Direct quote from NASCAR legend Darrell Waltrip's twitter:
@AllWaltrip:Tim Tebow took my car last night, problem is I didn't tell him he could, he took it by mistake, its 3 o'clock and he hasn't returned it!
True story. Tim Tebow "stole" Darrell Waltrip's car. It is too crazy to explain. Here is the link to the full story.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
This weekend
Since Arlene is still a hostage, it looks like I might be alone this weekend. Anyone want to go camping?
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
What?
I applied for a job as a firefighter/paramedic in a number of places today and I heard back within about 15 minutes from the City of Fairfax Fire Department to come up March 13th to take a written test and a physical test. Guy I spoke to today said that good paramedics are hard to come by and that the applicant pool is thin. Immediate opening, good pay.
What?
I kind of regret not taking some time off between undergrad and med school. I spoke to the Dean of Students a while back and I happened to find out that he'd offer me two years away from school to do whatever I need to get shit out of my system and that they'd take me back as a third year, as if I had never left. If I didn't want to come back, that'd be fine too... of course I'd still owe quite a small sum of money.
Yeah I have no idea. There are so few cons to this, and so many pros, but I still don't know.
What?
I kind of regret not taking some time off between undergrad and med school. I spoke to the Dean of Students a while back and I happened to find out that he'd offer me two years away from school to do whatever I need to get shit out of my system and that they'd take me back as a third year, as if I had never left. If I didn't want to come back, that'd be fine too... of course I'd still owe quite a small sum of money.
Yeah I have no idea. There are so few cons to this, and so many pros, but I still don't know.
World Cup style
The US national team lost to the Netherlands 2-1 in a friendly match in Amsterdam today. I watched the game, and I thought it was an encouraging performance. The team debuted their World Cup 2010 jerseys for this game. I love them! Here is a picture.
They are an obvious throwback to the 1950 USA World Cup jerseys, pictured below:
What is significant about the 1950 USA world cup team? It was they who shocked the world when they upset the English with a 1-0 win in group play; a game which went down in history as one of the biggest upsets ever in international soccer and has been called the "miracle on grass". Upon receiving the report of the final score over the wire, English newspapers famously assumed that the report was a typo and reported the following day that England had won the match 10-0.
Team USA's opening match in this year's world cup, which will kick off at 2:30 PM Eastern on June 12, is against none other than England. Think the choice of jersey design is a coincidence?
They are an obvious throwback to the 1950 USA World Cup jerseys, pictured below:
What is significant about the 1950 USA world cup team? It was they who shocked the world when they upset the English with a 1-0 win in group play; a game which went down in history as one of the biggest upsets ever in international soccer and has been called the "miracle on grass". Upon receiving the report of the final score over the wire, English newspapers famously assumed that the report was a typo and reported the following day that England had won the match 10-0.
Team USA's opening match in this year's world cup, which will kick off at 2:30 PM Eastern on June 12, is against none other than England. Think the choice of jersey design is a coincidence?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
CCNY
[Pasted from Wikipedia]
The Philosophy Department, at the end of the 1939-1940 academic year, invited the British mathematician and philosopher Bertrand Russell to become a professor at CCNY. Members of the Catholic Church protested Russell’s appointment. A woman named Jean Kay filed suit against the Board of Higher Education to block Russell’s appointment on the grounds that his views on marriage and sex would adversely affect her daughter’s virtue, although her daughter was not a CCNY student. Russell wrote “a typical American witch-hunt was instituted against me.” Kay won the suit, but the Board declined to appeal after considering the political pressure exerted.
Russell took revenge in the preface of the first edition of his book An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth, which was published by the Unwin Brothers in the UK (the preface was not included in the U.S. editions). In a long précis that detailed Russell’s accomplishments including medals awarded by Columbia University and the Royal Society and faculty appointments at Oxford, Cambridge, UCLA, Harvard, the Sorbonne, Peking (the name used in that era), the LSE, Chicago, and so forth, Russell added, “Judicially pronounced unworthy to be Professor of Philosophy at the College of the City of New York.”
OH SNAP!
The Philosophy Department, at the end of the 1939-1940 academic year, invited the British mathematician and philosopher Bertrand Russell to become a professor at CCNY. Members of the Catholic Church protested Russell’s appointment. A woman named Jean Kay filed suit against the Board of Higher Education to block Russell’s appointment on the grounds that his views on marriage and sex would adversely affect her daughter’s virtue, although her daughter was not a CCNY student. Russell wrote “a typical American witch-hunt was instituted against me.” Kay won the suit, but the Board declined to appeal after considering the political pressure exerted.
Russell took revenge in the preface of the first edition of his book An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth, which was published by the Unwin Brothers in the UK (the preface was not included in the U.S. editions). In a long précis that detailed Russell’s accomplishments including medals awarded by Columbia University and the Royal Society and faculty appointments at Oxford, Cambridge, UCLA, Harvard, the Sorbonne, Peking (the name used in that era), the LSE, Chicago, and so forth, Russell added, “Judicially pronounced unworthy to be Professor of Philosophy at the College of the City of New York.”
OH SNAP!
Monday, March 1, 2010
What's in a name?
[This probably falls into the category of “things only Jed finds interesting,” but I have never let that stop me from sharing something with you guys and I don’t intend to start now.]
Amar recently bought me a copy of Virgil’s Aeneid, and I have begun to read it. First of all, I want to say that this is a truly remarkable book. I might get into the Aeneid in a later post, but that is not the subject of this entry. I only mention it because reading Virgil is what led me down the line of inquiry which eventually led me to the topic of this post: Roman naming conventions.
I have always thought that the Roman’s had magnificent names. Even the most common Roman names have a regal air about them. Publius Vergilius Maro (whom we know as Virgil) was the son of a farmer. But what a kingly name he had! “Publius” carries with it powerful connotations of “public” service, or “popular” appeal. When I read it, I thought it sounded like an appropriate name for a great nationalist poet. I decided to look into how Roman names were given, and what can be understood from them. Turns out they can be very informative about their bearer.
The following is what I understand about the naming conventions for Roman males. I understand that females had different conventions. The core of the roman name is called the “tria nomina.” It consisted of three parts (as you might have guessed.)
1) the “praenomen,” which is the person’s given name, usually chosen by his father,
2) the “nomen” (which literally translates as “name” is in fact the name of the man’s clan, or “gens” in Latin and
3) the “cognomen,” which is the name of the family within the clan from which the man comes.
These were assembled thusly:
[praenomen] [nomen] [cognomen].
So, now we can make some sense of Virgil’s name. He is Publius, of the Maro family in the Vergilius clan. Interesting, right? But it gets better.
The most interesting thing about Roman naming conventions is the way they developed chronologically. [The best part of studying anything Classical, whether it be art, literature, history, or philosophy is how elemental it all seems to be. The world in which we live is so evolved, refined, rehashed and habitual. Everything we do, from the language we speak to the etiquette we subscribe to carries with it the weight of thousands of years of precedent. We are so far removed from the origin of things that we rarely know why we act the way we do. In ancient Rome, they still seemed to be cobbling it all together and figuring out what works. I think that is why studying it is so appealing. ] The development of Roman naming conventions is very typically Roman. It began rather utilitarian, but eventually developed into an arrogant, pompous and laughable excess.
So in the beginning, everyone only had one name, the nomen. Everyone was a diva, I guess. Rome was a nation of Bonos and Madonnas. Fathers named their sons after themselves, so all the males in a given family had exactly the same name. As Rome began to grow I guess this got confusing. They started adding the praenomen to distinguish between different members of the same family. It is important to note that the praenomen was not the person’s core name – it was merely a way to distinguish between brothers. Because of this, there were very few praenomens actually in use (less than 50, I think.)
Apparently Romans just couldn’t resist naming their kids after themselves. Eventually they began passing their praenomens along to their sons along with the family nomen. So once again there were housefuls of males with the same name. To distinguish between them, they began adding the cognomen, which was originally a nickname meant to express something about the character of the individual. These are the names which often have recognizable Latin roots like “Fidelus” (meaning “faithful”), “Tacitus” (meaning “quiet”) or “Tyranus” (meaning “Count Dookoo”). Of course, they eventually started passing on all three names to their sons, once again creating the same old problem.
So yet again they needed a way to distinguish between all these guys with the same name. They began adding a fourth name, called the “agnomen.” The agnomen was another nickname, usually given later in life and again meant to indicate something about the character or personality of its bearer. Sometimes they were given to commemorate heroic military service, as was the case with “Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus” (Germanicus means “victorious in Germany”). Of course, once you have earned a badass agnomen like that, you can’t resist passing it along to your sons. So more names were needed.
After this point it gets too complex to continue. There are names granted as political (and sometimes theological) titles. There are names which indicate the identity of the bearer’s father and grandfather. There are names which indication adoption. It goes on and on. The end product of all this was the production of names like the following, which was the full name of the son of the famous Roman philosopher and orator whom we know as Cicero.
MARCUS TULLIUS Marci Filius Marci Nepos Marci Pronepos Cornelia tribu CICERO,
Or, “Marcus Tullius Cicero, the son of Marcus, the grandson of Marcus, the great-grandson of Marcus, of the Cornelian voting tribe.
Two things I took away from this lengthy and mostly unnecessary inquiry.
The first is that we almost always refer to famous ancient Romans by their family name, rather than their given name. This was a surprise to me, because for some reason the names we refer to (Cicero, Virgil, Cato, etc.) all sounded like “first names” to me. I always assumed it was roughly equivalent to the way we refer to certain mega-celebrities by their first names only. Turns out the names we know them by are the equivalent of their “last name”, so it is more akin to the way we refer to Mozart or Shakespeare by their last name only.
The second is that for all their obvious excess, the one thing that can be said for these Roman names is that they meant something significant about the people who bore them. A name like the one above is a constant reminder to its bearer that he is part of a family, and that he carries the name borne by his father and grandfather. In America we tend to glamorize rebellion against our parents. We couldn’t be less concerned with the history of our family or the accomplishments of our grandparents. This lack of concern is manifested by the recent fashion of naming children ridiculous, made up, commercialized, or cutesy names. The goal seems to be to name the child something creative, rather than something significant. A name is just another fashion accessory.
Maybe this is some kind of expression of positive American independence and self-reliance. Maybe it is all very progressive and post-modern. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we are losing something significant. What do y’all think?
As for me, I am thinking of naming my kid Jedidiah Addison Tyranus Crews.
Amar recently bought me a copy of Virgil’s Aeneid, and I have begun to read it. First of all, I want to say that this is a truly remarkable book. I might get into the Aeneid in a later post, but that is not the subject of this entry. I only mention it because reading Virgil is what led me down the line of inquiry which eventually led me to the topic of this post: Roman naming conventions.
I have always thought that the Roman’s had magnificent names. Even the most common Roman names have a regal air about them. Publius Vergilius Maro (whom we know as Virgil) was the son of a farmer. But what a kingly name he had! “Publius” carries with it powerful connotations of “public” service, or “popular” appeal. When I read it, I thought it sounded like an appropriate name for a great nationalist poet. I decided to look into how Roman names were given, and what can be understood from them. Turns out they can be very informative about their bearer.
The following is what I understand about the naming conventions for Roman males. I understand that females had different conventions. The core of the roman name is called the “tria nomina.” It consisted of three parts (as you might have guessed.)
1) the “praenomen,” which is the person’s given name, usually chosen by his father,
2) the “nomen” (which literally translates as “name” is in fact the name of the man’s clan, or “gens” in Latin and
3) the “cognomen,” which is the name of the family within the clan from which the man comes.
These were assembled thusly:
[praenomen] [nomen] [cognomen].
So, now we can make some sense of Virgil’s name. He is Publius, of the Maro family in the Vergilius clan. Interesting, right? But it gets better.
The most interesting thing about Roman naming conventions is the way they developed chronologically. [The best part of studying anything Classical, whether it be art, literature, history, or philosophy is how elemental it all seems to be. The world in which we live is so evolved, refined, rehashed and habitual. Everything we do, from the language we speak to the etiquette we subscribe to carries with it the weight of thousands of years of precedent. We are so far removed from the origin of things that we rarely know why we act the way we do. In ancient Rome, they still seemed to be cobbling it all together and figuring out what works. I think that is why studying it is so appealing. ] The development of Roman naming conventions is very typically Roman. It began rather utilitarian, but eventually developed into an arrogant, pompous and laughable excess.
So in the beginning, everyone only had one name, the nomen. Everyone was a diva, I guess. Rome was a nation of Bonos and Madonnas. Fathers named their sons after themselves, so all the males in a given family had exactly the same name. As Rome began to grow I guess this got confusing. They started adding the praenomen to distinguish between different members of the same family. It is important to note that the praenomen was not the person’s core name – it was merely a way to distinguish between brothers. Because of this, there were very few praenomens actually in use (less than 50, I think.)
Apparently Romans just couldn’t resist naming their kids after themselves. Eventually they began passing their praenomens along to their sons along with the family nomen. So once again there were housefuls of males with the same name. To distinguish between them, they began adding the cognomen, which was originally a nickname meant to express something about the character of the individual. These are the names which often have recognizable Latin roots like “Fidelus” (meaning “faithful”), “Tacitus” (meaning “quiet”) or “Tyranus” (meaning “Count Dookoo”). Of course, they eventually started passing on all three names to their sons, once again creating the same old problem.
So yet again they needed a way to distinguish between all these guys with the same name. They began adding a fourth name, called the “agnomen.” The agnomen was another nickname, usually given later in life and again meant to indicate something about the character or personality of its bearer. Sometimes they were given to commemorate heroic military service, as was the case with “Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus” (Germanicus means “victorious in Germany”). Of course, once you have earned a badass agnomen like that, you can’t resist passing it along to your sons. So more names were needed.
After this point it gets too complex to continue. There are names granted as political (and sometimes theological) titles. There are names which indicate the identity of the bearer’s father and grandfather. There are names which indication adoption. It goes on and on. The end product of all this was the production of names like the following, which was the full name of the son of the famous Roman philosopher and orator whom we know as Cicero.
MARCUS TULLIUS Marci Filius Marci Nepos Marci Pronepos Cornelia tribu CICERO,
Or, “Marcus Tullius Cicero, the son of Marcus, the grandson of Marcus, the great-grandson of Marcus, of the Cornelian voting tribe.
Two things I took away from this lengthy and mostly unnecessary inquiry.
The first is that we almost always refer to famous ancient Romans by their family name, rather than their given name. This was a surprise to me, because for some reason the names we refer to (Cicero, Virgil, Cato, etc.) all sounded like “first names” to me. I always assumed it was roughly equivalent to the way we refer to certain mega-celebrities by their first names only. Turns out the names we know them by are the equivalent of their “last name”, so it is more akin to the way we refer to Mozart or Shakespeare by their last name only.
The second is that for all their obvious excess, the one thing that can be said for these Roman names is that they meant something significant about the people who bore them. A name like the one above is a constant reminder to its bearer that he is part of a family, and that he carries the name borne by his father and grandfather. In America we tend to glamorize rebellion against our parents. We couldn’t be less concerned with the history of our family or the accomplishments of our grandparents. This lack of concern is manifested by the recent fashion of naming children ridiculous, made up, commercialized, or cutesy names. The goal seems to be to name the child something creative, rather than something significant. A name is just another fashion accessory.
Maybe this is some kind of expression of positive American independence and self-reliance. Maybe it is all very progressive and post-modern. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we are losing something significant. What do y’all think?
As for me, I am thinking of naming my kid Jedidiah Addison Tyranus Crews.
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