Free Write - March 23

I hate dancing. I truly do. The idea of clubbing makes me cringe more than almost any other idea. Why would anyone want to go to a crowded room of strangers, bumping up against each other, sweating to overly loud music, gyrating themselves in what can only be described as controlled epilepsy? I just don’t get it. I will add that dancing itself is not disgusting. Just the modern version of it. People used to dance for reasons. Celebration, worship, competition, intimidation, and courtship. These days, people just seem to do it for fun. I don’t see the merit in it. Despite my inability to justify the reason for modern “dancing”, there are certain times when one cannot help but dance. Each time has its own dance that every person, I believe, instinctively knows.
The first instance is that song from the Mac commercials by Yael Naim. You know the one. Its called “New Soul”, and it begins with a quaint little piano ditty. When this song plays, I firmly believe that every human, almost by obedience to some unknown law of nature, must bop his or her head from one side to the other in beat with the song.
The second instance is that of “The Impression That I Get” by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. The jury is still out on whether or not they are, in fact, mighty mighty or just plain mighty. But nonetheless, when this songs plays, the body human must perform that ridiculously stupid ska dance of kicking its feet one at a time while doing a half-skip.
The third instance involves Ricky Martin. Yes, you already know what song I’m going for. When “Livin’ La Vida Loca” plays, EVERYONE, even elderly Jewish women from Brooklyn, secretly believes themselves to be exotically tan salsa dancers. Everyone.
The last instance I will mention is not a dance, but it is a historically cheesy action that must be undergone. There is a physiological reason for it. During the performance of "Open Arms" by Journey (or any other epic ballad of the 70s/80s/early 90s), one must hold up a lighter, or at least hold up their hand as if they had a lighter. This is because the song is so emotional, makes the listener so in tune with the universe, and shakes the pillars of Rock so tremendously that if one were NOT to hold up one's hand with or without a lighter, one would actually burst into flames. If the emotional flame does not have an outlet, spontaneous combustion will occur, and you will be sitting with your buddies at the IHOP after the concert wishing you had just held up the daggone lighter.
There are other instances of involuntary dance or action, but these are the ones I have encountered lately. I firmly believe that these dances are near impossible to stop. Try to quelch that inner Latino from wiggling his or her hips, and you might need something to bite down on so as not to scream out from the agony. Thinking of not making an idiot of yourself by rocking out to the Bosstones? Don’t expect a happy ending. And, while I cannot substantiate this scientifically, I am nearly without doubt that holding back the cute head bob during “New Soul” may have permanent physical side effects. The next time any of these songs comes on, please do not try to NOT dance. You may be so negatively affected by the experience that you may go blind.

Free Write - March 17

Recently, a woman was taken to the hospital. She was a special woman. The reason she was (is) special: she hadn't left her bathroom for two years. She set up camp in the lavatory because she had a fear of leaving it. I'm not trying to make fun of her. Really. I'm just curious about the situation. Most of us with irrational fears realize how irrational they are, and are usually determined to conquer them. People who are afraid of heights do not live their lives at ground level, but rather make attempts at stairs, higher buildings, and airplanes. What I am wondering is: at what point does one realize exactly HOW irrational their fear is? I mean, if you haven't left your house in a whole day, you usually recognize that and try to get out for a little bit. Was there never a day in those two years when the woman looked around and thought "Geez, it's been a while since the last time I left."? Did she never get bored of staring at the towel rack? And the second part of the story that baffles me: her boyfriend supplied her with food, clean clothes, and (apparently) companionship for the 24 months of her confinement. He claims that he tried to coax her out several times, and eventually just decided to let her work it out on her own. Personally, I think my relationship with such a person would be a bit strained due to lack of change in venue, if you get my drift. I mean, kudos to you, bathroom-lady-boyfriend, for sticking it out those two years faithfully. But, it's like, come on. Two years? That's going a little far. Or not far enough, I guess.

Free Write - March 9

I am writing to alert the world of a recent disease that is creeping its way through America, and soon will spill over into the rest of the world. Someone you know may have this disease and not even know it. It's name is SoCalNarcissnoma-Encephalmonia-itis. This may be something you have seen before, and didn't even realize its danger. I will tell you of my encounter with this brain-destroying affliction that has ruined the perfectly good days of thousands of people.
I work with a young man from Southern California. He decided, at some odd point in his so-far-inexperienced life that everyone he met should be dubbed "fool". Actually, "foow", as he seems to have lost the ability (either through evolution or choice) to pronounce word-final "l"s. I guess I'm a little old fashioned, or perhaps it's because I'm from the South (yes, Virginia IS in the South. if you doubt me, ask yourself where Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and JEB Stuart are from. go on. i'll wait.)(and if you don't know who those three are, then you are hardly in any shape to declare what is "South" and what isn't), but I was raised that if you called someone a fool, you had better be prepared to back that claim up with either a fist or examples of that person's foolishness. After he calls you a "foow", he then proceeds to insult in any way he can whatever ancestry your last name claims. If you're a Smith, he bashes the English. If you're an O'Brien, he spits on the Irish. If you're a Chavez, then Heaven help you from the onslaught of anti-Hispanic remarks that will soon overwhelm you. Next, he will tell you that he's joking, smack you on the back, and tell you to lighten up and take a joke, even if his tirade of racial slurs raised no reaction whatsoever from you. Covering his bases, I suppose. He will then tell you how, no matter what state you're from, you have no idea what a real "gangster" is. How he got on the topic of gangsters, and why any sane person would care about the definition of a "real gangster", the intelligent world will never know, but he seems to feel that you brought it up, and he needs to comment on it. He will say that the only real gangsters live in LA, and that he used to hear gunshots every day in his neighborhood. As he is a well-off white kid that drives a relatively new Mustang, gels his hair, and wears cologne every day to work, I doubt he was anywhere near a neighborhood with gang rivalries. But, at the risk of having to listen to him defend his position on his "gangsta-ness", I listen to him go on about how tough his neighborhood was, and how whatever state anyone is from is "lame", while his state is "so ill".
IF YOU COME ACROSS THIS YOUNG MAN, WALK IN THE OTHER DIRECTION. DO NOT GET SUCKED UP INTO HIS FANTASY WORLD OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA SUPREMACY. If you do get caught by him, just grin and bear it. Don't worry. The rest of the world is behind you all the way. We've been there before, and we know your pain. If you or a loved one has had their day ruined by someone like this, please have them contact a grief counselor in their local community. The road to recovery from these incidents is long and hard, but we're there for you.

Rhetorical Analysis - March 06

"Kilowatt Ours" by Jeff Barrie

Audience - People living in the Southeast who think that their current energy production means are safe and sufficient.

WACTO - He didn't really have one. The film was just sort of informational, not problem-solving.

S - The film spends a lot of time looking down on current sources of energy, but doesn't cover sufficiently the ways to improve energy.
T - This film is typical of people who think that their film will change the world.
A - It is accurate enough. He interviews people like park rangers, power plant technicians, and the like.
R - Everything he says in the film is relevant.

Ethos - He appeals to the moral "right" and "wrong" of certain manners of energy production. He goes on and on about how immoral, not dangerous, pollution and mining are. He isn't pervasive in it, and doesn't try to trick viewers into thinking a certain way. He does, however, push his own cause quite a bit.
Pathos - There is a clip in the movie about a small community in the Southeast who try to deny a bill allowing a nuclear power plant being built nearby. He shows the emotion that the townspeople went through, interviews some of them, and tries to bring the feeling home to all the viewers by attempting to apply their situation to the country.
Logos - Facts, figures, and statistics galore dot this film. Percentages and measurements are around every corner. He tries to logically explain why pollution is immoral, and tries to show future effects of immediate actions.

All in all, the movie got done what it wanted to. The figures were convincing enough, and it wasn't overly presumptuous. The creator of the film, though, has his own website, and is still pushing what he pushes in the movie: an overall revamp of the Southeast's power supply methods.

Technique - March 4

This week, I am going to just brainstorm about audience needs, etc. for my paper on healthcare.

Audiences possible:
1. Newly married couples or graduates from college
2. Families whose healthcare provider is switching due to work/location change
3. People expecting children

Concerns that may arise:
1. Rate of premiums (do they apply per person or per plan?)
2. Flexibility of hospitals and doctors to accept smaller, private insurance providers
3. What percentage of birth defect/labor difficulties is covered? Are there any specific cases or conditions that do not get covered by most healthcare providers?
4. Do healthcare providers actually live up to their duties? Are there any out there that are 100% honest when it comes to payments and treatment options?
5. Is there a way for private healthcare providers to accomodate everyone, even the very impoverished?

Questions about the public healthcare option:
1. How much will taxes go up? Does the amount depend on persons per household, or is it a flat rate?
2. Will inflation or the economy have any effect on the tax?
3. Will there be any room or legality for private doctors or clinics?
4. What will be the requirements for doctors, nurses, and staff? Will there be a unified battery of tests for each position? Will salary for them be the same, regardless of location?
5. Will building care and technology go down once they are left in the hands of the government?
6. What things will be covered by a nation-wide healthcare provider? For instance, cosmetic surgery might not be covered, but what about reconstructive surgery?
7. Will the amount of lawsuits go up or down with the de-privitization of healthcare?
8. Is there a happy middle ground between private and government healthcare providers? Can there be a basic, all-citizens-covered government-run provider, and then the option to have your own if you don't like the one given to the public?
9. If the answer to the above question is yes, then what "price-gouging" laws will have to implemented to prevent unhealthy competition?

Amendment on my Free Write

Lovers of 60s music will note that I mis-referenced the song "And Then He Kissed Me" with the chorus from "Da Doo Ron Ron". This will be forgiven me, because the connoisseur of all things Oldie acknowledges that both "And Then He Kissed Me" AND "Da Doo Ron Ron" were released by the Crystals, and both released in 1963. So, my Freudian slip will be accepted with lieniency.

Free Write - March 2

Once, on my mission, I was kissed by a man. A large, drunk, Russian man. While walking down the street in a town in Latvia, my companion and I happened across a very large Russian. Picture, if you will, the weird white guy from "Daddy Day-Care" (yes, regrettably, I did see that movie). Now put a "Newsies" style hat on him, inebriate him with large quantities of vodka, and lather him up with some Eau D'SweatyNonBathingMan, and you've got the guy that approached us. Seeing that we were missionaries, he stopped us and began asking us some interesting questions, which we attempted to answer. He asked if we believed in reincarnation, if Mary really was the mother of God, etc., etc. He then posed us the question “Where did God come from?” We tried to skirt around the question by saying that God’s origins were not important in this life, and that we should try to live good lives, yadda yadda yadda. “Wait. Where are YOU from?”, he asked (I should preface this by saying that he phrased the question to mean “From whom did you come?”). So, I replied that I was from my mother. He then asked “Well, then, from whom does God come?” I realized that I had better give him an answer that would end this line of questioning. So, I said that God came from His father. The man asked who God’s father was. I said “I don’t know. Ask His mother.” This made the man think for a moment, then laugh that big-bellied sardine-scented laugh that only a drunk Russian can laugh. He said “I like you, American.” And then he kissed me (“A-doo-ron-ron-ron, a-doo-ron-ron…”). Not on the mouth, mind you. Just on the cheek. So, there you have it. As a parting note, I will say that I was kissed by more drunk men on my mission than I have ever been kissed by sober women OFF my mission. Fellas, take note – when with Russian men, look out for the drunk kiss. Beware.

Free Write - Feb. 24

Is there a finer food than Little Debbie's Fudge Rounds? If there is, I’m sure I have never tasted it. In fact, the complete gastronomical bliss attained while delicately savoring one of these divine bestowals of nature is utterly incomparable. Nothing on this planet can even approach the Fudge Round in its deliciousness or the spiritual fulfillment it provides. In fact, most other sugary treats will hide their faces in shame, knowing that they are not worthy to share a cupboard with Diminutive Debbie’s masterpiece. Many’s the time I have observed Ho-ho’s, Twinkies, Ding-Dongs, and Macaroons shy away from the pure, untainted presence of the Round. Even the presumptuous Oreo, with her self-absorbed conceit, cannot face the grace and simplicity of the treasured Fudge Round’s all-appeasing beauty without blushing. O, Oreo. You think you are perfect. You presume that we all crave you constantly. But we don’t. We don’t. There are times when that dry crumbliness of Oreo does nothing to a sweet tooth. There are times, and we all know them, when the only thing to quench our needs is a small, chocolaty, tantalizing slice of paradise individually wrapped by the gentle hands of Deborah herself. If Little Debbie were to assume human form (and I don’t think all her glory could be contained in the flesh), I would propose on the spot (if my wife let me).

Rhetorical Analysis - Feb. 21

"The Eagle and The Hawk" by John Denver

I'm not really sure how to analyze a song. Most songs, as far as I know, don't present an "argument". Some may, but not the music I listen to. After all, why would you risk writing a song that people won't listen to because they don't agree with you? I immediately change the station when I hear a song whose theme I don't agree with or can't identify with. So, I guess I'll just do the best I can. In the song "The Eagle and The Hawk" by John Denver, the idea is really that nature can help you become who you really are.

"I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky.
I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers,
But time is still turning - they soon will be dry.
And all of those who see me, all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly.
Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops,
Sail o'er the canyons and up to the stars,
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
And all that we can be and not what we are."

As cheesy as the words sometimes seem, Denver (or Dutchendorf, if you're an aficionado like me) is trying to say that the freedom of nature is a way to get out of the rut you're in. The song is very typical for the style he sings. It is more musical than beat-based, with crescendos and scale runs as a backdrop for a melody that tries to represent the flight of a bird: high, floating, and rhythmic. Even the choices of rhythms try to portray the pattern of wings flapping by raising quickly and dropping slowly.
Songs like this have a hard time being truly persuasive. If you don't like folky/country music, the words will never help you. Often, melodies and styles do more convincing than words. However, if you can put aside your bias against country and folk-style music, this song does the job. If you listen to this song with the volume up all the way and still don't feel like you have control over your life (or at least want to go for a day-long hike), then my personal opinion is that you weren't really listening.
I suppose the audience is people that feel like their life is getting away from them, but know that there is a way to get back in the driver's seat. At least for me, this song always makes me feel like I'm actually looking up at a hawk flying above me, and it reminds of the feeling we all get when we see flight: limitless possibilities. No one thinks of flight and equates it with constraint or borders. If you think of flight, and imagine that YOU are the hawk in the sky, you will never feel trapped. I think that was what my good friend Johnny was going for. He was trying to make you think of flying, trying to make you realize that you are part of NATURE, not just this bustlingly metallic world. Anyway, this is my best shot at analyzing a song.

Technique - Feb. 19

So, apparently we can just brain-storm this week. I can't guarantee anything brilliant, since my brain doesn't storm too much (not like Schwarzkopf, anyway). Energy? I guess I'll just list some of the topics I'd like to research ("like" is a relative term here, since I voted for the government topic) (Esplin, I'm sticking my tongue out at you right now. Yeah. How do you like that?).
1. What are the pros and cons of renewable fuels? Wind turbines are very clean, but only run when there's wind. Also, they require quite a bit of space to set up enough turbines to power anything larger than a few homes. Hydro-electric energy is wonderful, but only so many rivers can be dammed up, you know? Powering automobiles on biodiesel stinks (literally), but it makes use of some wastes (like cooking oils and organic trash). Some "green" fuels, though, require acres and acres of land to produce enough plant product for a feasible return.
2. Exactly how much would it cost to switch modern cities to renewable fuels? How big of a dam would we need to power New York City? How many wind turbines does it take to light up a neighborhood? How many New Jersey gangsters does it take to screw in a light bulb? These questions almost burn kind of faintly in my mind. (The answer is 6, by the way. One gangster to off the old light bulb and his close friends, one to procure a slightly used, untraceable light bulb from a recent shipment in at the docks, one to screw it in, and three to scare the light bulb into paying them protection money. How do I know this number? I have my contacts. Thanks, Jimmy. See you in the Meadowlands.)
3. How much is the government interested in reimbursing regular citizens for efficiency upgrades? I got paid $300 for putting air conditioning in my house. What else do they incentivize? incentivate? incentivify?
4. Exactly how much oil does the US consume daily for energy (not counting cars, trucks, etc.), and how much does it spend on renewable resources?
5. Can switching to cleaner fuels now actual reverse ecological damage, or does it just halt it?
6. Will Batman and the Boy Wonder be able to escape the Riddler's spinning question mark of doom? Will Commissioner Gordon ever leave his office to do anything other than call Batman on the screamingly obvious Bat-phone? Will I actually hear the sounds "biff", "zappo", and "ka-plow" if I punch one of Penguin's henchmen? Tune in tomorrow. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

Free Write - Feb. 17

This weekend, my wife and I are at the Zermatt resort. We received two free nights here as part of some promotion at work. How nice. So, it's this world class resort in Midway, has been stayed in by Olympians, rich snobby types, and superficial ski junkies alike. Let me tell you, I was not impressed. I guess I shouldn't write this, since I am using their internet connection. But, they should welcome the criticism, no?
Walking in, I was almost impressed by the entryway. Stone flooring, nice counters, etc. Big fireplace, big mantle, carved statues, and the whole works. Then I looked closlier. The fireplace was one of those cheesy gas ones with the fake logs. The carved statues were ceramic, not wood. The crests and shields on the mantle were poorly carved and even more poorly painted. Minus 3 points for them. I thought that an Olympic-famous ski lodge would pony up for a REAL fireplace.
Next, we walked to our rooms. The carpets were the kind that make you wonder if either your grandmother or a color-blind dark age beer wench picked them out. The walls in our room were so thin that your could hear the people in the next room talking on the phone.
So, my wife and I decided that perhaps just our room was the worthless one. We went exploring. The staff scared me. Some of them were wearing jogging suits. Some of them didn't speak English very well. Some of them were wearing pants down around their butts and unlaced Vans. And, to complete the shockingly odd entourage, all the bellmen were wearing lederhosen and funky Swiss hats. Kind of like the Klopek kid from "The Burbs". You remember him. With the creepy facial hair and the pasty-white skin. O, yes. Not only was he a little freaky in "The Burbs", but he remains his old freaky self here in Midway, bustling people's bags off to their rooms.
Have you ever seen real Swiss architecture? I'm sorry, but the Swiss' creative prowess ended at hole-filled cheese. Dancing bears, weird floral patterns, paintings with vaguely uncomfortable scenes of people dressed like British sissies in court. Not exactly 5 star, you know? Maybe our experience was unique. Maybe my wife and I are just spoiled, having lived in Alaska, Hawai'i, and Europe. I suppose I shouldn't complain, since we stayed for free. But I can't help but wonder: if this resort is so swanky, then why did they hire Hans Klopek?