Last week, while cruising around Dallas on a trip to meet a friend in Fort Worth, I had a bit of time to kill. I decided I would stop by Whole Foods to, 1) waste time, and 2)buy a bottle of wine for a picnic that some friends and I would be having the next day. As I entered the store and made my way through various sections in order to find my wine aisle, fate precipitated young Greg into a sea of counters covered by blocks of chocolate. Distracted and intrigued, I stopped to peruse the selection when, suddenly, like a midnight sun, a blinding light caught my eye. The source? A stunning beauty just to my right, glistening in the grocery store lights like the hood of a Camaro on a sunny summer day in California. Unable to avert my eyes, I approached with caution. Never having been a believer of the saying that the grocery store is a great place to find the love of your life, you can understand my hesitance. I looked around to make sure the coast was clear, not that any soul could prevent what was to happen next. After all, this was fate. I moved nearer with a few blundering steps, and then, after several nervous glances, it happened...
I picked up the most beautiful 0.53-pound block of white chocolate that the world has ever seen. It was a stunning, awe-inspiring, $8.99/lb conglomeration of sugar, cacao butter, dry whole milk, soy lecithin as an emulsifier, and natural vanilla flavor (listed in order by quantity) that the grocery gods had put together just for me.
When fate brings two things together like it did with this rectangular block of Callebaut white chocolate and me, exigent action is required. We can move toward the target that destiny hath placed in our path and whose existence, most likely, was preordained as a source of pleasure for us, or we can squander the opportunity by tarrying away that ephemeral moment.
Forrest Gump once said "Stupid is as stupid does." While these words of wisdom are extraordinarily applicable to daily life, sometimes they must be manipulated to better reflect our quotidian circumstances. Thus, as a result of my experience, I am now a vehement follower of the words "Stupid is as stupid don't."
Also, I found employment.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Kannst du mir helfen?
As I stew in this warm pool of unemployment under a hot sun in the sagging, droopy diaper that is our sputtering economy, I'm finding that I am becoming increasingly interested in research, graduate school, and generally the development of new technology, particularly in the energy sector. This recently led me to consider the issue of individual vehicle transportation and what I believe to be a major roadblock preventing us from moving closer to widespread use of electrical vehicles- the limited storage and interchangeability of car batteries as well the lack of "gas station-style" infrastructure. As a result of this pondering, I have written a short article to serve as my view of the future for electrical vehicles if we can find a way to solve these problems.
Consider this:
You're driving your car along the highway and see that the battery's charge is getting low. You exit a few miles later and stop at the next service station. There, you show the attendant your "electrical car" driver's license and pay the $10 battery charge fee. The attendant pops your hood, disconnects the battery, takes it inside and replaces it with an identical, fully-charged battery. He reconnects the battery, closes the hood, and you're off again to sail down the highway.
Think about it: What if we had licenses to prove that you were the driver of a fully electrical vehicle. With this permit, and a small fee, you could go to the nearest charge station to replace your depleted battery with a fully-charged one. There is no hassle of finding a place to "plug in" your car (which would be a real headache for people who live in apartments) and no long waiting period while the battery recharges. Additionally, the small fee of replacing your battery is significantly less than you used to pay to refill your car's gas tank. All of this made possible by the development of the standard electrical car battery- interchangeable and identical for all electrical cars (somewhat like the batteries for our current gas vehicles, only capable of holding a significantly larger charge).
Granted, the development of this magical battery is definitely somewhere down the road. Right now, hybrid batteries are incredibly bulky, expensive, and you would never think about exchanging it on your own. Improved battery and electrical storage research is the key to really getting a system of electrical vehicles off the ground, which includes developing an infrastructure for electrical charge stations. Without significant advancements, however, electrical cars will likely remain nothing more than a fraction of all vehicles on the road.
Consider this:
You're driving your car along the highway and see that the battery's charge is getting low. You exit a few miles later and stop at the next service station. There, you show the attendant your "electrical car" driver's license and pay the $10 battery charge fee. The attendant pops your hood, disconnects the battery, takes it inside and replaces it with an identical, fully-charged battery. He reconnects the battery, closes the hood, and you're off again to sail down the highway.
Think about it: What if we had licenses to prove that you were the driver of a fully electrical vehicle. With this permit, and a small fee, you could go to the nearest charge station to replace your depleted battery with a fully-charged one. There is no hassle of finding a place to "plug in" your car (which would be a real headache for people who live in apartments) and no long waiting period while the battery recharges. Additionally, the small fee of replacing your battery is significantly less than you used to pay to refill your car's gas tank. All of this made possible by the development of the standard electrical car battery- interchangeable and identical for all electrical cars (somewhat like the batteries for our current gas vehicles, only capable of holding a significantly larger charge).
Granted, the development of this magical battery is definitely somewhere down the road. Right now, hybrid batteries are incredibly bulky, expensive, and you would never think about exchanging it on your own. Improved battery and electrical storage research is the key to really getting a system of electrical vehicles off the ground, which includes developing an infrastructure for electrical charge stations. Without significant advancements, however, electrical cars will likely remain nothing more than a fraction of all vehicles on the road.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
"How funny is it..."
"...that the only skill we have that's worth a damn is that we speak the only language we know?" -Robert Cenzon
Indeed, for those who have excelled academically but struggled with direction and finding satisfaction with available work opportunities, teaching English in a foreign country seems to be a popular solution. Even if it's not an application of our most advanced level of education, we're still capable of doing this simply because we are native speakers, correct?
Well, after having taught English in France for 7 months, I found that the experience was certainly a challenging one- it was not unusual to find myself repeating phrases over and over as well as perusing online grammar sources in order to provide my friends or students with a correct answer. Moreover, as a result of the experience, I've begun to take note of grammar and vocabulary when people write and speak, and what I've discovered upon returning to the US is not pleasant. It is as if many of us have never had a class in grammar, read a book, or even listened to ourselves speak. Grammatical mistakes and misapplications of idiomatic phrases are everywhere. With the overabundance of news programming, there are many anchors who struggle to get the words out without severe hiccups. Watching athletic events can be extremely annoying, as pre-game hosts, broadcasters, coaches, and athletes are among the worst offenders. While I can tolerate the occasional mistake, I do find it frustrating to read a company's website and find multiple errors that can lead to ambiguity or misunderstandings, or hear a speaker on television making terrible gaffes in trying to spit out a simple phrase. This type of fault can damage credibility and, in the case of written publications, significantly reduce the readability of an article.
As a result, I began wondering why we're so poor at using our mother tongue. At first, I thought about myself. I am not perfect with written English, and certainly not in speaking. Perhaps I rely too heavily on spell-check. However, it appears that many people aren't even using that resource, so this is probably not the reason. After all, thinking back on reading the writings of fellow students in my first years of college, some of them were a struggle to understand because of the frequency of mistakes. Now, in reading blogs and posts on social networking sites, I've noticed that this is epidemic. No, I'm not talking about text-talk and condensations for the sake of being efficient, like "4," "u," etc, although these (and the accompanying errors in their use) have often rendered postings on sites like YouTube and Twitter nearly incomprehensible, and they certainly do not reflect well on our common intelligence.
While I am not absolutely sure (and I am open to hearing other suggestions on this subject), I think that the decline in our English is the result of:
1) the free-for-all, unmonitored nature of the internet;
2) the glorification of the "coolness" of speaking in an uneducated manner; and
3) a glaring shortcoming of our education system.
To focus on the topic of education, I noticed while I was in France that students are required to follow difficult grammar lessons, and they are exposed to this over a period of several years. For anyone not familiar with the language, French grammar can be difficult and very convoluted, and it is easily understandable why students need extensive training in the subject. As someone who has learned it for their second language, I am very cognizant of my faults and care a great deal about what is and isn't correct. However, the same could not be said for my English. Furthermore, when foreign friends would ask me for a sophisticated or intelligent manner of saying something in English, I found that I was often able to provide them a phrase in French, but not in English. Great. I speak a language with comparatively elementary conjugation rules and a significantly larger vocabulary base, and I struggle to develop intellectual phrases or even avoid errors. Thus, as I reflect on my education, it sticks out in my mind that we spent a surprisingly small amount of time covering grammar topics, although we did have years of vocabulary practice. I think that many people, with an honest self-evaluation, would be able to say the same regarding their education, and I think that this needs to change if we are going to maintain an intelligent society that is capable of clearly communicating.
As a result of this experience, I've begun to make a concerted effort to clean up my language, and I would like to encourage others to do likewise. I will admit that I have derived a great deal of pleasure over the years in speaking broken English and joking with my friends in that way. However, this type of language does not belong in a written forum, where the original context will likely be lost or misunderstood, and readers will be left to judge us as incoherent and uneducated. The only people laughing then will be the reader who finds it funny that we can't even speak the only language we know, and that's not what we want, is it?
Indeed, for those who have excelled academically but struggled with direction and finding satisfaction with available work opportunities, teaching English in a foreign country seems to be a popular solution. Even if it's not an application of our most advanced level of education, we're still capable of doing this simply because we are native speakers, correct?
Well, after having taught English in France for 7 months, I found that the experience was certainly a challenging one- it was not unusual to find myself repeating phrases over and over as well as perusing online grammar sources in order to provide my friends or students with a correct answer. Moreover, as a result of the experience, I've begun to take note of grammar and vocabulary when people write and speak, and what I've discovered upon returning to the US is not pleasant. It is as if many of us have never had a class in grammar, read a book, or even listened to ourselves speak. Grammatical mistakes and misapplications of idiomatic phrases are everywhere. With the overabundance of news programming, there are many anchors who struggle to get the words out without severe hiccups. Watching athletic events can be extremely annoying, as pre-game hosts, broadcasters, coaches, and athletes are among the worst offenders. While I can tolerate the occasional mistake, I do find it frustrating to read a company's website and find multiple errors that can lead to ambiguity or misunderstandings, or hear a speaker on television making terrible gaffes in trying to spit out a simple phrase. This type of fault can damage credibility and, in the case of written publications, significantly reduce the readability of an article.
As a result, I began wondering why we're so poor at using our mother tongue. At first, I thought about myself. I am not perfect with written English, and certainly not in speaking. Perhaps I rely too heavily on spell-check. However, it appears that many people aren't even using that resource, so this is probably not the reason. After all, thinking back on reading the writings of fellow students in my first years of college, some of them were a struggle to understand because of the frequency of mistakes. Now, in reading blogs and posts on social networking sites, I've noticed that this is epidemic. No, I'm not talking about text-talk and condensations for the sake of being efficient, like "4," "u," etc, although these (and the accompanying errors in their use) have often rendered postings on sites like YouTube and Twitter nearly incomprehensible, and they certainly do not reflect well on our common intelligence.
While I am not absolutely sure (and I am open to hearing other suggestions on this subject), I think that the decline in our English is the result of:
1) the free-for-all, unmonitored nature of the internet;
2) the glorification of the "coolness" of speaking in an uneducated manner; and
3) a glaring shortcoming of our education system.
To focus on the topic of education, I noticed while I was in France that students are required to follow difficult grammar lessons, and they are exposed to this over a period of several years. For anyone not familiar with the language, French grammar can be difficult and very convoluted, and it is easily understandable why students need extensive training in the subject. As someone who has learned it for their second language, I am very cognizant of my faults and care a great deal about what is and isn't correct. However, the same could not be said for my English. Furthermore, when foreign friends would ask me for a sophisticated or intelligent manner of saying something in English, I found that I was often able to provide them a phrase in French, but not in English. Great. I speak a language with comparatively elementary conjugation rules and a significantly larger vocabulary base, and I struggle to develop intellectual phrases or even avoid errors. Thus, as I reflect on my education, it sticks out in my mind that we spent a surprisingly small amount of time covering grammar topics, although we did have years of vocabulary practice. I think that many people, with an honest self-evaluation, would be able to say the same regarding their education, and I think that this needs to change if we are going to maintain an intelligent society that is capable of clearly communicating.
As a result of this experience, I've begun to make a concerted effort to clean up my language, and I would like to encourage others to do likewise. I will admit that I have derived a great deal of pleasure over the years in speaking broken English and joking with my friends in that way. However, this type of language does not belong in a written forum, where the original context will likely be lost or misunderstood, and readers will be left to judge us as incoherent and uneducated. The only people laughing then will be the reader who finds it funny that we can't even speak the only language we know, and that's not what we want, is it?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Yes, I will do that...for $7000 more
Hello one and all
What better way to begin
Than with a haiku?
Hola, amigos. It's been a bit of time, but there's been surprisingly little to report of late. I am in Dallas, after all, and that seems to spell B-O-R-I-N-G. However, I did get the urge to post some more drivel today after several memories and ideas compelled me to jot down a few ideas.
To leap into the topic of unemployment, I'll begin with news of the job search and how you, too, can "Laura Miller" your way out of a job.
About a month ago I was simultaneously offered 2 jobs on the same day- the first was a full-time engineering gig, and the second was a part-time job teaching SAT prep. I had applied for the latter with the intention of finding something simple that would permit me to earn some money to keep afloat until I could find a full-time job. Little did I know that the engineering company would move extremely quickly in giving 2 interviews and then an offer. As it happened, I received both offers on the same day...and while I was not totally pumped about the salary offered by the engineering company, I was almost certain that I was going to accept the job after attempting to negotiate the pay. However, SAT prep job was about to start moving very quickly into training, and I thought this would conflict with my first weeks of work at the other company. Thus, I was unfortunately forced to decline the teaching job.
Several days after the initial offer, I returned a call to the engineering company and asked that, rather than the $50k/year offered, they consider my desire of $57k. As anyone who has been through an engineering program will tell you, we have always been informed at our universities to not accept the first offer without attempting to negotiate a higher salary. While this always seemed selfish and arrogant to me, I suddenly saw the need after receiving an offer in the lowest 10% of entry level salaries for mechanical engineers nationwide. I pinpointed $57k as the national average for 2008 graduates with a BS in my field. I didn't even bother to mention that the average from the University of Texas is $62k, or that I graduated at the top of my class and perhaps should be deserving of at least my school's average salary. After all, from hearing the company's initial offer, and considering economic times, I figured maybe they didn't have an appreciable amount of money to throw around. I was working under the assumption that they would maybe go up 2-4k/year, or, in the worst case scenario, they would say they couldn't increase the offer at all. Fine, that would have been A-OK by me. However, they called me back and, without mentioning salary, asked me to come in and talk to another person who works in an unrelated department. I went in thinking it might be negotiation time only to find it was third interview time. "Alright," I thought, "let's get this done and see what they say." Thus, the 20 minute interview passed and was neither terrible nor great, but I left thinking I would receive a call back. Four days later I called back and left a message for the HR person, but have not yet received a response. It has now been about 3-4 weeks.
As a result of this debacle, a man who once had two jobs to choose from now has, you guessed it...none. Now that's a real pute if I've ever seen one. However, aside from describing this with the saying "When it rains, it pours" (which Morton salt and conversational English have endeared to us all), I would like to introduce the phrase of "Laura Miller-ing yourself out of something." Now some of you may remember that Miller, the former mayor of Dallas, prematurely announced the planning of a parade to celebrate the Dallas Mavericks' victory in the 2006 NBA Finals just before they began their historic meltdown to lose the series, 4-2. Similarly, I began fervently brainstorming with my friends and fervidly urinating inane ideas all over my blog about how we would live together and do all sorts of fun things as soon as I had an income. Little did I know that life had other ideas and, just as I was on the cusp of climbing out of this pool of unemployment, fate began its own fervid urination to deepen the puddle and keep me treading water. Now you're probably saying "Greg, urea-lly grossing me out." And I'm saying "Yes, I just included a urea pun on my blog."
Now, other than Laura Miller-ing myself out of work, there's not been too much going on. I've been watching sports when possible, although it is the most terrible time of year for that sort of activity. Surprisingly, however, I found myself intently watching the Mexico vs. US soccer game with my dad today. I wondered at first why this particular match was so much more enthralling than usual, and as I watched the American goalie shove a Mexican player to the ground for a dead ball, it hit me: these teams were angry and playing with spite for one another. Several near-fights broke out, players were angrily pushing after the whistle was blown, and you never knew when a player might take a shot as he dribbled down the field. It was brilliant. It made me realize that a game with as little scoring as soccer struggles to captivate an American audience unless it brings something else to the table. That something is aggression.
Take hockey, for instance. It's very similar to soccer - it's very exciting to watch skilled players build momentum as they maneuver their way through defenders, but spectators are often left disappointed, as scoring is a rarity. As a result, they need something secondary to fill the void between these thrilling moments, and that often comes in the form of violent checking and the occasional fight breaking out. As a result, I propose that soccer would be significantly more marketable here if the rules allowed more leniency for contact and general checking. Furthermore, it would behoove the game to follow hockey's lead in terms of discipline and penalties. Rather than players risking expulsion from a game for two yellow cards received for extremely minor penalties, I think it would be better to penalize them in 2, 4, and 5 minute increments. In this way, the team is temporarily penalized for a player's actions without the severity of an ejection while the viewer is treated to some exciting undermanned play that could lead to increased scoring opportunities. Five minute penalties, as in hockey, would only be assessed if players began physically fighting, and referees would allow a fight to take place until one participant gained a dangerous advantage over the other. While I may be wrong, I think such changes would significantly augment soccer's American fan base.
Finally, on the topic of fighting and sports, the Texas Rangers recently released pitcher Vicente Padilla (he of the swine flu) after he hit yet another batter, resulting in the opposing team retaliating by hitting a Rangers batter. While this type of activity is somewhat commonplace in baseball, I feel it is one of the stupidest retaliation methods in all of sports. It allows a pitcher to be a complete jerk and pose the threat of significant harm to a batter with no consequences for himself. While some people would counter that the batter could charge the mound, the league does not take too kindly to this, as Kevin Youkilis recently found out with his 5 game suspension. Granted, Youkilis attacked a pitcher who seemingly wanted no part of the fight and apparently had no intention of hitting him. However, for habitual offenders like Padilla, I legitimately believe the league should allow pitchers and batters to square off like hockey players - no bat, no helmets, no gloves, and above all, no sissy interference from other infielders or teammates - with no suspension other than perhaps an ejection from the current game. Of course, this is a very discretionary approach and would be judged on a case-by-case basis, but I certainly think it would be a more fair method for players to police themselves than the current one.
I wanted to cover some other topics, but it's getting late and I should probably go to sleep. I guess that leaves open the promise of another entry in the near future, but you never know...I may have just Laura Miller-ed us all out of that.
What better way to begin
Than with a haiku?
Hola, amigos. It's been a bit of time, but there's been surprisingly little to report of late. I am in Dallas, after all, and that seems to spell B-O-R-I-N-G. However, I did get the urge to post some more drivel today after several memories and ideas compelled me to jot down a few ideas.
To leap into the topic of unemployment, I'll begin with news of the job search and how you, too, can "Laura Miller" your way out of a job.
About a month ago I was simultaneously offered 2 jobs on the same day- the first was a full-time engineering gig, and the second was a part-time job teaching SAT prep. I had applied for the latter with the intention of finding something simple that would permit me to earn some money to keep afloat until I could find a full-time job. Little did I know that the engineering company would move extremely quickly in giving 2 interviews and then an offer. As it happened, I received both offers on the same day...and while I was not totally pumped about the salary offered by the engineering company, I was almost certain that I was going to accept the job after attempting to negotiate the pay. However, SAT prep job was about to start moving very quickly into training, and I thought this would conflict with my first weeks of work at the other company. Thus, I was unfortunately forced to decline the teaching job.
Several days after the initial offer, I returned a call to the engineering company and asked that, rather than the $50k/year offered, they consider my desire of $57k. As anyone who has been through an engineering program will tell you, we have always been informed at our universities to not accept the first offer without attempting to negotiate a higher salary. While this always seemed selfish and arrogant to me, I suddenly saw the need after receiving an offer in the lowest 10% of entry level salaries for mechanical engineers nationwide. I pinpointed $57k as the national average for 2008 graduates with a BS in my field. I didn't even bother to mention that the average from the University of Texas is $62k, or that I graduated at the top of my class and perhaps should be deserving of at least my school's average salary. After all, from hearing the company's initial offer, and considering economic times, I figured maybe they didn't have an appreciable amount of money to throw around. I was working under the assumption that they would maybe go up 2-4k/year, or, in the worst case scenario, they would say they couldn't increase the offer at all. Fine, that would have been A-OK by me. However, they called me back and, without mentioning salary, asked me to come in and talk to another person who works in an unrelated department. I went in thinking it might be negotiation time only to find it was third interview time. "Alright," I thought, "let's get this done and see what they say." Thus, the 20 minute interview passed and was neither terrible nor great, but I left thinking I would receive a call back. Four days later I called back and left a message for the HR person, but have not yet received a response. It has now been about 3-4 weeks.
As a result of this debacle, a man who once had two jobs to choose from now has, you guessed it...none. Now that's a real pute if I've ever seen one. However, aside from describing this with the saying "When it rains, it pours" (which Morton salt and conversational English have endeared to us all), I would like to introduce the phrase of "Laura Miller-ing yourself out of something." Now some of you may remember that Miller, the former mayor of Dallas, prematurely announced the planning of a parade to celebrate the Dallas Mavericks' victory in the 2006 NBA Finals just before they began their historic meltdown to lose the series, 4-2. Similarly, I began fervently brainstorming with my friends and fervidly urinating inane ideas all over my blog about how we would live together and do all sorts of fun things as soon as I had an income. Little did I know that life had other ideas and, just as I was on the cusp of climbing out of this pool of unemployment, fate began its own fervid urination to deepen the puddle and keep me treading water. Now you're probably saying "Greg, urea-lly grossing me out." And I'm saying "Yes, I just included a urea pun on my blog."
Now, other than Laura Miller-ing myself out of work, there's not been too much going on. I've been watching sports when possible, although it is the most terrible time of year for that sort of activity. Surprisingly, however, I found myself intently watching the Mexico vs. US soccer game with my dad today. I wondered at first why this particular match was so much more enthralling than usual, and as I watched the American goalie shove a Mexican player to the ground for a dead ball, it hit me: these teams were angry and playing with spite for one another. Several near-fights broke out, players were angrily pushing after the whistle was blown, and you never knew when a player might take a shot as he dribbled down the field. It was brilliant. It made me realize that a game with as little scoring as soccer struggles to captivate an American audience unless it brings something else to the table. That something is aggression.
Take hockey, for instance. It's very similar to soccer - it's very exciting to watch skilled players build momentum as they maneuver their way through defenders, but spectators are often left disappointed, as scoring is a rarity. As a result, they need something secondary to fill the void between these thrilling moments, and that often comes in the form of violent checking and the occasional fight breaking out. As a result, I propose that soccer would be significantly more marketable here if the rules allowed more leniency for contact and general checking. Furthermore, it would behoove the game to follow hockey's lead in terms of discipline and penalties. Rather than players risking expulsion from a game for two yellow cards received for extremely minor penalties, I think it would be better to penalize them in 2, 4, and 5 minute increments. In this way, the team is temporarily penalized for a player's actions without the severity of an ejection while the viewer is treated to some exciting undermanned play that could lead to increased scoring opportunities. Five minute penalties, as in hockey, would only be assessed if players began physically fighting, and referees would allow a fight to take place until one participant gained a dangerous advantage over the other. While I may be wrong, I think such changes would significantly augment soccer's American fan base.
Finally, on the topic of fighting and sports, the Texas Rangers recently released pitcher Vicente Padilla (he of the swine flu) after he hit yet another batter, resulting in the opposing team retaliating by hitting a Rangers batter. While this type of activity is somewhat commonplace in baseball, I feel it is one of the stupidest retaliation methods in all of sports. It allows a pitcher to be a complete jerk and pose the threat of significant harm to a batter with no consequences for himself. While some people would counter that the batter could charge the mound, the league does not take too kindly to this, as Kevin Youkilis recently found out with his 5 game suspension. Granted, Youkilis attacked a pitcher who seemingly wanted no part of the fight and apparently had no intention of hitting him. However, for habitual offenders like Padilla, I legitimately believe the league should allow pitchers and batters to square off like hockey players - no bat, no helmets, no gloves, and above all, no sissy interference from other infielders or teammates - with no suspension other than perhaps an ejection from the current game. Of course, this is a very discretionary approach and would be judged on a case-by-case basis, but I certainly think it would be a more fair method for players to police themselves than the current one.
I wanted to cover some other topics, but it's getting late and I should probably go to sleep. I guess that leaves open the promise of another entry in the near future, but you never know...I may have just Laura Miller-ed us all out of that.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Finding the wheel that turns, in the form of a triumvirate
Today I would like to focus on two things. The first is a recurring topic of discussion amongst my friends and me, and the second is my general young people "lingo." The latter is like the vernacular of the youth. It's spec-nacular. It's youth-tacular. It's the vernac-youth-lar.
As a job seems, at the moment, just within reach (or just out of, depending on your point of view), our time spent shooting the breeze and "hangin" has often veered toward the what ifs of working as an engineer and actually having "dough." A frequent subject has been the possibility of living with my two other engineer friends here in the Dallas "hood," Scott and Kevin. While Kevin and I want to continue living with our parents for a bit in order to keep that "cheddar," I think the 3 of us really enjoy entertaining the idea of living in the same "'jects." Not only is it more economical than flying solo, but the idea of us "kicking it" in the same "crib" also evokes images of Animal House (without the frat guys or the girls, as I'll never be fraternity, and we're generally incapable of attracting girls). It would be like Batman and Robin and that other guy. Starsky and Hutch and whatshischops. Lucy and Ethel and Ricky. It would be three young bachelors with bachelor's, just "rollin." The only thing I think could top it is if we became Doctor Master Bachelor, but I think that could be achieved with a fourth roommate whose street name could be shortened to Sire DMB.
Moving along from simply rooming together, we've also decided it could be fun to adopt a child. First of all, this appears to be a good strategy for humanitarian purposes, as we could give a child from an unfortunate background a new beginning. "Get out tha hood, drop the 'jects, start doin some good and start buildin' some recs," ya know? Secondly, we would benefit as "baby daddies" because we could find a kid about 8 years old and skip past the difficulties of diapers, learning to walk, etc. Furthermore, what could be "flyer" for a kid than having three dads? Many kids are unfortunately growing up with no father figure, but ours could have THREE. He would easily be the coolest kid in school, learn discipline, and also always have someone available. So maybe Dad's at work and little Sire DMB needs to talk to someone. It's cool, no worries - Daddies are home (Oh, it's also apparently a boy, and we have preemptively named him Sire DMB). As if that weren't enough, the three of us could easily guide a child toward a lifetime of success by using our own experiences, both successes and failures, to help him evaluate decisions. As the son of 3 engineers, nothing but success in the sciences and mathematics would be acceptable. Additionally, we would "ford the river" past the foolish pitfall of parents who think their children need the help of acclaimed coaches to have a chance at becoming professional athletes. This foolishness would be bypassed, with that "Bentley" being "taken to the chop shop" by not having our son try to develop the best jump shot, get stronger, or generally illustrate any innate talent. Rather, we would have him develop a "sick" knuckleball from about age 10. After all, being a knuckleball pitcher in major league baseball could be one of the best ways imaginable to get rich. This would afford the opportunity to teach our son that a bit of hard work will lead to success, even if one isn't physically gifted. Then, when Sire DMB does earn a spot on an MLB team, he would see that earning a living with millions of dollars means working once every five days, and even then he doesn't have to throw his hardest.
As far as I can see, the Triumvirate of the Fatherhood has zero chance of failure and a likelihood of success surpassing the 75% mark. Little Sire would not only have Sire Daddy, Daddy Dude, and Paternal Homie for his caretaking, but he would also be exposed to the jovial, if not fatherly, personalities of "Fun"-cle Flu and Sister Cbass, the latter of whom will be donning a family moniker betraying his true gender for no particular reason. With such manly mannishness, malehood, and masculinity surrounding the young lad, I see no way that he would not grow up to be the most successful culmination of manhood seen to date. Sire DMB, the Man's Man - fluent in American English, manliness, and the vernac-youth-lar. My only uncertainty regarding the entire process is the teaching of the latter, because I must pose the question - is the word "vernacular" in the vernacular of our youth?
As a job seems, at the moment, just within reach (or just out of, depending on your point of view), our time spent shooting the breeze and "hangin" has often veered toward the what ifs of working as an engineer and actually having "dough." A frequent subject has been the possibility of living with my two other engineer friends here in the Dallas "hood," Scott and Kevin. While Kevin and I want to continue living with our parents for a bit in order to keep that "cheddar," I think the 3 of us really enjoy entertaining the idea of living in the same "'jects." Not only is it more economical than flying solo, but the idea of us "kicking it" in the same "crib" also evokes images of Animal House (without the frat guys or the girls, as I'll never be fraternity, and we're generally incapable of attracting girls). It would be like Batman and Robin and that other guy. Starsky and Hutch and whatshischops. Lucy and Ethel and Ricky. It would be three young bachelors with bachelor's, just "rollin." The only thing I think could top it is if we became Doctor Master Bachelor, but I think that could be achieved with a fourth roommate whose street name could be shortened to Sire DMB.
Moving along from simply rooming together, we've also decided it could be fun to adopt a child. First of all, this appears to be a good strategy for humanitarian purposes, as we could give a child from an unfortunate background a new beginning. "Get out tha hood, drop the 'jects, start doin some good and start buildin' some recs," ya know? Secondly, we would benefit as "baby daddies" because we could find a kid about 8 years old and skip past the difficulties of diapers, learning to walk, etc. Furthermore, what could be "flyer" for a kid than having three dads? Many kids are unfortunately growing up with no father figure, but ours could have THREE. He would easily be the coolest kid in school, learn discipline, and also always have someone available. So maybe Dad's at work and little Sire DMB needs to talk to someone. It's cool, no worries - Daddies are home (Oh, it's also apparently a boy, and we have preemptively named him Sire DMB). As if that weren't enough, the three of us could easily guide a child toward a lifetime of success by using our own experiences, both successes and failures, to help him evaluate decisions. As the son of 3 engineers, nothing but success in the sciences and mathematics would be acceptable. Additionally, we would "ford the river" past the foolish pitfall of parents who think their children need the help of acclaimed coaches to have a chance at becoming professional athletes. This foolishness would be bypassed, with that "Bentley" being "taken to the chop shop" by not having our son try to develop the best jump shot, get stronger, or generally illustrate any innate talent. Rather, we would have him develop a "sick" knuckleball from about age 10. After all, being a knuckleball pitcher in major league baseball could be one of the best ways imaginable to get rich. This would afford the opportunity to teach our son that a bit of hard work will lead to success, even if one isn't physically gifted. Then, when Sire DMB does earn a spot on an MLB team, he would see that earning a living with millions of dollars means working once every five days, and even then he doesn't have to throw his hardest.
As far as I can see, the Triumvirate of the Fatherhood has zero chance of failure and a likelihood of success surpassing the 75% mark. Little Sire would not only have Sire Daddy, Daddy Dude, and Paternal Homie for his caretaking, but he would also be exposed to the jovial, if not fatherly, personalities of "Fun"-cle Flu and Sister Cbass, the latter of whom will be donning a family moniker betraying his true gender for no particular reason. With such manly mannishness, malehood, and masculinity surrounding the young lad, I see no way that he would not grow up to be the most successful culmination of manhood seen to date. Sire DMB, the Man's Man - fluent in American English, manliness, and the vernac-youth-lar. My only uncertainty regarding the entire process is the teaching of the latter, because I must pose the question - is the word "vernacular" in the vernacular of our youth?
Monday, July 20, 2009
An Unupdate
To continue with this blog's recent divergence toward complaining and airing of grievances, topics today will be scattered across a spectrum of things that annoy me. If you have opinions to the contrary, I would like to hear them as long as they are expressed in a manner that is as far as possible from the usual "YouTube comment" level of intelligence.
As has been evident from my youth, and as is occasionally reaffirmed by my experiences, I feel it necessary to declare that doctors are, in large part, completely useless. This is not to say that all of them fit into this category, as there are some who are treating important diseases and actually using their knowledge to do things that those without the equivalent education would not know how to do. However, many times people go into the doctor's office already knowing what's wrong or have something so simple that it could be diagnosed instead by a nurse. At times I have gone to the doctor only to find that the doctor does not know what is wrong, and they do nothing more than prescribe general medications that I, or anybody with half a brain, could have deemed necessary. The only difference is that they have been given the power to write prescriptions and they are grossly overpaid. The unfortunate aspect is that people have to pay either the cost for the visit or their insurance deductible, which brings us to...
Insurance is a disgusting scam. I can't think of another line of business or industry that makes such a killing off of people either being forced to fund it or being scared into thinking that they need it. Then, when people do need it, insurance companies often find loopholes and other ways to weasel out of their obligations, meaning the helpless client has been forking over money for no reason at all. Unfortunately, however, this has become such standard fare that insurance is much more than an afterthought when people make investments in commercial goods.
Recently, my father had some car troubles and had his vehicle towed to the dealership from which he bought it. Since his purchase of the used car, he had paid a small monthly amount to cover any mechanical problems. Upon arrival at the dealership, he began discussing the policy with one of the workers, who informed him that coverage stopped after 100,000 miles. The car being near 130,000 miles, it was no longer eligible and the repair at a dealership was, of course, going to cost an arm and a leg. However, the written and signed policy made no mention of the mileage limit, and this was apparently discussed when my father agreed to purchase the insurance. The problem is that the amounts are not significant enough to merit any sort of legal action.
On a mildly related note, and I must remark that my friend Anthony and I discussed this about a week ago, I have happily found irritation with the evolution of technology in certain fields. In new cars, for example, everything seems to be headed toward automatic, electrically operated, or computer-controlled devices. At first, this seems like an excellent idea, as we're using the latest technology or finding convenience in things we never considered before. However, the problem is that when these things break or stop working, the average user is not only incapable of solving the problem but often finds that the repair will be unnecessarily expensive. Thus, I sometimes feel like people fail to use common sense when buying brand new cars with all sorts of computer systems running every unnecessary gadget you can imagine. After all, haven't most of us noticed significant problems with our computers, cell phones, or some other electronic after only a few years of use? In my opinion, most people are counting on keeping their new cars for more than just a few years and would benefit from sticking to the old, tried-and-true aspects of some more classic vehicles, rather than falling for everything automatic. As Anthony pointed out, can you remember the last time the manual window control in your car stopped functioning?
As has been evident from my youth, and as is occasionally reaffirmed by my experiences, I feel it necessary to declare that doctors are, in large part, completely useless. This is not to say that all of them fit into this category, as there are some who are treating important diseases and actually using their knowledge to do things that those without the equivalent education would not know how to do. However, many times people go into the doctor's office already knowing what's wrong or have something so simple that it could be diagnosed instead by a nurse. At times I have gone to the doctor only to find that the doctor does not know what is wrong, and they do nothing more than prescribe general medications that I, or anybody with half a brain, could have deemed necessary. The only difference is that they have been given the power to write prescriptions and they are grossly overpaid. The unfortunate aspect is that people have to pay either the cost for the visit or their insurance deductible, which brings us to...
Insurance is a disgusting scam. I can't think of another line of business or industry that makes such a killing off of people either being forced to fund it or being scared into thinking that they need it. Then, when people do need it, insurance companies often find loopholes and other ways to weasel out of their obligations, meaning the helpless client has been forking over money for no reason at all. Unfortunately, however, this has become such standard fare that insurance is much more than an afterthought when people make investments in commercial goods.
Recently, my father had some car troubles and had his vehicle towed to the dealership from which he bought it. Since his purchase of the used car, he had paid a small monthly amount to cover any mechanical problems. Upon arrival at the dealership, he began discussing the policy with one of the workers, who informed him that coverage stopped after 100,000 miles. The car being near 130,000 miles, it was no longer eligible and the repair at a dealership was, of course, going to cost an arm and a leg. However, the written and signed policy made no mention of the mileage limit, and this was apparently discussed when my father agreed to purchase the insurance. The problem is that the amounts are not significant enough to merit any sort of legal action.
On a mildly related note, and I must remark that my friend Anthony and I discussed this about a week ago, I have happily found irritation with the evolution of technology in certain fields. In new cars, for example, everything seems to be headed toward automatic, electrically operated, or computer-controlled devices. At first, this seems like an excellent idea, as we're using the latest technology or finding convenience in things we never considered before. However, the problem is that when these things break or stop working, the average user is not only incapable of solving the problem but often finds that the repair will be unnecessarily expensive. Thus, I sometimes feel like people fail to use common sense when buying brand new cars with all sorts of computer systems running every unnecessary gadget you can imagine. After all, haven't most of us noticed significant problems with our computers, cell phones, or some other electronic after only a few years of use? In my opinion, most people are counting on keeping their new cars for more than just a few years and would benefit from sticking to the old, tried-and-true aspects of some more classic vehicles, rather than falling for everything automatic. As Anthony pointed out, can you remember the last time the manual window control in your car stopped functioning?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Radio killed the video star
I was noting today on the Facebook welcome page that the sign-up part has a line that reads: I am: Select Sex. Indeed, Facebook has confirmed that I, as a male, am of the select sex. This has long been a suspicion of mine, but I am glad to finally obtain the confirmation I have awaited from a social networking site. Thank you, Facebook.
I'm just kidding about all that, but now that I've offended and disgusted a good portion of you, let's move on to other topics...
The other day my friend Livan received a notice from our beloved French republic saying he owed 156 euros. He thinks this is an annual fee for people who rent their apartments, but he's a bit unsure. This came about 4 days after he found out he owes 400 euros for a violation he committed last September by running a red light...on a bicycle.
These fees got me thinking about money I've paid since arriving that I either didn't have to, shouldn't have, or only had to pay because of misunderstandings. These grievances will be aired in a poem entitled "Merde France Owes Me."
"Merde France Owes Me"
Merde France owes me,
It's not all black and white
But in these past 6 months,
I've paid for a lot that just ain't right.
Things started going wrong in the month of November
but I was desperate for housing, from what I remember.
Paid 180 euros to live with old geezers
Who extracted 30 more with their stinge-surance tweezers.
Turns out my land lady's a pute, and man I can't stand that
Complainin' about more sh*t than you can shake a sh*t stick at.
Now I don't know what a sh*t stick is, but it likely ain't good
And I guarantee this woman would shake one, if ever she could.
Now let's clean off that stick with some toilet paper
and get back to airing grievances about money, France, and labor.
I decided to up and move, when no more could I bare
But I lost my 150 euros to the pute-prietaire.
It wouldn't have been so bad had the CAF ever took the time to pay me,
The 240 euros I awaited from the useless housing agency.
Then there was that time when I missed a day of work
Got sick, stayed home...did nothin, to be curt.
Paid twenty-two to the doctor, "Oh, you'll be refunded,"
That's some bureaucratic bull-merde that's getting redundant.
Ain't seem a dime, don't expect to, and never will,
Like the 23 from the train company that I can't invest in a grill.
Recently went to the bank, got a list of my transactions
21 euros to what? Another financial infraction?
"Bump that, homie," is my initial reaction
So I get my Super-Soaker ready, double-pump action.
Man, it's an unexpected fee from my phone subscription
I'm feeling sick to my stomach, so I may need a prescription
Then I realize, "Oh wait, I already got some from my socialized doctor"
6 euros for painkillers that could knock out Cory Procter.
You may not need a penguin to tell you you're an idiot
But if you get an account with SG, you deserve an ear full of it.
Bad decision from the start, and I guess I deserved this,
now I can't close my account, losing 80 euros, you get the gist.
Sheisted, heisted, go ask George Stephanopoulos
but you don't need analysts to tell you I'm getting hosed by the French Merde-opolis.
Although I've been treated well with some macaron, kebab, and patisserie,
'The world will little note nor long remember' this, the "Merde France Owes Me."
Postscript: One week before leaving, I found out that the CAF actually paid me, and rather generously at that: about 640 euros. This was finally a relief in stark contrast to the other disappointments and losses that have occurred. I am extremely thankful, but the poem was written well before this. And besides, thankfulness doesn't seem like it would allow me to use the words "pute-prietaire" or "sh*t-stick" in a poem.
I'm just kidding about all that, but now that I've offended and disgusted a good portion of you, let's move on to other topics...
The other day my friend Livan received a notice from our beloved French republic saying he owed 156 euros. He thinks this is an annual fee for people who rent their apartments, but he's a bit unsure. This came about 4 days after he found out he owes 400 euros for a violation he committed last September by running a red light...on a bicycle.
These fees got me thinking about money I've paid since arriving that I either didn't have to, shouldn't have, or only had to pay because of misunderstandings. These grievances will be aired in a poem entitled "Merde France Owes Me."
"Merde France Owes Me"
Merde France owes me,
It's not all black and white
But in these past 6 months,
I've paid for a lot that just ain't right.
Things started going wrong in the month of November
but I was desperate for housing, from what I remember.
Paid 180 euros to live with old geezers
Who extracted 30 more with their stinge-surance tweezers.
Turns out my land lady's a pute, and man I can't stand that
Complainin' about more sh*t than you can shake a sh*t stick at.
Now I don't know what a sh*t stick is, but it likely ain't good
And I guarantee this woman would shake one, if ever she could.
Now let's clean off that stick with some toilet paper
and get back to airing grievances about money, France, and labor.
I decided to up and move, when no more could I bare
But I lost my 150 euros to the pute-prietaire.
It wouldn't have been so bad had the CAF ever took the time to pay me,
The 240 euros I awaited from the useless housing agency.
Then there was that time when I missed a day of work
Got sick, stayed home...did nothin, to be curt.
Paid twenty-two to the doctor, "Oh, you'll be refunded,"
That's some bureaucratic bull-merde that's getting redundant.
Ain't seem a dime, don't expect to, and never will,
Like the 23 from the train company that I can't invest in a grill.
Recently went to the bank, got a list of my transactions
21 euros to what? Another financial infraction?
"Bump that, homie," is my initial reaction
So I get my Super-Soaker ready, double-pump action.
Man, it's an unexpected fee from my phone subscription
I'm feeling sick to my stomach, so I may need a prescription
Then I realize, "Oh wait, I already got some from my socialized doctor"
6 euros for painkillers that could knock out Cory Procter.
You may not need a penguin to tell you you're an idiot
But if you get an account with SG, you deserve an ear full of it.
Bad decision from the start, and I guess I deserved this,
now I can't close my account, losing 80 euros, you get the gist.
Sheisted, heisted, go ask George Stephanopoulos
but you don't need analysts to tell you I'm getting hosed by the French Merde-opolis.
Although I've been treated well with some macaron, kebab, and patisserie,
'The world will little note nor long remember' this, the "Merde France Owes Me."
Postscript: One week before leaving, I found out that the CAF actually paid me, and rather generously at that: about 640 euros. This was finally a relief in stark contrast to the other disappointments and losses that have occurred. I am extremely thankful, but the poem was written well before this. And besides, thankfulness doesn't seem like it would allow me to use the words "pute-prietaire" or "sh*t-stick" in a poem.
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