Zenformation Playlist 3/31/06: SXSW Datamining, Rare Punk Songs, and Grad School Research as Party Music

1. Black Cadillac [MP3] - Rosanne Cash, Black Cadillac (Capitol, 2006)
Off Cash's latest release - a fresh departure from her normal fare. She's lost her father, step-mother, and mother in the last few years, watched the family's life become a movie. On this disc, the woman made famous by covering her father's classic "Tennessee Flattop Box" finally breaks liberates herself from the shadows of her kinfolk and the run-of-the-mill country sound. Cash was a featured artist at this year's South By Southwest Music Festival.

2. Cherry Red [MP3] - Yuppie Pricks, Broker's Banquet (Alt. Tentacles, 2005)
Also featured at SXSW this year in Austin. Can ya tell where I'm datamining legal MP3s this morning? I just love the GNR Paradise City sample/skit at the beginning. And the line Baby, How about you blow me in the back of my corporate jet?

3. Service and Repair [MP3] - Calexico, The Hot Rail (Quarterstick, 2000)
Not to brag, but I burned this song to a mix CD for a guy recently who was looking for mood music for a surprise dinner he'd been planning for his girlfriend. Must've been a good choice, because the guy walked around with that "I Got Laid" grin for about a week and bought me lunch twice. My wine selection - a Castoro Cellars' 2004 Tempranillo - was also a hit as well. I don't even like wine.

I may not be able to read body language very well in my own life (I've had too many exes describe me as the most dense guy on the planet in this area), but I do know how to stack the deck in other people's favor.

4. Turning Japanese - The Vapors, The Best of... (EMI comp., 2003)
Songs about excessive masterbation are funny. Especially from the early Reagan Years.

5. Frenzy - Roach Motel, Barricaded Suspects (Toxic Shock comp., 1983)
I've spent portions of the last decade trying to track down the illusive CD re-issue of this classic 1980s punk compilation. I found it buried in - GASP! - the emo section of Aardvark Music in Paso Robles, Calif., last year.

6. Slow Down Gandhi [MP3] - Sage Francis/Cold Archives Experiment, (Remixed 2005)
Somebody e-mailed me this morning and told me they preferred my version to the original from A Healthy Distrust [Epitaph, 2005]. Part of my grad school research was apparently a hit at a party here in Oxford!

The "Cold Archives Experiment" started as, well, an actual graduate school experiment. The tracks are tied to a research project that tested Open Source audio software for archival sound-recording digitization use. I occassionally remix tunes to keep my digitization/production skills intact, but I'm no Danger Mouse.

Libraries, Panties, and The Act of Being Too Tired to Give a Shit

Libraries can be strange places at night.

After a late-night event, I swing by my office to drop off some things.

I run into a girl in the elevator. Very intoxicated college student. Cute girl, but obviously headed for postgraduate study at the Betty Ford Clinic.

I ask her which floor she needs. She tells me she can't remember.

Girl's been sitting in the elevator for God knows how long. I pick the second floor (my floor), explaining that it has comfortable couches to sleep off hangovers.

She says thanks. On the way up, she tells me she's feeling hot and sleepy. Without saying another word, she lifts her skirt and takes off her underwear. She picks them up, puts them in her purse, and staggers out of the elevator doors.

She lets loose a rather loud fart on her way out.

As I left, I notice she'd passed out on a couch, spread-eagle and snoring.

Walk by...and she lets another loud fart rip.

I try not to look. Not looking.

Fuck, not laughing. Don't look. Don't laugh. Should call the police. Should tell a night supervisor.

Fuck, don't look. You're gonna laugh, dude.

I can't stop laughing and I'm home now, dammit.

Welcome to Oxford Fucking Ohio.

How NOT to Address Sexual Assault Scandals as a University Official...

Rape probe grounds Duke lacrosse team
Jeff Barker, Baltimore Sun
March 29, 2006

DURHAM, N.C. -- Duke University said Tuesday night that it won't allow its nationally ranked men's lacrosse team to play any more games until a series of questions are answered about allegations that an exotic dancer was sexually assaulted by team members at their house on the edge of campus.

"Sports have their time and place, but when an issue of this gravity is in question, it is not the time to be playing games," Duke President Richard H. Brodhead said...

- FULL ARTICLE HERE -

I agree completely with Duke president Richard Brodhead's nifty statement. Sounds wonderful. The perfect thing for a university president to do, to say, in the wake of a huge scandal.

Um...er...yeah.

So why did this guy choose to hide out from the local news media? WRAL-TV apparently wanted to do an in-depth on campus reaction to the scandal. According to the reporter's account, the WRAL news team was told that the president wasn't on campus.

The he's out of town excuse only works when the reporters don't catch you walking across campus ...

VIDEO COVERAGE:
Rally Held at Duke University as Authorities Investigate Rape Allegations
WRAL-TV, Raleigh, North Carolina

When there are demonstrators PROTESTING outside of a university administration building, when there's community outrage over the perception that a university is working on a cover-up, hiding from the press is never a good strategy.

Maybe the Duke administration should take its own advice.

Now is not the time to play games, and that sentiment doesn't just apply to a few student-athletes.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Duke, Lacrosse, Journalism, Media Relations, News, Rape, Scandal, Sexual Assault

And Now for Something Completely Different...

Since everybody seems to be writing about food ... including the more nauseating aspects of cuisine (Miz. B, Cowgirl, Cooper, Smurf, Kendra, Seize the Nite, Rochelle, et al.), I decided to add my own contribution.

Behold! The most nauseating culinary disaster known to the ZenFo Pro...

A microwavable beef-and-cheese burrito,
smothered with applesauce and cottage cheese.

This is what the ZenFo Father calls a healthy, well-balanced meal. Prior to consumption, Dad will usually chop the burrito into pieces, swirl the whole concoction into a pudding-like substance, top with salsa, pickles, and/or ketchup.

It's painful to watch. He's been doing it since my family bought its first microwave back in the 1980s.

Don't bother asking me why. We've asked him and have never gotten an answer. We've begged him not to do it in front of company.

What can ya do? Different strokes...

My sister sent this to me Monday- a complete waste of both bandwidth and good information technologies. It is, however, rather amusing.

Is it just me, or did virtually everyone in cyberspace decide that March would be Food Posting Month?

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Blogging, Cuisine, deja vu, Diets, Disasters, Fate, Food, Humor, Karma, Taste

Harsh Realities of a Violent World: Ravers and Insular Subculture Shock

Women go 'missing' by the millions
Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Tribune Media Services International
SATURDAY, MARCH 25, 2006

AMSTERDAM -- As I was preparing for this article, I asked a friend who is Jewish if it was appropriate to use the term "holocaust" to portray the worldwide violence against women. He was startled. But when I read him the figures in a 2004 policy paper [PDF] published by the Geneva Center for the Democratic Control of Armed Forces, he said yes, without hesitation.

One United Nations estimate says from 113 million to 200 million women around the world are demographically "missing." Every year, from 1.5 million to 3 million women and girls lose their lives as a result of gender-based violence or neglect...

- FULL OP/ED HERE -

A few years ago, back in grad school, I was sitting in a rather dank computer lab in LSU's Coates Hall. I remember it was raining, as it does most afternoons in Louisiana. I remember being tired from frequent 14-hour flights to western Montana, where I was working as a design consultant for a planned museum/library.

Instead of studying, I was reading the same policy paper Ayaan quoted in Saturday's International Herald-Tribune. I remember getting a lump in my throat when I first read that 200 million floating there in the UN document. That's more than the estimated 143 million women living in the United States.

As many as 200 million women are demographically missing. These women may be dead, mutilated, sex slaves, victims of genocide, refugees, etc. Around the world, there are records produced daily that document the brutal destructive force of humanity.

So why is it, then, that in the Western world, very few give a shit? How are human beings, despite all of the evidence around us, able to ignore what we see, to write off the plight of their fellow man as being nothing more than a small amount of newsprint or some 10-second actuality from a radio program?

We - all of us - do so because we choose to be blind, deaf, and dumb. The simple act of caring requires one to accept some level of vulnerability, to acknowledge that we are mere mortals. People in the West - where we view ourselves as somehow cultured because we watch the hippest television shows or listen to certain types of music or associate with certain people - are not safe from the global environment simply because we choose to be ignorant of the world around us.

There is absolutely no protection provided by a self-imposed blindness, no right to security or safety behind a veil of ignorance. Someone asked me last night how I could be so blunt in my discussion of such a sensitive topic as the recent killings in Seattle. How insensitive to discuss the impact of a laissez-faire subculture in the light of a national tragedy! How cold, brutal, and callous!

I make no apologies for discussing my personal experiences at raves in the 1990s in relation to what happened in Washington state in 2006 - and I never will. Frankly, there is no need for an apology for sharing my thoughts, my direct observations of raves, and my personal feelings on why I'm not shocked whatsoever. While I realize my opinions may offend, well, no one in this world has a right to go through life without being offended. Feel free to read, view, and listen to only what you agree with - that is your choice.

As I told that person, how ignorant of our violent world does one have to be to actually believe that seven dead people, killed at a party by some madman, is any more relevant in the big picture than any other murder? At the end of the day, the entire event boils down to one American killing a few others. At the end of the day, they are no different to the world's 6+ billion people than the 1.5-3 million women who die every year.

Don't kid yourself - the vast majority of the world could really give a shit what happened on Capitol Hill last weekend. Six hundred kids could've died, and I doubt Joe Sixpack would think twice about it while flipping between reality TV and NCAA basketball games.

Yes, that's cold. And I'm sorry it has to be that way. But sorrow does not end violence in a violent world. No murder has ever been undone after the fact by someone crying over the dead. Future violence, however, is a different story. Open dialogue, the exchange of differing ideas, arguments over the assignment of responsibility, can prevent further violence.

I'm sorry that a 27-year-old Iraqi doctor admitted to executing more than 40 Iraqi troops via lethal injection. I'm sorry more than two dozen people lost their lives along the Pakistan/Afghanistan border this week in ethnic skirmishes. But being sorry will not bring them back from the dead.

Two men were brutally murdered last night on Chicago's South Side; Saturday, a 21-year-old was also killed in a drive-by shooting, shot in the head in the same Windy City. I'm certain there are numerous other murders that occurred this weekend; I'm sorry those happened, too.

Sadly, what happened in Seattle is not some great tragedy - it is merely another headline begging for sympathy yet devoid of resolution. Like the Columbine Massacre, the D.C. Sniper, that girl who disappeared down in Aruba, and other media items, this weekend's events in the Pacific Northwest serve as benchmarks for our self-imposed ignorance of the greater human tragedy.

Yes, that's cold. It's downright brutal. As someone who's known way too many good people turned to wormfood by violence, it's painful to even admit that. But not talking about it will not bring a single person killed in the world back to life. There is no great Lazarus solution to humanity's meatgrinder.

That is the greatest tragedy known to man, whether discussing the millions of dead or the loss of one life.

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? wrote T.S. Elliot, Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

There is no escaping the criticism and public scrutiny that scene will now find itself seeking to escape, that microscope of the public eye. There are members of the rave community who were pissed off by that last post.

Feel free to be pissed - at least it got ya thinking about something other than the normal daily bullshit.

It's your life to live. And unlike the other millions of people who die because of war, disease, and other types of senseless violence, you can still live your life however you choose to live it.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Adolescence, Drug Use, News, Opinion, Raves, Responsibility, Seattle, Shootings, Substance Abuse

THE "SAFE" RAVE MYTH: Seattle Massacre Not Shocking

The recent homicidal shooting spree after a Seattle rave shouldn't shock anyone. It's not that I don't find the recent events tragic. I'm amazed, however, that it hasn't happened before now.

I've been to raves. I've witnessed the batshit insanity that occurs at them, the kinds of people they attract.

In the dozen or so I attended when I was younger, I never once felt safe. You're in a large space with a group of mostly drug-addled scenesters, all looking to fit into something. Most are in their teens and 20s, come from mostly upper-middle and upperclass backgrounds, and have a taste for exotic club drug cocktails. There's almost always someone extremely depressed, emotionally unstable, or full of rage at these things. Why would anyone expect to feel safe?

The rave scene essentially boils down to a dance party for the Entitled - those either too self-absorbed or too high to realize that they aren't superhuman and that, yes, there are no safe hiding places from the world's woes. Raves exist as reckless escapist illusions designed to prop up insecurities with strange narcotics and thumping music. By their very existence, they are bound to attract people teetering on the edge between melancholy and cold-blooded murder.

The zombie-themed event in Seattle was no different; sadly, it ended with a brutal loss of life because one of those powder kegs finally exploded. No one knows why some guy walked in with guns blazing and ended the lives of six partygoers before turning the gun on himself.

But no one should be shocked.

The last time I attended a rave was a few months after I moved to California, back in 1999. I'd been clean for less than a year, but the people I attended the event with promised me that I'd be welcome and that there'd be no pressure to resume the ingestion of illegal substances.

When you're tripping on something, raves seem like the ultimate scenester gathering. Everybody is welcome, all are happy, the world is fucking peachy. When you're clean, the potential tragedy is everywhere.

Being sober gave me a chance to see what had been lurking behind the purple haze that I'd never noticed before. Not only was I pressured to drop acid, pop E, and take a trip on the Special K wagon, I was grilled constantly by kids - mostly from affluent communities - about my Narc status, told to just give up on sobriety and join the designer-fragranced masses.

One of the people I attended the party with was punched in the face by some kid who thought she was trying to kill him. Another guy, in his late 30s, kept trying to get this one 15-year-old girl to go out to the parking lot with him; when she said no, he simply whipped out his limp dick and demanded that she provide him some kind of relief.

I remember witnessing this other girl, all 75-85 pounds of pure untreated bulemia, curled up on the floor of the unisex bathroom, giving anyone in earshot a detailed account of how she'd been forcibly sodomized by an ex-boyfriend a few weeks prior. Some friend of hers kept telling her she was just crashing and needed to keep up the buzz to make the pain go disappear. Like an obedient puppy, the girl popped a handful of multicolored tabs and was soon swirling around like a ballerina.

I think she ended up disappearing in some closet with the guy in his 30s.

Sure. Raves are just peachy.

What happened in Seattle this weekend could happen anywhere.

Certainly tragic.

But not shocking.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Adolescence, Drug Use, News, Opinion, Raves, Responsibility, Seattle, Shootings, Substance Abuse

Where Oh Where Are You Tonight?: Buck Owens Dead at 76

I once read an interview Buck Owens gave, somewhere back in the 1990s.

I was an angry, teenaged punk kid back then. I had nine piercings, a shaved head, and a taste for MD 20/20 and Thunderbird screwtop wine.

I hated country music with a passion, mainly because I was expected to like country music as a farmboy. I cranked the Ramones and the Offspring while bailing hay, dammit.

In the article, Owen discussed his refusal to label the music he made as country music - he played American music. No other label was needed. The Beatles covered his work. So did Ray Charles. And Dwight Yokam, too.

It was around that time when I started to appreciate the fact that having the guts to kick in the Man's teeth wasn't the sole domain of the punk scene.

Guys like Miles Davis and Charlie Parker did it for jazz, Robert Johnson for the blues, Elvis did it for rock and roll, and guys like Buck Owens did it for country.

Owens represented the antithesis of the Nashville Establishment, honky-tonk's answer to David Bowie and Iggy Pop. He helped establish what would become known as the Bakersfield Sound, paving the way for country music to get a little dirtier, a little more bluesy, and a lot more entertaining.

I will never, ever forget the red, white, and blue guitar.

Where oh where are you tonight, Buck?

If you seen Waylon or Hank or Johnny Horton, say hi for me, will ya?

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
American Music, Badass, Buck Owens

Wardrobes, Matchmakers, and the Wrong Way to Gamble on Education

Three different people have compared me to some guy named Simon last week.

First, a colleague of mine made a comment about how I dress like the guy at work. Then one of my occassional drinking buddies, an electrician, made the same comment. Thursday night, a high school student I tutored last summer said the same damned thing when I ran into her at the grocery store.

Having never watched the show, I had no clue who this guy was – the comparison meant absolutely squat.

This morning I remembered to look him up on Wikipedia. Who the fuck is Simon Cowell? And why should I care?

* * *

The high school student I mentioned? I started tutoring her in math and reading skills right after I'd ended a rather bizarre relationship last summer; she overheard me talking to her mom about it. She kept wanting to pester me about my love life rather than study, so I made a bet with her – if she pulled her GPA above 3.0, I'd let her play “Find Jason a Girlfriend.”

Quite frankly, I didn't expect her to pull in anything above a 2.5, so I figured I was safe. But, according to the mangled grade reports she showed me Thursday, she was averaging a 3.3 for the year.

Uh. Yeah.

Fuck.

It is never a good idea to wager your love life against a teenager's pursuit of a life beyond rural Indiana. Per our bet, I had to go on a date with the woman of her choice. I hadn't seen this girl in more than six months. Her dad, who was with her at the store, told me that she's been plotting since she scored her first straight-B report card.

When I got home from the store Thursday night, I sat in my pick-up for about ten minutes, with one thought repeating over and over in my head:

“Dude, you are seriously fucked.”

* * *

Friday morning, the kid e-mailed me a list of about two dozen potential dates. I was to narrow down her list to five and she would then pick my date.

She apparently had completely ignored two of my major criteria – no one underage and no one who had a criminal record. Three women on the list were under 17. One, she wrote in the e-mail, wouldn't be able to go out until she got off probation for a drug conviction.

Oh yeah. I'm fucked.

Couldn't this girl have missed a couple days or just been satisfied with being a C+ student?
It's not her fault, I guess. Living in a rural area automatically limits one's options.

The best part was, of course, the Questionnaire she included to help her pick a winner:

Do u like a. big boobs b. small boobs or c. no boobs?
Do u like Hawthorne Heights? or r u a country fan? i can't figgure u out...
Are u a guy who likes to snuggle or do u play it kool on the first date?

Um...yeah.

She copied her dad on the message. Her father received the e-mail at the same time as I did, apparently. He called and left me a voice mail. I was too embarrassed to answer my cellphone.

Two and a half minutes of your former pupil's father laughing at you is a rather humbling experience.

Her father, being a single guy himself, felt my pain and gently intervened on my behalf. He sent me a modified version of the list (sans women he called Jerry Springer rejects) and saved me the awkwardness of having to explain to a high school girl that I don't, um, have a boob preference.

* * *

This afternoon, I went on a blind date, hopefully the last. Not an awful experience – she picked a rather attractive gas station cashier, her boyfriend's cousin.

We did coffee and caught a movie. It was rather uneventful. Actually, I was bored within the first five minutes.

Nice girl, but not my type. I'm not sure what my type is, exactly, but I'm sure this woman isn't it. We had nothing in common – not one single thing. And I hate to sound mean or arrogant, but who the fuck finds dumb women attractive?

I kept reminding myself the whole time that it could've been a lot worse - jailbait with a drug conviction worse.

At least I can now say that I've whored myself out for education.

Like I said, it could've been worse...

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Dating, Education, Gambling, Literacy, Matchmaking, Rural America

LSU Tells Blue Devils to Geaux Home

Pardon me for a moment.

//--- BEGIN PLAYER-HATE ---//

LSU men's basketball completely embarrassed Duke 62-54 last night, reaching the Elite Eight for the first time since 1987.

LSU just happens to be where I completed my graduate program, so I'll go ahead and admit my bias.

George Mason, a tiny engine-than-could from the ZenFo Pro's beloved Virginia, sent last year's men's champion, North Carolina, home to Chapel Hill with nothing more than a few memories in the second round of the NCAA Tournament.

North Carolinians...

It must've been painful to look into the mirror this morning and realize how much it SUCKS to be a Duke or UNC fan.

I almost feel sorry for you.

Almost.

How sweet the taste of Tar Heel tears... oh sweet, precious tears...

//--- END PLAYER-HATE ---//

"But I Don't Date Black Guys..." Dating and Diversity

I overheard a woman on her cellphone, outside of my office, this afternoon.

Apparently, some cute guy had asked her on a date.

How do I know she thought he was attractive? She must've used the word "hot" to describe this particular Romeo about ten times in under a minute. From the bit of the conversation I overheard through my office wall, he was also "sweet," "cool to hang out with," and "a good kisser."

She apparently wasn't happy about it.

As I was locking my office door, I heard a phrase I haven't heard in a long time:

"But I don't date black guys."

I started to say something, but decided against it. This woman, tan and looking very underfed, obviously has a lot of things on her plate.

Like NOT dating some HOT somebody because...they weren't born Caucasian.

I really hope there was some other reason. I pray there was something more...

But if what I heard was indeed the sole minimum dating standard, then die single, lady.

Seriously. If you're attracted to someone, race shouldn't really matter. This isn't 1906, 1966, or even 1996 - get over it. Date who you want. Go out and have a good time. I'm not be an expert, but I've yet to meet anyone from anywhere in the world who doesn't want to be romantically involved with someone they actually like.

Walking out to my truck, I lit a cigarette and thought about what I'd just overheard. Using the calculator on my mobile, I crunched some personal numbers out of curiosity.

I've never cared about race - not something I really think about when I find somebody attractive. Sure, I'm a stereotypical hetero male. I notice physical attributes. There are things I like, things I don't.

I've also know folks who care about race too much when it comes to courting. I've known black men who only date white women, white women who only date Latinos, people who only date within their own group, even Asian lesbians who would only date other Asian lesbians.

But frankly, ethnicity is just too stupid of a measurement for my libido. Hell, I can't even quantify what I'm looking for in a relationship, much less the physical stuff. If I find a woman attractive, well, I just do.

I basically calculated a statistical breakdown of all of the women I've ever been involved with - physically, romantically, or...um...otherwise. For simplicity's sake, I used that stupid U.S. Census criteria, where people from North Africa and the Middle East mysteriously cease to be Persian or Bedouin and become something called "White (Not Hispanic)."

Here's what the numbers revealed, rounded to the nearest whole number (won't equal 100% because of, well, the mysteries of mathematics):

"Hispanic" (Not White) - 36 %
"White" (Not Hispanic) - 30 %
"Black" - 20 %
Asian/Pacific Islander - 10 %
Native American/Aboriginal - 5%
Other/multiple ethnicities - 3 %

It was actually harder to do than it looks. Not the math; having to categorize somebody into something I never really saw in them is actually more difficult than I thought it would be.

Looking at those numbers now, the whole thing seems absolutely batshit. The human race has spent the majority of its history choping itself into definable groups based, mostly, on very superficial things - skin color, language, traditions, religion, diet, etc.

What a stupid thing. No wonder I've never noticed it.

Sure, there are a lot of folks who aren't attracted to certain features prevelant in many cultures. I don't want to judge anybody because they don't find members of one ethnic group sexually appealing. Every day, millions of people fall in love with people who look, talk, and share cultural similaries. These things happen, based on the environment that produced the individual...

But what if someone is admittedly attracted to someone but uses ethnicity as an excuse? Why the hell would somebody want to do that? Why limit yourself? If you dig somebody, what the fuck does being "black" have to do with it?

I guess I shouldn't be too shocked. I'll probably end up with more questions than answers on this one.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Culture, Dating, Diversity, Race, Relationships, Society

How Stakeholders Accomplish Change

Protesters defy Belarus's Lukashenko over poll
Andrei Makhovsky
Reuters (via ABC NEWS)
Mar 21, 2006

MINSK [MAP] - Hundreds of protesters defied Belarussian President Alexander Lukashenko for a third day on Tuesday, massing in the capital to protest over his re-election, denounced as flawed by Washington and independent observers...

...At least 500 protesters, most of them young people, rallied to Milinkevich's call for fresh elections and camped in tents on October Square overnight in an action reminiscent of the highly-organized 2004 "Orange Revolution" in Ukraine...

...

"I came here to support these young people. In previous years I was marching under the red flags and I think it was wrong. That's why I am here. I want my grandchildren to be proud of me," 66-year-old pensioner Pavel Rusetsky said...

- READ FULL ARTICLE HERE -

REVISED: 1 PM ET

Having covered my fair share of protests, I realized a long time ago that the vast majority of demonstrations in this country end up being utter failures.

Sure, there's the momentary exposure, the quick sidebar item that may or may not make the wire reports. There's the flash-in-the-pan 40-second canned package that may make a news broadcast.

But, in the end, nobody cares what your average protester in the West has to say. Your average American "social activist" lives their daily life in relative comfort, brings more self-righteousness to the table than actual righteousness, and usually has more concern for things like theory than practicality.

Unlike people in places like Belarus - where not protesting means more years under a brutal regime - Joe and American Protester often serve as nothing more than well-intentioned noise in the background. The majority of protesters here have the luxury of advocating for change without really accepting the responsibility that comes with being a stakeholder.

Without the willingness to demonstrate true sacrifice - the risk of life and luxury, the possible loss of social and economic status - most protests in the West get written off as being nothing more than an organized complaint.

I once covered a protest against a retail clothing chain in California. A group of college students decided to picket the chain for selling clothes manufactured in sweatshops.

The first thing I noticed was that nearly every protester was wearing clothing sold at a rival clothing boutique, one that also had been accused of relying on sweatshop labor to manufacture its clothes.

Strike One.

The second thing I noticed, in interviewing the group's organizers, was that they had bitten off more than they could chew.

Not a single one of the protesters had ever visited a sweat shop or even knew somebody from a developing nation where sweatshops actually exist. When I asked questions about the plight of the people actually involved, it became equally clear that none of the protesters could identify places like Indonesia or Thailand on a map.

They did have a few nice talking points - pulled from a pamphlet somebody had picked up at a similar rally in San Francisco. Talking points, but no substance.

Strike Two.

I asked one of the protesters the generic opening question: What do you hope to accomplish? Again, I was given a talking point instead of an answer. So I asked a tough question: What's your stake in all of this? The only answer I received, in attempting to interview about a dozen college students, was different variations of how much they cared, how wrong child labor is, how they wanted to raise awareness...

Strike Three.

Caring about some issue doesn't make it newsworthy. I care about whether or not it's going to rain on my days' off - but nobody else really gives a shit. Saying that you are trying to raise awareness conveys no message other than I am not a stakeholder.

Their protest didn't make my station's newscast. They did, however, get a tiny write-up buried in the local newspaper - right next to the Rotary Club's annual pancake breakfast coverage.

I've seen antiwar, anti-Bush, fair trade, and labor protests fall into the same trap. Opinions, as the old saying goes, are like assholes - everyone has one. But for the select few, causes have an actual value attached, beyond the rhetoric.

Take the War in Iraq, for example. There are mothers and fathers all over the U.S. who have buried their children, husbands and wives caring for wounded lovers, soldiers returning from the frontlines with horror stories and tales of valor. Some support the war, some despise it, but all of their opinions matter more to the public than a thousand by those who have risked nothing.

A few months ago, I talked with a single mother, who's only son had just been visited by military recruiters. She was proud that he had decided to serve his country - but downright terrified that how she votes at home might cost him his life.

She's now a stakeholder.

Stakeholders matter. Lip service does not.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Activism, Belarus, Commentary, Democracy, Elections, Iraq War, Media, Minsk, News Coverage, Politics, Protests, Society, Talking Points, United States

When Boredom Hits, There's Always a B-Movie ...

Not exactly an exciting seven days.

Work. Sleep. Work. Push-ups. Eat. Sleep. Read blogs. Write on blog. Grocery shop. Eat. Read the daily news headlines.

Gotta love life in a small town.

A tiny, constrictive, choking-the-life-out-of-all-creativity kinda town, but it could be worse.

The highlight of my day today? I heard two women arguing over who bought their North Face jacket first. One called the other an "over-tanned whore."

Every single frigging woman in this town under 30 seems to wear the same damned North Face jacket. And quite a few seem to spend more time in tanning salons than actually contributing to society.

Ask me if I give a shit.

So, needless to say, I've been finding less artistic ways to unwind - like watching a lot of flicks.

I could, well, read a book or something.

Nah.

* * * *

QUICK AND DIRTY DVD REVIEWS:

1. John Carpenter's Starman (1984, John Carpenter, director)
Karen Allen is one of those actressses that has always made me feel kinda funny inside. She's probably one of the hottest female actors from the 1980s, but no one remembers her beyond her role in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

2. Romper Stomper (1992, Geoffrey Wright, director)
A film about Australian skinheads and the sheer dysfunctional insanity that is racial hatred. The fight scene between the Neo Nazis and Vietnamese immigrants is about a brutally vivid as one can get - this film even caused a few PTSD flashbacks.

3. Sugar Hill (1994, Leon Ichaso, director.)
Before Wesley Snipes started doing bad vampire flicks, he was a very good actor. His roles in films like New Jack City and Jungle Fever are what made him a star, not the action-hero stuff he does these days. Definitely worth the rent.

4. King of New York (1990, Abel Ferrara, director)
Christopher Walken is one scary bastard. He's made a lot of money playing scary bastards, actually.

5. Repo Man (1984, Alex Cox, director)
One of my favorite movies of all time. You've got Brat Packer Emilio Estevez. You've got some guy who looks like Isaac Asimov driving around L.A. with a truck full of dead aliens. You've got chain-smoking Harry Dean Stanton. The film also sports one of the most influential punk soundtracks of all time.

Just One Word... Dumbass

Man severs own penis, throws it at officers
ERIC HERMAN, Staff Reporter
Chicago Sun-Times
March 17, 2006

Before cops threw the book at him, Jakub Fik threw something unusual at them -- his penis.

Fik, 33, cut off his own penis during a Northwest Side rampage Wednesday morning. When confronted by police, Fik hurled several knives and his severed organ at the officers, police said. Officers stunned him with a Taser and took him into custody...

- FULL ARTICLE HERE -

Okay, I've had bad break-ups before.

But...uh...never had the desire to cut off my own penis, nor have I ever had the desire to fling it at law enforcement officials.

Big Brother Is Watching Me...

Apparently, several folks liked the pictures I posted recently.

Nothing like getting compliments. I don't get them often. Much obliged.

Unfortunately, Bob Patterson noticed someone hiding in the background of one of the images.

Big Brother is indeed watching me.

I must issue a warning, however. The image unearthed through Bob's mysterious advanced science may be considered offensive, even graphic, to some...






Um...yeah.

Not sure who the guy is, but I think he's checking me out. Kinda creepy.

Guy looks familiar, but I just can't place him.

I've heard he has a bit of a librarian fetish...


-- Jason

TEXTING TERROR: Belarus Incident Reveals Darker Side of the Wired World

Text Messages Warn of Violence in Belarus
Jim Heintz, The Associated Press
(Via Houston Chronicle)
March 18, 2006

MINSK, Belarus [MAP] — Mysterious cell-phone text messages warning of bloodshed on election day spread in the Belarusian capital on Saturday, a day before presidential voting that the opposition alleges is likely to be fraudulent...
...

The text messages received by subscribers to the country's largest mobile phone operator Saturday morning said "provocateurs are planning bloodshed" Sunday evening at Oktyabrskaya Square, where protesters are expected to try to gather. "Watch out for your life and health."...

- READ FULL ARTICLE HERE -

Text mesaging is an increasingly popular form of mobile communication, but most folks don't realize it is perhaps one of the most powerful broadcasting tools in the world.

Mobile text messaging, in most countries, has traditionally been very difficult to monitor - at least that was the case until Bejing cracked down on mobile speech in the aftermath of the Chinese SARS outbreak.

China, however, has a sophisticated information infrastructure; most developing non-democratic societies do not. Mobile devices have been hailed by many as a way to bridge the Digital Divide, to bring electronic communication technologies to people without waiting for costly ground-based systems to be developed.

In Belarus, someone has obviously discovered a new use for text messaging - the ability to spread terror. The method imployed is as old as the human ability to communicate. Spread the word to the right people, and one can start (or end) a revolution with a strategically-placed message. The Roman Army, for example, sent Carthaginian commander Hannibal the severed head of his brother to communicate a Roman victory at the Metaurus River.

But with advances in ICT, communication of strategically-placed information is becoming more readily available to all. While the hope this brings outweighs any fear, there are very real dangers in the Wired World. Right now, some hacker somewhere is designing the next super-virus. Right now, some old lady is sending her bank information to some cyber-profiteer she believes will deposit millions into her account.

There are even fragile old terrorists, hidden in Central Asian caves and living off a dialysis machine, who are able to bring nuclear superpowers to verge of hysteria with video tapes, a few clandestine e-mails to operatives, and a few messages posted on online websites run by sympathizers.

Last night, I watched a group of high school girls sitting around a table in a coffee shop in rural Ohio, each with a mobile phone in hand. Some were downloading pictures of cute boys from friends miles away. One was lying to her parents about her plans for the night while they were out of town. Two were text messaging furiously and gossiping with the the rest of the girls at the table simultaneously.

At the same time, thousands of miles away, on the other side of the world, someone in Belarus was also furiously texting as well. And they weren't gossiping about Ashlee Simpson or cute boys or about how some girl in gym class dressed like a slut to get boys to look at her.

In Minsk, there was a message someone wanted to send, something meant to spread fear and to incite violence. On the other side of the world, on the dawn of what is expected to be a farce of an election, nobody is worrying about Ashlee Simpson's love life.

Ashlee Simpson scares no one. The people of Belarus have more important things to worry about than what American teens think makes someone cool or not.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Al Qaeda, Belarus, Democracy, Elections, Information Communication Technologies, Minsk, Mobile Phones, Politics, Society, Technology, Terrorism, Text-Messaging, War on Terror

Building America One Naturalization Ceremony at a Time...

I'm not a humanitarian, I'm a hellraiser.

- Mother (Mary) Jones, American Activist and Irish Immigrant (1837-1930)

Hold my hand Black Mother, hold,
I need to rise, I need to stand on my feet
To rise, to stand, and to accuse.

- Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, "Hold My Hand"
Ethiopian Poet Laureate (1936-2006)

Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the Capitol?
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that the President?

- Walt Whitman, "To The States" U.S. Poet and Writer (1819-1892)

One of my best friends, Mesi, became a U.S. citizen two weeks ago. Not thinking a big deal, she waited a while to tell me that she had gone through the naturalization ceremony.

I cried hearing her story. No point in lying about it.

She shook the hand of a judge who extolled the importance of remembering that the majority of Americans come from somewhere else. Smiling old women, volunteers from some civic organization, served cookies and punch. And, per tradition, she was given a small American flag to welcome her into one of the world's most celebrated clubs - the American Citizenry.

The very face of the United States changes every time an immigrant joins that American club. And that is a wonderous thing.

I welcome immigrants because with a healthy influx of new people comes a wealth of new ideas and cultural influence. My friend now not only has the same rights and freedoms I've enjoyed since birth, she also brings with her the gift of her native Ethiopia's culture.

She brings with her everything from family recipes to beautiful literary traditions. She brings language and art, knowledge and beauty. And she is nowhere near being the only African coming to these shores bearing sacred gifts.

According to the Yearbook of Immigration Statistics, roughly a half a million people have become citizens each year since 1995. Between 2000 and 2004, more than 100,000 Africans were naturalized. In 2004 alone, more than 4,000 of Mesi's fellow Ethiopian ex-pats joined the ranks of Joe Sixpack.

To me, there's nothing more beautiful than someone wanting to become a citizen of my country, despite all of our very public bickering, violent crime rate, our political insanity, and our tarnished role as the world's bastion of freedom.

For all the anti-immigrant paranoia of the cultural isolationists, for all the knee-jerk policies of the current government and public opinion, people still come. They come from cities like Lagos and Hong Kong, Addis Ababa and Islamabad. They uproot themselves from the social comforts of their mother countries and move to a strange land in pursuit of their dreams.

Mesi told me that one Turkish woman said she'd been waiting 40 years for the day she could become an American citizen. Many Americans I know, those fortunate enough to be born in this country, get upset if they have to wait 40 minutes for a table at restaurant.

A reminder, I guess, that the rights most citizens take for granted daily are well worth the wait to those who've never known such freedoms. A reminder, too, that despite our Patriot Acts and our Abu Gharibs, despite our willingness to elect a war-mad ruling party and a spineless opposition, people still see the United States as a land where there is still hope.

The hope of immigrants is what built America. The idealism that they brought with them, their belief in the magical landmass that separates the Atlantic from the Pacific, is what has turned dreams into reality, ideas into invention and innovation, for more than two centuries.

It is an honor to welcome in my new countrymen, not as refugees from some foreign place but as living, breathing representations of what the United States was meant to be, what it is at its finest. I look forward to calling them my fellow Americans at our cafes and grocery stores, in classrooms and polling booths, on street corners and at parties.

I look forward to helping them build a better future for the lot of us.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Africa, American Citizenship, Immigration, Naturalization, United States

ZENFORMATION PLAYLIST 03/16/06

1. Nothing - Anthrax, Stomp 442 (Elecktra, 1995)
There are two kinds of Anthrax fans. Some folks like Journey-esque vocalist Joey Belladonna; some folks prefer the band's 1990s vocalist, John Bush.

2. You Drive Me Ape (You Big Gorilla) - The Dickies, Incredible Shrinking Dickies (A&M, 1979)
What the Ramones were to New York's punk scene, the Dickies were to the L.A. scene.

3. Sordid - Amon Tobin, Permutation (Ninja Tune, 1998)
Brazil-born Tobin is a master of trip-hop. Not strickly a downtempo artist, either. This song was almost ruined for me by Toyota, which featured the track in a car commercial.

4. Jackyard Backoff - The Cramps, Stay Sick! (Vengeance Remaster, 1990)
Bonus track from the remastered version of the Stay Sick disc. Can't get much more rockabilly than the Cramps.

5. Doublewhiskeycokenoice - The Dillinger Four, Midwestern Songs of the Americas (Hopeless, 1998) - [MP3]

6. My Favorite Mutiny - The Coup, Pick a Bigger Weapon (Epitaph, April 2006 Release) - [MP3]
A few weeks ago, some anonymous emo kid left a post that trashed my choice in music - I didn't have anything, like, new and stuff. Maybe I'm just bitter, but I thought I'd post a song that hasn't even been released in album form yet - just to piss the hell out of the Scenesters.

7. Old Shoes (& Picture Postcards) - Tom Waits, Closing Time (Asylum, 1973)
Can't go wrong with a little Waits on a slow Thursday.

WTF?!? DIPLOMACY: The U.S. Coalition for ... er ... Human Rights

Four nations voted against the formation of the new U.N. Human Rights Council. The U.S. was, sadly, one of them.

But what about the other Big Three? How can the media overlook their part in trying to better protect human rights through procrastination?

* * * * *

ISRAEL:

Yeah. Didn't see that one coming.

After the rather stupid act of sending in troops to break prisoners OUT of a Palestinian Authority-controlled prison, nothing the acting Olmert Government does shocks me.

Oh yeah. Did I mention that Israel's acting head of state is up for election in two weeks?

The U.S. holds no monopoly on chickenhawk leadership.

* * * * *

MARSHALL ISLANDS:

Yep. They've been an independent nation since 1986 ... sort of.

According to the CIA World Factbook, the tiny nation received roughly $1 billion in U.S. aid between 1986 and 2002. The U.S. is even responsible for the tiny nation's defense.

Of course, we also blew up a few nuclear weapons on one of their islands a few decades ago.

Who did ya think they were going to side with? Turkey?

* * * * *

PALAU:

Wait... they're an independent nation?

Oh, how silly of me. I was a junior in high school when they gained quasi-independence from the U.S.-administered U.N. Trusteeship.

Way back in when dinosaurs walked the earth ... in 1994.

I have boxer shorts older than Palau.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Diplomacy, Human Rights, International Affairs, Politics, United Nations

INFORMATION POVERTY WATCH: The Global South's Emerging Tech Beat Generation

Nigeria's answer to Silicon Valley
by Dulue Mbachu
Mail and Guardian (South Africa)
March 14, 2006

LAGOS, Nigeria [MAP] -- Peddlers of pirated software now hold sway on the very streets where drug dealers and prostitutes plied their wares a decade ago in Nigeria's biggest city.

Otigba Street. Ola Ayeni Street. Even in the adjoining Pepple Street -- where renowned musician Fela Anikulapo-Kuti had the popular venue where he smoked pot on stage. Every building in the Ikeja district is now packed with computer and cellphone ware, and business is also done on the streets...

- READ THE REST HERE -

We live on a planet where an extreme minority controls the production, distribution, and content of the world's technologies. That minority - overwhelmingly white, wealthy by global standards, and residing in politically stable nations - has been slow to share the fruit of the Information Age.

While the More Developed World grew fat and lazy off a steady diet of media players, game consoles, and mobile phones, the majority of the world's people have been left to starve on the few ICT scraps that have fallen from the table.

The assumption, in most developed nations, is that people in some of the world's poorest nations simply want the same ICT that their wealthier brothers and sisters.

Software piracy, like prostitution, drug trafficking, and scores of other Western no-nos, never arise simply out of want. I seriously doubt the majority of men, women, and children involved in the global sex trade turn tricks simply because they want to do so. Or that opium runners in Afghanistan and meth farmers in Indiana handle their wares simply because they enjoy it.

Things like black markets don't arise out of want. Want is a desire - one can do without what they want. Need, on the other hand... need is tied to survival.

Many prostitutes - voluntary or coerced - do what they do simply to survive. Prostitutes often turn tricks because of the social environs that put them on the thin line between life and death. People grow cocaine in rural Latin America not because they can't grow anything else; more often, the growing of these crops is tied to the possibility of murder or starvation.

The Digital Divide is not simply a gap between those who have information and communication resources they want and those who do not. It is a gap between those who have more than they need in terms of ICT and those struggling to meet their needs.

And like many mothers turn to prostitution to feed their children or countless farmers grow narcotics to save themselves from the bullet or machete, the world's Information Poor will turn to piracy to find ways of better educating their children, to build better lives, and to sustain their very existence.

The Digital Divide and other gaps between the information-haves and have-nots has very little to do with technology, the gadgets and toys we use to meet our desires. It does, however, have a whole hell of a lot to do with survival - of various cultures, ideas, and social betterment.

And people will steal, fight, and even kill simply to survive.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Africa, Black Market, Global South, Digital Divide, Human Rights, Information Poverty, Internet, Piracy, Poverty, Software, Technology

THE GOOD, THE BAD, & THE MEDIA: Corporate Takeovers and Heartbroken Former CEOs

McClatchy buying Knight-Ridder; Selling 12 papers
Reuters, March 13-15, 2006

McClatchy will pay $40 cash and 0.5118 Class A shares for each Knight-Ridder share. The deal values Knight-Ridder at $67.25 per share, above its closing price of $65 on Friday.

Knight Ridder's sale process underscored the difficulty U.S. newspaper publishers have faced in a weak advertising market and in trying to compete with Internet news sources, diminishing margins and a series of circulation scandals...

...McClatchy, whose own publications include the Sacramento Bee and Minneapolis Star Tribune, said the combined company will become the No. 2 U.S. newspaper chain based on a daily circulation of about 3.2 million people. It will operate 32 daily newspapers and 50 non-daily publications after the sale of 12 Knight-Ridder papers -- including some of its best-known titles such as the Philadelphia Inquirer and the San Jose Mercury News...

- FULL ARTICLE HERE -

So McClatchy's breaking up the band.

Of Knight-Ridder's major papers, more than a third are rumored to be headed for the auction block.

Publications reportedly for sale include Akron's Beacon-Journal, the San Jose Mercury News, both of Philadelphia's major dailies, the Wilkes Barre (Pa.) Times Leader, and the Contra Costa (Calif.) Times.

With the deal now finished, former Knight-Ridder CEO Tony Ridder is expressing regret over the corporate takeover. According to the New York Times, he'll get a hefty multimillion-dollar severance deal that includes stock options.

Gee, Tony. Glad to see you spent at least some of your time negotiating retirement packages for employees, some of whom could end up getting the ax at 12 of the papers your company once controlled.

I'm sure you're personally devastated.

Of course, all those greenbacks must make life at least...bearable.

Knight-Ridder, once the number-two newspaper publisher in the country, has long been in financial trouble. As part of the acquisition, McClatchy will absorb $2 BILLION in corporate debt.

I'm sure it was all those greedy newspaper delivery guys, with their fancy twice-used cars and trendy fast-food only diets, that racked up the debt. And those pesky section editors. If only they'd bought less doughnuts for their interns on Fridays...

McClatchy is pledging to keep most of its workforce intact, but will merge different divisions. We shall see. But at least 12 newspapers across America, I'm certain there are a lot of folks polishing their resumes.

It's news items like this that remind me of why, exactly, I left journalism. Local media outlets, once the bread-and-butter of the news business, are now nothing more than the bargaining chips of corporate takeovers and the whores of a parent company's investors.

---

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Acquisitions, Business, Corporate Media, Journalism, Knight-Ridder, McClatchy, Media, Newspapers, Press

Interactive Media Monday

NOTE - There is absolutely no point to this post.

- Jason, the Zenformation Professional

---

- MOOD MUSIC -

Ever Somber [MP3] - Dälek, Absence (Ipecac, 2004).

My man Chewie found this old cast of mine (above) while cleaning house in Los Angeles.
Long story. One day, I may post about how, exactly, I broke three knuckles.

Obviously, Dec. 16, 2002, was not a happy day in the life of the ZenFo Pro....

---

A rather interesting woman from Cincinnati snapped a few pics of me in my office Saturday.

A few weeks ago, I reluctantly agreed to be part of her portfolio project in exchange for a free shot to send family and friends. We'd met briefly in a Cincinnati record store and exchanged business cards.

Well, I never thought she'd call, dammit.

This one (right) is a leftover she didn't want. I thought I'd post it. I kinda sorta dig it.

And check out the new profile pic - again, another castaway she e-mailed me this morning.

Thank goodness my mug didn't break the camera.

Who the hell would want to snap my picture anyway?

THE POWER OF INFORMATION DEPT.:A Blogger Never Knows Who, Exactly, Might Be Reading ... And That's a Good Thing

It's so funny how fate works sometimes. Fate is, after all, a complete bastard.

No sense in mincing words. Sometimes, it can be a perfect sunrise on a beautiful horizon. Other times, fate is as disturbing as a rat turd in a bag of potato chips.

I'm on the old laptop, downloading Mp3s and catching up on work. I'm chatting online with Kfig about the good ol' days and the bad new ones. I'm chatting with Miss Monkeythong.

A third IM window pops up.

A very sweet college student found my blog while browsing Alice's links a while back, felt bad for reading, and wanted to say hi. I asked her permission to post about our conversation; I think she was just relieved somebody cared enough to hear her out.

Basically, a guy she'd been dating since Fall Semester dumped her because she spent too much time studying and wasn't interested in sex 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. She found out at a party Friday night that the guy had told just about every mutual friend that she was the campus slut and that a guy only had to get her drunk to get into her pants.

It is appalling to me that guys like this girl's ex-boyfriend continue to exist in the 21st Century. In fact, it's downright offensive to me - as a man - that there are little boys who think they've earned the right to call themselves men simply because their balls drop and they get pubic hair.

Having a penis does not make a man; it is an honor measured in things greater than a few inches of flesh.

She and the ex? They had sex once. She explained how damned awkward it felt, how uncomfortable she was being in a strange room naked, how unpretty she felt while actually doing something that film and television actors make look so easy.

Sex is relatively easy. Its all that intimacy stuff that gets in the way.

This strange IMer tells me she met a guy at a library, a student worker. She thought he was way too cute to be interested in her, so she brought up my last post to break the ice. The guy thought it was pretty funny. They talked. He got yelled at by his supervisor. And then he walked her home and asked her on a date.

She just wanted to say thanks.

Getting a random IM like that made my frigging month. Somebody got a date as a result of a blog. That just fucking rocks.

If the girl who IMed me is reading this, I hope you had an awesome date Sunday. The ex-boyfriend is, in my humble opinion, a complete and utter waste of natural resources. In the future, don't date assholes.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Oxford Bloody Ohio, a thousand miles from nowhere. I'm having three conversations simultaneously with women in Dayton, Ohio, Colorado, and New England. One conversation, I'm nostalgic. Another, I'm professional. And in yet another, I'm told that, through some twist of fate, a girl was able to get a date in part because she read this blog.

A blog she found through another blog months ago, written by a woman I've never met. I found Wonderland or Not through a fellow L-World blogger, Zydeco Fish. I discovered ol' ZF through one of his fellow Canadian bloggers, the Library Bitch.

This thing we call the Internet isn't really a thing; lost in the pop culture hype is the fact that the World Wide Web is nothing more than a medium by which people are able to touch one another through electrified bundles of wire, processors, and plastic.

There is nothing more humbling than the acknowledgement that information is, indeed, power and that communication is the engine that drives us all, beyond the veil of microchips and processors.

Fate is a total bastard sometimes. Sometimes, that's a good thing.

Small fucking world.

"Where the Hell Did You Find those Guys..."America's Most Dangerous College Students

These are the rules: everybody fights, nobody quits. If you don't do your job I'll kill you myself. Welcome to the Roughnecks.

- From Starship Troopers (1997)

There are several reasons I don't talk about where, exactly, I work or the specifics of what I do daily.

I'm going to bend my rules a bit.

I supervise a staff of five part-time employees; in the last three weeks, these guys have accomplished the damned-near impossible. My team specializes in making the impossible work, so nobody should be surprised.

The team my administration has graciously allowed me to build represents the hardest of the hardcore in the L-World. They are my own personal Dirty Half-Dozen, my library's version of the Fighting Roughnecks.

I'm almost certain no other team at any library specializes in the kind of work they've mastered. No benchmark institutions. No safety net when things go wrong, no performance measure beyond identifying a problem and fixing it.

They deserve some credit for what they do. They've earned it. If I ever run into anyone at a conference who wants to say something to the contrary, I'm dropping a motherfucker. Seriously.

We're not talking about sitting at a reference desk or reshelving books here. We're talking blood and sweat - work more akin to an extreme sport than to traditional library work.

Everybody fights, nobody quits.

That quotation is the only one that ever comes to mind when trying to describe the sheer force of will my team exhibits daily. They come to work sick, they work tired and hungry, and they work through pain.

I've had at least a dozen prominent members of this community ask me where I found these guys. While celebrating our recent accomplishment last night, I had a retired professor ask me, in the john, where the hell I found guys so downright ... frightening. (I get that reaction often.)

I found them where one finds the majority of part-time employees in this town - all of them are local college students.

I recently posted on the complete stupidity of Green Beer Day - a local college tradition. I've often posted on similar acts of insanity perpetuated by the student body around these parts. I figure its about time to post something, well, positive about members of the local campus community. Not every 18-22 year-old in this town is a drunken idiot.

Oxford is more than a haven for sheltered white kids, more than a refugee camp for the Entitled. My Roughnecks represent what constitutes Miami's Silent Minority - a growing minority found on most college campuses these days.

Oxford is filled with some of the most badass students I've ever met. They work in the community's libraries, bars, cafes and coffee shops. They pump gas, work construction, clean motels, and fix computers. They earn the right to be called scholars every damned day, and it would be unfair of me not to acknowledge their contribution to this community.

In 50 years, most of the current crop of stereotypical Miami students will be nothing more than names in an alumni database. The Silent Minority? They'll be naming buildings after them, if for no other reason than the fact that their actions in life will demand monuments that go beyond the realm of the Entitled and the Sheltered.

Everybody fights, nobody quits.

The students of today who display similar toughness are the only ones worthy of being called the leaders of tomorrow. There is no room for cowardice in information science or any other field, no sanctuary in this Information Age for protecting the status quo.

Two members of my team are busy prepping for the MCAT, preparing their medical school application packets. One is planning to take the LSAT and is an accomplished intramural hockey player. All of my guys are carrying full courseloads and their combined GPAs average out at around 3.7.

My Roughnecks aren't typical college students; they're superhuman. Any graduate program in the country that would deny them admission or a decent financial aid package will earn the professional wrath of the ol' ZenFo Pro.

If you're the director of a graduate program, don't make me drive to your campus and put a boot up your ass. My Roughnecks bust tail every damned day to help make my library a better place and to earn money for college.

Hell, my team has earned that much. When they're on my dime, everybody fights and nobody quits. I owe them the same level of dedication.

Warm it up, everything you've got. C'mon you apes, you wanna live forever?

AMERICA'S DUMBEST COLLEGE TRADITION: Green Beer Day, Date Rapes, and Abuse of the Phrase College Experience

OXFORD, Ohio (ZP) -- On my way to work this morning, I was groped by a drunk female college student.

At 6 a.m., while leaving a coffee shop with my morning cup of dark roast, a young woman in a green tee shirt asked me if I'd like to do some jello shots.

When I tried to explain that I was on my way to work, the student grabbed my junk and offered a blowjob in exchange for sneaking her into a bar.

Let me tell you, nothing is a quicker turn-off than an underage alcoholic with no boundaries. I don't think there's enough Viagra in the world to get me in the mood for oral sex from a woman who reeks of overpriced perfume and ultra-light beer.

Every year, the Thursday before Miami's Spring Break, many local students celebrate what is perhaps the stupidest college tradition in the United States - Green Beer Day.

Supposedly, the "holiday" is meant to be an early celebration of St. Patrick's Day, though I doubt its origins share anything in common with the St. Paddy's celebrations in cities like Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco.

Only in Oxford could a cultural tradition be degraded to the point of almost mockery. Sure, St. Patrick's Day is about getting your drink on. Its about shamrocks and shenanigans. But its also about pride.

As someone who's toasted the Patron Saint in about a dozen cities in a half-dozen states in recent years, I see nothing that resembles a decent party.

Three years ago, I spent the day hitting just about every bar, saloon, and tavern in Butte, Montana - a city that bills itself as being Ireland's Fifth Province.

Yes, I did indeed get my drink on. Sure, I spent most of St. Patrick's Day completely hammered.

But I took the time to enjoy Butte's culture - the reason the city makes such a big deal out of the holiday. I took in the folk music, the food, and listened to stories about Butte's Copper Kings, unions and strikebreakers, and ties to the mother country.

I watched, in utter amazement, as a Baby Boomer and her immigrant grandfather danced to the Dropkick Murphys. This woman's grandfather was a retired copper miner. He only had three fingers remaining on his left hand.

I'm convinced that that old man in western Montana must be the coolest Grandpa in the world. Where else in this country does one find senior citizens dancing to punk music?

Green Beer Day has little of that charm and none of the class; it is nothing more than an excuse for people to binge drink and to celebrate the completely batshit belief that the phrase college experience can be used to justify damned near anything.

Today alone, I've heard enough sirens to remind me of the worst part of my former city life. At lunch, I watched a fratboy chug four or five mugs in under a minute, throw up, and keep drinking.

I have met three different women, locally, who claim to have been sexually assaulted during Green Beer Day celebrations. I'm certain, being that the local U. already has an acquaintance rape problem of pandemic proportions, there will be more such acts this year.

Like I said, there's an element of pride that goes along with St. Patrick's Day. For the Irish-American and Irish-influenced communities across the country, it's a cultural celebration.

I don't see anything in Oxford's annual preemptive drunkfest that even resembles pride.

Welcome to Green Beer Day in Oxford, Ohio - America's dumbest college tradition.


TECHNORATI TAGS:
Butte, Montana, Green Beer Day, Irish-Americans, Oxford, Ohio, St. Patrick's Day

BIZARRE MIDWEST MARKETING 101: Minor League Team to Sell Handheld Heart Attacks

SAUGET, Ill. (ZP) -- Don't bother reading this post if you're a vegetarian, have a weak stomach, or suffer from high cholesterol.

The Frontier League's Gateway Grizzlies will introduce a new sandwich to their concession stand this baseball season.

Billed as "Baseball's Best Burger," the sandwich consists of a beef patty, strips of bacon, and cheese, just like a traditional bacon cheeseburger.

Instead of the traditional bun, the greasy mess is then served on a Krispy Kreme doughnut.

Seriously.

I wish I were kidding.

This is why I got out of the sportswriting business ...

GRIZZLIES INTRODUCE NEW FOOD ITEM FOR '06
Gateway Grizzlies Baseball
Press Release, March 8, 2006

..."We have had the opportunity to bring in a new concession item for the past two seasons and each of them have been very successful. We look forward to Baseball'’s Best Burger and the excitement it will bring to the ballpark," said Grizzlies General Manager Tony Funderburg.

"We are excited to work with the Grizzlies this season on 'Baseball'’s Best Burger,'"” said Tina Bryan, Vice President of Marketing for Sweet Traditions, the local area developer for Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. "Our doughnuts have been used in such things as wedding cakes, bread pudding, fondue, and now a hamburger bun. What a fun and unique way to offer our signature Original Glazed doughnut to Grizzlies fans...."

- ORIGINAL RELEASE HERE -

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Doughnuts, Food, Marketing, Minor League Baseball, Sports Marketing

Rumors of my Demise...Preservation, Shelving, Etc.

No, I'm not dead.

Due to a rather exhausting work schedule, I haven't had much time to blog this week. I should be able to get caught up by this weekend.

A few things from the ol' ZenFo Pro daily existence I thought I'd share...

If you work in a library that utilizes older shelving systems, please take a moment to appreciate perhaps the 20th Century's greatest advancement in storage technology - adjustable welded-frame steel shelving. I had to take a reciprocating saw to three rows of older, bolt assembly shelving, burning up four metal blades simply because the thousands of nuts and bolts holding the suckers together were all corroded or stripped to the point of no return.

If you're thinking about donating to a library in the near future...

Don't donate wood shelving. Thank goodness I haven't run into this stuff in a long time. Wood may look nice, but it offgases, the varnishes used in consumer grade library products are often chemically volatile and can harm materials, and, well, they invite numerous unwanted organic pests into an environment. Wood shelving is neither portable enough or durable enough to get the job done in a working library.

I fielded a question from a patron who wanted to know why the books in his grandfather's study were all falling apart.

After asking a few basic questions, we figured out that his grandparents had spent tens of thousands of dollars building a private library collection, then stored them in a hot, humid room (cold and damp in the winter) for 40 years.

When Grandpa died, the family found a dead mouse in the stacks. A petrified, half-eaten sandwich was also discovered, as well as silverfish, termites, beetles, and other members of the insect family.

The family collection is now in need of some hardcore conservation. In the grandparents' defense, most people never think about preservation planning in terms of family libraries. Most librarians don't even think about that kind of stuff in terms of their own collections.

Document conservation and preservation is not cheap. Don't expect it to be when a personal collection gets close to that point of no return.

To familiarize yourself with the basics, I'd recommend working through the Northeast Document Conservation Center's Preservation 101 online tutorial. It's an eight-week course designed as an introduction to elements of preservation very few people think about when building collections.

The course is self-paced, free, and requires no registration.

The NEDCC primer won't make anyone an expert, but, hey, it's better than having to tell a kid that Grandpa's books might be nothing more than leatherbound garbage without immediate care and maintenance.

Other resources:

• Heritage Preservation
• International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM)
• Library of Congress Preservation
• Preservation Directory
• Preservation Online

TECHNORATI TAGS:
Book Collecting, Collection Management, Conservation, Culture, Demolition, History, Library Planning, Preservation, Shelving