Fat and Outsourcing

On the issue of outsourcing, Mike says, “Let that overweight American middle class trim down their decadent ways and compete in the global economy rather than cry foul at the intellectual and professional emancipation of our third world.”

That annoys me, partly because I’m part of that American middle class, and I don’t like being painted with the broad brush of “overweight, burger-eating, SUV-owning American” any more than Filipinos enjoy being referred to as “little brown brothers.” I work long, hard hours earning just enough to live a simple apartment-dweller’s life here in Washington, and after all that, it riles me to be shunted along with other Americans into the grossly generalized straw man of the “whiny decadent Westerner,” simply because, yes, I too am concerned about my field of work being taken over by offshore workers. (Not to the extent, however, that I would support thinly veiled bigotry in the name of secure employment.)

Besides, I would hardly characterize outsourcing as an “intellectual and professional emancipation of the third world.” Are companies which outsource helping to improve the quality of life in the regions from which they hire offshore workers, or is Corporate America simply using long-distance technology to capitalize on the lower cost of living and cheap labor readily available through poorer countries? If it’s the latter, then that’s not emancipation, it’s abuse, and that’s an even worse travesty than the stereotypical perception of American decadence.

(That disagreement aside, do go check out Rush Hour Hell. Mike’s been a friend and colleague since we were little boys in school. He got me into PEX and recommended me to grad school. And he windsurfs.)

Trebuchet is a what?

It’s not just a font! Gearbits has Trebuchets on display. Ah, reading the word “Ballista” brings me right back to afternoons in my college years playing hours and hours and hours of Warcraft. It turned into a terrible waste of afternoons.

(Directly below the Trebuchet entry is a review of Da Vinci Code. “Science and history?” Cough.)

No Country for Old Men

Carl Olson (of Da Vinci Code fame) emailed to say thanks for the Da Vinci post, and to clarify that he is a Catholic of the Byzantine variety, and therefore kisses icons rather than statues. Big difference, I’m told. I have corrected the entry, with my head hung in shame at my lack of attentiveness to these manifestations of religious diversity. Forgive me.

(Title of this post from a Yeats poem, which I first read when I was a little boy. It was the example text for a lesson in BASIC, in which I used the PRINT command to output the poem in the shape of a lamp.)

Hippocampus Attractions

Over at HipEx (cool abbreviation, eh?), Karen is writing about Attraction and relationships: part 1, part 2. (Nice to see that Ben is back in action, too.)

Earlier this year, as I began a tender friendship with the lady who would eventually catch my heart, HipEx’s Male and Female issue was a beacon of wisdom and guidance, especially the perspectives on Josh Harris (1, 2). It’s a constant source of frustration to me that the common terms for a boy-girl relationship, “going out” and “dating,” are such superficial terms, but “courtship” — actually my preferred term for what Amy and I are in — carries so much religious-cultural baggage that to say we are “courting” is more awkward than just telling everyone that “we’re seeing each other,” or the even more ambiguous “it’s us now.”

She’s my girlfriend, and after half a year of being together, we’re considering the possibility of marriage a bit later on in life. What do you call that?

Oh yeah, Dordting!