Hump Day Helper -- Nic Ouzo Birthday Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Though just about every week it's "my" choice for the video, this choice was one that was surely made solely in my own self-interest. That's right, it's time for another Pearl Jam fix, and the hell with you if you don't care for it.

Since there are few actual music videos with Pearl Jam, I decided to go with a live selection this time. Of course, it's hard to go wrong with one of those, since Pearl Jam is one of the best live acts in the world these days. As for the song, I chose the one that Chuck Klosterman said was Pearl Jam's only truly "great" song--while I'd argue that they have a few more that would fit under that category, I would agree with Chuck in saying that this one easily fits the bill.

The lyrics to "Corduroy" are some of Pearl Jam's finest, and this performance sees the band firing on all cylinders. Matt Cameron's drumming is on fire in this one, and Mike McCready throws down one of his better solos in this performance. "Corduroy" is a tough song to get a consistent solo--it has a strange chord progression that is constantly cycling through, so while you can get some amazing licks in there, it's hard to sustain a fully coherent great solo. But Mike manages to do just that here. You're welcome.

I don't want to be held in your debt
I'll pay it off in blood, let I be wed
I'm already cut up and half dead
I'll end up alone like I began...

ASEVoIS: Health Care, Redux

One of the first articles we wrote back in the early days of WDR was an article on health care in this country. Back then, I was arguing that instead of wasting our time talking past each other on immigration (when a real solution would have merely involved a simple compromise), we should spend our time discussing a real problem like health care. It only took us two years to reach this point, but it looks like we've finally awakened to the problem.

Except what we have on our hands is not an argument, but the usual demagoguery and the like. This doesn't even speak to the issue that's been dominant in the media portrayal, the raucous nature of the town halls. To tell you the truth, besides the usual fear of having crazy-ass bastards bringing loaded guns to Presidential events, I don't have a problem with these events as a whole. I don't buy into the "Astroturf" arguments advanced by the left--these are no repeats of the Brooks Brothers riot for the most part, but instead the actions of a (mostly uninformed) citizenry. By attempting to deride the nature of these protests, the debate ends up being nothing but a series of ad hominem attacks that obscure the genuine issues on the table.

We understand the nature of the reforms being discussed at this point, with the main focus being on the public option. We've heard the potential benefits--lower costs, get uninsured on the rolls, free lollipops. So instead we should take the time to address some of the concerns.


Why the public option? We're a republic, we need a free-market solution! Free-markets!

Sure, free-markets are great. In theory, they're just about the best thing we have, and are a brilliant instrument. The problem is, even as it stands now, health care as a free market is broken. Free markets depend on the exchange of information and choice, and what we have now is neither.

Think about this: how much choice do you as a recipient of insurance have in choosing your provider? If you're like me and million of others, you have absolutely none. I just use the one that my school has signed with, and I don't even get dental. You're also probably with whatever provider your employer has made a deal, and they probably did that without any input from you. Or, to take another approach, if you live in some states, there's a 94% chance you're signed with BlueCross or some other conglomerate. In other words, there is no "choice" in this system.

Or think about the possibility of checking out your own insurance provider. You're not going to have any idea how effective they are with their coverage, because it often requires personal experience with the exact crisis--it may be great for that workplace back injury, but you just might get fucked over when that tumor on your pancreas develops. If you were going to make an actual choice, you need information--and it is in scarce supply.

But free-markets are efficient
Our free-market is so efficient that we spend more per-capita on health care than any other nation, yet our health care is only 37th best. Our health care is so efficient that we spend 16% of our GDP on it, while France at number 1 spends 9% (and insures all of their citizens). Clearly, the greatest benefit of the free market has not borne fruit when it comes to health care.

Consider the overhead costs of public versus private plans. Whereas overhead in private insurance (money that is sent to administrators and the like) can reach as high as 30%, the same costs in Medicare and other government health programs are in the low single digits. So much for "government waste".

I don't want someone choosing my doctor/plan/operation for me
Have you ever dealt with an insurance company? That is EXACTLY what already happens--you can only see their doctors, go to their hospitals, etc. And god forbid you ever had to negotiate with an insurance company over whether or not your operation could be covered or not.

The point is that for the most part, these decisions are ALREADY BEING MADE for you. The only thing that will change is that the person that may do this for you will be wearing a different suit, provided of course you end up with the same coverage (and considering the number of people that are currently underinsured, this is unlikely).

Get the government out of my Medicare!
Sir, put down the ether.



DEATH PANELS DEATH PANELS DEATH PANELS
This has been discussed rationally and in-depth by everyone. But people, if you're getting your facts from Sarah Palin, noted language-expert, well...you need a new source.

We need to cut costs
YES. That is exactly what we need to do, thank you. That's why the public option is so integral to the process--by using the government's negotiating power of millions of citizens, better prices can be negotiated, and help force downward pressure on ever-escalating costs. And with an aging population, this is more of an issue than ever before.

So this is an issue that both Republicans and Democrats agree on. Yet the Republicans can only attack the Democrats, and just continue to spout CUT COSTS. Of course, if you asked them about their plans and what costs they would cut, they shut the fuck up and just offer a two-page outline of a "plan". They also create DEATH PANEL rumors. See guys, I'd love to hear your solution, but you have to offer something.

What about tort reform?
Getting at the lawyers is always a good idea. But you know, this is really not the answer to the problem. And this is not just because I'm working to becoming a lawyer myself--hell, I don't think I could stomach doing things like personal injury.

The thing is, medical malpractice suits represent such a minimal percent of total health care costs that reform would barely make any dent on the process. And if you look at this article, it also is explained how despite those extremely large settlements you hear about, it's NOT the driving factor behind rising costs. Of course, those cases represent but the smallest minority of potential malpractice claims, and usually involve a catastrophic injury of some sort--putting a cap on losing your legs at $250,000 sounds pretty ridiculous.

Tort reform advocates also ignore the fact that while there are cases of frivolous lawsuits, these are usually pretty rare. They also ignore how the cards are stacked against the plaintiff in these cases--the reliance on expert medical testimony, the influence of doctor panels, etc., are all heavily biased in favor of the defendant. So when these cases do succeed, there's usually clear and convincing evidence, and many unsuccessful cases may in fact be the result of gross negligence. So yeah, tort reform is not the answer.


Have you read the 1200 page bill
There is no bill. There are multiple bills--one House bill, and probably around four Senate bills. Nothing is final yet, so it's stupid to get in a tizzy over half-made sausage. And for the record, only about a quarter of that 1200 page bill is anything but boilerplate.

Obama is a Nazi Kenyan Marxist Alien!
Who let Lyndon LaRouche into this forum?

Besides, all you people who are apparently so concerned about the Constitution, they should be mad with Obama for other things. I'm not sure what the Constitution said about health care (Ed. Note: it says nothing), but it does say a lot about rights to a trial and use of executive power. Jesus people, read more Glenn Greenwald and get angrier about Obama's preventive detention policy and his Justice Department's attempts to expand the use of the state's secrets privilege. Oh wait, I forgot, this only concerns "fereners," so you don't give a shit.

We are not Canada! We are not France!
True enough. But it is amazing when you have people like Daryl Issa and Jack Kingston, both Republicans, talk about the efficiencies of the French Health Care system (see last week's Real Time with Bill Maher), yet deride the proposed reforms. These reforms are only halfway approximations of those models, yet this is taking the wrong approach. Amazing.

Hopefully this helps answer some of the questions you've had. If it doesn't, I don't know, look it up some place that Glenn Beck won't look into--that'd probably be a good start.

Happy Birthday to Me (2009 Edition)

Hey, once again it's time for a birthday post. Unlike the other two bozos, I'm stepping up to the plate and doing my own quick birthday post. So how is/was my birthday? Well, besides the slight bummer of having to return my copy of Dinosaur Jr.'s new album, something I had been waiting to have for over two months, because of some packaging error that gave me only the bonus disc and not the actual album, it's gone pretty well. I had a get-together with my friends last night, with a guest list that saw more faces than my last 3 or 4 parties combined (though minus one asshole), and we had a great time enjoying the benefits of Buttface Amber Ale and ping-pong-based alcoholic consumption games.



And what awesome gifts did I receive? Well besides a few complimentary drinks (always appreciated in these quarters), I also received this as a gift from "my parents". This captures everything you can want in a birthday present--it speaks to your passions, and is absolutely useless, and probably a waste of money. But fuck it, I'm gonna enjoy this one.

Hump Day Helper -- The Return Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Well, today marks the end of my Wild European Adventure. Not to worry, I have more stories and dispatches from the road to dispense with--you haven't even begun to hear about the extent of my crazy travels and encounters with strange local customs. And while I had a great time, it's always good to return home.

I've actually been obsessed with this song for the past few weeks. It may be because I'm thinking about careers and feeling all old and shit, but I think this song perfectly captures that kind of, well, angst, for the lack of a better word. I also think it perfectly captures the kind of priorities that my friends should be setting for themselves as they prepare for interviews with big-ass law firms in a couple of weeks (Words for the wise: "You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan/And the next five years trying to be with your friends again").

This video is one of those neat-o one-take videos, so is definitely worth checking out. Unfortunately, it was edited for time, which makes sense, considering the song on the album is seven-and-a-half minutes. But they could have done a better job with the edits--they cut out some of the best lyrics! So while I encourage you to watch the video, I also encourage you to listen to the unedited song as well. And while you do that, just think: WHERE ARE YOUR FRIENDS TONIGHT?

And with a face like a dad and a laughable stand
You can sleep on the plane or review what you said
When you're drunk and the kids look impossibly tan
You think over and over, "Hey, I'm finally dead."...

Nic Ouzo's Wild European Adventure: My Second Encounter with Dutch Police

I did a previous post that documented my initial encounter with Dutch Police. While they gave me somewhat of a hard time, they actually let me off pretty easy. The Police would only be a minor character in my travels if that had remained the sole encounter, something that I could merely laugh off. However, that was not to be the case, as I eventually ventured into a Kafkaesque journey into the depths of bureaucracy and powerwhoring. In other words, it was just a lovely experience.

The story begins simply enough, and with the best of intentions. I had gone away for the weekend, to Berlin I believe. I had left my bike chained outside my place for the weekend, and everything should have been fine. However, I saw a note tied to my handlebars; I presumed it was a note from a car about hitting my bike, especially since the car that was parked there had jumped the curb. I took the note into my landlord to translate it for me, and she told me I was mistaken--the story was in fact that I had left the key to the lock in place, and that this kind soul had been worried about potential theft, so he/she had dropped the key off at the nearby Police station. Well, that was quite thoughtful--I'll drop off my stuff and go pick it up in a little bit.

I walked the two kilometers to the station, only to find it closed for the night. Granted, it was past 10 pm on a Sunday, but I thought if anything was going to be open late in Holland it would be the Police (in addition to the coffee shops, sure). Fine, I'll come in the next morning.

I get up early before work, and make the trek once again before I take a shower. I am buzzed in to the reception area, and realize that the station shares space with a bank. They direct me to the officers, and I begin to describe the situation. I show them the note, and describe the missing keys. They check around, but nothing can be found. Then one officer speaks up and says "it's probably in the weekend box." Alright, can we check it? "We'll open that up in the afternoon." Umm...ok. Fine, I'll go during my lunch hour to get the key, and I'll be able to ride my bike to work no problem. Plus, I get an excuse to try a restaurant for lunch outside of my usual area.

I arrive in the afternoon and repeat once again my story (new cops had taken the originals' place). After some time spent making the usual mistakes, someone finally opens the weekend box. I describe the keys in detail--three keys, one of which is long and for a garage, the other two for the locks on the bike; the keychain was a small little clog. "Is this one it?" Indeed, that's great! Alright, we can proceed and finish this up. "Alright, we just need the registration of the bike."


This is when the story comes off the rails. The bike is not mine, it belongs to my employer--I'm only here for the summer, there's no reason for me to spend money for my own bike, and they had a spare. Perfect solution. I explain to the Police that the bike belongs to my employer, and that I was using it. "Sorry, we need the registration or a spare key." I'm wondering if they realize that if I had a spare key, I'd probably not bother with this shit in the first place, much less three times. I tell them I don't have it, but they can call my employer and they can confirm that indeed I am responsible for the bike. "Let me ask the Sergeant."

Those turned out to be very unpleasant words to hear. The Sergeant was not good people, so to speak, full of hot air and eager to show she was in control (common courtesy prevents me from engaging in potential misogynistic rants, but let's say certain derogatory terms definitely came to mind). Once again, we run through the story--the note, the key, etc. I point out that this is the key, something I was able to describe without looking. "We need the registration." Can't you call my employer and ask to see it? I doubt they even have it, but they'll clear it up. "No, we cannot call them! YOU must do that." Um, alright. But I don't know their number. "You don't know the number where you work?!?" [Fuck you] Well no, I don't have to call my work, and I've only been there a month. Don't you have a phonebook? "No, we do not." [Um, the fuck you don't] So I'm left with the task of calling co-workers to look up the office number, writing that down, and getting through to the proper representative, so to speak. I ask for the registration, and of course they don't have it--the bike's an old piece of shit (though it does work), and who saves that kind of paperwork? I tell the police that I have my employer on the phone, and they don't have the registration, but they can corroborate my story! There's some hesitation, but I hand over the phone and a discussion ensues. And we're of course left back at the beginning--no registration, no keys, even though we have confirmation, fucking confirmation, of the proper stewardship of the bike. The Sergeant continues to yell at me, and eventually storms out--"How can we tell that you are not trying to steal the bike?!" [I don't know, maybe by exercising a little fucking common sense?.]

I keep explaining to them, how would I know to pick this bike, get the note TRANSLATED, come to the police 3 times, and be able to identify the keychain exactly without seeing it. "You could have just pulled this off a random bike!" Um no, that's quite the assumption--besides, HOW DID I KNOW WHAT THE KEYCHAIN WAS?! And we did have confirmation from THE OWNER that I'm the one in charge! This is an awful lot of preparation for some foreign kid to try and steal a bike, especially considering there are 8 million bikes in the city, many of which are tied up in much less secure fashions than this one. Isn't there a Detective on staff that could help explain this?



So there goes my entire lunch hour, and I head back to work. Eventually we're able to find a spare key, and I was set to just junk this whole fucking expedition. In the mean time, the Good Samaritan leaves another note, presumably repeating the same story as before. I check to see if the key works, and...it works for the lock that's built into the box, but it lacks the one to untie the chain. Fuuuuck, I gotta deal with these assholes one more time, and hopefully I won't have to prove BOTH keys. Once again, I return, for trip number four. After 20 minutes of waiting, I show them the spare key. They check it after 8 minutes, confirming that they're identical. Of course, this was after 15 minutes of getting confused about the situation ONCE AGAIN. However, since they're identical, I'm entitled to receive my keys back...after one hours worth of bullshit paperwork.

Mindless bureaucracy, power-mad supervisors, and inconvenient hours--here we have a recipe for success. Imagine if the notemaker realized all the trouble that would have resulted from their kind gesture--do you think they'd do it again?



The lesson is: don't be nice. It's only going to be irritating for everyone in the end.

Nic Ouzo Meets A Woman: A Template

The following is but an example of what occurs when I meet a woman for the first time. While the details may change, the general pattern (and end result) are always the same.

Don't know what to offer you I'm only broke and lonely
And another one goes, and another goes by...

Being the naturally shy type, it is rare I approach anyone, female or otherwise. Some of my friends may find this hard to believe, considering how I can be around them, but put me in a new situation with people I don't know and I clam up. 24 years on this planet has taught me that people are rarely excited to meet me, and I tend to respect that opinion. As a result, interactions are forced upon me, and not the other way around.


So that's how it happened in this case. I was being introduced to a new co-worker, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries and engaged in the standard chitchat. She was beautiful--the precise kind of beautiful that would have prevented me from talking to her in any other circumstance. The best way to approximate it is maybe to see she looked a bit like Jessica Alba circa Idle Hands, and readers are familiar with the esteem I hold for that look. I was instantly struck by her cheerful demeanor and was disarmed by her smile, so to speak (sue me, I like to painfully insert musical references). Though the initial encounter was brief, I longingly looked forward to our next meeting and did all that I could to make it happen.

Over the next two days, we had chances to talk for longer periods of time, and she only proceeded to enrapture me even more. I went on to make a not-fool out of myself: I showed a careful depth of knowledge of the fine arts (but not too much so as to indulge my tendency towards know-it-all-ism) and asked probing questions about her background and career. Oh, you were a gymnast on the national team for your country? Tell me more about Paris... Hell, I made some jokes and she laughed! Honest laughs even, not just the standard polite laughs. There just might be something there. I was even beginning to think in terms of "Romantic Rights."

Death From Above 1979 Romantic rights
Uploaded by flaytan. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

Come here baby I love your company
We could do it and start a family
She was living alone unhappily
We could do it, it's right romantically...

Again, being one to not make the first move, I went home that second night wondering if it would be too soon to become Facebook friends (ugh, objectively I know it's lame, but that's society for you these days). I may have a rapier wit, but I have a rapist's looks--I know my strengths and weaknesses, in other words. I went out for a jog, cooked some dinner and then settled in to check what news I had missed in the States. I check my email, and holy shit, she asked to be Facebook friends first! Good sign, Nicm good sign. Now let's just see her relationship status...

"In a relationship". Um, probably not a good sign.

Sure enough, I got confirmation the next day. "My boyfriend, he's an engineer, he doesn't have a great sense of humor..." Ah, an engineer, a practitioner of the black arts--I know when I am of no match.

Oh well. Everything remains the same, the same that it ever was.

Nic Ouzo's Wild European Adventure: Exploring Dutch Television

Some wise scholar once said that the best way to get a view of another culture is to view what they watch on television. Actually, I'm pretty sure no one actually said this, and I really didn't feel like writing a decent opening for this post. No matter, the stage is set--we're talking about Dutch television today.


Surprisingly enough, there is plenty of English-language programming available on Dutch television. I don't think that the apartments I've been had any fancy-pants cable systems (they each had around 25 channels), but at any given moment I could probably find something in English worth watching (even if it was CNNInternational or BBCNews). But that's because I've been conditioned from years of going to Greece, and finding the only English programming to be one terrible old forgotten movie; it was either that, or watch futbol, and soccer won every time (though in the past few years, English programming has increased). In Holland, I'm able to get a whole range of television shows; I remember a couple of nights when I was first settling in, I would just plop on the couch after a long day of work and not move for three or four hours, and only then realizing I had to get dinner, and only then realizing the only goddamn thing that's open in the city past 9 pm is basically McDonald's.

I've also enjoyed the act that each night there are at least 4 different movie choices I can watch. They range from the great (Quiz Show (subject of a future WDR column), Jurassic Park, Heat) to the "why the fuck not, I've got time to kill" (Sum of All Fears, The Arrival), to the "good thing this is what American culture is exporting these days (Let's Go To Prison!, 2001: A Space Travesty). And considering I spent about 5 weeks without television, since I was afraid of bothering my landlord (the TV was in the den, two floors below my living quarters), who knows what I missed out on.


Another thing to note about television here is that Comedy Central plays pretty much every comedy show that's in syndication in the states these days, plus tossing in a random few others (I just now got acquainted with the surprisingly decent family-humor of "The Tracy Morgan Show")(that, and they split time with a Dutch-dubbed version of a Nickelodeon/Disney hybrid). So each night they'll have the Simpsons, Scrubs, South Park, Frasier, and Becker among other things. A big difference between American and Dutch TV is the amount of commercials and their placement. Whereas these days in the US each half-hour sitcom has at least 3 commercial breaks, all of the shows here just have one mildly long break in the middle of the show. This allows a quick-strike schedule of 25 minutes per show, but wreaks havoc on trying to figure out what time a favorite is on (is It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on at 10:40 or 10:55?). However, I've been bombarded by ads for Entourage during every break on Comedy Central, which tends to get slightly annoying even though I get to see Holly Valance's cute face every 20 or so minutes.



Another thing that's worth a mention is the fact that there are not one, not two, but three music video stations. Granted one of them is still MTV, but at least MTVDutchland attempts to play videos sometimes (though usually later at night). Hell, I even saw a couple of rock videos. But in looking at a view of Dutch music television as a whole, it appears that the Dutch are really into Flo Rida and Lady GaGa, as well as this Norwegian rap song. Take that any way you want it.

But when it gets dark outside, Dutch TV goes fucking crazy. After midnight, at any moment, you'll find 6 or so channels advertising what I called "sex-texts" each night. Now, that was a bit of a misnomer--it's not just dirty talk, it's filmed movies and dirty pictures that are sent to your phone through SMS (the term "SMS" is big in Europe, though I imagine most in the US would not have any idea what I'm talking aboot, eh?). And to answer your question, indeed everything pretty much gets shown in these advertisements. All tastes are represented (which you'll find to be the case when you visit the Amsterdam Red Light District [shivers]), and I mean all of them. The all-time best ad is for one service whose big draw seems to be a masked naked woman who, um, has two pieces of toast on her ass. I had no words for it, but when pressed for a response, Dr. Von Bookman mentioned something about how "maybe they want you to put your 'manjam' on it". Indeed, Doctor.

Oh, and these commercials have taught me one of the few Dutch words I know--apparently "Enorme" is exactly what you'd think it means.

Nic Ouzo's Wild European Adventure: There's a Reason Why You Can Never Find A "Dutch" Restaurant

One of the initial questions I had when I first found out I was going to the Netherlands for the summer, was what exactly is Dutch cuisine (this gives you a good idea of what my priorities are in life). And even though the person I was asking had lived in Holland for 3 months, she couldn't give me much of an answer. And now here I am, three months later, and I too can't give much of an answer.

My initial guess would have been that the great Dutch dish was some sort of herring on a stick, and I probably wouldn't have been too far off in that assessment. I seem to recall seeing that sort of dish around, though not in pushcart form (I've been in New Yawk for too long). However, my sense of what would really constitute Dutch cuisine may be a bit off since I'm living in The Hague, which is truly an international city. Not only does one get to view beautiful women of all races from every corner of the globe, but one gets a diverse sampling of various international dishes. And what I've really learned is that the Dutch don't really know how to cook Thai food.



The one true Dutch dish is apparently French Fries. That's it. You can get all sorts of sauces with them, but the Dutch go apeshit for mayonnaise. In fact, all of North/Central Europe loves to drench their food in the stuff, which is bad news bears for me. For you see, even though I'm an incredible fatass, the one healthy choice I've ever made was to decide not to like mayonnaise--it makes me so sick that I can barely listen to the Smashing Pumpkins song, even though it's brilliant. Combine that with my recent decision to try to eat somewhat healthy, kicking out some old favorites, with french fries being the first to go. Needless to say, I have not partaken in a Dutch classic.



However, the Dutch have proved themselves capable of one thing, and that's making a sandwich. Which is a good thing, since it's about the one relatively inexpensive thing you can buy. It's not just that they prepare a good sandwich and you can find one everywhere (they're big fans of selling truck-stop style sandwiches, which is decent train-food), but that they're very creative in making new recipes. In fact there are two that I want to import to the US--one is a spicy chili sauce chicken mixed with a lightly-fried mushroom sandwich, while the other is a concoction sure to give Joe Reefer half-a-chub: ham, cheese, and pineapple, and all toasted. We should all bow down to our Dutch sandwich masters.

One thing you will find in Holland is American fast food. McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Subway--all are here. Now some will lament how Americanized everything has become (I remember shedding the metaphorical tear when I saw a T.G.I.Friday's in Thessaloniki), but hell, these places provide really convenient cheap food right when you need it most, especially later at night (because everything in Holland shuts down at like 6 pm). So I felt better about this American influence, at least until I rode the train to Vienna with some University of Florida students. Oh, they were fine enough people, but after hearing them complain about how the food sucks in Europe and how THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT BUFFALO SAUCE is, I was ready to give up. Of course, if we left the Dutch on their own to approximate American food, we'd end up with only stuff like this:



I actually just visited this place, and there really isn't even fried chicken on the menu--it's a bunch of Turks selling things like crappy falafel. Whatever, I'll go get myself a crazy pineapple sandwich and call it a day.

Hump Day Helper -- Backyard Barbecue Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

I figured that this week I'll provide a video that our regular visitors might not know. I mentioned these guys in my Best-of list for 2008, getting a special honorable mention since I was a fan of their debut album. For a duo, they sure make a helluva lot of noise, and it just so happens to be good noise.

No Age is punk by way of Sonic Youth, I guess. And that's a good thing, my friends. So enjoy the video, with the goofy elliptical storyline and the watery effects and the closest thing you'll see to an acid trip these days.

It's an eyesore
My head was shaved
It's a pain sometimes I try to walk on by...

The Death of Intellectual Honesty

Let's take a look at this résumé:

Princeton, summa cum laude
Yale Law School, editor of Yale Law Journal
Prosecutor in the Southern District of New York (Manhattan) for five years
Federal Judge for 17 years, 10 of which were on the 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals (nominated by both parties for the positions)
Unanimous "Well Qualified" assessment by the American Bar Association (highest rating)

Sounds like a pretty solid candidate for the Supreme Court. Actually, it sounds like a pretty spectacular candidate. So who's this dude?

Wait a second, she's a woman? Hold the phone buddy...uh huh. A Latina woman? Why on God's Green Earth® is the President playing identity politics?! Clearly this is some sort of Affirmative Action pick, done to fill some undefined imaginary quota for Supreme Court Justices. Why can't the President simply pick the best and most well-qualified candidate for the job?


That's a pretty good summary of the Republican opposition to Judge Sotomayor. Because she is a Latina, this is a sign that someone who was clearly more well-qualified (read: white, male) was passed over in order for the President to score political points with liberal special interests groups. Every spectacular achievement apparently is worth less than nothing if it comes from a minority--every highlight on that résumé was clearly made due to special preference given to minorities, even those that are the result of grades! I mean, they just hand out summa cum laudes like car wash fliers at a school like Princeton, right?

I'm not one to scream racism any chance I get, but every time I heard a Republican make an argument that we don't know enough about her record (besides you know, the 17 years worth of opinions) or that they're not certain Judge Sotomayor is qualified enough for the appointment, I thought I'd just explode. Even when faced with blindingly obvious facts that can't be twisted another way, they continue to maintain the same bullshit, all in the name of politics.

You see, the problem is that we have lost the ability to remain objective about the law, despite any rhetoric to the contrary. Hearings are a charade and two shams, with bogus questions aimed at one thing: will you agree with me on this particular pet issue? And for several Senators, it's only one issue (the one that rhymes with shma-shmortion), and if you don't agree, then you CLEARLY are not qualified.

And this is why I say that Intellectual Honesty has died. There once was a time when candidates with ideologies that were polar opposites would be approved by margins of 90 votes or more. Consider that Scalia was approved with a 98-0 vote by a Democratic Congress, and that Ginsburg came onto the Court after a 96-3 vote in her favor! Alas, those days are long gone.


To be fair, I can't blame this all on Republicans. Consider the nomination of John Roberts. While Roberts didn't have the same amount of experience as a Judge, he was probably the most seasoned litigator to appear before the Supreme Court, winning several high-profile cases. His writings also displayed a great intelligence and solid legal foundation. It's just that these were often based on fairly conservative principles, many of which I find to be anathema. That's why I have to admit that if I had been given the chance, I still would have approved Robert's nomination, despite the difference in personal beliefs--there was nothing in his record that showed that he was unqualified in any way. Even so, though Roberts was approved by a large majority, it was not a near-unanimous vote like his predecessors. And you could find that Barack Obama among the "nay" votes on that one. So it's no surprise that you found that today was the first time many Republican Senators would vote "no" on a judicial nominee. But that doesn't make it any less sad.

* * * * *

But Nic, what about some of the "legitimate" arguments against her? Wise Latina woman? Ricci?! Empathy?!!?

Let's take these questions one by one. The big talking point on the right was how the pick that was made solely to satisfy the liberal craving for "diversity" was herself a racist. This was due to the famous "wise latina woman" statement. Surely this is a shining example of racism--she's literally saying that one race is better than the other!

Of course, it might help to examine the quote in context--you know, that tends to be kind of important in these situations. If you look at the surrounding paragraphs, you'll notice that she's talking specifically about discrimination cases. She brought up the fact that Justices Holmes and Cardozo, though brilliant legal minds, never once found for the woman in a discrimination case during their many decades on the bench. It would seem quite odd that there was never an instance of discrimination, especially in the early part of the century. The idea that Sotomayor was expressing was that due to their societal positions, Holmes and Cardozo just could not understand the indignities of discrimination in its many forms--hence the concept of the wise Latina woman and the richness of her experiences. As a likely target, the Latina woman would know firsthand the pain of discrimination, and would understand better the victim's complaint--which is simply true for many things in life. This was the original (and best) explanation for the statement, but of course, politics rule the day so we must maneuver our way into somehow creating a misstatement. Besides, isn't a "wise" anything better than a plain whatever?



Ricci though proves once and for all that for all the calls about limiting Judicial Activism, the principle itself doesn't count for shit. No, it's about time Republicans own up to the fact that it's merely a code word for "this dude wants to give gays some rights". That's because Ricci was all about applying old precedent, and the Supreme Court reversal was all about creating a new standard. Confused? Well, let's explain the case this way: New Haven was in a position that can be described as "totally fucked", since no matter which way they went they were going to get sued--throw out the results, you get a suit from the white firefighters who passed, but if you keep the results, the minority fighters will sue. How can both sides have a case? Well, that's because of a standard called "disparate impact"--a test can be inferred to be racist if the results of the test bear this out in some kind of statistically significant way. This came about during the 70's, as many employers looked to sly means of maintaining a segregated workforce while avoiding a formal declaration, by requiring things like a college degree regardless of the position--something that was unavailable to the vast majority of minorities at the time. So New Haven decided to be proactive and avoid the lawsuit from the black firefighters, and as a result walked right into this lawsuit. The Supreme Court reversed the 2nd Circuit decision*, but what was amazing about their opinion was the lack of resolution. That's because Kennedy's opinion said that while New Haven shouldn't have thrown out the results, that even if they kept the results, the black firefighters would still be able to sue! Ricci is proof of the maxim "bad facts make bad law".**

As for empathy, well, let's just say there's more room for personal interpretation than the hearings the past two weeks would lead you to believe. In cases that rely on things as seemingly simple as a calendar date, there is STILL room for maneuverability. So that's why it makes sense for Obama to look for that quality, among others.

But you know what, screw the facts, let's just play hungry hungry hippos, I mean, politics. We'll just call Judge Sotomayor a racist, even though there's volumes of evidence that prove just the opposite. We'll try to make an issue that Sotomayor has been overruled on multiple occasions, even though by doing so you completely misrepresent the process of Supreme Court review and its meaning. We will lament the fact that by making this token pick in the name of diversity we are clearly leaving out some unknown "superior" candidate, i.e. white and male. We will bitch about the pronunciation of her name. We will continue to spew bullshit.

Let it be said that I am in no way a total supporter of Sotomayor--she's a former hardass prosecutor, and I tend to be very wary of those types, since they tend to exhibit, ahem, less empathy. But just because I'm sure I'll disagree many times with Sotomayor, that doesn't mean she is unqualified for the job. And even though we can now see that Intellectual Honesty has abandoned us, I will still cling to that principle, even if I have to do it alone.



*It's amazing how an unsigned, unanimous opinion gets singularly attributed to Sotomayor. Just think about that.

**I have my own issues with the facts of the Ricci case. Much has been made about the fact that Ricci spent several thousand dollars of his own money on private classes so that his dyslexia would not be a problem for the test. This raises two issues: 1) Why was a promotion to be an officer in the Fire Department dependent on a test that would be affected by dyslexia? One would think that this hindrance would be irrelevant to the tasks associated with the job, yet it was a factor on his performance on the test (he had scored worse before). Yet if it IS a factor, why should this one-time performance be the standard--do we need to fear the instance where the dyslexia plays a factor? And 2) The paying for expensive classes is an example that is played out in the High School level with the SAT, and is evidence of the Cultural Bias of the standardized test--the more well-off students (the majority of them white) pay thousands for classes that help them in essence game the system, while the poorer ones (of which many minorities fall into) get left behind. This is the exact same thing, yet I haven't heard a pundit mention this.

We Must Win the War for Hot Dog Technological Supremacy

When you're traveling on a budget, some things have to be sacrificed. One area where a lot of money can be saved is in the food part of your budget. As a result, even though I've been traveling to different countries every week, I haven't taken the time to indulge in some of the finer cuisine.

That isn't to say I haven't sampled the local flavors, it's just usually on the cheaper side. One of the joys of going to Northern/Central Europe is the abundance of various sausages. I mean, beer and sausage, who doesn't love a healthy balanced meal?

Here's how a proper German bratwurst looks like. Notice the great size, and the good amount of mustard. Much to my disappointment, sauerkraut was not an option.



Now the disparity between bread and hot dog is just ridiculous. In this case, the bread acts as merely a hot dog-holding device, much like a glorified potholder. It's comical and inefficient.

Now compare this to the sausage from Vienna. No, this wasn't a Vienna sausage, stop trying to confuse me. I believe this was a bratwurst as well, but I was just picking wursts at random--whatever sounded good and spicy was my sole criterion for choosing.



Now notice the difference in the bread. This is an amazing use of bread technology to help support the enjoyment of the hot dog. As most sausage enthusiasts are too well aware, the bread often breaks apart, or provides insufficient coverage to protect the taster from spillover of precious precious condiments. But this design of the bread solves all problems! The condiments are contained, and there is no mess! Truly a tasty, enjoyable experience.

My question is why hasn't pure American ingenuity come up with this design? We must steal the blueprints for this and proceed posthaste in constructing an American prototype. WE MUST NOT ALLOW FOR A HOT DOG GAP!

Too Clever By Half

There's an expression of some sort, along the lines of "too clever for his own good." This phrase came to mind as I read a letter to the editor in The Economist. I know, you're thinking "that's what you get for reading the goddamn letters to the editor," but I had a really good excuse--I was at an airport. There, that explains it.

The letter in question refers to a short article that The Economist had printed in the previous issue, detailing the latest developments in the Elgin Marbles controversy. If you are unfamiliar with what I'm talking about, the Elgin Marbles are a series of sculptures that come from the exterior of the Parthenon; when it was under Turkish occupation, the British Lord Elgin made a crooked deal with the Turks and made off with these friezes, losing a couple along the way (but no matter). As a result, the Brits have been in possession of one of Greece's greatest treasures for the past 200 years, as both sides and their museums sniped back and forth.



I will concede that at one point there was good enough reason to let the marbles stay in London: it was unsafe under the Turkish occupation, the pollution was enough that it could seriously damage the marbles, and London provided a great outlet for worldwide access as many people visit the British Museum. Now all these points are moot, especially considering the brand new state-of-the-art Acropolis museum that was built. And whaddyaknow, there's a space all ready for the return of the friezes (facing the correct direction no less--the Brits have them facing inwards instead of outwards). The Economist, trying to prove itself as the statesman above petty squabbling, suggested the only sensible solution: The Brits maintain ownership, while sending the marbles on loan to Greece.

Uh, WTF, ol' chap. You assholes have it exactly backwards--there is no question of ownership (the statues are clearly Greek, anyone can see that, and they don't need no fancy law-talking guy to tell them that), but if we're going to compromise, fuck it, London can hold on to the Marbles for a little bit, maybe having a nice going away party for them.

While the magazine once again proved the rule about British arrogance, the truly infuriating item came from the responses. The most intriguing (and most retarded) came from a gentleman by the name of Robert Ingle from Corvallis, Oregon, who attempted some sort of historical argument. He argues that the marbles were built on funds provided by the Delian League. Those funds were supposed to pay for defense, but as government funding tends to do, some of the money ended up going towards the creation of these sculptures (I mean, really, Mr. Ingle, that stuff NEVER happens today). The gentleman then indicates that in the interest of moral fairness that the marbles be returned to the people that paid for its construction, those that reside in the city-states of the Delian League. And since most of these were located in the Eastern Aegean, that would mean returning the marbles to...Turkey.

Robert Ingle, you ignorant slut.


First of all, thatt's quite an amazing display of mental gymnastics that you employ to ascertain ownership of the Marbles to only these particular people, and ignoring the fact that you know, Athens was the head of the Delian League. I mean, since California and New York pay the most in taxes, does that mean that they should claim ownership of everything that the United States produces? This is just pure nonsense. One might even call it bongtarded.

The problem is, Robert, you really attempted to be too clever with your next assumption, and that's where you get into real trouble. Back in the time of the Delian League, who do you think made up the citizenry? Umm...Greeks. You fucking idiot. I'm sure you wanted to impress some comely Beaver Gal with your impressive knowledge of ancient history after taking that one class at OSU, but this is just painful. Greeks want their artwork back, and even by your convoluted logic, they should STILL get them back. Turkey would have no claim whatsoever, under any circumstances, since they didn't populate the area until, oh, centuries later. What you proposed, was sheer stupidity. IT JUST DOES NOT MAKE SENSE.

Ugh, I need to relax and just watch kittens ride a Roomba or something.

Courting Controversy--Law Professors and Gay Rights

Recently my current school found itself in the middle of a controversy over one of its faculty appointments. See, NYU Law decided to hire Professor Li-ann Thio from Singapore as a visiting professor this fall. Initially, this appointment proved no problem, as most of us are not up-to-date on the collected writings of legal scholars in Singapore. However, as you may be expecting (considering I would not be writing about this otherwise), a video surfaced that would outrage many within the NYU community.

You see, Dr. Thio is also a member of Parliament in her home country, where they were recently considering whether to repeal the criminalization of homosexual sex. Dr. Thio gave a speech arguing against the repeal, raising more than eyebrows among concerned members of the NYU community. These are the sorts of people who would not be swayed by such rhetorical flourishes like "a human wrong cannot be a human right" and that "diversity is not a license to perversity".


You can imagine the reaction. First a letter informing the students of the existence of the video, and soon followed by petitions and calls for her ouster. In the face of this stiff opposition, NYU made the tough decision to stand behind the principle of academic freedom and not remove the appointment. They stated that they were unaware of the speech and that such views had not appeared in her legal writings. They pointed out that while regrettable, this did not affect her ability to teach or her scholarship, the basis on which the appointment was made.

This led to an uncomfortable few weeks as the situation remained at an impasse. Dr. Thio made a sharp rebuttal to her critics, which spurred further protests. And when it came time for students to select classes, a grand total of five students decided to sign up for her seminar on, I kid you not, "Human Rights in Asia." Today though, we have a resolution to this ordeal: Dr. Thio has canceled her visit to NYU for the fall semester.

I have mixed feelings about the way the situation was handled, though I'm more disappointed than anything. Let me explain. On the one hand, I am firmly against her position on homosexual relations, but then I have to square this with the fact that I am coming from a perspective and experience that's much different from that of Singapore. Gay rights have advanced greatly here, but there is a greater resistance elsewhere, so it should come as no surprise that there are more people that hold these views. The state of the discussion in Singapore is far behind that in the US, considering the nature of the proceedings (the mere decriminalization of homosexual relations). It should also be considered that Dr. Thio's role as an MP is also different from that as a scholar, and one should not have bearing on the other in this case.


However, I am proud of NYU for sticking out in support of academic freedom. They realize that in our scholarly pursuits we must look to arguments from all sides, and not restrict the communication of ideas, even if we do not personally agree with them. That's why it disappoints me when strong-arm tactics are used by others to totally suppress others' views. By merely shouting down the other side instead of engaging, the only thing that is accomplished is spreading bitterness among both sides. I also find that it shows a lack of faith in one's own arguments if you have to resort to such drastic means. And the hypocrisy is stunning: how many times have the left denigrated conservatives for side-stepping debate and resorting to name-calling? We can't be selective in this principle--it is the definition of liberalism.

The students though should be applauded for partially making the right move. The lack of interest in the class is the most effective action that can be taken, and may be the most damning of Prof. Thio's views. This "voting with your feet" should be commended, and should be the route that is pursued in the future.

In the end, NYU loses out on an attempt to provide at least a little balance to their pretty strict liberal professorship. Admittedly, it would be somewhat interesting to hear a seminar on human rights who isn't a particular fan of the subject. But hey, I'd rather take Environmental Law with the Dean.

Hump Day Helper -- Overlooked Edition

The Von Bondies, "C'mon C'mon"
Geüpload door elsifo. - Ontdek andere muziek video's.

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

As the year 2009 has moved past the halfway point, I realized that we're probably going to be hearing a lot about "best of the decade" lists in the near future. Even though I'm one of those guys who thinks that we should reserve these things for something at the end of 2010 (you know, I'm one of those guys who can count), it still made me think I better begin to consider forming my own list. I also want to put this in the heads of the other masterminds of WDR, so that they can begin to devise their own lists as well.

One album that will most certainly be on the list is Pawn Shoppe Heart. It basically was a showcase for the best that the Garage Rock Revival had to offer, from biting sarcastic lyrics to propulsive edgy guitars to Keith Moon drumfills. But even though the band had a good amount of publicity due to their lead singer getting the shit kicked out of him by Jack White, who was close to his peak at that point, it still wasn't enough for the album to break through. And it's a damn shame.

It was tough to track down this video, so if it doesn't play, leave a comment. The moving pictures themselves are nothing special, but the song is one catchy bastard, and you'll probably recognize it. But you probably wouldn't realize how morbid the lyrics were.

And now this day these deepened wounds
Don't heal so fast, can't hear me croon
Of a million lies that speak no truth
Of a time gone by that now is through...

Things That Make Nic Ouzo Happy

Few things give me as much joy as listening to the music of Pearl Jam. When people learn this about me, it tends to provide interesting reactions--the more musically inclined show some respect, while the other 98% of people look at me cock-eyed and think "how could anyone listen to 'Jeremy' a million times?" Don't worry though, I'm used to it. Unlike most "fans" (and most people you know, including probably you yourself), I have yet to find a disappointing Pearl Jam album. Yup, I'm the guy that likes even Binaural and Riot Act; I guess I'm the kind of guy you'd try to avoid at parties.

So when I get the chance to listen to brand new music from the group I relish the opportunity. Unfortunately, I had just begun my wild European trip when the guys christened the Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien with their latest, so I missed that chance. However, I managed to find a copy of their new single as it was released to radio, so now all is well.

My thoughts? I can easily see how I could dismiss "The Fixer". It doesn't initially come off like a typical PJ song, but then you realize that at this point it's hard to determine what the typical PJ song actually is, since they move from style to style so easily, without calling attention to it (Hey look at me, I've just done a metal track and I'm throwing in some samba!) The song represents an evolution musically from the Avocado Album, with a good amount of pep, mixed in with some intriguing classic rock and even new wave touches. The lyrics also stand out, as PJ no longer has the same rage that Dubya inspired--no, it's time for optimism, now that we're in the age of Obama. Hell, "The Fixer" would have been a great campaign song if it came out 8 months ago. However, the song is missing one essential ingredient--the standard ripping guitar solo from Mike McCready, which this song is just begging to have (and gives a slight glimpse of the possibilities, as it fades out in the end). But fuck yeah, I'm looking forward to hearing this one live.

A Sad Anniversary

Even though the Berlin Wall fell twenty years ago, there is still a divided capital in Europe.

Today marks the 35th anniversary of the Turkish Invasion of Cyprus. You're not going to hear a word about it today in the American media, but you know, we're kind of used to that by now. We're used to having to explain the details of a complex situation to each person we meet, so today is no different.



As each year goes by, it just becomes harder and harder to believe that justice will ultimately be served and Cyprus will be reunited in a fair manner. It's encouraging that there continue to be discussions between both sides, but in the end I can't imagine an agreement ever being reached.

Now that you have been informed, go about your business.

Thank God They Speak English Here

Dutch is a terrible, terrible language.

I don't know if I was expecting something different before I arrived in the Netherlands, but I don't think I've had a single pleasant encounter with the language. Oh, it's not the fault of the Dutch people, who are plenty nice and reasonable in my dealings with them (unlike some of their neighbors to the south). But there is something about the language that is just, well, stupid.

First off, Dutch is basically a bastardized version of German, which itself is a pretty awful language. I mean, we're talking beyond the fact that it just sounds like the most evil language on the face of the Earth, even when spoken in a calm, reassuring manner (in fact, when done in this way, it is often even creepier). It likes to mash up consonants in ways that don't make sense, it likes to combine 8 words into one, and it has ridiculous grammar constructions. Dutch does all of these things, and adds in things like unnecessary h's and j's and double o's all around. It's like German's retarded cousin. It doesn't even have the inherent "bjorn-ness" that makes Scandinavian languages such a delight.


I think I'd be less upset with Dutch if I could hear consistent pronunciation. The airport in Amsterdam is named Schipol, and I've heard it pronounced "Skip-ol" and "Ship-ol" by Dutch folk. If they can't agree on how to say the name of their huge airport, I guess it's foolish for me to think that the street where I live should have a consistent pronunciation. I've heard no less than five ways to say "Regentesselaan".

Then again, these are the same people that have decided that "Spui" should be said as "Shpel".

The one thing that Dutch has in its favor is that it's not Flemish, which is just bastardized Dutch. If you thought that Dutch was German's retarded cousin, well get that cousin liquored up and you get what Flemish is.


In the end, after nearly two months in this country, I've learned about 7 words, half of which relate to what kind of sandwich I'm going to have. Really, the two most important words I've learned have been "kip" equals "chicken" and that "kaas" is cheese. It's so bad that when I went to a Tapas restaurant, I decided to rely on my extremely limited knowledge of Spanish to decipher the menu; then I realized that "pollo" and "queso" were the only Spanish words I knew as well.

So it's been a blessing that just about everyone here speaks English; not only that, they can even carry on in-depth conversations about current events or politics. I don't even have to rely on my French around here--English is spoken by like 95% of the Dutch. Except of course by those at McDonald's--like in the States, they can hardly speak English either.

Hump Day Helper -- Tank Brigade Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Last week we featured a video from the Arctic Monkeys, so I figured, why the hell don't we throw in a video from the singer's side project? I mean, a band that features another singer that sounds exactly the same as Alex Turner, throw in a massive string section and galloping drums, that just has to be a disaster, right? We might as well just watch the car wreck as it happens; all my calculations point in this result occurring!

However, bands aren't made on paper. Instead, the Last Shadow Puppets put out one of the most solid records of last year, earning an honorable mention of sorts on my best-of list. Somehow they make their crazy musical combination work, in fun and inventive ways.

As for the video, I have no idea what's going on, except that it's epic and Russian. That's a good way to spend an afternoon.

There's affection to rent,
The age of the understatement
Before the attraction ferments
Kiss me properly and pull me apart...

Nothing Lasts Forever...Or Ten Minutes

There's a fantastic movie called Good Bye Lenin! that I recommend people watch, whether they want to get a feel for life behind the Iron Curtain around the time of the revolutions of '89 or they just want to see an enjoyable film. That being said, there's one part of the movie that I took note of that struck me as rather interesting. One of the characters had the job of a TV repairman, and it made me realize that in America you couldn't get work like that any more. Because in the good ol' U S of A ("that's US, Asshole"), if something breaks, you just go out and buy a replacement--shit's too cheap to begin with, and repairs cost too much.

This is illustrated beautifully by my experience with mp3 players. Being the massive fan of music that I am, it's important that I have access to my music 98% of the time. After a couple of semesters of college in which I would lug basically a briefcase filled with CD's, I decided to digitize my collection and join the technological revolution. Hell, we even had the technological equivalent of wearing the same uniform, since everybody purchased identical-looking iPods at this point. When it's working at peak performance, it's a miracle device--days and days of music at my fingertips with little compromise in sound quality. It made those 11-hour trips across the country much more bearable.

You'll notice I sneaked in the caveat of "peak performance." (Ed. Note: apparently, Firefox doesn't recognize "snuck" as a word, so I've altered the sentence slightly from the original draft) That's because this rarely was the case. There was always some sort of battery or hard drive issue, and the end result was that it created the one instance in human history where it was actually worth-while and cost-effective to have purchased the Extended Warranty. In the end I had to have the player repaired or replaced at least four times. On iPod 5, I was left with a device that only could get charged in a certain unwieldy appliance, and that was when I decided to make a clean break and just dump the motherfucker on Joe. Besides, the warranty was up.


At this point I did some research into getting "anything but an iPod." But at least I had legitimate gripes besides being wary of being a member of the increasingly disturbing Mac cult (OH MY GAWD, THEY'RE ALL SO INTERESTING-LOOKING AND THE COMPANY IS TOTALLY NOT EVIL EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE RESTRICTIVE DRM MEASURES AND PROTECT THEIR SHIT MORE THAN MOTHERFUCKING FORT KNOX AND THEIR SHIT BREAKS ALL THE TIME). It was then that I decided to go against my better instincts and purchase a Zune. It was the equal or the iPod in many respects, and even had some slight advantages (better headphones, larger screen). And when it was working fine, I enjoyed it very much.

Again with the caveats.

That's because the Zune had the strange problem of losing all battery power after about four hours, when it's supposed to last for 20. The weird part was that the meter would show that it was 3/4 full (which it should have been), but then it would crash and die a fiery fiery death. Sometimes you could resuscitate it ever so slightly so that it could gasp out weakly "Low Battery" to confirm your suspicions, but even that was a "sometimes" deal. So what did I do? I went back to the store, and without any questions, they just handed me a new one (in fact it was an upgrade--I went from 80GB to a 120GB model, and even got a better color (black as opposed to red, which always made me feel kind of fruity in some weird way, though it probably had no basis in fact, and is strange since I'm otherwise perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, etc., but it manifested itself in some strange reason in the color choice of my Zune, even though it was 93% obscured by the case I used)). I figured my problems were solved.

That was until 4 hours of playback later. You could guess what the deal was.

Of course, it doesn't help that the companies make fixing these things impossible on your own. You can't call for specific issues like this, you can't email them, but you CAN look through pages and pages of forum threads which in the end just show you that thousands of people had the same problem as you and were simply ignored (this is true of both Microsoft AND Apple, so suck it Macfolk).

So fuck that noise, I'm getting something else. Dammit, I was going to go crawling back to the iPod.


Luckily I was able to replace the Zune with the iPod at no charge. And hey, no battery issues! But then, strange shit started going down. I'm listening to a song, and then halfway through...wait, why did the next song start? Huh? Five songs later...what? Again, motherfucker?!? Wait, did you just fully crash on me? Don't you fucking dare...ah shit. You just did.

But I could deal with that. Well, at least I was forced to--I'm overseas, and there's no Best Buy I could go to for a replacement. That was until I had my shitty-ass iPod stolen by some soccer hooligans. Yeah, apparently in Europe you can go on a train and even though you're on the right line, you need to get the fuck up and MOVE because your train car is going to split and go into a different direction. Amidst the confusion of not wanting to end up on the train to Moscow, I momentarily left the device on my seat; even though I returned seconds later to go retrieve it, the iPod was gone.

So now I was without a music and I had about 7 weeks left of my crazy EuroTrip, and I was staring into a void of hours of travel without something to protect my freakin' ears. So I bit the bullet and bought myself an iPod in this freaky-deaky land of the Dutch. Hell, I even managed to track one down at a price that was equivalent to one in the US (with the extended warranty kicked in). Maybe I could have better luck with not-shitty US import standards.

And that was the case for a couple of weeks. I enjoyed hours of problem-free iPod performance, as I did everything from ride my bike to work, travel 10 hours by train to Berlin, and um, do laundry (after all, you can't have a wild European Adventure without clean clothes). That is, until I decided to play Solitaire on the damn thing. Apparently that caused my iPod to go all to shit. Now it hates being connected to my computer, and likes to not-play random songs and albums that are otherwise fine (i.e., still play on iTunes). I mean, how can you listen to Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots without "Do You Realize??" How can you lose the ability to listen to "De-Loused in the Comatorium" and "Siamese Dream", the highlights of each band's catalog?!?! Again, fuck that noise.



So now, here I sit, as I first hard-reboot the iPod, then connect it, randomly guess when it's at full power, and then can make any adjustments that are necessary. I'm sure we can't blame all this on the spoils of Capitalism. But it's a helluva place to start.

Hump Day Helper -- The Kids Are Alright Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Arctic Monkeys are one of those now-traditional English bands that get built up to near-Beatles hype in the UK, then fall back to Earth about 23 seconds later. Of course, neither extreme is correct, and these guys do a great job of putting a clever spin on energetic rock. So they are indeed worthy of your notice.

This week we're bringing you a video where in an attempt to get actual airplay, the band decided that instead of making just a traditional-style rock video, they're going to lean on the tropes of hip-hop videos. Namely: BOOTY.

Just like cornbread, ain't nothin' wrong with that.

She'll be saying 'use me',
'show me the jacuzzi'...

The one time I'll blog about Michael Jackson

Trust me, it'll be brief.

Michael Jackson is dead. It's been on the news for days. That's it. Dead guy. OVER.

I don't want to see any more news about Michael Jackson UNLESS it involves his re-animated corpse re-doing Thriller. This is the lone exception.

I wouldn't mind hearing more/reading more about the beer expert Michael Jackson, however. That guy was a badass...

He's also dead.

Blog over.

I don't think that word means what you think it means...

Now I haven't used the blog to rant too much about easy political targets like Sarah Palin, leaving that job to HuffPo's rabid denizens and the illiterate commenterati that populate the CNN Political Ticker. God knows she's deserved some comment, but even though she's shown incredibly thin skin (she can call John Kerry a horse-face but how dare you say she looks like a slutty flight attendant) and has displayed an amazing lack of intelligence (see: everything she's ever said in public), but she's too easy a target. In other words, the job is too easy and has already been done for us.


That was before this past Fourth of July weekend, when Sarah Palin decided to, I shit you not, "declare her independence from politics as usual", as per her lawyer. Among other things, she was tired of the jokes about her. Yes, the person that ran last November for the position of backup to the most powerful office in the world (and most likely would eventually be called up to be the starter) decided to quit her job as Governor just 2 and a half years into her term, partially because of jokes. Let's let that sink in for a bit.

But this isn't the reason that I'm finally talking about Palin. No, I'm doing all this because I just want to analyze her most recent comments to the press, explaining her decision.

Palin: 'I am not a quitter; I am a fighter'

No Sarah. No no no no no. You have it exactly fucking backwards. Let me break this down for you, so you comprehend the idiocy that you have unleashed upon us.

YOU QUIT. Ergo, you are a quitter. You quit because you were tired of fighting ethics complaints, a legislature that was pissed off at you, and just in general doing the work of a Governor. Quitting is the exact thing that you just did. In other words, when the chance came for you to fight, you did not fight. WORDS DO NOT MEAN WHATEVER YOU WANT THEM TO MEAN! So the revised statement should be:

I am not a quitter fighter. I am a fighter quitter.

Hopefully this lesson proves useful to you, Sarah, as you fill out the rest of your term going on fishing vacations instead of spending that last month actually governing. I mean, you're gone at the end of the month, but why wouldn't you put off that fishing trip? If not, just be sure to blame the vagaries of the English language on Obama, because it's probably his fault.

The Dutch Take Their Bike Safety Very Seriously

Sir, have you been drinking?

This is the story of my first encounter with Dutch police. Unfortunately, it would not be my last.

I had just gotten back from a weekend trip to London, where I had gotten my Eurotrash on, when I stopped by my office to pick up my bike and ride it home. So after a train ride to the airport, 2 hours of waiting including delays, a one hour flight, a half-hour train ride to town, and a 10 minute bus ride to the office, I was only minutes away from heading home. I climbed aboard my bike, careful to balance the giant weight of my backpack that had carried my supplies for the weekend, including my laptop, and slowly made the journey back to my apartment as dusk began to settle in.


Now my office is located on a triangle of land that makes no sense any way you slice it for a bicycle to go anywhere. Any way you really want to go, you're going to cut across traffic at some point and risk getting your ass Canyonero'd to the curb. So I head to the stoplight and contemplate whether I should risk going the wrong way down a one-way street, because it cut off about half a kilometer from my route. I see that the traffic signal perpendicular to me had gone from green to red, and since no cars were coming I made a careful turn into the street. About halfway through the maneuver I had second thoughts, and I decided to instead take the long way home.

Ah, but that would be my fatal error. A police vehicle (to call it a car would be too generous) had pulled in behind me without my knowledge. They saw the totality of this maneuver, and decided to pull me over. Of course, since I was heading down a narrow street, I initially thought the officers were just advising me to ride my bike on the sidewalk, but soon enough I found out their actual intent.

After some cheerful chirping on my part (Good evening officer, what exactly do you want me to do sir), the officer began in a roundabout way to get to the heart of the matter.

I need some ID. Do you need a passport, or will my driver's license be fine? The license is fine. [ ]. Did you see the stop light? Yes I did, but I saw the light was changiYou did not stop at the stop light. [ ]. Your lights are not on. Yes I know, I tried to turn them on, I couldn't get them on. Do you know how to do it? Yes of course. [ ]. See I told you it was broken. Sir, have you been drinking?. What? No, I haven't had anything today. It's just the first time I've ridden a bike in over 10 years and I'm carrying this heavy backpaSo you don't have the skills. I guess not. I do not smell alcohol. [ ]. Alright, it's 60 Euros for the missed stoplight, 30 Euros for the broken lights. If you hadn't done the stoplight, we wouldn't have had any of this. [ ]. Alright, my partner here is in a good mood. No fine. Just don't ride the bike. Just here, or when I get back into regular traffic. No, you walk the bike home. Thank you officer.



And I walked my bike the five kilometers to my apartment. And so there's the story of how I nearly got busted for a DUI on a 3-speed bike.

Hump Day Helper -- Dad Rock Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Last week was Father's Day, and we didn't do anything, because you know, it's Father's Day. Dads don't have time for that crap, none of this touchy-feely shit, and they're sick of your goddamn ties. If you forget to celebrate it, they're not going to go to shit about it. And that's why we love them.

And what better way to celebrate than to choose the ultimate in modern-day "dad-rock", with Wilco. They've got a new album out this week, and that's going to be something I'll have to track down here in Europeville. Even if they've mellowed a bit over the years, I can forgive them for that. It makes memories like Beavis and Butthead going crazy for "Box Full of Letters" that much cooler. I know we've featured these guys before, but somehow that page got lost. As always, I'm going to blame that fuck-up on Joe.

Since it's hard to track down actual videos from Wilco (even the aforementioned "Letters" doesn't easily come up, and I know there's a real video for that), I just decided to throw up a live video. This song is from the underrated Summerteeth album, and it manages the depressing/uplifting contradiction quite well if you ask me. Then again, it doesn't get much catchier than "Baby all I need is a shot in the arm..."

Something in my veins, bloodier than blood...