Da Neighborhood

So it's 11:30pm, and what does PBSKids think is an appropriate show for this hour? Well, I am watching Mister Rogers' Neighborhood!



(I need to send an email to the program coordinator of this channel and tell them that they should have old-school pbs shows at night, like Electric Company, or ancient Sesame Street episodes -- Jon-Jon and Grover come to mind).

Tonight, Chef Brokett came by Mr. Roger's house and was moping around because he did not win a cake baking contest. This guy is always so melancholy. He has this limp and a scowl-y face, but also seems so sad.



I did not start watching Mr. Rogers until I was in the 7th grade. I would watch it when I got home from school each day, and became addicted. When I get to heaven, I want to spend some time with Fred Rogers.

--gh

The debates

So the debates were on this evening. I watched the first two minutes and realized that watching people hawking gems on QVC would be more interesting. And of course I had to catch some Comedy Central (Reno 911). I never felt like it was my duty to watch these debates, anyhow. I caught the last 2 minutes as well, so basically what I saw was John Kerry thanking Jim Lehrer and Florida for hosting the debates in the beginning, and then John Kerry thanking Jim Lehrer and Florida at the end. So, based on my information and exposure, Kerry clearly won.

Of course, you cannot "win" a debate like this, but a "winner" can be declared by who had the most poise, didn't stumble, and didn't confuse the names of Ossama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. (Okay, while watching American Chopper, I did scroll back to the debates to catch BOTH candidates confuse these names.) What's the difference between a chimp and a mule? Apparently nothing. But with less than 6 and 1/2 minutes of debate viewing, I really cannot comment further.

So, I might as well discuss how things have been going lately. Basically, everything is awesome. My weekly and daily pace are nothing compared to last year. I actually have time to enjoy coffee in the morning, drive the kids to the middle school, let the dog run in the countryside, and then shower for work. I have been home before 6pm every day, sometimes much earlier. Last year I was honestly working over 80 hours every week. For ten months, I spent much of my Saturdays and Sundays at work. (Maybe it wasn't smart starting an online graduate program without a computer or net connection at home.)

Yesterday was a fun day because I had completed everything by noon that was urgent, which left me the rest of the day to work on what was important. (I learned today that leadership is discerning the difference between what is urgent and what is important.) I was writing memos and letters, and even had one notorized, so I really felt like a big shot.

Speaking of big shot, I went to a meeting today that was created for leadership development. I was sure that all of the department chairs would be there, as well as 7-8 other faculty. I had very low expectations of this event. However, I was surprised that I was one of only three faculty members, and there was about a dozen people, 1/2 of which are cabinet members (and technically not being "developed"). So, basically, I was culled from the crowd into a group of 5-6 folkses. Okay, they have my attention. I am a developable leader...

I have always enjoyed my job, but this year things have been exceptional. The good news is that I have been feeling more creative lately. I actually starting composing a fl/gu duet. It's lame and all, but it sure is fun.

As I write, I am watching COPS. I could comment on what I am seeing, but I bet you can just imagine it.

--gh

Music connections?

The Music Lab-- Index is the kind of research that I like to participate in! Funny how Fairly Crass wrote about doing research on this exact same concept! (MA, time to do your PhD at Columbia! They probably need GIS anyhow.)
--gh

Update: After listening to about ten songs, and rating them, I don't see where this research is going. The music has that "I cannot even get noticed by an independent record label" sound to it. (Think mp3.com, cerca 1997-8.)

Oh, and Rock and Pork and Beans Can seems to be up and running again! (now that's an update!)

What flash is for

Click here for an interesting interactive flash presentation. (Hold your cursur there long enough and see his funny reaction.)

Better yet, here are the instructions from Rock-and-Pork-and-Beans-Can.

"Wait for the web page to load and then pass 

your mouse over the image a few times. Finally, 

leave the mouse over the nose of the image and 

take your hands off the mouse. This website won 

first prize in the Phillips Digital Arts Festival."

I wish he would blog again soon enough, I need to hear about more freakish dreams. Hey Rock-(andporkandbeanscan), how did the hurricane go? Blog for all of your three readers!

--gh

I R sux (denouement)

Wow, just writing the word "denouement" for the title brings back memories of high school! I remember my 9th-grade English teacher pronouncing this "Duh-NOW-ment" and it took two years for Ms. Johnson to fix that error in my junior year! (I love the thought of me pronouncing this word incorrectly for 18 months or so.) So, how did I end up with a 2.55 GPA? A lot of this has to do with my senior year, in all its glory below:

It is 1985, Mike and the Mechanics are singing "All I need is a miracle" and I am beginning my senior year. My arm is not broken (10th grade) and I am not in psychological counseling (11th grade,). I did have a debilitating situation growing, though, which was work. Although my summer jobs between 1984 and 1994 consisted of back-breaking labor and construction jobs, I worked during that school year in the kitchen of a nursing home. I am willing to bet that 99% of those people are dead now. I guess that happens.

It seemed like I had this job for a long time, but it might be a stretch to say it lasted more than 16 months. I was being encouraged at home to start saving money for college, because I would probably not be able to get any loans. (A year later my step-father confessed that he was unwilling to fill out the financial information for guardians on a federal loan application because it was too personal. I guess to ease the guilt, or to keep me from going to my father's side of the family, I was loaned $10,000 for college over 4 years.) So, I found myself in my senior year working over 20 hours each week. No problem, I was able to maintain my C grades with a very modest attempt at homework.

The encouragement grew for working to earn more money, and to be honest the nursing home wanted more out of us anyhow. I went from working every night and half a Saturday to every night and the whole day on Saturday and Sunday. By the middle of the year, my workload was up to 40 hours a week. (They technically kept me at 38-39 hours to prevent full-time status.) I wasn't the only one, either. Dave, my good friend since the 5th grade and his (our) friend, Susan, started to see our hours creep up over 30. I was starting to miss sleep and was getting resentful of school for inhibiting my work schedule. (I took a lot of pride in cleaning dishes and mopping floors.)

In November 1985 I was granted early acceptance to Mary Washington College. Technically, this is a moderate-to-selective school, and I was an average performer who did NOTHING extra in high school. How did I get in? Well, as the ONLY publicly-funded institution specifically named for a female (George Washington's mother), MWC needed some Y-chromosome. That's right, not only was *I* the co-ed at this traditionally female institution, I was also a product of affirmative action. If I was a female with a 2.55 GPA and a 21 ACT score (SAT equivalence), I would never have graced the Georgian architecture of that campus.

It was after my college acceptance that my workload increased, and my grades slipped. My A for that year came from a Creative Writing, where I wrote a one-act play about a normal-to-exceptional kid being raised by his 60-70 IQ parents. Trigonometry was a mistake, I should never have been in there (I had enough math credits to graduate without it, obviously.) I should have taken Typing II, or baby-sitting, but I already wrote about my vo-tech aversion.

This was the first year that I hated English. Mrs. Hollingshead really was faxing her effort in beginning in January. We started Macbeth, and never really ended it. After reading it through, in class no less, for about 5 weeks, the videos started. We saw the Roman Polanski version, which I believe was his first work after the murder of his wife by the Charles Manson girls. We saw a black-and-white TV version from the 1960s. And my favorite was the version with no set, no stage, no props, and no costumes. Just shades of purple and stuff. My memory tells me that it was uninterrupted (filmed straight through) and that there were only a handful of actors. Mrs. Hollingshead told us that we would only watch a bit of it, to focus on the language and not be distracted by sets and costumes. (As if Shakespeare didn't use sets and costumes!) We ended up watching the whole thing. My friend, JSA, joked that we would be watching the sign-language version next. (If he had a different English teacher, then we were in the midst of a conspiracy. They decided not to teach us anymore.)

Hah, I just noticed I had an A in computer science. It was programming in BASIC, and I had already taught myself that language at home with our 8086 XT-clone. If only I had spent that time on mastering Latin. (I made the mistake of choosing Latin in college as my 4-semester language requirement, and failed it again one year later!) Latin and Physics were impossible without doing the homework, which was evidenced by my performance in those classes.

Business Law was a waste of time, except for the field-trip to the county jail. Mrs. Busby didn't teach us business, or law, but a weakened form of government. I honestly don't know why I didn't get a C in that class, but I never went back to get the full grade details after I got that grade (I think 3rd quarter was a B). I somehow felt that I crossed her in some way (I worked with her youngest son, a dufus, at the nursing home).

You could also notice that I had two absences that year. These were the only two my entire high school tenure. One of them wasn't even legitimate. I was on that field-trip at the county jail, watching a court-case involving an uncle as sexual predator to a 6-year-old girl. Her testimony was amazing. For some reason, the prosecutor asked for a public trial, possibly to embarrass the defendant into a plea. He put up a fuss when 20 high school students walked into the court room and sat down. The judge told him that it was public and we were more than welcome to stay as long as we weren't disruptive. We were captivated, and embarrassed, and paralyzed. I wish I could get up and leave, but I couldn't. So we watched this case unfold, listening to the descriptions of this guy spending too much time tucking his niece in at night. His nickname was "Uncle Big Time" and that was how he was referred to by the victim, and the lawyers. 15 years later, I sat in that same court room and watched my brother defend a guy who assaulted a woman.

By fourth quarter, I knew that I wouldn't have perfect attendance. I didn't think it was fair because I really wasn't absent that day. I bitterly complained to all of my friends about it. The second absence was due to hearing tests in Washington D.C. I was back by the end of the day, but I did not try to straighten my record out. I would have one real absence, and let it be done with that. My sister, who graduate 4-years earlier, DID have perfect attendance on her record. This was important to her for some reason, even though she probably missed a couple of days each year. She had friends go to home room for her and say "here" during roll call. Now it's all just funny.

In July, 1986, I received a letter from H. Conrad Warlick, Dean of Students at Mary Washington College. He said that my acceptance to MWC was being suspended, until I reply with an explanation of my horrid academic performance. I remember writing a letter about things being hard, and having to work so much. I promised that I would not work while in college (I kept that promise). I even think I mentioned my fractured relationship with my father. I feel bad about that, he didn't have anything to do with my performance in high school, good or bad. A week later, the college responded that my acceptance was provisional, and that I was on academic probation my first semester. I had to meet with Mr. Warlick a few times, and my freshman year (1st semester, that is) was actually decent.

I started to gain more control of my life through college, which I see now is pretty normal. If I had to choose which 4-years to re-live, I would choose college over high school because high school is really a waste of time. I also could have made some drastic personal changes in college that would have lasting impacts to this day. Nothing that I could do in high school could possibly change who I am today, however. Absolutely nothing.

High School was just a distraction in my life. ...but it seems like I can remember all of it...

--gh

I R Sucked, ritornelle

I shared my H.S. transcript with my Freshman Seminar class on Tuesday. They seemed amused, and I hope I got through to them that high school was definitely over, and they are now writing a new chapter in their lives. Afterward, I had the transcript sitting on my desk and one of my colleagues asked to look at it. (Jeff was valedictorian of his graduating class.) It was funny because I was in the main office area and you could hear him laughing in my office. It sounded like his sides were going to split. A student in the office asked "what is he laughing at" and it was even funnier when I had to reply "my high school transcript." I think the student only half believed me... So, here's the 11th grade:


I liked my English teacher that year, she was new, and young, and tried to relate to us by not trying to relate to us. You might also note that I withdrew from a chemistry class to enter another chemistry class. This was about mid september, so literally 20 years ago. I was in a so-called "advanced" chemistry class, but not gifted (the school wisened up on that). I had trouble with the work, since I made no effort in homework, etc. I had began my first job (sales, at a variety department store called BEST) and began working more and more hours. The only thing I remember doing with this money was buying a Les Paul Custom...

Anyhow, my first chemistry test came up, and I was totally unprepared. For some reason, I had a blue crayon with me and I decided to write the test out in crayon - to throw the teacher off. I decided I would write deep and disturbing comments all over the front and back of the test, and began having fun by not caring. (This was the beginning of that attitude, I guess.) To make a long story short, this landed me in the counselor's office. The teacher was worried that I was suicidal or something, and the guidance counselor kept asking me if everything was okay at home. (It wasn't, but that is another book.) Since her colleague was my father's girlfriend, she probably knew more than I wanted her to know, and possibly not from the fairest perspective, either. In the end, she moved me out of the smart class, and into the class with some good friends of mine! One of them grew to be my closest high school friend. The other was a girlfriend for about 1 1/2 months. Good times. And as you can see, without studying any more, I was able to get a C.

I followed my brother in the language of Latin. I don't know if I should forgive him for this, but he seemed to enjoy it so much. I wanted to have something in common with him, because I spent the previous part of my life searching out activities that he had no interest in. (That is why I picked up the guitar.) He had moved out of the house, and I guess I wanted something to talk about with him. If I did any homework (at home) that year, it was for this class. I don't even remember Algebra 2, except that I was the only non-redneck kid in the class. The girls in the class were still wearing turquoise and silver with feathered hair.

The Architectural Drawing class was a highlight of that year. I got a B in the class because I had secret passages in my raised-ranch split-foyer home. And I put a urinal in the master bath. And, I had a spiral staircase from a door in the master suite down to the garage. Mr. Alkazin had no patience for wise guys like me. I did take the skills seriously, though. These skills allowed me to master pen-and-ink cartographic methods in college. Of course, with computer technology, it is a lost art form... I guess I still wanted to be an architect like George Costanza did.

This was my third straight year in high school with no absences. Not sure what was going on, because I hated school so much. But you could not get away from campus. (They had this guy that dropped out of the Washington Redskins that would chase after kids that walked away from the school. I never attempted it, except for once. But that was senior year, and we went to Chuck E. Cheese.)

I never wore shorts to school. My step-father's influence being that men don't wear shorts. I never wore a tee-shirt, either. I still only wear tee-shirts to work in. Most days, I wore jeans, or cordoroy, and wore one of those button-down oxford shirts from JC Penny.

I wish I had pictures to share with you, but I lost my yearbooks, and my family hasn't shared any pictures of me. I have about 8 pictures of me from age 0 through high school. It's like some kind of mind-control game with my parents. My mother showed me some photo albums about a year ago, for eleven minutes. That was the second time in 25 years that I had seen those. My father made a video of pictures of my sister nearly 12 years ago, and followed up that project with my brother's photos about 8 years ago. And, like the youngest-child curse, the enthusiasm for completing that work ran out.

Hey JSA, if you are reading this, and you happen to run across some high school pics, scan a few for me.

By the way, I should give credit to the title of this "chapter" of my blog ("I are sucked"). It comes from a videomentary that hooked up a half-dozen New York students with the same amount of Baghdad kids. One of the more outspoken Iraqis commented on his love of metal music only, and that the "Backstreet Boys are sucked." Oh, his other haunting comment was "There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq." This was 2 weeks before the U.S.-led invasion. His name is Walid, and the show is called Bridge to Baghdad. To view the first episode, go here and click on the 2nd or 3rd "click here" or something.

Dan Rather RUL3Z at Grand Theft Auto 3 and Quake!

Hey, gang! You don't need to read court-tv's smoking gun for this one -- I have the ORIGINAL Killian memo from 32 years ago! That guy must have been ticked off at W. He also appears to be a l33t master! You can probably see by the historical context that this is most certainly accurate and authentic.

(This memo must have been lost along with the memories of those swift boat veterans who never served side-by-side with Kerry, but appear to know a lot about his service anyway.)

--gh

P.B.R. Streetgang, this is Almighty, ...over.

mau!

MUZZLE Art

Check out this MUZZLE(?) art. Some dude named Alexei likes to take pictures of his hand squeezing Olga's face.

I am intrigued. There appears to be a page for 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, and 10 as well... he's tenacious.

--gh

Bias

I like bias. I have an appreciate for it. Everyone is biased, but the game is to not let others know your own biases. (At least, this is my strategy for teaching. Sometimes I do well at this, and sometimes I probably fail.) In my profession, I am a supervisor as well as instructor of a 150 students each semester. So, I often feel like I am walking on egg shells trying not to be political, or offend anyone.

So, here is my pitch for a current-events show on MSNBCFOXCNNetc.:

If I was a TV producer, I would have a current-events show that exploits bias. If I had a piece about AIDS funding, then I would have three people with increasingly more bias (liberal, more liberal, extremely liberal) and then add an anarchist. On a piece about the Ten Commandments in schools and courtrooms, I would have Gary Bauer, Jerry Fawlwell, Pat Robertson, and Howie Mandell (or another anarchist).

This would be the opposite of the NewsHour (PBS). They try to be so fair and even-handed, it gets obnoxious. Every time an issue is brought up, they bring in two people from opposing sides on the issue. Blah, blah, blah -- that is so played. Don't misunderstand me, I like the NewsHour, but all of the fairness gets old.

My wife and I are listening for double entendres on the program Clifford the Big Red Dog. Man, that show is RACEY!!!! Time to stop watching PBSKids, it is practically porn.

--gh

Enjoyment and peace

Right now, I am sitting in an easy chair, laptop on my lap, and just realized that I watched the entire Teletubbies show. I worked most of the day with drywall and joint compound, so I guess I am worn out. The announcer just announced the inevitable exit of the tubbies. I have always enjoyed this program. I find the repetition comforting, like a well-worn quilt. I do find it curious why this particular channel puts Teletubbies on at 9pm. I don't want to hang out with any toddlers after 7pm, definitely. The programming switched to a bizarre animation show called "Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks." It is almost as weird as Wil Cwac Cwac. (WCC is a mid-eighties animation with a duck named Wil and a Turkey named Ifan. Ifan says "gobble gobble" after everything, which is annoying. Wil is always whining. The spellings are odd because it is Welsh...)

Back to my fascination with Teletubbies... If I must declare a favorite, it would definitely be Tinky Winky. He has the best voice, and is the largest tubbie. If I was in trouble, he would definitely come in handy. I could imagine opening a big can of whoop-hiney on some bad dudes with Tinky Winky on my side. It would be like the Magnificent Seven, with Tinky as Yul Brynner's character (Chris?) and me in Steve McQueen's role (Vin?). Don't get me wrong, I like Po, La La, and Dipsy -- but Tinky Winky is the bomb.

Speaking of the bomb, I dug out one of my Parliament CDs a few days back. I don't think I have listened to that in 6 months! My favorite personality of Funkentelechy is definitely Sir Nose D'Voidoffunk. If you put me in a room with George Clinton, Bernie Worrell, Catfish and Bootsy Collins et al., I would definitely stand out like Sir Nose. I would like to think that I am down with The One, but I am probably too afraid to get wet. (I even have a D'Voidoffunk poster in my office, uh, behind my door of course.)

It has just occured to me that this is probably one of only 3,000 blogs dedicated to musing about Teletubbies and Dr. Funkenstein...

--gh