It's my birthday, too, now. Bah duh duh duh dumm dah!
There's a true grandeur to having a February birthday and living in the northern hemisphere. It's basically the ass-end of the year. It's still cold, generally miserable, and even the people that love winter are longing for spring. Kids are two-thirds of the way through a school year, which means the thrill of a new grade has long worn off and they're getting a glimpse of what it's going to be like to work as adults: tedious, repetitive, and mind-numbing.
By the end of February, cabin fever has mutated into some form of malign virus where your attitude is in direct correlation to the amount of space you're sharing with other people. As one of the few American families who choose to live within our means, we have a small house, which means by the end the month when my birthday rolls around, I'm hiding the sharp objects from my kith and kin.
Most people say your birthday should be the one day you get to do what you want, just for yourself. If by that they mean, "you should do what we think you should want to do, regardless of your preference, birthday boy! And we're tagging along," then, yes, that's exactly what you get on your birthday.
How to counteract those February blues? The American way: I spent a huge amount of cash in my own private stimulus package, buying a ridiculously expensive piece of audio equipment. I hope the economy appreciates my sacrifice on my birthday. I don't think my neighbors will understand my new decibel levels of patriotism, but then they didn't wish me Happy Birthday.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
On Writer's Block
"I've got writer's block."
I've heard this complaint from numerous places this week, mostly from students who won't be handing in projects. It's been so familiar recently that I just have to go on public record:
There's no such thing as writer's block.
Here's a weird conundrum for you: you actually have to be a writer to claim writer's block, but no real writer actually ever claims to be blocked. You know why? Because writers write. If you aren't writing, you're not a writer.
"Writer's Block" is a euphemism that non-writers use when then want to say: I'm too lazy to do that work you wanted, but I'm creative. If you're working as a writer, you're usually under some sort of deadline or another and if you use the blocked excuse - or any other - it's a euphemism for "I really don't want to ever work again." Being blocked is simply not an option for a professional writer.
If you're too lazy to do the writing you're getting paid (or a grade) for, maybe you should stop posting all the crap on your facebook page, your blog, and any other electronic hidey-hole you have. Even if you're tweeting, you're writing, so then you aren't blocked.
Better yet, stop thinking of yourself as a writer and start facing up to the fact that you should get a real life because claiming to be a blocked writer is like claiming to be a steroid-free ball player: nobody believes you any more and no one cares. Except, of course, those ball players enjoy a level of celebrity no writer - unblocked or not - ever enjoys.
Anyway, stop whining, do your work. We don't care about how tortured you are - that's for the biographers - we only care about what's on the page. Oh, wait, there's nothing there because you're blocked...
I've heard this complaint from numerous places this week, mostly from students who won't be handing in projects. It's been so familiar recently that I just have to go on public record:
There's no such thing as writer's block.
Here's a weird conundrum for you: you actually have to be a writer to claim writer's block, but no real writer actually ever claims to be blocked. You know why? Because writers write. If you aren't writing, you're not a writer.
"Writer's Block" is a euphemism that non-writers use when then want to say: I'm too lazy to do that work you wanted, but I'm creative. If you're working as a writer, you're usually under some sort of deadline or another and if you use the blocked excuse - or any other - it's a euphemism for "I really don't want to ever work again." Being blocked is simply not an option for a professional writer.
If you're too lazy to do the writing you're getting paid (or a grade) for, maybe you should stop posting all the crap on your facebook page, your blog, and any other electronic hidey-hole you have. Even if you're tweeting, you're writing, so then you aren't blocked.
Better yet, stop thinking of yourself as a writer and start facing up to the fact that you should get a real life because claiming to be a blocked writer is like claiming to be a steroid-free ball player: nobody believes you any more and no one cares. Except, of course, those ball players enjoy a level of celebrity no writer - unblocked or not - ever enjoys.
Anyway, stop whining, do your work. We don't care about how tortured you are - that's for the biographers - we only care about what's on the page. Oh, wait, there's nothing there because you're blocked...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Oscar Fallout
Well, it's Bad Hangover Monday after the Oscars. Was it just me, or did it look more like the Tonys? I'm glad Hugh Jackman has declared that musicals are coming back, but maybe he should have looked at Broadway ticket sales before he announced it. If there's a sector of the economy that looks worse than banking, it may be the musical theater.
It would be easy to mock the Oscars, but all the entertainment shows will be doing it non-stop for the next week, so I'll set my sights a little higher: Sean Penn wants all of you to get on board the gay marriage band wagon! Now, let's gloss over his own personal history in the nuptial area, which makes him the less-than-ideal spokesperson for any kind of weddings. His heart's in the right place, yeah? He's an angry little bugger, but then so am I.
For the most part, I agree with him, but I think I may have a better argument than he was able to articulate. It goes like this: why not?
It can't possibly screw up the economy any worse than it already is, could it? No economic objections, then.
Marriage is a religous concept, is it not? Last I checked the government was supposed to stay out of religious matters. No serious political objections, then.
So, what we come down to is religious objections, right? Well, we're guaranteed freedom of religon under the constitution, so if there's a religion that wants to marry homosexual congregants, your objection is unconstitutional. Yes, you're Un-American if you oppose gay marriage.
Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, as a way to put everyone on constitutionally equal footing what we should probably do is remove any kind of inequalities not by protecting gay marriage but by taking away any marriage benefits from those already married. As a religious concept, it probably has no place in our government, and should be purged. So, let's nullify all existing marriages as far as the government is concerned.
All the sudden, the inequality is pretty clear, isn't it? If domestic partnerships are equal to marriage, then you won't mind giving up your marital status, will you?
And before you fall back on the Bible, and tell me how homosexual marriage isn't mentioned or condoned in the Bible, let me point out that you can't use that logic selectively. So, if you're banning things that aren't mentioned in the good book, you better be prepared to give up some other stuff as well. Pick-ups. Assault weapons. Little flag pins on your lapels. Nascar. Oh, yes... Nascar.
If the Oscars showed anything last night it's that it's a big ole world out there with plenty of other views and you need to just scooch over on the couch and make room for everybody.
It would be easy to mock the Oscars, but all the entertainment shows will be doing it non-stop for the next week, so I'll set my sights a little higher: Sean Penn wants all of you to get on board the gay marriage band wagon! Now, let's gloss over his own personal history in the nuptial area, which makes him the less-than-ideal spokesperson for any kind of weddings. His heart's in the right place, yeah? He's an angry little bugger, but then so am I.
For the most part, I agree with him, but I think I may have a better argument than he was able to articulate. It goes like this: why not?
It can't possibly screw up the economy any worse than it already is, could it? No economic objections, then.
Marriage is a religous concept, is it not? Last I checked the government was supposed to stay out of religious matters. No serious political objections, then.
So, what we come down to is religious objections, right? Well, we're guaranteed freedom of religon under the constitution, so if there's a religion that wants to marry homosexual congregants, your objection is unconstitutional. Yes, you're Un-American if you oppose gay marriage.
Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, as a way to put everyone on constitutionally equal footing what we should probably do is remove any kind of inequalities not by protecting gay marriage but by taking away any marriage benefits from those already married. As a religious concept, it probably has no place in our government, and should be purged. So, let's nullify all existing marriages as far as the government is concerned.
All the sudden, the inequality is pretty clear, isn't it? If domestic partnerships are equal to marriage, then you won't mind giving up your marital status, will you?
And before you fall back on the Bible, and tell me how homosexual marriage isn't mentioned or condoned in the Bible, let me point out that you can't use that logic selectively. So, if you're banning things that aren't mentioned in the good book, you better be prepared to give up some other stuff as well. Pick-ups. Assault weapons. Little flag pins on your lapels. Nascar. Oh, yes... Nascar.
If the Oscars showed anything last night it's that it's a big ole world out there with plenty of other views and you need to just scooch over on the couch and make room for everybody.
Friday, February 20, 2009
On Meetings
At some time in the past, someone smarter and funnier than me - well, sure that's false modesty, does anyone really think there's anyone smarter or funnier than they are? - must have written down the universal time-suck equation as it relates to meetings. If you have a reference to it, please e-mail me immediately.
In the meantime, allow me to point out some of the complexities the equation must acknowledge. First you start with an inverse proportion whereby the number of people involved in any meeting simultaneously lowers the aggregate IQ and extends the length - in minutes, or hours - of the meeting. Note that this is actually a recursive function, because as IQ is lowered, meeting time is also increased because you have to keep explaining things for the dimwits. It's like calculating compound interest.
Next, you factor in the newbies that need to be brought up to speed. Multiply the introductory time factor by the number of people who have never attended any meeting on the subject, but who are now insinuating themselves onto your project because it might look good for them, or they want to generate the appearance of doing work by glomming onto yours.
Don't forget to account for the time/salary/availability relationship. This is a function which states the lower your salary, the move vulnerable you are to being "made available" to any wing-nut above you who decides to drag you into a room with other clueless people. A general rule of this function also states that the lower your salary, the less time you actually have at your disposal for this kind of crap because you spend your days doing the work of the people who spend their time in meetings.
Finally, you need to adjust for the politico-sexual modifier, which means that anyone deliberately trying to (a) kiss ass or (b) get ass during the meeting also impacts meeting duration. In case (a) meeting duration is increased indefinitely because public ass-kissing is usually the root instigator of all meetings. In case (b) the duration of the meeting can actually decrease depending on the potential success of the operators of the function.
I will refer to this only as my special theory of meetings. Only after more exhaustive testing will I be able to create a more useful general theory of meetings.
Until then, I've got to go to another damn meeting.
In the meantime, allow me to point out some of the complexities the equation must acknowledge. First you start with an inverse proportion whereby the number of people involved in any meeting simultaneously lowers the aggregate IQ and extends the length - in minutes, or hours - of the meeting. Note that this is actually a recursive function, because as IQ is lowered, meeting time is also increased because you have to keep explaining things for the dimwits. It's like calculating compound interest.
Next, you factor in the newbies that need to be brought up to speed. Multiply the introductory time factor by the number of people who have never attended any meeting on the subject, but who are now insinuating themselves onto your project because it might look good for them, or they want to generate the appearance of doing work by glomming onto yours.
Don't forget to account for the time/salary/availability relationship. This is a function which states the lower your salary, the move vulnerable you are to being "made available" to any wing-nut above you who decides to drag you into a room with other clueless people. A general rule of this function also states that the lower your salary, the less time you actually have at your disposal for this kind of crap because you spend your days doing the work of the people who spend their time in meetings.
Finally, you need to adjust for the politico-sexual modifier, which means that anyone deliberately trying to (a) kiss ass or (b) get ass during the meeting also impacts meeting duration. In case (a) meeting duration is increased indefinitely because public ass-kissing is usually the root instigator of all meetings. In case (b) the duration of the meeting can actually decrease depending on the potential success of the operators of the function.
I will refer to this only as my special theory of meetings. Only after more exhaustive testing will I be able to create a more useful general theory of meetings.
Until then, I've got to go to another damn meeting.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Phrase of the Day
This morning on the way to work I heard NPR discussing "Zombie Banks," thus simultaneously sounding the death knell for financial institutions and for any latent cool associated with those mythic monsters. Let's face it, if NPR is coining phrases using them, zombies have lost all street cred.
The financial system, though. I mean, wow. Who knew? Where did all these dead banks come from? And so quickly? I mean, like, out of the blue.
Okay, yes, I'll take my tongue out of my cheek. Anyone with a pulse has known most of the big banks were dead for a long time now, despite the life support system of the first bailout. Use the Dow Jones as your heart rate monitor. In the last couple of months, if your beats per minute dropped by half, you'd be the living dead also. Well, probably not living. Just dead.
Let's keep going with the analogy, though, because it's so much fun. Instead of shooting the banks in the head, the government has been giving them some sort of anti-zombie drug called "unlimited, unrestricted cash" and given the zombie bank leaders free brains to boot. Now, what would you expect a good zombie to do? Come back to life and give away some of their zombie-medicine to people who are in danger of becoming zombies themselves? Hell no, they took all the medicine and are coming back for more brains.
But wait, there's more: Nosfer-autos. They suck the blood from the planet, resist all attempts to kill them (efficiency standards, safety legislation, opec), and still manage to screw you. From the mythical land of Detroit, where shoddy and irresponsible products are only equal to protectionist mentality and predatory business practice, come the soul-sucking conveyances of the un-dead. Instead of dragging them out into the sun to burn the evil away, we're supposed to give them another $39 Billion worth of sunscreen?
No way. Just... no. Get ready for the head shots and the wooden stakes, people, or they're going to drag us along down with them.
Better yet, let some people with practical experience take over. How about George Romero for Commerce Secretary? Since my bud Judd bailed (see My Guilt Complex for more on that), The President is looking for someone. Romero knows how to deal with Zombies and he's used to working with small budgets. I'm sure Ralph "Van Helsing" Nader can take care of the Nosfer-autos. Let him take a crack at it. Remember the Corvair? He staked that baby pretty well. Really, can anyone make it worse at this point?
Or maybe, just maybe, we should all stop making funny little jokes (especially NPR) and the people who are responsible should man up and fix this shit. If the bankers who caused the problem can't be sent to jail (where you and I would be sent if we performed as badly as they have) then they should be forced to fix their own mess. Congress and Commerce and Treasury should shoulder the mantle of responsibility and dig in to do the dirty work. It's not going to be pretty, but it beats having your brain eaten.
The financial system, though. I mean, wow. Who knew? Where did all these dead banks come from? And so quickly? I mean, like, out of the blue.
Okay, yes, I'll take my tongue out of my cheek. Anyone with a pulse has known most of the big banks were dead for a long time now, despite the life support system of the first bailout. Use the Dow Jones as your heart rate monitor. In the last couple of months, if your beats per minute dropped by half, you'd be the living dead also. Well, probably not living. Just dead.
Let's keep going with the analogy, though, because it's so much fun. Instead of shooting the banks in the head, the government has been giving them some sort of anti-zombie drug called "unlimited, unrestricted cash" and given the zombie bank leaders free brains to boot. Now, what would you expect a good zombie to do? Come back to life and give away some of their zombie-medicine to people who are in danger of becoming zombies themselves? Hell no, they took all the medicine and are coming back for more brains.
But wait, there's more: Nosfer-autos. They suck the blood from the planet, resist all attempts to kill them (efficiency standards, safety legislation, opec), and still manage to screw you. From the mythical land of Detroit, where shoddy and irresponsible products are only equal to protectionist mentality and predatory business practice, come the soul-sucking conveyances of the un-dead. Instead of dragging them out into the sun to burn the evil away, we're supposed to give them another $39 Billion worth of sunscreen?
No way. Just... no. Get ready for the head shots and the wooden stakes, people, or they're going to drag us along down with them.
Better yet, let some people with practical experience take over. How about George Romero for Commerce Secretary? Since my bud Judd bailed (see My Guilt Complex for more on that), The President is looking for someone. Romero knows how to deal with Zombies and he's used to working with small budgets. I'm sure Ralph "Van Helsing" Nader can take care of the Nosfer-autos. Let him take a crack at it. Remember the Corvair? He staked that baby pretty well. Really, can anyone make it worse at this point?
Or maybe, just maybe, we should all stop making funny little jokes (especially NPR) and the people who are responsible should man up and fix this shit. If the bankers who caused the problem can't be sent to jail (where you and I would be sent if we performed as badly as they have) then they should be forced to fix their own mess. Congress and Commerce and Treasury should shoulder the mantle of responsibility and dig in to do the dirty work. It's not going to be pretty, but it beats having your brain eaten.
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