Long ago, many many eons ago, my father rented a video (yea, back when VHS was dominant and audio cassettes still walked the earth, though they were a dying breed) of a comedian by the name of Emo Philips performing at Harvard's Hasty Pudding Theatre. To call Emo Philips odd would be, well, accurate. It'd also be a huge understatement. Needless to say, we (and several of my high school friends) enjoyed his performance thoroughly. I think I watched that video something like ten times before we returned it.
On a lark tonight I got my coworker, Seth, to look up Emo Philips on YouTube. Here are the results of his search. May you all enjoy them as much as I did, or at least come away with a deeper understanding of the strangeness that lurks in my family.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Birthday Opera
A few weeks ago (3/28/07), Virginia took me out to dinner and the opera for my birthday (which was 3/26/07). Neither of us had been before, so it was a new evening for both of us. We ate at a very nice Chinese/Japanese restaurant near Lincoln Center called Empire something-or-other. Delicious food! We shared shrimp shiu mai and a honeydew bubble tea that tasted like it was made with fresh honeydew melon. (Mmmm!) We each ordered a different entree. Mine was a chicken dish with slices of mango and a mango sauce; Virginia's was (I think) some sort of Empire or Imperial chicken or maybe Phoenix something; both were delicious.
Afterward, we walked four blocks to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera House, the architecture of which is stunning. (One thing I must say in New York's favor is that it is filled with beautiful, modern architecture. I don't put those two descriptors together lightly, either--usually, I am very turned off by what passes for architecture these days. But this city, being one supposed center of everything, seems to get the good architects at their best, so that even if there are boring skyscrapers and ugly buildings, they fade into the background behind the structures that surround them.) The Met is, I think, five stories tall at least, and its exterior sides and roof (except for the front) are constructed of pale gray stone. The front of the building is clear glass supported by several evenly spaced black posts or frames (probably metal) that run from ground to roof. The first floor has a ceiling, mostly, except for part that is open to two large grand staircases that ascend to the second floor. The second floor and above are open--without ceiling at the front half or so. The third, fourth, and fifth floors do not stretch to the front of the building, but rather gracefully hug the walls and the area outside the auditorium. The whole thing is lit by many glass chandeliers designed to look like three-dimensional snowflakes or crystals and glass wall lamps of somewhat similar look. At night from the outside, one can look in and see the whole beautifully lit space beckoning. The opera house installs artwork of various sorts--often translucent or of a shape that makes an interesting silhouette--on the second floor near the front glass wall.
The opera auditorium itself is equally beautiful, with level upon level of comfortable velvet-lined seating and railings that look down over a large stage and orchestra pit. V and I estimated (by rough count) that perhaps 800-900 people could sit on most levels, and that the first could probably hold more. So verging on 5000 people can fit in the auditorium/theatre. The walls of the house are lined with angled wood (?) panels that reflect sound toward the farthest reaches of seating, so that even sitting on the topmost level, as we were, you can hear the performers with amazing clarity--even when they sing from backstage.
The opera we saw performed was La Traviata, a Romantic piece with music by Giuseppe Verdi and libretto by Francesco Maria Piave, and based on the novel La dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils (Alexandre Dumas, Jr., the son of the Alexandre Dumas who wrote The Three Musketeers). The plot, as V will tell you also, is rather silly: a courtesan and party girl named Violetta Valéry comes home with a crowd of her 30 best friends to dance away what's left of the night. She has fainting spells due to her early-stage tuberculosis, and so her friends leave her alone for a bit; they go dance in the other room. One of her guests, Alfredo Germont, stays behind to confess his love to her. She denies her ability to love, but warms quickly to him, and suddenly (Act II), they've been living together for a few months in a country house outside of Paris, shunning Violetta's old life. However, she's been selling her belongings to support them, and when Alfredo discovers this, he races off to Paris to set things right, presumably by burning through his own fortune. This leaves an opening for Alfredo's disapproving father to appear and sell Violetta a crock, saying that her relationship with Alfredo has destroyed the fortunes of Alfredo's sister. (?!) Daddy leaves, Alfredo returns, and Violetta steals away, sacrificing her love for her love's family. Alfredo decides she has left him for another man, pursues, wins a small fortune from the man in a gambling match, and still doesn't get Violetta back. Then, some months later (Act III), Violetta is dying alone (save for her servants) in her original home. Alfredo returns to her, having been told about her sacrifice by his father. Her hope renews, she feels like living again. Alfredo's father returns, apologizes, and welcomes her as his daughter; Violetta and Alfredo confess their love again, and then she dies. Everyone is sad.
The music is lovely, however. The orchestra at the Met is excellent, and the singers are phenomenal! Apparently, too, many performers practice one part in particular and perform it all over the world, rehearsing for many operas at once. Principals are often booked years in advance. Pretty amazing.
We managed to sit next to two lovely people, Leonda and Arnold Finke. They were very kind and generous, explained much about opera to us (they've been going for 25 years at least). We managed to chat more in the lobby during one of the intermissions; Leonda sculpts and does all sorts of art (she's very good, too--we looked up her work later), and Arnold is immensely proud of her. (He told us privately about the awards and recognition she has received; it was really cute and sweet!)
So really, we had a wonderful evening, and I'm tremendously lucky to have the love of a woman like Virginia who is amazing in her own right and goes out of her way to set up things like this for me. Thank you, Virginia! I love you!
Afterward, we walked four blocks to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera House, the architecture of which is stunning. (One thing I must say in New York's favor is that it is filled with beautiful, modern architecture. I don't put those two descriptors together lightly, either--usually, I am very turned off by what passes for architecture these days. But this city, being one supposed center of everything, seems to get the good architects at their best, so that even if there are boring skyscrapers and ugly buildings, they fade into the background behind the structures that surround them.) The Met is, I think, five stories tall at least, and its exterior sides and roof (except for the front) are constructed of pale gray stone. The front of the building is clear glass supported by several evenly spaced black posts or frames (probably metal) that run from ground to roof. The first floor has a ceiling, mostly, except for part that is open to two large grand staircases that ascend to the second floor. The second floor and above are open--without ceiling at the front half or so. The third, fourth, and fifth floors do not stretch to the front of the building, but rather gracefully hug the walls and the area outside the auditorium. The whole thing is lit by many glass chandeliers designed to look like three-dimensional snowflakes or crystals and glass wall lamps of somewhat similar look. At night from the outside, one can look in and see the whole beautifully lit space beckoning. The opera house installs artwork of various sorts--often translucent or of a shape that makes an interesting silhouette--on the second floor near the front glass wall.
The opera auditorium itself is equally beautiful, with level upon level of comfortable velvet-lined seating and railings that look down over a large stage and orchestra pit. V and I estimated (by rough count) that perhaps 800-900 people could sit on most levels, and that the first could probably hold more. So verging on 5000 people can fit in the auditorium/theatre. The walls of the house are lined with angled wood (?) panels that reflect sound toward the farthest reaches of seating, so that even sitting on the topmost level, as we were, you can hear the performers with amazing clarity--even when they sing from backstage.
The opera we saw performed was La Traviata, a Romantic piece with music by Giuseppe Verdi and libretto by Francesco Maria Piave, and based on the novel La dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils (Alexandre Dumas, Jr., the son of the Alexandre Dumas who wrote The Three Musketeers). The plot, as V will tell you also, is rather silly: a courtesan and party girl named Violetta Valéry comes home with a crowd of her 30 best friends to dance away what's left of the night. She has fainting spells due to her early-stage tuberculosis, and so her friends leave her alone for a bit; they go dance in the other room. One of her guests, Alfredo Germont, stays behind to confess his love to her. She denies her ability to love, but warms quickly to him, and suddenly (Act II), they've been living together for a few months in a country house outside of Paris, shunning Violetta's old life. However, she's been selling her belongings to support them, and when Alfredo discovers this, he races off to Paris to set things right, presumably by burning through his own fortune. This leaves an opening for Alfredo's disapproving father to appear and sell Violetta a crock, saying that her relationship with Alfredo has destroyed the fortunes of Alfredo's sister. (?!) Daddy leaves, Alfredo returns, and Violetta steals away, sacrificing her love for her love's family. Alfredo decides she has left him for another man, pursues, wins a small fortune from the man in a gambling match, and still doesn't get Violetta back. Then, some months later (Act III), Violetta is dying alone (save for her servants) in her original home. Alfredo returns to her, having been told about her sacrifice by his father. Her hope renews, she feels like living again. Alfredo's father returns, apologizes, and welcomes her as his daughter; Violetta and Alfredo confess their love again, and then she dies. Everyone is sad.
The music is lovely, however. The orchestra at the Met is excellent, and the singers are phenomenal! Apparently, too, many performers practice one part in particular and perform it all over the world, rehearsing for many operas at once. Principals are often booked years in advance. Pretty amazing.
We managed to sit next to two lovely people, Leonda and Arnold Finke. They were very kind and generous, explained much about opera to us (they've been going for 25 years at least). We managed to chat more in the lobby during one of the intermissions; Leonda sculpts and does all sorts of art (she's very good, too--we looked up her work later), and Arnold is immensely proud of her. (He told us privately about the awards and recognition she has received; it was really cute and sweet!)
So really, we had a wonderful evening, and I'm tremendously lucky to have the love of a woman like Virginia who is amazing in her own right and goes out of her way to set up things like this for me. Thank you, Virginia! I love you!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Automatic Penis
I was in the bathroom at my mom's work this afternoon, and I went to wash my hands. Everything had been going well: the toilet had flushed automatically when I stood up; I had to force the stall door open, but it was flimsy and I am strong (HTML joke, ha ha). I stuck my hands under the faucet and was rewarded with a steady, warm stream of water. And then I looked to my left, and there, instead of a regular soap dispenser, was, well, this. When I stuck my hand under its nozzle, or "head," as we might call it, the device shuddered and squirted--squirted--a small pile of pearlescent goop into my hand. How is one supposed to wash with that?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Land of Opportunity
America is reportedly the Land of Opportunity, Land of Freedom. But many of the best and most interesting jobs require at least college education these days. Getting a college degree in the United States costs a lot of money. To wit,
In many of the European countries, university education is free, or practically so. Students only need find a way to pay rent and buy food and pay bills while being a student. France and England both seem to work this way (so say my chief source of information on European culture).
Medical aid is also friggin' expensive here, at least without insurance, and often insurance doesn't reduce costs much. To get good health insurance (and any eye or tooth plan), one generally needs a pretty good job. If one is self-employed, one pays for such insurance out of one's pocket. If one is poor and doesn't have enough work to give insurance then one is screwed. (Many companies don't offer health benefits unless an employee works more than a certain amount a week, often 20 hours or more, and some try to save costs by hiring many workers to work shorter shifts.) In Canada, the UK, France, and many other nations, health care is paid for by the state, largely. Citizens pay higher taxes to cover this and other services, but the result is that everyone has reasonably priced health care. Compare that to the reported 40,000,000 uninsured Americans, people who have to pay the full amount of their medical costs, which could range from a $50 check-up to thousands of dollars for surgery or costly medicines. (Virginia was given a shot of painkiller last October that cost over $700. I doubt that's the most expensive medication out there.
Now, I may be a little fuzzy on the details here, and I realize there is much I have not taken into account yet, but it seems to me that if one needs a certain education level to achieve certain degrees of wealth, comfort, influence, and health, and that education costs an average of $12,294 at best, there's a certain limiting factor to this so-called opportunity available in America.
According to the College Board's Trends in College Pricing, the 2006-2007 average total costs (including tuition and fees, room and board, books and supplies, transportation and other expenses as specified in Table 2) were $12,294 for students attending two-year public colleges, $16,357 for students attending four-year public colleges and universities, and $33,301 for students at four-year private colleges and universities. Out of state students attending public colleges and universities pay an average total cost of $26,304 [from FinAid.org]Chiefly, one pays for this with loans, savings, jobs, a lot of work in finding and earning scholarships and grants, or if one is lucky, one's family has the money for it.
In many of the European countries, university education is free, or practically so. Students only need find a way to pay rent and buy food and pay bills while being a student. France and England both seem to work this way (so say my chief source of information on European culture).
Medical aid is also friggin' expensive here, at least without insurance, and often insurance doesn't reduce costs much. To get good health insurance (and any eye or tooth plan), one generally needs a pretty good job. If one is self-employed, one pays for such insurance out of one's pocket. If one is poor and doesn't have enough work to give insurance then one is screwed. (Many companies don't offer health benefits unless an employee works more than a certain amount a week, often 20 hours or more, and some try to save costs by hiring many workers to work shorter shifts.) In Canada, the UK, France, and many other nations, health care is paid for by the state, largely. Citizens pay higher taxes to cover this and other services, but the result is that everyone has reasonably priced health care. Compare that to the reported 40,000,000 uninsured Americans, people who have to pay the full amount of their medical costs, which could range from a $50 check-up to thousands of dollars for surgery or costly medicines. (Virginia was given a shot of painkiller last October that cost over $700. I doubt that's the most expensive medication out there.
Now, I may be a little fuzzy on the details here, and I realize there is much I have not taken into account yet, but it seems to me that if one needs a certain education level to achieve certain degrees of wealth, comfort, influence, and health, and that education costs an average of $12,294 at best, there's a certain limiting factor to this so-called opportunity available in America.
Monday, February 19, 2007
43 Things
You would think that a Web site like 43 Things would be, as it markets itself, a useful and inspirational tool for accomplishing that great bugaboo, your goals! (What is 43 Things? It's a Web site on which you can register an identity and post Things You Want To Do so that everyone in the whole world can see, comment, cheer you on--and even adopt your goal as his or her own. "Discover what's important, make it happen, share your progress. Find your 43 things." That's the tagline.) But see, on visiting for a few minutes, I found myself wanting to register so I could add a comment to someone else's goal (to stop overthinking things) and then I started clicking around to see what other goals were out there. So now I start to see the trap. It's not a productivity/encouragement Web site at all! 43 Things is meant to steal my time away from me so I never get anything done.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
The Job Search Goes...Romantically?
From a Gmail chat we had this morning:
Virginia: you going to ACD thingy at 1?
me: yesh
Virginia: ok see you there then!
hugsss
me: actually, see you a bit sooner maybe. Gotta come to library to print/scan
Virginia: ok
me: now I'm done w/phone stuff.
me: & will have more stuff to add to my resume.
Virginia: smooch
smooch
me: :-D may I add those to my resume?
Virginia: sure thing
Virginia: they can call me to verify :p
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