SITUATION: A young man asks his date up to his apartment after a movie. She coyly asks if she can trust him. How does he respond?
Nice guy: Says, “I don’t know” with his heart pounding and a weak attempt at a devilish smile, wondering if he will be able to work up the nerve to make a pass.
Average guy: Says, “I don’t know,” encouraged by her flirtatious response and hopeful she will go to bed with him.
Sociopath: Says, “I don’t know,” with exaggerated innocence, knowing she will have a hard time evading his date rape-like tactics.
SITUATION: A neighbor’s dog wanders into a 10-year-old’s backyard. What does the child do?
Nice boy: Says, "Good dog," scratches it behind its ears, and tries to get it to play with him. Looks into its eyes and feels that they are "soulful." Feels slightly bereft when it wanders off.
Average boy: Says “Shoo,” not wanting the dog to defecate on his lawn.
Sociopath-in-the-making: Says, “Here boy,” then squirts it with the garden hose. Or he flicks lit matches at it. Finds this highly amusing. Thinks, it serves the stupid dog right for coming into his yard.
SITUATION: A new bodyguard has just been hired by a celebrity. How does he go about his work?
Nice guy: Does his job responsibly and unobtrusively.
Average guy: Does his job responsibly; off the job, drops the celebrity’s name frequently. Enjoys thinking about what a badass he is, although he hopes that he will never be called on to actually put himself on the line with any genuine bad guys who want to hurt the celebrity.
Sociopath: Ignores real threats, but constantly throws his weight around, pushing aside young fans to clear a path for the celebrity. When a paparazzi appears, roughs him up in order to ingratiate himself with the celebrity. Hopes he'll get a chance to use his gun.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
How many women have you slept with?
A review of Casanova's memoirs appeared in the New York Times a week ago. The first paragraph:
"PARIS — Giacomo Girolamo Casanova was a gambler, swindler, diplomat, lawyer, soldier, alchemist, violinist, traveler, pleasure seeker and serial seducer."
So far Casanova sounds like an energetic, high-IQ scamp, and possibly even a sociopath. Certainly anyone who worked as a swindler and alchemist had to be dishonest. Gamblers often have low self-control, and soldiering occasionally attracts those who exult in destruction.
But then, halfway through the review, came the following surprise:
"Despite his many adventures, Casanova was best known as a libertine. His first sexual encounter, he wrote, was at 11, when he was groped by the sister of his guardian. During his lifetime he claimed to have seduced 122 women, including a nun."
You'd think that the man whose name is synonymous with seduction would have claimed more than 122 women. Perhaps Casanova was not a sociopath after all, but a (relatively) honest man who enjoyed the company of women.
There are certainly many guys who claim to have slept with far more.
Wilt Chamberlain once famously claimed to have slept with 20,000 women. He is also known for his quote that nobody roots for Goliath, but the two statements are somewhat contradictory: if his first claim was true, he had at least 20,000 fans. But the first claim is of course a lie. In order for that to have occurred he would have had to have slept with 1.37 women a day from the age of 15 up until his autobiography was published in 1991 -- with absolutely no repeats. People who knew him said he was often awkward around women, and spent many of his evenings home alone. The scoring he was best at was on the basketball court, where he once single-handedly racked up 100 points in an NBA game.
A bombastic fellow once told me -- when he was 40 -- that he had slept with 10,000 women. When I did the math for him, he somewhat sheepishly said, "Well, hundreds, anyway."
(I'm not even sure that's true.)
Basically, any guy who throws out a huge round number at you either hasn't kept count or is full of, well, hyperbole.
I once read that the average man sleeps with six women in his lifetime. That number may be dated now that we live in the age of the internet, which allows like-minded people to hook up much more efficiently. (There's also the question of what you consider sleeping with a woman: do oral sex and mutual masturbation count? Some say yes, some no.)
Every now and then it occurs to me that men who stick with the same women in fact are the ones with higher sex drives, since they never get bored. And that men who constantly need new sources of sexual stimulation in order to get excited -- the hard core womanizers, who tend to get bored quickly -- are the wimps. It takes a real stud to be excited by the same woman for decades.
On the other hand, supposedly one in every sixteen men in central Asia is a direct descendant of Genghis Khan. He, and his sons and grandsons, all enjoyed absolute power, and enjoyed their absolute power as well. And no one ever accused Genghis of being a wimp. (It's generally considered hard to conquer all of Asia, the entire Middle East, and a third of Europe without a higher than average testosterone level.)
The fact is that most men who can, will sleep with as many women as possible. Think of recent dictators who have done as they pleased in every other regard. (Fidel Castro, or Kim Jong Il, or the Sultan of Brunei.) Their numbers put Casanova to shame. Of course, they're not really competing in the same game. Casanova seduced, they order.
Or consider how guys will take advantage of their fame. (Think Muhammad Ali, or Pablo Picasso, or Warren Beatty, or Mick Jagger.)
Or their money. Billionaires are not generally known for their chastity.
If you're extremely rich and famous and powerful and you have a position which requires a certain amount of decorum, you're almost certain to embarrass yourself. (Sylvio Berlusconi, Dominique Strauss Kahn.)
Men generally behave as evolution has selected them to, to spread their seed as widely as they can.
I have a friend who took a year off from college to work as a steward for a major airline, back in the 1970's. The home base for the stewards and stewardesses was in San Juan, Puerto Rico. My friend had two roommates there. The three of them were just about the only heterosexual guys in a place which was 90% young, single women. So they referred to their base as "Candyland." By my friend's count, one of his roommates slept with 52 women that year, and the other with 70. (My friend slept with 12.)
I know my friend well enough to know he's honest about these things. He's also good-looking and charming. Although he's long since been put out to pasture (i.e., married), in his day he was an unstoppable force. I was talking to him the other day, and the subject turned to women, and his final score, which was roughly 80. He grumbled that it should have been higher, then growled, "And I'm a damn handsome guy, too."
But he shouldn't grumble too much. At 80 women, he is way above the national average. Another 42 and he would have been right up there with Casanova himself.
And those two guys were honest about their numbers.
"PARIS — Giacomo Girolamo Casanova was a gambler, swindler, diplomat, lawyer, soldier, alchemist, violinist, traveler, pleasure seeker and serial seducer."
So far Casanova sounds like an energetic, high-IQ scamp, and possibly even a sociopath. Certainly anyone who worked as a swindler and alchemist had to be dishonest. Gamblers often have low self-control, and soldiering occasionally attracts those who exult in destruction.
But then, halfway through the review, came the following surprise:
"Despite his many adventures, Casanova was best known as a libertine. His first sexual encounter, he wrote, was at 11, when he was groped by the sister of his guardian. During his lifetime he claimed to have seduced 122 women, including a nun."
You'd think that the man whose name is synonymous with seduction would have claimed more than 122 women. Perhaps Casanova was not a sociopath after all, but a (relatively) honest man who enjoyed the company of women.
There are certainly many guys who claim to have slept with far more.
Wilt Chamberlain once famously claimed to have slept with 20,000 women. He is also known for his quote that nobody roots for Goliath, but the two statements are somewhat contradictory: if his first claim was true, he had at least 20,000 fans. But the first claim is of course a lie. In order for that to have occurred he would have had to have slept with 1.37 women a day from the age of 15 up until his autobiography was published in 1991 -- with absolutely no repeats. People who knew him said he was often awkward around women, and spent many of his evenings home alone. The scoring he was best at was on the basketball court, where he once single-handedly racked up 100 points in an NBA game.
A bombastic fellow once told me -- when he was 40 -- that he had slept with 10,000 women. When I did the math for him, he somewhat sheepishly said, "Well, hundreds, anyway."
(I'm not even sure that's true.)
Basically, any guy who throws out a huge round number at you either hasn't kept count or is full of, well, hyperbole.
I once read that the average man sleeps with six women in his lifetime. That number may be dated now that we live in the age of the internet, which allows like-minded people to hook up much more efficiently. (There's also the question of what you consider sleeping with a woman: do oral sex and mutual masturbation count? Some say yes, some no.)
Every now and then it occurs to me that men who stick with the same women in fact are the ones with higher sex drives, since they never get bored. And that men who constantly need new sources of sexual stimulation in order to get excited -- the hard core womanizers, who tend to get bored quickly -- are the wimps. It takes a real stud to be excited by the same woman for decades.
On the other hand, supposedly one in every sixteen men in central Asia is a direct descendant of Genghis Khan. He, and his sons and grandsons, all enjoyed absolute power, and enjoyed their absolute power as well. And no one ever accused Genghis of being a wimp. (It's generally considered hard to conquer all of Asia, the entire Middle East, and a third of Europe without a higher than average testosterone level.)
The fact is that most men who can, will sleep with as many women as possible. Think of recent dictators who have done as they pleased in every other regard. (Fidel Castro, or Kim Jong Il, or the Sultan of Brunei.) Their numbers put Casanova to shame. Of course, they're not really competing in the same game. Casanova seduced, they order.
Or consider how guys will take advantage of their fame. (Think Muhammad Ali, or Pablo Picasso, or Warren Beatty, or Mick Jagger.)
Or their money. Billionaires are not generally known for their chastity.
If you're extremely rich and famous and powerful and you have a position which requires a certain amount of decorum, you're almost certain to embarrass yourself. (Sylvio Berlusconi, Dominique Strauss Kahn.)
Men generally behave as evolution has selected them to, to spread their seed as widely as they can.
I have a friend who took a year off from college to work as a steward for a major airline, back in the 1970's. The home base for the stewards and stewardesses was in San Juan, Puerto Rico. My friend had two roommates there. The three of them were just about the only heterosexual guys in a place which was 90% young, single women. So they referred to their base as "Candyland." By my friend's count, one of his roommates slept with 52 women that year, and the other with 70. (My friend slept with 12.)
I know my friend well enough to know he's honest about these things. He's also good-looking and charming. Although he's long since been put out to pasture (i.e., married), in his day he was an unstoppable force. I was talking to him the other day, and the subject turned to women, and his final score, which was roughly 80. He grumbled that it should have been higher, then growled, "And I'm a damn handsome guy, too."
But he shouldn't grumble too much. At 80 women, he is way above the national average. Another 42 and he would have been right up there with Casanova himself.
And those two guys were honest about their numbers.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Fat skeletons
There was an item in the NY Post this morning about a "dating site for big-boned women called 'The Big and the Beautiful'."
There's nothing wrong with either "big" or "plus-sized" as substitutes for "fat." A gentle little euphemism never hurt anyone. And we shouldn't blame people for things they have little control over.
But "big-boned" is just transparently dishonest.
It's as if they're saying, "It's not me that's fat, it's just my bones. You see, they're all about four inches thick, which makes me look fat. But that's just an optical illusion. It's not that I sit around eating bon-bons all day and I'm too lazy to get up off my fat ass and exercise -- it's that my bones are big."
Okay, we get it: you have no responsibility in the matter. And since it's completely out of your hands, there's no judgment called for. And you're not a tub of lard -- you're a tub of bones! Hey, maybe we should just call you bony rather than fat.
Come to think of it, it does seem as if you have a rather thick skull.
There's nothing wrong with either "big" or "plus-sized" as substitutes for "fat." A gentle little euphemism never hurt anyone. And we shouldn't blame people for things they have little control over.
But "big-boned" is just transparently dishonest.
It's as if they're saying, "It's not me that's fat, it's just my bones. You see, they're all about four inches thick, which makes me look fat. But that's just an optical illusion. It's not that I sit around eating bon-bons all day and I'm too lazy to get up off my fat ass and exercise -- it's that my bones are big."
Okay, we get it: you have no responsibility in the matter. And since it's completely out of your hands, there's no judgment called for. And you're not a tub of lard -- you're a tub of bones! Hey, maybe we should just call you bony rather than fat.
Come to think of it, it does seem as if you have a rather thick skull.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Vasily Alekseyev, RIP
Alekseyev embodied the principle that real, usable strength, and pretty Hollywood muscles are not the same thing. At about the same time Alexeyev was winning his second gold medal, Arnold Schwarzenegger was winning the first of his titles as Mr. Olympia. But Schwarzenegger would have been as out of place in an Olympic weight-lifting competition as Alekseyev would have been at a Mr. Olympia pose-off.
At his prime, Alekseyev stood 6'1" and weighed 350. Schwarzenegger was 6'2" and weighed 220.
Schwarzenegger's workout routine was geared towards isolating individual muscles, and growing and sculpting them. Alekseyev's was geared toward being able to lift massive amounts of weight. My guess is that Schwarzenegger would have been lucky to lift half of what Alekseyev did in the Olympic lifts, which require utilizing all of your muscles at once, and having great tendon strength and grip strength. Olympic lifting also requires great coordination and balance, as well as a little bit of speed. Alekseyev almost seemed to use the momentum generated from his huge torso to jerk the weights upward.
Alekseyev's type of strength would have been far more useful, say, on a farm. After Schwarzenegger had driven the small tractor into a ditch because he was admiring his biceps rather than paying attention to where he was going, Alekseyev could have pushed it out.
Of course, Alekseyev would also have been laughed off the stage at Mr. Olympia.
Just maybe not to his face.
Alekseyev reigned at a time when steroids were already extant, especially in the eastern bloc. It would beggar common sense to suggest that one of the Soviet Union's premier athletes was never doped up; but Alekseyev didn't look as if he was. He always looked seven months pregnant, and didn't have the type of bulging, defined muscles, especially the trapezius (between the neck and shoulder) which characterize steroid users. While wearing street clothes he could easily have been mistaken for just another big fatty.
With his huge body, vaguely ethnic look, perpetually unshaven face, and usually disgruntled expression, Alekseyev looked like one of the bad guys in a Schwarzenegger film -- you know, the type who might have given Arnold a decent fight before Arnold sent him flying with one of his trademark haymakers. But had the two ever met, and had the director ever suggested they go at it for real, Vasily Alekseyev would not have been the one to be picked up and sent flying.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Man's best friend
An article on Yahoo News two days ago described how a Utah man who was out duck hunting recently was shot by his own dog when he got out of his canoe to set up some decoys.
The relevant paragraph:
"Apparently excited to join his owner in the marsh, the dog jumped up on the boat's bow and stepped on the gun. The gun was fired, hitting the man in the buttocks with 27 pellets of birdshot."
The man was not seriously injured, thanks to the rubber waders he was wearing.
As shaggy dog stories go, this one certainly beats "The dog ate my homework."
But the article leaves out the most interesting part of the story: how has this changed the man's relationship with his dog? Is he still as affectionate to the hound as he once was? Or is his pet now permanently in the doghouse?
And you have to wonder, the next time the man is out hunting with that dog, will he perhaps feel a vague urge to repay the favor?
The relevant paragraph:
"Apparently excited to join his owner in the marsh, the dog jumped up on the boat's bow and stepped on the gun. The gun was fired, hitting the man in the buttocks with 27 pellets of birdshot."
The man was not seriously injured, thanks to the rubber waders he was wearing.
As shaggy dog stories go, this one certainly beats "The dog ate my homework."
But the article leaves out the most interesting part of the story: how has this changed the man's relationship with his dog? Is he still as affectionate to the hound as he once was? Or is his pet now permanently in the doghouse?
And you have to wonder, the next time the man is out hunting with that dog, will he perhaps feel a vague urge to repay the favor?
What we're fighting for
When I hear the complaints of feminists in this country I am generally unsympathetic. They want to criminalize ogling a woman (which, in their opinion, constitutes harassment). They want to lower the standards for the fireman's test so that more women can pass. They want to make off-color jokes in the workplace punishable by firing.
Can't say I've ever met a feminist whom I've found persuasive, or charming, or even humorous.
In our country, most of the feminists who use words like "exploited" and "abused" to describe their own condition are in fact abusing those words, rendering them almost devoid of meaning.
But there are women in other parts of the world who really are exploited, abused, and oppressed.
A Reuters article on Yahoo News this morning discussed the case of an Afghan woman who had been jailed for adultery after being raped. The big news was actually that she had been pardoned, although there was some question as to whether the pardon had been predicated on her agreeing to marry her rapist.
Question: What kind of backward society throws a woman in jail for the crime of having been raped -- and then insists she marry her rapist?
Answer: The kind the United States fights for. We are waging a war to support the Karzai regime, which has jurisdiction over the courts which threw the woman in jail.
So our troops are effectively fighting and dying in Afghanistan for the right to.....throw women in jail for being raped.
That's what the feminists -- and everybody else -- ought to be complaining about.
Can't say I've ever met a feminist whom I've found persuasive, or charming, or even humorous.
In our country, most of the feminists who use words like "exploited" and "abused" to describe their own condition are in fact abusing those words, rendering them almost devoid of meaning.
But there are women in other parts of the world who really are exploited, abused, and oppressed.
A Reuters article on Yahoo News this morning discussed the case of an Afghan woman who had been jailed for adultery after being raped. The big news was actually that she had been pardoned, although there was some question as to whether the pardon had been predicated on her agreeing to marry her rapist.
Question: What kind of backward society throws a woman in jail for the crime of having been raped -- and then insists she marry her rapist?
Answer: The kind the United States fights for. We are waging a war to support the Karzai regime, which has jurisdiction over the courts which threw the woman in jail.
So our troops are effectively fighting and dying in Afghanistan for the right to.....throw women in jail for being raped.
That's what the feminists -- and everybody else -- ought to be complaining about.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Jon Corzine
Jon Corzine was many levels above me in the corporate structure at Goldman, but since I worked in the same division, I had some contact with him. He struck me as a decent guy in a place which was full of sociopaths.
At the same time, I thought his reputation for brilliance was overblown. On Wall Street, you can get a reputation for being brilliant by merely making a series of yes/no (buy or sell) decisions which happen to go your way.
Corzine was a big, confident, calm, masculine, charismatic guy who had a knack for making people feel appreciated. He was also obviously very smart. But it was his personality, rather than any creative brilliance, that accounted for his success.
There was certainly no questioning his ambition. He reportedly tired of being a U.S. Senator because he was merely one of a hundred, so before his first term in Washington was up he ran for Governor of New Jersey, a position where he would have much more executive power. More recently he reportedly had his eye on the Secretary of the Treasury position, a post he thought he would get if Obama were reelected.
To that end he seemed to want to make a big splash at MF Global, in order to demonstrate that he still had the magic touch. So he made big bets on European sovereign debt, bets which ultimately bankrupted the overleveraged firm. The big question, of course, is whether he was personally responsible for the missing customer funds.
I'd be surprised if he was, since, as I said, he never gave off the smell of dishonesty while at Goldman. But whether he personally made the decision to take money from those accounts or not is somewhat irrelevant, since as the firm's chief he was ultimately responsible for all decisions made there.
Corzine will probably be sentenced to jail, since politically it would be impossible not to do so. If the customer money is recovered -- and maybe even if it's not -- Obama will probably pardon him, perhaps as soon as January of 2013. Corzine was always a big Obama supporter, and while Obama can no longer offer him Treasury, he still owes him, and Obama is all about paying off old supporters.
But even if Corzine gets off with a short stint in jail, his career is over.
A friend, Dave Moriarty, pointed out yesterday that "you are tempting the trading gods when you name your firm 'MF'."
Corzine didn't name the firm, but he definitely had more than his share of hubris. And as the Greeks told us so long ago, that is the best way to anger the gods.
At the same time, I thought his reputation for brilliance was overblown. On Wall Street, you can get a reputation for being brilliant by merely making a series of yes/no (buy or sell) decisions which happen to go your way.
Corzine was a big, confident, calm, masculine, charismatic guy who had a knack for making people feel appreciated. He was also obviously very smart. But it was his personality, rather than any creative brilliance, that accounted for his success.
There was certainly no questioning his ambition. He reportedly tired of being a U.S. Senator because he was merely one of a hundred, so before his first term in Washington was up he ran for Governor of New Jersey, a position where he would have much more executive power. More recently he reportedly had his eye on the Secretary of the Treasury position, a post he thought he would get if Obama were reelected.
To that end he seemed to want to make a big splash at MF Global, in order to demonstrate that he still had the magic touch. So he made big bets on European sovereign debt, bets which ultimately bankrupted the overleveraged firm. The big question, of course, is whether he was personally responsible for the missing customer funds.
I'd be surprised if he was, since, as I said, he never gave off the smell of dishonesty while at Goldman. But whether he personally made the decision to take money from those accounts or not is somewhat irrelevant, since as the firm's chief he was ultimately responsible for all decisions made there.
Corzine will probably be sentenced to jail, since politically it would be impossible not to do so. If the customer money is recovered -- and maybe even if it's not -- Obama will probably pardon him, perhaps as soon as January of 2013. Corzine was always a big Obama supporter, and while Obama can no longer offer him Treasury, he still owes him, and Obama is all about paying off old supporters.
But even if Corzine gets off with a short stint in jail, his career is over.
A friend, Dave Moriarty, pointed out yesterday that "you are tempting the trading gods when you name your firm 'MF'."
Corzine didn't name the firm, but he definitely had more than his share of hubris. And as the Greeks told us so long ago, that is the best way to anger the gods.
"You'll just feel a little pinch"
Every single doctor or nurse or dentist who's ever jabbed a needle into me has always said those exact same words beforehand. They must all learn from the same playbook.
I understand why "pinch" is their word of choice. It certainly sounds less dire than, "Brace yourself, I'm about to plunge this big needle through your skin and into your flesh." A "pinch" is something a girl might do to you if she doesn't know how to fight and inflict any real damage. A "pinch" of vodka is a trace amount that you theoretically won't even feel. (Of course, I've never heard anyone ask for a pinch of liquor who didn't really want a big dollop.)
But the fact is, "pinch" is not an accurate description of how a needle feels. A "small stabbing" would convey the actual feeling more accurately. I have to admit, though, that once my expectations have been managed so adroitly, I am more relaxed.
None of this is to suggest that all of these doctors and nurses are not perfectly pleasant. The nurse who administered my shingles vaccine yesterday even added, "This one doesn't even go into the muscle, it's just a sub-cute." Which I guess is the cute way of saying sub-cutaneous.
In fact, this particular nurse was not only pleasant, she was insightful as well: she evidently has the ability to recognize a coward when she sees one.
I understand why "pinch" is their word of choice. It certainly sounds less dire than, "Brace yourself, I'm about to plunge this big needle through your skin and into your flesh." A "pinch" is something a girl might do to you if she doesn't know how to fight and inflict any real damage. A "pinch" of vodka is a trace amount that you theoretically won't even feel. (Of course, I've never heard anyone ask for a pinch of liquor who didn't really want a big dollop.)
But the fact is, "pinch" is not an accurate description of how a needle feels. A "small stabbing" would convey the actual feeling more accurately. I have to admit, though, that once my expectations have been managed so adroitly, I am more relaxed.
None of this is to suggest that all of these doctors and nurses are not perfectly pleasant. The nurse who administered my shingles vaccine yesterday even added, "This one doesn't even go into the muscle, it's just a sub-cute." Which I guess is the cute way of saying sub-cutaneous.
In fact, this particular nurse was not only pleasant, she was insightful as well: she evidently has the ability to recognize a coward when she sees one.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A telling ratio
A front page article in this morning's NY Times detailed how Urban Meyer, the new football coach at Ohio State, is getting a base salary of $4 million, plus yearly incentives that could total another $700,000. The Times pointed out that Meyer is making more than three times what OSU President, E. Gordon Gee, made in 2010.
I've long thought that the quality of the education you receive at a college is roughly in inverse proportion to the ratio of the head football coach's salary to the university president's salary. There are certainly exceptions: Cal, the University of Texas, and the University of Michigan are all fine schools, yet all pay top dollar to their football coaches (in all three cases, much more than the university president gets).
There is an argument to be made in favor of paying a handsome salary to a coach: a big time football program can receive a lot of money from television networks and actually turn a profit that way.
There is also an argument to be made that most university presidents themselves are empty suits, whose jobs consist primarily of meeting, greeting, and fund-raising. From what I've seen, the main qualifications for being a university president are a fine head of white hair, nice elocution, and gracious manners. Presidents are the equivalent of show captains, those fellows who have nothing to do with actually running an ocean liner but who don captains' uniforms and go around greeting the passengers. (The dean of the faculty might be considered the equivalent of the fellow who actually steers the boat.)
So perhaps the better ratio would be the football coach's salary to the average associate professor's salary.
But either ratio is a fair inverse approximation of how much emphasis is placed upon academics at any given college.
I've long thought that the quality of the education you receive at a college is roughly in inverse proportion to the ratio of the head football coach's salary to the university president's salary. There are certainly exceptions: Cal, the University of Texas, and the University of Michigan are all fine schools, yet all pay top dollar to their football coaches (in all three cases, much more than the university president gets).
There is an argument to be made in favor of paying a handsome salary to a coach: a big time football program can receive a lot of money from television networks and actually turn a profit that way.
There is also an argument to be made that most university presidents themselves are empty suits, whose jobs consist primarily of meeting, greeting, and fund-raising. From what I've seen, the main qualifications for being a university president are a fine head of white hair, nice elocution, and gracious manners. Presidents are the equivalent of show captains, those fellows who have nothing to do with actually running an ocean liner but who don captains' uniforms and go around greeting the passengers. (The dean of the faculty might be considered the equivalent of the fellow who actually steers the boat.)
So perhaps the better ratio would be the football coach's salary to the average associate professor's salary.
But either ratio is a fair inverse approximation of how much emphasis is placed upon academics at any given college.
"Breaking the silence"
An interesting editorial in Sunday's NY Post discussed how the Brooklyn DA has now arrested 89 Orthodox men on charges of child sex abuse.
The most interesting paragraph:
"When rabbis who hate and fear the non-Jewish world can dictate to the parents of Jewish child victims whether or not to talk to (mostly non-Jewish) police, a prosecutor’s job is not an easy one. In 2000, after a Hasidic family went to police over alleged abuse of their young son by another Orthodox Jew, some 50 rabbis signed a public announcement in a Yiddish-language Brooklyn newspaper literally authorizing the murder of anyone who “informs” on a fellow Jew to secular authorities."
Isn't this in effect the equivalent of Sharia law?
The most interesting paragraph:
"When rabbis who hate and fear the non-Jewish world can dictate to the parents of Jewish child victims whether or not to talk to (mostly non-Jewish) police, a prosecutor’s job is not an easy one. In 2000, after a Hasidic family went to police over alleged abuse of their young son by another Orthodox Jew, some 50 rabbis signed a public announcement in a Yiddish-language Brooklyn newspaper literally authorizing the murder of anyone who “informs” on a fellow Jew to secular authorities."
Isn't this in effect the equivalent of Sharia law?
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Hilarious skit
A friend sent the following link a couple days ago:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqA577_IoBk&feature=youtube_gdata_player
It's from the comedy show, Life's Too Short, which originally appeared on the BBC. It's perfectly cast, and perfectly acted.
Ironically, I'd thought before that Liam Neeson, a former Ulster amateur heavyweight boxing champion, would have made a good James Bond except for the fact that he'd never demonstrated any discernible sense of humor in any of his movies.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqA577_IoBk&feature=youtube_gdata_player
It's from the comedy show, Life's Too Short, which originally appeared on the BBC. It's perfectly cast, and perfectly acted.
Ironically, I'd thought before that Liam Neeson, a former Ulster amateur heavyweight boxing champion, would have made a good James Bond except for the fact that he'd never demonstrated any discernible sense of humor in any of his movies.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Nice guys, average guys, and sociopaths (XI)
SITUATION: A buddy owes you $500, is several days overdue, and cannot pay in the next five days. What does he tell you?
Nice guy (feeling horrible): “I’m really sorry, but I don’t have the money, and can’t pay you until next week. I'll pay you interest. I understand if you don’t trust me, so here, take my new laptop as collateral. I'll use my old one.”
Average guy (feeling badly): “I’m sorry, something’s come up, I’ll get the money back to you as soon as I can.”
Sociopath: (feeling nothing, and with no intention of ever paying you back): “I’ll have the money by tomorrow. I swear -- you have my word on it. And you know I never go back on my word.”
SITUATION: A lawyer walks by a Mercedes dealership on his way home from work and sees an SL500 convertible in the showroom window. What does he think?
Nice guy: What a flashy car. I wonder if the people who drive it are ever embarrassed by it. It'd sure be nice to be able to afford one though.
Average guy: Let’s see. If I saved a thousand bucks a month for the next year and a half, I could put down a deposit…..nah, that’s silly.
Sociopath: Hmm, that thing’d look damn good on me, I’m a Mercedes sport coupe kind of guy. I wonder if my credit card would be good enough for a down payment? By the time the next payment comes due, I’ll have figured out some way to get the money.
SITUATION: A man has a strong opinion about an upcoming football game. What does he do?
Nice guy: Bets his best friend ten dollars on the outcome and watches the game if his wife hasn’t made other plans.
Average guy: Makes a $20 with each of three buddies, and watches the game, telling his wife he'll rake the lawn the next day.
Sociopath: Phones his bookie, and bets $1000 on the game even though he doesn’t have the money. Figures he can always get it from his father-in-law, that tight-fisted old bastard has so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it anyway. But why even worry about it? This game is a lock.
SITUATION: The host of a large party has left ten $20 bills on his bedroom dresser upstairs. On his way to the bathroom, a guest sees it. What does he do?
Nice guy: Puts the money in a dresser drawer, and tells his host where he put it.
Average guy: It occurs to him how easy it would be to steal, but he quickly banishes the thought and walks on by.
Sociopath: Quickly calculates how many other people have been up here during the course of the party, then pockets the money, knowing they will never be able to pin it on him. Thinks, that guy ought to pay me for coming to his lousy party anyway. I’m easily the most charming guy here.
Nice guy (feeling horrible): “I’m really sorry, but I don’t have the money, and can’t pay you until next week. I'll pay you interest. I understand if you don’t trust me, so here, take my new laptop as collateral. I'll use my old one.”
Average guy (feeling badly): “I’m sorry, something’s come up, I’ll get the money back to you as soon as I can.”
Sociopath: (feeling nothing, and with no intention of ever paying you back): “I’ll have the money by tomorrow. I swear -- you have my word on it. And you know I never go back on my word.”
SITUATION: A lawyer walks by a Mercedes dealership on his way home from work and sees an SL500 convertible in the showroom window. What does he think?
Nice guy: What a flashy car. I wonder if the people who drive it are ever embarrassed by it. It'd sure be nice to be able to afford one though.
Average guy: Let’s see. If I saved a thousand bucks a month for the next year and a half, I could put down a deposit…..nah, that’s silly.
Sociopath: Hmm, that thing’d look damn good on me, I’m a Mercedes sport coupe kind of guy. I wonder if my credit card would be good enough for a down payment? By the time the next payment comes due, I’ll have figured out some way to get the money.
SITUATION: A man has a strong opinion about an upcoming football game. What does he do?
Nice guy: Bets his best friend ten dollars on the outcome and watches the game if his wife hasn’t made other plans.
Average guy: Makes a $20 with each of three buddies, and watches the game, telling his wife he'll rake the lawn the next day.
Sociopath: Phones his bookie, and bets $1000 on the game even though he doesn’t have the money. Figures he can always get it from his father-in-law, that tight-fisted old bastard has so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it anyway. But why even worry about it? This game is a lock.
SITUATION: The host of a large party has left ten $20 bills on his bedroom dresser upstairs. On his way to the bathroom, a guest sees it. What does he do?
Nice guy: Puts the money in a dresser drawer, and tells his host where he put it.
Average guy: It occurs to him how easy it would be to steal, but he quickly banishes the thought and walks on by.
Sociopath: Quickly calculates how many other people have been up here during the course of the party, then pockets the money, knowing they will never be able to pin it on him. Thinks, that guy ought to pay me for coming to his lousy party anyway. I’m easily the most charming guy here.
Monday, November 21, 2011
In case you want to feel good about your own parenting abilities.....
The following AP story appeared on Yahoo News today:
Nazi-naming parents seek to regain custody of baby
NEWARK, N.J. (AP) — A New Jersey couple who gave their three children Nazi-inspired names is due in court Monday to try to regain custody of their newborn.
Heath and Deborah Campbell's lawyer says state child welfare officials took custody of the child named Hons after he was born Thursday at Hunterdon Medical Center.
The state took custody of the couple's other children nearly two years ago, saying there were in danger because of previous violence in the Campbell home.
Their parents made headlines in 2009 when a supermarket refused to decorate a birthday cake for their son, Adolf Hitler. His siblings are named JoyceLynn Aryan Nation and Honszlynn Hinler.
One has to wonder exactly what is going through the mind of a parent who bestows this name upon his child. Exactly what kind of chance does a boy named Adolf Hitler Campbell have in life? How much teasing will he undergo? How much outright hostility will he face? How old will he be when he legally changes his name? What sort of relationship will he have with his parents in the future?
Forty years ago Johnny Cash composed A Boy Named Sue, about a boy who was given that name by a soon-to-be absentee father so that he would grow up to be tough because of all the ribbing he would take.
What sort of political and racial attitudes will Adolf have when he grows up? There are basically two possibilities here: either he will absorb his parents' (evidently) Nazi values, or he will be a flaming liberal. It's one or the other.
A name like that just doesn't seem to leave much room for a moderate, centrist position on those issues later in life.
I was curious as to what they looked like, so I Google imaged Heath and Deborah Campbell and found this picture of them with their young son Adolf:
I was a little surprised to see that they look a little like hippies.
Adolf himself looks adorable. But I'm not betting that he stays that way, especially personality-wise, as he grows older.
Adolf himself looks adorable. But I'm not betting that he stays that way, especially personality-wise, as he grows older.
Brothers?
While pondering the question of whether J. Edgar Hoover was part black (see previous post), it occurred to me that the one person Hoover resembles most, ironically enough, is Jesse Jackson. Both men have their eyes spaced far apart, often a sign of fetal alcohol syndrome, and both have a somewhat bug-eyed appearance as well:
Sunday, November 20, 2011
J. Edgar
Saw Clint Eastwood's latest directorial effort, J. Edgar, last night. Not bad, but not great either.
The movie came across more as documentary than as drama. Eastwood tried to hit all the highlights (and lowlights) of the FBI director's career. The movie briefly touches on Hoover's role in centralizing a fingerprint database, on his role in apprehending the most famous criminals of his era, and on his relationships with various Presidents, without delving too deeply into any of them.
The movie tries too hard to be even-handed about the question of Hoover's sexuality, in the end leaving it unresolved. Clyde Tolson, Hoover's longtime companion, is portrayed as unquestionably homosexual. But Hoover is portrayed as someone who on the one hand proposes marriage early on to a woman, and who claims to have gotten "physical" with actress Dorothy Lamour, yet on the other as a man who dressed up in his mother's clothes on the occasion of her death and constantly dined with and vacationed with his companion Tolson, to whom he eventually left his entire estate. Eastwood's refusal to extrapolate from the documented facts of Hoover's life comes across less as scrupulousness than as an abdication of a moviemaker's responsibility to take a stance. C'mon, Clint: was he or wasn't he?
The third possibility is that both Hoover and Tolson were simply repressed homosexuals who had a homoerotic relationship but who never consummated their relationship that way. If that was the case, then the movie was an accurate portrayal. But the young Tolson was portrayed as a tall, good-looking, well-dressed, self-confident young man. The idea that such a man would be satisfied for his entire life with this one never-consummated relationship just doesn't ring true.
DiCaprio did a workmanlike job in evoking Hoover. DiCaprio may be a great actor, but playing a stiff like Hoover takes less chops than other roles.
Armie Hammer, great grandson of billionaire Bolshevik Armand Hammer, demonstrated his familial loyalty by playing Clyde Tolson, Hoover's longtime companion. (What better way to strike back at the ferociously anti-Communist, wannabe he-man Hoover than to play his closest friend as a flamer? Armand would have been pleased.)
Judi Dench plays J. Edgar's mother, who tells him at one point that she would rather have a dead son than one who was a daffodil (read: gay). Her forbidding performance is not too far in spirit from the one she gives as M, James Bond's boss.
Naomi Watts, one of the few actresses who has managed to be both siren and serious actress, plays Helen Gandy, Hoover's longtime secretary. Watts gamely lets herself be gradually aged for her role. Her performance is so good -- and unobtrusive -- it never occurs to you you're looking at the same woman King Kong fell so hard for.
Jeffrey Donovan, star of television's Burn Notice, takes a turn as Robert F. Kennedy. He seems to have been cast more on the basis of buck teeth than acting ability. His Boston accent is too broad, and even his bushy wig lacks subtlety.
Steve Sailer's review of the movie mentions that J. Edgar may have been a from a light-skinned black family which passed as white. (Look closely at the picture above.) If that was the case, then Hoover, as both a gay man pretending to be straight and a black man pretending to be white, was certainly well suited for his job of catching criminals who essentially led secret lives.
Surprisingly, given all its other faults, the movie was actually sort of touching as a love story. Any long relationship where there is still visible affection at the end is moving, and the odds against such a relationship make it even more so.
Eastwood is arguably our second best film director, after Martin Scorcese. He's brought us Unforgiven, A Perfect World, Million Dollar Baby, Flags of Our Father, Letters from Iwo Jima, Gran Torino, and Hereafter, among others. But this latest effort will not further his case for overtaking Scorcese.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Why not be truly daring?
The NY Post ran an editorial this morning detailing how the Brooklyn Museum is up to its old tricks. They are running a video entitled, "Fire in My Belly," which features a figure of a crucified Christ with blood on it, and ants crawling all over it.
This is obviously some artists's way of demonstrating his rebellious, independent, epater le bougeois spirit. In fact, such works of "art" are getting a little tiresome after all the similar things we've seen in years previous. The Brooklyn Museum, in case you forgot, is the place which -- run by the same Arnold Lehman who runs it now -- exhibited Andre Serrano's infamous "Piss Christ," a work which showed a figure of Christ in an aquarium filled with urine. It also exhibited a painting of the Virgin Mary made out of elephant dung, juxtaposed with pornographic pictures.
Being "controversial" is one way for a young artist to gain attention. But if a young artist really wanted to get attention, why not create a "Piss Menorah" or "Shit Koran"? Those would get far, far more attention, and generate far more outrage, than yet another piece meant to demean Christianity.
Evidently there are no artists courageous enough to produce such works. And even if there were, my guess is that Arnold Lehman would not exhibit them. Because Lehman, like the artists themselves, displays only politically correct "courage."
Which is to say, none at all.
Nice guys, average guys, and sociopaths (X)
Situation: A group of young male students attend a college mixer. How do they behave?
Nice guy: Has a beer just so his friends won't think he is a square. Chats politely with whoever talks to him, male or female. One particularly pretty girl catches his eye but he is too shy to try to talk to her.
Average guy: Makes a desultory attempt to chat up various coeds; doesn't know any better, so stares at their breasts rather than looking them in the eye while talking to them. Awkwardly tries to get a couple of phone numbers, but is rebuffed. Takes advantage of the free beer by having several. Ends up hanging out with his buddies; they agree that most girls just go to mixers for the opportunity to turn down guys in order to feel more desirable.
Sociopath: Doesn't bother with the beer, since he knows he doesn't need one to loosen up. (Inhibitions are for losers.) He mingles successfully, knows how to make each girl he talks to feel as if she is special, and gets a few phone numbers. He makes an unsuccessful attempt to bed one of the girls in a nearby dorm room. Later tells his buddies the attempt was successful. They admire his nerve and slickness.
Situation: A man is walking down the street in a hurry, late for an appointment, when someone in a car stops to ask for directions to a local restaurant.
Nice guy: Stops to answer, gives detailed directions. Repeats directions when asked.
Average guy: Gives a rushed answer indicating the general direction of the restaurant. Starts to edge away even before he is finished giving directions, so as to forestall further questions.
Sociopath: Stops to answer and gives detailed directions to a seedy section of town. Afterward cackles with delight at his cleverness and wishes he could see their faces when they find themselves in the ghetto.
Situation: One of a group of buddies is diagnosed with terminal leukemia. How do his friends react?
Nice guy: Is stunned, and saddened, but doesn't say much because he knows that mere words cannot do justice to the gravity of the situation. At the funeral, is afraid he might cry in front of the deceased's relatives on the receiving line, so avoids it.
Average guy: Is saddened. Visits the guy, and says the right things. Also can't get over how bad he looks; is a little grossed out by him. While at the funeral, reflects a little on the nature of life and death, and feels bad for the grieving relatives, but also can't wait for it to be over so he can go home.
Sociopath: He makes a big show of grief, raises money for a group gift for the sick person; makes sure to take credit for the gift. He comments disparagingly about how the nice guy hasn't demonstrated sufficient sympathy for the sick person. He may let his mask slip by asking inappropriate, probing questions about the physical effects of the disease. He instinctively knows that this is a good time to ingratiate himself with the ill man's relatives, and pretends that he and the sick guy were closer than they were. At the funeral, summons up a few crocodile tears for them on the receiving line. Uses his "grief" as an excuse to misbehave. Forever after lambastes the nice guy for the fact that "he didn't even bother" to offer his condolences to the relatives.
Nice guy: Has a beer just so his friends won't think he is a square. Chats politely with whoever talks to him, male or female. One particularly pretty girl catches his eye but he is too shy to try to talk to her.
Average guy: Makes a desultory attempt to chat up various coeds; doesn't know any better, so stares at their breasts rather than looking them in the eye while talking to them. Awkwardly tries to get a couple of phone numbers, but is rebuffed. Takes advantage of the free beer by having several. Ends up hanging out with his buddies; they agree that most girls just go to mixers for the opportunity to turn down guys in order to feel more desirable.
Sociopath: Doesn't bother with the beer, since he knows he doesn't need one to loosen up. (Inhibitions are for losers.) He mingles successfully, knows how to make each girl he talks to feel as if she is special, and gets a few phone numbers. He makes an unsuccessful attempt to bed one of the girls in a nearby dorm room. Later tells his buddies the attempt was successful. They admire his nerve and slickness.
Situation: A man is walking down the street in a hurry, late for an appointment, when someone in a car stops to ask for directions to a local restaurant.
Nice guy: Stops to answer, gives detailed directions. Repeats directions when asked.
Average guy: Gives a rushed answer indicating the general direction of the restaurant. Starts to edge away even before he is finished giving directions, so as to forestall further questions.
Sociopath: Stops to answer and gives detailed directions to a seedy section of town. Afterward cackles with delight at his cleverness and wishes he could see their faces when they find themselves in the ghetto.
Situation: One of a group of buddies is diagnosed with terminal leukemia. How do his friends react?
Nice guy: Is stunned, and saddened, but doesn't say much because he knows that mere words cannot do justice to the gravity of the situation. At the funeral, is afraid he might cry in front of the deceased's relatives on the receiving line, so avoids it.
Average guy: Is saddened. Visits the guy, and says the right things. Also can't get over how bad he looks; is a little grossed out by him. While at the funeral, reflects a little on the nature of life and death, and feels bad for the grieving relatives, but also can't wait for it to be over so he can go home.
Sociopath: He makes a big show of grief, raises money for a group gift for the sick person; makes sure to take credit for the gift. He comments disparagingly about how the nice guy hasn't demonstrated sufficient sympathy for the sick person. He may let his mask slip by asking inappropriate, probing questions about the physical effects of the disease. He instinctively knows that this is a good time to ingratiate himself with the ill man's relatives, and pretends that he and the sick guy were closer than they were. At the funeral, summons up a few crocodile tears for them on the receiving line. Uses his "grief" as an excuse to misbehave. Forever after lambastes the nice guy for the fact that "he didn't even bother" to offer his condolences to the relatives.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Logic
Yesterday I was complimenting someone for being logical when I was interrupted by someone else. She said, "Uh, what do you mean by logical?"
I was taken aback by the question, so could only come up with "The word is pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"
If you look it up in the dictionary, most of the definitions of logic use the word "reason." For instance, Merriam-Webster's definition:
a: a science that deals with the principles and criteria of validity of inference and demonstration : the science of the formal principles of reasoning
b: a particular mode of reasoning viewed as valid or faulty
Upon further reflection, I've come up with a more usable, illustrative definition: a logical person is one who looks at the facts, then comes up with a theory based on those. An illogical person is one who comes up with a theory, then looks for facts to support it while studiously ignoring those which don't.
The two people mentioned above happen to be particularly good examples of each type.
I was taken aback by the question, so could only come up with "The word is pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"
If you look it up in the dictionary, most of the definitions of logic use the word "reason." For instance, Merriam-Webster's definition:
a: a science that deals with the principles and criteria of validity of inference and demonstration : the science of the formal principles of reasoning
b: a particular mode of reasoning viewed as valid or faulty
Upon further reflection, I've come up with a more usable, illustrative definition: a logical person is one who looks at the facts, then comes up with a theory based on those. An illogical person is one who comes up with a theory, then looks for facts to support it while studiously ignoring those which don't.
The two people mentioned above happen to be particularly good examples of each type.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tex
But what caught my eye was the following sentence:
"Watson married and divorced in prison and has four children from conjugal visits..."
That, of course, is the real outrage. Watson should never have been allowed the pleasure of conjugal visits, let alone the satisfaction of knowing that he has had more reproductive success than most Americans who've led law-abiding lives. (And far more reproductive success than Sharon Tate and some of the others he killed.)
Must be why he's half-smiling in that mug shot.
That's going to be another plank of my Presidential platform: no more conjugal visits for felons. If a guy like Tex wants children, let him try to have some with his cellmate.
Addendum, same day: Watson was denied parole for the sixteenth time, and also told that he cannot seek parole again for at least five years. (His kids, however, are doing fine.)
Confessions of a beta male XII: pessimism
One of the key differences between alphas and betas is their outlook on life. An alpha's glass is always half full. I find the second half of my glass rarely worth finishing.
An alpha's motto is, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Mine is, nothing ventured, nothing lost.
To an alpha, many ideas, even some of the cockamamie ones, sound good. As a result, he is often disappointed, but occasionally succeeds. To me, they all sound bad. I am never disappointed, but also never succeed.
Had I been a venture capitalist back in the 1970's, and had a young Bill Gates approached me with an idea for "software" for computers (what a stupid concept!), I would have told him that computers are just overweight calculators, and as far as storing other data goes, encyclopedias are far more convenient. Had Steve Jobs approached me with the iPod, I would have told him he was too late: the Sony Walkman already had that market locked up. Had a young Henry Ford beseeched me, I would have informed him that my horse was plenty reliable.
If things don't go an alpha's way, he becomes furious, and will often pass blame around in a very generous manner. I never expect anything good to begin with, so rarely get mad.
To an alpha, every party sounds like a good idea because he just knows this is the one that's going to be stocked with beautiful and willing females. I figure, I didn't get laid at the last ten, this will be no different.
An alpha is always up for a new adventure. I know the movie will suck, the concert will be off key, the comedian will be lame, the traffic will be bad, and the seats inconveniently located as well as uncomfortable. So why bother? I am the stuff hermits are made of.
An alpha's enthusiasm will often be described as "contagious." I like to think that my wet blanket attitude functions as an occasional reality check. (Mostly it checks peoples' enthusiasm for me.)
Mention Hawaii to an alpha and he thinks of sunny beaches, lovely girls dancing the hula, tropical drinks, and great surfing. I think of the long waits at the airport, turbulence on the airplane, jet lag, locals regarding me with disdain, sunburn, and the high cost of it all.
Aloha.
An alpha's motto is, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Mine is, nothing ventured, nothing lost.
To an alpha, many ideas, even some of the cockamamie ones, sound good. As a result, he is often disappointed, but occasionally succeeds. To me, they all sound bad. I am never disappointed, but also never succeed.
Had I been a venture capitalist back in the 1970's, and had a young Bill Gates approached me with an idea for "software" for computers (what a stupid concept!), I would have told him that computers are just overweight calculators, and as far as storing other data goes, encyclopedias are far more convenient. Had Steve Jobs approached me with the iPod, I would have told him he was too late: the Sony Walkman already had that market locked up. Had a young Henry Ford beseeched me, I would have informed him that my horse was plenty reliable.
If things don't go an alpha's way, he becomes furious, and will often pass blame around in a very generous manner. I never expect anything good to begin with, so rarely get mad.
To an alpha, every party sounds like a good idea because he just knows this is the one that's going to be stocked with beautiful and willing females. I figure, I didn't get laid at the last ten, this will be no different.
An alpha is always up for a new adventure. I know the movie will suck, the concert will be off key, the comedian will be lame, the traffic will be bad, and the seats inconveniently located as well as uncomfortable. So why bother? I am the stuff hermits are made of.
An alpha's enthusiasm will often be described as "contagious." I like to think that my wet blanket attitude functions as an occasional reality check. (Mostly it checks peoples' enthusiasm for me.)
Mention Hawaii to an alpha and he thinks of sunny beaches, lovely girls dancing the hula, tropical drinks, and great surfing. I think of the long waits at the airport, turbulence on the airplane, jet lag, locals regarding me with disdain, sunburn, and the high cost of it all.
Aloha.
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