Mission Accomplished

Mission Accomplished

For those who have not heard, I finally finished writing my master's thesis in urban studies late last Friday night. While it is only a first draft and must go through several approvals until it is officially accepted by the university, I consider this to be a pretty momentous occasion, in light of the fact that six years ago, I had abandoned all hopes of earning my master's degree and withdrew from school. At that time, I was adjusting to life with a tracheostomy and a ventilator, along with the nursing care that accompanied it. In addition, I had begun taking a bunch of cardiac medications, which made me feel exhausted and unmotivated. In fact, I was so resigned to the fact that I would never earn my master's degree in the field that I love, I referred to my autobiography as "the thesis I never wrote."

Today, I am taking even more medications and battling fatigue -- and anxiety (caused by my cardiac scare over the summer). However, after my autobiography was published last year and I was still alive and kicking, I had decided to revisit completing my degree. Thankfully, the Department of Geography and Urban Studies at Temple University welcomed me back with open arms and gave me the chance to do so. I also had many people motivating me, particularly my friends, Art and Emma, who each, in their own way, helped me to realize that finishing my degree would be a worthwhile endeavor.

In case you were wondering, my thesis is about housing accessibility for those with disabilities in Philadelphia. My research entailed interviewing several housing developers working in the city to find out their opinions on housing accessibility requirements under the law, as well as to learn about their attitudes toward and knowledge of people with disabilities. My hope is that by talking to these developers, advocates for those with disabilities will be better able to understand the development process and can bring about a better housing situation for people with disabilities in Philadelphia, more than a quarter of whom live in poverty and many of whom are aging.

I will post further news about my thesis as soon as I hear more about it, but I will most likely be graduating in January!

The First And Last Time I Guest Blog For Anyone

(heavy sigh)

I don’t understand it. I really don’t. Maybe one of you can explain it to me. First, you need to read my guest post 9/23/09 - We Prefer Lazy Love to fully grasp what I'm about to say...

Last month I guest blogged for freelance writer Melissa Blake. I took my time on writing the post, partially because I was extremely busy with work when she asked me to write and partially because I wanted to get the words just right. I wanted to give it some thought. Although at the same time, not so much thought that I was no longer speaking from the heart. I wanted to be clear and to be perfectly honest with her. And I was. I answered the question she proposed to me. "Why do guys run the other way when they see me, especially in my wheelchair?"

Now anyone would find some degree of difficulty in answering a question like that! And I have to admit, I was a bit nervous in doing so. Still, I did it. Then I worried how readers would receive it. But decided my work was done and to let the chips fall where they may. However, to my pleasant surprise, everyone seem to love the post! Even Melissa Blake herself called it, and I quote, "great!" Then suddenly she had a change of heart. It turned black when she wrote this very insulting response to my post...

Girl Talk: Why Are Men Reluctant To Date A Woman With A Disability?
by Melissa Blake

I recently met David through my blog. He was charming, witty and funny. After a bit of friendly Twirting (flirting via Twitter, the equivalent of computer footsie), he said he thought I was pretty funny too and even admitted to being a bit intimidated when I told him how strong my physical disability, Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome, had made my arms. This bone and muscular disorder has resulted in more than 26 surgeries to correct joint contractures, scoliosis and to straighten my leg muscles. You’d be amazed how strong my arms could get just from using a walker for 20+ years. They’re like giant muscles of steel, only smaller and dotted with cute freckles.
Well, this was a first, so feeling a bit bold, I asked him to guest-post from the male perspective on a question that has nagged me since my days in high school when I’d look at other girls and how the guys easily flocked to them. The question: Why are guys so reluctant to date – at the very least, approach – a woman with a disability?

His response: “Men are lazy.”

I thought his honesty was refreshing (heck, sexy even) at first. Here was a guy with enough decency to be open and honest with me instead of placating me and treating me like a breakable, fragile China doll. It seemed too good to be true, which is probably why the feeling didn’t last long.

You see, honesty is only attractive if it’s true. The more I thought about his “laziness” explanation (which was quite a lazy one at that; irony, anyone?), the more it started to seem like one of those Warhead candies I used to love as a child. They’re sweet on the outside, but suck on that candy long enough and you eventually find yourself at its sour center.

Insults sugar-coated as compliments aren’t honesty. They’re cop-outs. Big time. David wasn’t trying to let me down gently. He was just trying to let himself off the hook.

If you didn't agree with what I had to say, that’s fine and you’re welcome to engage in a friendly debate with me. But talking shit on someone behind their back, especially after you lied to their face with an insincere "great" compliment, isn't cool. It's deceitful, cowardly and down right cruel. You posted that on the pages of some minuscule website probably hoping I wouldn't notice it, but I did. Hey, the least you could have done is link back to my original post to let the readers of that website decide whether or not I was feeding you "insults sugar-coated as compliments."

From now on, I have 3 rules that apply to everyone:

1. Don’t ask my opinion on something if you don’t want to hear my answer. And if you can’t handle the truth or think what I’m saying isn’t the truth, that’s not my problem. It’s yours.
2. Don’t ask me to do you a favor if you can’t be gracious or courteous to me in return.
3. Don’t ask me to guest blog. I’ll no longer do it for anyone.

If you think society automatically labels you incorrectly because you have a disability, well society will also automatically label me incorrectly as an asshole because I'm not sitting back and allowing outrageous behavior from someone to slide simply because they are in a wheelchair. Everyone deserves to be treated with a little kindness in this world, including you...and even including me.

***NOTE***
For newcomers to my blog, I know this post doesn’t make a good first impression, neither did my Manwhore Relapse post. Still, I ask for you to forgive. I swear I don’t make a habit of arguing with disabled girls and sleeping around. For the most part, I’m a nice guy...with occasional bad behavior that probably deserves a spanking.

My apologies to my Mother.

Archaeometry in the movies

Anyone see this? Any suggestions for other appearances of archaeometry in the movies?

Movie Review from the New York Times:

Opa! (2005)
October 16, 2009
Love and Archaeology
By NEIL GENZLINGER

Opa!, a sweet, nontaxing movie set in the gorgeous Greek Isles, has a bit of a black hole at its center named Matthew Modine. But the film’s female lead, Agni Scott, and some fine supporting players make this small film a pleasant if predictable diversion.

Mr. Modine plays an archaeologist named Eric who comes to Patmos in search of a particular religious relic that eluded his archaeologist father his whole career. Eric has something his father didn’t: a computer gizmo that enables him to find likely locations for buried treasures using satellite imagery.

Eric is supposed to be shy and awkward, but Mr. Modine makes him too bland to be interesting, which leaves you wondering why the lovely Ms. Scott’s character, Katerina, would fall for him. The vivacious Katerina owns a popular tavern, and when Eric pinpoints what he thinks is the location of the object he’s after — well, there’s a choice to be made.

Richard Griffiths does some nice work as an old-style archaeologist, conveying with just the occasional melancholy expression the wistfulness of an academic breed being swept aside by new methods.

The Happy Act - Rewarding Pet Owners With $3,500

The simplest concepts in life tend to be the most beautiful. I do things for and with my dog for one simple reason - it makes me happy to see him happy. Really, that’s love in its purest form, completely unconditional. I’m not looking for a payback, even though I get one. You see, loving a pet is like performing a random act of kindness everyday, one that goes full circle and never ends. The happiness I give to him, he gives right back to me. That is my payback. But let’s be honest, caring for a pet has a price tag, there is a payout. If you read my post titled "Love Don’t Cost A Thing" you know just how pricey loving my pooch can sometimes be! The pet industry is a staggering $43 billion business! That’s $43 billion a year! So I know I’m not the only one shelling out big bucks for food, treats, toys, health care and swanky pet resorts in lieu of standard outdoor cement kenneling.

It’s no surprise that 63% of United States households own a pet. The human-animal bond has been shown to have a positive effect upon people's emotional and physical well being. In families with children, pets help to create a nurturing environment and provide ample educational opportunities. For people in later stages of life, pets offer important companionship. No matter the age of the owner, pets have been shown to reduce stress, safeguard against depression, improve social skills, and even ease loss.

Dogs are known to be man’s best friend. But they are so much more than just your four-legged BFF. Just the other day I read about a dog that served alongside his owner/fellow soldier in the Iraq war. Then when his master became injured and returned home, the dog didn’t stop working. The loyal canine not only became a service dog to the injured soldier, but his therapy dog as well, helping him cope with the anxiety and panic attacks brought on by post traumatic stress disorder. You tell me that isn’t a duo that deserves a break in life! So when I heard about a new bill being proposed called the Happy Act, I started to wag my tail!

(HR 3501 IH) The Happy Act, which stands for Humanity and Pets Partnered Through the Years, is a bill that would allow pet owners to deduct up to $3,500 off their yearly taxes for qualified pet care expenses. And in today's crappy economy, who couldn’t use an extra $3,500 in their pocket? Although the best part of all is that this will actually save pet’s lives! How you ask? Well think about it. Money is tight for everyone these days and the sad truth is that many people who are struggling to stay afloat look at their pet as an extra "unneeded" (ouch, that word makes me cringe) expense. They see their beloved pet as disposable income and simply dispose of them. That is why so many animal shelters are becoming overrun with unwanted, or rather unaffordable, pets. Pets are being put to sleep everyday and it’s simply heartbreaking. So if the Happy Act can’t help struggling pet owners deal with the cost associated with properly caring for a pet, I’m all for it!

I honestly think this will help keep our four-legged friends in our families where they belong. Where they can be properly cared for, live long and be loved like the perfect furry companions that they are. Because everyone deserves to be happy, even a dog.

***NOTE***
Please ReTweet this post to help spread the word about the Happy Act and join me in helping congress pass this bill.

A Hat of One's Own

Valerie says:

Jean called me one Wednesday night early this year, adamant that I visit one of her favorite thrift shops. Knowing my love of felt, she wanted me to see a felt bag put out for sale with a marvelous “sea creature” on it. I was reluctant. Partly, I thought, what’s wonderful for one person is not always wonderful for another. What if I didn’t like it? I would have made a long trip for nothing, and I would have to sheepishly confess to my very dear friend that it didn’t catch my fancy as it had caught hers. Partly I thought that by the time I got there it would be gone. And finally I thought I didn’t want yet another bag. I must have a dozen lovely bags, most of which I have consigned to the closet. I live now with one of two bags, both black, lightweight, foldable, with a million useful pockets, and compatible with almost everything. Heaven for women who hate always forgetting something in “the other bag”.

She called me Thursday night. Had I seen it? No. She called me Friday night. Had I seen it? No. So, more guilt-ridden than enthusiastic, Saturday I went out to see it, thinking for sure that it would be gone. But how could I not follow my friend’s advice when she was so excited on my behalf?

It took me about 15 minutes to find the bag (although it was exactly where she said it would be). It was black felt, about one foot square, with a felt shoulder strap and a small tuft of deep blue Mongolian lamb's fur at each end of the strap. One side was decorated with the sea creature, which was sewn on with a few stitches. To some extent I was amazed that it was still there, because it truly was fabulous. But then again one could see how it didn’t fit into most consumer categories. It was not a Coach or a Judith Leiber, not Hermes or Chanel or the legendary Birkin bag. And the sea creature Jean referred to was an octopus, so faithfully rendered that although it didn’t have eyes or a beak (because the maker envisioned it from behind???), it did have a very realistic crease in its baggy round head. How many women compete to have an octopus bag? Knowing fully well that this one foot square thing with no pockets would never do as a bag, I nevertheless took it home, intent on doing something with the octopus.

On arriving home, I went through my collection of hats and found one that I had bought disassembled at the now defunct dollar flea market in Chelsea. It consisted of a black felt 1950s juliet cap, and black felt discs with pinked edges, about the size of silver dollars, strung on a long wire covered in the same black felt. I had never managed to put it back together in its original form, and it seemed destined never to be worn.

I got out my sewing box, and cut the octopus away from the bag. Then I put the juliet cap on my head, and juxtaposed the octopus against it this way and that to see whether the combination would work. In less than a minute I had it arranged so that the head looked like a brooch, and its tentacles looked like feathers springing from the brooch. I used a few needles to hold everything in place, took it off my head, and sewed the octopus to the cap with three or four basting stitches. In no more than five minutes the whole operation was complete.

The following day Jean and I had a date to see the Valentina exhibition at The Museum of the City of New York, and I wore the hat there (see the photo below), to show her the results of her sharp eye and astute advice.

A little research revealed that the felt octopus is a stunningly accurate rendition of the blue ringed octopus, a very small and highly venomous denizen of the Pacific Rim, lending new meaning to the expression “killer hat”.

In this photo, Valerie is wearing the octopus hat, multicolored and shibori'd Issey Miyake shirt and pants, spring green Uniqlo stockings cut and worn as sleeves, and apparently no shoes.

Jean is wearing a vintage grey felt "toy" hat from the 1940s, silver Donna Karan silk parachute pants, light grey modal DKNY top, black Calvin Klein T-shirt and "charm" necklace, and also appears to have neglected to wear shoes.

The fabulous photo of the real blue ringed octopus is from www.blueboard.com/mantis.

The octopus hat later appeared in the New York Times Style section.


Do Try This at Home: Other Hat Projects

Because many people have an irrational fear of hats (also known by its improbable taxonomic name, cocklaphobia), we thought we'd show our readers several other hats we created out of this and that, and previous incarnations of other hats.

Here is a hat put together with a black fiber place mat (from gallery gen), a black grosgrain ribbon (from M&J Trimmings on Avenue of the Americas), and a vintage Bakelite or celluloid dog puzzle (from the new DUMBO flea market), seated on a small bit of oak tag for stability, and lashed to the hat in a manner somewhat reminiscent of the way Gulliver was lashed to the ground by the Lilliputians. It took probably 15 minutes to assemble, although it took two years for all the parts to come together.


Here is a detail of the hat showing the dog and the knotted ribbon.

Some might feel reluctant to use tchotchkes as decorations for hats, wanting something more upscale. This hat could just as easily have had real or fake pearls as its centerpiece, a piece of coral, a large vintage button, an upstanding tight spiral of the same grosgrain used for the neckband, or any number of other decorations.

But let's not be too quick to dismiss tchotchkes for hats. There is an old and revered tradition of just that. The milliner best known for the use of tchotchkes was Chicago’s Bes-Ben, during the heyday of hats. In fact, one of the most expensive hats ever sold at auction was a Bes-Ben creation. (See the link above for details.)

This is a vintage brown suede hat from the ‘40s that used to be decorated with a large fiber bird. When the poor bedraggled old bird went the way of all things, it was replaced with three African porcupine quills from the much-missed Craft Caravan, late of Greene Street in Soho. The very sharp points on the quills were easily rounded into submission with an emery board. Holes were punched in the quill tips with standard sewing needles, and the quills were then sewn to the hat.





This is Strawberry's version of the Afghan hat, a shapeless fulled wool tube, usually rolled at the end to form a brim, bringing the crown of the hat very close to the head. By folding the tube once, instead of rolling it, the hat becomes tall and slim instead of low and wide. Added to the hat is a brooch made of alternating black and gray felt squares, layered and cut in ever smaller sizes, to form a pyramid (made by Danielle Gori-Montanelli), adding a bit of flavor, fun and mystery to an otherwise very simple form.

Jean says:

For the Fifth Avenue Easter Parade last April, I improvised by embellishing a black nylon and elastane Titan athletic skull cap from Duane Reade (originally designed for football players to wear under their helmets). After reinforcing a 3" diameter circle with nail polish on the inside (to prevent runs) and allowing it to dry, I cut a hole and inserted a 7" tall metallic green paper vase through the hole, so that the vase would appear to protrude from the top of my skull. The vase's 3 1/2" diameter plastic base was secured in place by the stretchy fabric of the skull cap. From the vase sprouted a fountain of 8" strands of multi-colored colored mylar flowers topped by silver strips, lavender Easter eggs, and pink bunnies.


Paired with a Norma Kamali 80's leopard jacket, the hat beautifully survived numerous wind gusts and post-parade cocktails at the restaurant at MOMA. Total cost (excluding nail polish) was $9.00. Judge the results for yourself here. (Click on photos to enlarge.) For details on Easter outfits and hats worn by Shiho, Valerie and me, please see our blog entry entitled "Stalking the Wild Bill".

Speaking of hats, November 18th marks the St. Catherine's Day Fete of the Milliners Guild. St. Catherine is the patron saint of milliners, and the Milliners Guild will be sponsoring a hat walk which will depart from the Milliners District Synagogue. If you have an interest in hats, this is the ideal place for you to meet like-minded people and see some wonderful creations. For more information, click here.

If you get started now, you can have a hat of your own to wear to the festivities.

Archaeological science vs. archaeology vs. anthropology

On my recent trip out west, I learned of two academic departments where the cultural anthropologists and archaeologists had split and formed separate departments.  I guess even the best of unions suffer after long relationships.  Kind of too bad, though, with all the fuss we make about using the natural sciences in the service of problems important to the social sciences. And, who gets the office furniture when it's all over?

Always interesting to look at the different situation in Europe, where there are entire departments of archaeology, sometimes with specialties in archaeological science.  I'm hoping to visit Bradford when I am in Europe this coming Spring.  Not only can you get an undergraduate degree in archaeology, but you can also specialize in archaeological science.  Pretty sweet.  I know from the majors in environmental science within my own department that those interdisciplinary majors can be tricky, but if done right with an eye for rigor, there is much to be gained.

What are some academic models or departments that you think make for good training for the archaeological sciences? Feel free to comment below.

Women Never Cease To Amaze Me

Women never cease to amaze me. I just never know how you will react. For instance, the post titled A Letter To My Future Girlfriend, which I thought was rather warm and fuzzy, somehow promoted one of the angriest hate mails (Love Me Some Hate Mail) my blog has ever received! So when I wrote The Manwhore Relapse post, I was bracing myself to be flooded with hate mail. In that post I basically bashed women and made a bunch of crass statements while vowing to return to my manwhoring ways. However, to my pleasant surprise, I didn’t receive a single hateful e-mail on it! Not a one! In fact, what I did receive were letters of understanding, support, praise and even encouragement! Now of course there were those advocating against it, but even then it was expressed in a very sweet and sympathetic way. Thank you for that. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for seeing pass this ugly phase of mine and seeing who I really am, or rather who I have potential to once again be.

What’s even more shocking is that his new "fuck it" (I swear no pun was intended) attitude that I have seems to actually attract girls. For example, in the past week I’ve been asked out twice, by two different girls. Baffled by this sudden turn of events, I had a little talk with my buddies to get their thoughts...

Mike: "Most guys don’t get asked out once in their life, let alone twice and in the same week!"
Chad: "I’m lucky if a girl will go out with me twice."

While their comments made me laugh, they weren't very helpful in determining why girls are looking my way when my head is clearly turned in the opposite direction. I hate women, remember? I said it just days ago here on my blog. Of course they most likely don't know I have a blog so that explains that. Still, I have to believe that I'm giving off a rather cold and unwelcoming vibe. No?

Before I go out with either of these girls, they will have to pass a slew of tests! I just refuse to get involved with any more shady chicks. First I would check to see if she is mentally stable, psychiatric evaluation. Then I would see if she is a dirty whore, STD test. Next determine if she is a liar, lie detector test. Are you married? Engaged? Have a boyfriend? Are you an illegal alien? Are you an actual alien? Were you born a woman? I'll need to know all of that too. Next comes the examination of her criminal record, making sure one doesn't exist. I’ll discover whether or not she is a gold digger - maybe hide my car keys, tell her I drive a bucket and wait for her facial expression? Lastly, I would need to do a drug test on her and check to see that she isn't already preggers...I'm not being some baby's Daddy that isn't even mine!

Although necessary, that probably sounds a little excessive, which is exactly why manwhoring sounds so good right now! Manwhoring is simple and fun. Two things I love - simplicity and funnery. And while I may have updated my booty call list, no one is on speed dial just yet. Although it’s nice to know that at a push of a button that can be arranged. That safe, uncomplicated, meaningless sex is just a phone call away. Oddly enough, that gives me comfort. And because it does, that tells me that I’m in no way ready to dive into any type of real relationship anytime soon. Love is overrated anyways, said the bitter boy.

For now, I leave you all with some advice that was dispensed upon me just last night.

"We settle for far too much in this life...love should absolutely positively without a doubt NOT be one of those things."

The Manwhore Relapse

***WARNING!***
The following post is extremely offensive in nature, mostly to women. I won't deny it, it's crass and it's vulgar. Upon reading it, you may find yourself appalled, disgusted and angry. More than likely you’ll completely disagree with what I have to say and strongly discourage my future actions. But...I hope you understand. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll forgive.

Never putting yourself out there, never caring, always safe. It makes for a very easy life. I think I want to take that road. No twists. No turns. No blindsided corners to navigate through. Eyes always open. Always conscious of your surroundings. No risks. No mistakes. Always safe.

It’s official. I'm returning to my manwhoring ways. Why shouldn't I? There are no reaping of the benefits for putting your heart out there, trusting in another to the point of complete vulnerability. You just get shit on. So from now on, I'll be the first to do the shitting. I'll fuck them over before they even have a chance to fuck me over. Turnabout is only fair play. And no, I won't feel bad for doing it in the least. I've learned the hard way that this is a part of life, so I might as well start playing.

My new outlook is I don't give a fuck about women because they don't give a fuck about me. From now on, in my mind, they are only good for one thing - getting me off. They can fuck me and then get the fuck out. I don't want to get to know you and I don't want you to get to know me. I'm not your boyfriend. I'm not even your friend. I'm just some guy you're fucking. A guy that uses you just like you use him. Afterall, you're going to fuck me over in the end anyways, so let's just cut to the chase and do the fucking up front. Then the rules here are clear. There will never be anything between us other than a physical relationship. I don't have feelings for you and I may not even like you. You're simply in my life because you're a good lay. You’re the equivalent of a booty call. That's it. And that's all. Now lock the door behind you on your way out.

Romantic, isn’t it? Hey, the truth hurts. And it’s time people start speaking the truth, start being honest. I’m being brutally honest here. I'm not using sex as a weapon. In fact it's the total opposite. I'm using it more as a defense mechanism, for my heart. I'm capable of having meaningless sex and feeling zero emotion or attachment after. That's the beauty of being a guy. Not a lot of girls can do that. Besides, I deal better being mad rather than sad. So it should be no surprise that I’ve turned ugly and mean. Documenting the sexcapades would make for very interesting blog fodder. Maybe I’ll write about it, or maybe not. I couldn’t even stomach reading that myself. Honestly, I’m hoping this is just a filthy phase and this too shall pass. Only time will tell. Although I can’t see myself being a manwhore for very long. It's not who I am anymore, nor who I want to be. But right now, I have to do what is right for me. And as odd as it sounds, this feels like my need?

Years ago when my "almost fiancee" and I broke up, it took me forever to get over her! I moped around for months, until my friends couldn’t take it anymore and forced me to go out with someone new. It’s standard guy advice, "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new." So I tried that. It failed. It was the only time in my life where I could barely get it up. Her attractiveness wasn’t the problem. I simply wanted my ex-girlfriend, only her. And the only way I could even perform was to picture her face. To pretend for just one hour that she wanted me the way I wanted her. Needless to say, the sex was awful.

Although this time around, it’s not like that. I was not in love, just heavily in-like. When girls have boy troubles, they sit around and eat pints of ice-cream. When guys have girl troubles, they go on a fuck fest. I know what the remedy is. So I’ll just jump right into it. Because I don’t have space in my heart to be sad.

Blood and guts and archaeometry- eBook available

Archaeological Science Under a Microscope
Studies in Residue and Ancient DNA Analysis in Honour of Thomas H. Loy
Terra Australis 30
Edited by Michael Haslam, Gail Robertson, Alison Crowther, Sue Nugent and Luke Kirkwood
ISBN 9781921536847 $55.00 (GST inclusive)
ISBN 9781921536854 (Online)
Published July 2009

These highly varied studies, spanning the world, demonstrate how much modern analyses of microscopic traces on artifacts are altering our perceptions of the past. Ranging from early humans to modern kings, from ancient Australian spears or Mayan pots to recent Maori cloaks, the contributions demonstrate how starches, raphides, hair, blood, feathers, resin and DNA have become essential elements in archaeology’s modern arsenal for reconstructing the daily, spiritual, and challenging aspects of ancient lives and for understanding human evolution. The book is a fitting tribute to Tom Loy, the pioneer of residue studies and gifted teacher who inspired and mentored these exciting projects.

Downloadable for free in pdf format.

'Tis the Season of the Bat

One of Jean's favorite times of the year is Halloween because skulls, black cats and bats are "a few of her favorite things". (Valerie shares an affinity for the latter two categories.) Before the retail and advertising industries inundate us all with cheesy images of witches, goblins, spiders, pumpkins, and skeletons (and, god forbid, Bernie Madoff masks), we wanted to share with you one of our exotic NYC expeditions that took place before we launched our blog: our Bat Walk in Central Park.On Friday, July 24, we took the Bat Walk with twenty-three other intrepid souls who, for a $25 donation, spent two magical hours in the heart of Central Park at night. Sponsored by the American Museum of Natural History, our tour was led by a scientist (a post-doctoral fellow named Chandra who wore a Batman t-shirt) and a self-confessed "bat geek" (a guy who wore a dinosaur-shaped head lamp on his baseball cap and who described with great delight how he and his wife trap and band bats in South America with a team of scientists). Both proved to possess a wealth of knowledge which they cheerfully shared with our group.

The tour started at 8:30pm on the steps of the museum, under the statue of Teddy Roosevelt. (As an added fashion and sports treat, since the museum was hosting the World Cup Soccer Gala that evening, we made friends with the paparazzi and critiqued the handsome players' outfits and their escorts' gowns. But we digress...)

We were first given an overview of the history and terrain of Central Park (a totally man-made park specifically designed by Frederick Law Olmstead to look "natural") and its flora and fauna. Originally, sheep (hence "Sheep Meadow") inhabited the park, but its current denizens include raccoons, opossums, squirrels, chipmunks, turtles, hawks, egrets, owls and occasional feral cats and insects (something like 20 species of butterflies and 100 species of moths, but don't quote us). There are three species of bats in Central Park: small brown bats, large brown bats and red bats. (Those are both formal names and descriptors.)

At about 8:50 PM, armed with our trusty flashlights and two of the museum's battery-operated bat sensors, our merry little band headed off into the park. Ages ranged from 5 to about 70. (And no, kiddies, we were NOT the oldest. No jokes about old bats out hunting for old bats - or for young bats!) We'd barely entered the park before encountering our first wild animal (hit with the glare of our flashlights at the first rustling): a large, lazy raccoon rummaging for a snack. As we had bigger fish to fry, we soon moved on. We sat on a rock at the edge of Central Park Lake for about 45 minutes and, in between a question and answer session, tried to listen to the bat sensors click in response to bats' ultra-high frequency calls. (Note to the file: Next time, dress more sensibly and bring something soft to sit on!)

The good news was that the evening was cool and not humid (optimum from the human comfort standpoint). The bad news was that bats greatly prefer hot, muggy, buggy nights (optimum conditions for bat sightings and hearings). None of us saw any bats silhouetted against the sky, despite our best efforts, although our host and hostess said faint clicks on the sensors indicated two or three fleeting bat cameo appearances. We were, however, treated to the dramatic arrival of a black-crowned night heron which swooped past us, barely clearing the surface of the lake. (Who knew such large birds were nocturnal?) With a 48" wing span, it was positively majestic. Since our Bat Walk turned out to be a Bat-less Walk, the great bird's arrival was the perfect ending to a wonderfully entertaining evening. Needless to say, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and were elated as we exited the park with our compatriots of the evening.

Valerie is wearing a cap of white perforated leather by Antoinette, gray nylon vest by Final Home, printed tee shirt by H&M, vintage Issey Miyake leather, metal and elastic belt, cotton and acrylic resin pants with drawstring knees by Oska, and her perennial favorite comfortable shoes - nubuck flats by Arche.

Jean is wearing a DKNY knit jacket, Calvin Klein t-shirt, Urban Outfitters harem pants, Titan nylon skull cap with Art Deco Bakelite domino pin, Ice Pirates watch, charm necklace (with idiosyncratic charms of her choice), white Bakelite chain necklace (from the Brooklyn Bridge flea market), Lounge Fly bag and Gucci glasses.

On a more serious note, our host and hostess suggested that one of the reasons they did not get the number of bat sightings they expected might have to do with white nose syndrome, a fungus which has wiped out whole colonies of northeast bat population who hibernate in caves. As bats play a major role in controlling insect populations, their loss is very threatening to the balance of nature. Scientists have not yet learned the source of white nose syndrome, or how to combat it. Anyone interested in finding out more, or making a donation, is encouraged to visit the Bat Conservation International website.

The Remedy

To: a pretty girl
From: a sad boy
Date: would like one soon
Subject: Need your help, your advice.

So I have a little problem and I was hoping you could help me out, give me your advice.

I miss you. A lot.

And I was wondering if you have a remedy for that?

Short, sweet, and to the point.

I sent that to her iPhone a couple days ago. I have yet to get a response.

Maybe I should give her a call, but I don’t want to be that crazy guy that keeps bugging a girl who clearly is busy or is just trying to blow me off. If that is actually the case? I can't be sure of either. Although, something doesn't feel right. It's not like her to just disappear. Sure she has withdrawn from the world before, but in the past she has at least told me she needs some alone time, some space, or just isn't in the mood to be around anyone or to talk to anyone.

I wish she would talk to me though, if that is what she needs, if something is wrong. I'm a good listener. I'm a good problem solver. I'm a good comforter. Give me that chance to prove it. I have strong, broad shoulders that make an excellent support system should you need someone to lean on or someone to supply a shirt sleeve to soggy.

On the other hand, if nothing is wrong and you're just trying to blow me off, I can take a hint. And for the first time ever in my life, I hope that is the case. I would be happy if that is all it is. A relief to know that you're ok. That a girl is just trying to blow me off.

Related post of interest...

• 4/20/09 - I Know Nothing About You

***UPDATE***
About an hour after I wrote this post, I got the answer to my question. Not from her, but via a Facebook status change. I fucking hate Facebook! Apparently all the gushing she was doing over me just days ago and all the sweet things she said to me just days ago were all bullshit. She suddenly has a boyfriend? When did that happen, overnight? The least she could have done is told me! That would have been the decent thing to do, but I guess I'm not deserving of even that much. Yes, it's the story of my life. Another shady girl. Another girl I should not have trusted. I hate liars and I hate insincere people. I hate women.

Climate Change Is NOT Caused By Humans?

A wise man once said...

"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny."

In life whenever there is a problem, people are quick to point fingers and place blame.

He did it! She did it! Now look what you’ve done! They should be held responsible! This isn't MY fault!

While most will deny the accusations and will try their darndest to pass the blame on anyone other than themselves, a few brave souls will actually stand up and take responsibility for their actions, for their wrong doings. Even fewer will stand and volunteer to cleanup a mess they feel they didn't help create. Although, instead of playing the blame game and debating who should be held accountable, we should all be working together on our solution game and pitching in to cleanup.

Truth be told, there is no bigger oopsie (AKA, fuck-up) in this world than global warming problem we now have on our hands. We are literally murdering the very planet we live on! Contaminating and destroying the air we breath, the water we drink. In the words of my late Grandmother, "this world is going to hell in a hand basket." With all the ways we have to help combat global warming, somehow people are STILL arguing over what caused global warming in the first place! Does it really matter who is to blame?

The vast majority of us believe global warming is a direct result of human activity, but there are a few people out there that say that just isn’t so. While no one is 100% sure exactly what caused global warming to start, I think we can all agree that humans have only added to the problem over the past few decades and sped the process along. The fact is that climate change may result from both natural and human causes. So now what? Well how about we stop debating who or what is or isn’t responsible and start working on ending it...or more realistically, slowing it down. Or how about I just end this post with a warm, fuzzy tale instead of all this nerdy, scientific talk?

Jude Ndambuki teaches high school chemistry, but when he's not in class, you might find him dumpster diving for discarded computers. For the past eight years, the Kenya native has been refurbishing computers otherwise headed for landfills, then sending them to grateful students back home. In the Help Kenya Project, Nddambuki gives the computers away for free, but there is one small catch. For students to receive a computer, they first must plant a tree. While tree planting helps offsets carbon emissions, recycling electronic equipment helps the environment by reducing pollution from the metals inside the devices.

The kids are given new life. The computers are getting new life. And trees being planted bring new life. It's all connected. And as humans, so are we. Climate change is a human issue. And nothing is more human than sharing your love and giving all you can to help change the lives of others and the world we live in.

Humans "may" have not caused climate change, but we can help change it.

***NOTE***
The post you read above is my contribution to Blog Action Day '09. It's an annual event (held every October 15th) that unites the world's bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day on their own blogs with the aim of sparking discussion around an issue of global importance. It is the largest-ever social change event on the web with over 13,000 registered blogs in 155 countries. One day. One issue. Thousands of voices. Learn more at www.blogactionday.org

You can also see this post featured on BrazenCareerist.com

Leonardo and forensics strike again

This time it is his fingerprints!

From CBC News:
A small picture of a young woman in profile owned by a Canadian collector may be a work by Leonardo da Vinci.

Art experts say there is strong evidence the picture is by Leonardo after finding a fingerprint on the Renaissance-era painting that matches another fingerprint found on his St Jerome in the Vatican.

The fingerprint was found by Peter Paul Biro, a Montreal-based forensic art expert, through multispectral analysis, which detects images unseen by the naked eye.

The hairstyle and robe worn by the young woman in the ink and chalk image is consistent with Milanese fashion of the late 15th century, experts say. Carbon dating also suggests the painting dates from the late 1400s, when Leonardo would have been painting.

Art Access & Research has put out a press release to highlight the important work performed on this project by its Director of Forensic Studies, Peter Paul Biro.
Art Access & Research Leonardo press release (pdf, 100KB).

SAA Fryxell Ward

Fryxell Award for 2011                       

The Society for American Archaeology Fryxell Award is presented in recognition for interdisciplinary excellence of a scientist who need not be an archaeologist, but whose research has contributed significantly to American archaeology. The award is made possible through the generosity of the family of the late Roald Fryxell, a geologist whose career exemplified the crucial role of multidisciplinary cooperation in archaeology. Nominees are evaluated on the breadth and depth of their research and its impact on American archaeology, the nominee’s role in increasing awareness of interdisciplinary studies in archaeology, and the nominee’s public and professional service to the community. The award cycles through zoological sciences, botanical sciences, earth sciences, physical sciences, and general interdisciplinary studies. The 2011 Fryxell Award will be in the area of zoological sciences (zooarchaeology image from Amarna Project). The award will be given at the SAA’s 76th Annual Meeting, 2011, in Sacramento, California. The award consists of an engraved medal, a certificate, an award citation read by the SAA president during the annual business meeting, and a half-day symposium at the Annual Meeting held in honor of the awardee.

Special requirements:

• Describe the nature, scope, and significance of the nominee’s contributions to American archaeology.

• Curriculum vitae.

• Support letters from other scholars are helpful. Four to six are suggested.

Deadline for all nomination materials: February 5, 2010

Contact: Virginia L. Butler; Portland State University; PO Box 751; Department of Anthropology; Portland, OR 97207-0751; ph: (503) 725-3303; fax: (503) 725-3905; e-mail: butlerv@pdx.edu

Don't Compare Obama To Mother Teresa

Can I be blunt for a minute? The media hasn’t cummed over a U.S. President this much since maybe JFK. Although I wasn’t born when JFK was around, so I can’t really say for sure. But you have to admit, if Barack Obama’s ego was a penis, it would have erupted long ago from all the stroking it has received. The latest - winning the Nobel Peace Prize. It’s like Obama can do no wrong, unless of course you watch Fox News then he’s ranked right alongside Hitler.

Look, I like the guy. I even voted for him. I will admit though, he hasn’t brought all this so-called "change" that he promised us during his Presidential campaign. Of course he hasn’t been in office for a full year yet either, so I certainly didn’t expect miracles overnight. I’m being patient. I’m giving him time. And I’m hopeful that the change will come...if not, I want my vote back. Until then, can everyone please stop sucking his you-know-what for awhile?

Whether you love him or loathe him, you can't deny that he's kind of a big deal. He's the first ever black (well half-black) President and that fact alone sets him apart from all 43 other U.S. Presidents in history. However, someone lost their mind when they awarded him the Nobel Peace Prize! I mean comeon. You are tossing him into the same category with the likes of Mother Teresa! Sorry, Barack. You're cool and all and I laugh when you knuckle bump your wife, but you're no Mother Teresa! For over 45 years she ministered to the poor, sick, orphaned, and dying, while guiding the Missionaries of Charity's expansion, first throughout India and then in other countries. In an excerpt from her 1979 Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, she said...

"I choose the poverty of our poor people. But I am grateful to receive (the Nobel) in the name of the hungry, the naked, the homeless, of the crippled, of the blind, of the lepers, of all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared-for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone."

Wow! Those are some mighty big sandals to fill. Realistically though, can anyone even remotely be compared to the likes of one Mother Teresa? If there was ever such a thing as an angel on Earth, she was it. A truly phenomenal human being and one that no matter how much you love Obama, he isn't worthy of being compared to her. Mother Teresa won for work that she had done. Obama won for work that he plans or says he will do. There's a big difference!

I just don't understand how you can award a man the Nobel Peace Prize who is currently leading 2 wars! Sure, he may not have started the wars, but he hasn't ended them either. Where is the peace in that? And why is that being rewarded? In Obama's defense though, he was just as shocked to hear he won as the rest of us. I have to believe he was also a bit embarrassed and felt a bit unworthy of such an honor as well. Although it's not like he voted for himself to win. So really we should be hating on the panel of Nobel Peace Prize judges, not him.

While Obama's approval ratings are down right now, you would think that winning such a prestigious award could only help him. Although in this case, I think it has only further hurt him. The vast majority of people seem to be outraged that he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. And while I may never be able to wrap my head around exactly why he won, I am forced to accept it just like everyone else. However, I will never accept him being compared to Mother Teresa! No way. No how. Not in this lifetime.

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

In 2003, when Elizabeth Gibson unwittingly rescued Rufino Tamayo's Three People (Tres Personajes) at a curbside where it was waiting to be hauled away by the Sanitation Department, she gave new cachet to the pastime of dumpster diving. Almost two years ago, the Tamayo was auctioned at Sotheby's for just over $1 million, and Gibson received a nice finder's fee.














So on our way to The Japan Society for the opening of the Serizawa exhibition, we were not above stopping in front of an array of garbage probably 25 feet long to inspect a 34" x 50" framed cotton textile with psychedelic '70s characteristics carelessly placed on a discarded sofa that had clearly seen better days. Jean guessed, with admirable accuracy, that it was a Marimekko. Printing on the selvedge identified it as "Eve" by Katsuji Wakisaka, from 1972. In a moment, like car thieves, we were working - in all our finery - to strip the print from its frame so we could pocket it and get to the opening. But the framer had stapled the textile professionally, and as we had both neglected to bring our staple removers with us, we were forced to make a decision. We took the Marimekko home in its frame, making us late to the opening. (Well, what would YOU have done?!) While not exactly a million dollar lost Tamayo, it was nevertheless a small and enjoyable coup.

From the small Marimekko Outdoor Art Fair we proceeded to the rather more lavish show at The Japan Society. We went to the Serizawa exhibition primarily to have a look at his wonderfully idiosyncratic kimonos which, given their large size, allowed Serizawa to make some very bold and original statements. Keisuke Serizawa (1895 - 1984), designated a Living National Treasure by the Japanese government, was beloved in Japan for his lyrical color combinations and immediately identifiable woodcut-like designs. Check out the link above to see some of the wonderful pieces selected for the show. Here we are with Roxane Witke, a fellow admirer of all things Japanese.

Reluctantly, we rushed through the exhibition, because on this particular night we were faced with the singular pleasure and dilemma of two shows to see on the same night. (By a stroke of luck, we had separate benefactors who invited us to the same Whitney reception and guided tour.) So off we rushed to the Whitney for a small evening tour of the new "Georgia O'Keeffe: Abstraction" exhibition.

We flagged down a sweet young taxi driver who peppered us effusively with questions ("Where are you two going dressed like that?" "Do you always wear such hats?") and compliments ("You both look great"), leaving us in great spirits as we alighted, and ready for the next part of our adventure.

Our readers might remember that we were recently able to take photographs of ourselves inside the Guggenheim Museum. Having been raised in the '50s, when the zeitgeist turned away from the fast-talking women of the '30s and the capable, sacrificing women of the '40s, and morphed into the culture of that miserable Good Girl Who Values Her Reputation Above All Else, we are still trying to shake off the last vestiges of that deeply ingrained early training. Sometimes that means daring acts of slightly uncivil disobedience, like taking surreptitious photographs in museums. Our small group of about 15 people was followed everywhere by a guard (since the very informative and thoughtful tour was conducted after hours), so we took very few photographs. Just small gestures, really -- mostly to prove to ourselves that we are indeed Very Bad Girls. Below you can see Jean, apparently following the talk yet standing just slightly apart from the crowd, while Valerie, ostensibly resting her feet (why isn't there a bench in every room?), takes the forbidden picture.

We had more than enough time to see everything at the Whitney, and the paintings showed a side of O'Keeffe that is less known than -- but every bit as interesting as -- the O'Keeffe of gigantic sensuous flowers and stark bleached skulls. It didn't hurt to hear our guide tell a few Bad Girl tales about O'Keeffe, either.

After the tour, we looked for a small cafe in the neighborhood where we could have a wee post-lecture drinkie. At the first place we tried, which had two tiny tables free in its charming picture window, we were only invited to sit in what were clearly its "B List" seats. The waiter insisted that even after 9pm the petite tables at the window were reserved for patrons ordering dinners, not wee drinkies. This was puzzling because the tables were barely big enough to fit our elbows, much less dinner plates, but never mind. Off we went to the welcoming arms of Lumi's, just a few blocks south.

Lumi's is a cozy Italian bistro that one steps down into, giving a fresh perspective on passersby as one gazes out the windows, and the sprial staircase in the center of the front room also delights the eye. The staff invited us to sit wherever we liked, so we chose to sit in the back, warming ourselves after the chilly evening walk and the chillier reception at the previous restaurant (which we shall not name).

After ordering champagne cocktails, we realized that we were being photographed by a gentleman at the table next to us. He introduced himself as Fadil, and said he was a professional photographer. When he told us that he and the party at his table (including Lumi, the welcoming young owner, and Patrick, her gallant husband) had been talking about us and LOVED our style and our hats, we were hooked. (How easy it is to flatter us.) But when Fadil further stated that he was meeting the peerless Carmen dell'Orefice there for dinner, and that he would introduce us when she arrived, we were floored. Carmen is a role model for all women of a certain age, and all women who will one day become women of a certain age. She was the subject of Fadil's Rolex ad campaign geared to our demographic of choice.

Although mourning the loss of her dear friend Irving Penn (whose obituary was The New York Times' front page news that morning), Carmen arrived looking flawlessly beautiful, and Fadil, true to his word, kindly introduced us (and took the photo above). We mentioned having seen Carmen's '50s fashion shots at the International Center of Photography's "AVEDON FASHION" show (May-Sept 2009). Carmen was as warm and gracious as she was stunning. When we told her we'd admired her pictures at the Metropolitan's "Model as Muse" show in the Costume Institute, Carmen conspiratorially shared that she'd had to stand in heels for hours at the exhibit's opening night, striking a cord with us! To further underscore her point, she then drew one of her feet out from under the table to reveal that she was wearing flats. A fellow traveler on the flat road! By way of contrast, Lumi then showed off her black Alexander McQeeen studded stilettos to our oohs and aaahs. As their entrees arrived, we bid the merry quartet adieu and headed off into the night.

After that serendipitous encounter, our high spririts could not be daunted even by the vagaries of the New York City subway system. Despite the fact that the entire floor of our subway car was sticky with spilled Dunkin' Donuts flavored coffee, and the aroma of hazelnut wafted through the air, we were positively giddy as we reflected on the events of the evening. Our good humor and high style were memorialized by a fellow traveler in a photo finish.

Jean is wearing a black feathered '40s vintage hat (purchased at last spring's Metropolitan Pavilion Vintage Show), black Comme des Garcons wool jacket (with shoulders like a linebacker), black Michiko Koshino skirt, painted wood folk art rosary necklace from New Mexico, black Linda Leal long sleeve T-shirt, Dansko clogs, Gucci glasses and Lounge Fly bag.

Valerie wears a pink spiral velvet vintage Bonwit Teller hat, black silk Elizabeth Arden coat, black and gray shibori'd Gianni Versace jacket over a black Ivan Grundahl dress, James Minson glass necklace and black Aerosole flats.

Giving Taboo Topics A Voice

Controversy erupted when BrazenCareerist.com Founder Penelope Trunk tweeted...

"I'm in a board meeting. Having a miscarriage. Thank goodness, because there's a fucked-up 3-week hoop-jump to have an abortion in Wisconsin."

While I applaud her for being brutally honest and speaking out about such a taboo topic, I'll agree that her Twitter wording was a bit crass. However, I think everyone needs to keep in mind that people don't share the same feelings in the same situations. While one person may be devastated by a miscarriage, another person may be breathing a sigh of relief. How a person reacts to a situation isn't wrong or right, it just is what it is. We are all entitled to our own feelings, even if everyone doesn't share them or can handle hearing them.

Read her blog post and watch the CNN interview here.

(It’s somewhat necessary to at least watch the CNN interview linked above to understand what I’m talking about below.)

Penelope is right though. Miscarriages and other taboo topics should be explored. Because how else are people going to learn about, understand and bring awareness to things that happen in everyday life if we are too scared to discuss them? It's the very reason I have a Label on my blog titled "Taboo Topics" where I can discuss things that have happened in my life that others think should be hush hush/off limits topics - things like suicide and child molestation.

The reason I bring this up is not to debate miscarriages or abortion because as a man who has never gotten anyone pregnant, I'm in no position to speak even remotely intelligent on the subject, nor do I want to. Let's be completely honest, the vast majority of men out there don't have a clue what exactly a miscarriage or an abortion fully entails. We get the jest of it, but we really don't know the details of what happens in a woman's body. And it wasn't until I watched Penelope's interview, did I know just how common and frequent a miscarriage occurs. I also didn't know that the process takes literally weeks, which makes concealing what you're going through all the more difficult. We are unaware of these things because society has labeled it as one of the many taboo topics we don't dare speak of! I want to change that though. I think it's time we give taboo topics a voice. So when I read about Penelope Trunk being so brutally honest and candid about what she was going through, I wanted to stand up and clap for her, for giving yet another taboo topic a much needed voice. If we can't talk about things, we can't learn. And if we can't learn, how will we ever grow?

I'm not asking, nor suggesting, that everyone exposes the skeletons in their closet and airs their dirty laundry for all the world to see. I'm just encouraging people to talk. To educate. To bring awareness to things like suicide, child molestation, rape, domestic abuse, miscarriages, abortion, addiction, the list goes on and on. You know what the taboo topics are. They are the very subjects that are so widely misunderstood by the public because the public refuses to give them a voice. But if people would just muster up the courage to discuss them, you would quickly see how many others can relate. We are all more closely tied to one another than we care to believe.

Whether you agree or disagree with Penelope's views on miscarriages and abortion isn't relevant to this post. What I do want to know is if you think it's good or bad to discuss taboo topics? And have you ever been as candid about your personal life as Penelope or myself? Looking back, was sharing that "secret" a relief or a mistake?

I can't speak for Penelope, but I know when I came clean about my battle with depression and my suicide attempt (10/5/09 - My Deepest, Darkest Secret), it was a HUGE sigh of relief! It felt so good to get that weight off my chest. And if I helped just one other person by sharing my story, it made any of the negativity I received from that post totally worth it. What you get from me online is 100% me, but you don’t get 100% of me.

"Remote sensing" for Leonardo with neutron beams

The New York Times reported this week on the search for a masterpiece of Da Vinci, The Battle of Anghiari, that is presumably "buried" beneath other frescoes in the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence.

One technique uses backscattered neutrons, the other uses emitted gamma rays in a version of neutron activation analysis.


An interview with Maurizio Seracini, the lead engineer, appeared in Wired.

There is also a scientific article out discussing preliminary tests:
Neutron back scattering for the search of the Battle of Anghiari

Things That Make A Grown Man Weep

Preface: I'm high as a kite on Vicodin right now! So I can't be held responsible for anything I say or do from this point forward. If this post sounds like the incoherent random ramblings of a 2-year-old, I apologize. Although on the other hand, if this post turns out to be one of the best things I've ever written, I may want to rethink living a clean lifestyle.

We all know that women are the more emotional sex. Some women cry while watching "The Notebook." Some women cry when they can no longer fit into their favorite pair of jeans. And some women cry when they are PMSing and there is no chocolate in sight (actually they don't cry, but rather murder at that point). Whatever the reason may be, we accept that fact that girls cry (fairly easy and often) and boys don’t. Or at least that is what we are taught to believe - that boys don’t cry. However I’m here to tell you that in fact they do, even if they refuse to admit it. We joke around with our buddies and tell them to let it all out, to go have a good mancry so they feel better. The term "mancry" was coined for a good reason though. Guys cry in complete seclusion because society has ingrained in us since birth that crying is for girls and REAL men don’t cry. Although I certainly don’t walk around with my heart on my sleeve and blubbering like a wet mess, I see no shame in crying. Grief is an expression that you loved well. If a man’s eyes well up on a rare occasion and a woman considers him a "pussy" for that, well then perhaps she feels that way because nobody has ever loved her enough to shed a tear over her.

For most guys, it is a very rare event, but for me there have been a few occasions that have sparked a snowflake to appear in my eye...

• Giving the eulogy at my best friend’s funeral.
• Making the decision of putting my childhood dog down after 18 years.
• Watching my sister walk down the isle in her wedding dress.
• Having my girlfriend break-up with me as I was about to propose.

Did you notice the pattern here? All of these events sparked a tearful reaction in me because they all had to deal with matters of the heart. They all had to do with me losing someone I loved. Like my Bulldog, I too am tough on the outside, soft on the inside. I can deal with a certain amount of emotional pain, but once it surpasses my threshold, I may start to develop that lump in my throat and that burning sensation behind my eyes. Although when it comes to physical pain, I can take anything you throw at me! Afterall, I'm an amature MMA fighter. They don't come any tougher than that, right? WRONG!

Growing up I was a Crest kid. I never even had a single cavity until I was 20 years old! At the time, I had the cavity filled by our family dentist who was old skool and apparently not the best. The guy didn't give me enough Novocain even when I told him I was in immense pain and could feel everything he was doing! I sat in that chair sweating and squirming. Praying and cursing. From that day on, I was scared of the dentist and rightfully so. Still, like a good boy, I went to see a (new) dentist every 6 months for checkups because nobody wants a dirty mouth full of rotten teeth and halitosis. As the years went by everything was fine and dandy. It was all rainbows and butterflies in my mouth, that was until I developed a tooth ache this past weekend. But not just any minor tooth ache, one that shoots pain the whole way down your neck, bitch slaps you across the face and punches you in your your eye socket! Pain so severe that I contemplated pulling a Tom Hank's "Cast Away" move and yanking that sucker myself, just to end my suffering. Long story short, I called my dentist to make an appointment in which he told me with a "oh this is going to be fun" smirk on his face that I needed to get a root canal.

A root canal? A ROOT CANAL! How could someone who only had one cavity in their entire life all the sudden need a f-ing root canal? That's what bad people who don't brush their teeth get done, not Crest kids like myself! Apparently though the cavity I had filled years ago had fallen apart and now the only way to repair it was to do an evil root canal.

It should be illegal for one human to inflict that much pain on another human. It's what horror movies like "Saw" are made of. I swear I've never felt that much pain in my life! Kick me repeatedly in the balls, put bamboo shoots under my fingernails, or make me watch a marathon of "The View" on TV, but whatever you do please don't let me endure another root canal! It's beyond torturous and nearly made this grown man weep. No matter how much Novocain the dentist gave me, it didn't help. He was jabbing and digging at a live nerve for a solid hour! The sickening smell of tooth and bone being drilled and grinded. Tooth and bone fragments flying onto my chest and blood squirting out the sides of my face. Bits and pieces of live nerve being pulled from my jaw and laid out on a stainless steel dish before me. Would he later serve this to me as an appetizer? If he did, it wouldn't surprise me because I felt like I was part of a twisted Jeffery Dahmer experiment.

Of course the nervous, rookie dentist assistant wasn't helping the situation either. Her hands were shaking while fumbling with tools. Apologizing profusely for her mistakes and constantly asking for someone else to help her wasn't exactly comforting to hear. My body actually began to physically tremble from the pain. I wasn't about to cry! Surely it couldn't get any worse, but then it would! By the time the root canal was over, I got up feeling dizzy with the back of my shirt soaked in sweat. I wanted to run out of his office, with arms flailing and screaming, vowing never to return. Oh course I didn't do that. I manned up. He extends his hand and says "Well that wasn't so bad now, was it?" He's joking, but it took everything in my power not to punch him right in the suck hole for that smartass remark. But instead of a handshake, I just need a hug...and maybe a good mancry to make me feel better.

For now though, I'm enjoying my prescribed pain medicine - Vicodin. It puts me in a happy place. A place far, far away from the depraved dentist chair. And last night while I was high on Vicoden, I saw my favorite pair of blue eyes smiling at me in my sleep. It was nearly enough to make a grown man weep.

Shroud of Turin (further) debunked

From the Associated Press:

ROME — Scientists have reproduced the Shroud of Turin — revered as the cloth that covered Jesus in the tomb — and say the experiment proves the relic was man-made, a group of Italian debunkers claimed Monday.

The shroud bears the figure of a crucified man, complete with blood seeping out of nailed hands and feet, and believers say Christ's image was recorded on the linen fibers at the time of his resurrection.

Scientists have reproduced the shroud using materials and methods that were available in the 14th century, the Italian Committee for Checking Claims on the Paranormal said.

The group said in a statement this is further evidence the shroud is a medieval forgery. In 1988, scientists used radiocarbon dating to determine it was made in the 13th or 14th century.

But the dispute continued because experts couldn't explain how the faint brown discoloration was produced, imprinting on the cloth a negative image centuries before the invention of photography.

Many still believe that the shroud "has unexplainable characteristics that cannot be reproduced by human means," lead scientist Luigi Garlaschelli said in the statement. "The result obtained clearly indicates that this could be done with the use of inexpensive materials and with a quite simple procedure."

The research was funded by the debunking group and by an Italian organization of atheists and agnostics, he said.

Garlaschelli, a professor of chemistry at the University of Pavia, said in an interview with La Repubblica daily that his team used a linen woven with the same technique as the shroud and artificially aged by heating it in an oven and washing it with water.

The cloth was then placed on a student, who wore a mask to reproduce the face, and rubbed with red ochre, a well known pigment at the time. The entire process took a week, Repubblica said.

One of my graduate student mentors, Paul Damon, was involved in the radiocarbon dating.

In any case, the Shroud will be on public display next April-May, according to the official web site. It usually is shown only a couple of times each century. I'll be on sabbatical in Europe - I might just go!

Image from the official web site.