Okay, not to be skeptical, but after allowing the newest member of this prestigious fraternity to join and immediatly contribute to the dynamic nature of this blog, we have seen very little (as in none) content brought.
T$ do you want the NOISE brought on you?
D
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Jake's in Vegas
So, Jake is in Vegas today, and the reason that I know this????? He told me.
Anyways, not the point. Here is the point: Jake arrived in Vegas last night at 11pm. Now, I realize that he's there for work, but how how ofter are you in Vegas for free? Not that often.
So, what does Jake do?
Jake goes to bed???!?!!!!
I mean what a wimp. So what if he has to wake up at 5 Am. He's in Vegas for pete's sake. The self-proclaimed card shark does not go to the first card room. No, he goes to his room.
Once again, we can see how NOLAN is wearing off on this once proud man.
A sad day for the star and crescent.
D
Anyways, not the point. Here is the point: Jake arrived in Vegas last night at 11pm. Now, I realize that he's there for work, but how how ofter are you in Vegas for free? Not that often.
So, what does Jake do?
Jake goes to bed???!?!!!!
I mean what a wimp. So what if he has to wake up at 5 Am. He's in Vegas for pete's sake. The self-proclaimed card shark does not go to the first card room. No, he goes to his room.
Once again, we can see how NOLAN is wearing off on this once proud man.
A sad day for the star and crescent.
D
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The Hairy Armenian (Redux)
A long, long time ago when our resident pot-stirrer from Pasadena, CA wrote from the hallowed grounds of Oregon a small prank was played on him. An up and coming website (http://www.turdwords.com/) became the setting for what would become one of the funniest moments in pot-stirrer history. Let me describe in detail. Dave, feel free to revise as necessary.
- Jake Rossman, pot-stirrer padawan, submits to http://www.turdwords.com/ the definition to the newest Turd Word "Hairy Armenian."
- http://www.turdwords.com/viewword.cfm?wordID=8596
- Jake submits this with his pen name: Dave Szamet
- Dave subsequently Google's his name and lo-and-behold, entry number 1 is: Hairy Armenian, submitted by Dave Szamet.
- Dave probably doesn't get a couple job call backs because of this.
- Dave then writes a letter to the editor of http://www.turdwords.com/ to remove the posting.
- http://www.turdwords.com/ editor posts letter on the home page of the website...
So, you must be asking... "Redux?" And to that I answer yes. Josh K., co-owner of Bridgetown PT (http://bridgetownpt.com/content/view/12/26/) goes on to Google to see what pops up when he enters his name...
And this is the result:
http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=josh+kernen
Entry number 1? SERIOUSLY... SWITZERLAND(?)!!!!!!!!!!! Ladies and gentlemen, we've made it!
- Jake Rossman, pot-stirrer padawan, submits to http://www.turdwords.com/ the definition to the newest Turd Word "Hairy Armenian."
- http://www.turdwords.com/viewword.cfm?wordID=8596
- Jake submits this with his pen name: Dave Szamet
- Dave subsequently Google's his name and lo-and-behold, entry number 1 is: Hairy Armenian, submitted by Dave Szamet.
- Dave probably doesn't get a couple job call backs because of this.
- Dave then writes a letter to the editor of http://www.turdwords.com/ to remove the posting.
- http://www.turdwords.com/ editor posts letter on the home page of the website...
So, you must be asking... "Redux?" And to that I answer yes. Josh K., co-owner of Bridgetown PT (http://bridgetownpt.com/content/view/12/26/) goes on to Google to see what pops up when he enters his name...
And this is the result:
http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=josh+kernen
Entry number 1? SERIOUSLY... SWITZERLAND(?)!!!!!!!!!!! Ladies and gentlemen, we've made it!
Josh called me today to talk about how our blog is more popular than his PT clinic... All I could say is that we've got a hit counter on our front page and he can deduce whatever scientific facts from this that he wishes... But in reality, this blog has been set to be removed from search engines. When those engines will comply with this setting, I don't know... But until that happens, I would like to formally announce that Seriously... Switzerland(?) is on its way to super stardom.
James
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Dirty Old Dude
I was reading a Yahoo! Sports article about A-Rod using hyperbole to describe the number of times he was tested for steroids last year: really an article about nothing. It was such an insignificant issue that I was actually annoyed that they even published it, and that I took the time to read over it. But then this little gem game along:
“ ‘I’m glad for a guy like Santana, gets to play in a city like New York,’ (Alex) Rodriguez said. “He’s the best pitcher. He deserves to be in the city, and in a forum. I thought it was a fantastic move by the New York Mets.’
“Rodriguez also praised teammate Andy Pettitte, who was forced to give a deposition and affidavit to Congress in which he admitted using HGH in 2002 and 2004. Pettitte also said Roger Clemens discussed HGH use nearly a decade ago— Clemens said Pettitte ‘misremembers.’
“ ‘Andy is one of the greatest human beings I’ve ever met,’ Rodriguez said. ‘I have two daughters—well, I have one and one on the way. If I had a daughter, I would want ‘em to marry Andy Pettitte. The age difference might be a little awkward, but in today’s day and age anything is possible.’ ”
REALLY??? You think so, Alex? What gets me is that this was the most interesting piece of the story, but that’s how it ended. Sure, he was tested 5 times, 10 times, whatever, but nobody thinks to inquire any further into Alex arranging marriages for teammates to his unborn daughters.
Journalistic notes forgotten, what can we infer from his statements, aside from the evident intellectual effects of forgoing college to pursue a career in professional sports? What the hell is he trying to say?
For one, think about the kind of elite group that he is putting Pettitte in. I know A-Rod is a spokesman for the Boys and Girls Club of America with the likes of Colin Powell. What if Pettitte really belongs in that kind of company? Perhaps a career in public service is in his future.
Andy Pettitte is 36 years old, which would make him 54 years old by the time Alex’s (Alexandra? Alexanna? Alexia?) newest family member is of marrying age. What is it about today’s day and age that makes this particularly possible? Does HGH prolong a person’s lifespan and increase vitality? Perhaps he simply sees some great value to young girls seeking out ex-baseball players with loose skin and old balls.
Depending on his spending habits, rate of after-tax investment returns, etc., I’m estimating that A-Rod’s net worth could be in the $600-$700 million range by the time his daughter turns 18. Maybe more, but his endorsement deals aren’t as publicly visible as the quarter billion dollar contracts. My final hypothesis begins with the knowledge, as he has shown (as Mariners fans recall) throughout his career, Alex Rodriguez is as money-driven as a Borat Jew. He intends to sell his daughter for a princely dowry, and his well-off colleagues are a good place to start the sales effort. Scott Boras will ultimately call the auction, and will probably install ghost bidders to drive up the price.
“ ‘I’m glad for a guy like Santana, gets to play in a city like New York,’ (Alex) Rodriguez said. “He’s the best pitcher. He deserves to be in the city, and in a forum. I thought it was a fantastic move by the New York Mets.’
“Rodriguez also praised teammate Andy Pettitte, who was forced to give a deposition and affidavit to Congress in which he admitted using HGH in 2002 and 2004. Pettitte also said Roger Clemens discussed HGH use nearly a decade ago— Clemens said Pettitte ‘misremembers.’
“ ‘Andy is one of the greatest human beings I’ve ever met,’ Rodriguez said. ‘I have two daughters—well, I have one and one on the way. If I had a daughter, I would want ‘em to marry Andy Pettitte. The age difference might be a little awkward, but in today’s day and age anything is possible.’ ”
REALLY??? You think so, Alex? What gets me is that this was the most interesting piece of the story, but that’s how it ended. Sure, he was tested 5 times, 10 times, whatever, but nobody thinks to inquire any further into Alex arranging marriages for teammates to his unborn daughters.
Journalistic notes forgotten, what can we infer from his statements, aside from the evident intellectual effects of forgoing college to pursue a career in professional sports? What the hell is he trying to say?
For one, think about the kind of elite group that he is putting Pettitte in. I know A-Rod is a spokesman for the Boys and Girls Club of America with the likes of Colin Powell. What if Pettitte really belongs in that kind of company? Perhaps a career in public service is in his future.
Andy Pettitte is 36 years old, which would make him 54 years old by the time Alex’s (Alexandra? Alexanna? Alexia?) newest family member is of marrying age. What is it about today’s day and age that makes this particularly possible? Does HGH prolong a person’s lifespan and increase vitality? Perhaps he simply sees some great value to young girls seeking out ex-baseball players with loose skin and old balls.
Depending on his spending habits, rate of after-tax investment returns, etc., I’m estimating that A-Rod’s net worth could be in the $600-$700 million range by the time his daughter turns 18. Maybe more, but his endorsement deals aren’t as publicly visible as the quarter billion dollar contracts. My final hypothesis begins with the knowledge, as he has shown (as Mariners fans recall) throughout his career, Alex Rodriguez is as money-driven as a Borat Jew. He intends to sell his daughter for a princely dowry, and his well-off colleagues are a good place to start the sales effort. Scott Boras will ultimately call the auction, and will probably install ghost bidders to drive up the price.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Our Newest Pot-Stirrer
I am proud to announce that Tim Cathcart is joining our ranks as the newest pot-stirrer on Seriously... Switzerland(?). Tim, a creative writing major turned Accountant/CPA epitomizes the ideals of Seriously... Switzerland(?) Only could one with so much talent rationally decide to pursue the exciting literary possiblities in the world of Accounting! But all joking aside, Tim will truly be a welcomed addition to Seriously... Switzerland(?)
Welcome aboard Cake Face, now please take a moment to introduce yourself,
James
Welcome aboard Cake Face, now please take a moment to introduce yourself,
James
Turtle's Real Life St. Valentine's Day Massacre
In the spirit of continuing Seriously... Switzerland(?)'s latest string of fantastic video clips from around the internet, I would like to present to you Turtle's Real Life St. Valentine's Day Massacre... Check out the look on his face towards the end... Awwwwwwwwkard! And he's still holding his beer... Priceless...
Monday, February 18, 2008
Love, Basketball, Love & Basketball
For your viewing pleasure...
Love (video as excerpted from the fantastic sports blog http://www.withleather.com/, Check out Scarlett eyeing Portman... It's at 3:19... And it's awesome):
Basketball (also from our friends at http://www.withleather.com/):
Love & Basketball (Sloan... So hot):
Five Pot-Stirrer awards go to: Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman, Sacramento Kings Dance Team, Baron Davis and Sloan.
James
Love (video as excerpted from the fantastic sports blog http://www.withleather.com/, Check out Scarlett eyeing Portman... It's at 3:19... And it's awesome):
Basketball (also from our friends at http://www.withleather.com/):
Love & Basketball (Sloan... So hot):
Five Pot-Stirrer awards go to: Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman, Sacramento Kings Dance Team, Baron Davis and Sloan.
James
Short Cuts and F'ing United Airlines (How not to spend $250)
Please Read the Nolan Blog. Incredibly witty writing by Sweet Jimmy.
So, I am sitting here in the Portland airport. The sun is shinning here at PDX, which is rare for this time of year. Drink it up while you can Portland. Cause the rain is coming. Someone has to pay for this sin.
On to this morning's events....
I wake up around 6am to make my 7:30 flight. I think cool. Plenty o'time.
6:10 am leave for PDX.
6:10 to 6:52 am - 20 minutes from house to airport takes 42 min. Sweet! I love my boy Colin, but we took some "short cut," got lost, and pushed it to disaster.
6:52 to 7:10 - I stand in line while the United airport attendent looks at a computer screen and ignores me. Tick tock, tick tock.
7:11- I am told that I can't get on the plane because my bags won't make it in TIME.
7:11.45 - I tell the airline (BTW. I am a mileage plus member, but this actually works against you. So, being a regular customer is a bad thing.) attendent that United has just lost my business forever.
7:11.50 - Blank stare.
7:11 - Airline attendent tells me that I can buy a NEW ticket for tonight at the bargain price of 645.00 dollars, keep the change. Or wait till tomorrow at 3pm (a reasonable 32 hour wait)
7:12 - Security escorts me to a special room.
7:16 - I pull out laptop and purchase a one way tix to Burbank for $250.00.
7:20 to 11:15 - Sit here.
So, not only do I lose my miles, I get to pay for a one way that usually covers a roundtrip.
Thank you and goodbye United Airlines.
Dave
(sitting at gate B1 flight 2501 ALASKA airlines:)
So, I am sitting here in the Portland airport. The sun is shinning here at PDX, which is rare for this time of year. Drink it up while you can Portland. Cause the rain is coming. Someone has to pay for this sin.
On to this morning's events....
I wake up around 6am to make my 7:30 flight. I think cool. Plenty o'time.
6:10 am leave for PDX.
6:10 to 6:52 am - 20 minutes from house to airport takes 42 min. Sweet! I love my boy Colin, but we took some "short cut," got lost, and pushed it to disaster.
6:52 to 7:10 - I stand in line while the United airport attendent looks at a computer screen and ignores me. Tick tock, tick tock.
7:11- I am told that I can't get on the plane because my bags won't make it in TIME.
7:11.45 - I tell the airline (BTW. I am a mileage plus member, but this actually works against you. So, being a regular customer is a bad thing.) attendent that United has just lost my business forever.
7:11.50 - Blank stare.
7:11 - Airline attendent tells me that I can buy a NEW ticket for tonight at the bargain price of 645.00 dollars, keep the change. Or wait till tomorrow at 3pm (a reasonable 32 hour wait)
7:12 - Security escorts me to a special room.
7:16 - I pull out laptop and purchase a one way tix to Burbank for $250.00.
7:20 to 11:15 - Sit here.
So, not only do I lose my miles, I get to pay for a one way that usually covers a roundtrip.
Thank you and goodbye United Airlines.
Dave
(sitting at gate B1 flight 2501 ALASKA airlines:)
Guys' Weekend - No Girlfriends Allowed! (The Case of the NOLAN Factor)
James here. Just thought I'd update you on this last weekend's happenings and the ensuing jack-assery that followed. As you can tell from the Title above, this weekend's activities were set to be wild and crazy, and then it was interrupted by none other than the "NOLAN Factor..."
Let me paint you the picture.
Saturday, Noon - We hit the road after a delicious $2.50 sandwich at a little bakery 2 minutes from my house. Kappa Sigma's 25th Anniversary only a few hours away...
Saturday, 1:30 pm - We arrive at McMenamin's Hotel Oregon (see: http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) and the boozing quickly ensues.
Saturday, 1:45 pm - Bo and Josh arrive at the Hotel Oregon. More drinking ensues.
Saturday, 3:00 pm - A short drive to the liquor store where the following items are procured: 1/2 Gallon each of Absolut & Crown Royal and two packs of cigarettes (which are later lost and then refound after anyone would have even considered smoking them.)
Saturday, 3:30 pm to 7 pm - Check-in at the Best Western (Why not Hotel Oregon you ask? http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) Discussion begins on whether or not to attend the 5 pm mock initiation. Boozing ensues, and 5 pm quickly becomes 7 pm... DJ, promising to buy cabs for the weekend (see: http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) calls them too late and we become stranded at the God Damn Best Western...
Saturday, 7:15 pm - I let Tim drive the Exploder to the Ball Room. DJ has now been moved into a probationary state on the Council. Tim is up for election to replace DJ's position.
Saturday, 7:30 pm - Derek Gilbert arrives with girlfriend that at least 4 other brothers have fooled around with. Derek Gilbert, obviously not having a good time, is a prime example of what happens when the girlfriend yanks on that little choke collar around your neck... This is why you don't bring the girlfriend to Guys' Weekend.
Saturday, 8:00 pm - Josh K., visibly upset by the District Grand Master for talking shit about Alumni.
Saturday, 9:00 pm - Arrive at Kappa Sigma house. Party ensues. Booze sets in. Girls come over. All hell breaks loose.
Sunday, 3:00 am - Dave walks by Theta Chi house... F*ck you Theta Chi!!! Much laughing follows...
Sunday, 3:15 am - DJ's call to a cab at 6:30 pm finally shows up at 3:15 am. I am stuck in cab with Douche Bag, Steroid filled, dis-owned fraternity scumbag. Guess who? I want to puke on him and laugh.
Sunday, 3:30 am - Muchas Gracias, Oregon Burritto. Josh Kernen orders two burrittos. Eats one.
Sunday, 4 am - Back to the God Damn Best Western. Crash.
Sunday, 10 am - Enter: NOLAN! F*cking NOLAN! For those who don't know NOLAN, let me describe this person to you this way:
N - Not Welcome
O - Overstepping Welcome
L - Locks Claws into all that is good about Guys' Weekend
A - And still not welcome
N - Not Welcome ever again
Now, keep in mind that NOLAN is a real person, and NOLAN is also a metaphor for anyone that shows up un-announced and promptly makes themselves not welcome. NOLAN. F*cking NOLAN. Now I know what you're thinking... What does a NOLAN look like... So, here you go...
Let me paint you the picture.
Saturday, Noon - We hit the road after a delicious $2.50 sandwich at a little bakery 2 minutes from my house. Kappa Sigma's 25th Anniversary only a few hours away...
Saturday, 1:30 pm - We arrive at McMenamin's Hotel Oregon (see: http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) and the boozing quickly ensues.
Saturday, 1:45 pm - Bo and Josh arrive at the Hotel Oregon. More drinking ensues.
Saturday, 3:00 pm - A short drive to the liquor store where the following items are procured: 1/2 Gallon each of Absolut & Crown Royal and two packs of cigarettes (which are later lost and then refound after anyone would have even considered smoking them.)
Saturday, 3:30 pm to 7 pm - Check-in at the Best Western (Why not Hotel Oregon you ask? http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) Discussion begins on whether or not to attend the 5 pm mock initiation. Boozing ensues, and 5 pm quickly becomes 7 pm... DJ, promising to buy cabs for the weekend (see: http://seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com/2008/01/hotel-oregon.html) calls them too late and we become stranded at the God Damn Best Western...
Saturday, 7:15 pm - I let Tim drive the Exploder to the Ball Room. DJ has now been moved into a probationary state on the Council. Tim is up for election to replace DJ's position.
Saturday, 7:30 pm - Derek Gilbert arrives with girlfriend that at least 4 other brothers have fooled around with. Derek Gilbert, obviously not having a good time, is a prime example of what happens when the girlfriend yanks on that little choke collar around your neck... This is why you don't bring the girlfriend to Guys' Weekend.
Saturday, 8:00 pm - Josh K., visibly upset by the District Grand Master for talking shit about Alumni.
Saturday, 9:00 pm - Arrive at Kappa Sigma house. Party ensues. Booze sets in. Girls come over. All hell breaks loose.
Sunday, 3:00 am - Dave walks by Theta Chi house... F*ck you Theta Chi!!! Much laughing follows...
Sunday, 3:15 am - DJ's call to a cab at 6:30 pm finally shows up at 3:15 am. I am stuck in cab with Douche Bag, Steroid filled, dis-owned fraternity scumbag. Guess who? I want to puke on him and laugh.
Sunday, 3:30 am - Muchas Gracias, Oregon Burritto. Josh Kernen orders two burrittos. Eats one.
Sunday, 4 am - Back to the God Damn Best Western. Crash.
Sunday, 10 am - Enter: NOLAN! F*cking NOLAN! For those who don't know NOLAN, let me describe this person to you this way:
N - Not Welcome
O - Overstepping Welcome
L - Locks Claws into all that is good about Guys' Weekend
A - And still not welcome
N - Not Welcome ever again
Now, keep in mind that NOLAN is a real person, and NOLAN is also a metaphor for anyone that shows up un-announced and promptly makes themselves not welcome. NOLAN. F*cking NOLAN. Now I know what you're thinking... What does a NOLAN look like... So, here you go...
So, what it is you ask that this has anything to do with Switzerland... Let's just say that a certain phone call received around 7 pm on Friday conveying NOLAN intercept instructions was taken by one Jake Rossman (See: above in picture. He is between the Red, Yellow, Pink flowers. Just in front of the fountain that looks like it is shooting out of his head.) None of this was conveyed to any of the council members present at the event and all of this information was purposefully held out of reach of the participants of Guys' Weekend in an effort to avoid any pot-stirring. If that doesn't sound like Switzerland, then you must obviously be DJ!
James
P.S. Coming in the next few days will be our newest pot-stirrer. Stayed tuned to Seriously... Switzerland(?) to find out who this might be!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Upside of Being Down
Have you ever seen the cracked out lady that's just a little too happy. A little too perky. Always just a little over the top. Someone who you place second on the happiness scale to Howard Dean losing his Democratic Presidential Primary bid a few years ago... You know. The one hyped up on the "happy" pills...
Yeah. Aren't they just a little strange? Although I've never delved into anti-depressed Heath Ledger territory, I'd have to say that I think these folks make a compelling case about "The Upside of Being Down." I've always been interested in this topic since reading Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and watching the film Vanilla Sky.
So please, check this out, and ask yourself... Is the sweet really as sweet without the sour?
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18885211
Excerpt: 'Against Happiness'
by Eric G. Wilson
Conclusion
The gene pool — before and beyond time — froths and sloshes. What flops up onto the temporal shores is a matter of chance, a product of the waves' whims. At some point this teeming reservoir of DNA spumes forth a saturnine gene, a double helix destined to produce melancholy dispositions. From this instant onward what we know as human history begins: that striving, seemingly endless, toward an ungraspable perfection, that tragic effort to reach what exceeds the grasp, to fail magnificently. This gene, this melancholy gene, has proved the code for innovation. It has produced over the centuries our resplendent towers, yearning heavenward. It has created our great epics, god-hungry. It has concocted our memorable symphonies, as tumultuously beautiful as the first ocean. Without this sorrowful genome, these sublimities would have remained in the netherworld of nonexistence. Indeed, without this genetic information, sullen and ambitious, what we see as culture in general, that empyreal realm of straining ideas, might have never arisen from the mere quest for survival, from simple killing and eating.
We can picture this in the primitive world. While the healthy bodies of the tribe were out mindlessly hacking beasts or other humans, the melancholy soul remained behind brooding in a cave or under a tree. There he imagined new structures, oval and amber, or fresh verbal rhythms, sacred summonings, or songs superior to even those of the birds. Envisioning these things, and more, this melancholy malingerer became just as useful for his culture as did the hunters and the gatherers for theirs. He pushed his world ahead. He moved it forward. He dwelled always in the insecure realm of the avant-garde.
This primitive visionary was the first of many such avant-garde melancholics. Of course not all innovators are melancholy, and not all melancholy souls are innovative. However, the scientifically proved relationship between genius and depression, between gloom and greatness suggests that the majority of our cultural innovators, ranging from the ancient dreamer in the bush to the more recent Dadaist in the city, have grounded their originality in the melancholy mood. We can of course by now understand why.
Melancholia pushes against the easy "either/or" of the status quo. It thrives in unexplored middle ground between oppositions, in the "both/and." It fosters fresh insights into relationships between oppositions, especially that great polarity life and death. It encourages new ways of conceiving and naming the mysterious connections between antinomies. It returns us to innocence, to irony, that ability, temporary, to play in potential without being constrained to the actual. Such respites from causality refresh our relationship to the world, grant us beautiful vistas, energize our hearts and our minds.
Indeed, the world is much of the time boring, controlled as it is by staid habits. It seems overly familiar, tired, repetitious. Then along comes what Keats calls the melancholy fit, and suddenly the planet again turns interesting. The veil of familiarity falls away. There before us flare bracing possibilities. We are called to forge untested links to our environments. We are summoned to be creative.
Given these virtues of melancholia, why are thousands of psychiatrists and psychologists attempting to "cure" depression as if it were a terrible disease? Obviously, those suffering severe depression, suicidal and bordering on psychosis, require serious medications. But what of those millions of people who possess mild to moderate depression? Should these potential visionaries also be asked to eradicate their melancholia with the help of a pill? Should these possible innovators relinquish what might well be their greatest muse, their demons giving birth to angels?
Right now, if the statistics are correct, about 15 percent of Americans are not happy. Soon, perhaps, with the help of psychopharmaceuticals, we shall have no more unhappy people in our country. Melancholics will become unknown.
This would be an unparalleled tragedy, equivalent in scope to the annihilation of the sperm whale or the golden eagle. With no more melancholics, we would live in a world in which everyone simply accepted the status quo, in which everyone would simply be content with the given. This would constitute a dystopia of ubiquitous placid grins, a nightmare worthy of Philip K. Dick, a police state of Pollyannas, a flatland that offers nothing new under the sun. Why are we pushing toward such a hellish condition?
The answer is simple: fear. Most hide behind the smile because they are afraid of facing the world's complexity, its vagueness, its terrible beauties. If they stay safely ensconced behind their painted grins, then they won't have to encounter the insecurities attendant upon dwelling in possibility, those anxious moments when one doesn't know this from that, when one could suddenly become almost anything at all. Even though this anxiety, usually over death, is in the end exhilarating, a call to be creative, it is in the beginning rather horrifying, a feeling of hovering in an unpredictable abyss. Most immediately flee from this situation. They try to lose themselves in the laughing masses, hoping the anxiety will never again visit them. They don inauthenticity as a mask, a disguise protecting them from the abyss.
To foster a society of total happiness is to concoct a culture of fear. Do we really want to give away our courage for mere mirth? Are we ready to relinquish our most essential hearts for a good night's sleep, a season of contentment? We must ignore the seductions of our blissed-out culture and somehow hold to our sadness. We must find a way, difficult though it is, to be who we are, sullenness and all.
Suffering the gloom, inevitable as breath, we must further accept this fact that the world hates: we are forever incomplete, but fragments of some ungraspable whole. Our unfinished natures — we are never pure actualities but always vague potentials — make life a constant struggle, a bout with the persistent unknown. But this extension into the abyss is also our salvation. To be but a fragment is always to strive for something beyond oneself, something transcendent — an unexplored possibility, an unmapped avenue. This striving is always an act of freedom, of choosing one road instead of another. Though this labor is arduous — it requires constant attention to our mysterious and shifting interiors — it is also ecstatic, an almost infinite sounding of the exquisite riddles of Being.
To be against happiness, to avert contentment, is to be close to joy, to embrace ecstasy. Incompleteness is the call to life. Fragmentation is freedom. The exhilaration of never knowing anything fully is that you can perpetually imagine sublimities beyond reason. On the margins of the known is the agile edge of existence. This is the elation of circumference. This is the rapture, burning slow, of finishing a book that can never be completed, a flawed and conflicted text, vexed as twilight.
Excerpted from Against Happiness by Eric G. Wilson. Copyright © 2008 by Eric G. Wilson. Published in January 2008 by Sarah Crichton Books, a division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Yeah. Aren't they just a little strange? Although I've never delved into anti-depressed Heath Ledger territory, I'd have to say that I think these folks make a compelling case about "The Upside of Being Down." I've always been interested in this topic since reading Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and watching the film Vanilla Sky.
So please, check this out, and ask yourself... Is the sweet really as sweet without the sour?
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18885211
Excerpt: 'Against Happiness'
by Eric G. Wilson
Conclusion
The gene pool — before and beyond time — froths and sloshes. What flops up onto the temporal shores is a matter of chance, a product of the waves' whims. At some point this teeming reservoir of DNA spumes forth a saturnine gene, a double helix destined to produce melancholy dispositions. From this instant onward what we know as human history begins: that striving, seemingly endless, toward an ungraspable perfection, that tragic effort to reach what exceeds the grasp, to fail magnificently. This gene, this melancholy gene, has proved the code for innovation. It has produced over the centuries our resplendent towers, yearning heavenward. It has created our great epics, god-hungry. It has concocted our memorable symphonies, as tumultuously beautiful as the first ocean. Without this sorrowful genome, these sublimities would have remained in the netherworld of nonexistence. Indeed, without this genetic information, sullen and ambitious, what we see as culture in general, that empyreal realm of straining ideas, might have never arisen from the mere quest for survival, from simple killing and eating.
We can picture this in the primitive world. While the healthy bodies of the tribe were out mindlessly hacking beasts or other humans, the melancholy soul remained behind brooding in a cave or under a tree. There he imagined new structures, oval and amber, or fresh verbal rhythms, sacred summonings, or songs superior to even those of the birds. Envisioning these things, and more, this melancholy malingerer became just as useful for his culture as did the hunters and the gatherers for theirs. He pushed his world ahead. He moved it forward. He dwelled always in the insecure realm of the avant-garde.
This primitive visionary was the first of many such avant-garde melancholics. Of course not all innovators are melancholy, and not all melancholy souls are innovative. However, the scientifically proved relationship between genius and depression, between gloom and greatness suggests that the majority of our cultural innovators, ranging from the ancient dreamer in the bush to the more recent Dadaist in the city, have grounded their originality in the melancholy mood. We can of course by now understand why.
Melancholia pushes against the easy "either/or" of the status quo. It thrives in unexplored middle ground between oppositions, in the "both/and." It fosters fresh insights into relationships between oppositions, especially that great polarity life and death. It encourages new ways of conceiving and naming the mysterious connections between antinomies. It returns us to innocence, to irony, that ability, temporary, to play in potential without being constrained to the actual. Such respites from causality refresh our relationship to the world, grant us beautiful vistas, energize our hearts and our minds.
Indeed, the world is much of the time boring, controlled as it is by staid habits. It seems overly familiar, tired, repetitious. Then along comes what Keats calls the melancholy fit, and suddenly the planet again turns interesting. The veil of familiarity falls away. There before us flare bracing possibilities. We are called to forge untested links to our environments. We are summoned to be creative.
Given these virtues of melancholia, why are thousands of psychiatrists and psychologists attempting to "cure" depression as if it were a terrible disease? Obviously, those suffering severe depression, suicidal and bordering on psychosis, require serious medications. But what of those millions of people who possess mild to moderate depression? Should these potential visionaries also be asked to eradicate their melancholia with the help of a pill? Should these possible innovators relinquish what might well be their greatest muse, their demons giving birth to angels?
Right now, if the statistics are correct, about 15 percent of Americans are not happy. Soon, perhaps, with the help of psychopharmaceuticals, we shall have no more unhappy people in our country. Melancholics will become unknown.
This would be an unparalleled tragedy, equivalent in scope to the annihilation of the sperm whale or the golden eagle. With no more melancholics, we would live in a world in which everyone simply accepted the status quo, in which everyone would simply be content with the given. This would constitute a dystopia of ubiquitous placid grins, a nightmare worthy of Philip K. Dick, a police state of Pollyannas, a flatland that offers nothing new under the sun. Why are we pushing toward such a hellish condition?
The answer is simple: fear. Most hide behind the smile because they are afraid of facing the world's complexity, its vagueness, its terrible beauties. If they stay safely ensconced behind their painted grins, then they won't have to encounter the insecurities attendant upon dwelling in possibility, those anxious moments when one doesn't know this from that, when one could suddenly become almost anything at all. Even though this anxiety, usually over death, is in the end exhilarating, a call to be creative, it is in the beginning rather horrifying, a feeling of hovering in an unpredictable abyss. Most immediately flee from this situation. They try to lose themselves in the laughing masses, hoping the anxiety will never again visit them. They don inauthenticity as a mask, a disguise protecting them from the abyss.
To foster a society of total happiness is to concoct a culture of fear. Do we really want to give away our courage for mere mirth? Are we ready to relinquish our most essential hearts for a good night's sleep, a season of contentment? We must ignore the seductions of our blissed-out culture and somehow hold to our sadness. We must find a way, difficult though it is, to be who we are, sullenness and all.
Suffering the gloom, inevitable as breath, we must further accept this fact that the world hates: we are forever incomplete, but fragments of some ungraspable whole. Our unfinished natures — we are never pure actualities but always vague potentials — make life a constant struggle, a bout with the persistent unknown. But this extension into the abyss is also our salvation. To be but a fragment is always to strive for something beyond oneself, something transcendent — an unexplored possibility, an unmapped avenue. This striving is always an act of freedom, of choosing one road instead of another. Though this labor is arduous — it requires constant attention to our mysterious and shifting interiors — it is also ecstatic, an almost infinite sounding of the exquisite riddles of Being.
To be against happiness, to avert contentment, is to be close to joy, to embrace ecstasy. Incompleteness is the call to life. Fragmentation is freedom. The exhilaration of never knowing anything fully is that you can perpetually imagine sublimities beyond reason. On the margins of the known is the agile edge of existence. This is the elation of circumference. This is the rapture, burning slow, of finishing a book that can never be completed, a flawed and conflicted text, vexed as twilight.
Excerpted from Against Happiness by Eric G. Wilson. Copyright © 2008 by Eric G. Wilson. Published in January 2008 by Sarah Crichton Books, a division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Oregon State
I wanted to give a big high five to OSU for their awesome recruiting class. Out of 10, they finished 10th.
O-S-U
Here is the link to that lovely info.
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncaa/recruiting/football/news/story?id=3234283
Once again, congrats,
Dave
O-S-U
Here is the link to that lovely info.
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncaa/recruiting/football/news/story?id=3234283
Once again, congrats,
Dave
The Fantasy Sports Genius of Jim O'Toole (much facetiousness emphasized...)
In every true sports fan's life lies the irrational. The irrational belief that some teams will win it all. The irrational Fantasy Sports trade. The irrational mind itself.
And so, today, I would like to tell a brief tale. It stars the delirious one himself Jim O'Toole. Fantasy Sports Manager. Consistently poor finisher. The LA Clippers of Fantasy Sports. The Legend himself.
It begins with the classic Seriously... Switzerland(?) e-mail exchange...
James: Subject: Jim - "The Compulsive Liar"
I’d like to dedicate this comic strip to Pau Gasol, Corey Maggette, Baron Davis, Hedo Turkoglu, Bonzi Wells, Sam Cassell, Max Moves settings, changing wait time for add/drops, not letting people know when drafts occur, recruiting players that don’t play and Jim’s Yahoo Fantasy Sports % rating of 53% (49% in Basketball.)
Thanks Jim!
And so, today, I would like to tell a brief tale. It stars the delirious one himself Jim O'Toole. Fantasy Sports Manager. Consistently poor finisher. The LA Clippers of Fantasy Sports. The Legend himself.
It begins with the classic Seriously... Switzerland(?) e-mail exchange...
James: Subject: Jim - "The Compulsive Liar"
I’d like to dedicate this comic strip to Pau Gasol, Corey Maggette, Baron Davis, Hedo Turkoglu, Bonzi Wells, Sam Cassell, Max Moves settings, changing wait time for add/drops, not letting people know when drafts occur, recruiting players that don’t play and Jim’s Yahoo Fantasy Sports % rating of 53% (49% in Basketball.)
Thanks Jim!
Jim: “Compulsive Liar” is a bit harsh, but I understand where you are coming from, little man. You are still sore that you did NOT make the fantasy basketball playoffs last year (even after your “blockbuster trade”), that you were WRONG about Randy Moss being an awesome WR while in Oakland, that I changed the max moves settings based on YOUR recommendation, and you are sore that all your GARBAGE fantasy trade offers don’t go through because you usually offer more CRAP than one can find in a Honeybucket brand outhouse! I didn’t know that people who were thrilled to play would give up so soon as they had never been in our league before – so that’s as much “news” to me as it is to you. And I DID put a notice up on the league board as soon as I found out that the RANDOM draft had taken place.
I take no offense and find the article comical. You are making an effort to be funny so I commend that effort – and it’s nice that you could take time away from working on your coloring books to come across this comic, add some pseudo-funny comments along with some fiction, and try to get a laugh out of it. Fiction CAN be fun.
Job . .. . .. . done.
P.S. Matt Carroll for President (of James’s little coloring group)
Note: So begins the Sicilian Defense...
James: “Fiction CAN be fun.”
Jim – Obviously delirious… You are who the comic says you are. Proof: 49% Basketball Rating.
I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves.
Jim: Numbers do speak for themselves, you are right about that. Last year – Jim took 3rd even after losing 3 key players. James ……watched the playoffs from the BENCH.
James:
jluu111 (basketball – 4 eligible teams) = 81%
- Trophies – 2
- League Commish - 0
Jim O (basketball – 3 eligible teams) = 49%
- Trophies – 0
- League Commish - 3
Hahahaha…. What was that?
P.S. Nate, read this shit and please explain to me where this guy’s reasoning is coming from…
Jim: And just who is this Nate person? No offense to Nate, but how would he qualify to judge this? Besides, I can’t help it if you have ZERO competition in your other leagues. You DID NOT make the playoffs last year in our league so those other “trophies” where you had ZERO competition don’t worry me. And as for my percentage, that doesn’t matter either.
I am more of a pioneer than you and last year proved that. I’ll just go ahead and name the pick-ups I made that were undiscovered gems – Andris Biedrins, Al Jefferson, Deron Williams, Monte Ellis. Oh? What about that? What did you discover? That your team was NOT even good enough to make the playoffs? I think we all discovered that . . …and we didn’t need Nate to verify it.
Nice try sucka
Note: A prime example of Jim scrambling for defensive material.
James: “And as for my percentage, that doesn’t matter either.”
“I am more of a pioneer than you and last year proved that”
Jim – Obviously still delirious.
So… Jim… Who has the most trophies in basketball leagues you’ve commissioned? Me or you?
Nate has been brought into this conversation for observation purposes for the Fantasy Baseball League. He will be using this information to help build trades where you give up value for jack shit.
Thanks,
James
James: I would like to direct everyone’s attention to seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com for a detailed transcript of the following precedings. For posterity’s sake, I will be keeping a copy of this latest exchange for future reference.
Also, please make yourself at home at Seriously Switzerland(?)… It will be a fantastic source for information regarding all the instances of Jim’s deliriousness.
Jim: Shouldn’t you be out on a ledge somewhere? I’m just wondering when they will come for you with the straightjacket and put you in a nice, quiet, comfortable, padded room so you don’t hurt yourself.
Note: Jim is now attempting to use a non-sequitur here to try and make some kind of "logical" argument... Unfortunately for him, he does not appear to understand what a non-sequitur is.
James: Ummm no. What’s up now Biatch?!?
Jim: Uh oh. Hey Nate, you want to help out your boy here? Remember, friends don’t let friends send emails while drunk or stupid. James, just say “no”, man.
Note: Another attempt at a useless non-sequitur. Very poorly placed in the time frame of this "defense."
James: Jim – Lacking material… Still… Obviously delirious…
Jim: Let me know when you come up with an original thought (of your own) and we’ll go from there.
Adios sucka!
James: This whole string began with my thoughts and is original… Genius.
Jim: Not original at all. Sorry to break the news to you. Genius? Who, you? That is a funny, amusing thought.
Note: Apparently Jim has become a writer's critic... A funny thought.
James: It is called facetiousness dumb ass.
Jim: Well,
I have to get back to work. I can’t email all day long. I know you just have to get the last word or you won’t sleep well tonight so . …go ahead.
Talk to ya later punk.
Note: And BANG! We've hit Switzerland! Congratulations Jim on puttering out like the pansy you are... I hope you've all enjoyed the latest installment of the Seriously... Switzerland(?) blog.
James: To all who have followed this... Please take a moment to read seriouslyswitzerland.blogspot.com for a running commentary on the Legend of Jim O'Toole.
Thanks,
James
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Super Tuesday Yesterday...
Mike Gravel - Zero Delegates after Super Tuesday voting...
And he's still in the race for those who voted on our poll for him... Shoot, Ron Paul has more delegates than Gravel (Super Tuesday Sucker) and the GOP starts with half as many delegates... Real Genius pick Jake... Real Genius.
James
And he's still in the race for those who voted on our poll for him... Shoot, Ron Paul has more delegates than Gravel (Super Tuesday Sucker) and the GOP starts with half as many delegates... Real Genius pick Jake... Real Genius.
James
Random Grab Bag: Blazers/Lakers, PSP, Jake Shimabukuro
Blazers/Lakers - On the news of Pau Gasol's trade to the LA Lakers, I immediately remembered back to the good ol' days of the Blazers-Lakers rivalries of the 1990's and the Early 2000's. Throughout the streets of Portland and in cars' rear windows were proudly displayed signs that read "BEAT LA." And the best part...? More than half of these were distributed by our own local newspaper, the Oregonian. The Oregonian... A pot stirrer indeed. So here lies the beginnings of a new rivalry... Oden v. Bynum, Aldridge v. Gasol, Roy v. Bryant... Let the good times roll.
PlayStation Portable - Three letters for you... CFW. Custom firmware. Hi-Jacked! Last night I hacked into my PSP. At my finger tips are now every single NES and SNES game ever created. Some hacker dude in Espanol hooked everyone up with the tools needed to side-step the billion dollar entertainment industry giant named Sony. Award this man the Pot-Stirrer award! Next up... GPS.
Jake Shimabukuro - Ukelele. The man whose ukelele gently weeps... Any man who can do this surely stirs many girls' pots...! Add another pot-stirrer to the list... Tonight at the Aladdin Theater (Portland, OR) 8pm.
Ukelele Hero? Maybe. but he's no SAX MASTER! Beat Kenny G. and you become the SAX ASSASSIN!!!
James
PlayStation Portable - Three letters for you... CFW. Custom firmware. Hi-Jacked! Last night I hacked into my PSP. At my finger tips are now every single NES and SNES game ever created. Some hacker dude in Espanol hooked everyone up with the tools needed to side-step the billion dollar entertainment industry giant named Sony. Award this man the Pot-Stirrer award! Next up... GPS.
Jake Shimabukuro - Ukelele. The man whose ukelele gently weeps... Any man who can do this surely stirs many girls' pots...! Add another pot-stirrer to the list... Tonight at the Aladdin Theater (Portland, OR) 8pm.
Ukelele Hero? Maybe. but he's no SAX MASTER! Beat Kenny G. and you become the SAX ASSASSIN!!!
James
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
World Champions
Last Friday the world was stunned by the biggest trade in recent history. Pau Gasol was traded to the Lakers. I was sure positive this was going to change the landscape of the Western Conference, but tonight as I watched the Lakers beat the hapless Nets. We have changed the structure of the NBA. We now have the pieces to be the World Champs once again.
Tonight, Gasol - 24 points and 12 boards (first game, one practice) and Kobe - 6 points. Mind you this is without Andrew Bynum.
Exhale realize your team is no longer and contender, and let the parades begin.
I know there are many Laker haters out there. Jake, Mike, Tim, and everyone else that can't comprehend the glory of the purple and gold.
See you in June.
Tonight, Gasol - 24 points and 12 boards (first game, one practice) and Kobe - 6 points. Mind you this is without Andrew Bynum.
Exhale realize your team is no longer and contender, and let the parades begin.
I know there are many Laker haters out there. Jake, Mike, Tim, and everyone else that can't comprehend the glory of the purple and gold.
See you in June.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Super Bowl XLII - Funny Moments
I witnessed a great moment in my house yesterday during the Super Bowl. Let me lay the stage for you. It was halftime. Tom Petty was onstage performing to a crowd of weird young people in neon colored clothes and gear. They had LED lights instead of lighters (which was actually kind of cool but very non-nostalgic.)
And then the camera crew panned. They panned the stadium. They panned the fireworks. And then they panned over the concert goers (whom I'm told did not actually get to watch the game, but only the halftime show... Bad deal if you ask me.) And one girl stuck out. The one in the red top. With her boobs jumping up and down everywhere. I think FOX caught on really quickly and they quickly panned away. But everyone in my living room... My Dad, my girlfriend, my roomate, my buddies from the neighborhood 5 minutes away, my girlfriend's sister... We all just stopped for a moment. Someone wanted to say something. Everyone kind of looked around (but with just the corner of their eyes, not wanting to seem like a perv if no one else noticed it) and then someone let out a little bit of a giggle. And then every started busting up... Even my Dad. It was so good. Soooooo good. Thanks FOX for the great camera techniques. We know you didn't want us to see it. But we saw it. So good... Check around 8:48.
James
And then the camera crew panned. They panned the stadium. They panned the fireworks. And then they panned over the concert goers (whom I'm told did not actually get to watch the game, but only the halftime show... Bad deal if you ask me.) And one girl stuck out. The one in the red top. With her boobs jumping up and down everywhere. I think FOX caught on really quickly and they quickly panned away. But everyone in my living room... My Dad, my girlfriend, my roomate, my buddies from the neighborhood 5 minutes away, my girlfriend's sister... We all just stopped for a moment. Someone wanted to say something. Everyone kind of looked around (but with just the corner of their eyes, not wanting to seem like a perv if no one else noticed it) and then someone let out a little bit of a giggle. And then every started busting up... Even my Dad. It was so good. Soooooo good. Thanks FOX for the great camera techniques. We know you didn't want us to see it. But we saw it. So good... Check around 8:48.
James
Salute
I would like to salute the biggest a-hole of them all, Bill Belichick. I am only 28, but I have never seen a man that can makemore people sick to their stomachs. Very funny.
What coach walks off the field during the Super Bowl?
He gets the pot stirrer salute!
D
Friday, February 1, 2008
Mobile Blog Test: What I made at work.
Yes, that's right. Straight from the digital camera on my Blackberry... A rubber band ball Mr. Potato Head with his homie The Buddha. Splittin' a cancer stick.
James
A critical work to be discussed.
Recently, my friend and brother, Jake Rossman told me that I have too much time on my hands. The reason that he said this is because I showed him this clip.
http://www.killsometime.com/video/video.asp?ID=1082
I was going to embed this in the blog but it automatically playing and I hate that. So, please watch and comment on it. To me, this is a great slice of Americana. I love the production value, the preacher, and the message. My favorite quote is "Biatch!"
Take a look and let's discuss.
Also, I will be posting another video later today, so stay tuned.
Dave
http://www.killsometime.com/video/video.asp?ID=1082
I was going to embed this in the blog but it automatically playing and I hate that. So, please watch and comment on it. To me, this is a great slice of Americana. I love the production value, the preacher, and the message. My favorite quote is "Biatch!"
Take a look and let's discuss.
Also, I will be posting another video later today, so stay tuned.
Dave
Politics in a time of ridiculousness...
The title of this entry has almost as catchy of a name as, "Love in a time of war." And like love, Politics plays a very important role in our world. It stirs the pot. If not your pot, then definitely someone else's pot. So, friends... Away we stir.
Before I get to the gist of this piece, I would like to dedicate this article to our good friend Jake Rossman. Jake, a good soldier of the left wing, with blue blood running through his veins, who has never failed to reiterate the liberal agenda to any who suggest otherwise has inspired me to write this piece.
It was with this USA Today Quiz that Jake Rossman suggested I take(http://www.usatoday.com/news/politics/election2008/candidate-match-game.htm) that got me thinking... Is this what politics is? A silly, over-simplified quiz that tells little of who you are and what you think?
So I charge you with that task. Take this quiz. Read the loaded questions. Pick one if you're not too disgusted by the ridiculousness of the juxtopositions. And then tell me, why? Why politics?
I'll tell you this right now, my top three choices were Democrat Mike Gravel, Libertarian/Quasi-Republican Ron Paul and Actor Fred Thompson. Hahaha, little do these suckers know that I'm voting for myself. But honestly, I would certainly vote for one of these guys first before I voted for anyone from the establishment. Just because it stirs Jake's pot. But, since we're friends, I'll just vote for myself first. Sometimes his pot can't handle the stirring.
James
P.S. I've included a poll on the Blog with Mike Gravel, Ron Paul, Fred Thompson and Myself. You tell me who you'd vote for.
Before I get to the gist of this piece, I would like to dedicate this article to our good friend Jake Rossman. Jake, a good soldier of the left wing, with blue blood running through his veins, who has never failed to reiterate the liberal agenda to any who suggest otherwise has inspired me to write this piece.
It was with this USA Today Quiz that Jake Rossman suggested I take(http://www.usatoday.com/news/politics/election2008/candidate-match-game.htm) that got me thinking... Is this what politics is? A silly, over-simplified quiz that tells little of who you are and what you think?
So I charge you with that task. Take this quiz. Read the loaded questions. Pick one if you're not too disgusted by the ridiculousness of the juxtopositions. And then tell me, why? Why politics?
I'll tell you this right now, my top three choices were Democrat Mike Gravel, Libertarian/Quasi-Republican Ron Paul and Actor Fred Thompson. Hahaha, little do these suckers know that I'm voting for myself. But honestly, I would certainly vote for one of these guys first before I voted for anyone from the establishment. Just because it stirs Jake's pot. But, since we're friends, I'll just vote for myself first. Sometimes his pot can't handle the stirring.
James
P.S. I've included a poll on the Blog with Mike Gravel, Ron Paul, Fred Thompson and Myself. You tell me who you'd vote for.
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