rap dancin'

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

south beach james

My approximate reaction to the hour-long monument to self-love that was LeBron James' hilariously titled "The Decision":

Okay, here's the thing that I never understood about Obi Wan's speech.  He talks about how our buddy Darth (in his pre-Darth form) was supposed to bring balance to the force, right?  In fact, this is mentioned throughout the gawd-awful prequel trilogy, so we can even call it a recurring theme.  Here's my problem: take a look around, guys.  There's about six hundred good jedis (jedi? jedis?) walking around and like two bad guys.  So how the hell would Darth "bring balance" to the situation?  Obvious answer: less good guys, more bad guys.  Then why is everybody so damned surprised when he goes rogue?  What am I missing in this equation?  I'm not even trying to be dense, I honestly don't get it.

Anyway, back to LeBron.  I'm not a huge NBA fan (+2 points if you pictured me as a giant anthropomorphic wind fan covered in NBA stickers when you read that), so I'm not too broken up over it.  In fact, I even got some positives out of it.

1) "The Decision" and everything leading up to it was a wonderful human interest event in that it is rare to see a celebrity figure so thoroughly disconnected from reality that he thinks creating an hour-long special to announce that he's abandoning his championship-starved hometown would be a good thing for his brand?!  I know that wasn't really a question, but the whole thought process is so ridiculously ridiculous it seemed to demand it.

2) James' chosen verbiage to articulate his choice, i.e. "I'm taking my talents to South Beach," has become my new euphemism for using the toilet.  I can now retire my longtime standby of "dropping Mr. Deeds off at the stateroom."

3) Finally, "South Beach James" has such a nice ring to it I've decided to incorporate it into my stable of go-to aliases.  I might even translate it into Russian and make my students address me as such while I'm over there.  Oh, and I'll be wearing my Ray-Ban's the whole time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm taking my talents to South Beach.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

journey releases album without steve perry

The other 6,697,254,036 people on the planet ask, "what's the point?"

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

happy birthday america!

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

my country tis of thee

I've been watching a lot of the World Cup lately, and it just wouldn't be an international football match without the playing of anthems beforehand.  After hearing select anthems of the various participant countries, I decided to do a little research (read: Youtube) into the national songs of the countries of the world to learn more about them.  Therefore, I have compiled for you my picks for the best and worst anthems.  Keep in mind this is my opinion, therefore it should be treated as divine law; differences of opinion will not be tolerated.  We'll start with the bad ones to get some controversy going.  Let's begin, shall we?

steal this record

I have a lot of weird stuff on my iPod.  I'm sure you do as well, being the music lover and Apple supporter you inevitably are.  In my tradition of telling you what to do, what to think and what to like, therefore, I've decided to recommend a few albums you've never heard of that are worth a listen.  They are diverse, spanning genre and eras, and they're all available on iTunes!  (EDITOR'S NOTE: Despite claims to the contrary, all featured albums are not currently available on iTunes.)  If you've got any of your own suggestions, feel free to share in the comments section.

Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One

The Kinks

Released November 27, 1970

Sample

First of all, yes.  Best title ever.  Second of all, also yes.  These are the same Kinks that became famous for their three-chord, radio filler pop hits "You Really Got Me" and "All Day and All of the Night."  I thought that was all they ever did before I found this album; turns out the group went on to record some real music.  This album is classic early seventies rock, with killer riffs and some steel guitar to boot.  Lest you think it's just a clever title, the album does, in fact, contain songs entitled "Lola," "Powerman," and "The Moneygoround."  There's also a song called "Apeman."  So there.  In terms of sound and concept, it's a little like Sergeant Pepper-era Beatles meets the Guess Who, which isn't a bad combo at all.  I highly recommend it.

Rules
The Whitest Boy Alive
Released March 30, 2009
Sample


I know.  Best band name ever.  If you're noticing that the music I like seems to be based more on kitschy names than actual music, you're totally right it's just a coincidence, I swear.  From the realms of European indie electric pop comes The Whitest Boy Alive, a new(ish) group that knows how to put down a fat beat.  This boy may be white, but he's got some funk.  The rhythms on this album are toe-tapping, the vocals are mellow and laid back, and some of the lyrics are subtly humorous.  The obvious stand out tracks are "Keep a Secret," and "1517," but the best of the rest--"Courage," "Timebomb," and "High on the Heels"--more than hold their own.  Perhaps the best thing I can say about this album is there isn't a track on it I'd call "weak."  As with any electric pop album, it all starts to sound the same if you listen to it in one marathon session.  But if you are known to throw spontaneous dance parties, this is the album for you.

The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions
Seu Jorge
Released November 22, 2005
Sample


Bowie unplugged.  In Portuguese.  Easily one of the most obscure things on my iPod.  So not only did Wes Anderson have the genius to cast Brazilian pop star Seu Jorge in The Life Aquatic as a Bowie-crooning crewman, he had the good sense to release Jorge's covers on vinyl (okay, so they don't release albums on vinyl anymore, but it sounds better than almost-pure polycarbonate plastic).  The album features fourteen Bowie covers from the Ziggy Stardust era and one original composition.  It's just Jorge and his guitar, and it's friggin' brilliant (and I don't speak a word of Portuguese).  All of the arrangements are excellent, with some ("Starman," "Rebel Rebel") rivaling Bowie's originals.  While I don't understand a word he says, Jorge's basso vocals are soulful and oddly soothing, and his picking and strumming is deceptively good.  The stripped down nature of these songs actually gave me a better appreciation for Bowie's versions, as the single acoustic guitar allows the melody to come to the front.  If you're in need of some relaxation, turn this bad boy on, put your feet up, and tune out.  There's nothing better.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

let it out and let it in

Random thoughts from the Mind Despotic:

• Recently I've noticed an alarming new trend on the interwebs that I call Red Syndrome.  Simply put, people suffering from Red Syndrome labor under the terribly misguided idea that the word 'ridiculous' is, in fact, spelled 'rediculous.'  Have you seen this?  I don't remember noticing it before as widespread, but now that I've recognized it I see it everywhere.  It's driving me more than a little crazy.  I blame Bono and his damn (red) campaign.

• Indisputable proof that Paul McCartney is more talented than Fergie.  Excerpt from "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie: "And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket."  Excerpt from "Hey Jude" by the Beatles: "Well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder."  You don't get named a knight of the realm without knowing to avoid the singular they!  Your move, Fergie.

• (The following post is about the 2010 FIFA World Cup.  For the full experience, open this page in a new window before reading.)  For any of you readers out there following the World Cup that are also fans of bad teen movies from the nineties, I'm sure you noticed the obvious parallels between the French national team and the West Canaan Coyotes from Varsity Blues.  Both had hard-nosed coaches the team couldn't stand.  In both cases, the coach and the star player got into a dramatic fight during halftime.  And finally, both teams ultimately refused to play for their coaches.  So way to go, France.  You're a knockoff of a bad movie starring this guy.  One thing I've got to give the movie, however, is it features one of the greatest quotes of all time.

• Things I can no longer take seriously thanks to Arrested Development: ice cream sandwiches, "The Final Countdown" by Europe, combination analyst/therapists or 'analrapists,' chicken impersonations, nevernudes, puppets named Franklin, Carl Weathers, Legoland, prosthetic hands, the word 'hermano,' ether, club sauce, and airport stair cars.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

everyone loves a slinky

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

are you there blog? it's me margaret

Welcome to a special late night edition of the Life Despotic.  It's time to slip into that comfy robe, settle into your favorite armchair, and let the Captain take you to a world of brooding vampires and brash werewolves.  I'm kidding.  Can you imagine?  In fact, I'll just go ahead and declare right now that even if Cedric Diggory himself offers me an exclusive interview, the Life Despotic will never feature Twilight.  Instead, this post is dedicated to a more worthwhile pursuit: late night television.

Tonight, due to combination of insomnia, sunburn, and severe lack of tryptophan-rich Thanksgiving turkey in my apartment, I've temporarily given up my pursuit of sleep in favor of my good friend Samsung.  As you are no doubt aware, late night programming makes for some of the best television viewing one can find.  Tonight, my own Sophie's choice was between an episode of Kourtney & Khloé Take Miami on E! in which the titular Khloé Kardashian burns her lady parts during a bikini wax-gone-bad and an episode of MANswers on SpikeTV in which the Epicurean show producers seek out the answer to that eternal question of how far one can throw a dwarf.  I picked MANswers, which I want to say was the high road, but I have no confidence in that claim.  Your call, readers.  FULL DISCLOSURE: All right, fine.  My decision wasn't guided by any sense of moral decency; I had already seen that episode of K & K.  Just remember that this is a judgment-free zone.

Right, so: MANswers.  If you're not familiar with the show, you've obviously made better choices in life than I.  It really is quite odious.  How odious, you say?  Consider the questions contained in tonight's episode:

• "How many brewskies can a guy drink before he drops dead?"

• "He looks like a drug dealer; how can a guy find out if he's really a narc?"

• "Banging chicks is great!  But what if they're all gone?  What kind of animal is most like a woman?"

• And, of course: "How far can you toss a dwarf?"

I wish so many things, readers.  I wish I were kidding.  I wish I could watch television at 2:18 in the morning without being confronted with the moral ramifications of zoophilia.  Mostly, I wish I had just turned off the TV and gone to sleep.  But before we get to the inevitable answers, let's hear a quick word from our sponsors.

COMMERCIAL BREAK: The only thing better than late night TV is late night TV advertising.  Except for those annoying Girls Gone Wild videos.  Are they still making those things?  Because they're still advertising them.  You could tell me they're still using the commercial they made in 2001 and I would totally believe you.  Anyways, tonight's best commercial was an interview with Super Bowl-winning super coach Jimmy Johnson.  Now, this guy is a football legend.  He's one of only two coaches to win both an NCAA national championship and a Super Bowl (and he won two).  So what's he hocking now?  His own grill?  A clothing line maybe?  Wrong.  He's the new spokesman for Extenze, the drug for all-natural male enhancement.  Seriously.  I mean, I totally get it from the Extenze marketing team's point of view.  The guy's name is Johnson, for chrissakes.  But what are you doing, Jimmy?  How did it come to this?  Are you that hard up for money?  Okay, admittedly, I could have used better phrasing in that last question, but my point is, you could have just called, Jimmy.  I would've lent you a few bucks.

(Insert joke as to the possibility that a given object may or may not be in his pocket here.)

Okay, and now I've just seen a promo for a show called Half-Pint Brawlers that apparently features a cast of little people.  That's it, I'm done.  I disgust myself.  But since I promised you answers, here they are in no particular order.  See if you can match them to the right question: recently grown beard and dark sunglasses; 18; 12'9"; a dugong.  That's right, a friggin' dugong.

I need a shower.

From the virtual cesspool of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

i vant to suck your blud

That's right, people: two posts, one day.  Summer of George.  This should be a short one (right!) as I simply need to express my disgust at the ignorance and arrogance displayed in a CNN video I just watched.  First, let me assure you that I don't make a habit of watching CNN videos, but I set the Chet News Network as my homepage and thus it caught my eye (by the way, anyone who gets that reference without the use of google wins a chicken dinner courtesy of Ivan Zissou).

The video headline in question queried, "Do men with accents have edge in dating?"  A worthy question, no doubt.  My first thought was, "Well, naturally they mean non-General American accents, as everyone speaks with an accent.  I'm sure they were just saving space in the headline and will mention it at some point in this four-minute long video."  You can see where this is going.  In truth, the video featured no such disclaimer, and thus registered fairly high on the unintentional comedy scale with gems like this one: "I think that an accent can take an average guy and push him to that super-hot level."  And then, of course, there was the near perfect irony of a woman with the thickest New York accent you'll ever hear ruminating on how attractive she finds men with accents.

Am I picking nits?  Sure.  Am I simply jealous because my thick Russian accent renders me virtually unintelligible when I go speed dating?  Probably.  All I'm saying is, if I'm a reporter for one of the world's largest news organizations, I'm probably going to want to put in a one-sentence distinction to prove I'm not a complete moron and understand the real definition of the word "accent."

BONUS PARAGRAPH: For those of you who want to emulate the Captain, please review this page and do literally the opposite of everything it says.  Just for the good of the order, Russians do not pronounce 'w' like 'v,' they do not pronounce 'th' like 'z,' and they certainly don't pronounce 'h' like a Spanish 'j.'  Well, okay, maybe Yakov Smirnoff does.  But I want you to aim higher, dear readers!  And you're going to need to if you want to get those dates.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

haaaaave you met ted?

There are few things more annoying than Hollywood types like those snarky prigs over at Entertainment Weekly constantly harping about great television shows that no one's watching.  In this post, we're going to find out if it's any less annoying when the person saying it is an odious megalomaniac internet nobody with a pathetic blog of a soapbox (Namely: me).

ASIDE: Now, some of you may find it odious that I tell you what to watch and what to think all the time.  In addition to the standard Life Despotic response, I would remind you that this is not the Life Democratic.  I don't know, maybe one day UNICEF will get into the blogging business, but until that day, you're stuck with me.  NOTE TO SELF: The Life Democratic would make for a good April Fool's Day site makeover.

Back to the main point, the show in question today is How I Met Your Mother.  Now I know what you're thinking, but hear me out.  I've been watching the show for a good three seasons now, and while I think it's one of the funniest shows on (network) television, I've yet to meet one other person who watches it.  So why should you?  Well, let me tell you.  And yeah, I know, the title sucks.

REASON ONE: Running jokes.  If it's one thing that separates a great comedy from a mediocre one, it's the ability to deftly handle recurrent jokes that reward regular viewers and only get funnier over time.  There's a reason why Arrested Development is widely considered one of the best comedies of all time and also had more running jokes per minute than any other show in history, and it's name ain't coincidence.  HIMYM does this better than any other show I've seen on television right now.

REASON TWO: Neil Patrick Harris.  That's right, folks, he of the tiny stethoscope has created Barney Stinson, possibly the best sitcom character since AD's own G.O.B. Bluth.  Also, for those of you who read that as 'gob' as in 'gobstopper,' shame on you!  Check thyself before thou wreck thyself and click here immediately.  (I know that's only the third season, but it's better than nothing, and the Captain has heard rumors of less-than-ethical ways of accessing the first two seasons via that magic box called the internet.)  Where was I?  Right, Barney Stinson.  While the likable Ted Mosby is the show's main character, it's Barney that steals it.  He is the consummate ladies man.  He once put on the greatest worst one man show in the history of great bad one man shows.  And most importantly, he appreciates the importance of a good suit.

SIDE NOTE: There is one aspect of the show that's a little weird.  The premise of the show, as indicated by its title, is that the main character Ted is telling his kids about how he met their mother twenty-three years earlier.  What's weird about it though, is that the guy doing the voiceover (Future Ted) is Bob Saget.  The credit for this goes to Peter Griffin from Family Guy, who totally nailed the commentary: "I've only seen that show once but I gotta tell ya, what's really weird to me is, why is the voice of the guy from the future, Bob Saget?  I mean, the guy on the show...he's already an adult.  Ya know, so it's not like he's gonna grow in to Bob Saget. Doesn't make sense."

REASON THREE: You know, when I started writing this post I had a reason three, but then I started watching Barney Stinson highlights on Youtube and lost my train of thought.  Basically, if you watched those clips and your interest wasn't piqued, I don't think anything more I could say would convince you.  Call me lowbrow, but I think the Slap Bet gag is hilarious.  So you kids can keep your loud music and your Dan Fogelberg records, and I'll await with baited breath the day that Slapsgiving once again rolls around.

Until that day comes, I'll leave you with the awesomeness of Neil Patrick Harris and Jason Segel spontaneously singing "Confrontation" from Les Miserables on daytime television:



From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

i think that jay is, like, infinitely curious

Ahoy, Lifers.  Consider a few seemingly unrelated facts:

FACT #1: I have recently graduated from university (like that British phrasing?) and, with no job and no responsibilities until I leave for my fictional homeland in September, I'm desperately searching for inane pursuits to waste my time on.

FACT #2: I have recently installed the newest operating system on my laptop computer, which came with the brand-spanking-new version of iMovie, that film editing software easy enough to use that its siren calls to me to waste hours upon hours creating ridiculous wastes of celluloid.

FACT #3: With its new advertising campaign for what is apparently some kind of documentary about Jay-Z doing whatever it is Jay-Z does, Absolut^® has unwittingly created the greatest commercial of all time.

 "I can see where this is going, boo."

If you watch, like, literally any television at all, you know the one about which I'm talking I'm talking about.  It's on so much I feel like it was added as an amendment to the Law & Order/CSI Act of 2004, which mandates, by law, that at least one program from either of those franchises must be running on at least one channel at any given time.  Anyway, it's a brilliant commercial, though unfortunately I can't seem to find the 30-second version online.  It features our man Jay waxing poetic about NYC.  Consider: "New York, New York.  It's my foundation, it's the center of my growth, it's the...muse for my art."  Classic stuff, in other words.

The real show stealer, however, is none other than John 'Your Body is a Wonderland' Mayer, who inexplicably shows up in the middle of the ad to utter that priceless gem of rhetorical quintessence that lends this post its title: "I think that Jay is, like, infinitely curious."  BOOM.  And then he's gone.  I did find a one minute-long version on Youtube, but it features a longer clip of Mayer in which he goes on to expound on his statement and it just ruins it.  You just need that one perfect phrase.

Do you think Jay-Z would use the word 'boo?'  I don't know.  I'm leaving it, though.

In other words, dear readers, I'm going to re-create this commercial.  I must give credit where credit is due, however.  'Twas not originally my idea but that of officially-sanctioned Friend of the Captain^® Olivia.  She will be playing the role of John 'Your Body is a Wonderland' Mayer, while I, naturally, will be Jay.  I haven't come up with a full plan yet, as I feel it needs to spoof the original in order to move beyond it, but I have already ripped some footage of NYC from the minute-long clip to splice in with the new stuff.

Is this an extraordinary waste of time?  Yes.

Is the finished product destined to be terrible?  Yes.

Is there any way you wouldn't be interested in watching it if I posted it on the blog?  Thought so.

From the virtual wonderland body of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

chicken cheeks

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

Reality TV Monday: Tool Academy Week 6 Analysis

Ahoy, Lifers!  After a much needed hiatus from Tool Academy (I'm pretty sure it triggered Ensign Jarlsberg's recent herpes flare-up), we're getting back into the groove in a big way!  I don't know if you realize, but we're down to the final four.  This is the home stretch.  Who will pull ahead as we pull around the final turn?  Kevin?  Jennavecia?  Jacob?  Angelo?  Well, I can't answer that yet, as there's still two episodes left, but I can tell you who goes home this week.  Recap and results after the jump!

you're a rabid anti-dentite!

spoiler alert

Read at your own risk:

Snape kills Dumbledore.

Rosebud is a sled.

The Planet of the Apes is Earth, thousands of years in the future.

Tim Curry is Mr. Boddy.

Vader is Luke's father.

Soylent Green is made out of people.  Also, what is it with Charlton Heston and big plot twist movies?  He's like the actor equivalent of M. Night Shaymalamadingdong.

Kevin Spacey is Keyser Söze.

Phelps is the mole.

Johnny Depp is John Shooter.

Paul Bettany is a hallucination.  Russell Crowe was nuts the whole time.

The village is located in a modern state park.

Bruce Willis is dead the whole time.

cth is

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

the summer of george!

Ahoy again, Lifers.  As promised, here is the final installment of the Leonid Brezhnev Memorial May-June Spectacular Pro-Am Fun-Run Blog for the Cure presented by Citibank aka my third post in a third as many days (any errors in math are the fault of Chief Petty Officer Leerdammer).

I have a confession to make, dear readers.  Now that I've successfully defended my thesis, I have totally checked out.  I still have papers due in other classes, don't care.  I still have readings to do, not doing them.  In my mind, it's already summer.  But despite my lack of recent activity, fear not: the fact that I've totally checked out academically means only bigger and better things for everyone's favorite blog!^{[CITATION NEEDED]}

What am I doing this summer?  Do I have a job?  NO!  Do I have a plan?  NO!  Basically, I'm going to spend so much time on my backside this summer that I've contacted those crazy Swedes about the prospects of creating a Tempur-Pedic™ couch.  In other words, this is going to be my time.  My time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down my chin.  I proclaim this the Summer of George!  And that means big and exciting things for the Life Despotic.  It means answers.  Answers to all those burning questions that have been tormenting you: Is Ivan Zissou a real Captain?  Why do all the members of his fictional crew seem to be named after obscure cheeses?  Who will be the Tool Academy champion, and what will be the next featured show on Reality TV Monday?  And who is this mysterious 'cth'  transcribing all these posts?  The answers to these questions and more!  (SPOILER ALERT: They're all dead!)

But while I'll be firmly planted on my couch for the entirety of summer, I know that some of my readers are of a more travel-oriented persuasion.  Thus, just for you, I'm introducing Captain Zissou's Official Summer Destination Hotspots 2010.  These are the most happening, phresh-to-death travel destinations for the summer jetsetter.  Due to my exhaustive, top secret evaluation process, you won't likely see these hotspots on other lists.   But rest assured, it's because they're the elite of the elite, the next big thing of the next big things, the colossus of clout!  (FREE FUN FACT: I was called 'Smalls' in middle school because I looked exactly like the main kid in that movie when I was younger.)  Follow this list and you'll be the envy of your elementary school class on "What I Did Over the Summer Day."

HOTSPOT #1: Chechnya, Russian Federation

Attractions: experience the exotic culture of Central Asia in this enchanting city, a blend of old and new.  All the latest advancements in late-period Soviet artillery luxury and entertainment may be found in any of Chechnya's multiple warzones 5-star resort hotels.  Local must-experience events include snorkeling, fly fishing, and carbombing hang gliding!  Book now and be sure to ask about the authentic Chechen luau ceremony!

HOTSPOT #2: Gulf of Aden, Coast of Somalia

Enjoy the beautiful cerulean and sea foam of the Indian Ocean from the privacy of your very own impromptu prison cell in the bottom of a reef boat luxury yacht.  Step into the romantic past of the high seas with full-scale recreations of piracy in the age of the tall ships (including possible special guest appearances by Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom!).  You'll be the envy of all your friends when your hostage exchange is the lead story on CNN you show them your unbelievable photos of the local wildlife!

HOTSPOT #3: Gulf of Mexico, Coast of Louisiana

If you've noticed a trend in maritime locations, it's because they're all the rage this summer!  And no spot is hotter right now than the Gulf of Mexico.  Or should I say, ¡muy caliente!  If you're a fan of lung cancer scuba diving, you won't find a place with more uncontrollable gushing black oil amazingly clear waters.  Swim with the dead turtles during the day and enjoy the surface fires beautiful sunsets in the evening.

You can't go wrong with any of these options, dear readers.  In fact, if you've got the time, means, and inclination, I encourage you to go for the trifecta and hit all three!  Feel free to share your own summer plans or destination locations.  Declare your very own Summer of George!

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

"The reports of my death...

...are greatly exaggerated."  

~Mark Twain, May 1897 

~The Life Despotic with Ivan Zissou, May 2010

That's right, dear readers, this blog still lives.  My dearest apologies for the excessive delay in postings.  Certain unfortunate real world events have demanded the Captain's attention these past two weeks (lack of inspiration being one of those "events").  To make it up to you, I'm returning to the blogosphere in a Big way.  In fact, I write not only to announce the continued existence of this blog but also to announce the birth of another.  While this blog was originally envisioned as a way for friends and relatives to stay informed of my exploits in Russia (see: first post), it has since warped into something much more absurd and frightening.

I had been thinking about splitting off the serious stuff into a new blog for some time, and now that I've learned where I'm going to be stationed next year, I decided it was time.  Essentially, I couldn't imagine my grandmother scrolling past Tool Academy recaps and long-winded diatribes on Friedrich Engels to get to the actual news on my whereabouts.  Thus, it is with the utmost fanfare that I announce Karelia or Bust!  Check it out for my first official post.  It's still very much a work in progress, but at least it's a start.

But that's not all, dear readers!  After all, I said back in a Big way (note the capital "b").  Later today the Life Despotic will feature yet another post (NOW WITH NEW CONTENT!).  It shall be the Life Despotic's first double post, and, together with the new blog, equates to three posts in one day for your reading consumption.  Stay tuned, folks.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Aristotle very much the man in form...

"Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx is claiming it was offside."

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Ten things I mildly dislike about you

Ahoy, Lifers.  I don't like to think of myself as an irritable guy.  Doesn't mean I'm not, just means I don't like to think about it.  Lately, however, I've been noticing more and more the small things that happen with some regularity in my everyday life that seem to rub me the wrong way (that's what she said?).  As a wise person once said that blogs are simply places for us to complain, I've decided to dedicate this post to those minor annoyances that pester us to no end.  I'll start with mine, but I want to hear from you, Lifers.  What are those little things that you just can't stand?

1) When I turn on the hot water faucet in a public restroom to wash my hands and the water never gets anything other than ice cold.

2) Every suggestion Microsoft Word's grammar check has ever made.  Ever.

3) When the person driving in front of me slows down to almost a complete stop, THEN puts on his turn signal.  It's a signal for me to know you're going to turn, buddy; it doesn't work if you're ALREADY TURNING.

4) Every Facebook invitation I've ever gotten for some game about the Mafia or Wizards, or to become a "fan" of some inane Youtube video, or to join some group dedicated to a cause I've never heard of.  I feel this is amplified by the fact that these invitations always seem to come from: A) people I haven't talked to in more than five years; or B) people I've never talked to.

5) People merging with high-speed traffic that don't understand the meaning of the word "yield"; or, alternatively, people merging with high-speed traffic who think, "Eh, I'll accelerate when I get there."

6) When I put my money into a vending machine, select my beverage of choice, the icon says "VEND" and I can hear the thing working, but nothing comes out.

7) Exact same as above but instead of nothing I get the wrong thing.  In fact, I hate this more.  The former is just a mechanical deficiency; this is a betrayal.  We had an unspoken contract, Coke machine!

8) When someone leaves me a voicemail simply telling me to call them back.  Yeah, I got that from the fact that I missed your call.  I didn't need to go through my clunky and annoying voicemail to figure it out.  Voicemails are for substance, people.

9) When the bus is standing-room-only packed and some jackass is sitting in the outside seat of a two-seat row with the inside empty.  Who are you, the Queen Mum?

10) When the T9 word function on my phone doesn't recognize the word I'm trying to spell, so I have to manipulate it to type it out by letter groups without going through the bother of switching back to the ABC function.

So what grinds your gears, Lifers?  You don't have to list ten as I did, but feel free to opine freely.  Let's make this place interactive!

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

Reality TV Monday(?): Tool Academy Week 5 Analysis

I know what you're thinking: "Hey listen here, Zissou, you missed the boat on Reality TV Monday this week.  It ain't Monday anymore!"  True and true.  In fact, I thought about simply putting it off until next week in order to preserve the sanctity of Reality TV Monday.  But then I thought, come on, is that really doing anybody any good?  And why the hell am I concerned with the sanctity of a four-week old feature on a blog frequented by approximately three people?  So let's just agree to put this behind us and enjoy another installment of everyone's favorite alcohol- and prescription drug-fueled social experiment, Tool Academy.

How could I go another week without these faces?

The Life Sitcomic

Gather round, dear readers, for I've a story of calamity and woe befit for a dreary Saturday.  While my posts normally have their roots in the tangled, wild recesses of my imagination, this story is anything but fiction, though it may sound engineered for a bad TV show starring Charlie Sheen. 

As with any good story, I must begin at the beginning.  Every year, The Ohio State University hosts its Denman Undergraduate Research Forum, which features a title so self-evident I don't think it requires much further explanation.  Basically, picture three large gymnasiums packed with hundreds of precocious young academics standing in front of 3' x 4' posters describing their inevitably-incomprehensible research.  As I have had the misfortune of conducting my own research during my college career, I had the misfortune of presenting at the Denman last year.  Given my greater misfortune of completing(?) a senior thesis this year, I will be replicating that unhappy event yet again on Wednesday.

Having already completed my poster, I decided to be utterly sneaky and use the library's plotter printer on the weekend, before the teeming masses of procrastinating presenters form an enormous queue come Monday.  However, when I awoke to an overcast, windy day, I was immediately put on guard.

You see, last year, I printed my poster on a very similar such day.  As I'm too cheap to shell out $60+ for a poster I'm going to use once, I forswore the laminated, glossy poster for the $7.35 regular paper style.  After printing off this behemoth sheet of paper, it promptly began to rain.  Forty minutes and approximately thirteen copies of The Lantern later, I had bundled my fragile beauty in swaddling newspapers.  Crisis averted.

Up to the time I left today for the library at 2:30pm, however, the threatening clouds hadn't spilled a drop.  I checked weather.com.  No rain forecasted.  All right, let's do this.  So I successfully print off my brand-spanking new poster and station myself by the front door.  All clear.  No drops in the sky.  No drops on the ground.  Estimated time to reach my car: four minutes.  I head out at a brisk pace.

You've already guessed where this is going, of course.  As I reach the far side of the Oval, the drops start to fall.  Rat farts.  I run to the nearest building, which happens to be the Faculty Club.  Naturally, the Faculty Club is closed and locked on the weekend.  So I huddle under its one-foot overhang as the sprinkling turns into a downpour.  I had already spotted some drops on the poster, so I just shoved it in the corner of the door and shielded it bodily as I got drenched.  To top it all off, my parking meter had less than ten minutes left.

Finally, it let up enough that I decided to risk running over to the next building to see if it was unlocked.  As I ran, trying to hide the poster under my coat as much as possible, I spotted a trash can under the enormous stone overhang of the building's stoop.  I opened the thing up and took out the half-full bag of refuse, hoping there would be an unused bag stashed underneath.  Luckily, there was.  

I pulled it out and opened it.  As I was doing that maneuver where you try to bag an invisible object to get the bag to open, I glanced up to see a janitor staring at me from inside.  I have no idea how long he'd been observing me, but if his look of extreme confusion is any indication, I think the safe answer is the whole damn time.  Undeterred, I shoved my poster inside the bag and replaced the half-full one to its proper place.  Refastening the lid on the garbage can, I gave the janitor a half salute.  Presumably unamused, he simply returned to his duties and started pushing his cart of cleaning supplies down the hallway.

Surveying the damage from the safety of my home, the poster is not, as I had feared, completely ruined.  The left side is a little the worse for wear, with some wrinkles and other evidence of re-dried paper.  I'm just going to leave it, however, and present it proudly at the Denman as a testament to bad luck and even worse planning.

Oh, and my meter had expired and I arrived just as the officer finished writing the ticket.  Okay, that part didn't really happen, but it would have been a great coda, right?

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Bob Feldman and his stupid rules

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

The rooibos unbounded

Ahoy Lifers.  I recently watched a film called The Royal Tenenbaums, directed by Wes Anderson.  I've always been a huge fan of Mr. Anderson's (see title of blog), but I was particularly impressed by his directorial work in this film in spite of the fact that I'd rate it below most of his other work.  Why?  Because I don't particular care for Gene Hackman and I don't particularly care for Ben Stiller--actors who play two of the lead roles in the film (including the eponymous Royal Tenenbaum)--yet I loved them in this movie.  I know many aren't fans of Anderson's admittedly-offbeat style, including blond-haired sisters to remain nameless, but even non-fans have to admit the guy knows how to get a great performance out of his actors.

I also love the man for revitalizing Bill Murray's career, as the last thing the world needs is less Bill Murray.  We all knew he was funny, but the guy can flat out act.  For evidence, I direct you to the  climactic jaguar shark scene in The Life Aquatic.  Normally I'd post the link, but I feel like to truly appreciate the scene you've got to see it in context.  And yes, I realize how pretentious that sounded.  But seriously, if you haven't seen it, put on your list.  NOTE: Sleeping through it doesn't count as seeing it, aforementioned person to remain nameless.

I wish I could be that little German boy in lederhosen.  Okay, that was weird.

Yes, the characters are totally unrealistic.  Yes, no one actually talks the way people talk in his films.  But come on, it's the movies!  And I think it's damn entertaining.  Nobody uses music in films better than Wes Anderson, whose knowledge of obscure classic British rock causes me great envy.  Also, nobody does better slo-mo work, and if you've been unfortunate enough to have seen any of my own celluloid creations, you know how I feel about slo-mo.

So in conclusion, I say critics be damned, Wes Anderson; we here at the Life Despotic salute you!

P.S. Two bonus points to the first commenter to figure out the title of this post.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Reality TV Monday: Tool Academy Week 4 Analysis

Ahoy, Lifers.  This is your Captain speaking.  I realize the Life Despotic has been somewhat empty of late, but the Yuri Andropov's communication equipment has been on the fritz.  Fortunately, after four days, three ACE bandages, two jars of Silly Putty® and a partridge in a pear tree, Ensign Jarlsberg assures me all problems have been rectified.  And just in time for another installment of Tool Academy!  I've run out of clever things to say before the break, so let's just go ahead and make the jump.  DISCLAIMER: I know there's lots of links this week, but click them, they're all short and you won't be sorry.  Well, except for the Amy Grant.  Intrigued?

Outstanding work, Ensign.

And oh how they danced...

"I think that the problem may have been that there was Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf."

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

Reality TV Monday: Tool Academy Week 3 Analysis

Ahoy Lifers, this is your Captain sprechen.  It's Monday again, which means another thrilling installment of everyone's favorite weekly VD public service announcement, Tool Academy.  We're just three weeks in, yet what a long, strange trip it's already been.  I can already feel a deep connection to the lives of our errant and ebullient tools.  Though seeing as it feels like a vague burning sensation, it could very well be that I've simply contracted gonorrhea from subjecting myself to this filth.  GONORRHEA: The Silent Killer™.  Last week's episode on fidelity was a barn-burner.  It had everything you want in a Tool Academy episode: fights, kites, jeers, and, of course, Angelo's tears.  Can this week possibly live up to that same impossible standard?  Well, if you're reading this before I update with the full post, you'll just have to wait.  It's too late to devote the next hour to composing the perfect recap and analysis, but I wanted to put something down to get in under the midnight deadline.  I'd hate to see Reality TV Monday bleed into Meatloaf Tuesdays.  Stay tuned!

UPDATE: Full recap is now available after the jump.  I'd apologize for the delay, but as a rule Captain Zissou never apologizes.

I'm joking.  I'll do anything for laughs, but I won't do that.

Blogfight: Mummy v. Terminator Round 1

No time for pleasantries today, Lifers: there are dreams to crush.  DISCLAIMER: Read this first, lest you be utterly unprepared for the barrage of ballistic awesomeness I am about to unleash on Muted.  The question at the heart of this Blogfight™, dear readers, is who would win in a bar fight: the Mummy or the Terminator.  SPOILER ALERT: It's the Terminator.  I, naturally, being the winner I am, will be representing the T-800.  

 He will melt your face.

I'm going to fight it but I'll let it live

"That's an endangered species at most. What would be the scientific purpose of killing it?"

"Revenge."

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read
cth

Blogfight: Preview

Ahoy Lifers.  This is your Captain speaking.  This will be a short post, a teaser if you will, for an upcoming new feature on the Life Despotic™ (NOW WITH WINGS FOR EXTRA SUPPORT!).  After very little forethought and even less planning, my good acquaintance and sometime foe Everything is Muted and I have decided to test the waters of inter-blog communication with a new project a lá the über-nifty Conversation blog with scribes David Brooks and Gail Collins over at The New York Times.

As Ivan Zissou is involved, however, dear readers need not fear the subject matter becoming too academic.  On the contrary, we have decided upon a sufficiently silly topic ripe for angry diatribes and petty insults.  That topic?  Tune in to Muted's blog tomorrow(?) to find out.  I told you this was just a teaser.  OBVIOUS QUERY: If you're not going to tell us what it is, why not just spare the teaser and do the damn thing?  SNARKY RESPONSE: First of all, Muted has been tasked with the firing of the opening salvo in our verbal tête-à-tête, so I wanted to warn you avid readers to look for it there, lest you find yourself surprised when I post my stinging and inevitably superior response.  And B) this gives me the opportunity for a little pre-game trash talk.  But as the Captain would never stoop to the level of insults or petty threats, I'll simply let my good friend and countryman Ivan Drago do the talking for me.  Your weather forecast is cloudy, Muted.  With a 100% chance of ass-kickage.

I'm going all Cobra Kai on Muted's Daniel-san.

From the virtual dojo of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Reality TV Monday: Tool Academy Week 2 Analysis

Ahoy Lifers, this is your Captain speaking.  It's Monday again, and that means another installment of Tool Academy!  What better way to counteract the Monday blues than to settle down with a bag of Ho Hos® and let the Captain take you away to a world where bandannas and  tribal armband tattoos are the highest status symbols a man can achieve.  Will Angelo cry again?  Is Jordan still wearing a pink thong?  What the hell is a glow-sticker?  Am I really going to devote the next eight Mondays to this ridiculous pursuit?  The answers to these questions and more inside!

This man is a tool.

S P A C E !

Ahoy, Lifers.  This is your Captain speaking.  Having been watching a lot of Cosmos lately, and having been inspired by Symphony of Science, I was reminded of an activity I used to enjoy in high school but that had fallen out of my routine in college.  I used to periodically visit NASA's Image of the Day page, which if you've never done I highly recommend.  They have some of the most remarkable and beautiful images you'll ever see (I considered describing them as "out of this world," but even the Life Despotic has standards).  I'm always impressed that the actual images of the cosmos exceed aesthetically even my most ideal conceptions of them.  To that end, I've done the legwork for you and collected here some of my favorite images from their archive.  That's right, my dear readers, fear not, for this is not another long-winded and poorly-reasoned meditation on astrophysics, but rather a modest collection of pretty pictures.  As I can't let you get away without having to read some text, however, I've paired the images with some of my favorite, most poignant quotes by our friend and cosmic mentor, Dr. Sagan.

Preach, Carl.

I am not a turkey, David!

Point of clarification: we are not dressed as skunks, we are dressed as skunk people.

Dateline: Moscow

Russian Man Refuses Vodka at Wedding; Kremlin Officials Scramble for Answers
Martin Redding, Moscow Senior Correspondent

MOSCOW (Reuters) -- What was intended to be a day of celebration ended in a tragedy that set a community and a nation reeling.  After completing their wedding vows, newlyweds Arkady and Marina Kandinsky accompanied their guests to the reception at the Izmailovsky Hotel.  

While exact details are unknown, an eyewitness reports that it was just after a rambling and at times uncomfortable speech by the best man that a guest of the groom, Ivan Napitok, allegedly refused a glass of vodka offered by the bride's brother.  

An off-duty police deputy attending the wedding, Pyotr Bykov, describes the scene that followed: "I was sitting on the other side of the hall when I heard a great commotion coming from the bar.  After someone told me what happened, I moved immediately to secure the reception."  Bykov placed the suspect into custody and notified Moscow authorities.  

Riot police arrived on the scene to contain what was described as an atmosphere of mass hysteria.  "It was crazy," said Daria Smelaya, a guest at the reception and eyewitness.  "Many people would not believe he refused it; but we saw that he refused it.  Fighting broke out.  It was terrible." 

Napitok, 43, works as a claims adjuster for a firm located in the Izmailovsky district.  Friends and acquaintances reacted with uniform shock and disbelief at the accusations leveled against him.  His landlady, who requested her name be withheld from this report, had this to say: "He always paid his rent on time.  He was quiet, a good tenant.  He helped me re-tile the hallways.  I never would have expected this sort of behavior from him."  

However, Mikhail Skuchniy, a sports psychologist at the Moscow Institute of Agriculture and Mines, says that such deviant tendencies cannot be easily detected in every case.  "These things happen," explains Skuchniy, "Such deviant tendencies cannot be easily detected in every case."

A spokesman for the Kremlin issued a written statement late Tuesday night announcing  that the FSB has opened a full investigation into the allegations.  While inquiries to the FSB central office went unanswered, a source within the Kremlin says they are taking the situation very seriously.  It is rumored that Prime Minister Vladimir Putin has cut short his vacation at a dude ranch in Wyoming to personally oversee the investigation.  The source went on to say that Mr. Napitok could face charges ranging from light to medium treason, for which the minimum penalty is two full readings of Anna Karenina. 

As the investigation unfolds, a community is left waiting for answers.  "He wouldn't explain why he refused; he simply said he didn't feel like it," recounts Smelaya.  "What gives a person the right to act this way?  Someone must be held responsible."  

However, it appears there will be no quick answers for what has become a lightning rod of national interest.  For at least one, however, the incident has remained intensely personal.  "I haven't slept," says Napitok's mother, Tanya.  "This is not the son I raised."

Follow this developing story at Reuters Online.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Reality TV Monday: Tool Academy Week 1 Analysis

If you thought the title of this post was just a bit of misleading cleverness, well, you don't know Monsieur Zissou very well.  It is with great pleasure that we introduce a new feature to the Life Despotic, Reality TV Mondays!  As an avid fan of the perplexing television drama Lost, I'm familiar with the army of fans that deconstruct every episode and write long postings featuring detailed recaps and theoretical analysis.  Loving the concept but having nowhere near the required intellectual fortitude or patience to pursue such a pursuit, I have decided instead to apply the format to that guilty pleasure of guilty pleasures, reality television.  My first choice (and a worthy one at that) is VH1's Tool Academy.  Each week I will watch one episode of Tool Academy 3 and offer my own commentary.  Sounds hilarious, right?  Well, chances are you're going to read it anyway, so let's begin!

Yes, this is really happening.

Walk without rhythm it won't attract the worm

Random thoughts:

• The Russian week begins on Monday instead of Sunday.  Despite being the cultural colonialist I am, I have to think they got this one right.  Sunday night always feels like the end of the week, trying to enjoy the last few golden hours before the tedium begins again.

• Having a fairly rare name, it's always a bit strange when I met another Dustin.  Is it the same for people with more common names?  For instance, is it weird for a guy named John to meet another guy named John?  Or, if you're reading this in Australia, is it weird for a guy named Bruce to meet another guy named Bruce?  I have no way of knowing if this feeling is shared by everybody or only those with uncommon names.  Perhaps my friend and sometime reader with a relatively more common name could share his views.

• Certain parties have made observations to Captain Zissou as to his prodigious use of linkage on the site.  Faithful readers of the Life Despotic know how we respond to such implied criticisms.

• I had a class with another Dusty last quarter, though his real name is Justin.  It was a small class, and he sent out an email to the eight or so of us asking about something class-related.  I "replied all" first and jokingly signed my name "The Other Dusty."  Everyone that replied to the email after that proceeded to refer to me as "Other Dusty," including my professor.  Bastards.

• I've found that sometimes I fail to make connections between things I encountered as a child and things I've encountered since.  EXAMPLE: I didn't realize that Dustin(!) Hoffman played the eponymous Hook in that classic film until about two years ago.  CHILLING EXAMPLE: About that same time I realized that George Carlin was the conductor on Thomas the Tank Engine.

• The food fight scene from Hook is one of the best movie scenes of all time.  To this day, the imagined food makes my mouth water, despite the fact that everything seems to be made of some kind of neon paste.  HIGHLIGHT: Old Fart Peter (he hasn't become the Pan yet) diagnoses Rufio as having "a severe 'kaka' mouth."  Rufio responds by calling him a maggot burger.

• How I choose to believe the "Weapon of Choice" planning session went down:

          "Okay, so we want to make the greatest music video of all time for a 

          reclusive artist who doesn't actually sing on his own tracks and never 

          appears in his own videos.  What are our resources?"

          "Well, we've got four hours, an empty hotel, and Chris Walken."

          "Bingo."

Badass.

From the virtual desk of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

Would a perfect world have turkeys?

Trust me.  Juuuuuust trust me.

Twelve seconds to the moon

I know this will be two posts on astrophysics in a row, but after Everything Is Muted's post here, I can't leave space alone.  Plus, as she's the only one who reads my blog, I figure there won't be any complaints.  I decided I can't respond to her post directly, as I essentially agree with her basic idea and thus feel I couldn't add anything worthwhile to the dialogue.  Therefore, I've decided to continue the spirit of the conversation by pursuing the idea with which I ended my last post.

DISCLAIMER: At this point we are moving into the realm of complete hypothesis, speculation, and perhaps even sheer fantasy.  We ended with the problems of traveling near the speed of light, which is desirable for obvious reasons (read: Wookiee co-pilots).  To restate simply, traveling very close to the speed of light causes time to slow for the traveler while it runs normally for those of us left on Earth.  Thus, even traveling to the center of our Milky Way Galaxy in a mere eight years ship time would mean 30,000 years on Earth.

The word "galaxy" derives from the Greek galaxias, literally meaning "Milky Way."

The way we're going to overcome this problem is by using the fourth dimension.  I know, I know, but I'm actually not making this up.  You may have heard talk of the fourth dimension as being one of time.  That's not what we're talking about here.  We're talking about an actual fourth physical dimension.  So how does this all work, exactly?  Well, as much as I wish I could just point to it, we humans are unfortunately trapped in our three-dimensional world.

To try to understand it, then, let's take a step back.  Let's borrow Neil deGrasse Tyson's example of an ant walking along the edge of an opened newspaper.  Pretend the ant exists only in two dimensions, that is, length and width.  Obviously, the ant has height, as well as the ever so slim height of the newspaper, but let's just imagine.  If we, looking down on this flat world, wanted to help the ant travel from one edge of the paper to the other without having to walk all the way across, we could do so by introducing a third dimension.  That is, we could simply fold the pages up together, allowing the ant to move to the other page before setting them back down.  The ant has seemingly jumped from one side of the newspaper to the other in an exceedingly short period of time.  Most importantly, the ant, only able to perceive the two dimensions that define his existence, doesn't realize he's just traveled through the third dimension.

Clear as mud, right?  Let's just assume you know what I'm talking about and forge ahead, back to our three-dimensional world.  We know, thanks to Edwin "That Telescope Guy" Hubble, that the universe is expanding at a certain rate.  Think of this expanding universe as an open newspaper.  As it expands, it also curves.  This curvature of spacetime acts as the fold of the newspaper as it doubles back on itself.  This fold allows the possibility of a wormhole.  A wormhole is essentially a shortcut linking the two folds of space time, allowing you to travel from one side to the other faster than the speed of light, just like the ant was able to quickly "jump" from one side of the newspaper to the other.

This wormhole is visualized in three dimensions, but you get the idea.

STINGING REJOINDER: Hold on, there, space boy.  Special relativity says that nothing but light can travel at the speed of light.  Well, yes.  Going through the wormhole near the speed of light lets us reach a distant point in the universe faster than the time it would have taken light to reach it going around the fold.  Picture going through the tunnel versus following the red line in the diagram above.  Any light traveling through the wormhole with us still reaches the other side faster than we ever will.  Thus, special relativity is satisfied, and it doesn't take us tens or hundreds of thousands of Earth years to catch happy hour at the Mos Eisley Cantina (play it again, boys!).

Unfortunately, while relativistic physics allows for the existence of wormholes, there's no actual... er... evidence that they do.  That's not particularly unsurprising, as people far smarter than me are fairly certain that any possible wormholes would be extremely unstable and collapse in a matter of seconds.  So basically, utilizing this method would require us to figure out how to create and manipulate stable wormholes through the fourth dimension.  Simple, right?

MISGUIDED OPTIMISM: But hey, anything's possible.

From the fourth dimensional wormhole of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth

One voice in the cosmic fugue

I've been watching the Cosmos again with my soft-spoken and funky cool friend, Carl Sagan.  If you've never seen Cosmos, stop what you're doing right now and watch it immediately.  I'll be here 13 hours from now when you get back.  Having just watched the mind-bending episode on space travel and its relationship to time, I felt compelled to ponder the endless possibilities.

The concept of deep-space travel seems to be intrinsically compelling to us wee humans.  Maybe it's the prospect of new and unknown worlds.  Maybe it's because we like to go fast.  Or maybe, like George Mallory famously declared when asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, we want to explore the universe "because it's there."  Regardless of the reasoning, there's no denying that the idea of space travel is pretty wicked awesome.  UNANTICIPATED PESSIMISM: That's what makes it so unfortunate that the barriers to realizing this potential are so great.

The fundamental problem of deep-space travel is special relativity.  Thanks, Einstein.  OVERSIMPLIFICATION: In my never-having-taken-a-physics-class layman's understanding, special relativity basically states that all motion is relative, but that the speed of light (the c in E=mc²) is a constant against which all motion may be compared.  Furthermore, nothing (except light, of course) can travel at the speed of light.  You can travel at 99.999999% the speed of light, but you will never reach that asymptotic value.

Further complicating this whole situation is the fact that, as you approach closer and closer to the speed of light, weird stuff starts to happen.  The wavelengths of light become either shorter or longer, meaning that everything coming toward you turns blue and everything moving away turns red.  You get very skinny in the direction you're traveling.  This is not a product of perception, mind you, you actually get physically skinnier.

The biggest problem that special relativity introduces to us, however, is that as you approach the speed of light, your mass becomes heavier and heavier.  Why is this a problem?  Because it means that you'll need exponentially more and more massive amounts of energy to sustain your speed as it increases.  So where are we going to get this massive energy source?  Not sure.  Maybe nuclear fission.  More likely nuclear fusion.  Maybe some magical solution we haven't even conceived of yet.

SUDDEN DIGRESSION: Am I crazy, or do Carl Sagan, Neil Diamond, and Michigan State head football coach Mark Dantonio look like brothers?  Cousins, at the very least.

CONTINUATION: So, okay.  Let's just assume we find a magical power source that enables us to  travel up to 99.9999% the speed of light.  Woohoo!  We did it!  Let's break out the space colonies and Death Stars and blue-headed aliens, right?  Well, not quite.  Sorry, Han.

 Somebody just told Han a parsec is a unit of distance, not time.

Remember that weird stuff that happens as you approach the speed of light?  Well, the weirdest thing is a concept called time dilation.  Essentially, if you travel fast enough, time slows down.  Whu-whu-whu-whuuuuuut?  That's right, folks.  You actually age more slowly if you are traveling at the speed of light.  Sounds great, right?  The ultimate anti-aging cream.  Yes and no.  Say we could build a machine to take us to the center of the galaxy in only eight years ship time.  In Earth time, we would be traveling for some time on the order of 30,000 years.  The question at this point becomes the relative value of traveling through deep space, given the very real possibility that civilization as we know it would be long gone by the time of any potential return.

Is that it, then?  Are we forever doomed to linger in this boring old solar system?  (jk, Jupiter, keep doing what you're doing!)  Not necessarily.  So what is an alternative that might let us circumvent these apparently debilitating obstacles?  Where do we go from here?  Simple.

CLIFFHANGER: We go to the fourth dimension.

From the interstellar starship of Ivan Zissou

dictated but not read

cth