The Perfect Pint

I'm killing off an old blog - really it was a new blog to replace this one. I am forever starting such new projects with slightly variant themes that usually end up sounding exactly the same. Likely this blog too will go through mulitiple name/format changes, but I've decided that I want the archives of my old posts, if only so I can go back and learn what I think about things. Similarly, I don't want to lose the 4 or so posts from The Perfect Pint even though my hatred of waste pushes me to pull up the stakes from its internet plot. So here they are, all in one go:

Monday, October 29, 2007

Pete McCarthy
Ok, so this isn't exactly breaking news, seeing as how it happened 3 years ago, but I just found out so it's breaking news to me. About a month ago JV and I were in Asheville, NC for a concert/getaway weekend. Wherever I go, I like to check out any local used bookstores, mostly because I have an uncontrollable urge to spend my hard earned money on books that I will probably never get around to reading. It's kind of like how, in Conspiracy Theory, Mel Gibson's character has to go out and buy The Catcher in the Rye in order to feel normal and not kill people. So, yes, I have to buy books or I might kill people. And used books tend to not upset my wallet quite as much - unfortunately he's very sensitive at the moment. Anyway, we were looking through this place and I had picked out a few used cds, but hadn't found much in the way of interesting books so I went to find where JV was hiding - in the travel book section of course. I found her poring over a guide to Scotland, wondering if things had really changed that much in the Highlands during the last 10 years. I wouldn't know from experience, but my guess is that things haven't changed too drastically in the highlands for a lot longer than 10 years - I mean, there's not a lot of innovation in Tweed, Sheep, or Scotch. To keep me from annoying her ("I can't find anything, what are you doing, oh Scotland that's cool are we going to go? No? Just you? Fine! I don't need you anyway, I'm going on a trip by myself to...uh...uh...Bulgaria! Ha! Bulgaria's going to be much more fun that dreary old Scotland, with it's beautiful scenery, and english speaking natives, and great whiskey, and sweaters, and loch ness monsters, and kilts, which reminds me, isn't Braveheart a fucking great movie? I mean seriously, Gibson's best, by far. I'm not a racist but I do love me some Mel Gibson movies...etc.") she pointed me in the direction of the Literary Travel section. Literary Travel is just like normal Travel except more interesting and far less useful. Picking I think at random but more probably with that freakish psychic ability that mothers teach only their daughters, she handed me Pete McCarthy's The Road to McCarthy: Around the World In Search of Ireland. Turns out the book was his second in the same vein, the first having a snappier title: McCarthy's Bar: Or Never Pass a Bar With Your Name On It or somesuch. As most of you probably know, I am enamoured of all things Irish. Well, maybe not all things (Darby O'Gill and the Little People made me forever terrified of Leprechauns, and Banshees) - but certain aspects of the culture or at least the perceived culture really appeal to me. JV went to Ireland about a year ago (shit, maybe more now) and told me how it's "very Ben Wilkins." Everyone drinks of course, but though there are plenty of your crappy American-esque bars about, the pubs tend to be a more relaxed atmosphere - a place where it's neither uncomfortable nor unusual to find yourself in a conversation with a complete stranger about history, politics, or all things literary. Plus, I really dig Irish folk and even play a little Bodhran from time to time. So - I like Irishy things, but I didn't expect too much of the book, mostly because I'd never heard of the author. But it was fantastically entertaining. It essentially consisted of Pete wandering around the world, meeting people and having conversations with them, while hunting down some historical Irish conspirators and some of his possible descendants. It was written comically, yet poignantly, with occasional observations that really struck to the core of human life - what makes us different and what makes us the same. It wasn't brilliant. But it was good, and it inspired me. This is the kind of writing that I would like to do, and after reading just a few chapters I started up this blog, and more importantly renewed my vow to keep a small notebook with me at all times to note down observations that strike me.It didn't take me long to finish the book. I searched for Pete online, hoping to find where he was off to now, but as it turns out he's passed away. This actually affected me much more than I would have expected. There's something so personal about his style of writing - it was like I had gotten to know him, and gone to all those places he did with him. I was sad to find out that he was gone. It wasn't like losing a friend exactly, more like losing a pen-pal.So. It was a sad day, three years ago, when we lost Mr. McCarthy, though I'm only noticing now. At least he left us a bit of his experiences before he took off - you should all check out both of his books. And I think that, thanks to Pete, I might do a little literary travel writing of my own. I can't travel but I could more thoroughly explore where I am now. So check back to find some interesting but fairly useless descriptions of Herndon and the greater DC area.Thanks Pete.
Posted by Benjamin Wilkins at 10:23 AM 0 comments
Monday, October 22, 2007

Human Echolocation
Apparently this kid has been famous for this for a while, but I just saw this last night when I was bored and scanning Current.com (more on that later). It's pretty incredible - so much so that I would normally be inclined to think it's a hoax, but there are enough sources that I think he's the real thing. I couldn't find the original video I watched on current, but here's one I found on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpBm4KoWsrYCheck it out. He's like Daredevil. Seriously.
Posted by Benjamin Wilkins at 1:13 PM 0 comments
Labels: ben underwood, blind, daredevil, human echolocation, incredible, senses
Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Turtle Power
There's something about the DC Metro area that encourages exploration. Often spontaneous "there's a road, slam on breaks and turn down it, I don't care if we might flip" kind of exploration. I guess it's not exactly a mystery that does it - it's the mindnumbing traffic. If you sit in it for too long something happens to your brain where any road, other than the road you're on, suddenly becomes a wormhole that can take you directly to your destination. It doesn't matter that it is actually in the exact wrong direction, or that you tried that particular road last week and it ended up adding an extra half hour to your trip. While you're staring at the flat ass of the Prius directly in front of you, moving an average of .1 miles per hour, nothing matters except moving, turning, doing anything different. If no road is available the median starts looking incredible attractive. "I've got a truck," you think, "trucks were made to drive on the median - what civilized country would pass a law against that?"So, this feeling struck me unusually quickly as I left for work the other day. I was sitting at the edge of my apartment complex, about to make my first turn, when traffic going my way suddenly peaked and there didn't seem to be a break for, well at least a few seconds, but it was a few seconds too many. I found my arms working of their own volition and the car turning away from my usual route and in a northerly, opposite from way I needed to go, sort of direction. "It's ok," I thought, "I might know a shortcut." The biggest problem with taking "shortcuts" around here is that everyone has tried them once or twice and they all have a devoted followed who will swear against all evidence that they are the faster way to go. Which, of course, means that they are usually as crowded as the main roads, only they don't have the advantage of more than a single lane. This is, however, the sort of logical thinking that hours of fighting traffic quickly destroys, followed quickly by your will to live. Talk about your enhanced interrogation techniques - just put a suspected terrorist in a car and make him drive from Fredericksburg to DC on 95 several times a day and he'll tell you everything he knows.Suffice to say that my shortcut didn't really turn out. It was, in fact, a longcut. Still, it was at least a nice change of scenery. It's reassuring at times to know that all of Northern Virginia hasn't been paved over and become a disgustingly suburban sprawl of asphalt and shopping centers. There are a few spots of fields, although I doubt, judging from the number of For Sale/Development signs, that they will last very long. As I was driving, I was passing one such field, so shrouded in fog that I could have been in Ireland, when a giant sign materialized in front of me announcing the fields imminent demise. "5 Awesome! New Homes!" it practically shouted at me. I wonder who thought that Awesome New Homes! wasn't good enough and thought: "Nope, that's too dull. We need something with pizzaz. Something that'll really attract attention. Oh I've got it. More exclamation points! Awsome! !!!!!! "What, are they really advertising homes for people raised on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, now?" I mused, which of course led me to sing the song. Out loud. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, heroes in a half shell, TURTLE POWER! And then the rap from Turtles II. T-U-R-T-L-E Power! Ninja Ninja Ninja Rap!Then it hit me, like a kick to the face. People raised on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were buying houses. They were having families and looking to buy awesome! new homes. Sigh. And what was I doing as a member of this mutant ninja generation? At least I know what I'll be doing tonight: renting all three turtles movies and eating pizza. Cowabunga!
Posted by Benjamin Wilkins at 8:04 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, October 9, 2007

No, Seriously.
Ok, I thought I'd start this baby off with bang - and by bang I of course mean a run of the mill introduction explaining how this blog is different from others, and how it should be taken seriously. Don't worry, I won't take too long, but I think it's important to establish a few boundaries before we get going.In this blog, unlike many others, I plan on offering an array of services, bringing my considerable knowledge and discernment to bear on any number of issues - both contemporary and historic - and to do this in an amusing, insightful way that leaves one refreshed, thinking, "Ah. So the internet isn't just for pornography and lovesick teenagers after all." Yes, like most blogs I'll be posting on what's going on in my life, but, luckily, my life isn't all that interesting so there'll be plenty of time for me to bring important news to your attention, or to review new books, cds, movies, etc. Some of you may have read earlier blogs of my college exploits, most of them revolving around drunken carousing and may suspect that this will be more of the same. I assure you this isn't the case. At the risk of alienating most of my potential audience I proclaim that this attempt at serial non-fiction will be different: it'll be in good taste. So, Ladies and Gentlebeans, without further ado, the first post:"Hey, Nice Dick!"As I was walking around George Mason University the other day, where I am currently, but perhaps not for long, a grad student, a car slowed beside me and a kid in the backseat leaned half out of his window towards me. I imagine he would have leaned out further but had trouble getting his giant head through the childproof window. Anyway, as the car slowed I looked up and he looked at me and shouted, "Hey, Nice Dick." Like an idiot, my first reaction was to look down at my crotch as if to say, "Oh. Is my penis showing?" As if it were somehow possible for me to have not only forgotten to zip up after a trip to the bathroom but that I had walked around outside for most of the day with my penis hanging out of pants and hadn't noticed. As the car sped away to the muted sounds of laughter, I still haven't quite digested what has occurred. I think I should be angry and so I try, even knowing the car is long gone, to think of some kind of a snappy comeback that I could shout if ever this happens again. How should I know? Maybe some fraternity at GMU does this all the time - driving around and complementing the packages of other men. Maybe, I think, I should be flattered even. After all, he did say, "Nice dick." He could have just as easily insulted it. "Hey, you're dick is a jerk. And...and...and...it's got a stupid haircut." And what would I have said to that?Ten minutes later, sitting in my car on my way home a smile spreads across my face. I've got it. "Oh yeah? Nice vagina." That'll teach him to be snarky with me.