Talk amongst yourselves…

I probably should have posted something like this a couple days ago: I’ve got no problem with everyone rambling about whatever’s on your minds, but I think it’d be best if the comments pertain to the subject of the post. Thus, if you want to talk about furry-ruler-phobia or the disparity between the genders regarding the means necessary to achieve the highest artificial standards of beauty (i.e., why girls gotta wear makeup), here’s your place to do it. So enjoy! But not too much. It’s unsanitary and I don’t have any blemish remover for my computer’s hard drive.

Some of my business

Long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, some Generation-X members of Mensa created a Yahoo mailing list for other members to keep in touch, talk about politics and religion, share cooking recipes and favorite methods to kill people without getting blood on your clothes… it’s fun stuff. The moderators of the list have set boundaries for what people can write, one of which has recently been broken, but they haven’t stopped it. That’s even more fun stuff.

The crime: making personal attacks. The perpetrator: some dude from South Africa whose screen name is “None of your business.” (Clever, isn’t he?) While we’re not sure what his motivation is, he has made it abundantly clear that he wants to be banned from the list. Consequently, the moderators won’t do it, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying. He’ll go off on a tear about how America is an oppressive nation, we killed all the Indians, bombed the Japanese, we eat too many Big Macs at McDonald’s… basically, he’s being as much of a prick as he possibly can.

I usually “lurk” on the list and let other people discuss how to kill their enemies, but after a few days of reading this guy’s drivel, I decided to throw my hat into the mix. (His initial message was a response to something one of my friends wrote—you can read our nifty exchanges below.) He’s usually quite prompt with his smart-ass replies, but he hasn’t written anything about my final message in this post. I’m quite disappointed, really, but when it comes to being a smart-ass… who’s yo’ daddy?

Now all I have to do is think up an appropriate victory dance. Given that he’s also talked about how low he could go with his insults, I’m thinking I should get the limbo pole ready. Continue reading “Some of my business”

Who owns the day?

It’s the 5th anniversary of 9/11. What was once another day of another week of another month of another year is now a day of tragedy, of patriotism, of loss, of remembrance. But who owns it? When circling September 11th on your calendar, who belongs in that circle? It used to be people’s birthdays and anniversaries, new jobs and retirements, haircuts and doctor’s appointments. Now who do we think of? Now who owns the day?

Is it the terrorists? 9/11 has been burned into our minds. Every year, we feel the loss of the World Trade Center all over again. Seeing videos from five years past of fireballs erupting through the buildings on impact still chills me to the core. And we know why it happened: because terrorists hijacked some planes on an average day, flew them into New York City and created a pair of blazing infernos. Do they sit in their homes and bunkers knowing that they caused such devastation? Knowing that it was a moral and religious victory in their eyes and a loss in ours? Knowing that they own the day?

Is it the politicians? September 11th has become the justification for countless acts of war in the last five years. The terrorists attacked us on our own soil, so we should attack them on theirs. The terrorists remained anonymous until they hijacked the planes, so we should give up some of our freedoms to ensure that terrorists can never remain anonymous again. There are many instances when people have wanted to act, but had they done so, “the terrorists have won.” Do the politicians sit in their offices knowing that they can distract people through patriotism? Knowing that it can justify terrorist-like actions of their own? Knowing that they own the day?

My personal belief is still that it belongs to the people. It may mean more than birthdays and anniversaries now, but it is still a day to think of the goodness that resides in everyone’s heart. When the towers exploded, people converged. When the towers collapsed, people stood and offered of themselves. When the towers were nothing more than a memory, people made it a day of celebration. It is a day of loss, but it is a day to know we are alive and we are one as a people. September 11th may have its own page in the history books, but that page belongs to us. We, the people of the United States of America, own the day. God bless us all.

Mood Lighting

You may have seen it happen before. You’re at a restaurant. You’re chillin’ with your friends, talking, having dessert, seeing who can drink the most glasses of strawberry lemonade without running to use to the bathroom… just chillin’. Suddenly, the lights get dim. They were bright, then not so bright. It’s either really romantic or really annoying because you can’t see the check properly and end up giving the waitress a 120% tip.

Well, I’ve come up with a possible reason for that which might be surprising (and it’s not because the restaurant thinks its employees could use the extra cash). It’s a step beyond romantic—it’s like putting shots of Jagermeister in your lemonade. And you thought you needed to use the bathroom before…

The first clue was when I visited the Science Museum of Minnesota a couple years back. They have one area that focuses on the human body: “Here’s what germs look like!” “Here are different body types!” “Here are slices of an entire human body that were cut away in a tragic cooking accident!” And then there were two pictures of a single woman’s portrait.

There was a question on the wall: “Which of these women looks more attractive?” I looked back and forth for a minute—they seemed identical—but I ended up choosing the one on the left. It turns out that most people make the same decision because in that picture, her pupils are larger. That’s it. That was the only difference. Bigger black spots in the middle of her irises. And that made her appear more attractive.

[As a side note, back when we were filming Beauty and the Geek, the interviewer asked me what I thought was my partner Scarlet’s best feature. I said, “Her pupils.” I gave them the story about what I saw in the Science Museum, but if you break it down, I just really liked her eyes. That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy looking at other parts of her—Scarlet’s a very attractive girl—but I said it was her pupils. When the DVDs for the show come out, I’ll bet you a nickel you won’t see that discussion anywhere in the extra features.]

But like I was saying, bigger pupils make a person look slightly more attractive. Consequently, if you really want to hook up with someone, you can improve your odds by meeting someone right after going to the eye doctor and getting your pupils dilated. Then recently, I thought about how getting drunk can make people appear better-looking as well. (Thankfully, I don’t drink, so the only way your looks are gonna improve dramatically is if you turn the lights off, in which case I won’t be able to see you and it’ll be a moot point.) So here’s my theory:

If big pupils and drinking alcohol can make people seem more attractive, then mood lighting is the first cousin, twice removed of beer goggles.

Lubricated by Love

We always have a brief church service at Good Templar Camp during the summer. The year before, the teen counselors pick quotes from a multitude of books that they have to read during church the next time around. (Naturally, there are kids who make it to camp one year, then have to miss the next year “because I got a job”… the things people will say to get out of public speaking.) But there are books with Bible verses, poetry and various “meditations of the day” like this one:
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1 Corinthians 13: “Meanwhile these three remain: faith, hope, and love; and the greatest of these is love” (v. 13).

A lubricant makes most things work better because it cuts down the friction at the points of contact. Oil is a lubricant. Powdered graphite is a lubricant. Love is a lubricant.

Love is a lubricant? Correct! At the places in life where misunderstandings build and tensions mount and hurts fester and anger rumbles—at all those places, love helps life function better, without explosion after explosion. Love makes it possible to forgive, to overlook, to understand, to let it pass. Love cuts down harmful friction at the points of human contact! *
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There’s more to the quote, but I’ve usually got a case of the giggles by this point. Think about it: love = lubricant. Just imagine what some song lyrics would sound like with such a religiously positive change… And hey, God wants you to say it!

Queen, One Year of Love: Just one year of lubricant is better than a lifetime alone. (Sounds like those two would go hand-in-hand, really… Ba-dum-bum, ching! Thanks, I’ll be here all week, don’t forget to tip your wait staff!)

Sarah McLachlan, Ice Cream: Your lubricant is better than ice cream. (Mmmm, tastes like chocolate…) Your lubricant is better than chocolate. (Okay, if your lubricant is better than shoes, I think a lifetime alone will be just fine.)

Tonic, Love A Diamond: Lubricate a man who lubricates a diamond… (I think this is either appreciating a guy who just proposed or playing with glass dildos…)

Barenaked Ladies, In The Drink: I wanna drink your lubricant. (Goes down smooth and easy…)

Jewel, U & Me = Love: If you let me be me, I’ll be better than your best dream, U & M-E spells L-U-B-R-I-C-A-N-T to me. (Is it getting warmer in here or is it just me?)

Sheryl Crow, Where Has All The Love Gone: (Insert your own joke here.)

* Quote from p. 21, Bible Readings for Teenagers, Charles S. Mueller.