In Other News…

Live!It’s a boy! If China were a pregnancy, I’d be giving birth. Today officially marks nine months. And for those of you that think it’s ridiculous to talk about a man giving birth, you’re not reading your news very well.

Also a boy: Kent Halsey. Kent has officially been awarded a highly coveted place on the blogroll both because he is an all-around cool guy, and because his stuff is always worth reading. I’m not even kidding, I invisibly added his blog to my blogroll as soon as I set this thing up even though he hadn’t posted in something like five hundred days. And my faith paid off. Kent is back online. Definitely worth celebrating—a celebration of reading, that is.

In case you were wondering, it’s moderately official: Binge drinking makes you dumb (as in, actually causes dumbness, not the weird verb tense that I’m sure has a name I don’t know that means binge drinking proves you are dumb). I say ‘moderately official‘ because they performed what seems a relatively unscientific test (see science disclaimer) on twenty six binge drinkers, comparing their results with a control group of thirty four. And all to prove that binge drinking is bad. It hurts your memory. So now I know not to trust habitual binge drinkers’ judgment. ‘Cause I would have otherwise.

I have discovered I like links. It think it makes me feel academic, with links functioning as footnotes.

I am actually going to be helping teach basketball today. You might want to wipe the spittle off the screen. I hate laughbursts because of the spittle.

And, finally, global warming is a hoax. OK, so that’s not exactly accurate. They say, though (and this time I actually know who ‘they’ are), that temperatures have decreased over the last few years. Temperatures peaked in 2005, and are now back to 1998 levels. And while these temperatures still seem to be higher than previous decades, I can’t help but question their evidence. Anything that has ‘proven’ rising temperatures in the last three years has suddenly been proved wrong, and anyone who said anything contrary is a liar. More or less.

iRead

The great beyond—our future

Stop what you are doing and look out the window. Drink it in. Relax as the gentle rays of the spring sun pull your eyelids toward sleep or the ponderous silence of the night thrills you with expectancy. Go ahead, do it now. I’m not going anywhere.

Wasn’t that nice? Enjoy it while it lasts.

I’m not trying to scare you. I’m not trying to dig up some quack’s conspiracy theory or recruit you to my cave. I’m just reminding you that the earth might be swallowed by a scientist-spawned black hole.

You don’t believe me.

Fine, read it for yourself. Now take back those nasty things you thought about me. For those of you too lazy to read the article I found and linked for you or wise enough to know I was going to explain it anyway (I’ll assume the latter, of course), here is the summary: Some lab in Switzerland spent eight billion dollars to make a machine that supercharges protons and smashes them together. Something like the only use you and your friends could find for Matchbox cars, only on the atomic level. The thing is, no one knows what will happen when they do this.

They think everything will be fine. Probably. I mean, yes, there’s an outside chance that they might destroy the entire earth. But it’s not likely. It’s more likely that it will simulate an environment reminiscent of the ‘big bang’—the cosmic energy explosion scientists postulate could have created the universe. They think it might provide them a better understanding of the origins of the universe and, consequently, the workings thereof. But it might dissolve it and us into utter non-existence.

See, it seems that at some point, anti-matter (which might be what causes black holes) has been created. Probably some time around the creation of the universe, according to some theories. So, re-creating the universe just might re-create antimatter. Which just might swallow the earth, the solar system, or the entire universe. Genius of the generation Stephen Hawking wrote a paper in 1974 that said something about how any antimatter we might create would just evaporate. But that was back before anyone thought about making any. And black holes haven’t exactly evaporated.

Here’s the question no one has mentioned yet, but I find myself returning to rather frequently: Aren’t there some rather far-reaching moral and ethical implications to attempting to reenact the creation of a universe? Like, wouldn’t creating a universe disrupt the normal flow of things for the universe in which it was created? And isn’t the universe constantly expanding, as far as we know? I mean, even if two protons don’t immediately create a new universe, aren’t we guaranteeing our eventual demise? Or maybe a universe can be contained. That might be fun. It would sure beat a model solar system made out of foam and coat hangars.

But this is a grand moment in history. Two of the century’s most imaginative authors (Dan Brown and Douglas Adams) are being mashed together and tried in a Hawaiian court.

Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you how we are going to avoid this long-foreseen technological self-destruction—some dude in Hawaii sued them.

For the first time in its existence, CourtTV has a function. Far too ridiculous to merit legitimate networks’ coverage, this case would be the most amazing display of rhetorical logic imaginable. Imagine trying to argue this case for either side.

No, your honor, we can not present a single piece of evidence that would prove the danger of this experiment. Universe creation has only been accomplished once that we know of, and none of us were there to record its immediate effects.

In our defense, we would like to clearly state that we are attempting to perform an action for the express purpose of experiencing something unknown—indeed, unknowable—and earth-shattering, metaphorically speaking, of course. We hope. Yes, there is theoretical cause to suspect we may permanently annihilate the planet, but the potential to more fully understand quantum physics demands some risk-taking.

I was going to suggest at this point that the only way to fairly allow this experiment to continue would be to hold a world-wide vote. And wouldn’t a world-wide vote be fun? It would promote international unity and cooperation. After all, we all share vested interest in the item at risk here—existence. To make it fair, we would have to allow each country to determine how to cast their votes. So, dictatorships like Cuba could have a single representative cast a vote exactly equal to the population of that nation. We can expect vote-rigging in Kenya, with the probability of murderous riots regardless of the outcome. The Unites States will see countless hours of made-up arguments about which scientist is a racist and who will end the war most effectively, while the only people who really understand the issue make fun of everyone else on hilarious TV shows. And the election process will occur in twelve stages over a period of sixteen years.

I was going to suggest such an election, if only for the sixteen years it will buy us. Then I realized that the really extremely poor of the world will probably vote to go ahead with the experiment so that the eight billion that was not used to provide them with luxuries like food and water will actually be put to good use, and the vote will mandate the experiment.

And given that the experiment is going to occur anyway, I’d rather be eaten by a black hole than experience a sixteen-year US campaign.

Disclaimer: I usually wouldn’t try to discuss advanced scientific issues, given the fact that I’m relatively inept in the field (relative to the average third-grader pulling the legs off bugs). However, I made an exception in this case due to the fact that even the scientists wanting to do the experiment really don’t know what they’re doing, apparently. The complete lack of hard evidence and scientific explanation in this post doesn’t even have all that much to do with my inability to understand and re-communicate the issue. At least, I don’t think it does.

Whistlin’ Jack

This video comes with instructions: Check them before watching.

1. Listen to the movie without watching it. This is an important step. Don’t skip it. Enjoy the old-school cheeriness. Let it wash the grime of skepticism from your body.

2. Watch the video. Be amazed at how shockingly sexy whistling has become. Try to look away. You won’t be able to.

3. Watch the video yet again and dance along.

4. Repeat step 3 as many times as you want. Don’t worry—no one is watching. And even if they were, they’d just get pulled in too.

5. Try to explain why he’s wearing a military-esque jacket. And where did he get those medals?

Redemption

My blankie

Norms are cultural. So it wasn’t really strange for school officials to give me a pink blanket last fall. It accordingly sat next to my desk in its bag for exactly three days while I wondered who might want it. Then a closer look revealed it was not solid pink, but accented with pink flowers. And fleece. The harmonious merger of Mary Kay and Old Navy was sitting on the floor of my Chinese university.

Blankets have always gotten the better of me. Despite my spartan living habits, I picked up a blanket from the Gentrys during a summer tour through Nebraska that has, with its perfect combination of weight and compactibility, has served many a cool occasion. It accompanied me through my senior year book-bound Christmas break. It was a welcome addition to our celebration of spring in recliners on the front lawn of Armitage burning incense and passing matte. It made appearances in Man Council. It covered vast regions of the US. It sat at the foot of my bed in China for months.

Fleece has always been rather attractive to me, as well. Those of you who remember my orange Adidas sweatshirt will attest to that. And that should be most of you, as I wore it regularly for about seven years. And this blanket was soft fleece. Really soft fleece.

The problem was that I had a hard time displaying it at the foot of my bed. I’m not afraid of pink, but we’re talking serious pinkage. There was no way I was letting it go unused, though. I tossed it from chair to chair while I used it for a few days to confirm our mutual respect before finding its perfect resting place.

mcweatherIt spent the winter neatly smoothed under the comforter on my bed.

I bring this up now because I again faced the dilemma as spring turned its gaze toward Changchun. A sudden cold snap (and subsequent snowfall) secured it a few more days on my bed, and a glance at the forecast doesn’t foretell its immediate removal. But it’s going to happen soon.

Perhaps I’ll accept my animated role model’s advice and add a new sport coat to my closet.

No more freeloading

Walking home from the drama club kick-off tonight, I noticed the chicken strips’ slight burn had migrated from my lips to my eyes. It was the first tangible expression of weariness I’d experienced today, but it wasn’t a surprise.

It started Sunday, with the Easter program/party/gala/pageant/extravaganza. [Never let it be said I allowed the futility of applying an American label to a distinctively Chinese experience to stop me from doing so. I mean, it’s not as if you would understand the Chinese anyway. Or I would.] Two classes, four meetings with students and friends, my designated office hours and a couple of long overdue conversations later, and I was referring to Monday in the past tense as I headed to bed. Notice I didn’t mention the lesson planning I was supposed to get done. That was what replaced eating in the free time between my three classes and drama club today.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not looking for pity. Quite the opposite, in fact—I’m sharing my happiness. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so engaged, and I’ve missed the feeling. Finding it again recalled memories of the days when I bought a Palm pilot so I didn’t have to go back to my computer to overwrite the three weekly hours of free time I’d scheduled. The previously meandering snow globs melting into my hair probably aided my remembrance too.

Few states are as rewarding as warranted enervation. I know I’m not the first to think or say it, but I feel justified in doing so anyway. Just like I felt justified in a quiet meal at my second-favorite Xinjiang restaurant after talking the last of the drama club members out of the bookstore. It was the same state that afforded me the comfortable confidence necessary to play with and practice my Chinese on the restaurant owners’ baby, disregarding the stares of the Corner Four, who had spent their entire meal discussing mine. And to top off that meal with the aforementioned chicken strips. It was my first real meal of the day, anyway.

Plus, I don’t have anything scheduled until 3:20 tomorrow. It’s a good excuse to spurn my room’s cries for cleaning, smile at the stacks of grading sprawled across my desk,  fall asleep watching a movie, and still have motivation to get up at a decent hour and make use of the day.

I kind of like this ‘life’ thing. I think I’ll earn my sleep more often.