oops

I think the picture says it all.

Google maps tells me I walked 8.2 miles round trip . . . it didn't feel like that much, but sure.

the view from where I am. . . walking

Mainly I watched the rest of the extended version of The Two Towers today, but I also took a short walk down the street and up the hill. I came upon Yoshida Shrine, which if I understood the sign rightly was built in 1601.


Actually colored this after I came back with my somewhat random selection of Prismacolors (I have a ton of them, but I only brought ~1/3 of all I own.)

A roof detail from the shelter over the basins to cleanse your hands before you enter the shrine.

Coming back down the stairs that led to this and several other shrines.

And finally, for Mary Beth. Upon closer inspection, it appears that this sign is actually instructing bicycle riders not to park their bikes in this spot, but it does rather look like it says "no bicycle-chasing pigs allowed" or similar.

more winnage

The meal I just made cost:

1/2 head of cabbage at 105 yen ($1.30) x 1/5 used = $0.26
2 carrots at 112 yen ($1.38) x 1/4 used = $0.35
2 onions at 175 yen ($2.16) x 1/2 used = $1.08
1 bulb of garlic at 198 yen ($2.45) x 1/10 used = $0.25

1 package of dry udon noodles at 105 yen ($1.30) x 1/3 used = $0.43

6 eggs at 105 yen ($1.30) x 1/6 used = $0.22

$2.59, and probably $0.40 more in sauces and oil.

So $3 for two meals that had some protein, some starch, some fiber, some vitamins, and flavor. Go me!

critters

Still feeling unready for hardcore sightseeing, so instead I took a walk along the river, probably about 6 miles round trip. There's sort of a boulevard that runs along the Kamo River (鴨川) ("duck river"! how appropriate) for probably five to six miles of its length, though admittedly I did not go upstream much of where my street hits the river.

During said walk I encountered all of the following wildlife:

• Mallard ducks
• Three or four Grey Herons
• Four or five Little Egrets (yup, had to look both of those up)
• A flock of very large crows eating trash out of the river (eep)
• A pile of cats sleeping on a tarp outside a makeshift shelter under one of the many bridges
• A very large Akita also sleeping outside a different shelter (double eep)
• A small pot-bellied pig out for a stroll with its people
• Swarms of gnats
  
• A large dead eel that two people fishing had just caught and pulled in
• At least three dogs riding in bike baskets: A pug, a King Charles Spaniel, and a Shiba Inu
• Many other dogs playing in the water and doing other holiday-type things, including a Dalmation, a Lab, poodles, a Miniature Pinscher, a trio of long-haired Daschunds, several Shiba Inus, and a Whippet
• Some turtles. Ahem. Technically the turtles were not wildlife, as they were made of concrete and functioned as stepping stones so people could cross the (very wide but also very shallow, ~1 foot deep in most places) river. Lots of little kids were playing out on these. There were also boat- and space shuttle-shaped stepping stones.
  

Overall one can tell it is a holiday. Lots of people were biking, walking, reading books, playing guitars and drums and a little triangular flute and also a ukelele, fishing, picnicking, wading in the water, and so forth.

---

I was thinking to myself, "Gee! Perhaps I should be a bit more careful. After all, it might have been sheer luck last time I was in Japan that I didn't get into trouble even though I didn't take any precautions." And that might be true, to a certain extent. However, one thing I've noticed is that no one here seems to use bike locks. They just park their bikes and go, something that wouldn't be a very good idea even in Boston. So, mark that up under the "Japan really is an absurdly safe country," column.

---

I reiterate: My apartment is awesome. Just. . . awesome. Everything works, everything is clean, and the furnishings even include actual sharp kitchen knives with which it is easy to cut vegetables. If I could find an apartment like this, for this price, in or near central Boston, I would be spinning around screaming in delight. (Of course, I'd need a job too, but . . . housing!) There's air conditioning too, but I'm not sure when I'll need it.

It's tiny, but a tiny, private space is pretty agreeable. (Also the bathroom is one of those that the whole thing -- tub, floor, walls, everything -- is a continuous plastic piece, which I find amusing.)

---

I'm re-watching The Lord of the Rings. It makes me feel extra homey, though I should probably watch some Japanese fantasy next so that my mind gets switched back on that grammatical channel.

this is what winning looks like

Winning is tasty.

This is my first self-cooked meal in Kyoto! The one downside is that now it is all in my tummy. Perhaps obviously, I have checked into my apartment. It is tiny (but not that tiny) and pretty great. My only food preparation spots are either in the sink (which is big! yay!) or on top of the small fridge in front of the microwave, but other than that, it's pretty complete. I checked in this morning with nary a hangup or problem and then went and got some groceries. A small package of unflavored udon costs about 60 cents (which is as much as you see here, though much bulked up by chicken and some veggies.) One serving of raw chicken is about $3.00-$3.50, so I can already guess I'm going to be eating eggs (didn't see any beans at the store.) I accidentally bought some sort of sweet vinegar, thinking it was oil, and had to run out again, so I shall be producing some interesting-flavored sauces for a bit. Note: oil is "abura," 油. I also got some corn flakes and milk, so my breakfast is covered for a few days. (In case you're interested, $2.50 for a liter of milk and $4 for the box of cornflakes.) (For more context, I spent $20-30 a day on food in Tokyo. So this is not that obscene.)

Other things -- on the train ride from my hotel to my apartment, I was standing next to a guy in a dark pinstriped suit who was intently studying English on flashcards hooked to a ring. Made me feel a little better -- everyone is trying to learn something. At the next stop or so, another guy got on and stood next to me wearing a "Michigan University: State Ivy League" t-shirt, which made me think of Alyssa and mentally chuckle.

lies!

I am full of them, chiefly that I wouldn't blog about Japan at all until I'd finished my London posts. I have led you astray!

Ah well.

Some things:

• I have located my apartment.
• I have located my office.
• I have located the grocery store closest to my apartment.
  
• I have located the infamous デニシュブレド ("Danish bread"), a deadly buttery concoction that was the primary reason that I gained weight in Japan last time despite walking 6 miles daily.
• According to Google Maps (which is not the most reliable source for Japan, admittedly) I walked about 7 miles this morning. Here is a somewhat loose representation of my route:

  

This is ignoring all the times I got lost.

Osaka Otsu and everything in between

I decided that I'm not going to write much on Japan until I finish my London blog.

But, miracle of miracles and oddity of oddities, here I am again. I am staying in Otsu, next to Lake Biwa, tonight in a business hotel, which despite its strong odor of cigarette smoke seems rather nicer to me than the Quality Inn I stayed at last night in Seattle. I flew into Kansai International Airport (the airport code of which is KIX, heehee) after an 11 hour flight that was mainly occupied by me flipping through what grammar books I brought and sorta kinda dozing. The airport is on a man-made island in the bay. It's impressive.

It took me five hours to get from there to here, but thankfully they were rather unhurried hours. I got lost a couple times but mainly just walked around the train stations a bit more than the average customer.

I remember coming into Tokyo and seeing flooded rice fields everywhere. I really didn't see any this time -- I don't know if the area between the airport and here isn't rural enough, or if it's not time to flood the fields yet, or what. I did see several fields of enormous cabbages.

The train smelled like Japan. Perhaps later I will try to figure out the components of said smell.

It's good to be back. I don't think I'm starting work for a couple days; in any case I shall be sleeping in for hours and hours tomorrow.

the 1840s fashionista

and a host (a small host) of other things vaguely to do with textiles and style.

So! Of late the Gochenour household (okay fine just this resident of the Gochenour household) has been All About watching Movies! In the last five days I've seen:

• Pride and Prejudice (the 2005 version with Kiera Knightley -- seen the 5 hour BBC one already)
• The Princess Bride ("You keep using that word. . . I do not think it means what you think it means. . .")
• Sleeping Beauty (the 1959 Disney version, which I saw last as a 12-year-old! yeah, it's REALLY BAD)
• Love in the Afternoon (in the genre of "Audrey Hepburn goes to Paris and falls in love with a much older man" movies, it's right up there)
• Kirikou et la sorcière (haven't formed an opinion as yet? French children's movies are not so much something I'm familiar with)
  

Those were all watched on my trusty Dell! (which, side note, I have just replaced! with an Asus. But it still works, so I am currently typing on the Dell.) BUT ALSO. My mom and I actually went to see a movie in a theater! The Ruth Sokolof Theater north of Old Market (which neighborhood is apparently called "NoDo," short for "North Downtown," by some foolish folks who apparently don't realize how moronic that sounds), to be precise. What did we see? Jane Eyre, the new remake staring Mia Wasikowska (Alice from Alice in Wonderland and one of the kids in The Kids Are Alright) and Michael Fassbender (known for having a name that sounds like it would a great brand for electric guitars or amplifiers. what. oops.)

I wore the new copper cuff bracelet I bought in the Souk in the Old Market, so I suppose I was in a stylish frame of mind. Or stylishly observant state of mind? In any case, I was in the mood to notice details.

londontimes

I've been so busy with weird-ass meta stuff (purpose statements, tumblr posts, twitter shit, self-promotional gar-bage) and fiction that I'm frankly intimidated by trying to wrangle actual experiences into some kind of a narrative.

I should also note that BECAUSE of all the meta crap, this post has taken me an unholy long time to write and generate images for (mainly maps! helpful maps.) (So, forgive the delay, if you please.)

But, you know, there's posterity and memories and such, so.

---

For the two people who DIDN'T read a previous blog entry, or any Facebook statuses, or look at photos on Facebook or Tumblr (because I have been blathering on about it online for WEEKS!), I was invited to the Royal College of Art in London for an interview after applying for the Innovation Design Engineering program in January. My flight from Omaha went Saturday, March 12, and landed in London on Sunday, March 13. My interview was on Tuesday, March 15; my flight back to Omaha was on Wednesday, March 16. I was only moderately terrified, and frankly as much worried about getting my pocket picked while walking about London as I was about making a good impression on the interviewers.

thoughts on finishing the 2005 Pride and Prejudice

Things Kiera Knightley has that I do not:

• A well-defined jawline
• High cheekbones
• Flashing dark eyes

Things I have that Kiera Knightley does not:

• Thick hair
• Boobs
  

radio silence

(Omaha from the Council Bluffs side -- looking pretty sprightly on an April morning)

I have actually been working on a post about my trip to London for more than a week.

Does this prove that I am super lazy? POSSIBLY. Does it prove that I have a lot to write? INDUBITABLY. Does it prove that Tumblr is super duper addictive and most of my writing skills have been dumped into writing silly captions and somewhat thoughtful responses to other people's blog posts? Er. . . RAIN CHECK.

(Seriously, though, I am still navigating what should go on this blog and what should go on that blog? HOW DOES ONE DELINEATE???)

In the meantime, here's some stuff from a short jaunt to the Old Market last Sunday.

Mom and I decided that, given the splendid weather, we ought to run down to the Bob Kerrey pedestrian bridge and take a walk. I, admittedly, wanted to take some pictures, especially after noting that Sasaki (architecture firm out of Boston) was engaged in developing the Council Bluffs side. I spent a lot of time trying to take sneaky pictures of Mom, as above.

in other news: sushitimes

As I wait anxiously to figure out whether I'm going to be able to go to Japan or not. . .

Last night Mom and I went to Wasabi Sushi in Omaha with Joanna, Chris, and Bobby. It was quite delicious. It was an all-you-can-eat service -- everyone paid $22.95 and marked down what they wanted on the sheets, and then they made it fresh for you. Mom was worried because there was an added charge if you left food on the plates -- what if we ordered some sushi we didn't like?

To which I said, "Then I will EAT IT ALL."

It has been too long since I had sushi, tempura, and udon. Yum. (Added side note -- was very pleased to notice that I could still use chopsticks easily, though I still can't eat slippery udon in soup very well.)

First picture is Chris's Boston rolls and. . . Philadelphia rolls? Second pictures is my tuna maki and nigiri. Nom nom. I have such bland tastes.

my life right now

On Saturday last week, my mom and I babysat for the excellent Bob, or Toddlin' Bob, as I call him (progressing from "Baby Bobby.") He is the two-year-old son of a family friend, which is sort of an awkward and misleading term that doesn't catch any of the sense of "she baby-sat me when I was in early elementary school and I was super disappointed when I got old enough to hang out by myself in the house; worked in the clinic for my dad for five or ten years or something like that; twenty years of shared history and love and I am happy every time I see her." I don't even like "surrogate sister," because sisterhood's not really in my experience, you know? And from my mom's description of her childhood, sisterhood involves all this fighting and crap that doesn't really play in here.

life drawing: probs the final.

Didn't get nearly as much done this week as intended, but you know, I got quite a bit finished. (Especially given that a large part of today was spent freaking out about earthquakes and tsunamis. Oh laws. Actually been flipping out about more or less all day -- see tumblr, contemplating chicken.)

Pretty tense about going to London tomorrow. . . super excited, too, but tense. It's the feeling of having to switch off autopilot that gets to me. Home is so safe, that I kind of resent giving up even a little bit. Even the littlest bit.

In any case, I won't have great internet access for a while, so I'm trying to get my online presence (hahahahahahaha) into order while I'm gone. Twitter, Tumblr, what have you. (I even set up text message Tweet and Facebook updates! yeah, finally.)

As far as the actual interview goes, I'm moderately terrified that they will ask me a question about current reusable materials/reusable materials engineering/other thing I absolutely can't answer about properties of materials, but, you know, I'll brainstorm on the plane and cross that bridge (over an abyss filled with flaming pikes) when I get there.

Enough nattering. Drawings.

The model this week was skinny and muscle-y, so fun to draw. I thought the warmups went well.

Not to be gross or anything, but he had proportionately obnoxiously large junk. I sort of wanted to leave it blank, but you know, um. Yeah. you know. (OKAY YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO AT LEAST COMMENT ON THE SLIGHT WEIRDNESS FACTOR AT SOME POINT.) This drawing is really shit, by the way, as if you couldn't tell.

a rather busy week.

On Saturday at about 1 PM I leave to go to London for my interview.

Between now and then, there is quite a bit that must be done.

a quick glance

at my blog assures me I need some brighter colors on my front page. It's just kind of excessively grim-looking, with all the browns and the grays and the whites.

So, here are two photos from Venice. You might end up seeing them again -- I'm finally getting to sorting out the 600 pictures I took while there. :P The first is St. Mark's Square from the waterbus; the second is the Rialto Bridge. Stereotypical crap.

life drawing numero seis

Still progressing, but slowly. The model this week had never modeled before. . . and, though she was a great sport, it kind of showed in the someone limited variety of poses she took. Or, you know, I just didn't have my drawing game on. Whichever. (There's a whole lot of games I don't seem to have on this week, including my "timely blogging" game. . . erk.)

Okay warmups. . .
This sketch was pretty homely, I thought. I kept making her stumpier and thicker than she really was.

a post about movies.

Well, this is one of those boring straightening-myself-out posts.

Movies I've seen in the theater since coming back from Spain:

1. Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole

2. Tangled

3. Voyage of the Dawn Treader

4. The Green Hornet

5. The King's Speech

6. Gnomeo and Juliet

7. Megamind

8. [edit, forgot this one] Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1

To which I say, WHAT.

Movies I've watched at home/Fenway since coming back from Spain:

1. The Secret of Kells

2. A Single Man

3. The BBC Emma

4. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

5. Bridget Jones' Diary

6. An Ideal Husband

7. Red

8. Eat Pray Love

9. Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

10. Fiddler on the Roof

11. The Blind Side

12. Gigi

To which I say, WHAT WHAT.

Just to keep things straight in my head, movies I saw (at home) whilst in Spain:

1. Coraline

2. The Corpse Bride

3. Sabrina (1959 version)

4. The Princess and the Frog

5. The Triplets of Belleville

6. The Holiday

7. Nanny McPhee

8. Julie & Julia

9. Hellboy 1

10. Hellboy 2

Looking at these lists worries me a little . . . I apparently have issues with watching normal and/or serious movies?

on writing

I am cross-posting this from my tumblr, because. . . what the hell.

---

therotund:

My writerly friends, I am curious.

How do you define a good day of writing?

I’m not really a writer…

A good day of writing —

Oh laws.

You know, I didn’t use to have issues with identifying myself as a writer? And one would think it was fairly straightforward, whether or not one is a writer: But I have a HISTORY with that word. From the age of about seven, on up until the age of thirteen — before the onslaught of high school and sanctioned extracurriculars — I actually got up at 6 every morning (in middle school, it got pushed back to 5) to write. Just to write, for an hour, or two, or three. My daily output started at about a page a day in “Creative Writer” (did anyone else have this word processor for kids???? am I alone in my appreciation of Zeke the purple-skinned facilitator of artistic pursuits???) — maybe 500 words — and was probably up to 2,000 to 5,000 words a day by the time high school hit. These were stories, almost universally fantasy fiction, lots of talking animals and unicorns and sorcerers. With sixth grade came a journal — holy shit did I journal the hell out of my life. I had ideas, dammit! I was not going to forget my ideas! I had zero problem with the word “writer” at that point, and have around eighty partially-finished stories, ranging in length from 2,500 to around 90,000 words, to prove the point (and that’s not including the stuff that was lost on my family’s very first computer.)

And then high school, when writing started getting slotted in: Unless you’re doing itfor something, a paper or contest or speech or what-have-you, there’s no point. There’s no time. And yeah, I was still a pretty prolific writer in high school, and I won some awards and crap for things I had produced — American Legion speeches, Scholastic Writing Awards, a few other minor things. I should note that every three months saw me producing a 20- to 40-page package of letters and writing for my beloved penpal and editing a similar-size package for her in return.

Writing, to me, was a big fucking deal.

And then college, where I got confused all to hell.

I don’t know why I picked the major I picked — because up until college there was never any doubt in my mind that the ultimate goal was to make my living writing. Not an iota of a doubt. I might study something else, I might do something else to pay bills and put a roof over my head, but WRITING. That was the thing.

I blame college (okay, and AP English Literature) for teaching me to write truly shitty papers. For teaching me that, yeah, I can get up at 5 AM the morning a paper is due and pound something out that will get me at A-. If I didn’t have to put in the effort to survive, I wasn’t gonna. There was that — but there was also, for the first time in my life, an actual social scene that I, personally, could participate in; there was food to eat and places to explore; there was architecture; there was design; there were a host of things (like Japanese and theater) that were really cool and interesting but that I wasn’t really that good at. Instead of honing and specializing my interests I seemed to have given them steroids and encouraged them to metastasize all over the damn place.

I wrote papers — I wrote a couple essays — I started a blog — I started two stories. I wrote a couple poems, particularly after the flood that swept through my family’s home and business in spring 2007 — but at some point, I seem to have broken my self-designation as writer.

And yeah, I’d like it back. I’ve blogged (in my other blog! heh) about my “resolutions” — to be focused, to be write more. But I don’t think I really set down my anxiety, my skittishness, the way I feel my heart and mind to be hopskotching over the world and back — I was that to quiet. I’m hesitant to classify myself using a medical term, but my inability to stay still for long enough to write out — to spin my experiences and my dreams and the stories that my brain continues to churn in hopes that some day I will manage to sit down and knit them together into a kind of reality (only it’s more like getting in shape to run a marathon, really) — it makes me feel disordered. In all senses of the word; wrong, messy, difficult to describe, entropic.

So with this mess — what makes a good day of writing?

I like numbers, solid things, even though they don’t tell much of the whole business — 1,000 words is okay; 3,000 words is pretty good. Stuff like what I’ve just written here — this doesn’t make for a “good writing day,” for me. Something needs to be about more than me, to pull from more than just my brain smashing around inside my skull, to be good. In general, fiction makes me feel good; a good paper, with careful thoughts, makes me feel good; it helps, on the nonfiction side, if it’s aboutmy research and my project. (At least, judging from the papers I can re-read and not flinch at.)

I am not the sort of person who typically posts things without a few rounds of basic editing — at least, checking for typos and sensibility and good stuff like that. I’m not so good at checking for insufferability and obnoxious levels of navel-gazingness.

It’s a good day of writing if… if I can re-read what I’ve written and clearly see myself in it. I don’t know if this happens to other people, but I tend to become an echo chamber for whatever I’m reading at the time — whatever its particular ideas, sense of humor, style of writing tend to be. It takes me a while to digest and incorporate and re-issue in Sharonized (TM) format. (And maybe that’s why I could never write much in college? Because there was too much going in and not enough time to let it settle down into a buildable material instead of uncatchable dust motes.) I have a very particular sense of humor while writing — it’s not loud and it’s not laughing-outright funny; it’s queer and pokey and rather gentle, and if it’s present in what I finished it’s a safe bet that I feel like I had a good day writing.

I once had a writing instructor tell me that for me, it wasn’t so much that I was creating a new world with my words as cutting swathes through my imagination for a reader to follow.

Maybe that explains why it’s so intimidating to start with anything I’ve been dreaming about for a while; but, that too, defines a good day writing: When I actually have the energy and the courage to dive into the tangle with a machete, instead of wimping out and taking a walk around the edge.

crap from the past

I was going to try for a play on "blast from the past," but then I ended up with "crast from the past," and that's just no good. Maybe "crapst from the past." Yeah, that has a ring to it.

First, a disclaimer: I AM NOT ACTUALLY A HOARDER. I JUST HAVE ISSUES. WITH THROWING AWAY STUFF. SOMETIMES. Typically, I collect bits and pieces of things I find really interesting for a couple years, then struggle to throw it all away. . . I had a brain wave before moving back from MIT and took pictures of anything that made me sad to throw out (but was pretty sure I had no reason to keep.) Yeah, I could have scanned some of this stuff and gotten better quality pictures, but the picture-taking process leaves bonus relics of the time and the place I did it in, which at some point I suspect I will value more than what the pictures purport to be of.

The primary thing I threw out was in fact around 150 cards received while at college, from various relatives, but mainly my mom. Mom: Showing her love with seasonal cards since 2006. (actually well before that, but you get the idea.)

And now. . . a tour through the crap I no longer possess! (The image above is of the practice casts we made of various body parts in 4.302 in wax and plaster. . . so there is an unpleasant closeup of my upper lip. Damn I loved that class.)

I love Orbit gum, and I loved this packaging run. Why did you have to end it, Orbit??

things I've realized

All the bath products I'm currently using would probably fall on or near the same paint sample card in hue. (Blame my mother for taking me out to buy paint last night.)

blog bait?

It made me kind of sad when I realized that, sadly, there are no gimmicks that will get me more pageviews. I have been carefully inspecting my Google analytics account for trends in this blog, and I have found that the following things bring me visitors:

1. New and interesting entries on Lang-8. (I think people read them and then click on my blog link.)

2. New and interesting art/graphic design by me.

3. More pictures on my blog's front page, preferably of my own generation -- if it's a picture from somewhere else then it needs to be compiled into some interesting format.

4. Leaving intelligent commentary on other people's blogs.

Sadly, those are all worky thoughtful time-consuming things. Absent-minded ramblings and peppering the air with links just don't seem to do it.

the eat pray love disaster: PART THE SECOND

Against my better judgment -- that's a lie. BECAUSE I AM A MASOCHIST AND ALSO BECAUSE I LOVE SCENERY PORN, I watched Eat Pray Love, the movie! The two hour, fourteen minute movie! Despite the fact that I kind of hated the book. Or, to be more exact, while being moderately enjoyable during the process of consumption, it left me the sour taste of entitlement and self-loathing in my mouth. The movie kind of does that too, but to a lesser extent, partly because a lot of the boring, navel-gazing bits are cut out, to be replaced by Julia Roberts' immobile and/or crying face and shots of the scenery and the food. The scenery and the food are very good, by the way! But I think even Emma Thompson or Kate Winslet would have a tough time making the central character of this movie likable, and Julia Roberts is not, shall we say, in the same league. A lot of the revisions to the story the movie makes are equally as witless as events in the book, but they are witless in a standardized Hollywood sort of way, so I can comfort myself that at least it wouldn't happen that way in real life. There's also the whole privileged-white-lady-in-a-formerly-colonized-country business, which I am totally unequipped to deal with at 1:08 AM on a Monday morning, but suffice to say that in general total obliviousness to the issues one is raising is not the best route for a scriptwriter (or author, AHEM) to go!

But enough bitching! Here are screenshots of parts of the movie I did like.

Italy!

grammatical notes on the worst lang-8 post yet, PART TWO

The learnification continues! (As well as another picture from the Durham Western Heritage Museum above.)

21. リンカーンが暗殺（あんさつ）された時 = at the time when Lincoln was assassinated. Apparently this is the time to pull out the "sareru" form -- emphasizing that it was done to him. Also, "ansatsu suru"= to assassinate.

seriously?

So the designer John Galliano was suspended by Dior for allegedly making some anti-Semitic remarks. I don't have much of an opinion about this, or I wouldn't, except for this moronic post by Scott Schuman. Yes, that would be Scott Schuman of "The Sartorialist" street fashion blogger fame, who argues that SPORTS TEAMS have a MORE EVOLVED APPROACH to "when an athlete is accused of something."

Holy shit.

Dude, that more evolved approach is why men like Ben Roethlisberger, WHO EVERYONE FUCKING KNOWS IS A RAPIST, can continue to play and make a ridiculously good living. No, he was never "proven guilty." THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE A PRETENSE OF DECENCY SHOULD CONTINUE TO EMPLOY HIM.

Get a fucking clue.