Speechless

At Least 800 Shiite Pilgrims Killed in Panic on Tigris Bridge

The news hasn't been overly uplifting the last couple days.

New Orleans, Recipe For Disaster

Darfur in DC

Here’s a summary I wrote from a Sudan program I attended last night that may, or may not, lead to something further: [New] Here's that something further...

Amid the reverent din of a standing ovation, Paul Rusesabagina-the man lionized for his heroic efforts to save over a thousand Rwandans from slaughter in the film Hotel Rwanda (2004)-took the stage last night at the National Press Club Ballroom. Within minutes, Rusesabagina's gruesome and tragic recollections from the 1994 genocide in Rwanda silenced the captivated crowd. And so began the program "Taking Action in Darfur: A Capital Alert" sponsored by the American Jewish Committee. Rusesabagina's opening comments served to draw distinct parallels between Rwanda's civil war and the tragedy currently unfolding in the Darfur region of the Sudan, both of which he has experienced first-hand.

Rusesabagina was joined by Charles Snyder, Senior Representative on the Sudan for the U.S. Department of State, and Brian Steidle, a former marine and eyewitness to the tragedy in Darfur. The panelists each offered their unique perspective concerning the crisis and responded to a slew of questions from the audience. While Snyder offered an analysis and justification for the U.S. policy in that region, Steidle's talk focused primarily on his photos of razed villages, parentless children, and mutilated bodies. Although the panelists differed somewhat in their analyses of U.S. and global intervention, they unanimously agreed that proactive engagement by more people outside the government and military is crucial for curbing the slaughter.

Luckily, the DC community hosts a number of groups undertaking this challenge. Galvanized by their shared outrage, The American Jewish Committee, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Jewish Community Relations Council, and the Greater Washington Jewish Task Force have banded together in an interfaith effort to raise awareness and offer direct support to the imperiled people of Darfur. The result: "DC (heart) Darfur"[website available 9/2: www.ajws.org/dclovesdarfur]. This campaign emphasizes that a refugee in Darfur or neighboring Chad could attain a daily food ration for 18 cents (US). In this way, the benefit of both small and large donations becomes apparent. The campaign will continue through October 13th.

Among the other DC area groups working to ensure a return to peace in the Sudan are the Salam Sudan Foundation and The Save Darfur Coalition .

Cathartic creation

Everybody has their little secrets. Many have their big secrets. In the fall of 2004, Frank Warren decided he wanted to hear the unspeakable spoken. Warren, a successful businessman in the medical research field living in Germantown, Maryland, distributed blank postcards all around the DC area with a return address and the following instructions:

'You are invited to anonymously contribute a secret to a group art project. Your secret can be a regret, fear, betrayal, desire, confession or childhood humiliation. Be brief. Be legible. Be creative.

Not only did he get a few returns, his mailbox soon overflowed with responses. His unique, yet modest idea for inclusion in a local art exhibition has since blossomed into a project of international scope. Having surpassed 5 million hits on his website and catalogued over 3,000 postcards, this ‘accidental artist’ now spends more time on his postcard project than at his real job. For a more involved history and analysis of Warren’s work, The Guardian recently detailed this anomalous art in an article fittingly entitled ‘Secret Service’. NPR also aired a piece in March.

I think the person who introduced me encapsulated the feel of the website best: Some of them are funny, some are trite, some are artistically beautiful, and some of them you can relate to. I guess its liberating, to unburden yourself of secrets...to strangers. Why is it that we are so afraid that the people closest to us can't handle the truth? I highly recommend taking a few minutes and checking out his website because the selections are pretty moving.

The hype continues to grow as Melbourne-based composer Sasha Stella decided to create a music/theatre performance based upon the project which promises to entice along the same vein as the Vagina Monologues. On top of that, a book is in the works and a number of exhibitions have been planned.

Update from the blood-sucking leech front

The Times caught wind of my blog entry exploring the medicinal use of leeches and decided to pursue the issue further. Here's an article they published today describing how a federal board of medical advisers is currently meeting to decide how best to regulate leeches, maggots, and other repulsive, yet useful medical 'devices'. really though, i still don't like 'em. (Compliments of Kresearch laboratories)

Update from the homefront

Looks like the drama continues in my hometown of Spokane, WA. The Washington State Supreme Court ruled yesterday that a recall petition for Spokane Mayor Jim West can proceed. You may or may not remember that Mayor West stands accused of soliciting men online for sex, and offering one willing taker a City Hall internship in return for sexual gratification. Bad luck for Mayor West since this 18 year old man turned out to be a computer forensics expert aiding in a sting operation (there is some debate about the motives behind this investigation, considering it was sponsored by the Spokesman-Review who’s editorial and executive staff maintain ties with one of West’s opponents…another topic altogether).

Unfortunately, this episode seems bound to further augment the homophobia endemic to Eastern Washington/Northern Idaho. Guess what guys, not all homosexuals go around soliciting youngsters for sex in return for professional favors. In fact, oh my god he’s going to say it, perhaps the culture in Spokane maybe even contributed in the slightest way to Mr. West’s actions. I’m not talking about using power for sex; that’s another issue where Mayor West seems blatantly, and deservingly guilty. Instead, I’m talking about the need for clandestine homosexual affairs carried out under the guise of a happily married family man. While outwardly championing a strongly anti-gay agenda, Mayor West battled with his internal struggle that eventually sunk him.

Jim West committed a despicable crime by using his political might for sex. For this, he should lose his job and endure the dual ignominy of public humiliation and legal sanctions. He is, however, also a victim of backwards prejudices permeating the social and political atmosphere in that region. I’m only sorry that instead of using his visibility and political sway to encourage progressive change in Spokane, he, instead, wilted under the force of public opinion and plunged into inimical behavior. The damage reaches far beyond himself.

Addendum: Also, let it be known that councilman Joe Shogan, mentioned in the final paragraph, used to make me exercise military-style firedrills every time his son, Chris, invited me to sleep over during grade school. I still wake up occasionally in a cold sweat fumbling for the window latch. It’s your glasses case, Phil. Go back to sleep. I have no doubt this guy will wreak similar havoc upon Mr. West.

This morning

The mechanical hum started in May. It hasn’t stopped since. Those regulating fans keep the office, the restaurant, the apartment, the post office…the whole city, really, at an even 71 degrees Fahrenheit on their ever-vigilant watch. The radiating, swampy heat always pulses just outside the door, waiting to smother you in its sticky, wet embrace. Heat indexes creep towards red, your lungs burn, your eyes sting, your clothes are soaken through; you succumb to the novacaine-chill of a closed door and filtered light. It’s a sedative that makes it all go away, including the joy.

But then it changes. You step outside, ready to repeat the rehearsed steps of a hackneyed, tired dance when a soothing paralysis arrests your steps. Everything looks the same: cars and drivers shuffling along, intent walkers with headphones and newspapers, an occasional honk. But something’s changed. The leaves shimmer with a newfound vigor. The light forgives instead of burns; in fact, it’s graceful and accentuating and soft. An invisible burden and an almost imperceptible scowl dissolve into a newfound enthusiasm. The right song seems easier to find and possibilities flood your neurons. You claim your ground, understanding the fight is far from over. But you claim your ground.

This federal city has generously hosted the masses, sacrificing its streets and shops, its grasses and cafes. But now its time to reclaim a forgotten city and bid a fond farewell to the adventurers and admirers that made their way here. It’s time to relax and focus on where we are and where we’re going. It’s time for grounding and embracing and thinking and singing and relishing. The summer provides that elsewhere, but dc’s summer days are something else; something neat, but something else. Now, it’s time to step outside.

And you know what that feels like? A breath of fresh air.

Right and Wrong

You really don’t need to bother following this link because I’ve pretty much copied and pasted the entire article below:

Religious broadcaster Pat Robertson suggested on-air that American operatives assassinate Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez to stop his country from becoming "a launching pad for communist infiltration and Muslim extremism."

"We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability," Robertson said Monday on the Christian Broadcast Network's "The 700 Club." "We don't need another $200 billion war to get rid of one, you know, strong-arm dictator," he continued. "It's a whole lot easier to have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over with."

"You know, I don't know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it," Robertson said. "It's a whole lot cheaper than starting a war ... and I don't think any oil shipments will stop."

Robertson has made controversial statements in the past. In October 2003, he suggested that the State Department be blown up with a nuclear device. He has also said that feminism encourages women to "kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

Pat Robertson has the right to say inflammatory things. The First Amendment affords him that right and I certainly don’t want to take it away. What scares me is that Mr. Robertson commands such a massive, obsequious audience. Listen, this religious zealot just dismissed civilized diplomacy in favor of ideological barbarism. I’m often hesitant to harangue conservative spokespersons because these issues and these people are never black and white. Nobody likes a grey scale, but that’s what we’re working with most of the time. This is different; let’s call a spade a spade. Pat Robertson fell on his own sword yesterday and Right wing America needs to realize that continuing their support for this extremist will only cost them in the long run.

Thoughts from a cubicle

The world teems with diversity, beauty, and adventure. The urban, the isolated. The tropical, the arctic. The mountains, the ocean depths. The desert, the rainforest. Russians, Salvadorians. Silicon Valley Nanotech, Barrow whaling. Bangkok, Rio de Janeiro, Jerusalem, Berlin, Shanghai, Moscow, Addis Ababa, Johannesburg, Nairobi, Tokyo, Paris, Buenos Aires, Kiev, Cairo, Mosul, Los Angeles, Sydney, London, Bombay, and on and on and on! I want to snake through the bazaars of Istanbul, swim through Vanuatu’s tropical waters, ride Japanese bullet trains, gaze upon the crystal reflection of an alpine Patagonian lake, and explore Tehran’s Persian treasures.

The Problem: All this requires money, equipment, savvy friends, visas, the end of wars, and time. Don’t get me wrong, I want all those quixotic schemes to come to fruition within my lifetime, but practicality demands careful planning, patience, and perseverance. Luckily, there’s hope for the meantime…

The truth: adventure is more a state of mind and less a plane ticket. Treasures tuck themselves away in the most unexpected, easily dismissed locales. This lesson drilled itself into my thick skull when my roommate and I drove up to rural Maryland this weekend to visit some friends. The couple who recently built their beautiful, modern retirement home on 8-acres led me out into the musty, insect-symphony night to showcase their hidden gem. Sitting there, not 30 feet from the house itself, was a cabin constructed over 150 years ago that they had used as a bucolic escape for years before building the new house. Those same sturdy planks offered protection from the elements to some family during the American Civil War! This unexpected historical find sits less than 40 miles away from my apartment in DC and I’m sure countless other rickety cottages dot the landscape around here.

Which finally brings me to the point: the stomping ground that I know and love best, the western US, cradles its own panoply of accessible rarities-especially natural rarities-many of which I’ve never thought to explore. Since nature is what the west does best, it came as no surprise when I discovered that six western states house the oldest known tree species in the world: the Bristlecone Pine (Pinus Longaeva).

It seems the Bristlecone Pine has managed to stave off competition hungry to enforce the Darwinian call for newer, stronger species by employing a number of self-protection techniques. Thriving at typical elevations between 10,000 and 11,000 feet, Bristlecones persist in circumstances other types of growth find uninhabitable. They survive on dolomite and alkaline soil layers that offer insufficient nutrients for most types of growth. Furthermore, they know how to protect themselves from each other. Loners for life, these ancient trees leave ample room between themselves, thus ensuring that lightening strikes normally only destroy small clumps of trees, instead of whole forests. Fire cannot jump the distance between trees and no ground cover serves to transfer the flames. Also, if damaged by fire, drought or storms, much of the bark and tissue that conducts water dies back, effectively reducing the nutrient load the tree must supply to tissue and balancing the result of the damage. It seems you learn a lesson or two over the course of millennia.

Mommy and daddy Bristlecone conceived the oldest known individual tree in the world, Methuselah, 4,789 years ago (it celebrated its 100th birthday when the Egyptian Pyramids were being contructed). Methuselah traveled much in its younger years but returned to the White Mountains of California to live its millennia out among relatives. Methuselah descended into a severe depression in 1964 after the US Forest Service allowed a geologist to cut down his older brother Prometheus. The geologist’s coring tool broke after passing 4,000 years and USFS decided finding out that Prometheus was 4,950 years old was more important than letting it live. USFS now strictly protects these venerable soldiers.

Moral of the story: something really interesting is probably really close.

Funny things from older sisters

City Sports

Things that normally don't happen:

• Alan Webb, the most annoying runner in the world that went out for ice cream the night before running sub-4 minute miles in high school, found a new venue to showcase his hyperdrive speed: Manhattan's 5th Avenue. Webb, who looks like a 43 year old soccer coach, will join the ranks of other running legends that partook in this newly resurrected urban dash during its glory days (1981-88). Unsatisfied with only claiming the indoor record, Alan brought his game out west to the University of Oregon in 2001 and crushed the outdoor high school mile record by blazing a 3:53.43 mile. Currently, he's living in Reston, VA and making all my excuses for being out of shape look pitiful.
  
• Fillmore Street in San Francisco will play host to a big-air ski competition on August 27th hosted by Jonny Moseley. Event coordinators plan on bringing in a meager 12,000 cubic feet of snow to create an 800 ft. course on Fillmore St. between Broadway and Greene. Those with skilzzzz will rise 20 feet above street level while gliding over 60 feet lengthwise. Ty, is Tanner doing this? Do you read my blog? Why do you hate America? (Courtesy of Blogmyers, which is currently hibernating)
  

Are you kidding me?! Maybe they'll bring the America's Cup to the Reflecting Pool.

Amen

Have you seen this? Monumental change our German friend has brought about at the Vatican:

Addendum: Bless the children, for "even kids cannot stand life unless they have a drink." You have done good things today, BoingBoing.

Blogger Minutiae/Ubiquity of Spam

For those of us working with Google’s rather techy-impaired Blogger blogging service, there’s hope that improvements lay ahead. The first auspicious sign arrived yesterday when they released a program that lets you publish posts directly from Microsoft Word (access this on you Dashboard page). After downloading, you’ll see a quaint little “Publish” button in the Word toolbar tray that practically begs you to stop writing memos and start post, post, posting. You can use bullets, bold, italic, etc. All the formatting functions seem to transfer fluidly. Hyperlinks in Word publish, although, when you browse recently visited URL’s, word doesn’t seem to pick up Firefox searches, only Internet Explorer…anybody know how to link Firefox with word?

Hopefully more innovations will follow. To aid in the process, sign-in to your account and fill out the user survey. If you can’t think of anything else, recommend they let us work with the HTML in the comments page and program threaded replies. This isn’t necessarily the most pressing concern for many of us Blogger kids willing to endure the ignominy of relying on Spammers to fill our comments pages instead of Friends Networks, it would still be a neat capability. Tagging would be another nice option. Oh, and if we could work more with video….and, ummmm, if Blogger could do our tax returns and remember birthdays and make my lunch and iron shirts. That’d be nice, too.

Implicit Association Tests

A trio of psychology professors from UVA, Harvard, and UW (Washington, nice try Wisconsinites) collaborated on a study investigating the unconscious preferences and beliefs that people manage to shield from others and themselves. While originally designed to plumb the mental recesses of research subjects to determine the roots of thinking and feeling, the researchers have adopted their Implicit Association Test (IAT) for joe shmoe’s like you and me to “gain greater awareness about [our] own unconscious preferences and beliefs.” The test purportedly seeks to root-out both attitudes that we intentionally shield from others, and those that we’re oblivious about to begin with. It’s an interesting approach and I highly recommend trying a couple tests to a) see if you’re a racist/sexist/[insert other rancorous-ist term] bastard and, b) determine whether you agree with their approach.

I think it’s way better if you take the tests in the silken scarves of a virginal IAT subject, so I’ll spare you the bulk of my analysis. Quickly, however, I’m interested if others have qualms with any of the following:

• Many of the tests are structured so that you’re more prone to err in sections indicating traditional biases (based on the precept that you become more adept and comfortable with the test as you answer more questions…I suppose the counterargument would say you become tired near the end and make more mistakes. I’d reply by saying the tests are too short to warrant such an argument…and then we’d go on and on like baboons drunk on our own pseudo-intellectual gibberish)
• Some technical impediments (poor screen resolution, slow computer) could skew results
• Semantics play a pivotal role and I’m not sure the loaded term ‘preference’ can properly encapsulate all the sundry mentalities that score similarly
• Two simple metrics-speed and accuracy-seem a bit insufficient

I’m guessing those who devised the test would either disagree with me or say that nothing’s perfect. I would, in turn, agree with them that I don’t know what I’m talking about and concede that they’re also correct on their second point. In all seriousness, I find this subject fascinating and applaud them for taking steps to investigate hidden biases, because I know I harbor them and i'm guessing others might, too. It's the first step in solving a larger problem. So, without further ado, go try a test because they’re pretty interesting and maybe somewhat revealing.

It's a fact, it's a fact

The CIA's World Fact Book has effectively held me prisoner at different points in my life. Today, I once again collapsed under the pressure and fed my insidious addiction. Here's some interesting stuff:

• Macao became the first European settlement in the far-east when Portuguese sailors first colonized the area in the 1500’s. Today, this tiny country (actually, it’s the Macau Special Administrative Region of China) consisting of two small islands and the bottom tip of a peninsula jutting out from Southern China into the South China Sea houses the densest population concentration in the world; 449,198 people in an area 10% the size of Washington, DC. Ironically, the extremely affluent residents in Macau enjoy the second longest life expectancy in the world (82.12 yrs) behind Andorra (83.51 yrs, located between France and Spain)
• Liberia’s unemployment rate equals 85%
• Gauging by 2001 estimates, the United States consumes 19,650,000 billion barrels of oil per day, while the second and third highest consumers, the European Union and Japan, consume a collective 19,830,000 billion barrels/day. That means our consumption equals 99.09% of all those countries combined
• There are more cellular telephones registered in Hong Kong (7,241,400) than there are people (6,898,686)
• The HIV/AIDS figures in the south of Africa are staggering: 38.8% of the adult population in Swaziland (independent nation located between South Africa and Mozambique) contract the disease, 37.3% of the adults in Botswana, and 28.9% in Lesotho (tiny Kingdom completely enclosed by South Africa). The numbers go on and on in that region.
• The border between Ethiopia and Eritrea has yet to be firmly established in the wake of their 2 ½ year war that ceased in late 2000, which followed in the wake of a 30 year insurgency in Ethiopia that finally afforded Eritrea independence in 1993 (and all the coastline). Fun times in Eastern Africa.
• Canada holds the second largest proved oil reserves behind Saudi Arabia; our northern neighbor has obviously focused its concentration on Natural Gas considering it ranks 21st in proved NG reserves, yet produces more NG than any other country except Russia
• Russia is really big
• There’s an island named Jersey. That means something.

Anybody else have any choice factoids that the small, sad world reading Pop, not Soda simply must know?

It's not you, it's the one that told you

you're a comic. somebody has handed you the skeletal structure of a joke. your mission is simple: conjure up the crassest, cruelest, most disturbing thoughts rotting in the miasmic sludge of your overworked, rat-infested brain and multiply them exponentially. now, take that vile, bison-carcass plaster and splatter it all over the skeleton. cackle maniacally as you mold your hideous frankenstein with each barbaric impropriety.

we all love him. warts-oh so many warts-and all.

now you have an idea of what to expect from The Aristocrats...over and over again. scores of the funniest comics alive tackle this challenge and contribute their commentary in this recently released film. the barrage of words alone could rattle even the most impervious ears. those bold enough to transfer words into visions, however, might leave the theatre with a persistent tick and a newfound Tourrette's compusion in their speech. either way, you'll laugh really hard for the 90 preceding minutes. when you see it (and you should), you might speak of catharsis, evolving social mores, or the philosophy of comedy. I'd be happy to listen. but more importantly, i want to hear whether you found it funny, and if not, why we have different senses of humor.

Ronald Reagan Boulevard, Good Riddance/ Personal Crap

For a number of reasons, I’m moving. My wacky-wild-Koolaid-style roommate recently accepted a position through the Department of Justice working in the International Zone (Baghdad) on the DOJ team advising and assisting the Iraqi Special Tribunal. These dudes are responsible for prosecuting Saddam Hussein and his cohorts. When not serving in that paralegal-esque capacity, he will be painting walls. Either way, he's no longer sleeping in the other room.

So that jazz, a completed lease, and a sweaty walk up a hill every afternoon convinced me it was time for a new adventure. I’ll be living close to the National Zoo in the Woodley Park area of DC in a beautiful 6-bedroom, 4-level house. I don’t know any of my roommates yet. Two others have been chosen. All I know from my landlord is one works at the World Bank, one is in real estate, one is 25, one is 29, one is from Pakistan, and nobody knows from where the other hails. Please choose-your-own-adventure and combine those aforementioned characteristics to form two roommates (when you guys are reading this a month or two later because I’m forcing you at gunpoint, please forgive my mish-mashing). The rest are on the way. Cameras monitor every nook and cranny in the house and the show is set to air on MTV in the Spring of ’06. Word.

My third floor room is small, but the single window provides a spectacular view of the Swiss Embassy across the street and the top of the National Cathedral in the distance. I'm hoping the bells increase my number of conscious hours on a typical Saturday. If I get hungry, I can sneak up to the cathedral flower garden and eat roses. Also, the house comes complete with a functioning xylophone. I mean, c’mon. Please contact me personally to receive an updated mailing address where you can ship fan mail and exotic animals after September 10th.

Laugh until you stop laughing

Some things are funny in this world. This is one of them. Scroll down and press play..."oh look, an eagle".

Cornucopia Blog

A couple things:

• Did you know that cornucopias are also called 'horns of plenty'?...based on the mythological episode when the horn of the goat that suckled Zeus broke off and became filled with fruit. Apparently, the cornucopia filled with whatever treasures its owner desired. That's mind-blowingly amazing. i know.
• I managed to find-okay, that's not quite true...i provided essential logistical and spiritual support to someone else who did the finding-an incredible deal on flights overseas and decided to take ten days in France, Italy, and Switzerland in early-mid October. I know i've discussed such an adventure with a number of people, so if you get the travel bug and have a few bucks to spend (emphasis on 'a few', we're not travelling lavishly), maybe we could cross paths for a few days somewhere across the pond. Although many people i know studied abroad, and hence, are probably more travel-europe-cheaply savvy than myself, check out STA Travel for amazing fares. You have to be under 26 or a student to apply for the cheap deals. The destinations span the globe, not just Europe. Be persistent, the fickle rates sometimes change from day to day. If you see something amazing, don't anticipate it being there tomorrow.
• Another choice selection from the don't-they-actually-work-at-the-department-of-justice vault: Professional skateboarder Danny Way hurled himself over the Great Wall of China on a skateboard. Check it out. Here's his website.
• Astronaut Tim Robinson recorded the first quasi-podcast from space. Thanks BoingBoing.

That's it. I feel better now.

Taxis, the bane joy of my existence

A human being can only endure undue punishment for so long before simmering, tension-laden vats of justice-seeking adrenaline boil over in a torrent of revolutionary outcry. Taxis have recently elicited such violent outbursts from yours-truly as I’ve finally reached the point where I cannot passively accept their lawless behavior.

Kristy and I decided to grab a cheap lunch on Saturday for Restaurant Week in DC. Long story short, we were nine blocks away and needed to get there pronto. No buses in sight, I sacrificed my usually unwavering pledge to only take taxis if my life depended on it (or, if it’s six in the morning) and caved to the pressure. We hopped in and drove a block before realizing we only had eight dollars cash between the two of us. According to our driver, whom we immediately alerted to this predicament, the fare for this ride cost exactly $10.10 for two people. I repeat we picked the cab up ½ block inside zone 1 and rode about 8 blocks into zone 2a, and our driver had the audacity to charge us $10.10. First of all, it was questionable whether he should charge the fare for two zones to begin with considering we were only ½ block away from the dividing line and we were riding a grand total of 9 blocks. Secondly, we notified him of our innocent mistake almost immediately upon entering the taxi. Finally, he wouldn’t stop but, instead, insisted upon releasing every verbal dagger in his impressive arsenal at a 80 decibals from a distance of approximately 2 ½ feet while he tore away at breakneck speed, endangering himself, his passengers, any nearby pedestrians and the general air quality in DC. I was so impressed with his relentless cathartic vituperative that I decided to partake and by the end we were firing a barrage of ‘spirited dialogue’ at each other. Good times.

All this transpired in the immediate wake of another battle in Manhattan the previous week. Regarding that debacle, I’ll say this: when you and a cabbie decide upon a set fare, the deal is done. Just like any other business transaction, once you complete that verbal contract, there’s no reneging on your obligation. The passenger and the driver are both obligated to honor their end of the bargain. Therefore, when our driver tried to renegotiate a set fare from the East Village across the Hudson to Jersey City upon discovering delays in the Holland Tunnel, I was having none of it. You’re right, every DJ in NYC is blabbing away about the Holland Tunnel delays, that’s exactly why you should have known before you agreed to our fare. Blame yourself for not staying updated on the pertinent information concerning your job. Don’t unleash a tirade on the passengers in the backseat because they won’t remunerate your mistake. He and I were getting along famously by the end of our trip…when he sped around the deserted streets of Jersey City at 6:30 am and eventually dropped us off 2 miles away from home sweet home. We send postcards now.

I understand that cab drivers in DC and NYC, and other cities for that matter, work long, arduous hours patrolling the streets, shuttling around a fair number of drunken, overpaid, arrogant bastards that neglect the humanity of whomever steers the wheel and punches the gas. Oftentimes, putting up with the humiliating episodes inherent in the life of a cabbie offers one of the few opportunities for immigrants to make a respectable wage and put their kids through school. I have every intention to respect them as people and compensate them for the service they provide.

However, at some point generosity must cease and practicality must begin. I’m subsisting on a relatively meager non-profit salary in a city characterized by ridiculously overpriced rents. Just as I don’t plan on dismissing them as some delinquent stereotype, I don’t like being viewed as a trust-fund Georgetown brat or Wall Street sycophant who can throw around 20’s like they’re coasters at the martini club. I need to watch my expenditures so I don’t drown and I’m definitely not taking my last breath inside an overpriced taxi.

The NYC episode doesn’t reflect my overall opinion of their taxi system since meters normally determine the fare. That’s a statement regarding fulfilling your end of a pledge. That’s it. Do your research in advance and don’t blame me for not knowing what you already should. Period.

The zone system in DC, however, benefits nobody except the cabdrivers and all too often results in shouting matches, slammed doors and screeching tires. The purportedly ‘set’ fares between zones almost never compute properly. I know because I’ve studied that tattered zone-sheet numerous times…and my roommate pulled an epic stunt by permanently ‘borrowing’ one of those laminated maps and plastering it on our living room wall. We quiz each other before work in the morning. Okay, that’s not true.

We need more accountability and fewer strained vocal chords in DC. The solution is simple: dump the Zone System and fire up the meters. I, for one, would be much more willing to catch an occasional cab and the collective blood pressure of the district might relax to something only slightly threatening.

Theatre like you've never seen

Friends of friends. Oh, how they introduce you to the most interesting things.
Tonight I saw a performance of Les Liaisons Dangereuses presented by a local theatre troupe in DC. So, they took some artistic liberties and toyed with the script a little: the performance included only male actors. The characters from Choderlos de Laclos' 1782 novel, however, remained unaltered (men were men, and women were men), as did the essence of the story. It was interesting watching a six foot tall blond male perform as the ever-conspiring Marquise de Merteuil (both my favorite character and actor). The Source Theatre consists of a roughly 30 x 100 ft rectangular room housing a stage area (floor level) and about 100 tiered seats positioned in the front and to either side. Needless to say, the atmosphere was intimate. You can imagine that the steamy scenes, complete with full nudity, left nothing to the imagination. To think this novel was written over 220 years ago confounds me considering the story remains racy in 2005.
I'd highly recommend this show both for its artistic merits and for a glimpse of DC culture that largely hovers under the radar. Be prepared to forgive a few missed lines and a sparse stage in return for a novel adaptation and overall excellent acting. The theatre group caters mostly to the lesbian/gay/bi/trans population in DC, but I don't think this production was limiting in its appeal. The themes remain universal and relevant, and the diversity in the crowd expresses this most convincingly.
It should be noted that the show is scheduled to run at Busboys and Poets (great name) just up the street at 14th and V, but moved down to 14th and T for some performances until the other venue is ready.

Why didn't South Korea choose him?

What animal could possibly be more deserving of having its genes duplicated than my new-found friend Tyson? Suggesting my girlfriend's current level of productivity at her job, she managed to find this genius bulldog who conducts himself with infinitely more poise and style on a skateboard than I ever have or will. Be sure to check out the video clips listed under 'Pics and Movies' because they'll blow you away, especially the one where he's riding downhill towards the beach. Ty and Eric, you better be down at Huntington Beach on September 18th, because Tyson will reign as Grand Marshall during Walk For The Animals. I'll never forgive you if you don't go.

Also, while doing my research to verify that i'm not the only idiot utterly captivated by this dog, I happened upon another website listed in Men's Journal's 100 Best Websites from August 2004 that consists of videos showing scantily clad, voluptuous women trying to rev their sporty rides out of various muddy traps. My unschooled opinion thinks they're catering to those with foot fetishes, mudwrestling afficionados, and control freaks, but i'm probably wrong. Imagine sitting-in on the think tank that engendered this marvelous creation. I wonder if they considered the equally tantalizing 'womensharpeningpencils.com' or 'babesbreathingoxygen.com'?

It takes all kinds.

Oh yeah, why are they trying to rename my street. Reagan already has his airport and federal building, isn't that enough. Story first broken by DCist.

Doctor, i'll take over from here...

I listened to an interesting panel discussion today at the Academies regarding Direct to Consumer advertizing. Direct to Consumer advertizing, or DTC, refers to how pharmaceutical companies market their products directly to patients via radio, television, and print media. Instead of recapping everything i heard, i thought i'd just share a couple thoughts (i do have independent thoughts, occasionally).

First of all, the whole notion of advertizing prescription drugs to patients seems absurd. Whereas nearly all ads target a consumer who wields the power to determine whether or not they will purchase the product, these drugs are being marketed to patients who technically have no say in whether or not they will ultimately purchase the product from the companies. instead, doctors must first prescribe the medications before patients can pour absurd amounts of money down the pharmacy's throat.

now as you can see, there was a 'technically' included in that last point. the speakers described an academic study that explored the impact patients had upon their doctors, and how advertizing played into the ordeal. the study consisted of a few hundred actors, all of which pretended to exhibit the symptoms of depression/adjustment disorder. Upon visiting their doctors, a third of the actors didn't ask for any medication, a third asked for medication without specifying, and the last third requested a particular medication (in this case, paxil). All the patients had identical symptoms, yet those who asked for medication were much more likely to receive medication, and those who specified paxil were much more likely to be prescribed paxil than those who didn't specify.

the moral of the story is that patients are influencing the diagnoses of their doctors and playing a part in if/what drugs are prescribed. This is wrong. If people were knowledgeable enough to diagnose their own illnesses, then we wouldn't need doctors as intermediaries. the reality is that watching a 30 second commercial that 1) convinces you that you do have a problem, when you may or may not, and 2) enlightens you as to how their product might remedy that problem DOES NOT equate with seven years of medical school plus residency.

Although i can understand the difficulties with keeping abreast of the values/risks of newly introduced drugs while still maintaining a bustling schedule, the task must ultimately fall upon the shoulders of the medical community to determine whether or not they prescribe a certain drug. This should be ingrained deep in the mindset of medical students, and once granted their license to practice, there should be obligatory seminars at established intervals wherein doctors must attend and learn of any new medicines pertinent to their field, or any new information concerning those medicines already in circulation.

DTC plays only a peripheral role in the grand scheme of pharmaceatical advertizing. Roughly 4 billion will be spent on DTC in the states in the next fiscal year, while a total of about 25 billion will be spent by pharmaceutical companies advertizing their products (other forms include sampling, medical journal advertizements, etc). still, that money isn't negligable. i think it should be redirected (the US is one of two countries in the world that allows DTC Rx ads...New Zealand will most likely ban it in the near future) to informing the medical community more effectively so we can rely on our doctors to know what we need. as far as people being concerned about their own well-being, i think hypochrondria has established a firm foothold in our society and won't be waning anytime soon. so fear not, if somebody's depressed and the television commercials disappear, i don't think we'll see an enormous dip in trips to the psychiatrist.

now the question about how drug companies are allowed to market their products directly to doctors is another crucial issue. should there be limits on spending? should somebody (the federal government, medical oversight bodies) fund this advertizing so that everyone gets an equal say? how do they determine who gets a say in the first place? all questions for another time and another blog.

all i know is that a medicine should be weighed on its medical benefits, and not the sexiness of a marketing campaign.

Intolerance at its finest moment

Military discrimination has, to my knowledge, facilitated exactly one positive development (I'd be happy to hear if i missed anything else). Apparently, Jimi Hendrix managed to avoid a stint in Vietnam in the early sixties by pretending to be homosexual.

In regular visits to the base psychiatrist at Fort Campbell, Ky., in spring
1962, Hendrix complained that he was in love with one of his squad mates and
that he had become addicted to masturbating, Cross writes. Finally, Capt.
John Halbert recommended him for discharge, citing his "homosexual
tendencies."

This would be hilarious information to unearth about any artistic legend, but with Jimi Hendrix, it couldn't be more ridiculous. An insatiable appetite for women remains one of the cornerstones of the Hendrix legend. Or maybe he was gay and just tried really, really, really, really, really hard to compensate for what he thought was a lack of traditional masculinity. He succeeded in tricking me. Besides that, it sounds like a pretty typical rags-to-riches-to-drugs-to-deathbed rock story...which means I'd find it interesting.