Thank goodness for product reassurances

Perhaps it's a translation issue, since I bought this loofah in Germany, but I was amused to see written on its tag: "Completely hand washable."



Thank goodness! I'm not so dextrous with my feet.

Forget politics, this guy needs DATING help!

News outlets have been all abuzz about Presidential candidate Dennis Kucinich's "date."

A political Web site, PoliticsNH.com, chose the New Jersey woman over nearly 80 other contestants for a date with the twice-divorced Ohio congressman. He had joked recently about what he wanted in a potential first lady.

Sounds sweet, eh? Though I must admit, it's a bit sad that an intelligent, passionate, and articulate man like Kucinich struggles to get even 100 suitors despite all the publicity, while airheads competing on reality TV shows undoubtedly get thousands of proposals from fawning fans. Heck, even mass-murderer Manson has, as I understand it, gotten hundreds of proposals from (obviously very sick) women. What is this world coming to?



Okay, but that aside, there's even something more pathetic about Kucinich's date:

Santore, 34, of Maple Shade, N.J., called herself a lifelong Democrat. She said she works as a confidential aide to the Camden County sheriff in southern New Jersey and lives with her boyfriend. Kucinich attracted her attention, she said, because she found his views "intoxicating."

Uh, notice anything a little fishy here? How about the "lives with her boyfriend" part? Eighty people applied for a date with Kucinich, and this attached woman is the best possible pick?



I don't know about you, but where I come from, a date is usually (or at least optimally) between two single people. Perhaps this lack of awareness on Kucinich's part explains a bit about why he's still single?



Or maybe, if his Presidential bid fails, he'll run for Senator of Utah? :D

At least he didn't offer to call up his astrologer

International law? I better call my lawyer ... I don't know what you're talking about, about international law. Better consult my lawyer.



- Confusion from President G.W. Bush, when asked to clarify an issue about the Pentagon's recent branding of Canadian and other country's companies as "Security threats" in the context of Iraq reconstruction bids.

And people criticize Howard Dean for his lack of foreign policy expertise? Pot, meet kettle...

Community participation on this blog and SmileZone

I'm honored and grateful to have many thousands of you each month reading my blog and participating on my related SmileZone Conversation Corner but I'm saddened that my writings haven't stimulated as much discussion as I would have liked.



I don't plan on changing my writing style or what I write about, but if there are certain factors (usability and otherwise) on my site that'd encourage you and others to participate here more, please do let me know... either via the comments feature of this blog, or via other means.



Thanks!



Edited to add:

There's also that handy-dandy "Mail to friend" link which lets you send a link to any article to -- yeah, you guessed it -- a friend! :D

The Lindy Hop equivalent to comparing sexual partners

Last night, after dancing with a budding Rockstar, she and I had a chance to chat for a bit. After a few minutes, she asked me who my favorite follows were, and -- since I had already noted how much I was impressed with and liked her dancing -- I understandably mentioned the names of some other follows. In response, she noted who her favorite leads were (several of them I'm friends with) and why.



At the time, I didn't really think much of this, but then it sunk in, and now I view the conversation with both detached bemusement and slight awkwardness.

I'm clearly not anywhere near the Rockstar league in my dancing, nor do I think I'll ever reach that level of ability and status. This has been the cause of occasional consternation for me, admittedly, but that's actually a different issue.



Instead, I see our conversation last night slightly akin to former lovers talking about and ranking the porn stars they've slept with.



"Well, it just feels really smooth with Jake... he handles me perfectly... assertively without being rough."



"I just lose myself in Carl. He's so playful, yet sensual..."



...and I'm thinking, whoa, I have a small, er, um, a performance problem of sorts.



It's petty for me to even think this way, I acknowledge. But nonetheless, it still feels a bit weird dancing with someone and yet knowing you'll never measure up to their other partners, past, present and future.



In some ways, all of this could be used as a learning tool, I suppose. I'll go stalk Jake and Carl, coerce them into giving me tips or free mini-lessons, and/or maybe just hope to absorb some of their mad skillz by osmosis. Coincidentally, earlier that night, I already danced (followed) with Carl, and dammit if he AIN'T a dreamy lead!



Well, it's worth a try, isn't it? :D

The truth hurts (I should have lied)

I've gotten to know Lillian slowly, bit by bit.



She's someone who exudes passion and thoughtfulness in her conversations and her dancing, and I've enjoyed getting to know her better.



And last night I should have lied to her, because telling the truth hurt.

Lillian's pretty progressive politically, and -- unlike a lot of the obnoxious poseurs in San Francisco -- she actually practices what she preaches. She's served in the Peace Corp, and today she does an enormous amount of volunteer work. I have a lot of respect for her.



Unsurprisingly, she was rooting for the more progressive candidate in San Francisco's mayoral run-off yesterday, a contest between a moderate Democrat and a rather left-of-center Green party candidate.



Just before heading off to the dance that Lillian was also attending, I had learned that Gavin Newsom -- the moderate Democrat -- had won, along with the equally moderate Kamala Harris for District Attorney.



---



As fate would have it, Lillian asked me for a ride home that evening, and I was happy to oblige. She lives pretty close to me, and I always enjoy getting to chat with my fellow dancers a bit off the dance floor. And of course, I knew better than to discuss politics with her; I'm rather liberal by nearly any measure... except when it comes to San Francisco. In that case, especially by supporting Newsom, I'd be viewed by many as an evil Corporate Stooge.



Literally less than 60 seconds away from Lillian's apartment, all hope was lost:



Lillian: Hmm... I wish you had a radio in this car [I actually do]. Do you know anything about the election results tonight?

Me: Yeah, Newsom and Harris won.

Lillian: [pained silence for a moment] Oh man.

Me: I was surprised, too.

Lillian: [with hopeful curiosity] Who did you vote for?

Me: [pausing for a brief moment] Newsom and Harris. I'm sorry.

Lillian: [a pained expression, and even a longer pause] Why?



I babbled an explanation for a moment, as she and I sat in my car, already at her apartment. But I felt an emotionally stabbing pain, realizing that I absolutely, positively should have lied to Lillian.



Telling her the truth only hurt her, and it hurt my chances for having her like and respect me. Now I'm one of Them. It'd be like extolling the virtues of Hamburger Hamlet to a vegan, or mention one's participation in a satanic ritual to the local Reverend.



She said quietly "It's just politics." Then, to my surprise, she gave me a brief hug, said goodnight, and wished me sweet dreams.



I still tossed and turned though. I had so many opportunities to lie, but did not. Does this make me a better person, overall, or does it merely make me and others a little bit sadder?

Reflecting upon a wonderful man -- the late Paul Simon

It was with great sadness that I read about the death of Senator Paul Simon.



Though always a fan of his thoughtful politics and respectful demeanor, I particularly have fond memories of the time I met him in person one chance evening.

I was on a Northwestern University dorm-sponsored scavenger hunt back in the early 90's, and while traversing the cold streets of downtown Chicago, one fellow in our team of eight shouted out "That's Paul Simon! Senator Simon!" It was a joyous outburst one might hear upon a sighting of celebrity, or an old friend, or a school teacher one cheerfully remembered. Especially to residents of Illinois, I learned, Paul Simon seemed to be a bit of all of that wrapped into one.



Along with his wife, Senator Simon -- yes, wearing a bowtie, as was seemingly always the case -- graciously stopped for us on the sidewalk on this wintry night, signed autographs, and posed with his arms warmly around us for a picture.



Some people simply exude an aura of kindness and integrity, and that would clearly include the late Senator Simon.



May he rest in peace, and may his family and close friends find strength and happiness in the memories of his life.

Evaluating discrimination -- in (nose-holding) defense of Abercrombie and Fitch

I've been reading a lot about the recent Abercrombie & Fitch ("A&F") publicity -- largely decrying the organizations alleged hiring preferences towards bland, er, blonde and blue eyed frat boy types -- and I have mixed feelings about the issue.

First, for those who don't know me, I'm hardly the sort of guy A&F would hire. In the tall, dark, and handsome test, I just pass one of the three (hint: I'm a short guy who doesn't get outside all that much :D).



However, even though I know A&F hiring managers would apparently chop off their index fingers before hiring me, that's alright. I'm not exactly their target customer; I actually have this weird preference about buying clothes based upon how they fit and whether they accentuate the good aspects of my face and body. Just because some sleek and artificially body-hairless frat guy or unpleasantly-anorexic girl happens to wear a particular brand of clothing does not make me any more apt to patronize that brand. I do realize, for better or worse, though, that I'm in the minority on this apparently.



---



But I digress. What about the alleged discrimination? What about the seemingly apparent fact that A&F hires tall white guys with intelligence levels exceeded by moldy bread, along with the girls that date them?



My take? Let 'em do so.



I heartily welcome all others (Asians, women with unfashionable glasses, people with funny sounding last names like Garcia, and so on) to boycott A&F. I encourage people to patronize brands that show more respect for the majority of the human populace, or, heck, even START new brands that actually exist to sell quality clothing instead of an "experience" or "sexuality" or any such thing that isn't really what a pair of pants has to offer anyway.



But lawsuits? Sheesh... do we need yet more proof in America that people will sue anyone for anything?



What about strip clubs? Should they be required to hire unattractive (by their standards, or their perceived customers' standards) strippers? Obviously that'd be rather silly. I don't patronize strip clubs (hey, I'm broke :D), but if I did, I'd likely want to see tall, leggy, athletic looking women instead of women with copious amounts of cellulite. And as a white man, I (genetically or otherwise) also happen to have an attraction-preference for white women. Does that make me shallow in this context? Absolutely. Racist? Er, I'd hope not. Does this make the strip club evil or racist? I don't believe so. They're in it to make a buck, and their products are, quite simply, Attractiveness and Sexuality.



What about buxom blacks? Or non-triathelete women? Aren't they being discriminated against? Well, sure. And as a short guy, I'm never going to make the NBA. Nor, as an average-to-slightly-above-average fit guy am I going to be a star weightlifter. I'm not going to be a runway model, either.



---



The question, then, becomes one of how closely related a company's hiring practices are to what they're selling, and in this case, the courts seem to aligned more closely with those against the discrimination. For instance, in a case a while back against Southwest Airlines, the court ruled that Southwest could not exclusively hire attractive women, despite the airline's (likely honest and accurate) claim that the majority of its business at the time consisted of good-ol' boys from Texas who flew Southwest largely because of the nice sightlines. And I'm not referring to the delightful view out the windows, either. ;-)



In the Southwest case, I feel that the court decided wrongly. However, I also am indeed uncomfortably aware of the slippery-slope issues inherent in supporting discrimination in cases of corporate-argued 'customer preferences.' For instance, couldn't many restaurants argue that attractive waitresses are likely to serve as more of a drawing card than pock-marked overweight waitresses? And aren't attractive receptionists more pleasing to visiting clients? Big and sexy-looking bouncers are more likely to attract bar patrons, too, aren't they?



Where do you draw the line? I'm not sure. I do know, though, that such discrimination likely takes place more often than not in nearly all industries in which employees are seen by customers and potential customers, and folks who are perceived as less-attractive, too short, too "foreign looking," or even "too black" are likely to get the short end of the stick. This isn't pleasant by any means, at least for those of us who don't fit the desired Aryan stereotype.



---



So with that, I suppose it may seem strange that I disagree with those suing A&F. My reasoning is based upon my belief that A&F is undeniably selling Attractiveness and Sexuality, and indeed relying upon these aspects as key differentiators for its brand. Without such competitive advantages, A&F becomes just another run-of-the-mill clothier who uses sweatshops and inferior materials.



My argument against the lawsuits, however, does not mean that I find A&F respectable or worthy of support in any way. As suggested earlier in this entry, I hope people wise up and -- whether publicly or just personally -- firmly boycott obnoxiously "trendy" and vapid companies such as A&F.



Alas, I can't imagine that ever happening in a substantive and long-term way, however. After all, we collective morons still buy Happy Experiences and Sex from a beer can... Large Penises and Dates from hot cars... and so on.



On the whole, excepting us equally-obnoxious-but-more-rational-geeks, we're all about buying Experiences rather than actual goods and services. And I don't ever see that changing in my lifetime.



I just wish we'd take blame for our own intellectual ineptitude instead of angrily suing the companies that simply provide what we're all-too-willing to pay for.

How not to impress women -- a weighty example

About twice a week, I take synchronized weightlifting classes (also known as "Body Pump" or "Reebok Core," etc.) at my gym, since doing weights by myself is only slightly more exciting than watching paint dry.



Not only are these classes a generally fun and effective way to build muscle tone without falling asleep, they also offer quite pleasant, ahem, views... especially since well over half of the class tends to be female. :-)



So far, so good, right? Well, except for last night, when I decided to try out the same class with a different instructor.

I arrived a bit late to this particularly crowded class, and learned to my chagrin that there was but one weight clip left. Determined not to miss out on the class due to this little technicality, I assured myself that I could balance the weights on my barbell just fine. Therefore, I politely declined the kindly offer of my friendly workout neighbor who pointed to his extra handweights.



Everything was going just hunky dory... the weights were staying on, I was getting a fine workout in this new class, and -- the occasional pig that I am -- I was none-to-disappointed at my default placement at the back of the room.



When it came time for over-the-head presses (or whatever they're actually called when you lay down on a bench and lift the weights over your head repeatedly), I was on top of the world... ably lifting more than my typical load and feeling good about it, thankyouverymuch. Unfortunately, moments later, half of my weights decided they weren't quite as happy with the arrangement, choosing to hop off my barbell onto the floor with a loud CRASH.



Becoming perilously unbalanced with now lots of weight on one side of me and no weight on the other side, I pretty quickly and gracelessly tumbled off my bench on to the floor, resulting in an extra double kathunk (my body, followed by the remaining weights, which -- though it would have muffled the crash -- thankfully didn't land on top of me).



Upon realizing that the only serious injury was to my pride, the instructor bellowed "Missing weight clips?" just as the entire class looked over at the New Guy in a combination of horror, amusement, and disdain.



What a weighty and embarrassing first impression! :|