Winners of the 2005 Ig Nobel Prize honored last Thursday

JUST FOR FUN, check out Improbable Research for the winners of this odd prize.

Scientists, et al., received awards

for exploring and explaining why woodpeckers don't get headaches

for showing that dung beetles are finicky eaters (Whence beetle pic?)

for inventing an electromechanical teenager repellant

for conducting experiments to learn why people dislike the sound of fingernails scraping on a blackboard

for calculating the number of photographs you must take to (almost) ensure that nobody in a group photo will have their eyes closed

for showing that the female malaria mosquito Anopheles gambiae is attracted equally to the smell of limburger cheese and to the smell of human feet.

Winners authored such articles as:

"Consequences of Erudite Vernacular Utilized Irrespective of Necessity: Problems with Using Long Words Needlessly."

"Termination of Intractable Hiccups with Digital Rectal Massage"

"Ultrasonic Velocity in Cheddar Cheese as Affected by Temperature."

THERE'S A FASCINATING ARTICLE about homework in this morning’s San Francisco Chronicle:

After years of teachers piling it on, there's a new movement to ... Abolish homework

According to some studies, the younger the student, the less beneficial is homework. Read the article. This "no homework" idea is not as wacky as it sounds. The article starts with a conversation with a homework-abolishing teacher whose students score highly on tell-tale tests.

EARLIER THIS MORNING, all of a sudden, Sunny the Cat got all weirded out. I looked out the window, and, Whaddyouknow? A deer was staring at me. I stared back.




RECENT POSTS:

Vote as if it mattered
His vision
Journalism at Irvine Valley College

Unfamiliar with DISSENT & the SOCCCD saga? Read:

• A brief history of our troubles
and
• WHO WE ARE

ABOVE: IVC VPI Dennis White's going away party.

Prez Rocky was on hand to note some of Dennis' contributions.

Gee, he must be sorry to see the Dennster go.

Oddly, the image below slowly emerged on a nearby wall. It was positively ghostly. Everybody was creeped out.

Naturally, there was prayer. But it didn't seem to take.


They tried to hose it off, but it wouldn't budge.

Someone speculated that it was an old photo of Raghu P. Mathur at college. Could be.

Then, suddenly, "poof," it was gone.

And so was Dennis.

Depositing 2 construction trailers at IVC

1. First, find a particularly lovely location on campus for the shitty construction trailers. The virgin lawn next to the Library is an excellent choice.


2. Next, back the shitty construction trailers onto the lawn, but don't be too careful about it. Aim the trailer, hit the gas, and then let 'er rip!

When the trailers come close to vulnerable objects, persons, or structures (e.g., light pole #27 below), don't slow down or anything. Commit.


3. If you find that the trailer is scraping against something--say, light pole #27--then, by all means, proceed with all deliberate speed.

Commence whistling.



4. Upon completion of the task, take a lovely photo and send it to Glenn. Don't mention the light pole. Instead, take another lovely photo and send it to Glenn.

And that's all there is to it!



RECENT POSTS:

Vote as if it mattered
His vision
Journalism at Irvine Valley College

Vote as if it mattered

by Red Emma

I ran into a colleague over at the salt mine the other day. She interrupted my rant on the latest assault on the Constitution long enough to piss me off even more. All politics is local, after all, and if you can be angry at Washington, D.C., then you can be angry at your neighbors. A nice enough person (I am really getting tired of nice people), she’s belonged to the union for as long as she’s taught at UCI, holds an advanced degree, reads and writes and speaks three languages, flosses regularly but confesses to me that she is so very confused by all the ads on television regarding the propositions.

“I am so very confused,” she said, as if we were characters on a BBC drama, which we are not, unless I get to be Helen Mirren’s boyfriend on Prime Suspect. But he doesn’t talk like that anyway.

“Well, those commercials are meant to confuse,” I said. “And why would you even watch them in the first place, you nice person who is really an idiot?"

Okay, I didn’t say that. Instead I wondered to myself how, really, anybody would ever decide how to vote (and then vote) if they actually did sit down and read that stupid summary from the State or watched the TV ads, with the little text at the bottom or the fast-talking man at the end.

Didn’t my nice colleague belong to a whole bunch of terrific organizations with paid analysts, lobbyists, communications pros who had posted all over the place, mailed, e-mailed, made phone calls, offering their members recommendations on how to vote so that they (we) wouldn’t have to watch television ads or listen to way too polite public radio hosts entertain arguments from property rights advocates and oil companies?

And didn’t I in fact know that she did because I am the local’s president and read the member roster, not to mention send those very emails? Well, yes. (And why was I talking to myself in this arch rhetorical style lately, huh?) So I reminded her politely that she was in a labor union (CFT) with political interests that were her interests and I pinned an Angelides for Guv button on her, then directed her to the CFT site where, like the scrolls of Nag Hammadi, any goatherd with a trowel can find the apocrypha we call the analysis that results from actual constituency representation, as opposed to the corporate ads on the tube paid for by evil assholes.

Further, I suggested to her maybe checking out the sites of other organizations people just like she and I belong to (Didn’t she? Why not?), including those of the Sierra Club and California Green Party. These are available for free and still with plenty of vitamin-rich extra-chocolaty habeas corpus (don’t get me started again) while it lasts.

Sierra Club/Propositions

Sierra Club/endorsements

OC Greens

Next installment: Red scolds you into voting for judges in Orange County. Good? Bad? Extra crispy? And: Let’s bet on the next Orange alert, okay? I say it’ll happen between midnight on October 24, Eid-al-Fitr to you Muslim dissenters and November 11, GOP-al-Scareya to the rest of us.

His vision

Wow, what a beautiful day. The air was clear, the sun was bright. Students frolicked.

Not sure what that was about.

After my second class, I grabbed my camera and headed for the library. That's a pretty good looking building, inside and out.

Here's a shot out one of the library's windows:

Nice, eh? If I were a student, I'd be studying right there, much of the time.

YESTERDAY, denizens of the IVC community, including yours truly, came to school only to discover that our beloved Clock Tower had been demolished. The orangey pieces that made up the face were stacked on the ground next to a planter. There were some other parts, too, but I couldn't make 'em out.

Oddly, the contractor had left the iron base of the Tower standing: it jutted skyward. It was hideous. (See photos.) The yellow security tape didn't help.


A classified employee later told me that IVC Prez, Glenn Roquemore, was really pissed when he discovered that the contractor hadn't finished the job by Monday. I guess Glenn was thinking that, if the Clock Tower just disappeared without a trace, nobody would notice it missing. Good plan.

Glenn thinks like that. Such thinking is his vision, I believe.

Dissent would have noticed. Dissent knows that this college has few distinctive motifs. Yellow security tape is one of 'em. They wrap everything in it. Even trees.

Another motif is hearing somebody say, "I'll meet you at the Clock Tower." Or: "I'll meet you at the goddam Clock Tower."


That's a very IVC thing to say.

Last Monday night, the Board asked Glenn about IVC's temp buiildings snafu--some temporary classrooms were not ready for the 1st week of classes, leaving faculty and administrators scrambling for replacement rooms.

But Glenn had a plan. Part of it was the posting of signs at the closed temps. They directed students "to meet your instructor at the Clock Tower," IVC's one and only landmark.

The trustees seemed a little peevish about this snafu, which, no doubt, they learned about in Dissent. They looked at Glenn sans their usual warmth. (Hee hee.) Glenn winced a little. He explained that it was the contractor's fault. The darned guy went off on vacation!

That sounded an awful lot like "my dog ate it."

I'm a little surprised, but people are saddened by the loss of that damned Clock Tower. Yesterday, I saw some of 'em standing around the Clock Tower's parts, in silence. Today, though, they mostly bitched and moaned.

Getting back to yesterday: after a few hours, I noticed that, while I was in class, most of the Clock Tower parts had been hauled off. But not the ugly REMNANT. With the flapping yellow tape. (As of this afternoon, it was still there.)

I went back to my office.

By 4:30 or so, Rebel Girl and I were done for the day, and so we headed toward the parking lot. Without a word, we stopped by the Clock Tower remnant. We stood there. Then Reb said, "What's this?" and she reached down. She picked up two long nondescript metal parts. They were grey or brown and covered with dust.

Eureka! They were the clock's hands! She held them high in triumph!

Only later did I learn that Reb had come to school that day prepared to post some fliers regarding some important student events. She had worked hard on the fliers. They directed students to meet on campus at a particular time and place.

Students were told to "meet at the Clock Tower." Where else?

And so she drove to school with her fliers, and she was feeling good. But when she arrived and then walked, as usual, through the A-quad to her office, fliers in hand, she came upon the empty sky where a big orange clock used to be.

Right about then, Glenn was in his office, looking out his window. (Could be.)

He glanced briefly toward the Clock Tower. He did a double-take.

"Goddammit!"

Another Roquemoreian vision undone.

Journalism at Irvine Valley College

Just got off the phone with a local political writer, and we got to talking about Irvine Valley College.

"At IVC, student life--it's kind of dead, isn't it?" she said.

"Well, it is a bit sleepy, I guess," I responded.

"Yeah, when I go to Saddleback College, stuff seems to be going on. There are student hangouts. There's a student paper. Stuff doesn't happen much at IVC."

It wasn't always so. About ten years ago, some exciting stuff was going on, including protest marches, vigils, film series, and the bold hoistage of Ragu Spaghetti Sauce jars.

We had a student newspaper then, the Voice. Below is a typical issue. It's headlines: "SOCCCD trustee race heats up!" "Faculty members vote no confidence in IVC's president!" It editorialized about Prop 39. It had four pages of lively sports coverage.


The Voice was put out by the Journalism program, which was directed by a full-time instructor and supported by staff.

For a while, it was a great little paper.

Do you know who broke the "Frogue denies the Holocaust" story? It wasn't the OC Register. Nope. It was student reporter Ked Francis of the IVC Voice (see Is trustee Steven Frogue a Holocaust denier?). (Ked is now a professional reporter.)

The Voice won awards: the ACP National Newspaper General Excellence Award 1996; the newspaper of the Year Award, 1997, 1998; the JACC General Excellence Award, 1999, 2000.

Voice reporters did some great muckraking stories about IVC administration. There were lots of positive stories, too. The paper was way cool, and students seemed interested in what was going on. They hung out. They talked. They littered. (Well, you can't have everything.)

Eventually, then-President Raghu Mathur got his mits all over the journalism program and he made sure that the Voice and other student publications cranked out fluff and propaganda that promoted Raghu's interests and the interests of his minions. It was appalling.

The journalism program soon died an ignominious death.

Well, now, there's talk of reviving journalism at IVC. The School of Humanities and Languages, which last housed Journalism, has stepped up to the plate, and plans are afoot to write new courses, some of which might be taught next Fall. (Mass Media is a likely candidate.)


But KNOW THIS. A journalism program (or simply the offering of journalism courses) and a student newspaper are NOT the same thing. It takes lots of money to put out a paper. Printing alone is very expensive, but then there's the purchase of computers, software, and other equipment. Plus you need to secure a special space to house all this stuff. The old journalism space--it always kinda reminded me of the movie His Girl Friday--has now been taken over by IVC's Honors Program, and it seems unlikely that Honors will be moved anywhere any time soon.

If you've been listening to the Board, the Chancellor, and the college presidents lately, then you know that budget-tightening and enrollment management are the focus right now. Even the hiring of new full-time faculty seems to be on hold, or at least it's slowed down to nearly nothing.

Money is tight.

One possible source of funds is student government, which, at IVC, has a budget of around $400,000 a year. There's no reason why student government can't pay for this stuff.

I'll ask 'em. Don't hold your breath.

Still, with this latest development re journalism, we're moving in a positive direction. We'll build up the program as best we can, and then, maybe, if we can find our way to some money and support (e.g., eventually hiring a full-time journalism instructor), the students will have a newspaper again.

Let's hope the new paper, when it arrives--if it arrives--will be as good as the old Voice during its brief heyday.

ONE MORE THING: Here's a positive factoid. As we reported two months ago (The good news and the bad news), new legislation now protects college newspapers from the meddling and censorship of the Raghu P. Mathurs of the world. Yippee!

OTHER RECENT POSTS:

• Friday, Sept. 29
Chunk visits ATEP It's hoppin'!
• Friday, Sept. 29
Full circle Dennis White announces exodus

Chunk visits ATEP

(Listen to Park Ranger Bob on the Frank Peters Show)
After class today, I shot on over to Redhill Avenue, in Tustin, and, at Warner Ave., I entered the enormous property that once was the Tustin Marine Corps Air Station. The facility and its two famous hangers came into existence in 1942 as the Santa Ana Naval Air Station, home to blimps that patrolled the coastline for Japanese submarines. When the base was turned over to the Marines in 1951, it was named the Marine Corps Air Facility, Santa Ana.

The Marines, the Navy, and the feds no longer have any presence on the property, and they have no claim to it--unless, of course, we fail to be in full-development mode by 2009. We own this 68-acre lot, but we must "use it or lose it." Potentially, if we drop the developmental ball, the lot could revert to the Navy, which would be only too glad to acquire so valuable a piece of property.

These days, the "base" is guarded by rent-a-cops hired by the city, who write down the name and license plate of each visitor. No doubt the info is sent immediately to Karl Rove. Or Karl Karcher. (For a cool map of the entire planned development, see Tustin Legacy Master Plan.)

I said hello to the guard, who gave me directions. I swung my car over to the left and headed for my destination--ATEP, the SOCCCD's third campus. I love old, historic places, and surely this counts. I was happy to soon come across an old chapel that, I've learned, is likely to be restored to its 1942 splendor by a local veterans organization. Surrounded by abandoned apartment buildings that have seen better days--they'll be razed--the chapel still looks impressive from some angles.


I spotted an old exercise area nearby:

It's always a little sad and creepy to see abandoned places and things.

Mostly, the old Marine base property is empty space, although there are signs that much is under construction and more is coming. Eventually, the property will include an impressive park, snaking through its middle.

Provost Kopecky and his two assistants now occupy a nice office space in a building--formerly barracks--owned by the Orange County Rescue Mission. (The OCRM owns six acres adjacent to ATEP.) ATEP uses this space and, in exchange, the rescue mission uses a nearby parking lot on ATEP property.

You should go to ATEP's website. There, you'll find loads of useful information, plus some artist renderings of how the complex may look some day:

Check out the drawing on top--the guy on the sidewalk. Wait a minute! Isn't that Park Ranger Bob!?

I blew up that part of the painting to get a closer look. Here's what I got:

Why, it's KEANU REEVES! Hmmm, for years now, the Reb has been telling me that there's a picture of "Keanu" in Glenn Roquemore's office. That made no sense. And now this. I'm confused.

Anyway, I walked inside the ATEP office and met the people there, including Tere Fluegeman, ATEP's Director of Public Information & Marketing. She was kind enough to take me on a brief tour.

THE TOUR

First, we visited the site of classrooms now under construction. It looks like the foundations are about to be poured. Yesterday, the building parts--they'll be bolted onto the concrete--started arriving. So things are hoppin'.

Next, she took me to an impressive helicopter hanger, which will be an important part of the ATEP complex. The outside wall still sports Marine parking space markings, including one for a certain Sergeant Major with an apparent deformity of the hand.


Tere took me inside, where we encountered a small film crew--the ATEP grounds are often rented for filming.

Somebody told me that, recently, there was an Emeritus film crew on the grounds.

"Emeritus?"

"Yup."

"Old people, making a film?"

"Yeah. They looked pretty young though. Maybe they were wearin' disguises."

Tere explained that there were at least two owls living inside the hanger. She pointed to a spot fifty feet above my head: a nest. Then she pointed to spots on the floor: owl crap stains.

"Owls, eh? What do they eat in here? Mice? It doesn't look like there's too many mice in here! The place is squeaky clean!"

"Dunno. We leave the doors open sometimes. Maybe they fly out."

Tere told me a quick owl crap story, which was pretty good, and then we moved on.

Essentially, that was the end of my tour.

CHUNK SANS TOUR GUIDE:

Well, I’m a standing on a corner
In Winslow, Arizona
And such a fine sight to see
It’s a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford
Slowin’ down to take a look at me
Come on, baby, don’t say maybe
I gotta know if your sweet love is
Gonna save me (Take It Easy)

I thanked Tere and then I headed out on my own. When Tere told me that the military have zero presence at the base, I felt relieved, 'cause I was hoping to drive around taking some snaps, and I know what paranoid knuckleheads the military can be. (I recall that time I was checkin' out a missile silo in central Montana....) So off I went to take snaps.

I started to take a picture of an old building, which happened to have a truck in its parking lot. The truck suddenly roared to life and sped toward me. It stopped and then the driver demanded to know what I was doing.

"Takin' a picture."

In response, he said something, I don't know what. He seemed pissed. If he were a bird, his feathers would be all puffed out. In fact, I do believe that he did have feathers and they were in Full Fluff. Testosterone was in the air.

Finally, he said, "Are you taking a picture of me, or are you taking a picture of the building!"

"The building, dude."

He roared off. He was (I think) driving an Irvine Ranch Water District truck.

Later, I was in an entirely different part of the base, taking pictures of the blimp hangers. Suddenly, another IRWD truck swung by and slowed down to look me over. I think the driver was getting my license plate number. I motioned absurdly to my back plates as if to help him to read the numbers better. He sped off.

Ten minutes later, this happened again. I felt as though I was in a scene from Parallax View.

Then I remembered. The Irvine Ranch Water District is powerful. It spends even more money than the SOCCCD! We're talkin' hundreds of millions! I think these bastards think they own the city!

But isn't the base in Tustin? Whatever.