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