Icky Ikea

Everybody loves Ikea, right.
I can't say I do right now. A month ago, we went to Ikea to get some bookshelves for the den. Almost everything we needed was in stock, but we didn't have room for everything in one trip anyway, so we got what they had on the assurance that the most critically needed piece would be in the following week. I was on vacation for the following week, so it would have been nice to have gotten it right away, but you take what you can get.

We waited.

We called. A week later, they still didn't have the bookcase. They told us that they didn't know when it would be in stock but that they hoped to have more information soon. We called the next day and were told that the bookcase would be in stock in one and a half to two weeks. The next day, we called back and learned that there was no information on when this particular bookcase, but that it should be expected in two to three days. We were also reminded that Ikea's online virtual assistant, Anna, could help with all our needs.

Anna's useless.

We get a different answer every day.

We have $400 worth of unassembled bookshelves in the living room.

I'm irritated.

Change of programming

When your favorite radio station stops playing good music and starts playing stuff you hate to get new advertisers to replace the ones they pissed off, it is referred to as "a programming change."

I realized a moment ago that my profile claims that I will write about what's going on in the classes I teach. I actually don't do that - mainly because I don't believe that anybody who reads my blog actually cares which worksheets my students did together in class today. Frankly, most of my clientèle is a) either not net-savvy enough to enter into the blogosphere, or b)they don't give a rip what their kids or classmates are doing. I have, in the past, refrained from posting honest opinions or using appropriately coarse language because I wanted this blog to be student- and parent-friendly.

That is a moot point and I will now write what I please as I please and stop claiming that I think that my students or their parents visit here to get information they couldn't get in class or by emailing me.

If and when the clientèle I teach changes, I may invite them here again, but as it stands now, these Feckless Ramblings are for me. If my students or their parents visit, that is incidental.

Appetites

I was just responding to a comment on a previous post when I hit upon something. We, as a society of consumers, specifically consumers of "news," don't want relevant information on which we can take informed action - that requires action.

We're too lazy to take action. We want to watch passively as bad things happen to unknown people. The late Kurt Vonnegut Jr. said of writing that "[The writer should] be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of."

The problem is that the people in news reports are not fictional characters, no matter how far-fetched some of them may seem to be. They are real people, and as fellow human beings, we owe it to ourselves to remember that and to do what good we can for those people we can and not simply wallow in the misfortune of strangers.

And Yet. . .

Events like the shooting at Virginia Tech and the hunt for Jeffery Carney, when reflected upon, lead us to think about what we might do better if we found ourselves in a similar situation.

When I talked to a counselor from the local Victim/Witness, I came to understand that a big part of my distress at being on lockdown yesterday was a feeling of powerlessness. Had the problem actually at my school, I might have been able to be proactive. I desperately wanted to do something - to do more than just minimize the concerns of a variety of adolescents with a whole range of reactions to an unfamiliar situation.

One of the coping mechanisms that the therapist and I came up with was to prepare a plan for the possibility of a "next time." I'll be sure to keep games, movies, and other "sponge activities" on hand from now on, probably some snacks, and most importantly, I'll prepare myself mentally for the idea that no matter how many times I face a scenario like this, each one will be different, and I will never get a "do-over" of the Lindhurst incident, nor do I need one. I did fine the first time, and I did fine yesterday.

The present is always more important than the past. All the same, reflection is better than mindless ogling.

Pointing the finger

So, I've been thinking about the news coverage on this nutter who murdered so many at Virginia Tech and the well-thought-out criticism of those news agencies that feed the most prurient tastes of viewers, and my own and others' reactions to these reactions, and the more I consider it, the more certain I am that the fault lies not with those who cover the news, but with those who consume it - us.

NBC has done what they are supposed to have done: they sold ad time. They did this by giving a forum to a deeply disturbed murderer.

What if they hadn't? What would we say when we learned from some other news agency that NBC had suppressed the tape? Wouldn't we be outraged that journalists had failed in their essential duty to give us the whole truth - all the facts?

Now, a local news channel tonight reported on a pair of men who shoved a woman out of her motorized wheelchair and raped her at gunpoint in broad daylight. This is different - these men are still at large, and by reporting their crime and a physical description, we can hope that someone will recognize and report them, leading to their arrest and prosecution, and maybe some increased measure of safety for other would-be victims.

To avidly consume the rantings of a dead murderer is no doubt train-wreck fascinating, but it also encourages the behavior.

There's an old fable that goes like this:
A frog encounters a scorpion drowning at the river's edge, and offers to carry the scorpion safely to the other side. When they reach the other side and the scorpion stings the frog to death, the frog asks why, to which the scorpion's only response is "You knew what I was when you picked me up." There are other versions of this fable: one has a snake. In another, the scorpion kills his savior before they reach safety, killing them both. That's not important.

What's important is that we know what the news is for. To decide for ourselves what we expect of it. When the local paper made a habit of running photos of gory car crashes - people at their worst desperate for help, or bloody remains, my sister canceled her subscription until they mended their ways. We all know that automobile travel is preposterously dangerous, or we should, but seeing our neighbors in their hour of crisis is not informative - it is pornographic. It is prurient. It should be discouraged.

I don't treat my dog when she jumps up unbidden and I don't watch salacious reporting. To behave otherwise would be to compromise myself.

Sensational News

This is my feeling exactly. And, yet, I feel conflicted.

Now, I may have less room to talk than some, having, in fact, been part of the making of a made-for-t.v. movie, but I believe that sensationalizing the acts of a violent person and giving them a platform for their deranged agenda is destructive, rather than informative.

On the other hand, perhaps if we gave these people's angst-ridden ramblings an ear to begin with, we could avoid the violence, the national attention and the pain that ensues.

I think of Eric Houston and it occurs to me that "there, but for the grace of God, goes almost every one of my students." I want to spend the time with them that they need - the time too many of their parents don't - and to avoid letting them feel like they've been painted into a corner.

The problem is not that the media covers these stories, but that they take the perspective that they do and that they wait until after the violence to address these people's needs.

Then again, maybe the problem is that we let the media command so much of our attention.

I don't stay tuned to the news like my sisters do. This is not out of laziness, but out of a very real sense that the news is all reruns and ratings grabs. I don't learn anything watching the news except that I don't like watching the news. I get word somehow that various ballot initiatives might affect me and I do research online to determine how I want to vote. I forecast the weather by looking at the calendar and whether or not the newspaper comes in a plastic bag. I read the editorials occasionally and John Stossel and Thomas Sowell whenever I remember to, but I don't go for the sensational news that seems to sell.

What kind of die are you?

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

The bad guy is in custody

Jeffrey "Curley Fries" Carney is in custody tonight after turning himself in to Sutter County sheriff's deputies.

The website is dead! Long live the website!

I'm taking down my website for a while, but only for a redesign and relaunch. I shall return and when I do will explain the reason for the revamp.

Long lost friends

Long, long ago, in another life, I had a dear friend. We had long, wonderful conversations until all hours of the night, drinking Pepsi and smoking Marlboros until the sun came up and the drunks had all paired off and passed out.

I have many fond memories of many people I met during that life, but none so fond as those of Trixie. Now, I've tried in vain for years to find her again by more than one name, and through more than one medium, but to no avail. I'm the kind of person to bide my time and not worry too much, and it's paid off again.

Now, my dear friend has found me, through this blog, in fact. What's more, she's married to the love of her life, her soulmate, a good man. I couldn't be happier. I even have a blog to read now, and keep up current event.

Wii Rampage

In this redo of the old arcade classic, each player controls a kaiju (giant monster ala King Kong or Godzilla) as it, we, rampages through various cities, destroying buildings, eating people, wrecking cars and light poles. The game is more fun - more cathartic - on the Wii because there is some movement involved. I particularly enjoy the hammering, up-and-down motion that controls some of the best destruction.

In short - it's fun.

D&D at school

I have started a Dungeons and Dragons game at the school where I teach. Initially, when I offered to run the game, I thought I'd have no takers. Then one student's enthusiasm dragged in her friend and I managed to convince two more students that they would enjoy the game, and they have. Today was the fourth gaming session for the first four players (at an hour a pop) and three more players showed up today, eager to join. They enjoyed the game, too, one even remarking "This would make a good video game."

Each day we play (twice a week), each of my players eagerly double-checks to make sure that we're playing. Now, I just need to figure out a way to boost enthusiasm for my class lessons to match that of the game.

The real comfort for me is knowing that at least one of my students sometimes comes to school only to play D&D. Anything that gets them in the door is good.

No love for my Ramblings

Now, I know I don't post very often.

I know, too, that this is not the most engrossing blog ever.

Finally, I will admit that while I've gotten better about reading my sisters' blogs, I don't always contribute comments - I don't usually feel like I have a valuable contribution.

I will admit, though, that I feel a little neglected. Not only do I get few comments on my relatively infrequent posts, I now have a link from only one of my sisters' blogs. I'm sure that they both had links to this blog at one time, but I could be wrong. . .

Then again, I suppose readers expect bloggers to be selective with their links.

New Caledonian crow

Tool use is pretty amazing, but tool making is even more impressive. As best as I can tell, this bird is making a hook with which to retrieve the bucket. That's too cool.

Wii love it (or at least I do)

The new video game console from Nintendo, the Wii (pronounced as the first-person plural pronoun "we") is fun. We had been trying since the thing came out in November or December to secure one, but without avail until last Sunday. It comes with a game, "Wii Sports", which has simple versions of bowling, tennis, boxing, baseball, and golf. In each of these, the player is represented by what Nintendo calls a Mii, a custom-made avatar which each player creates to suit his or her tastes and saves on the wireless remote control. Now - as an aside - if I choose to take my remote control to someone else's house to play games with them on their Wii, I can take my mii with me. This game is by far more fun with multiple players, so we bought a second wireless remote and another game, called "Wii Play," with some more silly, idiosyncratic mini-games that show off the fun motion sensitivity of the Wii's remotes: table tennis, target shooting, billiards and so forth.

These motion-sensitive remotes are the best thing about the Wii, what clearly distinguishes it from its more-expensive competitors, the Sony Playstation 3 and the Microsoft Xbox 360: the Wii's controls are intuitive for non-video gamers. Swing the controller and you swing the baseball bat. Point and squeeze the trigger and the target explodes. This is so much better than the progressively more-complex, arcane codes needed to perform simple actions on the traditional, super-powered, super-expensive consoles.

Pole Position

Suzanne assures me that this is worthy of a blog entry:

I was on my way to the store today to buy some new shoes and behind me on the bridge (where I was observing the 45MPH speed limit) was a young woman following me in a black Saturn coupe. She was following closely enough that I was not able to see the headlights of her car - nor the any part of the hood. As is my modus operandi, I let off the gas and coasted for a while. She pulled up closer as other cars drove around us. I tapped on my brakes - not enough to decelerate, but enough to flash the taillights. She didn't back off, but she finally pass me, waving with fewer than all of her fingers to express her displeasure.

Feeling safe again, I sped back up to the speed limit (now 25MPH) and fell in just behind her. I followed her for eight blocks before she cut across two lanes of traffic to pass in a right-hand-turn lane and weave back to my lane right in front of me. I followed her for roughly another fifteen blocks, still observing the speed limit, before I moved over into the left-hand-turn lane I needed and got about five car lengths in front of my long-time traffic companion.

Not only did she not get there faster than me, she was lucky to get there at all.

I don't always drive safely, but I try to. I will never understand why people try so hard to get just one or two car lengths ahead, endangering themselves, their passengers, and those with whom they share the road.

It just seems stupid to me.