Run, don’t walk, to Blockbuster (or Video Americane, whatever) and rent this movie. Not because it will change your life, not because it’s the cure for cancer. While it is an enjoyable film and directed very well by first-timer Dylan Kidd, Rodger Dodger opens with a round-table conversation between a set of co-workers that ranks up there with the opening scene in Resevior Dogs. I don’t want to spoil it with a lame synopsis, but the topic involves sex and the doomed future of the male gender.
The film starts Campell Scott (who always reminds me of Michael from Melrose Place) as a copywriter in New York who’s views of women and relationships are so sharp and cynical that I found myself wincing every time he opened his mouth. Much to his dismay, his nephew drops by one day and ends up tagging along for a night out on the town that he’ll never forget. Along the way they both learn a thing or two about women and life.
Crucial information: no nudity, tons of sexually-driven conversation. Also stars Elizabeth Berkley (Saved By the Bell, Showgirls) and Jennifer Biels (Flashdance). Thanks to Anna for picking this movie out convincing me to watch it.
I sent my friend Sarah a perma-link to a post I wrote about the war. It was easier than explaining how I felt over IM. Much to my dismay, she told me she got an error page when she clicked on the link. After some investigation, I discovered I was improperly formatting the date.
This:
private final SimpleDateFormat datetime =
new SimpleDateFormat("M/d/yyyy hh:mm");
… became this:
private final SimpleDateFormat datetime =
new SimpleDateFormat("M/d/yyyy HH:mm");
Notice the uppercase H’s in the bottom. Lower case mean the hour is treated as 0-12. Uppercase means the hour is treated as 0-23. God, I hate those type of bugs.
I was in Atlantic City this past weekend for my friend’s Heather’s birthday. More on that later, once I get my backlog of photos up on the site.
My buddy Justin recommended that I check out this club on the strip, The Casbah. After a long night of dinner and gambling, I made it up to the Casbah (which is located in the Taj Mahal) around 2am. I got in to line, and after a couple of minutes a couple stepped in to the line behind me.
After a couple of minutes, the guy and his date get in to some kind of disagreement. The woman gives him some lip, and this guy flips out. He crowds her up against the wall and starts whispering that he’s going to kick her ass, etc. He’s saying this under his breath, but everyone in the vicinity could hear what he was saying. I guess she looked over at some guy in line, because the next thing he says is:
Why you looking at that guy? What’s he going to do? I will go over there and break his fucking jaw, and then what are you going to do?
At this point, I steal some glances and get freaked out. This guy is an absolute monster. I don’t know if we coked-up or roided-up, or some combination of the two, but any notion that I have about saying something flies away never to be seen again. I felt like I was in an episode of the Sopranos, except Christopher was about 220 lbs of pure muscle.
Anyway, nothing much happened after that (that I know of). Still, the whole episode un-nerved me. I felt like a real coward, but at the same time I’m not sure what I could have done.
Greg (my new roommate) and I were faced with a dilemma when moving in to our new place: who gets the bigger bedroom. At first we were going to flip a coin, and then, from the depths of my subconscience, I remembered something from college:
Two goods need to be allocated to two people. One good is “better” than the other. The sum of the goods is constant (in our case $1900). The fairest way to price and award the goods is this:
One person is the pricer: they get to decide what each good is worth.
The other person is the chooser: they get to decide which good they want, and pay the price set by the pricer.
Done this way, it is impossible for one person to screw the other. The pricer can’t rig the prices, because he won’t know which room he’ll end up with. In the end, the larger room ends up going to the person that values it the most.
If you know what this method is formally referred to (reverse blind auction, etc) please let me know.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the war. Sunil posted some thoughts about his predictions for what will come when the war is over.
Digression: a bowl of candy is left out on the street. A sign is posted to take one a time. What will become of the candy? A conservative might say that a few people will abuse this gesture, and take all the candy they can hold, thus ruining the situation for the others. A liberal might have a more optimistic view of human nature in this community. Or maybe not, maybe this is a bad analogy.
The bottom line is that when you subtract out the uber-pacifists and the uber-hawks, you’re left with 90% of America confused about what the future holds. When I was having dinner with Conor last night, I talked about a vision that I had for the middle east following the war. I made references to previous wars where vanquished enemies (the South, Japan, etc) were forced to reconstruct a great deal about their culture, their government, and their economy, ultimately to their benefit. Who could have imagined that in the span of a generation we could drop two nuclear bombs on Japan and have that same country become one of our closest allies in Asia? Who could have imagined such a possibility at the time?
I feel terribly sad when I think about the Middle East. I see a land of people who (like Africa) have been left out of the fruits of the modern world economy due to political tyranny that no one can justify. I am not enough of a moral relativist to believe that regimes such as Saddam Hussein’s should be left alone. And I hope that despite the short-term costs, this war will be a catalyst for regime change throughout the Middle East.
But I can’t predict the future, and anyone who tells you they can is selling something.
I was down in Chesapeake this past Monday and Tuesday for business. Let’s just say I was happy to be on my way after my work there was done. In any case, I stopped in Williamsburg to have dinner with my buddy Conor. It was great to be back, despite how out of place I felt. I swear, the students looked like little kids. It was kind of frightening. I would see some girls jogging down DOG street, stare from behind my sunglasses, and then moments later feel like a lecherous old man.
In any case, I had lunch with Conor at Paul’s Deli. If you know me, you know what I got: the good ol’ French Dip. God, I was in heaven. It was even more delicious than I had remembered. I’m constantly stunned that I can’t find a good deli in DC. Makes no sense.
I left with a heavy heart, but also with a container of house sauce from the Cheese Shoppe. I’m literally salivating at the idea of making my next ham sandwich. Good times.
I get upset when I hear people (pro or anti war) blindly professing their support for our troops overseas. What a load of crap that is. First of all, I’d wager that most people spouting this feigned support don’t know a single person in the Armed Services. Furthermore, even if they did I highly doubt they bothered to ask them how they feel about the war in Iraq.
Which begs the question, what are you being supportive of? Stop treating these people as if they are unwitting, indentured servants of a government that you despise. If you think the war is bogus, that’s fine. Just don’t wrap yourself in the warm. fuzzy blanket of “supporting” people you don’t know and whose job you find distastful (if not outright amoral).
