It's Snowing in State College

Why is it snowing in State College?

I understand that we're in the middle of two substantive mountain ranges, and thus get all the crappy weather funneled our way. I also understand that it's snowing in both Eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey.

However, it's also the end of fucking October.

I'm no crazy hippie environmental guy, but anyone who's looking at this and can honestly say that global warming isn't happening needs to see a proctologist stat because they're full of shit. Fall lasted for about, oh, three weeks. Tops. It's already too bitterly cold for a fall coat, and, oh yes, there's snow accumulating on lawns right now.

I had a friendly wager with some of my fellow students over when the first accumulating snowfall would come. I had November 24, and I was willing to concede that I was going to be a little too late. But four weeks late? Really?

Methinks Mother Nature needs to lay off the crystal meth.

The Problem with Porno

I tend not to subscribe to the Obligatory State Fandom Rule, which clearly dictates that if someone famous is born in the same state as you, you have to adore them. I suspect this works more in less populous states, or at least in less overtly beloved states, but if you're from New Jersey, for instance, the law of the land is that you must love Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, and Kevin Smith.

Sorry guys, but Bon Jovi has always been way too cheesy for my tastes, and Bruce never could sing and still can't. Kevin Smith, on the other hand, can write and direct a damn funny movie, and he was doing the "crude but good-hearted" flick long before Judd Apatow became a household name (and, with the exception perhaps of the unfortunate Jersey Girl, has consistently done it better).

So I'm incredibly stoked about K.S.'s upcoming feature, which grabbed my attention (and, apparently, the Weinstein Brothers' as well) by the title alone:

Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

Straightforward. Blunt. To the point. Gotta love it.

Unfortunately, that same title has been causing a number of problems with promoting the flick, including newspapers and TV stations who have flat refused to carry ads because of that pesky five-letter P-word. (No, not that one, you sicko.) And while I'm all about freedom of expression -- and especially in this case, as the usually-rigid MPAA approved a green-band (or all-ages) trailer for the film that includes its complete title -- I suppose I can understand why some people may not like that word.

Except when they say stupid shit like this:

Diane Levin, an education professor specializing in child development at Boston's Wheelock College, said the posters at city bus stops send a message to children that working in the porn industry is an acceptable occupation.

"It's drawing attention to a movie which is mainstreaming and normalizing pornography, saying if you need money, this is what you do," said Levin, co-author of "So Sexy So Soon: The New Sexualized Childhood and What Parents Can Do to Protect Their Kids."

The stick-figure images are especially appealing to youngsters, since "stick figures are something for children," she said.

Read the whole article here.

Consider me officially enraged.

I'm endlessly amazed at how little research talking-head academics do when cited for mainstream stories. Because, as a recovering academic myself, I know that the academy typically demands extremely rigorous research before anything is even considered a possibility for future publication.

So it's astounding to me that Professor Levin could level such a harsh charge against a movie that I'm almost certain she has not seen. (After all, it's not being released until October 31.) In fact, reading any of the copious available interviews with Smith regarding the movie -- which can be easily found using that most primitive of academic search engines, a little site called Google -- would quickly reveal that the film is not intended to glorify pornography whatsoever, and that it is instead both a skewering of the over-the-top world of internet porn as well as a thinly-veiled jab at his own experience independently making his first feature, Clerks.

And as for the bit about the stick figures, that too was part of the joke: just look at the freaking caption! "Seth Rogen & Elizabeth Banks made a movie so titillating that we can only show you this drawing." It's clearly not meant to try and attract children; rather, it's again a clever jibe at the MPAA, which felt that the original version, which still exists as the official Canadian poster, was too risque for all audiences despite it just barely toeing the line of inappropriate.

(If your virgin eyes can handle it, you can look at it here.)

It seems pretty clear to me that Smith has made a movie that's very clearly skewed towards adults and that is meant only for mature audiences. After all, anyone going to see a movie with "porno" in its title has to know what to expect from it. (This point, in fact, was a key part of Smith's ultimately successfully appeal to have the original NC-17 rating reduced to an [ironically] more advertising-friendly R.) And as I've already said, I'm all about freedom of expression, so if the MPAA is cool with it, I don't see why that single word should be such an issue.

Of course, there are parents who don't see it that way:

One complaint came from a man watching a game in September with his young son, who did not understand a suicide-squeeze bunt the Dodgers tried, Rawitch said.

"He was explaining to his son what a squeeze bunt was. Commercial break, the ad comes on, and the kid asks, `Dad, what does porno mean?"' Rawitch said. "Dodgers baseball has always been about family, and we've always been sensitive to the type of advertising that runs on our games."

So let me get this straight: it's perfectly legitimate to play highly-suggestive commercials hocking Viagra and Cialis during sports events, and that's less "family-friendly" than this commercial for a raunchy comedy? I smell bullshit. If this guy's kid watched one of those commercials and asked, "Daddy, how do I know if I have a four-hour long erection?" would he wig out just as badly? Or would he, like any normal parent, come up with a perfectly plausible explanation that doesn't reveal too much information and then quickly change the subject before the kid realizes this is something that's inappropriate for his age and thusly totally worth fixating on for the foreseeable future?

I'm not interested in turning this into a "parents should freaking parent" argument (though I stand by that thesis), and frankly I think this is mostly the case of the media turning a non-issue into a front-page story in the entertainment section. But what it continues to prove to me is that we are a country of raging hypocrites -- the kind who love our skin flicks and buy our perfumes and colognes based on how sexy the models look, but inexplicably wig out when we hear a single word, and one that isn't even a dirty word or a patently offensively word to boot!

"Porno" doesn't make us uncomfortable because it's a "bad word," but because we have a cultural rift over sex that is spiraling more and more out of control with each new day. We're trained from an early age that it is morally degrading and ethically wrong to think about sex or willingly seek it for pleasurable purposes. We're made to think it's ugly and awful and worth shunning. And we're told to ignore it, while on billboards and in even the most well-lit corners of the Internet, it grows and thrives and expands while we look at it through the slits between the fingers on the hands that cover our eyes.

It took a lot of balls for Kevin Smith to call his movie by this title precisely because it asks us to confront the issue head-on. And yet here we are, placing it on the pedestal of newsworthiness while pointing an accusatory finger at it and shouting, "Not on my bus stop!" It seems to me like Mr. Smith is making his point loud and clear, and he's getting lots of free press out of it, too. And if you care at all about freedom of expression, you'll support the cause by buying a ticket opening weekend. I know I will.

Zack and Miri Make a Porno is in theatres October 31.

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EDIT (10-22-2008, 4:00pm): Not to be a braggart, but I love being right. Click here to see Kevin Smith himself use the same argument I employed in the fourth-to-last paragraph.

Campaign Commercial Song Fail?

A less caustic observation made while watching tonight's debate:

ABC News has selected a recent Matchbox Twenty single to play over their commercials for further political coverage. As they show glimmering, smiling images of the candidates, they play the chorus on repeat: Let's see how far we've come! Let's see how far we've come!

Moving and inspiring, for sure. Good thing they didn't play the line that comes directly before that one:

I believe the world is burning to the ground!
Oh well, I guess we're gonna find out!

Eep. That's not so good. Surely the second half of the chorus has a more uplifting message, right?

I believe the world is coming to an end!
Oh well, I guess we're gonna pretend!

Guess ABC News didn't realize just how appropriate their choice of song was to our current situation...

Fill in the Blank

Fuck ______.


1) The United States Postal Service. Maybe I'm directing this towards the wrong party, because Tower "aren't they defunct?" Records is the site that shipped my stuff out, but I don't understand how anything that is shipped on September 30 can't arrive on October 7.

I've been waiting for the new Margot & the Nuclear So and So's albums, Animal! and Not Animal, for months now. I figured if I ordered them a week before their release date, they might end up on my doorstep in time. But no.

And not only "no," but apparently I can't track the packages once they leave Tower's warehouse because, according to their shipping FAQs, the USPS doesn't have tracking numbers on what Tower ships. I'm not sure I believe this (because I've used USPS tracking numbers before), but the bottom line is my discs are floating around somewhere and I have no way of checking to see where they are. This angers me.


2) Pennsylvania. I know I've said this quite a bit, but I really do have a legitimate explanation for this one.

As a direct result of my inability to get something shipped expediently, I have considered the possibility of going out to a store and purchasing Animal! and Not Animal, just so I can listen to them now. (I'd sell the shipped copies at some later point down the line -- and I know that's not a financially feasible decision, but just let me go on here.) Unfortunately, when I check the Best Buy website and try to order Not Animal for in-store pick-up, I quickly get told that no store within a 100 mile radius of State College has the disc in store.

However, when you type in my ZIP code in New Jersey, all seven stores that come up seem to stock it. How curious! Why can't I go home yet?


3) The debate. This is maddening as fuck. I understand that the whole thing is scripted, and that's the problem. Listening to Tom Brokaw prattling on about how they're not following the rules should be the most irritating part about watching this. Instead, I'm just pissed that no one will directly answer a fucking question. And we wonder why the voting populace is so goddamn ignorant.

Oh, and John...I'm not your damn friend! Stop calling me one!

Canine Crisis!

I'm a pretty patient guy. I'm relatively quiet, and I like alone time and, especially, sleepy time.

So imagine my dismay at having been awakened twice this week by the sound of a dog in the apartment below me howling like crazy.

If it were just baying briefly, I suppose I would understand. But the mutt's howling carries on for hours at a time. This morning, for instance, he started crying out around 8:30am, and continued to do so until almost 11:00am.

Now, I'm not really sure how to deal with this, so I need some friendly advice from anyone who might actually read this blog.

I'm not a big fan of confrontation, so I really don't want to go down there and get all up in this guy's/girl's grill. By the same token, I could call the main office of the complex, but they tend not to get involved in inter-tenant relations. I could also call the cops or the SPCA, but I feel like those are both extreme reactions.

So...what the hell do I do?

Great Success in E-Commerce

The online world, as you may have noticed, has not been terribly kind to me lately. I am pleased, however, to offer an unquestionably strong recommendation for a website that sells books, movies, and assorted other print products.

And no, it's not the one you're expecting.

Barnes & Noble is like the reliable, friendly neighbor who's always willing to lend a hand when you need something done around the house. Sure, they may not have everything, and they may not be able to give you exactly what you need right at that moment and for the most reasonable compensation, but damned if they aren't at least consistently willing to give it a try.

I make this comparison because I've been a Member for nearly three years now. For the low price of $25, I score 10% discounts (at least) on all purchases, and, as I recently discovered, an instant upgrade to Expedited Shipping on all my online orders, whether or not those orders total $25.

This is a far better offer, in my view, than Super Saver Shipping, because Amazon, God bless their souls, may offer everything under the sun, but can often drag their feet when processing your order. So while the 5-9 day shipping estimate is often correct -- and more times than not, the order arrives in less than 5 days -- it takes longer than it should to get the order shipped.

Consider my experience with Barnes & Noble today. I needed to buy a book (Marina Lewycka's Strawberry Fields [or Two Caravans]) and a DVD (the 1997 adaptation of Mrs. Dalloway starring Vanessa Redgrave). Upon making my purchase, I realized I didn't know which credit card I'd used.

In mere moments, I was on the phone with 1-800-THE-BOOK, talking to a real, living, breathing human being who helped me confirm my order was placed correctly. I then checked my e-mail. At 11:17am, I received my order confirmation. And at 11:35am, another e-mail, telling me my order was scheduled to ship.

18 minutes. To receive and pack my order. That's fucking impressive, no matter how you slice it.

Perhaps Amazon has overstepped its bounds a bit in an effort to be the world's foremost online retailer. I love their pricing, I love their selection, and I've never had a problem with their services. It's just that, for books, movies, and music, Barnes & Noble just seems to take care of its Members better. So even if it costs a couple bucks more, I feel like I'm getting a better value for my money, and that's something you don't find often nowadays -- and especially not in e-commerce.

21st-Century Computer Failures and Why They Should NEVER HAPPEN

The Decemberists make me happy. Facebook allowing me to be a fan of The Decemberists also makes me happy.

Receiving a notice through the Facebook fan page that Decemberists tickets are going on-sale early for fan members makes me very happy. Learning that one of those shows is in Montclair, NJ (mere miles from my humble abode) makes me extremely happy.

You know what doesn't make me happy?

When the pre-sale ticketing is done through a shitty, cut-rate website that can't handle the server traffic for a group of people trying to buy tickets to an indie concert.

I understand that The Decemberists are becoming so popular a group that the "indie" moniker just isn't gonna cut it for very long anymore, and that's fine. However, for right now, I think it's fair to say that The Decemberists cater to a rather specific musical niche -- namely, the folksy, classically-influenced, sea shanty-tinged narrative pop-rock crowd. They have just over 11,500 Facebook fans (as of this writing), as compared to, for instance, Dave Matthews Band, who have well over 200,000.

When DMB wants to do a pre-sale, their fans have an easy time navigating this. And all the pages on their websites load properly. I know this because I've done it before. Me, and easily millions of other people.

The Decemberists don't have numbers nearly into the millions of fans looking to order pre-sale tickets. As such, it is completely inexcusable that MusicToday's servers should repeatedly drop connections on the day of the pre-sale.

It's the 21st Fucking Century (with a capital F, even). How can you host a major website (which apparently caters to lots of fans of lots of lesser-known but still rather reputable bands) and still have your servers go kaboom when a bunch of people try to buy tickets? How can not handle what is, in the long haul, a less-than-substantial spike in your traffic in the middle of the afternoon?

The Decemberists make me happy. Going to see them live for a third time makes me happy. MusicToday, you do not make me happy. To thee I say, go screw.

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EDIT (4:44pm): Although it took over an hour for things to go smoothly, the page finally reloaded and I was able to secure my much-desired tickets. This does not, however, forgive the hour of cybershit I had to muck through to get said tickets.

Conclusion: thank you, MusicToday, but you're still on my shit list.

What I Learned in Vegas, Part I

The first in an occasional series of observations made during and after my first trip to Sin City.


There is nothing in southern Nevada but Las Vegas.

This is an extraordinarily difficult concept for those who've never gone to Vegas to understand. Particularly those who, like me, live near a major city and are used to the notion of what a metropolitan downtown should look like.

Las Vegas's dirty little secret is that, besides The Strip, there is nothing around. This is not an exaggeration. Upon flying into the Valley, if you able to look out the windows on both sides of the plane, you will spy sand and distant mountains on one side, while huge casino-hotels with mountains in the background are on the other side.

The example of New York City is instructive here. When one flies into Newark-Liberty, to the left is the most famous skyline in the world, and to the right is...well...Newark.

But the thing about the New York skyline is that the entire island of Manhattan is filled with enormous buildings, punctuated here and there with larger structures (such as, say, the Empire State Building). And Newark, while grody as hell, represents some semblance of what one might consider at the tail end of some crazy asshole's definition of civilization.

The skyline of Vegas, on the other hand, almost exclusively consists of one street. And sure, the Palms, the Rio, and the Trump Tower are just a few examples of buildings that aren't literally on The Strip, but when you get outside a few blocks radius of Las Vegas Boulevard, you find long flat stretches of single story businesses and houses, as if the suburbs are the city.

It's a lot like an old-school frontier town from early wild-west movies. Except that, instead of a general store, saloon, barber, and other such quaint businesses, you have enormous fucking bright shiny hotels. And then...nothing.

Whether nothing is better than Newark remains to be seen.

Not So Fast, Delaware...

I may have just given Maryland the what-for, but don't you dare think that your neighbor to the southwest will be shouldering all the blame for today's horrendous drive home. I saw some things on your roads today that would never have flied in the Garden State.

Firstly, I don't quite understand how so many people could be wanting to get back into Maryland, god-awful hole that it is, that the entire southbound length of I-95 in Delaware could be a parking lot. And this is not hyperbole or even slight exaggeration. I sat in a tiny bit of traffic leading up to the northbound tolls, but it was a fairly clear (kinda sorta) run from there.

However, a look to my left at any given time revealed the whole highway at a standstill. It was stopped from the tollbooth all the way up to the 95/495-295/NJ Turnpike split before the Delaware Memorial Bridge. For such a tiny state, there sure are a lot of people stuck there -- mostly, unsurprisingly, just trying to pass through.

But this traffic revealed one of the most ridiculous traffic anomalies I've seen in some time. Because for those of you who've never had the (dis)pleasure of driving down I-95 through Delaware, you should know that it's approximately 10 miles in length. And since Delaware's a small state with not a lot going for it, they need to make as much revenue as possible from people trying to race through those 10 miles as fast as possible (as if anyone could blame them). As such, the road is fucking crawling with cops, most of which are usually busy citing impatient drivers.

But today, there was only one cop on I-95. He was a Delaware State Trooper, located just past the only rest stop in the state, his car pointed towards the traffic as if prepared to nab anyone driving a mere single mph over the limit.

Time for a pop quiz.

You are a Delaware State Trooper, positioned to nab speeders in the manner described above. To which side of the highway do you point your car?

(a) towards the side of the road where traffic is progressing at a smooth rate

or

(b) towards the side of the road where traffic is at a goddamn standstill?

If you guessed (a), you're probably thinking way too logically to be a viable candidate and should consider a different career. If, however, you guessed (b), you should probably apply to join your fellow like-minded go-getters of the Delaware Highway Patrol. Way to work hard, boys.

I mean, I-295 through Burlington County is hardly an exhilirating or visually appealing drive, but at least I didn't hit any traffic on any of the New Jersey roads I drove today. What seems to be the problem with the Delmarva?

I Long for a Defined Jaw

As I mentioned to one of my patients earlier today, I'm pretty confident that there's no fat man or woman on Earth who is genuinely happy with being fat. I say this with roughly fifteen years of experience on the matter -- yes, it's true, there was a time when I was both skinny and cute, and what the hell happened to those days is anyone's guess.

And while my "M.lb." plan got sidelined by a number of different logistical problems that come with the being-home-and-not-in-State-College-for-the-summer territory, I've been making a concentrated effort in recent weeks to genuinely slim down. Specifically, by jump-starting my progress with the no-carb plan (which I know isn't a valid long-term weight-loss plan and is probably terrible for me, but if you were sick of being fat and something worked really well, you'd do it too) and then parlaying it into good old-fashioned exercise when I return to Penn State.

In the week and a half since I've been carb-free, I've noticed myself losing. Tomorrow's the official weigh-in, but I'd guess I've lost around five pounds or so, if not a little more. And while my voluptuous man-tits, bulbous ass, and cottage-cheese gut are the three things I'd most like to see vanish as a result of my most recent effort, I determined while in the car today that there's something to be said for the weight that sits in one's face.

Me, I've had a double chin for some time. This may shock many of you -- in fact, it shocked me. I only discovered this double-chin when I realized that the chin-neck area of my body is a nebulous, indistinct area. My chin doesn't get clearly defined so much as the edge of my soul patch slopes at an indiscriminate angle that ends somewhere below my Adam's apple.

And yes, I know that means it's my neck that really disappears, but my jaw is what really suffers because, contrary to popular belief, my face is not round, but rather square. Much more like, say, the left-bottommost Mii face than the left second-from-top that I currently use.

Perhaps this is the source of my complete lack of self-confidence! The epitome of the man's man is the tight-lipped, square-jawed Clint Eastwood-style motherfucker who takes no shit and pulls no punches. This is what I secretly strive to be! I ache to be listened to and respected without question, to have my many moods tolerated with impunity! The key is in the jaw, and my jaw, beneath layers of unsightly cellulite, possesses the definition necessary!

If that's not a reason to lose weight -- besides, of course, my obscene personal vanity -- then I don't know what is.