Everyone knows the various stereotypes within academia; for example, the math, science, and engineering departments are all filled with Asians and Indians.
However, you can find similar pigeonholing within academic disciplines. For example, a black person is supposed to be teaching something about African or African-American history, while an Asian person is supposed to be teaching Asian history.
I can understand it if its the case, but what if you simply don't care to study it? I've come across people who can't get over the fact that their advisers simply try to shepherd them into the "appropriate" minority field of study. I remember coming across a woman who faced the same frustrations. Apparently because she was a woman, the expectation was that she would study women's history, which was not the case.
Some people try to dress it up as "knowing the subject of study well" and "knowing the audience" but what they fail to realize is that some people would rather just study old dead white dudes. Sometimes old dead white dudes with guns.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Graduation Report
So even though I technically could've participated, I chose not to wear a funny hat and mumu and walk across a stage to shake hands with some dude for photo opportunities. Instead, I sat with the supporters in the cheap seats.
The day started out how it usually does: I didn't want to get up. I woke up initially at ten in a failed attempt to "beat the traffic," which wound up being an effort to sleep in until 11:30 AM, at which point I called my friend (codename: the Rock) to give me a ride. He picked me up shortly after, and we made our way to Charm City.
Well, it wasn't that easy. There was various piles of traffic littering the road. Apparently there's a lot to do in Charm City on a weekday during the middle of the workday. Who knows. There was an accident, so that would explain part of it. We watched the clock as we tried to make it in time to find halfway decent seats.
After finally making it into the city, me and the Rock were now on the quest to find parking and also the venue. It was quite an adventure, filled with wrong turns, expletives, and wondering where in the lord's green earth we'd wandered into. We eventually found parking at a ritzy hotel that would cost us whatever money we had left on our person, shoved in pocket corners and the bottoms of our shoes. Thankfully, this hotel was right across the street from the venue.
After making the perilous journey across the street (don't laugh until you've crossed some city streets) we made it inside. We discovered that apparently we weren't the only people who cared enough to come to this graduation. Apparently the people at our school have relatives who care and possibly some friends. We weren't the only one. After examining the situation, the Rock and I decide to go into the stands and watch from the back center. Centered, but afar. Story of my life.
We managed to get most of the "procession," i.e. the marching of students. Then the whole pre-show stuff started, with the national anthem and other such necessities. The one thing interesting about the whole thing was the fact that there was a sad attempt to do the Baltimore "O" during the anthem. Look it up. It's an actual thing they do. Weirdos.
So that was done and over with and the college president spoke. He's a charismatic fellow, so if he read a shopping list, most people would think "OH HELL YEAH BOLOGNA!!!" After that, the valedictorian spoke. I have never heard something more generic and dull since I read my last shopping list. It was probably the most generic statement one could have made about college. Thankfully, the speech lasted only 7 minutes, a period of time that probably wasn't useful to me anyway, so I wasn't too irritated by the loss.
There were a few of the "stand if you do [x] and let's give 'em a hand" moments. Apparently the entirety of the history department (save a certain reporter, who was in the stands) stood up when the President wanted to honor the future teachers. Tough economic times.
Honorary degrees were given to people who've "achieved things." This must make the Ph.Ds who slaved away at their degrees very jealous of these folks who are just handed the degree.
Then eventually we got to the people walking across the stage deal. We waited for our friend (alias "Mr. Too Big for Society") to walk across the stage. However, since the majors were listed alphabetically, he was stuck somewhere towards the end of the pack. I sat around and watched and waited for some of my other compatriots to let them know how much I really cared about them.
When Mr. Too Big for Society finally walked across the stage, I finally used all the energy I had been building up and using those vocal chords I'd been warming up for this moment. Cue the Michael Jordan intro music. I shouted "hard wood" as loud as I could. So the exact moment can be summarized by the following
"HARD WOOD!!!!!"
Yep. Screamed that out loud in public. Probably should've checked for children, pregnant women, and priests in the area, but it was too late. They just saw some maniac freak out and scream "hard wood" in public. It was great.
After that, it wound down. I increasingly got bored, thirsty, and hungry at the same time. I took a few breaks. The rest is a blur.
So that is the commencement that I did not participate in but nevertheless attended to at least make someone's day just a little bit more uncomfortable.
The day started out how it usually does: I didn't want to get up. I woke up initially at ten in a failed attempt to "beat the traffic," which wound up being an effort to sleep in until 11:30 AM, at which point I called my friend (codename: the Rock) to give me a ride. He picked me up shortly after, and we made our way to Charm City.
Well, it wasn't that easy. There was various piles of traffic littering the road. Apparently there's a lot to do in Charm City on a weekday during the middle of the workday. Who knows. There was an accident, so that would explain part of it. We watched the clock as we tried to make it in time to find halfway decent seats.
After finally making it into the city, me and the Rock were now on the quest to find parking and also the venue. It was quite an adventure, filled with wrong turns, expletives, and wondering where in the lord's green earth we'd wandered into. We eventually found parking at a ritzy hotel that would cost us whatever money we had left on our person, shoved in pocket corners and the bottoms of our shoes. Thankfully, this hotel was right across the street from the venue.
After making the perilous journey across the street (don't laugh until you've crossed some city streets) we made it inside. We discovered that apparently we weren't the only people who cared enough to come to this graduation. Apparently the people at our school have relatives who care and possibly some friends. We weren't the only one. After examining the situation, the Rock and I decide to go into the stands and watch from the back center. Centered, but afar. Story of my life.
We managed to get most of the "procession," i.e. the marching of students. Then the whole pre-show stuff started, with the national anthem and other such necessities. The one thing interesting about the whole thing was the fact that there was a sad attempt to do the Baltimore "O" during the anthem. Look it up. It's an actual thing they do. Weirdos.
So that was done and over with and the college president spoke. He's a charismatic fellow, so if he read a shopping list, most people would think "OH HELL YEAH BOLOGNA!!!" After that, the valedictorian spoke. I have never heard something more generic and dull since I read my last shopping list. It was probably the most generic statement one could have made about college. Thankfully, the speech lasted only 7 minutes, a period of time that probably wasn't useful to me anyway, so I wasn't too irritated by the loss.
There were a few of the "stand if you do [x] and let's give 'em a hand" moments. Apparently the entirety of the history department (save a certain reporter, who was in the stands) stood up when the President wanted to honor the future teachers. Tough economic times.
Honorary degrees were given to people who've "achieved things." This must make the Ph.Ds who slaved away at their degrees very jealous of these folks who are just handed the degree.
Then eventually we got to the people walking across the stage deal. We waited for our friend (alias "Mr. Too Big for Society") to walk across the stage. However, since the majors were listed alphabetically, he was stuck somewhere towards the end of the pack. I sat around and watched and waited for some of my other compatriots to let them know how much I really cared about them.
When Mr. Too Big for Society finally walked across the stage, I finally used all the energy I had been building up and using those vocal chords I'd been warming up for this moment. Cue the Michael Jordan intro music. I shouted "hard wood" as loud as I could. So the exact moment can be summarized by the following
"HARD WOOD!!!!!"
Yep. Screamed that out loud in public. Probably should've checked for children, pregnant women, and priests in the area, but it was too late. They just saw some maniac freak out and scream "hard wood" in public. It was great.
After that, it wound down. I increasingly got bored, thirsty, and hungry at the same time. I took a few breaks. The rest is a blur.
So that is the commencement that I did not participate in but nevertheless attended to at least make someone's day just a little bit more uncomfortable.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Legend of the China Specialist
Some people are not qualified to do certain things. For example, I am most certainly not qualified to pitch for the New York Yankees (although judging from the game on Saturday, April 18, 2009, I'm going to start to limber up my arm just in case they need someone...but that's another blog post). And a lot of people are not qualified to comment on national affairs.
In that category is Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan is qualified to do a lot of things. He can "act," (dispelling the notion that English skills are necessary for any Asian to succeed in the United States), sing, and now he's apparently a qualified analyst on what sort of government the Chinese people need.
Recently, since apparently carrying the Olympic torch bestows powers I never knew about, Jackie Chan felt qualified to commentate about democracy in the "People's" "Republic" of China. And apparently, the Chinese people aren't ready to handle democracy and "need to be controlled."
Yes, the Chinese, the folks who brought you such great things as paper, gunpowder, chopsticks, printing, and the majority of your local university's computer science department, can't handle democracy because they're too busy...I don't freaking know.
Seriously, dude. Your reasoning is because Taiwan and Hong Kong are "chaotic." Right...yeah...and what the hell is Pakistan? Or Somalia, for that matter? Or this guy's 21st birthday party?
Let's take a look at the facts: Hong Kong is fairly freaking tame, despite what John Woo's movies say about it. It's a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but what city isn't? And it's not like it's being toppled by a coup d'etat every week or so. Nor is Taiwan. The "troubles" they've been having are fairly negligible compared to the actual chaos occuring in other nations.
Furthermore, let's take a look at how you've benefitted from a free world. Much of the money you've made, Mr. Chan, has been made in countries where freedom and democracy are thriving. Just letting you know. Heck, had you not been from Hong Kong, it might've been very very different for you.
And what would you suggest? Mao didn't exactly work out for China in the long run. And what do you base your judgement on? Hong Kong and Taiwan are about as chaotic as a dim sum brunch.
Maybe it's time to go back to making Shanghai Mornings or whatever it is you do.
In that category is Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan is qualified to do a lot of things. He can "act," (dispelling the notion that English skills are necessary for any Asian to succeed in the United States), sing, and now he's apparently a qualified analyst on what sort of government the Chinese people need.
Recently, since apparently carrying the Olympic torch bestows powers I never knew about, Jackie Chan felt qualified to commentate about democracy in the "People's" "Republic" of China. And apparently, the Chinese people aren't ready to handle democracy and "need to be controlled."
Yes, the Chinese, the folks who brought you such great things as paper, gunpowder, chopsticks, printing, and the majority of your local university's computer science department, can't handle democracy because they're too busy...I don't freaking know.
Seriously, dude. Your reasoning is because Taiwan and Hong Kong are "chaotic." Right...yeah...and what the hell is Pakistan? Or Somalia, for that matter? Or this guy's 21st birthday party?
Let's take a look at the facts: Hong Kong is fairly freaking tame, despite what John Woo's movies say about it. It's a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but what city isn't? And it's not like it's being toppled by a coup d'etat every week or so. Nor is Taiwan. The "troubles" they've been having are fairly negligible compared to the actual chaos occuring in other nations.
Furthermore, let's take a look at how you've benefitted from a free world. Much of the money you've made, Mr. Chan, has been made in countries where freedom and democracy are thriving. Just letting you know. Heck, had you not been from Hong Kong, it might've been very very different for you.
And what would you suggest? Mao didn't exactly work out for China in the long run. And what do you base your judgement on? Hong Kong and Taiwan are about as chaotic as a dim sum brunch.
Maybe it's time to go back to making Shanghai Mornings or whatever it is you do.
Friday, April 3, 2009
No More Mr. Nice Guy?
I'm a big fan of two things: history and not doing a damn thing. Thankfully, there's the internet for people like me. One of the my favorite sites to peruse when I'm busy accomplishing both is Cracked, a site like Mental Floss with some videos and also more snarky attitude that hints of 4Chan (if you can call what you find on 4Chan "snarky attitude). Perhaps the best way to put it is that it's less hipster.
They, like Mental Floss, have lists of stuff that tell you about some really neat stuff. One of the lists that I came across during my hourly perusal of the site is entitled "6 Historical Villains Who Were OK Guys." Go ahead and read it, and I'll let you know what I think.
6) Genghis Khan
He was a pretty nasty dude, but considering where he came from (a combination of Baltimore and the Great Plains but with funny Asian dudes on horses), you really can't expect him to be some cuddly Barney-like object. But many people don't give him credit for things that are really freaking important. One example is diplomatic immunity. Beforehand, it was a occupation that could literally cause headaches, and by headaches I mean losing your head. Genghis Khan had a enough of these shenanigans and decided that the next punk-asses to give his diplomats any lip/a blade on the neck would be taken to the hole. Eventually this evolved to the charming folks at the UN sitting with headphones, totally not thinking about how the cops will totally kick their asses.
5) Benedict Arnold
They hit this one on the nail. I do have a bone to pick with their portrayal of the invasion of Canada. It was a stupid idea that didn't work (and didn't work the second time either) and probably shouldn't have been executed in the first place.
The mention of the alliance with France also is sort of misleading. Many, if not all, of the major figures in the revolution had some combat experience with the French.
4) Antonio Salieri
Whatever pauper's grave Mozart was buried in, all the copies of Amadeus and any mention of the film should be put in there with it. Granted, Mozart probably was some sort of flamboyant show off (a cross between that chick from Poison and Rick James). But that doesn't mean you have to do some movies that takes history and warps it into something else.
3) King John
They're giving him a lot of leeway here. King John wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, which they state. But that doesn't excuse the fun times he stirred up. I mean, when was the last time you managed to get an entire nation on the blacklist because you were an idiot?
The Magna Carta was fairly momentous, but it wasn't some amazing document that gave everyone equal rights and a white picket fence to put in front of their hovel. Not so. Cracked did a good job in pointing out that while it was a momentous occasion in the field of governments creating written documents to limit themselves, it wasn't that much of a victory over oppression.
They also bring up a good point about Richard I. For all intensive purposes, Richard I was a pretty bad king. He barely spent any of his time in England, instead devoting it to running around the Holy Land. And don't whip out some half-assed management theory about "managing through absence."
2) Captain William Bligh
Life in the British Navy sucked, and there's no other reason to believe differently in the case of the Bounty. Sailors get real pissy a lot of the time too. Plus, there's not much I know about the story, so I'll just gloss over it.
1) Edward I
Edward I was an amazing king. Compare what England was like under his rule with what it was like under his father, Henry III, and you'll see why. Thanks to Braveheart, this conception has been messed up.
Edward II, his son, was a total moron. He was about as much of a bumbling idiot as John was, and he made it look bad. His father tried setting it up as well as he could (including hooking him up with the hottest woman in Christendom at the time), but it all went to hell. Guess this competency thing skips a generation every once in a while.
They, like Mental Floss, have lists of stuff that tell you about some really neat stuff. One of the lists that I came across during my hourly perusal of the site is entitled "6 Historical Villains Who Were OK Guys." Go ahead and read it, and I'll let you know what I think.
6) Genghis Khan
He was a pretty nasty dude, but considering where he came from (a combination of Baltimore and the Great Plains but with funny Asian dudes on horses), you really can't expect him to be some cuddly Barney-like object. But many people don't give him credit for things that are really freaking important. One example is diplomatic immunity. Beforehand, it was a occupation that could literally cause headaches, and by headaches I mean losing your head. Genghis Khan had a enough of these shenanigans and decided that the next punk-asses to give his diplomats any lip/a blade on the neck would be taken to the hole. Eventually this evolved to the charming folks at the UN sitting with headphones, totally not thinking about how the cops will totally kick their asses.
5) Benedict Arnold
They hit this one on the nail. I do have a bone to pick with their portrayal of the invasion of Canada. It was a stupid idea that didn't work (and didn't work the second time either) and probably shouldn't have been executed in the first place.
The mention of the alliance with France also is sort of misleading. Many, if not all, of the major figures in the revolution had some combat experience with the French.
4) Antonio Salieri
Whatever pauper's grave Mozart was buried in, all the copies of Amadeus and any mention of the film should be put in there with it. Granted, Mozart probably was some sort of flamboyant show off (a cross between that chick from Poison and Rick James). But that doesn't mean you have to do some movies that takes history and warps it into something else.
3) King John
They're giving him a lot of leeway here. King John wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, which they state. But that doesn't excuse the fun times he stirred up. I mean, when was the last time you managed to get an entire nation on the blacklist because you were an idiot?
The Magna Carta was fairly momentous, but it wasn't some amazing document that gave everyone equal rights and a white picket fence to put in front of their hovel. Not so. Cracked did a good job in pointing out that while it was a momentous occasion in the field of governments creating written documents to limit themselves, it wasn't that much of a victory over oppression.
They also bring up a good point about Richard I. For all intensive purposes, Richard I was a pretty bad king. He barely spent any of his time in England, instead devoting it to running around the Holy Land. And don't whip out some half-assed management theory about "managing through absence."
2) Captain William Bligh
Life in the British Navy sucked, and there's no other reason to believe differently in the case of the Bounty. Sailors get real pissy a lot of the time too. Plus, there's not much I know about the story, so I'll just gloss over it.
1) Edward I
Edward I was an amazing king. Compare what England was like under his rule with what it was like under his father, Henry III, and you'll see why. Thanks to Braveheart, this conception has been messed up.
Edward II, his son, was a total moron. He was about as much of a bumbling idiot as John was, and he made it look bad. His father tried setting it up as well as he could (including hooking him up with the hottest woman in Christendom at the time), but it all went to hell. Guess this competency thing skips a generation every once in a while.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Party's Over
Being from the metropolitan New York area, the extravagant wealth of Wall Street wasn't some distant imagination of mine but something visible and tangible that I could see and (hopefully) one day experience first hand. Seeing it on the news everyday and meeting the fathers of friends who wore sharp suits and ties with crisp leather briefcases was a brief enough taste to make me want more...and to believe that I could not only taste it but even take a hearty bite.
As I grew up and the economy stalled and entered a dive it hasn't gotten out of yet, it became fairly evident that the extravagant wealth located on Wall Street was further than I previously believed, at least mentally. After a certain point, it was about as far from me as it was from the storekeeper in Lawrence, Kansas.
Reading the financial news sometimes makes a few of Shakespeare's tragedies downright cheery. I was only an infant when the last economically induced tragedy occurred on Wall Street. Even that didn't manage to leave such a wide swath of destruction. The current economic downturn now has seen the collapse of firms on Wall Street that had withstood several ups and downs, multiple terrorist attacks, the dot-com boom and bust. But due to some lending shenanigans, all of that is prologue.
Gone too are dreams and hopes of millions of Americans. There was a time when many thousands of people could have made a realistic play to be one of the multiple hordes on Wall Street, maybe even one of those who could have multiple homes only a Long Island Expressway ride apart. Now even the mere notion of being able to be a peon on the Great Wealthy Way has evaporated into the same air that retirements and dream homes and futures evaporated into.
Perhaps this is just a reminder for all of us that whatever rock we sit on, no matter how solid or adaptable, is never there permanently. It is only a matter of time before the winds of time and the streams of circumstances wash it away.
As I grew up and the economy stalled and entered a dive it hasn't gotten out of yet, it became fairly evident that the extravagant wealth located on Wall Street was further than I previously believed, at least mentally. After a certain point, it was about as far from me as it was from the storekeeper in Lawrence, Kansas.
Reading the financial news sometimes makes a few of Shakespeare's tragedies downright cheery. I was only an infant when the last economically induced tragedy occurred on Wall Street. Even that didn't manage to leave such a wide swath of destruction. The current economic downturn now has seen the collapse of firms on Wall Street that had withstood several ups and downs, multiple terrorist attacks, the dot-com boom and bust. But due to some lending shenanigans, all of that is prologue.
Gone too are dreams and hopes of millions of Americans. There was a time when many thousands of people could have made a realistic play to be one of the multiple hordes on Wall Street, maybe even one of those who could have multiple homes only a Long Island Expressway ride apart. Now even the mere notion of being able to be a peon on the Great Wealthy Way has evaporated into the same air that retirements and dream homes and futures evaporated into.
Perhaps this is just a reminder for all of us that whatever rock we sit on, no matter how solid or adaptable, is never there permanently. It is only a matter of time before the winds of time and the streams of circumstances wash it away.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wash Your Pants
For another account of the following events, check it out here.
So I'm in my room studying for an exam. Next thing you know, my friend knocks on my door and says "My friend (let's call him "Jackson") just posted on his Facebook status that he's in the engineering building and some tall nerdy dude just turned on a computer and is watching porn." I thought, "Hm...that's odd." My friend adds, "I commented 'pics or it didn't happen' and he replied 'he's still doing it.'"
The first instinct isn't "Fucking ew." The first instinct is "INVESTIGATE." I promptly change into street clothes and put on shoes as fast as I can. I grab my digital camera.
We rush outside. We try to work out the quickest way there. We figure it out and head that way. On the way there, we run into a guy (let's call him "Johnny") outside the engineering building where the lab is smoking a cigarette. He says, "Hey, what's up?" We quickly and hurriedly reply "Uh...we're real busy. Catch you later."
On the way to the lab, my friend jokingly says "What if it was 'Johnny?'" I dismiss this. When we get there, "Jackson" tells us, in some graphic detail (too graphic for this somewhat family blog) what he did and where he did it. I see the computer he was at.
Why is this important? Because here, when you leave your terminal for a while and you're still logged in, the computer "locks" and it says "This computer has been locked by [so and so]."
So naturally, when I see the exact computer, I immediately think "A-HA! I can see who it is!" So I walk over to check it out to see who it is, out of curiosity. And I see the name. No. It's..."Johnny." No. No. The guy we saw outside smoking a cigarette. No. No. No. A guy my friend and I BOTH KNOW. No. No. No. NO!!!
I am not prepared for this. I was expecting some pale mouthbreather that you'd see outside the lone adult movie theater in the Fells Point neighborhood in Baltimore on a Sunday afternoon wearing a trench coat and rubber boots, or perhaps one of those guys on To Catch a Predator. That I could've expected. This...this is too too much for me.
Bells and whistles are going off in my head like none other. It's like freaking Notre Dame in Paris during a wedding up there. I have information that I can't just divulge. I can't just belt out "'Johnny' was just squeezing the cream out of his eclair" in public. No. I must privately tell my friends the ridiculous mind-blowing news.
Then, all of a sudden, "Johnny" comes back into the computer lab. Oh no. Johnny sees me at his terminal. I have the information and my friend, "Jackson," and "Jackson's" friend don't have the information. I have to make it back. I am caught snooping for evidence. This cannot go down with me. It must be known.
"Hey," I think. "I think he might not have noticed me. I can make a break for it." Which is what I did. "Johnny" took a step. I took a step. "Johnny" took a step. I took a step. We match each other step for step.
I manage to get back just as he gets to his terminal. The horror and shock engulfs me. This man had been touching himself in public inches from where I had just stood. A man that I know. The look of horror on my friend's face is evident as well.
We promptly leave to go outside and proceed to giggle our asses off. We recount our own "touching" stories. I mention I saw some fellow watch porn on his laptop in class while there was a film being shown.
When we return, "Johnny" is at it again. The video chat is fully on. There's some scantily clad ho on the screen doing things. His eyes are glued to the gyrations and self-caresses on the screen. I watch in horror and amusement. He gets excited and starts giggling himself. I can't stop laughing and giggling. I snort in a futile effort to stifle my amusement. I cough to cover it up. My throat is sore.
Another stranger is party to what is going on. "Johnny" is to this stranger's right hand side as he's, um, well, stretching the Johnson out. He hasn't looked to his right in about an hour. He looks horrified. I feel sympathy for him.
I decide to try to get a picture. Problem is that the camera makes noise when it takes a picture. So I step out of the lab to turn on the silent mode. I take a test picture of a sign. Quiet as a pin dropping. Perfect. I am going to win some sort of unofficial Pulitzer for this. Or at least have it put on CollegeHumor.
I go inside to try for the perfect angle without being too obvious to anyone else. I jostle, I fidget, I maneuver any which way to get the perfect angle of what's going on. No such luck. I just got cheated out of the image of the week: a dude yanking his doodle in public. My career as a photojournalist got cut short by my desire to remain incognito, much like some wildlife expert in the savanna, observing the wildlife in as undisturbed of an environment as possible.
Eventually "Johnny" gets wise to our leering eyes, and he throws up MATLAB as a cover. Just tosses it up and acts like he's working, when in actuality he's just moving the mouse around and pretending to work as a stalling tactic so he can go back to "Fantasy Sparkles" get her groove on in cyberspace. We sit there for a bit longer, and me and my friend decide to leave.
My friend and I are in amazement that the guy would continue to patron the virtual services of that nature even after he was clearly busted, literally, with his pants down. We both know that "Johnny" has a computer in his room.
Now I have watched a New York Giants game on the school computers. That was when my laptop was busted. But I don't exactly look at dirty pictures on the computers, nor do I decide to unzip and let it fly.
This leaves us with the only conclusion: he's gone from weird fucking dude to...public pervert.
Now do not question my morals here. I just put myself on the line for the public good. You're welcome.
Which leaves us with this question: How much was he paying for this?
(some identities changed to protect the real people. yes this happened. you cannot make shit like this up.)
So I'm in my room studying for an exam. Next thing you know, my friend knocks on my door and says "My friend (let's call him "Jackson") just posted on his Facebook status that he's in the engineering building and some tall nerdy dude just turned on a computer and is watching porn." I thought, "Hm...that's odd." My friend adds, "I commented 'pics or it didn't happen' and he replied 'he's still doing it.'"
The first instinct isn't "Fucking ew." The first instinct is "INVESTIGATE." I promptly change into street clothes and put on shoes as fast as I can. I grab my digital camera.
We rush outside. We try to work out the quickest way there. We figure it out and head that way. On the way there, we run into a guy (let's call him "Johnny") outside the engineering building where the lab is smoking a cigarette. He says, "Hey, what's up?" We quickly and hurriedly reply "Uh...we're real busy. Catch you later."
On the way to the lab, my friend jokingly says "What if it was 'Johnny?'" I dismiss this. When we get there, "Jackson" tells us, in some graphic detail (too graphic for this somewhat family blog) what he did and where he did it. I see the computer he was at.
Why is this important? Because here, when you leave your terminal for a while and you're still logged in, the computer "locks" and it says "This computer has been locked by [so and so]."
So naturally, when I see the exact computer, I immediately think "A-HA! I can see who it is!" So I walk over to check it out to see who it is, out of curiosity. And I see the name. No. It's..."Johnny." No. No. The guy we saw outside smoking a cigarette. No. No. No. A guy my friend and I BOTH KNOW. No. No. No. NO!!!
I am not prepared for this. I was expecting some pale mouthbreather that you'd see outside the lone adult movie theater in the Fells Point neighborhood in Baltimore on a Sunday afternoon wearing a trench coat and rubber boots, or perhaps one of those guys on To Catch a Predator. That I could've expected. This...this is too too much for me.
Bells and whistles are going off in my head like none other. It's like freaking Notre Dame in Paris during a wedding up there. I have information that I can't just divulge. I can't just belt out "'Johnny' was just squeezing the cream out of his eclair" in public. No. I must privately tell my friends the ridiculous mind-blowing news.
Then, all of a sudden, "Johnny" comes back into the computer lab. Oh no. Johnny sees me at his terminal. I have the information and my friend, "Jackson," and "Jackson's" friend don't have the information. I have to make it back. I am caught snooping for evidence. This cannot go down with me. It must be known.
"Hey," I think. "I think he might not have noticed me. I can make a break for it." Which is what I did. "Johnny" took a step. I took a step. "Johnny" took a step. I took a step. We match each other step for step.
I manage to get back just as he gets to his terminal. The horror and shock engulfs me. This man had been touching himself in public inches from where I had just stood. A man that I know. The look of horror on my friend's face is evident as well.
We promptly leave to go outside and proceed to giggle our asses off. We recount our own "touching" stories. I mention I saw some fellow watch porn on his laptop in class while there was a film being shown.
When we return, "Johnny" is at it again. The video chat is fully on. There's some scantily clad ho on the screen doing things. His eyes are glued to the gyrations and self-caresses on the screen. I watch in horror and amusement. He gets excited and starts giggling himself. I can't stop laughing and giggling. I snort in a futile effort to stifle my amusement. I cough to cover it up. My throat is sore.
Another stranger is party to what is going on. "Johnny" is to this stranger's right hand side as he's, um, well, stretching the Johnson out. He hasn't looked to his right in about an hour. He looks horrified. I feel sympathy for him.
I decide to try to get a picture. Problem is that the camera makes noise when it takes a picture. So I step out of the lab to turn on the silent mode. I take a test picture of a sign. Quiet as a pin dropping. Perfect. I am going to win some sort of unofficial Pulitzer for this. Or at least have it put on CollegeHumor.
I go inside to try for the perfect angle without being too obvious to anyone else. I jostle, I fidget, I maneuver any which way to get the perfect angle of what's going on. No such luck. I just got cheated out of the image of the week: a dude yanking his doodle in public. My career as a photojournalist got cut short by my desire to remain incognito, much like some wildlife expert in the savanna, observing the wildlife in as undisturbed of an environment as possible.
Eventually "Johnny" gets wise to our leering eyes, and he throws up MATLAB as a cover. Just tosses it up and acts like he's working, when in actuality he's just moving the mouse around and pretending to work as a stalling tactic so he can go back to "Fantasy Sparkles" get her groove on in cyberspace. We sit there for a bit longer, and me and my friend decide to leave.
My friend and I are in amazement that the guy would continue to patron the virtual services of that nature even after he was clearly busted, literally, with his pants down. We both know that "Johnny" has a computer in his room.
Now I have watched a New York Giants game on the school computers. That was when my laptop was busted. But I don't exactly look at dirty pictures on the computers, nor do I decide to unzip and let it fly.
This leaves us with the only conclusion: he's gone from weird fucking dude to...public pervert.
Now do not question my morals here. I just put myself on the line for the public good. You're welcome.
Which leaves us with this question: How much was he paying for this?
(some identities changed to protect the real people. yes this happened. you cannot make shit like this up.)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Not for Teacher
Even though I grew up in what was becoming more and more a white collar town (some would say the town would be "white trash with money," which is also true), there are some solidly blue-collar roots in the town. The local chapter of the Teamster's Union (Local 469) is based in the next town over. Many of the residents remember their parents or grandparents working in factories in the big cities and talking about the unions.
But perhaps the biggest union in the town is the teachers' union. This is mostly due to the fact that there are 12 elementary schools, 3 middle schools, and 2 high schools for the entire town for a grand total of 17 schools (i.e. tons of teachers). And while there were some sizable wealthy number of people who lived in the town, the majority of the town sent their children to the public schools as they provided a decent education.
As such, the teacher's union had some decently potent power. And as we all know, power corrupts, and potent power corrupts potently. The union eventually decided twice during my time in the K-12 system to go on strike because the town wanted to bring the level of benefits somewhere near the level of reality. The first time wasn't so bad as they managed to find enough substitutes to keep things somewhere near functional (well, as functional as one could when you see your English teacher outside with a sandwich board sign).
The second time is when hell not only broke loose but also busted out his buddies. Not only did they go on strike for a week, but schools were shut down as well. Furthermore, it was a day by day basis, so you really couldn't plan for it until you saw the morning news. In addition, since it is against the law where I'm from for teachers to strike, they got arrested. While there was the whole shtick of "oh, we're just doing what MLK did" (yes, they tossed that line out), it was interesting to see [Teacher X] who yelled at you in recess in an orange jumpsuit and leg chains.
What I got out of the whole ordeal (besides funny stories to tell the kids in neighboring towns) was a bit of wariness about unions. I understood their place in the world, but sometimes it just gets out of hand and the purpose gets lost in megalomaniac's pipe dream and delusions of grandeur. And once that happens, well, you're just about as bad as the employers.
As such, when the news about Obama stiffing it to the teachers by telling them that they actually (like real people) had to earn their keep by *gasp* doing a good job, I felt somewhat proud of the guy. I mailed it in through the majority of K-12 education and had the teachers been actually rewarded for actually doing a good job, perhaps I would've actually learned more in school rather than outside of school watching TV, reading books, and playing video games.
The rest of us in the real world have to live by that standard. If we do a good job, we get rewarded, and if we've simply been mailing it in, we don't get rewarded and sometimes we get punished. There are reports that in some places, it's damn near impossible to fire some teachers for offenses that would find me out on my ass before I could think "organized labor." I fail to see what's wrong with that.
Furthermore, with a few exceptions, the people that I have seen going into education are less than, um, "intellectually stimulating" and as such, I'm pretty sure a good kick in the ass/some motivation to actually step it up a few notches in meaningful ways wouldn't hurt.
Then again, I'm pretty sure some time in leg shackles and an orange jumpsuit would perhaps part the same message as well.
But perhaps the biggest union in the town is the teachers' union. This is mostly due to the fact that there are 12 elementary schools, 3 middle schools, and 2 high schools for the entire town for a grand total of 17 schools (i.e. tons of teachers). And while there were some sizable wealthy number of people who lived in the town, the majority of the town sent their children to the public schools as they provided a decent education.
As such, the teacher's union had some decently potent power. And as we all know, power corrupts, and potent power corrupts potently. The union eventually decided twice during my time in the K-12 system to go on strike because the town wanted to bring the level of benefits somewhere near the level of reality. The first time wasn't so bad as they managed to find enough substitutes to keep things somewhere near functional (well, as functional as one could when you see your English teacher outside with a sandwich board sign).
The second time is when hell not only broke loose but also busted out his buddies. Not only did they go on strike for a week, but schools were shut down as well. Furthermore, it was a day by day basis, so you really couldn't plan for it until you saw the morning news. In addition, since it is against the law where I'm from for teachers to strike, they got arrested. While there was the whole shtick of "oh, we're just doing what MLK did" (yes, they tossed that line out), it was interesting to see [Teacher X] who yelled at you in recess in an orange jumpsuit and leg chains.
What I got out of the whole ordeal (besides funny stories to tell the kids in neighboring towns) was a bit of wariness about unions. I understood their place in the world, but sometimes it just gets out of hand and the purpose gets lost in megalomaniac's pipe dream and delusions of grandeur. And once that happens, well, you're just about as bad as the employers.
As such, when the news about Obama stiffing it to the teachers by telling them that they actually (like real people) had to earn their keep by *gasp* doing a good job, I felt somewhat proud of the guy. I mailed it in through the majority of K-12 education and had the teachers been actually rewarded for actually doing a good job, perhaps I would've actually learned more in school rather than outside of school watching TV, reading books, and playing video games.
The rest of us in the real world have to live by that standard. If we do a good job, we get rewarded, and if we've simply been mailing it in, we don't get rewarded and sometimes we get punished. There are reports that in some places, it's damn near impossible to fire some teachers for offenses that would find me out on my ass before I could think "organized labor." I fail to see what's wrong with that.
Furthermore, with a few exceptions, the people that I have seen going into education are less than, um, "intellectually stimulating" and as such, I'm pretty sure a good kick in the ass/some motivation to actually step it up a few notches in meaningful ways wouldn't hurt.
Then again, I'm pretty sure some time in leg shackles and an orange jumpsuit would perhaps part the same message as well.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
2-28
The Cold War was a pretty hairy time for most people in the world, especially if you lived in an area outside of Europe and its subsidiaries and the United States. Personal freedoms were quashed in many parts of the world in the name of stopping communism and (oddly enough) defending the free world. Human rights abuses occurred in nations ranging from Argentina to Zaire, all in the name of "freedom."
The beg
inning of a horrific and much too long chapter of the Republic of China's history during this time starts on February 28, 1947. The day previous, a riot had broken out after police apprehended a 40 year old widow for illegally selling cigarettes. The police had been less that civil in their handling of the situation, and the widow was pistol whipped. The surrounding crowd of Taiwanese were not so thrilled at the Chinese cops' show of force and made it clear that they didn't approve. They began to chase the cops and the cops fired back.
For a month afterward, the Taiwanese were able to seize control of the island. ROC officials declared a state of martial law to no avail at that point. On March 8, ROC troops landed on the island and began a nationwide crackdown on dissenters. It was not until 1987 that martial law and what became known as the White Terror ended.
It is still a subject that is not widely discussed in Taiwan. A reparation system has been set up by the government to set up funds for restitution for the victims or relatives of victims involved in the incident. Due to the fact that many Taiwanese have been fairly quiet on the subject, many people who were victimized are less than thrilled about coming forward about it and those relatives eligible might not even know about the involvement.
There is some openness about the incident now. A plaque commemorates the exact location of where the shooting took place. There is a memorial to the incident outside of the Presidential Office in Taipei. It's a fitting place to put it to remind the president about what happens when government steps too far for too long.
There is also a park in Taipei named 228 Memorial Park. The park, built as Taihoku Park by the Japanese and renamed Taipei New Park by the Chinese, was the center for broadcasting by the main authorities. The park recently had its name changed to commemorate the incident on February 28. Considering the fact that the park has had so much surrounding it that represented repression and restriction, it is sort of a dramatic irony that the park has become a spot where gay men meet. In fact, it was the starting point of the first and second Taiwan Gay Pride parades in 2003 and 2004.
Just to think...an incident of oppression lent its name to a park where people start marching from in a display of their freedom and individuality. Now that's progress.
The beg
inning of a horrific and much too long chapter of the Republic of China's history during this time starts on February 28, 1947. The day previous, a riot had broken out after police apprehended a 40 year old widow for illegally selling cigarettes. The police had been less that civil in their handling of the situation, and the widow was pistol whipped. The surrounding crowd of Taiwanese were not so thrilled at the Chinese cops' show of force and made it clear that they didn't approve. They began to chase the cops and the cops fired back.For a month afterward, the Taiwanese were able to seize control of the island. ROC officials declared a state of martial law to no avail at that point. On March 8, ROC troops landed on the island and began a nationwide crackdown on dissenters. It was not until 1987 that martial law and what became known as the White Terror ended.
It is still a subject that is not widely discussed in Taiwan. A reparation system has been set up by the government to set up funds for restitution for the victims or relatives of victims involved in the incident. Due to the fact that many Taiwanese have been fairly quiet on the subject, many people who were victimized are less than thrilled about coming forward about it and those relatives eligible might not even know about the involvement.
There is some openness about the incident now. A plaque commemorates the exact location of where the shooting took place. There is a memorial to the incident outside of the Presidential Office in Taipei. It's a fitting place to put it to remind the president about what happens when government steps too far for too long.There is also a park in Taipei named 228 Memorial Park. The park, built as Taihoku Park by the Japanese and renamed Taipei New Park by the Chinese, was the center for broadcasting by the main authorities. The park recently had its name changed to commemorate the incident on February 28. Considering the fact that the park has had so much surrounding it that represented repression and restriction, it is sort of a dramatic irony that the park has become a spot where gay men meet. In fact, it was the starting point of the first and second Taiwan Gay Pride parades in 2003 and 2004.
Just to think...an incident of oppression lent its name to a park where people start marching from in a display of their freedom and individuality. Now that's progress.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Race
This weekend, due to a hangover, my Indian friend, my white friend, and I (I'm Asian, just to clarify) sauntered into a Vietnamese restaurant to score some beef noodle soup. Afterward, we went into a nearby Indian grocery because apparently they have some really awesome mango juice. I made the quip that we were a walking joke at the point ("So a white guy, an Indian, and an Asian walk into an Indian grocery...").
We go in (I pick up a guava juice, for the record) and we go to the register. When we get to the register, the cashier (an Indian guy, if you forgot it was an Indian grocery) asked us how much the juice was. We didn't know, so he asked the other cashier (also Indian) what the price was on the juice. The other cashier said it was 99 cents. My Indian friend immediately agreed. The cashier immediate did one of those Russell Peters examples of "typical Indian behavior" and immediately did a finger wag and said "No no no no no no. It is not 99 cents. No no no no." He eventually ran back himself and checked the price. For the record, the price was $1.40.
Later that same weekend, my friend and I go to some bar in Halethorpe. Now this should've sent bells going off in my head. Halethorpe...bar...this isn't exactly going to be the Library Bar in LA or the Hudson Hotel Library Bar in NYC. But I thought "Hm...vaguely Irish name, must be an Irish bar. Can't be too bad, right?"
We show up to the place. There was a motorcycle outside what appeared to be a former residence that somehow scored a liquor license through some sort of coercion and rustling up of the local sheriff by some biker gang. I saw a motorcycle outside. Naturally, I thought to myself, "Hm...I wonder if there are any Asians in there" (I'm Asian, if you forgot already). My friend and I walked in and lo and behold there were no Asians. Instead, there were just several white people of the, um, upscale Appalachia variety looking at us. I don't know who they were staring at more: the young, clean cut college student or the Chinaman who was ruining their white haven. It didn't help that there was also some dude with a Confederate flag embroidered on his leather jacket. He probably owned the motorcycle outside. Thankfully, I was not the victim of a good ol' America Fuck Yeah moment gone wrong.
We go in (I pick up a guava juice, for the record) and we go to the register. When we get to the register, the cashier (an Indian guy, if you forgot it was an Indian grocery) asked us how much the juice was. We didn't know, so he asked the other cashier (also Indian) what the price was on the juice. The other cashier said it was 99 cents. My Indian friend immediately agreed. The cashier immediate did one of those Russell Peters examples of "typical Indian behavior" and immediately did a finger wag and said "No no no no no no. It is not 99 cents. No no no no." He eventually ran back himself and checked the price. For the record, the price was $1.40.
Later that same weekend, my friend and I go to some bar in Halethorpe. Now this should've sent bells going off in my head. Halethorpe...bar...this isn't exactly going to be the Library Bar in LA or the Hudson Hotel Library Bar in NYC. But I thought "Hm...vaguely Irish name, must be an Irish bar. Can't be too bad, right?"
We show up to the place. There was a motorcycle outside what appeared to be a former residence that somehow scored a liquor license through some sort of coercion and rustling up of the local sheriff by some biker gang. I saw a motorcycle outside. Naturally, I thought to myself, "Hm...I wonder if there are any Asians in there" (I'm Asian, if you forgot already). My friend and I walked in and lo and behold there were no Asians. Instead, there were just several white people of the, um, upscale Appalachia variety looking at us. I don't know who they were staring at more: the young, clean cut college student or the Chinaman who was ruining their white haven. It didn't help that there was also some dude with a Confederate flag embroidered on his leather jacket. He probably owned the motorcycle outside. Thankfully, I was not the victim of a good ol' America Fuck Yeah moment gone wrong.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Whoops
So according to one of my previous blog posts, I predicted that the Cardinals would win. It was looking good up until the last drive of the game. Guess that's a career path I shouldn't be taking.
Oh well. Life is not a feel good movie on Lifetime or the Disney Channel. This game reminds us that the underdog doesn't always win. There's a reason that they're the underdog. Sometimes the bad guys are victors. That's life, and we've all got to come to terms with it.
Spring training can't come soon enough.
Oh well. Life is not a feel good movie on Lifetime or the Disney Channel. This game reminds us that the underdog doesn't always win. There's a reason that they're the underdog. Sometimes the bad guys are victors. That's life, and we've all got to come to terms with it.
Spring training can't come soon enough.
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