Scott Bush

In 1986 a film was released called The Hitcher. In 1986 I was watching Transformers (the animated movie) for the twentieth time, not some slasher film. Fast forward 21 years; a remake of the film is released to little fanfare and some pretty bad reviews:

Ultimately, this is a bit of trash that will most comfortably line the cages of those who have no memory or attachment to the original. This in itself is an idea more terrifying than anything portrayed in The Hitcher. ~Dallas Morning News.

So when I visited my friend for an evening of popcorn and a good scary flick, I wasn’t too pumped when she suggested The Hitcher. “It’s more gore-scary, not supernatural-scar,” she said, certainly not endearing me any more to the idea; I’m no gore/torture fan (which is why I’ll never watch the Saw, Hostel, or Texas Chainsaw Massacre series). But then she told me it was the original, which was a “cult classic.” I thought I’d give it a chance. I’m glad I did!

The plot is simple: a young man (C. Thomas Howell, of E.T. and Red Dawn fame) picks up a hitch hiker who tries to kill him. He escapes, but tries to protect others from the hitcher and ends up getting involved in a string of killings for which he is blamed. The hitcher, played excellently by Rutger Hauer, pursues him across dusty highways from one lonely gas station or diner to another in what appears to be the Nevada desert.

What surprised me most was its sheer watchability. Despite the terrible choices the main character Jim Rawley makes later in the film, early on he seems very realistic. Case in point: when he first escapes from the hitcher. His disbelief followed by extreme exuberance just seem real. And later, when two cops are shot right in front of him, his screams and reactions seem like something I’d do (assuming I was stupid enough to have gotten myself in that position). Of course, no such film can actually continue to be realistic and his Rawley continues to make idiotic moves that fly in the face of logic, such as when he steals a cop’s gun (for the second time, no less) or manages to sleep through a roomful of cops being shot or stabbed to death. Another thing preventing me from suspending my disbelief: the hitcher’s appearance in places he couldn’t possibility get without being noticed. But whatever; it’s a great flick. Oh, and not gory really at all—other than some intense gunshots.

Oh, two more items. It’s full of ’80s stuff like rotary phones, white guys with afros, and everyone smoking. And I noticed a voice I recognized near the end. I closed my eyes and sure enough: it sounded like Armin Shimmerman. The credits (and IMDB) proved me right. For you non-nerds out there, Armin Shimmerman played Quark on Star Trek Deep Space Nine. Awesome.

To commemorate Thanksgiving—and to combat the ceaseless commercialism of the “black Friday” shopping orgy—I would like to share with you the lyrics to a song called I Want More (part 1) by the group Faithless. (I could fill pages about how great Faithless’ music is, but I’ll control myself and only say they won the “Best musical group ever,” as determined by me.)

Listening to this song (or simply reading these lyrics) inspires me to realize that most of us yearn to possess something more, to own another physical trinket or bauble. In reality, if you’re reading this entry on a computer then you’ve likely got everything you need to survive. Even if you are short a bit on your bills, can’t afford to eat lunch out every day, or feel the pinch at the gas pump, you really do have far more to be grateful and give thanks for than not.

“I Want More Part 1″

Hey friend your misery bewilders me
How come you’re never satisfied or gratified
Four walls n’ a roof, electricity,
Stable mind, wife and child,
Hot and cold water to run anytime.
But still you whine.

What d’ya mean
I want more

I was told as a child,
I want more never gets
Learned to count my blessings
Long before I saw an abacus
So what ya family don’t speak
At least they’re alive
Show me a man without guilt
Or a soul that ain’t lied
You don’t know what ya got
Open your eyes, look around
Really, hear me you,
Ain’t got no reason to be down

What d’ya mean
I want more

You decide. Hint: I took this photo in the Washington State Convention Center, not a barren desert that doubles as a testing ground for nuclear weapons. Ha ha… seriously though, this doll didn’t know she was taking steroids; her trainer told her it was just vitamin injections (sounds like Barry Bonds).

(If you’re curious why I’m looking at half-built parade floats, it’s because my colleagues and I were checking out the 14-foot-tall inflatable house that will represent the Northwest’s largest homebuilder in Friday morning’s Macy’s Thanksgiving parade.)

Well, at least everything you know about geography. To celebrate acknowledge the end of Geography Awareness Week (seriously; it’s the third week in Nov.) I thought I’d share a discovery I made a few weeks ago. Fair warning: you may find this disturbing.

Getting it wrong

Let’s start with a quiz: Which is bigger, Greenland or Africa? (Take a look at a map; I’ll wait). Some of you may have even known the map so well you quickly answered “Greenland!” with a smile, proud you knew the answer. But you’re wrong. Greenland occupies about 0.8 million square miles, while Africa comprises 11.6 million! That’s fourteen and a half times bigger!

Don’t feel too bad if you got it wrong. It’s not really your fault; it’s what you were taught growing up. So was I. That’s why I was so astounded when I noticed a “strange” map in a survey’s office window. Upon inspection I learned it was a Peters Projection map:

Who knew mapping was so tough?

Besides his cool first name, German historian Arno Peters is known for presenting a new map of the world in 1973. It differed from the ubiquitous map of the world, called the Mercator projection (it’s the one that appears in all of the maps in the search link above), because it is area-accurate.

I don’t claim to know much about map-making, nor will I try to fully explain the intricacies and trade-offs cartographers deal with when devising flat versions of a sphere. (If you’re interested, Wikipedia has lots of info on this topic). But what it comes down to is this: the Mercator projection was devised in the late 1500s by a European for sailors. Its lines are true and shapes accurate, but it distorts the sizes of areas; this is especially true the further an area is from the equator.

Peters, who was interested in equality (good for him!), introduced his Gall-Peters Projection map with the hopes it would eliminate the Western- and northern-centric bias inherent in the Mercator projection. Think about it: where’s the center of the Mercator map? Europe. Where does its equator run? Sixty percent—not halfway—up from the bottom of the map. His concern was non-Western peoples were being discriminated against by overstating the size, and therefore dominance/power, of the northern hemisphere. (The northern hemisphere occupies 18.9 million square miles; the southern, 38.6. Yet it appears much larger on the Mercator projection.)

Another benefit of the Gall-Peters map: all north-south lines are parallel; all east-west lines are parallel, so accurate comparisons can be easily made. That would come in handy when answering questions like “which is further north: LA or Las Vegas?”

Getting better

Peters’ version isn’t the only attempt to rectify the Euro-centric word view: the Aussie’s have their “upside down” world map, too. There are probably others, too. Maybe ones showing Madagascar as the center of the map? Whatever country is in the center is is somewhat arbitrary, right?

Even my beloved Google Maps, which I cannot lavish enough praise upon, uses the Mercator projection and therefore inaccurately depicts the relative sizes of the continents. Maybe one day they’ll change, or at least offer a choice. But it is heartening to read that some atlases are using a dual approach to offer the best 2-D representation of our 3-D globe. The Mercator is used for near-equator areas, while areas nearer the poles are shown in equal-area projections.

Keep all that in mind next time you look at a map.

Darkness envelops the room, unscathed by the feeble early morning November light. More (though greener) light comes from the digital clock on my bedside table, though I cannot read its glowing face without my glasses. There’s no need to see it, however; the alarm chirruping from my cell phone–rather than a bird–tells me that it’s 6 a.m.

Without looking, I quickly silence the phone’s alarm with fingers trained by repetition. My wife lies to my left, undisturbed by the noise. She will sleep another two hours before her own alarm rouses her. I am jealous of this fact, yet I turn toward her warm body and kiss her back. The demands of the upcoming day crowd out the remnants of my dreams. The minute I’ve allowed myself to enjoy the comfort of my bed has become five and again my phone insists I get up.

Glasses bring what little light there is in the room into focus.  I stand unsteadily and stumble toward the bathroom, kicking aside the extra pillow I’d tossed from the bed the previous evening after reading. The well-worn carpet beneath my feet is a stark contrast to cool linoleum that greets me in the bathroom.

Light assaults me with harsh violence as I flick the switch. The fan, too, seems impossibly loud at this hour but experience tells me it will not wake my wife nor the woman in the unit below. I shut the door and stand at the sink, noting the wave of disheveled hair sculpted by six hours against my pillow.

Mercifully, the water splashed into my face brings the first sense of alertness back to me. My pupils have made peace with the three bulbs above the mirror. I start the shower and yawn, which simultaneously causes my jaw to pop like a firecracker and alerts me to the sour taste of morning breath. The hot water from the shower brings me all the way to my senses and I run through the familiar patterns of washing and thinking of what I must do today.

I leave the bathroom fan–and therefore the light–running after my shower, and it’s by this illumination that I chose my clothes. After only the briefest fashion checks (”can I wear a brown shirt with these khakis? No, try the blue shirt instead”) I dress, pulling on socks and a belt before packing my pockets with wallet, pen, bluetooth headset, and a few quarters. I return to the bed, this time on the opposite side, and kiss my wife. She mumbles “I love you,” a sentiment I return and tell her to have a good day and be safe; she tells me to, too. It is a conversation only I will remember. Fully awake now, I no longer begrudge her the additional rest as I did 25 minutes earlier.

Within the kitchen fixture hangs an energy-efficient bulb, and its muted glow intensifies while I grab the leftovers from the fridge I’d prepared the night before for my lunch. The bulb is only just fully awake when I, now wearing shoes and jacketed, flick it off again. It will snooze another hour or so before my wife rouses it again, when its light will add to the feeble rays of a Northwest November filtering through our windows.

Last Monday I reaped one of the rewards of corporate employeeship: attendance at a company-paid educational seminar. I’m only being half facetious. The opportunity to learn or hone a skill on company time and dime really is a win-win. The employee gains insight, skills, and techniques while the company has a more effective (and happier) employee.

So the scene is set for my drive to one unremarkable hotel ballroom near SeaTac airport for “Google AdWords Seminars for Success.” It was an all-day event designed for beginner- to intermediate level AdWord practitioners. The class’s topics included an introduction to AdWords, step-by-step account setup and management, how to bid, basic SEO techniques, and an introduction to Google’s other bid to control all of teh intarwebs, Google analytics. It was a very busy day but surprisingly, I found it all useful.

Some of the topics of note included the ability to display image- and video ads on the AdSense network. (AdSense is the program where website owners opt to display “Ads by Google” on their site in exchange for a portion of the revenue generated by those ads.) You can also geographically target ads, so that the ad you’re running is only displayed to people in, say, the U.S.; or just Washington state; or even a particular city. You cannot (yet) target zip codes, but you can define an area by geographical coordinates (somewhat like an image map for those of you who coded HTML back in the mid-to late-90s). Of course, geo-targeting is based primarily on where your IP address is registered; Google doesn’t really know where you are. That’s another reason not to love AOL (as if you needed more). All AOL IP addresses are shown to generate from West Virginia, so if you dial up or connect to broadband provided by AOL, those “find sexy singles in [city]” ads will advertise Reston or Manassas even though you’re in Seattle or elsewhere. There are some mitigating factors that the instructor glossed over, such as logging into Google or other sites where you identify your location. I’m sure there’s a lot more to that process than she understood and it was well beyond the scope of the class.

One thing to note: I got a fat pen bearing Google’s logo (just stylized text) down the side. What’s strange to me was the little clip also bore the URL “www.google.com” Why?! If you can’t figure out where Google’s website is then you have other issues. It’s like Burger King stating “We sell burgers.” (Please don’t construe this analogy as me advocating in any way that you should actually ingest anything from Burger King.)