The South Rises Again

So, just try and follow this. I am teaching a lesson in Sunday School on Sunday about the armor of God. One of the subjects is immorality. One of the listed problems of immorality is disease. Being a data junkie, I wanted to know what percent of the US population has an STD. (I love harrowing statistics.) In my searching, I found this fascinating chart of, well, I guess one could call it the Chlamydia belt. Or, as Christina said when she saw the chart, "Why are you looking at...*pause*, ew, what is wrong with the South?" Seriously, as if losing the Civil War wasn't bad enough...

Phase V: Neglect

After battling the pokeweed, the mosquitoes, the ivy, the weeds, I had serious hope for the yarden. As Ben Bernanke was claiming there were green shoots in the economy, so were there green shoots in the yarden! But the evil specter on unemployment came upon the yarden in the form of a pair of vile rodents. Yes, rabbits! Monstrous, floppy-eared, remorseless rabbits that assaulted the yarden in late September and October. As the days grew shorter, I was forced to rely on my Saturdays to assess the state of my yarden. But many a Saturday was ruined by rain. When I finally could check, the lettuce had been entirely eaten away. Few of the cucumber plants remained and these were limp and lifeless. When Christina asked one night, "Doug, how are your crops? You must attend to your crops!" I looked up mournfully and said, "General Lee, I have no division." (This did not, in fact, actually happen. But I would like to think I felt a fraction of what Pickett felt on July 3, 1863 after observing the complete annihilation of two crops and the severe reduction in the forces of the onions and the carrots.)

The current status is thus: A few onions and carrots have perservered and I have attempted to weed around them. The veritable iron brigade of the crops has been the radishes. They have resisted rabbits, falling branches, hooliganism, deer, and weeds to produce a possible bumper crop. Christina actually dug one up and ate it, proclaiming that it "tasted like a radish" which is more than I could have possibly hoped. (Before this, the closest we had come to eating one of the crops was when we held a dead carrot plant and observed that it "smelled like a carrot.") And therein lies the germ of hope. With a successful radish crop, we now feel confident to move on! No more nurturing of pokeweeds! No more placating the wildlife! We will prevail!

Happy Birthday, Harris Malden

On Friday, we were lamenting yet another Paul Blart-less weekend. (Any time we remember, we check the library and the local redbox to try and score a copy of Paul Blart. Never around. Why do we want to see Paul Blart? Because the previews for it looked terrible, so I predicted it would flop. And then when it came out, it hung around the top ten for weeks, and ending up making 146 million, something like 40 million more than Watchmen. Now, I've gotta see how a movie that seemed like it had no audience made 146 million.) So, we looked around Hulu and Christina chose two movies. 1) Heart and Souls, which has to have one of the most boring opening 45 minutes and 2) Happy Birthday, Harris Malden.

You might ask, "What is Happy Birthday, Harris Malden"?

And I will answer, "Oh, just the most surprisingly great movie I've seen in a long time."

I would put in the same class as Lars and the Real Girl, but funnier and less poignant or maybe Napoleon Dynamite, except more low-key. (So, basically, your low-budget innovative indie comedy.) The basic plot is this: Man draws on facial hair every morning because he can't grow facial hair after an incident with fire that gave him a scar on his upper lip when he was five. If that's not enough of a hook for you, than you'll most likely hate the movie and shouldn't watch it anyway. (Although not the center of the story, I think the best moments feature Harris's younger brother Melvin and his modeling career.)

That's all I've really got to say about it. Be ye warned all those in-laws to whom I will be giving Christmas presents this year.

The First Goal

He corralled the ball to the right of the goal, dribbled in front, and let forth a ferocious kick. With that one kick, he tied his old man's goal total from his playing days in the Orem rec league, AND earned that everybody's-a-winner trophy they give out at the end of the season. So, all those hours training in the backyard in the dead of winter, all those footwork drills, all those trips to the track to race against 8 and 9 year olds finally paid off.

(It was a seriously awesome parental moment.)

It's getting a little pathetic

I don't like jumping on bandwagons. But I think that if a bandwagon passed by where someone yelled out, "Hey, this is the let's-criticize-the-Obama-administration-for-their-terrible-handling-of-swine-flu-vaccines bandwagon!" I would toss down my rake and hop on that bandwagon. (Assuming the rest of the party had been vaccinated for swine flu.) This is one of those moments where, yes, I think we do have some people to blame. I'm not sure who exactly should be blamed in the administration, whether it be the officials who boldly proclaimed that we would have 150 million doses of the vaccine by the beginning of October (as of now, there are 36 million doses) or the officials who made sure to declare that this is a national emergency and to encourage that people go get non-existent vaccines. Both sets of officials deserve the George W. Bush "Heckuva Job, Brownie" Award for incompetence. Yeah, I get that there are vagaries to the development of vaccines. But you've managed to create a huge demand for the vaccine, and then administered the distribution of the vaccine in an incredibly haphazard way. Basically, each time a clinic in Montgomery County gets a shipment of the vaccine, hordes descend upon the site because there is no telling when the next batch will become available. It doesn't even really seem like local officials have an idea of where the next offering will be.

I'm just saying, if swine flu had been a much more potent strain, this would have been an absolute disaster. Seeing how thousands are descending on clinics, desperation would be breeding riots. (On another note, does Citigroup have 1200 women, let alone 1200 young people up to 24, people caring for infants under six months, and pregnant women? What a crock.)

The secret bathroom

Faced with a line in the one men's room available at the Washington Marriott during the APPAM conference, I did something rash. I walked up to the man at the front desk and said "Do you have a bathroom available?" He looked at me slyly and said, "I'll tell you what. You seem like a desperate fella. Here's a key to the gym on the third floor. There are two bathrooms in there. Just don't tell anyone." The bathroom was awesome.

Moral: If you need to use a bathroom, talk to someone at the hotel front desk. (My morals do not pretend to have external validity.)

When I gave the guy the key back, he said, "Excuse me, sir, what room is this for?" I just looked at him with a blank look. Then a knowing look crossed his face and he said, "Oh, riiiiiiiiight."

Moral II: If you don't answer people, they often supply their own answer. (OK, so this moral's more generalizable. I wouldn't try out this moral in a job interview, however.)

Publication!

First peer-reviewed journal article that I co-wrote was published a couple of weeks ago in the latest issue of the Policy Studies Journal. It's called Income Transfers Alone Won't Eradicate Poverty and can be found at http://www3.interscience.wiley.com/journal/122657752/abstract

Spot for the Bearded Flannel Guy

I have asserted in the past that a good music collection is much like a good basketball team in that it can contain fringey role players, but at the core, it needs to have some all-stars. (In other words, you can't say that Vampire Weekend is a foundation of your collection any more than you could say that JJ Reddick is the man to build your team around.)

I will now assert that a music collection is like a gathering (I hate the term "party") of your friends and acquaintances. (If you are like me and have never witnessed a mighty gathering of your friends and acquaintances, then just populate your imagination.) A mighty gathering really needs to have a sad sack in the corner. You need the sad sack to just add a beautiful contrasting streak of bitterness and anger to the generally jovial proceedings around him. (The more I write this, I realize how I was the token sad sack among my friends at various dances and parties in my teenage years. This is harrowing and awesome.) You just need the one so that when people go near him and he offers a despondent comment, people just laugh, pat him on the back, and move on. Two or more sad sacks may make things a little too blue. Musically, these are the bebearded beflanneled be-acoustic guitarish type persons. You don't need more than one in the collection because they all serve the same purpose.

In my music collection, this role is amply filled by Dolorean. When people bring up Iron and Wine or Bon Iver, I kindly but firmly point out the position has been filled, so please move along.

Year of non-existence

When the Census Workers come to my house in 2010, I will celebrate their arrival with feasting and song. For they shall be the ones who validate my existence for the next decade. This is important to me because for the last decade, I have been a man within the country but not acknowledged by the country. One accessing the 2000 Census files would find me not for I was one of the Lost Utah 11,000, wandering foreign lands, and who came home only to find that our country had pretended that we were not. And so, I've haunted this land, moving across the country, moaning and shrieking, freaking people out because I do not, officially, exist. And while I will be counted in 2010, there are others like me who will not be counted. So, despite the dubious constitutionality of Sen. Hatch's proposed amendment to the 2010 Census, I salute him for bringing it up. (Oh, and let's all hail the awesome recent editorial of the NY Times for trying to stir up some Mormon Bogeyman angst among liberals. If you counted Mormon missionaries, would you have to count people in the Peace Corps? And with Mormons most likely being conservative and Peace Corps persons most likely being liberal, wouldn't they just cancel each other out?)

Barack Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize of Fire

In an amazing life-imitates-art moment, Barack Obama's name was tossed into the ring for the Nobel Peace Prize and darn it if those Norwegians didn't give him the prize! Much like Harry Potter's nomination for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, his opposition is trashing him for arrogance and inexperience while even his closest friends are a little baffled (Robert Gibbs, the press secretary, supposedly had no clue that this was a possibility).

So, sure, I think we all realize that President Obama hasn't really done much for peace since his inauguration. The US is still in Iraq and Afghanistan, North Korea and Iran are still pushing forward on nuclear programs, and he hasn't really negotiated any major ceasefires. But the weird thing is that he was nominated for the prize way back in February when he hadn't even had the chance to do anything! Basically, the award is for making speeches about how important talking to other countries is.

So, who is the possessed Mad-Eye Moody who's setting President Obama up by nominating him for the prize and most likely rigging the voting? My guess is it's Fidel. Fidel's been oddly supportive of Obama since he became president and supported him winning the Peace Prize. Which means that there's a 60/40 chance that the Prize is actually a portkey which will suck President Obama to a lonely graveyard in Hampstead in north London, where he will witness Kim-Jong Il cut off his hand to reanimate Karl Marx. Don't take the prize, Mr. President. Just take the cash.

Degree 3: Andrew and Molly up high

Editor's note: Andrew's original commentary was a two-and-a-half page Word document. I have pared it down

I’m not a big concert goer. I grew up in Hawaii, and not many performers include Hawaii in their touring schedule. So when U2, one of the biggest bands in the world, scheduled a concert not 20 minutes from where I live, I couldn’t pass it up. We got tickets for the nosebleed section, partly because they were the cheapest and partly because we didn’t want to do the whole cramming, standing, jumping, hollering, fist pumping, head-banging thing.

Despite leaving work a little early to get there in time, we hit traffic and were a little late. It wouldn’t have been that bad except I really wanted to see the opening band—Muse. In fact, Muse was the tipping point for me to buy tickets.

We didn’t arrive until about 7:30, but lucky for us, Muse didn’t start playing until around that time. As could be expected, the balance was not great. Regardless, I thought it was awesome! Molly, on the other hand, was unimpressed.

The whole night we were fascinated by the diverse crowd that U2 pulls in—from elementary school kids to grandparents and white trash to uppity socialites that looked like they got lost on their way to the Kennedy Center. Having older parents in front of proved to be ideal because they never stood up during the show, which meant that we could sit or stand as we pleased and still see everything.

Before I talk about the music, let me just say that the set was awesome! (and a little hard to describe, so bear with me). A large cylindrical screen was suspended over the stage and projected live footage, graphics and prepared montages, all overlaid with cool video effects. About halfway through the concert, the screen came apart in hexagon pieces and slowly descended around the stage, all the while projecting video and effects. It was awesome! Above and around the stage and screen was a massive, four-legged, green and orange claw. And of course, there was plenty of smoke, flashing colorful lights, and spotlights swirling around the stadium and shooting up into the sky. For all of this, I think being in the nosebleed section was better than being in the crowd on the floor. It offered us a commanding view of the entire, impressive scene. At times it was just as cool to watch the crowd, with the soft light illuminating their pumping fists and singing faces.

I didn’t recognize most of their newer songs, so my favorites were their older ones that I recognized, like “Stuck In A Moment,” “Mysterious Ways,” “I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For,” and “Beautiful Day.” If I had to pick a favorite, it would be “Stuck in Moment,” which Bono and The Edge did acoustically. Very cool. Even though we had seats, several songs brought us to our feet to dance and sing along. There was a couple in front of us (I think one of them was a kid of the older parents) who got really in to it.

One thing that’s cool about the concert experience is that songs take on a new depth of meaning. I’ve heard these songs many times before, but this time I think I experienced more of what the band meant to express when they composed them. Bono’s monologues between songs also added context and meaning to each song. He gave shout outs to various political figures and spoke to several social and political injustices.

We left before the encores. It wasn’t ideal, but Molly had hurt her back about a week before the concert, so she was lucky to be able to sit for as long as she did

At work the next day, it was cool to talk about the concert with my co-workers and be able to say, “Yeah, I went to the concert with my wife.” One of my co-workers who went got punched in the face by a drunk guy who was harassing his friend.

Overall, it was a very cool experience.

Degree 2: Christina and Doug in the Red Zone

We arrived at 6:20, got our tickets and proceeded down to the field. The Red Zone was pretty empty when we got there, but the prime spots on the railing were taken. After a brief meander to get a couple of hot dogs and check out our "Red Zone amenities" (which included Red Zone port a potties and a small merch booth), we headed back to what we considered would be the best location for watching the band.

A brief side note: there was the stage. A runway circled the stage. There were GA tickets within the circle created by the runway. The Red Zone GA spots were to the left and right of the stage on the outside of the circular runway. We were in Red Zone right which was good because that was the Edge side and not Adam Clayton side.

Anywho, we chose a spot behind a couple of people who were sitting down and we figured that when they stood up, there would be room for Christina to at least squeeze to the railing. Well, when they stood up, it turned out that they were about 6'5" and although skinny, their lankage took up quite a bit of room on the railings. (Next to them, in even more prime railing spots were grandparents who had brought their grandkids to the show. The grandkids were twentysomething. The grandparents were seventysomething. We thought that the old man was going to give up the ghost halfway through Muse, but, being of the Greatest Generation, he showed real tenacity and stuck it out through the whole show.) Behind us were forty-year-old women, one of whom was plastered from the get go and kept telling us she was going to dance with Bono. It was funny the first time, tedious the 50th time.

Muse was great. But this is about U2, so moving on...

Overall, the show was killer. Bono was really dynamic. The fascinating thing about being so close is that you could tell that all the speaking in between songs was because he was trying to catch his breath. The great thing about the giant crustacean stage was that the speakers were on the body of the crustacean, which made for a pretty good mix. Less muddied than I expected.

So, one of the most spectacular moments of the show was one of the most unexpected. Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of. Acoustic. The Edge and Bono. It was really awesome, the reason why you go to shows. we just sat there transfixed and when it finished we both turned to each and said "Wow! That was awesome!" It's funny because I've always liked the song, but this version just pushed it to new heights.

Another song that benefited from the concert experience was I'll Go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight which, honestly, on the album, is kind of flaccid, considering the lyrics. They turned it more dancey/ravish and it was pretty cool, especially because we got to see both Larry (with some kind of African drum) and Adam come by on the runway. (Overall, Bono and the Edge come by about five times, and Adam come by about three times.)

Vertigo and Elevation were really great too. Vertigo may have the most inane lyrics of all time, but it was killer live. (Bono introduced it by saying something about "We're going to teach you Spanish, Irish-style.")

Loved the Amazing Grace before Where the Streets Have No Names. The Edge launching into that opening of Streets was chillworthy.

You could tell by the end of the concert that Bono's vox was shot. During With or Without You he had the crowd sing a lot while he swung on his mic suspended from the crustacean.

Being down on the field really gave a different feel to the stadium concert. It was difficult to tell if the whole crowd was singing along or if they were being crazy or dull. Basically, we could only tell what the interior section was doing and the people directly around us. So, while missing out on the wide panorama views that can make stadium concerts feel like a crazy Kumbaya singalong, we got to experience the close-up, club feel for a huge event, which made it completely worth it.

This is filmed by someone in the inner circle...if you were able to blow up the crowd after the Edge and Larry cross the bridge, you could probably see us...