Corporate America Saves the Day!

I was recently looking back over my blog posts. Aside from enjoying my rapier wit, lamenting my typos, and reliving the old grad school days, I felt a deep sense of loss. My job and personal life make regular blogging (or blogging at all) particularly difficult. I work long hours; I spend my non-work hours interacting with my girlfriend (interaction: the key to good relationships); my otherwise free time is spent reading. That leaves very little time to craft personally indulgent blog entries.

I also realize that The Web doesn't care about me, and probably despises me in a mild way. The way you might feel about a zit on your butt: not particularly threatening or noticeable, but not pretty to look at and possibly making the place look scummy when you try to impress someone. Therefore, I have decided to see what you, The Web, were spared by my employment.

• Obsession (probably unhealthy) with the Eliot Spitzer debacle.
• An extensive set of posts about Asimov's Foundation series.
  
• Posts about reality TV.
  
• World War II: The beating of a dead horse.
  
• Inane yammering about Battlestar Galactica
• Obamania!
• Moleskine notebooks: Blogger v0.0
• Gas prices are high; let's ride bikes!
  

Weekday Brad Lives for the Weekend

At the moment, I am in a nondescript office building in Hackensack, NJ, running fake analyses of catastrophe risk. This is weekday Brad in a nutshell. Weekend Brad is far different. He lives a glamorous lifestyle that includes a 2-hour busride through Weehauken, Hoboken, and North Bergen that culminates in a grand arrival at the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan. From there, his travels take him all over that fair island.

I have little photographic evidence of my adventures. Little, save one small nugget. A friend and I trekked all the way to 112th and Broadway to see the diner featured in Seinfeld. On the show, characters refer to it as Monk's, but it's actually Tom's. I was extremely creeped out by the manager. And the food. It was terrible despite the fact that they still make a "Big Salad". (Aside: the photo to the right, which provides irrefutable proof of the event, was taken on an iPhone.)

I had another encounter with TV stardom. One of the judges on America's Next Top Model, Nigel Barker, happened to walk past me while I was sitting outside a cafe in the Chelsea Market. Mr. Barker is a judge on the show, a photographer, and a former male model. He was with his wife (also a model) and young son (soon to be a model). I later found out that my girlfriend thinks Mr. Barker is very attractive. Needless to say, I wish I had seized the opportunity to "eliminate" the competition.

I did a lot of other things in the city that mostly involved existing in the vicinity of various landmarks and neighborhoods. I saw the UN Building and briefly contemplated what would happen if I tried to scale the fence. I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and noted that my friend and I were perhaps the only native English-speakers to walk across it. I saw the skating rink at Rockefeller Center where a dirty hippie fell hard on the ice while holding his girlfriend. I walked though Chelsea, SoHo, Greenwich Village, the Meatpacking District, TriBeCa, NYU, Columbia University, the Financial District, parts of Central Park, Grand Central Station, the Upper East Side, and Times Square. I nearly bought bootleg DVDs on Canal Street. I sat in Washington Square Park for an hour watching pedestrians avoid or fail to fully avoid stepping on a dead rat (New Yorkers have an innate ability to avoid a rat without having noticed it).

So maybe I didn't have a "glamorous" weekend. It was more of a "get-as-much-NYC-stuff-as-possible-squeezed-into-2-days" weekend. The best part was watching the New Yorkers step on a dead rat.

Hackensack-bound

I'm guessing that I lost most of my "readership" because some blathering about Kaju Katli doesn't exactly keep your thirst for blog posts quenched for months.

So what's going on in my life?

I previously mentioned that my girlfriend was going to move to California. We can officially change verb tenses because she movED out here just about a month ago. And wow...living together is incredibly easy. I've lived with 3 peers for several years up until May. At that point, I moved close to Fremont to essentially live alone for 4 months. And now, I'm living in a (spacious) one-bedroom apartment with my girlfriend, who I've never lived with before. I was expecting all kinds of friction and adjustment, but it just hasn't happened. Sure, she had to watch Big Brother 8, hates all things produced by the History Channel, and gets annoyed by the copious amounts of body hair that I leave all over the apartment, but that's about the extent of our problems. We're keeping the lines of communication open, and it's going great. You naysayers out there might say that it's only going well because I'm moving to New Jersey for 6 weeks. I doubt it, but it's possible.

"Whoa, wait a second! New Jersey for six weeks?!", you might exclaim. Well, yes. I'm starting a new job October 1 that requires that I train in beautiful Hackensack, NJ, for a time. I feel like I'm ditching Christy (my girlfriend). Thankfully, it's not 3 months of training, as I was originally told, but it still blows. I'm going to try to make a few trips back to CA. Hopefully, the time will go quickly.

I have a ton of crap to do before I go. There's lots of work to be done on the project I'm currently on. I have to arrange bill payment and other mundane tasks. Most importantly, I have to read all 7 Harry Potter books. I started a few weeks ago. I'm currently in the middle of book 6. I need to finish this one and book 7 in about a week and a half. Possible, yes, but not easy when working long hours and spending quality-time with the lady-friend. At this point, I'm not sure I understand all the hoopla about the series. If I was between 9 and 14 years old, I'd be crazy about the books. I just can't understand how or why these books became so popular among adults. You can quote some time-worn line about it exploring classic themes about growing up, uncertainty, destiny, etc., but I'll remain unconvinced. Many other books explore the same themes better. The conflicts that arise between friends and rivals seem so contrived half the time, that I almost want to stop reading. But I must carry on.

The only thing I can think of that drives people to the series is the names. Hogwarts. Mundungus. Draco Malfoy. Hermione (I thought this was "Hymen-knee" when I first heard it). Albus Dumbledore. Bernie Botts. Bellatrix Lestrange. Luna "Loony" Lovegood. And on and on. It's quirky, funny, and mildly subversive in a way that parents can accept (that is, it's not subversive at all).

Sorry for the aside about Harry Potter.

I hope to write here a little more often when I'm in New Jersey. There won't be much to do aside from work, so I hope to have some time to keep everyone updated.

Randomness

I have no political polemics to write down, so I'll discuss some random topics and list them with bullet points all professional-like.

• If we're going to talk about randomness, I might as well mention the recent book I read: Nassim Nicholas Taleb's "The Black Swan". I'll be honest, it was a weird book. At times I felt like I was reading one of those corporate-ese books on effective selling, motivating your underlings, or, in this case, wise investing. At other points, it felt like an irreverant, amusing philosophy book. At still others, he went into fascinating detail on how we deal with randomness psychologically. He dealt with how the really big events that shape our lives, history, and stock portfolios are incredibly rare. It's an interesting point, but he never seems to explain how he uses this fact. He explains that the Gaussian random distribution is defunct (not news). He also mentions that he puts a big chunk of the capital he invests in super-safe government bonds and speculates wildly with the rest. He tries to find those investments where the upside is rare but huge while the failure of that investment wouldn't have adverse effects. Great. But give me a concrete example and compare your results to those of the S&P 500. Otherwise, what is the use of telling me that unexpected things can happen? One other annoying aspect of the book is that he projects an image of an embattled and humble scholar while simultaneously reeking of immense smugness.
  
  
• Some guy in my office keeps bringing in Kaju Katli. The appearance is off-putting (see left): they are made of some hardened off-white paste and covered with a thin layer of aluminum foil that is meant to be ingested along with the hardened paste. But I love them. I LOVE THEM. And it makes sense: they're primarily made from cashews (Kaju = cashew). If you're an uncultured American like me, you should give these a try. I wonder if I can get my girlfriend to make these...
  
  
• Oh right, my girlfriend is moving out to California soon!
  
  
• Having a TV in my bedroom is a horrible idea. I got up early this morning, so at 8am I decided to watch some news for 15 minutes. Unfortunately, I flipped channels during a commercial and settled on "Charmed", the "Buffy" knock-off featuring Alyssa Milano and Rose "Machine-Gun Leg" McGowan. It's a terrible show about witches that would be unremarkable if these two sirens were not in it. But because my willpower is unusually weak in the morning, I found myself watching it to the end and arrived at work a little later than usual (9:05 rather than 8:30). Oops.
  
  
• If you didn't catch it just now, my daily commute to work is 5 minutes (in bad traffic). Less if I hit the stoplights just right.
  

Politcial Actor Committees

I realize that my initial pledges of triviality and banality have been violated as of late, but I guess I just got caught up in some politics. I have another thought that I simply transmit to my zero readers, and then I'll *try* to curtail the political nonsense.

Fred "Law & Order" Thompson has been getting lots of press with his weird, teaser-of-a-bid for the GOP presidential nomination. Lots of people are drawn to him for reasons that I'm not sure I care to know in detail. But his popularity in the press has made me wonder: if he gets the nomination and gets elected, what does that mean? Does it mean that when Americans get themselves into a "pickle" (an Iraq-flavored one in this case), they feel the need to elect an actor to high office?

There's some precedent here. As a Californian, the most readily available example is my own governor, Ahhnold Schwarzenegger. The CA budget was on the fritz so Californians decided to throw out the current governor and install an actor in his place. "He defeated a robot made of molten metal; surely he can balance the budget!"

But there's one more example I would like to mention: Reagan. I didn't exist at the time (that is, I hadn't been born, but I was probably conceived briefly after Reagan's inauguration), so I'm not sure if there was a clear "pickle" in the 1980 election. Perhaps voters considered the Iranian hostage crisis a big pickle. I don't know. But we elected a (bad) actor in the process. The good people of California had elected him governor decades before "to clean up the mess at Berkeley." (real quote, no joke!)

It's just something to think about. At this point, a sophistimacated blogger might segue into a meditation on American decadence, decline, and disrespect for intellectual ability. But, you know me better than that.

We can't let Iran become the next Iraq

I finished reading "A Tragic Legacy" by Glenn Greenwald, and it was pretty damn good. Pretty damn incriminating, too. I basically hit on the major points in the previous post. Greenwald spends a good deal of time enumerating just how successfully Bush has collapsed his own presidency. He exhaustively backs up his theory about that Bush always frames his rhetoric as a Good vs. Evil struggle. While a big chunk of the book is a retrospective on the Bush presidency, there is some urgency as well. The biggest point of the book, for example, is that we're starting to see some noise from the White House regarding Iran that disturbingly resembles the the lead up to the Iraq invasion.

Things are different now, sure, but that doesn't mean we're definitely not going to see some military action in Iran. Yes, the POTUS' approval rating is still sub-30%, and we lack the military resources for a real war against Iran. And yes, Congress will likely not explicitly authorize military action in Iran. But, according to Greenwald, there are ways--sneaky, criminally deceitful ways--around these issues. What follows is my interpretation of Greenwald's thoughts (he should, naturally, get all the credit).

Public approval, for one, doesn't technically mean anything until the election. Bush thinks that "history" will vindicate him. And yet, public pressure might actually be a useful force (Bush's fellow Republicans may desert him even faster than they are now is he decides to bring the entire GOP down with him). Nevertheless, there is a conceivable way around this. If there were, God forbid, a terrorist attack on the US in the short-term, that could put more people behind the President (even if that meant that they support attacking Iran, a country that has no ties to terrorist attacks in Western countries). While public approval isn't necessary, an occurrence like this could take some pressure off Bush and rally some Congressional support.

Given that no major political-shifting event occurs, the President may not even need Congressional support for an attack on Iran. His legal wizzes may find a way to classify a conflict with Iran as an integral or natural part of the campaign in Iraq (for which Bush has authorization from Congress). This particular point was surprising to me, and yet it seems like a natural path if Bush Decided (as "Deciders" are wont to do) to attack Iran. What geographical luck that Iran is right next to Iraq!

The problem that we have over-extended our military is, to reasonable people, insurmountable. To the White House, this isn't a problem, at least for the early phases that a conflict with Iran would take. The early phase would be air strikes on nuclear installations. There might be a few border skirmishes, but nothing too major. It is unlikely, though, that Iran would stand for this because the far-right Nationalist movement in power would need to save face. There would certainly be counter-attacks on carriers in the Persian Gulf. Iran might move for an all-out invasion of Iraq knowing that the numbers they would be able to apply would overwhelm American and British forces. At that point, US troops would be engaged in a struggle to save a land from invaders that they, themselves, invaded in 2003! It would be sad, terrible irony, indeed.

While military and political strategists would intend to keep a hypothetical conflict with Iran limited, I personally can't trust them after the Iraq debacle.

Greenwald details a neo-con lovefest that occurred early this year when Bush met with the neo-conservative "brain trust" that he has listened to regarding Iraq and Israel. They urged him to not listen to public outcry and attack Iran. These people are not fringe thinkers. They have created policy that the President has followed very carefully in the past.

It is important to take the President to task regarding his statements about Iran. We cannot afford to believe vague talk about threats and terrorism when these were applied in the lead-up to our invasion of Iraq. They were either mistaken, misleading, or outright lies at that time, and there is no reason to believe that Bush deserves more credibility now.

Tragic Legacy

I just got it from Amazon, and I'm excited to read Glenn Greenwald's A Tragic Legacy: How a Good vs. Evil Mentality Destroyed the Bush Presidency.  I've read some excepts here and there, and I really liked what I read (I also enjoy his blog a great deal).  It seems like Greenwald has finally distilled all that I've been thinking about these past few years into succinct, clear terms.  The gist is this: George W. Bush has a filter through which everything is either good or evil. This is a major cause of our current and (probably) future problems.  His Good vs. Evil viewpoint is criminally inappropriate and simplistic for a chief executive to apply to his dealings with domestic and foreign issues.

Gee-Dub is a well-meaning man.  He just isn't shrewd enough to rise above gut reactions to terrorism or threats.  Instead of holding nuanced views on how to deal with terrorism and threats to democracy, he sees himself as a Churchillian savior of Western values in a time of intense crisis.  And the public will inevitably give him that authority when the wound is fresh. It is the mark of a true leader that clear thinking guides action rather than "guts".  He doesn't realize that fighting our enemies has far-reaching results for how the rest of the world views the US, our moral standing, the abandonment of our founding principles, etc.  In a sense, Bush doesn't have the "luxury" of a World War to make our path clear.  We can't bomb indiscriminately.  We don't really know who we're fighting, for the most part.  If we "win", there will be no peace treaty to mark the event.

I hope Mr. Greenwald addresses the other side of the issue: Bush critics who froth at the mouth while expounding on Bush's crimes and arrogance.  These people are guilty of exactly the same sort of sloppy reasoning that they criticize.  While most of these people are thankfully on the fringes, it should be remembered that the dualistic attitude that we condemn Bush for holding can be applied by both sides of the political spectrum.  Bush's actions, while pretty damn terrible, are most likely mistakes and not willful acts of destruction.  If we acknowledge that a well-intentioned leader can be misled down this path, we are more likely to avoid repeating similar errors instead of lazily classifying him as evil or incompetent.

Anyway, I can report back in a few weeks when I get around to reading it.  

Cubic Opprobrium

I have been in my new job for a whole month now. I think it's time to stop and take stock of the situation.

I like it. It's a good feeling to make progress on something and get some immediate feedback. Relatively recently, I've felt like a contributing member of the group that others are depending upon. I've been doing work all along, but this week I've been tasked with some work that is mine alone.

Cube life is a little weird, but none of my colleagues seems to dwell on it. I think grad students are conditioned by their professors, peers, and pop culture (Office Space) to think that working in a cubicle is soul-crushing and rife with hopelessness, dark humor, and absurdity. I have some bad news: it's not. It's strange to not have a closed office and to be able to hear conversations from 3 cubes away. But people adapt: we speak quietly and take larger groups to one of the many closed-off conference rooms positioned around the building. This sentiment that cubicles represent the basest form of employment isn't seen in academics alone. However, it seems much more evident among my friends in that group than in others.

If a cube isn't so bad, why was I so certain that it would be a terrible situation? It's simple: working in a cubicle is a fate that many students would have if they didn't stay in academia. Ridicule is a natural way of distancing oneself mentally once the choice is made to avoid it.

Back to my job: As I said, I like it. Nevertheless, some stuff is slightly annoying like the incessant use of Microsoft products (like Excel and Access...ugh). I also managed to join the busiest, most work-aholic group. They are consistently the last people to leave everyday (at 7, 8, or even later). I will be moving on to another group that does quick-response modeling of hurricanes. When there are no 'canes out there, it's slow and 9-5. When the season gets active, my hours will probably become crazy. I think I'll enjoy that more because the urgency and real-time nature is pretty exciting. Plus, I'll have the chance to learn a bunch and actually apply it rather than just store it away (alongside my knowledge of WWII aircraft, Greenland, galaxy formation, Radiohead, and geology).

Zombies and Me. The Conclusion?

I realize that the last post on zombies just sort of ended. Oops. Well, it's about time I wrapped it all up. Plus, it is about time that we start to look toward the future.

Zombies movies/books are cool for the following reasons:

1. The collapse of civilization is morbidly fun to watch.
2. The destruction and reordering of social hierarchies provides interesting stories.
3. Zombies stories can serve as effective allegories that explore societal ills.
4. Zombie stories can serve as extreme "laboratories" of human behavior.
5. Zombies show us what's at the bottom of the Uncanny Valley.
6. Thinking about a massive horde of undead is an enjoyable mental exercise.
7. Zombies provide a useful template upon which extreme and creative situations can be imagined and portrayed.

What's in the future? There are a few sequels of current zombie movies that will soon be released (28 Weeks Later was recently released, Day of the Dead is coming soon). I'm sure zombies will be a fluctuating part of our cinema and pop culture for a long time.

If you thought I was asking about what the zombies OF the future might be, then I can answer that question. The Borg. For the uninitiated, the Borg are a fictional race of beings that exist in the pantheon of Star Trek aliens. Members of the Borg are not normal aliens as we usually think of them. They come from all different types of races, but they alter themselves through micro- and macroscopic biomechanical implants. They are part humanoid (flesh and bone) and part machine. Usually by force, they assimilate other races as they spread through the galaxy. The newly assimilated individuals cease to be unique and become one more node in the collective consciousness of the Borg. They are emotionless, amoral, and strive for one goal: continual assimilation of other species. In addition, the separate beings that make up the Borg are called "drones" and will usually not respond to a human presence unless the collective consciousness perceives it as a threat or decides to begin assimilation. They assimilate by simply injecting some nano devices into the subject's bloodstream. In combat, the Borg are extremely adaptive and able to sustain intense damage with little regard to the individual members who are destroyed.

In short, the Borg are like the zombies of old: uncaring, amoral, relentless, half-dead, and continually expanding with ease. They bring one new feature to the old template: they're wired! I was proud of myself when I made the zombie-Borg connection. Sadly, it was already on Wikipedia. Nevertheless, it's a compelling argument. Not only are zombies and Borg "philosophically" similar, but stories involving the Borg have been played out in zombie films for ages. How is one to treat a newly assimilated comrade or family member? Is he or she dead? Or, is there some memory left behind? How often do we see Star Fleet officers underestimating the Borg only to see how powerful they can be in unconventional ways? To be sure, fighting the Borg involves their powerful intelligence while zombies are stupid. A horde of zombies, however, has a certain intelligence. It uses its numbers and disregard for massive losses to overcome defenders. If we add a small amount of communication, not between individual units but as a hive mind, we would have a very Borg-like beast, indeed.

I think that's about all I have to say about zombies. I don't want this to become a zomblog. So get out there and enjoy those movies, and Hollywood: keep making them! You'll always have an audience.

Schools Don't Burn Themselves Down

It's been a long time since last I wrote to you, Web 2.0. Don't worry, I haven't moved on to Web 3.0. I've just been very busy and under a lot of stress. You understand, baby.

As I wrote about earlier, I took myself an internship for the summer. But that kind of thing doesn't just happen in a vacuum. I had to shop for a car, buy a car, look for new housing in an unfamiliar area, sign a lease, move into a new place, get used to suburbia, and, most importantly, get used to wearing nice clothes and shaving everyday. I did all that stuff and started working at the new job.

That's where the disturbing title of this post comes in. The first group I'm working with is developing some new techniques for quantifying fire risk in buildings. I came in late in the process as things are getting finalized and tested. So, I've been entrusted with breaking the software by throwing weird types of buildings at it. Like schools and nursing homes. It's pretty cool work, but I can't really say much more about it. In a month or so, I'll be moving on to work with the hurricane group.

All this stuff requires some major reading. I don't have an engineering degree. I have not managed to study tropical cyclones in detail. But now I'm up to my elbows with response surfaces and extratropical transitions. Hence, no free time.

I'm also determined to get some open source stuff in the company. Everything is Microsoft. Excel for data analysis, DOS batch files, Visual Fortran for hard-core analysis. I think the place is ripe for some Python. Yes, it's a promising idea, but it means that I need to better learn Python AND learn all that other crap (Excel is a particularly pathological program). Busy Busy Busy.

I'm not complaining about all this stuff. I just wanted you, Web 2.0, to understand why I haven't written.

Zombies and Me. Part 3: Zombies are Just Plain Awesome!

To view Part 1, a list of zombie movies and books, click here. To view Part 2, my fascination with how zombie films explore the breakdown of society, click here.

The idea of how the apocalypse affects our society is not the only thing that sets zombie movies apart. Many movies have this concept, but I don't have such positive feelings about them (cf. Armageddon).

Zombies serve as useful secondary plot devices that allow filmmakers to explore some aspects of the human condition that would not otherwise be feasible. The pseudo-zombie movie The Omega Man needed zombie-like creatures to provide the dramatic tension, other characters, and some cool skin diseases. Without something like zombies, it would have been impossible to explore just how interesting the Last Man On Earth (LMOE) condition can be. In other words, the audience can take only so much of a cocksure Charleton Heston cruising around a deserted Los Angeles. I think Hollywood has proved that Tom Hanks is the only actor who can be the sole character in a film (unless you count a bloody volleyball).

Zombies are more than mere plot devices. Their importance extends to providing fascinating artificial laboratories for characters where one can explore human nature in an extreme setting. One such laboratory is: how do humans react when the zombie chasing you is a beloved relative or friend? That is, the zombies only appear to be these people. The zombie is something else: an impersonal force of nature with no feelings, few memories, and very little intelligence. Nevertheless, the wave of uncaring death looks like people we knew in our former lives, and this adds to the difficulty of dealing with it. What kind of people try to ignore reason and hope that this person would never hurt them? What if a character becomes so inured to exterminating human-like creatures that he begins to murder normal humans?

The original zombie movies were fairly simple in this regard because the zombie obliterated all connection to the living human that gave up its body. This causes some drama in the middle section of a zombie movie when the wife is forced to kill her husband, etc., but this is usually overcome in a short period of time. It should be noted, however, that some zombie movies try to push the envelope in this regard. George Romero's latest, Land of the Dead, and, to some extent, his version of Dawn of the Dead give the zombies some retention of their former lives (working in a gas station or going to the mall). Peter Jackson's Dead Alive also allows the zombies to pursue the goals that they had before conversion albeit with much more directness (case in point: the zombified mother tries to stuff her grown son back into her womb).

This tension and discomfort caused by an object that resembles a human but differs ever so slightly has actually been studied in detail. The notion of the "Uncanny Valley" (wikipedia) captures our discomfort thusly: as an object becomes more and more similar to a human form, we react more and more positively. That trend ceases, however, when the similarity gets into a region that is quite close, but still not human-like. At this point, the familiarity drops precipitously and we react with revulsion to the object. Only when the object is an exact copy of a human will we accept it as familiar. Scientists study this phenomenon with regard to corpses, robots, and animated films. Computer animators are well aware of the Uncanny Valley and currently make efforts to stay out of it by making movies about animals, anthropomorphic cars, or obviously exaggerated humans like The Incredibles. The resources required to make a computer-generated human that audiences will accept on a visceral level are too great (the box office failure of Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within is often quoted as an example of discomfort due to the Uncanny Valley). Where does the Uncanny Valley come from? Is there some sort of evolutionary reason? If so, where would the Uncanny Valley crop up in prehistoric man's environments? Maybe we had to regularly fight zombies. I suggest that we study this hypothesis immediately.

The zombie aesthetic is a clear exploration of the Uncanny Valley. Not only do we fear what the zombie will do to us (eat our flesh, infect us, etc.), we are very uncomfortable when we look at these creatures. Zombies are doubly creepy: they look like corpses which reside at the bottom of the Uncanny Valley. Plus, they do something that corpses shouldn't do: they move.

Enough high-minded, faux-academic talk. Zombies allow the filmmaker/writer to picture really crazy scenes and scenarios which are, honestly, too screwed up to seem worthy as an "exploration of the human condition." They're just really cool and fun to think about. One of my personal favorite topics explored in zombie narratives are the details of zombie combat, defense, and escape. Max Brooks' remarkable Zombie Survival Guide focuses on these topics giving weirdo military nuts like me a treasure trove of cool stuff to think about. Like: a bicycle is the best form of transportation because it is nearly soundless, requires no fuel, is faster than walking/running, and can be carried relatively easily. Or: the harpoon is really the only reasonable weapon in underwater zombie combat. According to Planet Terror (part of Grindhouse), a pocket bike is a great way to stay low, keep mobile, and look like a circus clown. A tough, zombie-killing circus clown. I also like to think about the best possible defensive wall design. Since zombies lack the cognitive ability to climb, it need not be too high. But what if they crush each other, forming a ramp that other zombies can simply walk up? The crushing force may also render simple wooden or brick walls useless.

People can write volumes about how to manage ammunition when the number of zombies is in the millions, how to set up choke points in an escape route, how to lure zombies out from where you don't want them, what types of firearms are superior zombie-fighting instruments, what to stockpile in a zombie-proof bunker, when not to use fire to fight zombies, and how to fight zombies from zeppelins. The zombie is an interesting creature because it is probably very predictable. This allows great confidence in computer simulations of tactics, semi-analytic techniques for zombie flux, modeling of infection rates, and zombie speeds in different types of terrain.

There are other more fantastic topics that zombie movies explore. What happens if a pregnant woman is infected? Does she give birth? Will the baby be infected? How would an infected baby behave? Dead Alive, as always, ups the ante when a zombie priest impregnates a zombie nurse (at the dinner table, no less!), and she gives birth within days to a psychotic little imp who laughs maniacally and wreaks hilarious havoc. One of the most surreal scenes occurs when our human protagonist takes the zombie baby for a stroll through the park in a barbed wire-covered baby carriage.

I'm a poking machine

I just got my ass on Facebook, and wow. It's a blast. Nearly every undergrad is on Facebook at this point, but I missed the boat by one year. I graduated in 2003, but Facebook was unleashed on all American college students in 2004. So, it's a crapshoot whether some of my classmates or older friends are on it. I already blogged about my experience with MySpace. Well this is much better. The interface is clean, efficient, and very snazzy. There is much less spam and worthless crap floating around. Plus, users aren't considered smart enough to mod their own pages (thus adding idiotic backgrounds, fonts, and music).

The best feature, however, is poking.

This is how you do it: you click "Poke X!" on X's page (or in a friend list). It just pops up as a poke on X's homepage. That's all there is to it. You can't add a message (other features allow you to send messages, post notes, comment on photos, etc.). I'm not sure why this feature was originally included, but it's amazing. I don't want to get too deep here, but it's truly a new form of communication. You can't send any information other than "I still exist, and I thought about you for some reason." How else could you do that in person or on the phone? There are ways, I'm sure, but they are all unnatural and will inadvertently carry additional information (like: I'm creepy). The Poked has no idea why the Poker was thinking about the Poked. Occasionally it's just because the Poker noticed that the Poked was signed on at the same time. In this case the transferred information is: "I noticed you were online while I was online. Oh right, I also still exist."

The cost of sending this limited information is quite low, as it should be. It may well be the most efficient (in terms of cost per amount of info) method of communication that we have.
The only drawback is that poking can get out of hand. My friend Meera and I have been involved in a poking war ever since I started on Facebook. But even this isn't such a big distraction. One cannot poke someone repeatedly. They can only poke again after the Poked has acknowledged the previous poke. At this point, the efficient information flow is stopped, but it's a small price to pay.

The second best feature is, of course, the news feed. If your friend uploaded new photos or added new friends, that information can be sent to you. When I added "the philosophical ramifications of lifting heavy zombies" as a new interest, all my friends instantly knew about it. Some people attack the feed as "stalkerish" or "pathetic", and I agree with them. But I still love it. If I could, I would poke it.

Facebookers: Feel free to add me! You're going to have to know my real name, of course.

The Announcement

I have decided, after countless hours deliberating, discussing and researching, that I will leave grad school for a "real" job. I applied for and accepted a position at a company in the Bay Area that does some pretty cool work. The job will be technical but also interdisciplinary and (hopefully!) interesting.

Why ditch grad school?

I gradually came to the conclusion that I don't fit into the academic mold. I realize that academics come in all shapes and sizes, but I can't imagine spending the rest of my life studying galaxies or cosmology. Part of the reasoning here is that I need some ties to the "real world". I also dislike the pure research atmosphere and crave a little more structure. I want some semblance of job stability and an ability to put down roots. Please understand: it is amazing stuff that needs to be worked out, but I feel that my future does not lie here. Given my distaste for continuing research work after grad school, I started to seriously consider the point of finishing grad school itself. I don't need the Ph.D. to feel good about myself.

A parallel self-conversation concerned the fact that I never really enjoyed grad school. I understand that this is not exactly a unique or meaningful statement. I knew going into grad school that it would suck on some level. Nevertheless, there should be a few moments of accomplishment and excitement sprinkled into it. I accomplished a few things, yes. But the excitement never surfaced. My motivation for conducting research was never the subject itself or a thirst for understanding. I did the work because my advisor would be upset if I didn't. This force alone does not a good researcher make.

At this point, you might wonder why I hadn't switched my path much sooner. The answer: I never questioned why I was following the path I was on. In high school, I enjoyed and excelled in physics. I hesitatingly decided to major in it in college. I did surprisingly well in college and found myself a senior with many physics courses under my belt. What then? Grad school, of course! I ended up at Berkeley as a grad student, did the coursework, and started working with a professor right away. I never felt like I fully engaged in research even after co-writing a paper and going to some conferences. The point of all this is that I never truly examined what I wanted to do or where I wanted to be. I "followed my nose", taking the well-worn path that everyone around me expected me to take. Well, it might be a little late, but I'm examining my options now.

At the end of last summer (August 2006), my dislike of academia and grad school reached a crisis level. I was no longer interested in furthering the project I was working on or any other project in astrophysics. I decided to jump outside the "grad school track" and see if some other track was more appealing in both the short- and long-term. If I jumped out and realized that I needed to be back in physics, then I could go back. It would be an uphill battle, but I would at least know that I wanted to do it.

A Ph.D. in physics is an impressive thing, but how necessary is it? What doors does it open that are closed otherwise? Aside from academic jobs, the doctorate makes consideration for quantitative financial jobs much easier. I applied for and interviewed for a few of these types of positions, but it was a very half-hearted pursuit because I never felt great about this field. My degree in astrophysics wouldn't place me in a position to go into an industry like semiconductor or biotech. So that path is out. What's left? Consulting is a possibility, and I pursued it. I also tried to talk to people who did things in software and modeling. The latter field eventually yielded some fruit.

So we'll see what happens. The company that hired me is bringing me on for what is technically an internship, but it's really an exploratory session to see what interests me and how I can best fit into their organization. I'll have an opportunity to perform commercially-minded research as well as some financial analysis and consulting. This is really the best possible situation because it allows me the chance to explore all the fields that I have been considering. At the end of the summer, I hope to have a permanent position doing something that fits me.

A Year of Bradhoc!

The anniversary of the start of Bradhoc has just whooshed by with very little fanfare. I suppose that's my fault for not drawing attention to it, but you people need to be more pro-active. Plan a parade on your own for once! Geez!

Anyway, I humbly thank Google for running blogger. I also want to thank my loyal fans (thanks Mom and Dad!). And finally, I want to thank the zombies. Without the clawing, hungry avalanche of putrid, decayed flesh, where would I be? Indeed, where would any of us be?

I have been mentally busy and gave the blog short shrift. So, there are some big announcements looming. Plus, I hope to write the final installment to my zombie essay soon. Stay tuned in the coming weeks, and you shall be rewarded.

Two Small Things

I have nothing lengthy to say right now. However, I did want to share a snippet of overheard cell phone conversation. Near the math building, I overheard a surfer/frat boy (common hybrid in these parts) say: "I would rather be sterilized as an infant." Finally. They're listening to the rest of us.

I also felt the need to post the below picture. For one, I feel it satisfies my science quota for a month or so. For another, it is basically a roundhouse kick to the face of the scientific establishment. It finally makes clear what has been staring in the face of cosmologists through fierce, bearded eyes.



(I don't remember where I found this picture. I certainly wasn't clever enough to add a small Chuck Norris picture onto a well-known Big Bang recap picture. If someone objects or finds the original source, let me know. Oh, and yes, even Chuck Norris' EYES are bearded.)

Recycle In Peace, Mt. Aspartame

I love Diet Coke. I love the taste. I especially love the lies that it represents: I am not drinking sugar. It also allows me to think that I am "not" addicted to caffeine (I don't drink coffee. Ergo, I'm not a caffeine addict). Like all relationships based on lies, ours isn't perfect. I occasionally go overboard and drink too much in one day. I'll usually get some mild dizzyness and cold sweats from the apartame and caffeine. Nevertheless, I still love Diet Coke.

I decided to show my appreciation by building a tower of Diet Coke in my office. I called it Mt. Aspartame. It started as a collection of 20 oz. bottles that I put on top of a filing cabinet. I ran out of space and requisitioned some catalogs to set on the first layer and provide a surface for the second layer. This continued unabated even when I had to start snaking around ductwork in my pursuit of the ceiling. The before picture is a bit dated, because there were two more levels at the tower's zenith. It is also worth noting that the picture taped to the filing cabinet is a webcomic from Natalie Dee. Click here for the link.

I almost got to the ceiling. But at 8:40:00 pm on Thursday, March 1, AD 2007, the bottles came crashing down. How do I know? For one, my officemate happened to be in the office when the whole, shoddy, empty edifice fell. Why did it fall? The short answer: because we tempted fate, God, and the laws of Physics. The real answer: a 4.2 magnitude earthquake. My officemate, who took the magnificent before and after photos, was more than a little annoyed. After all, the bottles on the floor would have significantly impeded his evacuation (digression: our building is slated for demolition because it is not up to code for earthquake safety. Apparently, the facade of the building would fall off, taking our office on a seven-story joyride to the ground.) I understand his annoyance. But I was secretly pleased. I had been alternating in calling the tower "Mt. Aspartame" and "my earthquake detector". Mt. Aspartame may have perished in the Great East Bay Earthquake of 2007, but the earthquake detector worked flawlessly.

I should say that other officemates have different theories for why Mt. Aspartame collapsed. The mountain was composed of only Coca-Cola products to ensure uniformity and because Coca-Cola has exclusive rights to UC Berkeley. Because of this, a few Dasani, Sprite, Cherry Coke, and Coke Classic bottles were in the tower in load-bearing capacities. I consider these inferior beverages, but I never once thought that they would be inferior structural components. Some say that the inclusion of these inferior products rotted the structure from the inside, allowing a relatively minor external threat to destroy the whole thing. Perhaps this is true to some extent. Nevertheless, there was no way to completely eradicate all impure elements from the tower. The catalogs used in the platforms were surely substandard. If I were to take the argument to the logical extreme, I would have to bathe each bottle in Diet Coke to eliminate my saliva from the lip of each bottle.

I came into work the next day and cleaned up the 200+ bottles. All ended up in a recycle bin for an enterprising homeless man to collect and send to a humble death at the recycling plant. I had no intention of rebuilding. I challenged the natural order, and I was punished for my impudence. I may be brash, but I will never deny a learning experience when I see one.

Godless Money

I recently heard of a US Mint mistake that smacks of sweet, drippy irony. First, some backstory: The Mint is making dollar coins with president heads on them. Apparently, this is because the Mint wants more coins to be taken out of circulation by amateur collectors who think they're going to be rich after 20 years because no other everyday shmoes are going to do that, too. I was mildly aware of this because I run in numismatic circles, mildly numismatic circles, that is.

The news is this: a recent batch of these coins is missing "E Plurbis Unum", "In God We Trust", the year, and the Mint location (see this AP article). Hence, they are "Godless" coins. They're also "Latinless", "timeless", and "homeless", but Godlessness sells more newspapers, apparently.

I bet this is great fodder for our atheist bloggers (hi, Sean Carroll) who will probably try to use the Godless coins exclusively. I bet Michael Newdow (wikipedia) is going to be hoarding them, too.

I propose that this "mistake" was purposeful. The Bush administration, being much more "Biblical" than previous administrations, wants a lasting nod to Christianity. After all, Paul wrote in an epistle that "the love of money is the root of all evil" (1 Timothy 6:10). You shouldn't sully God's name by putting it on actual currency. If they're going to be money-grubbing Republicans, they might as well acknowledge that loving money is a bad thing.

I think I have a good compromise scheme. According to John Hodgman, national treasure and Bullshit Laureate of the United States, Jefferson, Van Buren, Garfield, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Nixon, Bush I, and Bush II all had/have hooks for hands. Their coins should have sharp hooks all the way around the coin, bloodying the hand of any who dares spend it. I think God wouldn't mind putting his name to that kind of money. It would be pretty difficult to love.

The Shirtless March of Progress

I'm taking a short break from talking about zombies (it puts you on edge if you overdo it). So let's talk about the opposite of zombies: bums. Many are on the street because they want to be. Others are there for mental health reasons. Something must be done, but how? It's a difficult question because living on the street is terrible for their health, but these people may not want to leave. Is it right to force them "for their own good"? Instead of addressing the important issues here, I just want to tell a few stories about how the lives of those living on the street and my life intersect.

A few days ago, I was walking on Berkeley's campus and saw a street person, but he was clearly industrious because he was collecting cans and bottles. He was shirtless, with dirty black pants and a ratty black shirt tied around his waist. He carried a black lawn bag filled to capacity with bottles and cans. And he was talking on a cell phone. I didn't interact with the man as he was clearly busy. I simply smiled and went on my way.

It did beg the question: where did the cell phone come from? Did he steal it? I normally doubt this possibility because most homeless people are peaceful and never break major laws (aside from loitering, drug dealing/use, and public urination). I had a plausible explanation a day later. The next day, I went to the Verizon store to exchange a faulty phone. As I was waiting, a homeless man walked in with a bag of money to buy a pre-paid phone. The clerk at the cash register was clearly accustomed to this occurrence as she went through the paper work and started to count out the money in the bag. She stopped, however, when the coins became progressively more deformed. She requested money that was more obviously money and that had not been cut, flattened under a heavy object, or worked upon with caustic chemicals. The man chafed at such a request and argued for a while, stating that it's money and that he finds it all over the place. Whether he found it in under a dry-docked ship or in an abandoned chemical factory, he didn't say. Ultimately, he left in a huff as he didn't have enough indisputable currency to purchase the phone.

Earlier today, another homeless man left the bus in a huff. I see this man on the bus occasionally, and I know him as "The Crowned Bishop". He speaks with a ridiculously gravelly, loud voice that is nearly impossible to understand. He also keeps a bottle of liquor in the front of his pants. Today, he got on the bus and immediately started talking at a man in the back of the bus. The man ignored him or expressed his distaste discreetly because The Crowned Bishop started up another conversation with a girl next to me. She left the bus (ostensibly to transfer), and he started talking at some other poor woman. He was eventually rebuffed by all the women on the bus and lamented his poor "lady skills" for all to hear. He was also taking periodic swigs from some sort of fortified grape wine that he kept stashed in the front of his sweatpants. This sad episode stands in stark contrast to one of my other encounters with this man. Reeking of Wild Irish Rose, he began to immediately exclaim his contentedness with his position on Earth. He said that he was "A crowned bishop! Crowned by God!" at least 30 times over the course of a 5 minute bus ride. He was addressing this all to a man sitting across from him and trying to ignore him.

Because I see The Crowned Bishop only once or twice a month and because he is a walking psychology experiment, I consider myself lucky whenever I see him. Today would have been special if this encounter was all that happened. No, today was remarkable because I saw the other pivotal-but-elusive bum in my life.

She entered my life a few months ago. My girlfriend and I were walking down Shattuck Avenue in Berkeley one summer morning. This woman was walking the opposite direction on the same side of the street. We were the only people out and about at the time. As she drew near, we began to hear her ramblings and outbursts directed at cars and closed storefronts. When we were within 20 feet, she noticed us and directed some vitriol at me regarding the company I keep (my girlfriend). She expressed her disapproval primarily through the use of a certain expression that I will not repeat here, but one that is quite lewd and inappropriate. Naturally, I continue to use this expression as a term of demented endearment for my girlfriend. She has even used it for herself, but I'm sure she regretted it. Just the other day, we had a conversation about how we wanted to see her again. The event was made all the more memorable because my girlfriend and I disagree on the gender of this person. This morning, I was able to end the debate once and for all. I saw this woman on Telegraph launching verbal attacks at passerby. She was wearing a tube top.

With the day being so auspicious, are there any kings to crown or wars to start?

Zombies and Me. Part 2: Society is Crumbelievable

I was riding my bicycle through downtown Chicago. I was going relatively slowly amidst a group of people just north of the Chicago River on Dearborn. We were all enjoying the sunny day and the leisurely stroll. Suddenly, the crowd around me started panicking. They were running in all directions. As I looked back, I noticed that the back of the crowd was slowly being overtaken by hungry zombies. They were fast-moving and taking people down in the middle of the street. I was swept along with the now-faster crowd of pedestrians until I looked to my left and saw an old man get taken down. That's when I put my bike into high gear and took off, leaving the poor souls behind me. I crossed the bridge over the Chicago River and looked back. The crowd was sinking into the distance, and I became relieved. Until I saw him. A young boy zombie had found a bike and was gaining on me. I was initially stunned that a zombie could even ride a bicycle. As I turned left onto Wacker Drive, he was right next to me, growling and clawing with his ragged hand. I kicked him away. He veered away and almost lost his balance. As he came in for another attack...I woke up.

I love these dreams. They're so exciting. I have a zombie dream about once a month, a rate that is far too low. In most other dreams, I'm more actively engaged in fighting zombies either in hand-to-hand combat in the Sierra Nevadas or by manning massive defense breastworks in San Francisco to stem the tide of decaying flesh. This last dream, set in Chicago, was far more harrowing than others, but I don't mind. I have no idea why the locations are so specific and interesting.

In my last post on zombies, I listed important films and books that define and develop the zombie paradigm. In this post, I want to go deeper and explore just why I yearn to fight zombies in my sleep.

My personal fascination started when I was a senior in college. I deeply enjoyed Dead Alive, 28 Days Later, and Dawn of the Dead (the remake). Sure, I enjoyed the ridiculous gore and violence as much as the next de-sensitized, brute. At first, I thought that was the ONLY reason I liked these movies. Then I saw Night of the Living Dead, George Romero's original masterpiece. This movie had incredibly poor production values, it was slow, and the zombies were laughably awkward. Still, I enjoyed it more than the others, and this initially had me puzzled. The others met my 21st century standards for movie violence while Night surely did not. I realized that there was something pure, something important in Night of the Living Dead that I connected to on a deep level.

After much thought, I decided that one reason I loved these films was the way in which the filmmaker depicted the effect on culture and society. I have always been fascinated by events that are capable of bringing down society as we know it, reducing us to our most primal level. The events are interesting in their own right, but it is even better to explore how certain people who occupy a place in the pre-zombie society must adapt to their new existence. A skillful filmmaker (I'm looking at you, George Romero) can utilize this reordering of roles as a scathing and effective commentary on our normal, pre-zombie society.

That's a lot of words, and it can be best explained through examples.

In Night of the Living Dead, a black man becomes the only level-headed leader in a house besieged by zombies. He has the ability to save them all, but the rest drop like flies because they don't listen. At the very end, [SPOLIER] he is the last man alive as some zombie-hunting hillbillies with guns come up to the house. The audience initially thinks that our hero is saved. But, alas, they catch a glimpse of a black man in the house and immediately take a shot, killing the hero of the movie at the last second. They didn't bother to see if he was a zombie. Would they have acted differently if it was a white man? Apparently, the status quo, as disgusting and twisted as it was, regained control. Who is a greater menace: man or zombie?

Another example of a person of low social standing coming to the fore and becoming a leader occurs in Shaun of the Dead. Shaun is an aimless, lazy guy who hasn't grown up. His girlfriend dumps him. Then the zombies attack. He tries to save his mom, girlfriend, and friends and finds himself as the leader of the group. Those who don't listen or question his policies die. When it's all over, [SPOILER] he has the girl and even keeps his zombified friend around so they can play video games together. He grows into a man, but he does not abandon his reckless youth. Isn't that the deal that most men strive for? In this case, he was only capable of success in a zombie world.

Dawn of the Dead (the remake) has a mall security guard who considers his post so important that he locks up refugees who have escaped their own crumbling worlds and end up at the mall. He considers them criminals for two reasons. First, he most certainly enjoys the new-found power and respect that allows him to command his fellow guards and detain the refugees. Second, and most critically, he refuses to acknowledge that the world is collapsing around him. By being an asshole to the others, he is able to escape the unavoidable conclusion that his life will never be easy or predictable again. He is ultimately captured by the refugees and forced to accept that survival is all that matters. The tone of the film is different from here on out. The mall-dwellers become concerned with living and finding a permanent home.

The reordering of roles happens in plenty of other movies. For example, it's incredibly common plot device in disaster movies like The Poseidon Adventure, Armageddon, Airplane, War of the Worlds, or The Core. What else do zombie movies have to offer to set them apart? Stay tuned...

Zombies and Me. Part 1: The Definition

Read the following sentence carefully: I love the idea of zombies, but I don't love zombies. I'm not a proponent of zombie hugs or giving zombies the right to vote. I don't want to become a zombie who feasts on my loved ones. I prefer not to participate in a massive society-crushing zombie outbreak. But I love the idea of zombies.

I better be clear about what I mean by "zombie". This is my definition: "a human body in which higher brain functions are dead or nearly dead. The body is malevolent in nature and will stop at nothing to eat human flesh or attack humans." The body may or may not be dead in a medical sense. I'm not picky about how it became a zombie. There's an idea in voodoo lore that witch doctors can control another human by taking his/her soul. This is more of a trance, and the subject is, in essence, controllable. The zombie ideal is uncontrollable, an impersonal force of nature. This modern notion was invented by George A. Romero in Night of the Living Dead.

There's a lot of stuff out there in movies and books that discusses zombies. To be even more clear, I think I need to list the zombie movies and books that follow my favorite conception of zombies. Purists, be forewarned: I'm going to throw in a few that are questionable, and I will leave a few out (and with good reason: they suck!). Note that this also functions as a great summer movie list. In the posts that are to come, I will be drawing my material from these films and books.

• The Romero Sequence
  
1. Night of the Living Dead (1968) -- a mixed group tries to survive the night in a farmhouse beseiged by zombies.
   
2. Dawn of the Dead (1978) -- In the midst of a widespread attack, society is crumbling and a few try to escape via helicopter. They land on the roof of a mall and try to eke out a living. Their perfect world crashes down when a marauding motorcycle gang tries to take over.
   
3. Day of the Dead (1985) -- A look at how the military (mis)handles the zombie threat. They attempt to train the zombies as instruments of warfare...to disastrous effect.
   
4. Land of the Dead (2005) -- An oasis of humanity in which those with money and power live in luxury while others live in squalor. Don't worry: the "haves" get their comeuppance, and the "have-nots" are able to move on.
   
5. Diary of the Dead (Early 2007!) -- An indie that's set for release early this year. It apparently follows some student filmmakers in the woods as they encounter zombies. I've heard that it's set at the same time as the original Night of the Living Dead. I'm so excited!
   
• Remakes from the Romero Sequence
• Night of the Living Dead (1990, 2006)
• Dawn of the Dead (2004) -- a modern re-vamping of the shopping mall setting for a zombie attack. It's campy and goes for the laughs as much as it goes for gross-outs. Nevertheless, it has some great views of society's collapse as seen through the eyes of those trapped in the mall.
• Day of the Dead (April 2007!) -- Here's the trailer. Starring Ving Rhames and Mena Suvari.
  
• Other films
• 28 Days Later (2002) by Danny Boyle.
• 28 Weeks Later (May 2007!). The US of A swoops in to rebuild Britain after the zombies die out. It looks like a few might be left...
  
• Resident Evil + sequels (2002). I'm not a fan. It's too videogame-ish with only passing reference to the world outside the small group.
  
• Shaun of the Dead (2004) by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright. THE BEST comedy based on zombies. I initially expected a Wayans Brothers-style spoof movie. I was totally wrong. This movie is flat out amazing, even for those who don't like zombie movies.
  
• Zombi II (1979) by Lucio Fulci. This Italian-made movie isn't all that great, but it has a scene where a topless female scuba diver encounters an underwater zombie. Then a shark comes along, and the zombie fights (and bites!) the shark. The most sublime scene in film history.
  
• Films that are a bit outside of the Romero-style zombie flick
  
• Dead Alive (1993) by Peter Jackson. A monkey from Sumatra or something bites an older woman who succumbs and reanimates as a pseudo-zombie. In life, she was a well-off widow who tortured her adult son. The son tries to keep his mother's zombie body under wraps with hilarious and gory consequences. Oh yeah. And a minister joins the fight against zombies and says, "I kick arse...for the Lord!!" This is considered one of the goriest movies of all time.
  
• Slither (2006) by James Gunn. Fun, horror-comedy film that is zombie-ish. Worm creatures from outer space land in remote Oregon and screw with a small town. Some people are turned into mindless slaves under worm control.
  
• The Omega Man (1971) with Charlton Heston. Bio-warfare leads to most people dying in LA, but some turn into zombie-like freaks who wear sunglasses and black cloaks. They don't particularly like the only immune man in the world. Maybe because he drives a stolen convertible around town?
  
• Re-Animator (1985). A med student figures out a way to revive corpses, but they have a funny habit of going on killing sprees.
• Zombie Honeymoon (2004). A zombie romantic comedy.
  
• Books that follow the Romero zombie ideal
• The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks. In a faux-serious book that never cracks a smile, Mr. Brooks enlightens the reader on how to fight zombies. Pay special attention to underwater zombie combat.
  
• World War Z by Max Brooks. Great recent book that reveals how mankind dealt with a massive zombie infestation. Written as a series of interviews, it gradually reveals how we fought back and how Cuba became the biggest superpower on Earth.
  
• Monster Island, Monster Nation, and Monster Planet by David Wellington. I haven't read them, but they detail the spread of zombism across the US and involve Somali kids recovering AIDS medicine from an infested Manhattan for some reason.
  

Crackpottery

No, "crackpottery" is not a ceramic vessel for smoking crystalized cocaine. It's the term I've applied to the work that crackpots engage in. Because I'm (loosely) associated with a physics department, I regularly receive emails from weirdos about their theories. They range from the bizarre (cf. "Clean Jesus' Heavens", click the pic at left to see a bigger version) to the malicious (cf. emails from a certain guy who said, "In one year from the date (3-28-06) the physics dept will be guilty of negligence and will be legally liable." Apparently, we ivory-tower types have not resolved the GLARING inconsistencies in wave-particle duality).

I recently received a message written in terrible broken English. It was written by an expert in cognition. He prefaced the email with some questions, possibly rhetorical. He then proceeded to outline his recent discovery of "Double-activenness thinking".

For some reason, I was inspired to answer his questions in the manner in which they were asked. I have reproduced the questions and MY answers here.

A ) Animals have no language function , but they can also respond to external things like human being , why ? How does they respond to ?

Animals does respond to things like human being through think of self in box inside
Chairman Hu of china . Animal replies in kind to chairman if self responsed in visual linguistic center . Center serves same porpoise as thinking mode in human except no linguist ability .

B ) when brain begin one thinking , is visual linguistic center often used
more early than hearing linguistic center ?

Which depend on thinking mode and consciousness level . If above self and
Bolr logic demands it , then visual linguistic center used more early and often . In most cases and otherwise , and if you sound - hear the thoughts of others , then hearing linguistic center active in brain and thinking .

C ) When one sentence , such as " When I am in love with you , ...... " , is expressed in thinking , will it have only one thinking mode ? ( limited in brain thinking )

It always do have one thinking mode . Most brain speacilists and speechilists say no according to present theory situation and love level . But it obvious clearly thart hearing linguistic center only used only this time .

D ) Why do people need two thinkings for one thing to remember easily
one thing ?

One thing need be remembered through two thinkings of two sorts because box of memmaries need two openings : one input and one output . Without two openings, we have no (zero) remembrance abilities if because divergence not equal zero.

Idiocracy On the Bus

I've recently seen the movie Idiocracy. In case you aren't aware: The protagonist (played by Luke Wilson) is an astoundingly average army guy. He is chosen to participate in a human cryogenic experiment where he is frozen for a year. The army needs a woman test subject and ends up hiring a woman-of-the-evening (played by Maya Rudolph). Due to various mistakes they are forgotten for 500 years.

They wake up during the Great Garbage Avalanche of 2505. The IQ of the world has become so low that these two are the smartest people on the planet. Various gag jokes involving the idiots of the world occur, and it's a pretty funny movie in general. The reasoning behind why the world is so stupid is that idiots have tons of kids (often by mistake) and smart people have fewer. The movie is an interesting commentary that is quite serious underneath the veneer of gags. Our culture values stupidity. Intelligent, affluent, and well-off people also severely limit child-bearing. One Slate reviewer even equated the movie to the incredibly somber Children of Men.

I don't usually take such a hard line on the subject. I believe that our culture will come back to valuing intelligence. Sure, Paris Hilton is still prominent, but she and her ilk are fading. I maintain this optimism except for one time: when I'm on the bus.

I take the bus nearly every day to work. Living in Berkeley, you see an incredible mix of people. I haven't lost faith in the intelligence of our society because of the bums, mumblers, panhandlers, and smelly hippies. I recognize that they get attracted to Berkeley and the bus in disproportionate numbers. Plus, they're just going along as best they can. No, I feel like the world will have a garbage avalanche because of 16-22 year olds.

Certain members of this age group do things that defy rational explanation. Why, for example, are they playing music on their cell phones with an incredibly poor, tinny quality? What's the point? It sounds terrible and drains your battery needlessly. And the kids gather around the crappy music and listen to it. I've even seen some of the more tech-savvy kids crank up their iPod volume and listen to the music on the earpieces (which are earpieces, not speakers!) with that same metallic, drill-into-your-brain sound quality.

I realize that kids always feel the need to broadcast their music loudly and annoyingly. I did it in high school. I used to drive my mom's Sunfire through the suburbs and blast Incubus or Metallica on the tiny speakers. At least people outside the car could hear the bass. I'm also reminded of the previous generation's punkers and rappers who used to carry around the huge boomboxes. (The nerds took them to task in Star Trek IV when Spock incapacitated a punker on a bus across the Golden Gate Bridge because he refused to turn off his music.) I wouldn't mind the music if it was played with any quality. Why did our standards for sound quality decline so much among the asshole teenager crowd? What is happening to our rebellious youth?

And where did the word "hella" come from? Of course, I can read Urban Dictionary's entries. It may have come from San Francisco or Oakland/Berkeley. It means "very" in most circumstances, but it originally meant "hell of a lot of". Some examples: "people on the bus are hella stupid" or "my pet-peeves are hella numerous" or "I have hella indignation". Fine. Say it a little. It's local and fun. But I have observed halves of phone conversations where "hella" was used at least twice per sentence. How do you expect to find a job when you speak like a moron? Saying "like" too often is annoying, but at least that's a word in the English language.

I have other problems with our youth that aren't found on the bus. Some kids nowadays are so incredibly dumb that they don't understand basic principles about the internet. While "Web 2.0" is about sharing and collaboration, it retains the ideas from "Web 1.0": accessibility and
retention. The stuff you post can be accessed by a huge number of people if they were so inclined. And they will continue to be able to access it for years to come. So don't post pictures of you smoking illegal substances on MySpace. Try to refrain from talking about cheating in a class on LiveJournal. That will come back to haunt you, sometimes sooner rather than later. The cheating incident actually happened: a student in an astro course tried to solicit answers on homework through her LJ page and was turned in by another student. OOPS! I try to practice what I preach with this blog. I don't have my real name anywhere, but I'm sure that it can be connected with some searching.

OK, end rant. It's time for my prune juice and a nap.

Bradvice part 6: Urine for a Treat

A reader has sent a particularly pressing Bradvice request. Let's see if I can help him/her/it:

Dear Mr. Bradvice,
I'm at work and wet myself again. Yes, I keep emergency underwear on-hand at all times and YES, I've followed all of Dr. Merton's Public Urination Rules meticulously: 1. Be in public 2. Urinate. However, even after all of this careful planning and foresight, I find myself holding an important document, now soaked in urine, without any clue as to how it got in my hands or how to take care of my yellow mess. Please advise immediately, this document must be given to my supervisor ASAP.
Amateurinator

Dear Amateurinator,
Ah...to be young and incontinent again. It's a great time in all our lives. Things seem so important and earth-shattering. The sense of powerlessness over your newly-discovered bodily functions is traumatic, to be sure. It makes you grasp for the advice of whatever snake oil salesman comes to the fore. In your case, it's a questionably-credentialed "Dr. Merton". In my day, it was Fritz P. Everywhere. The intense mortification you feel will probably not be lessened by assurances, but try to be calm and realize that we all go through these trials and that they seem tiny later in life.

Regrettably, I was not able to assist you in a timely manner. I was off on holiday visiting tropical Chicago. I assure you, your supervisor did not mind being handed a micturated-upon document. If this person has any compassion, he or she will fondly remember the days of incontinence and also remember that urine is a sterile substance. If this person has a problem with it, he or she was going to be set off by even the smallest of faux pas (like vomiting in the copy machine, pushing a goat down the stairs, or eating a web server). There was nothing you could do to avoid your supervisor's misplaced wrath.

I wish you all the best, and I hope that this helps others in your situation.
Bradhoc

Reader(s): send me more of your questions! No problem is too small or large. I'll tackle every issue from nuclear proliferation to fart proliferation.

Mole Men: A Cultural Exploration

On October 23, AD 2004, I celebrated my 23rd birthday. The golden birthday. My entire life, I was led to believe that I was the prophetic Mole Man Liaison. According to the legends, on my 23rd birthday the great fault blocks of Nevada would rift open revealing vast Mole Man armies. Standing serenely atop a raft of rock in a burbling lake of magma, they would rise to the surface and confront surface dwellers. The prophecy is unclear as to whether or not this is good for human life. Nevertheless, the Mole Man Liaison is to be the first to confront these armies to offer welcome and a selection of chert, shale, and other rocks not commonly found several miles underground.

I bore the weight of this responsibility through my youth. Was I to be a leader of surface dwellers who forged a pact of mutual security with these subterranean men? Or, I puzzled, would I simply be the first sacrificed to a wave of indifferent death? Both scenarios are good for me, personally, given the context in which they occurred. Even so, my mind raced. Where would I find decent selections of chert and other sedimentary rocks? Between the ages of 2 and 5, I was racked by self-doubt and could not begin preparations. Then, when I was 5 years old, I was hit in the head by a toy gun thrown by a careless playmate out of a treehouse. In a flash of white hot pain and fire, I saw the path in front of me. I set out immediately to ready my mind and body for whatever mankind and molekind required of me.

That process, however, is another story. Needless to say, I was prepared. October 23, 2004, has come and gone with no Mole Man contact. All our listening devices and forward contacts posted at ocean trenches have recorded no change in Mole Man activity with the passing of the fateful date. The conclusion is obvious: I am the chosen child born on October 23. I soon found out that several people were born on that day. Johnny Carson, "Weird Al" Yankovich, and Sam Raimi, giants of the world, have birthdays on this day. Ryan Reynolds, the thespian known also as "Van Wilder" and the "slightly funny dude in the third Blade movie", was born in Canada on this day. Brutus, one of Julius Ceasar's closest friends and assassins died this day by accidentally plunging a sword into his heart. Clearly, being born or dying on this day is not all that special. Perhaps, as most of the ivory tower intellectuals tell me, Mole Men will never willingly come to the surface. If empirical study leads to this conclusion, why do most Americans believe otherwise?

The question of where the October 23rd myth originates is, as stated before, an interesting one. The first recorded reference appears to be from 1619 in Virginia. Some colonists claimed to have come upon vast surface stockades and "foundries" near Williamsburg. The claim is dubious as there were no traces after a royal fact-finding mission visited the area in 1622. The royal mission did find symbols, pictograms, and mysterious words carved on trees in the area. The word "Croatoan" was carved 23 times into 10 trees that formed a circle. An adjacent, tree-carved star map with a few backgound stars and planets, supposedly indicates a year of AD 2004. This appears to be the origin of October 23, 2004.

There are a few problems with this date. First of all, the Mole Men had no apparent contact with humans (supposed observations of the Mole Men works were from afar). Second, the Gregorian calendar had not yet been adapted in England. 10/23/2004 in the Julian calendar is, in fact, 11/5/2004 in the Gregorian calendar (NB: nothing of any significance in the Mole Man world took place on that date either. People born on 11/5 include Vivien Leigh and Bill Walton). Did Mole Men know this? We also don't know if the Mole Men even know our calendar. Finally, how can we be sure that the Mole Men even know celestial motions? They are, after all, underground.

The evidence needs to be re-examined with an open mind. Perhaps the tree carvings were an elaborate hoax perpetrated by the Native Americans. Perhaps a conspiracy extends up to the highest levels of the English government or the Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps the royal commission fabricated their findings to simply ensure royal funding and job security for many more years. There are many alternative explanations, and we may never know the truth.

Chicagoland

Hello, blog-reader(s). I'm in Chicagoland (south 'burbs) for the holiday season to be with family, girlfriend, friends, and working-class Midwesterners. I probably won't blog too much, but maybe I'll come up with something super-awesome to say during this festive time. I'll be here for a few weeks, but not long enough to revert to saying "pop" instead of the clearly superior "soda".

Doctors Get Cocky

There's some good news in the fight against AIDS and also bad news in the fight against circumcision. It appears that circumcised men are roughly half as likely to contract the disease as uncircumcised men. There have been several studies that verified this in Kenya, South Africa, and Uganda. While nowhere near 100% effective at preventing the spread of HIV, the practice might be an extremely useful weapon in slowing the spread of HIV. Africa is still in the throes of a pandemic that is decimating its young population.

This is great and important news. Some may wonder, then, why I decided to blog about it. While I care about the result, I prefer to remain juvenile, tacky, and irrelevant. Has Brad grown up and become more worldly? No, there's no danger of that happening on my watch. The reason I blogged about it is this paragraph in the NY Times story:

Circumcision is “not a magic bullet, but a potentially important intervention,” said Dr. Kevin M. De Cock, director of H.I.V./AIDS for the World Health Organization.

Dr. de Cock! No wonder he's pushing for more circumcisions! I worry that there's a Dr. Noballs in the WHO. What would his solution to AIDS be?

John Hodgman: 2005-2441

A WHILE AGO, I briefly referred to John Hodgman, a professional writer. Then, in the post directly below this post spatially but before it temporally, I wrote an essay of sorts about Mole Men that was an homage to Mr. Hodgman's writing style. Who the hell is John Hodgman?

He's a professional writer. I, on the other hand, am not. I conclude sentences with propositions, and it is something I've struggled with.