I love Fridays

• The little Asian that lady that cuts my hair for 6 bucks left the hair on the back, right side of my head about an inch longer than the left side. Now when I wake up in the morning, I have mad bedhead, but only on one side of my head. It's pretty funny looking.




• I ordered Elliot this flippin' sweet Darth Vader costume:Good gravy, we are going to get so much candy with him dressed like that.




• Friend of Bland ColoradoHurricane has audioblogged something that Cody should recognize quite well.




• The old, screenless phone is no longer in existence. Nor is my concubinage to Sprint. For those of you who never saw Ol' Silver in action, here's what you missed. So even though the screen was busted, I found out that if you held the battery reeeeeeeally tightly to the phone itself, and then turned it on, you could actually see stuff. The problem was, the second you released pressure on the battery, the screen would go blank again, so you couldn't use your fingers to navigate around. In a stroke of ingenuity (or drunkenness, the line is thin) I figured out that my nose worked nicely as a replacement for a finger. Of course, I tried the occasional pen or straw in mouth, but they were so much clumsier than the trusty nose. I think Richard has some pictures of me in action. He should post them.




• Wow. Before I got lost on that tangent, the original arc was intended to inform you that I am now a Verizon man (corporate discount, what?), and that in a shameless effort to field a response to this blog, you have to add a comment to today's post to get my new number. So there. And yes, I am officially 13 years old again. I win.

Riding the Bus

Because I realized that we are less than three months away from Christmas, I put my wishlist on my Blogger profile for your browsing pleasure (the link works now, try again). This way you can get a headstart on your shopping. At this point, I'd rather have a book than a DVD, so keep that in mind whilst picking out my gift. Also, there's lots of really good stuff buried deep in there, so try to make it past page 5 if you can.



Now that we have that out of the way, let's talk about bus etiquette. As you may or may not know, I am a daily participant in the Houston Metro public transportation system. I take the Park and Ride 25 miles every day to downtown, and I love it. God only knows how much it's saved me on gas so far this year, plus it's like a free hour of reading time... but all that's really irrelevant to the topic at hand. Sorry.

Bus etiquette. While I'm sure there's no formal set of bus etiquette a la Beadle's, common sense and social uprightness dictate a certain implied grace that should be practiced on any form of public transportation. Here are a few rules that I consider fairly obvious, which should be publicly enforced at all times:

1. Give up your seat for an elderly person, an infirm person, or a woman. Real quick point of reference: our bus is a charter style. That means all seats face forward, and there is a center aisle with sets of two seats to the right and the left, as such -

SS SS
SS SS
SS SS

I don't know how many times I've been stuck in a window seat, seen everything fill up, and then watched as an old lady boards and has to stand the whole time, while the knucklehead sitting right next to her sits there in oblivious land. This is the the point at which I want to stand up, scream, and pull out my hair in frustration.

2. Turn off your fucking cell phone. People (a significant number) are reading. People (a decent chunk) are trying to nap. People (everyone else) want to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet after a long day of work. The last thing anyone wants is to get trapped in a confined space listening to your your shitty half of a completely worthless conversation. If it is some sort of emergency and you have to take/make the call, at least make it quick and hushed. Loud, obnoxious banter with your bus buddy is also frowned upon. Seriously, no one gives a shit about your kids.

3. The seats come in pairs for a reason. That reason is not so that you have a place to set your bag/purse/briefcase/laptop/shit. That reason is so that two people can sit down. Put your shit on the floor. When you get into an empty set of seats, move all the way in. This allows someone else to sit. Don't be that jerk that thinks he's too good to have to share with a stranger. If you are that jerk and someone politely asks you to scoot in so that they can also sit, don't act like it's the inconvenience of a lifetime. You're only moving over 15 inches for God's sake.

4. Treat the driver like a human being. He's not your dog. You don't have the right to scold him and rub his face in it when he makes a poo poo.

5. When there is a long line of people waiting to get on, move as far to the back as possible before sitting down. This makes complete logistical and efficiency sense and could shave several minutes off the commute time, but people are too lazy and short-sighted and have too much of an impulse to be the first ones off the bus to actually realize this.

That should do it for now. I have to make.

The glories of Performance Management

So we have this peer review system at work that affects, among other things, our salary increase and our bonus percentage. Basically, in the overall review process, a certain weight is given to the subjective appraisal of your performance by the people with whom you work most intimately. Their reviews, combined with your achievement (or lackthereof) of certain personal "goals," and the final tweaking of your score by your boss, leave you with an integer ranking from 1-5. One is the best.

All nice and tidy up to this point until you realize that the company has decided in recent years to normalize their distribution curve. In other words, only 5% of any job type (tech, in my case) can be a one, 15% can be a two, 60% are threes, etc. Matters are further complicated by the fact that a three gets 100% of his target bonus and salary increase, but a one gets something like 105%, and a five gets nothing. Zilch. Still with me? As you can see, the stakes are high, to say the least.

Now, being the whiz kid that I am, I'm not worried at all that I'll be a one and banking it. I'm the shit. Still, I have to wonder about the justice of the system as a whole. I understand that in theory it should motivate people to perform to the best of their ability, and push themselves to the limit of performance. In theory. But still, even in that completely idealistic scenario, someone always ends up a five. At some point, reality sets in, and you must admit that not everyone subsists on the same overall talent and performance level. Even then - is that reason enough to, in effect, punish the man who just flat out doesn't have enough to offer?

A five is punishment, by the way. Receiving no bonus and no salary increase, when you factor in the inflationary cost of living, is tantamount to a salary decrease. You really gotta feel for the poor sap who's honestly put in his best effort and is rewarded with a big fat "try harder." Contrasted with the old system in which, theoretically, everyone could be a "one," I'm fairly certain that the percentile approach is bad for everyone. The one - if he has the slightest shred of conscious - ends up feeling somewhat guilty for the lack of graciousness the company feels toward his colleague's efforts. The five? Well, he just feels like shit no matter what. I think the overall depression in morale alone should convince the HR gurus that the system's a bust.

I say if you're gonna rate, screw the percentiles. Screw normalization. Let the boss rate as he will. Hell, that's part of his job anyway - to know the ability level of his employees and monitor their performance. As long as he's got some sort of documentation to justify his ranking in a disputable case, let him hack away.

No one asked me though.

Oh well. I should probably get back to being a one.

thoughts on history

I've been thinking a lot lately about whether or not it is possible to get the "definitive version" of history. Well, scratch that. Let's try again. I know the definitive version of history exists, but I've been wondering how rare it is for it to actually make itself known these days.

I have been inhaling Belloc lately, among several others. The man had an uncanny ability to elucidate historical truth. His style is straightforward, and he doesn't bother with the countless useless anecdotes which so often comprise the bulk of modern histories. Reading his work and taking what he presents as fact as such (easily verifiable), one can't help but conclude that he indeed writes the definitive version of the history he presents.

What then of the revisionist? Belloc himself, during the time in which he wrote, was a revisionist, challenging and upsetting the status quo. There is and always will be a genuine desire to seek out historical truth, and though of late this desire is spread thin among a haggard few, it is these few who we may rightfully and respectfully refer to as revisionists. Nevertheless, the zeitgeist seems to dictate that a work need not be really considered historical unless it is more analysis and exegesis than pure fact. Our collective consciousness, so embedded in the framework of a modern liberal arts mindset, demands nothing less.

The question then becomes whether or not the historian himself is qualified to offer a meaningful interpretation of events past as relevant to the present. My own personal belief is that, more often than not, he is not. After all, who is the modern historian? No longer is he the erudite scholar, poring over ancient manuscripts for days by candlelight alone, devoting a lifetime to both preservation and discovery. Nay, the modern historian is first and foremost an author. He is therefore obligated to approach a tried and true subject matter with novel and quirky approaches, in hopes of coming up with something comprehensive enough to print and market. Truly then, nothing is sacred to the modern historian, who thrives on controversy and contention, the two green lights of a sales campaign.

So although the definitive version of history is in fact an actuality, I say it is more likely to be found long published and long forgotten on the library shelf collecting dust, rather than "coming to a bookstand near you." Belloc, Dawson, Pirenne, Haskins, Tocqueville... the list is unending. Yes, the reading cycle has brought me back to history, and I feel I have to share the love with the rest of you.

P.S. Richard, it looks like reform is in your favor.

And now.....a new venue for dispute resolution

So...Vince, as the self-proclaimed head of The Triumvirate, how do you feel about this? Are you not threatened by those in The Triumvirate representing the proletariat (Uhh.....me) being able to topple you without posting rabidly and intelligently? Are my invariably hostile posts still humorous?



Indifferent. Nope. Yes, Richard, you're a comedy goldmine.

No Work Monday

Let it be known (especially to the Sunday Night Football crew) that there is only one LT, and LaDainian Tomlinson is not he. So stop calling him that.



I knew our office was still going to be closed today, so I decided to stay up and watch Kontroll last night. I was really looking forward to it after reading several positive reviews, but I have to say I was more than a little disappointed when it was all said and done. Sure, the cinematography and atmosphere were exceptional (although the latter was a bit wearying), but it seems like the whole thing was filled with a lot of symbolism that didn't really point to anything, and even more internal conflict that never materialized as relevant. Still, the basic concept of the film was both novel and interesting and the comedic bits were spot on. I'd add it to the Netflix queue, but don't throw it to the top of the list.

Long day ahead of errands and getting my house reorganized. Yippee. Take it sleazy.

"Live: From Home," or "Giz Predicts a Riot, or "Take Me Out to the Dance Hall"

You know, if there is another hurricane scare in this area within the next three or five years, I guarantee you no one will leave. Sure, weather prediction is about as pseudo-scientific as astrology, but when you convince 3 million or so people that they're better off on the road to nowhere than riding it out, most of them are left with a bit of a sour taste in the back of their mouths. I'm just thankful any damage around here was superficial.

This is a special weekend edition, so like other such posts, this one is void of all real content. I leave you instead with this gem from the Official Google Blog. It's a showcase for a predictive market system, powered by crowd consensus. Very, very cool.

Live: From the Road

Wow. Cluster-fuck does not even begin to describe the state of affairs on the road. 150 miles. 16 hours. Greatness. Gridlock for 8 hours on 59 South, in which period I travelled a total of 4.6 miles (on the first day it hit 100 degrees this year, no less). There were cars broken down, and cars out of gas EVERYWHERE. The median on I10 was a parking lot. Waller and Colombus counties are completely sold out of gas - as in, competely sold out. People in La Grange (my temporary residence) have cleaned out the local HEB. No meat, no milk, no eggs. It's just silly. The worse part is going to be getting back IN town tomorrow evening or Sunday... Oh yay.

P.S. Not everyone survived the Exodus. Dre, my gerbil, died of heat stroke during said gridlock. He will be missed. R.I.P. Dre.

I Predict a Riot

After a hiatus, it takes a hurricane and a working pc to bring me back to the blog. Props to the other two of the triumvirate for providing quality posts. But since Vince may have to take a refrain from posting for a while, and demand for posts remains high, I will try to prevent any sort of stagflation from reaching this blog. If you have come to expect intelligent posts in the past, I assure you that this one will be dissappointing. This is a post, thrown together in haste, where I will try to explain to myself what exactly is happening here in Dallas. I welcome all of the people from New Orleans, as well as Houston, who have made their way to our nearly fair city, but this self imposed panic stemming from Rita is killing me.
I went on an odyssey this evening, a quest for fuel if you will, and what I witnessed frustrated and infuriated me. 30 minute lines at Shell, 20 a Chevron, and 7-11 stations that were closed becuase they had no gas at all. Now, I realize that this is not just occuring in Dallas, but all over Texas as people from the gulf area make their way inland, but this is ridiculous. I heard about more people getting gas because they were afraid of rising prices, rather than actually needing it at the time. It seems to me that all it takes for this to happen is some guy sending an email to his office saying "I heard gas prices will hit $5.00 per gallon, so fuel up," for this whole damn state to go ape shit. I am probably wrong, but doesn't a sudden spike in consumption make just as much impact upon an oil crisis as a lowering of production itself? That is the same stagflation that I refered to earlier in this post. Sure, people are trying to get gas at its cheapest, but isn't this just a postponement of the inevitable? I refer to the sideways Laffer curve to help illustrate my point.

And what is my point?, I am not exactly sure, I am just venting, but seriously, this sucks. I think I will sell my car and move to New York City. Come to my going away party this weekedn here in Dallas, if you can get a tank of gas, as I bid this state and my car farewell. Seriously.

P.S. - People stocking up on bottled water here in Dallas, expecting massive power outages, and general confusion are also killing me. They complain about gas prices, then pay an even more inflated price for H2O, due to this same panic. For pitty poop's sake. Save the water and drink the wine.

Hurricanes and Hegelianism

Rita is coming. My first summer in the Gulf AND my first hurricance. So hardcore. Galveston county is going to issue the mandatory evacuation statement for me this evening, if she stays on course. I thought about defying authority and toughing it out, but unfortunately (or fortunately, the jury is still out) my mother reminded me that evacuating would be the wise - and therefore virtuous - thing to do. That and the whole "You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test" thing has me about 90% sure that I'll leave. Gizmo is having a going away party in Dallas this weekend anyway. It'll be like 1999.

Update: Wed. 2:50 PM I'm bookin' it to Austin for now, be in Dallas on Saturday. I have a sneaking suspicion that my apartment will be missing a roof and all my stuff destroyed when I get back. It's gonna be awesome. Stay safe.

Update II: Tues. 1:50 AM Said "fuck you" to the daytime evac traffic, decided to split in the dead of the night. Got the windows boarded up, but after keeping tabs on the storm track (updated above), I'm more convinced than ever that my apartment will no longer exist when I get back. Started and finished reading "The Cay" in honor of current circumstances. Packed up my guitar and a duffle bag. Had a moment of insight in which I realized that the stuff you take with you in a state of emergency probably defines you as a person as good as anything out there. Deep, I know. Suddenly realized that my sister and her children in Killeen are probably going to get tornadoed to shit. Not good. Anyhow, the "Vince" third of the Triumvirate show will now be reporting from the road for the rest of the week. Seacrest, out.

-------

"The true is the whole." The Phenomenonolgy of Spirit, George Wilhelm Hegel, 1807

In other news, I read a great article in the Standard last night. Paul Mirengoff and Scott Johnson (of Powerline fame) recount an "evolution of an evolution," if you will, and explain how the distinctly modern trend of treating the Constitution as a living document is also firmly rooted in Hegelian tradition. Couple this novel approach with the left leaning justices' penchant for using foreign source material in consitutional decisions, and what remains is not so much a judiciary that reviews objectively with respect to the Constitution, but rather a Wilsonian "cadre of experts" whose role becomes the very navigation of American society toward the "end of History" (liberal globalization, anyone?). It's a very astute analysis. Take a couple minutes, and Read the Article.

Quick thought

I wonder how many times the prepositional phrase "In the aftermath of hurricane Katrina" has been used in the last 3 weeks. A lot, I would bet.

What the fuck

First of all, Red River Rivalry is about the most AIDs-like name the powers that be could've possibly come up with. It's a Shootout, not a rivalry. A&M is a rivalry. Secondly, the marketing genius at the Coop that came up with this campaign needs to be drawn and quartered. "Operation Orange?" "Reverse the curse?" Give me a break. Whatever happened to the traditional "Fuck OU?"
That crap is awful.

First, yes, I was completely wrong about Arkansas-USC. The Trojans really are that good.
I will secretly admit that the reason I didn't go to the actual Texas game is that I knew it would be a blowout, and I really wanted to watch MSU-Notre Dame and Tennessee-Florida. Some fan I am, right? I think I made the right choice.

My favorite non-Horns games to watch are absolutely, without a doubt, big SEC night games. I think it might have something to do with the amazing production job that CBS does (best college football network, hands down), but their big games always just have an extra sense of charge. In comparison, our huge Big XII games usually look and sound like shit on ABC. You get a dull murmur when the crowd is roaring, their surround sound sucks, and the colors look washed out. Also, a couple SEC schools give us a pretty good run for hottest women in the country, so the whole conference get bonus points for that. Plus they play flat out fucking badass football.

On a completely unrelated note, one of the unfortunate side effects of drinking a six pack a night is the rather healthy dose of beer farts you are stuck with the next morning. I've gotten into the habit of just completely letting loose in my office, but it seems like the last couple of weeks the guys I work with have been timing me, and come in at just the right minute. I'm talking, I'll lay the egg, and they'll walk in during mid-hatch. As beer farts are particularly stank, I've perfected a few diversionary tactics to halp me save face. I prefer the "get up as soon as you see them at the door and pretend like you're about to go get a drink" move. The only drawback to that one is that I think they all suspect me of looking at porn now. The tradeoffs we make...

Genius

It's the sort of twisted interpretations of the mundane and ostensibly whimsical that slap you in the face with each punchline. It's comic gold. Read all of it. Now.

Demise of the Friday Booze Review

I had an entire scathing review of Old Speckled Hen all written up, but during proofread #1 I realized the Booze Review had run its course in time. After a three week absence, to revive it seemed a futile attempt to relive the glory days of a summer past. Now, as the leaves all turn red and I feel the touch of the cool fall breeze on my face, I come to realize... I'm gay. Just kidding. You thought I was about to go all Separate Peace on your ass. Still, let it be known that this is the official end of the Booze Review. May it rest in peace.

Back to Austin this weekend for the track meet against Rice. I can already smell the full plate of football, booze, and nubile freshmen. I say it again: God bless Texas. Enjoy yours!

I'm not a player I just crush a lot

I'm in love.

Morgan Webb.


She's on G4. She plays video games. She's geek-savvy. She's hot.


I'm working on a scheme to propose to her. I hope it works.

Score two for the home team

//begin random blurb

Probably my favorite part of being a corporate whore is all the free food. As a production company, we deal with hundreds of different vendors, most of whom appreciate our business so much that they send their salespeople to visit us during the breakfast hours and deliver gratuity offerings. Our floor gets the Weatherford guys on Monday (kolaches and fruit), 29 gets Schlumberger on Tuesdays (breakfast burritos), etc. So that covers breakfast throughout the week.

Lunch usually consists of leftovers from one of the myriad meetings conducted throughout the day. If you can hold out until 1:30 or so, without fail you will find a secretary carting Mexican, barbecue, sandwiches, or some other lunch type food back into the break room for all to enjoy. It's amazing.

// end random blurb

So I've been watching the Roberts confirmation hearing yesterday and today. A few thoughts:

• For a process in which the object is to have Judge Roberts' voice heard, we sure do have to sit through a whole lot of long-winded garbage from, seemingly, everyone BUT Roberts. I'd put the speaking time at 70/30, in favor of the Senators.
• The distinction between politician and judge is glaringly obvious in these proceedings. It's almost disgusting that one can distinguish such a disparity in class, intelligence, and prudence (even in this isolated situation) between Roberts and several of our elected officials.
• There is no doubt that abortion is the central issue on every Democratic senator's mind.
• Ed Kennedy looks like Jabba the Hutt.

At the end of the day, there is no reason why Judge Roberts' nomination should not be confirmed. He's concise, composed, unbiased, and balanced, even in the face of all sorts of ridiculous probing and questioning. More and most importantly, his judicial philosophy undeniably embodies the platonic ideal of law, and he is arguably the most qualified nominee to ever go before committee. He's a lock.

Demographics in Action

Check out this sweet Google Maps app. It displays data from the 2000 Census by location, depending on where you click. For example, here's what it shows centered around my place, in good ol' suburban Houston:


As you can see, not only is the median income within a mile of me $67,000, but there is exactly one Pacific Islander in the same radius. Fascinating. I'm actually surprised there as many Mexicans as indicated. This community is about as white as fucking Utah.

Now let's take a look at the Center of the Known Universe, aka West Campus:


Median income $21k (hooray college), average income $45k. I think the neighborhood West of Lamar drags us up. Let's see, what else... Median age, 21.5! Here's to eternal youth. The kicker is housing value (not shown), which is a whopping $255,000 MEDIAN! How much were we going to build a new house for, again?

Anyway, it's a pretty slick little program. If you switch to "Housing Report" mode, you can even see things like the aforementioned housing values, or average monthly rent, or the like. Pretty good info if you're planning on or thinking about a move. Check 'er out.

As for the rest of the weekend....

First of all, let's go ahead and get this out of the way: Cowboys rule, Texans drool.

And that's all that deserves to be said about opening weekend of the NFSMELL.

Moving on...

I didn't think it was possible to spontaneously orgasm over 300 times in one day, but that was indeed the case on Saturday. After about the tenth one, I quit changing my underwear. This was possibly the best single week in September in recent memory. So much good stuff to watch, I don't know where to start. Highlights in semi-chronological order I guess.

Congratulations, Ohio. You had your shot in the spotlight, and you danced like you've never danced before.

I admit, I teared up heavily during ABC's opening montage for the Notre Dame-Michigan game. How could you not? A well produced intro montage for a sporting event is probably one of the few things I could watch on repeat for the rest of my life. Besides Back to the Future. Anyway my thoughts on the game are as such: either Michigan was vastly overrated, or Notre Dame is the real deal. The Irish went into the Big House and better than held their own the entire game. The final score betrays the dominance they displayed over the the Wolvies. I think I'm officially on the Weis bandwagon. (And that whole first time the Irish have won 2 away games in a row since Knute stat is interesting and all, but it got beat into the ground really fast.)

Marshall, Marshall, Marshall... The end of the Marshall/K-State game was about as jaw-dropper as they come. I think Mark Snyder made what will become the absolute worst call of the 2005 college football season. Shit, it'll probably be the worst call of any high school season. I was so stunned when I saw it, that I orgasmed. Twice.

Tulsa-OU. Further proof that October 8 is going to be a gang rape. I can't wait to see Bomar get crushed. P.S. Fuck you, Peterson. If you weren't such a traitor, you could be winning badass games with us, instead of getting killed in championship games and then sucking even worse the very next season.

Iowa-ISU. The Big Ten continued its trend of top ten teams losing (3 in one day?!?). Iowa State COMPLETELY demolished the Hawkeyes, although you'd never know by checking today's polls. Seriously, I swear they have a room full of chimps somewhere, taking breaks from finger painting to pick names out of a hat for the rankings. They are utter garbage.

Georgia-USC. Why I love the SEC. And I can't tell you how happy I am that Spurrier is back in his element.

LSU-ASU. Wow. If I wasn't biased unto death I'd say this game might have been better than ours. JaMarcus Russell is simply outstanding. Talk about poise of poise to orchestrate a fourth quarter like that on the road, after what had been up to that point a shaky game. This game also proves to us (yet again) the profound importance of special teams. I love special teams. They're so... special.

And finally, I have a sneaking suspicion that the Trojans, after witnessing Arkansas lose at home to the Commies, are going to march into Fayetteville next week like they own the place. I have another sneaking suspicion (or it could be that guiso and bean burrito I just ate) that the Hogs will have a little something up their sleeve. Texas = undisputed #1 as of September 19th? To quote the timeless Dr. Seuss in his magnum opus, the Butter Battle Book: "We shall see, we shall see..."

There are moments in life that become touchstones, reference points for both the past and the future, against which all other experiences must be measured and evaluated. Perhaps the birth of a firstborn, or the death of a loved one would qualify... Or perhaps the biggest catch in Longhorn football history. Any attempt to articulate in words the glory of that play would be an exercise in futility. Suffice it to say that in my 22 years of life, the tears have never flown so freely as at that blessed moment in time.

God bless Texas.

So far, the posts are one dimensional

Which semi-pornographic pudding princess is more alluring to you? Right? No, left. I'm allowed to pick left because I have eternally cherubic facial features and no one would look askance at me eating that sweet, pre-pubescent pudding treat with glazed eyes and a chubby. You? Not so much.

You could look at this at work, but you'd have to be pretty quick with the page down key. I had to take a quick visit to nab the picture. Hopefully, when the tracking software flags the link it will place a little note next to it acquitting me of all company policy violations. "He didn't scroll down! He's an angel! Sing sweet seraphim!" It's just like not inhaling.

Uglimination Runs Rampant!

"Too much belly, not enough dance."

Admittedly, finding pictures of regrettably underdressed obese people is kind of like falling out of a boat and marvelling at getting wet in these trying times, but I've gotta provide the visceral, everyman appeal of the blog. I am the Id. Vince is the ego. With Giz, Mr. super-ego, MIA due to a chronic inability to fix his computer, I am tasked with the entertaining, but decidedly NSFW role of keeping your higher brain functions out of the picture in an Autobot v. Decepticon-style eternal struggle. Fuck you, Vince. Titties in your face (remember, NSFW = Not Safe For Work. Unless you work for...oh..Vivid Video...which I know as a pornography production company from a...uh...school report on religion).

The Story of My Life

I'm going to share with you a phenomenon I encounter quite often, and I'd like to know if it is a common experience. I'll call it New Guy Complex.

The course of the complex is as such. First of all, you're the new guy somewhere. The primary requisite is that there is a significant female presence in this place. Qualifying situations run the gamut from the first day of class, to moving to a new apartment, to starting at a new job or a new church.

Now, what is the first thing any God-fearing male does in an unfamiliar situation? That's right - he scans for opportunity. Of course, each guy has their own personal scanning method. I personally prefer the breast-up technique (if their ain't no white meat, I don't wanna eat), but the specific method employed is not terribly relevant. What is essential is that in an as fast and efficient manner as possible, said male has formed and internalized his "hit list." Phase one is now complete.

Some time passes. Not too long, mind, possibly 5 different exposures to the women on the list. At this point, a process takes shape. I call this process uglimination. After the certain period of time (and yes, it is different for all males), you see one of the chicks you once thought was hot and/or do-able, and realize, "ehhhh....." She is not as good looking as you once believed. In fact - she'd be eligible for the paper bag treatment. She definitely doesn't deserve to be on the list.

You have just ugliminated her.

Over time, the list becomes more and more refined. Eventually the male is left with a much smaller list than what he composed on day one. This, my friends, is the point where the complex really gets complicated, so bear with me.

In editing his list, the man is not always rational. In fact, this is a truism for men with respect to anything regarding the opposite sex. He may have considered a number of irrational factors in deciding who stays and who has to go. [Definition: an irrational factor is any aspect of the woman not dealing specifically with her attractiveness.] Irrational factors include such things as personality, sluttiness, or the possibility of a friends with benefits situation. These are factors that have plagued man's existence since the dawn of time, and we must not expect that we, as modern and advanced as we are, will be able to escape their effect.

Extreme irrationalism in man has one main consequence. A shitty final list. A truly insane man has on his list no good looking chicks, because he has overly weighed the benefits of said irrational factors. Although this is obviously the extreme case, it is unfortunate, nonetheless, and should sadden us all.

If the normal form of the complex is allowed to run its course, two things should happen. Number one: the final draft of your list should consist of girls that are way to hot for you to ever fuck. Number two: every time you see one of the chicks that got cut (which should be fairly often), you should internally cringe, and note to yourself, "what the fuck was I THINKING?!?," or something of similar effect.

Living with the complex has become a normal part of my life. Sure, there are some real bow-wows I have to pass in the halls of the office that were once on the hit list. But you know, it really gives one a sense of accomplishment, of growing up if you will, knowing that you have the ability to say, "No, I will not fuck you. My list is final, and my standards have been set." This is what we as scientists call "coping." And a wonderful thing it is.

Further undertaking:

There are several points of future research that need to be undertaken.

1) What is the effect of age and marital status in the development of the conflict? Untested hypothesis: you're old, you've been married way too long, anything willing to spread its legs that doesn't look like your wife is "all systems go." Theoretically, the complex fails.

2) What is the effect on a male when all female specimens in his vicinity really are "that hot?" Untested hypothesis: the "hit list" is internalized, but never revised due to the true hotness of women around him. Two outcomes are possible, based on the status of the male. a) Male with valued resources - chooses his pick of the litter, if you will, or fucks the kitties in sequence. b) Male with little to no valued resources - system overload. The inability to whittle down the list via conquest OR the process of uglimination drives the man insane. He becomes a pedorass, or gay. Therefore, unless you are a fortunate son, you should always steer clear of large groups of hot women. Theoretically.

3) What is the effect of alcohol on a man who has run the full course of New Guy Complex? Tested hypothesis: buffalo season opens.

Jesus Walks, Kanye Sucks

For those of you who haven't seen this by now, here is our beloved Mr. West during last Friday's "Concert for Hurricane Relief," which aired live on NBC and its affiliates. Watch the clip now.

Ah, the race card. Kanye, first of all, lest you forget, you are not a member of the minority that matters anymore. We Mexicans not only procreate in numbers far more significant than you, but we actually work shittier jobs, get paid less, and don't enjoy citizen status. So hoooold your high horses...

Secondly, yes, the people that have been trapped in New Orleans are "so poor, and they are so black." How very astute of you to fucking notice. It's not like that's the way it's been since the Reconstruction era, you douche bag. For the record, they are not "your people," though I'm sure you would love to have us believe that. Those people are the Deep South. They comprise the poorest states in the union. How convenient of you to suddenly take note of their existence.

<.facetious bit> And lastly, I would have to agree with you that "George Bush doesn't care about black people." It was practically his campaign platform, after all. In fact, I'll go a step further and say that he hates them. Every night, he lies awake in bed dreaming up new ways to help white people. And Iraqis. And Asians. And pretty much everyone else in the world besides black people. Especially black people in Louisiana and Mississippi. He probably cares the least about them. <./facetious bit> Seriously though, you can almost see Kanye sneak in a "and Republicans are the party of the KKK!"

Hey, how about this one - George Bush doesn't care about dickwad celebrities who think it's their right and responsibility to politicize and criticize during televised relief drives... and neither do we. We all fucking know those people are now even more destitute than they already were. Well on 150 years of disenfranchisement is not the big, black elephant in the room you want to make it, old boy. So stick to your job, and get people to donate money and encourage them to help, not piss them off with your soap box fucking antics.

It Begins

60-3 and both our arch-rivals suffer crushing defeats. Not a bad start to the 2005 season. That said...

I understand that the whole reason we started getting nationally televised games on days other than Saturday was so that mid-majors could get their share of the media coverage necessary for a high poll ranking. Fair enough. The Louisvilles, Boise States, and I guess Marshalls have done just that over the past few years. Good for them.

Still, someone needs to put a limit on this at some point. A GOOD Friday matchup between a couple of upstart teams is one thing, but SEC teams playing on not only Thursday but also Sunday (!) AND a huge, early season ACC matchup on a Monday, all in the same week?!?! This, my friends, is not what our forefathers envisioned.

Saturday. It is the definitive college football gameday. So you can't catch every single single game? That's half the fun! What other occasion warrents setting up multiple televesion sets, ordering a season long gameplan, and still flipping channels between plays to catch every bit of the action? That setup isn't detrimental to the scheduling scheme, it's one of its more entertaining aspects. It's what we get excited about and look forward to at week's end- ONE packed day of delicious college goodness.

Yet all the glory that is a Saturday Gameday is somehow diminished when during the first week of the season we are forced to watch a classic Florida in-state rivalry on that most hideous of days - Monday. Something is very, very wrong with this sad state of affairs. Stop the insanity! Give us back our FULL plate of Saturday goodness, and leave Sundays and Mondays to those other, passionless football players.

Still... it was a pretty good kickoff weekend, huh?

Addendum: the one redeeming factor of college football on a Monday was that they had Mush Mush doing the play by play. This offered a rare weekday opportunity to play the ultimate drinking game (pardon the link to a Sooner fan site, but they had the most comprehensive set of rules.) The only rule missing from that link is also my favorite: one drink for "over the miiiiiddllllle....," then bottoms up if he follows it with "GOT him!"

Yeah, I got to hear a couple of those, so things weren't a complete bust.

The 21st and life as all my friends have known it for many months

So...after 21 years of envious stares and sobbing meditations in dark corners, my life's arc reaches its zenith. Concurrently, disaster strikes our French law enforcing neighbor. I'll go ahead and proffer my selfish weeks of drunken waste to this particular man as a chance for vicarious experience. Here's to you.

It was pretty week, comparatively. Yes, I got drunk. Yes, I vigorously vomited between two dumpsters in the type of alley constructed for assault. But...I remember it. In the value set we've created for ourselves, where maintenance of a high BAC reigns supreme, I failed. By the way, fuck you guys for that Texas Death Rattle. It felt like the vomit refused to exit my mouth and took a left turn up into the nostrils. Like hellfire that damn Tabasco.

The most pivotal moment, I think, that night was the purchase and consumption of a bratwurst. A new addiction was formed and I got a peek through my Window to Weight Gain. Delicious. As Gizmo counseled in response to the hubris I maintain about my inability to gain weight, "The pounds come in waves," which I consider a warning. He also offered, "You have the rest of your life to be healthy," which I consider encouragement. Like any great figure of wisdom, his insight is always paradoxical and superlative. Here's to this weekend's Triumvirate reunion.