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(04/25/11 10:07pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>This is the last straw. I will not stand for what these people are doing. They’re immoral and what they do is an act against God. I thought turkey bacon was already a serious enough problem, but now there is facon: fake bacon. Facon is flooding the markets and destroying an otherwise wholesome breakfast time. I believe in the sanctity of breakfast. For generations, Americans have been eating eggs and bacon as a part of their balanced breakfast. Real bacon ripped straight from the pig. Not that processed turkey or soy bullcrap. So many mornings I’ve woken up to its seductive scent. The sound real bacon makes as it slaps a cast iron pan gives me butterflies. Yes, my first love was bacon, and I’d eat it every day if my cholesterol wasn’t bouncing around 270 mg/dL. My restricted relationship with bacon could inspire Shakespeare. Nonetheless, I still hold bacon and meat close to my heart.We are looking at a slippery slope. First it was facon, next it could be soy eggs. God forbid vegetarians figure out a way to bastardize biscuits and gravy. Just talking about it makes me sick to my stomach.We must stop them before they infiltrate our public school cafeterias and infect our children with their non-meat-eating values. Think about generation V, the next generation of kids in America that actually prefers vegetables and fruits to beef or pork. I imagine it would result in the end of the NFL and the rise of soccer because without adequate protein consumption our children would be too sickly and thin to survive a hearty tackle. Is that what you want, America? Do you really want soccer to be popular? Shockingly, there are currently no regulations against vegetarianism. For some illogical reason, my congressmen have never taken action or replied to my numerous legislative proposals. Rep. Todd Young and Sens. Dan Coats and Richard Lugar are what I like to call Red Apple Republicans: conservatives that are elected on fiscal platforms yet don’t seem to understand the social perils of vegetarianism. I have spent the last few months working on a piece of legislation that I believe every conservative in America should stand behind. It’s called DoMA: The Defense of Meat Act.DoMA does not put limitations on what food you choose to consume, because that would be fascist. Essentially it will prohibit vegetarians from marrying and sharing bank accounts. I hope these economic incentives will provoke them into a more natural relationship with meat — like it should be.— nicjacob@indiana.edu
(04/20/11 8:32pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Did you know that there is a maximum amount of money the government can borrow? It’s called the debt ceiling, which we’ve had since 1917 as a way to finance our entrance into World War I. Since 1917, the debt ceiling has been an indicator of the size of the federal government. The first debt ceiling was about $11.5 billion. Within the last decade it’s been raised 10 times, just about once per year, doubling from $5.95 trillion to $12.39 trillion in 2009.Think of it as the glass ceiling of government finance. I use that term pejoratively because the debt ceiling only holds us back as a nation. Anytime I see a glass ceiling I always want to shatter it. Think about all the cool stuff we could have if the government had an infinite amount of money? Screw government-run health care — that is not a justifiable expense to me, especially with the chance that the money might go toward experimental treatments like abortion or ibuprofen. I think everyone in America deserves to have an iPad 2, even toddlers. I understand there is a reason we have a maximum debt. The government doesn’t want us to have nice things. This is something we all know. When they say we must become “fiscally responsible” what they really mean is “Let’s keep all the iPad 2s for ourselves.” If everyone had an iPad 2 we could have a super-democracy. Like Total Request Live, but with social issues and senators. It would only take a few months before Lady Gaga became the first woman president — which I’m sure would piss off the much more qualified and way less creepy Hillary Clinton, which would subsequently make me laugh.We could use iPad 2s as a substitute for low maturity bonds: three years or less. With all the sweet apps that are released daily, the value of your Liberty iPad 2 bond could only increase. Combine that with low interest rates and you have a solid investment. About now you’re probably thinking that the government couldn’t spend $155 billion on iPad 2s — we’re at war, our budget is so imbalanced that mental ward patients are uncomfortable being around it. What about investing in Android devices?Shut up, all of you. Just enjoy your new iPad 2. Since we still have that debt ceiling we had to get rid of Planned Parenthood and NPR to afford it.— nicjacob@indiana.edu
(04/11/11 7:30pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Today I am announcing my intention to run for president of the United States of America. I know exactly how to solve the budget. I know exactly how to stop all of our endless wars. But most importantly I know how to make everyone in our nation safe and happy.My platform will include two amendments to the Constitution. First we need to keep girls out of the Clubhouse. By that I mean the Congress. For two decades I’ve been studying their alternative lifestyle and have come to the conclusion that they do in fact have cooties, they ruin anything that is fun, and for some inconceivable reason they do not enjoy poop jokes. I’ve tried to cooperate with them before, but they always react negatively to the bugs I capture for them. In addition, I have reason to believe they might be spies trying to sabotage our important boy business in the Clubhouse.My second amendment will make everything free.I came up with this idea in November of 1995 while watching CNN with my mother and father. The government was shutting down right in front of our eyes. I was an obnoxiously cute 5-year-old ROFLing about the living room repeating “I know the answer” over and over in a Damien from “The Omen” kind of way. My father, a long time horror film enthusiast, looked at me with a pale solemn face and asked what I meant.He knew that I was either about to speak in tongues or say something stupid. I slowly turned around and told him it was all quite simple: Make everything free. He laughed and told me that in the real world things are not that simple. I firmly believe he was wrong then and is still wrong now. I assure you this is totally a legit strategy. General Electric is already ahead of the curve. It has adopted the live free or die hard mentality of Bruce Willis by not paying its taxes last year.Now I know there are plenty of naysayers out there, namely economists, politicians, my father and other so-called “rational thinkers,” or, as I like to call them, mean-faced butt-munches.They say things like: “We need prices to determine the value of products,” “We must value products so that trade can be conducted in a fair way” and “No, you cannot have cookies for breakfast.” I say they could not be more mistaken. Through incredible advances in breakfast-related science I am currently eating a bowl filled with tiny cookies and milk. Your move, economists.— nicjacob@indiana.edu
(04/04/11 8:43pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>OK, I’ll admit that I’m not a very smart person. I don’t really understand the securitization process and rates of return. Think about the relationship between price sensitivity and changes in interest rates; I mean, you can’t explain that. But I do have the Internet and a stiff grasp on logic.That said, let me kick it with you straight about mortgages.Recently there have been discussions about what to do with Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae. Freddie and Fannie are government-sponsored enterprises that used to make Bill Gates money on the secondary market for mortgage-backed securities. When Freddie and Fannie first got started securitizing mortgages, they preferred only the highest quality. About a decade ago, they came upon a huge stockpile of beer-in-a-can-quality mortgages and went on a bender.So think about the U.S. government as Freddie and Fannie’s long-term AA sponsor. For decades they were working great together. Freddie and Fannie were able to make some great deals, knowing that if they were to really screw it up Congress would be there to write them a check. Maybe a little crying on the president’s shoulder and some ice cream afterwards, I don’t really know. Having a contingency plan gave them some confidence. Then, as I mentioned above, Freddie and Fannie must have gotten invited to too many case races, because once they developed a taste for bad mortgages, they had a catastrophic gotta have it-sized Chocolate Lava Meltdown.A few years ago Freddie and Fannie woke up on Wall Street half naked next to a bunch of their friends in the banking industry with a pounding headache and a huge bill. Their first reaction was to call the president and tell him about their rough night. There were crazy expensive mortgages and some credit default swaps. Charlie Sheen was there just winning all over the place, or maybe it was just his dad. Either way it was pretty outrageous. Then they said, “Oh yeah, and can we have a few hundred billion dollars? They say our liabilities outweigh our assets. Ain’t that some shit?”Or something along those lines. Anyway they got their check at the expense of the American people. Now the people are angry because of the debt and some economic crisis. I’d be pissed too.Freddie and Fannie obviously used us for our sympathy money. Let them find another government sponsor. I hear there are some PIIGS out there who are into some poorly thought-out investing.— nicjacob@indiana.edu
(03/29/11 1:45am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>As I’m writing on this chilly Saturday morning I can hear my landlord Dave through the vents, swearing as he works on the plumbing of my old bungalow apartment. This place can only be positively described as having “character.” This is also the second time I’ve seen Dave since I moved into my apartment in December.It’s funny, seeing him in sweats hitting pipes with wrenches when the only other time I’ve seen him he was wearing a fancy green striped button-down and khakis, driving a very expensive looking pick-up truck.Why am I telling you this? Because what it took to get Dave out here today was a very obnoxious process. It all started in late January when I noticed a spot developing on my kitchen ceiling. The day I noticed it I called one of my landlords. I was told that the coming Saturday somebody would fix it.Well that was in the last week of January, and as of writing this the day is March 26.What started as a small spot exploded into a swirling mess of yellow, brown and body-wash blue from the shower directly above my kitchen. As time went on the ceiling board warped and slowly crumbled into my breakfast cereal, which I’ve been assured isn’t as life threatening as you would think and makes a delicious addition to otherwise bland Kroger-brand Special K. Dozens of calls from me did nothing. I’m just a college student who has no observable rights. Landlords in Indiana understand that they have complete control over their tenants. In Indiana, tenants cannot pay their rent into escrow. Normally the only way to exert any pressure on a landlord is to move out.Fortunately for me, Steve Volan, sixth district city councilman, took a personal interest. Within 24 hours of a phone call from Steve, my landlord showed up with a bag of tools and a forced smile on his face.I know that the only reason he even showed up today was to mitigate the risk of getting into trouble with the city. Landlords like Dave coast by on our rent money and don’t give a damn about us. The problem at hand is being addressed, but it is still not solved. I still have a fist-sized hole in my kitchen ceiling.Listen: I don’t mean to be a hassle. People who know me in real life know I’m low-key bordering on pushover. But that’s why I write, because on paper I can be a huge asshole, and this asshole is getting a new kitchen ceiling.—nicjacob@indiana.edu
(03/22/11 4:19pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>I’m so glad that I don’t own a car right now. I feel sorry for the automobile owners of America — $3.60 a gallon, and that’s before the traditional summer price gouge. Crude oil is trading for about $105 a barrel. That’s up from just $85 a few months ago. The actual supply of oil has not changed substantially. The increase in price is because of uncertainty about current events, or in other words, a risk premium. A combination of factors is putting upward pressure on that price: a dangerous social trend called democracy spreading throughout the Middle East and the Japanese version of Chernobyl. As a result of crude’s artificially high value, American consumers are witnessing the highest increase in price since Hurricane Katrina. Gas companies in America are using the fear of what’s to come to make a lot of money. Damn them for being strategic.Financial markets are hard to understand, and therefore they make us angry. Obviously this is corporate greed at its worst and somehow we need to stop it.It’s like they don’t appreciate our business. They are taking advantage of our dependency on gas to fuel our entire lives.How can we stop big oil from stealing our parents’ hard-earned money? If your first idea is a gas strike for one day like those occasional Facebook events, I want you to listen carefully. You have bad ideas, and you are pulling the rest of us down with you.I’m not an econ major. I’ve only taken a handful of economics courses, but from what I understand, a Facebook group of 600,000 slacktivists is not going to make Exxon Mobil or BP lose any sleep. Especially when the group’s info says, “PS: Try not to fill up the day before or after so that this day will have an impact on the companies.” Now the gas company knows what’s about to happen.What is a better approach?Prove that the demand for gas is very elastic.Consumers need to address the higher price of gas by investing in an adequate substitute or buying a more fuel efficient car.I’m not saying you should buy a bike, because we all know exercise is detrimental to the growth of America. Waist size and GDP are probably correlated, therefore a mass transition to a healthier nation might make us double dip. And I’m not talking about Chicken McNuggets.Over time as we wean off gasoline, the markets will respond to the decrease in demand by lowering the price. After about five to 10 years of strenuous hybrid driving and corn gas guzzling we can go back to raping the environment with SUVs and unleaded gasoline — the way God intended.— nicjacob@indiana.edu
(03/07/11 11:14pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>According to The News, there are just two types of people in Wisconsin: budget-cutting assholes and public school paladins.Wisconsin policy makers have a tough choice to make.One leads to a breakdown in communication between the government and its educators, and the other leads to unsustainable budget shortfalls. Neither of these choices will do. Here are the problems that need to be addressed:1. Bleeding budgets2. Scott Walker’s face3. Unions drunk off power 4. The childrenPeople seem to forget about the fourth dynamic to this issue: In both options the children are going to get stupider. The Republican side is not only limiting the pool of teachers by removing long-term incentives, but it also wants to put a cap on property taxes, the major source of revenue for education.The Democratic side is protecting unsustainable expenses and putting a wedge between the education administrators and their duties by limiting the power of principals. I want to propose a mixture of the two policies that might be more effective for saving the children.First off, the teachers’ unions need to take a serious look at the fiscal strain they put on the budget. They should retain their collective bargaining rights and go back to the drawing board. They should restructure how teachers get paid. What about instead of paying teachers far into the future with thick pension plans, we just pay them more now? Let’s give them a pay raise to counterbalance the state’s future obligation.In the short run, teachers have it rough. In Wisconsin, the average beginning salary of a teacher is $25,000 a year. That’s not even enough money to pay off their student loans. But in the long run, teachers receive discounted health insurance and cushy pension plans.Another problem that needs to be addressed is the power of the principal. The leading administrators of the school should be able to hire and fire their own workers as they see fit and set classroom sizes. Most cannot right now, and that is reflected by test scores. Wisconsin eighth-graders are about as smart as the kids in former Soviet states. Seniority rights don’t seem fair for education. Shouldn’t teachers always be innovating new ways to educate their students? Teachers should be retained based on their performance and not on how long they’ve been there. How many of you had old dinosaur teachers who couldn’t teach worth a shit? I realize that at one time they might have been good teachers, but what if their current students are distracted by playing Angry Birds in the corner, just waiting for the teachers to give out their last F?E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(02/22/11 12:43am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The grand IDS Housing Fair of Spring 2011 was last Tuesday. If you are still looking for a place to live next fall and you didn’t go to the fair, you are now pretty much homeless. The fair was your last chance to find anything worth inhabiting. At this point I would advise checking out Martha’s House and the Shalom Center because you will soon become very familiar with their homelessness services. I’m not sure what your obligations were from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., but if they were anything like mine, you were in class, thinking about your future on the streets.I think it was about 1:30 when I realized I could not attend the fair because of my class schedule. There was no way to concentrate in astronomy. Who cares about hot blackbodies and how light shines through them? I was about to become homeless. The person next to me could tell I was distraught about something, something far worse than the poor quality of the VHS we were watching about the sun. No, it wasn’t that, I would soon be used to videotapes again; where I was going they didn’t have the luxury of DVDs and high definition television sets. “Aw,” she started. “Why you tearing up?”“I am slowly becoming a child of the streets,” I replied, looking sternly into her eyes. “My people hide in the shadows, waiting for you to throw out leftover Baja Fresh burritos and recyclable bottles.”For the rest of the class, neither of us looked at each other. This was another part of life I should soon become used to not having. Eye contact is for the homefull.Later that day I was working on my pilfering skills when I was caught by an old friend. He asked me why I smelled so bad. I replied that homeless people don’t have bathrooms.He felt sorry for me so he helped me get a bite to eat. During a hearty meal of coffee and Clif Bars I told him of my sorrows. How because I missed the housing fair I had ruined my future. No more daily showering and pillow-top mattresses for me.He told me all was not lost. Every day the internet had virtual housing fairs on websites like www.heraldtimesrentals.com and individual listings on Craigslist. And if all else fails there is always walking around town and writing down the phone numbers on rental signs. He also reminded me I still had a lease until August. I was not homeless after all. “So it seems,” I said and excused myself to the bathroom.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(02/14/11 8:45pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>How did you celebrate your Valentine’s Day? Did you have a fancy night out at Scholar’s Inn Bakehouse or stay in and make it a movie night? Monday was a wonderful time to enjoy the company of your companion doing whatever it is that couples do. I remember this one time when I had a romantic candlelight dinner with a woman on Valentine’s Day. We should all appreciate that once a year there is a time dedicated to love, chocolate and fuzzy warm feelings. I’ve been told this feeling is unrelated to indigestion. Oh, who are we kidding? You probably did what I did: ordered Mother Bear’s, drank a 40 ounce of Old English 800 and sang along to sad country songs until your eyes stopped producing tears — not because you were done crying, but because you were physically dehydrated. Crying without tears kind of feels like dry heaving; it’s painful, but oh so cathartic.It’s a sad existence we live, you and I. I don’t know who you are specifically, but you’re probably part of my target demographic, 18 to 24-year-old angry single college students. My people already understand that Valentine’s Day is a joke. The idea of proclaiming your love through blank-inside Hallmark cards and chocolate hearts is somehow conceited. No, it’s barely even a holiday; there’s nothing really that holy about it.Valentine’s Day is like the Michelle Bachmann of holidays. Lots of people would rather it not get that much attention, but somehow the more it is ignored, the more relevant it becomes. In reality it should just be another day. I guess what I did yesterday was what I was planning to do anyway, except normally I wouldn’t have ordered a heart-shaped Dante’s Inferno to eat by myself. Let’s make a change. There’s no time for the customary week of drunken self-loathing that follows Valentine’s Day. Let’s put away our poorly written love poems. We should all pursue love with the unyielding lust of a restraining order. Unless you actually do have a restraining order — then I cannot condone such behavior. I suppose that would be unlawful, and I’m not permitted to promote illegal activities. Except when I’m talking about underage drinking. Then it’s completely all right. And when Valentine’s Day comes around next year, instead of ordering a teddy bear stuffed with smaller, bear-shaped chocolates and blood diamonds, just say “I love you” to your significant other and let that be that. This modesty will help relieve the anxiety of those poor, undesirable single people.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(02/07/11 9:31pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>When was the last time you saw your lawn? Weeks? Months, maybe? Do you even remember what it was like before the ice began its occupation? The ice has held an iron grip on our sidewalks and lawns for too long. They say war is hell. Well, hell just froze over. Screw it; I’m declaring war on snow and ice.I’ve seen too many people fall into its slippery traps. Causalities are rising quickly. Every day dozens of people are awkwardly sliding on otherwise faint inclines. The only way to sustain balance is to take tiny bowlegged steps. The ice is turning us all into penguin-footed fools. Retaliation is absolutely necessary at this point. We need to work together.Listen: We must arm ourselves with salt, a stupid-massive amount of it. Go to any supermarket and purchase the largest cans of iodized kosher sea salt that they carry, preferably Morton Sea salt, because I envision the little girl in the yellow rain jacket becoming the symbol of our resistance. Some cans should be used for home defense and others for aggressive tactical operations. The best strategy for securing your home requires two stages of action. Begin by grabbing two cans, one in each hand. Pop the tabs like a grenade and spin. Pretend like you’re Taz and get nasty with it. Make sure every single speck of ice meets the slow and painful death of a chemical burn. Anything less will be too kind. Some of your grass might die, but this is war, and the ends will justify the means. Next surround the perimeter of your house with a line of salt. Everyone knows ice shares the same weaknesses as witches and other associates of Satan. Once you have constructed adequate defenses for your home you can take the action with you to campus. It’s become apparent over the past week that the University will not help us. Anyone who has walked through the arboretum will understand. Forget about your classes; leave your books at home where they are safe. Instead, stuff your backpack with cans of salt. As you walk around town channel the spirit of Johnny Appleseed by sprinkling salt everywhere you go.If we work together the tyranny of the ice will come to a violent and slushy end. Do what whatever you can. Hair dryers, boiling water and ice picks are all acceptable weapons. Just stay aggressive, always keep an eye out for faint inclines and hold strong. Good luck out there, and if I should fall, remember me for my fiery rage.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(01/31/11 11:03pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>In the 21st century we do not conspire in dark smoky rooms tucked away in abandoned warehouses; we do so online from the safety of our sofas. Personally, I prefer it this way. I’m not much of a people person. I like to hide behind my laptop; real human interaction makes me uneasy. I don’t even remember the last time I sat down and had a conversation with a friend that wasn’t over Facebook chat. In Egypt, the government has a killswitch to turn off the Internet at any given moment. Last week they took advantage of that tool to disorganize protestors who were using Facebook and Twitter. Yes, Facebook and Twitter are not only social networking websites, they are revolution networking websites. I imagine the Revolution app for Facebook would look a lot like setting up an event. Begin by clicking on the button that says “+ Create a Revolution.”On the first page it will ask a few questions to get the revolution organized.When will your revolution begin? I’d like everyone to be there at 8 p.m., but I know most people won’t show up until 10 p.m. A good in-between time is 9 p.m. Whoever shows up first will obviously be my true comrades. Does your revolution have an end time? I guess it shouldn’t end until we overthrow the government, but I don’t know when that will be. I’ll just put a question mark. We’ll figure it out later.Why are you revolting? Lots of reasons: rent’s too damn high, tuition’s too damn high and having an autocratic dictator for 30 years kind of blows too.Where will the revolution be?Would it be cliche to say “everywhere”? Probably, so let’s say it starts at my place, but we’ll go protest-hopping later.Who is invited?Everyone, I suppose.Below these text boxes are a few check boxes:Anyone can view and RSVP (Public Event). Yes, check.Show the guest list on the revolution page. That might not be a good idea, especially if we all end up running from the law. Guess I’ll leave that unchecked. Next you’ll probably need a picture for the revolution. My gut instinct would be to put Che Guevera’s face, but that’s played out. Instead a picture of a flaming bald eagle with the words “These colors don’t run” embodies freedom in a much cooler way.Alright, the final step will be to click the “Create Revolution” button at the bottom.Oh, and don’t forget to tweet it too.I hope everyone shows up. I can’t wait, it’s totes gonna be a fun revolution. Maybe I’ll get a sweet profile pic out of it too.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(01/25/11 12:57am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Let me take you into the lifestyle of modern American college students. Like most competitive youths, these students rely on the use of academic performance-enhancing drugs instead of getting adequate sleep and eating right. When I say academic performance-enhancing drugs I am referring to substances with an energy-boosting ingredient. No longer can average students complete all of their work on their own merits. At first, students start by drinking a bottle of soda while studying; they get a little pep in their step that keeps them on task. Over time, students build up a tolerance for the bottle’s miniscule amount of caffeine. Students experience diminishing marginal return on each additional soft drink. They face a crossroad — either they start drinking multiple 32oz Polar Pops from Circle K, or they find a more robust alternative.Coffee is the next step for most people. Good ol’ fashioned patriotic, roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-the-job-done coffee. This powerful, mind-bending substance provides students with a whole new tier of consciousness; some call it opening the third eye. Unfortunately, students will likely become fed up with the main hassle of a coffee addiction: consistently violent diarrhea. Students begin spending more time pissing and pooping than actually studying as the rampaging coffee beans ransack their insides like ravaging hordes of barbarians. The worst part of the experience is how fast they barge in and lay waste. Within two hours the beans will have plundered all the nutrients in a student’s body and make a spectacularly gooey exit out of an unguarded hole in the body’s defenses — the butt. In our modern age there must be a more illegal, less bowel-destroying way of stimulating students’ attention span. Well, thanks to scientists in white lab coats and drug dealers in black hoodies, we now have amphetamines. These are different than methamphetamines, which are thrown together like casual pitch-ins in crumbling houses by desperate high school chemistry teachers. These wonder drugs — Adderall, Ritalin and Vyvanse — not only keep you attentive, but they also decrease your appetite and help you fit into that pretty red dress you wore at high school graduation.Yes, these remarkable academic performance-enhancing drugs will become your new best friend. You’ll never want them to leave your side, ever. You’ll totally forget about your old BFF, the cousin of death.But be weary, the repercussions of being caught abusing prescription drugs are severe. No one wants to testify before Congress like McGuire just so they can score a homer on an accounting exam. I recommend just sticking with coffee and investing in Charmin Ultra Strong or Wet Ones.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(01/17/11 11:26pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>This semester I had to drop about $100 per class for my textbooks. That’s $600 I could have used for a number of things: designer drugs, food, companionship or exotic pets.How am I supposed to ball if I’m flat broke? People keep telling me that this is normal. College students are supposed to scrape by month-to-month eating Ramen noodles and snail through the internet on DSL. Well, I’m not about to download music on anything less than a 50 Mb/s connection. I don’t have time to wait; I’m a busy man doing important busy man things. As a result of my aversion to frugal living, I have decided to become rich. In order to accomplish my goal, I am going to become a street artist.Recently, I watched Banksy’s documentary “Exit Through the Gift Shop.” If I understood its message correctly, Thierry “Mr. Brainwash” Guetta discovered the formula for marketable street art. Mr. Brainwash realized that sometimes art has nothing to do with actual skill as much as it has to do with being great at making meta-jokes on society through brand images and pop culture. I have been inspired by MBW’s opening exhibit named “Life is Beautiful.”My exhibit will be called “Life is Bro,” and it will contain thousands of copies of a bird that was drawn using designer drugs. The bird has a curious look on his face as it cocks its head to the side and says “Come at me, Bro.” The pigeon represents the high-flying nature of college life, and the subtext expresses the confrontational nature of man.Each bird will have the same head but different clothes on. Some Nautica, North Face, Ralph Lauren Polo or what have you. This adds the essential element of some sort of brand image. People will be drawn to the idea of what the brand means to society as a whole when it’s being worn by an idiot pigeon.The greatest part of this idea is that it will cost me next to nothing to produce. I draw the bird once, hire a team of otherwise unemployed telecommunication majors that can Photoshop the bird into different clothes and then print a hundred thousand copies in various sizes and colors on my grandma’s printer. Voilà, now there is art to be distributed. Next, the team I will hire pastes them across the campus in various places that might or might not have significance; I suppose that depends on how one interprets it. Once the image becomes popular enough, I can get rich selling T-shirts with the pigeon’s face on it. Make me rich, damn it.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(12/10/10 12:17am)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>According to my timesheet, I’ve been sitting behind this black corner desk tapping away on my company-issued Dell desktop for more than 250 hours. During that time, I’ve created a sizable stack of Washington Posts that I’ve never read. I’ve successfully transferred at most twenty calls out of hundreds. I’ve consumed enough caffeine to make a meth junkie jealous. I’ve also learned how to doze while still clicking a mouse. I’ve written plenty of memos, but it still beats writing essays. I’ve seen the old carpet replaced with a sleek new charcoal design to match the new black trim. I’ve seen the reception area get new black chairs and magazine covers be posted up on the walls with frames that are thick like hipster glasses. I’ve seen people talk around the new black water cooler and discovered it’s much less awkward than “The Office” would have you think.I’ve learned that nothing brings an office together better than free food. I’ve been to an office holiday party, and they really are as funny as “The Office” would have you think. I’ve walked past the Capitol building at least once a week, and each time it’s been as special as the first.I’ve seen three congressional hearings and pretended to understand them by attentively nodding for C-SPAN. I’ve seen people that were worse at public speaking than I am testify before Congress. I’ve shared elevators with presidential candidates, and I’ve seen president builders such as Karl Rove trying to stay out of the rain like normal people. I’ve seen the secretaries of three major federal departments give news-breaking speeches. I’ve gotten lost in every House and Senate office building. I’ve been in bathrooms all over D.C., but none are as fancy as the granite walled thrones in the Hart Senate building. I’ve ridden the private underground subway from the House office buildings through the Capitol building to the Senate office buildings with a Secret Service agent who definitely knew I shouldn’t be there.I’ve gotten lost walking to every single event I’ve ever attended, yet I’ve never been late. I’ve still not learned how to tip cab drivers correctly. I’ve made minimal efforts to network at policy summits, but when I have, I’ve learned even old timers still want to be regarded as “cool.” I’ve talked to lobbyists whose special interest was protecting you and I, and I’ve talked to lobbyists in pinstripe suits who’d make Aaron Eckhart proud. I’ve been a member of a studio audience, and I swear to God I saw Paul Krugman looking just as bored as I was. I’ve seen nationally-known network and cable news correspondents frequently being fair and balanced.I have been working with some great people this semester, and I hope I haven’t annoyed them too much. I can honestly say I’m going to miss the District even though I can’t wait to get back home to Bloomington. I’ve been an unpaid Washington, D.C., intern for three months like thousands before me. And now it’s over. E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(12/02/10 11:55pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>While interning in a city, you will finally get away from those nincompoop parents that have always been holding you down. No longer do you have to clean your room or wash the dishes or be clothed as you walk around your home. Do you feel that gentle breeze? It’s called freedom, and it will give you goose-pimples.The thrill of liberty will coast you to about two and half months into the year. Then there will come a point when being naked all the time gets boring and the mold on your dishes will become sentient. So you clothe yourself and clean up. You might even start to miss your “loved ones” or whatever the proper nomenclature is nowadays. Generally this begins around Thanksgiving when you should be stuffing turkey down your gullet with people whom you think are questionable at best. Combine this unfortunate situation with early onset Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and you might have the fixings for a drug-induced breakdown.I’ll give you some tips about how to survive the holidays and fill that emptiness without abusing the drugs. Just start spending money. We all know money is a logical replacement for love, joy, companionship, etc. And if you don’t believe me, a study by the National Academy of Sciences released in September finally proves money does, in fact, buy happiness. Here are some suggestions to get you through the holiday season.During the holiday, go to a fancy restaurant and order two turkey dinners, one plate for you and another for your imaginary friend. No need for expensive table salt, your lonesome tears will make a fine natural substitute.In general, eat out as much as you can. The best places to go are cafeteria style establishments, that way you can sit at a table with a stranger. Play mental gymnastics in your head to imagine the reason you aren’t speaking is because that’s how your quirky family operates. “Real good cranberry sauce, eh?” you ask the elderly man sitting next to you.He looks up and makes a sound that’s more like a heave than a sigh but doesn’t reply. Oh, stubborn Uncle Edgar, you are so crazy.Useless electronics have and always will be a satisfactory replacement for human interaction. Buy a 3D-HD-Wifi-enabled-scratch ‘n’ sniff television set. With it you can watch football in three stunning dimensions and tweet about those lousy good-for-nothings that are beating your team. Maybe your followers on Twitter will pretend to be your family.When you get back to work, don’t let on about how horribly lonely you are.In turn you must regale your co-workers with Uncle Edgar’s funny anecdotes about the Vietnam War and how you accidently tackled your cousin, who smells a lot like Peyton Manning, in a friendly game of touch football. Don’t forget to smile. Then slump back to your cubicle before they ask you any detailed questions.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(11/18/10 11:35pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Every once in a while I read the news. Normally I couldn’t care less about anything that happens to anyone that isn’t me, but The Express was running a sensational article on the new Transportation Security Administration security regulations. Apparently the new regulations are causing a backlash from passengers claiming that it’s an invasion of privacy. I’m not sure what the problem is, it’s just a security measure. Maybe people are so upset because they aren’t used to it. I deal with this on a daily basis, so I just can’t seem to understand why people are getting all hot and bothered.It is an unwritten rule in Washington that requires at least one livid-looking security guard to sit behind a desk in the front foyer of every building. I think there might be some sort of security guard union here. They are all similarly dressed and seem to all share the same attitude. I would gauge their anger between losing cell phone reception and having their car break down in rural West Virginia — not especially happy. It’s the security guard’s job to look annoyed, because terrorists and communists are, in nature, non-confrontational. If they think the guard is having a bad day, they won’t want to cause them any trouble.In Washington, D.C., you have to pass through security to do anything. It’s simply a fact of life. This place is filled with communists, terrorists, protestors and other undesirables around every corner. They hover just out of sight like Swiper the Fox from “Dora the Explorer.” They prey on aloof security guards and doors left ajar. Keeping a constant lookout for them is essential. Every once in a while this burly man from Moscow tries to follow me too closely as I pass through the security barrier at work. Usually the security guard will yell, “Russian no rushing!” and the big man will give up. That’s a key reason security guards are absolutely necessary in Washington. Without them we would all be sorely inconvenienced with spies running around. It’s the price you pay for a confidential work environment.There’s a strong chance that if you walk into a building in D.C. you will have to pass through some sort of security device. Sometimes it’s an extremely sensitive metal detector that favors the anemic, and other times it’s a full body scanner that takes pictures of your laughably ugly naked body. Yes, they save the pictures, but you don’t have to worry because they only post the attractive photos. If you hear them snickering it’s because they can see when you need to go to the bathroom.If you set off one of these machines you get pulled aside. They’ll ask you a few personal questions before you get the how-do-you-do from the security guard’s cold hands. Honestly, this is about as much action as I get, so I like to take it all in and embrace the situation. I hear you normally have to pay for this kind of service.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(11/11/10 10:16pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>You’d have to be a nose-picking idiot to own a car in Washington, D.C. Buying a parking garage pass can cost you upwards of $200 per month, let alone the cost of insurance and gas. This is one reason why the Metro is so popular here. But the Washington Metro is not without faults. First off, it’s expensive. I spend about $40 a week just getting to and from work. This is a serious drain on my budget since I am not provided a travel stipend. I’ve had to give up eating out every meal just so I could afford my commute. This is a serious problem because I do not know how to cook for myself. Even using a microwave baffles me. I have been subsisting off of free coffee at work and candy from the receptionist’s desk. I haven’t eaten real food in days. Somebody please send me sustenance. Yet the expense is the least of my worries.Most of the conductors for the Metro are alcoholics because they can’t seem to stay on the right track. This seems to be worse on the weekends when they get sloshed before work. I’ll sit and wait almost 15 minutes while the conductor tries to figure out how to put the train in reverse.Another predicament I face on a daily basis is the stop and go of the Metro. Sometimes it’s due to another train taking its sweet time. Most frequently the train will just stop for a moment to ponder life. Then it’ll slide a few yards and stop again as if it might have been on to something. The conductor will do this a couple more times before he decides to cowboy up and get a move on.Depending on the time and place you get on the Metro, it can be very crowded. This means spooning with strangers might be necessary. At first it will seem odd, having a strange old Ethiopian woman grinding up on your junk, but eventually it will grow on you. In fact you might just fall in love on the Metro. It happens to me just about every day. It starts with a passing glance. As the train rolls in, we get on opposite ends of the same car. For a moment I feel as if sparks are flying. Rockets burst from my side of the train car over to hers, severely wounding everyone in their path. The train starts and I stumble down the car, stepping on people’s shoes, but I feel, nay, I know, that she is the one. I’m palming and pushing people’s faces out of the way, because this is love, and they will surely understand. While I dredge through my fellow passengers I begin to think about our future kids and how their faces will light up on Christmas mornings. But before I can confess my love, the train stops. She leaves, and I never see her again. So I go back to that strange old Ethiopian lady and sob while I bump and grind on down the line to work.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(11/04/10 9:40pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>So it’s finally your time to shine. After two months of licking stamps and alphabetizing a Rolodex, your supervisors have given you a task of substance: a power point presentation on broadband infrastructure.The presentation is before everyone in your office, including your supervisor’s boss’s boss, the man who hates you the most. Rumor has it this is the litmus test for employment.Here are some tips to make the presentation go as smoothly as possible and land you that $23,000-a-year entry level position.First off: research. Some people recommend you hit up the Library of Congress or check the National Archives immediately. Indeed these are wonderful resources, but most people aren’t Internet experts as you are. Conducting research for a work presentation should be similar to what you did back in college.Have you ever used LexisNexis Academic? Neither have I.Google works just fine for me. It will clear a direct path to the most trusted name in academics: Wikipedia. Professors and administrators might disagree, but they’re just jealous they couldn’t use it when they were your age. My sentiment throughout college has been if it doesn’t have its own Wikipedia page, then it’s probably not very important. Am I right? C’monnnnnn.Just be careful of getting lost there. It’s only a few tangential clicks from a harmless topic such as “Internet Penetration” to some not-safe-for-work articles on other kinds of penetration. And honestly, don’t spend too much time doing research. You don’t want to look like a suck up. Your superiors appreciate a little improv. It lets them know you got moxie. If they ask you a question that you don’t know how to answer, instead of being honest, just make up any old crap. They’ll probably believe it.When making your PowerPoint presentation include plenty of clips from YouTube. Anderson Cooper can explain any subject with more eloquence than you ever could, not to mention his poised figure will distract the audience from your obvious nervousness. Oh, and you will be nervous. Think about it: The quality of your performance determines your employment. As this little egg spoils in that broken refrigerator you call a head, you’ll forget that you’re even presenting. Words will be coming out of your mouth, but you don’t even know if they are the right ones. All you can do is think about how nervous you are and wonder if everyone else knows. Right about this time you’ll either throw up or get the shakes.Fortunately there are plenty of lubricants you might ingest that will cure your sudden-onset Parkinson’s. The most commonly used is booze. I like to kick back and suckle on a 40 oz. of fine malt liquor before I even casually talk to a group larger than three people. Depending on how anxious you feel, you can choose between an ice-breaker like Old E and an outright party producer like Steel Reserve. Either way, you’re going to feel better than awesome and probably pick up a few business cards after the presentation. Welcome to the good life. E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(10/28/10 9:15pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Last weekend I had to use failed forms of public transportation for my new annual “Tour of Depressing East Coast Cities,” because driving from our nation’s capital to New York is nearly impossible with the East Coast’s exotic toll roads and turn pikes. It’s a confusing system designed to intimidate the Midwestern driver who does not experience such things on a daily basis.For this reason I started my journey by purchasing a ticket for a Megabus to Philadelphia, a city constructed on a foundation of broken dreams and oil refineries. I arrived at 30th Street station at about five in the evening and decided that one of those Philly cheese steaks would be great idea for dinner. What I did not know is that Philadelphia closes exactly at 5 p.m. They lock the doors and homeless bards venture out from the alleyways telling jokes in return for money. If you refuse they get salty, if you pay them they spit on your shoes. It’s a lose-lose situation. I will never return to this city if I have the choice.The next stop on my tour of depressing east coast cities was Trenton, NJ. As you enter the city limits you’ll see a very large red sign that says “Trenton Makes – The World Takes”Trenton’s main exports are fear and abandoned buildings. Nearly every window in Trenton is boarded up. Like in Philadelphia, stores close early in Trenton. Every business in Trenton closed in 1968, and it looks like they will be so indefinitely. I spent a good deal of my time riding around in a car with the doors locked. The only nice part of Trenton that I saw was the train station, from which people flee this god forsaken city every day.I will never return to this city if I have the choice.From Trenton I took a train to New York City, AKA the big apple, AKA the city that never sleeps, AKA the city that cannot contain its bladder. From the moment I stepped off the train at Penn Station, I was hit with the welcoming smell of open sewers. In New York City feces and urine are smeared on the walls and floor and not contained in pipes underground. The men’s bathroom in Penn Station must have been the filthiest place I’ve ever been. Nearly every toilet was backed up with soggy TP. On the subway I witnessed a fight over a simple nudging.Above ground things are much nicer in New York City. The buildings are like man-made mountains and they keep the blight far away from where a tourist like me would go.At night I visited Times Square, a magical place where a white naked cowboy and a group of militant black-Hebrew nationalists can draw adjacent crowds without confrontation.But the most impressive part about my visit to New York City must have been that the entire time I was walking around Manhattan I only saw one pantless hobo.I will probably return to this city if I have the chance.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu
(10/21/10 10:45pm)
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Interns are the lowest-hanging branch on the office family tree. You’re unpaid, your opinions don’t matter and you’re the last to get cake during birthday parties. Even the UPS guy will get a second helping before they hand you some icing on crumbs. You must respect the game, and it will respect you. If drug dealers had interns, they would have to file paper away in shoe boxes before they could begin pushing bricks on their own. It’s essential to always recognize the hierarchy of your office. You are just an intern. You’re unpaid for a reason — your work is worth absolutely nothing. In the eyes of your superiors you’re just another ape in a tie slamming its fists on an inexpensive Dell keyboard. Your direct supervisors will most likely be decent people. In my office they are all fairly young. They aren’t too far removed from their days as an intern. They are very helpful, and they leave their doors open for questions at any time.But in my office there is one room where the door is always closed. He’s my supervisor’s boss’s boss. I could not be more scared of this man. I never know what he’s doing in there. I’ve never actually seen what the inside of his office looks like, but I can only assume he has a wall of LCD monitors broadcasting closed circuit television and all of the cameras are pointed directly at me. He documents every awkward interaction I make on Facebook, whether it is a wall post or an unreciprocated winking emoticon on chat. I’m sure he also has a detailed log of every time I’ve been to the bathroom and how long the trip took. For this reason, I try to look like I’m doing something important all day. I feel as though at any given moment this man will come to my desk and hand me a pink slip.Infrequently, he will leave his lair. One time I saw him just as he stepped out. He immediately turned around and locked the door before staring me down to the floor. Which brings up another important rule of the game: never look your superiors in the eye. Similar to scientific research conducted with chimpanzees, I have found that making eye contact with anyone in my office is seen as a signal of aggression on my part. Countless cups of coffee have been swatted out of my hands for simply saying “good morning.” And this isn’t like high school where you can run home crying. You have to sit at your desk while scalding hot coffee sears your thighs until it dries. So the question you might ask is: “How can an intern even gain the smallest ounce of respect?”The answer is simple: don’t get fired. If you can keep the job long enough, the other members of your office might let you sit at the lunch table, or at least at the adjacent one.E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu