ice cream) on menus all over the place, but it was so good. I actually think this dish would have been better without the apple strudel. It didn't detract, but didn't add anything either, except for taking up a lot of plate space.

Finally, we were given little mignardises that were nothing memorable.

After our meal, I asked whether I could have a quick kitchen tour, and though the waiter said they normally don't do it, he asked and got permission. So we were escorted to the kitchen where we were immediately introduced to Morou himself (as if that was the only reason we wanted the kitchen tour--because we'd seen him on TV--I guess they get that a lot now, but I swear I really just wanted to watch the kitchen work for a minute). Morou was very gracious, talkative, and jovial. I discussed the palm powder with him for a minute or two, and he offered to give me some of his maltodextrin (I had some at home already--yeah, I'm ridiculous). Jeanette talked Next Iron Chef with him. Jeanette and I also loved John Besh, and it turns out Morou did, too. He clearly thought Besh should have won. As I said, Morou seemed like a great guy, and he'd be a lot of fun to work with.

Overall, there were some flaws, but the guy can put together a meal that satisfies like no other. Like I said, he isn't above pleasing the crowd, but he does it in his own way. You want the mint jelly? Fine, here are little chemical-reaction-created spheres of mint jelly. You want a Caesar salad? Fine, here's a deconstructed Caesar. As long as everything tastes as delicious as it did, diners are going to be willing to forgive all the tiny details that weren't quite there yet. But this is definitely one of the top five restaurants in the DC area.

Posted by Barzelay at 2:24 AM | Comments (3)

September 19, 2007

For A Gentleman's Wardrobe, Only The Best Will Do

After reading an article in NY Mag on bespoke tailoring, I came across a site called Bown's Bespoke, where "acclaimed critic Francis Bown" and other gentlemen of his "team" review various tailors who handmake elegant men's clothing to order. I seriously can't stop reading it. The volume of reviews on the site are like an excellently written novel about a man named Francis Bown, except they're too good not to be authentic.

Their sartorial particularity is, to an outsider such as myself, so foreign as to be unendingly intriguing. I read their reviews with the sort of riveted interest with which one might read accounts of the day to day activities of the child Dalai Lama, or the residents of the planet Neptune. It's How The Other Half Lives, but in reverse. As if Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous limited its scope to a particular idiosyncrasy of the gentry: their clothing.

For instance, when admiring himself in a particular Savile Row suit, he says the following:

To examine the exquisite workmanship, I paused for a moment with a cuff unbuttoned. Not something one wishes to do for long… Recently, I was shocked to observe – in the Paris Ritz, of all places – a well-suited young man with two buttons on each cuff left undone (one must suppose, deliberately). This is simply not on. Such vulgar ostentation is very definitely not Savile Row. The point is that the cuff buttons can be undone, not that they are.

For a bespoke suit from Henry Poole & Co., at 15 Savile Row, Mr. Bown says things like this:

Now Mr Ward began to inscribe the stylistic details of my suit. My jacket was be single-breasted, but with peak lapels... Four buttons (of real horn) on each cuff, of course. The house style is to have 2 opening and 2 sham (to facilitate any future alterations), but I like all four to open – so my preference was noted. The trousers with two front pleats, straight side pockets... and buttons for [suspenders] (the front outside, the back inside – to protect the leather of the Royce.

That's Rolls Royce. For when he drives without his jacket, of course. And when speaking about umbrellas, he knows of only one company with the quality he demands.

Finally, two features which will make each umbrella truly yours... First, the length of the stick. This should be cut to your exact requirement before the ferrule is added. And second, the silver band (hallmarked, of course). This is fitted on the lower part of the handle and should on no account be adorned with a maker’s name. It must be plain, so that upon it can be engraved your initials – especially useful to the waiters in those restaurants in which the differentiation of customers’ belongings carries a low priority. (Occasionally the band will be gold-plated, but to my mind this adds an unpleasant touch of vulgarity.)

And when shopping for a watch?

I know as much about the internal workings of the wristwatch as I do about those of the internal combustion engine. And that is not much. But I do love style. That is why I drive a 1963 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud III motor car. And it is why I wanted a Patek Philippe wristwatch.

Anyway, I am loving this website. Every review contains at least four or five gems of well-bred snottiness and giddy eccentricity. Oh, and Henry Poole & Co. also makes outfits of court dress, which I would love to wear to an American court some time. As a goof.

Posted by Barzelay at 12:13 AM | Comments (3)

September 17, 2007

This Post Is Not A Waste Of Time

There's a certain phrase a lot of people use to describe a lot of things. When someone is unhappy with something they are doing, they call it this: a waste of time. But what does that mean? Is anything really a waste of time?

Aside from the normative usage of the phrase, I can't really get a handle on what it means for something to be "a waste of time." I know how people use the phrase, and I use it that way, too. I bet that, with a bit of searching, one could find a pithy quote from someone like Mark Twain, James Thurber, or Will Rogers, saying something like "Nothing is truly a waste of time unless Congress is in session." But when I really think about it, I just can't find any rational meaning behind the cliché.

I think we know what we mean when we talk about the "time" that gets wasted, but I don't think we have any clue what we mean by "waste." One can make a case for things that are involuntary being wastes of time--if one has a seizure, the duration of the fit might be time wasted, but only for you, not for those who stop to help you. But as applied to volitional activity, what does it mean for something to be a waste of time? Can you formulate any precise definition that makes sense? Give it a shot.

Posted by Barzelay at 7:24 PM | Comments (4)

August 2, 2007

Return Of The Courtesan?

There's a San Francisco woman calling herself a modern-day courtesan, and charging prices far higher than the hookers on the street. Elise Vanderhof has a website (Gallery section is NSFW), with her rates and packages posted, as well as photos of herself. She continually invokes the history of the courtesans of old, and she apparently aspires to their legacy.

I am a Courtesan, in the age-old tradition of those who came before me in a distinct and elite class. I combine intelligence, beauty, elegance, and charm. I offer scintillating conversation as well as soft, inviting companionship.

And sex.

Or does she?

By agreeing to see me, you understand that money exchanged is for my time and companionship only. In no way is this an offer for prostitution.

But one is left wondering whether that's there merely to protect her legally, or whether it really reflects her services. Her website is clearly crafted to make potential clients think they will get sex. From the naked, sexy photos of herself (although the ones she seems to display most prominently look to be terrible photos of her), to the carefully worded language:

What can I expect during our date? You can expect me to be elegantly dressed, with a warm, friendly demeanor, though I will be discreet in public. You can expect lively, intriguing conversation, and moments of deep and delicious connection.

What else is going to happen on our date?
If you need to ask, I suggest you may be in the wrong place.

And although she says that her "primary offering is [her] heart and mind," she does say that her "body is secondary." Secondary, perhaps, but it's still part of her offerings, yes?

So what do you think? Courtesan = prostitute? If you pay $2000 for a four hour dinner date, do you get sex? Four hours is a long time for just dinner. What about if you pay $10,000 for two days and two nights? Then do you get sex?

Posted by Barzelay at 11:42 AM | Comments (5)

July 31, 2007

Two Big Handicaps

I just saw a girl out jogging in the Lower Haight who only had one arm. I was walking down Waller, with Duboce Park on my right, and she was running at me, and I couldn't help but stare at her. Everyone else around was staring at her, too.

Even as she passed right by people, everyone followed her, turning their bodies to stay facing her. She did her best to act like she didn't notice everyone staring, but I'm sure she was aware of the eyes. She must have been thinking, "Gee, everyone sure does love to stare at the handicapped girl's deformity. Bastards!" And she's right, but for the wrong reason.

See... I don't think anyone was staring at her because of her arm. We're bastards just the same, but we were staring at her because of this: she had massive bosoms and no sports bra. They were just bouncing up and down like sugar-high kindergarteners on a see-saw. And it could have been the San Francisco wind, or just the motion of shirt against chest, but her nipples were erect, too.

So here's this one-armed jogger out for a run, she's in her mid-twenties, strawberry blond, curly hair, fair complexion, short black running shorts, huge boobs yo-yoing in a turqoise wifebeater, and we're all staring at her. And it just struck me as extremely funny that this girl must just think that everyone in the whole damn world is such an asshole, all unable to tear our gazes away from her impediment. When in fact it's just because she's really, really hot.

Posted by Barzelay at 12:05 AM | Comments (2)

July 26, 2007

God Bless You

A study has found that people are more generous and cooperative when they are primed with religious concepts first.

This comes as no surprise, since religion and a belief in the watchful eye of God serve, respectively, as an ethical foundation and its police force. But I'm uncomfortable with the course of action this dictates for individuals in society; if people are more cooperative and generous when you make meaningless religious blusterings at them beforehand, anyone seeking to solicit money or obtain cooperation should always induce religious thoughts in their victims before asking. Indeed, people have long figured this out. It's why the bum on the corner and the bell-ringing Santa in front of Wal-Mart say, "God Bless You," before they hit you up for cash, and then re-iterate after you've coughed up.

They wish God's blessing on someone without, first, finding out whether he or she believes in such a God, and second, whether he or she wants his blessing. To me, that is extremely offensive. It's just as offensive as assuming all black people are lazy thieves, or that all gay people sing showtunes while crossdressing. I know they mean well, but if I mean well in trying to give a black person fried chicken that I think they'll like, that doesn't make it any better. I don't see why I should be lumped into the group of people who believe in the benevolent supernatural, a classification I find extremely insulting.

So, here is my panhandler policy: If I have change (metal money), I will always give it to anyone who asks. If I don't have change, I only occasionally give dollar bills. I never give more than dollar bills. But, I absolutely never give anything to anyone who mentions God, Jesus, or any other religion or religious figures. If they tell me they hope I'm having a blessed day, and could I spare any change, I refuse. If they have a sign with a heartbreaking story, and then "God Bless You" at the bottom, I refuse. But if they merely stand there with an outstretched hand, and avoid mentioning religion, I will always give them whatever I've got.

Here is my justification: I do not have unlimited funds, and the amount I'm willing to give away is relatively small. Nevertheless, I want very much to help people when I can, to the extent that it isn't a significant harm to me (and sometimes even when it is a harm to me, and I obviously categorize those on a case by case basis). Nevertheless, I have a strong interest in ridding society of its despicable tendency to impose religious imagery and values on those who don't want them. My withholding of money is therefore intended to influence society in the direction I want it to go. However, feeble, I'm engaging in activism. In a sense, I'm voting against stereotyping, and the imposition of religion, with my wallet. But reading this article reminded me of how deeply ingrained this practice is, and I've decided that, in the future, if I deny charity for the reasons above and I have time to stop and explain, I need to do so, or else I'm not doing any good--I'm acting solely out of spite rather than out of a genuine desire to improve the world. And I'm not okay with that. But I am okay with withholding change in order to cause change.

Here is my question: Is my justification convincing? Why, or why not?

Posted by Barzelay at 4:15 PM | Comments (5)

Radical Honesty

I discovered Esquire magazine tonight. It seems, based on my limited experience, to be a damn fine magazine for me. It's just pretentious enough to allow me to feel superior to the average person, and it has that deliciously smug, self-satisfied quality that seems always to be present whenever grown men aspire to be fashionable. And yet, as a magazine intended for an urbane, urban, masculine audience, it can't quite detach itself from the schlock-obsession with sex, and the suggestion of nudity (see, e.g., Stuff, FHM, Maxim, etc.)--which is also perfect for me because, as an urbane, urban, but masculine reader, I can't quite pretend that I'm not enticed by those sexual blandishments.

The most immediately compelling article I found was on Radical Honesty, the idea, expounded by Virginia-based psychotherapist Brad Blanton, that we would all be happier if we were completely honest with each other, all of the time. So I contemplated the idea, and at the least, it's intriguing. But for someone like me who has a predisposition toward blunt honesty, it's immediately quite attractive. If I trust guru Blanton, this is like validation.

The author describes many scenarios in which he attempts to be honest, and says that it is a liberating feeling. But he stops short of being able to be honest when he knows it will hurt someone's feelings. And in the end, this seems to be the way that I work. I tend to be very blunt and honest up until the point where it will hurt someone more than it's worth. Blanton's argument is that that point will never be reached if we take into account the real effects of our honesty.

I'm not sure whether I buy it. Delusions and white lies are two of the bases for civilized society. And even if we'd be happier being radically honest, we probably couldn't get a job (let alone keep it) in today's world. So the takeaway from this article is this: try to be a little more honest, even when it might be a bit offensive, or hurt someone's feelings a little bit. But don't do it for the sake of the offense. Do it because it opens channels of communication, and makes it okay for the other party to be honest as well.

In that spirit, I'm regretful that I neglected this blog so long over the summer, but the truth is that I only ever write here in order to make people think I'm witty and smart, and out of hope that someone will notice that I very rarely split infinitives or end sentences with prepositions. It makes me very happy when lots of people comment, even when their comments are pointless ("Good post") or from people about whom I don't particularly care. In fact, especially when they are pointless, because then it means that the person cared enough about maintaining our relationship to expend their energy to write the comment, without having anything they really needed to say. And if someone I haven't spoken to in a while suddenly comments, that's awesome because it means they thought I was smart and witty enough to seek out and keep reading my blog even though they have not even the thinnest of obligations to do so. I often spend a decent amount of time trying to think of things that sound like they aren't perfunctory or meaningless to leave as comments on the blogs of my friends in order to let them know that I still think they are witty and smart. Also, it sometimes embarrasses me when the first comment, and especially when the only comment, is from Jeanette, because I'm afraid that it looks like I make this big, vain production of having a blog when my only reader is my girlfriend.

Posted by Barzelay at 4:24 AM | Comments (6)

July 19, 2007

Kwik-E-Mart

Of all the places they could've put the Kwik-E-Marts for The Simpsons movie promotion, they put one in Mountain View, CA. It's an hour South of San Francisco, and happens to be where one of my law firm's offices is located (the headquarters, in fact). The only reason this makes sense is that they put it in basically right next to Google's campus.

Anyway, it's a lot of fun. We ate disgusting-looking pink-frosted doughnuts, and slurped up electric blue squishees. The signs are all pretty funny. Definitely one of the coolest promotions any of us has ever seen.

Posted by Barzelay at 6:14 AM | Comments (7)

April 12, 2007

"Poo-tee-weet?"

I'm pretty sure every single blog post and half the articles written about Kurt Vonnegut's death will be titled with some variation of "Kurt Vonnegut is dead. So it goes." But that's okay. Vonnegut constantly reused characters and themes, so why can't his obits? But that New York Times obituary quotes a poem he wrote at the end of a short story in his final book:

When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
"It is done."
People did not like it here.
-Kurt Vonnegut, Requiem

It's typical Vonnegut; both funny and fed up. And I love what I've read of Vonnegut's work, most notably Slaughterhouse-Five, but I just don't agree with him there. Not everyone hates their time on this Earth. Kurt Vonnegut was one of those people (usually writers, philosophers, other intellectuals, and hobos) who see adulthood as the cost of childhood; that we live out our lives before age twelve and then pay for that freedom until we die.

I share their reverence for childhood, but I don't share their distaste for the rest of life. The trick is to take the freedom, the impulsiveness, and the innocence of childhood, and use it with the greater self-determination and resources that come with adulthood. Children are not considered innocent because they haven't sinned, they are considered innocent because they sin with reckless abandon. They sin without even stopping to become aware of it. Adults have internalized guilt; when children are guilty, the guilt always comes from outside. And no one is a greater pleasure-seeker than a three year old.

Vonnegut expressed the guilt of our whole country, and did it in the only form people could stand to hear about it: jokes. And now as the blue and ivory pages of his life fade into history, he takes his place among the other great humans. He's dead, but in the ultimate validation of Tralfamadorian philosophy, his work will still be around forever. So it goes?

Posted by Barzelay at 1:48 PM | Comments (1)

February 22, 2007

Privacy Has Its Drawbacks

Privacy is nice and all... and I'm not saying that I'm in favor of customer data retention. But I wish that Urban Outfitters could figure out that I don't need to be notified every couple days that Women's Shoes are on sale.

Posted by Barzelay at 1:56 PM | Comments (2)

January 21, 2007

Jeremy Piven on SNL

I just watched a full hour of Saturday Night Live without seeing a single thing that made me want to shoot myself. First time in at least five years.

And then AFI played,* which did make me want to shoot myself, but I'm pretty sure that was their intention.

"Adoption can be very complicated."
"Yeah. Like Sudoku."

"Jojo, I need you to round up all the pubes you can find! Quick, before this dynamite blows!"

"You can't run a war by a committee. You run a war by a monkey, a map, and a bunch of darts."

"George Bush did to New Orleans what Debbie did to Dallas."

And best of all was the perfectly brief First Man In History To Discover Dancing

* By the way, AFI's bassist looks just like Flea, except wearing more clothes.

Posted by Barzelay at 12:06 AM | Comments (2)

January 5, 2007

Google.kkkom

Man, Google really hates those niggers. Seriously, if one searches for racist jokes, Google helpfully points one to www.racist-jokes.com, where one can read quite a number of jokes that play on just the sort of racial stereotypes that one is probably looking for if one searches for "racist jokes." So far, so good, Google. It seems that your top search result is a useful one for that search phrase.

What's a bit unsettling is the portion directly beneath that first result, where Google has gone the extra mile for its users, by breaking down the racist jokes from www.racist-jokes.com into various categories. Google helpfully points one to the section on "Niggers," where one can hear such gems as,

Why does L.A. have so many fags and N.Y. so many niggers? L.A. had first choice!

And then there's the section on "Jews," where Google helpfully points one to gutbusters like,

"What's Hitlers least favorite planet? 'Jewpiter'"

And none of you gays or Middle Easterners should feel left out, because Google also points to sections about "Arabs" and "Fags." But that's not all the site has. We wouldn't want to leave out the "Gooks," and certainly not the "Spics." So, you know... thank you Google. I'd hate for someone to have to go to the joke site's homepage before proceeding directly to the minority for which they have an ignorant hatred. It would be so inconvenient to have to make that extra click. Curiously, despite the existence of many jokes about white people, the site leaves out that particular group. I guess "white people" is just such a small minority as not to warrant inclusion.

Posted by Barzelay at 6:56 PM | Comments (8)

December 6, 2006

Public Urinals To Spray Pee On Relieved Drunkards' Legs

Vancouver is considering installing retractable public urinals for drunken, late-night urination. And "public" does not only mean, "free to all," it means, "in full view of everyone walking the street, including sweet old ladies and lurkers with golden shower fetishes." The reasoning goes that drunks piss on walls and in corners in public late at night anyway, so why not provide them with places to do so cleanly and legally? The urinals are stowed under the sidewalk during the day, and an attendant will use a remote control to bring the urinals up to ground level when night falls. That way the public restrooms aren't an eyesore during the day.

I think this is pretty brilliant, and a nice step toward removing the shame our society directs toward our bodies and its natural processes. But try to imagine a local government trying to do this in America. The protests would be widespread and vehement.

Even I would protest, though I'd be protesting the fact that they are urinals instead of toilets. Because as we all know, I boycott urinals. Since I wear pairs of jeans a good thirty or so times before washing them, I'd really rather not be splashing urine spray on them whenever I pee. And it is mathematically proven that it is impossible to pee into a urinal without some of it spraying back onto one's legs. It even says so in The Bible. Really, it does. Read John 10:13: "And whosoever shall empty himself unto the okay, it doesn't really say anything about urinals in The Bible. But I don't need the Lamb of God to descend from on high and appear to me in a dream just to inform me not to piss all over myself rather than wait twenty seconds for a stall.

Other than that, yeah, I'd go number one in public. But then, I have a blog, so I clearly don't mind spewing other nasty things in public. In general, I'm a very public individual. In fact, I can only think of one thing that I can't imagine myself doing in public under any conceivable circumstances, and that is to pop my shirt collar non-ironically. That's where I draw the line. But I would gladly pee in public on people who pop their collars.

Posted by Barzelay at 5:20 AM | Comments (3)

November 21, 2006

Mini-Reviews

Music

  • The Shins - Wincing The Night Away
    Not a revelation, but not at all disappointing. It's very good, and I can't wait to listen to it in crisper-quality. We have until January 23 to wait for the official release, thanks to Sub-Pop's marketing schedule, even though it's completely done now. On first listen, from the very first notes on the album, it feels so comfortable and pleasant returning to The Shins sound (and I'm not implying that it sounds stale or that it's just like the old stuff). They have such a distinctive sound. Some great bands grab one instantly, others take a while to insinuate themselves into one's musical pantheon. For me, The Shins were in the former category. I sat at my desk and listened to Chutes Too Narrow straight through twice when Jon Cooper first told me to download it. Nothing else going on, just listening. It was that good, that fresh. Would Wincing The Night Away have been the same, had I not already been familiar with The Shins? Maybe. Either way, it's a great album.

  • Beck - The Information
    Good, but more of the same. Sea Change was amazing, then Guero went in a completely different direction--it was a very good album, but it was clearly lighter fare than Sea Change, and it recycled a lot of Beck's earlier sounds. The Information might as well be "Unreleased tracks from Guero." That isn't necessarily negative, but Beck is at his best when he tries new things. This album won't surprise anyone with its sound. Still, Beck album are like sex and pizza; even when they're bad, they're still pretty good.

  • The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
    Great. The second track is a twelve-minute suite that is just awesome. This is the best album The Decemberists have put out, and I loved Picaresque and Castaways And Cutouts. And even though it's their major-label debut, this album is far less catchy than their previous ones. Twelve-minute songs don't make for easy radio play, even on college radio stations.

Movies

  • Tideland
    Probably none of you saw this, but this is Gilliam's darkest film to date, and yet it retains Gilliam's beautiful spark: hope and survival through fantasy and imagination. This is not going to be a movie for everyone. It's like The Adventures of Baron Munchausen but here he keeps the fantasy inside the young girl's head. At times I rolled my eyes, because it has a couple of the typical, over the top Gilliam characters. It also made me uncomfortable at times, which is pretty tough to do. But overall, I think it's an excellent and fitting addition to his oeuvre, not like that last piece of crap.

  • The Prestige
    Awesome movie. I really loved some movie from the first month or two of last year, but now I can't remember which one. Pending recovery of that memory, I will say with confidence that The Prestige is my favorite movie so far this year. It keeps up an impressive level of action and suspense, but still manages to satisfy the discerning film viewer with its wonderful acting, smart script, and beautiful cinematography, as well as the geeks with its reverence for both magic and science (is there any difference?). Definitely see this.

  • The Departed
    I loved this all the way through, but then the ending left me with way too many unanswered questions. I got the feeling that this one was cut pretty heavily to avoid it being a four-hour NC-17 flick. I'll reserve judgment until I find out whether an Extended Edition is forthcoming. This had some of the best dialogue I've ever heard in a movie. The dialogue here was Glengarry Glen Ross, Pulp Fiction good.

Posted by Barzelay at 11:33 PM | Comments (11)

October 23, 2006

War and the Morning Funnies

Sunday's WaPo had an awesome, touching, wonderful article about Garry Trudeau, creator of the comic strip Doonesbury. He has always shunned publicity, and so this glimpse is supposedly a big deal.

I haven't read comics in the paper since I was too young to care about Doonesbury's dry, topical subject matter, so this article is my first rendezvous with Doonesbury since childhood. The article focuses on a particular storyline in which one of the main four characters, B.D., who has been in the strip since its inception, has to go to Iraq, and ends up losing a limb. Pretty serious subject matter for a silly cartoon.

Trudeau has been visiting wounded veterans to talk to them and mine them for ideas. Recently he accepted an award of excellence in the arts from the Vietnam Veterans of America. Anyway, I really loved the article, and it induced me to purchase a collection of the B.D. in Iraq saga, as well as the aftermath. It is called The Long Road Home. Anyway, check out the article.

Posted by Barzelay at 2:47 PM | Comments (0)

October 5, 2006

I Don't Have A Short Atten--Hey, Check Out This Website!

Jeanette parrots, in an aside to a post with which I generally agree, an oft-rendered complaint about our generation's attachment to the internet:

"...our attention spans have so decreased because of the instantly-gratifying and world-at-our-fingertips nature of modern technology that even if we haven't forgotten about these other entertainment media, we often cannot properly enjoy them because we cannot give them the patience and concentration they require..."

I have a very different take on this issue. I don't think the internet has limited our attention spans at all. I agree that we are now less fulfilled by traditional media, but I think the explanation lies in the natures of traditional media. Traditional media are essentially "lecture media." They are one-way processes where consumers sit back while content-providers do their best to entertain them, by pushing content to the consumers. New media, on the other hand, are increasingly participatory. It goes way beyond the 1990s buzzword-aspiration of "interactivity," though that alone is a large reason why new media is gaining importance over traditional media. In new media, for instance, so-called Web 2.0 technologies, the interactivity is the medium. In these technologies, either the interactions are the medium directly (MySpace, Facebook, Dodgeball), or users create the media themselves (Flickr, Blogspot, Wikipedia), or the content is meta-media (Digg, Del.icio.us, Last FM, Pandora), or it's some hybrid where the content is user-supplied, but not user-created, and the users are making recommendations by the act of supplying the content (YouTube). Those categories are arbitrary, but the point is that new media gives the user more control.

The other aspect of new media is that, because the users are providing the content, niche markets are better served. When it doesn't cost the content provider any money to supply niche content, more (eventually all) niches are covered. For example, it isn't worthwhile for a company to start a television channel devoted entirely to discussion of elliptic curve cryptography. On the other hand, I am positive that discussions of elliptic curve cryptography abound on the web. In other words (and Derek will be so proud of me for this), new media solves the problem of The Long Tail. Even relatively obscure subjects can get lots of coverage when content providers don't have to fund that coverage (except for an extremely small marginal cost, i.e. GoogleGroups has to provide another MB of storage capacity). In other words, users can be entertained by entertainment tailored to their specific, idiosyncratic, and even unpopular interests.

The point of all this is that we don't have shorter attention spans--if that were true, how could we spend hours on a single web site? We just have a higher standard for how much our entertainment must implicate our interests, and we demand to be involved in the process of our own entertainment. We aren't content to sit back and be entertained. We need entertainment that pulls us in and makes us participate. So don't denigrate our generation just because we have higher standards.

Posted by Barzelay at 4:54 PM | Comments (4)

September 30, 2006

Brevity, Imprecision, and Van Signs

On my way to Dulles today, I saw something that annoyed me greatly. I saw a van, on which was printed the name of the business venture that owned it: TwoPoorTeachers.com. They do renovation, repair work, and other random jobs. And perhaps I shouldn't hold them to a higher standard just because they are ostensibly teachers, but it nevertheless saddened me to see their slogan below that, because it was yet another example of the terrible imprecision with which our culture uses language.

The slogan said, "Nobody does a better job for less." And it sounds reasonable enough. They're trying to imply that they do the highest quality work and are nevertheless affordable. But that isn't really what their slogan says. Instead, they are only claiming that no one who charges less than they do does a better job. In other words, according to their slogan, there could be someone who does a much better job for the same price, or for only slightly more money; or there could be someone who does just as good of a job for much cheaper.

I presume that what they meant to say was, "Nobody does a better job, and nobody does the job for less." But they are apparently inflicted with the same insidious mandate of brevity that has rendered so much of our discourse inane. We refer to political acts by some shortened, cutesy name like "Patriot Act," "Defense Of Marriage Act," or "Deleting Online Predators Act," when the actual statute seldom has anything to do with its name, or at the very least, contains much more than can be summed up with the phrase. Or we refer to a patent as "the one-click patent," or "the shopping cart patent," when the actual app has forty or fifty separate, and highly-technical claims. Our soundbyte culture digests everything into meaningless phrases that fit on one line in a newspaper headline, and into meaningless arguments that can be fought, won, or lost with a single breath's dialogue.

Brevity is something to which we should aspire, but we should strive for the sort of brevity that functions in service of clarity and efficiency. When misguided brevity acts to obscure our ideas, we end up chattering back and forth without any hope or intention of reaching solutions, and we end up looking, to those with sharp eyes, like idiots, just like those two poor teachers.

Posted by Barzelay at 1:48 PM | Comments (15)

August 2, 2006

No Fear And Loathing in Contemporary Crit

This column is like a disappointed State of the Union for pop-culture criticism. It bemoans the lack of strong voices (like, it says, Lester Bangs and Hunter S. Thompson) in cultural journalism, and explains it with our society's inability to assimilate technology. Instead, new tech is still seen as a "Gee whiz" thing that we play with, instead of as a part of our culture that really affects who we are and how we think.

"[W]e play video games and they play us: The console and the gamer affect each other in hundreds of ways, stimulating our sight and blurring our hearing, and teasing us with the illusion of control and then yanking it away."

We lack the makers of taste who tell us with authority about the things going on in the culture that we shouldn't be missing, and who do so with the audacity to imprint that opinion on everyone who reads it.

"[N]o great critics have emerged, and by that he means he's never been at a big lit/journo cocktail party and heard anybody say, "You've gotta read THIS WRITER. I could give a damn about gaming, but whoa, s/he writes about games like a house on fire!" Nobody has shown up with that bowl-you-over voice that takes a seemingly alien and marginal activity-- an activity that, like drugs, many in the audience will never even try-- and turns it into a must-read experience."

And in the background, there's this whole technology thing. We keep saying, "This is so cool, it's going to change everything." But we never get around to assimilating that change and writing about the world as if that tech wasn't some novel and fleeting diversion that needs to be explained, and analyzed for whether our grandmothers will be able to figure it out.

Instead, tech magazines are digging deeper ruts in fallow soil. Wired's devolving into Cosmo for geeks: It hypes and glosses over tech the way Cosmo turns the most spectacular human experience, the orgasm, into bulletpoints. And who else is out there in the popular press? We know that our readers probably play an Internet-enabled XBox 360 that can pipe movie trailers while they're listening to an iPod and instant messaging their friends on a laptop. But what's the real story-- that we're entertained?

The column is on Pitchfork, but I got it via Slashdot. And when Slashdot picks up a Pitchfork story, you know it's probably pretty interesting.

Also,

Posted by Barzelay at 5:40 PM | Comments (3)

July 18, 2006

Getting to know celebrities

On the plane ride from San Francisco, the AirTran flight had free XM radio available at all seats. I listened to Larry King interviewing George W. and Laura Bush. Bush was being Bush, and at some point I thought to myself, "Oh, well that's just George being George." I wasn't excusing him in any way, but it was all so familiar to me. It was like he was someone I'd known since kindergarten, and wasn't friends with, but was utterly familiar with his mannerisms and personality.

This got me thinking. A public figure like a President can be so ubiquitous in our media and culture that we actually get to know them better than we know many of our good friends. There are few people whose speech, mannerisms, nervous habits, flaws, and emotions I understand better than those of George W. Bush. I know him, in that sense, better than I know almost any of my friends.

And it isn't just that he's easy to read. It's the same with many celebrities. How strange that we get so close (obviously in a superficial way) to people we'll probably never meet, only to let that closeness languish as they drop out of the news. It parallels the way we let our personal relationships fade with distance and time.

Do you feel close, at least in a superficial way, to any celebrities? Who do you think you understand?

Posted by Barzelay at 2:41 AM | Comments (4)

July 7, 2006

Say What You Mean

I'm currently on vacation to the beach in St. Augustine, along with Jeanette, Betty, and their family. I experienced an interesting moment on the plane that highlighted how far we've come as a society from saying what we mean and being efficient communicators. It's an indulgence created by wealth and security, every bit as much as other indulgences. It's only in a society with plenty of leisure time that memes could develop that have conditioned people to ask questions with no intention that the person asked provide an answer. Or where people can have entire conversations of meaningless flapjaw, saying nothing either cares about whatsoever. There has developed a whole parliamentary procedure associated with everday life, but its rules are written nowhere, and behaving intuitively and logically automatically makes one adverse to those rules. And so it is in such a society that the following could occur.

I was in the window seat, row 12, seat "F," on the right side of an AirTran red-eye from San Francisco to Atlanta. The middle and aisle seats were occupied by a young couple. When the flight arrived at the gate, there was the usual commotion of people rising from their seats, crowding the aisle, retrieving their bags, and so on, well before most of them would actually be able to get out. But eventually, the line at the front began moving, and the people in front of us cleared out. It was time for my row to go.

But the people in the seats to my left didn't go anywhere. They just sat there, watching as the line began moving from behind us, and the people seated to our rear began exiting the plane. I didn't know why they were doing that, and I was excited to get off the plane and see Jeanette, so I politely asked them, "Excuse me, are you two going to get off?"

One of them said casually, "Oh. Well, our bag is in an overhead bin about three rows back, so we figured that, rather than try to navigate the line of people leaving, we'd just wait until the end. Why, are we holding you up?"

And I said, entirely casually and without any annoyance or sarcasm, "Well, yes. You are holding me up. But I guess that's okay. I don't mind waiting."

And then they said, much to my surprise, "Jesus Christ, fine. We'll get up. God. You don't have to be so rude about it." And they got up and grabbed their bag and left in a huff.

Let's review. They asked me whether they were holding me up, and I answered yes, because I literally would be leaving were it not for their continued occupancy of the seats between me and the exit. And they thought I was being a huge asshole, just because as a society, a tacit agreement exists where people lie and supplicate to others rather than cause any sort of conflict, however mild.

But I intended no conflict. I was fine with waiting it out with them so they could retrieve their bag with less hassle. I made no indication that I wasn't fine with it. I just answered their question. That's it.

Rule: Don't ask something if you don't want it answered.

Corollary: Don't hesitate to ask something if you do want it answered.

Axiom: The more broad lesson here, like I've said before, is that one should, to the best of one's ability and within some degree of creative license, always say what one means. Doing otherwise is a waste of everyone's time.

Posted by Barzelay at 11:05 AM | Comments (7)

June 21, 2006

The 22nd Catch of Branding

I've always disapproved of people spending money on clothes that are essentially advertising for some brand. Big logos on apparel is not my thing. But now, completely logo-less staple items have become a new luxury good. One would think that people like me who have always looked down on the logo-clothing crowd would rejoice, right? Wrong. Many people just as vehemently decry the expensive, solid-colored, logo-free American Apparel t-shirts, and the nondescript, blank pocket Diesel jeans. So the fashion companies are damned either way. Either they plaster their logo on the shirts, or they leave them blank. Either way, I bitch when they make money on it.

Years ago, I remember railing against people who purchased over-priced name-brand clothing that featured the label names or logos prominently. This was right around the time Abercrombie & Fitch hit it big. Future frat and sorority types rushed out to buy the latest one of these:

ABERCROMBIE & FITCH
Coed Lacrosse
XXL

The exact text and brand-name varied, but the pattern stayed true; label name, a little text, solid-colored t-shirt, priced around $20 or so. My friends and I would sneer at them, laughing at how they spent $20 on a glorified Fruit Of The Loom, and how generic and homogenized they were. All the while, we wore only slightly-less conspicuously branded Alien Workshop and Birdhouse t-shirts, Vans and D.C. shoes, and objectively hideous elephantine jeans, spent more than they did just so we could look like grunge skaters, and every single one of us tried to talk like Beavis and Butthead. And then seventh-grade ended.

But the trend continued. Those same stores still make a ton off of those generic t-shirts with a brand name. So I kept expressing how silly I thought those people were for wearing those ridiculous shirts, and then the t-shirts that said "Polo Sport" across the front, or "Nautica Sport," or "Tommy Hilfiger." But by the end of high school, I had several Polo brand polo shirts that cost three times what the t-shirts cost, and were even more iconic, even if the logo was a lot smaller.

And now that trend--the generic t-shirt made pricey solely because of the brand name, has evolved. They started putting a slight amount of effort into it, and came up with some funny stuff, and sell "Sexual Innuendo T's" at Urban Outfitters and several online stores. But jokes are usually only funny once, and that doesn't really change if they're on a t-shirt. Given the ubiquity of Urban Outfitters and online ads for things like Busted Tees, it just isn't funny or interesting the three-hundredth time you see someone who claims to be "Gettin' Lucky In Kentucky," or "I Like Big Buttes And I Cannot Lie" with a picture of a geological formation. Soon enough, you'll start groaning out of boredom every time you see "I Pump And Dump", instead of groaning out of condescending disapproval. The sexual innuendo tees are the new (or old, really) brand-name tees--everyone has them, they're completely generic, and they aren't worth their cost. Why do people keep buying and wearing them?

Because they're stand-bys. They're never super-fashionable, and no one finds them all that interesting (How often do you hear, "That guy must be cool, because he was able to spend $30 for a pun on a shirt!" or "Wow, Greg, it sure is awesome that you troll the internet constantly looking for a new t-shirt that rhymes a sexual position with a state name!"?), but they're never completely out-of-style. You can always get a tired old smile of familiarity, or perhaps catch the one guy in the city who hasn't already seen it, and get a laugh. You know it's a fashion choice that won't completely crash and burn. No one's going to make fun of you for being the seventeenth person in the bar with "Beards... They Grow On You." The shirts are easy, and they avoid risk.

And I've managed mostly to avoid them. I've got my share of funny tees, which I've somehow justified because I spent just as much time trolling a thrift store, or belonging to some organization, instead of trolling the internet, or being on Urban Outfitters' e-mail list. But I don't really fool myself into thinking I'm any cooler because of it. I do it for the same reason they're content to be the forty-thousandth person to wear "Jesus Shaves." When some internal mechanism of mine calculates the effort and risk of doing something original in fashion, it often ends up concluding, "Fuck it. Wear the Achy Breaky Heart shirt again." And I do, and someone new sees it, and goes, "Haha. Cool shirt." Big deal.

But despite the fact that I have objective and subjective problems with just about anything anyone can possibly wear, I can't shake the fact that I care deeply about how others perceive me, I definitely want to be perceived as fashionable, and I hope that my wardrobe conveys the idea that I'm an interesting person or something. But for years I haven't really been able to find anything to wear without feeling like I'm "settling." Vintage is passe. Every decade has come back and left again. Solid is out. Logos are out. Funny tees are out. I hate all clothes, but can't stop caring about them.

I guess I could start wearing the Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirts for the first time, but ironically. It'll be like the Emperor's New Clothes, where only the cool kids will know how hip my shirt is. So if you don't think my shirt is hip, you must not be cool enough for italics.

So what do you think is cool, in an abstract sense? What motivates your choices of clothing? What reason do you have for wearing that shirt that says, "Kiss Me, I'm NATIONALITY?" Actually, that's brilliant. "Kiss Me, I'm NATIONALITY!!!" The third exclamation mark really seals it. Get 'em while they're hot, kids, because tomorrow they'll be passe. Wait. Nope. There it goes. You missed it. They're already tired.

So basically, I guess this entire post has been one big, pouty, sloppy abstract for my upcoming paper, titled, "Ugh! I Don't Have Anything To Wear: An Annotated History Of Barzelay Fashion, 1982-2006," and its anticipated sequel: "Do I Look Fat In This: A Brief History Of David Barzelay Looking Fat In This."

Posted by Barzelay at 3:50 AM | Comments (15)

April 10, 2006

Women and their stupid shoes

After a heated debate on a long car ride, I think I need to explain my position on a very... well... unimportant subject: women's shoes. After several bouts of "should I wear these shoes, or," and she takes them off, puts on another pair, turns so that I can see them from every possible angle, "these shoes?" Well, honey, it's very simple. I DON'T CARE.

But wait, wait. You probably think I'm just spouting the typical brutish guy nonsense about how we don't want women to ask us whether they look fat in that, and don't care about fashion, and can't tell the difference between taupe and pewter, mauve and maroon. But I'm not. I do have an opinion on fashion. I may not be a fashion guru, but I notice what people are wearing, and I can tell when something looks good, doesn't look good, accentuates a woman's hips, makes her look fat, makes her look skinny, or makes her look adopted. And I'll happily answer a few questions about her outfit. As long as the questions are confined to the area above her ankles. Because the thing about shoes is that they don't even have the potential to make a woman look good, bad, sexy, or frumpish.

<Generalizations>

Yep. Shoes don't affect whether you look good. Have big feet? I don't care. Have your toenails painted? I don't care. Have on your fuck-me boots? I still don't care. You don't look hot in the good ones, and the bad ones don't detract. Wear your sexy shirt, your hot jeans or skirt, hell, even your cute earrings. Those things have the potential to make you look good. But not your shoes.

If a guy compliments a woman on her shoes, he's really only complimenting her on her ability to succeed at something he doesn't care about at all. In other words, if a guy compliments a woman on her shoes, it is usually only because he knows he's supposed to. It's like if she sneezes and he says, "Bless you."

I say usually, and here's the reason it's not always the case. Shoes can make you look cool. Not good. Not sexy. But cool. If you wear cool shoes, that says something about your personality, and that does matter. If you wear inappropriate shoes for an occasion, that also says something about you, and can accordingly add or detract from the way we perceive you, but not physically. The shoes have nothing to do with our perception of your physical attractiveness. If we like your fuck-me boots, it isn't because they make you look hot, it's because we like the fact that you want us to fuck you.

Any woman who a guy would find physically hot (assuming he isn't unusually into feet or something) would still be physically hot to him if she were wearing shoes that made her feet look huge, or that didn't make her calves tighten up, or that didn't make her look taller and slimmer. And any woman a guy wouldn't find physically hot cannot achieve such a perception through intelligent footwear planning. Shoes just have nothing to do with it.

</Generalizations>

So go ahead and fuss over your shoes, but realize that you aren't doing it because they look good or bad. You're doing it because other girls will notice, or because the shoes say something about who you are. Quit worrying about whether your calves look good in those pumps, or whether your butt looks tight when you walk in those boots. Worry about what's comfortable, and about what is unique, and about what is you. Because I can think of few things less attractive than when a girl chooses shoes that tear up her feet because they are supposed to make her look good. And when it happens, remember that I may appreciate the fact that you care whether I think you look good, but there are easier ways to express that than covering your feet in blisters for some guy.

Posted by Barzelay at 10:35 PM | Comments (22)

April 3, 2006

Daylight Savings Time, and day itself, is stupid

Partially because of our recent spring forward, it feels like it's about five hours earlier than it is. Aren't I supposed to be tired right now? Anyway, daylight savings time has pros and cons.

On the good side, I love eating dinner while it's still light out. It reminds me of childhood summers when we'd eat dinner on the porch and then go for a walk around the pond, or a bike round to Hickory Hills. Winter affords me no parallel advantage, because I'm never up early enough to enjoy the sun rising, with or without the fall back. And yes, I'm glad daylight can blanket young childrens' commute to school in an illusion of safety. But there are obvious detriments as well. For starters, it's a big hassle for everyone to change their clocks. Inevitably, some people will forget to do so, and as a result, will be late to work and school, thereby creating a significant drop in the day's productivity.

But there is another unfortunate consequence of daylight savings time. It perpetuates the fiction of day and night.

Yep, the fiction of day and night. No, I don't believe light and dark are illusions, or that they are part of some elaborate conspiracy. I fully acknowledge the cycles of rotation and revolution that create alternating periods of relative brightness and darkness. But I think our adherence to those cycles to guide our life's routine is arbitrary at best. In fact, I think night and day are obsolete.

For thousands of years, we've possessed the technology to function at night. Our physiology dictates that we have an easier time of it during the light period, but ever since Bob the Caveman discovered that fire gave off light, we've been able to make due at night. Then around one hundred years ago, we came up with a much more efficient way of lighting the dark period. Electric lighting paved the way for what is now a much more lively night time than it used to be. Chemical, nuclear, and other forms of lighting may be employed in the future. Either way, we will get increasingly efficient at lighting the night.

Hence, there is no remaining reason why we should allow the cycle of light and dark to control the structure of our lives. Nearly everything traditionally reserved for the daytime can now be done at night, and vice versa. In fact, I can only think of two reasons (both valid) to adhere to our current system:

  1. We would all look terrible if we never got outside. And it isn't just looks. Our bodies supposedly get certain nutrients from the sun somehow. Don't ask me how, but it apparently happens.
  2. Lighting the night takes energy. This is a valid concern. But with more efficient lighting, as well as solar energy collection and such, this will hopefully cease to be as big a deal.

In any case, I'm not suggesting we reverse the cycles. The opposite cycle would be just as arbitrary. On the contrary, I think we need to recognize the full twenty-four hours of each day as possessing nearly equal potential for enjoyment and productivity. Why not schedule a business meeting at 3:00am? A softball game at midnight? Sex in the afternoon? Sleep in the morning? We already do some of those things, at least when we can.

In addition, not everyone's body seems naturally inclined toward a twenty-four hour schedule. Personally, if left without responsibilities for a couple weeks, I default to a cycle of around twenty-eight hours, staying up for around eighteen hours at a time, and then sleeping for around ten. That's just what feels best to me. Why should I be constrained by nature's haphazard occurrence that Earth rotates for twenty-four hours instead of twenty-eight? Well, one answer is that over millions of years, we have adapted to a twenty-four cycle, and are therefore evolutionarily suited for such a cycle. But I, and many others with different sleeping rhythms provide what are at least anomalies if not strong evidence that such and adaptation is not very strong if it has indeed occurred.

So what do you think? Besides, "But I like the sunshine!! LOL!!!!" what do you think about humanity's ability to transcend the twenty-four hour cycle nature has imposed? Why not embrace our flexibility and make more complete use of our nights? Or at the very least, why not accomodate those of us who may still be up at 7:50am writing a blog post, even though daytime dictates that they have class in a little over three hours?

Posted by Barzelay at 7:54 AM | Comments (10)

March 22, 2006

Personality and Politics

A new study indicates that whiny, insecure children grow up to be conservatives, while confident children grow up to be liberals.

The study was done on one-hundred Berkeley-area children over a period of twenty years, so it could be that whiny children grow up to be the opposite of whatever the prevailing adult political attitudes are. Either way, it's interesting. And until that different result is shown in another study, we liberals can taunt the conservatives like the confident bullies we are. At least until they go complaining to the teacher.

Posted by Barzelay at 10:10 PM | Comments (0)

March 12, 2006

Idiotarod 2006 and a nice day at Tryst

This was a very DC day. After auditioning this morning to be an SAT/LSAT teacher for Kaplan (pays well, though infrequently, and perhaps I can teach classes in San Fran if I get the unpaid EFF internship), Jeanette and I went to lunch at Chinatown Express on 6th and H NW. That's the place where a guy is always putting on a show in the window making lai mein noodles by stretching and folding dough over and over again. I'd been craving some Chinese food, and that place is very good, and cheap.

After that, we decided to head out to Adams-Morgan to study at Tryst and then get Ethiopian for dinner since I'd never had Ethiopian before (post on Ethiopian food to come). Tryst is not usually the quietest place , with a hip soundtrack (Sufjan Stevens, the new Belle And Sebastian, The Arcade Fire, etc.), baristi steaming milk, waiters running about, and chatter. But on this occasion we experienced a very peculiar and enjoyable interruption: Idiotarod 2006.

Basically, we were sitting there reading cases for our moot court competition, and every minute or so, a group of five or six drunken idiots would run by, cheering and yelling, dressed in absurd outfits and costumes, while pushing a decorated shopping cart. Very conducive to concentration. With a bit of googling we found this posting on Craigslist [edited for brevity]:

Get SMASHED at the 2006 Idiotarod, D.C.

What the Hell is the Idiotarod Anyway? It's a day of racing, making an ass of yourself, meeting new people, stopping and having chats with some local bartenders, potentially dressing up, and generally having one of the best days of your life.... The race starts with registration and Check-in at the Front Page in Dupont Circle, three checkpoint bars in between and a large party at Tom Tom in Adam's Morgan. Plan to make a fool of yourself, or come and mock your friends. And all in the name of giving back to the community...

A team is comprised of 5 Pullers/Runners, 1 Musher, and one cart. The same 6 team members must start and complete the race, and be present at each checkpoint. You should come up with a catchy team name...there might even be a prize... We will award First, Second, Third, Best Costumes, Best Fundraising and Best Sabotage prizes... For the 2006 D.C. Idiotarod, we have decided to donate funds earned to the Arlington Food Assistance Center (http://www.afacinfo.org/). They don't know they are getting this money yet, so you can't blame them for anything stupid we might do...

I love this idea, and I'm not surprised to hear that it originated in San Francisco, the land of flash mobs, giant pillow fights, the EFF, and more. I so wish that I'd have known about the Idiotarod 2006 in advance. It definitely would have been up my alley. Oh well. In any case, I got some good photos of the event in progress, and some good distraction.


The rest of the day was spent quietly at Tryst, my favorite DC hangout. I used their free wifi, edited my spring appellate brief, read some moot court, and played some Text Twist (so addictive). It was beautiful out, and so they had the whole side facing the sidewalk opened up. A breeze was blowing in, and the natural light from the front as well as from the skylight really made it a nice place to study. This was my first time there during the day. I got some iced coffee, we split a fruit tart, and then I had some more serious coffee drink later in the day. A very pleasurable time. I highly recommend you check Tryst out if you have not yet done so.

Posted by Barzelay at 1:55 AM

February 23, 2006

IKEA's Achilles Heel

I purchased approximately 79,400 things today at IKEA. It's like Wal-Mart for the literate. Everything is stylish, efficient, cheap, and Swedish. There's one about twenty-five minutes away (or fifteen minutes away when I'm in Bethesda) in College Park, Maryland. It's huge. It must have its own police force, fire department, and city hall. The mayor is the blond girl from ABBA. Because every Swede gets an honorary leadership position at an IKEA somewhere in the world.

IKEA is renowned for its functional but stylish design. They constantly receive design awards for their products. Literally. They've received seven design awards since you started reading this post. Every product is just perfect, and is crafted in such a way as to be fabricated, shipped, and stored with the best utilization of energy, space, and materials. But here's one thing IKEA hasn't yet figured out:

Stickers suck. Note the sticky residue left on the bottom of cups whose stickers don't come off properly. And don't tell me that I just didn't do it right. I tried every method of peeling known to man. If there were an Idiot's Guide To Peeling Stickers, I would have exhausted its knowledge. If there were a Professional Sticker Peeler's Guide To Peeling Stickers, I would be able to contribute tips.

Yes, that's right. IKEA's UPC stickers can suck my tender Swedish meatballs. IKEA can furnish an entire house with furniture, appliances, and decorations, all assembled with just a small hex tool, but they can't keep the bottoms of my cups from being sticky? Come on, IKEA. I demand that you address this problem. No more sticky stickers leaving sticky stuff on my shit.

Maybe in Sweden everyone keeps rubbing alcohol handy. I don't know. Anyone know if vodka can be used instead of rubbing alcohol? Corollary: Anyone know if one can drink vodka with sticker glue dissolved in it?

Posted by Barzelay at 6:57 AM | Comments (10)

February 13, 2006

Myspace: Who actually likes this crap?

I just got done commiserating with someone over how much we dislike Myspace. She was goaded by friends into signing up about a week ago, and already can't stand it. I was goaded by friends into signing up last summer, and continue to hate it.

We came up with a theory, extrapolating our plights into a universal quagmire: Just as we had been forced to join by our friends, so our friends must have been forced to join by theirs. They, in turn, were made to join by their friends, and so on. Tracing the chain back far enough, the only user actually to have wanted to join Myspace was, in fact, Tom himself. Every single other Myspace user is only there by coercion.

Myspace, like Facebook, facilitates reconnections with old friends and acquaintances from undergrad, high school, and even earlier. But unlike Facebook, Myspace allows blogging and the posting of "bulletins," which create a lot of problems. Specifically, one continually has to read bulletins from those of one's former acquaintances who did not end up being so fortunate as to attend institutions of higher learning, or have not become modern and discerning enough not to hang on to overt racism. Not that I ever fit in all that well to the Seffner, FL intellectual vibe, but it didn't seem so ignorant when I was around it all the time.

But now I'm made to read things about how if one writes one's name backwards, it will look like a "terrorist name" (i.e. a middle eastern name, for those who aren't fluent in Republicanese); about all that's wrong with the world today; that, in fact, all the dumb white people voted for Kerry; that not re-posting a chain letter can leave one involuntarily celibate; that Democrats are all "girly men;" that Cindy Sheehan is a prostitute; that every major news source in this country with the exception of Fox News and the Washington Times is run by Michael Moore; and that all Muslims, American and foreign, dance in the streets every time an American soldier dies. Ugh.

Of course, I could simply stop going there. I never actually just go troll Myspace. But every once in a while, I get an email saying some person has sent me a message. Those times, I will go check the message out, and then, on a foolish lark, check to see if any interesting bulletins have been posted. For future reference, none have. Ever.

Posted by Barzelay at 2:44 AM | Comments (12)

February 6, 2006

Super Bowl XL Commercials on Google Video

Google Video has compiled all the commercials from Super Bowl XL. You can watch any of them on Google Video.

Some of my favorites:
United Airlines, "Dragon" (I want to see a feature-length movie of this)
FedEx, "Stick"
Bud Light, "Save Yourself"
Degree, "Stunt City"

The GoDaddy commercials, the Jessica Simpson Pizza Hut one, and all of the Pepsi commercials were terrible. I heart Google.

Posted by Barzelay at 10:35 PM | Comments (5)

October 21, 2005

How To Become A Motivational Speaker

google.com/ig, your personalized Google homepage, has a feature where it posts random How To's each day from wiki.e-how.com. At least a couple per day are usually quite enticing, and often very weird.

The trouble is, one how to usually links to several others, and I start following this endless chain of how to's. It's a great site, and I now know everything from how to make risotto to how to shave a girl's head.

But one of today's how to's posted on Google was just too ridiculous to pass up. Bask in the glory of How To Become A Motivational Speaker.

The article features many gems of advice that anyone seeking a career in the motivational arts would be foolish to forget, such as:

  • Dress consistent with the perception you wish to convey. If you want to convey professionalism and success, business attire is probably best. Some motivational speakers use clothing to make a point in their presentation.

  • Audience participation is a great way for adults to learn, and you can do this in any number of ways. For example, one speaker handed out raisins and slowly took the audience through the life of that raisin and all that had to happen for that raisin to be in their hands.

  • If you forget what to say or begin to get nervous in front of a large crowd, stop, take a deep breath, and speak from the heart.

Posted by Barzelay at 12:26 PM | Comments (1)

October 20, 2005

Not Pron, A Puzzle Game

Chris Santoro alerted me to a very addictive puzzle game at notpron.com. It purports to be the internet's toughest puzzle game. It's a lot of fun, but some of my reader's don't have all of the necessary tech skills.

Right now I'm stuck on Level 16. Reading the page's source code has provided hints on almost every level. If you don't know what the source code is or how to view it, then don't bother attempting this puzzle game. If, however, viewing a page's source code is somewhat familiar to you, I recommend you give this game a try. Another word of warning: one puzzle so far required a sound editing program. If you encounter this level and don't have the necessary program, let me know and I'll give you a hint.

Oh, and by the way... I had to cheat on level 7 and look up a hint file on the web. That one sucked.

Posted by Barzelay at 5:53 AM | Comments (3)

July 10, 2005

Mmmm, Dinner. Broiled Grapefruit and stuff.

Tonight I made a great dinner. It was broiled teriyaki salmon, rice with raisins and almond slices, salad, and an appetizer of broiled grapefruit. Anyway, I wanted to share the recipe of the appetizer because it's so amazingly easy to make, but seems really fancy. I don't really like grapefruit normally, but this is great.

Broiled Grapefruit Chalet Suzanne

  • 1 Red grapefruit
  • 2 Tbsp butter
  • 1 tsp sugar
  • 4 Tbsp cinnamon-sugar mix (1/5 cinnamon, 4/5 sugar)

Slice grapefruit in half and cut membrane around center of the fruit. Cut around each section half, close to membrane, so that the fruit is completely loosened from its shell. Fill the center of each half with 1 Tbsp butter. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp sugar over each half, then sprinkle each with 2 Tbsp cinnamon-sugar mixt. Place grapefruit on shallow baking pan and broil just long enough to brown tops and heat to bubbling hot. Remove from oven and serve hot. Makes 2 servings.

Posted by Barzelay at 7:57 PM | Comments (2)