Interesting factoid: The most common proximate cause of workplace violence is, perhaps unsurprisingly, being fired.
The second most common proximate cause of workplace violence, however, is reaching for a paper clip and pulling out an entire daisy chain, put together by someone with far too much time on their hands, who lacked even the minimal consideration or foresight to pause and think that maybe--just maybe--someone might one day need a freakin' paper clip and be in a hurry AND NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH DISENTANGLING ONE FROM A SURPRISE, SERPENTINE, PAPER-CLIP CENTIPEDE!!!!
Just sayin'.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
Why Is This News?
I just read this article--front-page, top right corner of The New York Times--reporting that former representative Dennis Hastert (R-Ill), who served as speaker of the house for much of the early 2000's, has been indicted over activities designed to hide past "misconduct"--the word placed in ominous quotation marks right in the headline.
Now, today's title notwithstanding, I understand why this merits press coverage: Hastert is (or at any rate, was) a prominent public figure, apparently the longest-serving Republican speaker ever. In that sense, any major events in his life merit some public scrutiny--in the same way that a Kardashian wearing a tacky dress apparently merits scrutiny. But front-page, above-the-fold coverage in the national paper of record? Even if Hastert is ultimately found guilty, his "crimes" hardly seem worthy of such blaring coverage.
The crimes themselves sound pretty bad: Lying to federal investigators and engaging in shady banking practices. But the shady practices themselves seem to be that he withdrew money from bank accounts--apparently, his own bank accounts--in amounts that were designed to evade bank-reporting requirements. He was giving the money to an unspecified person to compensate for unidentified instances of "past misconduct": In other words, it sounds like he was a naughty boy in the past and was now paying someone off to keep his naughtiness quiet. When his banking patterns did draw the attention of regulators, and Hastert was subsequently questioned by the FBI, he denied paying anybody and claimed that he was just holding onto the cash himself because he had lost faith in the nation's banking system. (And, heck, the way Congress operates, who wouldn't believe such an excuse?)
So, OK, if he did everything he's being accused of, he did break some laws. But in the annals of criminal justice, his crimes hardly rise to Dillinger-esque proportions: He used his own money, to pay off someone for something he did, long after he was no longer involved in government, and--presumably out of embarrassment, he tried to hide the fact that he was making these payments. He should certainly face punishment, but unless there is substantially more to this story than we're hearing so far, I imagine that punishment will probably amount to little more than some fines--and of course the suffering of the shame that he had tried so hard to avoid.
At the risk of sounding like a Fox News enthusiast, though, the "liberal" New York Times' trumpeting of this story from its most-prominent platform, makes me wonder if the editors are engaging in their own inappropriate glee at the downfall of a prominent Republican. Not that I don't enjoy that as well, but I could wish for the Times to tone down its Schadenfreude.
Now, today's title notwithstanding, I understand why this merits press coverage: Hastert is (or at any rate, was) a prominent public figure, apparently the longest-serving Republican speaker ever. In that sense, any major events in his life merit some public scrutiny--in the same way that a Kardashian wearing a tacky dress apparently merits scrutiny. But front-page, above-the-fold coverage in the national paper of record? Even if Hastert is ultimately found guilty, his "crimes" hardly seem worthy of such blaring coverage.
The crimes themselves sound pretty bad: Lying to federal investigators and engaging in shady banking practices. But the shady practices themselves seem to be that he withdrew money from bank accounts--apparently, his own bank accounts--in amounts that were designed to evade bank-reporting requirements. He was giving the money to an unspecified person to compensate for unidentified instances of "past misconduct": In other words, it sounds like he was a naughty boy in the past and was now paying someone off to keep his naughtiness quiet. When his banking patterns did draw the attention of regulators, and Hastert was subsequently questioned by the FBI, he denied paying anybody and claimed that he was just holding onto the cash himself because he had lost faith in the nation's banking system. (And, heck, the way Congress operates, who wouldn't believe such an excuse?)
So, OK, if he did everything he's being accused of, he did break some laws. But in the annals of criminal justice, his crimes hardly rise to Dillinger-esque proportions: He used his own money, to pay off someone for something he did, long after he was no longer involved in government, and--presumably out of embarrassment, he tried to hide the fact that he was making these payments. He should certainly face punishment, but unless there is substantially more to this story than we're hearing so far, I imagine that punishment will probably amount to little more than some fines--and of course the suffering of the shame that he had tried so hard to avoid.
At the risk of sounding like a Fox News enthusiast, though, the "liberal" New York Times' trumpeting of this story from its most-prominent platform, makes me wonder if the editors are engaging in their own inappropriate glee at the downfall of a prominent Republican. Not that I don't enjoy that as well, but I could wish for the Times to tone down its Schadenfreude.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Can't Believe I'm Doing This
I am now going to do something that I fear imperils my soul: I am going to help the New York Yankees.
Last night, Alex Rodriguez, an admitted steroid user and all-around questionable character, hit the 660th home run of his Major League career. This ties him with Willie Mays, an indisputably better player and human being, for fourth place on the all-time home-run list. Whatever. As Mays himself indicated in a congratulatory message to Rodriguez, records are made to be broken, milestones are made to be passed.
In this story, though, there is an interesting subplot--one that, for a longtime Yankee hater such as YNSHC, is somewhat delicious to observe. Years ago, when Rodriguez signed his current contract with the Yankees, he was promised large financial bonuses for reaching certain historic numbers. One of these was, in fact, 660 home runs. So now, after Rodriguez has served a year's suspension from baseball for violating the league's substance abuse rules, the Yankees have studiously avoided referring to the Mays-tying homer as a milestone--or, as much as they could, referring to it at all. They will do whatever they can to avoid shelling out a $6-million bonus to Rodriguez. Rodriguez himself is not really talking about the situation, either.
No one wants to see Rodriguez get this money, but many would also like to see the Yankees fork it over. Personally, I think if this matter goes to arbitration, the Yankees will lose: They signed a contract, Rodriguez is--like it or not--a player in good standing with the league right now, they have o pay up. But it seems to me that there's a good, face-saving solution for everyone.
Rodriguez certainly doesn't need the money--his base salary for just this year is something like $25 million. At the same time, the Yankees can certainly afford to pay: $6-million dollars is couch-cushion money to the Evil Empire from the Bronx. So both sides should just step up and state that they have reached an agreement to donate the milestone bonus to charity--maybe building little league ballparks or supporting anti-drug programs. Everybody gets great publicity, a worthwhile cause gets supported, and somebody gets a nice tax write-off to boot.
You're welcome, Yankees. Now rot in hell.
Last night, Alex Rodriguez, an admitted steroid user and all-around questionable character, hit the 660th home run of his Major League career. This ties him with Willie Mays, an indisputably better player and human being, for fourth place on the all-time home-run list. Whatever. As Mays himself indicated in a congratulatory message to Rodriguez, records are made to be broken, milestones are made to be passed.
In this story, though, there is an interesting subplot--one that, for a longtime Yankee hater such as YNSHC, is somewhat delicious to observe. Years ago, when Rodriguez signed his current contract with the Yankees, he was promised large financial bonuses for reaching certain historic numbers. One of these was, in fact, 660 home runs. So now, after Rodriguez has served a year's suspension from baseball for violating the league's substance abuse rules, the Yankees have studiously avoided referring to the Mays-tying homer as a milestone--or, as much as they could, referring to it at all. They will do whatever they can to avoid shelling out a $6-million bonus to Rodriguez. Rodriguez himself is not really talking about the situation, either.
No one wants to see Rodriguez get this money, but many would also like to see the Yankees fork it over. Personally, I think if this matter goes to arbitration, the Yankees will lose: They signed a contract, Rodriguez is--like it or not--a player in good standing with the league right now, they have o pay up. But it seems to me that there's a good, face-saving solution for everyone.
Rodriguez certainly doesn't need the money--his base salary for just this year is something like $25 million. At the same time, the Yankees can certainly afford to pay: $6-million dollars is couch-cushion money to the Evil Empire from the Bronx. So both sides should just step up and state that they have reached an agreement to donate the milestone bonus to charity--maybe building little league ballparks or supporting anti-drug programs. Everybody gets great publicity, a worthwhile cause gets supported, and somebody gets a nice tax write-off to boot.
You're welcome, Yankees. Now rot in hell.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Smoke Signals, Maybe?
Today I received the following e-mail:
"Solipsist:
"I need to find a way to communicate with you that I have completed the following..."
Followed by a list of several tasks that I had asked this person to complete.
So now I just need to find a way to communicate with this person that e-mail is a form of communication.
"Solipsist:
"I need to find a way to communicate with you that I have completed the following..."
Followed by a list of several tasks that I had asked this person to complete.
So now I just need to find a way to communicate with this person that e-mail is a form of communication.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Well?
Over the last year, seemingly every week has featured a new instance of extreme police brutality, resulting in the death of an unarmed man. The fact that all the victims were black has only aggravated the underlying outrage, adding a grimy layer of institutional racism to what was at best an ugly situation indicating a need for better training for--and perhaps screening of--those who would serve as police officers in our communities. But I've been struck by something: In nearly every news article written about these killings--from Michael Brown (Ferguson, MO) to Eric Garner (Staten Island) to Freddie Gray (Baltimore)--we see some variation of the following disclaimer:
"Because no nationwide database of police killings exists, it is impossible to draw definitive conclusions about the actions of the officers in this case."
Fair enough, but doesn't this suggest it might be time to start compiling such a database?
"Because no nationwide database of police killings exists, it is impossible to draw definitive conclusions about the actions of the officers in this case."
Fair enough, but doesn't this suggest it might be time to start compiling such a database?
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Crack Is Wack
"Trivia Crack" is ridiculously easy. I mean, "Wheel of Fortune" easy--strike that, "Trivia Crack" makes "Wheel of Fortune" look like "Jeopardy!" And it makes "Jeopardy!" look like the Bar exam--if the Bar exam were written in ancient Finno-Ugric. What I'm saying is, it doesn't exactly tax one's mental capacity.
It does, however, kind of restore one's faith in humanity...or at any rate, it restores one's faith in humanity's faith in humanity. Because, think about it: You're playing this trivia game on a mobile device, which, by definition, is web-enabled. So, if you find yourself stumped by questions like, "Who wrote 'The Raven' and 'The Tell-Tale Heart'?" (actual question) or "Which of these is NOT a style of dance? Merengue, Salsa, Tango, Bogota" (actual question), then all you need to do is tap the "Chrome" icon or ask Siri. Yet presumably, people don't do this--or at least people playing the game are trusting that their competitors won't do this; otherwise, they wouldn't play the game, right?
So thank you, "Trivia Crack." You've proven that people will trust other people to allow themselves to look clueless rather than cheat on a meaningless game. Faith in humanity, restored.
It does, however, kind of restore one's faith in humanity...or at any rate, it restores one's faith in humanity's faith in humanity. Because, think about it: You're playing this trivia game on a mobile device, which, by definition, is web-enabled. So, if you find yourself stumped by questions like, "Who wrote 'The Raven' and 'The Tell-Tale Heart'?" (actual question) or "Which of these is NOT a style of dance? Merengue, Salsa, Tango, Bogota" (actual question), then all you need to do is tap the "Chrome" icon or ask Siri. Yet presumably, people don't do this--or at least people playing the game are trusting that their competitors won't do this; otherwise, they wouldn't play the game, right?
So thank you, "Trivia Crack." You've proven that people will trust other people to allow themselves to look clueless rather than cheat on a meaningless game. Faith in humanity, restored.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Ignorance Is. . . Something.
A recent psychological study suggested a positive correlation between IQ and anxiety: The smarter you are, the more you worry.
This hardly qualifies as earth-shaking news. I've always thought that, if you're not worrying, you're not paying attention. I find myself thinking about this now, though, as I wrestle with vague feelings of non-specific dread. I imagine this is largely a function of it being Sunday: The imminence of a new work-week often engenders a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, a leaden fuzziness in the brain, a slight ringing in the ears. . . . Y'know, now that I write this, I hope this is just anxiety; otherwise, I probably have some kind of tumor.
But seriously, folks.
The funny thing is, this dread has occurred throughout my life, regardless of what was going on. I remember during the early '90's, watching "In Living Color" on Sunday nights, laughing but also struggling with an awareness that this was pretty much the last bit of enjoyment I was going to experience before having to drag myself out of bed less than twelve hours later to begin another stressful week of college classes and student-teaching and just, y'know, life. Back then, I would tell myself that this dread would pass--that once I got through the trials of those days, things would get better.
And they have gotten better. I mean, I basically like my job. I like my co-workers. And some days I even get the opportunity to go home feeling like I've had a positive impact on the world around me. And yet the dread persists. Ignorance may be bliss, but isn't it stupid to keep subjecting myself to dread for no particular reason?
This hardly qualifies as earth-shaking news. I've always thought that, if you're not worrying, you're not paying attention. I find myself thinking about this now, though, as I wrestle with vague feelings of non-specific dread. I imagine this is largely a function of it being Sunday: The imminence of a new work-week often engenders a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, a leaden fuzziness in the brain, a slight ringing in the ears. . . . Y'know, now that I write this, I hope this is just anxiety; otherwise, I probably have some kind of tumor.
But seriously, folks.
The funny thing is, this dread has occurred throughout my life, regardless of what was going on. I remember during the early '90's, watching "In Living Color" on Sunday nights, laughing but also struggling with an awareness that this was pretty much the last bit of enjoyment I was going to experience before having to drag myself out of bed less than twelve hours later to begin another stressful week of college classes and student-teaching and just, y'know, life. Back then, I would tell myself that this dread would pass--that once I got through the trials of those days, things would get better.
And they have gotten better. I mean, I basically like my job. I like my co-workers. And some days I even get the opportunity to go home feeling like I've had a positive impact on the world around me. And yet the dread persists. Ignorance may be bliss, but isn't it stupid to keep subjecting myself to dread for no particular reason?
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