the pizza of my dreams

Sometimes the simplest of decisions can influence you in ways you never thought, and they often can stick with you longer than you would expect.

My first job was as a (ahem) "Asphault Pigmentation Application Specialist"...which essentially means I worked for a company which painted lines on parking lots. It was hard, hot work...Florida summers on freshly laid asphault do not make for a comfortable work day. The boss was one of those "speedeat so we can get back to the jobsite" types...a nice guy, but he didn't exactly need his morning coffee to get going. So it was long hours in miserable conditions.

The pay was mighty nice, though. Apparently the boss got tired of people goofing off, so he made the snappy decision to pay his workers by the job rather than by the hour. After that, everybody worked like dogs on amphetamines, and I would pull in $300 for a weekend's work. This cash went largely to cars and guitars...that is, the cash that didn't go toward partying.

When the summer was over, the work dried up. So, after a little while of no income, I started looking for a job. The only problem was that I was a young heavy metal kid with long hair (this was the eighties, after all) and very few places would hire me...and I couldn't see chopping the hair for minimum wage. A friend worked at Little Caesar's Pizza, and they didn't make you chop your hair...so I got him to pick me up an application.

I ended up working at Little Caesars on and off for nine and a half years...throughout my community college days, through parts of my "one semester break" (which turned into a few years), and right through getting a BA and an MA. By the time I left, I could do the job in my sleep...and often did.

There were controversies. I got fired from one company after the manager's cousin got promoted...which would have been more bearable, but the boss lied to me (told me the "powers that be" ordered my termination), and it all went down after I was in a bad car accident. So, injured and jobless, I tried other jobs including loading trucks and a disasterous stint doing temp work (remind me to tell you about the one where they wanted me to kill rats with a broom handle with a nail on the end). All the other work sucked so badly that I got a job at the other Little Caesars franchise in town and worked there, on and off, for a long time.

While management, I yelled at a lot of teens. I hired and fired. I drank with my superiors. After a while, I became a little bit of a "problem solver" for the company...they would send me somewhere when a store needed "cleaned up." I would yell, cajole, and generally train the little buggers to do things right. Somehow, I was able to get crews to move from hating my guts to really liking me yet still doing their job better than ever. One store in particular, no one would talk to me for about two weeks. When I left a few months later, they baked me cookies.

By the end of my pizza run, I was down to just working a couple of morning shifts a week. I could get into work at 9:30 and have all of the day's prep work (sauce, dough, cheese, all done fresh) finished by the time I unlocked the doors. I would then take care of customers for the lunch rush, fix myself a pizza, and read for school.

I only left because I needed to come to Ohio for my Ph.D....otherwise, I have the striking suspicion that I might still be doing a few days there. It was actually really sad when I found out the chain has pretty much left Jacksonville...both franchises folded.

Anyway, my time at Little Caesars influenced me in more ways than I care to think. When I taught Intro to Sociology for Terra Community College, most of my examples of group hierarchy and behavior came from Little Caesars. Those kids learned almost as much about pizza as they did about Sociology, and they would audibly groan when I would try to slip in another example.

More elementally, my teaching style is very close to my management style...a nice mixture of scary and quirky. It seems to work. I still get to my jobs 15 minutes early, just like I did at Little Caesars. I also learned how to deal with others from a leadership position by interacting with my pizza makers. So in many ways, Little Caesars made me the man that I am.

I think about the place more often than I probably should. I even dream about it. This morning, my alarm went off in the middle of a dream about a Little Caesars workers reunion, and I spent my time in the shower wondering which of the 13+ stores at which I worked was my favorite...and I still can't figure it out. Casset was good, but Beach Blvd. got to be really family...and then there's my first Orange Park store.

I also wonder what happened to all the fun people I worked with. Where's Willie, the monsterously tall and very sweet black man who joked about tearing down the Statue of Liberty and putting up a statue of Shaka Zulu? Terry, the very funny and cocky Lee High School tight end, who I once got to sing along to the Misfits, thus thoroughly confusing our manager? What about Paul and Paula from Orange Park...are they still together? Jim and all the rest from Beach, who made me feel like a friend...do they still repeat my mantra "a clean station is a happy station"? The dramatically short and funny Wendy from OP? Gina, the short Carribean girl with the heavy accent? The hundreds of others whose names I unfortunately cannot remember?

In many ways, Little Caesars did a whole bunch to shape me into the person that I am. I wonder what would have happened if I would've chopped the hair and went to McDonalds. Would I still be where I am today?

Of course, now I have to jet out of office hours early and get some Crazy Bread. Damn you, memories...

for the attention of any wandering academics

Society for Cinema and Media Studies
March 2-5, 2006
Vancouver, Canada
http://www.cmstudies.org

Call for Papers: "Signs of Intelligent Life in the Media"

Is it a good thing to appear intelligent? More to the point for our purposes, what does the media think of smarts? Academics have frequently seen anti-intellectualism in movies and television, but is the media’s view of smart people really as simple as the pompous, bumbling professor? Is there in fact any cultural capital to being smart?

This panel hopes to examine the nuances of depictions of intelligence in the mass media. Some possible areas of inquiry include: the connections between intelligence and social skills; intelligence and mental health; brains as an asset or liability in reality programming; intelligence in sport narratives; connections between race, class, gender, and images of intelligence; mental strategy depicted in non-intellectual competitions, such as wrestling or competitive eating.

Proposals covering any media are welcome. Please send a 150-word abstract plus a vita and bio statement to Dr. Mike S. DuBose at mike.dubose@utoledo.edu by September 3rd.

random news and a new season of posting

School is back in session, so I have been spending most of my time working on related issues. As you know, I am now a Lecturer at University of Toledo. I have been trying to deal with the usual array of student concerns (which I really don't want to get into here), but I have also been trying to get my office together. The plus side? I have an amazing computer...new Dell, fast as all git-out, big monitor, laser printer. Unfortunately, though, it does make my home machine seem ancient.

The only down sides to my new office are (1) the ugliness of this old place and (2) lack of shelving. Both will be corected eventually when building maintenance can get here, but who knows when that will be. I'm going with wall mount shelving, but I gotta store the shelves in my office lest another faculty lay claim...and some of these boards are long. I have to move chairs over stacks of boards when a student comes by. But, I suppose, there are worse tragedies.

Now that I have an actual office out of which to work, I find that (1) I feel much more professional, and (2) I seem to be more organized over my workload....to do lists and everything. I hope this means that I will get back to writing once I finish with the first stack of papers (which is, groan, already here). I should also have more time to blog while I'm at it.

This all leads me, however, to one scary thought: I think that I might be becoming an adult. My friend Jamie got me referring to my "adult salary," and I have been putting it to adult uses (paying off bills and restocking the liquor cabinet with good stuff...it is, by the way, really fun to buy five bottles at the liquor store). The responsibility at work also seems adult, as does the fact that the office staff now actually knows who I am. Hell, I'm even planning when I can afford to buy a new car, which is really weird...as my newest one was about ten years old when I got it.

Is dressing formally really that far behind? Will I quit drinking too much? How about getting mad at the young whippersnappers across the street who make noise to all hours of the night? Will I start complaining about how today's music doesn't have melody like it did in my age? Who can indeed understand these kids today?

Somebody give me a comic, quick!

a concert and a fashion crisis

For those of you who know me, the fact that I do in fact actually think about fashion might come as a suprise. But this is an area of my life that has been thrust to the forefront by two recent events.

First, some history. Back in high school, I was mister Heavy Metal, complete with the jeans, dark sunglasses, concert shirts, denim jacket, and long hair (briefly in a Bon Jovi-esque perm...not that I was trying to emulate the man...I still dislike his music...not that any of this is relevant). In this fashion, I was not very distinguishable from most of the other heavy metal fans.

Eventually, I got tired of being a conformist non-conformist, if you get my drift. So I was looking for the next Mike fashion when I decided to go tie-die.

Keep in mind that this was the late eighties. I did not choose tie-dies due to any love of the hippie movement, although I did listen to the Dead when hung over. Rather, I thought that if I wore such clothing, I would at least have a certain uniqueness. After all, who in the hell wore tie-dies in 1987?

But tie-dies, perhaps on the coattails of the suddenly radio-friendly Grateful Dead, came back. They started to show up everywhere. I realized the full extent of their incursion into the fashion realm when, sitting on the porch of a downtown restaurant listening to a friend sing and play, I saw a three year old in a (gasp) tie-die.

That was it. My choice of fashion had been coopted by kiddie clothiers. Something had to be done.

My next choice for what now was, I admitted, my pursuit of an anti-fashion was the humble Hawaiian shirt. So I got a few, had my dearest Mummy (a good seamstress) make me some very loud Hawaiians. I thought I looked good...or at least, reasonably bad. And hey, I thought in 1995, Hawaiian shirts wouldn't dare come back into fashion, would they? Surely, the public would continue to ignore them.

And you all know what happened. Personally, I started worrying when they started showing up at Old Navy. Then Red Lobster adopted them as work uniforms. Then there was the episode of The Simpsons, where Homer told Marge, "Only two types of guys wear Hawaiian shirts: gay guys and big, fat party animals." When they hit the local Meijer, I really freaked.

I tried valiently to be zen about the whole cooptation thing. I tried shaking it up by combining the Hawaiian shirt with tie-dies, but it was obviously an example of "trying too hard." Eventually, I came to the conclusion that as I was simply destined to be a fashion pioneer and whatever I moved to next would become the next "big thing," I might as well just bite the bullet and wait the trend out, until Hawaiian shirts became comfortably retro again.

Two things have made me really think about this, however. First off, the Chronicle of Higher Education published one of their first person pieces about clothing and teaching, which drew a connection between a professor's choice of attire and their teaching style. No problem. Contrary to what my parents think (they feel I should now start dressing professionally as I finally have a "real" job), my fashion choices have always been pedagogically thought-out. Hawaiian shirts work in front of a class. First, the students stay awake...the bright colors, you know. Second, I appear less intimidating...in a suit, a 6'5" large guy would scare the hell out of them.

What the article did do, though, was make me wonder how exactly the students see me. What is their image of their fearless leader? Especially as I express a few liberal ideas during the course of a (heh heh) course, such as homosexuals might well be real people, and women and minorities are not always treated nicely by society...do they, following the model of Homer Simpson, think I'm gay?

The second event was this past weekend. I've mentioned in this space before that my wife got us tickets to see Hall and Oates. Well, the post-tick reschedule was last week. There's a lot I can say about the show (solid band, very caucasian-heavy audience, Hall is still tired, why don't they let Oates sing?, $5 for a Bud?), but the main attraction was the crowd.

Immersed in that body of humanity, I did feel really good about my hairline...as a large percentage of males had bald spots that would put that of my friend Joe to shame. But it became quickly obvious that in this crowd, a Hawaiian shirt was more a uniform than an anti-fashion statement.

My God, I thought, I've been dressing up like a mid-fifties, thinking about retirement, lower-middle class WASP! Is that how my students see me? What can I do about it?

Lori thinks I'm thinking about fashion a bit too much, but I feel shaken. I don't know where else to go. I'd like to adopt a whole work uniform thing, but none of the thrift stores seem to sell any. I though briefly about going Izod, but I really can't see adopting the preppie look. I could return to the high school concert shirt image, but it doesn't go with my now short hair. I have realized belatedly in my life that I am a man without a fashion plan...and surprisingly, that frightens me.

Suggestions are welcome...hit the comment link below.

a cultural pioneer is gone

Man Who Helped Branson Thrive Dies at 76.

spammer names

In lieu of an actual post (I'm writing, damnit), I present my collection of funny fake names that were attached to spam I've recieved.

• Ferdinand Randy
  
• Ferdinand Mead
  
• Millicent Patty
  
• Nettie Lopez
  
• Iris Flowers
  
• Lizzie Romo
  
• Ebony Vance
  
• Elnora Pratt
  
• Marissa Souza
  
• Ahmed Luna
  
• Noah Ibarra

web stuff

First, while I don't want to turn this into a blog about bloggers (for those of you who love big words, that would be a metablog), I do want to throw one more at you. I got an e-mail from an ex-student today. It was nice. Apparently, he doesn't want to kill me, which is always a shock. Anyway, him and his girlfriend have a blog called Egg's Nestwhich has the best entry titles I've ever seen.

Second, on the above blog, there's a link to a great, funny site, Overheard in New York.

Thirdly, sci-fi/cyberpunk author William Gibson (of Neuromancer fame) has written a good article called "God's Little Toys: Confessions of a Cut and Paste Artist," which draws the comparison between William S. Burroughs, hip hop and sampling, intertextuality, and the interconnectivity and hyperlinking of computer work.

Enjoy.

Orion blog(s)

For those of you interested in my Orion post, space and such things, check out Space Bombardment; by Norden, the commenter on this post, which is definitely worth thinking about.

today's stupid post

My computer table is set up right over an AC vent...I have to wear slippers in the summer to keep from freezing my tootsies.

blogs as a job killer?

As an educator and academic, I am a reader of the Chronicle of Higher Education...it's a professionably viable thing to do, and they often have intriguing articles. Case in point: in the job section of this week's edition, they had an article written (anonymously) by a member of search committees called "Bloggers Need Not Apply."

The basic slant of this article was that whenever they've been able to dig up a blog of a job candidate, it has usually somehow worked against the potential hire. The article (as well as the author's searches) seems based on the assumption that the blog, in order to be anything other than a drawback, has to be an attempt to bring the author's scholarship to the masses. If it is not, the article argues, you should eliminate your blog from the ether.

There are a few really weird assumptions that result from this argument. First, one candidate's blog worked against him because it "revealed that the true passion of said blogger's life was not academe at all, but the minutiae of software systems, server hardware, and other tech exotica." The underlying assumption here is that in order to be an academic, your teaching and field of research have to pervade every mote of your being. To show that you have interests outside your work is to show that you are not a viable professional academic.

This of course means that academics is only for the totally obsessed among us...at least in this article's view of the world. I've got to wonder. My brother is an electrician, and a damn good one at that. Still, he has hobbies other than electricity, and he doesn't think of running wires every minute he's away from the job site. If he wrote a blog about his rabid love for music, would he be considered less of an elecrician? This example, incidentally, is not going to happen; not that he doesn't love music, but he's too much of a technophobe to have a blog.

Anyway, is being an academic really so far different from any other job that you cannot be good and it and have a life and outside interests? Personally, I've known a lot of academics who do nothing outside their research. They are not fun people. They can't hold a normal conversation, they're ill at ease with people, and they can't talk about research without (a) looking at the conversation as an excuse to dominate or argue with their position, (b) steal potential ideas from those with which they converse, or (c) use the talk as a tool to intellectually rank and compare their colleagues. Is this really the type of person that you want as a colleague?

When I was going after my MA, I was pretty much a school/work hermit, and I don't know if I did anything significant other than those two. When I started my PhD, I promised myself I would still have a life, I would converse, make friends. Guess what? I found that having some kind of existance outside of academics, rather than distracting from my work, actually allowed me a type of perspective and awareness that I could not get when thinking about scholarship was all I did. Knowing other parts of the real world allows academics to better relate their work to that real world...strange but true.

In many ways, many academics want to have their field dominate all existance...both within the university and without. I understand this...it's largely tied up with the struggle to stake out ground for your discipline in general and your research in particular. However, outside perspective, I would argue, is also something you might want.

Later in the article, another serious point came out, one that I feel the need to quote at length.

Part One: "it's best for job seekers to leave their personal lives mostly out of the interview process. It would never occur to the committee to ask what a candidate thinks about certain people's choice of fashion or body adornment, which countries we should invade, what should be done to drivers who refuse to get out of the passing lane, what constitutes a real man, or how the recovery process from one's childhood traumas is going. But since the applicant elaborated on many topics like those, we were all ears. And we were a little concerned. It's not our place to make the recommendation, but we agreed a little therapy (of the offline variety) might be in order."

Part Two: "More often that not, however, the blog was a negative, and job seekers need to eliminate as many negatives as possible. We all have quirks. In a traditional interview process, we try our best to stifle them, or keep them below the threshold of annoyance and distraction."

If the people writing the blogs have nutso politics, then yes, maybe they might not want to advertise that fact. But the idea that you should squeltch your personality entirely to do a successful interview? That I have problems with.

Why, as an interviewer, would you not want to get to know any of your interviewees and in fact encourage them to hide this stuff? On what basis then are you hiring? A CV/resume? Some candidates have a great cv and look good on paper but would make awful candidates as they have no character or social skill. The very strength of other candidates is exactly in how they work with others, how they would work with your students, how they would work with your department, and if these things are not matters of character and personality...the very thing the article recommends squeltching...what are they? I've been reading Kitchen Confidential, and Chef Bourdain argues (I'm paraphrasing here) that when hiring, character is the very thing you want to look for, as everything else can be taught but character cannot. I've also hired in my past, and Bourdain hits it on the head.

The artice continues: "Our blogger applicants came off reasonably well at the initial interview, but once we hung up the phone and called up their blogs, we got to know "the real them" -- better than we wanted, enough to conclude we didn't want to know more." Should I mention that I find the whole idea that reading a blog and assuming you now "know" the person is just slightly presumtuous?

This isn't the first time I've seen someone questioning the logic behind doing a blog, and although I don't fancy myself a blog apologist, I have had to answer the question "why do/would you do the blog thing?" Lotsa possible answers. For me, the first reason is that I needed to have an outlet for non-academic writing. Writing scholarship requires an ultimate intensity...I'm glad I do it, and I do enjoy the process and the results, but it isn't always what one would call "fun." The writing style that I apply to the blog is much different in form; it can be fun, breezy, light, artistic, needlessly caustic, or any other mood that fits my whim. It is an artistic outlet more than anything else, and having it lets me be a more confident writer in all areas, including academics.

Of course, there are other reasons...I have lotsa friends all over, and it's nice to be available in some sense to them. I like the idea of having a body of work that I created, that other people enjoy, without having to go through the "submit/reject" cycle.

I also have serious ideas as to what goes here and what does not. This is not an academic blog, so I do not chronicle my research. I think of myself as a professional educator, so I do not go into specifics on individual students. My job search (except in broad, general strokes) is off-limit because the decorum of such a quest demands it.

To take the approach that a blog is inherently a bad thing for jobseekers seems shortsighted and assumes a relatively narrow view both about what a blog is supposed to do and about appropriate potential employee behavior. Of course, if someone was to read this blog specifically and directly tell me "you are a crazy person and will never get hired unless you hide your insanity from the world at large," then I might consider differently...

Follow-up on the Hall & Oates thing

SAY IT ISN’T SO
from http://www.moviepoopshoot.com/news/jul05/25.html

Pop music duo Daryl Hall and John Oates have postponed upcoming shows because Hall has been diagnosed with Lyme disease. Hall, 55, is recovering at his home in upstate New York and is expected to make a full recovery, publicist Jonathan Wolfson said Wednesday. Lyme disease is caused by the bite of infected deer ticks and can cause arthritis, neurological problems and encephalitis, a potentially fatal brain inflammation. Early signs include a red bulls-eye rash that slowly expands and flulike symptoms. "We are so sorry to disappoint our fans, but we promise to make it up to them," Hall said in a statement. This month's shows have been postponed, but those scheduled for August and September are expected to go on as planned, Wolfson said. Hall and Oates are known for their 1980s hits including "Maneater," "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)" and "Kiss on My List." They have been touring in support of their latest album, "Our Kind of Soul." (As reported by E! Online)

random update

No artistic writing, no order, no logic.

So Lori and I were going to see Hall & Oates play at the Zoo on Monday, but it was postponed. I thought about a long post using as many puns as I could from their songs (example: I guess one of them saw Toledo on the schedule and thought "I can't go for that (no can do)") but couldn't bring myself to do it.

Finally forced myself to do some work on the book revision plan, and I think I have a way to make it "saleable." I hope to have it ready to show to my glorious advisor on Monday or so, but we'll see how it pans out.

We've found out that the BG produce supplier to the good area restaurants is open to retail customers, so I've been going there. Fresh produce makes all the difference...it makes cooking easy when you have good stuff.

Been planning out how I'm going to decorate my new office in my head. It's so nice to have a home base to work out of.

My darling wife is home for lunch, so I'm going to sit with her. More posting as ideas come.

space and such things

I decided that I would allow myself one "pleasure" book (as opposed to "work"), so, in typical Mike DuBose style and fashion, I picked a little ditty by George Dyson called Project Orion, the true story of an early attempt at designing and building an interplanetary rocketship. Yeah, I know, not exactly the standard "summer reading."

As opposed to the chemical rocket-driven 3 man Apollo missions, Orion was supposed to be large. The average size for an Orion ship was in the 2,000 ton range. Yes, that big. It was to hold a number of people, hold them in comfort, and hold enough supplies to last for voyages to Mars and to the moons of Saturn.

What is infinitely weirder about the whole project (at least to our 21st century perspective) is that the ship was to be powered by 200+ nuclear bombs. Yes, not rockets, but a nuclear bomb powered spaceship.

Apparently, the scientists designed (at least theoretically) a shock absorber which would allow them to focus the shock wave of an atomic blast into a very specific trajectory, thus powering the huge Orion ship. There was the little matter of fallout, but the scientists estimated that, compared to the amount of fallout from open air nuclear tests (which were still going on at the time), the fallout concerns would be minimal. As far as the radiation, well, that was underestimated...although plans for the project in its later stages would have the ship flown into space and assembled there, because space is already chock full of radiation, so (the logic goes) what harm could a little more do?

There are at least a few particularly weird things about this project, in my view. First off, most of the scientists still feel the Orion project to be scientifically valid. We could, in other words, probably dust this off and have interplanetary space ships within ten years, if these guys are right. And most of them feel that nuclear bomb power is the only science we currently have that can get us moving on an interplanetary scale.

So, if this is so viable, why did it not work? Why did the US government not go for it? As best as I can figure, it was mostly political. Orion got caught trying to find government funding, and very few people in the government could find an immediate reason to support it over the already NASA-approved Saturn V rockets. Even when many early rocket pioneers came out in favor of Orion as the next logical step for space travel, the government couldn't justify funding a project without immediate objectives, one that would not "pay off" for years.

So, in Orion's struggle to get funding, they tried to justify their program to the Air Force, as a weapons program. This is where the whole Orion thing gets scary. The book lists many possible selling points, and they are all fairly close to "doomsday" devices. As an example, a number of scientists devised a way to explode large amounts of warheads in space and direct, using their shock absorbers and sheilding, the resulting fallout and radiation from the explosions towards a particular global area...thus effectively irradiating entire continents!

Another proposed Air Force use for Orion was as a floating defense platform with the ability to shoot down nuclear missiles. And if this sounds suspiciously like Reagan's SDI, you are right. In fact, large research project elements and documents remain top secret to this day, and the writer speculates that current SDI research can be directly traced back to Orion.

The lesson here is that all plans for space exploration have a fairly nefarious military dimension to them. When Reagan claimed in the 80s that his SDI had no possible negative uses and was defensive only, he was either lying out his gourd or extremely naive...because even the simple act of shooting down missles meant that those missiles could most likely be expoded not too long after takeoff, thus irradiating the area where they were launched...thus serving as a nuclear strike from afar as well as an anti-missile shield.

Unfortunately, any plans for Star Trek-esque space programs could only ever come to be after military uses, because defense is where the funding is...which is a shame, because I could really get in to the whole one piece elasticised jumpsuit uniform that the space exploration thing would inevitably entail.

The bio is up!

My first academic department website bio is up here, along with a sporting picture, for those who might be interested.

NASCAR

So, last weekend I went to see a NASCAR race with my father, who's in the neighborhood (they're visiting my sister, not me, because she has kids and I don't...there's probably a post in that too, but maybe later). It was Father's Day, and Dad is a big racing fan.

This was not my first time seeing NASCAR live and in person. I saw a race before perhaps 14 years ago, so I had an idea of what I should expect. The day did, however, still have its weird elements, and I did learn a lot.

Most of what I learned was about the people watching. They were, to be honest, generally a little weird. When the people who were sitting to the right of our group sat down, the female (hot in a redneck housewife kind of way) asked me if she could clean her glasses on my shirt. How do you respond to this kind of question? I couldn't tell if she had no social grace or if she was coming on to me.

In some ways, a NASCAR audience is like a time capsule from ten years ago. The gentleman sitting in front of me was wearing this Big Johnson shirt. I thought those died a long time ago, but apparently not. Yes, misogynist clothing is funny. Incidentally, if you are interested, they have actually published a History of Big Johnsons book, where they call the t-shirt design "America's most popular t-shirt." Now we know why the feminist movement is still necessary

Anyway, this and other examples make it clear to me that NASCAR has a ways to go before they reach true diversity. For instance, they are not very popular with the brothers...I may have seen one black family in our section, and I saw very few others as we were leaving. Interestingly enough, though, my sister's husband did point out a nice, heartwarming example of NASCAR lesbian love on our way out, but I guess that is acceptable to the masses for the tittilation factor alone.

If there has been a big change in NASCAR in the last decade and a half, it is that the audience doesn't seem to be as overtly "redneck" (Big Johnsons aside) as it used to be. I only saw a few mullets, for example. I didn't notice a preponderance of rebel flags (and yes, the race was in Michigan, but that doesn't always mean anything). Not sure how many other overt displays of redneckishness there were either.

What there was, in abundance, was people wearing hats and clothing which represent their favorite driver. More often than not, however, their outfits more clearly represented the sponsor of their favorite driver than the driver itself. Dale Jarrett, for instance, drives the UPS car. Well, many Dale Jarrett fans were wearing UPS hats. Did they support the company as an extension of their driver loyalty? Did they just like the logo and not really care about the company? Or were they loyal UPS customers who started rooting for Mr. Jarrett because he drove their company's car? Or, even weirder, were they UPS employees showing the colors?

Yes, they sound like silly questions on the surface, but NASCAR fans do show a suprising loyalty to products. I would bet that the hardest thing to find at such an event would be someone who likes both Chevys and Fords...man, there were people who had some seemingly irrational hatred towards a brand of car. Would they still like Dale Earnhardt Jr. if he started driving a Ford? I have to wonder. I was left with the mischevious thought that Hyundai needs to enter NASCAR, just to tick off the hard-core fan.

I also have to wonder what's at the root of the severe hatred towards Jeff Gordon. There were some fans who would flick off Mr. Gordon every time he took a lap, screaming out obscenities. There was one woman who had a picture of him taped to her cooler with the caption: "Jeff and I share one thing: We both like men." There were plenty of people booing his every move, who would've been happiest if he would've wrecked. Not liking someone is something I can understand, but why would someone invest the time, energy, and money into attending a race just to boo one driver?

My father thinks it's just because he's good (which seems strange enough; we like our drivers to be good but not too good!?!?). I suspect it's largely because he (1) is from California, not the "Deep South," and (2) because he still looks a little boyish. Yes, Jeff Gordon is an affront to most NASCAR fans because he (in academic-speak) "subverts the dominant NASCAR paradigm of masculinity." Drivers are supposed to talk with an accent and look like they could either rebuild a transmission in their living room or punch you out; instead, Jeff talks normally, looks normal, and can outrace them. Than is why people hate him and think/wish/hope he is gay. He threatens their desired image of machismo. It's a theory, anyway.

So, what about the actual race? Some sports translate very well to television, some work very well in person only. Personally, I think NASCAR is much better on television by far than it is in person. Once the leader started lapping cars, it became very hard to tell who was on the lead lap and who was being lapped. You could spend all your time rooting for someone who, you would later discover, was actually a few laps down and stood no chance. And since the track was so damn big, it was very hard to tell what was going on on the opposite corners.

It was loud, though. The one thing you really cannot get from watching NASCAR on television is a true appreciation of the raw power. Race cars sound like fighter jets screaming around the tracks. You can feel them coming around the corners in your chest. They move much quicker than simple automobiles should. And they are driven by people who look and talk like they could be sitting in the stands. More than anything else, NASCAR is about the image of unbelievable power controlled by seemingly-ordinary people. In this way, it is truly a populist sport.

Having said that, most of the drivers are millionaires. They are all explicitly tied to major corporations. In actuality, NASCAR is really more about these major corporations coopting the populist image of good-ole boys tinkering with cars, but this is an argument which is really more suitable to an academic article than a blog.

Oh, I did learn one more thing, something drastically important, something everyone reading this can apply to their real life on a daily basis: when a sunscreen says either "lasts for eight hours" or "waterproof and sweatproof," they are lying.

PBS funding Elimination

I wouldn't normally quote a full article at length, but the one below is from a reputable source and is so disturbing, it warrants a wide distribution. If this disturbs you at all (and it should), please go to MoveOn and sign their petition. And get your friends to do the same.

From The Washington Post

Public Broadcasting Targeted By House

Panel Seeks to End CPB's Funding Within 2 Years

By Paul Farhi
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, June 10, 2005; Page A01

A House subcommittee voted yesterday to sharply reduce the federal government's financial support for public broadcasting, including eliminating taxpayer funds that help underwrite such popular children's educational programs as "Sesame Street," "Reading Rainbow," "Arthur" and "Postcards From Buster."

In addition, the subcommittee acted to eliminate within two years all federal money for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting -- which passes federal funds to public broadcasters -- starting with a 25 percent reduction in CPB's budget for next year, from $400 million to $300 million.

In all, the cuts would represent the most drastic cutback of public broadcasting since Congress created the nonprofit CPB in 1967. The CPB funds are particularly important for small TV and radio stations and account for about 15 percent of the public broadcasting industry's total revenue.

Expressing alarm, public broadcasters and their supporters in Congress interpreted the move as an escalation of a Republican-led campaign against a perceived liberal bias in their programming. That effort was initiated by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting's own chairman, Kenneth Y. Tomlinson.

"Americans overwhelmingly see public broadcasting as an unbiased information source," Rep. David Obey (Wis.), the ranking Democrat on the subcommittee, said in a statement. "Perhaps that's what the GOP finds so offensive about it. Republican leaders are trying to bring every facet of the federal government under their control. . . . Now they are trying to put their ideological stamp on public broadcasting."

But the Republican chairman of the House Appropriations subcommittee on labor, health and human services, and education asserted that the panel was simply making choices among various worthy government programs, and that no political message was intended.

The subcommittee's action, which came on a voice vote, doesn't necessarily put Big Bird on the Endangered Species List. House members could restore funding as the appropriations bill moves along or, more likely, when the House and Senate meet to reconcile budget legislation later this year. The Senate has traditionally been a stronger ally of public broadcasting than the House, whose former speaker, Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.), waged a high-profile but ultimately unsuccessful campaign to "zero out" funding for the CPB a decade ago.

The cuts nevertheless surprised people in public broadcasting. In his budget sent to Congress in February, President Bush had recommended reducing CPB's budget only slightly.

Several denounced the decision by the panel, which has 10 Republicans and seven Democrats, as payback by a Republican-dominated House after years of complaints from conservatives who see liberal bias in programs carried by the Public Broadcasting Service and National Public Radio. Broadcasters noted, for example, that the 25 percent cutback in next year's CPB budget was a rollback of money that Congress had promised in 2004.

PBS, in particular, drew harsh criticism in December from the Bush administration for a "Postcards From Buster" episode in which Buster, an animated rabbit, "visited" two families in Vermont headed by lesbians. And programming on both PBS and NPR has come under fire in recent months from Tomlinson, the Republican chairman of the CPB, who has pushed for greater "balance" on the public airwaves.

A spokeswoman for NPR, Andi Sporkin, directly blamed Tomlinson for yesterday's action, saying, "We've never been sure of Mr. Tomlinson's intent but, with this news, we might be seeing his effect."

Tomlinson did not return calls seeking comment. In a statement, he said, "Obviously, we are concerned [by the cuts], and we will be joining with our colleagues in the public broadcasting community to make the case for a higher level of funding as the appropriations measure makes its way through Congress."

John Lawson, the president of the Association of Public Television Stations, a Washington-based group that lobbies for public broadcasters, called the subcommittee's action "at least malicious wounding, if not outright attempted murder, of public broadcasting in America." He added, "This action could deprive tens of millions of American children of commercial-free educational programming."

Rep. Ralph Regula (R-Ohio), the subcommittee's chairman, said the cuts had nothing to do with dissatisfaction over public radio or TV programs. "It's pretty simple," he said in an interview. "The thinking was, there's not enough money for everything. There are 'must-do,' 'need-to-do' and 'nice-to-do' programs that we have to pay for. [Public broadcasting] is somewhere between a 'need-to-do' and a 'nice-to-do.' "

The subcommittee had to decide, he said, on cutting money for public broadcasting or cutting college grants, special education, worker retraining and health care programs. "No one's out to get" public broadcasting, Regula said. "It's not punitive in any way."

In fact, none of the Republican members of the subcommittee publicly denounced public radio or TV funding at yesterday's markup. Public broadcasting drew supportive statements from Obey and Rep. Nita Lowey (D-N.Y.).

Regula suggested public stations could "make do" without federal money by getting more funding from private sources, such as contributions from corporations, foundations, and listeners and viewers.

But the loss of $23.4 million in federal funds for children's educational shows -- which PBS calls its "Ready to Learn" programs -- could mean the elimination of these programs, said an official at Alexandria-based PBS who asked not to be named because the network still hopes to regain the funding. PBS's revenue totaled $333 million in fiscal year 2004.

The Ready to Learn group includes "Sesame Street," "Dragontales," "Clifford" and "Arthur," among others.

The House measure also cuts support for a variety of smaller projects, such as a $39.6 million public TV satellite distribution network and a $39.4 million program that helps public stations update their analog TV signals to digital format.

Small public radio stations, particularly those in rural areas and those serving minority audiences, may be the most vulnerable to federal cuts because they currently operate on shoestring budgets.

"This could literally put us out of business," said Paul Stankavich, president and general manager of the Alaska Public Radio Network, an alliance of 26 stations in the state that create and share news programming. "Almost all of us are down to the bone right now. If we lost 5 or 10 percent of our budgets in one fell swoop, we could end up being just a repeater service" for national news, with no funds to produce local content.

Stankavich, who also runs a public radio and TV station in Anchorage, said public radio is "an important source of news in urban areas, but it's life-critical in rural areas," especially in far-flung parts of Alaska unserved by any other broadcast medium.

my first stab at an academic bio!

I had to write a bio for the webpage at my new job, so I thought I would present it here for your amusement. Did I get the proper mix of serious and "Mike?"

BIO

Mike S. DuBose (Ph.D. from Bowling Green State University in American Culture Studies) is a Lecturer in the department who teaches various composition courses. He is the former editor of the now defunct literary journal Stark Raving Sanity, and he has published academic writing in Holidays, Ritual, Festival, Celebration, and Public Display, in the journal Reconstruction, in the Encyclopedia of Capitalism, and forthcoming in the Journal of Popular Culture. Mike's main areas of research interest include 1980s popular culture, critical media studies, and the application of complexity theory to the study of culture; he is combining all three in both a revision of his dissertation into book form for a major American academic press and several research papers in progress. In his spare time, he plays guitar, watches Food Network almost obsessively, participates gleefully in geek culture such as professional wrestling fandom, and stares at his wife in awe. Mike also occasionally writes a non-fiction, non-academic blog called TheMikeDuBose

proudest zoo moment

Customer: Sorry, my kid spilt some milk in this wagon we rented.

Me: It's okay...definitely nothing to cry over.

And the customer GOT IT!

the best television network in the world

When I was told that I indeed had a fulltime position for the upcoming year, I told myself that I was not going to go on too much of a spending spree just because I had finally reached the level where I can sustain myself without credit (at least, that's where I'll be when I start getting paid). But I did need to get a few creature comforts, so one of the things I did was get the DirecTV full package with a TiVo Digital Video Recorder.

I had DirecTV before (mostly for the football package), so I knew what I was getting into. The TiVo, however, makes all the difference. It has a 70 hour hard drive and will automatically record every episode of my favorite show, if I program it to do so. But as network tv is such a waste, I really don't use it for that. What do I want with fifteen episodes of the latest Fox reality show, _So I married the top singer and was forced to live on an island with a strict Nanny_? I would much rather expand my viewing in hopes of finding new, exciting, and non-moronic television programs.

What I am using it for, however, is to record stuff off of what is now my favorite channel, the Independant Film Channel. Have you heard of this? It's friggin' awesome. All independant films, all day, uncut, uncensored.

So far I have watched a b&w Bruce Campbell film about a bank heist (forgot the name), two of the Blind Swordsman films (from what they call Samuri Saturday...which is as cool as it sounds), and Slasher, a documentary about a used car dealer. On the TiVo, I have The Usual Suspects, some Mamet film, some Phillip Seymour Hoffman film about a gasoline sniffer, and a few others. Tonight, it's gonna record The Evil Dead. I got more coming.

Indy culture, stuff I would never see otherwise (and most likely, never even hear of), and I can watch it WHENEVER I WANT!!!! VICTORY!!!!!! CULTURE SHOULD WORK ***FOR*** YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!!!! DEMAND THIS STUFF!!!!!!!!

(yes, I'm done now)

new measures of political and economic stability

So when I told my leader at work (a nice 18 year old, about whom I have some good stories) that I was leaving, he told me that he was happy for me, but he could never understand just what I was doing there in the first place when I should have a real, good job. We then talked about the guy who dresses up as one of our zoo mascots (hate to blow it for the kiddies out there, but he's KC the Polar Bear), because he is a computer programmer (nice guy, too). Mr. Polar Bear is in the same boat as me; he too should have suitable employment. I then told my leader that my wonderful wife has an MA in Higher Ed Administration and is working as a bank teller.

Y'ever heard of the phrase "organic intellectual?" Well, my leader suprised me by showing some hints of being one himself. He told me that him and his friend (also 18, a nice guy, works at the zoo, and looks suspiciously like Carlito Carribean Cool) have talked about this, and that they have concluded that you can tell when the economy of our fair country is in trouble because the zoo gets drastically better employees. When the economy is actually doing good, they are stuck with high school brats only. When things start going down the crapper, they get smart people who should be working somewhere else.

When I was in the midst of my great tenure at Little Caesar Pizzas in management, we of course noticed this as well. When Bush Mark I was prez, things were bad because we had lotsa college students and ex-military working for us. It was really great as an assistant manager to know that you had workers who understood you actually had to work at work ("If it wasn't work, they wouldn't call it work...they'd call it super-happy funtime"...Red Foreman) instead of being ignorant high school punks who only were trying to goof off and get in the pants of our countergirls. When the economy improved, though, you could feel the IQ inside a Little Caesars drop like the air pressure. Good economy, moron workers.

I wish I could've taped my conversation with my leader so I could play it for my classes, because it demonstrated a great principle which we talk about in class...that of the "reserve labor force." It is (the Marxist thought goes) in the best interest of those in control of the means of production (the rich, the business owners) to keep employment rates and the level of satisfaction of the general public at a fairly low level. By doing so, people will be happy to get and keep whatever crap job they have, and the worker pool will be large...this works out to the advantage of the rich because they can hire only the good people, and those good workers can't give too much crap to their bosses about their awful working conditions because there are people lined up waiting for those awful jobs.

Again, the zoo bears this out. When I applied for the job, it was at the zoo's job fair. It was scheduled to run from 9 to 1. I got there at 10:30. I didn't get out until 12:30. There were 500 people who showed up that day, all for (mind you) $6/hour employment. In a real economy, this wouldn't be happening. But it makes you realize that the powers that have to hire must start licking their chops when the economy goes in the tank or whenever there's mass layoffs. That's why WalMart loves going into towns where every other industry is dying, because they can get the best workers and hold out the hope of staying at those low-paying, soul-destroying jobs over the heads of those workers...so the former assemblyline foreman better be thankful of his Greeter job and not raise any ruckus.

I swear, the more exposure I have to lower-class life and work, the worse it makes me feel about the world...and the more it makes me feel like a pseudo-Marxist/socialist myself. At the very least, I understand those viewpoints a whole lot better.

So, if I was running a news organization (online, radio, whatever), I would go around and talk to the people who do the hiring at corporations and anyone who works in HR. If they are happy with their employee base, there must be something wrong with the world somewhere.

Lesson? It is good for the populace when the rich suffer. When they are happy, watch out.

Or am I getting swept away into bitterness over my own low wage potential?

clever students pt. 1

One of my Ethnic Studies students, before the final exam, came up with the most clever metaphor for American history I've heard in a while. American history, he said, is like a big game of immigrant whack-a-mole. The powers-that-be wield the hammer. Indians pop up? Whack! Irish? Whack! Blacks? Chinese? Whack, whack!

It was one of the most clever things I've heard a student say in a long time. For a second, I was tempted to give him an "A" just for that comment...but only for a second. If I could remember his name, I would tell ya.

Incidentally, here's a java whack-a-mole game.

long overdue announcement

There will be much more about this coming up in the near future (especially as I just put in my notice at my part time job), but:

Last Thursday, I formally accepted a position at the University of Toledo as a Lecturer in the Department of English. My teaching duties will be be primarily in the Comp 1/2 cycle, but they promise to also let me teach some Professional Writing and Technical Writing classes...which should diversify my cv a little. It is a full time, permanent position, with the requisite salary (not great, but a whole lot better than my previous adjunct pay) and full benefits. The department itself seems really nice and professional, and I look forward to the experience.

I am very happy to have the position. Now that I will not have to ferry myself between three colleges and prepare for classes in multiple disciplines, I hope to both improve the quality of my teaching and actually do some of the research and writing that's been spinning around my head for the past two years. I am also very happy not to be on the adjunct "where am I gonna work next year" bandwagon.

I am not, however, content. I still wish to be a college professor, and I would like to work in a field which is more compatable with my research interests than Composition....which I have the greatest respect for, but is not really what I thought I would be doing professionally.

I will be reentering the job market in the fall. This time around, I will (as the result of my UT position) be able to focus ONLY on tenure track positions. I hope to spend the summer making myself a more viable candidate, both in terms of my research (I have quit my summer job and am going to read and write extensively) and in presentation.

And I know I've said this in the past, but...more info coming soon.

Mike S. DuBose
Lecturer of Composition
University of Toledo

rules for badasses

from my own personal observations:

1) You cannot be a badass and be in love...even if the significant other is also trying to be a badass. Holding hands kills the effect.

2) You especially cannot be a badass and be with children. There's something about telling your kid "okay, honey, you can get your picture taken with the Easter Bunny" that also kills the effect.

3) You cannot be a badass at the zoo or at any family friendly surroundings. You are not tough looking at penguins.

4) If you are at the zoo, no amount of leather or trenchcoat will
help.

5) Please leave camoflauge to the army.

magnetism

Finally, a car "I want to show my political affiliation" magnet that cuts to the heart of the issue: the Bush Fish. While there is a lot negative to say about this line of thinking, at least they're finally being honest...

the period of hell is over! let the posting commence!

I'm back! Expect to see regular stuff here again. For this episode, I thought I would give some of the more memorable lines I've heard while working at the zoo.

1) me: The camera with flash works well if you want to take indoor photos, but the one without flash is good if you only will be shooting outdoors. customer: What do you mean by "outdoors?"

2) parent to 4 year old child: No, you can't have anything. You're in trouble, remember? child (after staring at parent): I'm not going to visit you when you get old.

3) parent to child grabbing his crotch: Do you have to go to the bathroom? child: My penis hurts.

4) coworker: After I buy my new station wagon, I want to drive it on dirt roads, so I'm going to West Virginia.

5) coworker: Are there any special drivers licenses for a Vespa?

more to come.

doing the zoo

First off, let me say that I am happy to be working for the Toledo Zoo. I am happy that me and my wife will not have to starve this summer. I also think that this will be a much better job than doing the security guard thing I've talked about, and it should be more fun than going back to the pizza making thingie.

I have quickly found out what makes a good zoo employee, and it's first off, showing up for work. My first week, I work two days. My second week, I'm up to four.

It's really nice working with customers again. I did this for my 9+ years at Little Caesar's Pizza, and I always enjoyed it. Plus here, I get the benefit of watching parents deal with their screaming kids. I already had one return a toy that her daugher "pocketed." The look on her face was classic.

On the down side, I have to stand on concrete the whole time I'm there, which has made me aware that I need to patronize Dr. Scholls. My feet ached like hell after a full day shift. I told this to my wife, who responded with "you mean, they make you stand all day?"...which is interesting, because her job also makes her stand the whole time. For some reason, I pointed out the irony instead of just taking whatever sympathy I could get.

I have been, no lie, instructed to play with a yo-yo when I'm not busy. Apparently, it's in the hope that kids will see me play with the yo-yo and then bug their parents for one. So far, it does work, but the majority of parents tell their kids "no" and drag them away as fast as they can.

We have a cd player, but apparently there are only three approved cds. First, a Beach Boys greatest hits disk, then the soundtrack to some Disney film (with Phil Collens singing a tune, no less), and finally, kiddie music (sample lyric: "you take the peanut butter and you squish it, you squish it, then you take the grapes and you squish 'em, you squish 'em"...I know, sheer poetry). I asked if I could burn a Beatles disk, but I was told that for some reason, the zoo doesn't like the Beatles. Apparently, someone also got in trouble for playing (no lie) Huey Louis & the News.

Anyway, I've been leaning towards the Beach Boys on the grounds that the other two really reek, but that backfired on me...when I got home last night, I was hearing Brian Wilson & co. in my head all evening. I'm sure that by the end of the semester, I'll rip the throat out of anyone who dares play "Kokomo."

Just keep me away from karyoke, for the love of God.

Another Davis! Just what the world needs...

Last night, my compadre Jim had another son, Sean Patrick Davis. Best wishes to all, but Jim, did you really need to spread your legacy any further?

five weeks of hell.

So, what could only be described as my "busy season" is underway. In addition to my class at Bowling Green and my class at University of Toledo, I have also started (today, actually) a class at Terra Community College. Also, my zoo gig has really kicked in (a blog entry on that one is coming up).

Which means that untill my UT and BG classes end on May 1, I will pretty much be working every day. Five weeks of solid work. Wee.

I would say that this would have a tremendous impact on my personal life, but let us be frank...as a result of my budget and other people's grad school freak-outs, I don't really have one. But I am missing a few key things, such as:

1. PBS on saturday mornings. I will now never know how the newest project on This Old House ends. Will they finish in time? I will also miss the "What Is It?" segment of Ask This Old House Actually, I still think there's a book in all of this, namely, how did blue collar employment become popular entertainment? And what are the ramifications, anyway?
   
2. my continuing quest to figure out what the big deal is with the CSI: franchise, and why people like it...previously chronicled in this space.
   
3. sleeping to any reasonable hour. Under no circumstance should anyone be forced to be up before sunrise...it's criminal.
   
4. decompression time of any sort. I can tell right now that for the next few weeks, I will be dreaming about teaching Zoo animals sociology.
   

I will miss all these things. It will be a struggle to get through the hellspot, but I hope I can make it. Mainly, however, I hope my wife recognizes me.

reclaiming heritage

Tonight, I became a little more southern than I was before. Home cooking did it: my first attempt at chicken-fried steak, mashed 'taters, cream gravy.

Although I'm from Jacksonville FL, I have lived in Ohio for the last seven years. I find myself becoming more southern the longer I'm away from the south, which is interesting. Two summers ago, I started doing sweet tea...which, strangely enough, I never really got into when living in the south. Never cooked the chicken-fried steak, either.

I suppose that there's some ultimate lesson about how the very proximity to a place blinds you to its charms. Or, to say it like a country song, you don't know what you got untill it's gone. And I would desperately love to theorize this postmortem memory growth. The only problem is that I am still too full and bloated to do so.

Now, if I can only find someone in this bleak, wintery hellhole who can do legitimate barbecue, I'll be happy...but that's a rant for another day.

think happy thoughts

There's so much more I could write here. And before you think this is going to be one of those "I will really try to post more" entries that every blog in existance has, please let me explain first.

There are several areas I would like to explore in more depth. First, I teach, and as a result, I always have a lot to say on that subject. However, I really am bad at talking in generics and suppositions, and it would be ethically wrong to name student names. Teaching is something I take really seriously, and I respect my students too much to embarrass them online.

Secondly, I would also like to talk more about my research. However, I would first like to do more research. I always seem to get caught up in my teaching work or other meaningless crap. Perhaps you will see more of me exploring why I avoid the work I really want to do. That would be unique: a blog as an avoidance technique.

Primarily, however, I have a WHOLE bunch to say about my ongoing quest to find an academic job. Unfortunately, however, this is the one area that I don't really feel I can talk about without falling into "the world is a bleak, doomed landscape which has me stranded, beaten, and crucified" mindset...and last time I started thinking like that, it took me several months and an antidepressant prescription to return to normal. But I'm also not sure if not talking about all this stuff helps or hurts me, ultimately...and that's my main dillemma here.

You see, to this point I have been on the academic job market for three years. I have sent over four hundred applications out in that timespan. I have had about seven phone interviews and two campus interviews. As of yet, however, I have no real job and am stuck with the prospects of diminished part time teaching again. Combine this with the inability to pay off credit cards (including that ever-vital food credit card) and you begin to see my issues.

I have heard all the standard advice. I have been told that it takes an average of five years to find a tenure-track academic job. How come everyone I went to doctoral school has one by this point and I do not? I have been told that I might have to cool my heals at a temporary job, at a community college, or somewhere else I really do not want to stay. Okay, fine, but I can't even get those jobs. I have been told that I need to develop connections, but there have already been numerous occasions where I knew people on the hiring committee, and I still couldn't get a phone interview.

I have seen people without dissertations get jobs. I have seen people apply to only a handful of places and get jobs. I have seen a few people with diminished social graces and limited classroom skills get tenure. I have seen the black wombat of Satan on the horizon, fangs glistening with ichor, bearing down for one last bite...

(sorry...scratch that last one)

I have seen some of the rudest behavior in the world on the job market. Rejection notices which announce how proud the college is to hire this wonderful candidate, only to (in the second paragraph, no less) say "needless to say, we are no longer considering you." I have seen correspondence on the back of index cards. I have seen one sentence rejection letters. Last week, I got rejected from a job that had already rejected me a month prior! I have had literally hundreds of colleges to cheap to even send a rejection letter.

I have passed around my application material to everyone I can think and gotten mostly "looks good" feedback. They tell me my letters of recommendation look good. My vita looks damn good for someone who's had to do as much part-time work as have I. Really, this would be so
much easier if someone would authoritatively come out and say, "Sorry, Dr. DuBose, but you are woefully inadequate for this line of work and should go back to working in pizza...and quit bothering us"

So I tend not to think about the academic job hunt too much, and my desire to write about it (and I really do want to write all the ups and downs...doing this blog has been a great emotional release in many areas). I guess what I've been doing falls under the "think happy
thoughts to drive those bad thoughts away" category. Maybe by not writing about job related stuff, I'm trying to brainwash myself to not dwell on how everything will end up circling in a black pit of despair.

One day last week, while walking home from my class, I started to wonder what life would be like if I never got a full time job, if I had to put odds and ends together for the next fifteen years...if I could never afford a decent car...if I had to rent for the rest of my life...if I had to keep charging groceries. Who would stay by my side? Who would abandon me like some have already? Most importantly, how long would it take before I finally believed, with every mote of my existance, that I really was a failure, an imposter, and really had no business trying to be a professional teacher and thinker...could I go back to meaningless work without completely cracking?

Now I wonder if such bleak thoughts should be staved off by thinking happy thoughts, or if they are the result of avoiding them...

Watch this space for details.

scotch

(adapted from a listserv post of mine)

After receiving a birthday gift of money for scotch from my mother in law (who, by the way, rocks the house), I went up to the liquor store yesterday afternoon to pick up a bottle. Scotch is something I could really get into if I had the time and cash. I never was a fan untill one time I was at my folk's place and started to hit my mother's bottle in the evenings. Something clicked

So I was at the store and totally baffled by the selection. I know very little about scotch...and the only stuff I've actually owned was a bottle of Glenfiddich I got for Christmas two years ago (one would assume to keep me away from her bottle).

So, after consulting with the store owner. He was a nice guy, but he admitted he didn't really know too much about scotch. Of course, his suggestions inevitably were out of my price range. Luckily, though, he did have a book on single malt scotches in the display area. After consulting, I ended up with (1) a bottle of Aberlour 10 yr. old and (2) a bottle of rum...still had enough money left over for a happy meal!

I cracked open the bottle last night (corked...nice!) to celebrate my new job as seasonal help at the Toledo Zoo. It's good stuff, and quite different than Glenfiddich, my only single malt reference. It's less peaty. The label on its tube claims it has "a mixture of spice--cinnamon and nutmeg--and autumn fruit overtones," and as much as I usually don't understand snob language, this hits it pretty close.
Mild smokiness and a bit of sweetness. I drink on the rocks, and the melted ice mellows it out nicely.

The owner of the store did suggest one brand, by the way, but as it ran for $241, I thought I'd pass. One of these days...

requiem

I saw black. Swirling colors, blending, changing, layers upon layers, but in the end, it's always black...or so it seemed.

Life often turns to black, sometimes quick, sometimes slowly, but always first through subtle shadings and blends of blue and purple...and these are the colors that dominate...the colors that haunt...the colors that skewer themselves into the recesses of my vision when I look. Yes, they are the colors of bruises, the colors of wounds, the colors of pain, the colors of sharp, brutal impact. They are the colors I saw when I looked at my bruised left pinky toe's nail.

As often is the case, the pain came in the middle of celebration, of raucous hedonism, of unbridled joy. There was the joyous cacaphony of gathered friends, the warmth of the summer's sun warming the gathering place, the allure of summer evening dew in the air. The sounds were soon to fade, as usually is the case when that harsh mistress who goes under the subtle guise of Miller High Life is involved. The summer sun was soon to recede and fade, giving way instead to the biting wind and snowy sponge that is an Ohio winter. And the dew was soon to turn into a vicious, biting damp that would penetrate your flip-flop and aggrevate the subtly burning athelete's foot subtly brewing within the toes.

The act itself was inconsequential, merely a gentle stubbing. There was pain, yes, there is always pain, but it was soon blotted out by the festivities of the evening. There were friends to talk to, hot dogs to be eaten, beers to be consumed, subsequent hangovers to be suffered, and the hope, the joyous hope that soon, the good times would continue, while the pain would fade.

The pain did indeed fade, but the bruising instead came upon the scene. The pinky toe's nail started to turn yellow, almost jaundiced. The yellow darkened as the blood began to flow, then later harden. Soon, darkness overcame the pinky toe nail, which sat as a dark speck on the end of the foot. The pain turned into a bruise, which itself turned into a dark reminder that the day of celebration, of hedonism, of warmth had passed, and that as new growth occurred, the blood-stained nail would be there to remind all of the death of those former joys...one could not bring them back, anymore than one could un-bruise the pinky toe's nail.

As the blood cells coagulated, bound together in the form of a bruise-ridden mass, other relationships broke apart. The sun disappeared into a grey, snow-ridden haze. The warmth was blown away by arctic blasts. The friends dispersed, some to other parts of the country, some across the oceans to distant shores, some deep into the recesses of their own depression and angst-filled minds.

Yet bruised pinky toe nails cannot last forever...sooner or later, new growth will inevitably push out the scars of yesteryear. And indeed, as time passed, it eventually became time to sever the remains of the bruised nail. I stood over the nail, clippers in hand, ready to cut. But I could not do so, not right away. As the nail was about to be restored to unblemished health, I felt I would be accursed if I let the moment go without an appropriate memorial.

The losses of the last year had to be addressed. To my departed friends...you are missed, you will never be cut away...unlike the bruise, part of you will stay with me forever, whether you now abide across the oceans or simply in the neurotic reaches of your over-stressed skulls. Bruises fade...but you will not.

Yes, it's true that the pinky toe nail is now snipped. The bruised nail surface now resides in the trash bin. But new growth has taken its place. New growth will always occur. A new summer will soon dawn. New warmth will come. New dew will settle. New friends will be discovered. And a new nail, already growing strong, healthy, and clear, will continue to guide and guard the pinky toe.

Because black is not forever, not even in the case of bruised pinky toes.

another reason that _Apocalypse Now_ is relevant

The name of the scent of the deodorant I recently bought is "Victory." I guess I now know what napalm smells like in the am...

curl!!!

One of the realities of my existance (brought mostly on by my wonderful employment situation) is that I have only basic cable. This causes me to do weird things, horrible things, terrible things, things I would not ordinarily consider.

This semester, for instance, I am at home for lunch, so I've been watching The Red Green Show while I eat my sandwich (we get CBC on basic cable). But about two weeks ago, I turn it on, and women's curling is on instead.

I wasn't going to watch....I didn't really want to watch...but there was nothing else on, and I really couldn't see concentrating 100% on a hot ham and cheese...it would've been a waste of mental power. So I put curling on, and as it was a tournament, I got curling for an entire week.

Now, forgive me if this offends or makes me look more like a pig than I actually am, but I found the whole experience of watching women's curling to be terribly...erotic. There were some mighty attractive curlers there (even the ones whose hair was straight, HA HA HA HA HA...sorry)...I think either the Ontario or the Manitoba team had the most babes. And then they started to play, and they started to yell...."Woah!!!!" ....."Harderrrr!!!!!!!" ....."Yeasssss!!!!!!" ....."Curl!!!!!!!!!" Tell me, it's not a stretch to get turned on by this, is it?

So then my wife came home one day and asked me what I was watching. Then she said (no lie) "All that yelling sounds like you're watching a porn." God, I love my wife. Maybe I need to ask her to start carrying around a broom....

But I digress. The tournament ended, and I thought my life would continue as it had before. Alas, this week, CBC started broadcasting a MEN's curling tournament. Even Lori admits there is nothing erotic about it.

And yet I continue to watch...because (gasp!) I have become interested in the sport! I have started to think about strategy. I know most of the rules. And, heaven forbid, I have thought about curling myself.

Somebody please broadcast a swamp racing competition, quick!!!!

work (part-time), or, the search is over

I have officially been hired as a merchandise worker at the Toledo Zoo! Wooohoooo! It actually pays $1.50 less than the security gig, but...hell, I'm gonna be working at a zoo...definitely among the cooler gigs I've ever had...at least, it beats selling water or killing rats.

I orient this Friday...more details as they become available.

Slobberbone tonight!

Woooohoooo! Report to follow.

true love

Although I told her not to get me anything, my wife surprised me with The Band's Greatest Hits. I'm a lucky fella

HST revisited

I have been wanting for a while to write more on the death of Hunter Thompson. I wanted to write about how much his writing meant to me, how much energy and verve it had, how much I learned about accepting the bizzare and outrageaous as legitimate and even beautiful parts of real life.

Instead, I'm left with the news that when Hunter killed himself, he did so (1) with his wife on the phone, and (2) with his son, daughter-in-law and 6-year-old grandson in the house (see this Yahoo article for details).

Of course, any suicide is a complex matter, and unless you know all the facts, any judgement you make should be tempered. I had a friend who committed suicide a while back, and I still have no clue as to how I should feel about that one...and as I will never know enough, I doubt I ever will. However, knowing that a family member will discover your bleeding corpse is bad. Killing yourself when your wife is on the phone to you and your six friggin year old grandson is a room or two over....

Right now, it's really hard for me to like Hunter.

web news

the depressing: The Jayhawks have broken up...see
this article from the Star Tribune

the vindicating: for those who read my bit on Eternal Sunshine of the
Spotless Mind...see
this Oscar prediction

the informative: for those who just need to know about a good dive
bar...see this suprisingly useful Stuff article (not that I normally read Stuff)

the astute: Roger Ebert on the rules of the Oscars...see his Sun Times piece

HST RIP

Hunter Thompson apparently committed suicide yesterday...the orbituary is online on Yahoo news

Once I get caught up on my work, I'll post a little more on this.

dogs playing poker=high art

I know that everyone has seen the velvet tapestries of dogs playing poker. Well, apparently two of the series of paintings they are based upon just sold at auction for almost $600,000! Does high sales value equal high art? The relevant story is on Yahoo news.

One of these days, I'm going to theorize exactly why these are so popular...

green tea for Jesus

Lately, it seems that most of the pleasures of my teenage years are bent on denying themselves to me. A while ago, my body's ability to metabolize sugar went downhill, and I had to quit eating sweetened breakfast cereal. To this day, whenever I go grocery shopping, Cap'n Crunch stares at me with menace, and I know he's feeling jilted, plotting his revenge. There's now malice deep within his "Ahoy, matey"s.

Lately, though, it's my old friend caffeine who's been deserting me. About a year ago, I had to cut my coffee down to three cups a day. Then I had to move to a half decaf mixture...which was especially rough, because we all know just how much decaf sucks as a rule. Now, even my measley two and a half cups of half decaf is just too much for me.

It starts out fine. I get the nice mild feeling of euphoria, and my head just starts to "click" (and other coffee drinkers, + anyone who's seen Cat on a Hot Tin Roof will know what I mean). Then my brain starts to feel alive. The hemispheres start communicating in more rapid fashion. I break out of my normal "tunnel vision" and start to notice EVERYTHING. I feel EVERYTHING. Then I know I'm doomed.

Hey, the feeling of everything is wonderful, and if it would stop there, I would be eternally happy. It must be how some of those super babies feel when they grow up. But it doesn't stop there, and I am generally doomed to what starts as a mild shake. Then my head starts to cloud from the sides inward. Then my stomach starts to feel queasy, just like it does when my blood sugar gets thrown all out of whack. Then I have to get some junk food in me, and that's the last thing I really need now.

So I've been forced to go somewhere I never thought I would go...tea. To me, tea was always the poor second cousin to coffee. Coffee had everything going for it. It was thick, it had terroir (look it up), it had vibrancy, whereas tea just tasted like watered-down leaves. Coffee was strong and ethereal, whereas tea was weak and spindley. Coffee was "black blood of the earth," and there was no way that lawn clippings could suffice. My British mother didn't understand me, but tea just was not my cup of tea.

Then the caffeine rejection started, and I had to do SOMETHING. I mean, I like juice, but it doesn't pull you through the morning. By default, I kinda fell into the green tea thing.

Fast forward to last night. My wife and I went to Big Lots, the local discount/close-out store (where they sell what my dissertation advisor calls "the detritus of late capitalism"...that Ellen, she's so intellectual), and I saw some green tea on sale just as I have to replenish my stock.

I buy, and we get it home. Only then do I notice that it is more specifically "Prince of Peace brand Green Tea." Apparently, it's harvested in China and sold to a Christian company to resell to the world. This, of course, leads me to several questions. If HE were to come back today, would green tea be his brand? Do I earn "get out of purgatory points" for drinking this stuff? Is the tea itself blessed? Will Lori start noticing weird behavior? Does the holy nature of this brand mean that this green tea, unlike sugar and coffee, will refrain from actually turning on me?

Finally, is this less holy as I got this out of a discount store, or does that just signify the declining position of religious beverages in the marketplace?

trigger panic

So I got a call Sunday from the guy at the security guard company, telling me that my background check had cleared and I could schedule my 6 hour "pre-employment training." I felt worse with this news. Everything about the potential of becoming a security guard filled me with increasing dread, and it felt as if the job were a black hole sucking me in.

I payed my bills, and refigured my finances. After discussing matters with my wife, I decided not to take the security position after all. We will swing the money thing somehow, and I will continue to look for employment...I'm just not going to do it as a rent-a-cop. I get to call them tomorrow and let them know.

Deciding not to take the job felt great...it actually felt like the black cloud that had been hanging over my head since I applied finally decided to dissipate. I'm not afraid of doing any work, and I have worked some really awful jobs (remind me to tell the story of killing rats with a broomhandle with a nail on the end), but there was something about this one that made me horribly depressed. Maybe it was the fact that I'd have to work 2nd or 3rd shift AND be on call AND not have guaranteed hours. Maybe it was that my schedule would only be determined by last minute phone calls. Maybe it was just too close to the wino/flunky status, and I am not ready to admit to myself that I am without hope employment-wise...yet.

You may see me flipping burgers. You may see me as a greeter at Wal-Mart. You may see me as a bouncer. But I REFUSE to hold clipboards and ask you to sign in.

Give me another two years on the job market, however, and I may change my mind.

security alternative

In an effort to avoid the security profession, I have also applied to work at a Chinese restaurant...which should disappoint my father, who inevitably acts ripped off when he goes to a Chinese restaurant and gets served by an Anglo...oh well, poverty trumps cultural authenticity any day...

cool essay

Warren Ellis has posted a great reading essay on his site...go get it.

security update

For those following the saga, I passed the psychological profile, and apparently I am mentally suited to be a security guard. Upon hearing this, I became immensely sad.

Before I can actually start doing security, however, I have to go through an info screening...to make sure I didn't lie about my criminal record, I presume. Then I have to sit through a 6 hour pre-employment (meaning unpaid) class of some sort.

The heart palipitates just thinking about it. And the more I dwell on it, the more I think we might just wanna rethink socialism.

FARK headline of note in reference to groundhog's day

another repost:

And I quote, "The rodent saw his shadow: Six more weeks of winter. Bastard."

Ya gotta love groundhog's day...the most Freudian of all holidays.

security

So, desperate times call for desperate measures. If you've heard me moan and complain about my current employment situation (mostly that I don't have enough of it), then you know that it makes me feel more than a little antsy. So I made the big step yesterday...I applied for a job as a part time security officer. Yes, you heard that right. I want to be a rent-a-cop.

The whole situation was not without its humorous aspects. First off, it was in this industrial office-type building just in front of a shopping center. I took the elevator to the second floor, found the office, and rang the "for service" bell. A gentleman who looked suspiciously like the host of the PBS series _America's Test Kitchen_ informed me that they did not let their appilcations leave the premise (must be a security risk, HA HA HA HA) and showed me to a desk where I could fill out the forms.

The first clue that this might not be the most stable work environment is that the forms which had the work duties and requirements were laminated...I assume they either have a WHOLE lot of turnover or they are afraid of having applicants "discharge" onto them. The gentleman in charge walked me through the form (check here, check here, fill this out), and helpfully told me what suggested wage I should put in the "wage desired" box. I even had to fill out a hypothetical report on an auto break-in which might happen on one of my hypothetical shifts at "XYZ Enterprises." I resisted somehow the temptation to dress the imaginary perp up in a Motorhead shirt or give him a mohawk.

Then I got to take a personality profile...in scantron! Yes, scantron, the choice of teachers and top level psychologists everywhere. It asked such questions as "I believe everybody steals" and "If an employee is caught stealing, how much could they steal and still be given a second chance?" Of course, I had the Jane's Addiction song stuck in my head the whole time.

Really, the test was sort of pathetic. They are either going to determine that I am either (1) horribly honest (because I have never stolen), (2) a complete liar (because I claim I've never stolen), (3) incredibly naive and trusting (as I don't believe that everyone steals), or (4) a complete liar trying to tell them what they want to hear. Really, though, the only lesson they could honestly get out of it is that I hate absolutes and will answer "no" to ANY question that starts "I believe everybody...."

They are going to send the test off to be "graded," and if I "pass" (whatever that means), I get interviewed tomorrow...I will keep you informed. It will be a real shame if I don't pass, and I hope it won't get on my permanent record. I have suffered many such blows lately, though, and this would rank up there with finding out I'm not good enough to work at Aldi's Discount Grocers or the local gas station.

It's been my experience on the job market that many employers try to convince themselves and their potential employees that the company MUST be important if the application process is so long and involved. This is definitely the case with the Community Colleges to which I've been applying lately. Taken to the extreme, I guess that you could argue that really bad jobs like "sanitation engineer" must have an application process that would make you weep, while very important jobs like "President" have few if any application requirements...which would actually explain a whole lot....

To be fair, I can't imagine that they have a tremendous application pool...the guy who was leaving the same time as me looked like he just left his other job of "beachcomber." Just think of this application process, though, the next time you see a rent-a-cop kicking a teenager out of the mall.

np: Meatloaf, "You took the words right out of my mouth"

_CSI:_

A repost...

So, in my off hours, I have managed to catch a couple of CSI: reruns in a desperate attempt to figure out exactly what the allure of this series is. Why is it spawning spinoffs at a Law and Order-esque rate? What brilliant work are they doing?

My findings? Not much. I'm not sure why anyone would actually watch this show, let alone why it is the most popular thing on television. The dialog is the most horribly cliched thing I have ever heard...WWE has more witty lines than this. The cases are fairly bland and predictable, and there's not even a "whodunnit" factor at work. About the only thing I have discovered for sure is that CSI: Miami shows more cleavage than the original.

But wouldn't it be great if they would bring the CSI: formula to other locales? Imagine CSI: Bowling Green. Who was responsible for the public urination? Who TP'd the frat house? Or CSI: Wood County...who tipped over Farmer John's cows? Or even CSI: Palatka...who stole the suntan lotion from the Kingsley Lake giftshop?

Ah, the possibilities....

missing posts?

So, I have sent a few updates, but for whatever reason, they haven't arrived...Fear not, I have not abandoned ye!

_Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_

So, me and the wife watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night in celebration of our anniversary. Some observations:

1) Charlie Kaufman is a mad genius. He's also perhaps the only writer who doesn't direct whose name is enough to get me to see his films.

2) Would it be admitting too much to say that I saw myself WAY too much in Jim Carrey's character?

3) If I was single and stood a chance in hell, I would like to have Kirsten Dunst wearing only underwear, jumping on my bed.

4) This was much more tender and romantic than I expected from a Kaufman film. At first, I was wondering if it was really an "Anniversary" film, but I think the ending was perfect. That you can know that a huge number of elements of a relationship will go to hell, but that's okay... That you will eventually find that right person...

5) You have to love a film that won't leave you. There's been very few moments today where it wasn't stuck in my head.

6) We need more of these kind of Jim Carrey films and less of Bruce Almighty...and Adam Sandler, if you're listening, same goes for you. Go back and find PT Anderson and make him write more for you.

comics for history!

Interesting article about a forthcoming comic which is an illustrated history of the state of Israel. I can't help but thinking that this would make a perfect companion to the comic of Pope John Paul II's life and childhood that came out a few years ago...

goodbye, Carson

Johnny Carson passed away this weekend. Late night television has not been the same without him. Favorite Carson anecdote: he said that the one type of joke he could never pull off was an Abraham Lincoln joke, and he could never figure out why (Culture Studies scholars? Theories?). So of course, Carson kept trying them. One of the more memorable was when he did a sketch of Lincoln as a stand-up comedian...it ended with someone shooting off his stovepipe hat.

RIP

My grandmother died Saturday morning from complications from pneumonia. My thoughts go out to my Grandfather, my dad, and all my family. Wish I could be there.

Red Dawn

On an e-mail list I'm on (Postcard From Hell), there is been a thread about the film Red Dawn, and I couldn't be happier. Those of you who know about my Red Dawn addiction will know that I seemingly hold this film in greater respect than most people...I want to rehabilitate it, to use Stalinist (?) terminology.

Anyway, someone posted a piece on _Red Dawn_ from TruthOut.org called "Iraqui's Red Dawn" (available hre, but you may have to scroll down some), relating the film to our current war du jour. It's worthy of a read.

Fave Red Dawn story: a girl I knew my first year in Bowling Green was from Lithuania, and I managed to get her (among others) to come back to my house to watch Red Dawn before hitting the bars. She couldn't believe the level of paranoia exhibited. Plus she said the Russian speech was bad.

good news...

Today marks the second anniversary of the day I married my wonderful wife. I couldn't be happier. Lori never fails to amaze me with her tenderness, her good humor, and her warmth. I couldn't imagine being without her.

jerks

So, on the advice of a friend, I finally caught Boston Legal...it was either that or CSI: New York, and that whole franchise makes me itch. I do like their constant expanding, though. It gives me hope that sooner or later we may see CSI: Wood County, OH. Coming up on this episode, the gang of super sexy forensic experts in low cut tops examine the crime scene for clues on who tipped the cow, Bessie.

Boston Legal, though, is great. James Spader plays a complete bastard and William Shatner is suffering from dementia. Both are utterly hilarious, mostly because the producers don't swerve into "well, they're really nice guys in spite of everything." Emotionality in my dramas makes me sick.

The show, along with House, takes place as the only things on network I will actually watch. You have to love shows with crumudgeonly (how do you SPELL that?) bastards as lead characters.

We need more of these particular types of bastards on TV. Too often, they just hit us with the emotional swerve, or they're like the jerks on reality TV that are simply idiots without being likeable.

I like my assholes done well.

over the oceans?

So, from Saturday to Monday, I had four seperate people suggest that since the job search has not exactly been a blazing success, I might want to consider teaching for the Armed Forces. My department chair suggests that there's actually pretty good money in this...and damnit, as I don't know if I can survive (financially or mentally) being a part time insructor much longer, I may actually have to look into it.

For those of you who don't know, I am an Air Force kid. I was born in New Jersey, apparently got run out of the state when I was one and moved to Germany, then we moved to South Carolina, then we moved to Florida (Jacksonville, which I consider my hometown) when Dad retired. The moving was interesting, to say the least, and although exposure to different, exotic places was kinda nice, there was a certain social transience which bothered me. It was, as a result, one of the reasons that I didn't follow in my Father's footsteps career-wise...well, that and I hate discipline.

It's kind of weird that I am now considering going back to the same kind of lifestyle. Then again, the constant motion and departure of whatever friends I might make is very close to how grad school is. I have to get used to a completely new social circle every year as is as friends graduate, find jobs, move on to other programs, or simply freak out. The main advantage of doing the overseas thing is that I am already used to the suck-ass aspects, and I might get to try some new beers. Woohoo!

distributed journalism

Found this article on something called distributed journalism. Let's all read it and share thoughts, shall we?

my mp3s are trying to kill me

So I've been working on some syllabi and playing my mp3 file on random, and I realize that I must have weird taste. The last number o' songs:

• Peter Bruntnell, "Black Aces"
  
• Parliment, "Flashlight"
  
• Patterson Hood, "Hobo"
  
• Megadeth, "Tornado of Souls"
  
• Golden Smog, "Jennifer, Save Me"
  
• Iron Maiden, "Die with your Boots On"
  

Very whiplash-inducing. Earlier, though, it suprised me by playing KD Lang doing "All I Need is the Air That I Breathe," off her album of only songs about smoking...tres cool.

job huntin'

Okay, I am back. I've been spending the last few days trying to put together my Spring classes (both of them...woooeee) in enough detail so I can concentrate on something else as the semester gets cranking....namely, getting a real job.

It's really too horrible to contemplate, yet alas, I must. Two classes at adjunct rates is definitely not a fortune. I need to pay the bills, and as the wife hasn't pulled in a six figure position, I gotta work more. Hopefully I can get something with a cool uniform and paper hat!

The fun part is realizing that I have to effectively minimize the education I've spent the last eight years or so getting. Strangely enough, a Ph.D. is not much of an advantage when you're applying for a movie theater usher position. Do I just list it under "education" as a general college degree? Do I lie?

This is also compounded by the fact that all of my work for the last six and a half years is education-based. How do I account for no real jobs during this period? Will a simple "school-related employment" take care of it? Again, the ability to teach Intro to Ethnic Studies doesn't help convince an employer that I can ring up the newest Nu-Metal cd or pour an icee.

If anyone has advice, or better yet, a cash grant, I'd appreciate it.