The Pros and Cons of Living in Nebraska

Reasons to Stay in Nebraska

• Cheap rent
• Ruby Red Squirt readily available
• Cheap utilities
• Vehicle inspection laws slim to non-existent
• Nice sunsets
• Lots of things (stores, bars, parks, etc.) within walking distance
• Cheap eating out
• Friends/social group provides support network
• Leaving means time and money lost through relocation expenses

Reasons to Leave Nebraska

• Winter is a dry, snowless wasteland of dead grass and trees, with endless views of the torn-up, broken corn and soybean fields as one drives along the highway.  Humidifiers become a necessity, and dry skin reaches its peak during January/February.
• Summer is hot and humid as fuck, with a mugginess that sucks all moisture from one’s body and causes intolerable dehydration (see earlier note about walking).
• Social interactions marred by people’s preoccupation with empty politeness, inherent in the idea that they can’t say what’s really on their minds and instead adopt a series of motions designed to simulate friendliness in an acceptable manner.  In situations where social norms don’t require such politeness (for example, when passing someone on the street), a posture of extreme indifference is adopted instead.
• Prevalence of critical, internal judgment based on a person’s race/appearance/economic status, most often (in my case) implied through questions about one’s career goals and college experience (for example, “What did you go to school for?” “Is it hard to get a job using that degree?” “What are you going to do next?” etc.) in ways that mask the asker’s underlying criticism.
• City architecture consists primarily of parking garages and bland-colored office buildings, thus contributing to an atmosphere of sameness.
• No mountains, ocean, lakes you can swim in, or real forests within reasonable driving distance.  Hiking and walking trails minimal, and are usually restricted to prairie grasslands and urban bike paths.
• The overwhelming feeling that everyone in Nebraska holds the same values, the same beliefs, the same life goals, and strives always to be the same, meaning that those holding unpopular, alternative, innovative, self-taught, or otherwise different beliefs will be subtly made to feel as if they don’t belong, make foolish decisions, or are otherwise just plain wrong, simply because they stand outside the majority.
• It’s good to keep exploring new places.

Five Reasons to Score Euchre with the 5's

A euchre score of three points. The flipped card is a 5, and each uncovered diamond is worth one point.

My dad’s originally from Michigan, so I grew up playing euchre (pronounced you-kur) the same as they do in the Midwest.  It's a fast-paced game played with two sets of partners, and only half the deck (9’s to Aces).  Since a team needs ten points to win a game, we grew up scoring with the extra 5’s, two for each team.  As shown in the pictures, players keep score by uncovering one symbol for every point up to five, then flipping the top 5 and scoring the remaining points up to ten.  It’s easy to score and easy to read.

A score of nine points (5 + 4).

Then I met some people from Chicago who grew up scoring with 6’s and 4’s, provoking an ongoing debate about which method works better.  I’ve tried both ways and will choose 5’s every time—here are some reasons why:

Which team's winning?  (You had to think about it, didn't you?)

#1. The 5's Are Easier to Read

The world uses a number system based on 10.  Half of 10 is 5, and it’s easier to think in terms of 5 than in terms of, say, 3 or 9, since we intrinsically read 5 as half of 10.  The uncovered top 5 clearly indicates that the game is more than half won, and makes it easier to add the bottom points to the top.  Using a 6 and a 4 slows the math down—it’s just that much infinitesimally easier to add 3 + 5 than to add 3 + 4, and such hurdles can slow you down when you're trying to count your opponent’s trump.

Who's ahead now?  (Had to think about that one too, didn't you?)

#2. No Confusion About Who's On Top

Like a good relationship, with 5’s it doesn’t matter which one’s on top: flip one over and you’re ready to go.  The 6’s and 4’s, however, beg the question of whether to score the 6 or the 4 first, and if both teams choose differently (see above), there’ll be a confusing imbalance if the 4-scoring team flips the top card first and the 6-scoring team has more points.

 

#3. Flipping Unnecessary Cards

This is really my biggest beef with 4's and 6's.  If you start with the 6 on the bottom and the 4 flipped over, you have to score the first six points, then flip the 4 over and put it on the bottom before placing the six on top to make seven (see above).  If you think you can avoid this extra step by starting with the 4, you're in for a rude surprise: you still have to place a card in back.

With 5’s, though, there’s one step.  Score the first 5, flip the top card, then score the second 5 (see above).  Easy.

#4. Finding the 5’s is Faster

But Ian, my Illinois readers might protest, when you’re sorting the cards for euchre, surely scooping the 6’s and 4’s out of the deck is faster, because you can find them more quickly, right?  Not so!   

Since there are only four 5’s in the deck, all the 5’s get used, and sorting a 52-card deck becomes a simple matter of dealing out the 9’s 10’s, Jacks, Queens, Kings, and Aces for regular play, and the four 5’s for scoring.  It’s a set, clean system with no extra cards.

Are you tired of endless, sloppy clutter during your euchre game?

With 6’s and 4’s though, there are eight possible scoring cards in the deck (four 6’s and four 4’s), so players doing the sorting have to remember how many 6’s and 4’s they’ve separated or they’ll end up with extras to throw back in.  There’s more cards to sort, and more cards to worry about.

Try scoring with the 5s instead!

#5. The Beauty of a Color Match

Two black 5’s for one team, two red 5’s for the other.  Each team has its own color, with no confusion on the board.  You can do that with 6’s and 4’s, of course, but you have to find the exact cards you need from a pile of extras.  Doing it this way also creates an odd imbalance, say, if one team has two hearts and the other has a club and a spade.  You can still have color symmetry, but it takes more work to do it—which is precisely how I feel about the whole 4’s and 6’s system.  It gets the job done fine, but it takes more work and effort that could otherwise be spent playing the game.

Allow me to copy the same photo I just used as proof of how clean this looks.

Don’t send a boy to do a man’s job.  Use the 5’s next time.

Things That Annoy Me About Each of the Batman Movies

Batman (1989):  Michael Keaton's "You want to get nuts?  Let's get nuts" line.

Batman Returns (1992): Christopher Walken not doing anything Christopher Walken-like.

Batman Forever (1995): Most of the coolest stuff getting edited out.

Batman and Robin (1997): The entire fucking movie.

Batman Begins (2005): Christian Bale's raspy voice; training scenes that take up half the film (tie).

The Dark Knight (2008): That scene in the courtroom where the mob guy misfires his carbon-fiber gun and Harvey Dent not only spots it as made in China, but suggests that next time, "I recommend you buy American."  The scene (and much of the China plot that follows) not only capitalizes on the anti-China sentiment that was rising around the mid- to late-2000s, it serves as a hokey call for moviegoers to buy American goods rather than their poorly made Chinese counterparts - a shameless political ploy that's going to date even more terribly than Marty McFly's Japanese boss in Back to the Future II.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012): Gotham's citizens rising up against the wealthy.  While working-class revolutions are nothing new, the timing of Gotham's attack on the rich with America's post-recession awareness of the gap between rich and poor can't possibly be coincidental, and should thus be read as overtly political (which the series stooped to in the China relationship in the previous film).  The problem here, though, is that the film portrays Gotham's revolution against the rich as ridiculous, destructive, and corrupting for everyone involved, particularly in the courtroom scene where the Scarecrow sits atop the towering heap of desks like something out of Kafka.  When the common people rise up against the rich, the scene suggests, they do so nonsensically, without bringing real structure to their new order, since they can only sentence rich people to torturous deaths for the crime of being rich.  This in turn implies that any time the masses rise up against the rich or try to change the world they live in, the result will be anarchy, since no sensible alternative to is ever presented onscreen.  The film implies, therefore, that changing the status quo is wrong, that the grievances of the masses are petty and not worth taking seriously, and that order can only reign as long as the rich keep power for themselves.  Not cool.

Some Comically Named Herbicides Tested for Use in Corn, Soybeans, and/or Sorghum in the State of Nebraska

• Autumn Super
• Python
• Sharpen
• Princep
• Aim
• Beacon
• Expert
• Impact
• Hornet
• Resolve
• Fierce
• Fusion
• Permit
• Liberty
• Zemax
• Cinch
• Spirit
• Extreme
• Steadfast Q
• Confidence
• Yukon
• Rhythm
• Solida
• Sure Start
• Ultra Blazer
• Breakfree
• Balance Flexx [sic]
• G-Max Lite
• Prowl
• Cadet
• Command
• Valor
• Verdict
• Peak
• Surpass
• Moxy [not to be confused with the beverage]
• Paramount
• Bullet
• Lariat
• Warrant
• Tackle
• Classic
• Cobra
• Raptor
• Phoenix
• Rumble
• Torment
• Gangster
• Vise
• Pursuit

5 Words I Can't Stand

Some words I love, others I despise.  The words I despise I don't use, but they still fill me with trembling hatred when I encounter them in books, online, and everyday speech.  Expounding on them here seems a good step towards clarifying their inadequacies for my own benefit, or perhaps even finding others who hate them as much as I do.

Note: Since I've already beaten to death my hatred of the words utilize and buddy (not to mention my annoyance with unnecessary quotation marks, which have an entire blog devoted to their misuse), I've left them off the list.


#1. Various

People overuse this word to expand on a list or topic in a way I find frustratingly vague.  What do you mean your work has been published in "various magazines"?  How can I imagine the "various artists" in your exhibit?  If the item you're expanding on is that important, I recommend using examples, or trying a more specific adjective:

X  The banquet will feature coffee, tea, and various hors d'oeuvres.
O  The banquet will feature coffee, tea, chicken fingers, cut-up pieces of fruit, and a large platter of cheese and crackers.
O The banquet will feature coffee, tea, and lots of hors d'oeuvres.

#2. Disseminate

The second of two Officespeak words to make the list, disseminate shares a root word with semen, thus making it a strange term to use in the workplace.  It means simply to pass on, to spread widely, or to let people know, but expresses the sentiment in a fashion both pretentious and inadvertently evocative of ejaculation.


#3. Earbud

Granted, this is a useful (and accurate) way to distinguish earphones worn over the head from ones worn inside the ear, though I never liked this word and avoid it as much as I avoid wearing earbuds themselves.


#4. Chapbook

Used almost exclusively in the literary world, this word has its origins in early publishing practices.  Now, however, people use it to refer to short collections of poetry not quite long enough to call an actual book, but long enough to warrant a binding and title.  I find the word derogatory, as if such collections were inherently unworthy of the term book.  It also reminds me of elementary school-era transitions from picture books to chapter books (many of which still had pictures).  We stopped using the term chapter books once we'd phased picture books out of our reading lists, and who now would refer to Lolita as a chapter book?


#5. Apparatus

A meaningless word, common in dense theoretical texts and self-aggrandizing works, its technical definition is

n. 1. a combination of instruments or materials having a particular function.

but I more commonly hear it used as a way of overcomplicating a machine, structure, or invention.  Some writers even use it for governments or organizations (e.g. the state apparatus) in a way that doesn't seem entirely appropriate. 

But more importantly, apparatus is a word that fails to create a clear image in the reader's mind and transforms the sentence around it into mere jargon.  Try to picture an apparatus: you can't do it!  (The closest I can come is an assembly or pipes within a wall, an image I know to be inaccurate but instinctively think of anyway.)  When language fails to convey a specific meaning, that language isn't doing its job, and when such obfuscation becomes commonplace, we accept it as part of the status quo and submit to its vagueness.  That's the danger in such language, and one we must avoid at all costs.

A Very Special Wave of the Hand 250th Post Listless List

Things I Currently Possess At Least 250 Of (in no particular order)

• Grains of rice (in 25-pound bag)
• Dollars (in bank account)
• Gas in gas tank (in ounces)
• Blank pieces of paper (for printer)
• Lined pieces of paper (in notebooks)
• Feet of thread (in sewing kit)
• CDs (blank, purchased, and accumulated from mix CD swaps)
• Dollars (in Monopoly money)
• Pieces of shredded cheese (cheddar, monterey jack, colby jack)
• Articles of clothing (if a pair of socks counts as two articles)
• Problems (with apologies to Jay-Z)
• Staples (from jumbo-sized box purchased on school shopping trip in 1995)
• Tissues (collected from Japanese street advertisers)
• Posts (in blog)

Thanks to all you readers out there, and here's to 250 more.

Five Books Every Twentysomething Should Read

Several years back, during one of my online rants about the lack of reading in America, an old Bennington classmate called bullshit and offered some advice: Don’t chastise people for not reading enough, because they probably don’t know where to begin.

He’s right, of course. Bookstores and libraries are intimidating places that make it difficult to know whether a particular book will be an awe-inspiring epiphany or a waste of your time. If you’re at the same point in your life as I am, or have found any of this blog’s ramblings and reflections relatable, I recommend these five books as ones that expose the delights and perils of being a twentysomething in a way I wish I was capable of.

Starting with the most highly recommended, here’s the list:


#1. High Fidelity, by Nick Hornby (1995)

The movie version is amazing (beating both Say Anything and Better Off Dead as my favorite John Cusack movie of all time), and the book is better. I recommend High Fidelity to everyone for four reasons:

1. It’s a quick read
2. It’s funny 
3. It’s relatable
4. It has enough pop culture references that you’ll feel clever for getting at least a few of them

But it’s more than this that make this book stand out. Hornby speaks to our insecurities, our curiosities, and to those thoughts we all have but can’t quite explain. His protagonist, Rob*, fucks up with women and wonders what went wrong, is mean to his friends without knowing why, and is disconcertingly aware of his unsettled state. He runs his own record store, revels in the music he loves, yet he’s unhappy and can’t seem to grow up. We spend the entire book in Rob’s head as he wonders about himself and the world around him, including those mysterious first discoveries of sex:

This is the sort of sex education I never had—the one that deals with G-spots and the like. No one ever told me about anything that mattered, about how to take your trousers off with dignity or what to say to someone when you can’t get an erection or what “good in bed” meant in 1975 or 1985, never mind 1955. Get this: no one ever told me about semen even, just sperm, and there’s a crucial difference. As far as I could tell, these microscopic tadpole things just leaped invisibly out of the end of your whatsit, and so when, on the occasion of my first. . .well, never you mind.

The entire book is full of these observational gems, most of which never made their way into the movie. It’s those moments when an author reflects on something you’ve always known, or been thinking about, or maybe just thought about in a different way, that make me love the medium. A good book will show you things about the world around you, and High Fidelity is no exception.

* Author’s Note: At the risk of being fact-checked in the comments section, I’ll note that Rob is actually a thirtysomething in the book, though his plights speak to anyone above college age who isn’t happily married with kids.


#2. Rabbit, Run by John Updike (1960)

Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom was a basketball star in high school, but now demonstrates the MagiPeel vegetable peeler to housewives at department stores. His own wife drinks too much and watches television all day, and together they live in the same suburb they lived in when they were young and life was more exciting. One day, Rabbit gets in the car and starts driving, searching for something he can never quite describe to anyone and desperate to separate himself from his life’s confines. This is how the book begins.

Harry’s nameless dissatisfaction is still relevant today for college graduates who now lack the structured environment to pursue the things they used to. Readers are unsure whether to encourage Rabbit on his journey for self-discovery or to chastise him for abandoning his family. Is he a bad person for leaving his son and his pregnant wife? Or is he bettering himself by striving to break free of his bleak suburban existence? The novel never tells us for sure, and this dichotomy makes it all the more interesting.

Rabbit, Run also isn’t as dense as Updike’s later work, and is a far easier read than anything he wrote in his later years. His novels are full of great descriptions of things (for example, the dot on a tube television that lingers after you turn it off, or the way a stack of chairs gradually leans forward if you pile it high enough*), and contain a gracefulness of prose that perfectly captures these moments in time.

Finally, this one deserves a place on the top five books that changed my life because it (arguably) prompted me to break up with my own girlfriend. Who can argue that such a call to action isn’t indicative of the book’s power?

* Images from Rabbit Redux and Couples, respectively.


#3. The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway (1926)

A lot of people read this book in high school and hate it; I probably would have too if I’d been forced to read it when I was sixteen and still living out the comforting routines of adolescence. The Sun Also Rises is a book for people whose lives lack definition and purpose: its expatriate characters wander Europe, drink themselves stupid on absinthe and champagne, avoid their families, work uninspiring jobs, and never get any girls. Its narrator, Jake, was left impotent after World War I, and can’t consummate his relationship with Brett, the woman of the group, who’s content to live up the night life with the rest of them instead of settling down and having a mess of children like a good housewife.

The book lacks a clear plot, and is basically just the main characters moving from one alcohol-fueled romp to another for two hundred and forty pages. While this frustrates a lot of people, I find it to be a more accurate representation of real life (which, in most cases, also lacks a clear plot). Behind the nights out and the exotic trips, Hemingway’s brief, understated prose hides a distinct sadness as readers become aware that nothing will come of the characters’ lives. This should make The Sun Also Rises more relatable to unmarried twentysomethings who lack concrete goals and whose jobs offer few opportunities for advancement, but it’s jarring for readers to see this emptiness captured in novel form when they’re accustomed to a three-act structure. Though more happens closer to the end (I won’t ruin it), the novel is best enjoyed as a look at the highs and lows of what life shouldn’t be.


#4. Afternoon Men, by Anthony Powell (1931)

This book is the British version of The Sun Also Rises, but with more plot. There’s more to it than that, but the situation is the same: a bunch of unmarried twentysomethings get drunk, have sex, nurse their hangovers, have witty conversations, and do very little that can be considered productive. The main character, Richard Atwater, spends the book in pursuit of a girl, Susan Nunnery, he really likes but who just isn’t interested in him. Let me clarify: no jealous boyfriends, no hidden psychological trauma, no climactic confrontations, Susan Nunnery just isn’t interested. The very banality of Atwater’s courtship makes it relatable because we’ve all experienced infatuation with someone we have no chance of getting with.

Like The Sun Also Rises, this is a novel of understatement, where we have to read between the lines to understand the characters’ feelings. In this dialogue between Atwater and Susan Nunnery before she leaves for America, we see both Atwater’s desperation and Susan Nunnery’s flippant replies:

“Anyway, I shall see you when you come back.”
“Yes,” she said, “whenever that is.”
“But you said it would be soon?”
“It will be soon. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Do you mean you’re going away for ages?”
“No. Only a little time.”
“We shall meet when you come back, shan’t we?”
“I don’t know. It always seems rather a business. Our meetings.”
“Perhaps we’d better not then?”
“I think we’d better not.”
“You won’t be away long, will you?”
“No,” she said. “Not long.” 

Aside from their unfulfilling relationship, Afternoon Men is notable for being one of the books to best portray a character slacking off at his job: Atwater works as a museum clerk, where he spends his workdays writing letters to friends and trying to convince visitors that their time would better be spent else elsewhere. Office Space, eat your heart out.


#5. Murphy, by Samuel Beckett (1938)

The most difficult book on the list (though easily the most approachable of Beckett’s novels), I’m including this one because, unlike the first four, Murphy features a protagonist who cannot fit in with society and has no desire to. Murphy is an Irishman living in London who wants nothing more than to sit in his rocking chair and be with his girlfriend Celia, a former prostitute who thinks Murphy should get a real job like everyone else. The thought of gainful employment makes Murphy ill, but rather than lose Celia he leaves his apartment in search of work, where he’s set adrift in a world that’s strange to him. The novel’s other characters, driven by money, sex, and greed, pursue and take advantage of Murphy to satisfy their own ends, though all he really wants is to be left alone.

Though Murphy speaks to the more misanthropic reader, the novel is essentially about a young person looking to make his way in the world and not having an easy time. Substitute Murphy’s chair for the comfort of living with one’s parents, and the novel becomes a story about growing up and becoming independent. (It’s not surprising that even in the 1930s Murphy is provoked by a woman to leave his nest.) Beckett, however, is never critical of his main character, and Murphy’s discomforts and misfortunes are unceasingly real.

I love this book, and in thinking about it recently, realize how relevant it really is.  Ours is a generation of Murphys: unwilling to face adult responsibilities, cynical of what the outside world can offer us, and eager to retreat into solitude (again, substitute Murphy’s self-reflection for, say, the Internet). How many people do you know who are stuck at home, spend too much time online, and are cynical about their chances on the outside? Could this be because the outside world is as twisted as Beckett makes it out to be?

I might be stretching this a bit, but if you can decipher its nonlinear plot and arcane dialogue, this one might offer you some perspective on your own existence, as I hope the other books on this list will as well.

Kitchen Crimes

- Unevenly scooping Neapolitan ice cream in parallel rows along the chocolate and strawberry sections resulting in a disproportionate remainder of vanilla.

- Throwing away the square clip ties that come with more expensive loaves of bread, as these are quicker and more efficient than using the cheaper twist-tie variety that must be laboriously looped around itself to reseal the bread bag.

- Returning empty ice cube trays to the fridge.

- Replacing empty containers of any kind in their usual spot after the last of the food has been drained from them, leaving future consumers in search of their favorite food or drink to excitedly grab the package before feeling the emptiness propel it upward at an unexpected rate that signals the victim’s disappointment at not being able to enjoy the desired portion of cereal, fruit juice, or Ritz crackers that he or she originally craved.

- Dirtying and placing in the dishwasher all of one type of dish before enough other dishes have been so dirtied, creating the predicament of whether to run a three-quarters empty dishwasher, individually wash the desired dish, or improvise using other items that may serve as an acceptable substitute.

- Not doing a proper refrigerator and pantry check before going to the supermarket, then erring on the side of over- rather than under-shopping so as to imbalance the ratio of perishable food items (for example: three dozen eggs, two gallons of milk, four pounds of liverwurst, two cabbages) to nonperishable ones and forcing cohabiters to use up those items in excess before they expire.

- In the aforementioned situation, consuming the perishable items with the later date rather than those closest to expiration, either through negligence, or on the grounds that the chosen item “probably tastes better.”

- Using Miracle Whip for any purpose other than immediate disposal.

Warning Signs

(inspired by an episode of Matt Groening's Life in Hell strip)

• Gap years
• Trickle-down economics
• Overuse of the word pretentious
• Polo shirts
• Store-brand purchases
• Fetal positions
• Responding to comments with "Yeah, I know, right?"
• Pulling out (in a sexual sense)
• Dog-eared pages
• Excessive keychains
• Referring to the pursuit of one's passions suffixed with the word thing
• Pulling out (in a non-sexual sense)
• Empty notebooks
• Excessive ice-cream consumption
• Use of the phrase "the real world"

Titles to Unwritten Blog Entries from the Last Two Weeks

- In which the author learns how to play shogi (Japanese chess) but is at a loss for a partner since the only people who actually play the game are junior high-school students.

- In which the author struggles to contain his dribbling mucus in a culture where blowing one's nose is considered rude.

- In which the author and a band of other foreigners (two of which are not quite certain on the rules) attempt to play poker around a small table precariously balanced on a tatami floor

- In which the author badly bends his new glasses and must navigate half-blind his way to and purchase food at an unfamiliar Japanese grocery store

- In which the author flirts with several Japanese women of low English-speaking ability, and finds more incentive to study their language

- In which the author fakes his way through a painfully formal business meeting by making jokes instead of real answers, and earns his superiors' disgust

- In which the author threatens to take away the chair of a twelve-year old student constantly hovering near sleep

- In which the author shamelessly rips off the lengthy chapter title homages used by J. Maarten Troost in his travel books, and makes subsequent apologies therein