In the Pursuit of Adventure

Speaking German with an American accent is cool now?

2010-06-06T21:38:00.006+02:00

Back in the olden days, one tried to speak a foreign language without an accent. When I moved to Germany four and a half years ago, for example, my goal was to learn German so well that it would be almost impossible to tell that I wasn't actually German myself. (For now, we'll ignore the fact that people can still tell I'm not German.) In the last couple months, however, I've noticed a new trend: apparently it's now cool to speak German with a foreign accent, an American accent even!

Advertisers on German television are now purposely hiring people to present their products (in German) with an American accent! Whether selling Miracle Whip or butter, correctly-spoken German is just not going to cut it. Maybe I have a future in German television advertising after all.

I couldn't find an example on youtube, and it wouldn't really have been noticeable for those, who don't speak German. However, there is the opposite example: an American advertisement featuring a man with a purposely-strong German accent. Now imagine this accent being used for what is supposed to be a serious commercial about butter or miracle whip. Yeah, it's that weird.

Blogging as Qualitative Inquiry

2010-06-06T21:06:00.011+02:00

And now, having written the least interesting blog post title of all times ...
I've always considering blogging to be somewhat embarrassing. What's the point? It seems pretty presumptuous to write random thoughts and assume anyone wants to read them. And then I went to the International Conference for Qualitative Inquiry in Urbana, Illinois two weeks ago and found out that apparently blogging is all the rage among qualitative researchers, real researchers, like professors and such. It can be used like the more well-known memoing process in qualitative research to record new ideas, questions, hypotheses, etc. And then it really doesn't matter if anyone reads it; it's worthwhile in itself for the advancement of one's own research. It sounds like just the justification I had been looking for to continue blogging, for myself and the average three other people per month that stumble on the blog by accident.

Speaking of the conference, I was pretty sure I was going to look somewhat foolish presenting a paper as an M.A. student when most of the presenters had PhDs or were at least in the dissertation-writing process. To my surprise, people actually came to my presentation, and none of them threw anything. One of those PhD bloggers I was talking about even wrote a blog about my presentation, even if he did spell my last name wrong.

Why didn't I think of that?!?!

2010-05-26T17:30:00.006+02:00

Once in a while I come across something that I can’t believe I didn’t think of. Stuff White People Like is definitely one of those things. Maybe I’m just kidding myself, but I even feel like the author’s writing style is similar to mine, except that he’s really, really funny, and I’m pretty sure I just think I’m funny. In any case, here’s one great example for your reading pleasure.

#122 Moleskine Notebooks
Since all white people consider themselves to be “creative,” they are constantly in need of products and accessories that will allow them to capture their thoughts. One of the more popular products in recent years has been the Moleskine notebook.

This particular type of notebook is very expensive and was quite popular with writers and artists in the olden days. Needless to say, these are two properties that are highly coveted in the white community. In fact, it’s a good rule of thumb to know that white people like anything that old writers and artists liked: typewriters, journals, suicide, heroin, and trains are just a few examples.

Much like virtually everything else that white people like, these notebooks are considerably more expensive yet provide no additional functionality over regular notebooks that cost a dollar. Thankfully, since white people only keep their most original and creative ideas in the Moleskine, many of them will only be required to purchase one per lifetime.

But the the growing popularity of these little journals, is not without its own set of problems. One of the strangest side effects has been the puzzling situation whereby a white person will sit in an independent coffee shop with a Moleskine notebook resting on top of a Apple laptop. You might wonder why they need so many devices to write down thoughts? Well, if a white person has a great idea, they write it by hand, if they have a good idea, it goes into the computer.

Not only does this help them keep their thoughts organized, but it serves as a signal to the other white people in the shop that the owner of both instruments is truly creative. It screams: “I’m not using my computer to check email and read celebrity gossip, I’m using it to create art. Please ask me about it.”

So when you see a white person with one of these notebooks, you should always ask them about what sort of projects they are working on their free time. But you should never ask to actually see the notebook lest you ask the question “how are you going to make a novel out of five phone numbers and a grocery list?”

And for those of you who know me, check out the Marathon entry. It's embarrassing how right on it is.

Quality Journalism Doesn't Have to Make Sense

2009-08-29T07:12:00.006+02:00

A Palestinian man was shot in Hebron a couple days ago not too far from where I stay on my days off. A couple people from our team were on the scene not long after the incident to see what information could be gleaned. According to the witnesses, a policeman shot the man in the leg, and a soldier shot him in the chest. The official story that came out was that the man had attempted to stab several soldiers; they shot him in the leg; he tried to stab the soldiers some more; and they shot him in the chest. Who uses a knife to attack a bunch of military personnel armed with automatic weapons? It seemed crazy.

The team was able to check the area and interview bystanders, and the most interesting thing to come out of that was that the blood marks were only in one place, about 25 yards from the checkpoint. So, to fit this into the story, (1) the guy pulled a knife at the checkpoint and unsuccessfully tried to stab soldiers there; (2) he ran 25 yards away, and the soldiers shot him in the leg. (3) He ran back to the checkpoint without bleeding anywhere and unsuccessfully tried to stab the soldiers some more; and (4) he ran back to the spot 25 yards away, where the soldiers shot him in the chest. It all makes perfect sense if you think about it like that!

To be fair, I was not there when it happened. Maybe it really happened just the way they say it did. And honestly, although some people would disagree with me, I don't think most soldiers are looking to shoot a guy and then plant a knife on him.

I'm just saying: a guy's dead, and the official story requires that he was dumb enough to use a knife to attack half a dozen men with machine guns, incompetent enough to have attacked twice without injuring anyone, athletic enough to have run a couple 25 yard dashes after being shot in the leg, and magic enough to have done it without bleeding while doing it. The attacker was apparently a militant, Dumb and Dumber version of Harry Potter:

The Two Euro Haircut and Shave

2009-08-26T15:08:00.009+02:00

Having a few days break from living in the village, I was feeling amazingly clean. As I walked by a barber shop, I thought to myself, "I could sure use a haircut and a shave." Ignoring the clues to the contrary - namely, every other hairstyle I've seen in this part of the country - I imagined a trip to the barber could be a good option for me.

I explained to the man with the scissors that I was wanting a shave and just a little bit of a haircut. I showed him how much hair I wanted cut off (about an inch), and said again: "Just a very little bit." "No problem. No problem," he said.

During the next 15 minutes, I went through several emotional states: optimism, surprise, horror, and finally amusement. The horror came mainly from the fact that at least four inches of my hair were removed and what was left of the hair was made to look like I was straight out of a late-1980s New Kids on the Block music video. How he did the haircut was definitely entertaining, though. He was constantly creating rhythms by cutting at the air with the scissors and hitting the comb and the scissors together like he was providing an intro for a beatboxer or getting ready to rap. The entertainment value was high ... considering it was just a haircut.

I had never gotten a shave from a barber before, so that part of the experience was much more enjoyable - I didn't even have to ask him to use a fresh razor. After the shave, he got out two pieces of thread and used them to remove the itty-bitty hairs on my upper cheeks that I never knew I had. It was pretty crazy. Who knew hair removal could be done with two pieces of thread? Not I.

The next stage was the application of the aftershave-like substance. He poured half a bottle of some oily stuff on his hands and attempted to make my face absorb it all. I'm not really sure whether my face was burning because the substance was mostly alcohol or because it smelled like a cologne you buy at the Dollar Store to give as a white elephant gift. Either way, it fill well with the new boy band aura I felt I was giving off.

When I got back to my apartment, I realized just how big of a difference a hairstyle and lack of facial hair make. I went from looking about 23 years old to looking like a high school sophomore.

Naturally, before fixing my hair, for your viewing pleasure, I took a picture. (For comparison, I included the picture from a couple days before.) It's just craziness.

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Update 29 August 2009:

When I got back to the village, one of the neighbor boys didn't seem to recognize me. I said hello, and he just kind of stood there and stared (which is just how he acted when he met me the first time). And then one of the men in the village told me that I was no longer in Hamas. I was now in Fatah, because I had shaven my beard. Apparently if I had just shaved my mustache, I would have been in the Taliban. I told him I wasn't really happy with those three options, but at least he didn't say I was in Kach.

New Weight Loss Plan: Ramadan

2009-08-20T19:27:00.007+02:00

Ramadan kicked off two days ago, which means I'm one of the only people in the village that isn't fasting between 5 a.m. and 6 p.m. It's pretty hard core - those observing the fast are not allowed to eat, drink, smoke, have sex, or even chew gum. In an attempt not to be rude, I will of course only eat and drink in the privacy of my own hut. I considered observing the fast to show solidarity with my friends here and to work on my own self-discipline, but not drinking water at this point in the summer would render me completely unable to do my job here - or it might just kill me outright. Since the villagers make it a regular conversation piece for the whole month, I've been thinking of ways to answer the question: so are you fasting? Here's what I've come up with:

1. "Dude, I'm not Muslim." This is the most obvious answer, which of course makes perfect sense and would be respected, but it's also a little boring.

2. "I'm fasting during the night in solidarity with American Muslims." This could work. When it's night time here, it's day time in the U.S.

3. "Ana min Taboon." This means: "I am from bread." This nonsense sentence would remind the questioner that my Arabic is awful, thereby deflecting any further questions about the topic. (Note: any nonsense sentence will do).

I was curious what exceptions there are for those Muslims who don't have any of the excuses I mentioned above. Here's what I found.

Fasting is mandatory on every Muslim who is sane, adult, able and resident. The following exemptions apply:

1. the insane;

2. children who are not adolescent yet;

3. the elderly and chronically ill for whom fasting is unreasonably strenuous; Such persons are required to feed at least one poor person every day in Ramadan for which he or she has missed fasting.

4. pregnant women and nursing may postpone the fasting at a later time;

5. the ill and the travelers can also defer their fasting.

6. Women during the period of menstruation or of post childbirth confinement. Fasting during these periods is forbidden and should be made up later, a day for a day.

So, if I were a Muslim, I would have to plead insanity or pregnancy, which ever seemed most likely to be believed.
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In other news, my out-of-control beard has earned me the nickname of sheik here in the village, or at least among the shepherd boys. This is definitely better than the old nickname: Michael Jackson (he's apparently the only other Michael they've ever heard of).

Seriously Random

2009-08-12T13:22:00.004+02:00

It has occurred to me that it may become difficult for one to stay connected to what is "normal" in the real world, when "normal" in my current world includes bathing only a couple times per month and constantly watching out for masked men with chains, sticks, and over-sized cell phones that want to do harm to my person. It is for this reason that I will attempt to document things that I find very much out of the ordinary (random, if you will), so as to remind myself that these things are indeed out of the ordinary and that I shouldn't become too accustomed to them. They also may be mildly entertaining for all four of you who read my blog.

So, with that totally unnecessary introduction, here are some of the most random events that I've experienced in the last while:

1. I was sitting on a roof in a volatile city in the region, and this roof happens to be in the middle of everything. It's right on the border between two groups that would like nothing more than to live in a world without the other group in it, and on the roof right next door, there is a constant presence of soldiers with automatic weapons. Since the soldiers are only a few meters away, it's one of those places where you sort of get the feeling you should be careful not to make any sudden movements, and I usually find myself talking in a fairly quiet voice ... and then a teammate of mine randomly breaks out in loud song. He sings "I am Beautiful" by Christina Aguilera in his best falsetto. Surrounded by the Army, a violent militia, and a group of people that are living under occupation, in a very conservative Muslim city, this guy sings this particular song.... Random. (If you haven't seen the music video, check it out here. You'll understand why this struck me as very much out of the ordinary.)

2. A Franciscan nun on team got a marriage proposal the other day from a local man on the street, who very much wanted to live in Irvin, Texas, but couldn't get a green card. I had to feel bad for the guy. Out of all the single foreigner women that could have provided a way out of his current situation, he chose to propose to the one nun. That's just unlucky. Also, when choosing anywhere in the world to move to, what's up with choosing Irvin? He could try for Maui or the Florida Keys or a Mediterranean island, but no, he wants to go to Irvin. Random.

3. We had been observing army jeeps and a bulldozer that seemed poised to demolish something in our village, when they all of a sudden, started driving off to a different village. I assume they expected to be rid of us, since we weren't going to be able to keep up with them on foot, but then another villager happened to drive by on his tractor and gave us a ride. The soldiers were surely expecting to be free of us, but they only got to enjoy it for a few seconds before we came flying over the hill, hanging on to the tractor for dear life, and humming the Indiana Jones theme song. Good times.

4. I was walking from one little village to the next in 95-degree weather, when an air-conditioned Red Cross SUV pulled up and offered me a ride. As it turned out, this particular woman is planning to study Peace and Conflict Studies at Philipps-Universitaet in Marburg. That's right, a Swiss Red Cross worker in a remote desert village randomly picks up an American working in the same region, and that American happens to study in the same exact Masters program at the same exact German university that she plans to attend. That's just crazy random.

And since every blog post needs a picture, here's one of my new friends:

The First Ten Days

2009-07-30T12:26:00.006+02:00

I required two trains, one plane, four taxi-vans, and a bus to get from Marburg, Germany to within three kilometers of the village. The trip was made more exciting by security checkpoints, where I was asked over and over again what I thought I was doing here, and by a bus that broke down. We all watched the driver hanging down through a hole in the floor of the bus, apparently tinkering with the engine, until he gave up and everyone got off. I assumed another bus had been called to pick us up - we had paid the equivalent of 75 cents for this bus trip after all - but I was apparently the only person with this expectation, as everyone else simply started walking down the road. We were picked up, a few at a time, by taxi-vans that happened to have room and be traveling in the same direction, so it wasn't too bad.

The village is a lot less green than in the pictures I had received ahead of time (see previous post). I guess it's just because it's high summer right now, but honestly it's hard to imagine that anything other than cacti can grow here - it's practically a desert. The sheep and goats manage to be constantly eating, but the only munchies available to them are brown thorns, dust, rocks, and trash. At first I was surprised by animals eating plastic bags that blew in off the street, but if I were living off thorns, I might enjoy switching things up a bit once in a while too. As promised, here is a picture of one of my goats. His name is Chewbacca, because he sounds exactly like the Star Wars character. I'll try to get some audio of his vocal prowess at some point in the near future.

Since I arrived with an Arabic language skill level of 0.3 (out of 100), I can confidently report that I have improved. My new vocabulary, while still clearly limited, is very practical. I can understand a conversation pretty well as long as it revolves around shepherding and/or problems with armed groups in the area. I sit around with the shepherd boys, they point at things and tell me Arabic words for them, and then they quiz me. It's good times.

My new shepherding occupation requires that I spend long hours under the desert sun, which means I already have a killer tan. The conservative dress code that is socially acceptable in this area of the world, however, has limited said killer tan to my face, neck, hands, and feet. It's pretty incredible already, so I can only imagine how great it's going to be by the time my three months here are up.

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Video Update 25Aug09: Here's one of the goats chowing down on thorns.

A New Adventure

2009-07-14T10:25:00.007+02:00

On Monday, July 20, I will be leaving Germany for a new adventure in ... an undisclosed location. After two semesters of studying the theories, I'm halfway through my M.A., and it's clearly time to get back out into the real world for a while and reacquaint myself with the practical aspects of peace work. I can quote Galtung and Weber and explain every kind of conflict theory from Neo-institutionalism to Civil Polity, but as long as it remains theoretical and academic, I don't have much to contribute to any positive changes. For those readers who tend to worry about me when I'm "out and about," I can assure you that I'm not going back to Iraq or Afghanistan, so there's really no need to worry.

My new home for the next two and a half months is not exactly a five-star hotel ...

but it has a great view:

My main tasks will be hanging out with shepherds as they tend their flocks, accompanying children as they walk to and from school, and learning a new language. There will be no electricity, no internet, no TVs, no running water, and my personal organizer/cell phone/second brain will remain in Germany. All in all, it should be quite an experience.

I received a list of helpful tips for living in this particular village, some of which I thought were worth sharing:
- "Putting the mattresses, pillows and blankets out in the sun helps kill the fleas in the summer. Mattress covers should be taken off and washed from time to time." This is just funny. If our bedding is full of fleas, who would have ever thought that the mattress covers need to be washed occasionally?
- "Food scraps go in the bucket outside of the house. Feed the scraps to a donkey when it is full." This is awesome. I've always wanted a pet donkey!
- "Water from the cistern (up the hill from our house, next to the helipad) is used for cooking ..." Wait, we have a helipad? We don't get running water or electricity or TV or internet, but we get a landing pad for helicopters - that's just cool ... and kind of weird.

In any case, it's going to be an experience, and if I occasionally reach internet-equipped civilization, I'll post an update with pictures of my sheep and donkeys.

Half Marathon in Marburg

2009-03-13T22:07:00.001+01:00

After getting on a running kick and completing my first half marathon last Fall, my goal was to run four of them in 2009, possibly even working up to a full marathon by the end of the year. My first race of 2009 was on Saturday, and it was ... well, an adventure, to say the least.

Two weeks before the race, I got sick. And then, once I started feeling better, I got sick again. They say it's good to cut down a bit in preparation for a race, but I don't think it's generally recommended that you should lie in bed for the entire two weeks. I figure the smart thing would have been to skip the run and just try to get healthy, but obviously I wasn't going to do that. I had already paid the 11 Euro starter fee. So, I went - poorly trained and half sick - to the Marburg Spring Marathon.

Since the race, I've had a pretty difficult time deciding whether it was a good experience or not. Honestly, those two hours were some of the most physically miserable hours of my life. It's normal for me to hit a wall at about the 10 mile mark, but it's always something I battle through without too much trouble. On this particular day, though, I ran out of energy at about the 6 mile mark, and the feeling didn't go away. At mile marker 11, my calves started cramping up. I've never struggled so much to keep moving forward. It was an awful feeling.

And then, finally, I made it to the finish line ... but it wasn't the real finish line. The course was set up for an ultra marathon (50 miles), with each circuit being 10 kilometers. So those of us who were doing the half marathon had to the circuit twice and then do an extra little loop. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. I had to keep going for another 3/4 of a mile and then come back again. I could have thrown up right then and there on the lady handing me water.

It was during the next mile and a half that I thought of all the natural disasters that could save me from my situation. If there were to be an earthquake, for example, I certainly couldn't be expected to keep running. We'd all fall happily into the holes in the earth as they opened up next to us. Or maybe I would be lucky enough to get hit by lightning - that would be a super excuse not to finish. But it just wasn't meant to be. I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And then, after two hours of pain, I crossed the finish line. Honestly, I think I was a little bit too traumatized to enjoy it. I was still not really sure why I had just done that to myself.

After walking around for three days like a 98-year-old man in need of a new hip, I started to feel like the whole experience might have been really good for me. How could it not have been? I got to the point where my body seemed like it was going to give out, and I kept going. It's just like my mom always told me: "Michael, never listen to what your body is telling you! Just get to the finish line before the old guy in the red jacket catches up to you!"

Did that lady just yell at me for being hit by her car?

2009-02-04T16:21:00.000+01:00

I was thinking to myself yesterday that I really needed to find something interesting to blog about, since I hadn't written anything for about 3 years ... and then something interesting really did happen.

I was riding my bike to work on the same road that I ride on every day. It's a three-lane one-way road, with the far left and far right lane being for those who plan to turn at the upcoming traffic light. I was in the center lane, as I wanted to go straight, and a car came up behind me and then even with me in the same lane. (Since I was on the right side of the center lane, the driver thought there was enough room for both of us.) This I could live with, but then she decided she wanted to get into the right lane and turn right, so she switched lanes, apparently not noticing that I was still there.

Obviously the car got the best of the ensuing collision. I sort of saw it happening and was able to fall in a way to avoid much injury - I was only going about 5 mph anyway, but then two really weird things happened as I was lying there on the street. First, I thought to myself: this is going to be a good blog entry, which obviously was a pretty weird thing to be thinking about at that point. Second, the old lady got out of her car and started yelling at me.

When I first saw that it was an old lady (at least 70) getting out of the car, my first thought was: okay, she's old, I'm going to be fine, let's not make a big deal out of this. She's probably really, really sorry and feels really bad, but no, she was upset that I might have damaged her car. This really freaked me out.

I got up and moved my bike onto the sidewalk, and came back over to the lady, who was inspecting her car, which was still in the center lane. She was looking at me pretty angrily, so I asked if she hadn't seen me or what? This question seemed to surprise her, and she went off about how I can't just keep changing lanes and what-not. I explained to her that I was in the center lane the whole time and had the right to continue traveling straight in this lane, even if she decided suddenly that she wanted to turn right. Then there was a pause, and she didn't answer, so I said, "But I'm glad if your car didn't take any damage." There was a pause, and she kind of smiled, took my hand in hers, and said, "It's my nerves, you know?"

And then she got in her car and drove away.

So I'm standing there in the center lane of this street, looking around for all the witnesses that must be thinking that this lady was totally crazy. But no one had stopped, no one was sticking around to vouch for the fact that the lady had totally just run me over in broad daylight. They were all continuing on their way. It was craziness.

My bike doesn't seem to be any worse for the wear, and I made it to work on time, so I guess it's all good in the end. But seriously, this was crazy. It makes me think that it's not middle-aged German women that I have to be afraid of (see below).

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The experience reminded me of this classic video. You just have to love this crazy lady:

The German Secret Police (or How I learned to be afraid of middle-aged German women)

2009-02-03T16:54:00.000+01:00

from July 4, 2007 (reposted as it connects to above post) ...

This morning I learned that while I was visiting a soldier yesterday, the German police came to the house wanting to “talk.” You might assume this freaked me out, considering all my interactions with AWOL soldiers on the run and the like, but I’ve had my share of interactions with the police here in Germany, and my experiences suggested that it was probably nothing at all (or so I hoped).

Take my first police confrontation, for example: I was in a big hurry to ride my bike to the train station so I wouldn’t miss my train. I had left my computer bag outside the front door and gone in to get the bike. When I came out, I quickly stashed my computer in the basket and took off down the road. The next thing I knew, there was a car behind me honking. I pulled over, assuming the car just wanted me out of the way, but the car stopped next to me, and some random middle-aged German lady started yelling something at me. It was my first week in Germany, and there was very little that I understand from her angry screaming, but I did catch something about calling the police, which naturally caught my attention. This vigilante believed that I was stealing the computer (the one that someone apparently just happened to leave right outside my front door), so she had gotten in her car and chased me down. She wanted all my personal information, including my name, birth date, home address, phone number, etc. to give to the police. Umm, lady, if I had just stolen this laptop, I wouldn’t be stopping and giving you this information. She then made a report to the police while I went on to the train station, having of course missed my train. The next day, I went in and explained this all to the guys at the station. Apparently, they weren’t too surprised that I hadn’t actually stolen anything.

So back to the current incident, I had to go in to the station again to find out what they wanted. The same police officer that I had dealt with before happened to be on duty and took me into the same office I had visited almost two years ago. He asked me if I had a motorcycle. Yes, I did. Did I have it parked on the Ringstrasse? Yes, I did.

And that was it. Apparently another vigilante woman had called the police, because she was suspicious of this legally-parked, legally-registered motorcycle on her street. The police were required to come and check it out. What’s up with these middle-aged German women following me around and calling the police all the time? I feel bad for anyone who’s trying to get away with something illegal – they haven’t got a chance in this village.

I don’t really have any problem with spending time in jail. All my heroes were arrested at some point during their lives for standing up for what they believe in or for fighting injustice – people like Jesus and Michael Sattler and Badshah Khan and Gandhi. And what does my police record say? “Reported on 23 Aug 2005 for stealing own laptop; Suspicious parking of motorcycle on 3 July 2007.” I really need to do better.

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Now back to 2009, I wanted to add that this same lady called the police again about the motorcycle while I was in Afghanistan. They knew that it belonged to me (they had already checked it out before), they saw that it was legally parked, but for some reason, they decided to impound it anyway.

When I came back from Afghanistan, it wasn't there anymore, so I reported it stolen ... to the same police that had impounded it, but they didn't seem to know anything about it. They told me the information would be put out all over the European Union, and if it was found, I would know about it.

Eight months later, the lady that had originally called to complain about the motorcycle being parked legally on her street, called again to see if she might be able to purchase the nice motorcycle that she had reported and which hadn't yet been claimed. It was at this point that the police put 1 and 2 together and realized that they had more or less stolen my motorcycle.

The story goes on, but you get the idea.

An Article in "The Mennonite"

2008-10-26T15:42:00.001+01:00

I had some very mixed emotions when I learned that The Mennonite had published an article I had written in their October 2008 edition. I obviously submitted the article with the intent that it be published, but not if it was going to take more than six months to do it. The article very clearly contained time-sensitive information about a case of an American soldier preparing for a court-martial and possible jail time for refusing to deploy to Iraq. By the time they published this information, he had already been tried, convicted, and had been sitting for months in a military prison.

The silver lining is that for the first time, the issue of R2P (Responsibility to Protect) is making it into the major Mennonite magazine. This is a long time in the coming, considering that Mennonite leaders first voiced support for it back in 2006. It took two years! My hope is that it will finally be debated.

You can follow the links above to read both the original statement and my diplomatic response to it, but if you want to know how I originally reacted (not so diplomatically), the following is my satirical blog entry from December, 2006, and the graphic that I created to go along with it:

Pax Mennonita via Flexible Pacifism

It was with much excitement that I read the most recent MCC Peace Office Newsletter (Vol. 36, No. 4), entitled “How do we Protect, Responsibly.” The World Council of Churches had met and released a statement on the “Responsibility to Protect,” hereafter to be referred to by its catch acronym: R2P.

Such Mennonite notables as Mennonite World Conference president Nancy Heisey, German Association of Mennonite Congregations vice-president Fernando Enns, and MCC International Peace Office co-directors Robert Herr and Judy Zimmerman Herr seem to be in favor of said statement, which offers amazing ideas for the current Decade to Overcome Violence. One of these ideas happens to be violence, but we’re going to call it something else: “flexible pacifism.”

It is exciting to hear that the president of Mennonite World Conference came away from this meeting with (1) “a deeper awareness of our complex world,” and (2) “A commitment … to build a radically flexible Christian pacifism.” Finally, someone insightful enough to see the world for what it is: complex. Finally, someone bold enough to bring some sense into the ridiculous inflexibility of the Christian pacifist tradition.

For it is through this newsletter that I now understand that it is not out of a commitment to following Christ’s example that we choose non-violent means to solve our problems, but out of inflexibility. For someone ever deepening her understanding of our complex world, this is amazingly simple. I finally understand what our Mennonite ancestors and theologians of old meant when they said, “He came preaching peace.” They meant, as the adopted WCC Statement says, that while resorting to force is the “result of failure to prevent what could have been prevented …, the world needs to do what it can to limit the burden and peril that is experienced by people as a consequence.” This use of force is necessary in the name of our R2P. And what greater responsibility could Christians possibly have, as followers of Christ, than to protect and provide security to the people of the world? Someone really needs to go back and fix a bunch of John Howard Yoder’s books.

It is clear that we’re holding on to some of our inflexible ways by writing in to this statement that force must respect “proportionality of means,” “international law in accordance to the UN Charter, and can only be taken into consideration by those who themselves follow international law strictly,” but at least we’re not being constrained any longer by “principled pacifism.” It is clear that we are moving on to bigger and better things, namely flexibility, in the pursuit of protection.

It seems now appropriate that we add the practical to the theoretical. It is not enough to preach the good news as we now see it; we must act it out. I propose that we create a protection force to carry out this flexible pacifism in areas of need, such as Sudan and Kurdistan. The United States has its military for bringing peace, security, and democracy; Hamas has its militant wing for its security; and now the Mennonites should create their own flexible pacifism force: the Menno Simons Flexible Pacifism Force for Jesus. Recognizing its foundation in R2P, we could perhaps call it FlexPac4s for short.

In order to allow for a smooth transition, I propose that until FlexPac4s units are recruited and trained, Christian Peacemaker Teams should be equipped with the AK-47s, fragmentation grenades, and necessary anti-aircraft equipment and be redeployed to places where people need more peace brought to them.

Indeed, it will be through flexibility in the Decade to Overcome Violence that we will reach our goals; it will be through flexibility that we will bring about the Kingdom of Heaven on earth; It will be through flexibility that we enact God’s will.

It will be a glorious time, and we will call it: Pax Mennonita.

Settling In and Getting Ready to Go

2008-10-26T15:04:00.001+01:00

It's been a while since I've written anything, largely because there's not that much that I thought y'all would be interested in. I go to class, I study, and I dream about getting to put what I'm learning into practice. It's all been very challenging and interesting, but I still can't wait to get back into the mix. I want to be back on the ground, where things are happening.

The next chance I'll have is after my second semester here, when I'll be doing an NGO internship somewhere in the world. The goal is to get a position in a crisis zone, whether in the Middle East, Africa, or southwest Asia. The challenge will be finding an NGO that isn't afraid of putting people in these areas. Unfortunately, many NGOs disappear as soon as casualties are inflicted. It's no wonder the military ends up being our answer to our big problems in the world. Obviously there are exceptions, and it's my goal to work with these groups.

I'm 100 percent open to recommendations. If you have ideas, let me know.

Thinking about exploring new areas of the world made me think back to my first overseas adventure: Costa Rica. Unfortunately, this is the only picture I have from those three months.

Peace Prize Speech (German Version)

2008-09-29T18:38:00.001+02:00

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren, Liebe Freundinnen und Freunde, Sehr geehrter Herr Landessuperintendent Herrenbrück,

es ist für mich eine Ehre hier und heute im Namen des Military Counseling Network den Friedrich-Siegmund-Schultze- Förderpreis für gewaltfreies Handeln anzunehmen.

Unsere Friedensarbeit besteht darin, amerikanischen Soldaten zu helfen. Manche finden das seltsam. Ja, nicht wenige friedensbewegte Menschen sehen Soldaten und gar tatsächlich in einem Krieg kämpfende Soldaten als ihre natürlichen Feinde. Sie machen Krieg; wir machen Frieden. Was sollen wir überhaupt mit ihnen zu tun haben? Diese Vorstellung ist zwar verständlich, aber: Muss das so sein? Ist es richtig so?

Als christliche Friedensmenschen folgen wir dem Beispiel Jesu. Jesus lehrte und lebte eine revolutionäre Idee. Kein Mensch ist so weit weg, dass er uns nicht nahe bleibt. Er bleibt unser Nächster. Weil Gott ihm nahe bleibt. Weil Gott Mensch geworden ist. Kein Mensch ist so entstellt, dass er nicht eine Verwandlung erfahren könnte. Jeder kann sich zum Guten wenden. Denn in jedem ist noch ein Funke Gottes vorhanden, der ihn nach seinem Bild geschaffen hat. Für Jesus war es egal, ob Menschen Prostituierte, Diebe oder römische Soldaten waren. Sie alle konnten metanoia – Umkehr – Verwandlung erleben.

Kann das auch heute noch geschehen? Geschieht es heute noch? US-Soldaten sind Berufssoldaten. Sie haben sich freiwillig gemeldet. Können wir uns vorstellen, dass solche Soldaten ihre Waffen niederlegen?

Im Frühjahr 2003, also vor etwas mehr als fünf Jahren und kurz vor dem Einmarsch der USA samt ihrer Koalition der Willigen trafen sich Vertreter von vier Organisationen. Sie konnten und wollten sich vorstellen, dass Gis umkehren und die Waffen niederlegen. Sie hatten das im Golfkrieg 1990/91 schon erlebt und damals schon die Beratung von US-Soldaten unterstützt. In Erwartung des kommenden Krieges und als Antwort darauf, gründeten sie Military Counseling Network (MCN). Federführend wurde dann das Deutsche Mennonitische Friedenskomitee in dessen Büroräumen dann auch MCN Raum fand.

Wie gesagt, es gab schon Erfahrungen mit der Beratung von Soldaten, auch aus dem Vietnamkrieg. Und es gab eine friedenskirchlich mennonitische Tradition des Einsatzes für das Recht auf Kriegsdienstverweigerung. Und so wurden einige junge amerikanische Mennoniten, die keine Ahnung hatten von militärischen Strukturen zu Experten in militärischem Recht und Kasernenkultur. Sie wurden Zeugen, wie Soldaten sich verwandeln. Sie lernten GIs kennen, die nichts mehr mit dem Militär zu tun haben wollen; die sich weigern weiter mitzumachen und lieber ins Gefängnis gehen, als weiter Krieg zu führen. Es waren die Erfahrungen im Kriegsgebiet durch die sie sich veränderten. Tote Zivilisten zu sehen, selbst angeschossen zu werden oder jemand anderen zu erschiessen, einen guten Freund sterben zu sehen, das verändert einen Mensch.

Einer der Soldaten, mit dem wir arbeiteten, war Clif Hicks. Er war 2003 ins Militär eingetreten. Er hielt das für richtig. Er wollte sein Land verteidigen. Er wollte Geld verdienen und sein Leben verbessern. Er wollte unbedingt im Irak kämpfen. Für ihn gab es eine klare Verbindung zwischen zwei Dingen. Er wollte Gott dienen und er wollte seinem Land dienen. Es gab aber drei Ereignisse im Irak, die ihn verwandelten.

Das erste Anlass kam eines Tages als seine Panzereinheit aus der Basis herausfuhr. Er sah einen toten Zivilisten, der von einem Panzer überfahren worden war. Es war unmittelbar ausserhalb der Basis geschehen. Es hatte in letzter Zeit keinen Anschlag gegeben. Clif traf die Erkenntnis, jemand – ein anderer Soldat – habe diesen Menschen einfach so überfahren.

Der Zweite Anlass ereignete sich als Clifs Einheit nach einer US-Bombardierung in ein Dorf reinfuhr. Viele waren schon tot, aber Clif fand die, die noch lebten, viel schwieriger anzusehen. Ein schreiendes Mädchen berührte Clif am meisten. Sie war nur am Bein verletzt, und Clif wusste, dass sie überleben würde, aber er konnte ihre Stimme nicht mehr aus seinem Kopf wegkriegen.

Ein paar Wochen danach, erschoss Clif einen irakischen Gegner. Der schoss zuerst auf ihn. Als Soldat reagierte Clif genau richtig. Er tat genau das, was ihm beigebracht wurde, aber er wusste sofort, dass er damit nicht mehr weiter machen konnte.

Damals wusste er nicht, dass es die Möglichkeit gab, legal aus dem Militär auszusteigen. Er wusste nur, dass er nicht mehr mitmachen konnte. Er weigerte sich einfach aus der Basis rauszugehen und nahm kurz danach mit MCN Kontakt auf. Wir erzählten ihm, was er für Möglichkeiten hatte, und er entschloss sich, einen Antrag zur Anerkennung als Kriegsdienstverweigerer aus Gewissensgründen zu stellen. Ein amerikanischer Soldat, der freiwillig in den Irak gegangen war, wurde Kriegsdienstverweigerer.

Seit 2003, als MCN Gegründet wurde, haben sich viele in dieser Beratungsarbeit eingesetzt und solche Verwandlungserfahrungen gemacht. David Stutzman, Reuben Miller, Jared Diener, Dominique Burgunder-Johnson, Tim Huber und Daniel Hershberger und in den letzten drei Jahren auch ich. Wir beraten etwa 100 Soldaten im Jahr. Clif ist nur ein Beispiel. Alle möglichen Leute treten in die Armee ein, aus allen möglichen Gründen. Einige wollen ihr Land verteidigen, andere wollen nur einen festen Arbeitsplatz oder brauchen Geld fürs College. Einige wollen den Terrorismus bekämpfen und für einige gehört das Militär einfach zu Familientradition. Aber aus welchem Grund auch immer sie ins Militär eintreten, viele merken irgendwann, sie haben eine falsche Entscheidung getroffen.

Aus unserer Arbeit, wissen wir, dass jeder Soldat, ob er sich freiwillig gemeldet hat oder nicht, die Möglichkeit hat, seine Waffe niederzulegen. Wir sind Zeugen solcher Verwandlungen. In unserer Arbeit wollen wir ihnen helfen, dass ihre innere Verwandlung auch äusserlich sichtbar und lebbar werden kann. Sie haben es verdient.

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You can also see the press release at the official MCN blog, and here are some more pictures to go along with it.

Just because the thing's about to start doesn't mean I can't still make a couple revisions in my speech.

"Thank you very much for this red folder, but I was made to understand that there would be money involved."

"Don't worry, my boy. Here's your oversized check that you requested." These silly Americans and their dreams of oversized checks.

Arrival in Marburg

2008-09-28T21:08:00.001+02:00

On Saturday, the Hausgemeinschaft helped me load all my worldly possessions - clothing, a desk, a bike, and a few hundred books - into a big VW van to move 120 miles north to Marburg. Simone rode along and helped me move in to my expansive 110 square ft apartment.

For those of you who can't picture how big 110 square feet is, it's about the size of four walk-in closets put together. Everything I need is in this little room: a shower, a kitchenette with refrigerator, a dresser, a bed, and the desk I brought with me. We had to be a little bit creative to get the desk in, but it all works. For the price I'm paying, I'm happy with it, and as we say in the real estate business, it's all about location, and this location is good. It's very close to the center of the city, so I can easily walk or bike to all the university buildings, necessary stores, etc.

Once Simone left yesterday, though, I realized that I had forgotten a couple things: namely, my friends. I didn't bring them with me, and I know almost no one here. It's usually like this to a certain extent when you go to a new school or a new country - I have experience with that, after all. But it seems like I've always had connections. But here, after getting everything organized (even OCD organized), there was all kinds of time left in the day. I wasn't really sure what to do with myself.

I had the same problem today. I went for a run and came back home. Then I went for a bike ride and came back home. Then I read for a while. Then I worked out for a while and watched a movie. Then I went for a walk and came back home. There's just so many hours in the day when you don't have a job, you aren't studying yet, and you don't know anyone. It's craziness. Another couple of days like this, and I might have ended up reading War & Peace again. As much as I complain about other humans, I do miss them when they aren't around. Tomorrow, the orientation for foreign students begins, so I'll be getting back into the whole human to human interaction thing.

The great thing about starting in a new city without old tasks and responsibilities (other than school loan payments), is that I can decide exactly what I want to involve myself in. Besides school, I could choose to join the stamp collector's society or be in art club. For the first few weeks at least, they would just assume I liked stamps and had some sort of artistic talent - it could be interesting. But in all seriousness, I could decide join the triathlon team or whatever. New beginnings mean new opportunities. It's exciting ... even if I am a little bored at the moment.

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And since I don't believe in blog entries without accompanying pictures (and I don't have a camera to take pictures of my room), here's a random picture that I just had sent to me from a friend of Hannah and me. I call it: the perfect hair day.

The Siegmund-Schultze Peace Prize for Nonviolent Action

2008-09-26T12:31:00.001+02:00

It was my last action as a worker at the Military Counseling Network, accepting the prize on behalf of Tim Huber, Daniel Hershberger, David Stutzman, Reuben Miller, Jared Diener, Dominique Burgunder-Johnson, and all those who contributed over the years to the organization. After three years of investing myself in the work, it was hard not to be a little sentimental. It's hard to picture myself as something other than a military counselor and peace worker.

My speech, for those who speak German, will be available soon on this site. For the 98 percent of the readers that don't speak German, I'm hoping to translate it once I get moved in tomorrow in Marburg, assuming the move goes as planned. In the picture with me are Wolfgang Krauss, Tim Huber, and Daniel Hershberger. The coolest part of the whole thing might have been receiving the oversized bank transfer slip. It's just like the oversized checks that people get in the U.S., except European-style. I must admit it's always been my dream to get one of those things.

Half Marathon in the Kraichgau

2008-09-22T19:40:00.000+02:00

It was not looking good for my first 13.1 mile race. I spent the last month recovering from a messed-up knee, which I injured during my cycling adventure, and I hadn't really had a chance to test it. So, there were two big questions: would my cardio still be good enough to run this kind of distance? And if so, would my knee put up with it? I seriously considered changing my registration to the 10k, but decided against it.

One classic long-distance running goal is to run a two-hour half marathon. That had also theoretically been my goal, but I knew it wasn't realistic for this particular course, because it is a hill-course. I decided a good goal would be 2:05 or 2:10 ... but then I had the knee injury, so I decided I was just going to try to finish the race. That in itself would definitely be an accomplishment for someone who used to hate to run anywhere except on a soccer field.

There were about 200 of us doing the half marathon, and when the gun sounded, we all ran like a herd of buffalo through the starting gate and up the first hill. It took a mile or so to get spread out, with the professionals up front, the majority in the middle, and the "recreational" runners in the back. My goal was to take it easy for the first seven miles and then see how my body was doing, but I noticed I gained ground on people every time the course went uphill. The only difference between me and the other recreational runners in the first half of the course was that I was stronger on the hills. I was surprised and definitely encouraged to slowly but surely overtake people.

After the first ten miles, I came to a really surprising realization: I have a lot of energy left. So, I decided to pick up the pace. With every person I passed, I got a little more excited. Each of my last three miles were significantly faster than any of the other ten. I didn't hit a wall until about 1000 yards from the finish line, at which point I wanted to stop, throw up, and die. If no one had been watching, I probably would have just let myself fall into the long grass along the side of the road and stayed their for a few days. But people were watching, so I kept on going. I crossed the finish line in 2:03:05, significantly faster than I could have hoped for on a tough course in my first competition. I was ecstatic.

The crazy thing was that I didn't really feel like I had run all that far. I was a little bit light-headed since I had run the last 3 miles with a heart rate of over 190 beats per minute, but once my heart slowed down, I felt really good. My knees didn't even hurt. All I could say at that point was: how soon can I do it again? and how fast can I get in shape for a full marathon?

Richard (above) ran the 10k and then waited along the last straightaway to cheer me on to the finish. It was great to have him there to share in the euphoria of the moment.

University Housing in Germany (aka Learning to Sword Fight)

2008-09-19T14:56:00.001+02:00

Having been in Germany for three years already, I didn't think there would be too many big surprises for me ... and then I went to Marburg and almost joined a fraternity that specializes in sword fighting, binge drinking, and giving all its graduated members facial scars.

To back up a little bit, I'm moving to Marburg to start a Masters program in Peace and Conflict Studies at the end of this month. The thousands of students who come to the city to study in the winter semester usually find an apartment by late summer, but I didn't even know I was accepted in the program until this month. In other words, all the good stuff was taken, so I was riding my bike all over the city looking for anything that might fit my budget.

The more apartments I looked at, the more desperate I was getting. Everything was either way to far away from the university or simply too expensive. I had looked at about 15 or so before I came across the following ad:

"Recently-renovated, furnished apartment for 120 Euro per month, including all utilities. Cost includes wireless internet, kitchen with dishwasher, clothes washer and dryer, and a cleaning lady that cleans the room twice a week. The apartment is in a house with a huge terrace and grill, a TV room with pool table and fussball table, a workout room with treadmill, and a library for studying. Five minute walk from the university."

First of all, most of the other apartments were costing at least 250 Euro for a hole in the wall, and they sure weren't anywhere close to 5 minutes from the university and definitely didn't have a cleaning lady included in the deal. Obviously, this was too good to be true, but I really needed a place to live. I was kind of desperate, so I went and checked it out.

The house was incredible. It was built in the early 19th century in close proximity to the castle and overlooks the entire city. Inside, it was just as advertised, except there were all kinds of neat trinkets on the walls. There were coats of arms, a suit of armor, and swords, just like in an old museum. It reminded me of Hogwarts School from the Harry Potter movies. Then I noticed that all the students in the house were playing dress-up. They all wore funny hats or sashes with the same colors as the flags hanging around the house.

As it turns out, it was what the Germans call a Burschenschaft, which is like an extreme version of a fraternity in the U.S. They are supposed to be about honor, freedom and fatherland, but they're often aligned with far-right political groups. From what I can tell, they lure first-semester students in with practically free accommodations, dress them up in costumes, teach them to sword fight and drink a liter of beer in one graceful movement, and then if you make it through all the required steps, they slash your face with a sword, marking you as a lifelong part of the group. They also help you get influential jobs out in the real world once you're done. Did I mention they actually teach you how to sword fight.

Now I know what you're all thinking: "Dude, what's wrong with a little binge drinking and sword fighting among friends?" No, but seriously, it's crazy. In this picture above, they've got mugs of beer and swords. It's Animal House, 1805 style.

I wouldn't have actually been allowed into most of these groups, at least not in the really extreme ones. They require that you're a German citizen, have served in the German military, and, as one website put it, "understand what real patriotism is." I'm afraid my idea of patriotism might be slightly different than theirs.

This isn't really fair when you think about it. What about the rest of us? We too want to only pay 100 Euro per month for an awesome apartment; We too want to play with swords and drink beer and get preferential treatment in the job market. Just because we're non-Germans and conscientious objectors and what-not doesn't mean we don't have dreams of playing dress-up in castles. I'm just going to start my own club, and my club's going to have swords and lances, and we're going to ride around on horses. I see your drunk sword fighting and raise you drunk sword fighting on horses!

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I did end up finding an apartment by the way, and as far as I can tell, I haven't aligned myself with any scary groups. Then again, I'm always learning new things about Germany ...

FCK - Yeah, it's a German Soccer Team

2008-09-18T15:27:00.000+02:00

I think I was in Germany for an entire year before I realized that this symbol wasn't meant to be profane. It just stands for "First Fussball Club Kaiserslautern." The team has a long and storied history, but has fallen on hard times in the last couple seasons, forcing them down into the second division two years ago. This season, though, things are looking up for the team, and last weekend I got a chance to see them play a great game against St. Pauli.

If you've never been to a soccer game outside the U.S., it's a little bit difficult to imagine how crazy Germans are about soccer. FC-Kaiserslautern is not even in the first division anymore, and there were still 42,000 fans at this game! Being at a German soccer game is a little bit like being at an NFL game in the U.S., except with riot police and a section caged off for the visiting team's fans so as to avoid bloodshed (it doesn't keep people from climbing the cage and peeing on people on the other side, though). It's just awesome to be part of the crowd, when tens of thousands of people are jumping up and down nonstop, chanting, singing, and doing all kinds of things that are considered completely asocial in any other setting. Yes, indeed. It's good times.

The game ended up being a classic: there were five goals, 3 yellow cards, and two red cards. FCK completely dominated 4-1 and gave many fans a reason to hope they might make it back to their rightful place in the first division. As for me, I don't really have a strong preference for one team over another. I just like the camaraderie of the crowd. For two hours, tens of thousands of people are best friends, bound together in their opposition to the forces of darkness (namely, the other team and its fans). For two hours, there are no moral gray areas, just good and evil. We overcome the darkness with chants and whistles and boos and songs and especially by jumping up and down. That's right, nothing seems to work better against the Dark Side than some good, quality jumping.

Some might say I'm not a true fan, since I don't have an allegiance to any certain team. They might say I'm kind of like that guy that pretends to be an alcoholic so he can go to an AA meeting and feel like part of a community. But I don't really see it that way. I mean, if Pittsburgh had a professional soccer team in the German Bundesliga, they would be my team. Until that happens, though, I'll cheer for any team that plays good soccer ... and has fans that jump up and down a lot.

History Says: McCain, Obama, and Biden Can't Be President (But Palin Can)

2008-09-17T20:01:00.001+02:00

History really does have a lot to say about things like presidential politics, mostly morbid things actually. But while it was interesting to think about what might happen to Bush during his last days in office, it's not nearly as relevant to our future as the upcoming election. You may be surprised by what history has to say about it ... or at least by my interpretation of it.

To sum it all up in one sentence, sitting senators simply cannot become president. One could argue that there have been three cases: Garfield (1881), Harding (1921-23), and JFK (1961-63), but a closer look shows that history had its way in the end.

Garfield had technically won a seat in the Senate, but then went on to win the presidency in the same year, so he never actually sat in the U.S. Senate. Just to tack on an exclamation point, history also decided to have Garfield die after only six months in office.

Harding was indeed a senator from Ohio, who won the presidential election in 1920, but history corrected itself once again by causing him to die in office after a trip to Alaska.

JFK was also a sitting senator when elected president, but only because his dad was in the mafia in Chicago and bought him the state. History once again corrected itself by allowing him to be shot while in office.

These are the only cases in more than 200 years of presidential politics, which is just ridiculous. Just think about how many sitting senators have been in the primaries in just the last few election cycles. In 2004, John Kerry, John Edwards, Bob Graham, and Joe Lieberman all unsuccessfully ran for president. In 2000, there was Orrin Hatch, John McCain, Robert Smith, Bob Kerrey, and Paul Wellstone. It just hasn't worked.

I think the major political parties were getting a bit upset about this whole trend and decided to beat it this time around by both running sitting senators. They thought they would force the history gods to give in. I, however, don't see it happening. History has killed before to keep sitting senators away from the oval office, and since Obama's next-in-line, Biden, is also a sitting senator, that only leaves ... Sarah Palin.

So remember, you heard it here first: the only real viable candidate on a major party ticket is Sarah Palin; she will be the next president of the United States.

History Says: Bush Will Die (or Be Shot) Before His Term is Over

2008-09-15T11:53:00.001+02:00

I'm not suggesting that I want W to die. I don't even want him to be shot. It's just that he was elected on a twenty, and that doesn't bode well for him. Presidents elected on a twenty have three choices: (1) die in office of natural causes; (2) die in office from being shot; or (3) get really lucky and recover from a gunshot wound. Don't believe me? Here's the history:

1840 - William Henry Harrison was elected and lasted just over a month as president before he died of pneumonia.

1860 - Abraham Lincoln did pretty well for himself; he even got reelected in '64, but then he failed to recover from a gunshot wound to the head in 1865.

1880 - James Garfield only got a couple months in office before being assassinated by an unhappy unemployed guy.

1900 - William McKinley was elected to his second term as president and was assassinated about a year later.

1920 - Warren Gamaliel Harding probably had the coolest middle name of any president other than Richard Milhouse Nixon. He was also the first president to visit Alaska. He died soon after.

1940 - Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected to four terms of office, so there was a pretty good chance one of those elections would be on a twenty. He died in office in '45.

1960 - John F. Kennedy was generally a pretty popular guy, but rules are rules, and since he was elected on a twenty, he had to be disposed of.

1980 - Ronald Reagan was a bit of an anomaly for a twenty in that he lived. However, he was shot in the chest in '81 - the bullet missed his heart by an inch and just caught a lung.

2000 - George W. Bush doesn't care much for history ... or any other academic subject as far as anyone can tell. But considering his approval rating, the historical trend could still continue. He's got to make it another 127 days without being shot to change things up.

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Update #1: It was just brought to my attention that this historical trend might only apply to those presidents that actually won the popular vote. Some would argue that W didn't really win the 2000 election and therefore can't be expected to fit in with the rules for presidents elected on a twenty.

What do y'all think?

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Update #2: I had another brainstorm about this. As a former professor of mine pointed out, before Reagan, all the other presidents elected on a twenty died in office. Until Reagan, there was no need for the "barely recover from a gunshot wound" qualifier. Assuming W. makes it through the last half year unscathed, this is a big historical turn-around. We have to ask what is different about Bush (43) and Reagan?

Is it failed economic policies? High levels of senility? Did they both bring democracy to enough third-world non-white people to avoid the curse? It can't be any of these things, because a lot of presidents could claim such "accomplishments." No, I think the difference between Reagan/Bush and all the other presidents elected on a twenty, is that Reagan and Bush had Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell on their side. It makes perfect sense. Oppose gay marriage or die.

So, the official historical fact, clarified once and for all, is as follows: all presidents elected on a twenty do indeed die in office ... unless they have the protection of tele-evangelists and the Religious Right. Period.

Sarah Palin & Tina Fey: Separated at Birth?

2008-09-15T10:24:00.000+02:00

When Sarah Palin was snatched out of the spring break vacation paradise known as Alaska to be the VP nominee for John McCain, some wanted to say she was unqualified. Others wanted to say she had the perfect conservative credentials to complement McCain's maverick record. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but think: "Dude, Tina Fey's going to have a heyday with this one. She looks just like her."

Obviously, everyone at SNL thought the same thing. Tina Fey isn't even on the cast anymore, but they brought her back for this.

Unfortunately, NBC stopped hosting this video, so I had to switch over to this Celeb TV feed, which is not the complete form.

Why I Should Have Been the VP Pick ... for Either Party.

2008-09-12T12:45:00.000+02:00

There are several big problems that politicians are having this election cycle, all of which I believe I would not personally be struggling with. For this reason, I would like to suggest that I am the perfect VP pick for either party. I'll start by addressing the problems the candidates are facing and then go on to explain why I wouldn't have these problems.

Problem #1: Having a History of Saying Controversial Things on National Television (and having the YouTube clips to prove it).

I have done an extensive search of YouTube and have found no clips showing me or my pastor saying anything controversial. I can guarantee any presidential candidate looking at me as a possible VP that I have never bashed you on national television; I have never been recorded saying that I consider George W. Bush's policies to be the will of God; my current pastor doesn't preach in English, so Americans won't understand him even if he says crazy stuff; and I have never supported million-dollar bridges being built at taxpayers' expense connecting a small Alaskan town to its airport. This clearly qualifies me for the job.

Problem #2: Not Knowing How to Dumb Things Down to Talking Points.

The four politicians in the spotlight for the 2008 election are using sentences that are entirely too long and complicated. This is not a problem I will have. I understand that the American people are not interested in nuance, let alone compound sentences.

If I were asked to be the GOP VP, I would stick to the following no-fail talking point: "Do you like killing babies? Do you like killing babies? No? Well, abortion is killing innocent babies. If you don't like killing babies, then you're against abortion and have to vote for me and the other Republicans!" If I were asked to run on the other ticket, I would use the other no-fail talking point: "Do you like killing babies? Do you like killing babies? No? Well, the war in Iraq is killing innocent babies. If you don't like killing babies, then you're against the war in Iraq and have to vote for me and the other Democrats!" 99.93 percent of Americans are pro-babies. I couldn't go wrong here.

For those who insist on having more substance, I am also against spousal abuse, terrorist attacks, high taxes, unemployment, crime, recessions, and stuff like that. Plus, I'm pro-freedom.

Problem #3: Having a spouse and children.

While politicians' families are supposedly off limits, they aren't. Hillary Clinton had deal with Bill's craziness, McCain has to deal with his wife wearing $300,000 dresses, Obama has to deal with his wife's comments about not being proud to be an American, Cheney had a gay daughter, Palin's daughter got pregnant before she was married, and the list goes on.

I will not have this problem. My wife has never in her life said something controversial, and none of my children have ever had physical relationships with other kids of either sexual persuasion. In fact, I don't even have a wife or kids. It's perfect.

Problem #4: Flip-Flopping

Anyone who's been in politics for more than a day has had to compromise on a certain vote in order to accomplish larger goals. That's how the game works. Even bills that you personally design are going to be manipulated in sub-committees and will include things that you're not too excited about, but you're still going to vote for that bill, because in general, it moves in the right direction. This causes a problem, though. That original bill might have been about sending medicine to AIDS victims in Sudan, but if the sub-committee added something about funding a bridge project, you're now officially pro-bridge-to-nowhere. Don't try saying now that you're against it. No, sir, that would make you a flip-flopper.

Once again, I will not have this problem. I have never, ever voted for or against any piece of legislation. I have kept my slate completely clean, blemish free no matter what constituency we're trying to kowtow to. I will simply adopt whatever positions are necessary to win the election, and no one will be able to say I've flip-flopped.

In conclusion...

Save babies! Save America! Vote (insert name here)/Sharp 2008!

Are You Ready for Some Football?

2008-09-10T09:39:00.000+02:00

Well, it's that time of year again, where all four of us NFL football fans living in Germany celebrate that we once again have the opportunity to wake up at 2 a.m. to watch what we're pretty sure are our football teams playing on pixelated streaming internet feeds. It's awesome. In honor of the new season and the Pittsburgh Steelers' opening day thrashing of the Texans, I am posting this classic video clip. Too bad this referee isn't still around to entertain us.

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Feb 2009: Unfortunately, the original clip has been unavailable for a while, so I'm inserting this "remixed" version. At least you can get the idea.

Foreign Relations Faux Pas

2008-09-06T10:14:00.000+02:00

Those of you who know a little bit about 20th century European history know that relations between Germany and France were often ... strained, to say the least. Germany happened to invade, and more less conquer, France during both world wars. This caused some ill will and mistrust that still remains to some extent in the psyche of the two nations. There are lots of jokes that I've heard about the topic. Such as: "Why are there so many tree lines in France? Because Germans like to march in the shade." Being culturally sensitive, I of course do not laugh at such things.

Considering this history, though, I did have to laugh out loud when I saw this sign on the bridge connecting Germany to France. It is common to see these signs in Germany next to bridges - they tell you how fast tanks are allowed to drive over the bridge. Technically, half of the bridge is indeed in Germany, so you could argue there has to be a sign there. But considering that German tanks could not cross the bridge without entering France, you would think the office of road signage would decide it might not be the best idea to post such a sign. On the other hand, it makes for a good blog entry.

This is What I Call a Vacation

2008-09-05T14:06:00.000+02:00

A Bicycle Adventure

2008-08-15T11:28:00.000+02:00

Simone, my regular training partner, who got me back out running and swimming again after my winter injury, came up with a sweet idea for a vacation bike tour. And since Germans get lots of vacation days and I'm living in Germany, I decided to go along.

We'll start out Saturday morning (16 Aug) going west until we hit the Rhein, and then follow it all the way to the Bodensee (Lake Constance). The river takes us south through Karlsruhe, Strasbourg (France), and then along the German/French border into Basel, Switzerland. We then go east along the German/Swiss border until we reach the lake, where I assume (hope) we'll be taking it easy for a couple days. On the way back, we'll be following a trail that takes us through the Black Forest. Google Earth tells me there are mountains there, but Simone refers to them as "little hills," so I'm trying to believe her.

700 kilometers in seven days sounds like a bit much to me, but Simone has always been my personal trainer of sorts, and she has this look that keeps me going. It's the "don't even tell me you can't keep up with a woman, who's ten years older than you and has had three kids" look. It always seems to work.

A New Obsession

2008-08-05T11:40:00.000+02:00

Those who know me know that I tend to do things (read: everything) at full speed. When I get something in my head, I just have to do it - I'm pretty obsessive about it. Some (my doctor, for example) may say this is a sign of being obsessive compulsive - I just say it's a sign of me being really, really interested in stuff until I'm no longer interested in it anymore.

The obsession of the 2008 has been training for a triathlon. And in my standard fashion, I'm just constantly thinking about it. I go to work and such, but everything is seen through a lens: namely, how is this going to affect my training? I eat and drink with the goal of being properly energized and hydrated for my daily run or swim or bike ride; I plan my day around my workout; I hate rest days; and if my body could handle it, I would love to just train full-time. I'm constantly trying to tweak my workouts with heart rate monitors and the like. Even my Summer vacation is based around cycling/running to a vacation location and back - it's not clear whether I'm going to actually spend any time at said location.

My first race is going to be a half marathon (http://www.kraichgau-lauf.de/) on September 21 in the Kraichgau, and naturally, I'm totally psyched about it. Somehow, having goals (or obsessions as some might call them) just really makes me happy. Even if I don't hit my target time on a given day, I know I'm constantly making steps in the direction of my goal. Even if I have a non-productive day at work, my workouts before and after work give the day as a whole a positive spin.

I have no idea how long my triathlon-focused existence will last, but right now, I'm content to enjoy the ride. Because in the end, as far as obsessions go, this isn't a bad one to have.

All in all, it's just another blog in the wall

2008-08-01T11:12:00.000+02:00

I've been publishing bits of my writings, stories, and experiences in all sorts of different places, from Facebook to my "travelblog" to personal e-mails. And yet, somehow it seemed like each medium was limiting in some way. The travelblog was just for my travel adventures, Facebook was more for updates about more personal things. I decided it was finally time to just move it all to a personal blog, because as far as I can tell, there aren't really any rules about personal blogs. People seem to be writing about anything and everything, even if they don't have anything intelligent to say. So, without further ado, here it is: another random person adding another blog to the tubes that are ... the internets.