Hot 'Dam!

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in Amsterdam for almost two weeks now. It’s even harder to believe that it wasn’t until about the fourth day I was here that I saw a used condom in the streets. I mean, seriously, I thought the streets of the Red-Light District would have been paved with used condoms. What gives?

Speaking of the Red-Light District, I’ve been trying various ways of walking to campus, and one way goes right through there. I guess I assumed that the whole prostitutes-in-the-windows thing was limited to the evenings, but boy was I wrong. Anytime is prostitute-time in Amsterdam. And as you might imagine, there is a pretty significant disparity between a seductive lady of night on Saturday evening, and a scary Wednesday morning whore. It’s a certain je ne sais quoi.

Speaking of the French language, today I booked airfare to go to Paris next weekend. My sister’s best friend from college lives there, and she said it would be cool if I crashed with her and her family. She had a baby not too long ago, so she asked me if I wouldn’t mind being woken up around 7 am by a crying baby. I told her that it would be fine, since I usually cry loudly in my bed around 6:30 am (thanks, folks, I’ll be here all week!). Anyways, I figured since I was in Europe, I had to take advantage of the cheaper travel, and why not go to Paris? It is, after all, “The City of 1000 Suns.” Wait, that’s not right. I think Paris is “The Show Me State.” Yeah, that’s definitely it.

Speaking of “yeah, that’s definitely it” (wait, what?), you were probably thinking that the greatest hits of Sugar Ray were lost to the annals of time. Nah, son. Sugar Ray is alive and well, and I know this because the other day my roommate was loudly singing “I just wanna fly.” Like, really singing it and trying hard to get the notes right and stuff. He knew I could hear him too. But he’s a really nice guy, so I’m not going to rip on him for it. Actually, he lost his key, and apparently the housing people decided that making a new key would be too difficult so they just gave him a different apartment. So, now I have a double all to myself, which has its pluses and minuses. Mostly pluses, though.

One quick note, which I forgot to share last time: The housing company gave us sheets, and the design on them is cardboard. So, they gave us cheap, stiff sheets and made them look like cardboard. That’s a sense of irony that I can appreciate.

Just a couple of pictures this time:

This is a view from one of the exits of the University.

I like this old clock tower. Also, you may notice a pigeon flying right at my camera. It makes the picture look kind of ominous, I think.

Here are some pictures from Dam Square in the center of the city. I didn’t know what this building was until I looked it up on Google a second ago. It’s the Amsterdam Royal Palace, but the royal family doesn’t live there anymore. The Palace is currently used for state functions.

Yup, that’s Darth Vader. Apparently, the Dutch Royal Family was hosting several state officials from the Empire on this day.

This is a memorial statue in Dam Square. It memorializes all the penises which have fallen in this great country. God, what an asshole I am.

Thank God somebody finally has the guts to stand up to the oppressive Dutch government. And to do so in English, for some reason. Actually, in a way it makes sense – when the government has de-criminalized marijuana and prostitution, what else do you demand of them? “Legalize wee- oh wait… prostitution should be allow- shit… umm… no government at all, I guess?”

The other day, I went with some people to the Van Gogh Museum (I know, it might shock some people that there are things to do in Amsterdam other than smoke pot). This is the Rijksmuseum, which I’d like to go to before I leave:

The Rijksmuseum looks like a castle, while the Van Gogh Museum looks kind of like a Holiday Inn:

You can’t take pictures in the museum, but if you ever go to Amsterdam, I highly recommend going to the Van Gogh Museum. I’m not particularly sophisticated when it comes to art, but one of the guys in the group I went with was gay AND he used to manage an art gallery. So, he explained stuff to me.

But seriously, it was amazing to first look at the paintings close up and see the individual thick globs of oil paint he used, and then step back and see the image that those globs create. Apparently, Van Gogh produced close to 2,000 pieces (mostly paintings but also some drawings) in a career that only spanned ten years. I did the math (because I have that kind of time), and that’s about three or four pieces every week. And I can’t imagine how much time went into each painting. It’s no wonder he went insane – how could you not?

Ralph (that’s the art dude) said that between three of the most famous paintings at the Museum – Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers, Self-portrait as an Artist, and Irises – he estimated their collective worth to be around a quarter of a billion dollars. And that was only three of the paintings there! It makes you wonder how many of the paintings were found in somebody’s attic or just hanging in their grandma’s bathroom. Instant millionaires.

Well, that’s all for now. I’ll leave you with a symbolic photo of waiting for the tram:

"Ante Up" by Bert (featuring Ernie)

Bert and Ernie give an excellent performance of "Ante Up" by M.O.P.:

See more funny videos and funny pictures on CollegeHumor

Ingenuity

This little girl says, "Fuck you, claw machine - I'll do it myself."

First Round of Amsterdam Pictures

Hey everybody. Since I last emailed people, I have explored the city and started classes. I have to say that even though the weather has been terrible so far, Amsterdam is a fantastic city – weird as shit at times, but fantastic. Also, my classes are really interesting, and the faculty is impressive. On the first day, our guest speaker was Michael Kirby, a justice on the highest court in Australia. He talked about the law in Australia and how it compares to the rest of the world. He had some constructive criticism for the United States, but who doesn’t these days. One thing that I thought was really interesting was that the people of Australia amended their constitution to say that all judges must retire at the age of 70. The average age of our Supreme Court is 68 – Stevens, Scalia, Kennedy and Ginsburg wouldn’t be on the court, and Souter and Breyer would be retiring within two years.

Unfortunately, Justice Kirby did not say “bloomin’ onion” or “that’s not a knife; THIS is a knife”, even though we were all thinking it.

As I suspected would be the case, there are a lot of gay people in this program – probably about 75% of the program. And most of them are very gay. I’m talking I’ve-been-referred-to-as-“honey” gay. But most of them are really funny (I think you probably have to have a sense of humor to deal with being gay and living in the United States).

Last night was Euro Beer Night at the Ann T’ij, which is the bar in this complex where the students live. It had to be explained to me that in this context “Euro” was used to describe the cost of the beer, not the origin of the beer. Even with the conversion rate ($1.60), that’s a fantastic price for beer. And they don’t serve shitty beer here.

Couple of odds and ends before I get to my pictures:

-This morning on my way to class some weird dude tried o sell me ecstasy. It was 9:30 am. I don’t know if there is a right time to sell ecstasy, but that just struck me as odd. I didn’t buy it, by the way.

-On my way home from class, I heard a knock on a window, and I turned to find an attractive young woman wearing very little clothing waving me toward her establishment. I think she liked me! But I had to get back to my apartment to take a nap, so we didn’t get a chance to chat. Sadly, fate had brought us together, but I may never see her again…

-What was even funnier was that I walked a little further down the street, and I noticed this one relatively hefty lady in a window. However, she was sitting down and eating something from a Styrofoam plate. This raised questions in my mind, like ‘Is that part of her appeal?’ and ‘Doesn’t she get a lunch break?’

Anyways, here are pictures from my first round of sightseeing. Don’t expect any pictures of women dancing in windows in the red-light district, as apparently you’re not allowed to and it could get ugly if you do take pictures. It’s pretty tacky anyways.

This is my humble abode, or as the Dutch would call it Van Humblabodenrijkenvanderstraatweg:




If you notice in the picture of the shower stall, there is a drain stopper on the wall. That’s right, a drain stopper for this one-inch deep shower stall. I suppose it will come in handy when I want to fill my apartment up with water.

I like these exit signs because it’s not necessary to show a stick figure actively exiting the building in order to indicate an exit:

Here’s the housing from the outside:

You can see the boat that has been converted to housing in the background. If I showed up here, and they told me I’d be living on a boat, it would be cool for about two seconds, and then I’d say “This blows.”

This is the canal closest to where I live. It probably has a name, but I don’t know it:

This is an old church or something. But it’s not the famous “Oude kerke”:

The “don’t walk” lights, as you can see, are red lights of people standing still:

Maybe I’m analyzing this too much, but doesn’t that mean “don’t stand still”?

Getting closer to the center of the city:

Here’s something I wasn’t expecting to see in Amsterdam:

I don’t know what this building is, but there is a store on the first floor that sells Christian paraphernalia. Seeing this in Amsterdam sort of felt like seeing the food pyramid in McDonald’s – people have already arrived there with certain intentions, so what is the likelihood that you’re going to convince them of anything?

I don’t know if you can tell from this picture, but the buildings seriously lean in Amsterdam:

The one-way streets are really narrow. Sometimes you think you’re walking on a sidewalk, but then a car almost runs you over:

Speaking of which, pedestrians absolutely, unequivocally do not have the right of way in Amsterdam. You need to be alert or you will be run over by a bike.

Parallel parking is hard enough when shimmying up to a curb:

It must have happened that a car has fallen into a canal while trying to park.

More crooked alleyways:

I’m pretty sure this is graffiti and not something the University intended:

I think it looks sweet though.

The University of Amsterdam has this really cool courtyard in the middle of this part of campus:

For some reason, when I was in it, I felt like I was the son of an old aristocratic family, and I had been sent off to Amsterdam to become sophisticated in the arts and the great thinkers of our time. But then I thought ‘Nah, forget it; yo home to Bel Air!’

The mandatory canal shot:

Most of you already know that Amsterdam draws a distinction between “coffeehouses” and “coffeeshops”:

If you want some coffee, you go to a coffeehouse. Funny how there are significantly more coffeeshops than coffeehouses…

This is Amsterdam Centraal Station:

This is either graffiti from an 18th century cartographer, or it’s an advertisement for the Amsterdam Maritime Museum:

Well, that’s it for now. Of course, these pictures were just taken as I walked to campus for the first time, so obviously there is much more to see and take pictures of. I’ll try to be better at remembering my camera.

I'll post these pictures on Facebook if you'd like to see larger versions of them.

Amsterdam Dance

Today, I leave for my month-long study abroad program in Amsterdam. I don't know much about Amsterdam, other than that the locals spend most of their time dancing in the street like this:

Balancing the Ticket

Everyone seems to have a theory or strategy for picking the vice presidential candidates. After all, it’s fun to do—it’s like the NBA Draft but for politics. You hear people saying things like “McCain’s gotta go with a young prospect like Bobby Jindal” or “Obama is weak at the Center position—he should pick Ted Strickland” or “I like Jim Webb’s ability to shoot 3’s and drive the lane.”

In the end, there’s no exact formula for figuring out whom a presidential candidate will pick. John Edwards didn’t help John Kerry win his home state of North Carolina (although he did balance out the “John” ticket nicely, saving the campaign millions of dollars by allowing them to only print one first name on their merchandise). Dick Cheney was clearly a pick not to win any one state, but rather to help Bush with policy issues, such as explaining the difference between a “Prime Minister” and a “Prime Meridian.”

Having said that, I’d like to give my opinion on the ideal “veep” candidates: however, I prefer to go outside of the realm of the usual names being thrown around. Be aware—I am in no way being satirical.

Senator Obama

First up, Barack Obama. Now, I’m always a fan of symmetry. I like when yin mingles with the yang and makes sweet, circular love. So, Sen. Obama should be looking for a candidate to balance the ticket, and to do that, we must look at his flaws. Number one: he’s young, and we all know that “young” automatically equals “inexperienced.” After all, what did Alexander the Great do with his life before he died at age 32? Instead of serving as the president of the Harvard Law Review, being a community activist, or teaching constitutional law at the University of Chicago Law School, Obama really should have been gaining more presidential experience by doing things like starting an oil and gas company during an energy crisis or becoming part-owner of a shitty baseball team.

What’s another flaw? His scary name. It’s so… ethnic. There’s a harsh “ock” sound in the first name, his last name starts with an O, and we all know what name lurks in between. So the VP should either have a very plain name or a very pleasant name. The first name that popped into my head was “Cotton Candy,” but that sounds too much like a stripper’s name. So, I decided an ideal VP candidate for Sen. Obama would be named “Gummy Bear” (specifically, “Gummy Not-Hussein Bear”) because everybody would love a candidate with a name like that.

Okay, so far we’re looking for a plain-named, old, white person. Oh, did I not mention that the VP must be white? We don’t want to go scaring the electorate with a ticket featuring two brown people; what kind of science fiction movie do you think we’re casting here?

What else about Obama? He’s an elitist. Nothing makes my blood boil more than a presidential candidate who thinks he’s better than me. I need a president who is only as intelligent and accomplished as I am; maybe even a little less so. In order to balance the ticket, Obama’s VP candidate needs to be of an intellect that is far inferior to that of the average person.

So, it looks like the Senator should pick a running mate who is old, white, has a safe-sounding name and is dumber than the average American. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Four more years! Four more years!...


Senator McCain

I’m in favor of a much different approach on the Republican side of things. I’m pretty sure the GOP invented the phrase “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Of course, they also invented the phrase “If it is broke, don’t fix it either,” but that’s for another article.

A lot of people have been throwing around names like Louisiana’s Gov. Bobby Jindal, and former Hewlett-Packard CEO, Carly Fiorina, but I think these selections are completely in the wrong direction. The fact is the Republicans have such a good thing going with old, out-of-touch white men. Why change now? Even Mitt Romney doesn’t make the cut for me. For starters, he is waaaay too tan for a top Republican position. And although he's 61, he looks like he's 50. If you want to be an old, out-of-touch white man, you have to look the part.

I've got a wild-card VP candidate to throw out there: Strom Thurmond. Now, I know that there are some question marks surrounding him—like his problematic history of racism, or the fact that he died five years ago—but hear me out on this one. First of all, the corpse of Strom Thurmond would keep the conservative base happy. The added bonus is that it establishes the GOP as older and whiter than ever. He could help Sen. McCain on economic issues because Strom Thurmond was actually around when they changed the currency from seashells to gold. Additionally, a human corpse serving as the second in command would represent quite an historic change, and we all know that this is a “change election.”

I don’t think it will be a problem getting the American people to jump on board with this idea; after all, Weekend at Bernie’s grossed over $30 million at the box office. Furthermore, what’s the biggest criticism of McCain? He’s old. What could make John McCain look younger besides a decaying corpse standing next to him? I have no idea what else would do the trick.

Wait a Second; Barack Obama is Black?

Barack Obama would not be where he is today if he wasn’t born with two eyes. It had to be said, and I’m the one to say it. But why stop there? I also firmly believe that Senator Obama wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t born at all. Don’t try to deny it.

Why can’t I hold these beliefs? After all, I’m just following the same logic as those who have stated, and continue to state, that Barack Obama would not be in the position he is in right now if he were not an African American. Geraldine Ferraro ran into trouble for making such a claim, but she is certainly not the only one who feels this way.

I’m not writing this article to agree or disagree with this belief. The truth is that I haven’t even gotten to the point of agreeing or disagreeing with it because I keep getting caught up in how stupid and pointless such a statement is.

Let me backtrack and explain the complicated process behind race and ethnicity: Barack’s father, a black man from Kenya, had intercourse with, or “banged”, Barack’s mother, a white woman from Kansas, and when Barack was born he had brown skin… That’s it. If you got lost along the way, go back to the beginning this paragraph and start over. Now, if new information was discovered that Senator Obama was born with white skin and then physically altered his race at some point in his life, then I promise Ms. Ferraro and those of her ilk that I will personally lead the charge against him – Surgically changing the color of your skin and the texture of your hair simply for political gain is 100% not cool, and I have always felt that way. That’s why I have never supported Michael Jackson in his numerous campaigns for public office.

In a nutshell, people who make this claim are saying that physical attributes, over which you have no control, will have an effect on the course of your life and your career. The purpose of saying this is of course… well, come to think of it I don’t really know why people say it. I guess the point is to make Barack feel guilty that he’s black? Maybe they’re trying to make his supporters feel guilty that they are voting for a black man? I find it hard to believe that Obama’s skin color is more helpful than it is harmful in this country. Hell, we even have media outlets running headlines like “Is America Ready for a Black President?” which is pretty racist in itself.

The implication is that Senator Obama hasn’t had to work as hard as a white candidate to get where he is right now, despite the fact that we have had many African American presidential candidates who haven’t garnered the kind of support which he has (Alan Keyes has learned the hard way that just being black does not necessarily help you when you are also a little bit crazy). You don’t get to be the Democratic nominee for president and leading in nationwide polls simply by being black – otherwise, we would have elected P. Diddy president a long time ago. Ma$e could have balanced out the ticket nicely as the vice presidential candidate.

So, Barack Obama is an African American, and he is running for president. Where would he be if he were white? I’ve got a better question: Who cares? He’s not white nor will he ever be. It’s a fruitless exercise. Ironically, Geraldine Ferraro made the statement while working for the Hillary Clinton campaign, and there were certainly people saying that Hillary wouldn’t be where she is if she wasn’t a woman. I wouldn’t be where I am if I wasn’t white. John McCain wouldn’t be where he is if he hadn’t gone to school with Abraham Lincoln (in fairness, though, Lincoln was a senior when McCain was in the 6th grade). But all kidding aside, it’s just as pointless to ask where would McCain be if he had not been a prisoner of war.

Statements like these are silly distractions that take our focus away from real policy differences between the candidates. Consequently, we end up with windbags going on and on about whether Barack would be the Democratic nominee if he weren’t African American and douche bags writing articles analyzing the question… Oh shit… On second thought, don’t read this article.