The Outlet

Moving on

2008-02-14T18:28:00.000-08:00

Dear all 30-40 people who look at this site every day,

I decided to grow up and graduate from Blogger. I got my own domain name and made my own site using wordpress:

The Outlet

It's got all the old posts plus all of my photos, and secret bonus features. Or maybe just photos...you'll have to check it out to be sure.
Sincerely,
Todd

Prototypes

2008-01-22T23:30:00.000-08:00

I'm consistently about 1-2 years behind the times when it comes to finding new music. It works out well though, because it allows time for all the Spin and Rolling Stone hype to blow over. That way, I can sift through what remains and pick up the best of what each year offers all at once.

Before I left for my Hawaii rotations, I did some musical research on 2007 albums. For the most part, I was unimpressed with what I found out there. I was a little indied out; I didn't want another Arcade Fire album or Feist's latest or another posthumous Elliott Smith cash-in. I wanted something fun, and hit a major home run when I picked up Prototypes' self-titled album.

This album is a blast. [The] Prototypes are a French synth-pop-handclap-punk extravaganza. Isabelle Le Doussal sings in well-enunciated French, most of which I could understand with my college freshman level language skills. Even if you don't understand a lick of it, you get the gist (i.e. dance to the shit that's on the radio). Don't take my word for it; check it out - don't know if this is legal, but they're only clips:

"Danse sur la merde"

"Je ne te connais pas"

"Medicalement"

Apprently this album was a mash-up of 2 other French albums Prototypes released over the last few years and re-released for American audiences. It's the best French export of 2007 in my opinion.

First Impressions

2008-01-21T22:40:00.000-08:00

I sat down to write a blog about how awesome my first 2 weeks in Hawaii were but found myself somewhat uninspired (read: lazy). So instead, here are some inane observations:

Drivers are very courteous and drive very slowly (60mph or less)
Honolulu traffic sucks both ways, especially when maniacs throw children into traffic
Weeks after the fact, people still lament Hawaii's trouncing in the Sugar Bowl
More people worship June Jones than any other major religious deity
You can find a beach or mountain to climb within a 15 minute drive of wherever you are on O'ahu
Anywhere you look could be a panoramic vista worthy of photographing
People really do wear aloha shirts as business attire. I look like a Mormon in my shirt and tie
People really do say "Aloha" when answering the phone
When talking, people intersperse "Yah" into their sentences. "It's really cold today, yah. At night it got down to the 60s, yah, and I had to close my windows." This isn't like the Fargo "yah;" it's actually more like "yuh."
Everyone born here surfs, and they do it well into old age

I've never been anywhere with such a rich mix of cultures, history, geology, plant and animal life, and opportunities for lying on the beach. Do I want to spend the next three years here for my Pediatrics residency though?

Depending on what I think of the program when I interview next month, it could be pretty high on my list. I'm ranking programs in other expensive cities (Boston, NYC, DC) already. I feel like I'd miss my friends and connections on the east coast though. It'd be hard to convince my buddies to fly for 10 hours just to visit me for a few days. Spending my post-call days sleeping here does have its appeal, though...

RIFFS OF THE GODS! - 1st Movement, 5th Symphony (Beethoven)

2008-01-07T21:56:00.000-08:00

Ludwig von "Dave" Beethoven wore many mantles: inventor of the telescope, founding father, convicted heretic. However, most people aren't aware of his musical exploits. Indeed, he wrote a ton of symphonies, minarets, and virtuosos. Many consider him to be the first metal god of the classical world. Others think he was a total pusillanimous dandy. I think he kicked ass, regardless of his foppish frilly cravates and powdered wigs.

The music speaks for itself. I mean, listen to his 5th Symphony. During this section, I bet ol' Ludwig Van was pissed at one of his out-of-tune oboists and started strangling him mid-symphony. Everyone else kept playing and upped their intensity, mimicking their conductor and creating the manic snippet we hear below:

In all seriousness though, I played the viola in Beethoven's 5th years ago, and it was a blast. And by blast, I mean blast like someone blowing up a mountain of harpsichords with TNT.

Paradise

2008-01-06T23:20:00.000-08:00

I've finally made it. After months of toiling, studying and test-taking, I'm finally starting my rotations in Hawaii. This place is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Everywhere you look is a scenic lookout and photo opportunity. Groceries are horrendously expensive, but that was expected. I finally got to start using my new camera today and unleash its power on unsuspecting plants and volcanic craters. Everything's getting uploaded to flickr here. Here's my best shot from today:

This is the steep path leading up to the top of Koko Crater, which is about 1o minutes from my place. I thought I was in shape until I climbed to the top in a half an hour after losing about 10 pounds of water weight. I'll be starting my dermatology elective tomorrow, which will set the tone for the next month...I'm hoping that tone will be "kickass."

In other news, I'm in the process of creating a new blog/website using my new domain name and wordpress. Seeing as how I have lots of other fun things to do right now, it may be a while before it's finished, but it will be within the next month at least.

In even more other news, I'm almost done reading Island of the Sequined Love Nun by Christopher Moore, lent to me by the lovely Jennifer. It's a hilarious page-turner about religion, alcoholism, penile trauma, anthropology, and medical malpractice. Oh, and it takes place in Micronesia...which is kind of close to Hawaii. How appropriate! When I get back I'm putting all the Hawaii Five-O seasons on my Netflix queue. Rock on.

So this is the new year...

2008-01-01T18:38:00.000-08:00

2007 turned out to be decidedly mediocre year. A few trips spruced up the year, including a little travel including a week in Jamaica and a weekend in San Diego. For the most part, I slogged my way through my mid 20s, transitioning from one short-lived dating experience to another with no long-term prospects in sight. My summer consisted of the one weekend between the third and fourth years of medical school. November and December were blown on Pediatrics residency interviews and taking my board exams. And here I sit, on New Year's Day, alone in my house, blasting Bondo do Role to cheer me up, and packing for my upcoming 2-month trip. Hawaii sure as shit has more photogenic camera fodder than my backyard.

and I don't feel any different...

New camera, PART DEUX!

2007-12-23T20:52:00.000-08:00

After two and a half years of faithful service, my Olympus C-770 Ultra Zoom finally kicked it. Well, not really. It turns on fine but never turns off, which means the zoom lens is constantly sticking out, and I need to take the battery out to kill it. And that just won't do.

What a great camera it was. It's been beaten, battered, drowned and resuscitated (Labor Day weekend 2005), and most recently used as a paperweight. It's provided beautiful visual memories of Peru, Chicago, Jamaica, and my medical school years. As I write this, I'm getting a little choked up...I'm going to miss my Olympus.

To fill the void, I've upgraded in a big way. It's time for me to join the world of big boy amateur photography. I went and got myself a Nikon D40x Digital SLR, along with an 18-55mm lens and a giant 55-200mm vibration reduction lens. I haven't had a chance to get outside and use it yet, but why bother? It's been gray and miserable for about 2 months now. I'll unleash its true power when I go to Hawaii in a few weeks. YEAH!!!

I never did finish that Worcester photo project, did I?

RIFFS OF THE GODS! - So It Goes (Unearth)

2007-11-20T18:42:00.000-08:00

Unearth holds a special place in my heart as Boston's best metal act of the day. The lead singer, Trevor Phipps, is my friend Dan's older brother, which means I've gotten to hang out with them backstage at the Palladium and on their tour bus, which was one of the coolest concert moments of my life. You can even see Dan and Joe in one of their videos...I know famous people!

They've come out with three albums, the most recent of which was with Terry Date of Pantera production fame. These guys are so much better than the typical nu-metal sludge that's out there. Trevor's mighty roar and never breaks into the generic clean vocal crap most other bands use. Their last 2 albums have been more metal than hardcore, with a twin guitar attack, non-stop solos, and blazing speed (though a few mind-blowing breakdowns are still mixed in - check out 4:00 into the song). Here's a piece from "So It Goes" off In The Eyes of Fire:

This stuff is like blunt trauma to the skull, and I love every minute of it. It doesn't get much more loud, vicious, and bone-crunching than this - without being a sloppy, disorganized mess of noise and screaming that is. Unearth's playing at the Living Room in Providence on December 8th. It's sure to be a dirty, intimate show, and you can bet I'll be there.

Blink or die

2007-11-20T16:49:00.000-08:00

Driving for the last 3 months has turned me into a monstrous, slavering lunatic on the road. My impatience as of late has gone from bad to horrific. Think: someone with the rage virus from 28 Days Later trapped inside a car with the ability to drive, spewing blood and smashing their head against the windshield. My biggest pet peeve on the road is improper use of blinkers, or directionals if you're a wiseass. Here are a few examples of why my head is dangerously close to exploding every time I commute by automobile:

Situation 1: Driver in one lane wants to get into another lane. Traffic is congested. Driver puts on their signal. Then they just wait to change lanes. And wait. And wait. This is not what blinkers are for. Blinkers signal impending action. Blinkers don't signal intent. If you put your blinker on, make your move quickly. Don't wait for half a mile, a mile, or two before you actually do something. Other drivers won't know when you're going to change lanes. It's as bad as not using a blinker at all!

Situation 2: Driver changes lanes, using blinker correctly. Then they keep driving along, blissfully unaware of their ticking dashboard as they pollute the air with their vapid, inane bluetooth cyborg wannabe headset conversations. Pay attention!

Situation 3: Driver is a total dickwad and cuts you off without using their directional. Ass!

All of these situations can be boiled down to poor communication skills. Isn't this one of society's biggest problems? Most of our global strife can be traced back to ignorance fueled by lack of communication. Our highways are a microcosm for everything that's wrong in the world. I'd rather be on the road with someone driving like a complete maniac while using their blinker than with a blinker-less conscientious driver. I'd prefer someone to say "I have a plan, and that plan is to punch you in the face," then does it, as opposed to someone who just walks up and decks me. BLINK OR DIE!!!

Late-night social ramblings

2007-11-18T02:43:00.000-08:00

It's 3:00AM on Sunday morning, I'm alone, and I despise living in Worcester.

Tonight I had the pleasure of hanging out with Dan, Jess and company in Boston. Dan and I first went to McFadden's in Faneuil Hall. The BC game was playing there, and I got to witness our first victory in a few weeks. I was pretty distracted by the non-stop parade of gorgeous girls, from the bartender to the bachelorette party to the cute, slightly overdressed pair of girls standing next to us at the bar. It hit me after my second beer that I'd never have the guts to make a move.

Why? What keeps me from even saying hello? Dropping a stupid pickup line? Offering to buy them a drink? Maybe it's because those are the best things I can do. They'll never know who I really am. Why bother, right? But what if, though? What if one of these random girls at a bar could wind up being the girl of my dreams and future wife, and the only thing keeping it from happening was me getting up the guts to say something?

Right.

Whenever I go out like this, I'm torn between wanting to lose my inhibitions and dance around like an idiot talking to everyone and just getting the hell out of dodge. Part of me wants to strike up random conversations, meet girls, and make out on the dancefloor. The other part realizes the [probable] futility of it all. What am I looking for, anyway? I don't want a one-night stand with a wasted 22 year old secretary. I don't want a long-term relationship. I threw away a perfectly good chance at that with a wonderful girl a month ago because I'm barely going to be around for the next 3 months. How could I start something meaningful at this point?

As all these thoughts fly through my head, my hatred of Worcester grows. Being out here has weakened or severed lots of the ties I had from college and high school. My group of med school friends out here are awesome, but they're all I have in Worcester. I've made some great friends here outside of med school, but they're few and far between. Now, at the end of school, everyone is splitting off, getting married, having babies, moving away, and starting new lives. My social network here is splintering.

Theodore Roosevelt once said, "A man is lucky to make it through life with a handful of good friends." Well, that's not a direct quotation. You could imagine him saying that though...then eating a grizzly bear. I feel like I need to work harder to keep the connections I have now, otherwise I'll just keep drifting farther away. One of my biggest fears is falling into a rut. I need to keep challenging myself on a daily basis. I need to make the call and try to hang out with people. It's easier to not call than it is to make plans. I know for a fact what would've happened if I'd stayed in.

When all is said and done, I'm really happy I went out tonight, even if I didn't go crazy on the dance floor, make out, and get numbers. I got to hang out with some great people I hadn't seen in a while, had a few pops, and got to see my alma mater put Clemson in their place. I just have to keep lacing up my cons and going out there, regardless of the outcome. Who knows where the night will take me...

RIFFS OF THE GODS! - Creeping Death (Metallica)

2007-11-12T18:04:00.000-08:00

I love old Metallica with a passion. In my mind, the only "true" Metallica albums are their first four: Kill 'Em All, Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets, and ...And Justice for All. Everything after that is crap. Yes, this includes the Black Album, and especially Load. The heart of Metallica lies in those first four albums. Kill 'Em All was a lean, mean thrashfest from a bunch of zit-faced losers from So Cal. The next three albums constituted the "golden age" of Metallica. Cliff Burton wasn't dead, the band wasn't a bunch of assholes, their best album was yet to come out (Master of Puppets), and they were just starting to get huge.

Ride the Lightning was where they really hit their stride and established some song patterns and themes. Each album had a loose theme of its own: death, manipulation, and injustice. The song pattern goes as such:

1) Opening thrasher (Fight Fire with Fire, Battery, Blackened)
2) Thematic title track, usually 8-9 minutes long
3) Sludgy, chunky riffer (For Whom the Bell Tolls)
4) Slow start then explosive ending (One, Sanitarium, Fade to Black)
5) Relatively generic
6) Relatively generic #2 (except Harvester of Sorrow)
7) Long, operatic instrumental (Orion, Live is To Die, Creeping Death)
8) Closing thrasher

This formula suited them well from 1984-1988. I wish I was a high schooler back then: rich, junk-bond parents, easy coke, DeLoreans, Molly Ringwald, and...Metallica concerts. Yeah.

This clip is from Creeping Death, the 6 minute biblically-tinged shred-fest. Hetfied shrieks about the angel of death sweeping through Egypt, killing the first-born sons of the non-Jews. Wasn't that in Ezekiel or something? Whenever I hear it, I think of this painting I saw at the MFA. It was based on the Seventh Plague of Egypt, and showed fire and hail raining down. Badass!!! Check it out:

Adventures in Commuting

2007-11-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

My last year of medical school is flying by. As part of my fourth year, I've been doing electives at other hospitals to see what their pediatric programs are like. So far, I've worked at Brown, Tufts/NEMC, and Mass General. Sweet, huh? The only downside is that I've been commuting in from Worcester every day. WEAK. Here's the rundown of my travels, whether you like it or not.

September: Worcester to Providence
Leave: 7am/Arrive 8:30am/Car-Garage-Shuttle to Hospital
Cost: Gas alone (free parking)
This trip doesn't have too many options. Unfortunately for me, the Worcester/Providence rail line is freight only and 146 South is the only way down. Despite going down there during rush hour, the drive was never too bad. There are some nice landmarks, including Purgatory Chasm, a defunct drive-in, and an active drive-in. On Mondays and Tuesdays, traffic could get pretty nasty right outside of North Providence (around 8am), but the stop-and-go never lasted more than a half hour or so. Plus, the free parking Brown gave me made life pretty easy. Hoory for Providence!

October: Worcester to Boston's South End
Leave: 6:38am/Arrive 8:30am/Car-MBTA Lot-Commuter Rail-Walk to hospital
Cost: $250 (Zone 8 pass), $1/day parking
This was Commuter Rail month. I bought myself the Cadillac of T passes, the vaunted ZONE 8. This pass granted me access to any and all forms of MBTA transportation, including ferries, the train, subway, and buses. Having that potential was pretty cool, but I doubt I got $250 worth of transportation out of it. Anyway, I took the Commuter Rail from Worcester to South Station and walked from there to New England Medical Center. Door-to-door was about 2 hours. I was able to sleep for the hour-plus train ride, but the train was almost never on time. That, and there are precious few trains going back to Worcester between 12pm and 4pm, which is when I got through with work. Oh, and 4 hours of each day was spent commuting.

An interesting phenomenon on the Commuter Rail happens as the train gets closer to South Station. People will stand up in the center aisle to get a better "spot," allowing them to bolt off the train the instant it stops. Sheesh. They must really like their jobs...I prefer to sleep.

November: Worcester to Downtown Boston
Leave: 6:20am/Arrive 8:00am/Car-Alewife Station-Red Line-Walk to hospital
Cost: Gas to Alewife, $4/day subway, $5/day parking
This has been a hybrid month. I drive from Worcester to Alewife Station, pay $5 parking, and take the Red Line to Charles Street/MGH. It's usually a benign drive, but can get pretty hairy early in the week. It's given me a chance to listen to what Massachusetts blue-collar conservatives who like Disturbed have to say on the Hillman Morning Show. I know, it's a guilty pleasure, but oh so enlightening.

Alewife station also happens to be the site of mass hysteria. The parking garage only has one exit, so during busy evenings it can take up to 20 minutes just to leave. To avoid this, people will burst off the train as it pulls into Alewife and sprint up the escalators in order to be the first people out. If you snooze, it'll be almost half an hour before you're back to Route 2.

In conclusion, I only have one more week of this incessant travel before I can relax. I've blown quite a bit of money, but the hospital experience has made it well worth it.

RIFFS OF THE GODS! - Seabeast (Mastodon)

2007-11-04T17:51:00.000-08:00

This next riff is from Mastodon, the "experimental" metal band from Atlanta. By experimental, I mean their drummer packs their songs with weird time signatures and over-the-top, unnecessary fills that drive some people nuts (myself occasionally included). When I saw them in New Jersey on the Unholy Alliance tour, there were times I wished they'd stop beating around the bush and just lay down a kickass, headbanging riff. There were also times I wished the scary leather-clad bikers smoking in the men's room at the Meadowlands would stop making fun of my Anthrax shirt. Assholes. Here's the end of "Seabeast" from Leviathan. After a total sludgefest for most of the song, you're rewarded with this:

YES!!! Despite the experimentality, the album's pretty kickass . It's based on Moby Dick, with an ominous nautical theme and songs like "Blood and Thunder" and "Aqua Dementia." I'm actually in the middle of reading Moby Dick right now, and it's extremely slow going. Herman Melville dwells on every miniscule detail you can imagine. There are entire chapters devoted to descriptions of bowls of clam chowder and Ahab's pipe. Cripes. Come on Herman, just get to the whale killing and revenge! The novel's blubber could probably be boiled down to a 50-page action epic...or an hour long metal album.

Break your backs and crack your oars, men

Here's to you, old friend

2007-10-14T18:31:00.000-07:00

It's been an amazing 42 months with my Indi Blue 2004 Mini Cooper. The lease, an impulsive decision made in my youth after an abrupt '89 Chevy Celebrity breakdown/layoff/severance package, is almost up. As I reflect upon all of the good times, some tears comes to my eyes. This Mini's served me well. He's graced the streets of Manhattan and blazed his way through downtown Baltimore. He's worn a path down the left lane of the Pike and all over Storrow Drive. I've been T-boned in one minor accident (old fart not paying attention at a stop sign, his fault) and avoided countless others with Mini's trademark agility. Girlfriends have come and gone, but Max Mini has been there for me till the end [of my 42 month lease].

During his tenure as Todd's Chariot, Max has been a huge social asset. I've connected with other mini owners in the real world (my old roommate, multiple co-workers) and on the road. Lots of girls thought he was "cute." I also would've taken "super stud sex machine" or "fuel-efficient non-shitbox," but "cute" will also do. The "Mini wave" is alive and strong, and if you don't have a Mini, well, you wouldn't understand. (Actually, you would - Mini owners wave at each other on the road)

Max has also been the subject of stalker-like activity. Several months ago, one of our many weird neighbors left this picture and a message in a plastic baggie on my roommate's car:

This message was scrawled on the back of my neighbor's business card, along with the message "NO CALLS - page me." Next thing you know there'll be a picture of me doing my patented underpants calisthenics taped to our front door with the message "Neighbor, please keep pic. Nice ass, fellow co-worker a dude enthusiaste - do not call, page only, cash only."

I digress.

After reflecting on the golden years, I focused on the future. What would I do with Max? After careful deliberation I decided to purchase and finance the residual. While this isn't the ideal situation financially, I could always turn around and re-sell Max for a profit, as Minis retain their value remarkably well. In all seriousness, I don't think I could sell him. I've poured way too much work into him to back out now. It would be like if Michelangelo decided to stop carving David after finishing his head. I'm not done yet. There are more streets to carve out there, and the open road is my giant hunk of white marble.

RIFFS OF THE GODS! - Postmortem (Slayer)

2007-09-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

So I've been gone for a while, but I've been busy...mainly getting my own domain and figuring out how to publish mp3s on Blogger, with some help from Joe. To celebrate, I'm inaugurating a new segment called RIFFS OF THE GODS, in which I publish my favorite metal riffs of all time along with a blurb about what each riff means to me. If you thought my readership was low now, just wait! It can go so much lower!

This is the opening of "Postmortem" from Slayer's Reign in Blood album. When this song starts up, I can picture myself as an evil king marching towards a balcony in my castle's highest tower. As I come to the edge, my evil army goes nuts and starts beating their armor and smashing their swords against their shields. SLAYER!!!!

I heart blueberries

2007-08-07T19:46:00.000-07:00

Blueberries are my new favorite food. Now that it's the peak of blueberry season (July was National Blueberry Month), I can get pints for cheap at the grocery store - sometimes 2 or 3 pints for the price of one. When this happens, I usually go through a pint a day without blinking. Nothing's better than a pint full of primo, giant, sweet blueberries. Well, maybe an icy cold can of Coke, but blueberries are a close second.

This past weekend I took a trip up to Lancaster with my girlfriend to go blueberry picking. I've been apple picking before, but blueberry picking was completely different. First, blueberries are much smaller than apples. This means it takes a long time to pick my fill of berries (about an hour). Second, blueberries are a different color than apples. They are blue. Are you following all this? Good.

After picking for an hour and getting roasted, I sat down to enjoy the fruits of my labor (pun intended):

The raw berries were delicious, but deep down inside I craved more. I wanted a more creative way to express my passionate, somewhat disturbing love for blueberries. That's right, I decided to bake blueberry muffins FROM SCRATCH...including a sugary cinnamon crust on top. My first attempt was a failure, not so much in ingredients, but in the baking process. I didn't use the little cup things in the pan; instead I greased it. This was a mistake, as my muffins disintegrated when I tried to remove them. The second attempt was a monumental success, and my friends even complimented me on them...after the requisite 45 minute lambasting for making blueberry muffins. I was quite proud of my baked creations. Maybe I'll bake more often.

In the words of Obi-Wan Kenobi, I've "taken [my] first steps into a larger [baking] world [of blueberry muffins]."

Powderkeg Thunderball is coming for you

2007-07-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

Over the last several years, we've had some major offensive operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Operations Enduring Freedom, Phantom Thunder, and the recent Arrowhead Ripper come to mind. I've been inspired...definitely not by the military aspect of it, but more by the creative naming. Do these names really come from top brass, military history, or from some government-funded PR machine? All you need to do is throw together some tough-sounding, nonsensical multisyllabic words, and bang! Phantom Thunder is knocking down your door, spreading freedom throughout the land. I've come up with some new names for future offensives, hopefully we won't need to use them:

Operation Napalm Buttblast
Operation Powderkeg Thunderball
Operation Hangman Slaughterhouse
Operation Chupacabra Stingray
Operation Super Desert Doppleganger
Operation Foxhole Carpetbomb
Operation Hawkeye Aquaman
Operation Scorpion Shitstorm

Applying these names to daily life can make you sound ridiculously important around the water cooler. For example: "Yeah, this morning I was engaged in Operation Porcelain Annihilation after the conclusion of Operation Rolling Jagerblast at approximately Oh-Four-Hundred hours, and let me tell you, Operation Wanting To Be At Work Today is failing miserably." Shock and awe, indeed.

Synthesized emotion

2007-06-28T20:08:00.000-07:00

I hate buying cards regardless of the event. Maybe it's the fact that I almost always buy cards at the last minute, squeezing my way between the other sweaty degenerates who forgot to buy them. Maybe it's because most cards are concoctions of the personal expression business, meant to inspire guilt and synthesize emotion. I spent a while in Walgreens the other day searching for a birthday card for my dad but wound up doing some research instead.

One of the first things you notice are the stereotypical themes in most cards. In Hallmark land, all sons have been pains in the asses their whole lives. They pump their parents for money and cause incessant mischeif, but in the end they're lovable scamps. That is, if they buy this type of card for their moms. If they don't they're just assholes. All adolescent boys have a common love for four things: car keys, pizza, diplomas, and soccer balls. As for dads, they love certain items too. Come Father's Day, they're all about golf bags, fishing, wearing ties, and teaching their kids how to burp. Fathers and sons often unite in these cards to do things that just drive mom nuts - they're still lovable scamps though! All middle-age women seem to enjoy guys without shirts and have snappy one-liners to impart to those unfortunate souls turning 40.

My least favorite cards are the gushy, overly emotional sap-fests that weigh about 2 pounds and ooze messages in graceful cursive: "For you, FATHER, the guiding light of the universe"; "Mother, without you I would be living in a DUMPSTER"; "Dearest Grandmother, I've always wanted to marry a woman JUST LIKE YOU." Does anyone actually mean this stuff? I feel like the more you care about someone, the less you even need to buy a card at all.

This brings me to my next point: why are cards necessary or expected anyways? If you're seeing the person on their birthday/special occasion, why can't a heartfelt in-person message suffice? A handshake? A hug? Hallmark has done a great job of making us think cards are important in some way. We can buy "belated" cards for almost any occasion - manufactured guilt!

Ok, ok, there are some cards I like. Shoebox cards are pretty funny, and I can usually find a card with enough of a bizarre twist to suit my needs. I occasionally pick up a card that enrages me because it actually makes me feel something. For example, there was a black and white photo of a sad-looking dog poking his head out of a house window, paws on the windowsill. The outside read something along the lines of "There's just one more thing I wanted to say" On the inside, in little letters, was "don't go." Good lord, I almost started bawling in the aisle. Then I listened to Slayer on the ride home.

In the end, I got a card with a money wearing a fez. Hee hee, monkeys with hats. I hope my dad isn't reading this.

Rosebud...

2007-06-21T18:35:00.000-07:00

This month the American Film Institute released an updated version of the "100 Best Films of All Time." As always, Citizen Kane topped the list. There were a few notable changes since the last version was released in 1998. For example, the Charlie Chaplin film "City Lights" soared from #76 to #11 and "Saving Private Ryan" made its debut at #71. Some older movies were added, as can be seen with #16 below:

10. "The Wizard of Oz," 1939
11. "City Lights," 1931
12. "The Searchers," 1956
13. "Star Wars," 1977
14. "Psycho," 1960
15. "2001: A Space Odyssey," 1968
16. "Transformers: The Movie," 1986
17. "The Graduate," 1967
18. "The General," 1927
19. "On the Waterfront," 1954
20. "It's a Wonderful Life," 1946
21. "Chinatown," 1974

In all seriousness, Orson Welles, director of Citizen Kane, was the voice of Unicron in the Transformers movie. Gotta be worth something, right? "Fellowship of the Ring" jumped right in at #50. Come on, guys! It was a great movie, but better than Rocky, Jaws, or Silence of the Lambs? I feel like lots of the new ones added to the list will shift over the years. Also, I would've liked to see "The Shining" or "Metropolis" on there. Or maybe "The Big Lebowski." Definitely "Tron." Who really likes "Cabaret" anyways? And for the love of god, why is "Easy Rider" on there at all? WORST MOVIE EVER!

Dude, Maria is totally hot!

Roots

2007-06-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

I was able to spend some QT at home today for Father's Day. I got to talking with my dad about the fate of the old family house in New Hampshire and it got me all upset.

Way back around the time that Peterborough, NH was established, my ancestors bought a small chunk of land. Sometime in the early 1800s, they built a small 2-story house, complete with well and outhouse. It's persisted ever since with some yearly upkeep and TLC provided throughout the generations. My grandparents have been taking care of it for a long time now, cleaning the outhouse, making sure the place was locked up over the winter, and hosting summertime get-togethers. My grandfather has childhood memories of it, as does my father, and as do I. I remember the bumpy ride up the dirt road to get there and flinging crab apples into the woods with sharpened sticks on the Fourth of July. I felt like I was in a different world, surrounded by woods and forced to poop in a big, scary dirt hole.

Unfortunately, the world is getting smaller. Monadnock Community Hospital wants to buy the land our house is on to build...get ready...an assisted living center. The woods I used to think were infinite aren't impervious to progress. My grandparents still own the land the house is on, but another adjacent chunk was already sold to the hospital. Their foot is in the door. The house also has a rotting foundation that needs a lot of work. What it boils down to eventually is this: the hospital will want to buy, and if our extended family can't come up with the money and time needed for upkeep of this house, it could be history. Crap.

I had visions of having family gatherings there as an adult, complete with grilling, fireworks, and kids running around. It's times like these that I wish I were actually making money instead of wallowing in debt for another 15 years.

Will our species eventually reproduce so much that we blanket the entire earth? Will every inch of land be developed someday? Will the bottom of the ocean be the only wilderness left on the planet? We're pushing pretty hard and it can't go on forever.

Volleyball at the old house a few years back

Wiiiiiiiiiiiii!

2007-06-13T15:52:00.000-07:00

I finally found a Wii. I had always wanted one, but was too lazy to put the time and effort into tracking one down. The other day in Best Buy I walked up to the dorky (ok, dorkier than me) sales associate and asked if he had the Transformers DVD in stock. He kind of snorted and smiled and said "Uhhh, hey, that movie isn't even out in theaters yet!" I kindly reminded him of the animated 1986 version and a light went off in his head. "Oh yeah, in the family section!" he exclaimed. Once he found it, he decided to keep a copy for himself. Nerd!

I digress.

On a whim, I ask him if they have any Wiis in stock. Nope. Leominster got a shipment in of 30 that morning and still had about 15 left. Seeing as Leominster was a whopping 15 minutes away, the deal was sealed. I drove up there with my roomie and split the device. There were only 2 left by the time we'd gotten there. $150 well spent.

This is the most fun gaming system I've ever used. The gyroscopes in the controllers keep you honest. If you're not bowling completely straight, no strike for you. If you don't swing the baseball bat at exactly the right time, strike for you. Wii Sports is a lot of fun, especially with a group. You look like a pack of lunatics in front of the TV, thrashing and jabbing at the air. Even better is the Virtual Console, basically an online store that lets you buy old Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, and Nintendo 64 games for cheap ($5, $8, $10 respectively). Needless to say, Punch-Out!! has gotten about 420 hours of playing time in the last week . That damned Soda Popinski gets me every time though. I need to get my timing right. Well, back to work...

Riker LOVES Punch-Out...

More than Meets the Eye

2007-06-12T20:05:00.001-07:00

I'm regressing. After seeing a trailer for the new Michael Bay directed remake of "Transformers," I couldn't help but go out and buy the 1986 animated movie. They recently released a 20th anniversary special edition DVD, complete with an interview with the director and original television commercials.

I absolutely loved the movie, but some parts were really disturbing from what I remember. In the television series we barely saw any violence. There was a lot of shooting back and forth, but nobody ever got hit. Occasionally someone fell off a cliff after the rock underneath them got blasted, but since all the Transformers could fly, it was no big deal. Come to think of it, what's the point in transforming into a plane if they can fly around as hulking robots anyways?

Ok, back to the violence. This movie had an agenda. It killed off almost all of our favorite characters, both Autobot and Decepticon, to make way for a new slew of toys. Unfortunately, these characters were annihilated in swift and brutal fashion within 20 minutes of the start of the movie. Ironhide was shot point blank in the face by Megatron. Prowl spewed flames out of his eyes and mouth before falling to the floor. Optimus Prime bit it after his battle with Megatron, and turned all grey afterwards. Blah! These images haunted me for years, and it was difficult to watch even now.

Aside from the violence, Transformers: The Movie was a mind-blowing acid trip. You had a planet-eating devil transformer, an Eric Idle-voiced robot who lived on a planet of junk, transformer-eating "Sharkticons," and the lovable mentally handicapped Dinobots. Add an amazing 80s soundtrack featuring classics by Stan Bush and a title track by Lion and you have a cinematic masterpiece.

After revisiting this 80s nugget, I went home and dug up my old Transformers. Most are in a state of disrepair, missing fists or guns, or un-transformable. Some come close to matching their former glory. Check it out, Ultra Magnus and Rodimus Prime are looking pretty good, all things considered:

Transform and roll out...

Cat Piano

2007-06-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

Turns out Boston College Magazine is good for something after all. My old history professor wrote a piece about Anathasius Kircher, a Jesuit who came up with all sorts of inventions and explinations for things back in the 1600s. The long and short of it is that he claimed to know a lot of stuff; some of it he truly did know and other stuff he just thought he knew (like Egyptian heiroglyphs). One of the inventions attributed to him is the cat piano. Guess what? It's a piano with cats.

Anathasius described the piano in Musurgia Universalis, but didn't actually invent it...the cat piano was designed to cheer up a depressed Italian prince. When you pressed the keys, an iron spike would poke the cats, each one producing a different pitched yelp. HA! If I was a 17th century Italian prince who hated cats and had no understanding of animal rights, I'd be laughing my ass off. As it is, I like cats. Here's a picture of Charlie in a bag:

San Diego

2007-05-29T19:35:00.000-07:00

So I just got back from a visit to the left coast, and boy was it a great time. It was my first time in San Diego, and if I could say one thing about the city, it'd be this: boobies. Ok, ok. Bikes and boobies. Everyone rides those big old beach cruisers, and I mean everyone, from the homeless, shirtless guys to the Dolce & Gabbana bug-eyed sunglasses girls. There's also some sort of genetic selection going on out there, resulting in a lot of people who look way, way better than I do. Whatever, I have brains and personality. Right?

The best part of San Diego was being with my friends, but some fun additions include the Cabrillo National Monument area, San Diego Zoo, and the Pacific...at all hours of the night.

Anyways, Joe and Eliza's bathroom featured some hanging framed albums. Simon and Garfunkel's "Bookends" hangs directly across from the shower, and this caused me some distress as I exited the shower, dripping wet and naked. I mean, look at these guys. Simon is giving a soft, emotionless but slightly disapproving stare with those big, black eyes. Garfunkel has the subtle smirk of someone who knows more than he should. Does he??

Simon: "Why...why are you naked?"

Garfunkel: "Hey...you're naked, huh?"

Tools of the Trade, Part 2

2007-04-22T18:43:00.000-07:00

What's the most important skill as a third year medical student clerk? Is it good communication? Is it an encyclopedic knowledge of the pathophysiology of all disease processes known to man? Is it good personal hygeine? No, no, and no.

The answer seems simple but it's actually an elegant art. It's a crucial skill that seems rooted in laziness but is practiced by only the most perceptive and cunning individuals. What is this skill? Looking busy. Here's what's in my toolbox of deceit and laziness:

1) Clipboard thing: This is one of the most crucial tools. It serves a utilitarian purpose; it holds notes, books, pens, granola bars, you name it. In the context of looking busy it's invaluable. Bustling about with this under your arm makes you look approximately 75 times more busy. It's also an excellent fidgeting tool. I've flipped the various compartments of this open and closed countless times just to look like I'm searching for something, shuffling the papers around endlessly. It also comes in handy for spreading disease. Awful, awful disease.

2) Beeper: Relatively useless. The last thing I need now is a reminder of the ball and chain that awaits me as a resident. I've used my beeper to check the time and set alarms to wake up when on call. It can also be a wonderful excuse to leave a room. All you have to do is scrunch up your face all serious, look at your beeper, and quickly stalk out of the room. Crap, maybe Todd missed a page! More like: Crap, maybe Todd left to take a crap and buy a soda but didn't feel like explaining it to anyone! I've recieved a few pages with this thing as well. I pictured using this as a phaser or a time-delay smokescreen grenade (for quick escapes), but I don't think mine has those functions built in.

3) Book:
Also relatively useless. I never actually read when I was on the wards; there were just too many distractions. I needed a few hours to devote to reading to actually absorb anything. Books provide a wonderful excuse to "go read." You can disappear for a while if your work is done and "enlighten yourself" for a while. They make you look like a responsible student who uses all their free time to learn as much as possible. In truth, I would prop one of these things open, look at it, and let my brain have a little field trip. The day before the exam, we'd usually get reacquainted.

4) PDA: This is almost as important as your clipboard. Again, while furrowing your brow and looking serious, poke around on this for a while and make it seem like you're looking up drugs on Epocrates. I'd do this all the time during down time or awkward pauses and play "Bubble Breaker" or Solitaire. Why make strained conversation with a wooden attending when you can look like you're researching stuff but be playing games instead? Genius! This was also my only calendar, and without it I'd have absolutely no idea where I was supposed to go. Like my beeper, I always thought this thing would make a good Type I phaser.

5) Powerbar: Ok, so Powerbars are actually useful. Lots of times you're stuck without any food for hours on end in the OR, and the only thing keeping you from eating your own eyeballs is one of these. If you scarf these down often enough and look really harried at the same time, it makes everyone think you're always on the go and never have time to sit down to eat lunch. Unfortunately, it's often true. The bar pictured has been sitting in my white coat pocket since early January, mmmmm.

This concludes my moaning and groaning about surgery and my obsession with comparing my tools to Star Trek inventions. The end.