The Nobel prize, Miatas, and Bob Dylan

What do they all have in common?

I met with my professor today and we discussed his book. He gave me the prospectus - which I intend to begin reading shortly- and he gave a lengthy overview of the issues dealt with in the book. The format has changed somewhat from what we discussed last year; now the book deals primarily with the Treblinka uprising and the role his grandfather played in bringing it about. The "definitive" narratives of the Treblinka uprising make no mention of his grandfather - who according to many overlooked eyewitness accounts was one of the chief organizers of the uprising. The main aim of the book is to correct this omission.

The other big theme is the ethics of memory, a relatively new area of philsophy started by Israeli philsopher Avishai Margalit and discussed in his book The Ethics of Memory. Margalit's main point is that we are sometimes ethically obligated to remember past persons and events. My professor wants to approach the story of his grandfather from this perspective. Are the survivors obligated to remember his grandfather? Is the Jewish community obligated to honor and remember the man who died a hero's death rather than stand by and allow not only himself but his people to be destroyed?

I'm excited about this whole thing. The way he was talking it seemed as though it would be a collaborative effort. He would be writing it, of course, but I would be doing more than researching; proofreading, helping him decide what needs to be fleshed out more in terms of sources, setting up page layout, the book's structure, etc. So, I actually get to work on a book as opposed to merely helping him with the research end of things.

But two things in particular have me really excited. The first is the payment. I'm hesitant to discusss money matters here, but let's just say that I'm satisfied with the pay I'll be receiving. It's probably not the best pay, but it's more than enough payment for engaging in something I enjoy. The second item is even more exciting to me. While we were talking over lunch he mentioned that he has been in contact with Elie Wiesel about the book. Apparently, he and Elie are somewhat familiar (Elie just emailed him to congratulate him on attaining full professor status last month). Well, I thought it was very cool that Elie Wiesel was familiar with a project I was working on.

But it got even cooler.

As we were talking he mentioned that Wiesel will probably write the introduction to the book. "And your name will be in the acknowledgements," he added, "and having your name in a book with Elie Wiesel cannot hurt your career."

Indeed. Working on a project that involves a Nobel Peace Prize winner? Not too shabby for a redneck child from North Carolina.

As he was driving off in his green Miata, prof. mentioned that he was trying to get tickets for a Bob Dylan show and that I was welcome to come along if he was able to obtain them. Naturally, I responded with a "Hell yeah!"

A very good day.

Well, I'm off to start reading the prospectus.

My groove is tight

A professor wants me to help him work on a book. I'll be assisting him with the research and with "putting the book together" (I'm not sure what that means). I'm quite excited about the whole thing. We talked about this last summer, but he couldn't get together enough funding to begin the project. I find this exciting on many levels, but mainly on the level that for the first time I'll be able to contribute something of substance to the field of history. I also find it exciting in that I might have my name printed somewhere in the book (perhaps somewhere in the introduction or preface) - so on that level it does appeal to my vanity.

There are two main themes to his book: the first and most important being the experiences of his father in an Austrian concentration camp during the Second World War. This story will be told against the backdrop of an examination of American academia before and during the Second World War, specifically of their attitudes towards the Nazi regime and the Holocaust. From what he's told me, the book will be very critical of American academics during the period. I'll meet with him for lunch on Friday to discuss my duties. It's gonna be fun.

Doomsday devices

Worth a look: Top Ten Ways to Destroy Earth

My favorite:

Eaten by Von Neumann Machines.

You will need: a single von Neumann machine

Method: A von Neumann machine is any device that is capable of creating an exact copy of itself given nothing but the necessary raw materials. Create one of these that subsists almost entirely on iron, magnesium, aluminum and silicon, the major elements found in Earth's mantle and core. It doesn't matter how big it is as long as it can reproduce itself exactly in any period of time. Release it into the ground under the Earth's crust and allow it to fend for itself. Watch and wait as it creates a second von Neumann machine, then they create two more, then they create four more. As the population of machines doubles repeatedly, the planet Earth will, terrifyingly soon, be entirely eaten up and turned into a swarm of potentially sextillions of machines. Technically your objective would now be complete - no more Earth - but if you want to be thorough then you can command your VNMs to hurl themselves, along with any remaining trace elements, into the Sun. This hurling would have to be achieved using rocket propulsion of some sort, so be sure to include this in your design.

So crazy it might just work.

Earth's final resting place: the bodies of the VNMs themselves, then a small lump of iron sinking into the Sun.

Earliest feasible completion date: Potentially 2045-2050, or even earlier.

The bottom line? It's nearly impossible to destroy the earth.

One year on

Sippin' on wine and mackin'.

Well, maybe more like chewing on mac and cheese and whinin'.

Today is an anniversary of sorts. It's not that big, but today is the day I got my first blog comment (back when I was at blog.com). It's been one year since the day when J.Star wrote the following:

Honey chile, your blog beats all.

Kurt Russell has the better hair.

And Yukio Mishima is a *man‘s* man. Is Golden Pavilion your favorite? I particularly liked "The Sailor who Fell from Grace with the Sea" and "The Sound of Waves," although "Spring Snow" is probably my favorite.

Bounce over, if‘n you want.

-J

It was in response to this post.

And since last week I have been in this blog game for one year.

I got a gift card from a professor today. It was a thank you gift for helping with History Day a while back. 25 dollars at Barnes & Noble!

I'm out. A post of substance will be coming soon.

Jump to the left, turn to the right.

Good news!

First, I'm pretty sure I don't have to file for state income taxes. Take THAT you Tax and Spend Eastern NC Oligarchs/Slum Lords/Plantation Owners!

Second, I got a letter from UNCG today that reads:

Dear Suley,

Because of a recent and one-time budgetary increase, we are able to increase your funding by $6,000.

Your total funding package for 2006-2007:

Assistantship: $8,000
In-state tuittion waiver

That's the big good news. I get 8,000 dollars for my first year of graduate school - and in-state tuition is about 1/4th of that. I've been worrying a lot lately about how I was going to handle all of my expenses come this fall. I wasn't expecting this. It is a very good thing. Very, very good. All I can say is thank God.

Well, on to the five questions:

1. Most of you seem to prefer the pirates. I’m on the fence on this one. In a ship against ship fight, I think it’s no contest; the Viking longboat gets blown out of the water. However, in a close quarter fight I lean more towards the Vikings with their shields, bearded axes, and berserks. Also, I can get with some buckling of swash, but there’s something about Viking fatalism that appeals to me. Vikings never wore horned helmets, but they did have a saying that went something like, "My days are already written out on the skins of time, and all that is left to me is to die bravely."

2. George is my favorite Beatle. Why, you ask? “Something” is the main reason. I can think of no other love song written in the last fifty years that is more sublime than that song.

I like Ringo as well. John is just annoying. Simon LeBon can’t touch any of the Beatles.

3. The one conspiracy I enjoy most, and for a time considered not only plausible but true, was the belief that NASA did not land on the moon in 1969; that it was faked in order to win a propaganda victory during the height of the Cold War.

4. I’ve experienced contagious yawning. If I see someone yawn or even see a picture of someone yawning I feel compelled to yawn. There is a lot of evidence to suggest that yawns are “contagious.” Scientists who research yawning have found that it is a “herd instinct” that exists to synchronize sleeping patterns within a group. Contagious yawning is not species-specific, either (try yawning in front of your dog or cat).

I’ve been yawning about every minute or so now, and I'm not sleepy.

5. The internet word I use most is “blog.” It’s the one word which has made its way into my everyday speech and seems firmly ensconced in the lexicon. When I’m on AIM or YM, it’s probably “brb” or “ttyl.” I’m not a big fan of smileys, but I use them on occasion. Abbreviations such as “lol” and “lmao” are highly annoying. I prefer “lawl” or “hahaha” instead.

I’d never heard of “bio”- as in “bio brb.” I had to look it up on Wikipedia. I can’t see myself using it. “brb” will suffice. Do people really need to know that I’m taking a “biology break?”

I'm out.

five questions

1. Who would win in a fight, Vikings or pirates?

2. Favorite Beatle?

3. Name a conspiracy theory you believe to be true. If you can't think of one, what is your favorite conspiracy theory?

4. Are yawns contagious?

5. Which internet slang word/phrase/symbol do you most commonly employ? Least commonly?

-Suley

Onion sandwiches

The weather today was very...Johnny Mathis. If you've ever heard "Wonderful! Wonderful!" you know what I mean, at least partly.

I went for a walk in the woods and over to the construction site today. Fields of green wheat have begun to spring up there. Few things are more pleasant than walking through wheat fields when there is a slight breeze blowing the stalks hither and yon. All of that green-ness will have to be cut down pretty soon as construction ramps up this summer.

Thinking about that wheat being cut down made me think of a strange person who lives in my town. He's called the "Lawnmower Man." I don't know his real name. I don't think anybody does. He must be in his 60s or 70s. He looks like he may be an alcoholic. He's short and his mouth has no teeth. His skin is perpetually tanned and looks like it has been cured in a tobacco barn. Everywhere he goes he pushes a lawnmower around, for this is his main source of income. He walks around offering to mow peoples' yards for whatever they are willing to pay him. There is always a toothless grin on his lips, and he waves to everyone who passes him on the road.

To give you an example of how he operates, I will relate to you a story about the Lawnmower Man that was told to me by a friend:

A summer or so ago, the Lawnmower Man was out pushing his rusted, red 4 horsepower lawnmower down the road when he spied a yard that was in need of cutting. Without asking, he proceeded to mow the lawn. The occupant of the house, seeing that the Lawnmower Man was mowing their yard, approached him when the job was done and inquired as to what he wanted in return.
"I don't have any money," the owner of the house told him.
"Just whatever you have," replied the Lawnmower Man. "Got any food?"
The owner of the house went inside for a moment, checked the fridge, and returned. "All I have is bread and an onion."
The Lawnmower man smiled. "Just make me an onion sandwich."
The owner cut up the onion, put it between two slices of white bread, and the Lawnmower Man ate it right there with his gasoline and oil-coated hands.

The Lawnmower Man is doing the job the rest of America will not do, for onion sandwiches.

No illegal immigrant can compete with that wage.

Frostified

My sister is marching through the house banging on a drum.

I am eating a Wendy's frosty.

I went to a talk at the university today. William A. Graham, dean of the Harvard divinity school, spoke on the "myths and realities of political Islam." The thrust of his argument went thusly: in the Islamic world, politics and religion are not inseparable. This is in opposition to those who claim that Islamic civilization, as opposed to western civilization with its "render unto Caesar," and clear separation between church and state is inherently theocratic due to the example set by the prophet Muhammad, Qur'an, and the Ar-Rashidun ("rightly guided") caliphs. Graham asserts that until recently, there has been nothing approaching a theocracy in the Islamic world since the Muhammad. I take issue with his assertion, but I don't think it makes for very interesting blog reading.

The talk lasted for about an hour and was followed by a half hour Q&A session. The crowd was mostly made up of hoity toity university trustees, professors, and aged alumni. There were a few students, but they looked less than engaged. It's more than likely that they were induced to come with promises of extra credit. There was at least one partisan there, a man who hogged the designated question mic and preached more than anything. He thought it was the perfect time to talk about the Iraq war - in a talk about something only marginally related.

Can you believe these are being sold for fifty bucks? Okay, maybe you can. This may not mean as much to you as it does to me, but when I worked for the telecom department at the university those Cortelco 2500 wall mount phones were essentially junk we relegated to a large metal closet. The Bell 500 desk phones, like their descendents the Cortelco Premier 2500s (in soothing, resigned beige), may stir nostalgia in some, but if you've lived in a dorm in the last few years you will be quite familiar (and decidely un-nostalgic) with these reliable, but hideous phones. Beige monstrosities. I once had to clean several hundred of them. The gunk that builds up on telephones used in offices and dorm rooms is not pleasant.



Here is my trusty beige Cortelco 2500 desk phone adorned with stickers it acquired in its tour of every single dorm room and office on campus between May and August of 2004. This involved plugging the phone into each phone jack in every dorm room, dialing a special code, listening to a computerized voice (a woman with a British accent) recite the number assigned to the jack in question, and then marking it off in a fat notebook. Ah, those were the days.

And now, I bid you adieu.

This post is invisible to radar

The Iranians have a "super modern flying boat" that is reportedly invisible to radar. Looks like a swamp boat with wings to me.


Speaking of boats, C. and I (mostly C.) have been trying to get our hands on a boat that was being given away by ECU, at least until yesterday. The offer has now been changed. Instead of giving the boat away, they are now asking for a "donation" of one thousand dollars in exchange for the piece of junk. The boat is a 33-foot yacht made by the defunct Owens company. The boat can sleep three, has a shower and toilet, and a kitchenette with a small eating area. It needs some work, though. The paint needs to be stripped, the interior needs to be cleaned, the engines need work, and the toilet - good God, the toilet - is atrocious and heavily clogged. It would have been great if we could gotten it for free, but neither of us can afford to pay one thousand dollars.

My mom met Colin Powell today. He was walking through the first floor of the building where she works - at my U. - and he said hello to her. He was there to deliver the spring convocation address. Before flying down to deliver the spring convocation, he delivered the eulogy at Caspar Weinberger's funeral. We have had many luminaries at our little school. A few of the notables:

George H.W. Bush - former president of the U.S.
Desmond Tutu - Nobel Peace Prize winner
Ehud Barak - former prime minister of Israel
Lech Walesa - Nobel Peace Prize winner and former president of Poland
David Gergen - Presidential advisor for Nixon, Ford, Reagan, and Clinton
Queen Noor of Jordan - Wife of the ruling monarch of Jordan, Abdullah II
Sandra Day O'connor - First female Supreme Court justice

The last six have spoken in the last five years. And I'll bet you've never heard of my school before.

My dad is a poet of sorts. He has never had any of his writings published (besides academic writings related to ESL). Well, he wrote a poem about my sister's toy box for a class he is taking on creative writing and I thought it was worth sharing with y'all:

"Claire’s Toy Box"

A cushion covers the seat and an afghan knitted by Aunt Harriet cushions anxiety.
Uncle Ed made it years ago with his own hands:
Planed it, cut it, sawed it to his liking-created a thing of joy from a thing of joy
Taken from the earth – a pillar in an unknown forest which didn’t spare one of its own,
Refuge for creatures unseen, now holding many innocuous things:
Bears that talk about honey or wear safari outfits, canteen, pith helmet and khakis.
Strange angel bears that sing, covered in Valentine hearts, winged messengers of confusion,
Little puppies in purses crying silently to be released and kitties who lie beside, ever ready to torture them, they themselves with sadistic prefab smiles.
Baby dolls, some naked, some grotesquely human, lying, looking to be held or changed. Babies that can only speak when you hug them, some mute that she talks to ever expecting an answer.

Inside are many things-poor things unwanted never destined to see the light- captive to the caprice of a little girl who will make them play strange games, or go on impromptu picnics where they will eat cake and pizza or Tea party inspections where they are never fed.
There are pieces of things once made now unused in the dark corners never again to be touched,
And still others that she will rediscover with a chortle and be so excited
Just as she was on the day she got them.
She will destroy things making her will come about
And learn that someone will give her more that is new and better.
She who controls all this is restless and prone to cry,
Unwilling to mediate her imagination.
A creator of whole worlds made of blocks
Destroying them as she jumps for joy.
Wide-eyed little people with fixed smiles swallowed up by chaos.
All praying for the moment that she is sated
And they can rest again in their soulless setting.
See her sleep and be silent. The toy box sits and waits
Holding a whole mind full of dreams

Jill Carroll's new statement

Jill Carroll repudiates the statements she made in captivity:

During my last night of captivity, my captors forced me to participate in a propaganda video. They told me they would be released if I cooperated. I was living in a threatening environment, under their control, and I wanted to go home alive. So I agreed.

Things that I was forced to say while captive are now being taken by some as an accurate reflection of my personal views. They are not. The people who kidnapped me and murdered Alan Enwiya are criminals, at best. They robbed Alan of his life and devastated his family. They put me, my family and my friends - all those around the world - who have prayed so fervently for my release - through a horrific experience. I was, and remain, deeply angry with the people who did this.

At any rate, fearing retribution from my captors, I did not speak freely. Out of fear I said I wasn't threatened. In fact, I was threatened many times.

I'm glad Jill has stepped up and made it clear she was compelled to say the things she said. I'm even more pleased that she makes it clear in her statement that these men are murderers and criminals. However, it doesn't change the fact that her words will still be used as propaganda within terrorist circles.

Unless this is a huge April Fools joke...