Germans Aren't Famous For Humor

At my job, as much as we work in electronic media, we still get the occasional call to print some shit on paper. And for those jobs, we hire printing vendors. Some might call them printers. Before we use a new printer, we like to check out their samples, you know, to make sure they know their business to our satisfaction.

So this week, we got some samples, and as the designers were reviewing, one of them started giggling. For one of samples was a brochure from a company called FAG. We're really just 12-year-olds at my office.

FAG is a German company, and nowhere in the brochure does it say what FAG stands for, but it's full of other terrific information. For example, we learned that FAG makes steel balls. FAG is also known for its industrial lubricants. Oh, yes, but we did giggle.

After all, I'm a 12-year-old too.

We were surprised (and impressed!) that FAG owns fag.com. I won't link to it directly, because you won't know just how wrong it feels to put fag.com into your browser unless you do it yourself.

On the company page we learned that FAG got its start in 1883 with the development of its ball-grinding machine. They also have "modern simulation methods" and "testing facilities." FAG's deep-groove ball bearings make for "very high speeds and low friction." There's also a lip seal that generates less heat and minimizes noise. All of these things are very important for FAG.

It's a website that keeps on giving, B&E readers. Obviously, they must know what FAG means in American English (even the British English translation of "cigarette" isn't great, although the implications throughout aren't nearly as fun), but god bless the Germans: they just don't care about that. I swear, I would think that it's satire, if it weren't a German company.

The FAG print job was fine, by the way.

Okay, show's over. Go about your business.

.,;:-!?<>()'[]{}&/\"

Happy National Punctuation Day, B&E readers! (You even get an exclamation point for that one.)

To honor this important day, and as long as we're talking about exclamation points, I quote from the Eats, Shoots, and Leaves daily tear-off calendar. Believe it or not, there is someone at my office who's even geekier than I am. It's hers. But she shares highlights with me. Because I'm a geek.

Everyone knows the exclamation mark - or exclamation point, as it is known in America. It comes at the end of a sentence, is unignorable and hopelessly heavy-handed, and is known in the newspaper world as a screamer, a gasper, a startler or (sorry) a dog's cock.

So out of respect for this national holiday, I hope you'll lay off the dog's cock.

Thanks for reading.

The Condescension of Soundbites

Some of you may have heard that the President gave a speech to Congress and that a major Dickhead shouted, "You LIE!" in the middle of it. Yeah, I heard that, too.

But I didn't see it because I was at a play that people in the New York City area should go see. It's called Aftermath by Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen, and it's running at the New York Theater Workshop. [Full disclosure (as if I have enough readers to warrant "full disclosure"): I know the playwrights.]

Aftermath features the stories of Iraqi refugees living in Jordan - and what happened to them after the United States invaded. Jessica and Erik traveled there, and interviewed about 35 refugees, and selected seven people on which to focus. So the words are theirs (translated into English, usually).

What's nice about the play is that the characters aren't ideologues, and the authors' own politics (about as left-leaning as I am), at least where the Iraq War is concerned, were complicated by the experience of the interviews. This is a messy war that had many complex issues surrounding the lead-up and aftermath.

Nothing is ever as simple as either side wants it, is it? And when we make it simple we do a real disservice to the discourse, not to mention the handling of something as important as, say, a war.

Anyway, there was a discussion after the performance I saw, and at one point it actually got a little contentious. A guy whose politics I would say I probably agree with said, "It's time for the Iraqi people to stand up and take charge of their own country."

This is a sentiment I've heard quite a lot. Many people on the left say that as rationale for getting our troops home. It's especially used amongst Democratic Party members. It must have been tested in a focus group at some point.

And sure, I guess I agree with that. But when this fella said it, he was speaking to an Iraqi. And it sounded condescending. The fact is we invaded a country that was fucked up, and we fucked it up in an entirely new way. Surely, we have some responsibility for that. Isn't it our duty to support the Iraqis as they "stand up and take charge of their own country"?

Of course, even as I type that last paragraph, I find myself horrified by how it sounds like an argument for an open-ended commitment to be occupiers, and that freaks me out.

So even in my simplified thinking of these complex issues, it gets really complicated, and there are nuances and cultural challenges I know absolutely nothing about.

I guess all I'm really saying is that all major issues are exceedingly complex, and the older I get, the less tolerance I have for the soundbites.

And hell, man, soundbites are essentially what I do for a living. I boil down, I distill, I simplify. As I think about it, I realize maybe that's why I get so irritated by the soundbites. Maybe it's not so much that the soundbites simplify. Maybe it's how they get simplified.

Simplifying to help people understand is one thing. Simplifying to win an argument is something altogether different. And both sides do it.

Naturally I think the right-wing does it a lot more dishonestly and destructively. But I certainly felt the same yucky feeling as that left-leaning dude shouted down the Iraqi with his over-simplified regurgitation of a Democratic Party talking point.

Where'd All the Hotties Come From?

Yesterday, the AC at my office blew out, so today I worked from home. The AC was fixed by 9:30 AM. I didn't see that coming.

But because I was working from home, I did what people who work from home are rumored to do: I worked from Starbucks for a little while.

Yes, Sunnyside has a Starbucks, and for what might be the first time ever, I chose it over the Grind, which continues its relatively hapless ways (under new management). Last time I went into the Grind (maybe two weeks ago), they didn't have AC, and I was hot.

I took no chances today. And Starbucks, that predictably well-run bastard, was cold. But really, that's not my point.

A few short years ago, when I rejoined the throngs of the Sunnyside commuters after a spate of freelancing from my sofa, I noticed a distinct uptick in hipsters on the rush-hour subway platform.

Today's Starbucks experience was something different. Almost everyone who walked in - male and female - was sorta hot.

Sunnyside is along the MTA's famed #7 train. The #7, as we all know, is the ugly train (except during the US Open). People who live in Sunnyside ride the #7 train, i.e. Sunnysiders ride the ugly train, i.e. Sunnysiders are ugly people.

These Sunnysiders were not ugly. They were hot. Many appeared to be on their way to the beach. Or perhaps they were just scantily clad because it's hotter than the opposite of a well digger's ass.

Today is Tuesday. What were these people doing during prime working hours on a Tuesday strolling through Starbucks in Sunnyside looking so damned hot? Do they think this is Manhattan or something? Manhattan is where the leisure classes go to look good while strolling around while the rest of us work.

I tell you what, B&E readers... This experience shook me. It shook me to my core. Time was that I was above average looking in Sunnyside. If these Sunnysiders are any indication, bald schlubbiness doesn't cut it anymore for looking good along the #7 train line.

This isn't change I can believe in.

Stay Classy, Staten Island

We had a bit of a work outing last night, taking in a game at the Ballpark at St. George on Staten Island. The Yankees' independent single-A affiliate, cleverly called the Staten Island Yankees, play there. And I do love a minor league baseball game.

Local news (NY1!) has occasional reports of the rising obesity problem in New York City. I think maybe those studies are all taking place at the Ballpark at St. George. But that's not really what I want to share with you, my dear B&E readers.

These Single-A players are pursuing a dream. It's possible, but unlikely, that one of the players we saw last night will work his way through the minor league system and make it the pros. These guys have a long way to go, and the odds are stacked against them.

At this level, I root for individuals. I have absolutely no loyalty to the Staten Island Yankees or the Aberdeen Ironbirds. But I'm pulling for these players. So when an Aberdeen Ironbird player smacked the ball into the corner and sped his way to a triple, I just said, "Nice!"

The father in the family sitting in front of us gave me a pretty good glare. He had some long hairs coming out of the tip of his nose.

He'd already sort of annoyed the colleague sitting next to me by sticking his elbow in her beer, and after I got the glare, she told me that she was reading his text messages over his shoulder earlier in the game. One said:

FUCK U COCKSUCKER U GAY MOTHERFUCKER

I didn't see the message, so I'm not sure if it actually used the texting vernacular or caps or punctuation, but that's what I imagined when she shared that with me.

The gay slur is still ubiquitous, isn't it?

But this one just doesn't make sense. I mean, if Hairy Nose is fucking his mother, he's not gay. He's got issues, but he's not gay.

Now, if the mother in the family had gotten that text message, it'd be closer to accurate, I suppose, although the cocksucker part would perhaps imply that she's not gay.

I just don't think that text message was very well thought out.

Some Might Call It "Working"

On the occasions that I've found myself seeking employment, my college-educated, bourgeois* self gravitates to white-collar jobs that require writing in some form. Copywriting is close enough for my job needs, and I almost always settle for that.

In their job listings, these positions usually call for a willingness to work under deadlines, the ability to multitask, and all of those other qualifiers included in most job descriptions.

So yeah, I'm fairly used to multitasking.

In the past day or so, TPM has drawn some attention to what may be the newest attack (from the right) on President Barack Obama: He's doing too much at once!

Well, hell, people. It's called a job. He's the "leader of the free world." I'm assuming that there are a lot of daily tasks - short and long-term ones - that make up a typical day. I would hope that he can do some of them. Maybe even a lot of them. I mean, if multitasking is part of my job description, it sure as shit is part of the President's.

How little were we expecting from President Bush that the complaint about Obama is that he's trying too hard?



[* I just want to give some props to the Oxford American Writer's Thesaurus, which includes this fine "word note" from Zadie Smith (and is also featured on the back cover jacket, where I read it first) with regard to bourgeois:

When using this word it is essential to remember that it is completely bourgeois to say of something or someone "How bourgeois." If you do not mind this inference, then the word is at your disposal.

Thank you, Zadie Smith. I do not mind the inference. Not one bit.]

One Hundred. You Heard Me: One Hundred.

So at my job back in August, one colleague said something about her boyfriend doing the hundred push-ups challenge. Six weeks to a hundred push-ups.

We appreciate quick opportunities to blow off steam at my job, and it's a genial atmosphere full of hard work and laughter. It's a pretty good job. So most of us decided we'd try out this six-week workout.

You begin with a test. Do as many as you can. I've never had much upper body strength, and the fact is I am, as the Scots might say, a big girl's blouse. I also haven't done much working out of any sort over the past few years, and I sit at my desk all day writing (and we're not on manual typewriters or anything, so even my fingers are pretty weak). I had pretty low expectations.

Eight, OK? I could do eight.

So we worked our way through the thing. There were six of us participating. A couple tried it out. A couple others never bothered. But on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, beginning at the end of August, we did push-ups as a group. Camaraderie, B&E readers! 5:00 pm rolls around and someone shouts: "Push-ups, people!"

Six-week workout, my ass. I'd say it was just us effete white collar dweebs, but one of my colleagues very nearly made the women's Olympic field hockey team. That woman is strong, and that woman can do push-ups. So it's not just that I'm, as the Scots might say, a total Jessie. Six-week workout, my ass.

Still, we were making progress, and we forged onward. If we couldn't complete a week's workout, we worked our way through anyway, and then repeated the week. A couple of people gave up, and dropped out. But most of us stuck it out.

Ten or twelve weeks into the workout, we all ended up taking a couple of weeks off around the holidays, which set us way back. But we came back and picked up where we left off. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. 5:00 pm.

About three weeks ago, our field hockey player did 105 push-ups, finishing the challenge. The rest of us forged on.

I did one hundred push-ups today. The last three were a little feeble, but I did them. From eight to 100 push-ups in six... months!

This big girl's blouse of a Jessie did 100 push-ups.

Origami. The Answer Is Always Origami.

Trolling other people's messaging boards is not usually something I do or recommend, but this conversation offers valuable information for us all to live by. I've edited the material down and, of course, removed the names to protect those unaware I was looking in. (Based on their experience, which you will read below, it would be unfair to call them innocent.)

Subject: pencils for psychiatric patients
------------------------

From: Forum Starter
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 8:56 AM
To: Group

A quick question: I'm starting a journaling program on an acute inpatient unit and was wondering if anyone knew of any resources where I could order pencils or other writing utensils that would be realitively safe for patients to use independently (if they are not judged a suicide or assault risk), I'd appreciate it.

----------
From: Responder 1
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 9:38 AM
To: Group

Just a suggestion.....consider using any felt tip markers instead of pencils. They are less likely to pierce skin or contribute to serious self injury. They also won't require a sharpener. It is difficult to predict behaviors of in-patient populations.
Good luck.

----------
From: Responder 2
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 10:14 AM
To: Group

What is your concern about pencil safety? I use pencils with children all the time.

----------
From: Responder 3
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 10:30 AM
To: Group

I currently provide services for individuals diagnosed with a severe and persistent mental illness and I have never had any problems with providing them with pencils. If you have a concern, which you really shouldn't, incorporate and educational segment into your group demonstrating the proper use of pencils.

----------
From: Responder 4
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 10:40 AM
To: Group

I treated a boy who did in fact stab other children and adults with pencils and did kill his cat with one. Your instincts are right to be concerned regarding inpatient treatment, pencils and safety.

----------
From: Responder 5
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 11:00 AM
To: Group

Although I don't know where to find them, special small flexible pens are available. They have been used inside the max prisons. I have seen them in prisons I have worked in. They are supposed to be safer because they bend under the slight pressure. I have used them and the flexible and the small size can be annoying and takes a bit of getting used to. If you feel concerned about supplying regular pens or pencils, these may be an option.

Here is a tongue-in-cheek article that actually has a link to where one can purchase these pens. However, at $10 each, I doubt any Dept of Correction is paying that much. Maybe try calling prisons to request more information about this. Good Luck.

----------
From: Responder 6
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 11:02 AM
To: Group

Hi may I suggest offering oil pastels as an alternative for your patients to use independently. That way you'll sleep better!

----------
From: Responder 7
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 11:17 AM
To: Group

I am aware of an woman who stabbed herself with a pencil and another woman who rubbed her skin raw with the eraser; scars remained. Both were inpatient at the time. If you are working with folks who self-harm, some will find most any way to self-injure.

----------
From: Responder 8
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 11:22 AM
To: Group

I think Responder 1 & Responder 6 have some good suggestions, as this is a valid safety concern on an inpatient unit... Soft Pastel pencils, may also be an additonal option to consider.......

----------
From: Responder 9
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 12:53 PM
To: Group

I worked with inpatient children and adolescents and this was always a concern. Before and after group sessions, I always counted my pencils to make sure no patient took one. They were only allowed to use them during structured group with supervision. A fellow staff member was stabbed with a pen, and adolescents had stolen pencils in the past to cut themselves with the metal that held the eraser. You can NEVER be too cautious on an in-patient unit. Always yield on the side of safety.

------------------------------
To: Group
From: Responder 1
Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2009 14:38:43 +0000

Just a suggestion.....consider using any felt tip markers instead of pencils. They are less likely to pierce skin or contribute to serious self injury. They also won't require a sharpener. It is difficult to predict behaviors of in-patient populations. Good luck.

----------
From: Responder 10
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 2:27 PM
To: Group

We use the small miniature golf pencils on our psych units because a previous patient stabbed a dr. in the ear w/ a regular pencil. I will give the pts., crayola markers (fat ones) as they are not sharp and wash off the walls w/ soap and water; pencils and crayons do not.

----------
From: Responder 11
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 4:21 PM
To: Group

I understand the concern, but I do end up using regular pencils. Another option is golf pencils, kind of too short for really effective stabbing and without the metal at the end that could be removed and potentially used for cutting.

----------
From: Responder 12
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 4:25 PM
To: Group

You might try woodless pencils if you are looking for something erasable. You can get them at the art supply store near the drawing pencils. They might be a little thick for writing, but there is no metal or wood. It might not be ideal, but they can be sharpened enough just by rubbing the side of the pencil on the paper. If you broke them in half they would be pretty safe.

----------
From: Responder 13
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 11:43 PM
To: Group

Just a quick side note regarding giving patients markers vs. pencils. We once discovered that a pt was given markers to use in his room unsupervised and later discovered that the pt put a marker in his anus. I do not allow pts to have anything unsupervised with the exception of golf pencils. However, having said this, I have never had such an experience like this before or after this particular incident.

----------
From: Responder 14
Date: Fri, Feb 20, 2009 at 7:22 AM
To: Group

THanks for everyone's ideas about the pencils. I am enjoying this
conversation about materials.

What's so special about golf pencils? I believe you could put one in one's anus or stab someone with them. I often work with drawing materials. For drawing I tend to use markers, oil pastels, charcoal, or crayons, regular or super fat for kids. I suppose in a hospital setting, almost anything is possible to use for some abusive purpose to self or others.

I've been wondering for some time how to safely use fingerpaints, even in a private practice setting, without ending up with a huge mess - thrown paint comes to my mind. (My space has a carpeted floor.) Maybe it has to be used in a space where a water based clean-up of EVERYTHING is easy.

THanks again to all for their input and ideas.

----------
From: Responder 15
Date: Fri, Feb 20, 2009 at 5:20 PM
To: Group

One thing to consider regardless of the art tools used is that if there is a real concern with a patient using them then you should get the psychiatrist to write an order allowing the use of such tools. That way the doctor, and hopefully the treatment team, would be aware of what you're doing. Plus it would probably get you off the hook if something were to happen.

---------
From: Responder 16
Date: Fri, Feb 20, 2009 at 5:54 PM
To: Group

Markers... patients in psych setting will swallow them. It does a real number on them too. I really love those peeling crayon pencils. I think in the catalogue they are listed as crayons, you could also get grease pencils. Stay away from the charcoal, the noise would drive you nuts. For journaling the golf pencil might be the least frustrating for them.

----------
From: Responder 11
Date: Fri, Feb 20, 2009 at 6:23 PM
To: Group

it's only that golf pencils are short, and this makes it harder to grip them as one would have to in order to use them as a stabbing weapon it's true, if there is a will, there is a way...one can make weapons of many things

----------
From: Responder 17
Date: Sat, Feb 21, 2009 at 6:36 AM
To: Group

I noticed that so many people responded to Forum Starter's questions, which I found very important. I have been working for adult psychiatric inpatients for a while. Thus Forum Starter's question is not foreign to me. My experience resonate with some of your responses as well.

There are few things that I consider when I pick art materials for acute, psychotic patients with unpredictable behavior. Of course we can not work with them unless their doctor believes that person is ready for therapeutic activities and treatment. It may depend on where you work.
1. How many people in your group or individual?
2. Functioning level of the person in your group, individual session?
3. Is there any system for calling for assistance? Do you work with another staff member or assistant?
4. Combination of group members. (What kind of unpredictable behavior may happen?)
5. Facility policy on safety. (Only use of nontoxic materials ...)
6. What material you find comfortable to use?
7. My ultimate suggestion is just use paper, which people might swallow, or get paper cut but less hazardous comparing traditional art materials. etc.

I found it useful to use Origami as a tool for my patients which may not suit you and your population. It seems, touching colorful paper has soothing effect also. If only you know how to fold origami and you are comfortable presenting...

I'm not sure that origami is ideal for journaling, which was what Forum Starter was initially asking about, but Responder 17's heart is in the right place.

What's amazing to me about this exchange is that these are legitimate, professional concerns for some people in the world. At my job, I sometimes wonder if I've brought enough food for lunch. Occasionally, clients aren't crazy about what I've written for them. My computer crashed last week, and I've felt a bit discombobulated this week, while we worked toward a solution.

I never - never - look at my Slinky full of pens and wonder if I should stab a cat or shove one up my anus (although now it'll be hard for me to resist thinking of those things, even if I still have no desire to actually do them). If I did, I'm not sure my colleagues would be equipped to handle it like the fine professionals above.

But I finally understand why they use golf pencils at country clubs around the nation: they keep stabbings to a minimum.

Just For Men Gone Wrong

This morning at my place of work, I saw a well-dressed man with a cane walking down the hallway. Under his hat, little tufts of gray hair were poking out. He had a pencil thin mustache that was jet black. Jarringly so.

This is a man who really trusts Keith Hernandez, Walt Frazier, and Emmett Smith when they say, "No play for Mister Gray."

Someone should tell him that, if he's making the commitment to dye his facial hair, he should really do the same with his head hair. It's like the male equivalent of the carpet matching the drapes.

Now I'm thinking about this old guy's carpet, which I really don't want to do. Dear Lord, save me.

Grr... Health Care Industry... Grr...

I'm a fortunate American with health insurance. One of the benefits of my job is that my employer kicks in to the kitty for a health plan for the lot of us. I'm very pleased with my doctor and have no complaints about my care.

It's also expensive. Even with the employer contribution, the missus and I are paying a bunch of money per month for our coverage. We had our annual meeting with the insurance rep, who consistently delivers bad news about costs. This coming year prices are going up more than 11%. So now the missus and I will be paying even more than a bunch of money per month.

The insurance rep told us that this increase is comparable to the 10-12% annual increases in costs for health care.

Imagine that: Health insurance costs are rising faster than the rate of inflation. I wonder if the for-profit model has anything to do with that.

So part of this Obama Mandate for Change includes reforming the health care industry. To continue the fun of his grassroots support system, the Obama campaign/administration is hosting Health Care House Parties! Woo-HOO! Par-TAY! I'm totally fucked up on health care!

Naturally, the health care industry wants in on these House Parties, so they're crashing, sending employees and satisfied customers to get in on the action.

If you love things the way they are and want to continue to pay more and more for less and less coverage so that shareholders get a bigger return on investment, join the health care industry's movement to crash the house parties!

I guess if these jokers want to argue for the status quo at Health Care House Parties, more power to them.

But this system is fucking bullshit. Mixing profit with matters of life and death... uh... not right.

Last year, when the missus and I had to take her father for an overnight visit to the hospital in Scotland, he had to fill out two forms that asked for name and address. That's it. Yes, he shared his room, but the care was outstanding and the facilities terrific. I tell you what: socialized medicine looked pretty goddamn good to me. No one profits off the man's unfortunate health.

Can we finally get a single-payer health care system in this country? Especially now that insurance plays such a large role in the demise of, say, the auto companies?

I Remember This: It's Called Cold

Oh, yes, B&E readers, New York City has had its first really cold day, and I don't mind telling you that I like it.

Well, I like it other than the fact that it was also 54-degrees at my job today. (In case I need to clarify, we do actually work inside.) It's sort of sad looking across at all my office mates wearing coats, scarves, and knit caps (I had my cap on too).

But that brisk walk across the Brooklyn Bridge is invigorating with a windchill in the teens. Because I layered up and because I am who I am, I did manage to get a minor sweat going, so I took off my knit cap during my walk and let that icy wind race across my scalp. It's tingly and nice.

I recommend that everyone shave their heads and enjoy that feeling for just a moment. Then you can put your hair back on.

While I was enjoying the scalpy tingle, a majorly bundled-up figure on a bicycle cried out, "Bald and no hat!" with the unmistakable tone of being impressed. That's right, Bundled-Up Figure. Bald and no hat.

No hat, that is, until I got inside.

Hello?

Here I am at work, plugging away on one of my tougher assignments, iPod earbuds oozing out the somberly poppy and Norwegian sounds of Sondre Lerche's Faces Down album, and when I look up from my computer, every single one of my colleagues has gone. I'm here totally alone.

That shit will freak you out if it happens unexpectedly.

On the plus side, I believe one of the aforementioned colleagues will be returning with my lunch.