George Carlin died on Sunday. Normally I'm not into bemoaning death. We all die, and if you made it past 70 you did pretty damn well. I don't see death as a tragedy-death just is. Still, I wasn't ready for George to go. He's been a viciously hilarious and wise presence in comedy my entire life. Not many people can spit the truth in your face as convincingly and lyrically as he did. I wanted to hear the next routine on the primary, and Iraq, and everything else.
So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm not sad that George died. He's well quit of this mess, gone to become one with the Great Electron (hummmmm, hummmmmm). But I am sad for myself, because I kinda thought he was always going to be there, reminding me of the absurd reality of this society we live in. Now I'll have to do my own remembering, and I'm not nearly as fucking funny.
P.S. Is it just me, or are a lot of famous people dying lately?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Futurism is not a fad
I was at a party last night with a whole bunch of poli-sci grad students, all from the same program. They were talking about the various ways they find to kill time on the net while still nominally thinking about their dissertation. One guy spent 3 hours that day watching YouTube clips of Irish folk discussing the recent defeat of the EU referendum. He's a European policy studies major-it's topical, right? More or less, anyway.
This got me thinking as I brushed my teeth later that night: where do I lurk on the net, and how does that relate to my work? Sure, I spend a lot of time reading about sustainability and environmental policy, which directly applies to my work. But I also find myself reading a lot about futurism, even when it has nothing to do with "green". Why? The short answer: because it's Important. Yes, with a capital I.
Once upon a time it was fine if Nostradamus was the only guy with a bead on the future. Change happened so slowly that you were pretty sure to live and die under the same rules. Events might come and go, but the governing principals of the universe as you knew it didn't alter. When change did happen, it was usually isolated and well-announced, making it easier to assimilate. World-shattering change occurred on a time scale measured in generations.
These days world shattering change comes around several times a decade, and smaller changes proliferate like bored bunnies on Viagra. We have to keep looking ahead just to avoid getting clobbered by some unforeseen upheaval. Five years out is cloudy, and 50 years out is essentially impossible to predict. The only way to be even mildly prepared is to wade through the ocean of daily events and look for the sticky stuff. What's a Tickle-Me Elmo, and what's the next World of Warcraft? What's going to hang around and have an impact?
Searching and sifting through the proliferating changes of our world is not something most people can devote a whole lot of time to in a day. Most of us still have to write the memos, sell the sandwiches, and pave the roads that keep our society running. That is why futurism, and futurists, are so important. They do the foresight for us, and hopefully we learn to listen and adapt. It's like Nostradamus, if Nostradamus had wandered down south in the early 1800s talking about the new-fangled cotton gin and the fact that slave labor was on its way out.
As long as the pace of change outstrips our ability to predict and process, we are going to need futurists. Someday they may be seen like the meteorologist or the market analyst-just another purveyor of specialized knowledge that we consult in the daily paper to guide our decision-making.
This got me thinking as I brushed my teeth later that night: where do I lurk on the net, and how does that relate to my work? Sure, I spend a lot of time reading about sustainability and environmental policy, which directly applies to my work. But I also find myself reading a lot about futurism, even when it has nothing to do with "green". Why? The short answer: because it's Important. Yes, with a capital I.
Once upon a time it was fine if Nostradamus was the only guy with a bead on the future. Change happened so slowly that you were pretty sure to live and die under the same rules. Events might come and go, but the governing principals of the universe as you knew it didn't alter. When change did happen, it was usually isolated and well-announced, making it easier to assimilate. World-shattering change occurred on a time scale measured in generations.
These days world shattering change comes around several times a decade, and smaller changes proliferate like bored bunnies on Viagra. We have to keep looking ahead just to avoid getting clobbered by some unforeseen upheaval. Five years out is cloudy, and 50 years out is essentially impossible to predict. The only way to be even mildly prepared is to wade through the ocean of daily events and look for the sticky stuff. What's a Tickle-Me Elmo, and what's the next World of Warcraft? What's going to hang around and have an impact?
Searching and sifting through the proliferating changes of our world is not something most people can devote a whole lot of time to in a day. Most of us still have to write the memos, sell the sandwiches, and pave the roads that keep our society running. That is why futurism, and futurists, are so important. They do the foresight for us, and hopefully we learn to listen and adapt. It's like Nostradamus, if Nostradamus had wandered down south in the early 1800s talking about the new-fangled cotton gin and the fact that slave labor was on its way out.
As long as the pace of change outstrips our ability to predict and process, we are going to need futurists. Someday they may be seen like the meteorologist or the market analyst-just another purveyor of specialized knowledge that we consult in the daily paper to guide our decision-making.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Attack of the Deep-Fry Bandits
Lock up your lard, ladies and gentlemen. In the post-Iraq, carbon-paranoid world of the near future, grease is the new gold. How do I know this? Because people are stealing it. Mad Max, eat your heart out.
Shifts in criminal activity may be one of the best futurist tools out there. While the majority of America is talking about tar sands extraction and corn ethanol, the black market is trading fry oil because it's WORTH MONEY. Imagine it: the bandit in the article had collected a $6000 haul just by vacuuming up oil that most restaurants store out back with the garbage. Fry oil has quintupled in price over the last eight years, but to most people this commodity still looks and smells like waste.
The massive increase in the value of used grease indicates an intriguing shift in thinking. Instead of talking about the price of gas, we need to start talking about the price of personal transportation. Gas isn't really the point; the point is, how much does it cost me to use a personal combustion engine to get around? Oil, ethanol, and biodiesel all offer the same service in the end-combustible fuel. Leaving your fry grease in a tub out back is like storing a couple barrels of crude next to the dumpster. Except that fry grease is easier to process.
My friend Brian likes to talk about preparing for the End Times. He says he's stockpiling rice and guns in his basement-the Apocalypse ain't takin' him unprepared. Me, I'm filling my basement with lard. Brian won't get very far without fuel for his biodiesel scooter. Also, lard makes the BEST pies.
Shifts in criminal activity may be one of the best futurist tools out there. While the majority of America is talking about tar sands extraction and corn ethanol, the black market is trading fry oil because it's WORTH MONEY. Imagine it: the bandit in the article had collected a $6000 haul just by vacuuming up oil that most restaurants store out back with the garbage. Fry oil has quintupled in price over the last eight years, but to most people this commodity still looks and smells like waste.
The massive increase in the value of used grease indicates an intriguing shift in thinking. Instead of talking about the price of gas, we need to start talking about the price of personal transportation. Gas isn't really the point; the point is, how much does it cost me to use a personal combustion engine to get around? Oil, ethanol, and biodiesel all offer the same service in the end-combustible fuel. Leaving your fry grease in a tub out back is like storing a couple barrels of crude next to the dumpster. Except that fry grease is easier to process.
My friend Brian likes to talk about preparing for the End Times. He says he's stockpiling rice and guns in his basement-the Apocalypse ain't takin' him unprepared. Me, I'm filling my basement with lard. Brian won't get very far without fuel for his biodiesel scooter. Also, lard makes the BEST pies.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Duct Tape Vagina
So yes, I just watched this abstinence video asserting that having multiple sex partners makes you dirty, less of a person, and incapable of lasting commitment. Where to begin? First of all, why is some sex like sticking to a wall or a garbage can, but other sex like sticking to other pieces of tape? If we're all tape, then all sex is tape-on-tape, right? Maybe tape-on-wall sex is bestiality? Or use of sex toys?
OK, maybe my tape gets dirty when I stick to other dirty tape. That makes some sense. But how did that tape get dirty? Does the very act of pre-marital sex-I mean tape sticking- somehow involve dirt? What, do you think premarital sex only happens in cornfields and public restrooms or something? I like my own bed with clean sheets, thanks. The floor can be fun, but I prefer it swept.
Of course, physically the whole analogy fails. My vagina is not sticky, and I wash regularly whether or not I'm having sex. There is nothing in my body but me. Up to and until the time I may get pregnant, all of my body belongs to me alone. Same goes for all of you, male and female.
But psychologically, emotionally...maybe this whole duct tape thing has a point. I have certainly taken a part of all my partners with me, whether big or small. And that's a GOOD THING. Some of my favorite music, authors, and ideas have been discovered through lovers. From one I learned that I love to have my hair brushed, from another I learned a whole new depth of feminism. I in turn have left behind some good taste, absurdist humor, and self-knowledge. These things are not diminished in the sharing. One night with a loving friend helped give me back a piece of myself that I had been missing since an assault months before. My partners have also helped teach me how to have sex that I really enjoy, which believe it or not is something I did need to learn.
Abstinence advocates could argue that the important things can be shared without actually having sex. Maybe, maybe not. The depth of emotional connection that exists in an sexual partnership can open doors that otherwise remain shut. Some of my best (and hardest) personal growth has come out of my intimate relationships. I'm not advocating that you sleep with everyone whose taste or personality you admire. That probably won't be right for you. Choosing to have sex with the wrong person can be it's own important lesson, but no need to go looking for that experience.
Also, if you don't want to have sex, DON'T! For heaven's sake, do what is right for you. You can develop other types of relationships that will help you grow and enrich your life. TAKE YOUR TIME. But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that intimate sexual relationships have an important and unique impact on who we are as human beings. I wouldn't readily enter into a relationship with a person who did not have a similar level of experience. I don't mean they need to have had sex with X number of people, I mean they need to have gone through certain things: first love, first heartbreak, co-habitation, doing the stupid thing and surviving to tell the tale...
So, to bring it all back home, I have a thought. A counter-video, if you will. Using the same music and most of the text, but showing people with big pieces of duct tape covered in bite-size candy bars. Any time two people "stick" to each other, they exchange candy. "Oooh, I got a strawberry starburst from that one!"
Which leads to a whole new question: What flavor candy are you?
OK, maybe my tape gets dirty when I stick to other dirty tape. That makes some sense. But how did that tape get dirty? Does the very act of pre-marital sex-I mean tape sticking- somehow involve dirt? What, do you think premarital sex only happens in cornfields and public restrooms or something? I like my own bed with clean sheets, thanks. The floor can be fun, but I prefer it swept.
Of course, physically the whole analogy fails. My vagina is not sticky, and I wash regularly whether or not I'm having sex. There is nothing in my body but me. Up to and until the time I may get pregnant, all of my body belongs to me alone. Same goes for all of you, male and female.
But psychologically, emotionally...maybe this whole duct tape thing has a point. I have certainly taken a part of all my partners with me, whether big or small. And that's a GOOD THING. Some of my favorite music, authors, and ideas have been discovered through lovers. From one I learned that I love to have my hair brushed, from another I learned a whole new depth of feminism. I in turn have left behind some good taste, absurdist humor, and self-knowledge. These things are not diminished in the sharing. One night with a loving friend helped give me back a piece of myself that I had been missing since an assault months before. My partners have also helped teach me how to have sex that I really enjoy, which believe it or not is something I did need to learn.
Abstinence advocates could argue that the important things can be shared without actually having sex. Maybe, maybe not. The depth of emotional connection that exists in an sexual partnership can open doors that otherwise remain shut. Some of my best (and hardest) personal growth has come out of my intimate relationships. I'm not advocating that you sleep with everyone whose taste or personality you admire. That probably won't be right for you. Choosing to have sex with the wrong person can be it's own important lesson, but no need to go looking for that experience.
Also, if you don't want to have sex, DON'T! For heaven's sake, do what is right for you. You can develop other types of relationships that will help you grow and enrich your life. TAKE YOUR TIME. But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that intimate sexual relationships have an important and unique impact on who we are as human beings. I wouldn't readily enter into a relationship with a person who did not have a similar level of experience. I don't mean they need to have had sex with X number of people, I mean they need to have gone through certain things: first love, first heartbreak, co-habitation, doing the stupid thing and surviving to tell the tale...
So, to bring it all back home, I have a thought. A counter-video, if you will. Using the same music and most of the text, but showing people with big pieces of duct tape covered in bite-size candy bars. Any time two people "stick" to each other, they exchange candy. "Oooh, I got a strawberry starburst from that one!"
Which leads to a whole new question: What flavor candy are you?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Arghh
I walked around the lake this morning for my weekly farmer's market visit, and it was lovely as usual except for one factor: the dueling protesters. On one sidewalk were the Women in Black against the War and In Favor of Palestine and Ending the Gaza Occupation, etc etc. On the opposite sidewalk were the cluster of people waving the huge Israeli flags and signs reading Peace With Security and pointing out that Israel makes good software (relevant?). So there they stand, waving their flags and shaking their signs and otherwise not saying or doing much at all. It feels like a bunch of tourists have brought their conflict and dumped it on my cheerfully diverse and down-to-earth Saturday celebration.
This is not about apathy or wishing that the difficult and scary things in the world never intruded on my privileged Bay Area bubble. I respect the difficulty of the conflict in the Middle East, and the last thing we need is more self-righteous glaring. Are these two groups of people really incapable of intelligent dialogue? Is this the best thing they could be doing with their time? Are there not activities that would better contribute to both their goals? If there is one thing I really can't stand, it's a self-indulgent waste of time masquerading as social justice.
This is not about apathy or wishing that the difficult and scary things in the world never intruded on my privileged Bay Area bubble. I respect the difficulty of the conflict in the Middle East, and the last thing we need is more self-righteous glaring. Are these two groups of people really incapable of intelligent dialogue? Is this the best thing they could be doing with their time? Are there not activities that would better contribute to both their goals? If there is one thing I really can't stand, it's a self-indulgent waste of time masquerading as social justice.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Birthday Week!
I turned 25 on Tuesday the 1st, and I have decided that I get a birthday week instead of just a single day. So happy birth-week to me for another 4 days! I'm not having much of a reaction to being 25, except to fervently hope this year is better than the last one was. One day at a time I suppose.
I bought myself a microwave which my grandmother has promised to pay for as a birthday gift. It's a silly thing to be excited about, but as a person living alone let me tell you: leftovers are much more likely to get eaten if you don't have to dirty as many dishes warming them as you would to make a new meal. I reheated something today and it was GREAT. Small pleasures, folks.
Also, sometimes miracles of modern technology really do feel like miracles. On my birthday I got a surprise phone call from two dear friends I never see, one of whom is in Cairo and another somewhere in Germany. They were on the same cheap phone call with the wonders of Skype. It was the best birthday gift ever.
I bought myself a microwave which my grandmother has promised to pay for as a birthday gift. It's a silly thing to be excited about, but as a person living alone let me tell you: leftovers are much more likely to get eaten if you don't have to dirty as many dishes warming them as you would to make a new meal. I reheated something today and it was GREAT. Small pleasures, folks.
Also, sometimes miracles of modern technology really do feel like miracles. On my birthday I got a surprise phone call from two dear friends I never see, one of whom is in Cairo and another somewhere in Germany. They were on the same cheap phone call with the wonders of Skype. It was the best birthday gift ever.
On Second Thought...
I have been meaning to post for days on my culinary school experience (this was the first week). So I just sat down to write and realized I am freakin' exhausted. Maybe not so much with the detail-heavy posts tonight. Eventually I hope to blog a bit about each class, to solidify the content in my mind and share the secrets of pastry chef-ing. Coming soon!
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