The Bloggers Manifesto

Members of the Blogging Class, Unite!
As my previous blog prophecized, Old Man Winter has indeed come to rest his tired bones on the burgeoning metropolis of San Marcos. Well, that’s true except for the burgeoning part. And metropolis. OK, it’s just cold. End of story. There is nothing better than waiting for the bus in the blistering cold at 8am while wondering how it could possibly be so windy. From what I understand, wind is the reaction of cold air rushing in to fill the void left by hot air that has moved away from the earths surface. So my question is, where is this warm air and why can’t I find it? Ah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it Old Man Winter!

POINT OF INFORMATION: I have no idea what that meant. Sigh.

Ultimate Frisbee has indeed become the highlight of my week, which is equally wonderful and depressing to say, depending on how you look at it. The recreation commences at 10:30pm sharp, about an hour after the conclusion of Cru, and last until about 12:30am. Although the weather is cold the action on the field is hot, and everyone is usually in good spirits. Last night, however, a low point was reached when I was informed by none other than one of my dear friends, Marissa Antelona (from the Philipines and the quad) that I have an ill-bred habit of neglecting the females in regards to my preference of where to throw the disc. Offended indeed, I retorted to her snidely remark with indifference, astutely stating, "Well that's just the way the spheroid (or disk!) ricochets."

Actually I was filled with inexpressible despair and immediately did everything to reconcile not only my capricious actions on the field but our relationship in general. What followed was arguably one of my worst performances ever, in which I spent the following games throwing the disk to the aforementioned Ms. Antelona whenever I could, regardless of the fact she was often not open for a pass. So now the guys are disgruntled, and I fear I may have once again dug myself deep into a hole. But that’s about right for me these days.
After a sleepless night spent dwelling upon Marissa's caustic comments, I resolved to make things better and issued a mass email to all the beautiful yet apparently neglected girls I've ever played frisbee with. So with out further a due, here it is:

Although Socrates' Apologia was in no way an apology, rather a legal
defense as the Greek word was defined back then, I would like to offer
a sincere apology. I know that my caustic and sarcastic comments are
often nothing more than just that, but I do feel terrible about
neglecting you on the ultimate frisbee field. Furthermore, if I
caused you to feel as though my actions were indeed purposefully
resentful, then I am even sorrier. All kidding aside, I would
never intentionally not throw it to any of you. So, that being said,
I will be more considerate in the future, and hopefully you will
understand.
Holla,
Michael Warren Rice

Needless to say, I have yet to receive a reply and have no reason to suspect that fact will change in the near future.

So, since I have addressed a problem that pertains to the finer of the sexes, let me move on to a particular problem concerning the guys. Let me begin with an anecdote that has clear implications and explains my urgency to better the situation.
Last Wednesday, at BSM, I was attending free lunch with my chums Dan, Jessica, Anna, and Sean. My appetite was unusually insatiable, and after my first scrumptious helping of lasagna, I proceeded to get seconds. Big mistake. On the way there I rounded a corner only to find myself face to face with Abe, the ring leader of the BSM organization. Now don't get me wrong, Abe is a nice guy and we all think the world of him. However, Abe is not proficient in the art and etiquette of handshaking. Suffice it to say that after first trying to hug me and then quickly change it to a hand shake, my left hand nearly ended up touching his butt and my right arm was nestled in his armpit. Yowsa. Although Corrie would certainly understand something like this, as well as Dan, I think we can all agree that a feeling of apprehension and dread can come from encounters with those who do not know how to properly shake hands. I believe Sartre called this feeling nausea, which sounds about right to me. So, once again, without further a due, I have done some research and would like to present it:

1. Handshakes are the culturally accepted greeting. Hugs & kisses are taboo in most social settings, unless you have not seen the person in a long time or you are just really close. Also, on special occasions they can be acceptable. For example, I gave Corrie and Marissa a hug on their birthday, although I fear it might not have been for the best.

2. You are judged by the quality of the handshake.

3. A good handshake:
o keep the fingers together with the thumb up and open
o slide your hand into the other person's so that each person's web of skin between thumb and forefingers touches the other's
o squeeze firmly.

4. A proper handshake:
o is firm, but not bone-crushing
o lasts about 3 seconds
o may be "pumped" once or twice from the elbow
o is released after the shake, even if the introduction continues
o includes good eye contact with the other person

5. Extend a hand when:
o meeting someone for the first time
o meeting someone you haven't seen for a while
o greeting your host(ess)
o greeting guests
o saying good-bye to people at a gathering
o someone else extends a hand

6. Handshaking Tips:
o if your hands tend to be clammy, spray them with antiperspirant at least once a day.
o avoid giving a cold, wet handshake by keeping your drink in the left hand.
In regards to rule number five, bullet point six, it is important to note fellas that you only shake a girls hand if she extends hers. This is especially problematic for most guys but just resist the urge. I know it’s hard, but be strong!

Well, this has been perhaps my most asinine post to date and I will admit the fluff content is unusually high. But I'm done with school for the week and I’m feeling a bit silly. The weekend should be good and there is yet another birthday party tonight. For now though, the Economist is calling me-after all, it is arguably the leading British magazine on the market. Also, I need to spend more time looking into Marxism. OK, in the sunset of dissolution I go!

Until next time, I shall remain, an apologist, and handshaking guru,
MW RICE

Our favorite German economist and Communist political philosopher says:

"The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living."
Also,
"All of history is the history of class struggle."