I decided to make the blog classier by giving it its own domain name. It can now be found at
http://www.redramekin.com
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Baked Eggs
Inspired by my new favorite food blog, 101cookbooks.com, I decided to experiment with baked eggs this morning. We used oiled ramekins, lined them with bread (whole wheat pita for me, sourdough toast for Jonathan), piled in a few diced tomatoes and onions, seasoned with parsley, salt, and pepper, and then plopped an egg on top. We baked them at 425F for about 10 minutes, just until the yoke was set. They were fantastic. Similar in gooey deliciousness to poached eggs, but with all the flavors of a tasty omelette.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Pumpkin Biscotti
Soon, Mia and I will be posting to a food blog. Until then, however, I will post food-related things here. Tonight I, alone, and by myself, with no help whatsoever, made pumpkin biscotti, using a slightly modified recipe from Simply Recipes.
Ingredients:
• 2 1/2 cups of white whole wheat flour
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 teaspoon of baking powder
• 1 teaspoon of cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg
• Pinch of ginger
• Pinch of cloves
• Pinch of salt
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup of pumpkin purée
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
-some raisins, chocolate chips, and/or walnuts
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift together the flour, salt, sugar, baking powder, and spices into a large bowl.
2. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, pumpkin purée, and vanilla extract. Pour the pumpkin mixture into the flour mixture. Give it a rough stir to generally incorporate the ingredients, the dough will be crumbly.
3. Flour your hands and a clean kitchen surface and lightly knead the dough. Add the raisins, walnuts, and chips. Lightly grease a baking sheet or line it with parchment paper. Form the dough into a large log, roughly about 15-20 inches by 6-7 inches. The loaves should be relatively flat, only about 1/2 inch high. Bake for 22-30 minutes at 350 F, until the center is firm to the touch.
4. Let biscotti cool for 15 minutes and then using a serrated knife cut into 1 inch wide pieces. Turn the oven to 300 F and bake for an additional 15-20 minutes. Cool completely.
Biscotti may be still a tad moist and chewy, so if you prefer it crisp let it sit uncovered overnight in a dry space. Serve and enjoy.
Makes approximately 15 cookies.
Ingredients:
• 2 1/2 cups of white whole wheat flour
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 teaspoon of baking powder
• 1 teaspoon of cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg
• Pinch of ginger
• Pinch of cloves
• Pinch of salt
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup of pumpkin purée
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
-some raisins, chocolate chips, and/or walnuts
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift together the flour, salt, sugar, baking powder, and spices into a large bowl.
2. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, pumpkin purée, and vanilla extract. Pour the pumpkin mixture into the flour mixture. Give it a rough stir to generally incorporate the ingredients, the dough will be crumbly.
3. Flour your hands and a clean kitchen surface and lightly knead the dough. Add the raisins, walnuts, and chips. Lightly grease a baking sheet or line it with parchment paper. Form the dough into a large log, roughly about 15-20 inches by 6-7 inches. The loaves should be relatively flat, only about 1/2 inch high. Bake for 22-30 minutes at 350 F, until the center is firm to the touch.
4. Let biscotti cool for 15 minutes and then using a serrated knife cut into 1 inch wide pieces. Turn the oven to 300 F and bake for an additional 15-20 minutes. Cool completely.
Biscotti may be still a tad moist and chewy, so if you prefer it crisp let it sit uncovered overnight in a dry space. Serve and enjoy.
Makes approximately 15 cookies.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Harvard Prepares for Faust Coronation
Walking through the yard these days, one can't miss that they're preparing for a major ceremony of some kind. Turns out its the "installation" for our new president. What has struck me, and surely others, is the imagery that the decorators have gone with. The picture I took hardly captures it - the yard is hung in hundreds of blood-red banners. Many of these banners have simple, imposing designs which I have never seen. I'll charitably liken it to the coronation ceremony in Ian McKellan's Richard III (instead of directly comparing it to Nazi rallies).
Monday, October 8, 2007
Edgeworth's Test of Interpersonally Dependent Demand
It turns out that, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, economists were very much concerned with whether or not their models should incorporate the ways in which one agent's consumption can affect another's utility. In creating a literature review for Hongyi's and my work on conspicuous consumption, I stumbled across one of the earliest empirical tests of this idea, conducted by Edgeworth himself:
The conception may be illustrated by the common supposition that at social gatherings which are cheered by alcoholic beverages the consumption of liquor per head is likely to be greater the more numerous the company. An opportunity of testing this belief is afforded by the varying size of the dinners at a certain Oxford college, whose members are thought to be susceptible to the influences of good fellowship.Finding that the dinner's population had no effect on wine drunk per person, Edgeworth concluded that indirect, interpersonal demand effects had no merit, and he never revisited the concept.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Tradesports' Take on The Most Electable Candidate
Tradesports gives us two different odds - the odds of any given candidate winning her primary, and the odds of any given candidate winning the presidency. I believe that (correct me if I'm wrong), we can apply the definition of conditional probability to calculate the probability of any candidate's winning conditional on winning the primary to see who is the most "electable." Here are the results:
for the Suckpublicans:
Giuliani: 41.2%
Thompson: 37.5
Romney: 34.6
McCain: 50 (!)
and for the Suckicrats:
Clinton: 70%
Obama: 48.5
Edwards: 43.1
Gore: 70.4 (!)
I leave analysis of these numbers to my far-too-long-blog-starved readers.
for the Suckpublicans:
Giuliani: 41.2%
Thompson: 37.5
Romney: 34.6
McCain: 50 (!)
and for the Suckicrats:
Clinton: 70%
Obama: 48.5
Edwards: 43.1
Gore: 70.4 (!)
I leave analysis of these numbers to my far-too-long-blog-starved readers.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Russia III: St. Petersburg
After days of lazy cruising, it was a shock to hear the intercom wake us up at 6 in the AM so that we could eat another bland breakfast before heading to our "exclusive" tour of the Hermitage. Judging by the size and makeup of the line outside the Hermitage, the exclusivity was characterized as excluding any and all non-tourists who had no interest in seeing the museum anyway. The Hermitage, which is housed in 5 separate old buildings, the main one being the Winter Palace of Catherine the Great, is impressive beyond description. It has a larger collexion than the Louvre (according to them at least), and more gallery space. It features all of the big names of Europe, from the 15th century on. Pictured below is the main view of the Winter Palace, though you actually enter it from the other side:
We then walked around looking at monuments and stuff. We had a $10, 5-course lunch at the fabled Tinkoff Brewery (fabled because Chris Hall once brought a 6-pack of Tinkoff from Bevmo on a summer house-boating trip, and it was consumed with pleasure by all), and we stopped at the "Bronze Horseman" monument presented by Catherine in memory of Peter the Great:
Russia is, above all things, a strange place. Not only did we see people walking their pet bear cubs on the city streets (honest to God), but we also saw this:
What, you say, a tall ship? That's not so strange. Every self-respecting port city in the US has a tall ship. But wait - this is no tall ship at all! It's a combination fancy restaurant (the most expensive in the city) and fancy gym, designed to look like a tall ship! Why? Who cares?
Like Venice, St. Petersburg is built on water and swamp. As such, it has a bunch of canals. And you can take boat tours, at cost. The bridges you pass under are so low that if you're standing up, you can get killed. The same imbecilic woman on our tour had to be shouted at at least 10 times because she was trying to photograph something behind the ship just as death was looming up from in front. Naturally I did not take part in the shouting. Here's a red boat and some buildings:
The obvious place to close this series on my adventures is with what the Russians refer to as the 8th Wonder of the World. First came the Pyramids at Giza, the great Colossus, and the elegant Hanging Gardens of Babylon, unfortunately lost forever to the sands of time (except the pyramids). But luckily, the Russians contributed, what, to their mind, is at least as impressive as all of those (possibly all of those put together): the AMBER ROOM.
Like most things in Russia, the amber room was far from all it was cracked up to be. It is a room about the size of the living room at 20 Ellery, and its defining feature is that instead of wall paper, the walls are covered in little bits of amber. But the problem is, it's not a big enough room, and amber isn't cool or expensive enough (the restorations after WWII, when the Nazis ganked the original amber, cost a piddling $9 million in today's dollars) to admit a comparison to the Great Pyramids.
Luckily, instead of taking "Delta" back to the US, we took a legitimate airline, Lufthansa. Frankfurt's airport has gotta be one of the biggest in the world. It took a bus and train combination 30 minutes of constant movement to get us from our landing gate to our flight to SFO. 21 hours after leaving St. Petersburg, I stepped off the the 747, back in these United States, and more appreciative than ever of the freedom and bounty that this great country provides us with every day.
We then walked around looking at monuments and stuff. We had a $10, 5-course lunch at the fabled Tinkoff Brewery (fabled because Chris Hall once brought a 6-pack of Tinkoff from Bevmo on a summer house-boating trip, and it was consumed with pleasure by all), and we stopped at the "Bronze Horseman" monument presented by Catherine in memory of Peter the Great:
Russia is, above all things, a strange place. Not only did we see people walking their pet bear cubs on the city streets (honest to God), but we also saw this:
What, you say, a tall ship? That's not so strange. Every self-respecting port city in the US has a tall ship. But wait - this is no tall ship at all! It's a combination fancy restaurant (the most expensive in the city) and fancy gym, designed to look like a tall ship! Why? Who cares?
Like Venice, St. Petersburg is built on water and swamp. As such, it has a bunch of canals. And you can take boat tours, at cost. The bridges you pass under are so low that if you're standing up, you can get killed. The same imbecilic woman on our tour had to be shouted at at least 10 times because she was trying to photograph something behind the ship just as death was looming up from in front. Naturally I did not take part in the shouting. Here's a red boat and some buildings:
The obvious place to close this series on my adventures is with what the Russians refer to as the 8th Wonder of the World. First came the Pyramids at Giza, the great Colossus, and the elegant Hanging Gardens of Babylon, unfortunately lost forever to the sands of time (except the pyramids). But luckily, the Russians contributed, what, to their mind, is at least as impressive as all of those (possibly all of those put together): the AMBER ROOM.Like most things in Russia, the amber room was far from all it was cracked up to be. It is a room about the size of the living room at 20 Ellery, and its defining feature is that instead of wall paper, the walls are covered in little bits of amber. But the problem is, it's not a big enough room, and amber isn't cool or expensive enough (the restorations after WWII, when the Nazis ganked the original amber, cost a piddling $9 million in today's dollars) to admit a comparison to the Great Pyramids.
Luckily, instead of taking "Delta" back to the US, we took a legitimate airline, Lufthansa. Frankfurt's airport has gotta be one of the biggest in the world. It took a bus and train combination 30 minutes of constant movement to get us from our landing gate to our flight to SFO. 21 hours after leaving St. Petersburg, I stepped off the the 747, back in these United States, and more appreciative than ever of the freedom and bounty that this great country provides us with every day.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Russia II: Cruising on the Volga
As many of you know, I was confused as to how a boat might proceed from Moscow to St. Petersburg in a timely way, because no rivers really connect the two cities. Luckily, Peter the Great realized this to be a problem, and he began what ended up being a massive construction project to dig a canal from the Moscow River to the Volga. By the 1930s, the last of 18 locks was installed to make the route highly navigable. The locks are filthy cesspools that breed mosquitoes, so one must make sure to close one's cabin windows before bed every night.
Unsurprisingly, the damming of the Volga created some reservoirs. Judging by the number of "sunken churches" and other sunken things, the Soviets specifically targeted only interesting and beautiful towns (as most of the route is completely void of humanity). Here's the most famous sunken church, which we saw on our first full day of cruising:
Our first stop along the way was in the town of Uglich. Uglich has 35 churches for its small population, but, as I discovered, only one of them (the one the tourguides take you to) would avoid being condemned as unsafe in a more civilized country. Pictured below is my Russian "friend" (it was not easy to communicate with her, but she represented the best of a bad situation) Ekatajarina in front of the second-best kept church in all of Uglich
Uglich has 40% unemployment, which might help explain why many of the overgrown dirt-lots were populated, at 10am, with middle aged men drinking vodka straight out of the bottle. "Kate," as we were encouraged to call her, did not think this particularly remarkable.
We next stopped in "Yaroslavl," where we saw more churches and stuff. 'Nuff said. Day 3 was spent "cruising," so I sat, alternately reading and rocking back and forth in my chair mumbling to myself, to pass the time. (NB: I almost lost it at the end of the trip when someone said that they hadn't had any time for reading on the entire trip, but then I decided that would not be a productive thing to do).
The most interesting stop on our cruise was an island whose name I don't remember. It is famous for its wooden churches. Pictured below is the Summer Church (too cold to use in the winter, too big to heat I guess), which was originally built without the use in construction of a single nail:
Here's another view, along with some of my boatmates. The dude in the foreground is so old he still uses a film camera.
Next day we went to Mandrogi. Oh Mandrogi. How to even describe it. Perhaps the best thing to do is for you to Google this place for a few minutes. Most telling is that all of the signs, from the Vodka Museum to the Moose Farm, are written only in English. We did have mediocre Russian barbecue though - and it smelled fantastic.
During the cruising portion of the trip, I read The Brothers Karamazzov (highly recommended), Thomas Pynchon's "V" (only recommended for those who practice flagellation), and Mark Twain's "Roughing It," which is classic. But honestly, I can't really read for more than 10 hours a day - so how did I spend the other empty hours of the day? I slept. I was in bed for like 16 hours a day basically.
Next, perhaps after my backpacking trip, you can look forward to Russia III: St. Petersburg, the final entry in this trilogy.
Unsurprisingly, the damming of the Volga created some reservoirs. Judging by the number of "sunken churches" and other sunken things, the Soviets specifically targeted only interesting and beautiful towns (as most of the route is completely void of humanity). Here's the most famous sunken church, which we saw on our first full day of cruising:
Our first stop along the way was in the town of Uglich. Uglich has 35 churches for its small population, but, as I discovered, only one of them (the one the tourguides take you to) would avoid being condemned as unsafe in a more civilized country. Pictured below is my Russian "friend" (it was not easy to communicate with her, but she represented the best of a bad situation) Ekatajarina in front of the second-best kept church in all of Uglich
Uglich has 40% unemployment, which might help explain why many of the overgrown dirt-lots were populated, at 10am, with middle aged men drinking vodka straight out of the bottle. "Kate," as we were encouraged to call her, did not think this particularly remarkable.We next stopped in "Yaroslavl," where we saw more churches and stuff. 'Nuff said. Day 3 was spent "cruising," so I sat, alternately reading and rocking back and forth in my chair mumbling to myself, to pass the time. (NB: I almost lost it at the end of the trip when someone said that they hadn't had any time for reading on the entire trip, but then I decided that would not be a productive thing to do).
The most interesting stop on our cruise was an island whose name I don't remember. It is famous for its wooden churches. Pictured below is the Summer Church (too cold to use in the winter, too big to heat I guess), which was originally built without the use in construction of a single nail:
Here's another view, along with some of my boatmates. The dude in the foreground is so old he still uses a film camera.
Next day we went to Mandrogi. Oh Mandrogi. How to even describe it. Perhaps the best thing to do is for you to Google this place for a few minutes. Most telling is that all of the signs, from the Vodka Museum to the Moose Farm, are written only in English. We did have mediocre Russian barbecue though - and it smelled fantastic.During the cruising portion of the trip, I read The Brothers Karamazzov (highly recommended), Thomas Pynchon's "V" (only recommended for those who practice flagellation), and Mark Twain's "Roughing It," which is classic. But honestly, I can't really read for more than 10 hours a day - so how did I spend the other empty hours of the day? I slept. I was in bed for like 16 hours a day basically.
Next, perhaps after my backpacking trip, you can look forward to Russia III: St. Petersburg, the final entry in this trilogy.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Russia I: Moscow
We arrived in Moscow at 10:30am. The flight brought us over green hills dotted with enormous and beautiful mansions - the summer homes of the new Russian super-upper-class. Because the ship, which was our floating hotel for the whole trip, was not open until 3pm, the completely unprepared "Intrav" tour guides brought us to a "MegaMall." For 3 hours. Its most interesting feature was a supermarket that was, quite literally, easily the size of the largest Walmart I have ever been in. Criminally, I did not photograph the beer aisle (actually, there were two beer aisles). It was not only as long as the eye can see, but beer was shelved to at least 30 feet above the floor. Capitalism has brought with it many choices for Russians in terms of food, but, unfortunately, they still have almost no selection of fresh fruit and vegetables.
For the next few days, we were led around by the hand by tourguides to see the various tourist attractions that Moscow has to offer. Some of the more infirm members of our group would go back to the ship after a busy morning of riding the bus. Here I am with my grandmother (both the oldest and most sprightly of all the passengers besides myself) in famous Red Square. St. Basil's Cathedral, built with all those colors back in the 16th century, is visible behind:
We saw a bunch of churches, none of which really piqued my interest more than St. Basil's. Lots of onion domes, lots of not-very-shiny gold on those domes, etc. They call all the churches "cathedrals," even though none is very large. I couldn't quite figure out how the hierarchy works in the Russian Orthodox Church, but I didn't try very hard.
The tour guides brought us to "Gym" (pronounced 'goom'), which used to be the only shopping center in all of Moscow. Now, it's the most expensive shopping center in Moscow, which, trust me, is saying a lot. I hear that Let's Go has declared Moscow to be the most expensive city in the world, and I believe it to be true. Our guides said that, in the center of the city, apartment space sells for as little as $30,000 per square meter. Check out this display in a store window in Gym (the speech bubble does NOT explain the dog...)
Evidence of capitalism's influence was available all along the main streets in Moscow, where in addition to McDonald's, we saw a TGI Friday's, with "TGI Friday's" spelled out phonetically in Cyrillic (I apologize for the blurriness)
"Pectopah" is pronounced "Restoran" - this will make sense to anyone who knows Greek, but it mystified most of the people on our tour. The most confused rectified the situation by falling asleep on the bus, and making as little attempt as possible to learn anything about the language.
By far the most notable thing about Moscow, and the note on which I will close this post, is the subway. It was built in the '20s and '30s as a testament to the awesomeness of the regime, and it is really something else. My pictures don't really capture how beautiful, clean, and elegant each station is - and each station is different in some interesting way. Lots of sculptures, original paintings, floor designs, etc. And between 6am and 8pm, the train on the main circle line comes at least every 40 seconds. Guaranteed.
Tomorrow you can look forward to "Russia II: Cruising on the Volga"!
For the next few days, we were led around by the hand by tourguides to see the various tourist attractions that Moscow has to offer. Some of the more infirm members of our group would go back to the ship after a busy morning of riding the bus. Here I am with my grandmother (both the oldest and most sprightly of all the passengers besides myself) in famous Red Square. St. Basil's Cathedral, built with all those colors back in the 16th century, is visible behind:
We saw a bunch of churches, none of which really piqued my interest more than St. Basil's. Lots of onion domes, lots of not-very-shiny gold on those domes, etc. They call all the churches "cathedrals," even though none is very large. I couldn't quite figure out how the hierarchy works in the Russian Orthodox Church, but I didn't try very hard.
The tour guides brought us to "Gym" (pronounced 'goom'), which used to be the only shopping center in all of Moscow. Now, it's the most expensive shopping center in Moscow, which, trust me, is saying a lot. I hear that Let's Go has declared Moscow to be the most expensive city in the world, and I believe it to be true. Our guides said that, in the center of the city, apartment space sells for as little as $30,000 per square meter. Check out this display in a store window in Gym (the speech bubble does NOT explain the dog...)
Evidence of capitalism's influence was available all along the main streets in Moscow, where in addition to McDonald's, we saw a TGI Friday's, with "TGI Friday's" spelled out phonetically in Cyrillic (I apologize for the blurriness)
"Pectopah" is pronounced "Restoran" - this will make sense to anyone who knows Greek, but it mystified most of the people on our tour. The most confused rectified the situation by falling asleep on the bus, and making as little attempt as possible to learn anything about the language.By far the most notable thing about Moscow, and the note on which I will close this post, is the subway. It was built in the '20s and '30s as a testament to the awesomeness of the regime, and it is really something else. My pictures don't really capture how beautiful, clean, and elegant each station is - and each station is different in some interesting way. Lots of sculptures, original paintings, floor designs, etc. And between 6am and 8pm, the train on the main circle line comes at least every 40 seconds. Guaranteed.
Tomorrow you can look forward to "Russia II: Cruising on the Volga"!
Back From the Dead
Hello gentle readers, I am returned from Russia. I will be posting several short descriptions with pictures for anyone interested (in chronological order). I decided not to overwhelm anyone by writing all of my posts at once. Please let me know if anything of note happened while I was out of touch.
Friday, July 20, 2007
For Those of You Who Are Skeptical
Here is a link to an LATimes article that confirms claims of a coffee whose beans are selected first by wild civets (cat-like mammals), who eat the beans. The processed beans are reclaimed from the civets' solid waste...the resulting beans sell for $600/pound. Apparently, the civet's digestive tract removes some of the chemicals that make coffee bitter and harsh. However, the process also removes some of the caffeine.
Fall Courses I'm Looking At
I noticed that the course guide has been updated, so I'm making a list for the coming semester.
- Ec 2061: Dynamic Games and Contracts. Susan Athey's new course, which should snuggle nicely with Oleg's class.
- Ec 2140: Econometric Methods. This way I can say I am taking two classes from a husband and wife pair of professors.
- Ec 2723: Asset Pricing. Everyone must endure this trial by fire...from what I understand.
- Ec 2800b: Urban and Social Economics. Taught by the dark lourd himself. But this conflicts with metrics...such giznank.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Unusual Airplane Disasters
I inherited from my dad an obsession with airplane disasters and crashes. Today I discovered that planecrashinfo has a page dedicated to strange disasters. Among more recent disasters are an Aeroflot crash caused by the pilot's allowing his children to take turns at the controls, a Peruvian plane that hit the water because its crucial sensors were covered with duct tape by a negligent maintenance worker, and the following amusing incident on a British Airways flight(it's ok to be amused because no one was seriously hurt):
On a flight from Birmingham, England to Malaga, Spain, at FL 173, a large section of windshield fell away from the aircraft. The decompression pulled the captain out from under his seatbelt. Despite trying to hold onto the yoke, the captain was sucked out into the opening. A steward in the cockpit was able to grab hold of his legs. Another steward was able to strap himself into the vacant seat and aid in holding onto the captain's legs. The copilot wearing full restraints made an emergency landing at Southampton. The captain remained half way out of the aircraft for 15 minutes and suffered only frostbite and some fractures. Improper bolts used to replace the windshield two days earlier resulted in the accident.
Removable Tattoos
Yahoo News reports on a new kind of tattoo ink that, while permanent, is much easier to remove than the usual ink (it's "combustible"). Assuming this new ink is indistinguishable from the old, how will this affect the market for tattoos? My guess is that tattoos are generally sold as costly signals of commitment, and as such, the availability of cheap counterfeits will hurt the tattoo market. Perhaps branding, which I can only assume is impossible to remove, will have a newfound popularity that extends beyond the NFL...
Saturday, July 14, 2007
iPhone in a Blender Video
Another in the long line of "Will It Blend?" videos. I want to know where the generous funding comes from...
Will It Blend?
Current Draft of My Bio Paragraph
This is for the bio book for school next year...please let me know if it's too pretentious. Or not pretentious enough. Maybe shift it to the third person?
I was born in Palo Alto, CA, and I split my formative years between the Bay Area and New Haven County, the pizza capital of the world. I went to high school at Hopkins, in New Haven, and then came to Harvard as an undergrad. I majored in economics. My academic interests include evolutionary psychology, evolutionary theory, behavioral economics, the economics of happiness, applied game theory, applied microeconomics, and the theory of social networks. My numeriferous extracurricular activities include watching 3 hours of Red Sox baseball a day, cooking and barbecuing/braai'ing, playing tennis and squash, and pleonasm. I try my best to get people to call me Jonathan instead of Jon.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Attractiveness in Mauritania
I believe that it is commonly said that some features of women, like symmetry, breasts, and youthfulness, are uniformly considered attractive across time and space, while taste for heft and skin tone vary. The more expensive of fat/thin and white/tan (at least among white people) is usually the more attractive.
The NYTimes reports that women in Mauritania are so desperate to plump up that some of them are force fed like geese in a foie gras factory.
The NYTimes reports that women in Mauritania are so desperate to plump up that some of them are force fed like geese in a foie gras factory.
Now Mauritania’s government is out to change that. In recent years, television commercials and official pronouncements have promoted a new message: being fat leads to diabetes, heart problems, high blood pressure and other woes. The joggers outside the Olympic stadium testify to their impact: Until lately, a Mauritanian woman in jogging shoes was roughly as common as a camel in stiletto heels.The government isn't exactly tackling this problem with creativity. A woman interviewed has it more right, I think:
“Men want women to be fat, and so they are fat,” she said.My question is, when will the equilibrium switch like it did many years ago in the US? Is there some dynamic path in which the arms race for fatness doesn't end? Force feeding is suggestive to me that, instead of the healthy and discontinuous equilibrium switch to skinnyness being attractive, we are seeing a race for more and more expensive versions of fatness. Maybe I'll attempt to write a paper about this, or at least find the paper that's already been written.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Final Day
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
Rudely awakened at 6:30, I was again able to pass out in the passenger seat as we flew towards beautiful Crater Lake National Park. At almost 2,000 feet deep, Crater Lake is the deepest lake in these United States. All pictures are safely on Friedman's camera, so you will have to wait for those. We had a delicious breakfast at the Crater Lake Inn, a surprisingly snooty place in which the lowest servants are African American, the mid-level people are foreign, and those in charge are white. I had two scrambled eggs, ham, potatoes, and a biscuit, along with 3 cups of weak but delicious coffee and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Knowing that California's gas taxes are the highest this side of France, we wanted to gassify in Oregon. But, like New Jersey, Oregon seems to have a law requiring that all gas stations are full service, and, also like New Jersey, for reasons I do not fully understand, this makes all gas stations in Oregon sketchy and crowded. Pay at the pump does not seem to have penetrated this final frontier. Perhaps our Oregonian friend, Mr. Nosko, can fill us in on this. Just over the border into CA, we found an un-manned pay-at-the-pump station, where we poured gallon upon gallon of plus-grade fuel into the unusually thirsty B M Trouble-U. We managed to drive 500 miles in the state of Oregon without a single refueling.
We drove past the Mount Shasta Trinity, easily the equal of Mount Rainier in drama and almost the equal in height, over two bridges that span man-made Lake Shasta (home of summer house boating trips), and we even managed to find the famous "Auto Mall Parkway" shortcut. Last time I took this route I made the mistake of following signs to the Dumbarton Bridge (the very bridge we wanted to take), which take you on a road neither fast nor scenic that winds forever through the hills.
We got to Palo Alto in time to make the 8pm showing of LIVE FREE, OR DIE HARD. See the movie. Unless you're Rick Townsend, you'll find it enjoyable.
And with that, like all things good and bad, the trip had to come to an end. Friedman was off to Berkeley, and I was off to a good night's sleep. I'm showered and shaved, the clothes are in the washing machine, the poodles are sated with milkbones, and I am ready to move on to whatever next adventure the Good Lord has in store for me. Thank y'all for reading. I'm not sayin' goodnight...just sayin'.
Rudely awakened at 6:30, I was again able to pass out in the passenger seat as we flew towards beautiful Crater Lake National Park. At almost 2,000 feet deep, Crater Lake is the deepest lake in these United States. All pictures are safely on Friedman's camera, so you will have to wait for those. We had a delicious breakfast at the Crater Lake Inn, a surprisingly snooty place in which the lowest servants are African American, the mid-level people are foreign, and those in charge are white. I had two scrambled eggs, ham, potatoes, and a biscuit, along with 3 cups of weak but delicious coffee and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Knowing that California's gas taxes are the highest this side of France, we wanted to gassify in Oregon. But, like New Jersey, Oregon seems to have a law requiring that all gas stations are full service, and, also like New Jersey, for reasons I do not fully understand, this makes all gas stations in Oregon sketchy and crowded. Pay at the pump does not seem to have penetrated this final frontier. Perhaps our Oregonian friend, Mr. Nosko, can fill us in on this. Just over the border into CA, we found an un-manned pay-at-the-pump station, where we poured gallon upon gallon of plus-grade fuel into the unusually thirsty B M Trouble-U. We managed to drive 500 miles in the state of Oregon without a single refueling.
We drove past the Mount Shasta Trinity, easily the equal of Mount Rainier in drama and almost the equal in height, over two bridges that span man-made Lake Shasta (home of summer house boating trips), and we even managed to find the famous "Auto Mall Parkway" shortcut. Last time I took this route I made the mistake of following signs to the Dumbarton Bridge (the very bridge we wanted to take), which take you on a road neither fast nor scenic that winds forever through the hills.
We got to Palo Alto in time to make the 8pm showing of LIVE FREE, OR DIE HARD. See the movie. Unless you're Rick Townsend, you'll find it enjoyable.
And with that, like all things good and bad, the trip had to come to an end. Friedman was off to Berkeley, and I was off to a good night's sleep. I'm showered and shaved, the clothes are in the washing machine, the poodles are sated with milkbones, and I am ready to move on to whatever next adventure the Good Lord has in store for me. Thank y'all for reading. I'm not sayin' goodnight...just sayin'.
Day 15
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 4
I was not pleased when Friedman woke me up after 5 hours of sleep. In fact, face in pillow, I demanded to be reminded why waking up so early was entirely necessary, and I did not find his explanation satisfactory (the roads are "slow"). I thusly fell instantly asleep in the car, and napped peacefully until we arrived at the Hoh Rain Forest National Park. We took a wheelchair accessible stroll through the forest, pausing to photograph this naked shaft of a tree:
as well as this more representative offering:
The park gets more than 500 inches of rain per year. Ca c'est beaucoup. Then we puttered down 101 for a while, Friedman getting more and more frustrated with the route, until we busted over to I-5 and made haste for Eugene. Eugene is, apparently, the running capital of the US, and so naturally we stayed the night at an apartment being temporarily occupied by a former National Champion of the 1500m. This former champ, Andy, joined us for the Eugene Emeralds game (won, like all the minor league games we went to, by the visiting team, in this case the 0-8 team from Boise). then we shot some pool in a nearby bar with Andy and another former national champion of some race or other, Nicole.
Alas, the apartment's wireless Internet was no match for Super 8's, and I was unable to blog. My deepest and most humble apologies to those who have grown accustomed to the entertainment that I so generously provide.
I was not pleased when Friedman woke me up after 5 hours of sleep. In fact, face in pillow, I demanded to be reminded why waking up so early was entirely necessary, and I did not find his explanation satisfactory (the roads are "slow"). I thusly fell instantly asleep in the car, and napped peacefully until we arrived at the Hoh Rain Forest National Park. We took a wheelchair accessible stroll through the forest, pausing to photograph this naked shaft of a tree:
as well as this more representative offering:
The park gets more than 500 inches of rain per year. Ca c'est beaucoup. Then we puttered down 101 for a while, Friedman getting more and more frustrated with the route, until we busted over to I-5 and made haste for Eugene. Eugene is, apparently, the running capital of the US, and so naturally we stayed the night at an apartment being temporarily occupied by a former National Champion of the 1500m. This former champ, Andy, joined us for the Eugene Emeralds game (won, like all the minor league games we went to, by the visiting team, in this case the 0-8 team from Boise). then we shot some pool in a nearby bar with Andy and another former national champion of some race or other, Nicole.Alas, the apartment's wireless Internet was no match for Super 8's, and I was unable to blog. My deepest and most humble apologies to those who have grown accustomed to the entertainment that I so generously provide.
Day 14
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 4
Friedman's measure might be neutral were it not for his insistence on saying "Or-a-GONE," and, even worse in my book, "NevAHHHHda."
As usual we got up suboptimally early, this time to get a close-up of Mount Rainier. The mountain stands a good 8,000 feet above any other mountain even remotely close by, so it's easy to pick out. A kindly veteran offered to take a picture of the two of us in the mountain's shadow, a picture which he guaranteed would be "frame-worthy."
We hiked over slick snow to a vista point. Friedman unwisely chose to wear his boat shoes, which not only make him look like the pretentious New England Jewish WASP some have accused him of being, but also have the unfortunate property of being approximately frictionless on the bottom. My "sherpa" shoes fared better and helped me blend in with the locals.
Having ventured 60 miles south of Seattle, our next destination was the Boeing assembly plant, 20 miles north of the city. The Boeing people told as at least 5 times that this building is the largest building in the world, by volume. Which leads me to wonder what the largest building by area is. My best guess, inspired by "Uncommon Carriers," is the UPS sorting facility in Kentucky. Each door at the end of an assembly line is the size of a football field. We got to see, but not photograph, the assembly lines for the 777 and 787 (the first 787 rolled off the line the day before we got there). Our tour guide claimed that the 777's engine is as wide around as the 737 fuselage.
It was at the Boeing factory that Friedman's most outrageous blunder occurred. We were required to put our cell phones and other electronics in a locker before the tour, and he managed to lock the slip with our combination on it in the locker. We had to sheepishly beg the nice woman behind the information desk for help when the tour concluded.
The long day had hardly begun at this point, as we headed to the Red Sox at Mariners game. Gabbard began the bottom of the first with 4 walks, a hit, and a HBP, so that was pretty much the end of that. We did, however, see Javier Lopez break the MLB pitch-speed record by a solid 5 mph:
After the game ended on three straight K's by J J Putz, we headed for the ferry that would take us to the Olympic Peninsula. Finally, and I must say I waited many days for this, Friedman got nailed with a speeding violation (68 in a 55, which was really more like 78 in a 55 before he slammed on the breaks).
The policeman, who looked exactly like Jonathan "The Gynecologist" Papelbon (incidentally, this was about as close to Jonathan Papelbon as we got since the Red Sox are so bad at life), was very nice.
Friedman's measure might be neutral were it not for his insistence on saying "Or-a-GONE," and, even worse in my book, "NevAHHHHda."
As usual we got up suboptimally early, this time to get a close-up of Mount Rainier. The mountain stands a good 8,000 feet above any other mountain even remotely close by, so it's easy to pick out. A kindly veteran offered to take a picture of the two of us in the mountain's shadow, a picture which he guaranteed would be "frame-worthy."
We hiked over slick snow to a vista point. Friedman unwisely chose to wear his boat shoes, which not only make him look like the pretentious New England Jewish WASP some have accused him of being, but also have the unfortunate property of being approximately frictionless on the bottom. My "sherpa" shoes fared better and helped me blend in with the locals.Having ventured 60 miles south of Seattle, our next destination was the Boeing assembly plant, 20 miles north of the city. The Boeing people told as at least 5 times that this building is the largest building in the world, by volume. Which leads me to wonder what the largest building by area is. My best guess, inspired by "Uncommon Carriers," is the UPS sorting facility in Kentucky. Each door at the end of an assembly line is the size of a football field. We got to see, but not photograph, the assembly lines for the 777 and 787 (the first 787 rolled off the line the day before we got there). Our tour guide claimed that the 777's engine is as wide around as the 737 fuselage.
It was at the Boeing factory that Friedman's most outrageous blunder occurred. We were required to put our cell phones and other electronics in a locker before the tour, and he managed to lock the slip with our combination on it in the locker. We had to sheepishly beg the nice woman behind the information desk for help when the tour concluded.
The long day had hardly begun at this point, as we headed to the Red Sox at Mariners game. Gabbard began the bottom of the first with 4 walks, a hit, and a HBP, so that was pretty much the end of that. We did, however, see Javier Lopez break the MLB pitch-speed record by a solid 5 mph:
After the game ended on three straight K's by J J Putz, we headed for the ferry that would take us to the Olympic Peninsula. Finally, and I must say I waited many days for this, Friedman got nailed with a speeding violation (68 in a 55, which was really more like 78 in a 55 before he slammed on the breaks).
The policeman, who looked exactly like Jonathan "The Gynecologist" Papelbon (incidentally, this was about as close to Jonathan Papelbon as we got since the Red Sox are so bad at life), was very nice.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Day 13
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
I'll be the first to admit that today was not eventful in the blogging sense. You might want to amuse yourself instead by watching the infamous exploding whale video.
We woke up in Boise. We drove west. For a long time. We saw the Scablands. We crested the Cascades. We arrived in Seattle. We watched the Mariners fall on the Red Sox like Oprah on a baked ham. We drove to Super 8.
Tomorrow promises to be more eventful...
I'll be the first to admit that today was not eventful in the blogging sense. You might want to amuse yourself instead by watching the infamous exploding whale video.
We woke up in Boise. We drove west. For a long time. We saw the Scablands. We crested the Cascades. We arrived in Seattle. We watched the Mariners fall on the Red Sox like Oprah on a baked ham. We drove to Super 8.
Tomorrow promises to be more eventful...
Monday, June 25, 2007
Day 12
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
Friedman, having won the previously mentioned battle of wits, woke up in this space at 7am:
I slept in the more humble servants' quarters. We took advantage of our early start to hike to Surprise Lake in the morning, a 9.2 mile, 2,500 vertical feet hike in the Tetons. My knees are killing me as a result. Here is yours truly just before we turned around:
We then returned to the house for a shower and to pet the two resident poodles. This one, which was very timid because of prior abuse (the house owners got her through "poodle rescue"), won over my heart:
Our drive was to Boise, but we stopped to see the Idaho Falls Chukars play an afternoon game (the astute reader will note that we already saw the Chukars - they were the visiting team in Casper), and we stopped again at the small but interesting Craters of the Moon National Monument.
The Super 8 in Boise is no "Pride of Super 8." The first room they gave us had a bunch of someone else's stuff in it. The exasperated, flamboyant desk guy had to deal with several other customers with similar problems before assigning us a new room. We took receipt of it around midnight.
Friedman, having won the previously mentioned battle of wits, woke up in this space at 7am:
I slept in the more humble servants' quarters. We took advantage of our early start to hike to Surprise Lake in the morning, a 9.2 mile, 2,500 vertical feet hike in the Tetons. My knees are killing me as a result. Here is yours truly just before we turned around:
We then returned to the house for a shower and to pet the two resident poodles. This one, which was very timid because of prior abuse (the house owners got her through "poodle rescue"), won over my heart:
Our drive was to Boise, but we stopped to see the Idaho Falls Chukars play an afternoon game (the astute reader will note that we already saw the Chukars - they were the visiting team in Casper), and we stopped again at the small but interesting Craters of the Moon National Monument.
The Super 8 in Boise is no "Pride of Super 8." The first room they gave us had a bunch of someone else's stuff in it. The exasperated, flamboyant desk guy had to deal with several other customers with similar problems before assigning us a new room. We took receipt of it around midnight.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Day 11
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 7
I am beginning to associate whatever song it is Friedman's phone plays as its alarm with pain and suffering. Today we woke at 5:45am in order to have as much time at Yellowstone as possible. We entered from the north, which is an unusual route, up and over an almost 11,000 foot pass. The temperature dropped such that I needed to bust out my UCSC hoodie for the first time (usually I use it as a nap pillow). Our first stop was Mammoth, home of the "Liberty Cap."
This should put to rest any fears that our trip is no longer centered around natural and man-made phalloi. The structure is surrounded by signs that reassure the skeptical that the phenomenon is indeed entirely natural.
Yellowstone is an amazing place, and I'm glad to have finally seen it. The geothermal stuff is cool, if odoriferous. There are nice grasslands, mountains, and waterfalls as well. Perhaps most interestingly, the park also functions as an enormous zoo. The buffalo and elk are everywhere, and there are also bears, coyotes, and lots of friendly rodents to be seen from the air-conditioned comfort of the car. We got stuck for 40 minutes on our way to Old Faithful in a traffic jam involving both automobiles and fauna:
Out of principle, I refrained from photographing Old Faithful's plume, which coincided perfectly with our finishing a delightful lunch at the local Inn.
Exiting Yellowstone to the congested south, we headed for our lodging, the ski chalet of a friend of Professor Ben Friedman's. The son of this friend, Ted, greeted us at the (fantastic) house and held a barbecue for some locals and us. And then, before the sun went down, the house was left to just Mr. Friedman and myself. We cracked open a few PBR's, watched Braveheart, and are preparing for a night of delicious sleep. In a rare moment of weakness, I lost a best-of-three rock-paper-scissors contest, so I get the inferior room. But you gotta roll with the punches.
I am beginning to associate whatever song it is Friedman's phone plays as its alarm with pain and suffering. Today we woke at 5:45am in order to have as much time at Yellowstone as possible. We entered from the north, which is an unusual route, up and over an almost 11,000 foot pass. The temperature dropped such that I needed to bust out my UCSC hoodie for the first time (usually I use it as a nap pillow). Our first stop was Mammoth, home of the "Liberty Cap."
This should put to rest any fears that our trip is no longer centered around natural and man-made phalloi. The structure is surrounded by signs that reassure the skeptical that the phenomenon is indeed entirely natural.
Yellowstone is an amazing place, and I'm glad to have finally seen it. The geothermal stuff is cool, if odoriferous. There are nice grasslands, mountains, and waterfalls as well. Perhaps most interestingly, the park also functions as an enormous zoo. The buffalo and elk are everywhere, and there are also bears, coyotes, and lots of friendly rodents to be seen from the air-conditioned comfort of the car. We got stuck for 40 minutes on our way to Old Faithful in a traffic jam involving both automobiles and fauna:
Out of principle, I refrained from photographing Old Faithful's plume, which coincided perfectly with our finishing a delightful lunch at the local Inn.
Exiting Yellowstone to the congested south, we headed for our lodging, the ski chalet of a friend of Professor Ben Friedman's. The son of this friend, Ted, greeted us at the (fantastic) house and held a barbecue for some locals and us. And then, before the sun went down, the house was left to just Mr. Friedman and myself. We cracked open a few PBR's, watched Braveheart, and are preparing for a night of delicious sleep. In a rare moment of weakness, I lost a best-of-three rock-paper-scissors contest, so I get the inferior room. But you gotta roll with the punches.
Day 10
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
We awoke at a reasonable time and headed for Teddy Roosevelt National Park, where we set off from an empty trailhead on our most ambitious hike yet (no other hike had exceeded 1 mile). The park looks consistently like the picture below. About 2 miles in, we came across a herd of buffalo, which at first seemed scared of us. After they regrouped, the leader of the herd made what I would describe as a mildly threatening gesture towards us. Remarkably, at that exact moment, we realized that we had seen exactly the right amount of the trail, and we turned around to take another fork and explore its many nooks and crannies. The picture shows Friedman in front of the aforementioned herd after they ran away, before we got close again.
After showering at the motel (we needed to get an extra-special 15-minute extension from check-out time), we pointed our general nose towards Little Bighorn. I would like to take this opportunity to express my long-held, if weakly supported, belief that visiting battlefields is a hopelessly and overwhelmingly boring American responsibility. Battlefields are the only tourist attractions that can get away with having nothing visually appealing to offer. The hill that Custer died on is quite literally indistinguishable from 20 other hills within plain view. But whatever, Friedman seemed to enjoy it.
From Little Big Horn, it was on to Billings, where we caught the home opener of the Billings Mustangs. The 'stangs were cruising through 7, having allowed only 1 hit, but the floodgates opened in the 8th and Missoula ended up the victor. Billings came across as remarkably cosmopolitan compared to Casper. Cosmopolitan is not an adjective Billings is paired with often. Oh, and you're allowed to buy 4 beers at a time in Billings - a constraint that, while weaker than any other stadium I have ever been to, still managed to bind to several fans' displeasure.
In closing, an observation. Plus grade gas costs less than Regular in the Dakotas. What's up with that?
We awoke at a reasonable time and headed for Teddy Roosevelt National Park, where we set off from an empty trailhead on our most ambitious hike yet (no other hike had exceeded 1 mile). The park looks consistently like the picture below. About 2 miles in, we came across a herd of buffalo, which at first seemed scared of us. After they regrouped, the leader of the herd made what I would describe as a mildly threatening gesture towards us. Remarkably, at that exact moment, we realized that we had seen exactly the right amount of the trail, and we turned around to take another fork and explore its many nooks and crannies. The picture shows Friedman in front of the aforementioned herd after they ran away, before we got close again.
After showering at the motel (we needed to get an extra-special 15-minute extension from check-out time), we pointed our general nose towards Little Bighorn. I would like to take this opportunity to express my long-held, if weakly supported, belief that visiting battlefields is a hopelessly and overwhelmingly boring American responsibility. Battlefields are the only tourist attractions that can get away with having nothing visually appealing to offer. The hill that Custer died on is quite literally indistinguishable from 20 other hills within plain view. But whatever, Friedman seemed to enjoy it.
From Little Big Horn, it was on to Billings, where we caught the home opener of the Billings Mustangs. The 'stangs were cruising through 7, having allowed only 1 hit, but the floodgates opened in the 8th and Missoula ended up the victor. Billings came across as remarkably cosmopolitan compared to Casper. Cosmopolitan is not an adjective Billings is paired with often. Oh, and you're allowed to buy 4 beers at a time in Billings - a constraint that, while weaker than any other stadium I have ever been to, still managed to bind to several fans' displeasure.
In closing, an observation. Plus grade gas costs less than Regular in the Dakotas. What's up with that?
Friday, June 22, 2007
Nice Picture of Dewbs and Me
I just sucked the pictures off Friedman's camera, and I liked this one. You might not guess it just from the image, but the reason I'm sitting is that I felt so feverish that I was worried that I might pass out if I stood up.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Day 9
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 6
A young hooligan had left our motel alarm clock on for 6am, so we were rudely jolted from sweet Lady Sleep's embrace 2 hours early. I fell instantly back asleep. Breakfast was spent at Wall Drug, where the Cafe was indeed open. Coffee is $0.05, and, ex post, my realized valuation for the so-called coffee is $0.00. The orange juice was from concentrate. However, the French toast was adequately cinnamony.
Wall Drug is a drugstore only in name. Most of its many acres are filled with kitschy souvenirs, including a room full of teeshirts, and a room full of crap I can't even describe. Jackalope heads were available for $69.99. I had never heard of the jackalope, and Friedman didn't seem to have a great grasp of it. I kept asking him whether the jackalope was real or imaginary, and he kept saying things like "I don't know." Then today he said "it's very rare, like the yeti." But I didn't know what the yeti was, so I didn't really take the hint.
Speaking of jackalopes, here is a picture of Dr. Friedman riding the 6-foot jackalope that inhabits Wall Drug's spacious back yard:
He's a big boy now.
Next we saw a decomissioned Minuteman II nuclear missile command center and silo. The command center is generally only open to 2 small tours per day, and these tours fill up very quickly. Lucky for us June 21, 2007 was one of 2 open houses of the year. The rangers giving the tours had worked as missiliers during the cold war, and they had folksy accents and humorous anecdotes to boot. To this day, they can neither confirm nor deny the existence of nuclear payloads on their particular missiles.
After a brief stop at the nearby Ellsworth Airforce Base Museum, we stopped by the Badlands National Park, which is pretty impressive. A picture says more than my words would.
Then we drove several hours to Theodore Roosevelt National Park, where we encountered a very talkative truck driver at the visitor station. He was with his "wife," whom Friedman and I both initially assumed to be some sort of highway woman, who spoke nary a word. One of the more interesting things we learned from this Mississipian was that trucks are easier to slow down when they are heavily laden (John Mcphee makes no mention of this in "Uncommon Carriers"...). He also said that he had recently gotten a German Shepherd, because he could easily take 1 attacker on, and probably 2, but 3 or 4 would be a challenge. When Friedman finally extricated us from the conversation, the trucker urged us to embrace our Lourd and Saviour, Jesus Christ. We assured him we would.
Finally, in case anyone was worried that Friedman and I are not actually on this trip together, here is visual proof:
From Medora, ND, good luck, and good night.
A young hooligan had left our motel alarm clock on for 6am, so we were rudely jolted from sweet Lady Sleep's embrace 2 hours early. I fell instantly back asleep. Breakfast was spent at Wall Drug, where the Cafe was indeed open. Coffee is $0.05, and, ex post, my realized valuation for the so-called coffee is $0.00. The orange juice was from concentrate. However, the French toast was adequately cinnamony.
Wall Drug is a drugstore only in name. Most of its many acres are filled with kitschy souvenirs, including a room full of teeshirts, and a room full of crap I can't even describe. Jackalope heads were available for $69.99. I had never heard of the jackalope, and Friedman didn't seem to have a great grasp of it. I kept asking him whether the jackalope was real or imaginary, and he kept saying things like "I don't know." Then today he said "it's very rare, like the yeti." But I didn't know what the yeti was, so I didn't really take the hint.
Speaking of jackalopes, here is a picture of Dr. Friedman riding the 6-foot jackalope that inhabits Wall Drug's spacious back yard:
He's a big boy now.
Next we saw a decomissioned Minuteman II nuclear missile command center and silo. The command center is generally only open to 2 small tours per day, and these tours fill up very quickly. Lucky for us June 21, 2007 was one of 2 open houses of the year. The rangers giving the tours had worked as missiliers during the cold war, and they had folksy accents and humorous anecdotes to boot. To this day, they can neither confirm nor deny the existence of nuclear payloads on their particular missiles.
After a brief stop at the nearby Ellsworth Airforce Base Museum, we stopped by the Badlands National Park, which is pretty impressive. A picture says more than my words would.
Then we drove several hours to Theodore Roosevelt National Park, where we encountered a very talkative truck driver at the visitor station. He was with his "wife," whom Friedman and I both initially assumed to be some sort of highway woman, who spoke nary a word. One of the more interesting things we learned from this Mississipian was that trucks are easier to slow down when they are heavily laden (John Mcphee makes no mention of this in "Uncommon Carriers"...). He also said that he had recently gotten a German Shepherd, because he could easily take 1 attacker on, and probably 2, but 3 or 4 would be a challenge. When Friedman finally extricated us from the conversation, the trucker urged us to embrace our Lourd and Saviour, Jesus Christ. We assured him we would.
Finally, in case anyone was worried that Friedman and I are not actually on this trip together, here is visual proof:
From Medora, ND, good luck, and good night.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Day 8
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 3
The day began at 8:45am, when Kelly, quite accidentally, woke us up with a phone call. Friedman, mistaking the call for his 9:30am alarm, stumbled into the bathroom. He next committed the ultimate morning motel room faux pas: he left the room, leaving the bathroom light on while I was still trying to sleep. His excuse, not worth mentioning, was that he was "still tired." Needless to say I made an immediate mental note to take him down a peg or two.
We breakfasted at IHOP, where I downed several glasses of orange juice, several cups of coffee, and many thick slices of french toast. We set off for Devil's Tower, in the northeastern corner of Wyoming, one of the state's most prominent natural landmarks.
One must wonder what the native term for this shaft is.
We crossed the border into South Dakota and drove around for a while in the vicinity of the Black Hills. The terrain is a beautiful mix of forest and prairie. Our tour concluded with Mt. Rushmore, which is basically the biggest piece of crap ever. We were loath to pay the $8 parking lot fee just to see the thing up close, so we turned around and high tailed it outta there.
We're staying in Wall, SD, whose claim to fame is Wall Drug, the most famous drugstore in the world. They put up ads in random places, including the London Tube and a bridge in Amsterdam. And yet their restaurant is not open for dinner, so we were stuck with the "Cactus Lounge." The Cactus Lounge redeemed itself by offering 24 ounce glasses of Moose Drool, which lubricated my mind nicely for the evening.
The day began at 8:45am, when Kelly, quite accidentally, woke us up with a phone call. Friedman, mistaking the call for his 9:30am alarm, stumbled into the bathroom. He next committed the ultimate morning motel room faux pas: he left the room, leaving the bathroom light on while I was still trying to sleep. His excuse, not worth mentioning, was that he was "still tired." Needless to say I made an immediate mental note to take him down a peg or two.
We breakfasted at IHOP, where I downed several glasses of orange juice, several cups of coffee, and many thick slices of french toast. We set off for Devil's Tower, in the northeastern corner of Wyoming, one of the state's most prominent natural landmarks.
One must wonder what the native term for this shaft is.
We crossed the border into South Dakota and drove around for a while in the vicinity of the Black Hills. The terrain is a beautiful mix of forest and prairie. Our tour concluded with Mt. Rushmore, which is basically the biggest piece of crap ever. We were loath to pay the $8 parking lot fee just to see the thing up close, so we turned around and high tailed it outta there.
We're staying in Wall, SD, whose claim to fame is Wall Drug, the most famous drugstore in the world. They put up ads in random places, including the London Tube and a bridge in Amsterdam. And yet their restaurant is not open for dinner, so we were stuck with the "Cactus Lounge." The Cactus Lounge redeemed itself by offering 24 ounce glasses of Moose Drool, which lubricated my mind nicely for the evening.
Day 7
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
After the delicious breakfast that qualified our Lincoln, NE Super 8 as a "Prime Super 8," we left on the road to Casper, Wyoming. On this day we would enter Rocky Mountain time. But before then, we had resolved to stop at the famous "Ole's Big Game Steakhouse," which features, among other things, the heads of a giraffe and elephant, and a fully grown, stuffed Polar Bear with its paw on a baby seal. My "buffalo steak" turned out to be ground buffalo smooshed roughly into the shape of a steak, but the decor beat McDonald's.
Our route took us past renowned Chimney Rock. After spotting it from a distance, I remarked that it didn't really look like a chimney.
The best description I could come up with was that it looked like a Prussian soldier's helmet half-buried in the ground. Luckily, the local autochtons had a more satisfying name:
The Rockies play at "Mike Lansing field." Early on, I made a sarcastic quip about the infamously overpaid and underperforming Mike Lansing who spent a small amount of time on the Red Sox. Later on, the nice, elderly, female Casper resident sitting right behind me told me, rather beamingly, that a former star MLB player had donated the money for the field. A player who, in fact, had spent most of his career on the Rockies and then had left for the Red Sox. She seemed very happy that two out-of-towners would stop in Casper to catch a game. Friedman was very nice to her, and I did my best.
Before the game, I predicted that, since this was the Rookie League, after all, there would be 8 errors in the game. Here is the final scoreboard:
After the delicious breakfast that qualified our Lincoln, NE Super 8 as a "Prime Super 8," we left on the road to Casper, Wyoming. On this day we would enter Rocky Mountain time. But before then, we had resolved to stop at the famous "Ole's Big Game Steakhouse," which features, among other things, the heads of a giraffe and elephant, and a fully grown, stuffed Polar Bear with its paw on a baby seal. My "buffalo steak" turned out to be ground buffalo smooshed roughly into the shape of a steak, but the decor beat McDonald's.
Our route took us past renowned Chimney Rock. After spotting it from a distance, I remarked that it didn't really look like a chimney.
The best description I could come up with was that it looked like a Prussian soldier's helmet half-buried in the ground. Luckily, the local autochtons had a more satisfying name:
Elk Penis - "Chimeny Rock's" Original Name:The museum went on to document the ginger steps writers took when addressing the rock in question:
According to early fur traders, Native Americans named the rock after the penis of the adult male elk
We are now in sight of E.P., or Chimney Rock, a solitary shaft...Next we stopped at Agate Fossil Bed, which hosts a skeleton reenactment of a scene in which "a large entelodont scavenges the bloated carcasse of a chalicothere." The same museum had some Indian artifacts, including a bow and arrows, accompanied by the following reassuring caption:
One of the cliffs is very peculiar in its appearance, and is known amongst the whites as "Chimney Cliff," and among the natives as "Elk Peak"
Rather than wantonly shooting at passersby, in reality some Lakota bowmen put on exhibitions of shooting skill for the emigrants!We then continued along the old Oregon Trail, choosing to take bridges as opposed to hiring an Indian Guide or caulking the wagon. Our final stop was Wyoming. With a population of 51,000, Casper is easily Wyoming's second biggest city, and not far behind Cheyenne for top dog. It's so big it has TWO Super 8's. We naturally stayed at the cheaper one. As a special treat, today was the opening day of the Advanced Rookie League, so we got to watch the Casper Rockies come back from down 3 in the 9th only to lose 7-6 in the 11th to the hated Idaho Falls Chuckers. We were treated to a fireworks extravaganza afterward.
The Rockies play at "Mike Lansing field." Early on, I made a sarcastic quip about the infamously overpaid and underperforming Mike Lansing who spent a small amount of time on the Red Sox. Later on, the nice, elderly, female Casper resident sitting right behind me told me, rather beamingly, that a former star MLB player had donated the money for the field. A player who, in fact, had spent most of his career on the Rockies and then had left for the Red Sox. She seemed very happy that two out-of-towners would stop in Casper to catch a game. Friedman was very nice to her, and I did my best.
Before the game, I predicted that, since this was the Rookie League, after all, there would be 8 errors in the game. Here is the final scoreboard:
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Day 6
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 7
First off, I'd like to note that I do not enjoy giving Friedman high ratings any more than my readers like reading them. But my illness (sorry for any confusion, I only went to the hospital to get a prescription - I am not a patient at a hospital) has subjected the good man to unfortunate hardship, and you don't hit a man when he's trying to help you up even though he's on his way to a very important meeting that he's late for.
We left our motel in lovely Dixon, IA late in the morning (having gotten in at 3am the night before). Dixon is not only the childhood home of the late, great Ronald Reagan, but it also has an arch:
We then made haste for Omaha. Of course, we had wont of gas in western Iowa, so we pulled in for a quickie at the Kum & Go:
It was a close call between the Kum & Go, and the Thrust & Pump.
We got to the College Baseball World Series at 4:30, instantly scalped tickets at $9 face value, and went to stand in line for the 6pm game between Oregon State and Arizona State.
Long story short, we were present for the longest game in College Baseball World Series history. Only we were standing on the grass pictured above, waiting for the next game to start. Such unbelievable giznank.
We did finally see some baseball. Oregon State, which lost to AZ State 3 times in the season, pwned like a pwnz0r in a pwnstore. They scored in each of the first 6 frames. Occasionally, even though beer was not available, there were reminders that this was indeed a collegiate event:
Now we're in Lincoln, at a Super 8, my new favourite Motel (it has free high-speed wireless, whereas Motel 6 has a "data port," for which you must "subscribe" to "AOL" or some shizzle). Wikipedia claims that people from Omaha were responsible for the city's name change in a desperate attempt to stop its becoming the state capital - many Illinois residents were pro-south at the time, and the hope was that they would recoil in horror with the idea of Lincoln being their capital.
First off, I'd like to note that I do not enjoy giving Friedman high ratings any more than my readers like reading them. But my illness (sorry for any confusion, I only went to the hospital to get a prescription - I am not a patient at a hospital) has subjected the good man to unfortunate hardship, and you don't hit a man when he's trying to help you up even though he's on his way to a very important meeting that he's late for.
We left our motel in lovely Dixon, IA late in the morning (having gotten in at 3am the night before). Dixon is not only the childhood home of the late, great Ronald Reagan, but it also has an arch:
We then made haste for Omaha. Of course, we had wont of gas in western Iowa, so we pulled in for a quickie at the Kum & Go:
It was a close call between the Kum & Go, and the Thrust & Pump.
We got to the College Baseball World Series at 4:30, instantly scalped tickets at $9 face value, and went to stand in line for the 6pm game between Oregon State and Arizona State.
Long story short, we were present for the longest game in College Baseball World Series history. Only we were standing on the grass pictured above, waiting for the next game to start. Such unbelievable giznank.We did finally see some baseball. Oregon State, which lost to AZ State 3 times in the season, pwned like a pwnz0r in a pwnstore. They scored in each of the first 6 frames. Occasionally, even though beer was not available, there were reminders that this was indeed a collegiate event:
Now we're in Lincoln, at a Super 8, my new favourite Motel (it has free high-speed wireless, whereas Motel 6 has a "data port," for which you must "subscribe" to "AOL" or some shizzle). Wikipedia claims that people from Omaha were responsible for the city's name change in a desperate attempt to stop its becoming the state capital - many Illinois residents were pro-south at the time, and the hope was that they would recoil in horror with the idea of Lincoln being their capital.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Day 5
Friedman Acceptability Rating: 8
The day began promptly at 9am. Ian and Becca and I wanted to go bowling, and we found some weak evidence that a certain alley opened at 11:30. The evidence was quite wrong. We amused ourself at Starbucks and on the stoop of a local palm-reader's office until 12:00, and then sat around waiting for the pin-monkey to arrive until 1. But we did get 2 games in.
Then we headed to the Chicago Art Institute, where we planned to meet Friedman. The institute is an impressive place - lots of artists I've vaguely heard of. Here's the painting that caught my eye, a none-too-flattering portrait:
It is Ludwig Meidner's "Max Herrmann-Neisse."
Friedman's high rating for the day demands explanation. Over the course of the day, I developed a more and more severe fever and sickness. I realized that it might be caused by a secondary infection where my wisdom teeth were recently extracted. So I spent 2 and a half hours in the emergency room in Naperville waiting to see a doctor. Friedman was a trooper. Incidentally, the Naperville hospital was really nice, and included TV and internet in my hospital room.
The day began promptly at 9am. Ian and Becca and I wanted to go bowling, and we found some weak evidence that a certain alley opened at 11:30. The evidence was quite wrong. We amused ourself at Starbucks and on the stoop of a local palm-reader's office until 12:00, and then sat around waiting for the pin-monkey to arrive until 1. But we did get 2 games in.
Then we headed to the Chicago Art Institute, where we planned to meet Friedman. The institute is an impressive place - lots of artists I've vaguely heard of. Here's the painting that caught my eye, a none-too-flattering portrait:
It is Ludwig Meidner's "Max Herrmann-Neisse."Friedman's high rating for the day demands explanation. Over the course of the day, I developed a more and more severe fever and sickness. I realized that it might be caused by a secondary infection where my wisdom teeth were recently extracted. So I spent 2 and a half hours in the emergency room in Naperville waiting to see a doctor. Friedman was a trooper. Incidentally, the Naperville hospital was really nice, and included TV and internet in my hospital room.
Day 4
Friedman Acceptability Measure: N/A
With Friedman out of the way, I was able to kick up my heels and celebrate. I woke up at 11, and spent the next few hours trying to find the car, which held my change of clothes among other things. Then I spent an hour trying to find Michigan Ave, a difficult task which I ultimately bested. I ducked into a mall to avoid getting soaked during a sun-shower, and ended up staying in their guest lounge with free internet for some time. Ian and Becca and I ate dinner at a Cuban BYOB restaurant.
Really the only notable thing that happened all day was the tour of Millennium Park. Here is a picture I took at night, with a 5-second exposure time (it was quite dark out), of "The Bean," an aptly nicknamed sculpture in the park. Apparently the artist claims any pictures of the reflection as his own property...
After the park, we enjoyed drinks at my favourite hotel, the Monaco. I stayed there a few years ago when I went on a trip with my mom and brother.
With Friedman out of the way, I was able to kick up my heels and celebrate. I woke up at 11, and spent the next few hours trying to find the car, which held my change of clothes among other things. Then I spent an hour trying to find Michigan Ave, a difficult task which I ultimately bested. I ducked into a mall to avoid getting soaked during a sun-shower, and ended up staying in their guest lounge with free internet for some time. Ian and Becca and I ate dinner at a Cuban BYOB restaurant.
Really the only notable thing that happened all day was the tour of Millennium Park. Here is a picture I took at night, with a 5-second exposure time (it was quite dark out), of "The Bean," an aptly nicknamed sculpture in the park. Apparently the artist claims any pictures of the reflection as his own property...
After the park, we enjoyed drinks at my favourite hotel, the Monaco. I stayed there a few years ago when I went on a trip with my mom and brother.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Day 3
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 6
Day 3 was, as expected, a minor letdown from the epicosity of Day 2. After a free continental breakfast at Comfort Inn, we crossed into Indiana and burned rubber for Chicago. Indiana is notable for how bad Gary smells, and for the fact that it's so subservient to Chicago that the slice of land nearest Chicago is in the central time zone, while the rest of the state is in the eastern. Aided by that beautiful time change, we managed to meet friend Ian Dew-Becker in Chicago by noon.
Friedman, who kindly handled all of the driving, only rarely grabbed the GPS and futzed with it. His eyes stayed commendably glued to the road. He lugged his backpack and computer bag into Wrigley with him so that he could leave the game early and hit the airport - he'll be debauching in Vegas until Sunday afternoon.
After the game, I hung out in "Boy's Town" and then Evanston with Ian and his graduating friends. I had a delicious, free dinner with open bar at a graduation party, and then spent the late night at Bill's Blues, a great little blues bar with live music until 2am. Then Dewbs and I grabbed a cab back to his friend's, and I crashed on the couch. I woke up at 4am shivering uncontrollably, and only then did I find that some angel had laid out two fleece blankets for me. I assumed the fetal position such that only my mouth was exposed, and, in time, my body regained homeostasis. Ian deserves a special shout-out for leaving me 3 advils before he left early in the morning - without them, my mouth was feeling like a rusty steel trap.
Day 3 was, as expected, a minor letdown from the epicosity of Day 2. After a free continental breakfast at Comfort Inn, we crossed into Indiana and burned rubber for Chicago. Indiana is notable for how bad Gary smells, and for the fact that it's so subservient to Chicago that the slice of land nearest Chicago is in the central time zone, while the rest of the state is in the eastern. Aided by that beautiful time change, we managed to meet friend Ian Dew-Becker in Chicago by noon.
Friedman, who kindly handled all of the driving, only rarely grabbed the GPS and futzed with it. His eyes stayed commendably glued to the road. He lugged his backpack and computer bag into Wrigley with him so that he could leave the game early and hit the airport - he'll be debauching in Vegas until Sunday afternoon.
After the game, I hung out in "Boy's Town" and then Evanston with Ian and his graduating friends. I had a delicious, free dinner with open bar at a graduation party, and then spent the late night at Bill's Blues, a great little blues bar with live music until 2am. Then Dewbs and I grabbed a cab back to his friend's, and I crashed on the couch. I woke up at 4am shivering uncontrollably, and only then did I find that some angel had laid out two fleece blankets for me. I assumed the fetal position such that only my mouth was exposed, and, in time, my body regained homeostasis. Ian deserves a special shout-out for leaving me 3 advils before he left early in the morning - without them, my mouth was feeling like a rusty steel trap.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Day 2
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 4
As always, i woke up 5 minutes before the alarm went off, at 6am. Last night, when we realized that the US Open of golf was being played 20 minutes from Pittsburgh at the famous Oakmont course, we decided to check it out. I was worried about getting tickets, but the minute we pulled into the complementary parking lot, our car was mobbed by scalpers desperate to sell us tickets at face value.
The US Open was a pretty special experience. We spent a lot of time at the infamous 10th hole, possibly the hardest Par 4 in the history of golf. The green might as well be paved over and covered with an inch of ice. The hardness and tilt combine to make even the light brush of the ball a recipe for disaster - if a putt doesn't land in the hole, it stops rolling just as it reaches the 6-inch rough. The following two players, Ian Poulter and Shingo Katayama, were part of one epic pairing:
Mr. Friedman insists on ambulating from location to location not only at breakneck speed, but also with reckless disregard for social etiquette. I was unwilling to follow him as he whizzed past elderly couples, inches from causing a cane to come out from under some recent hip transplant. But Mr. Friedman had more bad behaviour to come.
The original plan for today was to hit Cincinnati to see the Reds play, so after we got tired of golf, we headed in that general direction. We knew we'd be late, but we wanted to buy $5 tickets and tour the park. Here's a picture of Friedman trying to get in around the time we expected the 6th inning to be underway:
Yes, he was responsible for scheduling this game. We ate at the local cult-favourite "Skyline Chile," and came to Comfort Inn, of the free wireless Internet.
As always, i woke up 5 minutes before the alarm went off, at 6am. Last night, when we realized that the US Open of golf was being played 20 minutes from Pittsburgh at the famous Oakmont course, we decided to check it out. I was worried about getting tickets, but the minute we pulled into the complementary parking lot, our car was mobbed by scalpers desperate to sell us tickets at face value.
The US Open was a pretty special experience. We spent a lot of time at the infamous 10th hole, possibly the hardest Par 4 in the history of golf. The green might as well be paved over and covered with an inch of ice. The hardness and tilt combine to make even the light brush of the ball a recipe for disaster - if a putt doesn't land in the hole, it stops rolling just as it reaches the 6-inch rough. The following two players, Ian Poulter and Shingo Katayama, were part of one epic pairing:
Mr. Friedman insists on ambulating from location to location not only at breakneck speed, but also with reckless disregard for social etiquette. I was unwilling to follow him as he whizzed past elderly couples, inches from causing a cane to come out from under some recent hip transplant. But Mr. Friedman had more bad behaviour to come.
The original plan for today was to hit Cincinnati to see the Reds play, so after we got tired of golf, we headed in that general direction. We knew we'd be late, but we wanted to buy $5 tickets and tour the park. Here's a picture of Friedman trying to get in around the time we expected the 6th inning to be underway:
Yes, he was responsible for scheduling this game. We ate at the local cult-favourite "Skyline Chile," and came to Comfort Inn, of the free wireless Internet.
Day 1
Friedman Acceptability Measure: 5
We set out from 20 Ellery at 7:08am. Of course, Friedman was supposed to pick
me up at 7 sharp, but I'm a reasonable man, so I wasn't angry. I was surprised
to learn that we will be accompanied by a third travel partner, "brown bear."
I didn't ask, and I suggest that you do likewise.
The drive from Boston to Pittsburgh is nothing to speak of. We made a detour to
Johnstown, home of the great 1889 Johnstown Flood. 2200 people died when
a poorly kept dam above the town burst during a rain storm. A 40 foot high
wall of water carried away buildings, bridges, and trains at 40mph. The picture
I took overlooks the valley that the wave rushed through. Ominous clouds appear overhead.
The Pirates won easily at PNC park, which is one of my favourite parks in all of
baseball. It's the Apple product of parks - it has everything you want,
and nothing you don't.
Friedman and I got along splendidly. I would have given him a higher rating but
for his what can only be described as "endless futzing" with his GPS navigation
system. The thing kept telling us to turn around - only halfway through
Pennsylvania did I realize that it was giving us directions not to Pittsburgh,
but to the Friedman residence.
We set out from 20 Ellery at 7:08am. Of course, Friedman was supposed to pick
me up at 7 sharp, but I'm a reasonable man, so I wasn't angry. I was surprised
to learn that we will be accompanied by a third travel partner, "brown bear."
I didn't ask, and I suggest that you do likewise.
The drive from Boston to Pittsburgh is nothing to speak of. We made a detour to
Johnstown, home of the great 1889 Johnstown Flood. 2200 people died when
a poorly kept dam above the town burst during a rain storm. A 40 foot high
wall of water carried away buildings, bridges, and trains at 40mph. The picture
I took overlooks the valley that the wave rushed through. Ominous clouds appear overhead.
The Pirates won easily at PNC park, which is one of my favourite parks in all ofbaseball. It's the Apple product of parks - it has everything you want,
and nothing you don't.
Friedman and I got along splendidly. I would have given him a higher rating but
for his what can only be described as "endless futzing" with his GPS navigation
system. The thing kept telling us to turn around - only halfway through
Pennsylvania did I realize that it was giving us directions not to Pittsburgh,
but to the Friedman residence.
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