Judgment Eve

Fingers crossed everyone. . .

Some Thoughts on a Gute Reise

After school was over I had the opportunity to travel around (mostly) Northern Europe for a little while to meet new people and see new stuff. On the itinerary: Riga, Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Munich. Here’s a quick recap of the trip.

Riga

Riga is ice cold. If you travel there in December at three in the morning after attending a huge, free-alcohol, school-sponsored party, and then you walk around the city with wet feet gazing at the Baltic-gothic churches and architecture, you’re sure to get sick as a dog.

And so it was with me, wasting away much of my time in the fetal position in my bed in the hostel. Luckily, I was only guest staying in the hostel for the three days I was there, so others were spared my hacking, shivering, and whining. Plus, it was a fairly good environment in which to involuntarily spend time. The kitchen, all shiny and clean and advertised on HostelWorld as “the best kitchen in Riga,” was not a disappointment. Nor was the staff, who offered me biscuits and insider tips on the best pharmacies to visit in Riga.

Since I was the only one in the hostel, I took turns watching movies and television series with the complete rotation of workers. One pleasantly sarcastic Latvian girl --when the movie was paused, she would always say “hurry up, you’re missing it”-- and I watched about 8 hours straight of Dr. House. I told her through my sniffles and coughs that a medical drama/comedy was a good program for me to watch because at the end of the night I would have assimilated enough med-talk to be able to diagnose myself.

The one major thing that I DID have time to see in Riga was the Occupation Museum, which I found to be both sobering and inspirational. I also thought a more appropriate name for this museum would have been the Latvian National “Please Leave Us the Fuck Alone!” Museum.

Its purpose was basically to highlight the many downsides of hosting an occupying force in your country. For instance, I learned that the occupying guests almost always overstay their welcome: brutally suppressing any nationalist spirit or sign of criticism, sending dissenters to Gulag-esque labor camps, and almost never taking their shoes off at the border before coming into the country. Some guests.

In particular, the museum chronicled Latvia’s occupation first by the USSR around 1920, then by the Germans during WWII, and then again by the USSR until relatively recent times.

The highlight was looking at all the cool knick knacks and objects of art that the political prisoners made while imprisoned. Not just shivs and that sort of fare, but beautiful chessboards, furniture, and clothing.

Copenhagen

In Copenhagen I used Couchsurfing.com to find a couch to sleep on. It was kind of short notice, but luckily a woman named Linda was nice enough to take me into her house for a couple nights.

It was my first time using Couchsurfing, and I found it to be the height of cultural exchange.

The first night she made me a very traditional Danish Christmas meal (smeared black bread), played me some Danish pop music (Supine?) and laughed at my Danish pronunciation. And the next night I made American “Macaroni and Cheese,” played some blues on her piano, and marveled at her accent-free English. She was also kind enough to take some time out of her day and give me a walking tour of Copenhagen. That’s the big benefit of a site like couchsurfing, the personal connection with someone who knows the city and is willing to teach you about it. That’s tough to find at a hostel.

Plus, you might even meet other couch surfers in addition to your host. For instance, the second night a doctor from Tanzania named Wilson stayed with Linda and took the two of us out to a birthday party one of his Danish friends was having. Another great Danish experience.
A party, some new friends, a walking tour, and traditional food. Who could ask for more?

Stockholm

After Copenhagen it was on to Stockholm, where a friend of mine named Catia was staying for a couple of nights. This was great for a couple of reasons: 1) Catia is a good-souled and interesting human being and 2) when we hang out we speak exclusively in German.

Since I only had about week left to completely master ever single facet of the German language, and was currently still struggling with the difference between 17 and 70, a bit of practice was welcome.

Since neither of us are actual German masters (Catia is a native French speaker and I an English one) the results are somewhat hilarious. I’m sure for native German speakers it’s like listening to six-year olds blabber on. And that’s exactly what it’s like for us too. But that’s also the fun of it, the challenge of communicating. And armed only with smiles, a limited vocabulary, and childlike declarative sentences, we persevered and faced that challenge.

As far as sights and activities in Stockholm, we decided to go to the Nobel Prize museum. The national art museum might have been fun too, but we’d both seen Van Gogh sunflowers or Gauguin Polynesians before; the Nobel Museum, on the other hand, was something unique to Stockholm.

I still haven’t quite made up my mind about it. The museum was not only incredibly small, but it was also home to surprisingly few historical objects. A handful really. Some slippers from physicist X, a beaker from chemist Y, that sort of thing.

Luckily, there was a pretty cool temporary exhibit that took up about half the floor space of the museum. It dealt with how Ingmar Bergman (non-Nobel Laureate, but Swede, and one of Woody Allen’s idols) staged the productions of 5 Nobel prize-winning playwrights: Eugene O’Neil, Albert Camus, Luigi Pirandello, Harry Martinson, and a Swedish feller' named Par Lagerkvist. The exhibit was composed of, among other things, a bunch of great photos of Bergman in action by photographers who I’m sure are of great importance to people who know about that sort of thing.

Another highlight was the “Listening” section, where guests are invited to listen to acceptance or other speeches from past laureates. This was very cool.

There was a great little American section are where one could listen to post WWII American Nobel Laureates Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, and Toni Morrison. I had never heard Hemingway or Faulkner speak before. I was a bit surprised to hear Hemingway speaking almost exactly as he writes: in short, clear sentences (e.g.-- “My next book is about X. I hope it is good.”). I also very much enjoyed being exposed to Faulkner’s Southern twang and surprising modesty.

In contrast, I had heard Toni Morrison speak before. As always, I found her to be a very talented speaker with the odd gift that, as soon as she begins to speak ,the audience finds itself with the strange urge to begin weeping immediately for the pain and beauty of the human condition. It’s almost like a superpower. Admittedly, it’s not as cool a superpower as what Professor Xavier has, but probably cooler than whatever Jubilee does.

Munich

In Munich I stayed with another Couch Surfer named Florian who saved me from a hostel at the last moment. Florian gave me a little walking tour around the gates, churches, and squares of Munich and then I spent the rest of the day at the Pinakothek der Moderne (tons of Max Beckman and a great design and jewelry section). Later that night the two of us had a great dinner with 4 other couchsurfers (above) at a guy named Christian’s place.

That’s another one of the beauties of couchsurfing, the spontaneous hospitality. I wasn’t staying with Christian, but had met him at a couchsurfing meeting the previous night in Munich. After about two minutes of chatting he immediately invited me over for dinner the next night.

After dinner we drank Becks and red wine until well into the morning and eventually agreed on how to solve at least 30% of the world’s problems.

It was another great couchsurfing experience.

Amsterdam

Right now I am in Amsterdam for two days before heading home to the United States. My hostel is a bit dirty and the staff isn’t particularly friendly, but there’s wireless in my room and some interesting old hippies are here so I guess it’s a wash.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Then it’s back to Iowa. Hope to see you soon!

Save the Date: Arguments for Justice

Friendly reminder that the oral arguments for Iowa's gay marriage case are tomorrow, December 9th.

It should be a really tough case to decide. On the one hand you have the kind of justice and equality that are consistent with the principles laid out in our state's constitution, and on the other you have arbitrary discrimination and backwardness driven (it would appear) only by contempt for our fellow man.

Oh wait. I guess it isn't that tough.

I haven't cheered this hard for Iowa since the Penn State game. Go Justice.

And for some further reading: here's the Chicago Tribune's write-up, and here's Iowa Independent's recap of how we got to where we are.

Iowa City Keeps on Winning

In case you missed it, UNESCO just designated Iowa City as an official "City of Literature." Here's the U of I press release. As of now, there are only two other cities in the world that have received a similar designation: Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia.

And if that doesn't impress or inspire you, check this out:





Go Hawks.

U.S.A! U.S.A! -- A Great Party and a Great Speech

What an amazing night. The first results here in Germany came in at about midnight, but the festivities kicked off much earlier at the law school.

In collaboration with the U.S. Consulate in Hamburg, Bucerius Law School hosted a massive election party that Vanity Fair listed as one of the best places in Germany to watch the election.

Starting at about 7:00 p.m. there were videos, lectures on American politics, bands, and several television stations broadcasting various panel discussions live. Attendees were offered a selection of fine American cuisine: hot dogs, hamburgers, freedom fries, and Jack Daniels. American flags were EVERYWHERE.

It was kind of a big deal.

The crowd of around 2000 even had to pass through metal detectors to get in. (You know, because whenever you get to many Americans together, guns can’t be too far behind. . .).

The Germans loved Obama. I had heard recently that about 80% of Germans supported Obama. After last night I feel that number may be closer to 98%. Signs, t-shirts, buttons-- everyone was completely outfitted with the latest Obama fashion. It was almost creepily uniform for what was ostensibly a bipartisan event.

Earlier that evening, one of the news reporters bouncing around the halls of the school had asked me (in considerately slow German) if I had spoken to anyone who was voting for McCain.

“Nein,” I replied. She moved down the line with the same question and the others replied that they hadn’t either.

“No McCain supporters?” I thought. That was a bit much. I actually began to feel a bit sorry for him.

So I ended up wearing both an Obama button and a McCain button (Obama button slightly higher) in an attempt to be diplomatic and inclusive.

When people asked me what the hell I was doing, which happened incredibly frequently, I responded that I was an Obama supporter, but that I was practicing a “new kind” of politics.

Ha!

This was half joke and half real. Half joke because I’d love a filibuster proof Senate as much as anyone, and half real because I really was trying to give a polite nod to bipartisanship and cooperation.

We were getting dangerously close to becoming hundreds of group-thinkers, congratulating ourselves endlessly on our superior judgment and gloating about the utter domination that was about to take place. That tends to be a little alienating.

That’s why I loved the tone of Obama’s victory speech.

Howard Dean “Yee Haw!” it was not.

I thought about the worst thing that Obama could have done was to frame this election as the climactic end of a long struggle. Thankfully, he did the exact opposite.

Though his supporters were ecstatic and crying and drinking, he was sober (both meanings I think) and restrained and purposeful. While we were off giving high fives to this awesomely magical future paradise, he was reminding us that this kick-ass future we are imagining has yet to be created. George Bush might talk a lot about resolve, but last night Obama seemed to be the personification of it.

Plus he gave his daughters a puppy, which I thought that was a pretty cool and touching moment.

So here’s to a great speech that reminded us of the work that lies ahead. And here’s to a great night of American Democracy in action. And Here’s to gift-puppies, and to Obama, and most importantly, here’s to us—the engaged and committed electorate that will INSIST upon a better future. What the hell, why don't we just go ahead and start with health care?

As a wise man once said really, really recently:

"This victory alone is not the change we seek -- it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you."

--Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States of America

Good TV

If anyone out there is looking for some good, edgy British comedy, I highly recommend a little number called Peep Show that I just watched obsessively for about a month.

My friend Stu (illustrations to right) brought a bunch of episodes while he was visiting in September and quickly got me hooked.

In fact, I’m tempted to say that Peep Show is the best incarnation of the “odd couple” premise that I’ve ever seen. Jez is the crazy, hedonistic slacker while his roommate Mark is the play-by-the-rules, socially awkward type. It’s got solid acting, unforgettable characters, and creative scripts.

It’s also kind of technically innovative. The camera gives a first person point of view, and whenever the audience is looking from Mark or Jez’s perspective we are allowed to hear their internal monologues. (Think Mel Gibson’s “What Women Want,” only raw, funny and less anti-Semitic).

Anyway, if you want to laugh your arse off, go buy or rent as many episodes as you have time for. You Tube also has a pretty good selection if you're interested in more clips. Until then, here’s a bit from the first episode of the first season to give you a taste.

And a warning: though Peep Show is not nearly as adult as the title suggests, it can at times be somewhat crass and profane.

Enjoy.

Language Acquisition 101: Or, Becoming Germanick

So last week I completed my first wave of finals here in Germany. WTO, Venture Capital, EU Law, Comparative Intellectual Property. Check, check, check, and check.

Now, after a feverish week of studying and test-taking (4 days straight of early-morning exams), I have an entire week off. Many in the exchange group are traveling and enjoying themselves. I have decided, somewhat masochistically it turns out, to remain here in Hamburg and take intensive German classes for 4 hours a day.

The class itself is one of the more diverse collections of people you’ll find outside of a meeting of the General Assembly of the UN. In our group of 10 we have representatives from: Albania, Poland, China, Croatia, Mexico, Brazil, Britain, Kenya, and the US of A.

The people are friendly and the peer environment supportive and non-judgmental.

The teacher/student dynamic, however, is a bit different.

It’s not so much that he points out our plentiful errors, which, fair enough, is kind of what we pay him to do. No, it’s that he sees every mistake as a reason to mock us mercilessly with some sort of long stand-up routine.

Mercilessly.

To give an example of what I mean, imagine you are a non-native, limited-ability English speaker. You are trying to say that the boy “was running” around town, but you make an error and say “the boy was runny” around town.

That's mildly funny right? Sure.

Now imagine that the teacher, even though he is perfectly aware of what you mean, looks at you incredulously.

“Runny? The boy was runny?” he says, a faux-confused look on his face. “Like, he was a liquid? What, was he melting? Was he some sort of alien or mutant or something that had special powers and could turn his body into liquid?”

You quickly correct your error, but the class has begun to laugh at his outlandish examples, encouraging him.

“Was he like some sort of snail-man who oozes snail goo all over the place?” He continues, pointing at you and gathering steam and doing his best impression of what a snail-man would move and speak like. “Hey, everybody, look at me, I'm half snail, half man! Does this creature even exist? Who knows? Apparently Nick thinks he does. Nick literally thinks that there is a creature out there that is half snail, half man. Don't you Nick?"

He pauses and looks at you, as if he expects a real answer, and you nod wordlessly and hope he begins to start mocking someone else soon.

This, as far as I can tell, is his method. I have mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand, it’s cheap and mean and dehumanizing.

On the other hand though, I’m starting to think it might be kind of brilliant. It might even be the best way possible to learn a language: one humiliating mistake after another.

Take law school, for example. The only way I can ever guarantee that I will remember something from class is if I screw it up. Or I suppose if someone else screws it up. I still remember a kid in 5th grade running out of class crying because he couldn’t remember the answer to a question about the human body (answer: tibia).

And that’s the point. You know all those memories that make you catch your breath in shame or embarrassment when you think about them? These tend to be instructive memories. And there’s this place in your brain where those memories are all indelibly recorded in high-definition to be replayed for the rest of your life. I think ideally, you need to get all your language mistakes into that part of your brain to succeed.

This is the Bob Knight school of language acquisition. And though the Bob Knight philosophy never really worked for me in basketball (it caused me to freeze-up and become erratic), I’m hoping it will be more effective in this field.

So, Mr. Professor Man, I’m going to put my faith in you. I’m going to trust that you know what you’re doing and that you are, like Bob Knight, a professional. Go wild. Next time I misuse the dative, pick up a chair and throw it against the wall. Next time I misconjugate a routine verb, call me an asshole, punch me in the gut and storm out of the classroom. Seriously, do it. You’ve got my blessing. The more outlandish and memorable the better.

It’s the only way I’ll learn.

On the Birds and the Beasts

I seriously debated whether or not to post this shot. One the one hand, it seems kind of adolescent and, possibly, even a bit inappropriate for my more conservative readership (Hi Grandma!).

On the other hand. . .

I saw lions having sex at the zoo!

Spectators excitedly called to their friends, parents shielded the impressionable young eyes of their children, and cameras flashed paparazzi-style from all angles. It was incredible.

It was by far the coolest thing that I’ve ever seen at a zoo, and I’ve touched a tiger (Eric, vouch for me here).

Plus the photo turned out really, really good. Note the bite on the back (feral passion), the arched necked of the lioness (exquisite bliss), the intertwined tails (True Love). This shot has it all. Even the testicles seem to lend a certain gritty realism to the composition.

A masterpiece.

A Magical Paradise Awaits You!

In about 20 minutes I’m going to participate in a “present your school” event here at the Bucerius Law School in Germany. This gives the German students the opportunity to browse the different partner schools and see which one they would like to attend.

Sometimes coming to the Midwest from abroad is a tough sell, but being a big fan of Iowa City and a strong supporter of the Iowa College of Law, I can’t wait to make the case. Sure, you could go to NYC or San Francisco, I’ll say, but would that really be a “college town” experience? I don’t think so.

That’s going to be my angle. I figured I’d just bring my laptop, show everyone a few pictures of Iowa City, and open up a tab on some site like Wikipedia to give everyone the vital statistics of the city.

Which brings me to my point.

Has anyone ever looked at the Wikipedia entry for Iowa City? It’s hilarious.

Two of the first three categories are: “2006 Tornado” and “2008 Flood,” and the pictures at the top of this post are two of the first pictures that you encounter on scrolling down the page. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the entire town was composed exclusively of flotsam and refugee camps.

"Will we die in Iowa?" my classmates will ask, furrowing their brows with concern and confusion.

"Don't be silly," I'll say. "Tornado Season and Flood Season are usually broken up by Unbearable Winter Season, so you'll hardly even notice them."

I’m recruiting here. I can’t work with this kind of material. So, at least until someone edits the Wikipedia page (or Mother Nature stops picking on us), it looks like I’ll be sticking to shots of the ped mall and photos of tailgating.

Yes, rain or shine, we'll always have tailgating.

Go Hawks!

A Poet and Don't Even Know It

This article is awesome.

Hart Seely from Slate went through three Sarah Palin interviews, pulled a few statements verbatim from them, lumped them into stanzas and then called them poetry.

The concept seems pretty straight-forward, but the results are beautiful.

Keep in mind, this isn't just a cheap shot at Palin for not being the most informed or clear candidate. I think this same process could probably produce amazing results for any politician (or any person for that matter). But I do think that Sarah Palin has the ability to be a really prolific poet if she keeps at it.

Here is one of my favorites. Especially note the deft use of repetition in the first stanza and the intentional ambiguity of the last line.

Absolutely brilliant.

"Outside"

I am a Washington outsider.
I mean,
Look at where you are.
I'm a Washington outsider.

I do not have those allegiances
To the power brokers,
To the lobbyists.
We need someone like that.

(To C. Gibson, ABC News, Sept. 11, 2008)

Check out the article for more great hits like "On Good and Evil" and "Befoulers of the Verbiage."

Reeperbahn Festival Day 1

I remember once reading an Onion headline that went something like this:

"Entire Town Secretly in Love with Lady who Works at the Coffee Shop."

That's one of the reasons why The Asteroids Galaxy Tour was my favorite act from last night. She's going to be a star.

Enjoy!

The Presidential Debates: A Modest Proposal

Here’s a little secret:

I’ve never been a huge fan of watching the Presidential debates.

I do it, but I'm not always happy about it. I find them to be, by and large, unsatisfying. A bit like eating empty calories or staying at the bar too long.

I wasn’t always this way. When I was younger I kind of romanticized them as some super important civic duty that all intelligent adults participated in. All the adults would watch the debates, judiciously weigh the merits of the arguments, and then cast their ballots for the candidate most fit for the job.

What a bunch of mature, democratic participants they all were. I couldn’t wait.

But now that I’m all grown-up, I know (like most people) that the debates are mostly bullshit. They’re two candidates bandying about worn-down-to-the-nub talking points for a bunch of people who have already made up their minds who they’re voting for. If all goes well, the candidate you are cheering against will make some sort of horribly embarrassing linguistic misstep and the candidate that you are cheering for will make the audience laugh.

Don’t get me wrong, the debates aren’t all bad. In fact, some of the weaknesses of the whole production also produce some of its strengths.

You know how we always have a graph to see if the audience is reacting positively or negatively to a candidate? That’s great. I love that kind of stuff. We find out all sorts of sociological stuff about how an audience reacts to speeches. Or at least how they say they react. Or, at the very least, how they think the should be reacting.

We're also able, luckily, to find out all sorts of things about the candidates themselves. Like if they’re attractive or sweat a lot on stage or speak with a funny voice.

Which is fine. We’re not really there to break down a wide range of complex policy issues in a couple hours. If that's what you’re about then roll up your sleeves, go to the internet and start doing your research.

But debates aren’t for that. Debates are, for better or worse, all about rhetorical ability, eloquence, stage presence, facility with language, likeability, tone, and, most importantly, the ability to make quasi-factual policy arguments that most of us have already heard a number of times before in past presidential debates.

Let me reiterate. I’m not saying this is necessarily a bad thing. Given the relatively negligible policy differences between the Democrats, it’s for exactly some of these reasons (attractiveness, eloquence, je ne sais quoi, etc.) that I supported Barack Obama in the caucuses. Since the American people eat this stuff up, I felt like he was probably the best positioned of the lot to implement a left-of-center platform.

And, of course, the pageantry part of the race is actually quite fun to hash and re-hash. Who looked more presidential? Who seemed overly aggressive? Overly-passive? Who shouldn’t have answered question #1 so quickly but should have definitely taken a respectful little pause before launching so quickly into #2? Who got more laughs from the crowd? Who was more comfortable?

If you don’t have answers to any of these questions yet, don’t worry. You’ll have them formed for you as you watch the next two days coverage of every national news outlet in the country.

Although some of the qualities listed above may be important for evaluating such things as consensus building and diplomacy, many of them are not of critical importance for evaluating the merits of the different policy positions of a specific candidate.

So, as we arrive at the day of the first presidential debate of the year -- one that may or may not take place-- I’ve been thinking: is there a way we can evaluate all of these qualities in a more creative and viewer friendly way?

Which leads me to my idea.

If the debates really are all about things like quick-wittedness and poise (they are), why not strip the whole charade of its faux-gravitas and make it more transparent. Let’s make them debate something completely inconsequential.

Like a favorite color.

Here’s how this would work:

Jim Lehrer:

“Colors are a very important part of American History. They bring life to our films, make our surroundings more livable, and allow for ambiguity in a political environment which, as we are learning more every year, is not so black and white. Which brings me to the first question of the night. . .(dramatic pause)

Which color do you prefer: green or orange? And why?

Senator Obama, you have one minute to respond.

Obama:

Jim, first of all thank you for moderating this historic debate and thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak to the American people about the important issues that we’ll have to face in the future (audience experiences first feelings of self-importance. Audience poll approval up 2%).

Now let me begin by saying this: I understand that there are many, many supporters of orange out there in the audience tonight and also across our great country. Orange has played a vital role in how we understand ourselves. It is the sun in our sky that brings warmth to this earth, the basketball on the court where our children play, the citrus crop that grow in fields across our great nation. . . especially Florida (mild laughter).

That being said, I choose green. And no, it’s not because I want you to vote green (more mild laughter from audience). That gave us the last 8 years (wild clapping at Bush-slam, audience approval up 2%). And it’s not because, as my opponent wants you to believe, that I myself am a little green (cocksure grin, laughter). Because, as I’ve said before, I’ll have the experience debate with anyone.

It’s because green is the color of growth. Green is money. It’s using that money to build an economy that works for everyone. Green is sustainable growth and an energy policy that doesn’t rely on archaic, fossil fuel technology.

Jim: Mr. Obama, you’re time is. . .

Obama: Just a second Jim, it’s an important point I’m making here about colors. And I think it’s important for the American people too. The American people know that I respect orange and realize that orange has many contributions to make. Orange certainly gets a seat at the table, no doubt about that. But green is my choice. And I ask you this to conclude: have you ever seen any growth without a little bit of green at the root? (Audience approval up 2% for confusing, money-growth-environment tie-in on the fly).

Jim: Senator McCain, you have 30 seconds.

McCain:

Frankly Jim, I was raised thinking the most important colors in this country are red, white, and blue (pause for audience laughter, wild applause, admiration, and an 8% increase in audience poll approval). And while I appreciate the question, I’m just not willing to believe that green and orange are the only two options.

And that might not be what the people want to hear, but, I’m sorry to break it to everyone, the President of the United States isn’t always going to be able to tell the people what they want to hear (audience approval rating plunges 12%).

Jim: Mr. Obama, a 15 second rebuttal.

Obama:

I’m sorry Jim, but this is politics as usual, implying that because I didn’t mention red, white and blue that I’m somehow not as patriotic. Enough is enough. Mr. McCain’s refusal to answer the question outright I think exhibits a sheer unwillingness to face the real problems that our country is facing. We don’t always get to answer the questions we WANT to; sometimes, we have to answer the questions that we HAVE to. (Audience appreciation and corresponding 4% rise in audience approval rating, all of whom are fickle idiots).

So that’s how it would work. Pretty cool right?

And you know what’s so great about this type of format?

We'd still discover all sorts of things about the candidates’ attractiveness, poise, sense of humor, public speaking ability, and ability to form arguments. We could evaluate it all. And at least we’d be honest to ourselves about the bullshit that we’re evaluating.

Of course, variations of this format could go on ad infinitum. The next debate could be the “Would you rather debate?” (E.g. --Senator McCain, would you rather be Spiderman or Superman? And Why?)

And the one after that could be the Rorschach inkblot debate (“Right-side-up it kind of looks like Hope, but upside-down it looks more like Change”).

But I’ll let CNN work out the details.

Unless they think this whole idea is just a bunch of bullshit.

Which, of course, is exactly what it is.

Hamburg: A City of Two Tales

Tale #1 in Present Tense:

My Guardian Angel or: You Only Get One Chance to Make a First Impression

So the first place I seek out when I arrive at the airport is the information booth. I have a general idea where I am going, but would love the reassurance that comes with the input of an official looking person.

The woman at the information desk is very helpful. “You will take bus #110 to Ohlsdorf and then take the U-3 to Feldstrasse,” she says, smiling. “You can either purchase a one ride ticket or an all day ticket.”

I am about to nod and say my thank yous when I hear a man from the other end of the counter. “Or, you can take my ticket,” he says, also smiling.

And then he gives me his ticket. A 5 Euro all day pass for the bus. He has already arrived for his flight so it is not a problem. He strongly resembles Michael Stipe.

“I love Hamburg already,” I say excitedly, punctuating the remark with an American-sized thumbs-up. The two Hamburgers wave me goodbye as I make my way to the bus stop.

What a charitable, friendly city, I think as I walk away, ticket firmly in hand. I am so amazed that I quickly lose my way.

“Over here,” says a man. It is Michael Stipe again (although from this angle he bears a closer resemblance to Moby). He is waving me over. He politely explains my error and then, lest there be any confusion, personally walks me to the bus stop.

In our 45 second walk he explains that he is a student at the University of Hamburg and that I am going to love the city. This kind of thing (helping people) is not at all unordinary in Hamburg, he explains. Then he shakes my hand, says “Have a great life,” and walks back into the throngs of the airport, eventually disappearing into a delicate mist (vaguely resembling gossamer wings) that floats slowly into the sky.

How’s that for a first impression. Hand that man an ambassadorship.

Tale #2 in Past Tense:

My First Foray into Vigilante Justice or: When Things Become Hostel.

On Thursday night I came back to my hostel at around 11:30 after going out to a bar with some of the Bucerius University people. When I arrived, I was delighted to find that I was the only person in the 8-bed room. No people, no bags, nothing. I had the entire room to myself, which was great because I had Orientation early the next morning.

It seemed almost too good to be true. . .

And of course, it was.

At about 3:00 in the morning, 4 loud, drunk Germans came into the room. They immediately turned on the lights, cracked open their beers and began singing (the song had no lyrics just “na na na na” ). They also began to--and I’m not exaggerating-- POUND ON THE WALLS.

Now, I’ve slept in my fair share of hostels. I am aware that a certain amount of partying and noise is unavoidable (details here). That’s part of the risk of staying in a hostel. People talk, people come in at late hours; they trip and fall and swear and, occasionally, hook-up. But this was far beyond the pale of what is acceptable behavior, even for a hippy backpacker hostel. This was a grave breach of hostel etiquette.

I sat up in my bed, looked at them and said “Seriously guys?” The four of them gave me one of those “what’s the problem?” looks. I explained, as I would to a four-year-old, that it’s harder for some people to sleep when there is singing and pounding than when there isn’t.

“Ja Ja Ja,” they replied, “We turn off the light.”

Great. The light.

The light went off, and there was a reduction in the brouhaha, but the singing did not end. And it took about 30 minutes to completely wind down.

Bide your time Gregory, I said to myself. And bide my time I did.

At around 6:30 am, when my alarm went off.

On waking up I saw that the four young men, having sung and drank themselves to sleep, were now snoozing away like babies. It was adorable.

And more importantly, it appeared that the tables had now turned.

Advantage: Gregory.

I savored the process of getting up and packing my bags. I slammed lockers, kicked empty beer bottles, and opened the window so that the human and automobile traffic could be heard at full volume. My fits of coughing were prolonged and intense; I even unnecessarily zipped and unzipped my backpack. Absolutely no action was too trivial to be done noiselessly. I ran around the room like the proverbial bull in the china shop.

“Was?” several of them said, confused and sitting up in their beds.

And that’s when they saw me in my vengeful, noisy glory and hazily began to recollect their offenses from the previous night.

Having apparently recognized the genius of my plan and righteousness of my cause, they were generally good-natured about their premature awakening. Two of them clapped and chuckled. Another simply couldn’t be bothered.

I wish I would’ve said something cool or memorable as I left. Maybe something that some exotic, evil-genius villain would say in a movie (“It appears, my friends, as if zie hunter has become zie hunted”).

But I opted for the significantly more prosaic: “Have a great day friends.” And then I gave everyone a thumbs-up (again, American-sized) and left the room confident that justice had been served.

It was a very exhilarating and inspiring start to my day. Like having two extra cups of coffee.

And now, I leave you to contemplate a relevant quote by Bill Murray in the movie The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (paraphrase):

Reporter: “If this is the only shark of its kind, what would be the scientific reasons for killing it?”

Bill Murray: “Revenge.”

Oh See Eye: On Word Games and Interview Season

First things first. I promised myself when I started this blog that I would never, ever apologize for not writing. I always hated tuning into a blogs and read something along these lines: “Sorry I haven’t written for a while, but . . .” What am I, your editor?

Stop with the apologies and write something.

Or don’t. What do I care?

The point of having a blog at all is that you don’t have deadlines, nobody forces you to write, and for the most part, nobody reads it. That being said, this particular period of textual drought was particularly egregious, so I figured I would at least acknowledge it.

Consider it acknowledged (Jon).

And yes, I have been a little bit busy for the last few weeks. Why? OCI.

There is this crazy thing at the end of the summer (and fall and spring) called “On Campus Interviews.” It’s where law firms visit the campus in search of the students they believe would make a good fit for their firm. For around 5 days you and your peers will interview, schmooze, drink, eat, and charm your way to positions in firms from around the nation.

So, in the last three weeks I’ve spent around 27 hours speaking to approximately 52 lawyers in several cities from about 15 different firms. I also went to the State Fair. Twice. (Hi Katie!)

And the great part about this whole OCI thing was that I actually found the vast majority of it to be quite enjoyable. Nearly everyone I met was collegial, chatty, and had a good deal of helpful things to teach me about the practice of law. Plus the food was excellent and the drinks plentiful.

Here’s a breakdown of what to expect should you ever go through a similar situation.

The interviews on campus

A lot of people don’t like the endless interviewing because they find it tedious and superficial. I don’t mind it one bit. Honestly. And it’s not just that I’m a desperately lonely and love-deprived hermit who craves eye contact and probing questions (although that’s obviously part of it).

It’s that I don’t mind small talk. I don’t mind engaging complete strangers in conversation and seeing where it leads. I’ve never minded striking up conversations in a bar, waiting in line, or sitting on a plane or bus.

True, this can backfire. There’s nothing worth than starting a lengthy conversation with a voluble dullard whilst a stellar book sits neglected in your backpack.

Or there was that one time I was seated next to a soul-saving-proselytizer.

Shoot. Me. Now.

Of course, interviews don’t have this problem. Even if you don’t absolutely hit it off, the interview’s only scheduled for 20 minutes, so you have an easy out. One interviewer and I compared the whole process to speed dating: an opportunity to get to know as many people as quickly as possible in the hopes of finding that cosmic match along the way.

The interviewer noted that she would have liked to have had more time to ask her questions. I actually thought that 20 minutes was too much. Which makes sense because my history indicates that I tend to say something inappropriate after right around 17 minutes of uninterrupted conversation.

I actually think that they could probably do the same thing in about 5 minutes. For me, it tends to be about warmth, tone, and effort, all of which can be determined shortly after the personality leaves the gate. (The downside to this foreshortened approach is what speed-datalogists call the Hans Solo/Princess Leah conundrum: when a relationship begins with outward hostility but ends with a galaxy-saving/empire-destroying union of two perfectly matched souls).

So I guess it’s a trade-off. You might miss out on your Hans Solo, but you can certainly weed out the Chewbaccas. (Hint: they hit people and scream incomprehensibly a lot).

In my opinion the best interviews were the ones that for some reason or other were unique. The interviewer was exceptionally candid or the discussion was particularly lively and interesting. That sort of thing.

For example, in one of the best interviews I had, both interviewers told me stories about how, at one point they had left their firms, only to eventually come back. The reason for their triumphant returns? They missed their friends.

AAHHH.

At the time, it was the most endearing endorsement for the intangibles of a law firm that I had heard all week.

Then there was the interviewer who continuously assured me that his firm had one of the lowest “Asshole Quotients” ( AQ’s) he’d ever seen. He was incredibly excited about the whole thing. Obviously, he explained, you’re never going to find an asshole quotient of zero, but his firm comes pretty close. Since he seemed to be about the farthest thing from an asshole I could conceive of, I believed him.

Then there was the interview outside in the sun on a bench. Nice touch.

So those are my thoughts on the interviews. Largely positive. True, there are a few downsides: you’re nervous and it’s kind of an artificial situation that and sort of thing. But if you don’t mind small talk you should be just fine. Besides, from what I found, the AQ at these kinds of things is incredibly low.

The Receptions

If the interviews weren’t really your style-- too stuffy and formal—then there’s a good chance that you were at the receptions that the different firms were hosting. These receptions were very valuable because they offered the employers and employees a chance to get to know each other in a more informal setting. And they also had booze.

During OCI Orientation we were encouraged, like always, to drink responsibly. I think the laughably low figure of one drink was thrown around as being a prudent amount.

But who really gains if we all stick to one drink? For those of you interested in politics, you are probably familiar with the term “kick the tires.”

These receptions are the hiring partners way (and ours as well) of “kicking the tires.” Sure he’s tolerable in an interview for twenty minutes or so, but what happens when we expose him to a free bar?

Does he begin dropping plates? Is his nametag on upside down? If we give out large bouncy balls as a party favor, will he begin to bounce it before leaving the function? (He will).

The basic idea is that you will have the opportunity to socialize with the person that either a) has already interviewed you for a job, or b) will be interviewing you for a job the following day. Since the students tend to far outnumber the interviewers the whole enterprise has a kind of ingratiating and ass-kissing feel to it.

That’s not a dig at the event. In fact, given everyone’s unusually pleasant and polite disposition, I think it’s an endorsement. Every joke is well received and every smile freely given as the students try to make a favorable impression on their fondest firms. And if you’re having trouble catching the attention of your latest crush/firm, you can hang out and have a couple of drinks with your friends. It’s an absolute ball.

Usually these kinds of receptions were hosted at a local bar, but the most bizarre and post-modern, (and surely the one most open to interpretation) was hosted at the Englert Theater in downtown Iowa City. At the theater, students smiled, mingled and drank expensive drinks on a lighted stage while decisions concerning their fate were being conducted by mysterious and powerful entities behind the scenes. I almost felt like I was watching my own personal version of Mulholland Drive. Of course, consistent with Lynchian tone and sense of humor, the seats of the theater remained dark and empty.

Make of that what you will.

The Errors

If I was giving myself a rating for the last few weeks, I would say that I batted .289 with a couple of homers and maybe 5 errors. This means that I will not win a golden glove award for flawlessness, but I feel like I can contribute on someone’s roster.

Error #1

Of these errors, the weirdest and most notable by far was putting the word “Scabble” on my résumé instead of the more commonly used “Scrabble.” For those of you unfamiliar, Scrabble is a popular household word game. (Note: though I contemplated listing Scrabble under the “skills” section, I eventually included it under the “interests” section or my résumé).

To begin, this is quite possibly the most ironic typographical error in the history of résumés. Ever.

To paraphrase Churchill (or somebody), it is a layer of irony wrapped in a nougat of unexpectedness and stuffed in a riotously funny Russian doll of humor.

First, the word Scrabble is itself a sort of made up word. As far as I know, it doesn’t exist in dictionaries nor is it a playable Scrabble word. So technically I misspelled a fake, made-up word. Funny stuff.

Second, and most glaring of course, was that Scrabble is a word game in which one must correctly spell a word to be successful. Thus, my claim that I have both an interest in and aptitude for the game instantly becomes unconvincing.

Let me repeat: I MISPELLED THE NAME OF A WORD GAME ON MY RESUME !

Of course, when it was brought to my attention I immediately uploaded a revised edition of my résumé for potential employers. Apparently though, all the employers had all downloaded the original version and had it lying out in front of them before the interview even began. The damage had been done.

The funny thing about this? It might have been colossally stupid, but it might also have been unintentionally brilliant. The first three minutes of every interview were spent dissecting the implications of such a bizarre typo. Several people “challenged” my spelling. One wondered if I was really as good a “scabble” player as I claimed to be and followed it with a hearty chuckle. Everyone seemed to be at least mildly amused at the novel and unconventional nature of the faux-pas.

At this point I've convinced myself that the error was at the very least a wash and moved on with my life.

Error #2

Though it wasn’t nearly as grave as the Scabble situation, I was also bit directly in the face by my friend’s bulldog just two days before several call-back interviews. She was just playing, but there was a noticeable half-inch gash between my eyes. A friend of mine suggested make-up, but he works in broadcasting so that’s his solution to everything. In the end I sucked it up and finished out my week.

Conclusion

In executive summary form, here are my suggestions for completing a successful OCI:

· Enjoy the food
· Enjoy the drink
· Enjoy the conversation
· Learn something
· Spell check
· Avoid bulldogs

A Fitting Metaphor for Obama's Candidacy

I have a friend who happens to be very good at basketball. The other day he joined his workplace basketball team and played his first game with them. He shot around 7-8 from three point land and scored around 30 points in the game. He said the next day at work, and every subsequent day, his coworkers were unusually warm and friendly to him. They offered him praise, told him jokes, and showered him in smiles and compliments. Of course, he attributes this to the fact that his coworkers were now aware of his athletic prowess.

We both noted that it was odd that the world worked like this.

This is exactly what I was thinking when I ran into this Obama video over on John Deeth's blog. A lot of people have probably already seen this clip, but it was new to me so I wanted to pass it on. McCain's a good guy, but you almost start feeling sorry for him when you see stuff like this. Obama is scary good.

Especially note the soldiers' unbridled enthusiasm for the man who could be their next commander-in-chief.

Sharing Funny Stuff

I was recently rewatching some of the hit web television series "Wainy Days," starring David Wain. I almost forgot how funny that show was. It's the kind of funny that you just want to share with the world.

Here are two of my favorite episodes. They only last about 5 minutes a piece. Enjoy.

(The episodes contain both adult language and situations, so if that kind of stuff doesn't interest you, please refrain).

Puppy Love: New Dog Inpsires Woman to End Human Relationship

After several days of nonstop attention and slavish obedience, local Yorkshire Terrier “Terry” finally convinced his beautiful owner Julia Larson to dump her chronically under-performing boyfriend Doug Schroeder.

Though she had been contemplating the split for months, it wasn’t until discovering the sense of companionship and intimacy offered by dog ownership that she ultimately decided to become a single woman.

“You know, I just thought, I’ve really been enjoying these last couple days with Terry. I feel like he makes me happy. And every time I start talking his ears perk up really high like this,” explained Julia, placing her index fingers, doglike, next to her temples. “That’s when I know he’s listening to me.” Julia added that such perkiness has been noticeably absent in Doug’s flaccid, cartilaginous ears “for at least the last couple of months.”

“Plus every time I leave Terry for even a second he gets all scared and sad looking and I think it’s so cute. When I leave my boyfriend though he’s like ‘Bye’ and I’m like, ‘Bye.’ He doesn’t even whimper or run to the door or anything. Whatever. Dick.”

Before deciding to let go of the man whom she had once referred to quite openly as her life partner, Julia undertook an exhaustive comparative analysis of the two males. According to Julia, Terry won in the majority of categories, including: affection, obedience, listening, cuteness, cuddling, and loyalty.

By contrast, Julia’s boyfriend Doug Schroeder was able to secure victories in only two categories: “usually able to poo in the appropriate place” and “as tall as me.”

Doug, whom sources revealed has been a constant disobedience problems in the past, from staying out late, to playing video games, to failing to heed when called, found the news to be shocking.

“At first I thought the dog was kind of cute,” said Doug. “But then I started sensing something sinister, like Terry was consciously creating a wedge between Julia and I. Like everything I could possibly bring to the relationship Terry could do it even better.”

“Like for example,” Doug continued, “the other day I remember saying something that I thought was really funny and Julia kind of politely nodded, you know, like she was going through the motions. Then like three seconds later that stupid dog fell off the couch and Julia laughed her ass off for like, I’m not exaggerating, 5 straight minutes.”

Though Julia described the two males as having “similar senses of humor”, she later conceded that Terry is probably the funnier of the two. “The other day you should have seen cutey wooty little Terry fall off the big bad couchy wouchy,” said Julia, clutching her sides in laughter, obviously taking a moment to savor the event anew. “I think it’s really important to have something in your life that knows how to make you laugh.”

Though Doug concedes that the split is a setback, he insists that the event will not deter him from pursuing other positive projects as soon as he is able. Among potential projects, Doug lists “returning to school,” “feeling sorry for himself” and “continuing to play the victim” as activities that he is likely to pursue in the near future.

Nevada: Still Got It

In 1995 some guy named Norman Crampton published a book about the top 100 small towns in the United States. His criteria for rating the towns included things like: the quality of schools and hospitals, per capita income, downtown commerce, recreational facilities, education of the population, tax levels, and the cost of home ownership.

Extra points were awarded if you were a county seat (take THAT Ames!).

In 1995 Norman Crampton listed Nevada, IA as #26 on his comprehensive, definitive list. Predictably, the town went completely ape shit. Assemblies were held, tee shirts printed ("26 is #1!"), explanatory papers assigned, and the #26 basketball jersey, formerly ignored, was now hotly contested athletic apparel.

What's that? Incredulous parents would say, the 26th best small town in the state of Iowa?

No you idiots, the children would reply, offended and indignant. We are officially the 26th best small town in the NATION. All the data is in, all relevant factors have been weighed by impartial judges; the results have arrived and we are #26. This is practically scientific.

And until a few days ago, I had thought that it was all over. That all that remained of Nevada's storied heyday were my own dim memories, a few threadbare tee shirts, and around 300 copies of Mr. Crampton's book collecting dust in the Nevada Public Library.

Which is why I was relieved to find out that this isn't even remotely the case.

The other day my mother was going through old clippings and files and handed me an article about a war protest that she had organized in Nevada. My eyes immediately drifted to this headline in the column to the right: "Nevada: Still listed among best small towns" (pictured above). (For a more humorous reading, please note the delicious juxtaposition of the headline immediately to the left: "Residence searched for meth lab").

Apparently, 7 years later, Mr. Crampton released another book and, once again, Nevada made the list. It's kind of a downer because he just published a list of 120 towns, in no particular order, so we don't know if we've moved up or down on the Cramptometer. All we know is that, according to at least one person in the nation, we are among the 120 best small towns in America.

Also noteworthy are the four other Iowa towns that made the top 120: Decorah (one of the prettier towns in Iowa), Grinnell (happy home of the most liberal campus in the world), Spencer (always on these kinds of lists), and Washington (I hear it has a cool fountain).

Until the next book I'll just be keeping myself busy printing up some new tee shirts. I feel like "A figure between 1 and 120 is #1" has a kind of nice ring to it.

Call me if you'd like to place an order.

God Charged With Solicitation

Officials in Iowa City yesterday revealed that they would be seeking charges against God, the Eternal Father, for the inchoate offense of solicitation.

Though the news has been met with resistance from various theological and legal organizations, county officials insist that the crime, which they define as “any act which incites or induces another to commit a crime,” has been committed.

County Attorney Doug Schroeder claims that such solicitation is explicitly enshrined in the Bible, a book authored by God at the beginning of time and transcribed by mortals the following Tuesday. Though the original mortal conduits have long since passed away, Schroeder noted that the “existence of some troubling passages could lead to some pretty sticky legal issues for this God feller.”

Amongst other passages, Schroeder noted Deuteronomy 13:7-11, which reads “If your brother. . .or your son or daughter. . .or your most intimate friend, tries to secretly seduce you, saying ‘Let us go and serve other gods,’ . . . you must not consent. . . you must show him no pity, you must not spare him or conceal his guilt. No, you must kill him, your hand must strike the first blow in putting him to death and the hands of the rest of the people following. You must stone him to death, since he has tried to divert you from Yahweh your God. . .”

Critics are divided about how to attack Schroeder’s claim.

Some , like historian Andy Jenkins, claim that the case is simply one of misinterpretation. “What Schroeder doesn’t understand is that, through the ages, and through all the translations, the words have lost their original meaning. For example, stoning, in Biblical times, actually meant kisses. And death--this is kind of funny and counterintuitive-- actually meant ‘happy life.’ So you see, what the Bible really urged people to do was ‘kiss nonbelievers to happy life.’”

Others claim that, though the passage speaks for itself, and is indeed urging people to kill their fellow humans for their liberated, independent thoughts, they claim that Schroeder has unfairly picked passages that portray God in a singularly bad light while deliberately refraining from showing all the beautiful, heartwarming passages about not stoning the non-believers to death.

Schroeder responded, “Look, we just put a union leader in prison after a speech he made the other month. Now, he might have made all sorts of great claims about brotherhood and solidarity, but when he urged people to start bombing the factory and killing the scabs, he crossed the line and committed solicitation, plain and simple.”

When reached for comment, God scoffed at the allegations. While He has conceded that subject matter jurisdiction exists in the case, and that, being omniscient, He had received proper notice long before the complaint was filed, He contends that because his primary place of business is in Heaven, He is outside of personal jurisdiction as is outlined in the governing precedents of Interntational Shoe and its progeny.

“That’s just not true,” replied Schroeder, producing a well used Bible from beneath his desk. “It says right here in Mathew 8:20 that ‘where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.’”

“Now, because God acknowledged that those are his words, it seems to me that he is collaterally estopped from claiming otherwise. Assuming this is the case, and being well aware of the amount of churches and religious services in this state, we’re forced to conclude that these contacts are systematic and continuous enough to subject him to general jurisdiction in our courts.

In addition to his challenges personal jurisdiction of God has also offered the affirmative defense, little used in common law since Henry the VIII, of infallibility. Representatives for God said, “Though we don’t contest that the words alone might qualify as solicitation, we are arguing that in this case, God’s acts are excused by the ineffable and infallible nature of his being.”

The argument has been readily pushed in a number of Amicus Curiae submitted by such luminaries as, among others: Zeus, Loki (written in invisible ink), Ganesh, Thor, Apollo and Quetzalqoatl, the Feathered Serpent God of the Aztecs.

Again, Schroeder was incredulous. “I’ve heard that that one before,” said the seasoned County Attorney, chuckling and rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. “Good luck trying to convince the judges of that. The judges I know are pretty ineffable themselves.”

Though God is unemployed and qualifies for representation by a public defender, sources say that he will most likely represent Himself.

Tips For Playing Scrabble in Guanajuato

The Basics

Here’s the setup. The only board we have was found at a rental house, so we have to make do. It’s a Spanish board with Spanish tiles, so all English and Spanish words are acceptable. If there is a challenge of an English word, we will search in the official scrabble tournament word list online. If there is a challenge of a Spanish word, we will use the nearest Spanish/English dictionary that’s handy.

After challenges have been made, it is requisite that all players at the table sound off on how arbitrary/stupid/ridiculous it is that the disputed word is/isn’t a playable word. If you’ve been drinking heavily (which you will have been) please act especially outraged at the injustice of it all.

Choosing a teammate

If you are playing on teams, plan ahead when picking your teammate. In a sense, this is a bit like picking a vice presidential candidate; you should have someone that shores up your weaknesses and complements the ticket. If you are not a Spanish speaker, make absolute sure that you have someone who speaks (or more importantly, writes) it well; if you’re completely drunk, select someone who voluntarily refrains from the bottle; if you’re illiterate, choose someone who has experience with letters and words. You get the idea.

If you have failed to complement your inadequacies with superior talent, don’t fear. Played at a rather European pace, games in Guanajuato can last upwards of three hours, meaning that either you or your teammate will probably have lost interest and left the table long before the game’s completion.

Point values

Be careful of the point values on the tiles. While q may be an extremely potent letter in English Scrabble, due to the relative ubiquity of q’s in common Spanish words (que, querer, queso, etc), its influence in this game has been halved. It is now worth only 5 points.

On the other hand, get an “ll” and you’re in for a treat. It’s worth 8 points and may be used as simply two l’s in English.

A final note on tile usage, the ñ may be used simply as an “n.” This rule, though established by ample precedent in previous matches, will also surely be disputed a number of times throughout the game.

Bonus Points, First Category

The basic rule is that any sex-related word is automatically doubled. Of course, what constitutes a sex-related word is a perpetual bone (sex related word?) of contention.

In order for a word to be considered a “sex-related” there must be an official table roll call. Though there is no hard and fast rule on this, at a table with 8 players, 4 votes is usually the de minimis standard that one must reach in order to be awarded double points. A rule concerning the quorum necessary for a vote to take place has never been officially established.

If at all possible, avoid dual-usage words such as “date” or “bed.” Usually, someone will say something like “Feb. 17th is a date, that’s not sexual.” This will be followed by a dispute and various lobbying efforts in an effort to secure votes. Instead, try to stick with words like “coitus” (the opening word for one of our games) or “whore,” which generally do not allow for more than one legitimate meaning.

Before you play your word, make sure you have thoroughly formulated your argument for why it should be considered “sex-related.”

I ran into this problem playing the word “roadies,” which I claimed was both a seven-letter and sexual word. Though I won over several votes quickly, I ran into a stiff resistance from people familiar with the distinction between groupies and roadies, and ultimately lost the case. "Anus" was also shot down after a lengthy discourse on the fine differences between its nominal (anus) and adjectival (anal) forms.

Note to the world: this is what happens when you get a bunch of lawyers together to play an otherwise civil board game.

Remember, though the match may seem good-natured and friendly, at its heart it is an example of board-game-realpolitik at its most vicious and unforgiving. In all likelihood, the “goodwill” of your opponents is probably based on shady political alliances or some sort of long-term, self-serving strategy.

Thus, even if you feel like you have a word that is unquestionably “sex-related,” it might not fly. This is especially ture if the game is tight. This means that your opponents are more willing to sacrifice good sportsmanship and the respect of their peers for their sweaty quest for victory.

Be aware of this and form alliances early on.

Bonus points, Second Category

In addition to sex-related words, one other category of words will be selected as having double point value. This category will be chosen according to the night the game is played on. If it is the night before your academic finals and you should be studying, double points will be awarded for words concerning international transactions. If it is the last night of the NBA Finals, sports words will be awarded double points.

For example, playing the word “pathetic” would be sports-related because it aptly describes the performance of the L.A. Lakers and, especially, Kobe Bryant (sorry Ryan) in their final match against the Celtics. "Rejoice" and "smug" would also be acceptable words because they were illustrative of my reaction to that lopsided victory.

And yes, if you can play a word that is both sex-related and sports-related, (“balls” for instance) you will be awarded quadruple points.

Of course, the holy grail of point combinations would be playing a seven letter word (+50 points) that is sex-related (x2), sports-related (x2), and falls on a triple word score (x3). I think a strong argument could be made that the word “ballers,” if appropriately played, would fall into this category.

Parting Thoughts

That should give you a pretty good start. And don’t be afraid of all the rules changes. Equipped with these tips and just a little bit of self-confidence, you’ll be able to go out there and show all those lawyers how the game is played. Just remember, you’re a baller.