And If FOS "Liked" Jumping Off the Roof, Would You Do It, Too?

Lately, I've noticed that, when I click on a friend's status on Facebook, I'm encouraged to "Be the first to like this."  That is, of course, "liking" in the Facebook sense of the word: Clicking on the little "Like" that appears at the bottom of the posting, to the left of "Comment" and "Share."  I guess those are in a sort of order, "like, comment, and share" being a digital-age equivalent of "fold, spindle, and mutilate" or "judge, jury, and executioner" or something.  Anyway, I now find myself obsessed not just with liking things, but with being the first to like something.  Because if I'm not the first, what's the point?  I'm just a lemming-like, bandwagon-jumper, liking the fact that so-and-so is at Chuck E. Cheese or was tagged in such-and-such's photo merely because everybody else is doing it.

Thanks a lot, Zuckerberg!  You took something beautiful and pure--the meaningless indication of one's semi-conscious approval of a friend's activity--and turned it into a base competition!  What's next?  The placement of paid advertising on one's Facebook page?  I shudder to think.

Where There's Smoke There's No Fire

Laws that restrict smoking in public places represent good public policy.  Beyond the obvious health benefits associated with reducing exposure to toxic fumes, these laws promote basic civility: Even if second-hand smoke were completely harmless to other people's health, non-smokers should not have to inhale the noxious by-products of those who do not have the common courtesy to refrain from inflicting their vices on others.  That being said, recent legislative efforts to ban electronic cigarettes from public places are completely misguided.

E-cigarettes are essentially nicotine delivery devices--not much different from patches or nicotine gum (although not generally regarded in as positive a light as those other "smoking cessation" tools).  They look more or less like "real" cigarettes, and people "smoke" them in much the same way.  Instead of smoke, though, e-cigs release harmless--or even pleasant smelling--water vapor into the air, thus posing no health risks to nearby non-smokers.  E-cigs even have a little light on the end that "flares" when people puff--and as an added "bonus," these tips, unlike the glowing tips of cigarettes, can come in a variety of colors not necessarily  found in nature.

Lately, in various locales including New York City, lawmakers have pursued legislation to ban e-cigarettes just like their more tobacco-y cousins.  The basic argument seems to be that e-cigarettes cause confusion among people who may take offense when they see someone "lighting up" in a movie theater or restaurant or any other place from which cigarettes have been banned--which is to say, any other place.  Furthermore, lawmakers fear that e-cigarettes send a "message that smoking is socially acceptable."

Well, we can't have that!  Outlaw them immediately!

Look, I don't have a problem with government officials discouraging smoking.  If they want to ban cigarette advertising from television, fine.  Want to impose high taxes on tobacco products?  OK.  Use tax dollars to sponsor public information campaigns warning of the dangers of cigarettes? I'm down with that.  But banning electronic cigarettes goes too far.

Before I go on, it is de rigueur at this point to mention that e-cigarettes have not been evaluated by the FDA and that they may, for all anybody knows, be extremely dangerous.  Perhaps they are highly carcinogenic.  Perhaps they cause gout.  Perhaps prolonged use promotes the growth of extra toes.  Fair enough.  But while these products might cause problems to those who use them, it is clear that they cause far fewer problems than traditional cigarettes do to the people who don't use them.

One could rightfully worry that people who see e-cigarette smokers will be tempted to pick up the habit--especially when they see an e-cig glowing a cool, light-saberish shade of magenta.  But then again, if lemming-like souls are going to follow the herd of cool kids over the cliff of smoking, wouldn't we prefer they take up this less lethal variety thereof?

Might these newly-recruited smokers move on to tobacco products?  Sure they might. Anything might happen.  But making harm-reductive smoking more difficult for those who are not ready to quit but are trying to mitigate the negative effects for everyone else is flawed policy at best and downright destructive at worst.

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody

Hope everybody out there has a very solipsistic Thanksgiving!  (All you have to do is ignore all the bickering relatives.)

Page Three Comes to Page One

Generally speaking--or, heck, specifically speaking--I have no objection to female nudity.  A day that includes unexpected glimpses of naked women can never be considered an entirely wasted day.  Nevertheless, I was shocked--shocked!--today when I surfed over to The New York Times website and found--on the front page--a breast!  A breast adorned with the Star of David, no less!  Had the Times decided to amp up circulation by, ahem, amping up its readers' circulation?

Well, no.  Or probably not.  The story behind the breast reported on Israeli efforts to encourage more women to undergo screening for a gene that greatly increases the risk of contracting breast cancer.  One could argue, therefore, that the picture was meant simply to illustrate and not to titillate.  But is that the case?  Here's the picture:

 

On the one hand, it's an arresting image, what with the Mogen David and the surgical scar; indeed, I assume the scar is what captured the photographer's fancy.  On the other hand, the picture also features prominently--provocatively--a nipple.  A nipple!  And thus crosses one of the red lines of "indecency" with which we're all familiar (just ask Janet Jackson).  It was clearly intentional, too; otherwise, the photographer could simply have asked the model to pull her shirt up another half inch, right?

Why female nipples are considered such hot buttons (ahem) remains a mystery to me, but there it is.  And so when the editors chose this image for the front page, they obviously knew they were choosing a picture that some people would consider--on some level--"indecent."  Maybe not Page Three of the Daily Sun "indecent," but "indecent" nonetheless.

Does this image herald a new, bustier age in mainstream journalism?  One can only hope.

Shameless Self-Promotion Isn't as Much Fun When It Counts

Every three years, tenured faculty at my college must undergo "peer evaluation"--even those of us whom most would consider peerless!  What this entails: The evaluatee rounds up two colleagues--also tenured faculty members--who then sit in on a couple of classes, take notes, and administer a student-survey.  Since these evaluations are performed by other tenured faculty--who can essentially be chosen by the evaluatee--the whole thing is quite collegial and non-threatening.  And, indeed, since the evaluatee is, not to put too fine a point on it, tenured, as long as he or she refrains from, to paraphrase Harlan Ellison, "raping, killing, and eating a student--not necessarily in that order," he or she is pretty much immune to any seriously negative repercussions.

As you might have guessed, this semester Yours Truly is due for evaluation.  On the whole, I have no objection to the process: I think I do a decent job, and I don't mind other faculty coming in and seeing what I do.  I don't mind the constructive criticism--

--except when the constructive criticism revolves around my handwriting.  Look, I get it!  My handwriting sucks!  My 'G's look like 'Ls!  My students never tire of pointing this out to me, either!  I swear there must be a clause in the Americans with Disabilities Act covering egregiously bad handwriting and protecting its sufferers from discrimination, so, if you don't want me to file a school-district-bankrupting lawsuit, Leave! Me! Alone!

Where was I?  Constructive criticism, right!  I don't mind that.  I know that people never stop learning and improving, and any tips or suggestions to point me ever upward are welcome.  Furthermore, it's always nice to see what students have to say, as it's almost always positive.  Sure, they may be saying nice things out of a sense of fear or obligation--even though the surveys are anonymous--but overall I think the students are sincere.  I have enough students who have taken multiple classes with me to make me think I'm not that intolerable.

There is, however, one part of the evaluation process that I dread: the self-evaluation.  I know I'm not alone in this, either.  So many of my colleagues complain about this part of the process.  I'm not sure why, either.  It's not modesty: If anybody asks me who the best English teacher in the college is, I quickly and un-self-consciously reply, "Aside from me?"  And why wouldn't I?  Mind you, I would fully expect any of my colleagues to do the same--that is, answer with their own names if asked the same question.  If you don't think you're the best--or well on your way--then why not?  Nor, conversely, is it a reluctance to name areas where I can improve.  As I mention above, I fully accept the idea that I will continue improving until I quit or die--or maybe not even then!

I think what bothers me is the sense that I have to somewhat justify my life.  I've just been observed by a couple of fully qualified critics: Let them tell me what I'm doing right and wrong.  I'm fine with that.  There's something more than a little Maoist about the whole self-criticism regime mandated by these evaluation processes.

Shaken Up

I'm too shaken up by the death of Brian on "Family Guy" to post anything of value.  Or maybe I'm just being lazy.  Look, it's almost the end of the semester! I'm swamped! Don't judge me!

I'll see you tomorrow.

What Shall It Profit a Newspaper If It Shall Gain Multiple Pulitzer Prizes, and Lose a Subscriber?

When I wake up on Sunday mornings and ponder whether to get up or burrow back under the covers, what pushes me toward the former is the thought of my New York Times, neatly folded in its blue plastic wrapper, waiting for me down on my doorstep.  As I wrestle out of bed--into which I often find myself stapled by a bevy of cats weighing down the corners of my blanket--I eagerly anticipate pouring myself a cup of coffee and separating the Times' sections for the day's reading: first sports, then the front page, then the Sunday Review, and, time permitting, Arts and Leisure.  Ah, Sundays!

All of which is to say, when I open the door and do not see the familiar blue wrapper, I feel more than a little peeved!  And so I have felt for roughly the last four weeks!  For some reason, the paper has not been delivered, and I am reduced to reading the paper off of my computer screen like an animal!

In the grand scheme of things, I realize this hardly qualifies as a tragedy.  Indeed, I come out ahead on the deal: I get a credit for the undelivered paper, but, as a subscriber in good standing, I have access to the online edition--access for which I am effectively not paying, as I keep getting credits for undelivered papers.  Still, the little rituals of life can be among life's greatest pleasures.  And the small deprivation of an undelivered Sunday paper starts the week off on a sour note.