Thank you all for two amazing years. We had so much fun writing this column, and we hope you had as good of a time reading it. We were considering getting all sentimental, but instead, we’ll just leave you with this picture (above) and this list (below) of many of our wonderful memories:

- Conceiving the idea for CP-P at a party
- The CP-P “George Carlin take-over” of the mySU homepage (picture below)
- “Yarn, a Terrible F**king Fabric” being one of the most read spectator stories ever
- The CP-P photoshoot with Braden Vandragt, photographer
- Jake convincing everyone to watch The Fountain, but then just leaving and falling asleep on Kipp Gallagher’s floor
- Passing eternal judgment on Jeremy Dashiell
- The blog becomes international! Adam moves to New Zealand but continues to debate Jake on Seattle topics
- The blog goes on the airwaves! Appearing on Max Stowell’s radio show and debating suggested topics from listeners
- Agreeing that the Futurama episode about the dog is the saddest thing ever.
- Flying to San Francisco for free on Virgin Airlines (such a cool airline!) and visiting various local taquerias… the most research ever put into a single CP-P debate
- Writing and filming an award-winning 5-minute movie with Kathleen Hyslop, Braden Vandragt, and Whitney Whitworth
- Being paid by Windows 7 to throw a party
- Finals week: library and library lawn live-blogging
- That we weren’t on The Spectator’s “regrets” list
- When someone came up to Adam after the Enrique post and said, “He’s actually a pretty nice guy.”
- Jake pissing off the entire internet with his Conan v. Leno post
- Dale and Enrique being our judges on Facebook up to topic #43. Seriously, that’s impressive.
- When our Facebook group actually grew without us inviting anyone!
- When we pitched our idea to The Spectator as, “It’s kind of like Hannity and Colmes . . .”
- Being advertised (in photo form) in the print issues of The Spectator

remember when this happened?

Such good times . . . that’s one thing we CAN agree on.

-Adam and Jake

Scene of a crime

We at SU get a unique education. No matter what major we’re in, we go through three philosophy courses, one of which specializes in ethics. By the time we’re seniors, ethical case studies and scenarios are drilled in our heads, to the point where we could turn eating a sandwich into a matter of ethics (seriously). So let me extend your education past the classroom. Let me present an argument of ethics involving someone you may very well know.

A few months ago, before the beginning of winter quarter, a smattering of friends gathered at my apartment. We were sharing our stories of winter break and mutually dreading the upcoming week one of winter quarter. The night was a social get-together, everyone chatting and enjoying themselves.

Toward the end of the night, our currently unnamed culprit suggested we all watch a movie. My friends, all sleepy but not wanting to go home, agreed. We began perusing our apartment’s collection of movies, and we eventually chose to watch The Fountain (on Blu-Ray, I might add) because this culprit had never seen it before and was curious what it was like.

So many of us sat around watching the movie. I had just flown in from the midwest, so me being the jetlagged sucker I am, I went to bed after about ten minutes, wishing everyone else goodnight. Here’s where things got interesting.

According to multiple witnesses, the person who suggested the movie . . . the person who convinced everyone else this was the movie to watch . . . got up from his place on the couch and walked to the back of the apartment where my roommate K. Andrew’s room and my room are situated. This culprit wandered into K. Andrew’s empty room (pictured above) to talk on the phone.

The rest of the movie passed, and the credits rolled. My friends began wondering where this culprit went, but then they assumed he simply went home. Everyone left, and my roommate went to his room to go to bed. There, lying on the ground was none other than JAKE WILD. Yes, this unnamed culprit was my very own arch-rival. Curled up, in a ball, was Jake, acting like he owned the place.

Don’t believe me? Here are a few pictures of Jake sitting / lying on floors that may change your mind:

Too good for a chair. Sitting on a floor. (I'd like to add that I'm the person in the background, sitting on a couch, like a normal person)

SITTING on the snow

Once again, lying down . . . no bed.

As you can see, Jake has some odd obsession with not using chairs. Of his only 92 facebook pictures, about 10% are of him sitting or lying down . . . not on chairs. That’s an extremely high percentage! Which brings me to the point of this post . . .

This is a debate column, and here’s my argument.

What’s wrong with this scenario is that Sir Jake acted like he was a king.

1. He invited himself over.

2. He chose the movie.

3. He went into my roommate’s room and slept on his floor without asking anyone if they minded!

What happened to civility? When you see a floor, do you automatically consider it your bed? Do you stand up in the middle of class, say “excuse me for a sec,” only to lie down and take a nap on the carpet? If you answered yes to any of those questions, then you seriously need to take a moment and step back into reality (especially if you said yes to the first question, which was in no means a yes / no question). The world does not revolve around you! You are not our nucleus. You are simply a multi-cell organism. Deal with it, and get some humility.

So I beg of you. Next time you’re at a friend’s house, don’t wander into their room and sleep on their floor. And if you absolutely must must must sleep on their floor, please ask first. Just explain you’re tired and would like a floor to sleep on. I’m sure they’d be understanding. All you need to do is ask.

What about you? What would you do?

Genuine smiles from Lauren and a dog after seeing "How to Train Your Dragon" in 3-D

I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m sorry that an innocent person like you had to be dragged into Jake’s ramblings. Your love for 3-D is okay. We all understand. Well, all but one of us, apparently (ahem, Jake). See, there are many others like you. There are people all over this world that have fallen in love with this new universe brought to our movie houses. THIS ENTIRELY NEW DIMENSION that can be accessed simply by putting on a pair of glasses. You’re not alone.

Jake seems to be missing the benefits of 3-D, which you, as the more intelligent human being, see quite clearly.

For one, now no longer do you have to put up with that lower class 2-D crap. We all know that true debutantes spend their time at a 3-D theater. No person of any esteem would dare show her face at one of those cheap $10 2-D theaters. No, dammit, it’s a privilege to see a 3-D movie, and finally we can show to the world that we are truly more worthy of entertainment than those below us.

And FINALLY, we can see movies as they’re meant to be seen. If we encountered a jaguar in real life, chances are that that jaguar would jump out at us, attack us, claw us, and kill us. Finally, we can EXPERIENCE the thrill of that jaguar jumping out at us . . . and then retreating back into the screen or having his scene cut to another location before it actually does anything. We can really live! Just like how we finally know how to play tennis since getting the Wii — we can experience life how its meant to be experienced without ever standing up!

Yes, 3-D is an art that brings our society closer to feeling what real life actually feels like. We don’t have to bother laboring over simply looking around anymore. Now all we need to do is drive 15 minutes to a theater, find a parking space, hand over $15, put some glasses on, sit in chairs with not much leg room, and then see those trees blowing in the wind. Ooooh, ahhh, it’s so beautiful and lifelike. No longer do we need to put up with those boring, unimpressive landscapes. We can finally see Citizen Kane how it was meant to be seen; we can finally see Gone With the Wind how Victor Fleming always wanted to show it!

We are now at a changing of the guard. No longer is money spent on hiring good actors, filming in exotic locations, or paying for top-notch scripts. Good riddance, I say! Finally we’re throwing away that useless crap and instead are using cameras that film something that is not even actually there! I totally agree, Lauren. We’re now in a technologically advanced world. We don’t need physical media anymore. Instead, let’s put all of our movies, music, tv shows, books, and all other entertainment goods on one harddrive that is backed up by a generous corporation that is kind of to store all of our paid merchandise “in case something goes wrong.” We don’t need physical locations anymore. Hell, we don’t even need real actors in our movies. We can even invent voices. Nothing is necessity anymore. All we need is a bed, that harddrive, some soilent green, and a pair of 3-D glasses.  Rent is going to be so much cheaper — see, you see the light!

So again, Lauren, I’m sorry that Jake had to put your name to shame. Sorry that Jake had to so inaccurately represent your such-passionate viewpoints. His uninformed rant about 3-D is totally unfair. Clearly he doesn’t see all of the wonderful qualities of 3-D. 3-D is changing our lives for the better, and the more we buy tickets to go see 3-D, the more it will succeed. Finally, more and more movies will come in 3-D. Finally, we will be able to always wear our 3-D glasses. Finally, we won’t have to deal with these 2-D showings anymore. We just need to pitch in. We simply need to do our part and buy a ticket. With our help, 3-D can rise to the pedestal that it so deserves.

Then . . . after we’re done . . . we can move onto 4-D. But give it time.

Little known fact: Bob Dylan loves emoticons (Photo by Ramsey Haefner)

Yes, the catastrophic issues that have befallen our nation certainly call for the immediate attention of our ASSU president-elect. What might lie at the top of our university’s list of concerns, we ask? Thankfully, my colleague Adam Toth has neatly laid out our most pressing priorities:

*Ridding ourselves of cat pee-stained carpets

*Creating more coffeehouse-esque atmospheres in Seattle (since we don’t have enough)

*Using Bob Dylan’s lyrically historic assertions for causes that are neither ironically fit nor causally relevant in the case of Toth’s present argument

*And, finally, fighting to keep a rustic, outdated, and utterly obsolete color of tiling for the Bistro floor.

If these are really that pressing, then I’m not sure Adam has successfully awoken from 2008. Thankfully, there is an easily solution to each of these supposed problems. First of all, just get rid of the cat. Seriously, cats just treat the world as their toilet, and they’ll never change.

Why Cats Suck (From NatalieDee)

Next, let’s consider the change in coloring that has been made within our beloved Bistro. And don’t forget the key word here- change. Believe it or not, we actually have the power to give new things a try. Just look at the amazing, historic event that took place just over a year ago, on November 4^th of 2008. Seriously, who will ever forget that brilliant new huckleberry smoothie that was being offered in the Bistro during lunch?!? It was a tremendous success!!! That day will forever live in our hearts. Bravo for change, and bravo for huckleberries!

Huckleberry Hound is a huge inspiration in the Bon Appetit kitchen

Now we come the ultimate question: is the white tiling for our Bistro floor in fact better than black tiling? We must remain in the darkness, says Adam, and remain moody and solemn from meal to meal! I’m afraid I must dissent.

Instead, we must embrace the brightness! We must see the floor as a reflection of pure enlightenment and enjoyment! Nay, we mustn’t fear Melville’s whiteness of the whale, but rather embrace the light that shows exit from Plato’s own cave- it is the fallen snow atop Reiner, and the morning dew upon the Library Lawn. Walk upon it as you walk upon a cloud… a cloud that happens to sell smoothies.

“The times they are a changinnnn . . .” Oh, wait. They’re not.

It’s a year and a half later from the last time I brought this up, but I feel it’s still pretty dern relevant. Every day that Seattle U students step into the Bistro, they have to deal with one of the ugliest floors in human kind. Oh, you have no idea what I’m talking about? Let me bring you up to speed:

Despite all the talks on healthcare, bottle banning, economy, and war (sheesh — not much has changed in the past year, has it?) there’s a more pressing issue than all of these political nuances combined: the new bistro floor.

Okay, okay, I know the Bistro floor isn’t so new anymore. I should get over it and just come crawling home to my carpeted apartment, but I CAN’T! The autumn before last, this once calm and comforting setting of the Hawk’s Nest Bistro transformed into a hospital cafeteria.

C-Street is great and all, but for my first two years at SU I always took solace in knowing that the Bistro could be my sanctuary. The once rustic, modern post-industrial floor complimented the starry ceiling and autumn-colored walls making the Bistro feel like an actual relaxing coffeehouse, not C-Street Jr.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against replacing floors. Sometimes floors need to be changed. My old house had a carpeted room that our cat kept urinating on. After awhile, we needed to replace that carpet because of stains. We switched the flooring to wood. It was a good switch.

What I do have a problem with is challenging the old adage, “don’t fix it if isn’t broken.” There’s a reason someone first said that quote, and there’s a reason it’s been repeated again and again — it’s true!

With that said, I STILL demand an explanation to this change in flooring. Why does it look exactly like the rest of Student Center? Why couldn’t we get a new floor of the original color? Why does a cup of tea cost more than a dollar when it’s basically just hot water? Why did they change the way they made the Signore when it was already perfect!? But seriously, this new floor is hideous.

So as you gallivant down the Pike-Pine Corridor or sit at home glued to your television set watching endless commentary on March Madness, take into consideration the bistro and pray that your new library doesn’t have this same abomination of a floor.

(works cited: toth – su-spectator blog)

Click here to view the embedded video.

What? You’re a Mr. Negative? A Mrs. Sad Face? So you can’t be happy? You can’t reconcile? Well, maybe a few more songs will change your mind!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Okay, fine you’re not happy. I get it! At least feel some Good Vibrations:

Click here to view the embedded video.

No Good Vibrations either? Sounds like you need a little sunshine!

Click here to view the embedded video.

You know what? Maybe I agree with Jake. There doesn’t need to be Senate reconciliation. I think the Senate should all buckle down and Clockwork Orange style watch the Sesame Street theme song. That’s the best reconciliation ever! Classical conditioning hoorah! By the end, we’ll have a Senate unlike ever before:

Click here to view the embedded video.

(you’re welcome, Kipp)

Perhaps Obama (left) should take moral guidance from his historical counterpart, Swedish General Gustav Horn (right)

Justice, my dear internet. Have the final measures of our congressional last-stand scenario truly come to bare? I refer, of course, to the proposition by President Obama to take reconciliatory measures in the Senate concerning health care legislation, which has been meandering its way through Congress for well over a year now. Reconciliation, for those who don’t know, is the measure by which Democrats could push through final revisions of their legislation with a simple majority vote, thereby giving a “f*ck-you” nod-of-the-hat to every Republican hoping to filibuster the bill. The debate has long since overstepped political grounds into accusations of moral insidiousness. It is no longer a simple question of who will control heath care (answer: Death Panels). Rather, will reconciliation be the best means to achieve it?

No, I’m afraid. Reconciliation cannot come from these calling tides of change, but must rather respond from the historical sources in which we identify similarity in situation. Current pundits have drawn connections between the reconciliation debate and Clinton’s own proposition in 1993, as well as to the reconciliatory measures that arose in 109^th and 110^th Congressional legislation. Those connections – though humbly raised and logically argued – don’t mean sh*t.

The approximate MLB-equivalent of Congressional Reconciliation

Maybe I’m the only one, but today’s battle over health care seems awfully close in nature to the Torstenson War of 1643. As we all know from the context, 17^th century Swedish generals Gustavus Adolphus and Count Axel Oxenstierna had been under constant threat by Denmark. Norway’s armies, having completely encircled Sweden from the south, west, and northwest, only supplied themselves as a continuing source of irritation and a contributing factor to Swedish worries. Adolphus and Oxenstierna – certainly akin in nature to House leaders Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi – proceeded from Moravia nonetheless and made harrowing territorial gains at the expense of Denmark forces.

Harry Reid / Gustavus Adolphus and Nancy Pelosi / Count Axel Oxenstierna

Clearly, then, it was to no surprise of the common Swedish population that Swedish General Gustav Horn soon occupied much of the then Danish provinces of Halland and Scania. Horn – bearing a particularly striking resemblance to young Barack Obama – caught Denmark unaware and poorly prepared. And sure, Denmark’s King Christian IV was able to pull away victorious in the Battle of Colberger Heide on July 1, 1644, but suffering that defeat in the Battle of Fehmarn on October 13, 1644 was way to decisive of the comparative maneuvering strength in Dutch-Swedish fleet strength.

Governor-General Hannibal Sehested, speaking on the topic of Health Insurance Premiums at the Battle of Colberger Heide on July 1, 1644

Now I am not explicitly saying that the Peace Treaty of Brömsebro – which Charles was forced to accept in mediation between France and the United Provinces – is completely in line with current Republican dissent with health care legislation.  Of course, the humiliating disaster to Denmark did eventually lose them the strategically located Danish islands of Gotland and Øsel in the center of the Baltic Sea, and, though there is no proof today, it is highly suspected that Adolphus, Oxenstierna, and Horn did visit the islands together for a celebratory dinner and several rounds of Kubb.

The Torstenson War of 1643 has not been forgotten, least of all in the minds of our own Congressional leaders. Now I am not suggesting that these lines of causal connection – though clearly implicating the resemblances of our Democratic leaders to 17^th century Swedish generals – should be grounds enough for closing the debate over reconciliation. I am only suggesting that our leaders reexamine their historical roots in making this decision. Perhaps another friendly game of Kubb is in order.

Click here to view the embedded video.

WHY is Ice Dancing an Olympic sport? Isn’t it clear to everyone else that Ice Dancing is no more than Figure Skating minus the jumps, twirls, and . . . actually difficult maneuvers?  Especially when NBC is kind enough to broadcast it only a couple nights after Figure Skating this becomes even more apparent. Figure Skating has become more and more dancy, and while yes, it may be invading Ice Dancing’s turf, it’s also doing it BETTER!

I do agree that there are probably other “Olympic sports” that take less athletic skill than Ice Dancing, but at least they’re unique. At least they’re not inferior versions of sports we already have! What’s next? Knockout along with basketball? Floating being the grand finale to swimming? Sledding competing with luging? Are these seriously options? If so, sign me up for a spot on the US Olympic Shuffleboard team!

I do respect Ice Dancing as whatever it is. I could hardly twirl a woman around my shoulders with my feet on land (sorry, ladies), let alone ice, so I understand that there is skill somewhere in there. But do those skills really warrant an Olympic medal? It seems clear to me that Ice Dancers are the middle relief pitchers of the ice genre — i.e. only doing what they do because they’re not good enough to be a closer or starter. Give them a world Ice Dancing competition or guarantee them all a spot in the next Disney on Ice, but c’mon man.

Okay, okay. I realize I’m not going to win this one. My words that are arguably not even what I believe are not going to sway the IOC to drop Ice Dancing. But could they at least have the decency to space it out next Olympics so that we don’t need to watch it immediately following figure skating and see how in reality it’s no more than a lesser version of the same sport!? If not, I’m sticking to the Space Olympics.

Orrrrrr maybe not.

background image courtesy of Wikipedia

Bill Murry and Punxsutawney Phil in "Groundhog Day"

Yesterday, fellow Spectator writer (and Philip Seymour Hoffman Seattle Chapter Fan Club Vice President) Adam Toth wrote a moving plea, advocating for the disbelief in mystical Pennsylvania groundhogs. Now this is a fairly controversial standing that Toth has taken – no doubt the scholarly community of woodchuck academia has already rained down upon him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has already received anywhere from four to six letters in wrathful protest.

And yet, as much I applaud Toth for his courage, I simply cannot promote his lurching cloud of gopher-related scrutiny and disrespect – ultimately, his words condone no less than the textual equivalent of punching groundhogs in the face.

In reality, not only do groundhogs deserve to be free of face-punching, but they even deserve a bit of our respect – and, in particular, I’m referring to our old pal Punxsutawney Phil. Now yes, to be completely honest, Phil the groundhog has in fact been right only 39 percent of the time in his annual predictions, which is a score that Adam calls “a failing grade in school terms.” But does this mean that just because groundhogs don’t have degrees in meteorology, we can’t listen to their weather forecasts? Come on. Even people who have degrees in meteorology don’t know what the f**k they’re talking about.

Adam continues to ruthlessly attack Phil, citing that he “can’t even speak and has no idea of what’s going on.” And, to an extent, it’s true that we indeed show favoritism to talking animals – there’s a theory going around that the creators of Mr. Ed actually chose the horse actor for the show based on its speaking abilities. Given, the show may have been a bit boring with a horse that didn’t talk… (OR, maybe it have been ridiculously awesome! I mean, take away the vocal abilities of the main character and we got ourselves another Garfield minus Garfield situation! Looks like our friend Wilbur is the new Jon Arbuckle of 1960s farming!)

But I digress. The point that I will instead skip to is this: groundhogs are able to talk…

Click here to view the embedded video.

Groundhog Day is too important too be forgotten. It’s too vital a piece of history. I mean, why shouldn’t we believe in mystical Pennsylvania groundhogs? We’ve believed in plenty of ridiculous s**t in the past, plenty of which has been completely disproved by this “science”-thing that Adam keeps referring to – and yet we still believe! Maybe out of stubbornness and boredom, true. But ultimately, I feel like there are much more important things to spend our time disproving than a future-telling groundhog. 

Oh, you didn’t know? You mean you don’t fiercely follow the calendar waiting for February 2nd? Really? Well, good. Good for you. I’m glad you don’t take part in this full-of-crock holiday.

Every year we wait for a groundhog . . . A GROUNDHOG . . . to wake up from a nap and decide if he’d like to hit the snooze button or not. And this, this moment, determines when our spring begins. I kid you not. This is real stuff. People take faith in this groundhog prophet to determine their weather. Yes, folks, this thing below is your weather prophet:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Now, I’m all for calling a groundhog cute. Adorable, in fact. Who wouldn’t want to pick that thing up and give it a noogy? But to have him predict your weather? To take faith in his shadow-seeing ability as your forecast? No . . . no, if you do that you’re insane.

(oh, wait, crap. big brother might not approve.)

I’m sorry, you’re not insane. Really, I’m sorry. I’ll try to avoid personal attacks from here on out, but you do need a reality check if you take a groundhog’s oblivious predictions for fact. You’d be better off thinking that Jay Leno only wanted what was good for The Tonight Show and not to fulfill selfis —– IT’S A GROUNDHOG. C’MON!

I’d like to quote the Christian Science Monitor for a moment: “. . . according to the Stormfax Almanac, the groundhog is only right 39 percent of the time – a failing grade in school terms.”

I’ve been trying to think of some additional supporting evidence or some way to back up my claims . . . but people . . . IT’S A GROUNDHOG. You’re telling me that you honestly trust what a groundhog says when it can’t even speak and has no idea of what’s going on? Not to mention a groundhog being assaulted by the paparazzi? Ugh. Is that really true? Sheesh, you’re hopeless.

Can’t we just interpret the groundhog’s shadow however we want? However we feel it applies to our own lives? Our personal climate? Instead of this “he saw his shadow” or “he didn’t” mess? Why does his seeing his shadow or not have to be such a certainty? Since when does a groundhog get such a say? Plus, how many people are actually even there to see this happen? Who’s to say it’s not a Hollywood set? That’s right! Conspiracy theories align!

At this point I’m just mumbling words. I might as well be writing this for the Weekly World News. But really, the fact that people actually care about this day . . . about a GROUNDHOG’S WEATHER FORECAST . . . is somewhat sickening. No, correct that. It’s vile. It’s bubonic. It’s maddening. As far as I’m concerned there should only be one Groundhog Day we take interest in, and that should be Bill Murray’s 1993 classic:

Click here to view the embedded video.

I was disappointed to see that Jake didn’t bother to at all explain my 14 minutes of rhetoric to you. If I may be honest, there were many great words there, and I delivered a stunning speech. One to which at the end — after I had just explained that Jerry should have chosen the woman over “hello” — Jake nodded and said “I’ve been enlightened.” But I guess he wasn’t enlightened enough! Probably wasn’t even listening to what I was saying. Because after all, if he had listened to all the facts instead of calling me a socialist every time I tried to speak, he would have seen that everything I said actually made perfect sense.

The real problem isn’t the voice itself. The voice is great. The problem is Jerry’s ability (or lack thereof) to maneuver a sticky situation.

His girlfriend, Claire, gives him the option of choosing her or “the voice.” Now, if Jerry approached this situation wisely he would have accepted her deal. She explains that she never wants to hear “the voice,” but there are many other voices to be had. Jerry’s a clever guy. He’s a comedian. He thinks up these situations for a living, and he had a few options. The first would be to change the voice slightly. Maybe inflect a little Spanish flavor.

Or maybe some Italian?

So now he has a different voice, but there still lies a problem. What if it’s not the voice she hates. What if she hates that Jerry imagines it coming from her stomach? Well, there’s a solution to that too!

Jerry, being the clever son of a gun that he is could move the location of the voice. Especially since the voice will be new, it is only proper to retire the “hello” to the stomach and to move on for these new jazzed up versions. Maybe for la voce, we could use the foot, perfectly coinciding with Italy’s boot-shaped geography.

For la voz, we could move it to the arm, or the back, or the neck! Really, the options are limitless.

But in the end, the key to Jerry’s keeping a voice would be using this voice sparingly and on a far-limited basis. He would only be able to use it around the closest friends and when around Claire would need to keep it under his breath . . . because chances are, if she didn’t like the original voice, she would get pretty quickly annoyed with his new concoction. Also, this makes it much more forgivable the few times it slips — which will inevitably happen.

The point, however, is that Jerry would be able to keep the voice AND his girlfriend. Even better, when everyone else get sick of the voice (which happens only moments after Jerry’s breaking up with Claire), he would have  a brand new joke to introduce to them! So now he has impressed his friends with innovation and gets to keep his girlfriend. All by doing a little bit of toggling the line-up. He’d be a regular Tony La Russa, I do say! THIS is why I disagree with Jake that he should have kept the voice . . . why keep only one thing when you could have the best of both worlds?

So yes, we have a solution, and Jerry could have had everything he wanted: a brilliant inside joke and a beautiful girlfriend. But he instead went with a gut feeling that cost him the girl. And for that, I am very disappointed, especially consider that during that montage — which is by far one of the best montages to ever appear on television — he couldn’t come up with a better solution. With a montage like that, who needs a brain!?

But no, I’m referring to the anniversary of “The Voice,” one of the most endearing, comforting, visionary episodes of the television show Seinfeld. It’s only been 4,500 days since its first airing, yet it seems like only last week when everyone was greeting their friends with, “Hellooooo! La la la…”

Click here to view the embedded video.

But as we celebrate this 4,500^th (day) anniversary of indisputable genius, let’s remember why we celebrate. This episode, in essence, was about a choice: Would Jerry choose to stop using the voice and continue to date his girlfriend, or would he choose to keep using the voice?

In hindsight, it seems downright uncanny to believe that Jerry would even consider anything other than the voice. The voice was, and still is, a goblet of truth. A sign of universal peace, happiness, and triumph. It’s like the stack of pancakes that keeps on giving, or the hungry goat that keeps on eating. A never-ending representation of communal comfort, courtly love and comfy blankets. In a world where the lion and the lamb lay down together—this is a world where the voice will reverberate for the ages, and rightfully so.

And yet, last Tuesday, I attempted to greet my dear colleague Adam Toth with the famed Seinfeld expression, and I all received in reply was a sonorous “MEH.” When I asked him for his reason of reply, he delved into a 14-minute lecture about the antithesis of hope, the diminishment of dreams and the inevitable devaluing of our beloved expression, the voice.

It was a well-executed episode of Illinois rhetoric, and yet I couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated, and a bit disheartened. Is there no way to show a man like Adam the beauty and simple virtuosity of such an expression? Perhaps not, perhaps not… but will this stop me from opening our every conversation with a hearty HELLLOOOOOOO! LA LA LA…? For the sake of all those hopeful souls who inhabit the world round, I dare not. Oh no, I dare not.

"Yeah, I like Windows 7 more than Seinfeld."

Yesterday, I was walking down Broadway on my way towards either Jai Thai or Noah’s Bagels, or maybe somewhere else… I didn’t really know at the time, but it never really matters anyway. Like wandering into the kitchen even though you’re not hungry, or going well out of your way to step on a crunchy-looking leaf. Broadway is Broadway, no excuse necessary.

There is, however, one point of reference to which the Broadway-wanderer’s mind will always return; a consistent dream of understanding to which the whole of Capitol Hill submits a collective, community pride – the statue of James Marshall Hendrix, nuzzled into the gentle arc of Pine and Broadway.

As fellow writer and wool wearer Adam Toth made note of, this statue will likely (and rightfully) live for eternity. In it’s brazen glory, it may be all that’s left of Seattle once the Hipster Revolt of 2013 finally ends and the flames die out – just Jimi, some pigeons, and a few leftover “Transatlanticism” LPs, scattered among the ashes.

All in all, this would be fine by me. However, what’s not fine by me is Toth’s blasphemous and hazardous treatment of the Hendrix legacy only a few days ago. In the process of offering his childish suggestions as to what should be done with the now empty Everyday Music building next to the Hendrix statue, Toth went too far. Among the hellish bowl of profane ideas, he suggested a Rite Aid, a store for purple things, a Sears tower, a diner, a dentist’s office, a Leftorium, and – worst of all – a house of table-tennis.

I’m not sure if Toth is intentionally trying to throw discarded sheep bones at Jimi’s face, but the image certainly fits. Purple things? Table tennis?!? These are the sort of ideas you’d find in a Family Circus comic; the ideas dreamed up by the executives of NBC; the ideas that destroy dreams, legacies, and life.

Jimi deserves more. From a short-lived life of immeasurable and innovative energy, Hendrix created a beautifully tragic and lasting legacy of pure musical genius. We continue to live beneath the symbol of an upside-down Fender Stratocaster as a reminder that Jimi brought more to the stage than just passion – he changed the way that music was even heard. He changed sound itself.

As such, there is only one true way to fill the voided space left by Everyday Music; only one such manner that honors Jimi to the fullest – the answer, course, comes from Mike Myers’ and Dana Carvey’s Wayne’s World homage to one of the famed guitarist’s best compositions: Foxy Lady.

Click here to view the embedded video.

And now, because honoring Jimi Hendrix is also honoring Wayne’s World, we must build atop Pine and Broadway the only suitable structure that simply makes sense – a Stan Mikita’s Donut Shop.

Yes, the tasty palace where Garth meets his Foxy Lady, and where the soul of Hendrix can live to its fullest. It will be the gathering place of gods. Where all Hendrix lovers can play their Excalibur guitars, build angry donut creatures, and open doors that reveal a room full of ninjas. Could there truly be anything greater?

The great Jimi statue, as captured by Flickr extraordinaire: Seattleguy51

Fact: Jimi Hendrix is dead. Another fact: Jimi Hendrix will always live on through his Broadway statue up here on Capitol Hill. Last fact: There is a record store right next to the statue. Wait, correction, that last one is now FICTION! That’s right, ladies and gents, Everyday Music is officially on the the b-man hustle, moving its way heaps of a distance down the street to the Odd Fellows building. No longer is the statue perfectly situated outside a record store; now it will be situated outside an open store front. But you know what!? This gives us an opportunity! An opportunity to meet the match made in Heaven that was Everyday and Jimi and up the ante. That’s right; it’s time for some “fill in that store.”

Now I know must of you are sitting on your velvet chair smoking your smug pipe saying, “Adam, Everyday was only there like two years.” I was there too before the Everyday days, though, and let me tell you, when Everyday made that decision to move, it was brilliant. It said so much about Seattle and was an awesome way to encompass our music culture with our music history. I still argue that the city of Seattle should have subsidized Everyday just to make them stay there. It was a thing of beauty! A cultural statement! An homage to Jimi! But I guess of all those things, “cultural statement” won out, pretty clearly saying “the real culture right now is to pick up shop.” Elliott Bay is doing it. Twice Sold Tales did it. My precious Admissions office did it. EVERYONE IN SEATTLE IS MOVING SHOP. So I guess Everyday decided they’d be cool, leave Jimi behind, and hope that their hipster we’re-used-to-following-what-everyone-else-does crowd would follow them to their new location.

But enough about Everyday! Do you see the opportunity this gives us? Let’s think of what should be there next!

My first idea is a table tennis arena. When I was off in sheep country I found a table tennis club full with stadium. It was awesome. Do you realize the opportunity we have here? Plus, I guarantee if you put ping pong on Broadway, it’ll become the next big thing. Like not just in Seattle, but also THE WORLD. Guarantee. Don’t believe me. Prove me wrong. Ping pong arena + Jimi Hendrix? That street corner would be legendary.

Second idea: A Rite Aid.

Third idea: A store that only sells merchandise that’s purple. Kind of like Flanders’ Leftorium, but much cooler. And more fitting.

Fourth idea: A Leftorium.

Fifth idea: A Capitol Building. Why does Capitol Hill not have a Capitol Building? Or have I just missed it all these years? Anyway, an opportunity has arisen!

Sixth idea: An even bigger Jimi statue

Seventh idea: Build our own “Sears Tower” now that the name’s available.

Eighth idea: Give Conan O’Brien a place to work.

Ninth idea: 60s diner. Tell me that wouldn’t be sweet.

Last idea: A dentist’s office that has a dentist with slightly similar name: Timmy Penpicks, DDS or James Hendrickson, DDS.

So Seattle, I have spoken. Any of those suggestions will totally satisfy my taste!

First of all, I think it’s hilarious that most people who called Jake an idiot on the comments section of his post and claimed he knew nothing about comedy didn’t pick up on his sarcasm. There’s such a large bowl of ironic flakes right there that I’m pretty sure it could feed most of District 9. Yes, it’s subtle, but his calling Leno a “lost puppy” and Glenn Beck a man with a “comedic eye” should be good enough hints. With that said, people are confused, so I’m going to set the record straight:

CONAN O’BRIEN SHOULD STILL BE “THE TONIGHT SHOW” HOST

And I’m pretty sure Jake agrees.

The fact that we’ve even come to this point is absurd. NBC’s unwillingness to treat their talent like humans and willingness to manipulate their customers like cattle needs to come to an end. Let me give you a very brief rundown if you’re unaware of how this went down.

-Back in 2004, Conan was offered a LARGE sum of money to go to Fox. Conan brought this to NBC, and NBC said they wanted to keep him. In order to keep him on their channel, they offered him “The Tonight Show” in five years. Conan accepted the deal. Jay apparently did too.

-In 2009 Conan took over, but Leno didn’t want to quit the late night gig. NBC, once again, didn’t want to lose their talent, so they offered a primetime slot to Leno.

-2009: Leno’s show takes over for 5 hours of primetime slots normally reserved for dramas and shows that actually attract proper ratings. Everyone knows this will hurt ratings. It does, but it’s okay because it’s cheaper to produce. Problem is that the ratings hurt news viewership on NBC and therefore kill the lead-in to Conan, hurting his ratings. In addition, NBC affiliates want out of Leno because it’s not drawing top ratings.

-Because Leno’s show is pretty much a failure and something that is frankly pissing off most of the creative community, NBC drops it. But ONCE AGAIN, they can’t let go of a talent, so they decide to change the whole infrastructure of a 6 decade tradition. It should be noted that Carson Daly will be bumped back to 2AM in this proposed deal (a time ordinarily reserved for Girls Gone Wild on most cable channels).

-Conan hears this, is pissed, and says he will not oblige.

Or maybe it was more something like this. But no matter which story you believe, this is where we are today.

Let’s get this clear: Conan is a funny guy. I would argue he has more talent than Leno, but no matter how you feel, you cannot go wrong with him, which is the point I eventually would like to make. Whether you saw his writing on The Simpsons, SNL, Late Night, or Tonight Show, chances are you’ve laughed at his comedy at least once. I had the pleasure of attending The Second City’s 50th Anniversary this past winter where Jeff Garlin called Conan “the funniest man I’ve ever known.” Dan Castellaneta hinted that when Conan worked for the Simpsons, everyone in the office always talked about how he was the funniest guy in the room . . . AT THE SIMPSONS. His sense of humor definitely takes getting used to, but once you appreciate it, it sticks to you. Everything he says begins to work, and his nuances and absurdities are suddenly hilarious. “Puppies dressed as cats” is one of my favorite sketches earlier, so it figures that Jake used it before me, but all you need to do is watch one episode of Conan to realize how clever this guy is, even if he’s not particularly “on” that night.

Even if Jay is funnier to you, you must admit that Conan is at least somewhat humorous. He may not be wonderful (although, I think he is). He may not be the king of comedy (which I’d also argue he’s up there). But he’s damn good. Now let’s move on to the ethics of the situation. You have two totally serviceable comedic talents in Leno and Conan. Leno and NBC promised Conan “The Tonight Show.” It was part of the deal to keep Conan in the NBC family. Now, less than a year later, they are willing to totally revoke that deal. After wasting five years of Conan’s life in “training” for “The Tonight Show,” they are pulling “Tonight” out from under the rug 7 months later. Does anyone else see what’s wrong here? Conan is right. This is the destruction of “The Tonight Show,” one of the longest-running and most-respected programs in television. NBC is going to keep similar ratings with whichever comedian is at the helm, so why cause all the fuss?

The Tonight Show has so much history. It’s been a staple in TV for my entire life, and the same goes for the generation before me. From the early days of Johnny Carson to the more recent work of Leno and Conan, it’s a big part of television. The current proposal kills the whole platform and format. The current proposal puts “The Tonight Show” in the morning. The current proposal is the show’s destruction. Conan is entirely correct.

Conan deserves this chance. It’s that simple. He was promised a shot, and he was never really given one. Leno’s refusal to give up seems either immature or misrepresented. Maybe Leno really doesn’t want this to be happening, but like Conan, NBC refuses to give up one of it’s stars . . . really, I don’t know. There’re so many innerworkings here that I don’t think anyone is really sure about the truth. But the point is that we shouldn’t even be having these arguments.

Conan has a proven track record. His credits have all been a huge success, and Late Night itself struggled at the beginning (very similar to what’s going on right now, actually) before becoming largely popular for its slot. He’s going to do well eventually if he’s given the shot. There seems no way in my mind that Leno can get back “Tonight” and get back to the position he once was, especially if Conan is on another channel. Unless there’s a good drama or comedy lead-in at 10:00, which is an opportunity Conan never had. Also, Jay is quickly getting older, and NBC will need a successor sooner than later. The crazy thing is that they have that successor now, but he’s already succeeded — now just let him settle him.

Do the right thing, NBC. Keep Conan. Keep your formula. Respect tradition.

In the meantime, all enjoy a fun little take on the whole scenario.

All of Earth has been torn apart by NBC’s recent decision to restructure the scheduling of their weeknight broadcasting, potentially affecting “The Tonight Show” host Conan O’Brien as well as the most recent ex-“The Tonight Show” host Jay Leno. The issue revolves around Leno’s show being moved back to it’s orginal time, pushing Conan back a half an hour.

Harsh words and stones have been spoken and cast, respectively, and few will likely emerge from the wreckage unharmed. But the American legal system – in all of its justice-promoting methods of logic and peaceful deliberations – now requires us to ask the essential question: who do we think deserves the most harm?

I feel that we can at least necessarily solve the dispute of what should occur – and I believe that my fellow point-person Adam Toth will agree with me here: Leno needs to come back, and Conan needs to leave.

Now believe me, more than almost anyone else, I hold a deep, passionate, and respecting love for the orange-haired idol. I have spent countless mornings in a sleep-deprived state of mind, solely for the purpose of staying up the night before in order to watch Conan. His show has been like a second family to me: Conan as the father, Max Weinberg as my uncle, and La Bamba as the shirtless neighbor who likes to sit in a lawn chair next to the mailboxes and build origami swans. It all fit together so well.

But in the end, Conan is part of a past generation. Simply enough, he lost his appeal with the young crowd, and he clearly doesn’t have the sharp sense of wit or the appreciation for progress necessary to stay in the business. NBC executives must’ve recognized this difficulty -  Conan doesn’t show the same zeal of Bill O’Reilly nor the comedic eye of Glenn Beck. Teenagers, clearly, are flocking away from NBC in mass numbers, opting instead to watch “faster”, more “with-it” stations.

NBC, of course, has no choice but to act on this well-proven research. True, Conan has struck a few humor chords here and there with such antics as the masturbating bear, Twitter-Tracker, looking into the year 2000, the Interrupter, and even donating money to the campaign of Tarja Halonen, president of Finland. And sure, he is able to keep things fresh with culture-adapting humor, responding to the depressed economy with such “mini-doses of joy” as the Puppies Dressed as Cats segment.

But Conan’s wit – and his sense of fresh and timely humor – are not what America needs right now. Progress, intellect, and hard work are things of the past. Instead, we need a nightly comedian who will give us stability – a sense of solid, unchanging, stubborn grounding. A comedian who can completely ignore the processes of cultural and technological adaptation, and who chooses to repeat the same segments again and again (We could all watch Jaywalking for at least another ten years, right?). Someone who – when faced with the common sense implications involved in passing on a legacy, like that of “The Tonight Show” – will have no problem disregarding the ideals of decency and respect, and will simply cry loudly to have his toys back.

That man is Leno. The man who once began his run at NBC with a bag of somewhat-witty “headlines” and, throughout the years, when his audience asked for more, was able to deliver even more “headlines.” And then some more “headlines”… basically a lot of “headlines.” But without a doubt, he’s a man who sticks to what he knows. Much like Jimmy Fallon (certainly the the smartest comedian after Leno to enter late-night comedy), Jay can read the minds of his nation’s audience. Needless to say, Jay does not deserve to be the fall guy in this NBC scuffle. In essence, Jay is like a lost puppy, who tried to go out into the world, failed to survive, and has now come inching his way back onto our porch, scratching lightly at the door.

One thing I know about lost puppies, without a doubt, is that you should always welcome them into your home with fresh food, open arms, and an 11:35pm starting time as host in a weeknight show. It’s just the right thing to do.

Conan, on the other hand, is like the uncle who has been living in your basement for way too long. He needs to get out a little, explore the world. Sure, he’s already graduated from Harvard, and yeah, he’s spent two decades building a ridiculously successful career. But times change, Old Man O’Brien. Gotta make way for the new thing. If you’re still looking for another job, there are certainly a few positions – perhaps you could become the new Tetrasis. In addition, I know for a fact that there’s a position opening up for an Associate Provost for Global Engagement here at Seattle University. Just got an email about it yesterday – I’ll forward it to you.

Regardless, today is upon us, and it is perhaps just as good as any other to consider the emphatic celebratory speculations of Adam Toth, a fellow blogger and Spectator Holiday Correspondent. With the melancholy fervor of an overly conscientious potato farmer, Toth now speaks tragically of the self-inflicting merriment we commonly express on the anniversary of our day of birth.

Gloomy photos, from left to right: Adam Toth, Adam Toth, Edward Norton from 'Fight Club'

“What are birthdays,” Adam scoffs, “but the painful and time-driven road to consciousness of one’s own looming mortality? You know those presents you get? You know what’s in ’em? Nothing. Blackness. All we are is dust in the f**king wind. Utter and worthless sh*t. Every last bit.”

As Adam stood in front of a second grade classroom and spoke these words, I could feel the silent sorrow that permeated the room. However – even as he simultaneously extinguished the fire of innocence in some twenty-five children – I did consider his qualms. Perhaps birthdays shouldn’t be defined by the desire to throw Batman-themed bashes and Willy Wanka-wonderfests (which, coincidentally, were the themes of my 5^th and 21^st birthday parties, respectively). To an extent, I suppose, society has woven into our veins an over-optimistic craving for materialistic, narcissistic, self-glorifying days of post-nativity celebration.

And yet, ultimately, despite all this, we must remember: even though birthdays may beget us, it is our speculations that become us. Though your 16^th birthday may come with the award of a driver’s license, you will more definitively be judged by your decision to text while driving, as well as crashing. And again, though your 18^th birthday may allow you to vote, you will more aptly be recognized for your decision to pick up the phone every single time you see a commercial reading, “you must be 18 or older to call.”

Awards and abilities mean nil when compared to the actions, speculations, and expectations that shine forth from your social being – does this necessarily mean that birthday celebrations are meaningless? Absolutely not. Does this mean that our age – our inclining numbers – represents the inability to earn no more? I seriously doubt it. Even Socrates didn’t know if death were a good thing or a bad, and thus accepted his age with a mocking laugh, and even a bit of celebration.

Getting a bit older is always, always a cause for joy. Hell, I spent my birthday looking at retirement homes – already got mine picked out! Auburn Condos in Del Boca Vista, FL. I hear they make a mean Arnold Palmer (Not too much iced tea, nor too little, and four pretty average-sized ice cubes. Damn).

But until then, don’t let Adam’s gloominess scare you away. He, too, was a kid once…

Fellow blogger and ability-to-be-wrong-a-lot extraordinaire Jake Wild has a birthday today. It’s his 22nd birthday, in fact, and it got me thinking about birthdays in general. We’re accustomed to the song that beats the word pair into our brains of “happy” and “birthday,” but how happy is this day really? Let’s step into my lair . . . my LAIR OF SPECULATION, that is!

As children we learn that birthdays are a day of rejoice. We are one step closer to adulthood (which is a good thing at that time — more on this later), we get free cake and cookies and cream, we get presents, and we have an excuse to do whatever the dickens we want. If it’s during the school year, we might even get the day off so that we can watch cartoons and play with our Legos! Everything about the birthday is nothing but good. It’s a walking talking happy factory. A Willy Wonka without the scarring past. We see it is as bliss and accept it as nothing else.

As we grow older, a birthday becomes a rite of passage, which also holds its excitement. (the following ages are subject to your state or country) At 15, you get a learner’s permit. At 16, you get a driver’s license. At 17, you can see R-rated films. At 18, you get to be involved in all sorts of saucy situations. At 20, you’re no longer a teenager. At 21, the world is your oyster. Birthdays are still exciting, but they’re now fun in a new, more mature way. You may not get as many presents and may not appreciate the joy of cake as much, but you still love the day for all the new opportunities before. After 21, however, birthdays are a whole world of suck.

For anyone who’s experienced a birthday at 21, I’m sure they can agree with me. No longer do you have anything to earn (except for renting a car at 25 and eventually getting senior citizen discounts), but instead each birthday reminds you of how much closer you are to that much feared adulthood and that much feared retirement home, and how far away you are from ever being a child again. There is nothing happy about it. You still have to go to work. You still have to pay your taxes. You still have to watch your calorie count. In fact, it’s probably the most depressing day of your 365 day year.

The fact that the average dying age these days is in the 70s means we’ll experience roughly 50 of these 21+ birthdays while we only get 21 of these “actually fun” birthdays. With that, simple math determines that you’ll have roughly 30+ more depressing birthdays than exciting ones. That being said, I cannot help but conclude that birthdays as a whole aren’t happy. Actually, they’re kind of miserable.

On that note: Happy Birthday, Jake!