Envy & Schadenfreude

Ever want something so badly that you end up hating someone who already has it?

Bertrand Russell said envy was one of the most potent causes of unhappiness. It is a universal and most unfortunate aspect of human nature because not only is the envious person rendered unhappy by his envy, but also wishes to inflict misfortune on others.



Schadenfreude is pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others. This German word is used as a loanword in English and sometimes in other languages.

Often driven by envy...

Trial on the dial AKA: Hung by the court of public opinion

OK, so this happened in Chicago, and it was HUGE news.

Drew Peterson is a 55 yr old former Police officer from Bolingbrook IL. His very young (23 yr old) 4th wife disappeared without a trace in October of 2007.

Since that event, this guy has been subjected to just about every kind of scrutiny you can imagine- he is currently incarcerated awaiting trial for the "murder" of his 3rd wife Kathleen Savio after an HBO forensic pathologist determined the woman was drowned after a struggle, and placed in a bathtub.

I realize we can all watch CSI and be amazed by how "science" can solve crimes, but most police I have spoken to readily admit that the vast majority of crimes are still solved by good old fashioned detective work like what you see on shows like The First 48

This one is pretty stretched- they examined her body after several years of decomposition to make this determination. I think it is fantasy, yet this man is rotting in a cell.

So why bring this up? Well, I have remained intrigued with the case since it first broke. What has intrigued me most is not necessarily the human drama of a missing persons case, nor the morbid fascination with murder.

what intrigues me most is that this man has already been tried and found guilty in the court of public opinion, and the infotainment media outlets of our society.

Case in point- Nancy Grace- CNN correspondent, and several local media outlets have made statements to the effect that Staci is dead (unproven) Drew killed her (unproven)

So this goes on in the back of my mind- What if he didn't kill her? What if she ran off with another man as Drew has suggested?

Well Nancy Grace has a damn fine track record of being wrong

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Grace#Controversial_broadcasts

So it is entirely possible she is AGAIN miscarrying "justice" based on her own flawed instincts, and Drew Peterson is just the latest victim.

What brings this to mind is that i just saw the following on CNN- it is a story of cases throughout history where a person was tried and convicted of murder (sometimes at the cost of their lives) and then their "victim" has turned up alive at a later date.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/06/22/mf.convicted.murders.victims.alive/index.html

Interesting food for thought. curious about your opinions.

Also I wonder- Would a grand jury be as likely to believe media Dr. Baden that the exhumation, and autopsy of Kathleen Savio was justified, and that the evidence is sufficient for indictment if Staci were to turn up alive tomorrow...

Select Zone 5, and Bug the Fuck OUT! (from my "Hero driving moment" post on Jalopnik.com)

I was visiting my Dad back when he lived in Tulsa Oklahoma. It was March of 2000 I believe, and my ex wife and I were occupying a dull weekday by driving the 91 NSX around the Tulsa loop- a series of highways that took us out of Broken Arrow, and linked together to allow us to do a circuit around the city and return home to my parents house. Highway driving in the NSX is a lot like highway driving in any other Honda, but it was an excuse to put a few miles on the car and kill a little time while my folks were at work.

Anyway, here we are driving along when I notice a pretty beat up looking newer Cadillac Deville following a bit too closely in the lane on my driver side, just behind us- kind of lingering in my blind spot. I picked up the pace a little going from about 75 up to 85 but the caddy just stayed there- lingering. We came upon our highway link where I would take a ramp off to my right and connect to the next highway on our route. I slowed, and merged right. The Caddy followed- closely. The highway link was a 2 lane elevated overpass that went up an incline, then banked left to cross over the highway we had been traveling on. It then descended and merged in on the left side of the highway we were linking onto. (sorry, I don’t know the rt numbers, I only visited there a few times). As we started going around the left curve of the overpass I was keeping a nervous eye on the Caddy, which was basically floating on it’s suspension as the driver maintained the lane to my left- I was still going about 65-75 as I entered the curve- childs play for the NSX, but not so much for that big old Caddy- I was a little concerned that his desire to get an eyeful of our little sportscar might lead to some entangling circumstances, so I stayed as far right in my lane as I could, but he seemed REALLY close.
As the curve straightened and we were beginning our descent onto the highway from the overpass I looked over at my wife and told her to hang on- Then I dropped from 5th to third and floored the pedal. The NSX makes about 120mph at the top of third and as I reached to shift to 4th I saw that big Caddy a distance behind us, and picking up steam.

I was no longer nervous- Now I was a little scared. What does this guy want? Not wanting to keep my foot in the pedal as speeds were already ludicrous- I made a plan. The Caddy was still in the lane to my left, and gaining as I let off the pedal. I checked the rearview as we approached an exit that was 2 or so lanes to my right- The lanes behind me were clear. At the last possible minute I hit the brakes, and my pursuer “flew right by” Top Gun style- I then made the cut across the empty lanes to my right and off the exit ramp.

With my tail cleared, I then made a left at the light at the end of the ramp, then left again back onto the highway and retraced my course back to the house.

So when Dad gets home I tell him our little story. He goes a little pale and explains that he had just gotten a killer deal his new 7 spoke wheels that had come off an NSX that had been returned from lease to the dealer. The story was that the former leasee had been murdered in a drug related incident, and his family had turned the car in early. Dad said the wheels had come off a red NSX similar to ours, but slightly newer. The car was a mess, but the wheels were in good condition so he had worked out an exchange to get rid of the tragic stock 5 spokers that were on our car in trade plus a little cash for the stock 7 spoke wheels off the newer car. It was a nice improvement to the aesthetic of the car. We were both left to wonder if the guy following us hadn’t been an “associate” of the previous owner, and that left me wondering exactly how perilous our situation had actually been…

Reparations?

I was recently involved in a discussion where the idea of "reparations" to the black citizens of the United States was being called for. For the uninitiated (as I was prior to this conversation) The concept of "reparations" is a calling for compensation for every black citizen of the US for being descendant from persons subjected to the atrocity of Slavery. Depending on who you speak to- the total amounts "owed" to descendants of slaves equates to hundreds of billions, or even trillions of US dollars depending on the math used. Proposals discussed to disperse these funds range from payments to individuals, to investment in black community resources, and education. The gentleman I spoke to seemed to favor the first option- it was like he was waiting to cash in his lottery ticket any day since America has now elected our first (partially) Black President.

I hope he isn't holding his breath. Unless you are a bank, or an auto manufacturer, I highly doubt the US Gov. is going to be dispersing funds any time soon.

Here is why-

Slavery was a terrible thing, but it has been abolished for well over a century now. The population matrix has been highly diluted since that time by tax payers who immigrated to this country after the civil war, and never owned a slave, or benefitted in any way from slavery. Why should they be held liable?

Approximately 25 million immigrants arrived between 1866 and 1915 (this is post Civil War for the history challenged). The descendants of those 25 million had no participation in Slavery, and should be excluded from ownership of debt incurred for the activity. People of all races pay taxes, if funds are to be federally dispersed to individuals then how do you prevent the innocent from being penalized?

I pointed this out to the man I was speaking with, as food for thought, and I left him with a final question: When do you move on, and quit judging others by the color of their skin?

Guitars

OK, so I am a Daddy now. Little Lila was born 11/25 and I am learning that my life as I knew it is over, and I am now reborn as "Daddy". This isn't a problem really. Actually, I like the new found feeling of importance in the lives of my little one, and my beloved wife.
One thing that has struck me is the thought of things I tried, but did not succeed at. I am thinking of some of my capricious youth, and dreams of fame fortune- rock stardom. When I was 17 I bought my first guitar. It was a burgundy Les Paul knock off that I thought looked like Slash's from Guns N' Roses. I brought home my new (very used) guitar with the idea I would learn to play it, and join my friend Sam's band SYZ. I took the guitar to his house and plugged it in, then I tried to "figure it out", but to no avail. The guitar as it turned out would not come "naturally" to me, even though I had spent countless hours watching Mtv and emulating Kirk Hammet, Dave Mustane, and Slash on air guitar I had not learned any chops, and thus stood before my bandmates as nothing more than a fraud. That was ok though, because they were frauds too! Well, everyone except the drummer- he actually played in the marching band, and knew his way around a drum kit. I was then self demoted to "manager" (which meant I was friends with a bunch of guys who gathered together in the basement to wail on instruments). Unfortunately this meant I was not "in the band". Instead I was "with the band" which would never land me anywhere closer to the vacinity of a girls underpants. Lets face it, that is what being in a band when you are 17 is all about.
I took it upon myself to master my new guitar. After all, those drugged out guys in the bands I saw on Mtv could do it- Why the hell couldn't I? I took exactly 2 lessons before I gave it up.

Later I sold that guitar and bought a Fender short neck Bass- 4 strings are easier than 6 right?
Wrong.
Eventually the Bass got sold as well. I accepted defeat. I was not going to be in a band. Don't pity me just yet though. I did have a car, and I discovered that even an 86 Ford tempo can get you laid under the right circumstances. In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king... but I digress.

At age 32 I decided it was guitar time again. I believe this delusion resurfaced after mastering the medium difficulty level on Rock Band. I went out and spent $150 on an electric guitar, a book with a DVD, and a neat little plug in thing that allows me to use my headphones as an amp. This way I could play twinkle twinkle little star to my hearts content and my wife would have nothing to complain about.

Then a bunch of shit happened. Life got in the way yadda yada yada- I never sat down to learn to play. So my new (used) guitar has sat in a corner for many months neglected. Sad story. And then I discovered guitar books. I have been reading detailed histories of guitars. Trying to get a feel for how they work. I suppose this is a way of working my way up to making another attept aqt learning to operate the instrument.

We will see...

The Things I Have Learned

Happiness is measured by the smile on your face, and nothing else.

I would rather be pretty good at a hundred things than be really good at only one.

We may not all leave an indelible mark on humanity, but we will all affect the people in our lives.

1 tequila! 2 tequila! 3 tequila! FLOOR!

The kinds of women I like are more impressed by a muddy Jeep than a shiny Ferrari.

Old men can be mean drunks, and great story tellers.

Variety is good, but experience is the spice of life.

I am not a race car driver

Friendships can be maintained over long distances, relationships cannot.

Four pints of Guinness is a square meal.

If at first you don't succeed: get a divorce, move to Texas, and figure out that you prefer blondes anyway.

Don't tell anyone what she did with you last night unless she tells them first.

If you are celebrating New Years in Times Square, there will be nowhere to pee.

If you take your hat off and wave it around like a jack-ass while riding a mechanical bull you won't be riding the mechanical bull for very long at all.

Sometimes an ounce of prevention stifles innovation.

Once you have heard your buddies recount the same story more than three times over drinks- it is time for a new adventure.

Europalooza and the Pickled Liver (from 2007)

We left saturday evening, arrived in Prague (sans baggage) Sunday afternoon.
After short deliberation a few coworkers and I determined that a bing drinking excursion was in order

After about 5 hours at U-Fleku (a beer garden). I realized that "chain drinking" (the server landed a fresh pint on the table before you finished your last pint) was an excellent way to improve international relationships. We ended up hanging out with a crew of Russian Journalists and doing the chicken dance amongst other things... (I have video). Everyone was having a good time EXCEPT for a small group from Boston who made the humble request that our party "not be so American". I explained thats not happening- eventually they left, and hilarity ensued.

Based upon my intercultural learning from this trip I now believe that if the world leaders could just get together and pound some fresh brewed Czec lager we would live in a much better place.

Post intoxication we brazenly wandered through the streets of eastern europe slurring our speech and staggaring toward the Hilton. Upon arrival we discovered that the airline had delivered our bags- celebration ensued. How did we celebrate? By staying up until 1 am cocktailing in the hotel bar.

@ 9:00am Monday we all attended a big meeting with our CEO, it lasted 6 hours and was mostly propaganda- kind of a "drink the corporate kool-aid" kind of pep-rally. once concluded we celebrated by drinking in the bar until it was time to attend the "casual dinner"

Casual dinner was held in a medeval battle emplacement. The tower was 3 stories tall, I sat on the third floor with the "Red Clan" we were given red plastic tunics to wear over our clothes. Being on the third floor proved to be what myBritish friends refer to as "Shite".
First, the food was cold, but that was ok because it tasted aweful. It is also a scientific fact that warm air rises. So here I was sitting on the third floor of a large stone cylinder as our hosts furiously stoked the fires on the first floor to keep the chill off the green clan on the flirst floor, the blue clan on floor 2 was temperate, but the red clan was sweltering. After approx an hour I realized that I was being baked, so I shed my big red sweat tent.

In apology for this sad state we were given unlimited amounts of ale, which we consumed readily.
At this point we also began playing drinking games- green glass door, name association- hilarity ensued.

After dinner we returned to the hotel- and then adjurned to a dance club made famous in the instant cinematic classic "XXX" staring that incredibly talented block of wood- Vin Diesel. Guess what we did there?

I drank absinthe- and nearly yacked. If you want to try Absinthe, just mix cheap tequila with equal parts mouthwash and shoot. Had a strange encounter with two fellows in the bath room who apparently wanted to discuss rap music (they kept exclaiming "50 Cent! 50 Cent!" and refering to me as they said America! it was very weird.) The club was kind of sucky- the actually played the Numa Numa song. At about 5:00am we returned to the Hilton where I passed out until 2:00pm the following day.

Spent a good chunk of the time between 2:00 and 6:00 wandering around Prague and taking random photos.

7:00pm we got dressed up and went to the Prague museum of modern art for cocktail party, and dinner. James Bond Theme- complete with stunt show.

Open Bar... Guess what we did... Are you noticing the theme here? Party ends at 2:00am, and we head back to the hotel and drank in the bar until 8:30am. No I am not fucking kidding. Eight fucking thirty.

at 4pm I boarded flight to Paris on the european equivilent of Southwest Airlines. Arrival Paris Orly-I discovered at the currency exchanger counter that the French really ARE assholes.

Took a cab into the city for 34 euros- arrive hotel- this place is nice. Take shower, then Dinner in a side street cafe, bottle of wine, passed out in bed while listening to my Ipod.

Awake- touring Paris... Walked along the Sienne, visited the Louve- the Monalisa is tiny, japanese tourists are not shy about stepping into your photos. Cathedral of Notre Dame- religion is commerce- same problem with the Japanese. Discover Hard Rock Cafe, and declare it the unofficial American Embassy in Paris. Consumed 10 (yes 10) long island iced teas, and an untold number of heinekins. I also began faking an austrailian accent. I bought a t-shirt, then we wandered home along the darkened streets of Paris singing Aleuetta, and at times skipping (yes skipping). Got a great shot of the Louve Pyramid entrance lit up for night. Crashed at hotel.

Awake again- slept in a little, and it is raining. After hesitation we departed for the Eiffel Tower. We arrive, we see, I take photos. On to the Arc de Triomphe - we see, I take more photos and we wander back to the Louve, hit the gift shop, then back to the Hotel for a well deserved steam in the sauna.
Feeling refreshed we embark on the dinner mission and end up at a Tex-Mex joint on Rue St. George. Our server is charming, the food is a decent representation and we start in on Mohitos and Margaritas- and adjurn to some clubs off the beaten path as advised by Elsa (the server who was blown away when we tipped 20%)
At club 1- we decended 4 flights of stairs into a tomb like club with pulsing techno music. We ordered some Mohitos- which the bar tendress tainted with bitters. I decided we should leave before someone bit my neck and I grew adverse to sunlight. We left the drinks there, and proceeded to club 2- which turned out to be a sausage party. Adjourn to hotel, pack get ready for 7 AM departure.

Charles de Gaulle International Airport eats my ass. Check in, and gate security are totally fucked. I get on my plane to discover that the seat vacated by Amanda has been filled.....

By the cutest French girl I have ever seen.

Her name is Charline. She speaks about as much English as I speak French, but we manage to communicate by using a translator program on her laptop. She is going to Vancouver to study, and we pass a few messages about British Columbia, and the things that interest us. We watched stranger than fiction, and the prestige on in flight movie channels.

I took a cab home, and was relieved to sit in my own living room, turn on my big ass TV... And for the first time in over a week- not drink (until about 10pm when I met up with Jeremy, but that is another story)

so that was my trip to Europe! I'd like to thank Vanco for the international ticket, and hotel stay in Prague, not to mention open bars, and swanky events. I'd like to thank Andrew for being Andrew, Charnoch- You rock Babe, wouldn't have been the same without ya!
Jeremy, Kevin, Brady, Deb, Lisa, Hook, and everyone else I got inebriated with- thanks for being friends. that shit was awesome.