Ugly People: West Virginia

Yesterday I was in West Virginia doing some recruiting for my firm at WVU.  This was quite the adventure.  From a logistical perspective, this was one of the worst-run career fairs I have ever been to.

When I arrived, I followed the map provided by the individuals running the fair.  The map was pretty straightforward - parking was available along Prospect, near the "Mountainlair" (the student union), as long as you got a pass from one of the volunteers in bright yellow shirts.

Sounded easy.

Well, it wasn't so easy when it was 1) a series of one-way streets, 2) in the middle of the morning rush of students driving and walking (mostly in front of cars) to campus and, 3) completely devoid of anyone wearing a yellow shirt, bright or otherwise.  Plus, I did not see a single parking space available.

By this point, so early in my visit, I'm thinking it will not be a great day.  I will likely be relegated to parking somewhere near Pittsburgh, and hoofing it back to campus with my various belongings in tow.

By my third pass by the Mountainlair, I noticed a woman standing on the corner.  In fact, the same woman I had seen in the midst of my two previous passes.  So, I faced a decision.  Was she a) a poorly decked-out hooker?, b) a crazy homeless person?, or c) someone who knew what the hell was going on?

Fortunately, I was neither propositioned nor attacked - the answer was c!  Hooray!  Even better, she said "There are probably no more parking spaces [my thoughts exactly!], so why don't you just park in the lot?"  That is, the lot with a surfeit of empty parking space directly next to the Mountainlair.

Why don't I just park there, indeed!

So I did.

Finally on my way to the fair itself, I entered the 'lair.  Through the cafeteria.  Wha??

Ignoring the puzzled looks from the students busily doing whatever it is students do at 9 in the morning on a Wednesday in the cafeteria, I confidently strode forward.  Where that would take me I had no idea, since no signs were posted to indicate I was even in the right building, never mind whether there was a career fair going on that day.

Luckily, I soon spotted my first Yellow Shirt.

"Here for the fair?" asked the Yellow Shirt.

"Yes." I replied.

She pointed back across the building, through the cafeteria, "Go up the stairs, hang to the left, then keep right, then left, and it will be on the left."

Crystal clear.

I traipsed back through the cafeteria, doubling up on the quizzical stares, and managed to get myself temporarily lost on the second floor before I found someone who looked like the knew where they were going.  I followed them.

Finally I was at the fair.  Still no signs.  I set up my booth, and prepped myself for the day.  Since I was the only person from my firm attending, I knew I had to be on my game, so I was pumped.

The fair began, and I quickly discovered a problem.  Directly across from my booth was the booth of Frito Lay, gayly decked out in gaudy yellow (a theme, perhaps?), with mounds of Frito Lay products on the table.

This was going to be trouble.  Especially since 1) all three of their representatives were, let's say, "husky" instead of "lazy" and therefore sat behind their table, pushing it further towards me even though 2) it was already maybe 6 feet away from me already (not a lot of room to work with when you're talking about trying to have a conversation between two full-grown adults) and 3) nothing draws students like freebies, especially edible freebies!

Like I said, trouble.  And there were two other booths "further in" (away from the "entrance" if you will).  Quickly, my theory was proven right.  The four booths got hopelessly jammed up.  Students took one look and moved on.  The problem was, the entire rest of the place was more or less the same.  So there was a lot of elbow-throwing (literally!) being done by yours truly to clear some space out.  Eventually people got the message.

Making matters much worse, and getting around to the point of all this is: there are a lot of ugly people in West Virginia!

One of the recruiters across the way was an enormously fat woman who was enormously pregnant.  No, I didn't ask her, but she had that stupid look on her face that says "I'm Pregnant.  I dare you to say something to me."

I did not say anything to her.  Plus, in her case she wasn't even ugly.  Unattractive, certainly, but mostly just entirely unexceptional to the point of being utterly forgettable.

No, there was one guy more than any other who took the cake and is the especial inspiration for this post.  His name was Robert.  And he had it all, so to speak.  He had a) the requisite receding chin, to match the b) receding hairline, with the male pattern bald spot in the back (so the comb-over was particularly hideous in its ineffectiveness) and the c) threadbare, ill-fitting black suit with black/blue tie that made him look somewhat like a wimpy undertaker.

I felt, and feel, really sorry for this guy.  Would he want my sympathy?  Probably not.  I'm sure he's a regular guy just like anyone else.  But when he asked me "Do you have any data management positions?" I died a little inside.  His watery eyes peered up at me in anticipation.  His standard-issue "hick teeth" were framed by his thin lips, parted as if ready to pounce if I said "yes".

I did not say yes.

He looked somewhat disappointed, but mostly resigned.  That made me feel even worse.  Here's a guy for whom probably very little has gone just the way he'd like, and I can't help him in even the smallest way.

After that, I couldn't stop.  I waded through the throngs of ugly people and did my best to be engaging, and exciting, and inspiring.  I believe I did that.

At the end of the fair, a throng of Yellow Shirts came in.

Now??

LESSON:  Avoid ugly people - they're depressing.

Elitism, 2

America celebrates two seemingly incompatible ideals: equality and merit.

Any normal person recoils at the idea that certain whole groups of people are in some way inferior to other whole groups of people.  This presumption of equality is the obvious outcome of the centuries-long fight against racism, sexism, homophobia, etc.

The converse ideal is that while whole groups of people cannot be characterized as better or worse than another, the same is not true of individuals.  If an entrepreneur builds a successful business and makes a lot of money, this isn't seen as a crime - that is the American Dream!  Obviously, that individual will have had to have out-competed others who were ultimately less successful, but that is the outcome of the game that everyone is playing.

Unfortunately, nowadays this idea is under attack on numerous fronts.

Previously I have commented on the distaste for political candidates that appear "elitist".  In this case, the moniker is intended as a slur that implies that the candidate thinks he or she is better than those being governed.  This characterization is usually refuted with an unseemly amount of blustering, etc. because it is true - only an egomaniac would become a politician! Politicians are obviously elitist - they feel that they are the only ones capable of leading The People.

Never mind for a second the unconscionable intrusion of government into our lives.  Let's assume for a second that government was always benevolent and always acted in the best interests of The People.  Why on earth would we not want the very best possible people handling that responsibility?

This applies to everything.  If one of your beloved required a delicate surgery, wouldn't you want the very best surgeon you could find (and afford)?  Of course.

How about if you were facing a life sentenced to prison, wouldn't you want the best lawyer around?  Obviously.

If you are learning a new skill, wouldn't you want to learn from the individual whose skill is recognized to surpass that of everyone else?  Naturally.

Flip this around: if one of your beloved required a delicate surgery, would you howl in protest if a surgeon obviously less experienced were substituted?  What if the surgeon had a history of less-than-favorable outcomes?  I don't need to go through more examples, since this is obvious once you actually think about it.

Clearly, when we discuss "equality", we do not mean that everyone should be treated equally in all situations.  That is not what I mean when I use the term, nor what any normal person means.

Some (I call them "Equalists") feel implicitly that anything that discriminates against another individual for any reason is bad.  This is the same line of thinking that now results in kids in school getting "participation" awards, even if they didn't win (so we don't damage their self-esteem!).

This is an hopelessly retarded world view.  No matter what people would like, the world separates individuals into winners and losers.  Some people are better than others at certain things, and there is nothing wrong with that!  In fact, most people expect the world to work that way.  Only the most foolish would willingly substitute an inferior surgeon for a crack one.

This does not mean that certain groups of people are better than others.  I do not discriminate against people based on the color of their skin, or who they share their bed with, or what genitalia they were born with (or have acquired since birth).  However, I definitely discriminate based on your merits.  This does not even mean that you have to be "intelligent"!  If my car is broken, as long as the mechanic that fixes it is a genius in his field, I don't care if he can discuss Proust or opine on the relative merits of string theory and M-theory - he's great at what he does, and that's all that matters to me!

Does it damage the self-esteem of my figurative mechanic for him to know that he stinks at theoretical physics?  No!  It just means he's not going to be working at CERN anytime soon.  And if he aspires to work at CERN, he'd better get cracking!  You only get to work there if you're tremendously adept at particle physics, even if you couldn't tell a carburetor from a radiator to save your life!

It's the idiotic conflation of "equality" and "self-esteem", and "merit" and "damaging to self-esteem" that really gets me.  If a kid at school participates in some event, and isn't the best at it, that's too bad!  He'd better work harder at it, or forget about doing it in the future.

If Little Johnny always wanted to be the quarterback, he'd better be good at the position.  I don't want him playing for my team unless he's the best we've got!  Same thing if Little Johnny wants to be a world-class brain surgeon, or lawyer, or mechanic, or President, or anything else.

LESSON: It's time to take back merit from the Equalists.

War: Limits of Participation

How can you tell if a war is just? A weighty question, to be sure. And one that cannot be answered easily, despite what some say.

One thing is for sure: we cannot accept the democratization of violence. Private security firms, such as Blackwater are unacceptable to me.

"If government contractors are accepted elsewhere, why not on the battlefield?" This is the general line of reasoning used to justify the use of contractors in place of soldiers. This of course already accepts the premise that somehow the business of government can and should be carried out by the private sector. This flirts dangerously with fascism, in my opinion. In fact, this premise is part of the reason for the drastic increase in the size of the government over the last century (another subject - more on this later).

Staying on point, if a war cannot be fought by those who volunteer for armed service, then it should not be fought. Period.

What about Afghanistan then? I think there was sufficient support by those who would be doing the fighting to justify it. If we had only one front in Afghanistan, my suspicion as a layman is that we would have made significantly further progress than we have so far and both the US and the world would be safer than currently. I suspect our troops would be fresher, more capable, less exposed to danger, and have higher morale if we as a nation were focused (nearly exclusively) on Afghanistan. Does this mean we should have gone into Afghanistan? Not necessarily, but that is a different question.

What about Iraq? Clearly the strains by the armed forces to recruit sufficiently indicates there isn't an overwhelming conviction by the populace that the war merits their participation. In a democratic republic this is important. It's not enough that our leaders are convinced of the righteousness of a particular course of action - they need the consent of the governed to enable it to be effected. Without this, leaders are helpless. This is an extremely effective way to limit the effective power of any government (especially dictatorships - check out Gene Sharp's From Dictatorship to Democracy for a terrific review of non-violent political resistance).

The current administration's response to this is to use our tax dollars (coercively obtained of course - when was the last time you were asked if you minded paying some more taxes?) to pay mercenaries to fight a war that we are unwilling to support directly. That is, "Oh, you don't like the war? Fine. Give me your money. I'll pay somebody else to do it."

Some might not even see anything wrong with this. Sort of like tending your yard, what's wrong with paying someone else to do it? In this case, the thing that is wrong with it is that the people paying for it (us) and the people spending the money (the government) are different. It's like having a neighbor repeatedly tend your yard for you (whether you want it or not), and charging you whatever they feel like, and having them dip right into your bank account without recourse to pay for it.

The draft is even worse, and thankfully not a current concern, despite Charlie Rangel's repeated blustering. The draft is like having a neighbor repeatedly force you to tend your own yard (whether you want it or not), charging you for the privilege, and raiding your bank account to pay for it. Even worse!

Then if a population is unwilling to support a war effort with volunteerism, what should be done?

Nothing. The government should operate within its limits, not repeatedly subvert those limits!

It's time to take back our liberty.

LESSON: RESIST.

Drinks: Spicy Thai Basil Gimlet

Jes, Jen (some call her J-Leh but not me) and I went to Vegetate last night for food and drinks.  I confirmed that I do not like Victory's Golden Monkey.  I first had it in Philadelphia at Moriarty's when we lived there (so several years ago).  When I saw it on the menu, I thought I remembered the drink (it had made quite an impression on me), but thought I would give it another go to see if my first impressions were accurate or whether my palate was simply unrefined way back when.

As expected, my palate was then, as now, impeccable.  I didn't like it.  Why?  Well, it's a Belgian-style ale, which I generally appreciate.  But as anyone who drinks Belgian ales knows, they are challenging to say the least.  I this case, I think challenged is somewhat more accurate.  It's just not very tasty.  There are some very particular flavors that I associate with Belgian ales that predominated, but they weren't the good ones.  I encourage you to try it though - let me know your thoughts!

Also, it didn't go very well with my meal, a terrifically delicious, slightly spicy, very hardy seasonal vegetable risotto.  I'm not sure I expected it to go with the meal, but I would imagine Chimay would have.

So, post-meal, as Jes and Jen pondered the difference between sherbet and gelato, I was despondent and looking for something interesting to drink.  I noticed on the end of the collection of bottles behind the bar, a lonely-looking bottle hand-labeled "Thai Chili".  I asked the bartender what it was used in.  She replied, "Nothing at the moment that is on the menu."  I asked her what vodka went into its making.  She replied, "Charbay" and showed me an unadulterated bottle.

It was very handsome, and looked frosted.  I had never heard of Charbay, but it looked respectable enough, especially since any "handcrafted" alcohol I have ever consumed has been a tasty adventure at the least.  Certainly, no Hawkeye Vodka!

So I resolved to rescue this poor little bottle of Thai chili-infused handcrafted spirit from obscurity.

Taking a glance at the menu, I noticed that there was a cocktail called the Thai Basil Gimlet, which was composed of Thai basil, organic vodka, and lime juice.  Reflecting on pleasant memories of hispanic food combining spice and citrus, I figured this would be a good place to start.  I asked the bartender what her professional opinion was of substituting the chili-infused vodka for the typical fare in the recipe.  She thought it would be a good idea, and so did I.

She muddled a couple of perfect Thai basil leaves (carefully selected, I might add) in a highball glass, threw in some ice, poured a goodly portion of the vodka (thank you!) and about a third as much fresh lime juice, shook vigorously, and strained into a tumbler.  It was garnished with another beautiful basil leaf, and placed in front of me.

Anticipation.

Sip.

Yow!  Very very tasty, with a spicy kick that for me resided mostly in the back of the throat.  Jes and Jen both felt it was too spicy for them.  It was definitely a sipping drink - no slamming this if you know what's good for you!

I will have to experiment with the recipe at home, but here on my thoughts on what the recipe should be:

Spicy Thai Basil Gimlet

3 oz. chili-infused vodka

1 oz. fresh-squeezed lime juice

2 basil leaves, plus basil for garnish

Muddle the basil leaves, add the vodka and lime juice and plenty of ice, shake or stir vigorously to chill.  Strain into glass, garnish with a basil leaf.  Enjoy slowly!

LESSON: Always try everything twice.

Music: Streelight Manifesto

Maybe I am late to the party, so to speak, but Streelight Manifesto (at least the Everything Goes Numb album) is terrific. (We saw them at the 9:30 Club a couple of months ago. They were opening for someone whom I can't remember at the moment.)

I recently picked up EGN and have been reminded why they were so great live. However, there are three things I have noticed about their sound that can cut both ways.

1) They have an absolutely massive, multi-layered sound. This can be great, but also exhausting sometimes. Often, they have interesting breakdowns and buildups that relieve the audio assault, but sometimes it can just be overwhelming.

2) They can be very serious, especially for a ska band. For instance, here is an excerpt from "A Better Place, A Better Time":

"Looking through the paper today

Looking for a specific page [i.e. the obituaries]

Don't want to find her full name followed by dates

Because when I left her alone

She made a sound like a moan

'You're known by everyone for everything you've done'

Fuck buying flowers for graves"

Yow! I'm looking for something more like the following, from "Radiation Skank" by the Toasters:

"When they drop those bombs on England

I'll make damn sure I'm not there

I'll be the Caribbean

Or somewhere like Australia

'Cause I don't wanna be a mutant, no way

With arms and legs in funny places

My elbows are where my hands are

My arms are right where my face is!"

Now that's levity!

3) They don't have much in the way of a chorus in their songs. At least, not an easy chorus. In this way, they remind me a lot of Mark Siler's favorite band, the Pacers.

LESSON: Streelight Manifesto will bring it.

Elitism

I am an unabashed elitist.

Whenever you normally hear the word “elitist”, it seems invariably to fly from the mouth of someone a) clearly not elite, or b) elite, but not in the field/instance/environment in question. Equally invariably, the term elitist is always accusatory and the typical response sputtering and abject denial.

I’m thinking most particularly of the political realm, where presidential hopeful Barack Obama has been accused of being elitist. This in turn has produced countercharges of co-presidential hopeful John McCain being “out of touch”, usually with reference to his ownership of multiple homes (thus, a similar charge: “Nuh uh! YOU’RE the elitist!”). And so on.

Now, let’s think about this. The definition of elite is “the choice or best of anything considered collectively, as of a group or class of persons”. So, the derogation of an elite individual, especially in the race for the presidency, implies that we the electorate want less than the best individual for a president.

I would think we would have had enough of having an idiot for president (more on this later).

As far as I can tell, there are only two circumstances where this makes sense.

Scenario 1: the governed are so stupid, that they really buy into the idea that “anyone can be president”. So anyone who seems too darn smart clearly has to be suspect. Because if I can’t identify with him, and I know that I could be president, then he clearly can’t be. I.e. if you’re not as dumb as me, then you can’t govern me.

Scenario 2: the government is so powerful and overweening, that we can’t have that power wielded by anyone too clever, or else they might enslave us all and we would become Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge. Or Apple.

LESSON: We must either get a smarter electorate, or a smaller government. My vote is for both.

Self-Improvement

A couple of days ago I was doing pull-ups (not the vastly inferior chin-ups), trying to better myself. I was resolute that I would make it to 10 pull-ups in a row without stopping or resting.

I have a cheapish pull-up/sit-up setup I bought from Dick's Sporting Goods that I installed in a doorway in my home. This setup involves a couple of (very) shallow cylindrical anchors that affix to the doorjamb and a bar that is rotated axially to expand longitudinally into the cylinders.

Anyway, it's always worked.

So I was on a roll: 1 (feeling good), 2 (feeling good), 3 (still feeling good), 4 (I'm on a roll)BAM?!

All of a sudden, I was lying on the floor in the doorway on my back. I stared at the ceiling. What happened?! And damn, does my left elbow hurt!

I was holding the chin-up bar in my right hand and had managed to land on my left arm. I looked at the anchors to see if they'd pulled out. No go. I looked again, still dazed. The anchors were in place.

As it turns out, I managed to somehow rotate the bar just enough that it was just small enough to pull out of the anchors. So amidst my triumphant pull-up-ing, I was lying, broken, wondering what happened.

Managed to take a good chunk out of the jamb, too.

LESSON: Never exercise.