WAG - I wasn't me! It was th...
Oh yeah, it was me.

I feel weird waving at an one-armed man.

No, this isn't a Mitch Hedberg joke. Well… there is a Hedberg joke about that (you can find it at the sixth quote down at this site. Silly asides besides, this isn’t some cheap setup, though I’ll admit, this meditation isn’t going to run too deep.

Walking to class, I spotted my old Cross Cultural Journalism teaching assistant. Though the class is seemingly revamped every semester (over half a dozen professors have taught it since I came to campus), the main goal of the class is to help journalists be more understanding of the greater world around them.

It was an... interesting class. I know the intent of the class is solid, but teaching something like that can be difficult. There were days were there were discussions that really made me think. There were also days where the Politically Correct Police had jurisdiction.

My T.A. did a great job, and helped lead some of the discussions, which were some of the best parts of the class. One thing that most people noticed about him more than his leadership skills, however, was the fact he only had one arm.

He had an accident when he was younger and has had to go through life with the knowledge that physical characteristic will be noted by everyone around him. He talked about the fact that he did wrestling in high school, and every article that mentioned him highlighted his disability.

Though he was open about it, many people chose not to point it out. This was typically a conscious decision. The best example of that was when we were talking about non-specific criminal descriptions. If all you know about the suspect is that they are “6 foot tall, 180 pound, and a black man,” that’s not going to help you find them and probably will do more harm by reinforcing stereotypes in people. I’ll admit I’ve seen more of the previous descriptions than bulletins asking about a “150 pound, 5 foot six, white male.”

My T.A. then quipped, of course some people could never get away with a crime. I mean, think about me, he said.

At that moment, I’d guarantee the same line ran through everyone’s head: “It wasn’t me! It was the one armed man!”

Several knowing looks darted across the class, but no one dared to say it out loud.

I have learned a lot since then. I have met many more people, I’ve added to my knowledge of different cultures and I’ve become more confident in my personal conduct.

And yet, as I spotted my T.A. from a distance, and my class experience at the Hedberg joke ran through my head, I wasn’t sure how I should act.

Then, it happened. He waved first and asked me how I was doing.

I quickly raised my hand in return. We quickly commented about the weather and wished each other a good day.

Isn’t it amazing how some ethical crises arise and are put to rest in a few seconds? “Paper or plastic,” “Do I say hi to this quasi-acquaintance,” “Should I shake this my friend’s friend’s hand,” and “Does the pizza guy deserve a one dollar or two dollar tip,” are all questions were briefly struggle over. A moment later, they are resolved.

To account the conundrums often take an infinite more amount of time than what was originally spent muddling through the original query.

At least I’ll remember it’s okay to wave next time, and more importantly, it gave me something to post about.

Yeah, these may be some small victories I’m celebrating, but some days I think they deserve heralding! So said the person who decided it was okay to wave at a one armed man.

'No_back_handed_compliment'

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WAG - Things are still nuts. I may have to spike another story (for the second time in seven days). At the same time, however, I feel compelled to make up for not posting for several days.

Note: This is intended to make things up to regular readers as much as it is tied to the self-knowledge that if I don’t record these stories soon, they will go unrecorded.

So, I am doing a mid-morning post and will see where I’m at later in the evening (around 11 p.m., my typical posting time).

Of course, I am prompted to steal once again.

This copycatted posting device is from my friend’s site,
Interrogative Statement. Chadwick introduced me to his site last week, though it has existed for some time. You will find a permanent link to the site to the left both because I find it interesting and to make amends for stealing a small portion of his thunder.

Note: This tact really won’t work, because he has been linking to my site for some time now. Sometimes people are predisposed to make a mistake and then make amends after the fact. I am reminded of an example from Greek myth. Prometheus knows better than to make Zeus mad, and he knows his actions will achieve that unwanted reaction, but some days he can’t help himself (even when he’s trying to help others).

Anyway, Chadwick had a post about the great works. One is supposed to bold those they have read. I am further expanding that by italicizing ones I have only skimmed. Little asterisks (*’s) may also go beside titles that I believe deserve further explanation. Of course, there will be several dozen asides and miscellaneous comments.

The Book List

Beowulf
- Man versus monsters. Wins the first two rounds by himself and the last in a tag team match.
Achebe, Chinua - Things Fall Apart
Agee, James - A Death in the Family
Austen, Jane - Pride and Prejudice
– I almost started it in Humanities (look for this to be a reoccurring theme). Skimmed the Cliff Notes.
Baldwin, James - Go Tell It on the Mountain
Beckett, Samuel - Waiting for Godot
- Don’t expect him to show.
Bellow, Saul - The Adventures of Augie March
Bronte, Charlotte - Jane Eyre
Bronte, Emily - Wuthering Heights
Camus, Albert - The Stranger
Cather, Willa - Death Comes for the Archbishop
Chaucer, Geoffrey - The Canterbury Tales
– read selections for Humanities. Felt like the whole thing. That’s why I’m making this bold.
Chekhov, Anton - The Cherry Orchard
Chopin, Kate - The Awakening
- Depressing ending. The woman comes to self-actualization and then snuffs herself.
Conrad, Joseph - Heart of Darkness
- I prefer this over the movie
*Cooper, James Fenimore - The Last of the Mohicans
– I prefer the movie over the book. If you look at the names of the main character alone, Nathaniel Poe bests Natty Bumpo any day.
Crane, Stephen - The Red Badge of Courage
- Skimmed the Great Illustrated Classic
Dante - Inferno
- Read over Christmas one year. Don’t ask about my sugarplum visions.
de Cervantes, Miguel - Don Quixote
Defoe, Daniel - Robinson Crusoe
– finished only half of it before Friday arrived.
Dickens, Charles - A Tale of Two Cities
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - Crime and Punishment
- was assigned for Humanities class, but I had other projects due that week. See Cliff Notes.
Douglass, Frederick - Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Dreiser, Theodore - An American Tragedy
Dumas, Alexandre - The Three Musketeers
- I have a several copies, the original and the Great Illustrated Classic, and I’ve seen the Disney version.
Eliot, George - The Mill on the Floss
Ellison, Ralph - Invisible Man
- Though I did read the one by H.G. Wells.
Emerson, Ralph Waldo - Selected Essays
Faulkner, William - As I Lay Dying
- For the record, the woman doesn’t lie dying for very long.
Faulkner, William - The Sound and the Fury
Fielding, Henry - Tom Jones
Fitzgerald, F. Scott - The Great Gatsby
- Moral: those who live the lifestyles of the rich and famous but weren’t born into it, shouldn’t expect to make such things a habit.
Flaubert, Gustave - Madame Bovary
Ford, Ford Madox - The Good Soldier
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von – Faust
– once again, see the skimmed/Cliff Notes Humanites method.
Golding, William - Lord of the Flies
Hardy, Thomas - Tess of the d'Urbervilles
Hawthorne, Nathaniel - The Scarlet Letter
Heller, Joseph - Catch 22
Hemingway, Ernest - A Farewell to Arms
* Homer - The Iliad
- I’ve remember friends performing a middle school production of this.
Homer - The Odyssey
- The TV movie was good too (even if Armand Assante came off as a jerk).
Hugo, Victor - The Hunchback of Notre Dame
- Another Great Illustrated classic exposure, though I’ve gone out of my way never to see the Disney version.
Hurston, Zora Neale - Their Eyes Were Watching God
Huxley, Aldous - Brave New World
Ibsen, Henrik - A Doll's House
James, Henry - The Portrait of a Lady
James, Henry - The Turn of the Screw
- In a story of a governess versus demons, the final score is a draw.
Joyce, James - A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Kafka, Franz - The Metamorphosis
Kingston, Maxine Hong - The Woman Warrior
Lee, Harper - To Kill a Mockingbird
- Another mandatory reading requirement, but one I never complained about.
Lewis, Sinclair - Babbitt
London, Jack - The Call of the Wild
– Once again, see the great illustrated classic version, and later an abridged version for middle schoolers
Mann, Thomas - The Magic Mountain
Marquez, Gabriel Garcia - One Hundred Years of Solitude
- I’ve never read the book, but I recognize him from the Moxy Früvous song.
Melville, Herman - Bartleby the Scrivener
Melville, Herman - Moby Dick
- This was actually my very first Great Illustrated Classic.
Miller, Arthur - The Crucible
Morrison, Toni - Beloved
O'Connor, Flannery - A Good Man is Hard to Find
O'Neill, Eugene - Long Day's Journey into Night
Orwell, George - Animal Farm
- This is the book that proved that animals are almost as bad as humans.
*Pasternak, Boris - Doctor Zhivago
- Saw the movie in English class one. Took three days. Had no complaints either.
Plath, Sylvia - The Bell Jar
Poe, Edgar Allan - Selected Tales
- Love the Tell Tale Heart. I love to throw furniture too, but that’s another story.
Proust, Marcel - Swann's Way
Pynchon, Thomas - The Crying of Lot 49
*Remarque, Erich Maria - All Quiet on the Western Front
- I own it and have been meaning to read it.
* Rostand, Edmond - Cyrano de Bergerac
– I never read it, but I saw the Wishbone episode and the movie Roxanne.
Roth, Henry - Call It Sleep
*Salinger, J.D. - The Catcher in the Rye
– I read chapter one when I bought it last Thanksgiving. Haven’t got back around to it.
Shakespeare, William - Hamlet
- Can we say, “Required reading for all high schoolers everywhere?”
Shakespeare, William - Macbeth
- Can we say, “Ditto.”
Shakespeare, William - A Midsummer Night's Dream
- This one seems to have slipped through the cracks. My regrets to the Bard.
Shakespeare, William – The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet
- I won’t comment. I have a comment. I just know I shouldn’t share it.
*Shaw, George Bernard – Pygmalion
– I’m through three of the five acts. Give me a few more days.
Shelley, Mary - Frankenstein
Silko, Leslie Marmon - Ceremony
Solzhenitsyn, Alexander - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Sophocles – Antigone
– I was also in a bad grade school production of this. We had a person drop out at the last minute, meaning our star actor played the title role AND another character, making Antigone appear to go mad one act earlier than usual.
Sophocles - Oedipus Rex
- The tragic tale of a man who loved his mother.
Steinbeck, John - The Grapes of Wrath
Stevenson, Robert Louis - Treasure Island
- A Great Illustrated Classic text that was further expanded by the Muppets.
Stowe, Harriet Beecher - Uncle Tom's Cabin
Swift, Jonathan - Gulliver's Travels
- Ted Danson’s best work.
Thackeray, William - Vanity Fair
Thoreau, Henry David - Walden
Tolstoy, Leo - War and Peace
Turgenev, Ivan - Fathers and Sons
Twain, Mark - The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
- The adventures of a cynic who becomes an optimist.
Voltaire - Candide
- The adventures of an optimist who becomes a cynic.
Vonnegut, Kurt Jr. - Slaughterhouse-Five
Walker, Alice - The Color Purple
Wharton, Edith - The House of Mirth
Welty, Eudora - Collected Stories
Whitman, Walt - Leaves of Grass
– 1855 Edition, for he only had about half a dozen different versions.
Wilde, Oscar - The Picture of Dorian Gray
* Williams, Tennessee - The Glass Menagerie
- I had a copy, but I permanently lent it to my sister.
Woolf, Virginia - To the Lighthouse
Wright, Richard - Native Son

Comment on the listed texts, titles that should have been included, and more, if you wish.

Or don’t. I don’t care.

'read_any_good_books_lately'

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WAg - Today is “Borrowed Plot Device Day”

Ug…

I worked hard the end of last week to try to clear my schedule in preparations of the HECK WEEK!!!! (yes, I’d typically use the ol’ H-E-Double-Hockey-Stick-Special, but I’m really working on cutting down on my extremely limited use of curse words) that will come before finals.

Note: The name of HECK WEEK!!!! may change to something more potent depending on how certain projects turn out.

I did a lot of work over the weekend, but there’s a lot more work to go.

I have half a dozen half-finished posts I’ve been working on (ranging from Earth Day to an albino Zebra) and I may retroactively post some things, but for now I’m going to sample an old trick… look at what my favorite blogs are posting about and then copy their stuff.

Thus, for those of you who have already checked out my sister’s site, Life Is Like Toast, you will recognize…

Things That Have Made Me Feel Happy Today, Monday April 26th, So Far:

* I have all my English reading assignments finished through the end of the semester (take THAT Nathaniel Hawthorne!).

* I still have some Krispy Kreme doughnuts left over from my mini-staff retreat to Kansas City this weekend.

* I got a B on my last Internet Law test, which was a bit more than the class average.

* The mainstream press is starting to pick up on John Kerry pitching his military awards (medals, ribbons, whatever) in a demonstration – a ruckus I predicted would come out during the race back in February.

* I had a nice evening chat with my girlfriend.

* I don’t have classes till 11:00 a.m. tomorrow (good news on any Tuesday or Thursday).

* Despite a crazy schedule, I’m looking forward to seeing my sister perform in a one-act play on Saturday.

* Plans for the Cramer Cinco de Mayo fiesta are coming ahead of schedule (as in we’ve actually bought stuff).

* I had a nice bike across campus without encountering any hippies (unlike my trek through Peace Park during Earth Day, yesterday).

* New Strong Bad email.

* Reading Pygmalion this weekend has reminded me how much I need to buy the movie "My Fair Lady."

* The previous sentence earned a reading level grade of 9.1 largely due to the use of the word “Pygmalion” (which helped this sentence earn the full reading grade of 12.00).

* Further confirming snacking on dried fruit and Powerade is the perfect combination to stay away in an afternoon class.

* The latest edition of Entertainment Weekly came in today.

* I still have half a box of chocolate malted milk balls on my desk.

True, this has been a series of simple pleasures, but they’ve helped me make it through the day.

Hope you found as much joy, or even more, in yours.

'Short_post_finished_with_limited_taxation_of_own_brain_cells'

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WAG - What I did on my editing shift…

Not much.

This was how I typically started all those “What I did on my Summer Vacation” essays during my stay in public schools. I didn’t necessarily write down that first statement, but I usually mentally acknowledged it before writing anything else. Then I’d recount the words in the title and the byline (by Caleb Michael Smith) before pondering what I was going to do to fill up the 190 words I have left in my 200-word essay.

Note: I didn’t start using my middle name in my byline in the sixth grade to squeeze one more word into my essays, but it certainly has added a tiny bit to each paper that was tied to a word count that I’ve composed ever since.

Anyway, with that introduction out of the way, I don’t have much else left to report.

Part of the reason I postponed writing an update was that I was scheduled to meet with my editing teacher Wednesday afternoon. I was curious if she’d have some comments or observations to add.

She didn’t. And that will make my comments even briefer, but here it goes…

I had the 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. shift, which consisted of editing syndicated editorials, which had been edited once before. It’s nice to know while working the wire that not only do you have a net beneath you, because my work would be reviewed by several other editors, I also had the added comfort of another layer of protection. It was like I had a bunch of clowns running around beneath me with one of those trampoline things.

Editing and grammar weren’t too much to worry about. The main thing was converting the stories to Missourian style, which isn’t too far removed from most newspapers’ styles, but has enough quirks in it to keep you honest. I fiddled with some dashes and removed some courtesy titles and that was it.

I did edit one letter to the editor from a concerned citizen, complaining about an “ABC Primetime” investigation story that used shortcomings at three Veterans Association hospitals to make the entire VA system look bad.

It was a well-organized letter, but it does make me pause when it rails against people who reported legitimate problems. I would assure the agitated viewer that the intent wasn’t to paint the entire system as deficient as much as inform viewers and keep the VA hospitals on their toes. Is that such a bad thing? Also, if there is going to be much publicity and scrutiny following the people who mess up, isn’t that incentive to keep others from breaking the rules too?

Anyway, I spent most of my time working on headlines and picking quotes to be pulled out and featured along side the columns. Finding the killer quote – now that’s a fun job.

Working the headlines wasn’t as much fun, except for the delight one has when you finally get your headline to fit.

Note: I don’t know the name of the program, but there’s a feature in the editing program that will indicate a red, yellow, or green color depending on how well the headline fits. Green = good, red = bad, and yellow = will work in a pitch. It can be annoying watch the letters stretch to the end of the boundary going, “One, two, three, four, red light!” Shoot! Try again.

Upon reading the newspaper the next day, I found two of my three headlines were retained (and the other one was just reorganized, keeping all the key terms) and they kept one of the two representative comments I put down.

Not bad, I figured. I’m sure in the future I’ll be working shifts longer than two hours with more responsibility than reviewing previously edited articles, but I’ll get to that in time.

So now, after running word count (and confirming my essay has attained the minimum required length [or much more than that as deemed by some readers {but noting that only further pads out the length}]), I will simply turn this transitory thought into a closing statement and finally end this essay which has reached the length of 700 words.

'The_End'

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WAG - Much Adoing by Monkeys

To start off, I’d like to thank the infinite number of monkeys that worked together to produce tonight’s post. Specifically, I’d like to thank chimp number 3,008,379,984 Jr. who was the one who best captured what I wanted to expound upon tonight. Honorable mentions go out to chimps 2,487,285,309,439 and 482,304,209,203. Kudos, as always, also goes out to the infinite number of maintenance workers for reviewing the output, cleaning the cages, keeping the tenants happy and well stocked with paper, and for not unionizing (largely due to the fact that the results of the last group referendum are still being tallied [Eat your heart out, Dade County]).

Okay. I’d say stop me if you’ve heard this one, but then I’d have nothing to post, so here we go.

Have you ever heard the saying that if you had an infinite number of monkeys typing away randomly on an infinite number of typewriters, they’d eventually produce the works of Shakespeare?

For some reason, my mind decided to ponder this potentiality.

Note: I took a class on probability my freshman year in college, so I think I’m experienced enough to speak upon this subject.

So, let me brake this old tired saying down.

We’ll start out with an easy one. Why monkeys?

Answer: With a limited number of creatures with opposable thumbs (sorry, cows), the contest was already limited. When it came to selecting an appropriate animal, the comment crafters that be must have erred on the cuter end of the spectrum. As much fun as it would be to watch a gorilla pound away at a typewriter, literally, those who have watched the Planet of the Apes series knows what happens when we pit ourselves against an army of darned dirty apes. For those of you who haven’t watched the series, let’s just say humanity rarely fares well. That’s why going with the cuddly, more docile, more easily controlled monkey was the preferred option.

Getting another simple component out of the way, why typewriters?

Simple. Expecting monkeys to write Shakespeare with pens and pencils is ridiculous and word processors or computers weren’t common place when the question was posed.

Moving on, we ask the question, why Shakespeare?

We can only speculate here. Many critics propose that Shakespeare is the epitome of English culture and we’ve been declining ever since. Comparing it to modern fair like Fear Factor and One Tree Hill, one has to admit we’ve been spiraling downward for some time to get to this point.

Anyway, the difficulty of Shakespeare is another factor. I mean, one is more likely randomly churn out the December 16, 2002 TV Guide than one of Shakespeare’s plays.

Want an example. Okay.

Here’s a random text generation site following the “monkey principle.” For those of you not willing to go through the effort to open another window, just take my word that it’s creating random lines like fdk uie I jh ueu jdfjv uedn.

I spent some time watching it, and the only words I could pick out of the chaotic mess were “mat,” “by,” “if,” and “me.” Words that were almost spelled, or within one letter were, “peppy,” “igloo,” “ramp,” “toy,” “is” and “Rita.”

No, I wasn’t watching The Tragedy (most people forget the start of the title) Romeo and Julie appear before my eyes, __INSERT_LEONARDO_DICAPRIO_JOKE_HERE__, but the concept is solid.

If you want another example, Dr. Math probes some of the number on his site.

He also ponders the difficulty one would have wrangling and maintaining such a work force, but quickly puts an end to such ponderings by repeating the mathematician credo, “But again, this is math so we will ignore the real world.”

Dr. Math simplifies the problem by looking at how long would it take for one monkey to produce one Shakespearian sonnet.

He picks a sonnet of

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest
Thou dost beguile the world unbless some mother
For where is she so fair whose uneard womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self love to stop posterity
Thou art thy mothers glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime
So thou through windows of thine age shall see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time
But if thou live rememberd not to be
Die single and thine image dies with thee


For those of you keeping score at home, this is typically listed as Shakespeare’s Third Sonnet. It should be toward the front of the portfolio, and will make a good representative work.

Anyway, after removing punctuation, he figures there are 572 characters in that sonnet. Multiply each character slot by 27, the number of possible keys the monkey could type (the alphabet plus the space key), and you get…

Note: An 519 digit number, not counting commas, that threw the website alignment out of wack when posted in it's entirety. As much work as I put into putting all the commas into it, I hate not to post it, but that's the way it is. You can see the BIG number on the Dr. Math site.

For those of you who glazed over after the first six digits, we can shorten that to 5 x 10^818 (that’s a 5 with 518 zeros at the end for those of you who have forgotten mathematic shorthand).

Note: For the record, it took a long time just to insert all the commas in that block (especially when I’d spot a mistake and go back to correct it halfway down the block).

Next, the good doctor estimates that the monkey will type a consistent 120 characters per minute. This is a theoretical monkey, so we can safely remove bathroom, food, and sleeping time without PETA complaining. Our imaginary monkey should be able to crank out a block like this once every 5 minutes. Dividing the amount of time in a year by that number, we find he can create 105120 of these “potential sonnets” every year. Divide that by the larger number mentioned earlier (do you appreciate how I’m trying to expose you to as little math as possible), and you find it will take a single monkey 5*10^813 years to create the sonnet.

That’s a lot of monkeying around. The idea is that the copying of Shakespeare, or any other document from the Magna Carta to "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," can be done, but it would take a long time.

As my old math teacher taught us, “Some things are possible, but just not probable.”

Though that’s quite a bit of work for our monkey to crank out a measly sonnet, in our theoretical experiment, the process is shortened when you add an infinite number of monkeys. This would make the production instantaneous (if you picked a big infinity, of course). This would render Kinkos, Staples, and other copying places obsolete if it weren’t for all the other support jobs it would take to support the monkeys.

Granted, all the copies would be done quickly. The real job would be matching the right monkey with the order and disposing of all of the mistakes.

”Hey Charlie. Scratch this one. Number 390,038,877 had King Lear right through Act 3 up to Scene IV when he had, “This cold night will turn us all into fools and madoif jw[o.”

Anyway, logistics aside, one has to ask what have we accomplished with this infinite monkey copy system? We now have another copy of the works of Shakespeare. Great. Like we didn’t have one in the first place. What’s the perk, other than this one smells faintly of bananas and animal musk?

If you have a master copy to compare it to, why didn’t we put it in front of the monkeys for them to copy, you may ask. Granted, we’d have to teach them to read, but all things said and done, a new copy of Shakespeare and a troop of literate monkeys would be much more impressive. I think that would be a greater accomplishment. Think of how you’d brag about it at parties.

“My collection of Shakespeare was monkey copied,” your host boasts.

“Oh yeah? We I have a monkey copied collection of Shakespeare too and a siminan named Mr. Giggles, who can read it,” you counter.

“Oh…!” the audience responds in awe.

Imagine the world we could live in…

For those of you who can’t wait for science to advance to the point where cloning, food production, and general speed reading skills are advanced enough to make such a future possible, let me offer you a temporary substitute.

Here’s a random monkey generator. Just click the link and you’ll be forwarded to another monkey. You can repeat this process infinitely (or at least 13 times, because that’s as far as I got before my attention span ran out. I can’t vouch for any more than that).

Does all this seem confusing, convoluted, and much ado about nothing?

Good. That means this whole exercise only confirms my long held conclusion: math, while simple and straightforward on paper, is too easily complicated when set loose in the real world.

'Mr_Giggles_want_a_banana'

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WAG - Monkeys on the Brain

Madness has set in this evening.

Sometimes I let topic ideas for posts stew for a couple days before I work to bring them together.

Tonight, I was working off a riff I had on a piece of paper and found it spiraling into strange, unexpected areas.

I have found it so interesting, I want to take another day to play around with it.

So, though I warn others about teaser posts promising future updates (especially when I have yet to deliver on a previous pledged post [details about my editing shift and the fall out to come... Wednesday? Sure, sure... Wednesday. ... Think they will buy it... Nah, me neither... What? I'm still typing this? Oh...-), but here we go:

Tune in tomorrow to find out what happens when a mind goes ape over the classic question of monkeys, infinity, and Shakespeare (not necessarily in that order).

'More_to_come____I_hope'

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WAG - We're laughing because this is a joke, right?

Ever make a comment to another person about a subject that you do not know personally applies to that person until after you drop the punch line?

My church had a real treat this evening. The long awaited birth of the youth pastor and his wife’s child came last Monday. It is a real family affair for the church since not only are the parents related to a mentionable portion of the congregation, but the youth pastor’s wife is also the daughter of the pastor.

Stepping over the trick branches of the family tree that snake through the church, tonight was Youth Appreciation Night. The youth pastor coordinated everything himself, with the help of the youth, from song leaders to ushering to testimonials. He’d been preparing for this all week, along with doting on his new daughter.

His wife and daughter didn’t make it to the morning service, to the disappointment of countless members of the church eager to play temporary babysitter. We were told not to expect them that night either; which made it a big deal when the duo arrived just before service started.

The look on the youth pastor’s face as he looked down from the platform showed he was as surprised as anyone else. The pastor later explained his daughter wanted to surprise her husband and that he’d delighted in keeping it from his son-in-law. The baby elicited many “aw…”s and requests to hold the baby.

After the service, I was waiting for my ride when I heard crying come from the youth pastor’s office. Walking by, I saw the tired child was worn out and wanting to let her discomfort be known.

Looking across the foyer, I saw the male half of a young couple who married just before I came to this church. We joke back and forth, compare college schedules, and make trade comments about the opposite sex from time to time. It’s all good fun in the “you know what I mean” vein.

Cocking my head toward the office, and the origin of the wails, I said, “At least you don’t have to worry about that for a while.”

“The cries? Nope. Not for another nine months or so.”

In journalism, I have been taught to keep a straight face when an unexpected piece of information comes your way. The idea is that sources may tell you more if they assume you’re already in the know. This is a tact I’ve used in other cases concerning gossip, to my advantage.

Here, however, I admit I was simply struck silent as he went, “Well, I suppose it would be closer to eights and a half months.”

After a quick biofeedback check to make sure my mouth wasn’t hanging open, which it wasn’t, fortunately, I joked about hitting the stopwatch and counting down to the final delivery day.

“Can you imagine looking at the clock in the delivery room. ‘Ten seconds, honey. Nine, eight…two, one!’ ‘WAAH!’”

This got him to laugh and there was a short pause. Then he said, “Did you know we were having a baby?”

“Um, nope,” I admitted quickly. “I was just joking around. It’s pretty impressive how much out of the loop I usually am.”

We talked about how ignorant we were of the things going on, and how our significant others were the main ones who kept up informed.

“When did those two start going out? Really? Married already? When did I miss that?”

Then, we briefly talked about the embarrassment of inadvertently poking fun at a person.

“At least you weren’t joking about cancer or anything,” he offered.

True, I thought. But then I shared the story of joking about flashing lights and narcolepsy in front of a person who suffered from that affliction.

“Wow, that was sixth grade and I still remember it vividly,” I said shaking my head.

At that point, his wife collected him to move on. I congratulated him on the new developments and softly swore to myself I needed to be more careful about such things in the future.

Granted, this is something that I’m doomed to repeat. I’m sure I’ll play both sides of the spectrum: the ignorant jokesters and the unintended subject.

Here’s hoping that I pull it off with as much grace and kindness as the newly expecting father – though I hope just as strongly that it is many years before I find myself in his shoes (both for my personal sake and my mother’s blood pressure. [Keep breathing, Mom! It’s all hypothetical]).

'Am_I_in_the_loop__No__Just_loopy'

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WAG - A Delayed Spring Cleaning

Yes, I recognize that one's seasonal cleansing is long overdue when one finds himself peeling snowflake decals off the window on an 80 degree day.

That may seem pathetic, but probably not as pathetic as anyone sunbathing in the courtyard who saw me looking out the window and appearing to paw away at the glass as if I was a poor, neglected puppy.

Anyway...

I've scrubbed corners I've never touched since I got here, I recycled countless pounds of paper, and I can see yards of floor unobstructed, rather than the typical there's a square foot patch...

I've swept, scoured, and vaccummed everywhere and the place looks cleaner than when I got here.

Of course, I'll mess it all up again by Tuesday, but it's nice to look at for now.

'RIP_Dust_Bunnies'

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WAG About to go to the wire

Tomorrow, I’ll be taking a two-hour shift at the Missourian where I’ll be manning the copy desk.

I will be acting as the first barrier between the public and the press’s mistakes (or in some cases, the public’s mistakes that the press presents before them – it cuts both ways).

I have my stack of reference books on world facts, local style, and general spelling.

I am also a bit daunted; but I’m short anyway so that’s understandable.

I’m working 9 a.m. to 11 a.m., so I’m telling myself that the work I do will probably sit around long enough to be reviewed by a number of people who know what they’re doing.

If not, and a mistake slips through… Well… we’ll see what happens…

Not much probably, but one still does wonder (and that thought is followed by the image of my teacher saying, “Don’t wonder! Look it up.”).

Well my easily distracted brain seems ready, if only for another three… two… one…. look at the doggy…”

I’ll be up early, editing in the middle of the day, and then working on call tomorrow night.

Yep, if I had a multiple personality disorder, we’d be making lots of new friends tomorrow.

We’ll let you know how it turns out.

'Question_Does_the_AP_guide_have__wigging_out__hyphenated_or_not'

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WAG - Mizzou Makes CNN

There we were, under the MORE TOP STORIES banner, next to the story about former Attorney General Janet Reno’s testimony. How’s that for fine company?

How’d we make the big leagues? By doing what many people do to get there, lie.

Well, I suppose it was only sending out an email instructing people to lie. No, this is not another wrinkle in the Ricky Clemons saga, though I feel we’re overdue for another twist.

This is a story concerning legacy, Greeks, and blood.

Almost sounds like the start to a Homeric epic? Not quite. It seems some startling details about an email sent out to sorority girls planning to donate in the Greek Week blood drive.

Here is a telltale excerpt from the questionable email:

“I don’t care if you got a tattoo last week — LIE … I don’t care if you have a cold. Suck it up. We all do. LIE … Even if you are going to use the ‘Do Not Use My Blood’ sticker, GIVE ANYWAY.”

Also:

"We're not messing around. Punishment for not giving blood is going to be quite severe."

As you might imagine, many people have taken an interest in this email.

Skipping the obvious sorority girl jokes, for I’ve heard too many lately, let’s cut to the core of the issue about the stakes involved.

It has been noted that MU has a lot of emotion and ambition wrapped up in the donating blood. The blood drive is one of the major scored events of the week, as evidenced by anyone who has watched the Greeks scour for blood volunteers on behalf of their house, and there’s a lot of personal pride involved.

Additionally, MU held the world record, according to the Guinness Book of Records, for a single day in 1999 where the campus drive took in 3,156 units of blood (a unit = 450 ml) -- enough to temporarily earn recognition from the as the largest single-site, single-day blood collection.

However, that record was recently trumped in India where a blood drive organized by Shah Satnam Ji Green 'S' Welfare Force Society held at Sachkhand Hall, Shah Satnam Ji Dham, India, on December 7, 2003, attracted a record 15,432 donors. The drive yielded 12,002 units in 12 hours.

We haven’t neared our record levels in years, for we always seem to run a few hundred short when it comes down to cases of usable blood. I wonder if this drive had a different, potentially looser set of requirements for donation – because we can afford to be stricter in the USA – but that’s just splitting hairs.

It has been suggested that the blood drive be separate from Greek Week in the future. My problem with that is that the numbers would probably drop. It isn’t fair that people do this for the wrong reason, but harnessing these people’s emotions and steering them toward good isn’t a bad thing.

Telling people to donate when they shouldn’t is ridiculous, and we’re going to pay for it for some time, but we shouldn’t forget the legitimate people who are trying to do the right thing. I don’t know if many people followed the idiotic directions of the email, due to matters of common sense or the follow up clarifying email that was quickly sent (though it didn’t stop the controversy), but I do hope it spurned people on to donate blood for the right reasons.

If anything, they might be the ones who help the people get in the right spirit of things, for there is room for friendly competition, and be of the right mindset next year.

We’re gunning for your record, Shah Satnam Ji Dham! And no simple-minded sorority girl controversy is going to stand in the way of my vein.

You’ve been warned.

'Wow_Some_do_try_to_squeeze_it_from_a_stone'

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WAg - Is it against the rules to request a sabbatical AFTER you’ve taken one?

Hello. This is Caleb. Remember me?

Last week was nuts. I have not major excuse for it. No one project dominated my time. My schedule was sucked up, rather, in 5 and 15-minute intervals here and there.

The next thing I know, it’s Sunday afternoon and my weekend’s almost over.

Just as quickly, for a quick scroll down the page will remind you I didn’t update yesterday either, it was Monday.

It’s funny how time goes…

And it’s threatening to be another week like that: I have a test, big paper, and long-term project to be working on along with the usual load of job, school, and life (more things to do in the first two than the third, I am sorry to say).

I am keeping my sanity in my own special ways. I got a copy of "West Side Story" over the weekend (yes, I will pay you back Mom and Dad) and have been enjoying the musical interludes. Not the depressing ones where people die, but the up-beat comedic numbers like “America” and “Gee, Officer Krupke.”

I’ve got a stack of posters to tape up, a few dozen pages of Walt Whitman to scan through, a draft to work on, and more, but I’m still taking time to post here.

…

Yes, it was a post about not posting, a cardinal, but often necessary, sin in the bloging world. Be thankful I didn’t decide to go through a nuanced, point-by-point analysis of the latest proceedings I watched on C-Span (which I am hesitant to admit, I am watching more of lately).

Instead, I’ll do a brief self-diagnosis using quotes from West Side Story:

“Hey, I’ve got a social disease.”

Self-examination over. Prognosis irrefutable. Time to get back to homework.

Hope to see you here tomorrow…only with a different date at the top of the page with a different set of words (and hopefully a different story/complaint to tell).

Till then…

'Life_is_alright_in_America'

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WAG - Why I have mud on my church clothes...

Today, I was the chief source of entertainment at my girlfriend’s house among her sisters.

I neglected to bring a change of clothes for the visit because I forgot to set my clocks forward. I had a nice discussion with my ride about what time it was when he called me this morning about “being just a few blocks away.”

Guess who lost and had to scramble to get ready in 4 minutes?

Anyway, for having a late start to the day, I did accomplish several things that slowly, but steadily added additional organic layers to my church clothes:

I hid plastic Easter eggs for an impromptu Easter egg hunt.

I picked a mess of dandelions.

I played basketball knock out.

I played Frisbee.

I played catch.

I tried to keep the football out of the pile of burning leaves.

I swung on multiple swings.

I played croquet (or “crock-it”).

I helped pack newspapers.

I biked around Hallsville to help deliver the papers.

I was chased and slobbered on by a dog while assisting in the delivery.

I sunbathed/burned.

I talked and listened to Jessie’s sisters.

I also tried to procure candy from her on their behalf.

So that’s why I have dog saliva, yellow streaks of dandelions, puddle water, grass, gravel dust, and a modest layer of mud on my nice, black church slacks.

I had a good day.

I now need to do laundry.

'I_also_need_to_sleep'

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WAG - Who’s the fool now, young man?

Apparently, Vox is talking to me.

A couple weeks ago, I had an old friend from Hatch who worked at Vox magazine who had a whole in an upcoming issue. It seems they couldn’t find anyone to write the postscript, or personal essay section, of the April 1 edition.

Even before she said something I’d been thinking about doing some freelancing (since the campus only has about a half dozen papers for me to submit stuff to). I was particularly intriguing when she said they were looking for people with quirky April Fool’s Day experiences.

I thought, have I got a story for you.

Through class, I mulled a pitch and talked to her afterwards. I told of the foolish high school sophomore who bit of more than he could chew and still suffered from memory loss from the consequences of the day.

She laughed and said she’d pass the story along. If her editors liked it, I was told I’d get an email in the next day or two. Otherwise… you get the idea.

A week and a half passes.

I turn my attention to other projects, tests, and the coming vacation promised by Spring Break. I then get a frantic phone call.

Apparently, the editors like the story, but sent the story request and parameters to the wrong person, or the wrong Caleb to be exact. For two years I was confused with another member of the honors community, Caleb Hudson. For one year, I was stationed two doors down the hallway from him. Many people would knock on my door, which said “Caleb” on it, and would frown upon my seeing my face. This was an often-repeated scene, and I got to the point where I could milk quite a bit of sympathy from the exchange.

Many times, people would knock on my door and go, “You’re not Caleb.”
“Yes I am,” I’d respond with a fake whimper. “I’m just not the Caleb you’re looking for.”

Anyway, when my friend, the former Hatch resident, sent the story order, she emailed the wrong Caleb. Another email informed me of the mix up and gave me pleasure that the other Caleb was mixed up with ME for a change.

So they wanted my story, but I was on a tighter time frame to deliver it. My original deadline would have been the next day, though they were willing to give me more time to work on it. The trouble for them, however, was that I was going to be leaving town early for the Arizona trip.

I knocked out the story as quickly as possible and produced a tale that was twice as long as the original parameters. So I cut out 100 words, another 100 words, and then 400 more for good measure. Yet, I still found myself with 300 more words than was comfortable.

However, I figured I’d given the editors enough to work with… screw it, I’m sending it and going to bed and will worry about it in April.

Spring Break comes and goes.

I come back to find a message on my phone asking me to drop by to edit the story down. I go into the Vox offices and spend about two hours trying to put my story back together after the Vox editors had pruned it down. I’d heard in the past some Vox editors were known for reworking stories to the point they were barely recognizable to the original author, but I was happy to see my story was mostly intact. Changes were slight and I worked to cover the holes created.

I left the Vox office happy and looking forward to seeing my story come out. The next night I was called to think about headlines, which would later constitute the post from earlier in the week, but when the second call came they were only interested in confirming a headline they came up with.

I had one more round of follow up changes and was told there’d be a few tiny tweaks left, since the story still needed to be two lines shorter, but was assured everything would be there on Thursday.

This morning, I checked the story online and was surprised to find some extra things in my story.

It’s a strange case when you find yourself going through your article with a yellow highlighter denoting what is your writing and what flowed from someone else’s pen, but from that I have produced an annotated version.

Comments in bold are not my lines. Blocked comments in italics hint at deleted details.

Postscript

April 1, 2004

“Caleb, tell the story about the time you got hit by a car,” people often plead.

“For the last time, I’m telling you I was flung off a truck!” I respond.

For those who wish to brag about their grandest, most embarrassing stunt pulled, I have them beat. I was inadvertently the executor of my self-inflicted prank ... on April Fools’ Day.

On a regular day during high school track practice, I noticed one of my friends sitting in his truck. Because he was also on the team, it was obvious he was ducking out of practice.

It’s an unwritten rule that you must hassle anyone who leaves early, so I wasn’t surprised when a teammate called out, “Let’s block him and make sure he can’t leave.”

A large crowd tarried in the parking lot, but as my friend drove forward, the roadblock thinned. I was only playing around, but two guys to my right were determined to stand their ground. [I had more information on how they hated each other for so long, they couldn’t remember why]

Behind the wheel, my friend stared down the guys in his path. Focused on his enemies, he resolved not to back down. In a game of chicken in which both sides were determined to win, I was about to lose.

This is where my memory gets sketchy.

I have pieced together what happened from witness accounts and my limited
recollections. I remember jumping onto the truck. I was pressed against the far right side of the hood by the accelerating motion of the vehicle. We were traveling so fast; I knew I needed to grab on to something.

The last thing I can recall, to my own disappointment, isn’t the world circling around me. It would have been a better story if I could say I felt the breeze on my face before I tumbled to the ground. This is something I explained to the editors, but never directly typed] I only remember gently shifting forward, as if I were readjusting myself in a chair.

Then there is nothing but darkness. My friend and I dispute whether I fell or flew off his fender. When asked if he saw anything, my friend said he watched me get up though I suspect he only saw me bounce, [gone is the detail that I have friends describe this ] flopping like a rag doll on the pavement. He drove to McDonald’s without knowing I lay unconscious on the side of the road.

I remember hearing voices, but some time passed until I thought to open my eyes. Two band directors and the assistant track coach hovered over me. They worked to keep the crowd back, for most of the track team had gathered around and advised me to keep still.

I kept wondering how I could keep my overprotective, hypersensitive parents from finding out about my stupidity [Whoa! Mom and Dad, this came TOTALLY out of nowhere] when I heard someone say: “Don’t worry! I called an ambulance.”

Crap, I thought. I wasn’t going to walk away from this one.

The EMTs arrived with a transport board and a neck brace. Upon being loaded in the back, I was disappointed that I couldn’t look around at all the cool gadgets. Instead, my first ride in an ambulance was spent staring at the ceiling because of the brace.

I told every doctor and technician near me that it hurt whenever I moved my neck. I couldn’t help think I was one careless movement away from paralyzing myself. Only after the brace was removed did I find the source of my paranoia and pain.

When I was launched off of my friend’s Dodge, I landed on my back. I know this because the impact with the asphalt burned a hole in my shirt that framed a patch of road rash on my left shoulder blade. The edge of my neck brace hovered just above the friction burn, and it brushed against the bare skin whenever I turned my head.

The test results said my bones were fine; however, I had a concussion. Minor head trauma should have been a relief, [This is just foolishness] but then my parents arrived, thus leading to the second scariest part of my day.

I grew up in a strict but loving family. Nevertheless, I was unprepared for the browbeating that came from the most unexpected source: my mother.

She hit me with several rapid-fire queries. “How DARE you put the family through this!” and “Did you even THINK about the consequences?” The combination of an acute migraine, a cumbersome IV and muscle-freezing terror forced me to bear her emotional onslaught.

Visiting hours finally ended, and on the way out, my mother paused. Gauging from her earlier lashing, I figured she was going to calm her nerves and be sympathetic to my pains. Instead, in an ambiguous voice, filled with both sardonic spite and motherly comfort, she whispered, “Happy April Fools’ Day.”

It took me a second to comprehend the punch line and my mother’s chilling irony. In the wake of life flashing before my eyes, I had completely forgotten it was April 1. It could have even been funny, save the intense pain. [Um… I did find it funny. I was just also shocked at her sarcastic veracity at the same time]

Today I don’t mind telling people about my day as the fool. It’s a great
icebreaker at parties, and I’m often prompted to repeat it. I don’t care if they miss the emotional significance of the day; it’s now meant to make people laugh.

I only wish they’d get the facts straight when they ask me to tell the story again.

“Hey Caleb! Tell the one about that car you ran into during track practice!”

“Sigh … Okay, let’s go over this one more time … ”

— Caleb Michael Smith

I will say I give Vox great credit for letting me list my whole name as my tagline, as I prefer (but only rarely see in print).

One last thing… The subtitle of the story, as it appeared in print (but not in the online version), was “A spur-of-the-moment game of chicken lands one daredevil in the emergency room.” I hope this is the only time I am ever deemed a “daredevil” in print.

At least that’s my goal, Mom.

'April_fooled_me'

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