Brushes with Greatness - Part II

I worked out in the same gym as these two:I was a little hard on poor Jack Layton a while ago, and so in the interest of fairness and full disclosure I will tell you about my encounters with this great man and his wife back when I used to live in Toronto. I lived in a building that was right across the street from the University of Toronto gym, and I used to go there to talk to aerobics girls and flex in front of the mirror, etc... Well anyway, I used to see Jack Layton and Olivia Chow there all the time. They would usually be dressed exactly as pictured in the photograph above, except Jack would have on a headband and short adidas athletic shorts with white tube socks pulled up to his thighs. Also, judging from the picture above he seems to have put on a considerable amount of weight so possibly he should consider hitting the gym again, but I digress. I remember passing these yahoos on the stairs several times. I would be heading up to the track, and they would be on their way down from the machine room, presumably after an invigorating session of flexing their muscles for social justice. Jack would have the biggest shit-eating grin on his face and Olivia would be on his arm literally stroking and rubbing his bicep and cooing into his ear. He would give me this look as if to say, "eat your heart out, son - she's all mine". Anyway, eventually they got banned after the gym staff caught Jack sneaking into the women's locker room one too many times. I found out later he had been trying to unionize the Varsity girls water polo team.

In other news.....earlier I posted a link to some demo songs by Band of Horses. One of the songs is in finished form for their upcoming CD, and you can find it here. I have been listening to it so much that I think I may have pulled my rocking muscle.

Brushes with Greatness

I urinated beside this man:
My sister Alexis bought me two books by Noam Chomsky for Christmas. I have been reading one of them and it made me think of the time I encountered Mr. Chomsky in real life. Noam Chomsky is a Linguistics professor and works in the same building as me (the Stata Center). One time I was on the ground floor of the Stata Center near the coffee shop and maybe on my way home or on my way in . . . I can't remember. Anyway, I had to take a leak and so I popped into the bathroom. Well who should come in right afterward but Noam Chomsky, and in a terrible breach of bathroom etiquette, rather than using one of the other numerous free urinals in the large bathroom he sidled up to the urinal right beside mine . There we were, Mr. Apple and a distinguished, world famous intellectual peeing right beside each other in uncomfortable silence. I really couldn't stand the tension, and so to break the silence I leaned over and said, "How's it hanging professor Chomsky?" I swear to God, he turned and looked at me and said, "As soon as questions of will or decision or reason or choice of action arise, human science is at a loss." Then he pivoted on his left foot, urinated on my leg, and left the washroom without even washing his hands.

I have had other brushes with greatness that I will share with you at some future date.

My moustache wishes you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

How do you take a handsome man and make him more handsome? Give him a moustache.You might say, "Mr. Apple, there is no doubt your moustache makes you irresistable to women, but don't you think that a clean-shaven man is perhaps a touch more distinguished?" If this is, indeed, what you think then please let me draw your attention to another photo:
What's that you say? A moustache is creepy? Well, in response all I can do is give you a long, slow, and profound look of incredulity:

Two things to check out on your internet

Here are the White Stripes covering Tegan and Sara. The original, if you've never heard it, is right here. I think I prefer the original, but the cover is interesting for sure.

Also, please watch this video from SNL.

Exam Today!

6.867 final exam is today. We will grade this afternoon and tomorrow and then I am done. I love all the students like my own children. Well, not all of them. ........but certainly some of them........or at least one or two of them. Anyway, I am in the home stretch and it's all coasting and relaxation from here until retirement.

Juggling is Lame

Hello out there to all you jugglers! I have bad news for you.....juggling is pointless and lame. The other day I was walking through the halls here at school and the juggling club was practicing in the atrium. There they were, a bunch of grown men with these really pained looks of concentration on their faces juggling like 8 balls or bowling pins for a maximum of 4 seconds. Then the balls would fall and they would chase after them and do it all over again. Here is why juggling is lame:

1. girls are not impressed by juggling and there are no juggling groupies. Most things guys do, they do to impress women. Some of those things, like rocking out in a band or playing hockey, might turn out to be fun/rewarding in their own right...but mostly guys want to get good at that stuff because they think it will land them a hot babe. Sometimes it works. But I guarantee you that the best juggler in the world is, and will forever be, a virgin.

2. juggling cannot possibly be fun. how can it be fun? you are repeating the same thing over and over again. you produce nothing. it doesn't appear to be good exercise. so you can juggle 3 balls? big deal. once you've mastered 3 I guess you can go to 4, but so what? It's the same pointless, empty and sad thing.

3. juggling is not entertainment. If I see a juggler, I pause for 1 second and think "wow, that guy must have practiced countless lonely hours to be able to juggle those blocks for 7 seconds." Then I move on because, frankly after that 1 second I've already lost interest. Can you imagine these jugglers forcing their friends and family to watch their juggling shows at Christmas and on special occasions? "OK everybody, I've been practicing all year for this....here I go! Juggling 3 balls!"..................."Now I'll do 4!"................"OK, here goes....FIVE!!!!"................"Now I'll peel and eat an orange with my foot while I juggle!"............"Mrmmph!! (swallowing)......(choking).........."
And the whole time while this guy is tragically choking on the orange and clutching at his throat and dying, his family is asleep because his show was so boring.

4. jugglers wear ridiculous outfits.

5. that about covers it

I'm sorry to be so harsh on you jugglers, but sometimes the truth hurts. Try to find a more rewarding hobby like online poker.

Christmas Safety Tips

Hello everyone. I am guest-blogging today by special request. I am a very brave and strong member of the Ottawa Police Dept. The show Law and Order is based loosely on my life and adventures. But, I fear with this digression I am being immodest. Let me get to the point - I have compiled some safety tips to keep you and yours alive and injury-free over the Christmas season.

1. If you've been at a holiday party and had a bit too much eggnog, beer, or wine you may be tempted, at the end of the evening, to save yourself some hassle and just jump in your car and drive home. Remember, taking 5 seconds to buckle up can save your life in the event of an accident.

2. One thing I enjoy doing in December is harassing harmless homeless people who are quietly sitting somewhere blasted out of their tree on Crest or cheap Kentucky bourbon trying to forget it's Christmas. Ostensibly, I do this because they are drunk and it's cold outside. After enough harassment and humiliation even a broken homeless man usually has enough dignity to get angry. That's all the excuse I need to arrest them (or, if I'm really lucky, use physical force to "restrain" them) and check them for crack cocaine. If you, too, enjoy the sport of picking on homeless people (perhaps after a night out at the bar?) I strongly suggest you focus on the old or the very sick. Remember, I am a professional and I pack a handgun in the case of emergencies - leave the young and strong drunken homeless people to me.

3. Lay off the crack cocaine.

Please note the time stamp

Note the time stamp readers. It is 4:52 am right now. I have been up for 30 minutes. Soon I will go for my morning run, then I will shower, chop some wood, and volunteer at a local shelter for battered graduate students. Then I will eat breakfast and go into work, where I will be sure to not actually do any work, but rather just wander around with a self-satisified look on my face telling random people about how long I've been awake and how much I've accomplished while they were still sawing bricks in their warm houses like the worthless, lazy, wastes of space and fossil fuels that they are.

In other news, the binding model paper went out to review yesterday. Finally...all 3 papers are out of my inbox and dumped into somebody else's. Thank-you Jesus.

Recipe for healthy living

Most of you who are reading this are probably shut-ins like myself and basically out of shape and probably watching TV and drinking Miller and eating corn chips and mayonnaise all day. Every once in a while when the ranch dressing or mayo in your dipping bowl gets low you heave your soft, wheezing carcas up out of the easy chair and over to the fridge. Then you probably scratch you butt through your threadbare jogging pants, peek through the curtains, cough, wipe your nose on your sleeve, and shuffle over to the computer to check your email and read my blog before heading back to your command post in front of the TV. Trust me, this catches up to you after a while and you may find that you are having difficulty doing some of the active-living type things you used to be able to do, like climb stairs and touch your kneecaps without rupturing your vena cava. So here are some healthy living tips for shut-ins and agoraphobics that I am providing to you as a public service:

1. 10 jumping jacks, 15 deep knee bends, and 5 standing karate kicks every morning for fitness
2. you are a shut-in and therefore don't get much sunlight, take cod liver oil with all meals for vitamin D
3. cut out the mayo
4. switch from corn chips to a healthy alternative (pita bread/rice cakes)
5. try chair yoga while watching tv or surfing your internet
6. ranch dressing should be used sparingly and only with salads
7. remember to shower once every so often and change clothes at least bi-weekly (socks and undergarments even more frequently)
8. switch from beer to wine which is scientifically proven to be good for you
9. no pets. we both know you won't let them out and you'll end up with a real mess on your hands that you're too lazy to clean up.
10. read for stress-reduction...many libraries offer services for people like us....

A Message from the Editorial Board

Readers from all over the world have been writing us recently taking us to task for what they perceive as an overly harsh treatment of hippies in the pages of AOA. It has never been our intention, dear readers, to denigrate or demean the proud and rich hippie culture. For generations hippies, fleeing from persecution and intolerance in foreign lands, have landed on these great shores and found safety and acceptance. By buying and selling marijuana and making wonderful arts and crafts (beaded handbags, dreamcatchers, tie-dyed headbands) they have contributed to society economically. By singing hippie songs and with their unique fashion sensibility, they have contributed culturally. But most importantly, hippies stand for something. Hippies hearts are generally in the right place and if you so much as sneeze, they're ready to let you have it about vegetables or greenhouse gases or some such thing. This is admirable and so we here at the editorial board would like to join with all our readers worldwide in saluting and celebrating the mighty hippie. Huzzah!

These hipsters on the other hand, are a completely different matter:

They stand for nothing except irony and drawing attention to themselves. For more hilarious examples we here on the editorial board would like to draw your attention to this link:

Blue States Lose

From the Desk of Mr. Apple

Yesterday was project interviews in 6.867. That meant that all of Thursday and Friday morning was spent reading through the students' projects, and then from noon until a little after 4pm yesterday I was in a room interviewing them individually. It was pretty tiring, but I really have to say I was impressed with the work they did. Pretty much every single project met the basic standard, about 2/3rds were exceptional, and 2 or 3 were mind-blowing in terms of the care and work people had put into them. What a bunch of nerds. Anyway, after interviews it was poker night. This was the last tourney of the fall season, and despite having not won a single tourney in the fall, I had a big point lead going in. By showing up to every single tournament and playing consistently "ok", but never good, I'd somehow managed to dominate the points and yet be down money....go figure. Since there were about 4 or 5 people who deserved the championship more than me I had no problem agreeing to a different point structure that would let the top finishers have a chance to catch me. As usual, I went out in like 6th out of 14 and ended up 2nd in the final standings. I bought the champ a beer and went back to my office to eat Doritos and cry softly to myself. I am making some changes to my game in the winter. This shall not stand.

I Have New Respect for Professors

I lectured today in 6.867. I didn't sleep very well last night worrying about it. It went alright except that I finished 15 minutes early. Also, there was this one guy who kept giggling and laughing through the whole thing. I wanted to stop the lecture and choke him, except I was being videotaped and it would be difficult to argue with hard evidence like that in court. I know the guy. He comes to class and rolls up his jacket like a pillow and pretends to sleep during lecture. He is not well-liked among other students I have talked to. He comes across as smug and smarmy etc...
I remember this one prof at Carleton who would absolutely lose his mind in class if someone was talking or laughing or something. He would do crazy, unexpected stuff like get right in people's faces and scream, or randomly give us tons of homework if somebody pissed him off. He was basically a complete nutbag, and probably has banged one off by now, but today I can honestly say "Dr. Pearce, I stand shoulder to shoulder with you in solidarity against punk-ass students."

Under pressure

I have to give a lecture in Machine Learning class on Wednesday morning. One and a half hours under the lights and also videotaped and put online for people in Singapore. I will be immaculately groomed and hair combed with nice clothes etc.... Prepare to be dazzled world.

Ask Mr. Apple......

As you might imagine, a world famous blog like AOA (Apples over America) generates a lot of email from our millions of readers worldwide. Some people write to register their opinion about a topic we've written about, some to argue with an official position the editorial board has put forward, still others write simply to tell us they've enjoyed reading and discussing AOA with their friends and family. But every once in a while a reader writes us asking for advice in dealing with important life issues. As publisher, founder, and spiritual leader of AOA I want to assure you that I read each and every one of your emails. Yes, I pore over the words and stroke my beard solemnly, pondering your boring and minor problems before deleting them unceremoniously from my inbox like the worthless digital detritus they are.

At least that's how it used to be. But today all that changes! For today, the AOA board of Governors and I are pleased to introduce a new feature to Apples Over America - "Ask Mr. Apple". Now, you have the opportunity to ask me questions and get real answers from either myself or one of my interns posing as me! Learn from me children. I am here to teach you.


Dear Mr. Apple,

Yesterday at my local Whole Foods retailer, I was shopping for organic vitamin pills and bean sprouts when I noticed a most attractive young lady browsing the reusable hemp facial tissue one aisle over. I quickly smoothed my hair, adjusted my suit jacket, and went over to introduce myself. Mr. Apple, this lovely creature was as charming and interesting as she was beautiful, and soon I was laughing, reciting poems I'd written, and humming folk songs to her right there in the nappy aisle! It turns out we both share an interest in Contra Dancing, and so I suggested she might like to attend a monthly dance session I have been frequenting. She cast down her eyes shyly and expressed reservations. "Aha! Well played my little flower", I thought to myself, "but methinks the lady doth protest too much." In my experience, the dance of love is filled with feints, dodges, parries, thrusts, and the occasional accidental stabbing, so her initially cool reaction was hardly enough to discourage me. I threw caution to the wind and shrewdly pressed the issue until such time as she provided me with her cellular phone number. Unfortunately, when I tried to call her I found that the number did not exist. She must have made a transcription error when she wrote it down on the back of the PETA pamphlet I provided her. Mr. Apple, I'm devastated. I feel like my one chance at true love has come and gone. What should I do?

Sincerely,
A dirty hippie



Dear dirty hippie,

Clearly this poor girl gave you a fake number just to get you to go away. No one could love a worthless hippie like you. Ha ha!! Just kidding my friend! What actually happened here is exactly what you suspect, a simple transcription error. Your fatal mistake was getting her to write down the number on a PETA pamphlet. Surely her hand was trembling and her eyes were misting over with tears at the sight of the poor little furry creatures being slaughtered for clothing, and eaten in burgers, roasts, stir fries, and processed nugget form. Thus incapacitated by grief, how could she not make an error or two when writing out the number? I suggest a two-pronged approach to your problem:

1. Make up posters with her picture on it (hand-drawn from memory) and post them around Cambridge on telephone poles and street lights. Offer a reward for any information about your love's location.
2. Camp outside of the Whole Foods every day until she returns. Surprise her in the same aisle where you met for the first time, kiss her, and tell her the lengths you went to to find her. She will be so impressed with your romantic gesture that you'll be in for sure.

This plan is foolproof. Thank me later, son.
Yours,
Mr. Apple

A Message from the Editorial Board

Dear Readers,

We here at Apples Over America (AOA) value diversity of opinion. Debate is both healthy and useful. However, every once in a while we on the Editorial Board are unanimous in our opinion and feel sooooo strongly about an issue that we decree an "AOA official position" on said issue. This is one such instance.

This man is both ridiculous and thoroughly unlikeable:

It speaks volumes about "democratic" politics when a man like this is given the leadership of a national political party over Bill Blaikie. The reason it speaks volumes is not so much that Bill Blaikie would have been a better choice for Canadians (he would have), but rather that the NDP actually made the 'right' choice by installing him, because more people will vote for this shallow, pandering, chest-beating, Napoleonic caricature than they would Blaikie.

But as some Chinese guy once said, "the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step", and so we here at AOA have issued a moratorium on all NDP voting until Jack Layton resigns, and we urge our readers to do the same. Thank-you.

I am a skid

Have you ever had one of those horrible moments when you look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself the way that others must see you? This morning I had one of those moments as I brushed my teeth on my way out the door. My glasses are kind of bent and crooked. I wear this disgusting, raggedy Leafs hat. I have a beard (Unabomber-style, not Sean Connery-style). But most importantly I have a horrible, horrible mullet. My hair sticks out from under my hat on the sides, but like flows down my neck in the back and is all wispy and curly like I permed it or something. I look like a missing person (circa 1981).

Other signs I am a skid include:
1. I play online poker
2. Every day I buy my lunch from a truck parked in parking lot
3. I buy Miller beer in cans
4. G'n'R fan

diagnosis? huge skid.

Download the songs here.

THEME accepted

THEME was accepted for publication yesterday by the good folks at Bioinformatics. It should appear very soon. I will post a link to the paper when it is available. One down and 2 to go.....