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Loading ...Olympics: Quick Question
Here are some thoughts after watching far too much Olympics:
Anyone know why the Aussie women had to borrow uniforms from the wrestlers for the basketball final?
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Loading ...Olympics: Dear IOC
Here are some thoughts after watching far too much Olympics, in the form of an open letter (shoutout) to the IOC:
Dear M. Rogge,
Equestrian?
Sincerely yours,
Justin
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Loading ...Olympics: Sunshine in a bag
Here are some thoughts after watching far too much Olympics.
Near the beginning of the current Olympiad, I heard a quote about why we love the Olympics. The quote said watching the games makes us proud to be human. It went something like this: As we watch people do things that amaze us, it makes us feel a sense of pride that we, as humans, are somehow connected to such greatness. It makes us aware of our potential. Like, if we had given our lives to learn how to twist and spin into water, we could be just like the chinese girl that won the gold medal in diving (中国加油!). Or even if we couldn’t do it, we are still connected. We are all members of that amazing human race.
[Try not to read too much sarcasm in the preceding paragraph, please. That discussion will come later. I really tried to legitimately explain the idea. I did my best to hold any sarcasm in, but I'm afraid a little may have squeezed out.]
Here’s why I love the Olympics: It celebrates losers.
I know, I know, the best people get medals. But think about it. What we’re really saying is that everyone else lost.
Let’s take men’s basketball (since that is what is on at the moment). Twelve teams entered the tournament, each allowed 12 players. So before the Olympics even started, the field was narrowed to just 12 countries. Those 12 countries chose just 12 people. The rest weren’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. Neither were you (unless Lebron happens to be reading this. You, sir, were good enough). So we’ve already selected the 144 best basketball players in the world, and we’re in the process of weeding those out to pick just 12 to call the best basketball team in the world. Everyone else in the world is a loser. Now we know for sure.
One world population clock puts the present world population at this very moment at 6,718,058,143. That means 6,718,058,131 of those people are not part of the best basketball team. And when the US wins the tournament, we’ll know exactly which 6,718,058,131 (adjusted for births and deaths, of course) are the losers. Hooray.
What other event could make it so clear?
The sad part, really, is that I fear the above quote may be the truth. The Olympics may be popular as a way for us to explore human potential. To inspire dreams. And that does, indeed, bind us together. All humanity has the irrational need to imagine themselves as something greater. It’s the human distinctive.
Seriously, can you imagine this in any other sphere? Some rabbit proving he’s practically a kangaroo because his jumps are longer than every other rabbit’s? An earthworm basking in the approving glow of all the other earthworms who can’t wrap themselves around a stick as many times as she can. I honestly can’t bring myself to believe the fastest dolphin in the pod has others comparing him to a shark.
No, I’m pretty sure just people are so sad.
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Loading ...Vindication
I think I have a new hero.
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Loading ...Over the last three weeks, I’ve been…
- A student
- A teacher
- A costume designer
- A film writer
- A film director
- A film editor
- An actor
- A cameraman
- A sock puppet
- A giant sock puppet
- A news anchor
- A referee
- A general technician
- A mini celebrity (referring to status, not stature)
In other words, I’ve been working on the program staff at summer English camp. More pictures (and maybe videos) will be coming.
Looking at that list, you will notice some important absences. While I’m not saying I did nothing more than the list denotes, I am going to mention that I could not include, say, correspondent on the list. Some of you have noticed. Most of you really didn’t. Either way, I did.
I’m not apologizing for my internet silence. Just explaining.
Go for the Gold!
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Loading ...Welcome
I have long been a fan of making people come to my blog to read what I write. I have made a dramatic departure from that policy. Welcome, Facebook readers.
The reasons I wanted you to read from my blog itself are perhaps best illustrated by my most recent post. There is a youtube video and a popup link that just don’t work from Facebook. However, in an attempt to include as many friends as possible in my occasional musings and reports, I’ll give this a go.
I make no promises for its continued form or existence.
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Loading ...Human Genesis: a definition
If I need a break from an desk-bound activity (say, grading exams), I sometimes hop on over to Youtube’s homepage just to see what they have featured. Within a minute or two I can usually find a video that is interesting enough to feel satisfied that I’ve relaxed and can go back to work. The feature tonight was Rube Goldberg machines:
Rube Goldberg was a genius, if only for the simple reason that he was clever enough to get his name attached to machines that would appear so clever as to forever link their designers with Rube Goldberg, in that the machine is genius enough to be associated with those genius machines Rube Goldberg created, or at least was clever enough to get his name forever attached to machines that would appear so clever as to forever… Feel free to repeat ad nauseam. Especially to friends who will think you clever for being able to rattle off such a gordian logic knot. Though I should warn you that if you try such a trick you very well might lose your friends unless a) your friends are actually amused, which would make them just the sort of person who would befriend a person who would read such a riddle and consider it something worth memorizing despite a rather snarky adjudication against the types of people who would memorize such a thing.
Of course, in that you ignore the warning, you exonerate its rather impolite perspective. A perspective which depends heavily on specification and generalization, to name a few, of the types of people who do certain things like read this blog. Or blogs in general, as a blog in specific is little more than a noted blog in general, as are its readers. Much like a reader of a book. An author, of course, certainly considers and crafts his creation to suit his audience, which is rather odd if you are writing a transformative self-help book. Forgive me—all books are intended to help selves, though which self is not necessarily publicly proclaimed and probably privately self referential and absurd. Which is a second reference in recent posts to such terminology (shameless self-promotion [pulled that out of the trite bloggy bag {like that? |yet another overused bloggerism—the direct appeal for comments ~though some of the blogging greats use such tactics ^shoutout!^~|}]). I think I just created a new emoticon.
…in a Rube Goldberg machine knockoff.
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Loading ...A Night to Remember
Soccer, Mom
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Loading ...It’s not what you know…
As I wrap up my first year in China and lube the skis to glide blithely into the second, I’ve given some thought to what I’ll do a year from now. I’ve realized that overseas journalism might just be my ticket.
I’ve been thinking about it and have realized that there are a few prerequisites to a career in overseas journalism.
- Love of travel. Check
- Love of writing. Check
- Loving audience, or at least people willing to read your writing. Check. (Judging from the lack of response to most of my postings, I’m assuming here. However, no one can prove me wrong because that would require having read this.
- Ability to appear intelligent and reliable. Check (see previous line for proof).
- Silk scarf. Seriously, all the reporters in Asia have them. And while I don’t have mine yet, I consciously chose not to buy one in Thailand and Cambodia, so that makes me different, not underqualified.
There might be other stuff, too, but I think those are the basics. I thought I was in pretty good shape for this career, when my ponderings were confirmed.
I’m not announcing any plans, hopes or even desires, but I thought I’d share the joy of my first big break.
I was published in by an international media giant.
Knowing you would be skeptical, I secured proof (or you could go see it for yourself):
Yes, indeed, ladies and gentlemen, that “Justin J” in Changchun, China, is the rising star you discovered early. And before you go and pass it off as my commenting on an article online, allow me to direct your attention to the post heading: “Your letters.” It clearly indicates my piece of writing was subjected to scrutiny and selected for mass reproduction. It is not obstructed by a screen name or subjugated to the possibility of a user’s complaining about it.
I made it to the big time.
Actually, if you want to know the truth, they’re only returning the favor. Do you think it’s a coincidence that my feature in BBC’s Magazine Monitor came within a week of my plugging it? I don’t think so either. So, I know you’re reading this NY Times, but I’ve not heard from you yet. You could still beat Reuters, Slate and even the Onion. But you’ll have to work fast—the BBC and I are getting pretty cozy.
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Loading ...Jones doesn’t ring like Colbert
One of my more recently-discovered daily joys is reading BBC’s Magazine Monitor. Basically, they read the news and then give you the non-newsy highlights. I like it for a few reasons, namely, 1) it’s really well done and 2) it’s the kind of thing I do when I read the news.
I’m going to try something similar. Don’t worry, I don’t want to make this a regular feature. Unless, of course, it’s demanded by thousands of fans threatening violence to kittens. So, enjoy this single instance of the day’s news in review.
Let’s start small. This story gets notice simply because it is quite possibly the most fascinating political event I’ve witnessed in my brief tread on the life wheel. The king got fired. So he’s leaving. End of story. Except that his mother doesn’t really want to move out of the royally-sponsored home she’s lived in for years. Oh, and that there are rumors that he destroyed important documents and pilfered royal assets, but he’s letting us know not to bother following up on those. And really, I believe him. What kind of important documents are accessible to a king who can get voted out of office?
I highly recommend reading the article for the opportunity to revel in the queerness of an expelled king:
- “[T]he ex-king did express concern about his future security and where he would live.”
- “I don’t see any complications in the former king’s departure from the palace.”
- “But he said it was time to move on rather than regret what had happened - and that the authorities had promised to find jobs for everyone.”
- “He said that Gyanendra did however ask the government for help in finding alternative accommodation for him and his mother. ‘Once the issue is resolved he will immediately move.’ “
In another power grab—but with some sort of struggle this time—Bolivia owns a new gas company. Because it wants it. It runs something like this: the Bolivian government decided it wants to control its own industries, so it started negotiating with the company that currently controls things. After Bolivia “waited patiently all month,” they realized the company wasn’t going to give them everything they wanted, so they just seized control. My favorite part is the justification: “They wanted to be bosses, and have us be the employees. We’re a small country - sometimes they call us underdeveloped - but we have lots of dignity.” Read: We’re big people. Stop treating us like children, or we’re taking our ball and going home. OK, so it’s actually your ball, but we want it, so we think it should be ours. Dignity.
I blamed them until I realized Bolivia was just following the leaders. With no reported misgivings, the UN has decided they’re going to allow member nations to attack pirates in Somali waters. Hey US, UK, France, China, Libya or basically anyone else, it’s OK to invade a sovereign nation’s territory with hostile intent—you said so. I think I just found a new meaning for self-referentially absurd. China, Vietnam and Libya were quick to point out they were cool with this resolution because it didn’t violate the sovereignty of any other countries. Except the one they decided to blatantly ignore.
And while we’re talking about ignoring, I was happily perusing this story about the latest space shuttle trip’s purpose when I stumbled across its placement of an astronaut in a six-month stint on the space station. He was mentioned in passing after the new laboratory and toilet parts threads had been developed nearly to their limits. Adding to the insult was the quick progress to the other astronaut aboard: Buzz Lightyear. Yes, the action figure garnered exactly one paragraph and eight words more attention than the human. I assume that was because Buzz was on an exciting “educational programme,” and the stupid human was just keeping the space station running for the next six months.
The last story is from space as well—both the inky expanse around us and that vast mental void we call scientific prediction. Scientists found a planet outside our solar system that is not vastly different in size from the earth. It could very well be habitable if not inhabited. OK, well, that’s a surmise, but it makes sense. Follow it: they discovered the planet’s existence and approximate size by noting a warp in light rays from a distant star. The light measurements aren’t solid enough to even know much about the star, but science doesn’t care so much about the star as about the vastly smaller planet that seems to be orbiting it. They like it so much they named it. MOA-2007-BLG-192Lb. I’m a little upset because they stole my (or Brian Regan’s) preferred name for my first child. Now if I use it, people will naturally assume my progeny was named after that planet that warped the light rays so they think it’s there and is probably the home to a human-like race of people smart enough to avoid building Chicago.
But I’m getting distracted from telling you why this has so excited them.
They took the the solid data from the mangled electromagnetic waves and plugged them into their vast knowledge (”best ideas”) of planet formation. Remember all those planets they built? And of course we’ve all watched countless planets’ genesis. From there, they speculate that this planet might have an atmosphere—a thick one even. Which is good, because the only data they can gather seems to indicate the surface temperature would naturally be lower than that of Pluto (an odd measuring stick since that thing got demoted from planethood). But since there might be an atmosphere, it’s possible that the surface temperature would be higher than colder than anything that has ever been measured or imagined before. And obviously, if the temperature is high enough, there might be liquid on the surface. And we could totally imagine that liquid being water. Which is what we think would make a nice surface of an inhabitable planet.
And that’s really not me making them sound ridiculous. My science disclaimer (recently and appropriately joined by the history/law/politics disclaimer) is further justified.
I dare you to pronounce my sardonicism unwarranted. Now if it could do something constructive. Or at least earn me money.