ball of lightning [dot] com

So apparently people in Berkeley want the Marines out. And the city council applauds residents who “volunteer to impede, passively or actively, by nonviolent means, the work of any military recruiting office located in the City of Berkeley.”

So the federal government threatened to take away $2 million in federal funding for the city and Cal-Berkeley and appropriate it to the Marines. Now Berkeley claims that’s not fair and an abuse of power– that they NEED the funds from the GOVERNMENT to help run the city and it’s institutions.

I’m all for dissension, but not when you act like spoiled fucking brats.

Randy Pausch, a professor at Carnegie Mellon (somewhere I’d be ecstatic to attend next year), recently delivered his “Last Lecture” — a part of a series given by professors all around the country who are asked to think deeply about what matters to them and to give hypothetical final talks.

Except Dr. Pausch’s is different. It actually is his last lecture. He was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer in August, and given 3-6 months to live. His lecture (about reaching your childhood dreams) is a roller-coaster ride from the day of his birth, taking stops intermittently to reflect on the lessons of his life.

If you have an hour where you’re just going to watch a CSI rerun on CBS– don’t. Watch this. It might just be the best hour you’ve spent in a long, long time.

The “Last Lecture” by Randy Pausch

Kia Vaughn, the 6′ 4″, 200 lb center for Rutgers, is suing Don Imus for “damaging her reputation” which her attorney then admits has not reared it’s head yet.

Vaughn’s attorney, Richard Ancowitz, said: “The full effect of the damage remains to be seen.”

“This is about Kia Vaughn’s good name,” Ancowitz said. “She would do anything to return to her life as a student and respected basketball player — a more simple life before Imus opened his mouth on April 4.”

Imus referred to the basketball players as “nappy-headed hos” on his nationally syndicated radio program in April, becoming the target of heated protests led by the Rev. Al Sharpton. He was fired shortly after.

Seriously. This is getting fucking ridiculous– this double-edged, hypocritical, political correct society that continues to evolve. What, Osama bin Laden’s next goal is taking on America in a world court– claiming the United States defamed the great name of Al-Qaeda? Hell, if she wins this, I’m suing the next guy on Comedy Central who calls all bowlers “fat, beer-drinking, nacho-eating, lazy sumbitches.”

I only included the Comedy Central qualifier, because without that, I’d be forced to sue myself.

There is a mini uproar going around since FOX News reported that the government was remotely turning your cell phone on and off to trace your location. Something, something “invasion of privacy,” something, something, [expletive], Bush.

Well, that makes sense, since last year my phone kept turning on randomly every night. Actually, at first I wondered if it was ghosts. After all, Dead Tenants taught me they are everywhere, up to no good, and that only crazy middle-aged British women can actually communicate with them through “non-haunted” means. But then I found out about this– which made sense, because who is more likely to turn on my cell phone– that creepy six year old girl brutally slaughtered on my property in 1826, or the president of the motherfucking United States? He’s probably just calling to check the score of the game anyway. When you have approval ratings that low, it’s hard to get the DirecTV guy to go out to the ranch on a given day to get the satellite rigged up. Imagine the Eminems spittin’ in his onion rings. So then I figured, why make it tough? I mean, if they’re going to keep waking me up with my Cingular startup tone without my control whenever my phone is off, why wouldn’t you just suck it up, and leave it on all the time. Net positive is my dream about a threesome of Jessicas (Biel and Alba should suffice) doesn’t get interrupted by Dick Cheney fucking around afterhours. And tracking? Hell, I usually drop the FBI a text whenever I go out anyway. It sucks though, Mueller never “wantz to hit up a gr8 partay.” Though it is a bit of a drag when he keeps wondering “Y the gurl at the bar doesnt like me?” I just tell him, “being in DC, that’s not a problem.”

Funniest. Picture. Ever. And I kinda like the half-assed smirk on the person in the front seat.

Though if this were me, I’d already be planning my million-dollar “How I Survived 23 Days in Jail” tell-all book. Or better yet, made-for-TV movie. Paging Johnny Drama.

And as another aside, how awesome would it have been to be an anchor for CNN today. I mean, six straights hours of Paris Hilton. Un-fucking-believable.

Somehow stumbled upon this site (I can’t remember my train of thought, but I somehow got to the Wikipedia article about Caldor). It’s a Connecticut resident who states that the goal of his site; The Caldor Rainbow “was established in 2006 as a project organized by myself, Nicholas M. DiMaio, whose primary goals are to preserve retail history. Our objective is to track endangered, vacant, and/or iconic retail sites primarily in Connecticut and around the Northeast United States.”

Couple posts regarding Torrington– this one goes into detail about the Parkade down on Winsted Road. Changes are a brewin.’ (Pics used with permission from Caldor Rainbow)

Apparently (and I think I had actually been told this over break), they recently closed down the Burger King in the plaza (presumably to make room for the new development). I remember eating here a bunch of times as an elementary schooler (I blame my parents for my love of greasy fast food) and I remember supporting various high school groups car washes here (sports teams, charity clubs, etc). Not all too sure why they were always there. Brick floor, and lofted ceiling– also had a separate section for people eating with kids, and I even remember the ’smoking’ and ‘non-smoking’ sections, which were interesting considering it was only a fast food joint.

They’re also tearing down the rest of the plaza to make way for a Lowe’s (where Big Y currently is) and moving the Big Y to the other side of the lot (former site of Caldor and Ames). This has been in the planning stages since I was in high school, but I had completely forgotten about it, until it recently got the go-ahead. I remember going with my mother to shop at Caldor when I was but a wee one– the store closed around 1995 I think (and eventually became an Ames until like 2001)– I remember the jewelry counter was on the right when you went in because that’s where my grandmother worked– they had this giant ‘C’ on the wall above it with this weird “rainbow” of brown, orange, and yellow emanating from it. The floor also had an ugly brown-white tiling thing, while there was an endless row (must have been like eight or ten) of pay phones on the wall to the left as you walked in (behind the cash registers). I remember this well, since as an eight year-old, I used to go fishing for quarters to put in the little candy machines. Every once in a while you hit a score.

There were other stores now gone– the former House of Fabrics (whose publically traded stock nearly won me the Stock Market Competition in 1998), a used book store run by a kind (though a tad crazy) old woman named Anne, as well that old candy shop (or some store that had a large assortment of candy) located where the Radio Shack is currently. I remember always getting my mom to stop there if we had to go on a grocery run to Big Y. And when we had to get to it (the plaza itself, not just the candy shoppe), we used to cut through the back of the high school (the road was subsequently closed after Columbine to limit access to the “campus”– if you could call it that), and come in through the gigantic, and now overgrown, back of the plaza (which has such a huge lot because the plaza had a movie theater back even before me!).

I guess I find it mildly fascinating because of my deep nostalgia streak. I sometimes recall the other long-gone retail locations in the area (Bradlees’s with it’s two floors– toys were downstairs, Star’s with it’s 1960’s rainbow neon light up sign that looks like some prop out of The Price is Right, Grossman’s with it’s (what seemed like) mile-long parking lot, Price Buster with it’s manual “belts” at the registers…) when someone evokes a “remember when” moment. Of course, since I was no more than seven or eight at the time of most, if not all, of those stores closing I don’t remember full details, just sporadic memories.

Change is inevitable, however, and some retail outlets are hanging on– though (Big) K-Mart can’t be far behind the aforementioned I presume. It’s interesting to see how long smaller plazas (McDermott for one– right around the corner on Winsted Road from the aforementioned Torrington Parkade as well as the Stop and Shop plaza off Riverside) can keep it up without the “support” (in quotes because we’ve been talking about downtown revitalization since I was in in middle school, and nothing visible has been accomplished yet) of the city.

I think sometimes, however, some of these locales should step in and if not aid the shops, at least give some semblance of effort to preserve even a small sliver of history of any locations that pre-date the retail boom of the 1990’s– both run-down department/grocery store chain locales and small mom-and-poppers that were squeezed out alike. History quickly forgets that individuals like my grandmother spent their entire time in the workforce at stores like Caldor, and I’m going to be one of the last few people who even remember it’s existence. Remember, the only thing we’re remembered for after we are gone is what offer to the past.

Yesterday, I was home eating lunch between my sociology class and meteorology lab when I was shocked and horrified to hear the news that 32 students were killed at Virginia Tech and countless more injured. It is now, the single worst mass shooting in American history. We lived through a day that they will write about in history textbooks for years to come. I could only sit in stunned silence as the horror story poured in– the gunman locked the doors to the building, and began walking into classrooms, shooting teachers and students with round after round, until he saw his job in that room fit, and moved on to the next. Everyone was completely powerless, a feeling that I don’t think a collective nation felt since 9/11. And all throughout the day, with the news plastered everywhere; television, Facebook, e-mails– I couldn’t help but try to put myself in the shoes of those down in Virginia. What would I have done if I was one of the students? One moment trying to stay awake in an engineering class, the next knowing full well that I only had seconds to live?

Imagine the heartache endured by the parents, who must have seen the news on the television, then frantically tried to get in touch with their children– to no avail. (How terrible it must have been for the EMTs and the persons with the victims to hear cell phones ringing and vibrating all around them as loved ones tried to get in touch). Later in the day, after calling friends, schools, and news outlets desperate for any news, they received the worst phone call any parent could ever get– that they now will have to bury their own child. What an absolutely horrifying day. I can’t even quantify the grief this must have brought. I can’t even imagine how any parent could ever survive.

Students that were spending Sunday night watching shows like the Simpsons and Entourage now will never see some of their friends again. They might have left with an innocuous “see you later” or might have made plans to hang out later. How do you rationalize that you’re still there, but your roommate is gone? Your teammate, your study partner, your best friend.

I know tragedies like this are inevitable. It’s a byproduct of the imperfect world we live in. For all the good that exists, there is also a quantity of evil. Times like these, it makes you think the good will never win– and I don’t know if it ever will. It’s senseless violence like this that strikes you hard. Yesterday morning, I was rolling out of bed, grumbling about classes and homework just like each one of the victims. They were just like me, and I can’t help but think that I might have crossed one of their paths one day– but now I will never get the chance.

We’ll all be OK, in a few days, we’ll be back to talking about whether or not CBS should have fired Imus, or even something as trivial as how Anna Nicole Smith’s baby is doing. I still have to finish my assignment for Wednesday night, and keep making plans for the end of the semester.

But today is different from all other days– because it is not the stress of Cornell that exists, but feelings of sorrow, pain, and anger that rule this day.

Associated Content:

Some people go on hunger strike for political reasons. Some people go on hunger strike for animal rights. Jevonda, a 23-year-old woman from New York, is on hunger strike for a much different reason- because Sanjaya Malakar is still on American Idol.

“J,” as she refers to herself on her website, is writing a blog about her hunger strike. Apparently, it has created quite the stir. The Myspace page has almost 2,000 friends! Strangely enough, many “friends” of this cause have left comments such as “I’ll be having a nice steak tonight while I vote for Sanjaya.”

And this is said MySpace page of the individual who went on hunger strike to attempt to get Sanjaya (Though I’m repeatedly chastised for getting him confused with Sanjay Gupta– CNN’s medical correspondent) voted off American Idol. She has since ended her strike because her doctor told her to.

Great. All we need a whining Indian high-schooler with some combination of thirteen bottles of hair spray and a dead squirrel on his head furthering the eating disorders of American women. Remember, if all those scantily-clad, thin as a rail, bikini models or the fact that the guy you met at the bar last night threw a paper bag over your head when you got back to his place didn’t do it for ya, never fear, Sanjaya is here.

Seriously… natural selection.

Jason Whitlock, Kansas City Star… My commentary below.

Thank you, Don Imus. You’ve given us (black people) an excuse to avoid our real problem.

You’ve given Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson another opportunity to pretend that the old fight, which is now the safe and lucrative fight, is still the most important fight in our push for true economic and social equality.

You’ve given Vivian Stringer and Rutgers the chance to hold a nationally televised recruiting celebration expertly disguised as a news conference to respond to your poor attempt at humor.

…

While we’re fixated on a bad joke cracked by an irrelevant, bad shock jock, I’m sure at least one of the marvelous young women on the Rutgers basketball team is somewhere snapping her fingers to the beat of 50 Cent’s or Snoop Dogg’s or Young Jeezy’s latest ode glorifying nappy-headed pimps and hos.

…

It’s embarrassing. Dave Chappelle was offered $50 million to make racially insensitive jokes about black and white people on TV. He was hailed as a genius. Black comedians routinely crack jokes about white and black people, and we all laugh out loud.

…

Somehow, we’re supposed to believe that the comments of a man with virtually no connection to the sports world ruined Rutgers’ wonderful season. Had a broadcaster with credibility and a platform in the sports world uttered the words Imus did, I could understand a level of outrage.

But an hourlong press conference over a man who has already apologized, already been suspended and is already insignificant is just plain intellectually dishonest. This is opportunism. This is a distraction.

…

No. We all know where the real battleground is. We know that the gangsta rappers and their followers in the athletic world have far bigger platforms to negatively define us than some old white man with a bad radio show. There’s no money and lots of danger in that battle, so Jesse and Al are going to sit it out.

…

I agree wholeheartedly. Was what Don Imus said last week (when he responded to a guest’s comment that the Rutgers’ girls basketball team was a team of “hardcore hos” with “those are some nappy-headed ho,” stupid? Of course. It was downright idiotic. Did it merit an apology? Yes, and he apologized profusely. Does it warrant his firing? Absolutely not. CBS and MSNBC suspended Imus (almost a week after the spin machine had gotten the general public in an uproar of an (while ill-advised) innocuous comment on a shock-jock radio show. But the ball was just getting rolling– Jesse and Al rallied the troops and called for Imus’ head in full force. They called him racist. They called him sexist. They called him “everything that is wrong with America.” Is that really true?

For instance– advocates for women’s rights have gone on record as saying “using the word ‘ho’ promotes violence against women.” Besides the fact that calling someone a ‘ho’ has never given me a pimp-slappin’ urge, is this really a fight you want to pick? After all, don’t a ton of rap lyrics use the word “hos,” “bitches,” “sluts,” etc? Are they being attacked? No? Why not? Oh wait, it’s because they are ‘artists;’ they’re offering commentary on real life. So it’s viable in that context. Sobeit. But isn’t that what Imus was doing, albeit in poor taste? Why do girls go crazy when a rapper asks “Where my hos at?” Shouldn’t they be burning down the stage? After all, he’s promoting prejudice against females. So why is he allowed to? Cultural commentary? Really? “Nappy-headed hos?” I might have heard worse on an episode of Friends. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard worse on an episode of Family Guy, and I’m 100% sure I’ve heard worse on your daily soap operas, dramas, and otherwise desperate housewives. When was the last time PBS’s NOVA series beat out an episode of The Sopranos in the ratings race?

Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton want so much to make a case out of Don Imus, that Rutgers University held a 90-minute press conference during the middle of the school day that was attended by CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, ESPN and all the usual major media outlets to discuss the “scarring” nature of Don Imus’ comments. “Scarring?” Please. “Ruined our season?” If you are letting a Don Imus one-liner (on a show that no one I know actually listens to) ruin an entire season of basketball, you have some bigger issues. The idea that a school needed to trot it’s ten players out (all of which I’m sure have heard Snoop say the word “ho” at least a hundred times) for the nation to see after two seconds of a radio show skit absolutely SCREAMS vendetta. It screams hidden agenda. It screams “going for the kill.” It screams witchhunt. What’s more deplorable than the players getting called “nappy-headed hos?” The players being used as a pawn in civil rights leaders agendas. Do you honestly believe that college-aged girls were saying “We should have a press conference and have everyone come because our lives are ruined because of a shriveled octogenarian wearing a cowboy hat”?

What Don Imus did was stupid, but it was not racist. For activists to decry that a man who has raised million for charity, and makes his money and has achieved fame for off-collar comments is a bigoted one based on three or four words is insane. If you want to go knocking on all the doors of anyone who’s ever said anything offense, go do it in the general public too. If you really want to attack “free speech” turned “offensive,” go after the musical artists who perpetuate the ideas. Go after the comedians who make racially motivated jokes. Go after Joe at the water cooler who told you the latest “So a black guy…” joke. Don’t take out one man because you can dupe the public into “side with us or your racist” or “if you don’t agree, you demean women,” and make them feel like they are bettering themselves by burning one man at the stake. Nothing’s further from the truth. He’s stupid, but if anyone thinks taking down Imus is going to help the world rid itself of prejudice, maybe the activists at the top should be looking at who else perpetuates this behavior. After all, who is more impressionable among the under-70 crowd in America? Don Imus or Fiddy?

So, as per the norm, I picked up a copy of the Daily Sun in Trillium Express on my way into Bio this morning seeing as the only REAL reason to go is the fact that we have these “clicker questions” that determine our attendance (10% of our grade I know, but that’s 10% I got up on all the slackers) and I need some reading/crosswording material to get me through the day (it also comes in handy in STS, which I ended up skipping today… so maybe not so useful after all). So I found a seat next to one of the kids in my lab (so I wouldn’t look like a total loner) and I chatted it up with him for a few minutes, before running out of the auditorium to get some breakfast out of the vending machines (you know how I roll). Now, I put the newspaper neatly folded on top of my binder, which was on top of the little hinged desk thing attached to the seat. When I got back, it was nowhere to be found! I looked high, low, in my bag, on the floor– everywhere. The kid next to me finally leaned over and said, “Yo, your paper? That girl in front of us took it.” What!? The nerve of that bitch. Well lecture had since started, so being a respectful individual, I sat quietly stewing about the theft of my paper and paid attention to someone talk about how Watson and Crick fucked over Rosalind Franklin for the 84th time. After class ended however, I decided this wasn’t going to fly. Sure, I could have just gotten another paper, but that was complete bullshit. Maybe other people have let this whore set a dangerous precedent, but not me.

Me: Excuse me, did you take my paper before lecture?
Girl: (in that annoying sorority girl exasperated tone) Uh, no.
Me: So you didn’t take the newspaper that was sitting RIGHT here before class.
Girl: Oh… uh… yeah. I thought you were done with it.
Me: (amazed) Wait, so you saw a folded newspaper on top of MY notebook on MY seat with MY stuff and you thought I was done with it.
Girl: Well, yeah. (acting like she still didn’t understand what was wrong here, and why some meteorology student was wasting her time)
Me: Yeeeeah. I recommend you go ahead and not do that to people in the future.
Girl’s guyfriend/boyfriend/gay friend: Hey, look dude, why don’t you give it a rest– they’re fucking free anyway. Just get another one.

Sweet baby Jesus, it took all my power not to punch him. God, I fucking hate some of the people who go here sometimes. I hope their yacht crashes into a garbage barge or something. Seriously.