It's All about the Fundamentals

Tonight, the final game of the 2014 NCAA Women's Basketball Championship features an unprecedented matchup: The two teams, the University of Connecticut Lady Huskies and the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. . .Women. . . . The Harridans?  I don't know.  Where was I?

Oh, yeah.  The two teams both come into the final game undefeated!  They boast a combined record of something like 1,645-0.  This has never happened in the history of college basketball--men's or women's.  Incredibly impressive. . . . And yet.

How seriously can one take a sport where the head coach of one of the teams in the championship game is named Muffet McGraw?

Seriously.

Absurdity Du Jour

This is the world in which we live: Dr. Vivek H. Murthy, President Obama's nominee for surgeon general, faces major opposition in his quest for senate confirmation.  Not because he is unqualified, not because he is a bad doctor--not even because he has a funny name.  No, Dr. Murthy faces opposition because he holds radical views on gun control.  Or, at any rate, because he holds...views on gun control: You know, he has espoused those crazy, "fringe" ideas like limiting ammunition purchases or mandating safety training for gun owners.

This has the National Rifle Association up in arms (sorry), and promising to punish any senator (read: vulnerable Democratic senator) who has the temerity to support Dr. Murthy's nomination.  In response, the Obama administration is considering delaying the confirmation vote until after the midterm elections, or even withdrawing the nomination altogether.

Now, forget for the moment the fact that the surgeon general, whatever his personal opinions, has effectively zero authority over enacting or enforcing gun laws.  Focus instead on the apparent fact that, for the NRA, the only acceptable nominee for surgeon general would be one who believes that gun owners should not be required to know how to use their guns safely.

This is the world we're living in.

Senior Moments

As the NCAA basketball season winds down, and March marches inexorably toward madness, many colleges are hosting "Senior Nights" at ball games.  These games, typically the final home game of the regular season, offer fans the chance to honor and bid farewell to those players who will soon be graduating.  But these days, virtually all of the best players--those destined for NBA superstardom--leave college as underclassmen; many are "one and done" players, serving their obligatory (since an NBA rule change) freshman-year sentence in relatively luxurious serfdom at a major university, before declaring for the draft and reaping millions come June.  So, if you think about it--and I do--those seniors everyone is bidding adieu are almost inevitably not stars, not frontline players, not likely to grace the cover of Sports Illustrated or the back pages of your local tabloids any time soon.  They are talented, to be sure, but not quite talented enough to rise to the top tier of their field.  One cannot help but wonder--and perhaps worry a little--about how these young men and women will fare once they depart the cozy confines of their university gymnasia, as highly educated (we can only hope!) members of the common herd.

On the radio this morning, I heard a commercial for a well-known gecko-ridden auto insurance company, in which a prospective customer's "conscience" exhorted him to switch to this particular insurance company, on the grounds that doing so would save the consumer significant amounts of cash.  This is wrong!, I thought: The job of the conscience is to help us discern right from wrong, to provide us with moral and ethical guidance, not to serve as some sort of mental financial consultant.  The conscience is the Jiminy Cricket to our Pinocchio, the Watson to our Sherlock--or Wilson to our House, if you prefer.  Let our left brains sort through the minutiae of dollars and sense, but leave us our consciences to help us navigate the rocky shoals of soul-endangering temptation!  Do not cheapen this precious characteristic which may, it is no exaggeration to say, be the very thing that separates humanity from the baser inhabitants of our fallen world!  And then, in a flash, it hit me:  I am probably thinking much too hard about this.

The Solipsist Picks the Oscars (Yes, I Know!)

Sorry, sorry, sorry.  I know I'm a little late, but I didn't want to leave Solipsist Nation without its annual Oscar picks.  As usual, I have seen none of the nominate movies.  Nevertheless, through a combination of careful review of critical responses to the nominations, a statistical analysis of domestic and international box office results, and a cursory reading of this morning's paper, I am confident in my ability to predict winners.  To wit:

BEST PICTURE: Despite the overwhelmingly critical response to "American Hustle" and the popularity of "Gravity," I have to go with "Twelve Years a Slave," Steve McQueen's (no relation) epic tale of, I'm guessing, a guy who was a slave for twelve years.

BEST ACTOR: Matthew McConaughey (or, as John Travolta would say, Michael Mozaleen) deserves to win this award, as he is currently the best actor on television in what is currently the best show on television, "True Detective."  So I'm picking him.

BEST ACTRESS: Based on the fact that Cate Blanchett (Clark Brazent) has clearly garnered more votes than any of the other nominees, I suspect that she will beat out contenders like Amy Adams (Ahmed Ajams) and Meryl Streep (Marcel Speerce)--the latter of whom was not even IN a movie this year, but, you know, she's Meryl Streep, and, by law, she must be nominated.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Despite winning the award last night, Lupita Nyong'o (Louisa Reynzo--and you know you're in trouble when your Travoltafied name sounds MORE normal than your real one) will, I think, ultimately lose to June Squibb (Jude Smoith). This is my "upset special."

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Finally, Jared Leto (Jed Lopeez), having been named "Best Supporting Actor" last night, will win the award.  Next year, Leto will win "Best Actress"--have you seen that guy?  He's beautiful!

Put on a Friendly Face

The other day, a student spoke about how "unwelcoming" a college could be.  She spoke of being made to feel like a nuisance when she sought help from college staff members.  Then someone else--an administrator, this time--talked about how he once, as a sort of experiment, decided to stand in line at the Admissions counter to get a sense of what the experience was like.  He described being struck by the preponderance of signage advising people what they couldn't do: "Please end all cell phone conversations before speaking to the clerical staff"; "Do not place anything on the counter"; "Please do not tease or feed the financial aid representatives."  I kid about that last one, but you get the idea.

The student then went on to describe how, from her point of view, so much of the communication she experienced at the college took this kind of negative or domineering tone:  the typical class syllabus, for example.  Now, a syllabus is, essentially, a contract between an instructor and his class.  It outlines what the course will cover, as well as the expectations for both students and faculty.  As such, the syllabus must be fairly extensive and formal.  And this formality can certainly be intimidating: "Assignments must be handed in on the dates indicated. No late assignments will be accepted, and students will receive a grade of '0' for any assignment not handed in": "All written assignments must follow MLA format.  Any papers that fail to adhere to MLA format will receive a failing grade": "Students who miss more than six hours of class will be dropped from the class."

Again, as a quasi-legal document, the course syllabus must serve its contractual obligation and clearly delineate the rules and expectations.  But what the student said got me thinking about why (or whether) an official document had to be so draconian sounding.  What would a "softer" syllabus sound like?  "In order for me [i.e., the instructor] to give you helpful feedback on your work, you need to make sure that you hand work in on time.  Unfortunately, due to the limited time we have over the course of the semester, I cannot accept late work"; "In this class, you will learn how to document sources properly using MLA format.  After you learn these techniques, you will need to apply them to your formal written assignments for this--and other--classes"; "We cover a lot of information in our class meetings, so, if you miss more than six hours of class, you will not be able to do all the necessary work to achieve a passing grade.  In that event, I may drop you from the class so that you do not receive a failing grade."

A difference without a distinction?  Possibly.  Still, it pays for an organization to think about the minor variations possible in the ways it interacts with its clientele. Small gestures in the service of better presentation may make a big difference to the customer.

Olympic Musings.

Every Olympics brings new events.  Often, these are merely old events with the addition of a new gender category, e.g., men's rhythmic gymnastics, or with an added element of synchronicity, e.g., synchronized pole-vaulting.  I'm kidding about that last one.  I think.  OK, maybe not.

Anyway, this year's Sochi Olympics feature the debut of women's ski-jumping.  To which I must ask, Why wasn't this a thing already?  Were women somehow more susceptible to the effects of gravity--or would it be "less"--I'm not even sure where the concern would lie.  I can't imagine that women would have any greater or lesser difficulty in hurtling through the air than men.  What took so long?

And then, there is also the question of why some sports need to be divided by gender.  Sure, I can understand why women don't compete directly against men in sports like hockey or wrestling--not that that wouldn't be fun.  But do we really need to have separate men's and women's teams for curling?  Couldn't we just get the best men and the best women to compete together in what is, after all, a truly idiotic sport?