Hypocritical Hippies

Many people think of California as a bastion of free thought. In fact, in many ways it is just the opposite. People are more sensitive than any other geographic region that I've visited. Yet, while they are super-sensitive about homophobia and racism, behind closed doors they are prime examples of those biases with which they claim to disagree.

I've heard the term "nigger" more times in my 3 months here than I have heard in 5 years in the conservative central region of Pennsylvania. I've heard more stereotypes about Asian drivers as well. Educated white women will lose their composure if one jokes that women can't drive well or should be cooking, yet the second they see a slow driver on the highway that happens to be Asian, they say,"Typical!"

So while Californians try to live in a progressive manner, they are merely closing their minds off from reason as much as a Southern bigot who still waves his Confederate flag. They see minorities as less than human. They see them as nothing more than the means to feel enlightened. That is to say, they feign an open mind to harness a sense of power.

Most recently, I had a discussion with an educated California woman about the correct terminology for American Indians. She claimed that both "Native American" and "American Indian" are completely acceptable terms and that there is no empirical evidence to prove otherwise. I can't disagree. But you also can't require "empirical" evidence for something like this. All you can do is ask the people that it affects what they prefer. And that has been done.
According to a U.S. Census Bureau poll in 1995, American Indians prefer that term over Native American by a wide margin. Thus, ever since the Census Bureau has used that terminology in its publications. So has the Smithsonian, which has opened the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. So due to the direct preference of the American Indians of the U.S., the correct term is now American Indian.

Many people think that either term is adequate, but Russell Means, probably the most prominent of modern-day Indian thinkers, strongly disagrees. Following is a quote from Mr. Means:
“I abhor the term Native American. It is a generic government term used to describe all the indigenous prisoners of the United States. These are the American Samoans, the Micronesians, the Aleutes, the original Hawaiians and the erroneously termed Eskimos, who are actually Upiks and Inupiats. And, of course, the American Indian.

I prefer the term American Indian because I know its origins. The word Indian is an English bastardization of two Spanish words, En Dio, which correctly translated means in with God. As an added distinction the American Indian is the only ethnic group in the United States with the American before our ethnicity.

At an international conference of Indians from the Americas held in Geneva, Switzerland at the United Nations in 1977 we unanimously decided we would go under the term American Indian. We were enslaved as American Indians, we were colonized as American Indians and we will gain our freedom as American Indians and then we will call ourselves any damn thing we choose.

Finally, I will not allow a government, any government, to define who I am. Besides anyone born in the Western hemisphere is a Native American.”


There can be no dispute over this issue anymore. And egomaniacal Californians need to look past their competitive "progressivism" to see the real truth.

Free Right

Almost 4 weeks. That's how long I've been in California. And I'm finally starting to make some progress. I'm going to lock up two jobs this Tuesday: Recreational Equipment, Inc. (REI) and Clean Water Action. Between these two gigs and my ever growing hair, I'm well on my way to being a quintessential California hippie.

Despite my bad luck with internet poker in January, I began playing again yesterday. The poker bug bit me again after I played a single-table tournament with some of my brother's co-workers on Wednesday night. After playing with a small stack most of the night, I sextupled up with a full house on the flop. I went on to win second place. As the only person under 30, I represented the early-20s demographic. And represented it well. Thus, I couldn't stop myself from gambling online.

I'm playing a tournament whilst I write this entry. So far today I have placed in the money 50 percent of the time-- two 1st places and three 2nd places.

Soon I won't have to do this to subsist.

The Weather and the People of the Bay

In the month I've been here, I've noticed some odd behavior from the people living in the bay area. NOTE: These observations are from the POV of a person from rural, temperate Pennsylvania. The people living in Oakland and San Francisco wear parkas in 40-50 degree weather. Unbelievable. In mountainous central PA, we wear shorts when it hits 32 in the winter.
In addition to the overdressing, these people freak out when precipitation falls in forms other than rain. Hail covered the city today with a 1/4 inch of M&M-sized ice balls. It was like 28 Days as the people, as though possessed with a mind-altering disease, danced in the streets and threw handfulls of ice at one another. I suppose going mental when it hails is a small price to pay for the otherwise beautiful weather in the Bay.

Stay tuned later this week to see if I'm actually employed after Tuesday!

I haven't written for a while. And I have no one to blame but myself. Since my last post I graduated from Penn State, lived at with my parents for a month, live with my grandmother for two weeks, worked at a moving company, drove from Pennsylvania to California, and moved in with my brother and his wife in their Oakland apartment. It's been three weeks since I arrived here, and I've done nothing of value since.

I made some attempt to find a job. I found a great opportunity at the Danville Weekly, a small tab east of Oakland. I interviewed with them a week ago today, and still have not heard from them. I'm only a little discouraged that they haven't called yet. What really breaks my spirit is that I interviewed with Peet's Coffee Shop in Montclair (a fancy part of Oakland) and they haven't called back. If I'm not qualified to make coffee for people, then I really don't deserve to live, or make a living.

I'm lowering my sights to participating in focus groups and working a retail sales associate at a recreational equipment store. I'm really learning about what it feels like to have a college degree and still not be able to subsist.

Nittany Lion Lotto

Following are one journalist’s personal observations of the 2005 Penn State football season.

By now every sports fan knows that Joe Paterno led the 2005 Penn State Nittany Lion football team to its first Bowl Championship Series game by means of a 10-1 record and a Big Ten Championship. State College, Pa, once again became a place where locals, students and alumni could cheer for a winning team.

And so the bandwagon again began to overflow.

Not until the home match-up against the Ohio State Buckeyes on Oct. 8 did Penn State truly face a difficult challenge. And the fans knew it. By game time, over 40 tents had been set up at the student gate of Beaver Stadium. Truly loyal.

Weeks later, for the Wisconsin game, Paternoville was again founded by students intent on getting front row seats. Except this time, some were also intent on getting attention from the media. The novelty of a tent town superseded that importance of getting good seats.

The Daily Collegian was one media outlet that facilitated the outcry for attention by the students:

“ ‘The number of tents are expected to triple by the end of the night, and we should have the Paternoville sign by the end of the night too,’ said Tom Frame (freshman-information sciences and technology), one of the first Paternoville settlers this week.”

So while thousands of students continue to attend classes and go to their jobs, a spoiled portion of the student body skipped a week of life to camp in the tents their parents bought them and pose for any and every camera that ventured close to the ‘Ville.

Orange Bowl Tickets: admission to the game or college status symbol?

On December 7, over 4000 Penn State students flocked to the Bryce Jordan Center ticket office to try to get tickets to the Orange Bowl. Many students went as early as 8 a.m. On that day, each student who wanted a ticket received a wristband with a six-digit number printed on it.

The following day, those 4000 students went back to BJC at 8 a.m. to see if the numbers on their wristbands were going to be selected in a lottery to decide who got the limited number of tickets.

Upon arrival, students were told that only 2,070 tickets were available to Penn State students. Not surprisingly, over 2000 disappointed people did not receive the $85 tickets. For many students on a budget, the discounted tickets were the only affordable option.

Just like the second coming of Paternoville, going to the Orange Bowl became the popular thing to do.

While there is nothing illegal, immoral or rude about jumping on every bandwagon that comes your way, one reporter asks you to remember your football fanaticism the next time there is a lull in Penn State’s talent pool. Joe Paterno is the perfect role model for disloyal bandwagoners. JoePa could have joined the NFL bandwagon years ago when the New England Patriots offered him the position of head coach. He decided to stay in Happy Valley.

Having gone on long enough, I say this: when you have a decision to make, no matter how large or small in consequence, ask yourself a question.

WWJPD?

What would Joe Pa do?

Good Night, and Good Luck

If you ever trusted in the media to act in the interest of the greater good, then you may be disappointed by the sensationalism that has run rampant through the industry. But there are still beacons of hope in young journalists entering the work force.
As a young journalist myself, I see goodness in many of my peers and that makes me optimistic. To me and others my age, journalism is less about the byline and more about enriching the mind of readers.
I’ve questioned the validity of blogs as a form of high-quality media, but I’ve realized that this new media will bring innovation to journalism. The movie Good Night, and Good Luck tells the story of Edward R. Murrow and his fearless reporting of the McCarthy hearings in the 1950s. Murrow and his colleagues are prime examples of pure journalism.
As I left the theater, I felt invigorated. Although it is discouraging to see many major newspaper companies losing readership and enforcing hiring freezes, the story of Murrow showed me that there will always be a need for quality, ethical journalism.
After seeing Murrow innovate journalism in the early 20th century, I am confident that there will be similar innovations in this century. If you too feel the need for a picture of great journalism, go see Good Night, and Good Luck.