Reinvest in a stronger currency

Our weak US dollar is making it difficult to purchase goods and services abroad. The dollar reached an all-time low against the British pound last November and a record low against the euro as recently as February. It’s time to start investing in a currency that will stay strong in the face of a US economic recession. That’s right. I’m talking about World of Warcraft gold.

Just below China, the fantastical land of Azeroth is the world’s fastest growing economy. But unlike the Chinese yuan, Warcraft gold is not pegged to the US dollar, which covers your ass in the event that the next administration is led by a 71-year-old Beach Boys fan. So take that handy $600 Economic Stimulus Package rebate and reinvest in gold. Admittedly though, the currency is often volatile to investor confidence, unsound domestic fiscal policies, and Orc raiding parties.

Relieve dependency on fossil fuels

What people need to understand is that buying a more fuel-efficient automobile isn’t going to save our country from its dependence on petroleum. Gas prices will keep rising to adjust to US demand, and in the end, hybrid cars don’t mitigate the problem but extend it. The solution: drive less and scooter more.

Have you heard of the Segway? I saw a couple overweight security guards riding these around the Tacoma Mall last weekend, and let me tell you, this shit is the future. This brand new technology will be the savior of our transportation crisis. Five years from now, if not sooner, everyone will be riding these two-wheeled bad boys in lieu of cars. I’ll be surprised if anyone is even walking.

Some people have suggested using plain ol’ public transportation. That’s just crazy!

Embrace rapid climate change

Have you ever stopped to consider that global warming climate change climate variability anthropogenic global warming might be a good thing? I was in Duluth, Minnesota this winter and decided that no place on Earth should be that fucking cold. The solution is to start taking action and making sure that no place on Earth is that fucking cold.

In fact, I’ve been trying to encourage global warming by spraying at least one entire can of Aerosol into the atmosphere every day. If every single person makes little changes in their life, the greater impact can save this planet from the scourge of nature.

When you think about it, we really don’t need nature. I mean, when was the last time you went to the park for a reason other than to buy pot? All of the benefits of “the outdoors” can be enjoyed watching Planet Earth, which was recorded in a higher definition than real life. Also, you can get all the exercise you need from playing Nintendo Wii.

Hell, if it’s warmer out, we might turn up the heat less and save a few bucks on our utilities bill. Now that is fucking progress!

There’s something to be said for tradition. In days that are devoid of chivalry, weddings are a throwback to what ye olde folks call “the good old days.” Family is present. Food is eaten. Elders are respected.

People find the sameness comforting. It explains why the Roman Catholic Church is still in business. Mass is the same every week, and people can rely on it as a constant, if nothing else is. For every person who finds comfort in the tradition, there’s a person who finds it equally discomforting.

The thing is, most weddings absolutely suck. Take it from someone who caters weddings and is about to begrudgingly enter wedding season. Here’s an opportunity to bring your closest friends together and show them a good time on your parents dime, but what do they do? The same old tired routine.

[Fade into…]

Church
Own vows are read, full of how much love is in their hearts, blah blah blah. (Even though this is boring for everybody except the parents, this is probably an essential part to a wedding.)

Reception
People get drinks, mull about, and find their seat (and each table has its own theme! How fun!) until cheese-dick DJ announces the wedding party. A particularly “funky” DJ will play “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” as they enter.

Everybody eats shitty catered food that costs too much.

First dance
It’s always Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”

Toasts
Champagne is brought out–always Domaine St. Michelle–and ear-splitting reverb indicates the best man is ready to toast the bride and groom. He is not drunk enough, and nobody laughs at his jokes because he’s trying way too hard. The maid of honor is plenty drunk, but her toast is super heartfelt and she talks way too long. Then the father jokes about this costing way too much, except he really secretly means it, so it’s kind of awkward. He tries to save it by saying what a great guy the groom is, and he loves him like a son. We’re all friends again.

Cake
Ha ha! She shoved it in his face! He shoved it in hers! Laugh riot OMGJKLOL!!!!!!

“The Stripper” is played, indicating it’s time for the provocative segment. The single guys don’t want to go up there, so it’s just one guy and a bunch of 12-year-olds. They drop the fucking underwear thingy. The girls go up there to catch the bouquet, and they pretend like they don’t really want it, but then they go fucking nuts trying to catch it. Catfights ensue, but the hot blonde always gets it.

Dancing
The DJ enters. These are the exact songs he plays:

• “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang (interchangeable with We Are Family by Sister Sledge)
• “Love Shack” by the B-52s
• “Yeah! (Remix)” by Usher, Lil’ Jon & Ludacris
• “Brown-Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison
• “Twist” by Chubby Checker
• “Grease Megamix” (seriously, they still play this shit)
• “Billie Jean” by Michael Jackson
• “YMCA” by The Village People
• “Come on Eileen” by Dexy’s Midnight Runners
• “Sexyback” by Justin Timberlake
• “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks
• “Livin’ On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi
• “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot
• “Hey Ya!” by Outkast
• “What is Love” by Haddaway
• “Push It” by Salt-n-Pepa
• “Last Dance” by Donna Summer

If you still think disco is dead, you haven’t been to a wedding recently. Oh, and white people really like that Usher song.

By the end, people are so drunk, humanity weeps at its own stupidity. The caterers vow to never drink again. Everybody stumbles off to a bar or to a DUI. The groom always leaves his jacket behind, and some old lady always leaves her purse.

[Fade Out. End scene.]

I don’t want to tell you how to run your wedding should that day ever come, I just want to tell you how not to do your wedding. If you’re going to drop $40,000, make it memorable.

Actually, here’s some advice: Always play Prince. It’s impossible not to dance to Prince.

I wanted to see if Kunstler thought that there were any places worth caring about in Tacoma. Tacoma isn’t the prettiest city in anyone’s book. It’s been in Seattle’s shadow as an ugly, industrial port town for some time, although it’s been getting nicer in recent years. The downtown isn’t bad, but the sprawl around it is hideous and run-down. There is a lot of low-income housing around, which tends to attract buildings and construction that aren’t particularly attractive. So I assumed Kunstler would just rip Tacoma a new one.

He did, but he also made some smart observations about America’s cities in general. Kunstler is a proponent of New Urbanism, a school of design that advocates a return to traditional, dense areas of development. Tall, mixed-use buildings are the main idea here: commercial on the first floor with offices or residences on the upper levels. Placing these buildings close together fosters a sense of community and allows people to get around without using a car. The problem with suburbs, after all, is that they’re vast swathes of low density residential communities and nothing else. No one walks on the sidewalks because there are no stores close by—only houses. Suburbs cannot function by themselves; they are useless without cars.

Suburbs also attract hideous big box stores and strip malls. These convenient, square, brick hell holes are the cause of that weird “this store in Seattle looks exactly like the one in Kentucky” feeling that we all get when walking into a Target. Or, in the words of Jane Jacobs, one of the most influential urban planners in America, “City character is blurred until every place becomes more like every other place, all adding up to Noplace.”^[1]

Kunstler talked about these ideas as well, and made sure to repeat to the audience that disgusting suburbs and big box buildings “aren’t good enough.” That struck me, because it seemed so painfully obvious. Of course strip malls are ugly. Doesn’t everyone think so? They aren’t good enough. They aren’t worth caring about. So why do we keep building them?

In Seattle, Pike Place Market is one of the big tourist draws to the region. Going there is usually a disaster because traffic and parking is painful. My favorite thing there is the long line of small international food stores that line the market street. As I walk down the crowded street, I like to stop and stare at the people around holding all sorts of different food. Inevitably, I cave and go buy something to eat. This is a really silly narrative, but the point is that a place like Pike Place Market doesn’t have to exist at that exact location. No one likes the mind-boggling traffic and bank-breaking parking fees. It seems strange that there isn’t anything similar around. How are places like Pike Place Market started? How do you make places worth caring about?

Kunstler made a big deal out of several features a space should have: a building’s look, its mixed use, and accessibility. Though it sounded like an odd key term for middle-management, one of the main ideas was termed “space activation”. A space is activated when there is foot traffic and people entering/exiting. This seems obvious, but apparently is quite difficult to accomplish. To make an example of this point, Kunstler talked about one of the local Tacoma parks. It’s a nice area, with some weird modern art sculpture and benches, but not many people go to it. The reason is because there’s nothing else there. The park is enclosed by a building wall and heavily used streets. It’s not ugly, but it’s awfully inconvenient.

There’s a small chance I’ll go to a park on any given day (I’m lazy), but there’s a greater chance I’ll go to that park if there’s a creperie or coffeehouse right next to it. There’s an even greater chance I’ll stop by if my apartment or office is two stories above that coffeehouse. Activating spaces is about creating traffic and a localized sense of community. If there is an abundance of places in a small area, then people are more likely to travel there because there’s a greater reason to go. Like the rows of international food stores in Pike Place Market, if you don’t want Indian food, there’s a Russian place next door.

In a suburb, there’s no sense of community because there’s nothing else to go to. You take your car ten minutes to the teriyaki joint, but there’s nothing in-between. As opposed to walking on the sidewalk and communicating with others, in a suburb you get in your car and go. Robert Putnam, a political scientist, has tracked this notable decline of social connection in America’s cities in his book Bowling Alone. One of the causes, he notes, has been the car and the isolation that results from a long trip. “The car and commute…are demonstrably bad for community life.”^[2]

I don’t know about anyone else, but my experience living in a suburb was boring and sometimes lonely. I always thought it strange that my parents’ generation was so keen to move away from the city and into the suburbs. I think they’ve been tricked by the lure of a large yard and a big house. But as people my own age get older, I think there will be a shift back to the cities. The thought of using public transportation and walking is appealing in the same way that driving was to my parents. In the future I plan to live in the middle of a city in a cramped apartment. Urban renewal aside, at the very least I’ll get all the crepes I want.

1. Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Modern Library ed. New York: Random House, 1993. Pg. 440.

2. Putnam, Robert. Bowling Alone, 213.

Sadly, I discovered today that there are vultures hovering about, waiting to devour struggling, naive musicians like so much carrion. The following is a cautionary tale.

I checked my MySpace music account (for all you readers who are in the mood for some melancholy folk music) and discovered a message from a man named Ryan. He claimed to represent a booking agent from Big Time Entertainment. He told me he was organizing a show on May 29th, and that my minor-key, nylon-stringed ballads would suit the show. I said I would be interested in playing the gig. My stomach began to do somersaults; I felt as if there was a butterfly ballet troupe doing a rendition of “Rite of Spring” in my intestines. Little ol’ me, playing at a big club in downtown Denver!

However, I quickly realized that the entire situation smelled worse than seafood in Colorado. I checked online to see what other acts were playing that night, and discovered that it was Help the Hood night. Featured on the bill were several hip-hop artists. I’m a big proponent of musical diversity, but I can’t imagine me (skinny white kid with acoustic guitar) on a hip-hop stage. The one hip-hop song in my repertoire–a bossa nova-style cover of R. Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet”–is more of a humorous novelty than anything.

I realized that I had been scammed when I received a reply from Big Time Entertainment. The following is an imaginary conversation I had with the email, in which I slowly come to terms with the fact that I’ve been had. It turns out that Big Time Entertainment is a company that rents out venues in Washington, Oregon, California, and Colorado to take advantage of local struggling musicians by having them participate in vaguely-shrouded “pay-to-play” nights. All quotes are directly from the email, except for a couple paraphrases.

Jeff: Hello there, email. So far you seem fairly innocuous. But what’s this I see about me being required to recruit an audience of at least 30 people?

Big Time: We need each act to bring in at LEAST the number of people specified below for each Venue [sic]…Acts that fail to bring their share of the crowd have not done their part to make the show a success. This is unfair to the artists who have worked hard to deliver a turnout to the show. Big Time believes that artists should not just play for everyone else’s fans without contributing at all to the turnout. Taking this into account, can you guarantee your band will bring AT LEAST 30 people to come see you play–regardless of the night of the week or other acts on the bill?

Well, I’m not so sure about that. You see, my fan base is limited to those who are obligated to listen to me out of familial and/or friendship ties. But let’s continue for curiosity’s sake. Do I get paid?

Your payment will be proportional to your draw for the night.

Elaborate.

[Paraphrase] Well, you agree to pre-sell tickets to your fans before the show. They are priced at almost twice the going rate for any other weeknight show at this venue, so you’ll have to be a good salesman. Basically, how it works is if you sell 25 tickets, you get $25. And we get $150.

Shouldn’t I get a larger percentage if I do all the legwork to sell the tickets?

[Paraphrase] Well, I suppose you don’t have to sell tickets. Feel free to mooch off other bands’ fans. And just keep in mind that “Consistently, our lowest drawing acts are the ones that choose to not sell tickets and instead just ’hope’ that their fans pay at the door night of show.  Obviously, we are not able to work with these acts anymore, and the clubs we work with also choose to avoid re-booking those acts.”

So, if I personally sell tickets to people, and then I give you $150 of the $175 that I made to you, aren’t I paying to play?

This is NOT “pay to play”; you would not have to pre-purchase the tickets. We would just give them to you to sell.

But if I have to hand over nearly 100% of the money that I made from the tickets that you “gave” me, aren’t you selling me the tickets?

[Paraphrase] Alright, the jig is up. We’re a company that specializes in taking advantage of the peonage (like yourself) of local music scenes. We scour MySpace to find pages of small artists who we know won’t have any representation and then trick them into doing all the ticket-selling for us before handing all the profits.

Big Time Entertainment is one of the more deplorable scams I have come across recently. I say that not only because my pride was hurt, but also because it takes a special kind of greed to take advantage of struggling musicians and closing other avenues of success to them. Hopefully, some poor sap trying to start to make money playing music will google Big Time Entertainment, see this article (or one of the many others), and refrain from handing hard-earned money over to these swindlers.

My stock answer is “I don’t know,” but the person who asks this sort of question usually has her mind made up. If the person is opposed to having children, she’ll whine for the next ten minutes about how terrible the world is or how annoying children are, and then try to convince me not to raise any. But if the person is determined to have children, she’ll tell me about how cute kids are, how rewarding raising some would be, and act like I’m a cold bitch for not being set on having a dozen.

This question isn’t even applicable to my life at the moment. Currently, I’m a twenty-year-old full-time student who is still dependent on my parents. My career goals are ill-defined, let alone any life plans. There are a number of things that would have to transpire for me to be ready to choose whether I would like to have children or not, and yet this question is given the same weight as if I had just been asked if I think I’ll want dinner later.

For me to have children intentionally, I would hope to have a semi-permanent place to live, a job, and independence from my parents’ funds. Oh yeah, and I would also need a man.

All of this thinking ahead may be too much for some individuals to ponder, but I’m willing to wait a while before proclaiming my desire to have children or not. As for children themselves–ones that belong to other people–I don’t have a particular feeling either way. I mean, kids are funny and very cute once they get passed their squishy, alienesque phase, but I don’t go insane over every adorable baby I see.

For some reason, there are mad baby-loving women who have maternal instincts that go in overdrive each time they see a cute kid. Sure, I can appreciate the joy a child brings just as much as the next person, but you won’t see me maniacally snatching every baby I lay my eyes on or scrunching my face and gushing garbled phrases. Just smile and wave for god sakes. You look like an idiot.

I’ve also considered how my hypothetical children would be raised. From an outside perspective, one of the biggest issues parents have with children is discipline. I wouldn’t want to be one of those strict, inhibiting parents, but then again, I wouldn’t want to raise the type of child I encountered in the grocery store the other day who was running around and crashing her cart into people. Being nine or ten years old, she looked perfectly capable of steering her cart around shoppers, but she was quite content to bang her way through the canned goods aisle while her mother looked on. I was tempted to send a can of peas in her direction, but realized retaliation would not be the best solution.

That brings me to another question: physical discipline. By the age of three, I thought I was an adult and made decisions that often threatened my life and went against the wishes of my parents.

“Hold hands to cross the street? No, thank you. I think I’ll handle this intersection by myself.”

As a result, I received my fair share of swats during my formative years, but I always knew why I was spanked and that I deserved it, and I did not grow up to be a grocery store tyrant who abused the use of my cart. Also, this method of discipline was changed once I was old enough to comprehend shame and disappointment as punishment enough in themselves.

I do not necessarily promote spanking. After all, you’re hitting a small and defenseless person and that sounds a lot like abuse. However, I’m not really sure what else you’re supposed to do with a small child who repeats the same behavior no matter how much you try to reason with her. I think I’m starting to understand the “joys” of parenting.

Still, I have no job, no money of my own, and no idea when having children will be agreeable, let alone knowing how to raise them. I figure the last two things tend to work themselves out, but for now I will hold off on the question of children entirely and save it for a later date. As for the crazy-for-baby ladies, you need to tone it down a notch.

Fellow Bureau writer Caitlin Boersma is one of the alternative music directors at Tacoma’s 90.1 FM The Sound. She keeps detailed, collaborative spreadsheets on Google Docs that track the CDs she and the other music directors have received and reviewed.

Google Docs is well-designed. The word processor has all of the basic features you’d expect in Word and allows you to save in a number of formats. I’ve only spent considerable time with the online word processor, but Google also offers knockoffs of Microsoft Excel and PowerPoint as well. Admittedly, the online word processor is still a far cry from the power of regular software, but for me, the greater lesson is how effective internet-based services can be when it comes to organizing my life. Considering this generation’s affinity for anything web-based, it may be the way we all organize our lives in the future.

Google instills a lot of goodwill in people. Their corporate image is playful (Google’s motto is “don’t be evil”), but most importantly, Google offers a handful of excellent free services. When Gmail made its debut on April 1, 2004, users thought the unprecedented one gigabyte of storage was an April Fool’s joke. It made a mockery of Hotmail, which at the time allotted an unimpressive two megabytes–more than 500 times less.

It’s also hard to deny how well Google has integrated all of their services. From your Gmail account, you can share your documents, calendars, RSS feeds, and photos. Oh yeah, and it’s also a pretty good search engine.

Still, Google isn’t the only player in the future of internet organization.

When Nick and I first launched The Bygone Bureau last summer, we managed everything through email. It was a messy system, so we tested out 37signals’s online project management tool Basecamp, which, since then, has been indispensable to running the site. Our plan costs $12 per month–obviously pricier than Google’s free services–but it’s never a bill we mind paying. We’ve been able to tailor Basecamp to our needs thanks to its simple, versatile design. Even our less technologically talented writers (see: Jeff Merrion) adore how easy it is to upload drafts and edits. Basecamp will even send a reminder for an article due date, which comes in particularly handy for our less deadline-conscious writers (see: Jeff Merrion).

I suppose the Bureau could operate solely through the sharing features of Google Documents, but it wouldn’t be nearly as efficient. Google Docs capabilities are too broad and lack the organizational structure of Basecamp, thanks to its sharp emphasis on making collaboration as intuitive as possible. As our schedules and work become online versions that can be accessed from anywhere in the world, we can look forward to the development of more services like Basecamp to create a future that is efficient and social.

The Bygone Bureau recently came across a Nintendo memorandum regarding the next generation of Wii titles. We’re willing to share it with our loyal audience, despite the impending news explosion likely to occur. It comes to no surprise that Nintendo is pulling out all the stops in their next lineup. We are, however, somewhat distraught by Nintendo’s apparent lack of regard for both spelling and grammar. The games make us a little uneasy as well.

Nintendo Memo

From: Jeffrey Mendelssohn
To: Nintendo Executives

Subject: Third Generation Wii Games!

It is with great pleasure that I announce the next generation of Wii games, and may I say that this lineup is one of the best Nintendo has ever seen.

Given the incredible success of Wii games with profoundly simplistic functions, such as Wii Sports’s bowling or tennis, we have decided to expand upon the infinite possibilities of everyday life to fully utilize all of the Wiimote’s possible actions! Though it may surprise Nintendo, it has become apparent that customers enjoy the routine drudgery of the material world if played through a video game ;)

With that, we unveil games that seek to capture a simple life function and integrate it as a game. With Super Grocery Sprii, never before has shopping featured so much arm-flinging fun! I’m pushing for a bowling feature with cantaloupes and pineapples :DDD!!

In addition, Nintendo seeks to expand upon our growing adult market with “quieter” games like Super Decorate a Christmas Trii and Super Debrii Pickup. Other mundane life events can also be transformed into an incredible gaming experience, like Super Associate’s Degrii. Sounds like a sequel in the making, huh guys?! : ))))

For the old timers, we are producing a nostalgic Super Telegraph Kii that will even feature network capability to play with other senior citizens across the globe. We expect that title to be greatly anticipated!!!

We are also working to respond to calls that the Nintendo Wii is too “childish” to appeal to the hardcore gaming audience that is typically made up of 18 to 24-year-old males. AND that’s JUST NOT TRUE :O!! So we are proud to present a new line of games that will be grittier and more realistic! We are proud to present Super Taze Mii that will utilize the Wiimote for realistic tazing action. DON’t taze me BRO! LOL!

We also will be featuring Super Prison Escapii, where players can perform a digging motion with the Wiimote to simulate the uselessness of attempting to escape from a concrete prison cell. Oh no, don’t drop that Soap! ROFLs all around, am I right? Mario Drug Partii will also be a huge hit, kind of like the Mario Party series (why didn’t we use Partii?) but with some drugs instead of minigames.

For the more “serious” gamer (a.k.a. big spenders), we’ve got some historical titles being rolled out, like Super Battle of the Bismark Sii. I’m trying to get some Pokémon into that one! Imagine FIRING Jigglypuff out of a cannon! Sweet huh? Am I right? We’ve also got Super Smash the Bourgeoisii that’ll be a “realistic” depiction of Soviet Russia. Or something.

The last game we had we’re still in the process of laying out. We’re not sure on the specifics, but we’re thinking that the title will be Super Babii Shaker. We’re still not quite sure on that one ! :PPP

Chatcha Dawgs later!

- Jeffrey

My car never had a name because I think personifying cars is stupid, but I have received many suggestions such as Agatha or Franny. Basically, any name that went out of style after 1950 is considered an acceptable title for my New Yorker. And rightly so. The car was a gift from my aging grandmother for my sixteenth birthday. She was becoming too elderly to drive and thought she would do this favor for my parents. While I’m sure the digital speedometer, self-lowering trunk, and headlight covers that flip up were top-notch in the late 1980s, all these features became vintage quirks that have led to never-ending explanations to my passengers.

“Yep, the speedometer sure is cool.” “Please quit slamming the trunk. It will close by itself. No, I don’t know why it does that.” “That noise was the thwack of the headlight covers.” “The motor is broken.”

While I find my car to be a complete nuisance, I have acquired a rather large sum of “props” points for driving such a car. In high school, they told me I was a pimp; in college, I receive reactions like, “Oh my god! This is your car?” After pointing out that since I have the key and drove it here that it is, quite obviously, my car, I am told that it is completely awesome.

Yes, it’s completely awesome that I spend as much money on oil as I do on gas. It’s completely awesome that I waste a gallon of fuel trying to drive up the hills of Seattle. It’s completely awesome that I can’t parallel park anywhere that doesn’t give me fifteen feet of space and the power steering frequently goes out.

Of course, my passengers don’t recognize any of these things. They do often request music, at which point I snap that the New Yorker hates me and therefore won’t play any music.

The one redeeming quality of my car is its leather interior. The driver’s seat is more comfortable than the couch in my living room. The seats, unfortunately, are maroon and therefore only offer more evidence of my pimp status.

Even though I have all of these grievances about my car, I will miss it if my dad decides to sell it. I have fond memories of driving to school early in the morning and, during the era when the tape deck still worked, blasting the Sex Pistols as I drove into the parking lot as a gesture of my rebellion, in spite of my punctuality. On the weekends, I learned that the ol’ car could in fact get up to 80 miles per hour as I sped home to make curfew.

On a more serious note, the grandmother who gave me her car has since passed away. There was always a substantial barrier of years and language between us, and I have a strange idea that the New Yorker is my connection to her. I can’t help thinking that she, at least at some moment, had the same vantage point as I’ve had. Also, the radio presets are still stuck on her stations because I couldn’t figure out how to change them. Whenever I attempted to adjust them I would imagine her thick Dutch accent saying, “No, you should leave that one. It’s the good Calvinist program.”

Although I do have some sappy notions regarding my car, I don’t think I’ll have too much problem setting aside these feelings for a better-working vehicle. It might be a nice change of pace to drive something that gets more than nineteen miles to the gallon and has a functional radio. But, just for old times’ sake, I might program one of the tuner buttons to the local hymnal station.

Given our representative democracy, I’m under the impression that the vast majority of Americans are pocketbook voters, which is understandable. Clearly, we need to vote with people other than ourselves in mind.

But it’s not that simple. How do we vote altruistically? Sociotropic voting might be even hazier than that, since it depends where you put the boundaries on your definition of society. Do I vote for the greater good of my community, city, state, or country? Even at the highest level, do I vote based on what I think will benefit the world most?

As a self-righteous liberal arts college student, I’d like to think that I am a more conscientious voter than that, but when it comes down to it, I’m not sure that’s entirely true.

Personally, I believe that the U.S. should have a less stringent immigration policy. (I think the best way to reduce the number of illegal immigrants requires raising the number of legal immigrants we allow.) Does my stance on immigration make me a pocketbook voter? Perhaps it’s just the influence of my family background–my parents were refugees of the Vietnam War–rather than a selfless concern for the greater good of the country.

Naturally, immigration policy isn’t much of a priority for the Democratic candidates. Given their nearly identical platforms, it seems that the central issue in the Obama vs. Clinton debate is now the matter of electability. Early polls have shown that Obama is more likely to defeat McCain in the general election.

Despite the fact that this election, at least on the Democratic side, may come down to who is the more “electable” candidate, perhaps our representative system of government will illustrate not the needs of voters, but their concerns.

In fact, I think it’s idealistic to think of oneself as an entirely sociotropic voter. Maybe we don’t all vote based merely on what benefits us, but you’ll certainly vote for the candidate who tackles the issues that matter most to you. In the end, a representative democracy with socially conscientious voters may, instead of appealing to the wants of the majority, confront the problems on everyone’s mind.

I chose my bumper sticker collection carefully. I didn’t want any other drivers to know my political or religious beliefs, and as such, have only four bumper stickers. Two are of my favorite bands. One is from “The Mystery Spot” in California, carefully placed to show other drivers that I am, like them, easily suckered into tourist traps. The last is a shameless advertisement for KUPS 90.1 FM. Thus, other drivers can learn about the entirety of my personality from my bumper stickers: I like music and I’ve been to California.

However, many people on the road seem to wantonly adorn their cars with stupid, confusing, contradictory, and obnoxious bumper stickers. If I had my way, they would be run off the road and impounded until the owners could find more appropriate bumper stickers. I have compiled a list of bumper stickers and car adornments that are especially tasteless. I encourage readers to deface any of these bumper stickers if they come across them in traffic.

• “Work like you don’t need the money. Dance like no one’s watching. Love like you’ve never been hurt.”
  I have three problems with this bumper sticker. First, when I know I have enough money for the next month, work becomes a nightmare. My work ethic plunges, and I spend most of my days trying to re-learn algebra on the backs of receipts behind the register. I am sarcastic to customers, and often care little about my appearance. Second, the way I dance when no one is watching is an abomination. Sometimes I do hideous pelvic thrusts in an attempt to ascertain whether hideous pelvic thrusts are sexy when I perform them. They aren’t. If I were to try that gem of a move out at a party, I would be slapped. Finally, my first experience with love was brutal. I spent a summer listening to Gorecki’s Sorrowful Symphony and cursing my life. I learned an important lesson from that hurt. I now avoid unhealthy, codependent relationships and am better off for it.
• “If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you can read it and it’s in English, thank a Marine.”
  This touching little aphorism is crookedly slapped on the back of my neighbor’s F-350. It’s a good example of a bumper sticker revealing too much about a person. After reading it, I know my neighbor’s political leanings, that he is a poor representative of his political party, that he is a racist bigot who confuses his native language (an accident of culture) for national superiority, and that he is a complete idiot. It doesn’t help that he also puts up tasteless Christmas decorations every year that depict Santa Claus dangling with his pants down from the rain gutter. So thank you, Marines, for keeping us from having to speak Mexican or Middle-Eastern or some shit like that.
• “Save the Manatee.”
  I know it’s heartless, but I have a hard time sympathizing with an animal that dies most frequently by swimming directly into boat propellers.
• Perhaps the most ridiculous items I have ever seen adorn a car are the large, fake, rubber testicles that men in pickups attach to their trucks. The rubber testicles are truly baffling; worst of all, they are often blue. Are they there to demonstrate that the driver has testicles? If so, congratulations on having a fundamental part of the male anatomy. Are they an ironic way of poking fun at men who buy cars as decoys for diminutive sex organs? If so, ew. No one in the world wants to see a humongous, blue, rubber scrotum hanging from anything, ever.
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