Miss America

You know what? So Miss America fell in the Miss Universe pageant. It happens to the best of us, and I'm not going to pile on her for it like every news outlet in the nation. Plus, she took it like a champ. If you haven't seen it, here's one of the eight million versions on YouTube.

What I'm a little ticked about is that the audience ruthlessly booed her (before and after the fall) and even chanted "Mexico" when she was answering a question. Oh yeah, the pageant was in Mexico City. That's important. The leading theory is that the audience was showing their displeasure at the United States, largely due to immigration restrictions.

Don't get me wrong- I'm all for legal immigration. If someone wants to come here, become a part of America, and contribute to society, go for it. But I don't really care for the whole theory of "I hate you because you won't let me come in your country and do what I please." And what I really don't understand is showing this by chanting "Mexico." It's just like all the immigration reform marches when protesters waved Mexican flags. What's that supposed to mean? "I'm going to show you how much I think I deserve to be in your country by waving the flag of my home nation, which I am fleeing like a sinking ship so I can live in your much better, non-third world country which I purport to despise?"

What this boils down to is that anti-American sentiment really grinds my gears, especially when it's not the justifiable anti-war kind. Oh yeah, and congratulations to Miss Japan!

Memorial Day/The 500

I hope everyone had an enjoyable Memorial Day weekend. I spent it doing the yard work that I've been putting off, so you know, good times there. Actually in the morning I went for my first long bike ride- something I've been meaning to get into as a running replacement. I set out intending to go about 10 miles (that seemed reasonable for a first try, right?) and ended up doing 13, and I wasn't even tired. I'm still working on the whole bike-to-running correlation, but it seems like for every mile you can run, expect to bike about four miles. It was a pretty low key day all around.

But I'll tell you what I didn't do: watch the Indy 500. Of course, I'm all in favor of anything that brings money and exposure to Indianapolis, but I never really understood the allure of watching cars drive around in a circle. I sure can't explain the current popularity of NASCAR, but I'm sure it has a lot to do with beer. In my days with the Purdue AAMB, I had the opportunity to attend a handful of 500s- we played the opening ceremonies, and they would let us sit in infield afterward if we were so inclined. I watched the race once, and I say that in the same way I say I dated a sorority girl once- with heavy emphasis on the "once."

The key part there might have been that our seats were in the infield. This was not the fancy grandstands that make up the greatest racing venue on earth. This was crappy bleachers surrounded by mountains of empty beer cans and rednecks puking all over themselves. We had a few girls in our little group, and if I had a dollar for every toothless, shirtless drunk guy that yelled "Show us you t***!" or "T*** for beer!" I could've bought like 50 more frozen lemonades. I feel like I barely escaped with my life.

As for the event itself, you know how some things are better in real life? Like how baseball is mind-numbingly boring on TV, but makes for quite the enjoyable afternoon in person? Well, auto racing is the exact opposite. It's not that great on TV, but it's downright unpleasant to sit through on the track. It's incredibly loud- to the point where you can only talk to each other for about a second each lap when the cars are on the polar opposite side of the track. Then it gets progressively louder until you have to cover your ears, then the cars scream by so fast that you can't really tell what's happening, then you get bathed in exhaust, then it gets quieter, then you have just enough time to yell "Let's go home!" before the cycle starts up again. Annnd repeat for four hours. Hence I watched the race once, then spent every other year reading on the bus instead. Incidentally, the girls were rooting for "the purple car" (there was only one) because "you can tell which one it is."

However, I did get to witness one of the greatest Indy moments of all time. Picture: Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Memorial Day 2000. The racing world is excited because for the first time in history there are two female drivers in the race- Lyn St. James and Sara Fisher (this was the pre-Danica and Milka era). So how did they fare with the world watching? They crashed into each other, taking them both out of the race. I won't even make any jokes, because it's just too easy. I will say that it didn't help women in racing any more than this or this.

So this coming week is what we live for in the government- a Monday holiday colliding with an off Friday. So it'll be three days off, three days on, three days off. Nothing to complain about there! Have a great week everyone!

State Quarters

I don't know if anyone ever clicks the link on the right to check out Fireflies in the Cloud, but he's had an ongoing discussion about the new Arizona state quarter. Seriously, wouldn't the Code Talkers have been the coolest quarter ever? I brought it up yesterday at work while we were talking about numistmatism in general, and it eventually led to the discovery of QuarterDesigns.com. It's a great reference for all the state quarters (if you're into that kind of thing- and who isn't, right?) but the best part is that you can see several proposed designs that didn't make it.

For example, here in the Old Line State we seem to agree that the Maryland quarter is pretty lame. Wouldn't this one have been much better? I can't believe none of them featured a crab, which is really what Maryland is known for. And sure, Virginia's quarter is okay, what with the 400th anniversary of the Jamestown settlement. Call me biased, but I think the House of Burgesses would have been much more endearing, don't you?

But the reason I write is because of dear old New Mexico. They're pretty die hard with the Indian Sun, so I'm not surprised that's the design that was chosen. But how about this? Can you believe that design was even considered? Woo! It's either brilliant, insensitive, ballsy, or all three.

For the record, I like the Indiana Quarter, but it would've been cool to get basketball in there somehow. I mean, they had enough choices.

Airplane Fun

I've been on the road a lot lately, and let me tell you- air travel has been as fun as ever. Not only are the rules increasingly complex and pointless, but my fellow travelers have really been getting on my nerves. It reminds me on an old George Carlin quote: "Think about how dumb the average person is, and then remember that half of all people are dumber than that."

My flight back from Vermont a few weeks ago was interesting because it was on a very small, cramped regional jet. It was still four seats across, but they were labeled A, C, D, and F- presumably to keep people from complaining about getting a middle seat, because there were none.

I was in my aisle seat (3C) ready to go nice and early, which really increased the amount that people bumped into me as they went by. The first was a guy who went past, then said "Oh, I think I went too far" and had to work his way back up to the front of the plane. Mind you, this is a small plane, and there was already a solid line of about 50 people standing behind him, so swimming upstream was a difficult task for everyone. He looks at his ticket, stops around row 3, looks at his ticket, moves up to row 2, etc, looking very confused. Another concerned (annoyed) passenger says "What row are you looking for?" He looks at his ticket once more and says "Um, I'm in 1F." The lady blinks, and points to row one and says "That's right here." Let me reiterate this: HE WASN'T SURE WHERE ROW 1 WAS. I'll admit that on occasion the little nameplates don't quite line up with the seats, so maybe it would be hard to tell row 34 from row 35. But row 1? That's usually the one at the front of the plane.

Meanwhile, another traveler was constantly changing seats. Someone would stop at his row, say "Sorry, I'm in 6A" (or whatever), and he would say "Oh, I'm sorry. Someone was in my seat, so I just took an open one." So he would move, and as I already stated, this was a small plane. He would bump me a few times, find an open seat, ask if it was taken, then climb in. Often, the person in the aisle seat would have to move so he could take the window. Then of course, the cycle repeats. I watched him leave a seat to find an open one (displacing several people in the process), each time explaining that his seat was taken, at least 5 times. You're thinking what I'm thinking right? Tell the jerk in your seat to move! Or, failing that, ask them what seat was theirs and take that. This is not that hard! Eventually the flight attendant notices this dude constantly shifting and makes her way over. She asks him "Sir, which seat are you supposed to be in?" He answers "My ticket says 4F, but somebody's in it." The flight attendant looks over, looks back at him and says "4F is open sir." He says "Oh! I thought F was the aisle!" then proceeds to his original seat. Let me reiterate this: HIS SEAT WAS OPEN THIS ENTIRE TIME. He just didn't understand the clear markings above each row, and thought that constantly shifting seats was a better option than asking about it.

That reminds me of a flight several years ago- I was sitting in 8C, an aisle seat. I'm just chillin' as the plane loads, and suddenly some suit wearing businessman says to me (in a very arrogant tone) "You're in my seat." I look up to see him staring at me, looking as annoyed as he can, and say "I'm pretty sure this is mine. What seat are you in?" He thrusts his ticket in my face, which I love. It's like "I'm too special to verbally tell you, so I'm going to let you read it to really drive my point home. Zing!" So I say to him "That says 8A, which is the window seat." He stammers a little and says "Oh, I thought A was the aisle." As I get up to let him in I said "Nope, it's just like the little picture above the row says." And really, in what world would A be an aisle seat? Why would something in the middle be given the designation A? Have you ever seen a series of items, arranged alphabetically, in which A is in the center? Think about it man! I just love that before thinking about it, or looking around to read the little posted signs, he assumes that I must be wrong and brings on the attitude. He didn't even say "I'm sorry" or "Excuse me."

Anyway, as he made his way to 8A, I saw his nice embroidered briefcase. It read "Harvard Law Alumni." Draw your own conclusions.

Now to be fair, after the trip back from Vermont I flew round trips to Indy and Dallas, and they were both very pleasant. I even got to see Music and Lyrics, which was actually pretty good.

More than Just a Pit Stop!

Carly's various graduations went off without a hitch this weekend- as of last night she had her diploma in hand. I got to spend some quality time with the family, eat a lot of high-calorie meals and see various parts of Indy that I haven't been to in years, including the Indianapolis Zoo.

As with most college commencement ceremonies, Carly's was in two parts. But unlike most, one half was Friday, and the other was Sunday, as if to maximize inconvenience and the amount of time we all had to take off work. On a side note, as more and more family arrived everyone would say to Carly "Here's your graduation present!" And I was like "Oh yeah, I'm supposed to give you a gift for this. Um...I'm here. That was 300 bucks and two vacation days."

So since Saturday was wide open (and a gorgeous day), Carly had the great idea that we should hit up the zoo. It was all-around better than I remember, but one of the coolest moments was watching the elephants. We started reminiscing about the good old days when we were little kids, and we used to frequent the Potter Park Zoo in Lansing. Potter Park had an elephant named Bingo, who tragically ate a rock and later died. I'm telling you, the city of Lansing was in mourning. As Karen put it, Bingo was our Barbaro- they even mention it here. To replace Bingo they bought another elephant named Tombi, and we used to see Tombi all the time, until they closed down the elephant part of the zoo. I think there's still a little memorial plaque for Bingo there.

So- back to Saturday. The Indy zoo had a little sign with bios of all their elephants, and one of them was named Tombi. We thought "Wow, Tombi must be a really popular name for elephants." But if you read further, it says "Tombi lived at Potter Park Zoo in Lansing Michigan before coming to Indianapolis." We couldn't believe it! It was our Tombi! It was a little like seeing an old friend- not that we could pick Tombi out of a lineup or anything. I yelled "Tombi! It's Marc, from Potter Park!" but I got no response. Perfect memory my butt.

So speaking of perfect memory, if I think way, way back to my childhood, I remember going to see Bingo, Bingo dying, and then going to see Tombi. Here's the problem: Bingo died in 1979, when I was less than a year old. This puzzles me, but we talked about this effect in some of my psych classes- there are several cases in which people have memories of things they didn't experience, simply because they hear others talk about it all the time. We read about a few cases in which people have fond, fully formed memories of family pets, only to realize years later that the pet died when they were a toddler or even before they were born. I used to think those people were dumb, but know I think "Holy crap, I never knew Bingo?"

It seems like Tombi's doing all right. You can check up on her and all the other elephants on this webcam, and even see a fan page called Tombi & Friends that some very dedicated fans have put together.

So all in all, it was a really nice weekend. Now I'm here for one day, then it's off to Texas for some meetings, and then my parents are coming in town for the Joint Service Open House up in DC, which really is the coolest air show you can go to. Have a great week everyone!

Oh, and the travel package (flight and car) that I bought for my trip to Indy had a name: "Indianapolis: More than just a pit stop!" Hence the title. I figured I should probably explain that.

Vermont Part #2

I forgot the other thing I wanted to mention about this trip. Budget was all out of economy cars, so I got a nice brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee. Now, we all know how I feel about SUVs, but at least it had satellite radio- and I'd never really listened to Sirius before (I'm an XM subscriber). But the weirdest part was the key/remote, which I have shoddily photographed with my phone: Sorry the picture stinks! It couldn't focus that close, and any further away you wouldn't be able to see the buttons. What I want to know is: what does the lower right button do? It's a circular arrow with "x2" in the middle. The "x2" means you have to press it twice, like you have to do to pop the back window open. The first day I didn't have the courage to press it (because what's it going to do, blow up? Deflate the tires? Steal my lunch money?). So I finally hit it, and...nothing. Nothing happened. I'm only so puzzled because I have no idea what that symbol means. Any ideas?

In totally unrelated news, check this out. I highly doubt it all worked in one take, but it's impressive none the less.

Not Affiliated with Burlington Industries

Greetings from Vermont! Once again, I find myself in the Green Mountain State, this time for some live fire testing of the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter's gun. If that sounds awesome, it's because it is. I'm staying in Burlington, and I always forget how close to Canada this is. What weird is that when I was eating breakfast this morning, they had on Canadian news. I didn't notice until they gave the website and it ended in ".ca." Before that my only clue was that they were spending a lot of time talking about hockey. I noticed this when I was in Montreal before- out of every 5 topics covered on the news, 4 happened in the US. Maybe there just isn't that much to talk about in Canada. Of course, I notice the same thing in England as well.

At any rate, the testing was at the Ethan Allen firing range, and it has nothing to do with the furniture (it's incorrectly labeled as the Underhill Artilery Range here). Lots of stuff out here is named after Ethan Allen. I think the range is also a National Guard outpost, but it was actually a really pretty, woodsy place in the middle of the mountains. So there on the range they have the actual JSF gatling gun set up, and they were firing off bursts of ammo while taking various measurements. Now, I don't want to use too many technical terms for everyone, but the gun was "really big" and "really freakin' loud." Even when it was just firing a single shot from the other side of the giant bullet-proof doors, you still had to cover your ears, and it seemed to suck all the air out of the room, then blow it back. It was cool. For the last shot of the day they did a 60 round burst, which took less than a second. It almost seemed to just make the air in the room vibrate, for lack of a better term. It's hard to describe, but definitely manly.

The range was 200 meters long, and there was a huge berm at the end to catch all the lead. When the gun fired, huge clouds of dirt would instantly kick up on the hill. The most surreal part of the day was right after a 10 shot burst, one of the technicians said "Oh look- deer!" And sure enough, there were two deer walking across the range. I asked "Aren't they scared off by the guns?" The guy said "Oh no, they're used to it by now." Yikes. Apparently the deer have also figured out that for the most part the bullets are above their heads, but man. I would've thought they had better self-preservation instinct than that.

So the testing was supposed to take 3 days, and I planned to witness two of them. Then on Thursday I was going to fly back to DC, then turn right around and fly to Indy for Carly's graduation. The only problem is that the testing finished today- and what would normally be a great surprise has totally boufed my travel plans. Now I have to fly to DC tomorrow, drive the two hours home, then drive back to the airport on Thursday to fly. Also, now I have to take Thursday off from work as well, instead of that just being my travel day. Oh well!

Date Movies?

This morning while I was just laying there I turned on the TV, because usually that helps get me out of bed. It was on AMC (American Movie Classics) and Three Amigos was showing. I must say, this movie has aged fairly well. It's still funny. Also, I happened to turn it on right in time for my favorite scene in the whole thing:

The Amigos are supposed to summon the Invisible Swordsman by saying a chant and firing a shot into the air. Steve Martin and Martin Short, do it, but Chevy Chase fires his gun more off to the side than straight up. We immediately hear someone yell "Oooh!" and a person-shaped cloud of dusts poofs up off of the ground. Woo! To which Martin Short says "You killed the Invisible Swordsman!" Maybe you have to see it, but when I was 10 years old that was about the funniest thing I had seen in my life. Seriously, that was a new level of humor.

In any case, eventually it went to commercial, and there was an add for a show on AMC called "blind date movie" or some such thing. Apparently the concept is that they take (presumably single) applicants, pair them off by what kind of movies they like, and film them while they watch one of their favorites. So when they go to commercial, we get to see a little of the blind-daters discussing what they like about the movie. My question is, how do I apply?

Seriously- no more of this eHarmony crap! I feel this is the way for me to meet women. When I'm surfing eHarmony profiles, hidden movie quotes totally make the difference between someone I would or wouldn't write to. Actually, one profile I saw this morning said "you better like Family Guy." So yeah, I automatically sent the first questions to that girl.

And you know, it's not that eHarmony is bad. I still believe in the system. I think it's just that I've been at it long enough that there just aren't that many more good matches, and it's starting to reach a little. I did just have a black Friday, by which I mean like 5 people all closed me in one day. And here's something else I don't get: at least 95% of the matches I get are from the DC area (DC, Alexandria, Arlington) and that's just statistics. There's way more people up there. I close some that I'm not interested in (like if they misspell more than 7 words, type all their answer in capital letters or answer every question with something about horses), and some of them close me. But I've done the guided communication with many of them, and even made it all the way to open communication with several. Now, about 1 out of 20 are from St. Mary's county. Here's the weird part: almost all local matches close me instantly. For real! The cross section is about the same as the DC area matches, but if 1 out of 10 DC matches close me instantly, then 9 out of 10 local matches close me before there's any communication. What's that about?

You'd think single people down here would be thrilled to get a match that's less than an hour away (hell, I would be). There's a couple theories about why this happens: One is that maybe girls down here are looking for a guy up in DC because they want to get the fudge out of here (and I can relate (the getting out of here part, not the guy part)). Kate pointed out that right in my header block it says "Marc, Engineer, Lexington Park" and she thinks maybe the single girls down here are completely sick of engineers that work on the base. I could understand that too- we must make up a significant portion of the eligible men down here. Anyway, it's starting to tick me off.

While we're at it, here's a semi-related story. I was down in the weight room at the drill hall several months ago, and I wanted to stretch out. There was a girl already stretching on the one and only mat, so I said to her "Do you mind if I grab this corner of the mat?" indicating the unused side. She said "No, go ahead" so I sat down. She then said "I'm waiting for my boyfriend." I looked up and said "Oh...uh, okay." Now, this was right about the time I had decided to start dating again, so in a few minutes the full revelation hit me: I just got shot down by a girl I hadn't even considered hitting on. Is there another way to interpret that? She thought I was sitting on the mat to talk to her and she totally launched a pre-emptive strike. This became more ego-damaging over my next several trips when I noticed that she is always talking to guys down there- almost as though it's her main reason for using the weight room. Of course, I was less offended when I realized that she gravitates the most heavily towards the total hair gel using, abercrombie wearing, sideways hat tools.

There was one group of tools that she really liked one day- it was three college age wankers who proceed to regall her with stories of last night's party, each of them siting with great detail what they drank and how much. I never understood why people did that, but hey, I'm not a tool. I mention them because the whole time I was working out, I couldn't believe what huge tools they were. Everything they said was more typical than the last. For instance, they kept discussing one girl who was giving one of the tools "drama." Apparently he couldn't decide what to do about her- he wanted to show his displeasure at her actions at the party last night (but without ruining his chances of sleeping with her in the future). One of his buddies said "Dude, you should totally take her out of your top 8." If you're over 25 and don't get the reference, just know that these guys were most definitely tools.

I sort of went off on a tangent, but in conclusion, I think Three Amigos has aged so well because it was set in the past, so it doesn't seem dated. And if that girl actually has a boyfriend (which I doubt) he's be pretty ticked off to see her behavior in the weight room.

Another Reason to Hate Wal-Mart

I dislike Wal-Mart in general, but our local store is particularly bad. I try to avoid it at all costs, but unfortunately that's where my prescriptions are so I occasionally get sucked in. So you know what day Wal-Mart is the worst? Saturday! Throw in the fact that it's nasty and rainy outside and you get a regular perfect storm of suck.

So anyway, I head for the pharmacy, and I'm about 5th in line. But, all the doors are closed, and there's a sign that says "Pharmacy will be closed from 1:30 pm to 2:00 pm for lunch." I check my watch, and it's 2:08. No problem, right? I can wait this out. Luckily, the Wal-Mart TV network was blaring right above me so at least I had the same 3 or 4 commercials over and over to keep me entertained. They even had kids cooking tips (use different cutting boards for meat and vegetables) and a trivia question (They didn't have plates or silverware in medieval times- what did they eat off of?). So I wait and wait- 2:15 goes by, 2:20 goes by. I would have bailed and come back later except that I'm leaving town this week, and like I said it was nasty out, and Wal-Mart's under construction and the first things to go were all of the close parking spots so I already had to walk quite a ways through the rain. So I just stood there, letting the silent rage grow.

Somewhere in the 2:30 area someone finally appeared to get me my Zyrtec. I paid, walked out, and then I realized that I just stood there for almost half an hour, and I still don't know what people ate off of in medieval times. Seriously! The trivia question was one of the first things, and I was watching the TV the whole time. Come on Wal-Mart! You show the question, wait a few commercials, then show the answer. Haven't they ever been to a movie? This is another reason to hate Wal-Mart. In case, you know, that whole "destroying the economy" and "not promoting women" thing isn't enough.

And on top of that, Sparty beat the Boilermaker Special. This is not my day! At least Notre Dame lost. I will now back Sparty for the rest of the contest (even if the Black Knight is straight out of Monty Python).

Calling All Boilermakers!

That's right friends, Purdue needs your help! Jim alerted me to on online poll to determine the best college mascot, and in another example of my worlds colliding, Purdue is up against Michigan State as the Boilermaker Special takes on Sparty.

I like the way the poll is done as a playoff, with four different regions: Humans, Inanimates/Mythological, Predators, and Land Animals. If you look at the brackets, you'll notice that Purdue ended up in the Human regions. A common mistake! Apparently CBS assumed that Purdue's mascot is Purdue Pete. Luckily, the error has been corrected this week and they now acknowledge the Boilermaker Special. However, the Special is still competing in the Human region in what should be a sure path to victory. C'mon, as though a drunk Irishman (still the nation's most offensive mascot) could stop a speeding locomotive.

As for this week's matchup, I will concede that on a guy-in-a-costume-dancing-around-on-the-sidelines basis, I would probably give the nod to the fantastic Sparty costume over the jersey and fiberglass head that is Purdue Pete. But an ancient Greek versus an engineering marvel that reshaped the world as we know it? Psshaw. Plus, which is more appropriate for the school? I rest my case.

As a side note, are any of the other competitors really inanimate objects? You might be able to make a case for the Cyclones and Green Wave (which is also awesome) but those are at least weather phenomena. Plus, it's important to remember the difference between nickname and mascot. Iowa State's nickname is the "Cyclones," but their mascot is Cy the Cardinal. Tulane is the Green Wave, but their mascot is a pelican. I will continue to believe that the Boilermaker Special is the only inanimate mascot until some school becomes the "boulders," or the "hammers" or something and the mascot is an anthropomorphized hammer.

Now that I think about it, the next time I buy Madden or some game where you make your own team, I'm going to call them the Hammers. Think about it- their nickname could be the "Tools," which would be one of those endearing nicknames that started out as an insult- like say, Boilermakers. Like the way those of us in the band world refer to our self as "band dorks." The Hammers could play at craftsman stadium (nicknamed the "Tool Box"), and corporate giveaway options are endless. I think I'm on to something here.

OH! I just thought of a couple. Tulsa's nickname is the Golden Hurricanes, but their official mascot is Captain Cane, who is a terrifying hurricane. So he's in the running. But, The University of Toledo (the Rockets) seems to have two mascots, both of whom go by Rocky the Rocket. One is a Power Ranger looking astronaut guy, and the other is an inflatable rocket character (with a sidways hat, so we know he's a tool). I don't know which one is the "offical" mascot, but the Special might have some competetion in the truly inanimate realm.

Sick Days / Perils of Praise

I was pretty sick this weekend, and there were two things that made it worse. First, it was absolutely gorgeous outside. Being stuck inside when your sick on a beautiful day is almost worse than being stuck at work. I don't know why- maybe because you know you won't magically get better at 5:00? I don't know. The second thing was that my frickin' frackin' internet was out again, pretty much from Saturday through last night. If there was a day that I needed the interwebs, that was it. So I caught up on the TiVo and watched a whole bunch of The Office on DVD. I can say with authority that it is the best comedy, if not the best show, on TV right now (it passed Scrubs a few seasons ago).

I felt better but still crappy on Monday, so I called in sick to work- marking my second sick day in my four and a half years with Navair. I always feel so guilty about it, like "I could soldier it out if I had to." But then I think "Why? I have sick days, and nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." Plus, since the cable guy never came on Friday (to figure out why my internet isn't working) like he was supposed to, I could just sit and wait for him all day. They said he would show up between 11:00 and 4:00, so take a guess when the doorbell rang. That's right, 4:30! He still beats out the guy who came to hook up the cable at my old apartment- in that instance I was given the very specific window of 9:00 am to 4:00 pm, and the dude showed up at 6:30 pm. But that's neither here nor there.

The internet support guy's conclusion was that the wiring in my house was so cheap that it couldn't support the internet frequency, saying "Yeah, this is all crappy Wal-Mart cable and connectors in your walls." He said that the way my house is set up, I couldn't expect to get internet service unless I rewired the whole thing, which I really don't want to do. This explanation was all well and good, except that the internet worked in my house for about 2 years before totally crapping the bed. So, he changed a bunch of connectors, and it's working for the time being.

The real reason I wanted to post today was to present this great article I happened by with my temporarily functioning internet service. It really appeals to my psychology side:

The Power (and Peril) of Praising Your Kids

The gist of the article is that when kids are praised for being hard workers, their performance improves because they learn that they can control their effort, and therefore success. When you tell a kid that they're smart, their performance decreases for several reasons: First, they figure they can coast on brains alone, so they put forth little effort. If they don't get something right away, they don't even try because they figure "Well, I'm not smart enough for this, so game over." Also, they don't like to try new things because they might fail and look dumb- and being smart is all they have.

I like this because I've seen so many examples of this (in myself and others) in real life. They make a lot of other good points as well, so check it out.