Ancient Chinese Bra Found
Seems the Chinese have been trying to get cleavage for over a millenium. Why are they always the bloody innovators?
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Some More Evidence Of A Supreme Being
Sex More Likely When Women Are Fertile
Even when you don't even want the kid, your body is telling you that you do, or at least sending signals to other people that you do, and therefore you're more likely to have a kid. Sorry to be skeptical, but I just can't believe that this sort of thing "developed" through evolution. Planned parenthood is a recent occurrence. The reason we're here is by all those extra chemicals our ancestors were spitting out.
Even when you don't even want the kid, your body is telling you that you do, or at least sending signals to other people that you do, and therefore you're more likely to have a kid. Sorry to be skeptical, but I just can't believe that this sort of thing "developed" through evolution. Planned parenthood is a recent occurrence. The reason we're here is by all those extra chemicals our ancestors were spitting out.
The British Lead Us Again
And The Number One Reason To Read Books Is...
...the chance to get 1,000 pounds (= to 1,837 of our puny American dollars) from a sexy model when she spots you reading a book. Why do the Europeans always think of the best ideas first? Mini Coopers, Ikea, and now this. They've combined sex and money to encourage the fundamental art of reading. They should start doing that here. THey could even diversify the model pool, get them from every race just so all the men in the country are sure to read. It makes sense. Think about it.
...the chance to get 1,000 pounds (= to 1,837 of our puny American dollars) from a sexy model when she spots you reading a book. Why do the Europeans always think of the best ideas first? Mini Coopers, Ikea, and now this. They've combined sex and money to encourage the fundamental art of reading. They should start doing that here. THey could even diversify the model pool, get them from every race just so all the men in the country are sure to read. It makes sense. Think about it.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Sim Simma....Who Got The Keys To My Bimma?
The New York Times > Week in Review > Start Your Engines: There's a Reason BMW Drivers Zip Along the Autobahn
If you want to get laid in Germany, drive a BMW, cause they get it 2.2 times a week as opposed to flaccid Porsche drivers who only clock in around 1.4x. Cute little article about German car survey.
If you want to get laid in Germany, drive a BMW, cause they get it 2.2 times a week as opposed to flaccid Porsche drivers who only clock in around 1.4x. Cute little article about German car survey.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
It Is The Best Policy
I'm not the master of clever titles so you were right to assume the topic is honesty. Of course when I say 'you' I use the term liberally since this is pretty much a sounding board for myself. But hey, that's honesty. And that's a big step for me.
I chronically lied. Mostly about things that I wanted to do. My desire to do them, and as a result seem interesting, ultimately led me to imagine how they would go down, very vividly and with specific details staying in line with my nickname. My vivid imagination replayed these scenarios enough that I honestly believed them. It's like I deserved for all these experiences to happen to me and so it was okay if they existed in the corners of my mind. Like it was once said of our dearly departed president's approach to life, the fantasy world and the real were almost inseparable, and the fantasy was much more appealing.
I'm squarely on the honesty kick though now and I'm quite sure it's where I'll stay. I was talking a couple of hours ago to my friend, explaining why my residence here will be extended. In the past, the truth would have seemed embarrassing. Amazingly, I didn't cover it up in one of my patented ways. I was straight up, even about my rediscovered alcohol abstinence. And it feels good. I even had the notion to write my aunt and tell her everything about my current academic situation, unsolicited. That would have never happened weeks ago. Not worrying about how and when you'll be found stuck in a web of deceit is incredibly liberating. I just wish I remembered those Bible lessons sooner. Honestly.
I chronically lied. Mostly about things that I wanted to do. My desire to do them, and as a result seem interesting, ultimately led me to imagine how they would go down, very vividly and with specific details staying in line with my nickname. My vivid imagination replayed these scenarios enough that I honestly believed them. It's like I deserved for all these experiences to happen to me and so it was okay if they existed in the corners of my mind. Like it was once said of our dearly departed president's approach to life, the fantasy world and the real were almost inseparable, and the fantasy was much more appealing.
I'm squarely on the honesty kick though now and I'm quite sure it's where I'll stay. I was talking a couple of hours ago to my friend, explaining why my residence here will be extended. In the past, the truth would have seemed embarrassing. Amazingly, I didn't cover it up in one of my patented ways. I was straight up, even about my rediscovered alcohol abstinence. And it feels good. I even had the notion to write my aunt and tell her everything about my current academic situation, unsolicited. That would have never happened weeks ago. Not worrying about how and when you'll be found stuck in a web of deceit is incredibly liberating. I just wish I remembered those Bible lessons sooner. Honestly.
Yeah I Stole It
....but it seemed so accurate. Stolen from some poor man's wonderful personal ad, I just had to take it cause he seemed to be describing me in so many ways. Alas he has the better life since he has a regular job and actually can afford to live in the city, plus he looks like a poor man's Taye Diggs so I get to steal this and not feel bad about it. Plus it's not like I'm putting this in my personal ad. That would be really wrong.
"I'm a smart guy, with somewhat wicked sense of humor. Sometimes I can be mischievous. Basic well rounded guy. Pretty laid back. Not really a wall flower, but I enjoy sitting back and watching people.
I'm a combination of different things, I'm very confident, but I shy away from attention. I avoid confrontations, but at the same time I can be aggressive. One minute you could find me listening to Dinah Washington, the next minute I could be listening to Jay-Z. Someone people think I'm a dork, some people think I'm cool. You decide."
"I'm a smart guy, with somewhat wicked sense of humor. Sometimes I can be mischievous. Basic well rounded guy. Pretty laid back. Not really a wall flower, but I enjoy sitting back and watching people.
I'm a combination of different things, I'm very confident, but I shy away from attention. I avoid confrontations, but at the same time I can be aggressive. One minute you could find me listening to Dinah Washington, the next minute I could be listening to Jay-Z. Someone people think I'm a dork, some people think I'm cool. You decide."
Is It Supposed to Feel This Good
Something that has gotten me in trouble on at least one occasion is the wonderful art of flirting. As the dictionary goes, to flirt is to make playfully romantic or sexual overtures. Of course in doing this I also followed another meaning of the word when I dealt superficially with danger, but we'll just focus on my love of the romantic part today children.
What sparked this realization is an encounter I had today with a waitress in a restaurant. (I know what you're thinking but I wasn't her customer and I was getting something to go so scratch that ulterior motive theory.) As I sat in the place waiting, I checked her out as all men do when unencumbered by significant others. I placed her in my brain's definition of the cute demographic but still I wasn't gonna pursue anything, which resembles the majority of my flirting activities. But we shared eye contact and a smile. She then became overly attentive to what I needed and when she gave me my food she gave me another sweet smile, while seemingly trying to catch herself after realizing how tall I was.
Of course I'm probably over-romanticizing our two minute love affair but on my walk it made me wonder why I get such a charge out of it. Something about that moment, when one person knows that you find them attractive and vice versa, is electric. I can't put my finger on it. Then the ensuing game of whatever you want to call it just draws out an almost euphoric feeling.
Okay maybe it's not supposed to feel like a hit of X. Maybe my self-image is still stuck with that awkward 12-year old boy who was 5'3" with size 12 feet and actually had the word 'husky' on the label of his pants. Possibly I'm just targeting an element inherent in human nature that just likes being deemed attractive. Whatever it is I doubt I'll stop anytime soon.
Not because I'm a player or something. I don't search out these opportunities. They're just a matter of circumstance. I often figure out I am participating in flirting after the experience (Best-case scenario: During the encounter due to an out-of-body adventure). Even when I am cognizant of it, it's not always cause I'm trying to get with the girl. The girl I mention in the entry here (2/23/04-Practice) was never a possibility. She lives in Virginia, has a man, and might be too in love with Backstreet. But still we flirted (and kind of continued in digital form).
I guess it ultimately goes back to the need to feel attractive. The idea, no matter how remote the chances, that you might or could establish something in the future I guess is too intoxicating,. Maybe it's connecting with another person for a millisecond, real or imagined. It's something. I won't try to define it. Some mysteries are better unsolved. Until that danger thing becomes an issue and you need to put an end to it as soon as possible.
(Editor's Note: I would never do it in the presence of a significant other without express consent nor would I act on the possibilities of any flirtatious encounter while engaged in a monogamous relationship. I'm a thrill-seeker, not evil)
What sparked this realization is an encounter I had today with a waitress in a restaurant. (I know what you're thinking but I wasn't her customer and I was getting something to go so scratch that ulterior motive theory.) As I sat in the place waiting, I checked her out as all men do when unencumbered by significant others. I placed her in my brain's definition of the cute demographic but still I wasn't gonna pursue anything, which resembles the majority of my flirting activities. But we shared eye contact and a smile. She then became overly attentive to what I needed and when she gave me my food she gave me another sweet smile, while seemingly trying to catch herself after realizing how tall I was.
Of course I'm probably over-romanticizing our two minute love affair but on my walk it made me wonder why I get such a charge out of it. Something about that moment, when one person knows that you find them attractive and vice versa, is electric. I can't put my finger on it. Then the ensuing game of whatever you want to call it just draws out an almost euphoric feeling.
Okay maybe it's not supposed to feel like a hit of X. Maybe my self-image is still stuck with that awkward 12-year old boy who was 5'3" with size 12 feet and actually had the word 'husky' on the label of his pants. Possibly I'm just targeting an element inherent in human nature that just likes being deemed attractive. Whatever it is I doubt I'll stop anytime soon.
Not because I'm a player or something. I don't search out these opportunities. They're just a matter of circumstance. I often figure out I am participating in flirting after the experience (Best-case scenario: During the encounter due to an out-of-body adventure). Even when I am cognizant of it, it's not always cause I'm trying to get with the girl. The girl I mention in the entry here (2/23/04-Practice) was never a possibility. She lives in Virginia, has a man, and might be too in love with Backstreet. But still we flirted (and kind of continued in digital form).
I guess it ultimately goes back to the need to feel attractive. The idea, no matter how remote the chances, that you might or could establish something in the future I guess is too intoxicating,. Maybe it's connecting with another person for a millisecond, real or imagined. It's something. I won't try to define it. Some mysteries are better unsolved. Until that danger thing becomes an issue and you need to put an end to it as soon as possible.
(Editor's Note: I would never do it in the presence of a significant other without express consent nor would I act on the possibilities of any flirtatious encounter while engaged in a monogamous relationship. I'm a thrill-seeker, not evil)
Saturday, June 05, 2004
I'm Published Bitch
Okay so it ain't the New York Times, but it ain't some cockamamie newsletter of my home computer either. Just a quick article I pulled out of nowhere about my choir's trip to Carnegie Hall. You will need Adobe Acrobat or the Reader for this document. If you are one of the last people to get this essential download, click here. Even if you don't read my article, you'll thank me later. By the way it's on page seven. Feel free to read the whole thing though.
Careful What You Wish For
Before I even came to my lovely school, I had it worked out that I was going to be a resident assistant. Yes, being RA worked effectively into my plans of my forthcoming domination of the world. Those plans took a detour when my father insisted I live with him.
Since his tenure at the school ended sometime last year, I finally got my chance to live in the dorm. While most people lament their stay and spend their time working out ways to leave or envying those who have, I personally enjoy it. There's something great about being around people your age all the time. It adds a vibrancy that I can't exactly put my finger on. It's probably cause I was an only child and still thrive on being in groups of people I can actually enjoy.
Of course I still have a single room. I recognize that a roommate would be troublesome until I'm in a long-term relationship. Suitemates are barely tolerable. Every once in a while people are loud when you don't want them to be. And since it is an archaic Christian school, the dorm is still single-sex past the lobby, so that wonderful female vibrancy is lost.
Anyway, my RA dreams spiked as I moved back in because it sounded like one was needed and I thought I had some serious credentials. But one really wasn't needed. I however still thrust myself into responsibility's way whenever needed. I was so effective that some people just assumed I was an RA.
Finally, this weekend, with the dorm in transition between regimes, I now have a set of master keys. I am RA (for the weekend). It might turn into the summer. Honestly speaking I'm an excellent canddidate to be head RA all next year too since the past year's RA's graduated, moved out, or are getting married. But now I am hit with the responsibility that comes with power. There was noise in the hallway last night and I realized that if I wanted it to stop I needed to be the master of confrontation. Then there was room check. No fun knocking on people's doors at 11 pm. Then there's the current business of checking people into guest rooms. Funny how keys for three rooms are missing and one bathroom light socket does not work. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantastic.
I think I'd still like to do it on a regular basis. I honestly feel that I can be a helping hand. WIth a little more sleep
Since his tenure at the school ended sometime last year, I finally got my chance to live in the dorm. While most people lament their stay and spend their time working out ways to leave or envying those who have, I personally enjoy it. There's something great about being around people your age all the time. It adds a vibrancy that I can't exactly put my finger on. It's probably cause I was an only child and still thrive on being in groups of people I can actually enjoy.
Of course I still have a single room. I recognize that a roommate would be troublesome until I'm in a long-term relationship. Suitemates are barely tolerable. Every once in a while people are loud when you don't want them to be. And since it is an archaic Christian school, the dorm is still single-sex past the lobby, so that wonderful female vibrancy is lost.
Anyway, my RA dreams spiked as I moved back in because it sounded like one was needed and I thought I had some serious credentials. But one really wasn't needed. I however still thrust myself into responsibility's way whenever needed. I was so effective that some people just assumed I was an RA.
Finally, this weekend, with the dorm in transition between regimes, I now have a set of master keys. I am RA (for the weekend). It might turn into the summer. Honestly speaking I'm an excellent canddidate to be head RA all next year too since the past year's RA's graduated, moved out, or are getting married. But now I am hit with the responsibility that comes with power. There was noise in the hallway last night and I realized that if I wanted it to stop I needed to be the master of confrontation. Then there was room check. No fun knocking on people's doors at 11 pm. Then there's the current business of checking people into guest rooms. Funny how keys for three rooms are missing and one bathroom light socket does not work. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantastic.
I think I'd still like to do it on a regular basis. I honestly feel that I can be a helping hand. WIth a little more sleep
Friday, June 04, 2004
First Ladies Night, Now This
Regional Russian Government Bans Short Skirts
In the only government more restrictive than New Jersey, a deputy (deputies have power like this! He should have been shot. Forget the sheriff) bans short skirts, outlandish jewelry, and encouraged to be modest with the makeup. Once again I must ask are you kidding me?!?!?!? To justify the move, he said that such dress aroused the "animal instincts" of his male colleagues. Doesn't he realize that's half the reason that his male colleagues come to work? Russia seems like Canada without the care-free attitude. They're not getting the Olympics in 2012 (Go NYC!). It is the simple pleasures that these people live for, which includes dressing provocatively and actively gawking at such wonderful displays of sexiness. I mean the best exports from Russia get worldwide fame on fashion runways. The men deserve to oggle the remaining beauties in all their splendor.
The only redeeming quality is that there are other male government officials who think that the decree is ludicrous. I guess they have some of those Annas and Katerinas in their offices. Fight the machine!
In the only government more restrictive than New Jersey, a deputy (deputies have power like this! He should have been shot. Forget the sheriff) bans short skirts, outlandish jewelry, and encouraged to be modest with the makeup. Once again I must ask are you kidding me?!?!?!? To justify the move, he said that such dress aroused the "animal instincts" of his male colleagues. Doesn't he realize that's half the reason that his male colleagues come to work? Russia seems like Canada without the care-free attitude. They're not getting the Olympics in 2012 (Go NYC!). It is the simple pleasures that these people live for, which includes dressing provocatively and actively gawking at such wonderful displays of sexiness. I mean the best exports from Russia get worldwide fame on fashion runways. The men deserve to oggle the remaining beauties in all their splendor.
The only redeeming quality is that there are other male government officials who think that the decree is ludicrous. I guess they have some of those Annas and Katerinas in their offices. Fight the machine!
TV Saves Once Again
It's Not TV. It's HBO
And HBO now stands for Helping Brothers Out. The article in question summarizes the story of a man who was held on the murder of his wife although he claimed he had been at a Los Angeles Dodgers game with his daughter on the same night. The man had ticket stubs saying he was there, but the police said they had a witness placing him at the scene. He wanted a lie detector test, but was refused.
His clever lawyer got the tapes from Fox of the game and even tapes of the DodgerVision they broadcast at the big screen at the stadium. Yet he still couldn't find his client. Then he learned that 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' was there that very night taping an episode. He got a copy of the tape and voila, there's his client in the frame eating a hot dog. Now that's what I call justice! Can this lawyer be nominated for like lawyer of the year already?
And look at HBO. Just one more thing to add to their mantel. Critically acclaimed, award winning, life-saving (since he faced the death penalty). So what's the moral of the story? Whenever you go to a sporting event, make sure that you make extravagant gestures to make sure you end up televised in some form or fashion just in case you need to establish an alibi when you're accused of a crime. Take a crazy sign, wear a funny wig, but just make sure you're identifiable and get on that tape. Even if your team loses, you still win. See you next time children
And HBO now stands for Helping Brothers Out. The article in question summarizes the story of a man who was held on the murder of his wife although he claimed he had been at a Los Angeles Dodgers game with his daughter on the same night. The man had ticket stubs saying he was there, but the police said they had a witness placing him at the scene. He wanted a lie detector test, but was refused.
His clever lawyer got the tapes from Fox of the game and even tapes of the DodgerVision they broadcast at the big screen at the stadium. Yet he still couldn't find his client. Then he learned that 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' was there that very night taping an episode. He got a copy of the tape and voila, there's his client in the frame eating a hot dog. Now that's what I call justice! Can this lawyer be nominated for like lawyer of the year already?
And look at HBO. Just one more thing to add to their mantel. Critically acclaimed, award winning, life-saving (since he faced the death penalty). So what's the moral of the story? Whenever you go to a sporting event, make sure that you make extravagant gestures to make sure you end up televised in some form or fashion just in case you need to establish an alibi when you're accused of a crime. Take a crazy sign, wear a funny wig, but just make sure you're identifiable and get on that tape. Even if your team loses, you still win. See you next time children
Thursday, June 03, 2004
The Feeling's Wrong....Just Plain Wrong
The End of Ladies Night?
More and more I am convinced that most of the people I encounter in life, whether I speak to them or not, are idiots. Just straight up idiots. If Ladies' Night is discriminatory, then men should stop paying for drinks too.
I mean I figured Jersey of all states would understand the concept of Ladies' Night. In order to look their prettiest and sexiest, women cannnot carry significantly sized handbags. In the scramble to take the essentials, money is definitely left out. Why would they come to a club they can't pay the cover for?
This definitely hurts the men in the region as well, since Jersey men need all the help they can get. These men need help. Sports teams are trying to leave the state. Bridge and tunnel women already run to New York City and Philly as often as possible. No Ladies' Night is a serious threat to the survival of this endangered specie. Hold up. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.
More and more I am convinced that most of the people I encounter in life, whether I speak to them or not, are idiots. Just straight up idiots. If Ladies' Night is discriminatory, then men should stop paying for drinks too.
I mean I figured Jersey of all states would understand the concept of Ladies' Night. In order to look their prettiest and sexiest, women cannnot carry significantly sized handbags. In the scramble to take the essentials, money is definitely left out. Why would they come to a club they can't pay the cover for?
This definitely hurts the men in the region as well, since Jersey men need all the help they can get. These men need help. Sports teams are trying to leave the state. Bridge and tunnel women already run to New York City and Philly as often as possible. No Ladies' Night is a serious threat to the survival of this endangered specie. Hold up. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Uh.....What??!?!
Judge rejects slave trauma as defense for killing
That headline is not a misprint. A doctor has hypothesized that certain people can suffer from PTSSD - Post Traumatic Slave Disorder (or Syndrome. Whatever). You have got to be bloody kidding me. Is she serious? How about taking responsiblity for something? It's been 140 years. Drink some prune juice and let it go.
Possibly I am not sympathetic since my background is West Indian. But people please. Just because your great great grandmama might have done it, you still know it's wrong. Worse they're trying to use it to acquit someone for killing a two year old. That's just sickening. It's like saying that the Irish can smack their wives around because they were discriminated against when they ran from their potato drought (not implying that Irish men smack their wives, just the first case of discrimination and act of violence I could think of).
And she has enough for a book? I live in the craziest country in the world. Which reminds me I need my father to get his birth certificate out and help me get my citizenship from Jamaica. Their type of crazy is much more predictable.
That headline is not a misprint. A doctor has hypothesized that certain people can suffer from PTSSD - Post Traumatic Slave Disorder (or Syndrome. Whatever). You have got to be bloody kidding me. Is she serious? How about taking responsiblity for something? It's been 140 years. Drink some prune juice and let it go.
Possibly I am not sympathetic since my background is West Indian. But people please. Just because your great great grandmama might have done it, you still know it's wrong. Worse they're trying to use it to acquit someone for killing a two year old. That's just sickening. It's like saying that the Irish can smack their wives around because they were discriminated against when they ran from their potato drought (not implying that Irish men smack their wives, just the first case of discrimination and act of violence I could think of).
And she has enough for a book? I live in the craziest country in the world. Which reminds me I need my father to get his birth certificate out and help me get my citizenship from Jamaica. Their type of crazy is much more predictable.
U-Haul Trucks Are Circling
As I am a peripheral helper with my friend Posh's family's moving adventure, it occurred to me that I had never moved in my entire life, something that seemed to easily slip my mind. Yeah of course there is going from school to home, but I'm talking about monumental address change here. I mean my parents haven't even moved from the same apartment since about two years before I graced the planet with my presence. Is it a blessing or a curse?
For one thing, you can't beat that type of stability. Same phone number, room, and all that jazz. Nevertheless, I think I was deprived of the adventure. Posh and her two sisters were all born in different states. They've lived in Massachusetts, Michigan, New York, Illinois, Florida, and a couple countries in Africa. Now they're on the far right side of the curve, but still the idea of new experiences and new friends would have been wonderful.
Plus, I totally missed out on the practical skills of moving, like packing your things. When it came time for me to do that when going to school, I was honestly baffled. Making things squish the right way and protecting the right things were lessons I could have learned much earlier, before I turned my mini system into an elaborate, blinking, end table.
At least I was deprived of the childhood trauma of seeing a friend move away. The closest I came was when Elise, a fellow 4th grader I had once kissed in kindergarten, moved to Florida. We reciprocated crushes that last year we were together, but very maturely stayed away from acting on them since she had just broken up with my friend. Yeah that was 4th grade. Anyway, she moved to Florida in the summer. I was mildly crushed when I returned to school in the fall and she wasn't there, but the turmoil of skipping a grade quickly washed away that memory. I heard from friends that actually wrote letters and kept in touch with her that she turned into a serial-dye job kind of ho. I guess that's what Hialeah does to 4'11" Panamanians.
But going back to my original monorail of thought, in hindsight, I experienced the adult version of that trauma last summer. My best friend Hicksican Jew returned to his Naples paradise from Connecticut. Drizzle had already been in Texas. And our cadre of friends in Connecticut left too, save for Nitro. Plus, the people I really hung out with here in Massachusetts all bloody graduated. Right then and there, I was shown that I had a stability addiction and all of a sudden, I had to quit cold turkey. I guess I did alright. I made a new circle of friends I guess, even tighter than the first set I had up here.
But now I just want to move. Anywhere. I've always looked with admiration and envy at the people who just get up and against all logic just go somewhere. No prospects. No money. They just go. The starlet to Hollywood. The artist to New York. The people who just randomly point to a map and go there. So maybe I'll do that. Savannah, Georgia sounds nice. I think I'll just go.
For one thing, you can't beat that type of stability. Same phone number, room, and all that jazz. Nevertheless, I think I was deprived of the adventure. Posh and her two sisters were all born in different states. They've lived in Massachusetts, Michigan, New York, Illinois, Florida, and a couple countries in Africa. Now they're on the far right side of the curve, but still the idea of new experiences and new friends would have been wonderful.
Plus, I totally missed out on the practical skills of moving, like packing your things. When it came time for me to do that when going to school, I was honestly baffled. Making things squish the right way and protecting the right things were lessons I could have learned much earlier, before I turned my mini system into an elaborate, blinking, end table.
At least I was deprived of the childhood trauma of seeing a friend move away. The closest I came was when Elise, a fellow 4th grader I had once kissed in kindergarten, moved to Florida. We reciprocated crushes that last year we were together, but very maturely stayed away from acting on them since she had just broken up with my friend. Yeah that was 4th grade. Anyway, she moved to Florida in the summer. I was mildly crushed when I returned to school in the fall and she wasn't there, but the turmoil of skipping a grade quickly washed away that memory. I heard from friends that actually wrote letters and kept in touch with her that she turned into a serial-dye job kind of ho. I guess that's what Hialeah does to 4'11" Panamanians.
But going back to my original monorail of thought, in hindsight, I experienced the adult version of that trauma last summer. My best friend Hicksican Jew returned to his Naples paradise from Connecticut. Drizzle had already been in Texas. And our cadre of friends in Connecticut left too, save for Nitro. Plus, the people I really hung out with here in Massachusetts all bloody graduated. Right then and there, I was shown that I had a stability addiction and all of a sudden, I had to quit cold turkey. I guess I did alright. I made a new circle of friends I guess, even tighter than the first set I had up here.
But now I just want to move. Anywhere. I've always looked with admiration and envy at the people who just get up and against all logic just go somewhere. No prospects. No money. They just go. The starlet to Hollywood. The artist to New York. The people who just randomly point to a map and go there. So maybe I'll do that. Savannah, Georgia sounds nice. I think I'll just go.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
The Future of Marriage
Nerve.com - The Future of Marriage Issue
Mind throttling articles about where marriage is going. Almost convincing me to skip the government and cohabitate when I decide upon a special lady. Look about. Discuss. Quiz at the end of the week.
Mind throttling articles about where marriage is going. Almost convincing me to skip the government and cohabitate when I decide upon a special lady. Look about. Discuss. Quiz at the end of the week.
And Now For Something Different
Sentencing With A Smile
This is a little story about a alternative "community court" that not only deals with real cases, but offers GED classes, childcare, job training, social workers, and drug counselors all in the same building for a more holistic attempt to cut down on crime. First of all I'm proud to say it's in Brooklyn and in a section I can attest that unfortunately I once got lost in and was very scared for my life. I'm sure that this court is helping osme but I still don't recommend getting lost there.
Anyway, I'm glad that governemnt was behind the creation and implementation of the court. I think that a big reason for the repeat offenders in courtrooms is just because throughout their lives they repeatedly get lost in the system that's supposed to help them. The first and only step is schools. Once they get lost there, they're pretty much done until they arrive in court. At least these people are making an attempt to end the cycle.
I'm not sure I completely agree with this incarnation. As much as television and film have fed us the entertaining images of acerbically witty judges, something doesn't seem right about the same justices coming down of the bench to shake hands and slap people on their backs. And the better solution would be to put more money in programs that help kids in schools so that they're less likely to fall through cracks, you know like after-school programs, making sure there aren't 40 kids in a classroom, little things like that. But at least they're thinking of stopgaps, a big step in the right direction.
This is a little story about a alternative "community court" that not only deals with real cases, but offers GED classes, childcare, job training, social workers, and drug counselors all in the same building for a more holistic attempt to cut down on crime. First of all I'm proud to say it's in Brooklyn and in a section I can attest that unfortunately I once got lost in and was very scared for my life. I'm sure that this court is helping osme but I still don't recommend getting lost there.
Anyway, I'm glad that governemnt was behind the creation and implementation of the court. I think that a big reason for the repeat offenders in courtrooms is just because throughout their lives they repeatedly get lost in the system that's supposed to help them. The first and only step is schools. Once they get lost there, they're pretty much done until they arrive in court. At least these people are making an attempt to end the cycle.
I'm not sure I completely agree with this incarnation. As much as television and film have fed us the entertaining images of acerbically witty judges, something doesn't seem right about the same justices coming down of the bench to shake hands and slap people on their backs. And the better solution would be to put more money in programs that help kids in schools so that they're less likely to fall through cracks, you know like after-school programs, making sure there aren't 40 kids in a classroom, little things like that. But at least they're thinking of stopgaps, a big step in the right direction.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
