Anthropometric measurements of large populations show that systematic differences exist among blacks, whites and Asians. The published evidence is massive: blacks have longer limbs than whites, and because blacks have longer legs and smaller circumferences (e.g. calves and arms), their center of mass is higher than that in other individuals of the same height. Asians and whites have longer torsos, therefore their centers of mass are lower.

I’m generally suspicious of “inherent genetic advantage” arguments, but at least I know I’m not alone.

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1. That’s great, it starts with an earthquake.
2. Of course.
3. Suburban ghettoes.

The story of the diamond currently living in the engagement ring was pretty long, so I asked my mom to write it down:

The diamond in the ring was originally in a tie-pin and belonged to the uncle of my mother’s father.  My grandfather was fond of the pin and his uncle granted it to him in his will.  My grandfather died of stomach cancer when I was in the first grade.  (The family thought that the cancer might have been a result of all the coal dust he had inhaled when shoveling coal as a fireman on the Milwaukee Road Railroad.  He was later promoted to Engineer on the ‘Hiawatha’, the Milwaukee Road train that ran between Milwaukee and LaCross, Wis.)

My mother’s mother had never lived alone, and was afraid to do so as a widow.  After my grandfather died, my parents built a duplex on what had been our side yard, so that my grandmother could come to live with us.  (You have seen that red brick house, across the street from the little Saveland Park in Milwaukee, near my Aunt Rosemary’s house.)

After my grandfather’s death, my grandmother gave the diamond to my father, and wanted very much for him to wear it, to use it.  Since my dad never used tie pins, diamond or not, he figured that setting the stone in a ring was the only way he would ever wear it – before that he only wore his wedding ring.  Once the diamond was set in the ring, dad wore the ring on his right hand all the remaining days of his life, out of love and respect for my grandmother.  He would never have chosen to wear a diamond ring otherwise, and never used any other jewelry.  As you can see, my dad had large ‘workman’s hands’ [You can't see, but the previous ring was almost big enough for me to wear as a bracelet].

Since my sister has no children, the ring came to me when my father died.  I have intended ever since to pass it on to you, as I intend to pass on my mother’s platinum & diamond engagement/wedding rings to [my sister].  But like my grandmother before me, I really hope the diamond is used and regularly worn.

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1. Shrooms at Johns Hopkins.
2. The gods will not save you.
3. Back again.

Becoming a man isn’t a question of age, but experience. I imagine many boys become men when their father hits them for the first time. Perhaps all boys become men when they go off to war. Hardship and turmoil, I think, is the turning point for lots of young males, the moment when they say, “Oh, so this is real life.” For me, I’d never felt more like a man than when I would lie in bed with E, her white hair blurring into my pillowcase. I loathed my job, occasionally struggled to pay rent and longed to do something creative with my time. But she made me forget all of that, replacing those considerations–which made me feel so small–with the realization that love from the right person can make you almost certain that you’re the most powerful being on earth. “Fuck everything,” I would think. “Because if this loves me, this immaculate, strong, enlightened, precious, perfect thing, then I am invincible. In fact, I feel sorry for you, because it is one of earth’s true tragedies that there is only one of these people to go around.”

This is also a perfect opportunity to post one of my favorite band’s best tracks:

TV On The Radio – Lover’s Day

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1. I’m serious, I will cut that bitch.

I didn’t pick my head off the desk but looked at Dawn and yelled, “my roommate only has to pay five dollars a month for health insurance and she has the summer off! Why didn’t I go to school for education?”

She picked her own head up off the desk and looked at me. “Because you wanted to be a poet.”

Underemployment (or unemployment) is a pretty common problem for graduates with esoteric degrees like anthropology, minority/gender studies, art history, etc. (I’d say my English degree and I only avoided that pitfall thanks to my longstanding interest in computers and the Internet), and this is another reminder that, in addition to discovering yourself, it’s really important use your time in college to hone professionally useful skills, especially for those currently graduating into a massive recession.

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1. A post that is nerdy.
2. Coming in 2011: Tesla coils, mammoth tanks.
3. Never use Facebook’s “Like” button.

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1. They say a change is gonna come.
2. Home, sweet home.
3. Lucky peach.

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1. A concerted effort.
2. My old Kentucky home.
3. I guess it’s worth 2000 words.

The extremely restrained man is not a common trope in American movies today.  But as a cold-fish stock trader who eventually loses it (but really only to the point of breaking a sweat, there isn’t a lot of raging) and as a controlled, talented Greek warrior mourning the death of his daughter [Casino Royale and Clash of the Titans, respectively], both roles coming in loud, violent movies, Mikkelsen makes the case that we could use more of them.  Particularly in an era of testosterone monsters and man-children, there’s a lot that’s intriguing about a guy with veiled motivations and emotions.  It’s fascinating to me that Mikkelsen is a huge heartthrob in his home country (apparently his reaction to the fact that he often tops sexist-man polls is “I’d rather be voted ‘the sexiest man in Denmark’ than ‘the ugliest man in Denmark.”)  That he’s getting cast in sinister-dude parts over here says a lot about what American audiences want in a sexy guy–or perhaps a lot about what we can actually deal with.

And via Kottke, praise for shyness:

[R]ight now, shyness is countercultural. Consider: On the reality shows, where variations of mass personality are developed in vitro, the great thing is to be noisy, certain, motivated, taking no guff from anyone. You have to be out there, letting people know who you are: Exposure, formerly something one died of, is now thought to be desirable. Right down the middle of the street you walk, shouting into your cellphone about your sex life, your tax return, your drug use, your spiritual evolution, whatever. Oh for a shy person, in such a climate — for the fascination of a shrinking violet! Peer through those petaled layers of self-consciousness, those secretive leaves; there’s somebody in there.

It’s obviously not surprising that sages get less air time than The Situation, and it goes without saying that awareness–both of the self and the outside world–and perspective are pretty rare qualities today. However, as a nerdy beta male who keeps a lot of the world at arm’s length, I think the world could use a lot more of both.

On the other hand, self-consciousness can easily devolve into navel-gazing or paralysis. The only thing I remember about racist Survivor¹ was the Asian team (as I recall, mostly made up of mid-20s professional types) talking about how they had to avoid acting out stereotypes while trying to light a fire or build a blanket fort or whatever. So I guess we should shoot for Aristotelian moderation.

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3. Holding pattern.

1. A medium-rare cheeseburger and fries. Maybe with bacon.
2. Grilled rack of lamb.
3. Ribs.
4. Sausage. I did not really consider the fact that I was giving up chorizo.
5. Samosas and falafel. Baked just isn’t the same.

On the plus side, it has made me realize what a large number of things are fried, which is definitely good to remember going forward.

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1. Five for Friday, March 19.
2. Five for Friday, March 5.
3. Five for Friday, March 12.

The best thing about this journey I’m on isn’t the weight loss (although I have to say, that’s been, like, really cool) it’s the deeper understanding of self. It’s the consciousness part, not just of what you eat and why, but of the line between individual agency–which is strong and should never be discounted–and that part of you that you don’t actually control.
[...]
I have had to stop seeing this as a matter of working harder and working more. A few weeks ago, I was in Chicago at a lunch and was served bread pudding for dessert. It was the best bread pudding I’d ever had in my life, and the best dessert I’d had in about a year. I ate about half of it, and I think a younger me would have focused on willpower, denial and mental laziness. The older me thinks that eating is a complete experience–it’s about consuming enough of the thing to bring you pleasure, and not marring the experience, and the memory, by eating so much that you feel sick and weighed down. Thinking like that doesn’t require much control. It just requires understanding your expectations.

Italics added. I’d say both are paths to self-control (though I’d say TNC’s is probably psychically healthier).

Hm. Well, I was reading the comments while typing this out, and TNC says most of what I was going to, and then some, so…blockquote time!

It’s true that we’re both offering a cultural critique, but there isn’t much in common beyond that. Rod believes the culture is to[o] therapeutic and promotes mediocrity and laziness. I believe the culture promotes quick fixes, many of them unhealthy, as opposed to long-term solution. I think it privileges escapism over hard unmoving truths.

But for the reasons I outlined I don’t believing thinking of that as “laziness” is helpful or particularly descriptive. “Laziness” is a question masquerading as an answer. As I said I think people do things for specific reasons. There’s a reason the “bikini body” story sells. And it’s much bigger than laziness. Condemning terms like “laziness” and “mediocrity” actually understate the problem. It’s bigger than that.

Anyway, since TNC beat me to my original point, I’m in the middle of a weight-loss plan built around a long-term bet with Caroline. It combines my love of gambling with my general need to win and/or be right, and I’ve seen good results in the last three weeks, so I think this has a pretty decent shot at working over the long haul.

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1. Woodberry Kitchen, reviewed.
2. Lunch time.
3. And I feel fine.

1. My friend J-Wy got into MICA, and will be living with me for a few weeks. Sorry if that ruins the surprise for people she hasn’t told yet.
2. These messenger bags made from life jackets. If I could wear yellow, I would be all about it. I can’t, so I bequeath this to you.
   Update: It is €129. So, never mind.
3. Darkon. Less than five minutes in, there are night/dark elves. Talking in an elf-language. Wearing blackface. And then it gets legitimately touching, and pretty good. Worth watching.
4. Finally, proof that guinea pigs can code.
5. Getting paid. Paychecks are tremendous, but direct deposit rules the schools.

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1. Five for Friday, February 12.
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