Mary Ann Evans

The only country music I like is Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson.

That is what you could have heard me say around the turn of the century. The funny thing about that, is that I didn't actually know who Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard were. So, how did I know that they were good country music? Plagiarism. I had heard someone whose opinion I apparently valued somewhat say something to that effect, and I thusly took it on as my own country music creed. I don't really know why... to prove how eclectic and awesome I was... to show that I had something in common (potentially) with a large number of Americans... to demonstrate my "openness" to outside ideas... to show how knowledgeable I was... etc. These are all possible, and I wish I knew why I did it, but in any case, I did.

Have you ever said something that you heard from a credible source, and just repeated it verbatim as your own opinion? What brought this to my attention was something I did this last Saturday.

I was conversating about music with some folks on our Ultimate Frisbee team. Somehow we ended up talking about Funk, which I am partial to. In an attempt to demonstrate my vast knowledge of Funk, I cited some of my "favorites". Along the way, I mentioned "Miles Davis in his more funky years". The conversation continued, moving to concerts and then probably to sex, as that is the way conversations all go...

Anywho, later that evening, I broke out laughing... why?

Where the devil did that come from? Miles Davis' more funky years? Don't get me wrong, I know who Miles Davis is (or was rather). I even own a bit of his music. However, I have no clue what was meant by "Miles Davis in his more funky years". Thinking back to when I had heard that bit of info, I remembered a previous conversation with someone about Funk. He asked me, upon learning I had a good-sized record collection and liked Funk, if I liked "Miles Davis' funky stuff". So, rather than be the ignorant fool, who says, "uh, which stuff is that?", I just said "yeah, that stuff is ssenssateews" or something along those lines. Apparently, I convinced myself then and there, 'cause here I was telling people how much I liked it.

So, what are the drawbacks of being a spineless, yellow-bellied lemming like myself?

Perhaps another story will illustrate...
My last semester at BYU, I was attending a meeting for the lab I worked in. I was shootin' the breeze about Computational Biology with a new CS professor who had done his graduate work at M.I.T. He was eager to apply his expertise in Dynamic and Intelligent Systems to interesting biological problems.... I told him pretty much all I knew about an emerging field called Systems Biology, and he asked if I knew of some articles or people working in that area. I told him "Bernhard Palsson is a leader in the field and is one of the few people doing real Systems Biology, and not just talking about it." Wow, that must have made me sound way smart... if I were this M.I.T. graduate, I would probably listen to what this genius had to say! Hot damn, he must really know the field! What followed was almost as awesome. Instead, he replied: "What does that mean?"

The problem was, I was pretty much directly quoting a line from an email I had received shortly before that from one of the true masterminds in Computational Biology, Dr. Sean Eddy (this I know firsthand, I swear!). Unfortunately, I hadn't yet had the time, nor did I have the background knowledge to know what the crap that really meant. I sort of stumbled and said "he is just actually doing systems biology, not just talking about it." At the end of an awkward silence, I for some reason suppressed that memory... until last Saturday.

Will I learn my lesson? Maybe. But if not, as I've always said: "O may I join the choir invisible of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence; live in pulses stirred to generosity, in deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn for miserable aims that end with self, in thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, and with their mild persistence urge men's search to vaster issues."

Price? More like Priceless...

Due to overwhelming demand (as judged by the most comments I have ever received on a single post...beating the previous record of 2, thanks in part to certain obsessive-compulsive blog-reader-commenters), I have decided to continue with my montage of thrift store finds. Today I bring you this leisurely ensemble:




A few things of note:
1) Those are Levi's. Now there is a company that used to make some fantastic pants... I guess you would expect that from a company that pretty much invented pants. Before them, I guess everyone wore mumu's or nothing at all? From some forward thinking designer at Levi's (possibly the same who came up with a zippered fly, or as some people purportedly call them, fornication pants), came this work of art. This time, they made a defensive move to help protect their more wealthy customers... an anti-theft measure. You know you are in constant risk of losing your belongings to sneaky pick-pocketers don't you? Well, what better way to protect yourself from such scum than by sealing up those bad boys? Shear brilliance! Do they have a nobel prize for pants designers? They should.

There is however a minor drawback to this stroke of genius. Namely, the pants are so darn tight that even an "Authorized User" is not likely to be able to retrieve his own "goods" in under a minute, without the help of some scissors. The existence of this issue leads me to reject the "function" hypothesis in favor of the "form" theory of design... for who can deny that zippered pockets are chic?


2) The shirt is indeed a find. One good indicator of the level of awesomeness of a button up shirt is the lack of a top button, by design. Those who know awesomeness, know that awesomeness should rarely be coupled with discomfort. This shirt wasn't made for Sunday worship, unless you worship at the shrine of John Travolta, circa 1977. A style connoisseur can guess this shirt's brand. Joel it is. Cal-made it isn't. Or is it? One tag states Cal-made, and who would doubt that a fine shirt like this had its genesis in the golden state? But alas, another smaller tag states "Made in Hong Kong". Maybe just that tag was made in Hong Kong? Irregardless (my favorite (ex)non-word, which has apparently been made a word by common usage), this shirt defines ssenssateews! One day I hope to have the honor of thanking in person the man who must have died, leaving a closet full of polyester shirts to the Price, UT Deseret Industries thrift store. I wear a part of him nearly everywhere I go. I also want to thank him for maintaining a physique capable of scaffolding the same clothing that I personally sport.

3) Finally, at the request of one of my multitudinous (roughly 3) readers, I give you this:



Ask, and ye shall receive, brother. And if your lucky, it will be out of focus.

Blodder

I have it, I now know my raison d'blog. I have my blog fodder. I can finally seek the reinforcement that my wife has long struggled to impart. I will make a public display of the ssenssateews finds from the world of thrift. While I will forever be minion to thriftmaster k$, and many others, I feel I have found some good goods. And this will be my showcase.

I start with my latest find, and a question of much import. How can a company that once made shoes of such awesomeness, and thick catalogs that entertained many a curious adolescent boy, wither away into nothingness? No one really knows. But while they lived, Sears did indeed make a fine shoe.


That may have set me back $4.59, but perhaps you didn't see the traction on those babys:
Perhaps, again, you were unable to see the superb traction on these shoes, due in part to my utter incompetence in the layout of pictures on this page... suffice it to say that the traction is more than adequate, and that shoe to surface adhesion is out of sight!

And if you (like I) wonder what one could possibly wear with such a fine piece of footwear, without demeaning their very existence, I would respond with:


That's right, JC Penny slacks (and clip on tie mind you) and a tapered, Now Breed by Campus 100% Arnel© Triacetate shirt. You may inquire "must I iron that shirt?" Not according to the NEVER IRON tag. Match that (or don't) with a Texas made Nocona Belt Co. cincture and a state of the art (circa 1983) Lasercraft laser etched wood tennis player belt buckle and those treads will feel right at home.
Total estimated cost $15. Actual retail value? Priceless*


*actual retail value of aforeblogged goods may or may not be at or significantly below the price quoted above.

Stuff

My favorite quote from stake conference last weekend:
"My Junior year, it was pretty cool being a mormon. Everyone asked questions about mormons, like 'why don't you curse?', and 'why do you dress the way you do?', and 'why are you republican?'"

I would like to answer (or at least comment on) those questions, in no particular order:

• I buy my clothes at the BYU Bookstore, or the mormon shorts company.
  
  
• Why are you so nosy, &!^¢#? (admit it, all mormons swear, as of two weeks ago when the sole mormon non-swearer began swearing)
  
  
• Because there are 3 letters in the acronym GOP... If you switch 'em around and change them ever so slightly, you get CTR... look familiar? The three letters that tell mormons how to act in every way, especially at the ballot box.
  

QED