Pointing the Finger at Politicians

Like most people, I look at the state of the US economy with a lot of frustration. We spend too much money. Modest cuts to Social Security—such as delaying the retirement age or paying less to wealthy retirees—would go a long way to reducing our debt. Reducing the debt burden would give people reason to be a little more optimistic about the future. Foreign markets would respond probably respond well.

The challenges we face as a country are extremely solvable. We need to bring in a little more money and cut future spending on entitlement programs and the military. It’s tempting to look at Washington and blame the politicians for not addressing the issues that need to be addressed. Here’s the real problem: Any politician who proposes a legitimate solution to the current problems will not get reelected. It would be nice if politicians were self-sacrificing to the point that they would willingly give up their jobs to get important legislation done. They shouldn’t have to.

Politicians who propose real solutions to real problems will be punished by voters. The real problem is not the politicians, it’s the voters.

The current crop of presidential candidates is saying almost NOTHING about how they would deal with the debt problems (except for Cain and Paul). Why should they? If one of them proposes to cut social security, Obama will hammer him for it. If Obama proposed something similar, they would pound him for it. Ideally, candidates wouldn’t exploit good-faith efforts of their opponents to improve the country. But the real problem is that voters fall for it.

Politicians spend more than we have because that is exactly what the voters want. We want to take care of our seniors, we want to provide people with healthcare, and we want to kill bad guys in turbans—but we don’t want to pay for it. Politicians who propose that we raise taxes to meet our spending commitments won’t get reelected, and politicians who propose that we reduce the scope of government won’t get reelected either. The problem isn’t the politicians.

my fancy blog

Allow me to introduce you to an extremely useful phrase: “That sounds fancy.” Here are a few situations where it comes in handy:

• A student is telling you about her future plans to A) be a forensic psychologist for the FBI, B) start a charity to rescue animals, and C) be a TV newscaster. “That sounds fancy” is the perfect response.

• Your mind wanders while someone is talking to you. Suddenly you realize it’s time for you to say something. “That sounds fancy” never fails.

• Somebody is opening up about an abusive relationship with a parental figure, and you are searching for the right words to comfort and bewilder them. “That sounds fancy” to the rescue.

phone rant 2

Telemarketers are annoying. This is not breaking news. I understand people not wanting to talk to telemarketers. What I don’t understand is the small group of people who pay for a product that informs every person who calls: “You have reached a number that does not accept solicitations. If you are a solicitor...”

Here’s their logic: “I don’t like to be annoyed by irrelevant phone calls. Therefore, I’ll make EVERY PERSON WHO CALLS ME LISTEN TO AN IRRELEVANT MESSAGE, rather than put my number on the free do-not-call list.”

Someone should call these people and sell them a how-to book about not sucking.

Glenn Beck is Warning of Disaster!?!?!?

I really enjoyed Glenn Beck for about 4 days in 2008. He was all whipped up about a perfect storm that was threatening America: the coming together of Muslims, the media, and liberal academics. (Or was it Van Jones, labor unions, and monetary policy?) I actually looked forward to my morning commute, because I wanted to get an update on the situation.

Every single day since then, Glenn Beck has been on the brink of collapse about something. Nobody can authentically offer the gravest of warnings about 1000 different things. Impending doom is his shtick. Even if absolutely nothing is happening in the world, Glenn Beck will find a way to make it sound disastrous.

But he is not without redeeming value. He really gets under the skin of a certain kind of sanctimonious liberal. The kind who is as eager to be outraged as Glenn is.

Perhaps my biggest complaint with him is that he’s not very funny. Even if he is occasionally funny, he is not nearly as funny as he thinks he is.

He’s still better radio than NPR’s interview with a pioneering young Jazz musician.

I’m really enjoying this conversation/prison sentence

I like to think of myself as having generally good interpersonal skills. I don’t talk too loud or too close. I maintain an appropriate degree of eye contact.I feign interest in what other people are saying in a believable way.

Yet there is one thing I CANNOT seem to get right, and that is ending a conversation. Once I am ready for a conversation to be over, I don’t know how to get out of it. I end up nodding my head and saying stuff like “I hear ya” and “I can’t say I disagree.”

Inside, I’m thinking “This is what it must be like to be taken hostage.”


Sometimes I think the conversation is over and I start to walk away—only to realize that the other person thinks we are in the middle of the conversation. I wonder if I have some kind of clinical disorder that blinds me to the social conventions around disengaging from conversations.

Don't get me wrong. I like talking to people. I just like short conversations.

You aren’t as important as your phone thinks you are.

I have a badly outdated flip-phone that is held together with duct tape and prayers.

It’s all I need.

Phones are like weightlifting gloves: 98% of the people who use them have no use for them other than appearance. Guys put on weightlifting gloves so they can look hardcore while they move puny weights around.

It’s the same thing with fancy phones.

Fancy phones allow people to display how very important they are. And that they can pay $80 a month to update their facebook status from a public restroom.

So I'm protesting fancy phones, at least until I can afford one.

Football season is coming to an end. And so is my reason to continue living.

Football is like soccer, except things happen.

Football is a man’s game, whereas soccer players act like delicate 9-year-old girls. If a football player is pushed, he pushes back. If a soccer player gets pushed, he whips up some tears—to the delight of fans. Soccer teams actually recruit new players on the basis of their ability to cry on cue. Or so I’ve heard.

And baseball? The most impressive feat in baseball is a no-hitter. That’s right: nothing happens and people can’t shut up about it.

Stuff does happen in basketball. Guys score constantly. How excited can you be when a guy adds two points to 50? To 100? Not very. The only reason to watch basketball is Blake Griffin, and it’s obvious that guy is really a football player.

Am I on the air?

The worst thing about talk radio is that they take phone calls. The guy who calls a talk radio show in the middle of the afternoon is a guy with nothing better to do. I don’t care about that guy’s opinion on Hugo Chavez.

Call me crazy, but I’d rather hear the opinion of an expert than that of Dave in Topeka.

And why does every call begin with: “Hi, how are you?”

Can’t the call screeners say, “Before you ask, I want you to know that Dianne Rehm and her guests are just fine. So don’t ask. And thank ME for taking your call, not THEM.”

Recently I heard a guy call NPR and say that he thought that “humans are basically a selfish species.” Compared to… the generosity displayed by cheetahs? The outreach programs championed by zebras? These are the kinds of insights you get from talk-radio callers.

The only people with more self-important and less informed opinions are bloggers.

Christmas Break Revelations

I am back from Christmas break, and I’m quite a bit less enthusiastic about starting a new semester than I had hoped. Christmas break was not a total bust, however. I came to several important realizations:

1)There is nothing as tired as laments about how Christmas used to be pure.
2)I can wrap the hell out of a present. The trick, I found, is cutting the paper in a straight line (using a contraption called scissors). Also no duct tape.
3)Who thought deodorant gift packs were a good idea?
4)New Years is WAY better now that I’m married. I never wanted to go out and party when I was single, but I felt obligated. (Flip side: Valentines).

Motor Cortex for Sale (as is)

The motor cortex is the part of the brain responsible for movement. When you go to sleep, the motor cortex is inactive so that you can dream about doing stuff without physically doing it. When you wake up, the motor cortex becomes active and your body again responds to directions.

My brain did not get this memo.

Occasionally I wake up before my motor cortex becomes active. The result is that I’m awake but paralyzed for several seconds (called sleep paralysis). It’s extremely unpleasant.

The other side of this is that sometimes my motor cortex is active when it shouldn’t be. Last night, for example. I had a dream that some villains at the local Ford/Mercury dealer stole my truck (I don’t have a truck, but maybe this is a sign?). I was on a mission to get my truck back, and I had to lay waste to a bunch of guys in the process. Only the recipient of my awesome karate kicks turned out to be my sleeping wife—and not for the first time.

Brains are cool, and mine has proven pretty useful. This is not to say I don’t have any complaints about mine. And I’m pretty sure Deb would prefer my vengeful swath of destruction remain isolated to my brain.

I lied to my shins

I have been doing a little jogging in the morning, and it hurts. My knees hurt, my shins hurt, and my feet hurt. I have had the same pair of running shoes for a while, so I just bought a new pair of Asics Nimbus shoes to reduce the pain.

Apparently 250 pounds X 2 miles just does not lend itself to the feeling of running on clouds.

Skepticism

Daryl Bem just published an article in the very prestigious Journal of Personality and Social Psychology in support of the phenomenon of precognition (people reacting to things--in a small way—before being exposed to them). That’s right: there is empirical support for spidey-sense.

I have seen too many experimental and data-analytic shenanigans not to be skeptical of the findings. I have always been a skeptic, and my experience as a researcher has only made me more skeptical of science. I think that’s the way it should be.

But my experience is contrary to the current trend. I think scientists are becoming increasingly gullible and less skeptical. Reasonable people disagree on important questions, but what I don’t understand is the deep and abiding faith of supposed skeptics. A scientist states that the earth is getting warmer, and other scientists (and journalists) tamely accept that the world is coming to an end. Or someone says that there is no room for God in science, and people conclude that God must not exist. I understand that reasonable people disagree on these things; what bothers me is the absolute certainty espoused by people who consider themselves skeptics. The biggest difference between religious people and scientists is that religious people acknowledge they rely on faith.

This is why I am glad that the spidey-sense paper was published. It’s the position of a skeptic that we don’t know everything about psychology and the nature of the universe, and that stuff like precognition could occur.

(Although I doubt it does.)

Negotiation 101

In class today a student asked if I would consider canceling next Tuesday's class. Next week is Thanksgiving, so I assume he wanted to leave town earlier that he otherwise would. The other students were definitely on board. So I asked: What's in it for me?

After a few lame offers, I made my demands. The students were to bring something with bacon and something sweet to this Thursday's class. Then I'd cancel class next Tuesday.

We're having breakfast burritos and snicker-doodles.

I'm partly proud and partly ashamed to admit that I was planning on canceling that class anyway.

Who is Hannah Nakerson? The sequel

After the initial exchange of emails (below), the recipient/victim forwarded me her emails in the spirit of "these kids today". (He sent them to the real me, not the illiterate and unstable female me).

Tee hee! I said that her remarks about Vitamin D might constitute slander.

A day later I received another email from him:

I just looked up Nakerson in the FSU directory and there's no one listed as an FSU student with that last name, except there was a footnote to Tyler Stillman :)

Game over. Next was a graduate student who taught the same class as I.

DEER ________ I DON'T KNOW U VERY WELL BUT I CAME TO YOOUR LAB BY ACCIDENT AND I LOVED YOUR CLASS SOOO MUCH. I HAVE NOT GONE TO MY LAB INSTRUCTORS CLASS VERY MUCH THIS SEMSTER BECAUSE HE WAS SO MUCH NOT AS GOOD AS YOU. HE WAS RUDE AND MADE ME DO THINGS. DO U THINK U CAN GIVE ME CREDDIT FOR GOING TO YOUR CLASS INSTEAD? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANKS SO SO MUCH. TELL ME ASAP!!!

Hannah Nakerson

Hannah,
I do not know you nor can I speak to your class attendance. Please contact you professor for the class regarding this matter.

I expected more entertainment value from her. Next!

MR. (female instructor)

I DID YOU'RE STUDY AND I NEVER GOTS NO CREDITS NOW I NEED TO DO MANY CREDITS AS PUNISHMENT CAN YOU GIVE ME A BREAK HEAR ? I WAITED FOR OVER 4 HOURS AND NO ONE CAME I AM STILL WAITING HERE FOR SOMEONE TO TELL ME WHAT 2 DO.

HANNAH

Hi Hannah,

This is the first I've heard of your situation. I'll be happy to work with you but I'll need to know the name of the study, as well as the date and time you were scheduled to participate.

Cheers,

________

I didn’t realize she was a freaking Zen master. I had to step it up:

WELL THANKS SO MUCH BUT HOW DO I FIND OUT SUCH INFORMATIONS? THIS IS NO WAY TO TREAT A FUTURE LEADER OF THE TEE PARTY MOVEMENT.

Hi Hannah,

Follow these instructions…

(instructions)

Hope this helps,

__________

Wow. If this is how a good person responds--and I think it is--I am not a good person.

who is Hannah Nakerson?

There is a great deal of variability in the kinds of emails students send their professors. Most emails are courteous and clear. Others are angry and barely comprehensible. I enjoy sending emails to my colleagues pretending to be an angry, unstable student.

A colleague had completed an experiment in which students had to answer a lengthy questionnaire after taking Vitamin C (or placebo). They also had to put on a blindfold and draw a few figures. I sent the following email to the graduate student running the experiment (from HannahNakerson@yahoo.com):

Subject: YOU’Re STUDPID ESPERIMENT

I DID NOT GET ANY CREDITS FOR THE STUDY AND I WNET TO THE ROOM AND I ANWERED 100000000000000000 STUPID QUESTIONS THAT MADE ME FEEL FUNNY INSIDE. THEN I HAD TO WEAR A DIRTY RAG ON MY FACE AND DRAW STUPID DRAWINGS. PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO GET CREDIT FOR THE EXPERIMENT OR I'LL andj plus i had to take vitamin d and i hate that stupid vitamin it's the worst for you.

Sincerely,

Hannah Nakerson

The response:

Sorry if you didn't read the instructions. Let me know who your instructor is and I'll let them know that you got confused and did the wrong survey and ask if they would give you points.

p.s. In the future I would never talk with such disrespect and threat to a teacher, especially when you are asking your teacher to do a favor. Most teachers would give you nothing in response to such a mean-hearted email.

Hannah Replied:

I FEEL SAD WHEN YOU SAID THAT I WAS MEAN IN THE LAST EMAIL YOU SENT TO ME TODAY.

I TRY TO TREAT PEOPLE WITH REFLECT AND HUGS. NOW MY EYES ARE CRYING.

ALSO SOMETIMES I DO

The response:

Your message was cut off and I never got your breakout teacher name and section #.

Also if someone called what you do for a living "stupid" wouldn't you feel like it was kind of a mean thing to say?


More Hannah to come.

my bold stand against serial killers

I finished the first season of Dexter last night. I give it a B-. Michael C. Hall, who plays Dexter, is AWESOME, but he's working with pretty lame material.

At some point, people (I use this term loosely, as I'm referring to the creatures who populate the film industry) imagined a righteous serial killer. He is brilliant in his own dark way, seeking to improve the world through his cruel lessons (Seven, Saw) or by killing worse people (Dexter). My problem with this storyline is that it's trying SO HARD to be controversial. Yawn.

The other problem with it is that serial killers are far from brilliant. They actually tend to be brain damaged. They aren't great plotters--they actually have insanely poor impulse control. And they don't have anything to teach the world. They're just assholes.

art show

Apparently there is a reality show on Bravo in which artists compete with each other. I know this because I saw an advertisement for it, featuring a guy who painted mutilated genitals in the shape of the Mickey Mouse logo.

Here's the script:
1. Artist tries really hard to be offensive.
2. People are offended.
3. Artist publicly claims he is misunderstood.
4. Artist privately celebrates that his work is getting attention.

We get it, artists. You are all independent thinkers, as demonstrated by your many tattoos. You are cutting-edge. And controversial. And opposed to the policies of the Bush administration. And mad at Daddy. We get it.

Me = 1, State of Florida = 0

When I learned that I would be moving out of Florida, I realized I could park anywhere--at least for a while. The last month in Tallahassee, I established quite a collection of parking tickets. I never parked in a handicapped zone, because that's not cool. But I did park on a Manatee's face once.

He had it comin'.

I'm out of Florida now, and it's a good thing-- one more and I would have been impounded. The bottom line is that I WIN.

Goodbye Tallahassee

Six years ago I jammed all of my stuff into a tiny Saturn and drove from Utah to Tallahassee. I lived alone (except for my Xbox) in a total dump. I thought I had it good.

I'm leaving tomorrow in a very different fashion. I have a wife and two kids, and a house full of furniture. Our truck will be filled with old diaper boxes we've packed full of stuff. I know what a duvet is. I know what throw-pillows are. Worse: I care what they look like. My stomach is bigger and my arms are smaller (but my lungs and liver are probably in better shape).

Sure, I got a degree while I was here, but the biggest change: I've been domesticated.

thank you, trial lawyers

My neighbor is a bit of a strange guy. But we both love our gardens, so we always have something to talk about. (Though I'm pretty sure he does some indoor gardening of dubious legality). He's normally awkwardly polite, but today he was extremely eager to talk to me. He rarely smiles because he is missing most of his upper teeth (no, really). Today he was all grins. Why?

Guy: I got some good news.

Me: What's up?

Guy: I got run over by a truck. Look at my leg.

Me: Eww. It looks like you got run over by a truck.

Guy: I'm fixin' to get paid!