A Modest Solution?

Here's something for you to do on a slow Sunday afternoon. Find a modern-day picture of the Los Angeles skyline and put it next to an identical one from 1970. The difference will make you fall out of the chair. Of course, because I know you're all too lazy to actually do this, I'll spoil the surprise. The modern skyline is clear and sunny, but in the other shot you can barely make out the shape of the skyscrapers. The reason for this difference is the ubiquitous presence of everyone's favorite portmanteau word: smog!

In the 1970s, Congress rode a burgeoning wave of environmentalism to the tune of comprehensive reform acts, most notable the Clear Air Act. For all of our legislature's shortcomings, they finally struck law-of-averages gold with their environmental laws. The acts were an unqualified success. Today, smog in the United States is a mere fraction what it used to be, and soot - the other nasty particulate the laws sought to control - has been virtually eliminated from the atmosphere. We all rejoiced and praised the government for its impressive step forward. "Hey, they finally did something right for once!"

Or did they? Fast-forward to modern times and examine global warming, our current environmental nemesis. Global warming is increasing at a rate similar to smog's proliferation in the post-WW2 era. We've all been educated, scolded, and warned of the dangers it poses. And for all the good that environmental laws have done, they are still far, far away from solving this tricky problem.

As it turns out, our massive reduction of smog, soot, and other aerosols wasn't the comprehensive victory it once appeared to be. This year, a NASA study confirmed what sounds like an ironic joke: all those nasty chemicals in the year were actually HELPING the cause against global warming! How can this be?

It's actually relatively simple: the huge amounts of aerosols in the atmosphere were acting as a sort of sunscreen for the planet, reflecting the harmful UV radiation that gets trapped in the atmosphere and warms up the planet. While increasingly less sunlight had reached the earth due to dust, pollution, and other atmospheric particles, that trend reversed around 1990 when aerosol levels began to decline. Notably, that date also marks the start of the rise in average yearly temperatures - in other words, the beginning of global warming as we know it. Recent statistical information, coupled with basic principles of meteorology, confirmed that this connection was more causation than correlation. Over time, aerosols directly and indirectly (e.g. via cloud stabilization) led to global warming's opposite counterpart, the so-called "global dimming" phenomenon.

Interestingly, "global dimming" presents a potential solution to the main argument directed at global warming doomsayers. Although there seems to be little dispute that the planet has been gradually yet consistently warming over the past 15 years or so, meteorologists have yet to observe the incidental effects of the phenomenon. For example, a warmer climate facilitates water evaporation, leading to greater cloud formation and thus increased rainfall. Of course, if you're like me and live in the Southeast, you know that this absolutely not the case. Indeed, by all accounts we're in one of the worst droughts in modern history. Instead, the theory is that less sunlight reaching the surface counteracts the effect of warmer temperatures, thereby stabilizing the hydrological cycle.

Unfortunately, while first-world countries have done a commendable job reducing aerosols, developing nations like China and India are producing enormous amounts of particulate pollution at staggering rates. Complicating the problem is the possibility of black soot settling on the polar ice caps and absorbing further sunlight, melting them even faster than the current rate. On the other hand, fewer aerosols means more sunlight and all of its nasty problems like higher skin cancer rates. Must we literally pick our poison?

With the way things currently stand, the answer might be yes. Unfortunately, the other major problem is that neither industrialized nor developing nations are doing much of anything to tackle greenhouse gases, the prime culprit behind global warming. But don't worry guys - this will only be a problem for future generations.

**************

After hearing about this dilemma, I envisioned what I thought was a brilliant and creative solution. What if we could somehow inject more aerosols into the upper atmosphere, low enough to effectively block UV radiation but high enough to negate their deleterious health effects?

Unfortunately, some Nobel-winning chemist thought of it as well. Where's my Nobel prize, bitch? Anyway, this particular scientist postulated that, by injecting 1 million tons of sulfur per year into the stratosphere, the climate would cool down sufficiently to effectively halt global warming. Yes, sulfur - the very same sulfur that forms acid rain compounds known to decimate forests and fish - could be our biggest ally in the fight to save the natural world.

Here's the part that stumped me though. How the hell do you release a million tons of sulfur into the upper atmosphere? Listen to our chemist's solution: "giant cannons or balloons." ... Okay, so we're both still working on that part. But if you offer me a Nobel, I bet I'll think of it first.

GWAR!

A friend of mine forwarded me this clip of GWAR on the Joan Rivers show, a moment that I thought had been lost to history. Fortunately, the cream rises to the top, and this moment has resurfaced. Thanks youtube!

If you don't know who GWAR is, check Wikipedia for a primer. But all you really need to know is this: In the 1990s, GWAR was arrested in Charlotte when the singer was accused of using the "cuttlefish of Cthulhu" to simulate a human penis. "What an insult!" was the classic reply. They refer to this moment at the 6 minute mark in the video.

Man, I love these guys. Quick-witted, brilliant sense of humor, and spraying pig blood on their audience at concerts. I'm telling you, if you haven't attended a GWAR show, you're missing out on one of the best nights of your life.

My Dream Arrives

Finally, the internet offers a sanctuacy for the coug-loving men (and women!) of America:

http://www.dateacougar.com

For those of you who thought I already made too many mom jokes, you'd better just stay away from me for a while.

Ali G vs. Kobe

This great clip is from TNT's promos of their NBA package. British comedian Sasha Cohen (aka Ali G, aka Borat) absolutely owns Kobe with this one-liner. I still can't tell if this is unscripted, but almost all of Ali G's stuff is ad hoc, so I'm betting it is. In either case, the look on Kobe's face is priceless.

Farewell, Football

So another disappointing football season has come to an end. The Heels finished their (little)up-and-(lotsa)down season with a record of 4-8. Last year they only won 3 games, so that's a 33% increase in wins! That's good, right guys? ...Dammit.

As for the Panthers, yes, they're still playing, and yes, they can technically still make the playoffs because they play in the NFC South, better known as the "TIMMAYYY!!!!" division. However, for all intents and purposes, I consider their season to be over as well. I submit the following two items for evidence:

1. After getting destroyed at home, 31-6, by the lowly Saints, Panthers QB David Carr was quoted as saying: "It's not like we were purposely not trying to score points out there." That's unfortunate in a way, because if he had been throwing the game, it would at least have explained the pitiful performance. On the other hand, if he throws a game as well as he throws a football, we'd never know the difference. If it weren't my own team, I'd bet against the spread in every Panthers game from here on out. It's just too bad sports gambling isn't legal.

2. Here's a collection of quotes from the News & Record on the Panthers latest game:

* "It hurts so much it would be laughable," John Fox, the embattled coach, said.

* "We're probably one of the worst teams in the NFL," corner Ken Lucas said.

* "We were just a fraction of an inch off," Carr said. [editor's note: David Carr is a dumbass]

The quote by Lucas was followed up by this hilarious note:

Lucas, who was called for a delay penalty for spiking the ball in anger, knew he'd helped sustain one of the New Orleans drives. He refused to blame the punchless offense.

"If we stopped them every time they got the ball, we'd be going into overtime every game," Lucas said.

Reading between the lines, he actually is admitting zero confidence in the offense. In other words, if the Panthers held their opponent to 0 points every time, each game would go into overtime because the offense will never score a single point. Now that's the kind of team chemistry that wins championships people!

Football, I wish I could quit you.

Great Names in Sports, Pt. 2

Here's a list of funny/cool sports names I compiled a few years ago and just rediscovered. It's amazing how many sportsmen have ridiculous names. Do some parents just pull names out of hats? Too bad Dick Pound is a lawyer and not an athlete.

Dick Trickle (nascar)
Jim Bob Cooter (ncaa fb)
Scientific and Majestic Mapp (ncaa bball)
God Shammgod (ncaa bball)
F$U's receiving corps, Craphonso Thorpe and Decody Fagg
World B. Free (nba?)
Jihad Muhammad (ncaa bball)
Ivanna Mandick (women's ncaa)
Peerless Price (nfl)
Dick Crum (nascar)
Wonderful Terrific Monds, Jr. (ncaa fb)
I.M. Hipp (ncaa fb)
Rusty Kuntz (mlb)
Joe Bonecutter (ncaa fb)
Coco Crisp (mlb)
Milton Bradley (mlb)
Ruben Boumtje-Boumtje (ncaa bball)
Chris Fuamatu-Maafala (nfl)
House Guest (ncaa fb)
Phthalo Green (ncaa bball... phthalo is a pigment)
T.J. Houshmandzadeh (nfl)
Tim Biakabatuka (nfl)
Dick Butkus (nfl)
John Holmes (unc bball!)
Pats' secondary: Ty Law and Lawyer Milloy
Oil Can Boyd (mlb)
NeNe (nba)

Great Names in Sports, Pt. I

I read in the paper today that Australian John Fahley is the new president of the World Anti-Doping Agency, succeeding Canadian Dick Pound. You may remember Dick Pound from his work with the International Olympic Committee, his strong stance against steroid abuse in the NHL, and his starring role in Butt-Fuck Sluts Go Nuts Vol. 18.

Alternatively, "Canadian Dick Pound" sounds like a move my first girlfriend (from lovely Edmonton, Alberta) wanted me to try on her.

Slash

Guitarist Slash (of Guns N' Roses fame) has followed suit by releasing his tell-it-all book, humbly entitled Slash. Guns N' Roses partied harder than any band of the 80s - possibly excepting the Crue - but even among those misfits, Slash was the worst.

According to the book, Slash was heavily addicted addicted to speedballs (heroin and cocaine) and eventually began seeing tiny demon men on a regular basis. One night, these evil homunculi turned against him and sent him crashing naked through a glass door. In his own inimitable words:

"They'd always been a welcome, carefree distraction, but this hallunication was sinister. I could see them gathering in the doorway; there was an army of them, holding tiny machine guns and weapons."

Drugs are bad, mmkay.

Phil Jackson

You know the sports season is picking up when great jokes made by athletes, coaches, owners, etc. are taken way too personally and jumped on by random special interest organizations. Here's the latest faux pas, courtesy of Los Angeles Lakers coach (and first-ballot Hall of Famer) Phil Jackson:

The Spurs made 13 3-pointers in their 107-92 victory, and Jackson was asked if too much penetration was leading to open outside shooters.

"We call this a Brokeback Mountain game, because there's so much penetration and kickouts," Jackson said. "It was one of those games."

First of all, I don't care where you're from, that's a great line. Secondly, when is everyone in this country going to stop being so damn sensitive? If nobody's perfect, then everybody should learn how to take a joke. Maybe after we get our collective panties untangled, we can actually learn to read comments like that and realize that it describes a lifestyle without passing any judgment on it. This country has taken PC to a new level far beyond what is even remotely necessary for tolerance.

The biggest joke here is the amount of hypocrisy we create by comparing these statements against our own actions. Yes, this is the same society where we blame all our problems on sex and violence in the media before sending our 12-year-olds off wearing tube tops and short skirts. Or blaming video games for youth violence while buying our kids pro wrestling tickets instead of a good book. And what guy hasn't had to hear about women not getting enough respect from a girl who drives home that night listening to some gangster rap song about bitches and hoes? Of course no one's going to listen to you. What did you expect?

If anyone should be bitter, it's straight white males like myself who apparently can't say anything negative towards anyone else, yet everyone has society's carte blanche to disparage us. But you don't hear me bitching up a storm, now do you? When's the last time we sued someone or put out a press release? Words can be hurtful, no doubt, but if mere words are the most evoking pain for you, then you should do a little more exploring in the realm of experience.

But no, let's keep blaming NBA coaches for stirring the pot which we have poured. At least Phil Jackson has earned my respect over the years, and quite frankly, I appreciate his wit no matter whom he offends. No one respects hypocrites, least of all themselves.

And to those who are offended: How many NBA championship rings do you have?

What's that?

None.

Basketball!

In honor of the unofficial start of basketball season (i.e. UNC's first game), I would like to bid farewell to yet another totally forgettable football season for my teams. I realize the season isn't over, but let's be honest, the Tar Heels and the Panthers aren't having years to remember.

Leave it to a Sports Illustrated columnist to say it best:

"When I die and go to hell, hell will be a Falcons-Panthers game prolonged indefinitely."

More for Gore

With the presidential race revving up for primetime, I wanted to give a shoutout to NFL/Political Columnist Extraordinaire Gregg Easterbrook on his op-ed piece published in the NYT. The story broke in February, but since I've been surrounded by hardcore environmentalists and left-leaning academians the past month, it's no surprise that it was never brought to my attention.

Apparently, sources revealed that beloved erstwhile candidate Al Gore uses TWENTY times more electricity and natural gas at his Tennessee home than the national average. Easterbrook ran Gore's power bills and ZIP code through an emissions calculator and discovered that the former VP causes 377,000 pounds of greenhouse gases each year. This usage, as Easterbrook points out, is the equivalent of driving 20 Hummers. Put differently, you'd have to plant roughly 40,000 trees just to neutralize the carbon footprint.

(Here's a good question: what the hell is Al doing in there? Building the world's first "green" nuclear weapon? Purposely raising emissions to support his cause? If he were smart, he'd be building a time machine to return him to Florida, circa October 2000.)

A Gore spokeswoman defended the bills by making sure everyone knew Gore bought offsets for the usage. Hold on a moment. Wasn't the entire premise of "An Inconvenient Truth" that we have to REDUCE emissions substantially in order to reverse global warming? Apparently, Gore doesn't understand that the offsets, by definition, only nullify his current use and don't actually decrease present emissions levels. And they gave this man a Nobel Peace Prize! Must have been a slow year in peace - which I guess it was.

If you're keeping track, here's what Gore did for the environment:

* Produced and promoted "An Inconvenient Truth," a popular film documentary on global warming

Now, here are some other things he did at his political apex (1992-2000):

* Failed to promote or even propose carbon trading
* Declined to raise fuel economy standards for automobiles
* Refused to submit the Kyoto Protocol to the Senate for consideration (or even push to ratify it)
* Said little to nothing about climate change
* Took no meaningful action against greenhouse gases

Perhaps he didn't understand the extent of the problem at the time. That's fine; very few of us did anyway. But it's not exactly an impressive record for someone collecting Oscars and Nobels promoting environmentalism, is it?

Gore is a politican after all, so we should've seen this coming. In retrospect, the 2000 election was best summed up by the Rage Against the Machine song "Guerilla Radio":

More for Gore
Or the son of a drug lord?
None of the above,
Fuck it, cut the cord.

The Office

All my friends love NBC's hit comedy "The Office." After seeing the British version, however, I refuse to watch the American one. Why? Because it will never top THIS!



Edit: I can't tell if the video is working or not, but you can always watch the clip on youtube HERE.

Sex Spam

My school's spam control system is managed by an elite team of drunken sea monkeys. I've had probably a dozen or so email accounts in my life, and I've never seen more crap come through than on this one. I've since graduated (twice), and after 7 years and two degrees there has been no progress in the war against spammers. Not only has there been no improvment, but I am convinced that this crack squad of bloated sea mammals is slowly but surely submitting to the onslaught of spam coursing through the system. Each month, I get more and more junk in my inbox - just like your mom.

To me, the most amusing aspect of this predicament is that the emails that actually make it through are so obviously spam that I can't imagine what is being filtered out. For instance, here are two lunkers from today's haul:

Your short sword could be much longer and win you more s'e_xual battles!

Positive changes in your s'e_xual life are not a chimera

First of all, there is no way these titles could represent anything but sex spam, which brings me back to my original question: what is actually being culled from this crop? Does the email have to read "HUGE COCKS POUNDING TINY TEEN TWATS!!!!!" for the system to flag it or what? Somebody wake those sea monkeys up!

Secondly, for as big of an annoyance as these emails are, I occasionally get a kick out of their laughable attempts at English. Take the second email for example. Positive changes "are not a chimera"? Really? Phew, that's a relief. Take it from me, you certainly don't want your changes to be of the chimera variety. Keep those part-lion, part-snake, part-goat creatures to yourself. I don't know about you, but those mythical monsters of Greek lore really get me hot. If they promise me pills to make my penis grow like a hydra, I may have to open my checkbook.

In honor of these hilarious titles, I've decided to keep a running list of the best ones right here in this entry. Check back often since I get about 20 per day (insert obligatory mom joke about 20 entries a day). Your "short sword" will thank you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"May i ask why you're so unhappy with your dic'k?"
At least he asked politely.

"Bored housewife is on the dryer waitin for mr. big"
Mmm, nothing like cold metal and the smell of chemicals to get you in the mood.

"Make your hot gf climax by stuffing her flower with your new big shaft!"
Wait, you mean to tell me my girlfriend keeps asking me for flowers when she already has some?

Assachusetts, Part 2

On the heels of my last column comes Time magazine's article, "Have the Sox Become the Yanks?". Basically, it sums up my point that, in order to finally start winning, Boston-area teams chose to sell out and become everything they hated (and incessantly whined about) in the first place.

There's no greater indication of our country's disdain for this pattern than the fact that Boston teams are on top of the sports world right now and, instead of congratulating them, all anyone can say is how unfortunate it is.

Assachusetts

In my time, I've learned one unchanging fact about people from Massachusetts: they are terrible, terrible human beings. A city's sports teams tend to reflect the temperament and personality of the community that supports them, and Boston-area sports teams are always the worst. And for long as I can remember, they've always been that way. Even as a kid I remember watching Kevin "cheap shot" McHale and the Celtics scratch and claw their way through the NBA playoffs in the '80s.

Unfortunately, things are much, much worse now. Every Boston fan I know is basically carrying around an extra set of underwear in case he might have to talk about the Sox or Pats or Celtics. Not that anyone bothers to ask them about their teams, mind you. But for some reason they insist on thinking that we care.

"Hey man, how bout those Sox!!!! Pretty sweet comeback, yeah?"

"Yeah, it was really sweet watching them get shut down by top-notch pitchers like Paul Byrd and Jake Westbrook in those middle games. And to see Manny standing at the plate, doing his pathetic home run stare, after hitting a ball that doesn't even clear the wall. And to watch Papelbon flex like a retarded monkey after "saving" a 10-run lead. And to watch the Boston "faithful" cheer J.D. Drew for his grand slam after booing him constantly for the past year and demanding he be traded. I mean, how could you not be proud?"

"........fuck yeah dude! Sox rule!!!!"

The Pats are the same arrogant team with the same half-snob, half-jackass fanbase. If you haven't been following the NFL season, the big story is that, after they got caught blatantly cheating, the Patriots have now decided to run up the score against every team they play in a big "FU" to the league. Easterbrook summed it best in his column this week:

Dishonesty, cheating, arrogance, hubris, endless complaining even in success. The Patriots have three Super Bowl rings, but that jewelry is tarnished by their cheating scandal. They run up the score to humiliate opponents -- more on that below -- thus mocking sportsmanship. Their coach snaps and snarls in public, seeming to feel contempt for the American public that has brought him wealth and celebrity. Victory seems to give Bill Belichick no joy, and defeat throws him into fury. Belichick and the rest of the top of the Patriots' organization continue to refuse to answer questions about what was in the cheating tapes -- and generally, you refuse to answer questions if you have something to hide. The team has three Super Bowl triumphs, yet its players regularly whine about not being revered enough. The team's star, Tom Brady, is a smirking sybarite who dates actresses and supermodels but whose public charity appearances are infrequent. That constant smirk on Brady's face reminds one of Dick Cheney; people who smirk are fairly broadcasting the message, "I'm hiding something." The Patriots seem especially creepy at this point because we still don't know whether they have told the full truth about the cheating scandal -- or even whether they really have stopped cheating. They say they have, but their word is not exactly gold at this juncture. Ladies and gentlemen, representing Evil, the New England Patriots.

As the column later discusses, this bitterness is even more ridiculous because they have absolutely no right to be angry. I mean, they're upset because they got caught cheating? Boo hoo. Why would anyone in the world feel bad for these cheating millionaires? Why should we feel anything but contempt? If you've ever in your life valued sportsmanship, you should be cheering against this team every week.

Perhaps the worst part about all this is that the fans don't seem to care. But then again, that returns us to my main point: these are terrible people in the first place. Instead of wearing those ugly-yet-ubiquitous Boston caps, they should just wear a shirt that reads "Win At All Costs."

Yes, I'm sure there are plenty of good people from the area. But why haven't I met any of them yet? Until then, my opinion remains unchanged. The bitterness, self-entitlement, petulance, and nonstop whininess of these teams is not only accepted but embraced by people who share those same qualities.

I guess it really is hard living in the shadow of a great city.

----

No more than an hour after I posted this, this column appeared on the frontpage of CNNSI.com: Boston enjoying run, losing mystique. A quick read, but definitely worthwhile.

----

And I'm so glad I found THIS today as well. Apparently the anti-Boston movement is rapidly gaining steam. You see, it's not that the world is just now recognizing how much these people suck. We've known that for years. It's just that these cretins were so much easier to ignore when they were shouting racist insults at their own players instead of riding around on all these bandwagons.

USA Today = God's Newspaper

I won't lie about this. I'm a big fan of USA Today. Always have been. My friends, who evidently consider themselves too good for our country's #1 paper, insist it's not worth reading. Keep in mind, many of these people read Entertainment Weekly like a Bible. I don't understand it either. And while there's a local paper I could get instead, my community just isn't worth an hour's worth of reading per day. To me, it makes more sense to read about my country in half the time. Plus, USA Today has lots of colorful pictures. I like that. The world needs more color.

Until now, my affair with USA Today has occured in airports around the world. (And yes, I just passed up about fifty different Senator Craig jokes.) This month, however, I ordered my first-ever subscription to the paper. I got papers on Friday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and life was good. I did Sudoku puzzles, crosswords, phrase games, and word searches. I checked out movie reviews. I learned everything I wanted to about what happened in the world the day before. And I read the sports lines, just in case I live in a world one day where sports gambling is legal.

But panic struck the following day. I went out to check my mail only to notice... no paper. Friday? No paper. And on Monday... nothing again. I was heartbroken. How was I suppose to assess my role in the world without USA Today's colorful depictions? How could I buy anything without its minimialist moneyline graphs? And where was I to go that weekend without consulting its Friday "Destinations" section?

Yesterday, I called customer service and reported the problem. They assured me things would return to normal. I assured them they'd better be right. I don't take any shit when it comes to my USA Today.

Today, all the missing papers as well as today's paper showed up in a plastic bag on my doorstep. Inside the bag was a business card from a special carrier. His name is Terry Christ. Christ delivered my USA Today today. I always knew there was something special about this paper. Now it's confirmed: USA Today is God's paper.

I'm holding onto this business card so I can wave it in front of the heretics who are still ordering the New York Times. You know, I never suspected that paper might *actually* be run by the Jewish-controlled media... until Christ showed up with my USA Todays. Will my new paper carrier be the cause of a personal revelation? Or will he (He?) plunge me into a spiritual crisis?

One thing is for sure: the "Life" section never felt so relevant.

Craigslist, Part 3

First, the NY Daily News has picked up on the golddigging ad and the priceless response it drew. Find it here.

Also, I can't overemphasize how classic some of these listings are. Check out this one about Darwinism and M&Ms:

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.

Craigslist, Part 2

Someone tipped me off about this hilarious ad which appeared yesterday on the NYC craigslist:

What am I doing wrong?

Okay, I'm tired of beating around the bush. I'm a beautiful(spectacularly beautiful) 25 year old girl. I'm articulate and classy. I'm not from New York. I'm looking to get married to a guy who makes at least half a million a year. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that a million a year is middle class in New York City, so I don't think I'm overreaching at all.

Are there any guys who make 500K or more on this board? Any wives? Could you send me some tips? I dated a business man who makes average around 200 - 250. But that's where I seem to hit a roadblock. 250,000 won't get me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga class who was married to an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she's not as pretty as I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing right? How do I get to her level?

Here are my questions specifically:

- Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me specifics- bars, restaurants, gyms

-What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys, you won't hurt my feelings

-Is there an age range I should be targeting (I'm 25)?

- Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles on the upper east side so plain? I've seen really 'plain jane' boring types who have nothing to offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I've seen drop dead gorgeous girls in singles bars in the east village. What's the story there?

- Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows - lawyer, investment banker, doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where do they hang out? Where do the hedge fund guys hang out?

- How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am looking for MARRIAGE ONLY

Please hold your insults - I'm putting myself out there in an honest way. Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I'm being up front about it. I wouldn't be searching for these kind of guys if I wasn't able to match them - in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping a nice home and hearth.

PostingID: 432279810

The response may be the greatest thing I have ever read:

Dear Pers-431649184:

I read your posting with great interest and have thought meaningfully about your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your predicament. Firstly, I'm not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy who fits your bill; that is I make more than $500K per year. That said here's how I see it.

Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal. Here's why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here's the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity...in fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won't be getting any more beautiful!

So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates! Let me explain, you're 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you!

So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold...hence the rub...marriage. It doesn't make good business sense to "buy you" (which is what you're asking) so I'd rather lease. In case you think I'm being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It's as simple as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage.

Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as "articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful" as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn't found you, if not only for a tryout.

By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn't need to have this difficult conversation.

With all that said, I must say you're going about it the right way. Classic "pump and dump." I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, let me know.

Craigslist, Part 1

A few weeks ago, I was in the Reno-Carson area of Nevada for, naturally, a job interview. The interview went great, the area was beautiful, and for the most part I enjoyed myself on the trip. Except for last day. My return flight went through Chicago, which happened to be under 5 feet of water when I needed to be there. The flight was rescheduled for the next morning so I had to find a place to stay.

At this point, I was so tired and pissed off that I went with the cheapest option available. As any seasoned traveler will tell you, you generally get what you pay for with hotels, and this was no exception. For that night, I was a guest at the Chateau Ghetto.

Perhaps the most telling sign came after I had checked in and was sitting in the "lobby" watching TV. I'm reluctant to say "lobby" because it was more of a trash heap and ammunition dump, but they insisted on calling it a lobby. Against all odds they actually had a working computer for guests to use. A staff member was currently using it but since I needed to send emails I decided to wait for her.

Since my sofa - which, incidentally, looked like someone had ripped out the back seat of a car and placed it in the room - was facing the computer, I couldn't help but notice what this girl was doing. She was going through the personals on craigslist and surfing through the 18+ section, flipping through every entry and looking at every picture, while I was sitting there waiting to check email. Unbelievable.

Just as I thought the day couldn't get any worse, she reached into a natty bookbag and pulled out a CD to put into the computer. Suddenly, pics of her in lingerie start popping up on the screen. What the fuck! My horror unfolds as I realize she's actually putting up a booty call ad for herself right there in the hotel lobby. This is NOT a girl you want to see in lingerie. Her ad title described her as "juicy." By the way, I just threw up in my mouth.

After uploading all her pictures, she posted the ad and mercifully closed the window before walking off. Even today, I'm still trying to process all of this. Who carries around CDs with scandalous pics of themselves? Isn't your driver's license enough? Can you imagine a police station holding the item as lost property and saying, "Well, I wasn't sure it was her at first, but the tits do match."

Furthermore, who the hell uploads these pics in a hotel lobby? I assume she didn't own a computer at home, which is fine, but at least go to a friend's house. Seriously, I've been less offended seeing people surfing through porn at university libraries. Although in retrospect, that's pretty weird too.

So gentlemen, if you're in the Tahoe area and looking for a "juicy" girl, just head onto craigslist and look for ads posted in cheap airport hotels. Make sure to filter your search to show only those posts with self-shot lingerie pics. With any luck, she might even put out.

Check Out This Huge Endowment!

Gregg Easterbrook (see previous post) made an entirely too reasonable point in his column last week, which explains why it's gone unnoticed save for this blog:

According to last week's Wall Street Journal, Harvard's endowment is up to $34.9 billion and Yale's has risen to $22.5 billion. To put those numbers into perspective, the Harvard endowment now exceeds the gross domestic product of Sri Lanka or Kenya and the Yale endowment exceeds the GDP of Costa Rica or Iceland.

It's wonderful that such great institutions of higher learning are funded so well, with assets that seem to assure their continued existence for centuries. But as Tuesday Morning Quarterback asked last year when Harvard's endowment hit a mere $29 billion, why does anyone pay anything at all to attend this school?

Conservatively managed investments using low-risk strategies yield 5 to 7 percent per year; federal law requires many types of philanthropies to disburse a minimum of 5 percent per year or lose their tax-exempt status. At 5 percent, the Harvard endowment would throw off $1.7 billion annually. That's $104,000 for each of the 16,715 undergrads and graduate students currently attending the university. Yet according to College Board figures, the average undergrad who lives on campus at Harvard this year will pay $37,900, that being the official price minus average financial aid award. Can Harvard seriously expect us to believe it is spending $144,000 per year per undergraduate? (That's the actual payments from students plus 5 percent of the endowment.) Shifting Harvard's endowment spending from empire-building to reducing tuition -- either lower prices for everyone, or, say, eliminating all costs for students from families that make $200,000 or less -- would be a tremendous progressive step without jeopardizing Harvard's legitimate desire to hold a rich endowment into the indefinite future.

Instead, Harvard just keeps charging an arm and a leg and the endowment keeps empire-building. One result of the extremely high cost of private colleges is that many graduates feel they must go into high-paying professions to justify what was just spent. If Harvard were free for students whose families aren't rich, or cost much less for all students, perhaps graduates would be more likely to become public-school teachers or Peace Corps volunteers or work for the U.S. Public Health Service or in legal-aid settings. Rather than use its colossal financial assets to educate a generation of smart people willing to serve society in thanks for a great education at little cost, Harvard continues to soak parents, teach money obsession and set an example of hoarding.

First of all, yes, this is from a blog about the NFL. Secondly, I couldn't agree more. My only explanation is that the people who go to Harvard have so much money that the cost of tuition is like a drop in the ocean to them. 99% of us wouldn't have that money to begin with, and even if we did, we wouldn't toss it away in light of these facts. But as Easterbrook points out, it's not even just about money. It's about getting some of our best and brightest into fields where they can create a better world for everyone instead of a better world for their creditors.

Unfortunately, the racket that is higher education continues to roll along unresisted and largely unheeded.

The Wide World of Sports... Columnists

My friends know I get all my news from sports columns, and I encourage anyone with even an fledgling interest in sports to adopt this practice. Sports have all the same things that might interest you in CNN or BBC or any other news provider:

* Breaking news ("Delhomme Opts for Season-Ending Surgery")
* Community news ("Vick's High School Distancing Itself From Star")
* Op-ed pieces ("USC Needs Change, Starting with Quarterback")
* Rankings ("NFL Power Poll, Week 5")
* Interviews ("Broncos' Henry: I didn't smoke weed")
* Entertainment news ("Broncos' Henry: I didn't smoke weed, but my teammates did")
* And of course, sports scores

Today's sports columns are not what you might expect. The best ones still focus on hot topics and noteworthy games, of course, but they now integrate everything from movie reviews to political commentary.

Two columns in particular stand out. The first is Bill Simmons' column on ESPN, which can be found HERE . I've already referred to his work in this blog, but it bears repeating that he's good for a few great observations per column. Simmons is a 30-something guy who's in the midst of several huge changes in his life, including moving from Boston to L.A., having children for the first time, and seeing the Red Sox actually coming through in the clutch.

The other columnist is Gregg Easterbrook, also from ESPN. I don't know much about this man, other than he loves to write a really long column every Tuesday on the state of the NFL, and that he does it for free. While Simmons' columns are heavy on entertainment references, Easterbrook tends toward political insight. His column can be found HERE.

Check these guys out. You won't be disappointed.

Sports Reporting - It's FANNNN-tastic!

Two notable sports items today. The first is that UNC picked up a basketball commitment from a rising sophomore. To my knowledge, this is the youngest commitment ever for both Roy Williams and UNC. This kid just finished 9th grade and now he's signed on to play for the premier basketball program in the country. Unbelievable. He's going to get a ton of play once his balls drop.

Equally amusing (to my warped mind, at any rate) is the name of a local sports columnist. As I was reading about UNC's newest commitment at www.newsobserver.com - the online version of the Triangle's main paper - I couldn't help but notice one word at the top: "DeCock." Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked on DeCock. Much to my entertainment, the Raleigh News & Observer has a sports columnist named Luke Decock. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! LUKE DECOCK! This can't be for real! That name is just too perfect. Perfect for everyone else, at any rate. I'm sure it's cost him thousands of dollars in therapy. No wonder he was humiliated into the secluded world of online reporting.

Link: http://www.newsobserver.com/sports/decock/

Evolution Revisited

I know it's mean, but I'm still laughing at this particular article on the BBC News website. If you have a spare moment, check out "Monkey Misery for Kenyan Women Villagers." Basically, a troop of monkeys has terrorized this little hamlet in Kenya and is especially fond of mocking its women (who are left to defend the town during the day while the men are out drinking and whatnot). A couple of choice quotes have me even more convinced in evolutionary theory:

"'When we come to chase the monkeys away, we are dressed in trousers and hats, so that we look like men,' resident Lucy Njeri told the BBC News website. 'But the monkeys can tell the difference and they don't run away from us and point at our breasts. They just ignore us and continue to steal the crops.'"

And it gets better!

"In addition to stealing their crops, the monkeys also make sexually explicit gestures at the women, they claim. 'The monkeys grab their breasts, and gesture at us while pointing at their private parts. We are afraid that they will sexually harass us,' said Mrs Njeri."

Replace "monkeys" with "undergraduates" and I could (did?) read the exact same thing in the local papers. Actually, if you read about the rest of the monkeys' sly tactics, one would guess that we were the lower evolutionary link. You see, while I subscribe to the theory of evolution, I'm still working out the order.

Incidentally, my birthday is coming up - if you're looking for a gift, I'll take one of these sweet crotch-chopping monkeys.

---

Link: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6959209.stm

Sports Guy, you are my hero.

I just found this great response from Bill Simmons' latest ESPN.com column and thought I would share:

Q: On the "Questions I Wish Had Never Been Asked" scale, where does your girlfriend asking for your definition of "cheating" fall?
--Matt, Philadelphia

SG: At the tippy-top. Here's a better question: In this day and age, what even constitutes cheating? I don't know the exact rules for the era in which women dress like hookers, shrug off one-night stands and dance by grinding their butts against the groins of various strangers at dark nightclubs. So what's cheating in this universe? A threesome with two of their boyfriend's best friends? Sleeping with their boyfriend's brother or dad? I give up. Just know that I'm sending my daughter to high school in a suit of armor every day.

I think that sums up pretty much every guy's feelings on the female population these days.

Source: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/070810

Job Interviews, Part 3

A couple of days ago I had my interview with Klutz & Reamer, a full-service law firm in Salisbury, North Carolina. If you've been following this blog, you know that I applied to this group solely because I found the name hilarious and amused myself by making numerous "Reamer" jokes. Now that I've met with the firm's partners, I feel qualified to tell you what Klutz and Reamer is all about.

Salisbury, NC is a small town known for three things. One, it has a proud historic district with signs showing where many of our country's luminaries, including George Washington and Andrew Jackson, stopped by for one reason or another during the country's early days. Second, it has an IHOP where recently disgraced Speaker Jim Black got busted taking a bag full of bribe money in the bathroom. (No word yet on whether the IHOP will be incorporated as part of the historic district.) Third, it has Elizabeth Dole's home and the law firm where she started her career. This concludes your tour of Salisbury.

I was greeted at the door by a very nice elderly secretary who in turn introduced me to Richard Reamer. Richard Reamer! HIS NAME IS DICK REAMER. And he has a son named Randy Reamer! Is there any explanation why this family is in law and not porn? At any rate, Dick Reamer is a 60-ish jovial Southern gentlemen who mistrusts city boys like yours truly. We're off to a great start here, folks.

After taking a tour of the office, I sit down with the esteemed Mr. Reamer and three of his good ole' boy minions at the conference table. The first thing I notice is that I'm the only one with hair more than half an inch long. That's okay, I'm not here to judge - that's their job. The second thing I notice is that I'm the only one who doesn't speak with a hard Southern accent. I try to throw a few "y'all"s in there to make them happy, but they're not fooled. I've got Yankee all over me.

Reamer: "So... from Charlotte, huh? Big city. Real big city. You born there?"

Me: "No sir."

Reamer: "Where?"

Me: "New Jersey."

Reamer: (after a beat) "...mmmmmkaaaaaayyyyy."

We talk about the usual things: what kind of law I want to practice, where I see myself in five years, whether I'm up for a lot of courtroom litigation, etc. The consensus among the attorneys seems to be that my academic record is impressive, but that I might not happy in a town as small as Salisbury, and they don't want me burning them for some other firm in a big city like, say, Lexington or Hickory (note to my out-of-state readers: these are not big cities). Honestly, I have no problem at all with small towns. As long as they're close to big towns. And since Salisbury fit that description, I didn't have to lie about wanting to work there, which is what I do in 90% of interviews.

Partner: "So what's this... environmental stuff you did?"

Me: "I worked for a non-profit organization on various assignments to see if major industry and utility leaders were in compliance with environmental statutes.

Partner: "That sounds... you know... like tree-hugging! Is that what it was?"

Me: "...No sir, I did not hug any trees. Instead, I worked on a US Supreme Court case involving Clean Air Act violations."

Partner: "So... was this like a leftist group? Because I've gotta tell ya, this is the Republican side of the table." (At this point he motions to the side of the table where ALL of the attorneys are sitting.)

Me: "Yes sir, I gathered as much."

At some point they must have agreed that I was not, in fact, a spy for the ACLU or General Grant, because they started telling me some so-unbelievable-that-they-could-only-happen-in-a-town-like-this stories. The most incredible of these tales, I kid you not, involves one of the firm's senior partners peeping at the wife of a one-time presidential hopeful while she was undressing in her home. The partner concluded the story by waxing poetic: "Man, we were such fucking perverts." As eloquent as the Bard himself.

Reamer: "You married?"

Me: "No sir."

Reamer: "You got a... significant other?"

Me: "Yes sir."

Reamer: "...is it a male or female?"

Me: (shaking my head in equal parts shock and disgust) "She's female."

Reamer: "Good!"

Another attorney: "Don't worry son, he's been doing interviews for 30 years and he asks that question to everyone."

Honestly, I bet I could've won the job right then and there by saying that I wouldn't want to work with any fags either. Hell, they would've probably offered me the whole firm. In all seriousness though, I can't believe that this mindset can still exist in a law firm in the 21st century.

As I walked out of the office, I noticed a framed paper certifying the business as an AV-rated firm (given to "high character" partnerships), yet another ironic monument to the affectation of law. I guess some small towns will never be small enough.

Job Interviews, Part 2

When I opened up a letter for a job interview yesterday, I figured the universe had read my blog and was taking pity on me. Not so. Instead, it was amused by rantings and decided to extend my suffering.

About 4 months ago I applied to a firm based solely on the name, never actually expecting to hear anything from them in return. Well, I now have an interview scheduled with Klutz & Reamer, LLP.

I mean, I'm really at a loss here. How exactly do I tell them I applied solely because they have an absolutely ridiculous name? Can I get some suggestions on this? I've got about two and half weeks to figure this out.

The best (worst?) part is that I'll be meeting the partners, so I'll actually be shaking hands with Mr. Klutz and Mr. Reamer while trying to maintain eye contact. I honestly don't think it's possible to say "It's my pleasure, Reamer" without laughing hysterically. Hell, I'm laughing just typing it. This could be bad.

One bright spot: If I do land the job, I might be able to institute a gesture unique to the company that its members can use as a show of force. Since we sound so much like "Clutch & Ream Her," I envision grabbing a pair of imaginary hips in front of you while pulling back hard on them. Kind of like the crotch-chop (one of my personal favorites), but more graphic. It's fun, try it! Now imagine it in a suit.

Sounds ridiculous? Take it up with my friends... Klutz & Reamer.

Job Interviews

Job interviews are God's way of punishing us. They remind us, over and over, what pathetic and miserable little creatures we truly are. As a young man fresh out of grad school (straight through from undergrad), I'm getting my first taste of the pain that job-seeking humans have known for generations. Any excitement in the ultimate goal of the process (i.e. getting the job) has to be weighed against the inevitable embarrassment, anger, and frustration the process creates regardless of whether the goal is reached.

Let me break down the typical interview. Where else can we begin except with the obligatory awkward greeting? There's nothing like going to the negotiation table when the other side is holding virtually all the cards. "Hi, I'm Brian. I'm here to interview for this position. You can count on me to massage your balls for the next thirty to forty minutes. Frank? It's good to meet you, Frank." You can bet your bottom dollar that Frank's balls have been waiting for this all day.

Now that my prostitution is transparent, we can slide right into (so to speak) the "So tell me about yourself" moment, included in every interview on this planet and probably elsewhere. My favorite aspect of this segment is that your honesty is inversely related to your chance of actually landing the job. In truth, most of us do one, maybe two hours of actual work on any given day of our lives. The rest of the time is split between television, sleeping, relaxing, chilling, hanging out, chillaxing, taking it easy, Internet porn, and compulsively counting objects in our environment. Despite the well-known fact that your interviewers spend their days the same way, it's not prudent to try to sympathize on this point. Trust me.

Unfortunately, after so many interviews, the filter between your mind and the interviewer erodes and you start to let things slip. For instance, I literally just completed an interview less than an hour ago; thus the inspiration for this blog. When the interviewer asked what my proudest achievement was, my response was simply, "Well, just making it this far, really." Direct, honest, to the point - what's not to admire? Everything, apparently, since the interviewer responded with an extended "mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmmm..." and moved on to the next question. But I couldn't have been more honest with him. When you think about it, being alive for this long IS your greatest achievement. Just don't count on Mr. Interviewer to split your cake with you.

If there was a living to be made on interpreting "interview-speak" then I would be a millionaire. Interviews are consistently degrading, yet their consistently allows certain patterns to emerge that I've picked up on over the years. All of us are familiar with "don't call us, we'll call you." But I've expanded on that euphemism and am pleased to offer you this valuable phrasebook, which will go far in clarifying seemingly ambiguous language.

If the interviewer says... "Welcome. Thank you for coming here."
He means: "I hope you brought your kneepads."

If the interviewer says... "What have you been up to lately?"
He means: "Tell me what it's like to not have a job. I'm morbidly curious."

If the interviewer says... "What attracted you to our company?"
He means: "Please remind me why I first made this terrible, terrible mistake."

If the interviewer says... "What's your minimum starting salary?"
He means: "I'm no longer interested in this process and will let the numbers do the choosing."

If the interviewer says... "Would you care to go to lunch with us?"
He means: "I blew my last $20 last night on blackjack, but I've still got the company card."

If the interviewer says... "Tell me about your work at [prior job]."
He means: "You're going to tell me it was important and enjoyable, and yet you're here in my office. Hmm."

If the interviewer says... "We're interviewing a bunch of people for this position."
He means: "We just narrowed it down by one."

If the interviewer says... "It was a pleasure meeting you."
He means: "I'm going to highlight your name, but in black."

If the interviewer says... "Do you mind if I invite some of my colleagues along?"
He means: "What a fucking moron! My friends won't believe this."

If the interviewer says... "You're hired!"
He means: N/A.

"Herro... Arec Bardwin."

Hi! I made this journal to complement my more serious blog, cleverly entitled "A Floydian Slip," which you can find at http://gbe-afs.blogspot.com. Like that column, there's no rhyme or reason to any of these posts. These entries, not unlike your mom, will come when they're good and ready. By the way, if you don't appreciate mom jokes, now is the time to hit that "Back" button on your browser. You've been warned. And yes, I'll be making gratuitous use of the word "entries."

I plan on updating this blog whenever something funny strikes me (since I so rarely strike something funny). It should be a nice change of pace from "A Floydian Slip," which is best read when playing "Edward Fortyhands" with two bottles of malt liquor taped to your palms. In the immortal words of your mom, you're going to love this.