The Legend of Captain Awesome

The Pathos of Evil

2011-03-22T19:45:00.005-05:00

I used to write an occasional entry on a blog called "Doohickey" about some of my favorite movie villains. That blog has since been removed (probably due to inactivity), so I'll revive the series here for one more bad guy.

Before I begin, I want to say a word on film archetypes. Cinema has a language that is clear and easy to follow, especially since everyone in the present has grown up with television and movies. This language can change over time. For instance, in old movies such as Murnau's Sunrise, the good girl is blond and fair, a clear example of purity. There is another woman in the film. This one has dark hair, smokes cigarettes, and wears darker colored clothing. From the first frame she appears it is clear that she is a vamp, a stark contrast to the innocence of the blond. Since then, cinema's attitude toward blonds has turned them into more wild creatures. Blonds are ditzy and like to have more fun, while brunettes are often more intelligent, especially if they have glasses (see ANY dumb teen comedy or raunchy college flick). These are gross oversimplifications, but they are useful when there are only two hours to tell a story. Good and evil often have to be exaggerated and simplified in order for the audience to know who is who.

This brings us to the presentation of villains in cinema. It is all too common for bad guys to be unapologetically bad. Think of any Bond villain, historical epic, or children's film. Bad guys LOVE being bad guys. True, there are times when the villain is more complex and sympathetic, but they always seem to steal the show. There's a glamor to evil. In cinema, evil is always big, loud, impressive. This way, when they are finally defeated, the audience can safely know that the hero did the right thing in vanquishing them. This brings us to today's villain.

Jerry Lundegaard, Fargo (1996) SPOILERS!!!

Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) has an incredible plan. Hire two goons to kidnap his wife in exchange for half the ransom and a new car, which would bring Jerry a sorely needed 40 grand. That's not all, however. Jerry plans on asking for a bigger ransom from his father-in-law without telling the two hired kidnappers, and intends to keep the money himself. In most movies, this is the kind of plan that would be concocted by a devious mind with the gusto to actually attempt such a caper. Think of all the horribly complicated heist movies (Die Hard with a Vengeance, Ocean's11, 12, 13) where the plan relies on every little detail being followed with precision. The people pulling them of are of the sharpest minds and stunning talent. Jerry is no such thing. He's confused, incompetent, easily flustered, and overall a failure. From the very beginning of the film, before the plan is even explained, it's clear that Jerry is a small man. His manner of speech is quaint and sheepish. His stature and facial expressions lack confidence. He wears a dorky hat. He looks completely out of place in the bar where he utters the first line in the movie, "I'm, uh, Jerry Lundegaard." That's it? he doesn't even sound too confident in his own name! When asked by one of the criminals why he doesn't just ask his father-in-law, Wade, for the money, he stammers and can't confess the fact that he just isn't man enough to do it. Then there is this scene, where Jerry suffers a serious let-down and loses face in front of his father-in-law.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=su8LDtmRmw8&feature=related

What was he thinking? He's in way over his head, and winds up with nothing for his efforts.

Fargo does have a conventional villain in Peter Stormare's Gaear Grimsrud, the silent, cold-blooded killer, but Jerry brings something new to the table. This would-be mastermind is absolutely pathetic. Naturally, nothing goes according to this plan. Due to events set in motion by him, seven people wind up dead. And where is Jerry at the end of all this? Crying out in desperation, he is arrested in his boxers trying to escape out a motel window. He isn't even given the dignity to go down in glory like the conventional movie villain. Even though he deserves what he gets, I can't help but feel bad for the guy.

In short, Fargo demonstrates a very real truth about evil. It isn't glamorous or romantic to be a bad guy, but small, pathetic, and pitiful. Jerry's life is in ruins because he thought he could get away with it. Instead, he has a dead wife, a traumatized and motherless son, no father-in-law, faces serious charges, and no money. He's left with nothing but shame.

Just a quick update.

2010-03-10T13:10:00.002-06:00

Gabba gabba hey!

So, I'm doing Spring break in Ave Maria, FL. One of my buddies has friends here, so we road-tripped through the deep south. Nice drive, but very long. We stopped in NOLA on the way, and stayed with the seminarians. Got to Bourbon St. on a Sat. night, and found a great blues club that WASN'T a strip club (it really is a den of debauchery). Then we got beignets at Cafe du Monde before turning in for the night. Fun town, but I don't think I could live there.

Ave Maria is a neat little town. It feels like a combination resort/retirement home/ model community/ University, and it's all brand new and clean. The weather is sublime, and the people nice. I stopped in at the academy here and sat in on Dr. Beane's math theory class. That took me back. Good times! I'm here for another day, so I'll probably grab a coffee/beer with him sometime.

The Oratory is interesting. It modernizes the design without sacrificing the traditional schema of a church. I'm still mulling it over. It's not my favorite design by a long shot, but I think it has a good enough charm to it.

Now... just dinking around at the Queen Mary Pub. They have a drink called "Bloody Bess," inspired by the terrifying reign of Elizabeth I... They would do that in this town, wouldn't they? :D

I'll try to update more often from now on.

-IS

Dallas Pt II

2010-01-28T11:24:00.002-06:00

Okay, it's been almost two weeks since I got here. I love this school! I've never been in such an intellectual environment before. Almost everyone, from the students to the faculty, is devoted to the diligent pursuit of knowledge. This is gonna be a great two years.

I thought that, because this is Texas, that people would be dressed in stetsons and cowboy boots, etc. Maybe they dress like that everywhere else in Texas, but UD is actually kind of secluded- stuck on the outskirts of the metro area. It's a little pocket of Texas where all the geeks in the country gather to geek out about Aristotle. There are sweater vests, bow-ties, suspenders, and Irish caps everywhere. I'm kind of... fitting in...

I've begun doing my grocery shopping at the Mexican supermarket. It's called Fiesta, because every time you shop there, it's like going to a party! :D It's also a lot cheaper and just as good as any regular place. Also you can get things other grocery stores don't have, like nopales (cactus)!

I mostly do my own cooking (except when Jacqui was visiting- she likes to cook :-) ), but I've gone out a few times and found that Texas has some great fast food. If you're ever down here and find a Steak & Shake, check it out. That's a gooooooood steak burger! Also, there's this place in Addison (another suburb of Dallas) called the "Flying Saucer" that has over 100 beers on tap. On top of that, pints are 2.75 on Mondays!!! A word on Addison. They probably have more restaurants per capita than any other place in the country. They have miles on nothing but places to eat, and there's something for everyone. If money weren't an issue, I'd go there more often.

There's a lecture on Aquinas tonight on campus. I might go (there's nothing else to do- this is what UD students do for fun).

I'll survive this semester without one, but I really ought to invest in some form of transportation. A bike would be most economical, but a moped would be way cool. I'll think about it.

Ian Does Dallas! :D

2010-01-18T12:52:00.002-06:00

Hey all y'all!

Items!

1) It's like Spring down here! Maybe a light sweater or a long sleeve shirt, but that's it!

2) Everything is a million miles away! The campus is right across the street, and there's a gas station and a McDonald's in walking distance, but other than that, One would have to drive... or hitchhike. Fortunately, the other students are very friendly and always on hand to give a ride if need be. They know how it is. Sunday morning, I ate breakfast at McDonald's for the first time. Sausage egg mcmuffin. It was pretty good, to my surprise.

3) It's small! Only about 3,000 students! So the bureaucracy can only be so bad!

4) Classes!
i) History of American Education
ii) History of American Art
iii) Aristotle's politics
iv) Hobbes/Locke/Rousseau
- The art hist course is for kicks, the education one is something I have a mere dearth of knowledge in, so a class would be nice to see how our current model of education developed, and perhaps discern any inherent flaws. The Aristotle and Hobbes/Locke/Rousseau will be good, since those show the ancient and more modern influences on American political thought during the framing of the constitution. When interpreting the law of the land, it is important to understand the political/philosophical environment in which it was born. Unless, of course, you don't care (I'm looking at YOU, congress). So, these will be solid classes! I'm back in academia!!!!

5) The people are very nice so far.

6) My living accommodations are good. Close to the university, clean, fairly priced, and very helpful management. Also, I have my OWN place. Nice.

7) Did I mention the weather is heavenly?

8) The campus is actually rather nice. The architecture is a bit dated. You can tell the buildings were constructed in the 60s-70s, but there is some very good landscaping, and a surprising number of trees.

9) There's a Catholic church on campus!

10) I don't have to work!!! :D My time will be completely devoted to study!!!

I'll post more as the time goes by. I have food, but no cookware, so I'm hitching a ride to Walmart with some people this afternoon. Hurrah!

Adios muchachos!
Ian

Romanesque Art

2009-12-15T01:20:00.001-06:00

How awesome am I?

2009-12-01T21:13:00.004-06:00

Awesome enough to have my students write me my very own song, that's how awesome I am! There was also a dance, but I can't quite convey that in writing.

~Art History!
Most of it's a mystery
but what is not
it is taught by
misteeeeer Skemp!

His name is Skemp
it rhymes with Kemp
and that's my favorite
iiiiiiice cream!

He is grand
He's a man
and he works
at a bakery
yum!

WE LOVE MR. SKEMP!!!~

written by Geraldine and Margaret, Freshmen at Chesterton Academy

It's sassy; it's brassy; it's a musical humdinger! I'm gonna miss these kids, but I have to go down south for two years. :-(

2009-11-23T13:07:00.001-06:00

The age of Justinian I

2009-11-17T23:36:00.000-06:00

The holidays are coming...

2009-10-29T20:41:00.002-05:00

Don't lose sight of what's important...

What I really love about this short is how it refrains from assaulting the viewer. What I mean is a lesser storyteller would feel the need to overtly ask the viewer "what are YOU gonna do about this" and demand the audience answer for their inactivity while millions suffer through poverty. This film doesn't set out to force guilt on us, or invoke a superficial pity on the girl. After all, she could not have received a more blessed, happy ending!

Rather, the film simply reminds the viewer, in a gentle way, of life's precious nature. However short and tragic that life may be, it is nevertheless a beautiful thing. It may have been a very brief life for the little match girl, but she knew real joy. She knew it from memories of her grandmother, of a warm fire, of good food, of Love. There may come a time, for all of us, when we are without. When that happens, one must remember that the most enduring form of comfort is love. Love fuels true charity. Not guilt, not pity, not the government, but human love.

2009-10-20T19:40:00.002-05:00

2009-10-20T19:40:00.001-05:00

2009-10-20T19:39:00.001-05:00

2009-10-20T19:38:00.000-05:00

Part 1

2009-10-20T19:35:00.001-05:00

Slides

2009-10-15T01:13:00.000-05:00

IV

2009-10-15T01:09:00.001-05:00

III

2009-10-15T01:07:00.000-05:00

Egyptian Art II-IV

2009-10-13T19:57:00.002-05:00

I just noticed the audio's all wrong! Sorry about that :-(

Part one of lecture

2009-10-09T17:11:00.000-05:00

The rest will be up whenever I get to it.

Rachel Cody (1992-2009)

2009-09-22T22:46:00.003-05:00

I hate to admit that I never got to know Rachel very well. I was six when she was born, so I did get to see her grow as I grew, but our times together were too few and too far between. Every time I saw her, she had noticeably grown a little (as children tend to do). I'll never forget seeing her a few years ago at my sister's wedding. I was stunned to see this radiant young woman who, up until then, had been a small child in my eyes. This made me feel old, but it was a true joy to see one of my younger cousins make that transition. Her death shook me like no other. I've lost grandparents before, and I miss them dearly; to lose a cousin, though. This was a first. I hope and pray it will be the last for a good, long while.

I learned much about Rachel during these past few days I wish I had known sooner. She was a theater junkie, having acted in a number of high school plays during the past few years. She had a keen and versatile fashion sense, and was able to pull off a hippie-chick look one day, only to come into school dressed as a cowgirl the next. She clearly knew what she was doing. She had an interest in photography. I would have loved to talk to her about this, being a fan of it myself. How tragic, that it was the pursuit of a few good shots that lead her to that ledge on Grandfather's Bluff. Would I have done that? You bet I would. I won't, but I would've. It only takes one second for the unexpected to occur. Life is precious and fragile. We all know that, but we need to be reminded again and again. Life is a precious gift. By the sound of it, Rachel used this gift well, and didn't waste a second of it.

Seventeen years is a very short time. Yet, we were truly blessed to have Rachel for as long as we did. I was floored by the amount of young people at the wake, tears running down their cheeks, who said they had only met her a few months ago. Every minute she was alive was a gift to all who knew her, and her memory is a treasure we will keep forever. On behalf of everyone, Rachel, I thank you.

I had the honor of serving as a pallbearer with five other men. It was an honor I don't feel I deserved, but graciously accepted. I will live the remainder of my life knowing that I walked Rachel up and down that aisle, lifted her casket into that hearse, and walked behind as it drove her body away...

Please keep Rachel and her family in your prayers. Her brother, Kennedy, her father, Jerry, and her mother, Frankie. God be with them, always.

~Requiescat in pace, Rachel Cody. God willing, I'll meet you there.~

I guess the internet's big enough for the both of us

2009-09-21T11:24:00.001-05:00

There's a new Captain. Am I perturbed? Naw, just so long as he stays on HIS side of the internet. I'm drawing a line, Cognition.
Don't.
Cross.
It.

GAP display at UofM

2009-09-17T10:33:00.002-05:00

Recently, University of Minnesota Students for Human Life (SHL) sponsored a visit from the Genocide Awareness Project (GAP). The next day, the MNDaily printed this response.
One other person and I immediately wrote responses refuting the assertions in the editorial; neither of which were printed. His can be found here. Here is mine.

~Genocide is a relatively new word. When it was first coined in 1943 by Raphael Lemkin, it only pertained to national groups. Later, it was expanded to contain people of religious, racial, or cultural groups. In some definitions, such as Webster's New World Encyclopedia (Prentice Hall General Reference, 1992), adds the term "other groups" to the mix. Words, by nature, expand and contract their meaning over time. Regardless of the specific definition, however, the comparisons between abortion and genocide are apt. The editors of the MNDaily object to it because the unborn as a group are not being entirely wiped out (just about a third of them). However, it is not unreasonable to say that the unwanted unborn, as a group, are being eradicated. Is it not a common argument for abortion that every child should be a wanted child? For whatever specific reason, whether it pertains to her career, financial situation, or relationship, etc., a woman ultimately aborts her child because she does not want it. This would all be fine if the unborn were not living human beings. However, a quick reference to any biology textbook will tell you that human life does, indeed, begin at conception (a textbook, by the way, was available at the GAP display). It exhibits all the necessary traits of biological life, and it has HUMAN DNA. It is alive and human at the same time; ipso facto, it is a living human, whether or not it is wanted. Any argument supporting abortion must cope with that fact. Otherwise, you are ignoring a basic scientific truth.
So, we have a system set up where women can eliminate an unwanted pregnancy. When that pregnancy is eliminated, an unwanted life is ended. The unwanted unborn are being systematically wiped out. That sounds like genocide to me. A unique genocide, but genocide nonetheless.
The editors claim that the GAP display does nothing to encourage healthy debate. True, it isn't a very nice display, and it doesn't guarantee that everyone passing by will be encouraged to engage in civil discourse. But to say that it does nothing is egregiously off the mark. Many lively, yet cool-headed, debates went on during those two days. I remember my undergraduate years at the UMN, and cannot recall a time when so many students, on both sides, confronted this issue with such fervor. Therefore, the display works. As for other forums of debate, Students for Human Life (SHL) has and will continue to explore many different, effective ways to engage the campus environment in a dialogue on abortion. GAP is just one of many.~

So, what did the Daily print? This.

Wow, so much for providing a forum for healthy debate. Way to go, MNDaily. You never fail to impress!

I gotta get my jollies somehow, I guess...

2009-09-09T14:25:00.007-05:00

This is the original picture

And here are the modifications. I think the Sands of Discontent one is the best. Showdown on Coney Island isn't bad, but you can't tell that we're on Coney Island just by looking at the picture. Judging by what's in the frame, that could be any number of beaches. Hot Dogs? I got carried away...

Where's John Ford when we need him?

2009-08-09T16:57:00.003-05:00

A response to this entry.

It's no shocker that standards have been lowered. Aldous Huxley saw it coming back in the thirties when he wrote Brave New World. In it, the savage was appalled at how easily the civilized girl he felt deep love for would throw herself at him. He loathed her sexual advances. He knew it wasn't right. What wasn't right about it? He did nothing to earn her! He knew that it wasn't enough to desire a particular woman. "At Malpais" he said "you had to bring her the skin of a lion." Why? What practical use would a woman have for a lion's skin? Perhaps nothing, but the point is that a man had to do something terribly stupid and dangerous (yet totally awesome) to earn the woman he loved. Free love is love without value. Lion hunting is deadly, and I'm sure many men in Malpais died just because they wanted to get married, even though they could easily have lived a long, comfortable life without doing so, but that is precisely the point. Before he can even think about asking for marriage, a man must do something, anything, to make himself worthy to a woman. Because, to any decent man, a woman is valuable, not something you just pick up for the price of a cheap vodka tonic. Sometimes, you do everything you can, and it's still not good enough, but that's better than the alternative. I once witnessed a friend of mine let a guy (some chav dipshit with his collar popped... ugh) grope her just because he bought her a drink... Honestly, I don't know where to begin.

Many men and women have been sold on the lie that chivalry is a form of oppression utilized by the chauvinistic powers that be to subjugate women. Perhaps it has been used to that end by some, but I have a hard time believing that was how it came to be in the first place. In my experience, the women who profess this opinion still appreciate kind gestures from men. The men who profess this are... pitiful and confused, to say the least. They are not all to blame. This is what they've been taught by the progressive older generation. The ideals of yesteryear have been mocked and ridiculed, replaced with figures that fail to fill the void. Truth has given way to relativism. In place of love we have carnal indulgence. In place of sacrifice we have "no strings attached." In place of deep friendships between men and women we have "friends with benefits." It was bad enough when men were admired when they played women (Hugh Hefner), now women are heralded when they play men (Sex and the City). And yet, we still have this natural admiration for those legendary figures that embody those old ideals of strength and honor, even in modern cinema. You were right to mention Titanic. I would add Gladiator, Braveheart, and any number of historically inaccurate movies to the list (though accuracy is hardly the mission of these films). The men in these movies would seem completely out of place in the modern world, much like Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino (what will we do when Mr. Eastwood finally croaks?). John Ford saw this coming, which may be one reason he had the door shut on John Wayne in The Searchers (don't watch the clip if you've never seen it before)... now I'm getting choked up... Moving on...

Many would say that men like this don't exist, and that the legends are little more than fancy lies. True, real "wild west" cowboys were probably more like The Wild Bunch than Stagecoach (wait for 7:20); murdering, lawless thugs who felt little remorse killing for money. The John Wayne cowboy is a myth, but it's a good myth. That's why it's called an ideal, because it is is rarely realized. The folly lies in abandoning the ideal. We can't be Superman, but we can be like Superman. We can stand for Truth, Justice, and the American way! To apply your Christ analogy, we aren't Christ, but we are called to be like Him. We can do the right and honorable thing; we often won't, but we can and should. We need that standard. More importantly, we need women to maintain a high standard. The less women expect of men, the less they'll get. Cold. Hard. Truth.
Of course, it works both ways, as well...

One final thought. I'm reminded of PD James' The Children of Men. The film version with Clive Owen was fantastic, but quite different. I'm specifically referring to the book. The first half of the novel is basically a set-up to the the second half, which is when the plot gets rolling. In a nutshell, mankind has gone infertile, and there's NO SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION. I may be wrong, but my reading of the book is that people in general became so detached from one another, so unwilling to go out of their way for their fellow man, that they had stopped believing in love. Love had become that thing of legend that no sane person took seriously anymore. Anything they did that wasn't purely for themselves was considered an irritating inconvenience. When we stop believing in love and willing to make sacrifices for others, we might as well be impotent. I highly recommend this book. I got it to pass the time on a long car ride, expecting little more than a neat thriller. What I got was a stirring defense of love, family, and, yes, traditional religion.

Hmmmm...

2009-06-12T21:06:00.003-05:00

I've never heard squirrels make noise before, aside from the usual rustle of branches and leaves they cause. Just now, I saw three squirrels chasing each other up and down a tree, creating a sound like a distant chainsaw (or, rather, a distant chainsaw creates a sound like a squirrel). They carried the sound with them as they zig-zagged from branch to branch into the distance. There are thousands of squirrels in Minneapolis. I have seen them every day my entire life. Today, however, I may have seen squirrels for the first time.

Life is amazing, and God is great...

Relax, everyone.

2009-04-20T09:17:00.001-05:00

Well, try to, at least.

Oh, thank God.

2009-04-18T15:16:00.002-05:00

Perhaps it will take this trend a little while longer to reach the average Twin Cities restaurants. Don't get me wrong, the bartenders here generally know how to make a good libation without using vodka if you order it. It's just nice to know that the majority of specialty drink lists might soon be more than just drink after drink of vodka mixed with some fruity syrup, served in a martini glass in a sorry attempt at sophistication.

From the March issue of Minnesota Republic

2009-04-10T09:09:00.002-05:00

Why are we Funding this?
by Ian A Skemp

*This is not the version printed in the MR. That one was edited, perhaps sagaciously, before publication. What you have here is the author's original cut of the article, unedited, unfiltered, with every snarky little aside intact.*

There's an episode of Family Guy where Peter Griffin suffers a stroke because he ate too much beef. Seeking medical help, he tries a generically labeled stem cell research clinic. I'm gonna assume that the writers were referring to embryonic stem cell research. I hope they are (otherwise, this introduction has no legitimacy). After a quick jump-cut where 5 minutes are said to have passed, Peter exits the clinic, fit as a fiddle, and exclaims "Why aren't we funding this!?" I laughed- a little. As usual, Peter's delivery of the punchline was spot-on; We can always count on him for that. However, my secondary reaction was "you're not serious, are you?" You have all heard heard the cliche "it's funny because it's true." This is kind of funny because it's NOT true.

All ethical debates about the morality of harvesting stem cells from previously living fetuses¹ aside, let's pick this joke apart (I know, picking a joke apart kills the comedy, but I have a point to make- bugger off if you don't like it). The writer's are basically venting their frustration at the lack of funding for stem cell research. Why are they frustrated? Well, because embryonic stem cells are a miracle cure for anything, and the powers that block funding for it are depriving people of the cures for the diseases that plague them, that's why! If only we had funded this earlier! Christopher Reeve would still be with us, running marathons, even! Ronald Reagan would still be alive, reminding us why his economic policies were, and still are, a good idea (Hey, I can dig that)! The possibilities are endless!

Okay, let's take a step back. I know the writers don't really believe that embryonic stem cell research will cure every disease. Exaggerating the facts to prove a point is a common comedic device. So, let's forget about Family Guy for a minute and look at the real potential of embryonic stem cell research. That way, we can come to a more sober conclusion to the question of whether or not it's worth funding.

Well, it turns out, there is potential! This from the NIH,

"If scientists can reliably direct the differentiation of embryonic stem
cells into specific cell types, they may be able to use the resulting,
differentiated cells to treat certain diseases at some point in the
future. Diseases that might be treated by transplanting cells generated
from human embryonic stem cells include Parkinson's disease, diabetes,
traumatic spinal cord injury, Purkinje cell degeneration, Duchenne's
muscular dystrophy, heart disease, and vision and hearing loss."²

So why would we not fund this? Well, the religious right has the outmoded notion that a human embryo is somehow human. Look at the five-day old embryo (five days is the typical age of embryos used in the research). Aside from the fact that it exhibits the basic characteristics of biological life (growth, reaction to stimuli, locomotion) and has its own, personal strand of human DNA, it is in no way a human. Does that look human to you (am I laying the sarcasm on too thick- sorry)? So, we have a moral reason not to fund embryonic stem cell research. It inevitably leads to the destruction of that which is at once alive and human. Apparently, this argument is not good enough for a lot of people- our current head of state, for instance.

In case you have not heard, President Obama has just lifted the ban on federal funding of embryonic stem-cell research. Peter Griffin gets his wish. Unfortunately, many are appalled. As divisive as this act is, however, it is the only scientifically practical thing to do, right? Well, no. There were, and still are, many options that would avoid controversy while providing researchers with an opportunity to develop treatments for many diseases. In fact, we were funding those until our president rescinded that funding.³ Funny how a man who wants so much to unite America would do that and then insist on funding something so many people hold strong moral objections to.

First off, adult stem cells hold a good deal of potential. This again from the NIH,

"Certain kinds of adult stem cells seem to have the ability to
differentiate into a number of different cell types, given the right
conditions. If this differentiation of adult stem cells can be
controlled in the laboratory, these cells may become the basis of
therapies for many serious common diseases."⁴

Currently, adult stem cells are used to treat over 70 diseases.⁵ In addition to that, they do NOT form tumors. Did I forget to mention that embryonic stem cells tend to be tumorous?⁶ Sorry. So, we know that adult stem cells work. We have sound research and practice to back that up. The only drawback is that they are not as flexible as embryonic stem cells. As the NIH says, "Embryonic stem cells can become all cell types of the body because they are pluripotent."⁷ If only there were some way to have that pluripotency in adult stem cells. Oh, wait, there is! Three years ago, scientists in Japan found a way to turn skin cells into embryonic stem cells.⁸ Just recently, researchers at UCLA did the same thing.⁹

Let's recap. We have adult stem cells. They may not do everything stem cells might be able to do, but we know that they are effective without violating any moral standards. We also have found that skin cells can be transformed into cells identical to embryonic stem-cells. These hold as much promise as embryonic stem cells, and, like adult stem cells, they avoid the destruction of human life. This is no secret. Former President George W. Bush knew it, which is why he OK'd funding it; President Obama knows this; Pelosi and everyone else in Washington know this; I bet Seth MacFarlane knows it, too. Why aren't they getting excited about this? Why has our President blocked federal funding for research that can lead to treatment and cures for diseases without destroying human life in the process? I speak for all those who oppose embryonic stem cell research when I say that I, too, want scientists to find a cure for as many diseases as they can, as long as they refrain from using atrocious means. There's your common ground, Mr. President. It isn't too late to resume funding of alternative stem cell research, and to cease funding of a morally reprehensible practice. You have an opportunity to make good on that common ground by using promising methods that sit well with both sides. You owe it to the American people to take it.

~Thank you and God Bless~

In order to extract the useful bits, the fetus must be destroyed. What was once a living fetus is now an ex-fetus. That fetus is no more!
http://stemcells.nih.gov/info/basics/basics3.asp
http://www.lifenews.com/bio2786.html
http://stemcells.nih.gov/info/basics/basics4.asp
http://www.corcell.com/expectant/diseases_treated.html
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2005/09/050905111823.htm
http://stemcells.nih.gov/info/basics/basics5.asp
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=16470482
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/02/080211172631.htm

Diffidence is the enemy of Life!

2009-03-05T16:15:00.004-06:00

Strife, turmoil and pain, such is the state of man- Is it not? Wouldn't it be nice if we could avoid it? Ah, but we mustn't try. That is not to say we should be saturnine and morose, nor should we go out looking for new ways to make ourselves and those around us miserable. I just don't see why so many people make such a big deal about trying to live a peaceful life. The whole "playing it safe" mentality keeps too many people from acting extraordinarily. What are they afraid of? Failure? Regret? Would they rather reside on Calypso's Island? Or are they just reluctant to leave their comfort zones - their hobbit holes?

To live is to embark on an adventure, and a good adventure (therefore, a good life) is anything but peaceful. Adventures are dangerous, and demand that we make sacrifices, risk the things we hold dear, and work through strife and hardship to our ultimate goal, rather than try to avoid it so we can be "at peace" right now. I figure my heart will never be at peace until I'm done with this life and, God-willing, I make it to Heaven. If I could achieve peace here on Earth, what use would I have of Heaven, that final unity with our Almighty Creator?

To live is to struggle, but it is a beautiful struggle. It is no small wonder that the right thing is rarely the easy thing, nor is it often the smart thing. God didn't make it easy for us to do the right thing. He made it possible, just really, really hard.

It wasn't easy for Him, either...

The ritual of education

2009-02-27T16:08:00.003-06:00

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto,
I was having a discussion on art at the Chesterton Academy today about the state of art today. As usual, the conversation drifted towards the sorry state of training many artists receive these days. This time, however, something dawned on me. I began thinking of training and education in general.

I thought of my karate classes (Midwest Karate - check it out if you're interested). You don't just show up and start throwing fists and feet into the air. One must ALWAYS bow before entering the dojo. In addition, before class commences, the students line up and face the sensei. The sensei faces a picture in the front of the class of his sensei (if his sensei is deceased), and we bow to him. The sensei turns around and faces us. We bow to him. He bows to us. Then we begin class. That's the informal bow. I still don't have the formal bow memorized, and I've been going for a year! Every class begins this way. To do otherwise is improper, to say the least. I always thought this was just proper etiquette, a way to honor our late instructors. As great as that gesture is, I think there's something else to it.

Education, if it's as important as everyone says it is, deserves to be ritualized. Rituals aren't just a bunch of empty hocus pocus, as some would say. They instill a certain gravity to things. They remind us that what we are doing is worthwhile, and that we are taking part in a noble endeavor.

I went to Catholic elementary school, and a Christian high school. We began every class with prayer, and it never dawned on me until now how incredible and vital that act is. The prayer is not a seperate thing from the learning process. The education flows from the prayer. We invoke God with noble speech to aid us in our quest for knowledge and Truth. We pray because we know that we are about to do something very important and, dare I say it, holy!

This extends beyond education. We pray when we wake up in the morning, for the day is holy; we pray before eating, for a meal is a holy thing; we pray before sleeping, for sleep is holy! Prayer and ritual open our eyes to the severity of life's many activities. Prayer doesn't pause or interrupt life, it enhances life by reminding us that to live is a wonderful, sacred gift, and a helluvan adventure!

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto,

Amen!

Ah, the former presidents...

2009-02-19T22:44:00.000-06:00

Good for a laugh.

Greek Sculptures, now.

2009-02-04T11:36:00.000-06:00

This stuff is more fun. I likes it.

It took a month

2009-02-03T16:01:00.001-06:00

but I finally got the lecture on Greek Temples up on youtube!

Reflections of my trip to D.C.

2009-01-26T16:11:00.000-06:00

Wednesday, January 21st, Anno Domine 2009,
Most of this day was spent traveling from Minneapolis to D.C.. Altogether, there were six UMN students, seven Tommies, and our organizer extraordinaire Bill Dill. We settled in the basement of the church of St. Stephen the Martyr. Many thanks to the folks who accommodated us!
We all attended the Vigil for Life at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The pews were full, so people would stand and sit in the aisles. The church was so packed I had to stand in the back. I could hardly see the altar! About halfway through the service, I noticed that there was a crowd of people standing behind me. A full crowd of worshipers from all over the country were present for this beautiful service. All-in-all, the trip was off to a great, encouraging start!

Thursday, Jan. 22nd,
This was the big day. Honestly, I've spent my life avoiding protests, marches, and the like because I feared the mob mentality. So-called "peaceful protests" often turn into mean-spirited hate-fests. This was not the case with the March for Life. Never before have I seen such a large mass of people conduct themselves with such decorum. In a crowd of thousands, I saw a mere two signs I considered to be in poor taste. This truly was a protest fueled by love, love for mothers, fathers, children, our nation, humanity in general! I felt not an ounce of animosity towards those who provide abortions or support the abortion industry, even towards those two brave folks who came with "keep abortion legal" signs. Rather, this was a scene of sincere goodwill and earnest prayer.
One of our crew made a wonderful banner declaring the presence of our UMN group. I was delighted to have many Minnesotans approach and express their gratitude for representing the land of 10,000!

Friday, Jan 23rd,
This was our free day. I did not attend any pro-life events today, and yet, this was the day that had the most profound impact. With a small group of Tommies, I set out to see the monuments to our most revered leaders and heroes. Commencing with the Washington monument (which appropriately casts a long shadow on the ground), we made our way past the WWII memorial, where I said a prayer for those who put their lives on the line at Guadalcanal, Midway, Okinawa - places my great grandfather would have fought to defeat fascism so many years ago. After paying our respects to President Lincoln, we walked to Arlington Cemetery. Thousands of white gravestones honored the service of thousands of men and women who devoted themselves, often risking their lives, many sacrificing their lives, for the defense of our nation. We witnessed the solemn changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier. After leaving the cemetery, we made our way through the Korean, Vietnam, and WWI memorials; then we walked to the monuments honoring FDR, George Mason, and Thomas Jefferson.
That night, unable to rest, I paced around for over an hour (which is, to say the very least, an uncommon occurrence). I have always considered myself pro-life. I abhor abortion, and yet, there have been countless times when I failed to take a stand for life. There were a number of excuses. "I just came in here for a cup of tea," "I'm not in the mood for this talk right now," or "I don't know how these people, friends of mine, will react to my stance." Let's face it, people get agitated over this issue. No one wants to deal with that discord.
It slowly came to me as I walked around the room. Did my great-grandfather sail to East Asia because he was in the mood to shoot at and get shot by the Japanese? Did Americans wake up on December 7th, 1941 and say "I just got up to get a cup of coffee and read the newspaper, not defend liberty?" Did civil rights protesters like being sprayed by fire hoses? Not in the least - they risked it all for what they knew to be right. Here I am, afraid to start a dialogue about abortion, and why? Is it my life, or just my comfort and convenience that's on the line? No more excuses. It's time to honor the service of my great-grandfather and be a patriot.

Saturday, Jan 24th,
Well, one doesn't send a soldier out to battle without training or arms. The pro-life students conference was essentially a training session. It's one thing to defend life, it's another thing to do it effectively. That was the importance of this day. Aside from learning how to convey our message without alienating or causing unnecessary strife between people from opposing sides (y'know, how to avoid shouting matches), it provided a wealth of information in order to clear misconceptions about the pro-life movement and illuminate the truth about human life.

Sunday, Jan 25th,
We came back home from what was, without a doubt, the most important trip I have ever embarked on. I speak for the group when I say we are ready to get to work.

God Bless,
Ian A. Skemp

New blog!

2009-01-26T10:11:00.002-06:00

University of Minnesota's Students for Human life now has a blawg, dawg. Not much to it yet, but it has a future.

Major Paper

2009-01-12T23:59:00.001-06:00

Ewww, the post below might be difficult to get through. Here's a version you might find easier on the eyes.

In Genius Loci: Towards a Phenomenolo...

2009-01-12T23:55:00.002-06:00

It is no secret that the early twentieth century saw a radical change in architectural theory with the modernist movement. The claims of the modernists are that this was no mere change in taste or a passing fancy, but a fundamental alteration of architectural theory.Ford, p. 6 The modernist architects asserted that they were not only rebelling against style, but prevailing notions of a building's functionality. This revolt took root in many areas of architecture, including domestic structures. The modern homes were to differ from the dwellings of the past not only in their conception and execution, but also in purpose. In other words, the rethinking of domestic architecture went hand-in-hand with the rethinking of domesticity. Working at the same time as the modern movement was H.T. Lindeberg, an architect whose work was the antithesis of modernism. His designs were prime examples of the traditional architecture the modernists were rebelling against. By

observing the country homes built by H.T. Lindeberg, and the architects who influenced his work, and by analyzing these homes side by side with the contemporary modernist domiciles, the crux of the conflict between traditionalism and modernism becomes apparent. The conflict could be stated as a disagreement over whether a building is a tool as opposed to a work of living art. For all the talk of revolt, the result of this disagreement is essentially a change in emphasis, rather than a complete overhaul, of domestic ideals.
In Genius Loci: Towards a
Phenomenology of Architecture,
Christian Norberg-Schultz claims that any place is a physical
manifestation of abstract ideas. The expression of these abstract
notions imbues the place with a certain, at times intended, atmosphere.Schultz, p. 6
For instance, Lenox Library in New York radiates a sense of
rationality and order. It expresses these notions because the
architect, Richard Morris Hunt, designed it for that purpose. He
accomplished this by organizing simple geometric shapes in a clear,
straightforward design. Had he planned the building with a maze of
winding corridors that lead to dead-ends, the building would express
disorder. Norberg-Schultz may have been writing in the late twentieth century, but his concepts are present to a degree in Lindeberg's work. Lindeberg's buildings were designed to manifest abstract notions of domesticity, such as warmth, security, and hospitality. These ideals were constant, and pervaded all of his domestic designs.
Certain prominent 19^th
century thinkers, such as Andrew Jackson Downing and Alexander
Jackson Davis, stressed the benefits of country life as opposed to
city life. In their view, the urban environment was corrupt, polluted, and
dangerous. It was seen as an appropriate place for doing business,
but not for living. Many modernists shared this belief. Frank Lloyd
Wright went so far as to design a number of urban homes with high walls and few windows
to shield the inhabitant from the chaos of the city. However, many
architects preferred to leave the urban scene altogether for the rural
environment, which was
championed as morally upstanding, clean, and safe. The modernist James Ford wrote, "all good residential architecture... should provide for man's seven fundamental housing needs: health, safety, convenience, comfort, privacy, beauty, each with due reference to economy." Modernists and traditionalists alike saw the country as an ideal environment to achieve these ends. This concept of the
ideal rural home, coupled with advances in transportation technology,
lead to the development of suburban communities. Now, people could
have the best of both worlds. Men could make money in the city, and
retire to their suburban home by train, car, or ferry during their
leisure time. To the traditionalists, the country was the proper
place to live and develop one's moral qualities. To the modernists, the country was the perfect place to pursue one's wants and interests.Ford, p. 11
Orson Squire
Fowler believed that architecture was an instrument that can shape
the personality of the individual. A building, therefore, is
essentially a means to an end. Lindeberg seemed to share this notion. It was not enough that the houses were
built in the country; they must be designed to condition the
inhabitants to behave according to certain standards. Thus, Lindeberg's homes are
more than mere expressions of abstract ideas, but are constructed to
promote and cultivate his ideal of perfect domesticity. These
ideals include a leisurely, yet constructive, use of one's free-time,
the proper entertaining of guests, and the maintenance of the
contemporary class relations.
The modernists worked on a more relativistic level. Their ideal lied not with upholding a standard model of a domestic environment, but with the process of constructing the perfect environment for each specific project. They sought to begin each project with a clean slate, taking into account the particular client as well as the technology and materials available. Therefore, each project had an individual ideal that developed from each particular situation. A building was still a means to an end, but the end has changed from what could be to what is. The inhabitants would not move into a domestic environment so much as the domestic environment would be built around their needs and interests.Ford, p. 11 Both modernists and traditionalists saw a home as a means, but they differed in their ends.
The modernists emphasis on individuality in home design has lead some modernists to accuse traditionalists of planning their homes with no respect for the needs of their clients. This is not entirely true. Richard Normon Shaw, one of Lindeberg's influences, was adept at designing picturesque homes in a traditional vernacular without sacrificing modern conveniences. He was known to accommodate his clients' wants, as well. His expensive designs featured half-timbering, no doubt at the expressed interest of his wealthy clients, long after he dropped them from his cheaper projects.Saint, p.88 One example of accommodation in Lindeberg's work was the substitution of a garage in place of a stable for clients with automobiles. However, the crux of the modernist criticism of traditionalism is that serviceability is not the priority of traditional architecture. In that respect, they are correct. Efficiency was paramount to a modern home. Ideally, a careful examination of a particular family's functions would be the basis of a home most conducive to said functions. If any element in the design failed to bolster the ease with which a family lived their day-to-day lives, then it was superfluous, inefficient, and therefore left out of the design. Indeed, the modern movement owes a great deal to the idea put forth by Adolf Loos that "The evolution of culture is synonymous with the removal of ornament from utilitarian elements." He went so far as to claim that ornament was a crime against modern society.Frank, p. 288-291 In contrast, Lindeberg's homes had no shortage of these criminal offenses, from the grand approaches to the lyrical decorations on the doorways. To denigrate these as merely meretricious extravagances does them a great injustice. It is a great folly of modernism to think that a thing has no purpose at all if it fails to be practical. Sullivan recognized that human beings are creatures of whimsy and romanticism.Frank, p. 284 Old and young alike desire to be enchanted and recognize the value of ornament as something that affects them on an emotional level.
Schultz may have
published Genius Loci in 1979, but the notion that the
physical was a material representation of abstract ideas existed in
Lindeberg's time in the form of allegorical
symbols. Voysey was particularly enraptured with the image of a tree,
which he described as "the spirit of domestic happiness."Hitchmough, p. 68
He recognized the organic harmony of the branches, leaves, boughs and
trunk, and used this harmony as a basis for his designs. Appropriately,
the door to Perrycroft contains a wrought-iron image of a tree. Lindeberg also used allegorical symbols in his designs
to represent immaterial concepts. Behind the gabled entrance to the
Harry F. Knight, Esq. House stands a chimney. Built into this chimney
is a small gable-like decoration. This ornament serves no purpose but
to communicate the gentle domesticity of the house and, therefore,
the owner.

Oftentimes,
Lindeberg uses ornamentation as a means of
spiritual transcendence.
This hearkens back to Swedenborg's theory of the rational/geometric
versus the vegetal/emotional, as exhibited in Louis Sullivan's Getty
Tomb. The tomb is a cube made of heavy stone. The design is very
straight-edged and dense, but there are points of elevating, organic
elegance. In particular, the side windows and entrance gate are
composed of a grating that radiates a powerful emotional energy. This
energy flows into the ornamentation of the stone work, creating a
smooth transcendence between the emotional and the rational. Modernists
avoid such such ornamentation, for they see the homes as organic
developments in their own right. Ford said, "Just as the flower or tree
is the logical development... of the seed, so the modern house seeks to
be the organic expression... of the family for which it is built."Ford. p. 11-12 Allegory is unnecessary, therefore, because the houses themselves are symbols of domesticity.

Lindeberg adhered to the traditional notion of allegory, as seen in the Jackson E.
Reynolds, Esq. House. Unlike other Lindeberg houses, this one has no
curves in its design. Rather, the sections of the house are strictly
cubic. However, a spider-web design decorates the front door. The
spider itself sits in the top corner, with several insects already
caught in its web. As the point of entry, this door takes on a
spiritual nature as a barrier between the outdoors and the indoors.
Anyone exiting is reminded that they are leaving the rational
stability of a geometric house for the invigorating beauty of the
outdoors. However, the predator and prey element in the ornament also
gives the impression that nature may be beautiful, but also dangerous
and unforgiving. When one leaves the house, they are taking a risk by
exposing themselves to the elements. They may be in the safety of a
suburban community, but they are still human. Like the flies caught
in the web, their lives are fragile and susceptible to the
uncontrollable power of fate.
C.F.A. Voysey, another traditional influence on Lindeberg, acknowledged this human want in his designs. In a similar vein as the modernists, he would plan every element in the domestic environment, even the teaspoons, in order to produce a unified domicile. It is because of this sedulous attention to detail and unity that he is seen as a precursor to modernism.Hitchmough, p. 75 Despite a common fervor for efficiency and harmony with the modernists, his homes contain elements many modernists would consider extravagant. To him, something as simple as a front door held the potential to be symbolic and enchanting. It was not enough for it to function as a transition from the outdoors to the indoors. It had to evoke feelings of warmth and hospitality; whereas the modernists saw a door as a door, nothing more, nothing less.Hitchmough, p. 68
Lindeberg shared Voysey's ideal, and blurred the line between
inside and outside in an attempt to imbue suburban homes with a
welcoming ambiance. Buildings such as Harry F. Knight Esq.'s
residence are preceded by a long driveway. The driveway is featured
in the plan for a reason. Before one enters the house, one must come
to it. In this particular approach, the road follows the curve of the
NW wing of the house before reaching the main entrance. The further
along one goes, the more the building seems to reach around them. A
hedge from the south side compliments this motion to extend a warm
welcome to whomever happens to come. Before entering the house, one
experiences a change in their environment. They are not quite inside,
but they have also moved beyond a completely outside environment.

It is important
for a gentleman to share his home with other members of his class.
More importantly, one must invite their guests with affection. Any
guest of Knight's is treated to a cordial welcome. Protruding from
the front of the house, the entrance porch reaches out to the
approaching person, bringing the door to them. The doorway itself
recedes into the facade, strengthening the inward motion. By reaching
out and pulling in, the house takes on a welcoming nature. This warm
welcome is solidified by the gabling above the entrance. Gabling is
part of the domestic vocabulary, and reassures the guest that this is
the home of a gentle person.

After the doorway
has been crossed, one stands in in the entrance porch. Though it is
only the porch, it is larger than any of the servant's rooms.
However, it is not on the grand scale of the library or living room.
One has enough breathing room to be comfortable, but it is not so
large that it detracts from the welcoming ambiance. Though they have
physically entered the building, they are still separated from the
main body of the house. There are only two exits from the porch. One
goes back outside, and the other leads to the entrance hall. Arriving
in the hall completes the entrance process, and the inward motion
dissipates. A fireplace enhances the warmth with which guests are
greeted. There is little doubt that Knight made sure his guests were honored with a blazing fire on entering. This is the center of the building. From here, one may
choose to go to any number of directions. Should they so please, they
may take a left at the gallery towards the living room, go up the
stairs to their bed room, or walk straight out onto the terrace on a whim.
Country homes are
seen by traditionalists as appropriate places to live a genteel life of leisure and
self-improvement. The urban environment is a center of activity and
noise. The streets are crowded with people moving en masse to
any number of destinations. Quiet places of solitude are hard to come
by in a metropolitan area. The country, on the other hand, offers a
peaceful alternative. Lower concentrations of people and less
activity create a quiet environment, free from disturbances, where a
person can devote themselves to self-improvement. Lindeberg had this
in mind when he designed country houses. His houses are therefore
conducive to a person's quiet self-improvement.
In his design for
Jackson E. Reynolds, Esq., Lindeberg uses the library, living
room, and back porch to create an environment that fosters
self-improvement. These three rooms, in their own right, offer the
resident and his family a place of quiet, private repose where they may focus their energies towards self-education and moral development. One may go to
the library to find some literature, and there are places in the
library where he may sit and enjoy his mental stimulation. If he
desired a different setting for his studies, the back porch is
adjacent to the library. Outside, his quest for knowledge would be
enhanced by being outdoors. On the back porch, he may ponder the
passé-though-still-interesting architectural theories of Downing and Davis while breathing the fresh
suburban air, and appreciating the natural beauty surrounding him. If
it was raining, he would simply move inside to the living room.
There, he would be sheltered from the rain, but the many windows
would maintain his connection to the outdoors. By placing these rooms
together, Lindeberg has enhanced the ability of suburban life to
improve one's character. It seems that he actually shared the modernist attention to efficiency. This plan is common to many of Lindeberg's
designs, like the Harry F. Knight, Esq. and Lowell C. Chapin, Esq.
houses.

The modernists maintained this concept, but asserted the primacy of efficiency to the extent that they favored the elimination of anything they deemed unnecessary.Ford, p. 12 Loos claimed
that ornament hampered a gentleman's ability to improve himself. One
merely tolerates ornament in their environment; it is art that one
celebrates, and a house is not art.Frank, p. 294 This runs contrary to the belief that a architecture is a "living" art, an idea promoted by Louis Sullivan. A building, as a work of art, benefits from the skilled use of ornament. He upholds the modernist notion that decoration is unnecessary, but recognizes the "spiritual and emotional quality" of a building adorned in the proper spirit.Frank, p. 284-287. The "proper spirit," as Sullivan put it, is the recognition that ornament is a luxury, rather than a necessity. The decoration of a building is a means of of expressing human romanticism, acting as a poetic manifestation of "the raiment of our dreams." Decoration born in any other spirit cannot measure up to the harmony that the "proper" one produces. On the other hand, the modern home removes the "burden" of ornament, thus allowing the inhabitant to fully devote himself to other artistic and intellectual endeavors. In other words, ornament is an impediment to self-improvement. Otherwise, the pursuit of a leisurely environment is similar to the traditional methods.
Like efficiency, privacy is a
priority for the modernist and traditionalist alike. The city offers few places where one can
feel alone. One is always, of course, able to go inside their homes
for privacy, but how can one experience the outdoors in private?
Lindeberg's suburban houses are able to separate the domestic realm
from the public realm by turning the outdoors into private spaces.
The façade of the
Lowell C. Chapin, Esq. house is a border protecting the inhabitants
from the public eye. There are few windows, and no front porch. The
designated outdoor area, the porch, is behind the house. Aside from a
lone window in the center of the wall, the porch is cut off from the
public sphere. It opens up in the opposite direction, exposing the
resident to a space that is at once outdoors and within his own
domestic influence.

This dedication to
privacy is taken a step further with Mrs. H.T. Lindeberg's house.
Like the Chapin house, this home has a back terrace, but the approach
to the front of the house is also a private zone. An area covering
more space than the house itself is encased by a wall, enabling Mrs.
Lindeberg to inhabit her front yard without any interference from the
public sphere. Between the driveway and the front door is a terrace.
This terrace is flanked on both sides by protruding wings of the
house. This creates a space that fosters a heightened sense of
security, allowing one to experience the outdoors without worrying
about unwanted contact with passers-by.
The modernist's devotion to privacy is expressed in the front facade of Gropius and Breuer's House for Mrs. Josephine Hagerty is solid save for a few narrow windows above the ground floor. There is also a stone wall eclosing a garden. The rear of the house, on the other hand, has an abundance of windows overlooking the Atlantic, and an open terrace. The only wall is a short sea wall, which was built for purely practical purposes. Gropius and Breuer have essentially designed a house with a concern for privacy quite similar to Lindeberg's.
The traditional home is
a place of leisure and self-improvement. Any work done by the upper
class resident is worthwhile, but unnecessary. Downing went so far as
to say that a gentleman must be as removed from labor as possible,
even to the point of having one's lawn mowed at night.Handlin, p. 42
How, then, is the house to be maintained without interrupting the
resident's leisure? The answer lies in the design. An overarching
theme in Lindeberg's country houses is the separation of leisure and
labor. The Mme. Amelita Galli-Curci house, for example, has a clear
divide between the north and south wings. The south wing features a
large living room, a two-story studio, and a porch, among other
leisure-related rooms. The north wing, on the other hand, is the
servants' domain. The division is such that only the servants ever
have to occupy the north wing.
The obvious modernist objection to this leisure-versus-labor approach is that it is outdated and inefficient. It is so because of the social developments that had occurred since the industrialization of America.Ford, p. 9 For instance, advances in modern technology, such as plumbing, refrigeration, and heating had reduced much of the toil required to maintain a home. People no longer needed a servant to empty their chamber pots, for a simple push of a lever would now dispose of their waste. Housework had become so simple that servants were no longer needed. Many homeowners, though well-off, were not wealthy enough to maintain a large amount of servants. Therefore, the number of people living in the home was greatly reduced. Hence, the practical solution was to eliminate unnecessary spaces like the servants' wing.
There are two main
points of entry into the North wing of the Galli-Gurci house. The first is through the pantry,
which leads directly to the kitchen. The pantry is also adjacent to
the dining room and breakfast porch. Here, the bond between leisure
and labor is unavoidable. One cannot eat without having someone
prepare and serve them food. Lindeberg cleverly diminishes this
connection by placing the pantry between the kitchen and the dining
rooms. Thus, it acts as a buffer between the area where the meal is
prepared and where the meal is consumed.
Many modern homes, such as Neutra's design for William Beard, eliminate the pantry and dining room altogether. Access to mass-produced goods eliminated the need for large storage spaces, and one could easily consume meals in the kitchen or living room (the formality of the dining room was, of course, an obsolete extravagance). Not every modern home took the desire for complete efficiency to its logical extreme, however. Gropius and Breuer's Hagerty home, as well as Gropius' own home, share the pantry-kitchen-dining room design with Lindeberg. Was
it that Gropius and Breuer inherited traditional ideals, or
was the design somehow up to their standards of efficiency? In the case of the Hagerty home, it was both. The maid's room was placed next to the kitchen, which allowed her easy access to the pantry and cooking area. This also upheld traditional notions of labor by having it inhabit a realm separate from leisure. One must remember that these homes were designed to fit a particular client's lifestyle as pragmatically as possible. William Beard's home has one bedroom, meaning he lived alone or with a partner. It is possible he preferred to take care of himself, or hired a non-live-in maid. Therefore, he had no need for a separation of labor and leisure, just a simplification of labor. Mrs. Josephine Hagerty, on the other hand, lived with her three adult sons.Ford, p. 44 A maid would no doubt simplify her life.

The second point
of entry for Mme. Galli-Gurci is the driveway. Here is another area where leisure and
labor are inseparable. In order to get to the entrance to the house,
a chauffeur must drive one there. As with the pantry, the design of
the house downplays the connection by distancing the garage from the
entrance. Those of the upper class do not exit the automobile after
it is parked in the garage. Rather, they are dropped off directly in
front of the house. The chauffeur then proceeds to drive the car away
from the front door and into the garage through the service yard. The
service yard itself is hidden from view by the house and then
encompassed by a wall. The service yard exists, but Mme. Galli-Curci
and her guests need not see nor occupy it.
Many modern homes break with this tradition by placing the garage within the front facade of the home, visible to anyone passing by. With fewer servants, many people drove themselves. Therefore, it would be convenient for the garage to be close to the main area of the home. It may not have upheld the labor-leisure separation championed by traditional domestic thought, but it did satisfy modern a goal by simplifying the transition from vehicle to home.

In addition to
establishing a barrier between labor and leisure, Lindeberg's designs
also express the era's class division. Mme. Galli-Curci's house does
not simply separate the spaces of work and leisure, it separates the
workers from the upper class. The servants, being human beings, need
spaces to rest and relax when they are not working. They do not spend
their leisure time in the same spaces as Mme. Galli-Curci, though.
Rather, their bedrooms are located above the garage, the same area
where the automobile "rests" when not in use. They are also
graced with a servant's porch and a service yard, where they may also
enjoy the outdoors. The porch is less than half the size as
Amelita's, though, and a hedge encloses the yard, which hides it from
view. Downing thought that labor should be invisible. Here, the
laborers themselves have been concealed. The servants are given
certain luxuries, but the nature of those luxuries further cements
their class identity. Modern homes, such as the Mrs. Hagerty's, did maintain this separation, but it is noticably less pronounced.
Lindeberg's houses
are manifestations of a particular mode of thought on domesticity.
All the elements, the welcoming approach, the spiritual
transcendence, the class separation, and the division of labor and
leisure come together to form a very specific environment. However,
the ideal country home is made complete only by the participation of
human beings. The homes are merely stages where true domesticity can
exist. According to Lindeberg's designs, no country home is complete
without servants, masters, and occasional guests. What the country
home does is create an environment where all these parts can be
expressed to their fullest degree. A servant can be a servant; a
guest can be a guest; and a gentleman can be a gentleman.
To their merit, the modernists recognized the need for homes to adapt to changes in family dynamics. Couples were having less children, it was less common for multiple generations to live under one roof, and domestic entertainment had given way to public places of recreation.Ford, p. 10 While many people still employed servants, the number per household was smaller. Houses needed to be downsized in order to fit the needs of the inhabitants. The use of modern conveniences also made the domestic environment less stressful, fulfilling the traditional goal of the home as a place of leisure.
Yet, as the old adage says, "The more things change, the more they remain the same." Indeed, the modernists shared many of the traditionalist's domestic ideals, such as privacy, comfort, beauty, and efficiency. These things remained constant amidst the modernist impulse for change. The crux of the conflict between traditionalism, as exemplified by Lindeberg, and modernism is not in a change of ideals and goals, but in the emphasis placed on each one. So, modernism is by no means a complete break from tradition. This emphatic shift may have resulted in homes that appear to be completely different, but are nevertheless designed to be efficient tools that satisfy the same basic domestic needs. The traditionalists did not stop at basic needs or sacrifice ornamentation for the sake of efficiency, however. They endeavored to create an environment that harmoniously catered to a person's emotional desires and needs while providing them with a perfectly functional home to live in, thus creating a piece of living art.Frank, p. 284

2009-01-03T22:33:00.002-06:00

Greek Pottery Here

Done?

2008-12-15T11:11:00.002-06:00

Well, that was anti-climactic. Last Wednesday, I handed in my major project, a paper on the conflict between modernism and traditionalism in early 20th century domestic buildings, with a focus on the architecture of H.T. Lindeberg. I didn't even hand it in to a person. I dropped it into a box. The paper I've been working on and off on for over half a year, the paper that ends my undergraduate studies, gets dropped in a box. I walked away, not really able to appreciate the fact that I had just finished my undergrad requirements at 9:30 AM by dropping a paper in a box. I didn't graduate so much as I faded out of the UofM.

What now? GREs in January, then I get to start the whole college apllication process over again! Hurrah?

Finally!

2008-11-24T18:31:00.002-06:00

I was unable to load them straight to the blog, so I put them up on YouTube.

Voila!!!

Art Hist lecture

2008-11-24T15:11:00.002-06:00

I'm having a bit of trouble uploading the lecture to the blog. It should be up soon, though.

A few more days of practice.

2008-11-11T01:49:00.003-06:00

I never said I was a good singer.

New toy!

2008-11-07T16:55:00.002-06:00

petition to UN

2008-11-07T16:29:00.000-06:00

against declaring abortion as a universal right.

http://www.c-fam.org/publications/id.95/default.asp

A little note I wrote earlier today.

2008-11-05T00:11:00.002-06:00

Yeah, my guy lost, but the point rings true regardless.

"Okay, my vote has been cast. I'm sure y'all are gonna if you haven't yet.

Then what? The results are out of your hands now. Its up to the masses.
So pray!

Don't pray for your guy to win, though. You can, I guess, but this is what I'm asking for.

That, whoever get's elected, our nation have the strength to make it through the coming years with grace and dignity.
That we won't lose sight of what is most important and sacred in the midst of lesser issues.
That our elected officials act sagaciously and with honor.
That we scrutinize with acumen everything they say and do in office, regardless of party affiliation.

And, if nothing else, that each and every one of us will have the personal strength to conduct our lives with virtue and probity, regardless of who wins. That we be humble in victory, and gracious in defeat. That we adhere to our principles in our daily lives, and not just in the voting booth.
We can only do so much about our leaders, but you have the freedom to do what you think is right. Don't wait for someone else to do it on your behalf.

10:53 AM, November 4th, Anno Domine 2008"

Coming soonish!

2008-11-03T13:54:00.001-06:00

A lecture on ancient Greek pottery. Specifically, the decorations.

Ian vs. Country Music (country music wins)

2008-10-22T00:01:00.002-05:00

I don't know if it's like this everywhere, but where I'm from (Minnesota), there's a serious stigma against country music. I took part in this, too. I recall my teen years when my response to the "what kind of music do you like" question was "anything, really - except country music." Country music was an anathema in my high school.

Chalk it up to Yankee arrogance.

Once Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? came out, it became "I like bluegrass, but country music sucks." I even started listening to this band The Hackensaw Boys. Check them out. Sweet sound of American folk.

Then I got into Johnny Cash, so I admitted that some straight up country music was pretty damn good.

Then I saw a guy named Guy Forsyth in New Orleans. I bought his album Calico Girl, which had a lot of really good country songs on it.

Just last week, I was driving down to La Crescent, and I tuned in to Rochester's local country station. I found myself liking it - a lot.

So f#ck it, country music kicks ass. End of story.

The Romance of Travel

2008-09-30T22:18:00.008-05:00

Why do we leave our homes? When I say homes, I do not refer to our dwellings, but our environments; our lives, if you will. We have our shelters, our jobs, our friends, neighbors, family, streets, cities, but most of us at some point experience a strong urge to leave the very things that we know for the great beyond. Beyond the limits of what we call home lies the unknown. That is not to say we don't know of the places beyond our borders. I've heard of Donegal, but I've never been there. Thus, I have not had the pleasure of acquainting myself with that city. I haven't walked its streets, drank at its pubs, talked with its people, etc. Some would say we travel because we have somewhere to go. We journey to London because we want to visit London. True, a destination more often than not figures into travel, but I contend that often where we go is secondary to the actual going.

How often do we decide where to go before deciding to go? I do not pretend that it has never happened before. I can picture a husband turning to his spouse and saying "Honey, let's go to Abernathy!" to which the wife would reply, "Gee, dear, that sounds swell! When should we go?" Or the girl who has had an infatuation with Donegal since childhood, whose only dream was to see Donegal before she dies.

Going from experience, though, I find that people usually decide that it is time to leave home before pondering where to go once they have walked out the door. What drives this craving? Judging by some travel commercials, it is a quest for rest and relaxation. Sitting on a tropical beach with a margarita in hand, or dining at a fancy restaurant in France. Bull. Travelling is anything but relaxing. Anyone who's ever done so can tell you that. If it was all about relaxation, I wouldn't leave home. I would just buy a 12-pack, a few cigars, and spend a few days just putzing around the house. I contend that there's something more to travel than restful recreation. Travel is, at its core, an adventure, and it is our very romantic, very human desire for adventure that causes us to leave our Hobbit Holes.

Before continuing. I would like to clarify two things. One, by travel I do not refer to the time spent at our destination. I am referring to the verb "to travel," meaning moving from one place to the next. Second, by adventure I do not mean what those travel advertisements mean when they say "adventure." Some resorts offer zip-lining through the jungle, cliff-jumping, or any number of supervised derring-do. Exciting? Yes. Dangerous? Without a doubt. But there is something terribly unadventurous about planning-out an adventure. Adventure is unexpected, often uncalled for, and one almost never aware of an adventure until they are smack-dab in the middle of it. Did Indiana Jones plan out his adventure? No, he made it up as he went along!

I have already stated that an adventure planned is hardly an adventure at all. I find it necessary to state that planning an adventure is a futile endeavor. This is due to the simple fact that something always seems to go wrong. Some from personal experience include being unable to find a working cash machine and thus missing my flight, taking an unnecessary detour that added an extra hour and a half to an already longer than usual bike trip, hopping on a train going in the wrong direction, an eight hour flight delay, and (my personal favorite) finding myself stuck with a good friend in Bristol for an entire night with no place to stay, holding nothing but some extra clothes in my backpack and a flask of Irish whiskey (thank God for that). Then there's the matter of the weather. Who knows how that will be!

This is not to say we should have no itinerary. In all the cases listed above, I did have a destination. There was always some place I was supposed to be, but wasn't. I was supposed to take the Victoria line From Gatwick Airport to King's Cross, but found myself unexpectedly going in the opposite direction. In an unwelcome turn of events, I was in a race against time. I needed to catch a train back to Norwich because I had a class in the morning. Frodo had Mount Doom. I had Norwich. The last train left at 12:15 in the morning. Thanks to the kindness of a friendly ticket operator, I knew what lines I had to take in order to reach my destination, but I would have to hurry. What happened then was a determined dash with my luggage from train to train until I finally made it with a few minutes to spare. When I finally made it back to my student residence in Norwich at about 3:00 AM, I couldn't help but laugh. I had made it! The adventure was over. mission accomplished! The next day, when my flatmates asked how my trip went, they didn't listen a dull story about how everything went according to plan; how I saw all sorts of pleasant things the guide book told me to see; or how I got to bed at a sensible hour (that depends on your idea of sensible). They heard about getting lost in Dublin looking for the hostel, about the anti-American, Chavez-loving commie I met at Gogarty's who simply wouldn't give it a break, and about my journey back to Uni, which, as you now know, went anything but according to plan.

This was all in the midst of my term abroad. An adventure within an adventure, if you will. When I left for England, I knew where I was going and how long I was going to be there. What I did not know was who I was going to meet, how my classes would be, what I would do once I got there, etc. There were a great deal of unknowns awaiting me. Leaving the known for the unknown is, of course, the whole point of travel in the first place.

After the adventure is over, one would think the romance over. This, I am happy to say, is not true! For, after one has done everything they did not plan on doing in the first place, thereis the wonderful desire to return from whence they came. This is called the Romance of Going Home.

What I would do in the next Batman film

2008-09-21T22:40:00.004-05:00

For the record, this entry is not about any rumors or speculation about what the next Batman film will be about. They have not even begun writing it, and Nolan isn't even signed on to make a third. So, for the time being, anything anyone tells you about what villains will be used and who will play them is a bunch of malarkey. It doesn't matter where they heard it.

However, for kicks, I am going to present my case for who I think would make the best villain in the third film.

Bane. Here's why.

1) He deserves proper treatment after Batman & Robin. Fortunately, no one seems to remember that he was even in that movie. Anyone familiar with the character knows that he is not a mindless monster, but a villain with a mind on par with Batman's.

2) He's a fantastic character. In addition to being a highly intelligent person, his strength is enhanced by a drug called "Venom." Unlike the regular crew from Arkham, Bane is not insane. He's a highly respected gangster and, at times, an assassin. In that respect, he has more in common with the pre-Batman criminals, and not the new class the Joker wanted for Gotham. However, he bridges the gap by using the "Venom" in order to essentially become a "supervillain." Bane is not identified by his mask so much as his dependence on Venom and his incredible intellect. In addition to this, he has the sanity to be respected by the traditional criminals like Maroni, but the obsessive drive of the "other" type of villain. He has a vision of a world ruled by fear (Scarecrow's still around, too, right?), as he grew up in a prison, and sees Gotham as the perfect environment to manifest his vision (go read his bio on Wiki or whatever). This is ripe for interpretation in Nolan's world.

3) He could fit very well into the story arc. Most fans know Bane as the "Man who broke the Bat." Seriously, Bane defeated Batman once, by breaking his back. Anyone who's seen The Dark Knight (and if you haven't, don't finish this sentence) knows that the film ends with Batman being hunted by the police. Batman is now officially Gotham city's most wanted. Imagine Bane, who wants to rule the criminal underworld in Gotham, coming in to take down the Batman. If anyone can do it, it's Bane. When Gordon agreed to hunt down the Batman at the end of TDK, I don't think he counted on actually being able to do it. With Bane in the picture, he has a chance of actually arresting the Batman, but he doesn't want to. The plan was to chase The Dark Knight, not catch him.

In short, Bane is a villain that would pick up where the previous films left off, acting at the same time as a threat to Gotham as well as Batman.
There are a great many themes to touch on with the introduction of Bane. Joker wants chaos; Batman wants order through justice; Bane wants order through fear, etc.

The only downside would be that the average person isn't too familiar with Bane. The world was especially excited for TDK because the Joker is such an iconic villain. Everybody knows who the Joker is, because he's been fighting Batman for generations. He's been played by Cesar Romero, Jack Nicholson, and Mark Hamill (animated series). Bane wasn't even introduced until 93'. While he is a major villain, he is not as recognizable as the Joker, or the Riddler, Penguin, or Catwoman, for that matter. It will be near impossible to turn another Batman film into the kind of event that TDK was.

As for other possible villains, many of them wouldn't fit into Nolan's world. Can you imagine Mr. Freeze in these films? Clayface? I suppose some, like Poison Ivy, could be tinkered with to fit in. She could be some kind of eco-terrorist (Wayne enterprises, no doubt, creates a lot of pollution).

Everyone's talking about the Riddler, though. Johnny Depp and David Tennant have expressed interest. Johnny's a fan favorite, but I cast my vote for Tennant. This is all hearsay and gossip, however. We'll all just have to wait to see what happens. After TDK's incredible box-office and critical success, Warner Bros. would be stupid not to make another one. We just have to be patient.

Anyway, let me know what you think. Do you think that he would be suitable? Or would you prefer someone else?

B&W

2008-09-16T09:20:00.002-05:00

Reminiscing.

2008-09-15T18:46:00.004-05:00

Just got a little, what's the word, nostalgic about my study abroad time last Fall.

Fun with

2008-09-11T14:34:00.001-05:00

I had some free time, so I made a slide-show of my family working on a cabin on the 4th of July.

A message from Ian.

2008-09-09T20:31:00.002-05:00

Just a little heart-to-heart.

Playing with the new webcam.

2008-09-09T18:23:00.005-05:00

This is what happens when I spend too much time working alone, and the semester has only just begun...

Let's just hope I never mix alcohol with video-blogging.

Rough draft of first Art History powerpoint

2008-09-08T21:10:00.009-05:00

Just an intro to the whole idea of art history as a discipline. I haven't figured out how to post it as a slideshow, so I did the next best thing and did a practice run on my webcam (neato, right?).

Okay, I need to look at the camera more often, and the slides are not always fully in the picture, but I think it gets the point across. It's broken into three segments because I kept getting interrupted (I was gonna edit my reaction to the interruption out of the first video, but it was too funny to cut. Just think of it as a blooper). Also, I have a bit of a cold, so I cough now and then. The planes fly overhead now and then, and it sounds wicked creepy. I was a little too far away from the mike on video one, so I sound a tad muffled. Any comments or suggestions?

What I get to do this summer

2008-07-07T23:03:00.002-05:00

http://chestertonacademy.org/

New Catholic school in St. Louis Park inspired by the works of G.K. Chesterton. Read about it on the link. Long story short, I have volunteered for the task of planning the art history curriculum for this Fall. Neato!

Only 9th grade so far, which means I have to focus on Prehistoric, Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art. Plenty of stuff there, so I'm not lacking in possibilities. I found a decent (and cheap) textbook, and now I just need to brush up on my ancient art. Fortunately, the curriculum is very flexible, so I can bring in Egyptian, Mesopotamian, whatever, I just need to keep the main focus on the Western world.

The big question is this: How do I go about teaching art history? Especially to 9th graders, who probably have little to no familiarity with art history? Good news is this is a Catholic school! F these secular lenses that have been thrust on mine eyes by modern academia! Time to look at art through my religious viewpoint!

Needless to say, this will be fun.

fART?

2008-01-09T14:46:00.000-06:00

Fountain, Duchamp, 1917
A few weeks ago (Christmas Eve), I was at the dinner table with my family and some family friends. The patriarch of the guest family, upon hearing I was an art history major, asked me a very big question. "What is art?"

To be honest, I stopped asking myself that question long ago, and it kind of caught me off guard.
Had he asked me years ago, I would have gone on about how art should reflect that which is good, beautiful, and true. I would have then proceeded to explain, in my infinite (and arrogant) teenage wisdom, what constitutes art from non-art. Example: Someone signing a urinal under a false name and placing it in a museum is not creating art, and someone painting a pretty landscape is. Problem with this was that I was being very arbitrary with my definition. I was under the impression that art required skill. I had never asked myself whether it was simply the fact that good art required skill, and that art without skill is still art, but bad art.

However, I'm not entirely sure about that, either. In fact, I don't buy it at all. I've seen works of art that took a lot of skill to create, but ultimately were lacking. Micheal Bay films don't make themselves. They require professional stunt crews, sfx teams, and all sorts of other hard-working people. All that work amounts to a 200 mil. dollar pile of shit. A video of a kitten playing with a ball of tinfoil shot on a super 8 camera holds more artistic value to me.

So, in the end, I stopped asking myself what constitutes art and settled on this simple answer. Art is creation. If someone created it, I considered it art. Even if the creator of said object had no notion of art. I suppose this stemmed from an appreciation of natural beauty. To me, God was an artist, and Life, the universe and everything in it was His masterpiece. By mimicking His creative tendencies, human beings could create art. Art is creation, and Creation is art. Some at the dinner table that night disagreed and said that the creation must be unnecessary to constitute art. A tool is not art unless it has unnecessary decoration. That's a fair enough stance. However, even if a tool is not art, one can still look at it with an artistic eye. At that point, I began to consider a new possibility. Asking the question "What is art?" assumes that art exists. Does it (if it doesn't, should I look into another area of academia)? Is that object art simply because I cannot apply it pragmatically to the world, or is it art because I look at it through an art analytical lens? I don't want to jump to conclusions about art's existence, as my thoughts are plagued with uncertainty. Damn. It seemed like such a simple question.

Whether or not it is art, Fountain says something about the state of modern man. I refuse to accept it.*

*Well, it's not so much a refusal to accept. If someone could convince me that this was a true reflection of modern man, I would accept it. Until then, I don't buy it.

TDK trailer

2007-12-19T09:21:00.001-06:00

http://youtube.com/watch?v=uYPUejV94SI

This movie will rock with an iron fist that shines like justice.

2007-12-18T14:19:00.000-06:00

I took a really nice walk down from the Diagonal metro stop to the beach. I passed by a few other Gaudi buildings (you know'em when you see'em). The beach was nice, real nice. Stepped on a beached jelly (don´t worry, was wearing shoes). I only wish it were warmer out. On the way back, I walked on this one street called.... I forget, but it had a bunch of shops and street performers. Lots of clowns dressed like hobos ( other way around?). I gave some money to this guy who did a rather good Micheal Jackson impersonation to Billie Jean. There were also a lot of pet shop stands. cute.
The supermarket has wine for half a euro, and it´s actually pretty good. Half a euro is still less than a US and A dollar, too! Tomorrow, some museums, perhaps? Then on Thursday it´s back to England before hopping on a flight home. I miss England already. Really good ale. My plane lands in Nottingham, so I´ll stop by my favorite pub ("Ye first Trip to Jerusalem") one last time. One last pint... tears in my beer...
Cheers!
-Ian

2007-12-18T08:21:00.000-06:00

Just got back from Sagrada Familia. Hard to describe how monumental and imaginative it is. For two euros, you can take a lift up one of the spires. Really cool. I felt like I had entered into some other realm. The space and weight of the architecture is otherworldly. I took a bunch of pictures.
I´m gonna head out again, soon. There are a few more things to see.
Later,
Ian

A coupla updates.

2007-12-17T12:11:00.000-06:00

Bonjour, mes amies! (sorry, I had to do that)

My hostel is in the heart of the Latin Quater. At least, those were the only directions given to me, so I had a heckuva time trying to find it last night! I was very hungry, and every other door leads to a nice restaurant. Someone once told me Paris smells like urine. They lied. It smeels like fresh bread mixed with whatever other nice ingredients they got. C'est magnifique!!!..... sorry
Anyway I went and saw Notre Dame today, and I might spend the rest of my day walking to the Eiffel Tower, which will be a good walk, but I'll see more of Paris that way.
I'll go to the Louvre tomorrow b/c it is free on Sunday. Otherwise, it would be over 10 euros.
So, the cheap flights ended up not being so cheap after all. Since I have all my stuff with me, they're charging me excess baggage charges, which end up being more than the ticket!!! Ah well, no one said travelling was easy.
I should go, internet costs 2 euro per half-hour. I'll try writing again soon!
All best,
Ian

Wow, two beautiful, sunny days in Paris. Had a most excellent crepe sallee last night, with jambon, fromage, tomates, mmmm..... I don't have much time, so here's the gist of things.
Walked to Eiffel Tower. Ate sandwich in park surrounding. Walked to Musee d'Orsay. Spent afternoon there (this is all along the Seine, by the way). Walked back to hostel. Helped Spanish students in my room with their English assignment. Went out, ate crepe. Came back, played Uno with roommates. Reminded me of doing that with my flatmates back in England (tear). TODAY: Woke up. breakfast (croissant, petite baguette avec buerre et the au lait). Went to Gregorian Mass at Notre Dame. Walked to Louvre. Saw some stuff. Walked to that big arch (it's quite big). Passed a bunch of shops. Came back. Wrote electronic correspondence. Soon, dinner. Perhaps another crepe?

It took a while, but I finally made it to my hostel in Barcelona. A few things about San Jordi hostel.
1)Hot showers. Those two words alone are enough to choose this one.
2)Cheap. I think it was 35 euros for three nights.
3)Clean. So clean.
4)Great location. Next to a supermarket, metro station, cafes, cash machines.
5)FREE INTERNET, So I can correspond with all of you without worrying about my time limit!
6)Pool table.
7)Elevator. No lugging all that junk up a flight of stairs for me!
8)Did I mention the hot showers?

So, it basically feels like a hotel. I can seriously see my mom coming in here and saying."This seems nice."

Not a lot to say about Barcelona yet. I haven´t had a chance to see anything. I think I´m just gonna eat dinner and relax tonight. Tomorrow: Gaudi. Lots of Gaudi.

Cheers,
Ian

Quite possibly the best marketing campaign ever.

2007-11-26T16:00:00.001-06:00

http://batman-dark-knight.moviechronicles.com/2007-11/gotham-times-online-edition-out-now/

Ian's Log, October 30, 1:28 AM (can't sleep, flashes of inspirado), Anno Domine 2007, UEA, blah blah blah

2007-10-29T20:27:00.000-05:00

Hokay, so here's a slice of my life, y'all.

Among many things, I'm about halfway through an essay assessing the acheivements of Saint Augustine of Canterbury. The conversion of the English from a pagan nation to a Christian nation is fascinating, especially since it all happened so quickly. The courage it took for a group of missionaries from Rome to travel to the edge of the known world into a pagan country whose language they didn't even understand in order to convince them it was in their best interest to abandon the religion of their fathers for Christianity is simply amazing. The fact that it was a success is even more astounding.

When one studies Augustine of Canterbury, it is essential to know a thing or two about Pope Gregory the Great. I recommend everyone to go to their library and find a collection of Gregory's letters. He was a pope of great ambition, but also aware that he was merely a servant of God with a lot of responsibility, and that he had rules and codes of conduct that he had to abide by as the Holy See of western Christendom. Cool guy. Knew how to keep the Gallic bishops in line.

Anyway, that's been the bulk of my academic life this week. Aside from that, I haven't been doing many exciting things. Just going for walks and cooking and stuff. I have been planning a trip to Walsingham to visit a Catholic shrine. It's in a small Hamlet about a mile away from Walsingham. It looks like I can just hop on a bus in town and ride that to Walsingham, so this could easily be a simple day trip to a small English town.

That's the gist of what I've been up to. If any of you want to shoot an e-mail my way, go right ahead. I love hearing from everyone back home!

Ian's Log, Tuesday, October 23, 11:10 AM, Anno Domine 2007

2007-10-23T05:09:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I suppose I should make another update, since I know you're all dying to hear from me.

Naomi came for a few weeks to visit. She quickly made friends with all my flatmates, and they all miss her to death already.

While she was here, we did some hardcore traveling! We had 4-day rail passes, and we started off by making our way to Wales. We could only make it as far as Cardiff, and there wasn't much to see there, so we hopped on a train to Salisbury. Salisbury is a small town with a few very awesome things to see. First is Salisbury Cathedral, which is one of the most incredible pieces of architecture I have ever seen. It also houses one of the four remaining copies of the Magna Carta, which, due to it being written on animal hide, is in excellent condition. Aren't animals great? One can also hop on a bus to go see Stonehenge, where the demons dwell. We only had time to see it from behind the gate, since the last bus back was leaving soon. No matter, we could see it fine from there, and even if you pay to get in, you still can't go up to it.

We then made our way to London to catch an overnight train to Edinburgh. Scotland has the second largest obesity rate in the world (We're still on top, go USA!). You know why? It's because haggis, black pudding, and scotch eggs are tasty! Edinburgh castle is worth the 11 quid to get in, for many reasons. Great view of the city; it's a castle; you can see the Stone of Destiny and Scotland's crown jewels; cannons; military museum; cannons; Mons Meg (a BFC-Big Friggin' Cannon), etc. Cool thing about Edinburgh is that one is never far from someone playing the bagpipes. You can always hear them in the distance.

One thing I love about Scotland is that plaid is considered formal. All the men's formal wear shops have 200 pound(400+ dollars) tartans on display. I'd like to get one, but where would I wear it? If I wore it anywhere but Scotland, people would be constantly bugging me about it, asking me stupid things like "what's up with the kilt?" and "why are you wearing that kilt?"

After our tour of Great Britain was finished, we went to Dublin. Dublin has many cool museums, many of them in the same area, and they're all free. It also has the Temple Bar district and the St. James Gate Brewery (that's the magical place where Guinness comes from). The Temple Bar district is loads of fun. The Irish really do drink to be merry. There's great music, Guinness, and everyone's very friendly.

There was a memorial to the Great Famine in the middle of a nice park not too far from Trinity College. Odd that, in the midst of a lovely park with beautiful trees and fountains and all that pretty stuff, there would be a sculpture that captured the absolute misery that was the famine. Maybe it's their way of saying "It wasn't always this nice." Another thing is, while the Irish are proud of their patriotic figures like James Connelly and Micheal Collins, they had many more statues of their poets than anything else.

We had a bit of trouble getting back, long story short. Don't wanna get into it right now. We made it back all right, just a little bit later than we would have liked. But hey, if traveling was easy, it wouldn't really be traveling.

So, yeah. That's the last few weeks in a nutshell. Hope all is well!
LOVE
~Ian

2007-10-05T05:49:00.000-05:00

Ian's Log, 12:15 PM, October the Fifth, Anno Domine 2007, UEA, Norwich, Norfolk, UK

Classes are going very well. I really like my English Country Houses class, because my professor is real cool (he's the one who says "fab") and the subject is fascinating. We're moving into the Elizabethan and Jacobean era with the architect Inigo Jones and the Palladian revival. That's pretty much when the Renaissance (everyone says it funny over here) came to England. My Indian Art seminar is loads of fun because, like English country houses, we only meet for one 2 hour seminar a week, and the rest of the week we just have to do loads of reading and come to class prepared to discuss. We also have to do presentations and essays and stuff, so the extra hours of independent work time are greatly appreciated. My Anglo-Saxon hist class is a bit more like what we get in the US. That is, a lecture and a seminar, but it's still only one lec. per week. We just went over the "Adventus Saxonum" and why there is so much debate about whether it was a mass migration of Angles and Saxons into Britain, or a warrior aristocratic takeover (much like the Norman conquest). Both sides of the debate have very compelling arguments. I don't think it's necessarily one or the other, though. One flaw I find in the Mass Migration/Aristocratic takeover debate is that it assumes that, either way, the Anglo-Saxons came over all at once. Is it not possible that, after the Anglo-Saxon warlords settled in Britain, word got back to the continent that it wasn't a bad place to live and people continued to come over? While the Venerable Bede as well as Gildas the Wise both give similar accounts of the Adventus Saxonum, it must be remembered that Gildas was sermonizing more than attempting an accurate history of Britain (I think it was actually spelled "Briton" at the time), and that Bede was a few generations removed from the actual events. He was using Gildas' moral chastising of the Britons as a model for his history. Also, being a few generations removed, what he was told by the historical authorities (if they existed) could be exaggerated a bit (not too unlike D.W. Griffith's version of American history that was told to him by his father). Just a thought, and I feel as though more research is in order.

I usually hang out with my flatmates, who are all very nice people. I've been introduced to some very amusing BritComs. One of them, in particular, is called "The Mighty Boosh." Which is about 2 guys who work in a zoo who go on crazy adventures involving getting lost in the forest and encounters with supernatural beings like the Spirit of Jazz. It might be on TV-Links. Many of them are amazed that I cook so much, but I'm really just frying veggies and potatoes in a pan for my pasta/rice. One thing that confuses me is how they use canned tuna in a lot of dishes (they even put it in their tomato sauce!), and baked beans are consumed on a daily basis. It's kind of fun buying all my own groceries and planning meals, but I am constantly worried about running out of money too soon. Food doesn't have to be expensive, but I'm always tempted to buy a steak or something decadent like that.

Whenever I meet someone who's visited the US, they almost always say they've been to LA, and that they didn't like it. Why do so many people go to LA? It's a crap-hole!!! I tell them that they should stop by Minnesota if they ever go back to the States. Heck, even Wisconsin would be a better idea than LA. Or to go see Texas for yourself, rather than judging it based on hearsay and gossip!

We've already begun planning Thanksgiving!!! Nobody in my flat has ever had it before, so I'm gonna show them how we feast-in America!!!!! There's no oven in our kitchen, so making a large roast or turkey is out of the question (I refuse to nuke a turkey, though some say it can be done), so we'll have to improvise on the main course. I suppose we could always deep fry chicken or something. Anyway, whatever the main dish is, there will be loads of roasted veggies (we do have some odd sort of grill thing. I'll send a picture soon), mashed potatoes, stuffing, wine, all the good stuff.

I never took into account how much it costs just to do laundry or take the bus into town, especially in England. Even the rec center here is too expensive. I've taken to just doing push-ups in my room and going for short runs around the Broad, which is a lovely little jog.
I'm not doing so bad, financially speaking. I have all my fees to the school paid, so I just have to worry about food and, of course, a reasonable amount of fun.
I shouldn't worry too much about it.

I hope everything is going well in God's country (America)!
~Ian

Everyone on my flat is getting sick...

2007-10-02T07:32:00.000-05:00

Except for me. I'm indestructible.
They be all like "Oh, it's a bit chilly! My nose is stuffed up and I have the sniffles!" and I'm just sitting here going "What, this? You call this cold?"
Indestructible.
~IS

Really cool Batman fan flick

2007-09-23T06:37:00.000-05:00

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Hjp0I_okX0w

I'm not too crazy about the actor who played the Joker, but well done, all the same!

Ian's Log, September 22, 3:47 PM, Anno Domine 2007, Suffolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, UK

2007-09-22T09:48:00.001-05:00

I only have 5 hours of class per week. Of course, a lot of independent study is expected of me. That's just how education works over here, but I think it suits me rather nicely. This also gives me plenty of time to travel Norfolk (pronounced Norfuk). I could very easily take day trips via bus to Ely or Cambridge or the coast. Heck, I could even take the train to London for a day. LOVELY! There was also an actual cool lecture at orientation about where to hear free folk music in pubs in Norwich. Neat-o.
Earlham park is right next to Campus, which is a wonderful place to go for a walk. A lot of people walking their dogs, too. One thing I noticed is that most people own two of the same type of dog, and that the dogs are very well behaved. No barking, chasing after rabbits, or unwelcome leg-humping. They just walk near their masters (no leash). Somehow, Norwich folk have figured out how to raise canines. I did hear one Cocker Spaniel bark. Call me crazy, but I swear it barked in a British accent.

Tata!
Ian

2007-09-21T10:08:00.001-05:00

Delayed posts

2007-09-21T10:07:00.001-05:00

Sorry about the delay, I have only just achieved internet access.

Ian's Log, Monday, September 17, 7:00 PM, Anno Domine 2007, Igloo Hostel, Nottingham

I left Manchester today by train. The countryside was gloriously hilly, and there were copious amounts of sheep. Absolutely lovely! There were so many times I just wanted to step off the train and wander for a bit, but I had reservations at a hostel in Nottingham, and all my luggage to carry around on top of that. Perhaps another day.

Well, I didn't think anything could top Manchester, but Nottingham was pretty awesome. At first, it didn't seem as nice, due to a large amount of construction. The weather was also cloudy, so the city seemed dreary (it wouldn't be England if it didn't, I suppose). Also, my hostel and the train station were on opposite sides of the city center, so I had to walk for @ 20-25 minutes with all my luggage. Nothing I couldn't handle, of course. It's just that Hatter's in Manchester was only a few blocks away from Piccadilly Station. But these are mere trifles. Nottingham is a fantastic city. Like Manchester, it is a great city for walking (a bit hillier, and by that I mean the city is one big hill). I found out that it was named after an old king named Snot, and that Nottingham is a derivation of "Snottingham." No joke. Snottingham. Well, there was nothing snotty about it. Here you can find the oldest pub (pube?) in England, the "First Trip to Jerusalem," named as such because it was said to be the place where Knights would meet before going off on Crusade, conveniently located beneath Nottingham Castle. How could I resist not going in for a pint? I had another "Real Ale" today called "Ruddles," or something like that. It was a great deal better than "Pedigree" in that it didn't taste so much like piss. That must be why it's a pound more expensive. Once again, I stopped after one pint. Half of today's pub is carved into rock, which is really cool. There is so much history in this place. It's pretty much a museum where you can buy beer. I took plenty of photos. I am compelled to return tomorrow.

There are, of course, a number of monuments to Robin Hood. I took some photos of those. On my way back to my hostel, I bought an umbrella, which was a good idea because I got lost and it started to pour. Good thinking, Ian.

Anyway, I'm going to make some dinner and go to sleep. My meals have been pretty consistent. Spaghetti noodles with chopped onions and garlic. I would buy more ingredients, but they can be difficult to travel with. Once I settle in Norwich, I can focus a bit more on things like that. Until then, this is Ian, signing off. Good night, America!!!

~IS

Ian's Log, September 18, 9:54 PM, Anno Domine 2007, Igloo Hostel, Nottingham

Okay. Seriously, guys. Nottingham is awesome. I started the day off with a cup of coffee, after which I started off for the castle area. The actual castle was destroyed after the English Civil War, but a Mansion was built in its place. A few blokes from the Jerusalem pub said it wasn't very old at a couple of centuries. I told them that, where I'm from, that's really friggin' old.

Anyway, it's 3.50 pounds to get in, which isn't much, and that includes admission to another museum down the hill (conveniently next to Jerusalem pub). The castle grounds are gorgeous and it's almost worth it just to go there to take pictures, or simply sit down and just take it all in. This is where Charles I raised the banner that started the English Civil War. Very significant. The mansion has been converted into a museum, which has a really neat exhibit that traces the history of Nottingham from Roman times up to the modern era. It also has a wonderful room that follows the history of the local Regiment, Robin Hood's Sherwood Foresters (cool name.) This was a really neat exhibit because it had a lot of military items from colonial campaigns, the World Wars, and even N. Ireland (ooh, controversial). Curiously, there was nothing from any wars with the US (perhaps the local Regiment never fought us, good for them). Unfortunately, photography was not allowed. However, it was allowed at the Brewhouse museum down the street. This was more of a look into domestic life during the early part of the 20^th century. My favorite part was the caves in the back of the house, which served as bomb shelters during WWII. I sat in an actual bomb shelter. Neat. They also had a cool collection of WWII posters, of which I took some pictures. All in all, 3 ½ pounds kept me occupied for a good 3 ½ hours. Not bad at all. I felt like seeing the "City of Caves" attraction, but it cost 5 ½ pounds, and only lasted about 45 minutes. Lame!

After that, I went to buy some supplies. A bit of advice for anyone traveling in England, buy everything at Poundworld (AKA a bit over 2 bucks world). They're scattered all about, but try to find one in a large shopping area, as they are the largest ones with the greatest variety of supplies. And when you're done getting essentials (towels, soap, etc.), they still have those cool, low-quality toys that you can buy at American dollar stores! Hooray!

Well, I pack up and head off to Norwich tomorrow, where I'll settle down and finally unpack all my things. Oh, how nice that shall be.

Catch ya on tha flip,

Ian

Ian's Log, September 19^th, 7:55 PM, Anno Domine 2007, UEA, Norwich

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I left Nottingham today by train headed for Norwich. The countryside quickly became less hilly and began to resemble certain parts of the American Midwest in its flatness. How heartwarming. Still a large amount of sheep, but also a decent number of horses and, best of all, cows!

When I got to Norwich Station, there was a girl from the UEA there who directed me to a bench where I was to wait for free transport with other international students. There were also members of the international student union passing out information booklets on British culture (what to do, what not to do, etc.) and making pleasant conversation. One thing about Britain I did not know was that one must very rarely tip. Maybe in a fancy, sit-down restaurant, and only if the service merits it. If you were to leave your bartender a tip, for instance, people would think you were some kind of jerk who likes to flaunt his money. Since that is the case, I shall gladly keep my money. Anyway, everyone from UEA and the international student union has been very nice and helpful. I also found out how much accommodation is costing me. For the first time, it was a considerable amount less than I had expected. It's just under 1000 pounds, which puts it at about 2000 US dollars. Honestly, I was really worried it was going to be in the neighborhood of 3000. I love it when I'm proven wrong like that.

Once I was all settled in, I went to the shop to buy basic living supplies. I ended up dropping about 40 pounds on that alone, because the communal kitchen didn't provide pots, pans, utensils, etc. As far as the more expensive essentials go, though, I think I have just about all I need, so now I simply need to make sure I have plenty of food. Once I had everything, I made myself pasta with green peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes, and dried, mixed herbs. Tasty. It had then occurred to me that, with the exception of a toffee muffin from the train station, this was the only thing I had eaten since lunch the day before. It's odd. I just haven't been all that hungry. I'll get hungry, but not in a painful way. It's as if my stomach is gently telling me "It's time to eat, now, Ian." without making a big, rumble-y fuss about it.

The architecture at UEA is almost entirely concrete. In that respect, it is a bit cold and heartless. However, the actual design is geometrically playful. So it's actually kind of neat. Student residence halls are shaped like ziggurats, and you can walk anywhere on campus by a concrete catwalk. There aren't many people here, yet, so it's slightly eerie walking around campus. The buildings at UEA are very condensed, which means that a lot of the grounds are reserved for green fields of rabbits. Seriously, they're everywhere. I went on a walk, turned a corner, and saw about 30 rabbits scatter down holes. It was amazing! They're like squirrels! Speaking of going for walks, the campus is right next to the Lore River, and there are miles of paths for hiking, running, or, in my case, a short, relaxing stroll at dusk. The area is simply beautiful. I was overcome with a sense of euphoria. Just lovely.

Well, orientation doesn't begin until Friday, so tomorrow I'll be going to the city center to do some sight seeing, familiarize myself with the bus system, maybe buy some supplies if there's a pound world. I need to buy an alarm clock. I'm kicking myself for not packing the one from home, but I'm sure I can find a cheap one. For now, I think I'll watch a few episodes of Cro-High on the laptop and call it a night.

Cheers, mates,

~Ian

P.S. There was, in fact, a pound store in town. I cannot stress this enough. Buy everything at a pound store. I spent 11 pounds there and was able to pick up a lot of basic living essentials like hangers, detergent, soap, glasses, and even some luxury items to make living a little easier.

~IS

"Real Ale"

2007-09-16T13:34:00.000-05:00

I had my first "Real Ale" today, because it just so happened to be the cheapest thing at the bar (Not as cheap as PGB, but this is England. Nothing is that cheap here). First things first, though. There was a man standing in front of the bar making sure nobody went in with team colors. I asked someone inside why, and they said it was because fights broke out between fans of opposing teams rather often. Silly hooligans. Anyway, it was called Pedigree, and my first reaction was "Wow, this tastes like piss!" I didn't say it out loud, but I thought it. I was determined to finish it, though, because 1.69 pounds is something in the neighborhood of 4 "best country in the world dollars." After a while, I started to get used to it. It has a real twang! to it, an honest to God POP!. I don't know how else to describe it. Anyway, looking at the menu, it became apparent that this country does have some good drink deals. So I was encouraged by that. I still left after one drink, cuz' I'm on a budget. Just call me Mr. self-control.

cheers,
Ian

Ian's log, September 16, 10:21 AM, Anno Domine 2007

2007-09-16T04:41:00.000-05:00

Hello all!

Thank you for sending so many replies to previous messages. It's great to hear from all of you! I'm having a fantastic time in Manchester so far. Hatter's is almost right in the middle of the city, not too far from the train station, and many cool sites are in comfortable walking distance. I found a nice church last night called St. Mary's, also known as the “Hidden Gem” of Manchester. Probably because it's tucked away in a little corner. I had to pass by it several times before I found it. There would be a sign saying “Hidden Gem” this way. I would walk “this way” until I came to a sign that said “other way, stupid” after only a few blocks. It was the first Catholic church built after the reformation. Unfortunately, pictures inside were prohibited, but I'll have you know they had a wonderful series of paintings depicting the Stations of the Cross. This is one of the best cities to walk around. It's easy to lose your way, but just as easy to find it again. If you wander around aimlessly, you'll eventually find your destination. It's also a very friendly place. I'll send some pictures of things I've seen.

I think I've recovered from the traveling, by now. I crashed at 7:00 last night and woke up at 8:00 this morning. I had a cup of tea with bread and jam and then went off to buy rice and a toothbrush (I'd hate to acquire a British smile while I'm here). I'm in Hatter's hostel for one more night, then tomorrow I'm taking the train to Nottingham, where I'll stay at Igloo hostel for another two days, after which I head on over to Norwich to settle in at the University. I like dinking around in hostels, but I'm eager to settle in Norwich. Then I'll be able to unpack, buy more food supplies, get more familiar with my surroundings, etc.

I've no idea what I'll do today. I have to book my train ticket for tomorrow, but that's it. I'll let you all know if anything really interesting happens. I hope everything is going well in the US and A!

Signing off,

Ian

Captain's Log, September 15th, 11:14 AM, Anno Domine 2007

2007-09-15T05:24:00.001-05:00

Manchester airport is very nice, much more so than JFK. I'm writing from my bunk in Hatter's Hostel, which is also very nice. The people are really quite friendly. The temperature is also quite cool, just like Minnesota!

At the train station, I heard a boy in a stroller ask “Are we going on a train, daddy?” to which daddy replied “Yes, Wesley, we are going on a train. Now, do you promise to behave?”

If my kid sounded as adorable as that, he could be a little twat for all I care. I would still love him. Anyway, I have to go, my battery's running low, and I don't have an adapter-yet...

Tata,

Ian

p.s. I don't get service here, so don't bother trying to call. It simply won't work.

~IS

Ian's Log, September 14, Anno Domine 2007, 6:00 apres-midi,

2007-09-15T05:09:00.000-05:00

I'm in JFK for another 3 hrs. Three hours. Not as bad as being in Heathrow for 8 hours, but still. It wouldn't be so bad if they had more shops here. Not to buy anything, of course. Just to look around. I've perused the Duty Free store a dozen times. A bottle of Jameson is still 23 US dollars. I'll check again later. There's only one place to eat in my section/area/prison, and they charge 8 dollars for a pint of Guinness. There's a Mrs. Pac-Man machine. Maybe I'll do that to pass the time. Nah...

I saw the NY skyline on the way in. I guess it's pretty big, even from very far away. Flight was uneventful. We went up, we came down. Pilot made light banter. I was sitting next to two French people, and I tried to pick up on some phrases. Total failage. I think I heard “j'adore,” and the rest was just quiet, monotonous, nasally gibberish. Way to go, France, jeez... (I keed, I keed).

Anyway, not much has happened so far ( I bought some headphones. That's about it), so I'm gonna cut this transmission short. I'll post again once something interesting happens. There's a large group of Indian people singing next to me. That's a little interesting, I suppose. They have nice voices and harmonize very well. Good show, India.

Roving wild,

Ian

2007-08-15T09:53:00.000-05:00

Billions of blue blistering barnacles!!!

The final countdown!

2007-08-15T09:40:00.000-05:00

I just booked a hostel for my first night in England, which is a mere month away. I land in Manchester on the 15th of September, then I make my way to Hatter's Hostel, a few blocks from Piccadilly station. After a day of bouncing around hairy Manchester, I shall hop on a train on its way to Norwich, perhaps stopping for a day in Nottingham, just for fun. Then I high-tail it off to the University of East Anglia for orientation! Once my little journey begins I will be sure to post more often.

Wassail!
~IS

rewriting dan brown

2007-07-31T16:21:00.001-05:00

Someone I know rewrote the first paragraph of Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code in the style of Dante, Hemingway, Homer, and many other talented writers. Amusing, but lacking because clever old P.G. Wodehouse was never included in this little game.

Until now...

Dan Brown (original): Renowned curator Jacques Saunière staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery. He lunged for the nearest painting he could see, a Caravaggio. Grabbing the gilded frame, the seventy-six-year-old man heaved the masterpiece toward himself until it tore from the wall and Saunière collapsed backward in a heap beneath the canvas.

P.G.Wodehouse: As I staggered along in such a desperate manner that one might think that I had just had a run-in with a certain aunt of mine, who is known to lure children to her gingerbread house, fatten them up, and devour them, cackling in sadistic delight all the way, I was conscious of a strange exhilaration, if I've got the word right. This exhilaration, mind you, was not of the pleasant kind in any way whatsoever. If I were to tell you that I was on top of the world with a rainbow on my shoulder, or that my state of affairs was, oh, what is that word, the one Jeeves, a true gentleman's gentleman if there ever was one, has been known to use from time to time... Euphoric? Yes, that's the one. If I were to repeat all that I have just communicated to you, my pants would most certainly be on fire, as the schoolyard taunt would suggest. I regret to inform you that my present state of affairs was as non-euphoric as states of affairs go.
I had really gotten myself in a pickle this time. I felt as though I had stumbled into the first page of one of those murder mystery novels, in which you almost always find someone being followed by an unknown with murderous or, at the very least, nefarious intentions through the dark alleyways of London or old, empty manor houses in the country where no one is around to hear your desperate cries for help. Thus the stage would be set for another one of Poirot's marvelous adventures, of which I am quite an aficionado. I often find myself spending entire evenings contently curled up in a comfortable chair with a cigarette, a cocktail, and one of Agatha Christie's marvelously intricate “whodunits”.
So that's how it was, poor old me being pursued through the vaulted archways of the Louvre. Now, I've been the curator of this world-renowned musee, as England's Gallic neighbors to the south would say, for years, and I had just now noticed that the archways were vaulted. It's simply amazing- the things that register when your mind is all flabbergasted and distressed!
Well, so far I'm off to a horribly ill-boding, not to mention confusing, start. In recording the latest (and what seems like it could very well be the last) installment of the Jacques Sauniere story, a task at which I am about to have a pop, I would like to fill you in by delving into the past a good deal, touching on events that took place in previous installments and explaining who's who and what happened when and where and why, but I am afraid I have no time, as I am in a bit of a hurry to die. Awfully sorry. I hate to be so inconsiderate, not to mention inconsiderately morbid, but the circumstances prevent me from practicing the proper etiquette. I assure you this is tearing me up inside, as we Sauniere men have always prided ourselves in being proper gentlemen.
Here we are, then, in the immediate present. This one here seems big enough. I recognize the scene from the Bible. I would like you all to know that I once received a prize for scripture knowledge in my schoolboy days, and I know the beheading of John the Baptist when I see it. It was painted by some bloke by the name of- blast these Spanish names- Car-ah-vag-eeh-oh. Never heard of him, and I've been the curator for years. I figured he must not be of any importance, or else I would know all about the Spaniard.
I hate to say good-bye so soon, but I really must expire shortly. I just need to get a grip on this frame. I say, this is a rather nice frame. I would guess that it was gilded, if that is the correct terminology. Jeeves would know. Where is he when I need him most? Oh, tinkerty-tonk, I can't waste time with such tangential trains of thought. Now, Jacques, pull...
... No good. This thing is nailed on rather tight, I should say. I shall have to try a little harder, with gusto, this time. These are my last moments, after all, I might as well end it all with the conviction and fearlessness that has always been the pride of the Famille de Saumiere. I suppose committing the act on the count of three might be a good way go.

One. Stiff-upper lip, now...
Two. We all must pay the piper sometime ...
and-moment of truth, Jacques old boy...

And just as I was about to utter the last number, the number that would have signaled my very demise, I was interrupted by an oh-so-familiar, not to mention inappropriately calm, voice.
“Pardon me, sir, but there is no need for that.”
I turned around and there was Jeeves, a regular guardian angel, come to my aid in the nick of time. Good 'ol Jeeves. Never fails to get me out of a jam, that Jeeves. Needless to say, I was even more flummoxed than I was a few moments ago, though Jeeve's presence always brings a severe sense of relief to a sticky situation.
“I'm afraid you've caught me during a difficult moment of my life, Jeeves.”
“Indeed, sir, most disturbing.”
Most disturbing!? Here I was, about to end my life, blow out my very flame of existence, and the only words Jeeves can use to describe the whole scenario are “most” and “disturbing.” I could think of several better words of description. Non-euphoric, there's one! Dire, horrifying, two more! That's Jeeves for you. You could jump out at him in the middle of the night with a revolver aimed right between his eyes yelling “Your money or your life!” and he would do no more than quietly raise his left eyebrow.
“Yes, Jeeves, I'm not feeling particularly euphoric.”
“It would seem so, sir.”
“And what do you mean this isn't necessary?”
“I mean that you have no need to kill yourself with that Caravaggio, sir.”
“You mean to tell me that you've sorted everything out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that I can spare this Spaniard's very large painting in the Neo-Classic style.”
“Italian, sir, Baroque, and yes, you can spare it.”
I do not need to tell you that I received this news euphoriously, if that is the word. Here I was, about to pop myself off, when I was informed at the eleventh hour that I would have to not die collapsed in a heap beneath the canvas, and that I could live to see another bright, sunny day with a spring in my step, a rainbow on my shoulder, whistling a happy tune as I strolled along my way. I was conscious of a profound peace.
“I am conscious of a profound peace, Jeeves.”
“Indeed, sir”
“Thank you, Jeeves.”
“Not at all, sir.”

"The Two Poets of Saffron Park"

2007-03-14T19:48:00.000-05:00

Currently, there is no author I find more invigorating and more intellectually stimulating than G.K. Chesterton. One chapter into The Man Who Was Thursday and I already feel more alive than I have for a good while.

So far, The Apostle of Common Sense has vindicated something I have felt for quite some time in a clearer way than I could ever have hoped. I suppose I just needed to hear someone else say it in order to understand what I already knew.

Respectability is something to strive for, not throw away; that the man who looks sad and tired just might live a richer life than the man who walks in the Garden of Earthly Delights.

While it praises the respectable and the orderly, the first chapter also exposes a flaw in the praise of anarchy and the orgasmic pleasure of the "great moment." Those that laud such a lifestyle are rarely ever sincere, and if they are sincere, they are most likely delusional. For the true anarchist is a dead anarchist, or, at least, a soon to be dead anarchist. I have a hard time believing in anarchists because I just don't think many people are stupid enough to sacrifice their lives for chaos. If Gregory (one of the poets in the story) were really an anarchist, he would throw bombs in Saffron park, or something destructive. But he doesn't. He just stands there and preaches about the beauty of lawlessness, all the while taking no part in lawlessness at all (there is no law against poetry, is there?). Also, if he were to throw bombs, he would either A) kill himself, accidentally or not, or B) be arrested, tried, and hanged for being a menace to society. This brings me to a more recent "artist."

Sid Vicious is dead. Long dead. He died from living a life of chaos, which also claimed his girlfriend, Nancy. The rest of the Sex Pistols lived on, but they weren't really anarchists. Johnny Rotten was just disgusted with the world. He still works within the system, and apparently goes on tour now and then. Few people seem to care, though.

What is really sad about Sid is the fact that the Sex Pistols are fading away. During their heydey, critics proclaimed that "Never Mind The Bullocks" was one of the greatest albums of all time (At one point, Rolling Stone placed it at #2, right after Sgt. Pepper's). Nowadays, the Sex Pistols' popularity has been eclipsed by another late 70's Brit punk band, The Clash. The reason for this might have something to do with the fact that A) The Clash knew how to play their instruments and knew a thing or two about writing music, and B) They weren't Anarchists, and they never pretended to be. The Pistols were disgusted with humanity, and didn't care about anything (that's what they said, at least). Where does that get you, and what's the point of even trying, then? The Clash did care. They did see problems in society that disgusted them, but their solution was not to tear it all down and create chaos. They wanted justice! While I disagree with their solutions (they were socialists), I give them credit for trying, which is more than Sid ever did.

Ideals and anarchy aside, The Clash just wrote better songs than any other punk band. Ever.

Deer Hunting 2006

2006-11-06T11:17:00.000-06:00

Captain Awesome versus the Fashion Police

2006-09-21T00:25:00.000-05:00

It was a frigid northern day in Minnesota, the kind of day that solidifies your spit before it reaches the ground, the kind of day that causes your eyes to freeze shut. It was the kind of day when you have to breathe through your mouth because the snot in your nose has frozen up and clogged your sinuses. You know what I'm talking about. In short, it was the kind of day when many people grumble and bitch about how friggin' cold it is. Those people are total pansies. Captain Awesome is most certainly not one of those people. Captain Awesome is what ye might call a total northern badass. And when I says ye "might," I mean ye should.
Captain Awesome was doing what any REAL northerner would do on a day such as this one. He was outside chopping wood. When I says he was chopping wood, I mean he was cutting down trees with one fell swoop of his gargantuan battle ax and chopping them into splinters with his cold, bare hands. How was he able to work so hard in such conditions, ye might ask? Layers, fool, lots of flannel. And whiskey, too, because alcohol freezes not. If ye have enough of the good stuff in yer bloodstream, ye can endure much more than ye normally would. In fact, that be how the chef on the Titanic survived, but that be an entirely different story than the one yer about to hear.
The Captain had just downed a tree in his front yard and was about to drag it around back to chop it up even more when he was abruptly stopped by a couple of absolute tools followed by a cameraman, who was also a complete tool.
"Freeze! We're the fash-" but before the one could finish his sentence, Captain Awesome threw his fist into the guy's face, who flew back a good ten feet into a lamppost. It is never a good idea to startle a badass like that.
"What in the fuck do you jerk-offs want!?" Yelled the good captain.
"We're the fashion police. We only wanted to talk to you about your outfit." Said the girl, who was helping the pansy-ass guy off the ground.
"What about it?" Inquired the captain, who at this point was only humouring the unwanted intruders.
"Its the layers! "Said the shivering douche. "Just because its cold out doesn't mean you have to look like an overstuffed burrito!"
"What the hell did you just call me?" Captain Awesome replied with the immediacy of a striking cobra driven mad by pheremones.
"Well it looks like you're wearing ten layers of flannel, buddy! What is this, the Yukon? Now come on, let's get in the van and go shopping!" Chirped the unfunny and obnoxiously perky girl, who grabbed the Captain's tree-trunk sized arm.
"I'm not getting in your van, and I'm not going shopping with you. Let go of my arm. Now." The captain calmly and seriously declared. It was at this time that the prissy guy chimed in.
"Listen, mister! We've got a show to do, and all we want is to make you look fabulous. We came all the way out here in a blizzard for you, Just for you! This is all for your own good! So are we gonna do this or not?"
The Captain set his eyes on the spastic man and kept them there, not saying a word. The priss looked back at him, frozen by Awesome's cold, frigid gaze. In a flash, his head was engulfed by flames. He planted his face in the snow, screaming in intense pain. The three quickly jumped into the van in a panic and left The Captain alone in the snow. He watched the van until it disappeared in the white, and went back to chopping wood.

The End

Some more photography

2006-09-12T22:05:00.000-05:00

Why sit on a bench when you have such nice, soft grass for your ass ( I just can't help myself, can I)?

Sunset at one of my favorite spots.

Coming soon...

2006-09-12T09:32:00.001-05:00

Captain Awesome versus the Fashion Police

Sick!

2006-09-05T23:53:00.000-05:00

I just finished watching the final episode of RahXephon. It was similar to having your mind dumped in hot sauce, lit on fire, and shot out of a cannon. Seriously, my mind does not currently reside in my skull.

The third and final chapter of "Luke the Killer"

2006-08-16T23:47:00.000-05:00

"Quick, lock the door so he can't get in!" Ordered one.
The four stood close to one another in the middle of the barn. They
kept their guns pointed at the entrance, ready to fire at the
slightest noise.
Luke was silently watching their every move from the rafters. Whilst observing, he took a few moments to compose a haiku before the big kill, as was his preference.

~Five men in a barn
In just a few short moments
Only one will breathe~

Satisfied with his composition and in full assessment of the situation, he braced himself for the final bloody meelee. His hatchet in hand, he dropped from his
perch. With a resounding crack, he landed on the back of one, snapping
his spine in half like he was a screaming toothpick. The other three
toppled over like dominoes. The Jameson came crashing down on the head
of another. That did not take him out completely, but Luke wasn't
finished with him yet. He took out his lighter and set the
whiskey-soaked bastard on fire. The third had gotten up, and was about
to fire his gun, but that proved to be a difficult task when a hatchet
suddenly hacked his arm half off. He fell to the ground, gasping in
horror at the sight of his forearm hanging from his humerus by a few
sinews. Luke pinned him to the ground and grasped his skull. He
plunged his thumbs into the one-and-a-half armed man's eye sockets and
pressed down until they oozed with the goo that was once the man's
ocular organs (Sick, dude!). The blazing man was still writhing on the
floor, letting out agonizing cries from his twisted, dripping face.
Looking up, Luke saw that the final man had dropped his gun and was
making a run for it outside the barn.
"Can't let you do that." Luke said. "You know where I live." He
causually walked over to the toolshed, grabbed a pitchfork, took aim,
and let fly the three-pronged death-stick.
"Aww-shit! Right in the back of the neck, bitch!" Shouted Luke. He
drained his flask, which was still half full. That was the last of
them.
Light beamed through the trees as the sun rose over the blood-soaked
and entrail-ridden farm. Crows were already working on the carcasses
that littered the ground. As the ballsy Jameson began to go to his head, Luke was overcome with a profound sense of placidity mixed with extreme dizziness. He looked at the aftermath of the homicidal frenzy that took place with a demure face. Perhaps he was contemplating the nature of life and death. Perhaps he pondered how, in a split second, a living, animate human being with a soul turns into a pile of tissue. What now seperates the man from the soil of the Earth? One might ask what becomes of the man when his soul and his body have parted ways. Luke continued to cast his eyes in the direction of the devastation. Slowly, he opened his mouth to declare his thoughts...
"Damn, I've never seen so many crows in my life! There must be a
thousand of 'em!" Luke ejaculated to himself.
Amidst the "caws" and the flapping of wings, Luke distinctly heard the cocking of a rifle.He turned around and found himself looking down the barrel of a custom
360. The man holding the gun looked like he had been stabbed in the
eye with a rusty ice-pick.
"Balls!" Muttered Luke.
"Balls is right, bitch! Ya shoulda killed me back in Chicago!"
Luke closed his eyes and waited for the bullet. He heard a gunshot and
felt something wet and slimy spray all over his face.
"Odd." he thought. "That didn't sound like a custom 360. That sounded
a lot more like a shotgun."
He opened his eyes and saw that the man with the missing eye was now
missing a head. He looked to his right and saw a familiar face. She
was holding a smokin' hot shotgun in her hands. She was bomb-ass.
"Did you see that! You fucking took his head clear off!"
"Yeah, and it's all over you, now."
"That was totally kick-ass!!!"
She maintained a cold stare.
"You left without saying good-bye, Luke."
"I had to, babe. I fucked real hard with all the wrong people."
She rolled her eyes and said, "Dammit, Luke, when will you learn
that you don't always have to fuck so hard?"

in fact, sometimes it's not right-to do...

~Fin~

The second chapter of "Luke the Killer," in which we find Luke in a tree awaiting some unwanted guests.

2006-08-15T11:38:00.000-05:00

Luke watched the position of the moon and saw that it was 3:30 in the
morning. No sign of them yet. He ran through everything in his head.
"Decoy? Check. Razor-wire? Check. Bottle of Jameson? Check. Lighter?
Check. Detonater? Check. Shuriken? Check. Hatchet? Check... Fuck my
ass, what else?* Skills? Double-ASS check."
Hidden high in a black spruce (Picea mariana), Luke had an omnicient
view of his environment. At 4:00 he began to pick up an unfamiliar
scent. The bastards were getting close.
"I got the upper hand, bitches." Luke mused to himself. "You probably
think I'm sleeping my balls off right about now. You just wait."
They came from the south at approximately 4:15 AM. Luke counted
fifteen of them. Six of them maintained their positions outside while
one of them, a big guy, size of an ogre, led the other nine inside.
"That's right, douchebags, go into the house. Quietly, now. you
wouldn't want me to wake up. If you're gonna kill a bear, best kill it
while it's sleeping. N'est-ce pas?"
Luke watched as they entered through the back door. After all, back
door assassins are best, are they not? They finally made their way
into his bedroom. From his position, Luke could get watch their every
move.
The ogre cautiously walked up to the bed. Gently, he pulled off the
sheets to reveal a rather big ass bomb.
"ooh, rocksores." Luke winced, and he pressed his thumb down on the
button, blowing the room and the nine would-be killers away. The
explosion set the house on fire, illuminating the area. The six
outside watched in horror as their comrades who weren't immediately
destoyed melted away in the inescapable inferno.
"Shit!!! What the hell was that!?"
"A trap, dumbass! He was expecting us!"
The remaining assassins began to panic like a flock of confused and startled ducklings. One of them had a sharp eye, though, and the light from the fire was enough for him to spot the clever man who set the trap.
"That's my cue to exit." Thought Luke.
The goon turned and called to his compadres.
"I see him! He's up there in the tree!"
"Where?"
"Up in the-"
But it was too late, Luke was long gone.
"He was up there just a second ago..."
The sharp-eyed goon then noticed a glint of light reflecting from the
woods. He gazed into the darkness and saw a still, shadowy figure
holding something deadly in its hand. He was about to call to his companions
again, but from the shadow's hand flew a razor sharp shuriken right
into his throat. Gasping for air, he ran to the others.
"Oh, shit, right in the throat!"
"Where is he?"
Before he expired, "eagle eye" pointed in the direction of the figure,
though it had long since moved on. One unfortunate fool was frightened
enough to make a run for it. He made it halfway through a line of
razor-wire. Luke sadistically placed the razor-wire at eye level, so
the man was hanging from a line lodged in the middle of his skull.
"What do we do!?"
"Into the barn!"
Eleven down, four to go.
To be concluded...
*Tenacious D- "Drive Thru"

A dude with a sword.

2006-08-13T13:24:00.000-05:00

I call this one "Death has no Face"

A few words about the sword: It is actually a bayonet from the late eighteen hundreds, about the time of the Franco-Prussian War, I believe. I inherited it from my grandfather on my mother's side of the family. He isn't dead yet, but he wants to get rid of all his stuff before it is too late. I was fortunate enough to get the bayonet as well as his compound bow. I cannot say for sure, but I'd like to think that this bayonet killed at least three Prussians during the war. Not that I have anything against the Prussians.
My grandpa got this sword, and another one of the same kind, from his father. My great grandfather got them both off of the bodies of two dead french soldiers during WWI. He strapped them to his legs and brought them back to the USA. Hells yeah.

2006-08-04T01:14:00.000-05:00

Luke the Killer
Chapter one, in which we find Luke spying on a most sought after creature.

Luke didn't move a single muscle in his chiseled, bronzed body. The smallest noise and his presence could be detected. With utmost care, he silently sketched the rare ivory-billed woodpecker, the holy grail of North American birds. This
species was widely considered to be extinct, but rumors had been
spreading that there was a very small population in existence. The
chances of one of these landing in your backyard is so small that you
would have better luck looking for a moose that shits shinola. After
making several quick sketches, he reached for his tape recorder to get
a recording of this most rare of specimens' marvelous "double knock."
Luke spotted "Campephilus principalis" hours before while sitting on
the porch of his farmhouse, a veritable fortress of solitude for those
times when he found it necessary to disappear for a while. After what
he did, he would have to disappear for a long time. Let's just say he
choked the wrong fucking guy to death with barbed wired, and then he
fucking stabbed another "wrong fucking guy" in the eye with a rusty
fucking ice-pick and burned the wrong fucking house to the fucking
ground… long story short.
Luke didn't mind laying low, however. There were plenty of birds to
watch and enough Jameson in the cellar, after all.
"It's a shame." He thought as he sat there. "That I can't let
anyone know the location of this magnificent creature." This was not
entirely true. There was, in fact, one person who knew where Luke's
hideout was, and he could most certainly tell her. A better way of
putting it would have been "It's a shame I can't tell anyone I want."
This recreational activity was cut short when the "rarest of the
rare" was scared off by the screeching of a falcon. This falcon, a
peregrine, took perch on a post near the front steps of the farmhouse.
On her leg was a message. Having no phone or address, falconry was one
of the best ways to get a hold of Luke, though only one person
commands a falcon trained for this task, and she is only to use this
skill in the case of an emergency. Luke took the message, and the
falcon took off southward. The note read:

~The Flock is migrating north early this year~

"Balls!" Muttered Luke, and he took a long, hard swig from his flask.
He knew what this meant. Luckily, he had everything he needed.

to be continued...

Oh, there will be cigars.

2006-08-02T18:37:00.000-05:00

Fortunately, the kid didn't throw up.

Halfway through his second cigar, Steve began to glow.

Never play badmitton without the brewskies, ever.

Nice ash, Luke.

awwwww.

Who was drinking Dr. Pepper?

This be the legend of Captain Awesome.

2006-07-27T23:17:00.000-05:00

Captain Awesome was born on July 4th, 1776 with a cutlass in his hand and a beard on his chin. His parents were descendants of the early Viking explorers of the New World. As an infant, he turned down his mother's milk, for he preferred his father's whiskey instead. Not many people know this, but he would drink half his weight in whiskey every day. One time, his mother tried to take him off of whiskey, but it almost killed him. She never tried that again.

At the age of five, he ran away from home and joined the US Navy (They didn't question his age, because no five year old could grow a beard, or so they thought.) To his dismay, the American Revolution was over by that time, and there was no war to be fought. After spending five years in the navy, he left to become a pirate in the year 1786. A great lakes pirate, to be exact.

What be a Great Lakes pirate, ye ask? Well, it be a lot like a regular old Caribbean pirate, 'cept that he would take whiskey over rum any day. That, and he spends most of his time in the Great Lakes of the North.

Now, there was little piratical competition in the great lakes, so Captain Awesome had no trouble establishing his dominance. He would sail around, catch fish and eat'em raw, drink his daily dose of whiskey, and plunder any ships that would happen to come by. There were a lot of fur tradin' ships in those parts, so he had a vast collection of animal skin hats. His favorite hat was made from the ass of a sasquatch, which is actually the softest and most well groomed ass in the animal kingdom. He wore a different dead animal everyday. In his spare time, he would sit around and wait for something to come along that he could kill. Little known fact is that Captain Awesome is single handily responsible for the extinction of the Great Superior Freshwater Squid. He also invented squid jerky. One time, he went on land and tried killing grizzly bears, but they were too easy. Instead, he took on the task of training a grizzly. Then the War of 1812 happened, and he volunteered his pirate fleet to join the US navy. Captain Awesome got his first taste of an actual war, and it kicked major ass.

Most people those days were using guns to kill people, but Captain awesome was an old fashioned man, and preferred using more brutal methods of taking down his enemies. His favorite thing to do was sail up real close to a British ship, and board it on the back of his pet grizzly, Sven. Sven would do what a bear does, and the Cap' would go mad swingin the battle axe handed down to him from his father. When he was a fightin' and a killin', he would turn into something a little bit inhuman. That was the Viking in him. Surprisingly, Captain Awesome's contributions to the American victory in the War of 1812 never made it into the history books.

When the war ended, he decided to finally return to his family's Nordic settlement. When he arrived, he found it to be completely devestated. His childhood home had become a veritable graveyard. He noticed that many of the remains of the destroyed home bore the mark of the great lakes kraken. Captain Awesome then sailed off in search of the lair of the kraken to kill it in the most cruel and brutal way possible, thus making the world a safer place for non squids.

I be a lazy man

2006-07-27T01:24:00.000-05:00

I'm using blogger because it is easy. I really do not want to manage a website that requires me to know any sort of code. Methinks it would take up too much time. Time that would be better spent doing other things, like actual work-or watching cartoons. I figure I'll try this out for a while and see if I likes it.

See these?
www.beccaann.com
www.alexcoyne.com

These look like they would take up too much time for me. Ian is usually a man of much patience, but not with computers.

Do you enjoy- photography?

2006-07-27T01:03:00.000-05:00

The reasons for all this.

2006-07-26T22:55:00.000-05:00

1. Because using Facebook makes me feel like kind of a tool.
2. Because using Blogger makes me feel like less of a tool.
Huzzah!