A Starbucks Definition

Today, the other editorial assistants and I were asking ourselves, 'What is the difference between a latte and a cappucino?' I assumed they'd know because they are coffee drinkers, but no one could tell me.

"It's something about the amount of milk," one said.

"I thought it was the foam," said the other. "Look it up on Google."

I looked it up on Wikipedia and found an incredibly in-depth, precise explanation of latte v. cappucino, right down to the amount of foam (one centimeter).

Also enjoyable was the add-on definition of ghetto latte: a latte you make yourself by ordering a cheaper drink and using the free milk and condiments to make an approximate copy of the pricer over-the-counter version. Also known as a bootleg latte.

I might have known about the latte bootlegging problem if I was a coffee drinker, as it was important enough for the Chicago Tribune to cover.

CNN's Stock is Falling

Less and less does CNN cover anything relevant on their homepage aside from their breaking news section on the top left.

Today, in their list of links to stories was one that read "Carmen Electra Shows Troupe How to Lap Dance." Fine.

When you view the video, you learn that the troupe in question is a group of elderly ladies (and one man) who typically do tap dances in coordinating outfits. They have 60 shows a year.

I don't know whose idea it was to show this group Carmen Electra's Lap Dance DVD, but the video shows them following along with her "exercise" instructions and seemingly enjoying it. All fine.

The host of this segment, however, asked one of the ladies stupid questions in a miserable attempt at humor. "Would you perform at bar mitzvahs?" She gracefully answers the condescending questions by saying they haven't so far, but would be open to new options.

"What about bris?" the reporter asks, looking very proud of himself.

I just wanted to yell, "Oh shut the hell up!" These women are doing something that they enjoy, something that is good for them and CNN comes along making a mockery of it. F them.

A small request

If Superman were real I'd ask him to fly around the Earth so fast it would turn back time, and then when he got to May he'd stop and slap me and ask why the heck I was thinking about moving to Providence.

Radio notes

One thing I was looking forward to about having a car was having a place to listen to the radio. I was always behind on new songs and music trends because all I listened to was my iPod. But when listening to radio, I've found, you have to deal with the hosts.

The djs on the stations that play the music I like are all pigs. I'm sorry, but I don't care to be gay-bashed via radio, especially before breakfast. (Example: "Parakeets are stupid pets -- they're useless faggots," proclaimed the guys on WBCN the other day.) Click, off my presets they go forever.

Classical 102.5 is the only station I've found that assumes its audience is older than thirteen. However, I end up talking to that station when I listen to it because of their language choices. "Here is some music by which you can drive," one of the hosts told me this morning. I admire her correct grammar, but this isn't a medical journal, after all. There's one particular evening show whose title drives me crazy. It's called Tracks to Relax, as in: "Here are some tracks to relax." And I always shout "TO! Tracks to relax TO!" Doesn't that sound more fun? It rhymes better, and "relax to" is the obvious mirror of "tracks to." But to tack on that "to" would demand that the whole show be re-titled Tracks To Which You Can Relax. My observation for Classical 102.5 would be that one can respect grammar without being a slave to it.

I want to start my own station. It would play mostly indie bands. It would be somewhat snobby and elitist, but with a welcoming tone that assumes everyone is equally snobby. It would never refer to women as bitches or sluts. And although it might rant about how parakeets are indeed stupid pets, it would make more creative comparisons.

Chafee for Senate?

Living in Massachusetts, one of the bluest states, there's not a lot of chance to play in the game of national politics. Not that I'm complaining about its blueness, of course, but when you vote with the majority, it's... well, boring.

In Rhode Island, especially this election year, it's a bit different, and a senate race here has presented me with a quandary.

Running for re-election is Lincoln Chafee, a Republican. He's made news by being the only Republican to support marriage equality, as well as for his decision to not vote for Bush in 2004 (he wrote-in Bush's father). I like him.

Running against Chafee is Sheldon Whitehouse, Democrat. He seems like a talking head whose script hasn't strayed from "bring the troops home now."

There's no doubt that I want to vote for Chafee. He's an independent thinker -- in my opinion, a good example of what a senator should be. But unfortunately, because of the actions of other members of his party, this election is about more than Chafee vs. Whitehouse.

Whether the Democrats take over the House or Senate isn't about the Democrats at all, but rather is an affirmation or denouncement by the public of Bush. The headlines the world will read will be either American people side with Bush or American people oust Bush's party. I think it's important for our credibility as a country that they see the latter headline.

The race is close. Can I vote for Chafee and risk the Democrats losing the Senate by one seat? Is it more important to vote for a good man or against a bad man?

So long, 100

I was in Boston the other day and I happened to see in a local paper an article reporting the sale of some Emerson dorms, including my old dorm, 100. 132 Beacon, the Student Union, 6 Arlington -- they're all gone now. Emerson moved out.

Partly it makes me sad because these buildings, old and decrepit as they may have been, had character that can never be replaced by hi-tech. And I'm sad too because these buildings I spent so much time in will be gutted and turned into million-dollar condos -- especially 100. A huge part of my life took place in that building.

But for the same reason I'm sad about it not being a dorm anymore, I'm glad too. That was my dorm, and there's something satisfying about seeing it sealed off... and seeing a newspaper proclaim that no one -- at least college students -- can live there anymore. Future Emersonians will make their memories elsewhere.

I guess it's fitting that I left Boston the same summer 100 ceased to exist. It'd been a long time since I last looked up at my old windows and wished I still lived there, but it's comforting to know I haven't left anything behind. No Christmas lights in the windows. No smokers on the steps. No orientation leaders in brightly-colored shirts. No shuttle bus idling outside. Just businessmen now, deciding how to carve it up.