posted on 11.5.12

White House spokesman Jay Carney confirms that Mr. Obama put Mr. Springsteen on the phone with New Jersey Governor Chris Christie while the president and the Boss were flying to Columbus from Madison, Wis. on Air Force One.

Mr. Christie, a Republican, is well known as one of the biggest Bruce fans ever, but he’s not gotten love from Mr. Springsteen, a die-hard Democrat, in the past. Mr. Springsteen is notorious for not inviting Mr. Christie backstage that the more than 100 concerts that his No. 1 fan has attended.

But in these days of bipartisan bonhomie between Mr. Obama and Mr. Christie post-storm, who better to serve as yenta between the Boss and his fan? The president!

Mr. Christie promptly relayed the fact of the phone call to reporters. When asked, Mr. Carney confirmed: “When POTUS told the governor he had someone who wanted to speak with him, Springsteen, who was using the handset across the table from the president, said, “Governor, this is Bruce.”

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posted on 8.13.12
mattfisher:

My Sister Paid Progressive Insurance to Defend Her Killer In Court
I’ve been sending out some impertinent tweets about Progressive Insurance lately, but I haven’t explained how they pissed me off. So I will do that here as succinctly as possible. There’s a general understanding that says, “insurance companies— oh they’re awful,” but since Progressive turned their shit hose on my late sister and my parents, I’ve learned some things that really surprised me.
I’ll try to cleave to the facts. On June 19, 2010, my sister was driving in Baltimore when her car was struck by another car and she was killed. The other driver had run a red light and hit my sister as she crossed the intersection on the green light.

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Jesus.

mattfisher:

My Sister Paid Progressive Insurance to Defend Her Killer In Court

I’ve been sending out some impertinent tweets about Progressive Insurance lately, but I haven’t explained how they pissed me off. So I will do that here as succinctly as possible. There’s a general understanding that says, “insurance companies— oh they’re awful,” but since Progressive turned their shit hose on my late sister and my parents, I’ve learned some things that really surprised me.

I’ll try to cleave to the facts. On June 19, 2010, my sister was driving in Baltimore when her car was struck by another car and she was killed. The other driver had run a red light and hit my sister as she crossed the intersection on the green light.

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Jesus.

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posted on 4.30.12 Happy Endings by Margaret Atwood

salvadorian:

John and Mary meet.
What happens next?
If you want a happy ending, try A.

A.

John and Mary fall in love and get married. They both have worthwhile and remunerative jobs which they find stimulating and challenging. They buy a charming house. Real estate values go up. Eventually, when they can afford live-in help, they have two children, to whom they are devoted. The children turn out well. John and Mary have a stimulating and challenging sex life and worthwhile friends. They go on fun vacations together. They retire. They both have hobbies which they find stimulating and challenging. Eventually they die. This is the end of the story.

B.

Mary falls in love with John but John doesn’t fall in love with Mary. He merely uses her body for selfish pleasure and ego gratification of a tepid kind. He comes to her apartment twice a week and she cooks him dinner, you’ll notice that he doesn’t even consider her worth the price of a dinner out, and after he’s eaten dinner he fucks her and after that he falls asleep, while she does the dishes so he won’t think she’s untidy, having all those dirty dishes lying around, and puts on fresh

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posted on 1.10.12 Dear Customer who stuck up for his little brother,

sweetupndown:

you thought I didn’t really notice. But I did. I wanted to high-five you.


Yesterday I had a pair of brothers in my store. One was maybe between 15-17. He was a wrestler at the local high school. Kind of tall, stocky and handsome. He had a younger brother, who was maybe about 10-12 years old. The only way to describe him was scrawny, neat, and very clean for a boy his age. They were talking about finding a game for the younger one, and he was absolutely insisting it be one with a female character. I don’t know how many of y’all play games, but that isn’t exactly easy. Eventually, I helped the brothers pick a game called Mirror’s Edge. The youngest was pretty excited about the game, and then he specifically asked me.. “Do you have any girl color controllers?” I directed him to the only colored controllers we have which includes pink and purple ones. He grabbed the purple one, and informed me purple was his FAVORITE.



The boys had been taking awhile, so their father eventually comes in. He see’s the game, and the controller, and starts in on the youngest about how he needs to pick something different. Something more manly. Something with guns and fighting, and certainly not a purple controller. He tries to convince him to get the new Zombie game “Dead Island.” and the little boy just stands there repeating “Dad, this is what I want, ok?” Eventually it turns into a full blown argument complete with Dad threatening to whoop his son if he doesn’t choose different items.

That’s when big brother stepped in. He said to his Dad “It’s my money, it’s my gift to him, if it’s what he wants I’m getting it for him, and if your going to hit anyone for it, it’s going to be me.” Dad just gives his oldest son a strong stern stare down, and then leaves the store. Little brother is crying quietly, I walk over and ruffle his hair (yes this happened all in front of me.) I say “I’m a girl, and I like the color blue, and I like shooting games. There’s nothing wrong with what you like. Even if it’s different than what people think you should.” I smile, he smiles back (my heart melts!) Big brother then leans down, kisses little brother on the head, and says “Don’t worry dude.” They check out and leave, and all I can think is how awesome big brother is, how sweet little brother is, and how Dad ought to be ashamed for trying to make his son any other way.

The best and worst of humanity in one short story!

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posted on 5.11.11

brianfeldman:

Serious business: I am biking 50 miles for charity.

On May 21st, I’m going to be participating in “Coast the Coast,” a charity bike ride to benefit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. I’ll be riding with a team from members of my hometown, The Park Pedalers, and if memory serves, this will be my 12th consecutive year riding in the event. And it is now dawning on me that that is more than half of my life, which just makes me feel old.

This is a cause that hits particularly close to home for me. Watching a family member struggle with and adapt to the symptoms of MS is never easy. Funds earned by the ride go towards research for finding a cure, as well as towards providing care for those already afflicted.

Anyhow, I don’t really know most of the people who read this braindump Tumblr of mine, but I figured that since ~400 of you are still following me on here (for reasons unknown even to you, I’m sure), I wanted to invite you to contribute. There’s no minimum donation, and it would really mean a lot to me. You could donate 500 dollars, you could donate 5 pennies; anything is appreciated. If you have a wad of cash burning a hole in your pocket, this is definitely a good thing to use it on. The link to contribute is right here.

So, to recap:

  • Doing something exhausting for charity
  • Donations are greatly appreciate

Additionally, there is a little box on that donation page where you can opt to have your name displayed as a donor. I just want to preemptively say: I appreciate your contribution, Dr. Fartenstein McButtpants.

My music teacher back in grade school, Mrs. Strecker, had MS, and she passed away a number of years ago. We were often badly behaved students — granted, we were pre-teen kids who didn’t really know any better, but still — and I’ll always regret our collective assholery (whether to her face in class, or behind her back).

I donated to Brian’s cause. You should, too.

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posted on 5.3.11 If you’re smart, you’ll stay in school — it really does pay off!

Last night, I went back to Hofstra (after graduating in December) for the induction ceremony for Phi Alpha Theta, a national honor society for history students. I figured I was just going to get a certificate, and that’d be that.

I did, indeed, get a nice certificate. But what I didn’t know was that I would also be receiving an award from the History Department: the Robert L. Payton Endowed Prize for Best Seminar Paper.

I was further unaware that the prize consisted of a check for $1,000. That’s pretty well endowed, all right.

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posted on 4.4.11 “I mean, I’m SO NICE. Who would BETTER deserve to explode every now and then?”

natface:

filigree:

My friend, who goes by Peanut, was discussing this elsewhere on the internet, and graciously gave me permission to quote her in full. The bolding is mine, and I’ve made a minor context edit or two. It’s long, but fantastic.

I have been thinking about something that, about ragey people being considered largely crazy and/or inappropriate regardless of gender. I’m not sure it’s clear-cut either way; I think maybe it comes down to expectations of general non-ragey behavior, and bottling-up effects. I know, for example, that I have certainly seen my male bosses get so angry that they slam phones repeatedly into the cradle, or even throw phones at walls etc; I cannot for my life think of a single example of one of my female bosses doing something like this. I don’t necessarily know that if my female ultra-boss were to do it, it would be perceived any differently than when my male next-in-command boss has done it; but I do know that she’s generally a take-no-shit person with a reputation for being a brutal bitch, and she has NEVER expressed angry outbursts of the sort that my male colleagues/bosses have on occasion expressed.

I think that in general there is more pressure for women to be nice - not just at work but on the street. Smaller people get ignored in peripheral vision when walking, and thus are constantly, subconsciously expected to get out of the way of others, to accommodate the random lack of attention of other people. I was walking with a male co-worker, who is 6’2”, once, and he said, “My god, you have to dodge and weave everywhere you go!” He walks down the sidewalk and people just part like the Red Sea without even thinking about it; my commute is 45 minutes of nonstop oh-hi-let-me-get-out-of-your-way. If I don’t budge - which I sometimes insist on doing, on principle - and end up bumping shoulders with someone who clearly had room to move over (even when I didn’t), the negative and/or shocked reactions I get are really amazing. 

Obviously all of this is micro-level stuff, but it adds up. I think, at least. It adds up to greater frustrations, because every single day is a balancing act between “what should be” and “how angry you are allowed to be at the way things are.” But it also makes me think of a general accepted-wisdom fact from when I was in retail management: that, quite frequently, it’s the best employees (and customers) you have who are your biggest thieves. I forget the source right now but I remember reading, for example, that when one particular store installed hidden security cameras, they were shocked that the people doing the most shoplifting were by and large not the teenagers etc, but the repeat customers who made polite conversation and were generally good people. And when I was a manager I was always told not to let an employee’s loyalty or dedication to their job blind me. Because there is a psychological effect of constantly “being good,” and being ill-compensated for it: you feel entitled to more, and you begin to take what you feel you deserve. 


[…]


The fact is, being consistently undercompensated for the work you put into something breeds a sense that the rules don’t really apply to you, in this very moment. That it’s fluid. Because there is a gut knowledge of what you are entitled to, I think - whether it’s money or personal treatment. I don’t mean entitlement like privilege, I mean entitlement like…you get back what you give. And knowing that you’re giving what is expected of you, but not getting enough back, fosters an environment where “taking” only seems fair.

I do think that women are expected to be nicer to the world than the world is to them, in general. To give more than they get back. Not consciously because they’re women but due to a wide variety of subconscious things that are tangentially or directly related to gender. Like women being smaller and thus pushed around more in public spaces. Or women being considered aggressive and bitchy for expressing levels of frustration that would be considered water under the bridge for men. The consequences of NOT being nice are high.

And I think that being nice, and being treated rudely, and having further niceness in the face of rudeness demanded, repeatedly, every day, does lead you to snap more easily than if you were simply allowed to be neutral, and be annoyed at rudeness. I never, ever block the door of the train when I’m waiting to enter but other people are still exiting. And every single day, while I wait there patiently, holding up the whole line of people behind me just so that the people still on the train can get off without needing to shove everyone, people cut in front of me, and swerve around me, and all I get for it is jammed up against the door of the train once I do finally board, with my face in someone’s armpit. Every morning. For years. 

And that builds up. And when it does build up, I feel a sense of entitlement, to finally explode. I mean, I’m SO NICE. Who would BETTER deserve to explode every now and then? I think there’s a reason that it’s typically us nice, polite, conscientious women who seem to struggle with this. We feel undercompensated for our general social etiquette, and we feel entitled to lash out in a heated moment every now and again. We all seem to feel like there is this flip side of us, pehaps because if we weren’t all such good little Jekylls we’d never have needed to pull the Hydes out of our emotional reservoirs. I am thinking specifically of the part in Hyde’s letter where he admits that while he knew people recoiled from him, he did not care.

That’s what those moments feel like to me - a very brief, sometimes fraction of a second, where the way that I feel is more important than the way that other people feel about me.

Bolded my own “head explodes with empathy” moments in this.

I hope this doesn’t draw anyone’s ire, but as a meek, nerdy-looking guy of small stature (I’m 5’7” on a good day, and I weigh just over 150 pounds) — and as someone who tries to go through life as a nice guy, deferring to “type A” personalities in almost every case — I just wanted to say that this shouldn’t be seen as exclusive to women. Let me tell you a story about my day, to illustrate my point. (Yes, I’m going to ramble a bit.)

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