Monday, January 30, 2006

News Flash: Intrinsic Bias & Political Affiliation Related

Duh.

Of course.

I recently read aWashington Post article that absolutely ticked my fancy. Now this may be a secret to a number of you out there, but 'intrinsic bias' (that feeling that compels one to clutch purses tighter in Harlem) seems to be related to the voting for W. In other words those that showed an bias against Black faces tended to vote more often for our current President. And although I could have told them this, this study is certainly an amusing and provacative academic curiosity. The primary investigator gave quite a stimulating thought:

"Obviously, such research does not speak at all to the question of the prejudice level of the president," said Banaji (one of the Harvard researchers), "but it does show that George W. Bush is appealing as a leader to those Americans who harbor greater anti-black prejudice."

Imagine that (add suitable level of sarcasm here). Banaji lends academic validity to Kanyé West's "George Bush don't like Black people." If you'd like to try out your racial bias using the same study test, go right ahead. Apparently I showed "little to no racial preference." Surprising? Surprising.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

As Promised


Dimensions: 2592 x 1944
Device model: Canon PowerShot S2 IS
Focal length: 19.7
Exposure Time 0.01
Created: 27 Jan 2006, 2:11 PM

Dimensions: 2592 x 1944
Device model: Canon PowerShot S2 IS
Focal length: 72
Exposure Time 0.005
Created: 27 Jan 2006, 2:19 PM

Oh, yeah. I like this camera.

Warm Breeze From the West

In accordance with the rigidly enforced aforementioned study regime, I, for a hour and a half, had fun. Given their recent 1500-mile homecoming to the Lone Star State, the Colonel & his missus, expect equally grand, life-changing 100-mile homecomings from their son...who's in medical school...about to take his Step 1 exams. Given the absurdity of such a point-deducting notion, I invited them down for lunch. I relatedly warned my continually Step-1 manic roommate that, given their sense of hospitality and concern that we were getting all unibomber, that they would probably not accept the following responses: "I would but...," "No," and "Blah blah blah...gotta study....blah blah blah."

An uneasy "Really?" was uttered from under a study lamp and various jargon filled books.

"Yes really," returned with a cadence that implied that all would not be lost, assuredly.

As I jetted around the corner, a softly strained "Hey, Cecil?"

On my quick return, Kevin inquires, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, they probably won't take no for an answer." I half-way turned for my exit to a comfortable night's slumber.

"Hey..."

With a quickness that betrayed my fatigue I replied in a manner reserved for auctioneers and off camera politicians. With glazed, drowsy eyes and smirk, I briskly replied, "If you don't have another question, I'm going to be pissed...Seriously."

The next day, mom, dad, Kevin, and I were off to lunch.

With absolute deference, I asked my father in regards to a pleasant Saturday luncheon , "Do you have any preferences?" My father replied with widened eyes, a playfully sardonic smile, and a tense brow befitting the potential argument his countenance implied.

We weren't going to Luby's. I hate Luby's. Alot.

Given the criteria of "good food, and nothing fancy," we fancied ourselves some Indian food from Bombay Brasserie. The food was as enjoyable as the company. It is unfortunate that the most I've had this week was with my parents, but in the same breath it was...delightful.

Conversation swirled around my mother's grudgingly newfound necessity for social pleasantries here in Texas, my father's ranch efforts toward wildlife management read as tax break, and of course the tireless travails of these two future physicians. Arms flailing over lassis and naan, talks about the world outside the Texas Medical Center was most welcome. Needed even. Thank goodness for warm breezes from the west. Now, hopefully I may survive these next three weeks.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Don't Be So Hard On Woody

Its here, its here, its here!

Ahem...my new camera has arrived. (Very) recently, my old cantankerous standby left me; what better way to get over something than with something else? So, I got a sweet deal on a beautiful new Canon Powershot S2 IS. 5 megapixels, 12X zoom, and an image-stabilization that kisses those blurry twilight shots goodbye. Now that I've got exactly half of you glossed over and the other half giddy, I'll be sure to upload some photos once I get from under my study rock.

In concert with my new camera, Cecil's got his study groove back. I think I've found where my comfortable balance of satisfying study, enjoyable meals, steady routine, and requisite diversions.

Study, eat, study, eat, study. Add non-study fun every 3-4 days, and make sure no two successive study sessions are in the same venue. Crazy, eh? I'm beginning to count myself as an irregular regular at some of Houston's coolest non-Starbucks coffee shops, along with other irregular regulars. Small pleasures.

Two more things have got life looking a bit better. Match Point. Woody Allen's new film got some pretty mixed reviews, but I had the luxury of viewing it at our indy theater Angelika during Cheap Date Night (of note, while cheap I had no date, Downu and Ribka served as suitable proxy). Being largely naive to Allen's prototypical...ahem critic-expected, style I was a little apprehensive that I would find it as uncomfortable and disappointing as Indian Airlines. The critics can be hard on Woody, but their assessments are flaccid. Our listless atheist-Jewish/Ethiopian friend said it best, "I haven't been this much into a movie in a very long time." Absolutely. For me and a small contingent of fellow guilty, the most enjoyable points of laughter seem weakly socially inappropriate. Strong work Allen. It also acts as an indictment of the monied, beautiful, and privileged (apparently very much Woody) very subtly reflected of American Good Ole Boy & Co. Allen is apparently so masterful at his craft that, amazingly, you find yourself helplessly, guiltily, and expectantly routing for the irrefutable bad guy (similar to Black folk during the OJ trial, but without the acerbic taste). I'm obviously a new fan of Woody.

So see it. Especially you dialogue lovers.

Second thing that seems brighter is the Near East. Now, one may wonder, how exactly does a Black Marylander (or Texan by ancestry), become so invested in the goings on a hardline Israel and Islamic republics? Well, this is more or less the harbinger of things to come really. Another example of Bush & Co. needlessly meddling in world affairs to create worse world affairs (and subsequently meddling with those) which are incredibly consequential to those of us that'll be around if and when the mierda really hits the fan. The results of the aforementioned meddling will long outlive the gray-haired, misguided souls. Fighting ideology with ideology. In any case, call it the optimist in me, but Iran sounding enthusiastic about Russia handling uranium enrichment makes me positively guilty. One more nuclear winter potentially avoided. Add a dash of Palestinian parliamentary elections, the realization that a leftist Bolivia is inconsequential to America, and Houston getting a soccer team. Significant, albeit painfully incremental, change toward stability.

Stability seems to be everything these days.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Canon Powershot S400: Feb 2004 - Jan 2006

Ah, my dear Canon Powershot S400. She's served me well. Unfortunately, S400 unsuspectingly became ill last week and her condition precipitously worsened. She initially became harmlessly erratic, moreso than her usual charming cantankerous behavior. Then...then....she became absolutely intractable, required extensive battery massages, and suffered severe memory loss. Prognosis seems grave. We were planning on leaving the country together after all this crazy medical school test taking, but has implored me to go without her.

A memorial fund has been named in her memory (Checks payable to Cecil Webster). May she rest in peace.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Big Mac Attack. Get Your Calculators Out.

Recently in The Economist they've found a clever way of demonstrating the valuation of currency, that ubiquitous American tool of a global economy the Big Mac. The domestic US price of this delicious bloater of healthcare costs is by comparison a paltry $3.15. However the Swiss enjoy a nearly $5 cholesterol source while the Chinese purchase atherosclerotic risk factors for a mere $1.30. Who says the Yuan isn't undervalued.

To allay any fears, my subscription to the Economist is merely an academic foray into fiscal conservatism. Makes for good bathroom reading and equally conducive for conversations with Republicans.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

That Boy Just Ain't Right! Right?

Okay, okay. I must admit it took me SOME time to figure out why exactly Iran's new ultra-conservative president Ahmadinejad keeps furiously throwing about caustic and derisive remarks (e.g. Israel should be wiped off the face of the earth; the Holocaust didn't happen; we're going to have uranium enrichment and you don't have to like it). At first I thought, oh, this fool just wants to solidly place himself in the minds of his people, as the brazen defender of Iran against the nefarious hegemony of the Western nations & Israel. Then I thought, well, perhaps its more of a passing phase of empty nationalist rhetoric designed to endear himself as a 'true' Iranian and patriot à la LePen, Kim Jong-Il, or Cheney. After further analysis of political posturing I came up with the profound idea that, "this fool's crazy."

But alas, it may in fact be not related to potential schizophrenia or Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome. It may be due to the same reason why short cops give tickets, 90-pound women love SUVs, and George Dubya can't seem to quit pissing the world off.


The Paris newspaper Le Monde recently ran an article on Ahmadinejad's current diplomatic trip to Syria. Upon inspection of the accompanying photograph I discovered that homeboy is short as hell! After a relatively simple Google search, apparently this abrasive little Persian is a diminutive 5 feet 2 inches...ahem...tall. My message to him is, its not so terrible being short (of note: this I surmise given my lack of experience in this area). Some of the best...er...consequential leaders of the world were short, right? Let's see.

Teddy Roosevelt?
- Oh crap, 5'10
Napolean?
- Oh wait, actually given a historical snafu he's was actually a more than an 18th-century-respectible 5'6". Hmm....maybe this is a poor approach.
Well, at least we can count on Alexander the Great.
- He was 5 foot even...albeit half-blind, physically hideous, and with all the social adroitness of a feral bear. Not to say that this former conquerer of Persia has anything to do with you, of course, Mr. Ahmadinejad.

But in regards to his recent fervent assertions of interest in uranium enrichment (read as scientific exploration in Iran and nuclear war head in Washington), I'm very torn.

On one hand:
1. Iran isn't exactly stable or friendly. There's the whole 1979 Revolution, Iran-Iraq war, governmental saturation with radical ideologues, and most recently a breaking of an agreement with France, Germany, and the UK to stay out the reactor cupboard. Now, just so we're clear, the US can be said to be guilty of two of the above, but at least we don't try to make our beautiful women shroud their pretty black hair. That's simply unconscionable.
2. Recent Ahmadinejad remarks pains one to find logic at risking political and economic isolation just for some pipette pushing or paying the electric bill.
3. They just ain't right, don't trust 'em (they of course being an Iranian cleric-run government)

On the other.
1. Its difficult to assert that anyone does not have the right of scientific discovery, especially given Iran's strong history in the sciences. This is based on the assumption that weapons aspirations are unquestionably and emphatically undesired.
2. The subject of much deserved and misguided vitriol, Israel is the owner of nuclear weapons much to the chagrin of their neighbors, and Western pleas for a non-nuked Arab world would be hypocritical. We helped the Hebrews and haven't disarmed ourselves.
3. They just aint right, don't trust 'em (they of course being a US Bush & Co.- run government).

Though the thought of a nuclear-capable Iranian is a frightening as a nuclear-capable Bush Administration, I can't be mad at them. Interestingly enough, if we examine the so-called Axis of Evil, North Korea, Iran, and Iraq, the only country that Bush & Co. publicly assert they won't f&!k with is North Korea.

The North Korea that broke UN seals, performed rogue enrichment, and has nuclear arms at the ready.

Ahmadinejad doesn't sound so crazy.
But he's still tiny.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Talk to me


Like the zesty, zealous, zaftig Jill Scott says, I clearly "made the obvious invisible." Thanks for your patient assistance, Georgia.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Gettin' all Cruise Crazy


According to my countdown widget I have exactly 35 more of these beautiful sunsets before I take that comparatively nefarious USMLE Step 1 test. Normally having the aforementioned amount of time would seem like an eternity before a test. Longer than the last 25 minutes before "the student can leave," longer than the remainder of Bush's Presidency, longer than medical school. But having to know the vast sum of Basic Sciences or the 1.5 years of medical school in this amount of time seems a bit ridiculous (not Pat Robertson-ridiculous but ridiculous nonetheless). The Boards as they are called can be summarized in the words of my SAT proctor, "This is most important exam of your entire life kids, the one that will determine where you go and what you do....but don't be nervous!" Add to these words light and blithe laughter from the proctor and horrified and acned expressions from the students. Now fast forward eight years or so, subtract the acne and add equal parts uncomfortable laughter and expressions and voila. Test prep 2006.

I'm more nervous than Ambramoff's Republican friends. I know this.

Every night just before my eye shut, visions of a tearful Match Day, specialties of family medicine, or God-forbid residencies in Idaho abound. What will I do? What should I do? I should be sleeping I should be studying! What was that Cori cycle pathway? What was that inhibition by cipro? Oh, man I can't even begin to think of the Fragile X's facies!

After a cold, frightening, and irrational 20 seconds I pause.

...

Like Abramoff's friends I think "Dumb-ass. Chill the hell out. I already paid everyone off."

There is NO way I will know everything. There is no way anyone will know everything. I have more than enough time if I pace myself and not entangle myself in a myriad of details. Schwew. Off to sleep.

These are rough times, and there have already been sanity casualties, but clearly I won't be one of them. I went to the driving range the other week with my bestest Morehouse buddy Dowin to let off a sufficient amount of steam, and just yesterday I saw the very campy film Camp chez Amy. So alas, I should probably be more alarmed at Iran's...ahem...Ahmadinejad's insistence on nuclear arms...er....energy. Doesn't Condi look all authoritative with her Dr. Evil suit.