wanderer

One night I was watching Late Show with David Letterman. One of his guests was this actress Anne Heche. She's not actually doing promption of her new film or something, so it was like sheer chitchat. Heche has well-cared face and skin. What can not be covered, though, was her aloofness and patronizing poise to Dave and the audience. The content of the conversation between her and Letterman was dull and trivial, what interesting was the way he carried on the chat. Letterman is a person with stature, too, hence he has had certain amount of weight to hold the balance. Now He adeptly asked this and pried that to let the woman speak, at the right time squeezed some dry laughter to make her feel herself funny, which is opposite to the reality. Gradually the ice shell melted off Heche's beautiful stone face, she tended to face the on-site audience site more often, she could atually flirt with Letterman a bit. In the end, Letter ended the chat with a kiss on her hand, she replied with a bending-forward kiss on his cheek.

Man, isn't it hard to a host! Every week night you are facing several people with larger than life ego. Mostly they are like transcendenting king or queen honor your place. Your job is to rub 'em the most comfortable way to dig out some funnies. You can't quip them but you can at a later time. Sometimes you meet Heche, an overtly proud person, the other time you have Big Talker, telling you endless stories about who-the-hell-cares of his personal life. But it's your show, you have to catch on, dealing with this particular group of costumers with high demands. Letterman does it perfect way, Jay Leno does it no less impressive. So does Ellen Degeneres, who happened to be on Late Show and shared with Letterman that they, the hosts, didn't actually give a damn about those high-horse egoes. Degeneres was not talking about her lesbian ex Heche since she showed up on earlier day, but I wonder if Letterman was ever reminded of Degeneres' comment when he hosted Heche.

Sounds like a gossip but it is more than that. In the time of X generation or Me generation, we meet so many people who are self-centered. A few of them are extremely smart and extremely proud as well, in the large distrbution hump, people have minuscule talent yet they are still superbly complacent. Often we meet this category in all walks of life, office, dorms, coffee shop.  Also look at the mirror. The reality is we have to have some of these self-acclaimed Mr./Ms. Important to be our colleagues or friends. It is not that annoying but sometimes you find it hard to get along or work together. My previous reclusive strategy is to walk away from any chance to interact with the narcissits. The trouble is I also walk away the opportunity learning something from them, or use their partial talent to get work done. Suddenly these late night show hosts inspired me. Put your emotional attitude aside, work with people, to have the show go on.

Now that's the right work ethic. 

A survey has been distributed around the globe. It asks, ‘What would you do today if it is the end of world tomorrow, with the assumption you have no ability to kill yourself or any other people?’ Here are the selected replies.

‘I will eat all the delicious junk food till I’m sick and dying.’   ---A woman in L.A., CA, US. who claims to be overweight and have been on diet for 10 years.

‘I will go to the Old Trafford Stadium, strip off, WALK on the field. And then I’ll go the pub to drink until I know nothing.’   ---A man in Manchester, UK.

‘I will hack CIA’s website and leave my address and phone number.’     ---A 19-year-old Finnish guy.

‘I will go naked to do the last broadcast.’                             ---A female news anchor in Paris, France.

‘Ahh, I will go to the street to find the most beautiful woman, and persuade her to make love with me till she passes out.’                                    ---A man in Rome, Italy.

‘I will spend all my money buy vodka and drink with my friends Ivan, Dmitry, Yoshev.’ ---A man in Kiev, Ukraine

‘I will say, ‘Fuck you, I don’t have an accent’ to the next guy who calls our customer service and complains he couldn’t understand me.’ ---A woman in Bangalore, India

‘I will pee on the street.’             ---A white-collar woman in Singagpore

‘I will strongly urge President Chen to declare independence.’---A DPK official in Taipei, Taiwan

‘I will leave off the work an hour before the schedule. No, two.'                               ---A man in Tokyo, Japan.

‘I will call Bush and tell him where I am.’                   ---Bin Laden

James D. Watson, the 1962 Nobel Medical Prize winner for his finding of DNA double helix structure, hit the main news outlets, paper or online, this week. He is reported to step down from the position of the chancellor of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory in Long Island, New York. It is a place he’s been working over 40 years, first as the director, rebuilding it from the fund-strapped sluggishness into world-renowned genetic research center. The reason for his departure is his controversial comment on black people. Time magazine dubbed him as the first Nobel Prize winner who insulted a whole continent. He gave these bomb-igniting words when he was interviewed by Britain’s Sunday Times, quoted as the following,  ‘(I am) inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa’, because ‘all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours -- whereas all the testing says not really.’ It is rare to see a scientific figure, especially as big as Watson, to have a disgraceful exit.

But, what if he is right?

I sure expect the huge volume of outcry or even personal attack at my silly inquiry. First of all, it is politically incorrect to have racial comment, no matter what. Secondly, I understand it is biologically meaningless to racial-mark human’s genome, and any research that singles out race as a solo indicator for some consequence is naïve and worthless. But if we look back at the human civilization history, list all of the scientific breakthrough and industrial revolution, in a larger picture, it is a fact that black people contribute less in the science and engineering field. Yes, black people’s social status, culture background, educational level at large, etc., could attribute this discrepancy; however, it is at least an interesting research topic to study how much the race factor plays the role. Unlike skin color or height, intelligence is such a sophisticated trait, it is highly unlikely there is an IQ gene in human’s DNA. But if we divide ‘intelligence’ into more specified categories, such as logical, linguistic ability, spatial perception, visual and vocal recognition and so on, the problem may be easy to attack, a causality relationship might build up. If someday a group of researchers conclude that black people have the highest level of music and athletic talent among other races, I imagine the controversy is less damaged as Dr. Watson faces today.

So I argue that it makes sense that Watson’s comment is statistically right. Exception does not overturn the generality; exception strengthens the general correlation statement. I truly believe Condoleezza Rice and Mae Jemison are highly smart black women, like I truly believe that black athletes dominate some track field sports. Human beings are not born equal in a biological sense. On the other hand, I don’t believe James Watson is too aged to be sober as to make some absurd comment without a clue. Scientific analyzing must leave a groove in a man's thinking when he is a lifelong scientist, to say nothing of a Nobel Prize laureate. It is true that Watson is a person with a strong personality, He made bold move, an audacious risk-taker and exceedingly opinionated (his auto bio is titled ‘Avoid boring people’). Maybe it is his lab geeky habit that leads to his political insensitiveness. He didn’t realized a person with a stature like him would have effect far beyond labs and academia.

Genetic research is just at its beginning. Many exciting findings await to come. Yet it is a double-blade sword. It surely will generate controversy much bigger than this. I’d rather believe Dr. Watson is an innocent scientist with sometimes unguarded mouth.

Major League Baseball season reaches the final best of seven series, the World Series. Boston Red Sox become the unprecedented ‘comeback’ kids, trailing Cleveland Indians 1-3, they went on with three straight wins, and climbed American League pinnacle last night. They’ve done this come-back-from-behind stunt for 5 times in their history. Their celebration at Fenway Park was contagious. They deserved it. It is the first time in decades for them to celebrate the victory at home turf after all. No cameras are aimed at those Indians people, but we can picture their disappointed faces. This is the harsh reality of professional sports, one team is feeling vastly lost is more than another team is in ecstasy. And this is also the sports melodrama. I enjoy watching the games.

While feeling sorry for the Indians, I found my fondness to the Red Sox has unnoticed grown in sub-consciousness. Yes, the Red Sox is the symbol of rich tradition; the popular jersey is plain white with red letters on, and the jersey style still looks a bit sloppy. They don’t change that. The seats in Fenway Park are tight, the alleys are narrow, the theme color is green and green. They don’t change that, either. The Red Sox is the object of sympathy; they lived under the shadow of Yankees for so long, they fought so hard, once in a while they got the chance to play baseball in October while Yankees could only play golf. How doomed would it be to be a Sox fan! And then here comes the face of Red Sox. No, I’m not talking about Big Papi, or Josh Beckett, or Curt Schilling. It is Manny Ramirez in my eyes. People can tolerate a talent, like him, being idiosyncratic, ‘Manny being Manny’. His braided long hair is unique. His jersey seems always oversized, which makes him a mindless goofy boy in street. He uses his dirt-covered gloves pads and adjusts his batting helmet, soon the helmet becomes so smudged, the symbol ‘B’ on it can’t be identified. But when he’s at-bat, the previous sluggish guy is a dangerous tiger. He calmly looks at the pitcher, no one can read any emotion from his face. His calmness is as deep as his nailing eyes (He has over .400 hit average at 0-2 count).   It is not uncommon you see him clear the ball off the fence, then you see him stick his both arms up, which looks funny from afar, slowly he strolls toward the first base, and then begins jogging big-step around the bases until he jumps into waiting teammates’ mob at the home base. How much joy his signature move brings Sox fans is hard to gauge, but I strongly believe even a non-baseball person would be attracted if she/he is exposed to several games of Boston Red Sox. It is no exaggerating Boston fans form a Red Sox nation.

And the fans are no less striking. Matt Damon, the Boston native, once walked into David Letterman’s Late Show with a flamboyant Sox Jersey. His defiant comment on Yankees’ performance and dry mockery on Roger Clemens stir not only so much laughter in audience, but also worries from Letterman, ‘Seriously, I think you need security escort to walk outta here.’ That’s a Boston boy in Manhattan, the heartland of Yankees territory. During the Sox-Indians series, the TV correspondent interviewed another famous guy Steven King on the Fenway stands. The thriller writer looked small and frail with his wild grey hair and slim figure; he felt the freeze of the late evening in Boston. But when he spoke, his words were as sharp and acid as Damon. The celebrity fan list is on and on. Their love for their Boston Red Sox and their hatred for New York Yankees were culturally deeply ingrained. The infection of their affection to an outsider is nearly irresistible, I almost wanted to get a big ‘B’ cap, jump on the wagon and become a citizen of Red Sox nation.

But there is a ‘hold-on’ in my mind. The Red Sox are so loved, financially and emotionally, they seem to being building a winning franchise with the mantra Yankees holds: win it at any price. I am very happy about the fact that Yankees 200 million plus money can’t buy a championship ring, but won’t the Red Sox follow up soon? Their 154 million payroll is almost 100 million over that of Indians or Colorado Rockies. When the big bosses are playing money cards for fun, baseball’s great charming is marred.  How do we know that Red Sox won’t pursue Alex Rodriguez, won’t let go Curt Schilling since his fastball is no more than 90mph and replace him with Dontrelle Willis? Maybe add Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera. This is not a wild pitch just looking back when they attended auctions for Dice-K and (no competitor!) J.D. Drew this season. No matter they beat Rockies this month or not, they will shake up for a dream roster. Heavy invest is possible, A new Evil Empire is likely. I am not alone holding this notion as professional sports writers lay out their concerns here, here, and here. Once you buy the best players in the market to win the championships, you lose support from millions of neutral fans like me, because neutral fans root for the underdogs.

Am I becoming a Red Sox fan? In a scrupulous sense, I am a limited version.

Let's say I want to write a thriller from scratch. I know the elements needed include some killings, some chasing, and some tangible leads unraveled constantly as the story progresses. Also, there can be some sex scene or romance decorated in between to spice things up. On top of it, I want the story to be involved some high-tech, if not mystery. How do I start?

Neurosurgery is like Rocket Science. Advance in neurosurgery is even cooler. How about the hero of the story is the neurosurgeon, whiles the bad guy who happens to have a tumor in his bad and is asking for treatment. Sounds great, yes, this is how Michael Palmer starts his fascinating novel 'The patient'. Let me dissect it (Warning, total plot spoiler from now on, stop here if you want to read the book.)

First the surgeon. The instinctive image would be a revered male doctor in his middle age, with a loving family. Or make it gossipy, he’s having affairs with some women. Then the bad guy is asking for his service, his family becomes the hostage, or his affair is the ransom.

Now the bad guy. A handy image would be an Islamic extremist who not only bears featured looking, but also has full volume of hatred. But no, a better candidate would be pro killers. He is the cruelest, the most dangerous, and the smartest and most invisible monster.  If he escapes all the police’s hunting and tracking through the years, that’s even better.

Palmer plots it this way. The hero, or heroine, is a hard-working, tireless, caring-a-lot-about-her-patient, 41-year-old, single, female doctor, named Jessie Copeland. She is the mostly skilled surgeon in the hospital who can handle the most advanced robot tumor cut toy called ARTIE. Yet she doesn’t get along well with her boss Carl Gilbride, a freak who loves funding, fame more than anything else. We can imagine he is gloss in looking, atrocious in behavior. Now Jessie has to have some strings to be coerced. Her mom might be a choice, but it doesn’t hold strong. So she has to have a best friend Emily, a nurse. This is not enough, okay, all her patients, then the abduction scene is taking place in the hospital. The terrorists have to be smart enough to maneuver the situation. As for the bad guy, Palmer makes him into a France-born pro killer, Malloche, highly elusive, highly cold-blood, claiming hundreds of lives in terrorist attack. His gang is the most invisible, so much so that some agencies don’t think he exists, Interpol don’t have any record of his, but a few DNA samples that, maybe, point to him. The police hero is not coming to stage when the crisis happens, Palmer creates Alex Bishop, the para-FBI agent, who has been tracking down Malloche for 5 years, unsuccessfully.

The biggest puzzle is now how Malloche checks into the hospital and get unnoticed. Alex should have sort of tips on Malloche’s trouble. He has to go incognito. On the other hand, Malloche wants his surgery a perfect success, he needs guarantee from the surgeon, yet he wants it to be done the fastest possible way. In a word, it’s unreasonably demanding. Based on this analysis, Malloche does a lot of homework. First he needs to know who the best brain surgeon is in the world, a pro killer won’t trust open report to pinpoint his target. It is best he can witness a real surgery. So a natural solution is to have a patient with his similar tumor to check in and check with the doctors. Palmer arranges it like this. A broke German Count, Hermann, is Malloche’s Guinea Pig, his surgery help Malloche to tell the most skilled surgeon is Jessie, rather than Gilbride. Yet this activities are too big to cover up, bad guys have to figure out a way to hold the hostage to do the operation, and the confrontation has to be contained in a small range, never has there been heard of a patient threatens a doctor to do operation and the public is aware of it.  Palmer designs a killing in front of the doctors, the lethal soman gas release that destroyes human’s central neural and perspiratory system. The coerced hospital CEO announces a virus outbreak to the public and the hospital is cut short the connection to outside. Now where is Alex at this moment? He is not in the hospital for sure. Palmer arranges Alex set up an incident to know Jessie, they are in a burgeoning relationship, but as Alex is found sneaking into Jessie’s office to look up the patients records, he has to tell the truth. Jessie doesn’t believe the telltale, and Alex is trying hard to get a tipster over to assure that Hermann is Malloche. When the showdown happens, Jessie could not get in touch with Alex. However, there is a hole in here, a patient girl has internet connection to outside, Jessie manages to send out limited info to Alex until it is finally found. Now the story is divided into two parts, Jessie is working in the hospital to satisfy the bad guys and not to kill the hostage, Alex is working outside, as he was told by Jessie, to try to find 4 jars of soman the bad guys have placed in public locations for possible massive killing.

Somehow the story goes like this. Alex succeeded in neutralizing the lethal gas, Malloche has the surgery done, and the bad guys won the time for takeoff. To wrap up, Palmer assumes Malloche is superb smart to have two more backup escape plans. The real hero is again Jessie, as she is taken with the gang in a moving van, she uses her drugs to stop Malloche’s wife, the chief in charge at that moment. Until Alex comes over for help, the damage is controlled in a minimum scale. Evil is caught.

If we make up a story like this, it seems to be easy. No. I don’t believe Palmer writes his novel like this. I am just digging out the elements from it, just like the ingredients from a served dish. A real chef is not made out of recipe books. Palmer has got to adjust and modify his plotting for many times, it is always easy to look back on something that looks amazing, only the real inventor, writer knows how frustrating and painstaking to plough it forward at the first position. Palmer acknowledges the barely unbearable-ness of writing on his ‘thank you’ page. A creative stuff needs a lot of genius planning; on the other hand, it needs even a lot more of hard work to execute it. In another word, there is no such a thing that genius alone makes something happen. Hence this is technical analysis, it is by no means an attitude report.

 

In the Gold Rush, the guy who surely made money is the one who sells shovels. In the internet age, the one who surely makes fortune are those offer tools. Google was originally a search tool, Page and Brin are smart enough to surpass the time of serving Yahoo! and become the king of online advertising industry. eBay offers a platform for customers to buy stuff online. Then came Paypal, an online payment system, Skype, an online phone service which is aimed at disrputing traditional telecommunication industry.  The list is on. After the bubble broke up, the internet game players were reshuffled, the information industry seems to be mature. Boom, here came along Facebook, a social newworking site with 43 million active users. It gets ballooned in less than three years. The founder? a 23 years Harvard dropout. Even we don't just eye the very top guy, there are still many examples to cite, whateverlife.com attracts millions of teen girls, with traffic way above traditional brands like Foxnews, CBS, etc. The boss of the site? a 17-year old Detroit high school girl who is already a millionaire. Web 2.0 is here, figure out a way to make tools, genius, you have a good chance to be hit by a windfall.

I truly wish weebly would prevail.

Football season evolves into its prime in America. As a guy grown up in soccer nation, I am always amazed by the fact that football enjoys such a dominant popularity in the US. Sure it is the highest level of masculine and adrenaline, it has the speediest sprint and the acrobaic catch, the deadly collision and the most uncanny strategy, it is the most fun to watch, but it is definitely not so to play unless you are reaching the certain level. Even you are, you might end up not touching the ball at all in a whole game. This is the oddiest thing in any ball game. What's more, the game is played on a hit-or-miss pattern, if one play fails, the coach and players have a full length to discuss the next move, calm down, sub many players, two teams start another of scrimmage. and then this is the next round of shovel, chase, and push and tackle. For the audience, the excitement is pulsed. The equipments are the most sophisticated, no other games have put so much weight on a player, plus the wireless communication, and the personnel on upper deck with slow-mo video instant replay. The rule book is a tome, it needs 6 referees on the field to offciate. There are some nail-biting moment in a close game, but the result mostly is decided by a kicker, his whole functionality in a game is to kick the ball a few times. It is just a strange game.

Sport is the miniature of a society. Football represents America in a unique way. First football is a huge industry, NFL claims 6.5 billions revenue in 2006. NCAA football is the major events in many mid-size American cities around the year. A 40 thousand college town can accomandate 80 thousand fans on campus. All the teams have marketed the game, the team in a fully commericalized way. Secondly, the football team is operated like a company, there are many divisions, responsible for certain tasks. The stake is high, the patience is low. Every player is under pressure to perform well. The coaching staff is the management in a company, they suggest or decide what players to put in roster, they decide the strategies to play the game, every game counts, there is no 'tie' possibility, even the team is absolutely underdog, the coach has no choice but coming up with a 'winning' game plan. This is fierce business competition. Third, what football emphasizes most is the teamwork, if one hurts the team's chemistry like T.O., he has to go. On top of that, there is the star surrounded by the supporting cast. Individualism is allowed but constrained. This sort of resembles those genius designers and engineers in Apple, Microsoft, or Ford, Toyota, their fames are never too known. Finally, Organizationalizing is the essence to build a company and the society. No one has done better than Americas to operate a large scale project, even people are catching up. Organizing well is the key to success in any endeavor. A 80-player football team will not be a winning team unless it is highly well operated and managed. These factors are the hidden elements that define the football industry and its amazing attraction.