The best and worst in people

Pretty bad and a little bit of worst, but mostly best.

***
On what discourse in this country is coming to:

"Journalists once had to achieve a certain gravitas before appearing on television as a political expert, but not anymore. Thanks to the 24-hour news cycle, a riveting presidential election and the proliferation of cable channels, people like Mr. Freire, who is 26 and has been managing editor of The American Spectator, a conservative magazine, since January, are finding themselves in hot demand."

Makes perfect sense

Hidden toward the end of this article on the foolhardiness of market prediction is this non-shocker:

"One of the few times that a financial strategist has been widely taken to task came in 1999, when Kevin A. Hassett and James K. Glassman published “Dow 36,000: The New Strategy for Profiting From the Coming Rise in the Stock Market.”

The book, which arrived just months before the technology bubble burst and stocks plummeted to earth, was actually an argument that bonds and stocks should be considered as equally risky investments. But the title — cartoonish in hindsight and, in its authors’ defense, proposed by the publisher — has since become a popular punch line for jokes about irrational exuberance in turn-of-the-century Wall Street. (The Dow closed on Friday at 8,378.95).

Still, while the reputation of its authors may have taken a hit, “Dow 36,000” has not seemed to hurt their careers. Mr. Hassett, who did not respond to a reporter’s inquiry, works at the American Enterprise Institute, a conservative research group in Washington, and serves as the senior economic adviser to the presidential campaign of Senator John McCain.

According to his spokesman, Mr. Glassman prefers not to comment on the financial markets now that he has started in his new position: under secretary of state for public diplomacy in the Bush administration. Apparently, there is life after Dow 36,000. The jury is still out on life after Dow 8,378."

***
Also, this is awesome.

Just Say No

I lifted weights yesterday for the first time in ages. Little did I know that the real workout would come later, when I called Verizon to arrange the transfer of my existing phone and internet service to my new address. The service consultant (scratch that, saleswoman) tried to triple, then double, my monthly bill, often in a sneaky, underhanded way. But I was strong, and I resisted, in a feat that would make Liz Pulliam Weston proud.

First, she tried to sell me an HDTV package. Fair enough. I said no. She argued that it would be worth it, because it would waive the service transfer fee, which she said was $95. But even though I went to public school in fake America, I figured out that it was still not worth it (my monthly bill would increase by almost as much as the fee).

Then she tried to sell me enhanced telephone service. I told her that I only had a landline so I could have DSL. Nonetheless, she continued to go through every package available, one at a time. She reiterated that going with a package would allow her to waive the transfer fee. I kept saying no. Only then-- this is good--she said, "oops, turns out the transfer fee is only $42."

Then she tried to sell me DSL that was three times faster. I said no. I almost added that if I develop an internet porn habit I'll consider it.

Finally, we agreed that she would just transfer my existing service. Which is all I asked.

Don't think it stopped there. She said, "you'll get a few e-mails about services you'll be enrolled in, but you can cancel out. It includes line protection, a gaming service..." and so on. One or the other was free for a month and then I could cancel. I told her to just cancel them now.

I wish the rest of you, and the rest of the country, as much strength and determination as I managed to exhibit yesterday.

***
Mom: Why didn't you answer the phone when I called?
A.: If I didn't answer the phone, it's because I couldn't answer the phone.
Mom: Well, why couldn't you?
A.: I was on the phone with various utilities, to arrange for service in the new house.
Mom: What kind of service?
A.: Gas, power, water, phone...
Mom: Oh. [Yells at dad about something being on or off. I don't know.]

An amazing Sunday morning roundup

Kristof on forward-looking foreign and defense policy; Egan on whatever the f* is going on:

"Brainy cities have low divorce rates, low crime, high job creation, ethnic diversity and creative capitalism. They’re places like Pittsburgh, with its top-notch universities; Albuquerque, with its surging Latino middle class; and Denver, with its outdoor-loving young people. They grow good people in the smart cities.

But... they are disparaged as nests of latte-sipping weenies, alt-lifestyle types and “other” Americans, somehow inauthentic."

Krugman on the appeal of substance over fluff, even in politics; Dowd if you want another witty commentary on the Palin makeover; Collins is jealous of swing state voters; Warner sums up so much with one line:

"Mediocrity, after all, is the privilege of those who have arrived."

Rich reassures us that while

"there are racists in western Pennsylvania, as there are in most pockets of our country... despite the months-long drumbeat of punditry to the contrary, there are not and have never been enough racists in 2008 to flip this election."

Self-awareness, anyone?

Not here:

In order to pursue that goal as efficiently as possible, Hayes then announced that “liberals hate real Americans that work and accomplish and achieve and believe in God.” This was an especially unfortunate turn of phrase given the fact that he had begun his remarks by saying he wanted to “make sure we don’t say something stupid.”

On Lebanon

If I had time I'd point out all the faulty logic in this article, but I don't, and you'd just as well figure it out for yourself. This one is on pretty shaky logical ground, too, but not as infuriating.

Are you f*ing KIDDING ME?

Let it be known that I did not plan to bitch to you about how tired I am and how I got this way. But now that mom aggravated my state of exhaustion, I have to provide context.

I've pretty much wanted to crawl back into bed since my alarm went off at 5AM. I woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating back pain and couldn't go back to sleep for several hours. Then, I was about to leave for work when I discovered that Gracie did some magic on the floor (anyone want a cat? I've had it with her). Then, I biked to work (10 miles), because I felt like it, but it was super-windy, which made for an especially exhausting ride. Then I worked, got home, and sat down to wind down and watch the Daily Show, when mom called.

Mom: Why is your voice like that?
A.: I'm tired.
Mom: Why are you tired?
A.: I just am. [Details would have invited a lecture].
Mom: You know, I talked to Tanya. She talked more about [her daughter's] wedding, and started telling me about how they met. Have you heard of J-Date?
A.: Yeah.
Mom: Well, they met on J-Date. And you know, he's just wonderful. And Tanya was saying that she knows a number of women who met wonderful men on J-Date-- and not just in Boston, in Chicago, all over. And she wanted me to tell you. She said when it's the right person, it's always the right time...

She went on for a few more minutes. I didn't tell her that I a) had no interest in internet dating, I've tried it before, at other people's urging, and it's been nothing but a waste of time; b) no, smartasses, I'm not going to try it just to appease my mother. If I recall, J-Date is expensive, and in nine days, I won't have a penny to spare.

Mom:...Tanya's daughter is really happy. I'm just saying. I'm just the messenger.
A.: Okay, mom.
Mom: Oh, what do you know about HDTV?
A.: Nothing at all.
Mom: Do you not want to talk about it?
A.: I do not know anything about HDTV. I've never looked into it.
Mom: How much do you pay for internet?
A.: $33 together with the phone.
Mom: Your internet is through Verizon?
A.: Yeah.
Mom: And your phone is all cellular?
A.: Technically we have a landline, because we can't get DSL without it.
Mom: How much does the phone line cost?
A.: $33 together with phone.
Mom: That's cheap!
A.: It is.
Mom: Why so cheap?
A.: I don't know.

I'm actually not doing this conversation justice. She asked me the same few questions (cost of phone, cost of internet, etc.) several times. To her credit, she sensed my annoyance.

Mom: Are you in a hurry?
A.: I'm just tired.

And I'm really the wrong person from whom to seek cable/internet advice, especially since I'm in a different region. And I don't want to deal with another year of complaint letters to Verizon.

Mom: Okay, go rest.
A.: Okay, goodnight.
Mom: Goodnight.

Not sure whether to laugh or cry

Probably laugh at this part:

[Colin Powell]...received more e-mails insisting that Obama is a Muslim and one calling him “unconstitutional and unbiblical” for daring to support a socialist. He got a mass e-mail from a man wanting to spread the word that Obama was reading a book about the end of America written by a fellow Muslim.

“Holy cow!” Powell thought. Upon checking Amazon.com, he saw that it was a reference to Fareed Zakaria, a Muslim who writes a Newsweek column and hosts a CNN foreign affairs show. His latest book is “The Post-American World.”

There's more (but it's not funny):

But what sent him over the edge and made him realize he had to speak out was when he opened his New Yorker three weeks ago and saw a picture of a mother pressing her head against the gravestone of her son, a 20-year-old soldier who had been killed in Iraq. On the headstone were engraved his name, Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, his awards — the Purple Heart, the Bronze Star — and a crescent and a star to denote his Islamic faith.

Here's an image to get out of your head

From the Times' Mortgage Bankers Longing for Good Old Days:

"We had streakers during the 1990s, but that was a joyful, happy thing,” said Mr. Lucas, who had been coming to such events for 20 years and recalled how a group of inebriated and naked bankers had once entertained the crowd.

I am becoming a monster

A fake monster, mind you, since the house I'm buying is in fake Virginia.

I am watching HGTV. A month ago, I couldn't stand HGTV. Not only that, but if I were in the gym, bored out of my mind on the elliptical, I preferred to stare in to space rather than read home design magazines.

The other day, I subscribed to Better Homes & Gardens.

Someone plan an intervention.

Hey there from fake Virginia

OMFG who the f* are these people?

Just keep telling yourself, Northern Virginia is a whole different animal.

Mom's birthday, continued

The evening was relatively peaceful... mom spazzed, of course, but that's to be expected. The greatest melodrama came after the main course, when I went to get the cheesecakes we'd gotten.

Mom: What kind of cheesecake did you get?
A.: Peppermint.
Mom: WHAT? WHY? YOU LIKE PEPPERMINT-- OTHER PEOPLE DON'T LIKE PEPPERMINT.
A.: Um, you knew these were peppermint when we got them. Besides, I'm sure they're fine.
Mom: IF PEOPLE DON'T LIKE THEM, IT'LL BE YOUR FAULT! I'LL TELL EVERYONE IT WAS YOUR CHOICE.

I did not say, "had we left it up to you, they would be eating plain pie crusts." Besides, everyone, including my parents, liked the cheesecakes.

I came back to the dining room table just as the Grand Canyon off was getting heated. Nina summed it up perfectly.

Nina: I'm afraid this is going to get increasingly competitive until they all start insisting that their trip to the Grand Canyon was more special than everyone else's.
A.: Just be grateful that nobody has talked politics.

And that we were.

***
Mom and [many of her] friends really give me very little credit. It's a wonder they trust me to tie my own shoes.

Mom's friend: So, do you think you'll stay in the DC area?
Mom's other friend: She just bought a house there.
Mom's friend: Really, where?
A.: Not far from where I live now, in Alexandria.
Mom [interrupting me after "Where I live now"]: They don't know where you live now!

Now, while I cannot claim that I need no social skills guidance, I certainly need none from my mom, particularly with regard to offering context. But that's beside the point. Although I have low expectations of my mother's faith in my, I can't believe she thinks she needs to micromanage my conversations.


Another friend: Will you get a pet?
A.: I have a cat.
Friend: How exciting! Your own house-- you can live all on your own.
A.: Actually, I plan to rent out to a roommate.
Friend: It's one, two bedrooms?
A.: Actually, it's four...
Friend: Four!
A.: I was only looking for three and up, since I wanted a guestroom and a room to rent.
Friend: When you advertise for a roommate, make sure you tell them that you have a cat.
A.: [No sarcasm. No sarcasm. Self-censor. Self-censor. Not even 'ya think?'] Okay.

Website of the week

This is my favorite entry from Sad Guys on Trading Floors.


***
In other news, this trend gives a whole new meaning to "keep the day job."

IM and overheard phone call

nina: Hi!
me: hey!
are you coming tonight?
nina: Of course!
What time are we supposed to arrive?
me: 7pm
and my tacky mother says that she wants nothing but lottery tickets for her bday
nina: Really?
me: yes
nina: REALLY?
me: she thinks she's doing people a favor by making that known
I'm just the messenger
nina: Like scratch tickets or lottery tickets?
me: I don't think she cares
gotta go clean before I get yelled at
see you tonight
nina: Ok - bye!

***

So why am I not cleaning? Mom's on the phone, so I can't exactly vacuum. She's on the phone with a friend who won't stop talking about trying to set me up with her sons. Whom I've not met. I was cleaning in the next room over, where I overheard one end of the conversation:

Mom: I doubt it. She just bought a house there and she really likes her job.

Pause

Mom: To be honest, we don't talk about those things, so I don't know. I don't know whether she wants to get married. I think she wants to have children eventually, but she doesn't necessarily want to get married.

Pause

Mom: I don't know. It's really hard to say.

***
I was going to end this by giving mom the credit due... until she just came up to me and said,

Mom: Maria has very serious plans for you regarding her sons.
A.: That's her problem.
Mom: That's what I told her. One is 40 and one is 31. How old are you? 33?
A.: You don't know how old I am?
Mom: Shrug.

neutral television in common areas

You know who you are-- take this to the people who control the TV in the gym.

Happy birthday, mom!

Since it's mom's birthday, and since she is being nice, I will be nice. But I still have some things to tell you about-- mostly cute in nature.

Mom: It's like that cat in the story by Kiplinger.
A.: Kipling?
Mom: Was it Kipling?
A.: Yes.

Last night

A.: Accounting for time zones, it's already your birthday.
Mom: Yes, I was born in the morning. You were born at noon. Do you know why?
A.: Yes, because the nurses and attendants sat on your stomach.
Mom: And why...
A.: Because the head nurse wanted me to be born before her shift was up.
Mom: Yes... they all sat on my stomach...

Mom continued with the story of my birth. I thought this was odd, since she has a habit of turning things that aren't about her, her way, and here she was doing the opposite. For example, earlier that day:

Mom: You and Wendy met in high school?
A.: Actually, we met in summer camp. Kind of funny to think back to that time, and to think that now...
Mom: So? I have a lot of friends I knew since we were very young.

But I suppose my birth really was about her, so her bringing it up makes sense.

Today, we passed the summer camp where I met Wendy.

Mom: It was a good camp, too. You tried a lot of things... you had art lessons, dance lessons, horsebackriding lessons...

For the record, I never *sucked* at riding. I just sort of stopped doing it.

***
At Trader Joe's, we were deciding on desserts. Mom grabbed a pie crust.

A.: Mom, that's a pie crust. You have to make the filling yourself.
Mom: Are you sure?
A.: Yes. Read the box.

This is how we end up with a house full of crap. She doesn't look at the details, even the most relevant ones.

At the Russian food store, she once again grabbed a pie crust.

Mom: I found this pie.
A.: Mom, it's a pie crust again. Do you not even read the box when it's in Russian?
Mom: So it is. No, I don't.

***
Overall, she's very calm. She hasn't picked any fights or anything. I'm hoping for a peaceful birthday all around.

What do you think?

I love the Onion.

The fight against idiocracy

Bob Herbert on why we need to develop the math skills of future generations.

Watching TV with mom

I turned on the TV for "How I Met Your Mother." The opening scene had Barney hitting on a woman in the bar (shocker).

Mom: What's going on? Is that woman an idiot?
A.: Well, probably, but not officially. She's not a regular character.

Later

Mom: So they all live in that one apartment.
A.: Mostly.
Mom: Why?
A.: Because they just do.
Mom: Why do they all live in the same apartment?
A.: Because they do.

Later (after the show)

Mom: Why do they all live in that apartment?
A.: I don't know, mom.
Mom: Why are you watching this show?
A.: Because it's funny.
Mom: I don't think it's funny.
A.: That's okay.