Who is More Liberal, Obama or Clinton?

It seems that the policies of an individual congressman are well-described by a single number, the first dimension of the two-dimensional DW-NOMINATE score. Yay America!

In the study Who is More Liberal, Obama or Clinton?, the authors histogram the DW-NOMINATE score for all members of congress. Their point is to show that Clinton and Obama are statistically identical. Of course, this isn't terribly surprising, since there is a way senators must vote in order to be electable. Funny that I still feel pretty strongly about who I want to win.

It's also interesting to see how well-separated the Democrats and Republicans are. I think the animation (above) showing the parties clustering over the past few years is entertaining.

there, there, or a make-shift squirrel hospital in your apartment

In my opinion, the awesomest Radiohead music video of all time.

Related: Newsweek article "Of Subways and Squirrels":

In the mass-media age, news captivates us briefly, then vanishes. We revisit those stories to bring you the next chapter.

Starting Point
On Dec. 22, 1984, Manhattan electrical engineer Bernie Goetz opens fire on four black teens who hassle him for $5 on a city subway. All four are wounded, and one is left paralyzed.

Fever Pitch
Goetz is hailed as a hero "subway vigilante" by New Yorkers fed up with raging crime. He's acquitted of attempted murder and spends eight months in jail.

Present Day
In 1996, Goetz is found guilty in civil court of acting recklessly, and the teen he paralyzed is awarded $43 million—forcing Goetz into bankruptcy. In 2001, he runs unsuccessfully for mayor, then in 2005 for the city's public-advocate office. (He lost.) Now 60, Goetz is a vegetarian activist and operates a makeshift squirrel hospital out of his apartment. (Squirrels, he tells NEWSWEEK, are "sociable, playful, affectionate and loving.") As for the past, Goetz—and New York—have moved on. "It's inconceivable New York City crime would go back to the way it was," he says.

15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better than Anyone Else Ever Has or Will

Here's an article about Vonnegut's legacy published shortly after his death:
15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better than Anyone Else Ever Has or Will
Put Vonnegut at the top of my list of cool people I have never met but am so so sad are dead. I avoid reading Vonnegut books that I have not read yet because I know there are only so many and I don't want to run out. In the meantime, I've read Breakfast of Champions and Slaughterhouse Five three times each.

Here are some quotes picked out in this article:

• "I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"
  I know this one is obvious and sappy, but it is like the point of me writing this blog -- directly and actively thinking about the little things in my day that have made me giggle[snort], or say "in't that peerrty", or type "heehee" [p.s. I just typed "heehee" to choseamanouille because he typed the word "poopoo" to me. "poopoo" is funny.], and definitely anything that the smart part of my brain says, hmm, I hope I remember that later on. Anyways, there's "hard" scientific evidence that doing this will increase my happiness by at least 25% :).
  

• "She was a fool, and so am I, and so is anyone who thinks he sees what God is doing."

  A couple of pages into Cat's Cradle, protagonist Jonah/John recalls being hired to design and build a doghouse for a lady in Newport, R.I., who "claimed to understand God and His Ways of Working perfectly." With such knowledge, "she could not understand why anyone should be puzzled about what had been or about what was going to be." When Jonah shows her the doghouse's blueprint, she says she can't read it. He suggests taking it to her minister to pass along to God, who, when he finds a minute, will explain it "in a way that even you can understand." She fires him. Jonah recalls her with a bemused fondness, ending the anecdote with this Bokonon quote. It's a typical Vonnegut zinger that perfectly summarizes the inherent flaw of religious fundamentalism: No one really knows God's ways.

  Vonnegut was one of the best atheists evah. He gets the "you buuurrrn" zinger in there without all the holier-than-thou vitriol (and just plain dumbdumbness) of a Christopher Hitchens. Hey, do you think it is coincidence that Vonnegut and Mark Twain are similar looking?
  
  
  
  Maybe that is just in my own lesion-induced universe in which all people with poofy white hair and mustaches look the same.
  
• "Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.'"
  Ditto what I said in the first bullet. I whole-heartedly agree with this. This is the reason that this blog is publicly readable. Maybe someday somebody will agree with what I am saying and send a little affirmation my way :).
• "Why don't you take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut? Why don't you take a flying fuck at the mooooooooooooon?"
  Just an excellent, excellent thing to say. I only copied and pasted it here cuz I wanted it to be part of something I made, too.
• "I have been a soreheaded occupant of a file drawer labeled 'science fiction' ever since, and I would like out, particularly since so many serious critics regularly mistake the drawer for a urinal."
  Again, just funny, funny stuff :).

Someday, when I am feeling sad, I will have to go find my own Vonnegut quotes to add.

yyaalm yyaalm thhhp (drool)

Article in NYT about chocolate pudding & custard. I like chocolate. Ooh, and pictures of chocolate.

The Geranium

Here is a poem I read because of my addiction to the New York Times Crossword Puzzle and Rex Parker's Blog. I completely relate!

The Geranium

by Theodore Roethke

When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail,
She looked so limp and bedraggled,
So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle,
Or a wizened aster in late September,
I brought her back in again
For a new routine--
Vitamins, water, and whatever
Sustenance seemed sensible
At the time: she'd lived
So long on gin, bobbie pins, half-smoked cigars, dead beer,
Her shriveled petals falling
On the faded carpet, the stale
Steak grease stuck to her fuzzy leaves.
(Dried-out, she creaked like a tulip.)

The things she endured!--
The dumb dames shrieking half the night
Or the two of us, alone, both seedy,
Me breathing booze at her,
She leaning out of her pot toward the window.

Near the end, she seemed almost to hear me--
And that was scary--
So when that snuffling cretin of a maid
Threw her, pot and all, into the trash-can,
I said nothing.

But I sacked the presumptuous hag the next week,
I was that lonely.