probabilityfields

I felt sick this morning so I missed a class, so I emailed the professor to let him know, this was his reply:

“I truly understand. We come in this world, live and die, exposed and confronted by one thousand and one challenges. Please find someone to share notes with. Take care of yourself.”

The class: Journey to Wisdom
The professor: the wonderful Kykosa Kajangu

I love a liberal arts education.

No, I’m not talking about Katie Couric (?), Soledad O’Brien, or Maria Bartiromo (even though Joey Ramone wrote an awesome song about her). Who could be more beautiful? have more class? better hair? and an impeccable sense of style? Of course I’m talking about ABC co-anchor Elizabeth Vargas. (As I write this I realize that her co-anchor Bob Woodruff is currently in serious condition after being hit by a roadside bomb in Iraq.)

I watch ABC Nightly News almost every weekday at work, and since the late Peter Jennings, who was incredible, left the chair, I have been in thrall to Ms. Vargas’s perfect balance of neotany* and symmetry, refinement and warmth. However, fancying myself an amateur media critic, I felt it necessary to discuss the effect of her presence on the nightly news.

First of all, I love the fact that we can now have women anchors on the news (and a Latina at that), and I was a bit disappointed that she was relegated to co-anchor, but I have other issues beyond the concerns of second-wave feminism. How does having an attractive female anchor affect the way we see the news? Do we overlook her mediating talents and see her merely as another flashy graphic? When she reads the news will we spectators gaze hypnotized in a manner resembling the opening sequence of Anchorman? Maybe.

But there is one point where this whole problem gets interesting. It doesn’t happen every night, but when it does, you’ll know. Pay attention the next time you see Ms. Vargas tell you bad news. Perhaps an earthquake, or a bombing. Watch her face, her words, and the way it makes you feel. Below are a few screen caps of such moments.

What’s interesting about these moments is that I think the effect transcends the limits of the animal magnetism I described above. Now Vargas adopts a new surface. Her forehead crinkles, her eyes widen and her mouth hangs. She’s now the mother telling her child that the family dog was hit by a car. Is this what America wants? A a mother that will gently break the bad news but later kiss your boo-boos? Well…yes.

Okay, no more rhetorical questions. As usual, they are a sign that the author doesn’t have any answers. I don’t. But I advise all of you to watch ABC Nightly News sometime and watch for these moments. Compare this to Cronkite’s saddest moment, the death of JFK. With Vargas, we get to see that moment at least a few times a week. I think it’s very telling of our complex and troubling relationship to news media. A relationship that I unfortunately cannot articulate. I’m too damn hypnotized by Elizabeth Vargas.

* this is a term I borrow, toungue planted firmly in cheek, from a Discover Magazine episode on facial beauty I saw as a kid, which attributed attraction to a balance of symmetry and neotany, which basically means “cuteness”.

…And what an awesome set of holidays they were. How awesome? I’ll show you!

First of all, we got a Pac-Man arcade game in our TV room!

The ping pong table has since been neglected.

Then, I found a stray band on 8th and Red River…

…they stayed one night, but Motl, Aaron, and some chick said I couldn’t keep them.

Kerbey really wore out the “naughty girls” trick, but she got the crazy eyes when I looked uninterested.

I went back home to Anahuac for Christmas and of course my parents had gone all out on the Christmas decorations for our boat homes. They say I’m lucky because whereas most kids only have one home I have stinky, half-retarderd fishermen for parents.

For New Year’s Eve we rented a beach house, threw a party, and the best dancers didn’t hesitate to “serve” each other, as they say.

Needless to say, everyone was thoroughly impressed.

Wade even did “the Dig”.

Demian was incredulous.

Josh attempted to disrupt Matt’s wooing of a young philly by sitting next to her and smiling oddly…

Josh put on an astounding display of his best moves, but Matt stood his ground and Josh was ultimately “served”. (click for video)

Later, we found where the Iraqi insurgency was hiding some ammunition.

We blew up some shit.

Demian approved.

Our attourney toasted and assured us that we would not serve time as long as he was around.

So Travis and I toasted to the comforts of white privilege and a thoroughgoing grasp of irony.

In the midst of the fun, giant jellyfish monsters streaked the sky in attack formation. We screamed for pity on our lives.

But then we realized they weren’t real jellyfish, it was only all that acid we took earlier.

A dejected Josh used his cunning mind to follow the girls upstairs and finally discover where babies come from. And the answer he finally found?…

…Wade. Babies come from Wade.

Then everyone laughed at such a stupid fucking answer, and Colby squatted down so everyone could see.

Despite all the poking-fun, Josh made it clear that this party and all its attendants were Number One in his book.

We tried our best to stay up past midnight, but we soon realized it was time for bed.

The next morning we tried to leave the beach house in decent shape, but it still smelled like a rhino cage.

All in all it was a wonderful–I mean AWESOME experience. I hope you all too had a Jesus Christy Christmas and a Christy Jesus Christ and God and the Bible.