Sorry about yesterday. Blame AT&T. The Internet went down at Solipsist HQ. As did the phone and the TV. We were like pilgrims! Without so much turkey and smallpox. Anyway, we expect to have things fixed shortly. In the meantime, we've managed to hack into a server at "Whitehouse.gov," whatever that is. Sounds British. We're sure it'll be fine. Now, we'd like to take a moment to rail against President Obama's capitulation to the Republican agenda, and. . . Oh, someone's at the door. WOS, could you get that? We-- Wait! Who are you?!? What do you want! Ow, our pancreas!!!!!
THE SOLIPSIST HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED UNDER THE PATRIOT ACT. PLEASE DISREGARD EVERYTHING YOU'VE READ HERE IN THE LAST THREE YEARS.
THANK YOU.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
We Die a Little
We conducted training for new tutors yesterday and today. We came up with a simple model to describe the basic steps of a tutoring (or, indeed, teaching) session: First, DIAGNOSE the student's needs. Next, INTERVENE: Offer instruction, explanations, etc. Finally, EVALUATE the success of your session: Ask the student a follow-up question, for example.
So just remember: To provide a quality educational experience, all you need to do is DIE.
So just remember: To provide a quality educational experience, all you need to do is DIE.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wow
The phrase "literary fiction" conjures images of lengthy tomes devoted to minute dissections of modern life and explorations of weighty themes. While occasionally compelling, these works generally make an ultimately minor impression--fading quickly in the memory and falling inevitably into that category of "Books Read But Scarcely Remembered" (we're talking to you, Jonathan Franzen). Sometimes, writers of literary fiction tackle such themes with dazzling stylistic pyrotechnics, taking the reader on a wild and often enjoyable ride, but one rife with moments of confusion and the urge to throw up one's hands and simply surrender in the face of the author's clearly superior intellect and ability to string words together in new and bizarre configurations (RIP, David Foster Wallace). Rare indeed is the work combining formal ingenuity with "BIG IDEAS" that is also a complete pleasure to read, filled with incident, fascinating characters and easily followed plot.
We present, for your consideraton, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.
We can say with reasonable certainty that, no matter how well-read you are, you have never read a book quite like this. The book is divided into eleven sections and tells six stories, all of which revolve around one wandering soul as it appears and reappears throughout past, present, and future history. Each story is written in a different genre--a seaman's journal gives way to a series of letters, which is followed by a murder-mystery, a memoir, a transcript of an interrogation, and, finally, an "oral history." Each story is set in a different time period, beginning in the mid-19th century and continuing on to some point in the far distant future. Each tale is told in a different style and voice. By the time we reached the middle of the book (the sixth story), we could only shake our head in awe at Mitchell's talents, as we read the oral history written in a made-up vernacular that is, nonetheless, totally intelligible. And then, after the conclusion of section six, section seven begins with the continuation of the story from section five, which leads into the continuation of section four in section eight, and so on, until the novel ends with the conclusion of the seaman's journal that began the book and which had ended abruptly--mid-sentence, in fact--at the end of section one.
As we say, though, the main appeal of the novel is not its stylistic acrobatics. Those merely add intellectual excitement to what are, in fact, six thoroughly enjoyable stories. All the stories share elements and overlap and echo, but each one tells its own distinct tale. A California notary en route home from New Zealand aboard a merchant vessel finds himself the target of a nefarious plot; a British composer on the run from creditors takes refuge in the household of an elderly master and undertakes a series of romantic adventures; an intrepid journalist braves life-threatening dangers to expose corruption at a major energy company; a pompous but likable vanity-press publisher is held against his will at an old-folks' home in a sort of farcical reinterpretation of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; a rebellious clone tells the story of her rise from servitude to self-awareness; a simple farmer in a pastoral, post-apocalyptic future recounts the story of his encounter with a representative of a "bygone" world. Mitchell has compressed a six-volume, genre-crossing opus into one Russian stacking doll of a novel.
Cloud Atlas is that rare work that will leave you stunned at its author's creativity and recharged about the possibilities of what a writer of fiction can achieve.
We present, for your consideraton, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.
We can say with reasonable certainty that, no matter how well-read you are, you have never read a book quite like this. The book is divided into eleven sections and tells six stories, all of which revolve around one wandering soul as it appears and reappears throughout past, present, and future history. Each story is written in a different genre--a seaman's journal gives way to a series of letters, which is followed by a murder-mystery, a memoir, a transcript of an interrogation, and, finally, an "oral history." Each story is set in a different time period, beginning in the mid-19th century and continuing on to some point in the far distant future. Each tale is told in a different style and voice. By the time we reached the middle of the book (the sixth story), we could only shake our head in awe at Mitchell's talents, as we read the oral history written in a made-up vernacular that is, nonetheless, totally intelligible. And then, after the conclusion of section six, section seven begins with the continuation of the story from section five, which leads into the continuation of section four in section eight, and so on, until the novel ends with the conclusion of the seaman's journal that began the book and which had ended abruptly--mid-sentence, in fact--at the end of section one.
As we say, though, the main appeal of the novel is not its stylistic acrobatics. Those merely add intellectual excitement to what are, in fact, six thoroughly enjoyable stories. All the stories share elements and overlap and echo, but each one tells its own distinct tale. A California notary en route home from New Zealand aboard a merchant vessel finds himself the target of a nefarious plot; a British composer on the run from creditors takes refuge in the household of an elderly master and undertakes a series of romantic adventures; an intrepid journalist braves life-threatening dangers to expose corruption at a major energy company; a pompous but likable vanity-press publisher is held against his will at an old-folks' home in a sort of farcical reinterpretation of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; a rebellious clone tells the story of her rise from servitude to self-awareness; a simple farmer in a pastoral, post-apocalyptic future recounts the story of his encounter with a representative of a "bygone" world. Mitchell has compressed a six-volume, genre-crossing opus into one Russian stacking doll of a novel.
Cloud Atlas is that rare work that will leave you stunned at its author's creativity and recharged about the possibilities of what a writer of fiction can achieve.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
You Get What You Pay For
The New York Times published a lengthy article today about Philip and Joel Levy, brothers from Brooklyn who until recently held the top positions at the Young Adult Institute Network, a giant non-profit organization that provides services and runs group homes for developmentally disabled people in New York. From the tone of the article and its headline, "Reaping Millions in Nonprofit Care for Disabled," one can assume readers are meant to feel indignant at the generous salaries and benefits received by the Levys, financed largely by Medicaid money. Indeed, should there be any doubt, note that the article is part of series about malfeasance among providers of services for the disabled--a series with the eye-catching title, "Abused and Used."
Certainly one of the most noble and vital services the news industry provides is shining a light on corruption and the misuse of public funds. As we read this article, though, we felt a bit "abused and used" ourselves. Specifically, we felt that the Levy brothers hardly embody the sort of massive corruption that merits a front-page expose on the paper of record.
The charges of financial impropriety mainly arise from some questionable--though hardly egregious--expenditures by the Young Adult Institute. For starters, the Levys were paid quite well: Each earned close to $1 million a year. This compares quite favorably with executives of "similar-sized non-profit groups in New York," who earn, according to the article, an average salary of close to $500,000. We'll take the Times' word for it about the $500,000 average salary of other non-profit CEO's--although the article doesn't specify what "similar-sized non-profits" means. On the face of it, though, a $1,000,000 annual salary for the chief executives of "the largest operator of group homes" in New York, whose services also include "day programs, a school, dental care, and transportation for the developmentally disabled" doesn't seem particularly out of line. Other questionable expenses included the use of agency funds to pay for college tuition for executives' children, car allowances, hotel expenditures for fund-raising trips, and a $50,000 charge to help Philip Levy's daughter purchase a Greenwich Village apartment while she was in graduate school.
Outrageous? Maybe. As the article points out, though, all of these charges were approved by the non-profit organization's board. Furthermore, with the exception of the $50,000 gift to Levy's daughter, all of these expenditures sound unspectacular when considered as compensation for chief executives of a multi-billion dollar corporation, non-profit or not. As citizens, we should scrutinize the use of taxpayer dollars, but we should not be so quick to condemn out of hand large sums of money just because they seem, to us, "large."
Could the YAI board have paid the Levy brothers less? Sure. But how much less? These are skillful executives. One point the article makes is that, while YAI executives are highly compensated, they also provide exemplary services: "The organization and the Levys have earned many admirers in the field for the quality and range of their programs." A parent of a YAI resident "said the organization excelled at hiring caring people, investing in training and supervising programs." As any executive compensation expert will attest, to attract talented people, you must provide attractive compensation, which may well include a high salary and/or benefits like tuition reimbursement.
Maybe the Levys would have done the same job for less money. Maybe when the board replaces the Levys (who have retired), equally skilled executives will be found who will work for less. We wish the board luck. Still, in an era when bank executives receive multi-million dollar bonuses for running their companies into the ground and decimating the lives and livelihoods of average Americans, we find it hard to begrudge a generous compensation for a couple of guys who have devoted 40 years of their lives to helping the most defenseless members of society and who have apparently done a pretty good job of it.
Certainly one of the most noble and vital services the news industry provides is shining a light on corruption and the misuse of public funds. As we read this article, though, we felt a bit "abused and used" ourselves. Specifically, we felt that the Levy brothers hardly embody the sort of massive corruption that merits a front-page expose on the paper of record.
The charges of financial impropriety mainly arise from some questionable--though hardly egregious--expenditures by the Young Adult Institute. For starters, the Levys were paid quite well: Each earned close to $1 million a year. This compares quite favorably with executives of "similar-sized non-profit groups in New York," who earn, according to the article, an average salary of close to $500,000. We'll take the Times' word for it about the $500,000 average salary of other non-profit CEO's--although the article doesn't specify what "similar-sized non-profits" means. On the face of it, though, a $1,000,000 annual salary for the chief executives of "the largest operator of group homes" in New York, whose services also include "day programs, a school, dental care, and transportation for the developmentally disabled" doesn't seem particularly out of line. Other questionable expenses included the use of agency funds to pay for college tuition for executives' children, car allowances, hotel expenditures for fund-raising trips, and a $50,000 charge to help Philip Levy's daughter purchase a Greenwich Village apartment while she was in graduate school.
Outrageous? Maybe. As the article points out, though, all of these charges were approved by the non-profit organization's board. Furthermore, with the exception of the $50,000 gift to Levy's daughter, all of these expenditures sound unspectacular when considered as compensation for chief executives of a multi-billion dollar corporation, non-profit or not. As citizens, we should scrutinize the use of taxpayer dollars, but we should not be so quick to condemn out of hand large sums of money just because they seem, to us, "large."
Could the YAI board have paid the Levy brothers less? Sure. But how much less? These are skillful executives. One point the article makes is that, while YAI executives are highly compensated, they also provide exemplary services: "The organization and the Levys have earned many admirers in the field for the quality and range of their programs." A parent of a YAI resident "said the organization excelled at hiring caring people, investing in training and supervising programs." As any executive compensation expert will attest, to attract talented people, you must provide attractive compensation, which may well include a high salary and/or benefits like tuition reimbursement.
Maybe the Levys would have done the same job for less money. Maybe when the board replaces the Levys (who have retired), equally skilled executives will be found who will work for less. We wish the board luck. Still, in an era when bank executives receive multi-million dollar bonuses for running their companies into the ground and decimating the lives and livelihoods of average Americans, we find it hard to begrudge a generous compensation for a couple of guys who have devoted 40 years of their lives to helping the most defenseless members of society and who have apparently done a pretty good job of it.
Monday, August 1, 2011
PAC-iness
Not satisfied to sit idly by on the sidelines while our country careens downhill, the Solipsist has taken action: He has joined Stephen Colbert's SuperPAC! Now, when we sit idly on the sidelines, we can take pride in the fact that we have done our part by submitting our name to a comedian's mailing list. (No, we have not donated money.) The way we see it, SPAM from Stephen Colbert is at least funnier than that from Moveon.org and Nancy Pelosi--not MUCH funnier, but funnier.
So, in the interest of getting other members of Solipsist Nation involved in the cause--and in the further interest of not having to come up with any ideas of our own, we thought we'd share with our followers the special correspondence we have personally received from Mr. Stephen Colbert.
Here's the suitable-for-printing-out letter we received after signing up for the Colbert SuperPAC:
Dear Hero,
In case you're wondering, we think Stephen should use his voice to use our voice to advocate for a little more linguistic homogeneity in our slightly-too-diverse nation. Specifically, we would like to see legislation promoting English as the official ACCENT of the United States. Personally, we don't care what language people speak, as long as they speak it with a nice, plummy Oxonian lilt. It'll really class up the place (i.e., America).
Join us in joining Stephen in the struggle!
So, in the interest of getting other members of Solipsist Nation involved in the cause--and in the further interest of not having to come up with any ideas of our own, we thought we'd share with our followers the special correspondence we have personally received from Mr. Stephen Colbert.
Here's the suitable-for-printing-out letter we received after signing up for the Colbert SuperPAC:
Dear {VALUE=FIRSTNAME} {VALUE=LASTNAME},Lemming-like, we made our way to the SuperPAC website to put in our two cents (without, as we say, actually donating so much as one cent). We received this confirmation today, under the heading, "READ IF YOU ARE A HUMAN":
I wanted to take a moment to personally express my {VALUE=ADJECTIVE} thanks for signing up for Colbert Super PAC. With your help, we'll make sure that America steers a course into a more American future.
A lot of people have been asking me why I started Colbert Super PAC. A lot of those people are lawyers. I'll tell you what I tell them: "I'm doing this for my country. And if you're going to bill me for the full hour, you may as well make yourself useful and stuff some envelopes."
A few months ago I looked up and saw our country at a crossroads. Down one road lay moral and financial ruin. Down another road lay the fulfillment of the American dream. Down a third lay Cincinnati. There was another one, but I think it was some sort of service road, it had a big locked gate on it. The point is: We must steer America down the right road (the second one).
Of course, I cannot do this alone. Actually, I probably could, but it would seem a little flashy. By signing up at Colbert Super PAC, you've shown you have just what it takes to make a difference – an email address and a willingness to receive lots of spam.
In the coming months Colbert Super PAC will shape the political debate by forcing candidates to focus on issues that matter to you – probably by attaching those issues to something shiny and dangling near the candidates' face. We'll produce and air ads in support of key players in important races, whether they want us to or not. And we'll do all this while enjoying the tax-free status afforded to us by the federal government.
So, once again, {VALUE=FIRSTNAME} I want to thank you for joining Colbert Super PAC. Together, we will speak with one voice – mine. Together, we will stand against those who wish to unite us. Together, we will rent a private jet to take me to rallies, where together we will cheer me on.
Together, we'll Be Making A Better Tomorrow – Tomorrow.
Sincerely Yours,
Stephen Colbert
SuperFounder, Americans For A Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow
To unsubscribe, click here. It won't work, but hey, click away.
Paid for by Americans for a Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow
Not authorized by any candidate or candidate's committee.
www.colbertsuperpac.com
Last week, Stephen came to the realization that his SuperPAC needed actually to STAND FOR something:
Dear Colbert Super PAC Members and Electoral Uruk-hai,
On June 29th, I sent out a call. A call for all heroes to come together under the banner of Colbert SuperPAC, put some money in a hat, and then leave. And you came: over 120,000 of you joined with the goal of Making a Better Tomorrow... Tomorrow.
But now, Tomorrow is only a Day away. The Time has come to take a Stand. For Something. We haven't figured out what It is yet. That's where You come in.
Go to http://bit.ly/PACstand and share what matters to you most, whether it's ending poverty, designing a truly zombie-proof fortress or preserving poverty. Everything is on the table-even tables.
Your concerns will be scientifically blended with the concerns of other Colbert SuperPAC members, then formed into a nutritious concern loaf for me to cram down Washington's gullet.
It's like a reverse orchestra, where you're all the conductors and I'm the one musician, armed with an FEC-sanctioned violin made of money. Or maybe an oboe – that's up to you. You've made your money-voice heard, now make your mouth-voice heard. Visit http://bit.ly/PACstand today...now.
Why are you still here?
Sinceriously,
Stephen Colbert
President and Chieftain of the DĂșnedain, Colbert Super PAC
Dear Hero,
You are receiving this letter because you had the courage to visit http://bit.ly/PACstand, and more importantly, the attention span to fill out the form before getting distracted by Facebook, GChat, or a Huffington Post article with “PIPPA WHALETAIL” in the title.
Thank you for plumbing the depths of your soul and passing along the principles you value most dearly. Your concerns are important to us, and will be appreciated in the order they are received.
Love,
Stephen Colbert
Supreme Allied Commander, Colbert Super PAC
***READ IF YOU ARE A SPAM FILTER***
I’ll see you in robot hell, you son of a bitch.
Stephen Colbert
In case you're wondering, we think Stephen should use his voice to use our voice to advocate for a little more linguistic homogeneity in our slightly-too-diverse nation. Specifically, we would like to see legislation promoting English as the official ACCENT of the United States. Personally, we don't care what language people speak, as long as they speak it with a nice, plummy Oxonian lilt. It'll really class up the place (i.e., America).
Join us in joining Stephen in the struggle!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Check Your Local Listings
In case further proof were needed that television executives have run out of ideas for filling the broadcast day, we give you "Hillbilly Handfishin'." Coming soon to Animal Planet, this show stars handfishing (or "noodling") experts Skipper Bivins and Trent Jackson. On the show, "thrill-thirsty city slickers" go on Oklahoma river expeditions led by Bivins and Jackson, who teach the neophytes the finer points of. . .well, let's just say it, of thrusting their forearms into catfish gullets.
Now, we have no doubt that noodling is a potentially useful skill--although it does raise the question: Who was the first person to decide to try this? (Probably someone named "Noodle," now that we think about it.) We wonder, though, why one would feel the need to watch more than one episode.
"Hey, next week's 'Hillbilly Handfishin' looks awesome."
"Oh, yeah? Why?"
"Well, this person from the city? Is gonna learn how to catch catfish by hand!"
"Uh, that's exactly what this week's 'Hillbilly Handfishin' was about."
"Yeah, but next week it's gonna be a girl! And. . .and. . . and she's pretty."
Check your local listings.
Now, we have no doubt that noodling is a potentially useful skill--although it does raise the question: Who was the first person to decide to try this? (Probably someone named "Noodle," now that we think about it.) We wonder, though, why one would feel the need to watch more than one episode.
"Hey, next week's 'Hillbilly Handfishin' looks awesome."
"Oh, yeah? Why?"
"Well, this person from the city? Is gonna learn how to catch catfish by hand!"
"Uh, that's exactly what this week's 'Hillbilly Handfishin' was about."
"Yeah, but next week it's gonna be a girl! And. . .and. . . and she's pretty."
Check your local listings.
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