No, I’m not a deep-thinking person. I’m as shallow as they come. However, I do have a life-long belief that, if followed, would probably solve the world’s problems in a nanosecond: 3-way mirrors.

Yes, that’s right, 3-way mirrors. Here’s the basic premise. You’ve seen all of the muffin top people. You’ve seen them at the malls, you’ve seen them at the park, you’ve seen them at work. Where you don’t see them is in the mirror.

A single mirror basically shows us what we want to see. With an ordinary mirror, you can pretend that you’re taller, thinner, whatever. There’s nothing to deny you your fantasies.

But, with a 3-way mirror you are taken out of your pleasant little fiction. Suddenly, in the other two mirrors you see that doppelganger who is your side view and (OHMUGAWD!) back side. Nothing escapes the gaze of the 3-way mirror. No way would you go out in those low riding hip huggers. You’d be able to see your butt crack showing (yes, just like Jerry the plumber). You’d be able to see that tattoo you’ve been meaning to have removed since you broke with what’s-his-name-the-jerk-whose-name-is-on-your-butt. You’d even be able to see how that muffin top of yours is pouring out over the top of your pants: the view the rest of us have to cringe over.

So, how would this solve the world’s problems and bring peace on earth? Think about it: if everyone were issued a 3-way mirror when they were born we would all see ourselves as we truly are. We’d have to face the facts of all our protuberances and pot bellies.

Ah, come on guys. You know who you are. You say that you’re still wearing the same pants size that you were wearing in high school, but your inseam keeps getting shorter. Why? BECAUSE YOU’RE WEARING YOUR WAISTBAND UNDER YOUR BELLY, PUTZ! More than that, comb-overs would disappear overnight. And we’d never have to look at any guy’s boxers sticking out above his too-big jeans-that-are-just-about-to-fall-off-his-frame again.

Okay, I’ve said. Go out there and get yourself a 3-way mirror. Start a revolution!

Family is an interesting concept. There is the nuclear family, the extended family, all sorts of family. Then, there is the family from hell. We all have family of one sort or another. Some of us even feel that we have the family from hell. Shall we define just one of things that constitute being in a family from hell?

“Hefty bagging,” is a sure sign of being in the family from hell. “What is ‘hefty bagging’?” you ask. Well, I’m here to let you in on this sure sign of Hade-ious behaviour.

You may call them garbage bags, or bin liners or Hefty Bags; but they’re all for holding garbage. However, when you turn them into verbs they’re insidious manipulative devices that work best if the ‘Bagger’ is a close relative. Also,to ‘Hefty Bag’ someone you have to hold on to every grievance you perceive that person has perpetrated against you.

Here’s how it works: say sis forgot your birthday once 15 years ago. You make a note to yourself in perpetual ink (it’s made of blood and lasts far longer than permanent ink) and slip it into the Hefty Bag. On every occasion that seems appropriate (Dad’s birthday, Mother’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Arbour Day) you reach into your Hefty Bag and pull out an old gem. “I can still feel the pain when you forgot my birthday in 1980.” Usually, it’s done in a passive/aggressive way (I see you always remember Bro’s birthday, not like you forgot mine in 1990.”). But, after a bit of alcohol, you can really let it rip (You bitch, you always hated me. You turned Mum against me!”).

Hefty Bagging is usually a solitary avocation and there’s a good reason why. Remember that you’re filling that bag up with garbage. It’s your garbage, but it’s still garbage. After a while, 2 things happen: it gets real heavy, and it starts to stink.

So, because it’s heavy the ‘Bagger’ wants help carrying the bag. Occasionally you can dupe someone into helping, but the closer the ‘dupee’ gets to the bag the more he/she notices the stink.

The ‘Bagger’ will go through serial friendships/relationships. You know the type: you run into them a few years later and you don’t recognise anyone in their lives. They go through friends like other people go through toilet paper. Yes, that is an apt comparison.

So, here’s to letting go. Drop the bag. Walk away from it. ‘Cause the bag gets heavy and it stinks.

Truth is an elusive quantity. We humans can’t even wrap our brains around reality, let alone the truth. We bring to every reality a history of our own: we bring our own point of view.

Each witness will have a different account of reality because of his/her own history. We bring all that is our story to every bit of reality. So, I may see the exact same thing that you do, but what I am seeing may be totally different from you. There is no objectivity. We all view life through our own subjective lens.

Think a documentary is reality? Where was the camera positioned? Was it placed low and angled up? What does that tell you about the person in the frame? Do you feel hostile toward that person? That’s what the filmmaker wants you to feel. How about if the camera is above the person? Your perspective will probably be different, and that’s what the filmmaker is hoping.

This is why eye witnesses are unreliable. Two people stand on a corner and witness the same action, but their accounts of what they have seen can be at odds. Reality is there all right, we just can’t perceive it.

Because reality is out of our grasp we have a construct called, “truth.” We overlay it on our perception of reality. My truth mightn’t be your truth; because my reality mightn’t be your reality.

This is why I cannot abide anyone who is cocksure. Life is about doubt. Without doubt, we’d never question. Without questioning, we never learn.

.In the study of American Politics there is an unspoken maxim: everything that exists can be measured, and that which can’t be measured doesn’t exist.

First of all, you have to understand that ‘American’ Politics is a culture-centric name. Do you think that in France they have a field called, French Politics? How about Italian Politics? No, ‘American’ Politics is just an excuse to institutionalize the concept of America and her politics as exceptional. As if the U.S. had a special status amongst the respresentative republics in the developed world. As we can see by just our most recent failures, we aren’t exceptional, just lucky. And our luck can run out at any time.

The formula is an example of predictive statistical analysis.

Y(t) = the impact on graduate student’s ability to find an academic position within
his/her lifetime

Sigma = the sum of the following computation:

15 = the # of quarters in a 5-year graduate program study program (according to
the Regents)

c = the # of quarters the graduate student can actually remember by the end of
his/her graduate career

x = the amount of debt accrued during studies

y = the job market when the dissertation is finished

This is why it doesn’t pay to go to graduate school

There is a reason to be in the belly of the beast: it’s safer than being outside. Even old Hobbes knew that (Thomas, not the stuffed tiger). Why is there that eternal tension in us? The 2 little figures on our shoulders. You’ve seen them: one has horns and a trident. The other has only a halo. The little devil whispers in your shell-like, “Hey, we don’t need these rules. We’re outta here!” The haloed one says, “Stay put. It’s safer. You are in good company.”
So, do we listen to our better angels, or that little bugger who wants out? Why the debate? Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, right? Yet, we twitch and feel as if we’re in a wooly sweater knitted by a loving relative and it’s the dog days of August when faced with the “rules” of the republic.

This tension is what we call politics.