Planned Obsolescence

I spent too much time trying to rationalize my state of confusion after observing my sister's high school prom pictures. For a good two hours, I stood there while everyone was snapping photos and found myself constantly finding new assaults on good taste and mumbling "what are they thinking?" Most of the gentlemen had skinny sideburns, fades, and giant rocks in both of their ears. Many of the ladies had acquired a "tan" that left them their skin a color and texture that was somewhere between "basketball" and "mythical creature." I am not sure when this became "the look" in high school, nor do I find this particularly attractive. I was confused and, by default, wanted to pin it on "The Hills," which I currently blame for most of society's ills, from the rise of reality TV shows about spoiled kids and why foreigners hate us to the current financial crisis. However, I think I've found a way to chalk up the experience as a life lesson.

What do you get when you tan for too long? Turning a color that simply is wrong...

Will Smith, the Fresh Prince of Philosophy and Arch Duke of the Flat Top, once said "Parents Just Don't Understand" and concluded that parents and older people in general will, ultimately, not get some of the things their kids do/think is cool. Everyone will, or at least should, eventually transition to that role of the person that doesn't get or at least doesn't embrace all the things that "the kids" do. If they don't go gently into that cool night, they sound like the Amy Pohler's character from Mean Girls, and everybody knew that "cool mom," who was, ultimately, not that cool at all. As you get a bit older, you start to willingly or unwillingly abstain from following certain trends. If you let the right ones go, you can look "mature" and "above it all," while missing the boat on others means that, as far as most people are concerned, you might as well give up, find sensible shoes, wrap yourself in a Snuggie, and watch "60 Minutes." Everyone has a relative that has had a cell phone for 12 years and still hasn't figured out how to text message; that person could master cold fusion and still be considered a Luddite. Jay-Z, a man that oozes cool, has seamlessly and not surprisingly made the transition and said it best in "30 Something" when he states, "I'm young enough to know the right car to buy but grown enough not to put rims on it."

This is at least how I'm rationalizing it as least. My "I don't get it and did not see this coming" moment at my sister's prom photos probably means that I've officially started the descent to cultural adulthood, when stuff will occasionally become "cool" without you even knowing, and you only catch on when it's a massive and unavoidable your-parents-friends-start-friending-you-on-Facebook-phenomenon. I will interject here that I have never been confused for stylish or on the cutting edge unless it something that can be eaten or imbibed, but I am normally at least aware of trends. For instance, I very much aware of the virtues of Twitter, "Lost," and American Apparel but I "choose not to participate," to paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld. However, since obliviousness increasingly seems to be my future, I will conclude with a few simple rules that may become useful to me (or others) as one becomes less culturally aware:

1. One should never use articles when referring to a new technology or person. New technologies never have "the" or "a" attached to them, and saying "the Google," the Twitter," or "the 50 Cent" makes one sound quite foolish.
2. If one does not follow music carefully, one should never try to tell someone about a "new song" that he has heard, because there's a chance that it's 18 months old at that point.
3. Like ordering off a menu at at ethnic restaurant, one should do his best not pronounce a word or name that they have not heard pronounced before, lest they embarrass themselves entirely. Even if they have heard it, simply pointing and mumbling is usually the safest bet.
4. One should try not to look surprised. Living in New York is great practice for most things, but when kids start grafting genetically engineered animal parts to themselves for fun in 2035, just don't look shocked. Botox, helpfully enough, helps many older people maintain this face of serenity.
5. If a new way of communicating emerges, especially if it proves to be a new method for delivering pornography, one should figure out how to use it, as these types of devices tend to stick around (This, of course, is a point that I am making purely from an academic perspective).



PS. As this rant started with the Fresh Prince, I should point out that MC Squared has informed me that, like white pants, Mr. Smith's "Summertime" can now be put in rotation now that Memorial Day has passed. Happy summertime and sorry for the absence.

A Draft and a Lot of Hot Air

So, I was watching the NFL Draft this weekend, which is the annual market for college gentlemen trying to make the NFL. ESPN has made a spectacle out of this annual roulette where people get all excited about potential, 40-yard dash times, and "upside." Mel Kiper, the Punxsutawney Phil of sports commentary, gets pulled out of the freezer for his yearly appearance to shed some wisdom on the whole process. He comments on every single player and seems to have a strong opinion on everyone from the highly touted prospects out of big-time schools to a second string wideout on Cal Poly Tech. Nobody knows if he's right, and I don't think anyone has ever tracked if his analysis correlates with success in the NFL (thus proving that you can stay on TV almost indefinitely if you sound like you know what you're talking about and nobody in the audience knows any better. I call this the Giada Rule....I don't know if what she's saying is right, but I'm interested).

What's amazing is that nobody really has the draft figured out. Good players slip, and players that don't pan out get drafted early, even with the best teams and despite millions of dollars in scouting. Why is this? I think it's because there is no way to truly measure the variables that will correlate with success in the NFL. Prospects are drafted based on a number of correlative and measurable factors that aren't necessarily causal: 40-yard dash times, bench-press reps, Wonderlic tests, and their track records performing against inferior competition.

In statistical parlance, or at least in my limited knowledge of it, this would be called extrapolating, where you plot known points and try to guess a new data point (NFL performance) outside of that data set using a bunch of previous data points (previously mentioned measurables). Extrapolation is normally less than desirable, because it's outside the range of your experience. It's like trying to guess how much weight you'll gain in college; you might have an idea based on a number of factors, but it's generally a wild card. It's normally much better if you can interpolate, or, given a set of information, trying to guess a point that occurs within the extremes of that data set. It's not always right, but it's normally more accurate. It's kind of like trying a new Belgian beer; if you've had Belgian beer, even if you've never had that one, you probably have a good idea if you like it.

What's amazing is that, like the NFL Draft, most major decisions are based on extrapolations, where you take a number of factors that we know and try an make a decision that is kind of related but not entirely causally linked to those factors. Generally, college or high school kids choose a career without having a real in-depth experience of what goes on in that career or any appreciation for the required time or emotional investment. Hell, you even pick an apartment without having a real way of knowing if if the people living above you have the grace of inebriated elephants, your window faces a street that is the major ambulance route to three hospitals, or the wall separating you and your ever-naked neighbor is paper thin (OK, I knew that going in, and it worked out well).

Most of the time, you try to interpolate new decisions and data points and try to figure out how they fit in your previous experience. I'm convinced that this is how a lack of experience, or a couple of anomalous experiences, can lead to messed up thought processes. For example, imagine if one of the first topless women that you ever saw was the girl from Total Recall with three breasts (NSFW but Google it if you're the one person who reads the blog and doesn't know what I'm talking about..and yes, this movie was on at my friend's house when I was about 7). Without additional experience, encountering a tri-breasted individual would not seem terribly unusual. In fact, if that was all you had seen of women (just roll with it), you might expect that to be the norm. You can take this example a number of different directions, but, in the end, most of our experiences are interpreted through interpolation into established schemas.

The cool thing about the draft and big life decisions is that there are major statistical efforts to try and "plot" people (or anything else for that matter) on the general data set of a larger population and interpolate the outcome. Myers-Briggs does it with careers, Chemistry.com does it with dating, Billy Beane did it with baseball, and Football Outsiders did it with running backs in the 2009 draft (Eagles pick LeSean McCoy is missing, unfortunately). I feel like almost anything could be reduced to statistics, somehow, to give some interesting results and predictions, and if you're the first to do it, you make a ton of money or at least get a book/movie made about you. Now if only I could find that thing and liked doing statistics in my free time instead of just pontificating about them...

Taking Notes on a Criminal Conspiracy

Around New Year's, Gatorade introduced a new brand strategy/ ad campaign based simply on the letter "G".

Watch it first so we can all be on the same page.
Here's a second, probably better one.

This series of ads came most likely as a response to Vitamin Water becoming crazy successful and supplanting Gatorade as America's Favorite Drink That Doesn't Have Alcohol/Caffeine in It. Gatorade needed to completely change their identity. They needed to get over the Lightning Bolt and the whole "Developed at the Swamp at the University of Florida to replenish electrolytes lost in the heat of battle" marketing angle. They needed everybody's favorite buzz word of the moment, Swagger (or Swag, which is to say the word Swagger, with Swagger.)

So they went with "G". It seemed clumsy to me at first. It seemed a little forced and wasn't all too sexy. Then it dawned on me that they were not shooting for sexy. By changing the name to just G and selling the product on the glory of athletic competition (not the performance in the game itself) and the cross-cultural implications of said glory, Gatorade gave itself a street drug name and brand positioning. The street drug of the sports world.

I really hope this was intentional, and I'm not at all mad at them for doing this.

To me, this change showed that Gatorade realized the manner its most likely consumed in. Most of the time, you're not gonna grab a Gatorade in the middle of athletic activity. There are options that are usually more convenient and equally effective, take water fountains for example. There's also your shiny Sigg or Nalgene to help you look young, active, and purposefully hydrated at all times. Oh, bottled water works too, since we're all now afraid of the stuff that comes out of pipes and is free.

Anyways, most of the time I'm stopping at a bodgea for a Gatorade if I'm hungover or just need a little sugar and salt combo to make up for not drinking water for a while. Gatorade knows this because Vitamin Water has made 50 a billionaire by marketing to Soccer Moms and Whooo-Girls who need to be emotionally comforted by their soft drink. Athletics are not a key factor in choosing which colored water you want to drink. Since fun, cheeky, and quirky were taken by Vitamin Water, Gatorade went the other way. They went Street.

I say they chose a street drug because they made it seem as if you had to be in the know to really understand G. The commercial's dark and rough, not bright and happy like Vitamin Water. Lil Wayne narrates it (he's both very street and an avid user of drugs). Words like golden and god are used. It's the idealized appeal of being a glorious athlete in a similar vein to the idealized appeal of drugs. They show the greatest in their particular genre, perople to be equally revered and feared: Ali, Wooden, Jordan, Russell, Jackie Robinson, Tiger. Hell, even Misty May and Kerri Walsh are the biggest ballers in the history of beach volleyball.

The commercial is trying to sell that Scarface side of the drug, not Dukie's mom neglecting to feed her kids because she's fiending. It's now the soft drink from the other side of the tracks; the one your parents were never too comfortable with when you said you were hanging at their place on a Friday night. Is G's parents home? Can you put them on the phone so I can talk to them?

I also want to emphasize the street slang part of the whole scheme. Drugs can have all sorts of connotations. Do you remember when the cop comes into your elementary or middle school and shows what all the drugs are? He'll talk about smoking marijuana or "puffing reefer"; all his slang was stiff and forced. That was Gatorade. Some scientist or Mad Men-era ad exec connected Florida Gators with the Tang-like substance they had developed. That''s not G. If Gatorade is Heroin, G is Herr-on. You want to walk up to the corner store and say, "Ay man, you got that G?"

So why should this matter? This is a major shift in brand positioning and marketing. This company revamped its whole image because it knows that you like The Wire, Reasonable Doubt Jay, and Dipset circa '03-'06. They figured out that I'd rather connect with the Elephant-Hide Jordan 3's floating four feet off the floor, tongue-out, than the 5 AM taining sessions and macrobiotic diets he put himself though to jump that high. Gatorade changed from a company selling sports beverages to pushers, knowing that it's the high of victory you want, not the challenge to get it. I kinda like it, and when it hit me, I went out to the corner and got that G.

~MC Squared

At Least One Intelligent Design

My appreciation for Sir Richard Branson started in my early teens.  I clearly remember the circumstances under which I was first introduced to this eccentric British "industrialist." Before the internet stepped up its game from a 56k dial-up modem, the day when the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition came out was a national holiday for a pubescent teenager.  I'd contend that it still is or at least should be for anyone interested in the female persuasion, but, uh, the internet has sapped some of the lusted from those glorious glossy pages.  Roughly ten years ago, Rebecca Romajn was on the cover, and Sports Illustrated had just started to introduce their tradition of "body painting," which for some reason allows them to paint naked women and pass them off as clothed women.  It's beyond me why an uncovered nipple painted to look like a bathing suit counts as being covered in the eyes of censors, but I admire their creativity.  This seminal edition was shot on the private island of Sir Richard Branson, the billionaire charman of Virgin, and they did a multiple-page spread on the man.  Needless to say, he had a new fan.  

I'm not saying that I've been following him that closely or that I have any idea about who he is personally.  However, I like the idea of him.  He has more money than anyone could ever need, so he does ridiculous things like trying to balloon far distances, ride fast boats, or start a space tourism business.  He's an integral part of what I would aspire to be if I had what Chris Rock would consider "wealth."  The other components are probably Warren Buffet and Mark Cuban, in that order, but that's a discussion for another day.  

What amazes me is that the man has had success across so many different arenas, ranging from music to cell phones to building a private island that is so awesome that Sports Illustrated has a shoot there (in general, he seems to have won).  Somehow, I doubt that it's because of an intricate knowledge of each of these industries.  It simply shows that he has "it," that knowledge of human nature that allows some people to succeed in any circumstance.  It's some combination of charisma, opportunism, and luck.  Generally, it means that they do just do stuff the right way.  Branson creates a product and an experience that people want.  After taking a flight on Virgin America from New York to San Francisco and then back on a red eye 48 hours later, I got a chance to see the beauty of it in person. It give me hope that everything could be made awesome.

It was flat out amazing, as transcontinental flights go.  It felt like flying in a club: there was mood lighting, TVs for each seat with satellite programming, sleekly designed everything, and attentive and attractive flight attendants.  They think of the little things, from witty copy on their website and baggage checks to the world's first entertaining safety video.  Somehow, they made flying more comfortable and, dare I say, somewhat sexy.  You know what?  It made me willing to fly Virgin again and a bit more willing to shell out a couple extra bucks for the experience.   Isn't that the goal of any business that sells an otherwise undifferentiated product?

So, if you can add value to a flight experience by making it a bit more sexy, doesn't that show that there's an opportunity to do it with everything?  Investing in items that are secondary to the product's primary function, like design and sex appeal, seem like a relatively minor investments in the grand scheme of things, but it makes a tremendous difference (my theory on one of the reasons people love Apple products...that's not a negative).   It's like people who spend millions on an ad campaign but have a shitty ad.  This, however, is not a shitty ad (pardon the pun), and if you can make fiber sexy, I'm convinced you can do it with anything.

Get Up In It

Recently, I observed a friend eating a luscious, drippy pulled pork sandwich, and as he bit into it, I instinctively uttered, "Aw yeah, get up in it." There was little thought in the statement; I blurted it out, almost a reflex to seeing someone do the Hunch over a sandwich and be Le Resistance in the fight between Gravity and Viscosity. Upon hearing my statement, I realized I had stumbled upon a great divining rod, a trustworthy bellwether, of attaching value, importance, or appreciation to a multitude of objects, concepts, and actions in my life.

It became remarkably clear that I want to Get Up Into anything that can be gotten up in.

I realized that anything you could say "Aw yeah, Get Up in It" while consuming, doing, or thinking is a worthwhile and usually savagely-enjoyable action. The phrase always has a joking tone, but it is built upon a strong foundation of respect and understanding that this moment has importance and value. It's an understanding between all parties that said thing is awesome and we're all intensely gratified. Also, in most instances, this line is said in a Barry White-type of voice or something between normal human tone and Barry White.

Barbecue is a prime example of something to be gotten up in. The juicy, meat-laden, sweet and spicy concoction ignites the senses but more importantly, it gets you a little amped up inside. It makes you swoon, salivate, like Homer Simpson with donuts. This is not just about the food itself. It's the act of consuming, on being one with this mass of meat as a spiritual being. That's why you wanna get up in it. Additionally, the consistency, almost the soul of barbecue is integral to getting up in. It can get All Over Your Face. Aw yeah.

Now I don't want anyone to think this just about barbecue. That is only one shining canon in the realm of things to be Gotten Up In. Gettin' up is a joy to life; it's the gold-tinged sunglassed that color a summer afternoon. Gettin' Up In stirs the soul. You don't get up into Existentialism, but you do get up in Transcendentalism; I do at least. If in looking for a suitable mate, you find someone who's mind or soul can be gotten up into, something that you can really spend some time and take a vacation in, then you win. In fact, it should almost be requisite in mate selection. Another good point to recognize that fat/alcohol/bad-meaning-good content is not a determining factor in Gettin Up Into anything. I could see someone gettin' up in a salad or even a smoothie. But that salad better not just be a house salad. We're talking a myriad of ingredients; gimme some avocado on that.

Getting up is a tough sensation to tie down and define, simply because it could happen in so many different variations. I'm compiling a list of Gettin'-Up-able things. My hope that it grows ever so fruitful and abundant.

Base List of Things to be Gotten Up In:

• the aforementioned barbecue
• Any type of pie or cobbler
• feminine anatomy
• dumplings
• a good scotch
• sloppy joes (say it a'Slawppy Johe)
• writing a compelling article (gettin' up in this right now)
• a dj killing a set, bringing in nasty tracks and really cutting it up
• ill freestyling (pretty much anything that can be done with a beat)
• odd fandoms - say the study of the aesthetics of sports uniforms
• nuanced histories - French occupation of Vietnam and its cultural impact in today's world
• Zoroastrianism
• any and all soul foods from every culture
• a classic album - ATLiens, Paul's Boutique, Dark Side for starters
• brewing beer

A life that maximizes gettin' up potential is the life I desire to lead. Surround yourself with people who get up in random activities and events. Get up in food and drink; simply, Get Up In It.

-MC Squared

Feel free to add your favorite things you Get Up In. Put it in the comments or send me an email at itsmcsquared@gmail.com. We'll maintain the master list somewhere on the site.

On Combatting the Forces of Darkness or Defining the Weekend: The Hangover Show

Note: This is the first of a series of posts on discovering and defining the minutiae of the weekend that everyone works so hard for. Any ideas or thoughts, hit me at itsmcsquared@gmail.com

I've gotten to know the process of the Hangover very well in recent years. I know that I've become swiftly skilled in causing them to happen, and while I know how to prevent them, or at least mitigate their impact, I refuse to do anything but let myself get beat down by a love of too much whiskey every Saturday and Sunday morning. Consequently, I've had to train myself in the 36 Chambers of conquering the hangover in order to have a functional weekend (obviously important when one works a nice 8-5 job with an hour-plus commute each way.)

The Alchemist and I have actually researched the physical causes of the Great Dark Cloud, and we have done our best to create magic elixirs and potions to soothe the beast, all to no avail. While everyone who has had his or her share of hangovers has a few special ingredients that expedite the process, there is no single cure. However, this is not about those ingredients (that's a whole other article); this pertains to a recent discovery and pleasure of mine that has become easily accessible with the myriad of digital entertainment options available to any American with internet and cable.

I'm talking about the Hangover Show.

The Hangover Show is something I partake in almost weekly now. It fits in the region of the hangover that is past the "What the Fuck Happened Last Night?", "Certain Death", and the "Why, God, Why?" phases of the hangover and before the "Ok, Not So Bad' and "Alright, Let's Put Some Pants on and Do Something" stages. Let's say it exists in the "Uggghhhhhhhhh" stage, where the myriad of secret ingredients (i.e. Coffee, Advil, Vitamins, Death of the First Born) are beginning to to take hold and clear the murk within the body. You know, when Mr. Clean and the Brawny dude start squeegeeing out your insides (no homo). You're conscious, but you sure as hell don't want to put much effort on thinking or moving.

In this cloudy state, I am perfectly capable of sitting on my couch, staring at a screen, and enjoying some light comedy, drama, or a weighted-average of the two. The whole purpose of this show's existence is to coach me back to life so I can get to business on stumbling around the city and doing a whole bunch of not too much. Citizen Kane is not something to boot up during a hangover. Hangover Show will not ask much of me, but it will steadily excite me and tell me everything's gonna be alright. More importantly, Hangover Show will pull a rope-a-dope. It will get me caught up in an alternate world, so that my mind will forget about the hangover and let Mr. Clean will finish his business (ew).

That's the secret. The Hangover Show has to manage to take my mind off the physical pain and queasiness as well as the self-loathing of past actions and impending doom of seeing the pictures from last night. It nurtures. It tells me that I'm awesome; I'm a party monster who, through liquid engineering, has earned the right to absorb it's plot and do the Ali G finger snap when necessary. It also let's me fast forward through commercials.

This is an ever growing list, and I will attempt to categorize and analyze each show in due time (patience, young one). This is the first and my current favorite.


Prime Saturday Hangover Show Number One: Friday Night Lights

NBC's Friday Night Lights fits in the hangover pocket for many worthy reasons. First, it airs at 9pm Eastern on Friday Night, the Death Slot. This is where networks place shows that they're not sure people care about but see some merit in, so when they get bad ratings, it's not hard to cancel them. Friday Night Lights has occupied this slot for two seasons. Rarely will I find myself in my apartment at 9 pm on a Friday night. There's post-work drinks, dinner, dinner-drinks, post-dinner drinks, post-post-dinner drinks, post-post-post-dinner-drinks-late night food, and a motley crew of other substances along the way that usually prevent me from sitting on my couch at 9pm to enjoy a solid hour of TV programming. It's also humorous that a show about high school football airs at the exact time when every high school football game in the country is happening, thereby alientating just about anyone who could have a passing interst in the show.

Nevertheless, it has pushed on, growing in depth and becoming one of the more enjoyable shows on TV. The brief rundown goes as follows: it's a good drama about high school football in West Texas (just like the book and movie). It has incredibly believable and well-acted characters, and triumphs in getting beyond just football. The book and movie were also great, but a serial tv show is able to take the amazing characters from the original story and fully investigate the depths of their personality. It's shot well, and most of the soundtrack is by Explosions in the Sky (look them up, it's worth it). Also, it does not break the Constitution of the High School Drama Show by making sure most characters are 5-10 years too old and smoking hot. There's also occasional bad-dialouge and ridiculous storylines; necessary. It's a great show cursed by a poor time slot.

It is also great at making me giddy like a 14-year-old girl. I truthfully am giddy to see what happens every week. Not many shows do that. The Wire and True Blood made me giddy and excited, but like a 20-something male should be, not an eigth grade OMG schoolgirl. I'm not ashamed of this, and it is a crucial factor as to why FNL succeeds as a Hangover Show. Simply pressing play makes me feel a little better. It's a great reason to get out of bed and make coffee. Also, it has about three truly affirming, make you say YES! out loud, moments each week complimented with a good amount of "Oh Shit, what are they gonna do?"-type moments. I know one or two other people who religioiusly watch this show, and please belive they receive texts around noon on Saturdays along the lines of "FNL so fucking good".

I love it, and it gets me ready to find my pants wherever they landed the night before, put them on and and finish slaying the Dragon of my hangover. A shower may come with it too. After Scenes from Next Week, I'll try to thank it for dragging me in, for making me forget about the headache going on outside of Dillon, TX, and it will say "It's my job as a hangover show; I'm proud to help you not feel like shit." Friday Night Lights meets the exact specification of the Saturday morning hangover. It knocks out the murk of Friday night and pushes the snowball down the hill towards a worthwhile Saturday, a fun/drunk Saturday Night, and the inevitable Sunday Morning Hangover.

-MC Squared

Current Sunday Morning Hangover Show coming soon....

...We've Been Here for Years

In all truth, I've been blogging for a long time and just didn't want to admit it.  I was in denial.  In fact, I'd bash the idea of blogging.  I'd claim that I was not so self-indulgent that I thought people cared about what I wanted to write.  Then, I'd create 250-word away messages that could crash a computer when someone just wanted to see where I might be studying.  I regularly bombard some of my friends will ill-contrived emails that contain my thoughts, theories, or haikus.  There are people who outright asked me to stop both of these categories of activity.

I figure that I wasn't writing those things for other people to read, rather, I wrote them for my own enjoyment and hoped someone might get a laugh.  The same is true for this blog.  Hopefully, we will bring joy to others, but I compare blogging to masturbating: it's really just to make the writer happy.  There are those that like to watch, and by golly, who am I to stop them? 

MC Squared and I have a tradition of writing down random thoughts.  In fact, we constructed a giant wall-sized whiteboard on which to write stuff.  Now, we have a blog.  But like a giant blank whiteboard, it's that first idea that's the toughest.  You want it to be awesome.  Perfect.  Undoubtedly, it is not.  

I can tell you that I will outline what we'll do.  What good is a first post if it doesn't do at least that much?  So here are the ground rules, which may be revised as we progress.

1.  We will try to post stuff that's entertaining (at least to us).  This is a place to write stuff down, and we're doing it for us.  The enjoyment of others would be a nice bonus but is not the goal.

2.  We'll do our best to not just post stuff we find elsewhere.  In all honesty, it's pretty lame and terribly disappointing.  Unless of course, you're having a bad day, and someone posts a little WOOOO montage that will let you Flair chop your way through the rest of the day.  Basically, if it's scant, we think it's really good.

3.  We will provide nothing but the highest quality, at least half-informed editorial content.

4.  We'll try and do it on the regular.

To be honest, I'm really happy with our blog name, but I will admit that it was not our first choice.  The domain that we really wanted was "theChewbaccaDefense.com."  It's a great name, but it's taken.  We thought it would become available because nothing is on the site.  This was not the case.  Fie on you Ken Hanna, owner of theChewbaccaDefense.com according to a whoIs search.  Fie on you for not making the most of you GoDaddy given web domain.

In the end, we arrived at our name after much though and search.  We're both huge fans of the Big Lebowski.  There was one summer growing up where MC Squared and I watched the movie almost every night for an entire month of the summer.  That was one of the greatest summer of my life, and this is certainly one of the finer movies I've seen.  Plus, the name has the added benefit of being an accurate description of it's authors, if we may say so ourselves

"Here's the name and number of a doctor who will look at it for you. You will receive no bill. He's a good man, and thorough."

"That's really thoughtful but I--"

"Please see him, Jeffrey. He's a good man, and thorough..."