MPRE Guy, I Have a Question

This weekend, I attended the MPRE practice class in anticipation of next week's exam. Because they test ethics and professional responsibility, I will undoubtedly fail.

I was understandably shocked when I learned that all lawyers were tested for ethics before they were allowed to practice law. To me, that's like requiring chefs to go to fat camp.

The class was helpful, I suppose, although it can hardly be described as a class. It consisted of watching a four hour video. This video featured a man in a vaguely threatening Irish accent lecturing on ethics and prompting us to fill in the blanks of previously prepared outline. It was about as exciting as watching curling.

(I made that joke because it will be the last time we get to make fun of curling for four years.)

The format of the class -- watching a four hour video instead of having some guy come in and actually teach us -- was doubly startling for the following reason. It seems that BarBri, which will teach us law for the Bar exam, follows pretty much the same format. This summer, I will go to the tower of terror every day to watch a four hour video. For this privilege, I will pay BarBri $3,300. I can scarcely contain my joy. Being a lawyer better be awesome.

Why am I upset that nobody was there to actually take questions from the audience?

Quite simply, because I'd love to become acquainted with ethics. I think I've said it before -- it would be like learning a language I will never use, but would love to occasionally recognize. Think how the few people who still speak Latin feel when they watch The Da Vinci Code. I'd love to feel smug like that.

More importantly, there are actual questions that I would like to have answered. Important questions that only MPRE Guy can answer.

Like, can I sleep with my client? I imagine the answer is no, but let me finish.

For instance, what if she initiates it? Is it OK then? And what if she's really hot? Like, I-would-be-out-of-my-mind-to-say-no hot? All my friends would make fun of me and I'd hate myself forever for rejecting her hot? What if she's the love of my life and now I'll never know because I didn't sleep with her? Can I live with that knowledge?

Let's talk scenarios: What if she says, I won't give you the information you seek until you sleep with me? As a lawyer, I'm supposed to extract the whole truth and nothing but the truth, right? So wouldn't I, in fact, be shirking my duty by refusing to accommodate her requests?

What if she initiates, I say no, and then she fires me and says she's going to hire a lawyer who I know for a fact is terrible, and because of this she will go to jail? In this case, not only do I cause her to be disappointed because she didn't get to sleep with me, but then she also goes to jail because of it. Can I do that to her and feel OK with myself?

What if she fires me for twenty minutes and then hires me back afterwards? Then can I sleep with her? Perhaps that would create too much pressure -- if I fail to satisfy her expectations, then she might be less inclined to re-hire me. But that probably wouldn't happen. And what's life without these challenges, dammit?

What if I sleep with her completely by accident? Say, for example, that I trip and I fall, and I fall in such a way that my clothes come off, and when I land, I land on her, and the method of my landing is such that her clothes come off as well, and ten minutes later, oh wow, that just happened. It was completely unintentional, in other words. So what happens then? Am I still in trouble?

I literally have thousands of questions like these. And I haven't even broached the topic of sleeping with judges, bailiffs, clerks, probation officers, opposing counsel, opposing parties, and criminal defendants. Not at the same time,of course -- I'm not that deranged. The possibilities, however, are truly endless.

In retrospect, I'm glad that nobody was around to answer all these questions. It's for the best.

The Truth Hurts

So I got a shout-out during last night's Legal Follies (The law school's own SNL but with singing and dancing) performance. It was:

Carlos, enjoy your last ten months in America.

It's funny because ... it's true.

(Breaks down sobbing)

Is there a Kitchen in this Place?

I have never seen a character on TV go from unimpeachable hero to guy you want to kick in the 'nads so quickly. Jack is fiction's answer to John Edwards. I would bet even money on Jack to be redeemed in the end, but this arduous journey of his is starting to become too much. Instead of feeling sorry for the guy and rooting for him to find redemption, I just want Sawyer to kick Jack in the face again.

On to our regularly scheduled analysis.

Jack. Is there a more frustrating character on television? Just when he is at his most humble and on a path to redemption, he gives in to his inner idiot and destroys a pretty nifty magical device that might be of some importance. But we'll get to that in a second.

Sideways Jack has a jackass son, Schroeder David. If I detonated a hydrogen bomb to alter my destiny, and it turns out that in my rebooted life I had a kid, I would immediately go look for another bomb. But that's just me.

Anyhow, in this reality, Jack has a spectacular apartment, but Dad is still dead and missing. He did had a love child by the name of Claire. Finding out that he has a random half-sister who is set to inherit some of the Chief of Medicine's estate does not, of course, faze Jack in the slightest.

Instead, he goes to the conservatory to hear his son play piano. This would have been a nice scene, but I wonder if Jack was as confused as the viewers when the piano faded out and we were treated to soaring violins. WTF, producers? You couldn't dub over the kid with something like Yanni and use clever editing?

Our separate-timelines-are-connected clues for the night? Jack's appendix scar and ensuing confusion. Also, Dogen still has that weird-ass samurai beard.

On to Island Jack. Now we know the reason those guards silently moved away when Jack asked them to. In this temple, candidates outrank samurais. So now we know.

Like I said, every time you think Jack is going to redeem himself, he fails like a dog who keeps running into a sliding glass door. Let's follow the progression:

1. After exploding the bomb and (to his own perception, at least) failing to achieve his goal and managing to kill Juliet and zombify Sayid, Jack sits on a stone, humbled, embarrassed and wondering where the hell everything went wrong.

2. Hurley comes to Jack with a mission. Jack declines. Hurley pulls a Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting. Even though it is his fault, Jack agrees to go.

3. Jack confesses that he is still broken. Jack cries. Redemption looms.

4. Jack gets to the lighthouse. It is a magic lighthouse. His name is on the dial. His childhood home is reflected in the enchanted mirrors.

5. So, Jack. Here's a magical device that shows you your past. What do you want to do?

6. HULK SMASH

Yes, clearly Jacob planned this all out and is unconcerned with the destruction of his cordless lighthouse. But Jack doesn't know that. All he knows is, when confronted with something he doesn't understand yet clearly leads to answers, he freaks out and breaks it. You know who else does that? An ape who sees a mirror for the first time.

Sigh.

Oh, and in case you were counting, the "Jack cries" drinking rule netted us three drinks this episode.

Hurley. I can't make up my mind as to whether he's taken the leadership position or has just become the John to Jacob's Jesus. Thanks to Jacob's detailed instruction manual written -- shout-out to Sarah Palin! -- on Hurley's admittedly expansive forearm (the random tic-tac-toe via props game leads me to believe there is no paper on the Island), Hurley and Jack were able to have an Excellent Adventure.

Hurley, by walking all over the Island, finding a lighthouse, and and turning the mirrors to exactly 108 degrees, seems to be stuck playing a game of Myst. That lighthouse was interesting indeed. How come we never saw it before? Because the writers didn't need it before. Despite that, it's purpose seems clear. Besides reflecting what's on the inside of stupid doctors, it seems to lure ships to the Island. Who is on the ships? Remember that dozens of names are crossed out and only five remain. Perhaps Jacob is hedging his bets.

Hurley was bursting with awesome lines this episode. Calling the Anothers "Samurais" was awesome. "He's kind of dead, dude," was a winner. "He appears when he wants to, like Obi-wan Kenobi," was good too. But, "Jack broke your lighthouse, dude!" has to take the cake.

Claire. Wow. She has gone absolutely INSANE. Not Jack insane, but "I will eat your babies, bitch!" insane. I can't say I really blame her. Having your baby stolen, being tortured and branded by the Anothers, and going feral while living alone in the jungle for three years will do that to you.

Still. Wow. Every time they did a close-up, Claire's pretty blue eyes shone with madness. So how is she crazy? Let us count the ways.

1. The Baby's Crib. This might just edge out Boone and Shannon having sex for creepiest Lost scene ever. Was that a polar bear skull? What was with the rotted mosquito net? Was the body made of fur pelts? This "baybee" will replace the whale in my nightmares for a long time.

2. You're still my friend, aren't you? Every time a woman asks you a question in that tone of voice, one part sing-songy, two parts crazy eyes, you better say yes. Remember this girl? She just had rubbing alcohol. Claire had a hatchet behind her. If I'm Jin, the only answer is, you're my best friend!

3. My friend, the smoke monster. The way she said "my friend" reminded me of how that kid in third grade used to refer to his best buddy, Chuckles the Invisible Clown.

4. The old hatchet to the ribs. Yep. That'll do it. Claire, you now outrank the Locke-ness Monster in the Scariest Person on the Island rankings. Well earned.

For the record, I, for one, am very much looking forward to the upcoming Kate-Claire fight. Here's hoping they use a mud-patch as a ring.

Jin. Thanks to Jin's bear trap, this episode turned into ER for a few unbearable oh-God-please-get-those-open-wounds-off-my-TV-screen minutes. Perhaps it was the blood loss, but why on Earth did Jin not immediately tell Claire, "yo, Kate has your baby because she is a baby-snatcher" is beyond me. She ain't going to kill you, Jin. She's going to kill Kate. Waiting until the umpteenth hatchet wind-up is bad for everyone's health.

Also, kudos to Jin for continuing the fine male tradition of lying to a girl so she won't kill you. Unfortunately, this tends to backfire.

Kate. Remember that scene in American Pie where the nerds come to Stifler's house, and he opens the door, and they says they're here for the party, and Stifler says, "There's no party here." "Really?" they ask. "It sounds like there's a party in here." Stifler takes a beer from someone and sips it. "No," he says. "There's no party here."

The part of the nerds was played by Kate. She is not invited.

Also, Hurley, you didn't cockblock Jack. Jack cockblocked himself.

You Can Call Me Aaron Burr

Today, I was assigned to a case which is scheduled for a jury trial on March 23rd.

That's right, in a month I will be trying a case in front of an actual jury. Good Lord.

Provided, of course, it doesn't plead out. Or the defense attorney has a cold. Or I get hit by a bus.

Anyway, the case involves a guy who was in a movie theater. He was being loud, so people told him to shut up. He did not. So, of course, fight.

While I am obliged to prosecute this guy to the fullest extent of my statutory powers, I must say I have some sympathy for him. After all, if I was forced to watch Valentine's Day, I'd also become violent.

As a bonus, while doing research for the case, I came across the Dueling statute in the Massachusetts General Laws. Behold:

An inhabitant or resident of this commonwealth who, by previous appointment or engagement made within the same, fights a duel outside its jurisdiction, and in so doing inflicts a mortal wound upon a person whereof he dies within the commonwealth shall be guilty of murder within this commonwealth, and may be indicted, tried and convicted in the county where the death occurs.

If I'm reading that correctly, it's only illegal if we set up the duel here in Massachusetts and then have it in another state, and then the loser manages to crawl back across the border to perish in Massachusetts.

So what say you, Marc? Should we move it to New Hampshire?

Random Video of the Day LXXII

This is a perfect example of how a capella, when used for good, can turn a terrible song into something pretty cool.

And for the record, Glee is a capella used for evil.

Well, I Guess I Better Put Some Pants On

My initial impression of last night's episode is that it was awesome. Moreover, the show is setting things up like in a chess match. Whether we all say, "Aha! Checkmate!" or sweep the pieces off the board in confusion remains to be seen. But like I said that time we were driving to the strip club, I like where we're going with this.

Ok. That was awkward. Onward.

Locke. Like all Locke episodes, this one was terrific. Terry O'Quinn is neck-and-neck with Michael Emerson (and Josh Holloway lately) for best acting in the series. Locke is a magnificent character, full of complexities. The fact that Terry O'Quinn can play the frustrated and hopeful Locke while at the same time playing evil McSmoke'salot is amazing.

We are, again, getting major hints that the sideways world is nothing like the pre-crash world. In this reality, Sideways Locke seems happier and a little more grounded. Still frustrated, yes. But in this world, he is engaged to Helen. She in turn never left him for his daddy issues. In fact, are there daddy issues? Sideways Helen mentioned Locke's father and there was nary a hint of angst on Locke's face. Maybe in this world, Anthony Cooper wasn't Locke's rotten, no-good, kidney-stealing father. Or maybe he was Locke's father, but he wasn't a world-class douchebag.

Which begs the question: Locke doesn't have any issues concerning his father. So we can assume his father didn't push him out an eighth-story window. So how then, I ask you, did Locke become paralyzed?

As a side note, does this all mean anything as far as Sawyer is concerned? Remember Anthony Cooper is the original Sawyer, so if he isn't a con man in sideways world, does this mean Sideways Sawyer is well-adjusted? Or did he con Sawyer and leave Locke alone?

Also, Sideways Locke became a temp performing as a sex ed teacher. I was initially skeptical about Locke teaching 10th graders about circumcision, but then remembered he does have a suitcase full of knives.

The Locke-ness Monster, meanwhile, was running around the Island gathering his pieces. We'll get to the recruitment down in the Sawyer section, but let's speculate on Fake Locke's nature for a second. He wants to go home (which is where? If the answer is something stupid like Minnesota, I'm going to hurt somebody), and get off the island, but seems to be trapped. Trapped by who? Jacob? They're clearly adversaries, so something here does not compute. Unless, of course, you assume that they are fated to battle each other. At this point, people are mostly expecting a twist wherein Jacob is the bad guy and the Man in Black is not. Me? I think Helen's kind of a MILF. Different people, different levels.

And what of the disappearing ten-year old? I'm going to call him Casper the Friendly Ghost. Alpert couldn't see him, but Sawyer could. I'm going to chalk this up to Sawyer's is-a-candidate-ness. What is curious is that, when giving chase, the Locke-ness Monster did not assume his smokiness, which, as we all know, is wicked fast and could catch Casper quickly. No, he instead gave chase in his now-permanent Locke body -- which is middle-aged and tending to husky. Why? Because he was surprised and forgot to change in his excitement? Not likely. So is it because Casper is a ghost? Because he is a ghost of the young Jacob? Or Aaron? You know how quickly kids grow. Or someone else entirely?

Sawyer. So I'm guessing we should be welcoming Sawyer to the dark side. At this point, it seems fair to assume that there is a huge conflict between Jacob and the Man in Black (if the scale balancing the white stone and the dark stone didn't clue you in, Fake Locke casting the white stone into the ocean from whence it came should do it for you). And after Ilana's "recruiting" comment, we can assume that each side is in the process of picking Kickball teams.

Jacob's Magic Batcave of Symbolic Wonders certainly points us in this direction. Each one of the people who were touched by the Son of Sam Jacob was assigned a number (just like the DMV!) and drawn to the island. There, they are seen as candidates who would presumably replace Jacob as the Keeper of the Island. When would this be? Ominously, dozens of names have lines drawn across them. If I'm Sawyer, I'm not liking this development one bit.

(Also, did I miss it, or did they skip over Kate in the Montage of Candidates? Intentional Omission or Edited for Time? Answers at 11:00!)

And yet Sawyer goes along with it. And it makes sense. He's shattered by grief. He's in his rotting house in Dharmaville, drinking Dharma whiskey -- which, I'll wager, is smoky. Hah! -- and listening to The Stooges in his underwear. It ain't rock bottom, but it's close. I'm really interested to see what the writers do with him. He went from angry asshole to not only a redeemed and loyal family man, but also perhaps the best leader the castaways have ever had (Even in his drunken grief he's the only one who immediately saw that Locke isn't Locke anymore). And now, after his fiancee got blown up in a nuclear explosion, he's tilting to the dark side. Where will he end up?

Of Mice and Men, by the way, is awesome. And I guess Sawyer spoiled it already, so I'll just elaborate on the plot. Lennie was mentally retarded. He and George were working in a farm. There was a cute girl in the farm, married to the farm owner. Lennie accidentally killed her. Lennie was facing a lynch mob, so George decided to spare Lennie the misery and shot him in the back of the head while he looked over yonder. Simplistic recap, yes, but it might be good to know in case it becomes a plot point -- maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I definitely see some parallels with our castaways here. And yes, the cute girl Lennie accidentally kills has blond, curly hair.

Alpert. I always thought there was no worse place to wake up than facedown in a gutter. And then I saw Alpert trussed up like an old cow left to bleed out. He is well on his way to winning the "Most Terrified Person on the Island" award, snatching it away from Frogurt, Arzt, and (justifiably) pregnant Claire. Which leads me to believe that the Locke-ness Monster is really, really bad.

Ironically, everyone has always thought that Alpert knew so much, but it turns out he's just like us viewers. He knows squat. Also, he runs like a girl.

Linus. OK. Raise your hand if you ever thought, "In another life, Ben Linus would have been a history teacher." Anyone? No? I thought so. Nobody would have ever imagined this, but it's strangely perfect. Give him a couple more years and I bet you he'd make an excellent vice-principal.

And it's nice to see he's not one of those passive-aggressive guys who leaves anonymous notes for his officemates excoriating them for their lack of consideration regarding coffee filters. No, he'll just scream at them. Yes, you'll still hate him, but at least he'll be upfront about it.

Island Linus, meanwhile, gave the best eulogy ever at poor Locke's funeral: "John Locke was a believer. A man of faith. He was a far better man than I will ever be. And I'm sorry I murdered him." It ain't Irish wake material, that's for sure (Lapidus had it right when he said it was the weirdest damn funeral he's ever been to. Let's hope so). That said, Linus's voice was cracking and his face was working and in the end he spit out his confession almost as a way to gather himself and move on. Between that and his rediscovery of lying, it seems Ben Linus is finally picking up the pieces and getting himself back together. Good for him. Good for all of us.

Hurley. Something big is on Hurley's horizon. I can feel it. There are so many discrepancies between the Island Hugo and the assured, upbeat box company owner Sideways Hugo. None of them are apparent now, but answers are coming.

I guess this week it was Jack, Kate and the Anothers' turn to sit this one out and take a few plays off. I, however, will bet anyone that we see Jack at least once more this season.

Last Man on Campus

Somehow I missed this magnificent NYT report last week that asks the terrifying question: what happens in college when all the men disappear? Let's dive right in!

After midnight on a rainy night last week in Chapel Hill, N.C., a large group of sorority women at the University of North Carolina squeezed into the corner booth of a gritty basement bar. Bathed in a neon glow, they splashed beer from pitchers, traded jokes and belted out lyrics to a Taylor Swift heartache anthem thundering overhead. As a night out, it had everything — except guys.

In my experience, few situations are as fraught with peril as approaching a group of girls who are sitting at a corner table, bellowing a Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood song.

Me: Hi, I'm Charlie.
Redhead: 'Cause I dug my key into the side of his Pretty little souped up four wheel drive
Me: I noticed you from across the bar and thought I'd come over and say hello ...
Redhead: Carved my name into his leather seat, I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights
Me: What's your name?
Redhead: Slashed a hole in all four tires, Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Me: Please don't kill me.

North Carolina, with a student body that is nearly 60 percent female, is just one of many large universities that at times feel eerily like women’s colleges. Women have represented about 57 percent of enrollments at American colleges since at least 2000, according to a recent report by the American Council on Education.

Good Lord! Men are disappearing from college! Does this mean USC is turning into Smith? Texas is becoming Wellesely? Surely there are unimaginable consequences to the disappearance of the college-aged male. Who's going to buy this poster? What will we do with all those Family Guy DVDs? And what will become of that hallowed college tradition, the elephant walk?

“My parents think there is something wrong with me because I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t hang out with a lot of guys,” said Ms. Andrew, who had a large circle of male friends in high school.

Maybe your mom thinks that, and her disappointment is pressuring you into settling for the first Joe the Schmuck who wants to do body shots. But your dad? Your dad is thrilled that there are no males around you. Seriously. He's so happy, he doesn't even know what to do with that shotgun he bought on the eve of your first date. If my little girl told me she was "not hanging out with a lot of guys," I'd do a happy dance and break the seal on that 30-year old Scotch.

Jayne Dallas, a senior studying advertising who was seated across the table, grumbled that the population of male undergraduates was even smaller when you looked at it as a dating pool. “Out of that 40 percent, there are maybe 20 percent that we would consider, and out of those 20, 10 have girlfriends, so all the girls are fighting over that other 10 percent,” she said.

Math doesn't lie. Let's imagine that the student population at Small College is 100. According to those calculations, 40 of them would be men. Of those 40, maybe 20 percent can be considered. That would be 8 men who fit whatever arbitrary criteria Miss Math over here is using. Of those, half have girlfriends. That leaves 4 men who "all the girls are fighting over."

This is going to be one hell of a fight. Here's hoping they put it on TV.

Needless to say, this puts guys in a position to play the field, and tends to mean that even the ones willing to make a commitment come with storied romantic histories. Rachel Sasser, a senior history major at the table, said that before she and her boyfriend started dating, he had “hooked up with a least five of my friends in my sorority — that I know of.”

Way to throw your boyfriend under the bus. "Yeah, so, like, I'm dating this guy who is basically the sorority bicycle. Everyone's, like, had a ride." And you would really date someone who's dated five of your friends? Five? You can build an intramural volleyball team around that. You should call it, the Ethan Whateverhisnameis All-Stars.

Oh, and dude? High five.

The gender imbalance is also pronounced at some private colleges, such as New York University and Lewis & Clark in Portland, Ore., and large public universities in states like California, Florida and Georgia. The College of Charleston, a public liberal arts college in South Carolina, is 66 percent female. Some women at the University of Vermont, with an undergraduate body that is 55 percent female, sardonically refer to their college town, Burlington, as “Girlington.”

I went to the wrong school.

The gender gap is not universal. The Ivy League schools are largely equal in gender, and some still tilt male. But at some schools, efforts to balance the numbers have been met with complaints that less-qualified men are being admitted over more-qualified women. In December, the United States Commission on Civil Rights moved to subpoena admissions data from 19 public and private colleges to look at whether they were discriminating against qualified female applicants.

I definitely went to the wrong school.

Thanks to simple laws of supply and demand, it is often the women who must assert themselves romantically or be left alone on Valentine’s Day, staring down a George Clooney movie over a half-empty pizza box.

And then she sat on the couch under a blanket and ate a whole thing of chocolate ice cream while crying! See, NYT, I can also make cliche and lazy generalizations to prove a point! Wait. Cats! We forgot cats! Let's shoehorn a reference to cats in there! "... while Mr. Napoleon, her pet cat, licks the melting ice cream off her fingers!" Whee! This is fun!

“I was talking to a friend at a bar, and this girl just came up out of nowhere, grabbed him by the wrist, spun him around and took him out to the dance floor and started grinding,” said Kelly Lynch, a junior at North Carolina, recalling a recent experience.

The initial version of this article provided that girl's name. As a result of the ensuing Googling scrutiny, she was forced to enter the Grinder Protection Program. Her whereabouts are currently unknown, but rest assured half the internet is still looking for her.

“A lot of my friends will meet someone and go home for the night and just hope for the best the next morning,” Ms. Lynch said. “They’ll text them and say: ‘I had a great time. Want to hang out next week?’ And they don’t respond.”

One time, I met a girl at a bar and brought her home. And when I woke up in the morning, she was in the bathroom, using my toothbrush. And then I got a text from her a week later saying, I was really hoping you were different from all the other guys. And I wanted to answer, I was really hoping not to have to drag myself to the supermarket while hungover just to buy a new toothbrush. But that was too long a text.

And yes, Mom, I threw away that toothbrush.

Even worse, “Girls feel pressured to do more than they’re comfortable with, to lock it down,” Ms. Lynch said.

After reading this sentence, my subtext meter exploded. I'm not even going to touch this one. I'm going to cross the street, get on the other sidewalk, and maybe give it a second's glance as I walk away as quickly as I can without running. In short, I'm going to treat it as a leafletter.

As for a man's cheating, "that's a thing that girls let slide, because you have to," said Emily Kennard, a junior at North Carolina. "If you don't let it slide, you don't have a boyfriend." (Ms. Kennard, however, said that she does not personally tolerate cheating).

We don't call back. We feel so entitled that we have to force a girl to break her own boundaries in the hope that we'll answer her texts. And we cheat and you have to grin and bear it. Despite all this, girls are fighting over us like we're the bouquet at a wedding.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Women. Are. Crazy.

Faculty members and administrators are well aware of the situation. Stephen M. Farmer, North Carolina’s director of admissions, said that the university has a high female presence in part because it does not have an engineering school, which at most schools tend to be heavily male. Also, he said, more young men than women in the state opt to enter the military or the work force directly out of high school.

Mr. Stephen M. Farmer of North Carolina, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Larry Summers, formerly of Harvard. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about, so I'm just going to go check out the other side of the party.

W. Keith Campbell, a psychology professor at the University of Georgia, which is 57 percent female, put it this way: “When men have the social power, they create a man’s ideal of relationships,” he said. Translation: more partners, more sex. Commitment? A good first step would be his returning a woman’s Facebook message.

A good first step is not communicating via Facebook message. If that's the method you use for contacting me, I'm not going to respond. Why? Because I don't date high school girls. Anymore.

Women on gender-imbalanced campuses are paying a social price for success and, to a degree, are being victimized by men precisely because they have outperformed them, Professor Campbell said. In this way, some colleges mirror retirement communities, where women often find that the reward for outliving their husbands is competing with other widows for the attentions of the few surviving bachelors.

This has to win the prize for worst analogy of the year. Did she just compare guys in relationships to dead octogenarians? Which would make us single guys the leftover geezer in the high-water pants, drooling and trying to remember if it was WWII or the Korean War in which we fought.

“If a guy is not getting what he wants, he can quickly and abruptly go to the next one, because there are so many of us,” said Katie Deray, a senior at the University of Georgia, who said that it is common to see six provocatively clad women hovering around one or two guys at a party or a bar.

I can't believe I went to the wrong school. Damn my eyes.

At colleges in big cities, women do have more options. “By my sophomore year, I just had the feeling that there is nobody in this school that I could date,” said Ashley Crisostomo, a senior at Fordham University in New York, which is 55 percent female. She has tended to date older professionals in the city.

Yes. Because the best men are grown-ups who still date college students.

Several male students acknowledged that the math skewed pleasantly in their favor. “You don’t have to work that hard,” said Matt Garofalo, a senior at North Carolina. “You meet a girl at a late-night restaurant, she’s texting you the next day.”

Who on earth picks up girls at a late-night restaurant? And what the hell is a late-night restaurant anyway? Do they mean Taco Bell, open 24 hours? I got news for you, NYT! Not a restaurant!

But it’s not as if the imbalance leads to ceaseless bed-hopping, said Austin Ivey, who graduated from North Carolina last year but was hanging out in a bar near campus last week. “Guys tend to overshoot themselves and find a really beautiful girlfriend they couldn’t date otherwise, but can, thanks to the ratio,” he said.

You mean like this guy picked up Tina Fey because every other person working at NBC was a man and she had no choice? This article actually makes sense now.

Several male students from female-heavy schools took pains to note that they were not thrilled with the status quo.

Indeed, there are a fair number of Mr. Lonelyhearts on campus. “Even though there’s this huge imbalance between the sexes, it still doesn’t change the fact of guys sitting around, bemoaning their single status,” said Patrick Hooper, a Georgia senior. “It’s the same as high school, but the women are even more enchanting and beautiful.”

Mr. Lonelyheart? That sounds like the name of a Fallout Boy album. Oh, and some advice, Prince Charming: calling a girl "enchanting" is a good way to remain single. These are women, not travel destinations in the South Pacific.

And perhaps still elusive. Many women eagerly hit the library on Saturday night. And most would prefer to go out with friends, rather than date a campus brute.

As (I guess) a former campus brute, I would be offended by this statement. But if the girl is eagerly hitting the library on a Saturday night, I also guess it's best we don't try to date.

But still. “It causes girls to overanalyze everything — text messages, sideways glances, conversations,” said Margaret Cheatham Williams, a junior at North Carolina. “Girls will sit there with their friends for 15 minutes trying to figure out what punctuation to use in a text message.”

I would ask you to restrain yourself to no more than two back-to-back exclamation points. Also, if you can stick to either smiley faces or frowny faces in the same message, that would be great. Although it probably reflects your conflicting feelings accurately, I'm just confused.

The loneliness can be made all the more bitter by the knowledge that it wasn’t always this way.

I curse my parents every day for not having me in the 1950s, when I could ask Mary Sue to go steady with me as we sip on malts at the local diner. Back when, if I was wondering if that blonde I know maybe wanted to "watch a movie" with me at 3 am would require me to go throw pebbles at her window, somehow avoid her dad with the shotgun, and pull out my hand-cranked projector.

That's what she said.

No Sno

Yesterday, I found myself between a rock and a hard place.

A rock: having to go to class instead of taking an awesome nap.

Hard place: Having one foot of snow and slush on the ground.

And then, school was cancelled. And then we (oh happy day!) barely got a sprinkle of snow – to say that we had an inch of snow would be an overstatement.

So we found ourselves with the best of both worlds. No school, on account of a snow day. And then no snow, on account of faulty forecasts based largely on the panic coming out of Washington.

So, on behalf of the happy people of Boston, I would like to thank the residents of Washington DC. Yes, you got 40 inches of snow. But your complete and utter overreaction – cannibalizing grocery stores until they looked like something out of Soviet Russia is the least of it – is directly responsible for getting people so riled up at the prospect of Snowmageddon. So much so that Boston, despite the ultra-seasonable threat of 6 inches snow – which here ain’t that much – led to a false alarm and pre-emptive cancellations. We had no school, and then did not have to deal with the consequences. I could not be happier.

Karma’s going to come in and bury us with a Nor’easter come April, but right now I’m telling you. That nap was totally worth it.

It's Always Sunny in New Otherton

Last night's Lost was perhaps an underwhelming episode, but that's fine, especially when compared to the season premiere. You can't be sprinting the whole time. Trust me, I know. After those first twenty feet, we all need to slow down ...

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled recap:

Mac: Mac from Always Sunny makes a return appearance. If you missed his three minutes on Lost a few seasons ago, he's a dim-witted guard who lets Kate escape. Glad to see he's made some strides. Playing true to form, Island Mac kind of sees himself as the sheriff in the context of the group, with poor results. Presumably, he also runs Paddy's Pub inside the temple.

Kate: This was most definitely a Kate episode. These are never the best episodes -- they feature much running and melodrama and dramatic pronouncements. If Sayid episodes were re-fried James Bond, and Hurley episodes were Cheech and Chong comedies, Kate episodes would be telenovelas sponsored by Women's Fitness.

In any case, Kate teams up with Claire so they can accomplish the contradictory goals of escaping and having a baby. Thelma and Louise Claire and Kate are always a good pair to see running around wreaking havoc. Perhaps there was a spark between them, perhaps it is just my wishful adolescent mind.

Meanwhile, Island Kate did what she does best -- follow someone into the jungle. (Take one drink). Following Sawyer -- after intensely eye-f*&@ing Jack -- was an interesting move, prompted either by concern for her friend or because seeing someone wallowing in grief turns her on. Perhaps a little bit of both.

Sawyer: Today we learned that Sawyer was going to propose to Juliet, before dramatically casting the engagement ring back to the ocean to return from whence it came.

It seems Sawyer is morphing back into the caustic jackass from Season 1, shedding his still-kind-of-a-jackass-but-also-a-well-adjusted-leader persona cultivated in the last couple of seasons. It's really a shame -- Sawyer has really come into his own and features perhaps the most dramatic character arc on the show. But seeing your soon-to-be-fiancee fall into a hole and blow up a nuclear weapon will piss anyone off.

Hurley: He got to scream, "Dude! You're alive!" again. This has happened several times over the course of the show. In fact, at this point it should be a drinking rule.

Sayid: So is he alive? Dead? Neither? Hurley asks him, helpfully, if he is a zombie. And Sayid says no. But, as we learned from Dogen, Sayid is infected with a "darkness" within him, and once it reaches Sayid's heart, our torturing, child-shooting genuine-I-raqi will no longer be himself. So this is kind of like a zombie bite, and Hurley was right. In this case, can we expect him to be shot in the head like a zombie movie cliche in the near future? (That ain't your daddy anymore, that's a zombie so SHOOT IT).

By the way, has Sayid ever smiled? Like, ever? I think he almost made it this episode when Hurley called him a zombie but didn't quite make it. If Lost were a drinking game, Sayid smiles would totally be a FINISH YOUR DRINK rule.

Claire: Baby mama drama! Sideways Claire is indeed very pregnant, and still about to give up the child for adoption. In a twist everybody saw coming, forces conspire to make sure she does not give the baby up for adoption. And so Claire is forced to resort to a still-sketchy Dr. Ethan (wtf) to have the baby, if not today, perhaps tomorrow.

Back on the island, Claire disappeared for a whole season and has gone feral. God knows where she got that gun or if this is even Claire at all -- as Dogen helpfully explained, Claire is suffering from the same infection as the rapidly zombifying Sayid.

Also, apparently having a baby on the island means that you have to become a crazy jungle woman.

Jack: If Jack were a lawyer, and he was a prosecutor in a murder case, he would question the defendant in the following way:

Jack: Did you murder him?
Defendant: No.
Jack: DID YOU MURDER HIM?
Defendant: No.
Jack: Tell me that you murdered him!
Defendant: No.
Jack: (Picks up gun marked as Exhibit 1. Shoots himself in the head).

Jin & Sun: Nothing much happened here, except they'll probably be reunited soon. Just like in every season.

Dogen & Lennon: They lead the Others. But are they the Others? Or are they other Others? I always thought the Others were the people Ben and Juliet were with. Perhaps everyone who is neither a castaway nor died with the Dharma initiative is all part of the same commune and these Others who live in the temple and walk around with bare feet are just the crunchier granola cousins. Or perhaps they are another completely unaffiliated group. At the very least, they're not out usual brand of Other. They are other Others. Let's just call them Anothers.

In any case, Dogen & Lennon are the leaders of the Anothers. Dogen, otherwise known as the pirate Mr. Miyagi, only speaks English when he absolutely has to, like Sammy Sosa or the LLMs. Lennon's job, therefore, is only marginally useful. He's like a parrot that looks like John Lennon.

Misc: Arzt continues to inconvenience anyone. If you remember, this is the fat annoying guy who blew himself up with dynamite way back in Season 1. I sure hope he explodes in the sideflash world. Miles did not have much to do. Ben, Alpert, and the Locke-ness Monster (as EW charmingly calls him) were MIA this episode. Which happens.

As a parting note, let me say this: I really hope that at some point, in the background, we see Dennis, Charlie and Dee as Anothers. Also, if the smoke monster were wearing Kitten Mittons, it would easily kill twice as many people.

Random Video of the Day LXXI

You're my boy, Beaker! You're my boy!

Only the Good Die Young

Dear AARP,

Today I opened my mailbox to find a letter from you fine people, asking me to renew my membership with your organization.

At first blush, I was a trifle offended. Yes, I recently hit a milestone birthday. Yes, in three months, I will never be a student again. Yes, I often eat my dinner at 4 p.m. The first one, at least.

But then I realized, old people would never make fun of me. At least not to my face. So yours must be a sincere offer. And I will treat it as such.

Unfortunately, while flattered, I'm afraid I must alert you to the fact that you are about 40 years too early to this party.

Much like people count tree rings to find out just how old that elm was that they just cut down, you must have gauged my age by looking at the mileage on my liver.

And this is a common mistake. Despite the wear and tear on this body, I am but 25 years old, full of pip and zep and bursting with life. As such, I regret I must reject your undoubtedly well-meaning invitation to renew my membership with you. Although I too enjoy the occasional bowl of tapioca, to accept would be in poor form.

I especially regret declining on account of the free gift that you offer to those who renew. Although you call a travel bag what others would call a fanny pack, it looks rather nifty. And I'm sure I could put it to great use, perhaps carrying my pills, or an extra pair of teeth. And that slot in front that holds ID, so that kind strangers will deliver you back home should they find you wandering around aimlessly? Brilliant. I would use it at the next bar crawl and toast to it.

But I cannot accept this gift, because to do so would be to deprive an actual old person of a fanny pack. And I may do a lot of bad things, but I do not steal from old people.

In any case, thank you again for your kind offer. And please accept my regrets on account of my refusal. I'm sure you understand.

Cordially,
Me

P.S. You mention in the form that you will help look for long-term health insurance. Given your target audience, um, shouldn't you shift the focus just a tad?

PPS. Can I subscribe to AARP The Magazine? Does it come in anything other than Large Print?

I Will Watch Your Vampire TV Show With You

I would like to congratulate the Saints of New Orleans for winning the Super Bowl, sparing us the loathsomeness of a Colts championship, and for re-introducing us to the Peyton Manning face.

I would like -- love -- to be on Bourbon Street right now.

I would like to apologize to my friend Rob for elbowing him in the face during my celebration of Tracy Porter's backbreaking interception. My hope is repeated watching of the Peyton Manning face helps him convalesce.

I would like to commend Sean Payton for having the balls to call for an onside kick to kick off the second half. That absolutely turned the game around.

I would like to thank Bud Light for letting us know that, in the sideways world where Oceanic 815 never crashed, Dr. Pierre Chang is a drunk astronomer.

I would like to remind everyone that The Who is actually awesome, and not the awful cover-band-like fiasco we saw tonight that would have gotten booed off the stage at a wedding. They also -- despite their claims -- did not use to be complete and utter sell-outs.

I would like to renew my vow never to eat at a Denny's.

I would like to confess that, during Google's commercial that told the story of a couple from courtship to baby via Google Searches, every single person at our Super Bowl party was rooting for the last search to be "French Divorce Laws," "Do Extradition Treaties Cover Crimes of Passion," or "Le Abortion Clinics."

I would like to apologize to Tim Tebow for the previous joke.

I Don't Understand

Do not read this post unless you have seen last night's episode of Lost because, well, it tells you what happened. I would also tell you not to read this post if you want to find out what happened because, well, I have no clue what happened.

Look, I ain't here to recap the show. Much smarter people with more time on their hands can do that for you.

What I'm going to do is give you my thoughts on what's going on with the show. I would organize this chronologically, but on a show like Lost, that can be a bit confusing. So instead, I'm going to do a little run-through of what I think is happening with each character.

Yes, I know that they are characters even though I will talk about them as if they are real people with motivations instead of plot devices used by an author. So spare me the English major quibbling. Plus, it's fun this way. Remember, without interesting characters, this show would now be about people who travel back in time to a hippie commune.

In any case, this might be a regular feature, or it might not be. Only time will tell. Meanwhile, why don't you follow me down into New Otherton?

Juliet: Well, that sucks. I've made no secret of the fact that she's my favorite female character, partly because she is the only woman on the show without baby mama drama, and also because of her enormous, um, eyes. And now she's dead.

Or perhaps she isn't. Perhaps the sideflashes to the world where Oceanic 815 doesn't crash are the actual reality, and she is sitting in New Otherton, reading a Stephen King book. Of course, in the crash-less world, New Otherton is the lost city of Atlantis, so...

Goddamnit, I guess she's dead. The show gets much less interesting without Juliet.

Jack: Here's how normal people do things:

Guy: We can save your friend, but there might be consequences.
Normal person: What consequences?

Here's how Jack does things:

Guy: We can save your friend, but there might be conseque --
Jack: Do it.

This impulsiveness is what gets people, like Juliet, killed. As a result, it is enormously satisfying to see Sawyer kick Jack in the face.

At this point, Jack is locked in a monumental struggle with Charly from Flowers for Algernon in the battle to see who can become the dumbest in the shortest amount of time. I'd put my money on the doc.

Kate: Of course she puts the moves on Sawyer right after Juliet dies. Maybe a bit of a low blow, but nothing really interesting happened with Kate in the episode. Yes, alterna-Kate escaped from Barney Fife again, but that's nothing new, like alterna-Sayid kicking in doors for no reason.

Sawyer: I like dual storyline because it allows us to see two sides of Sawyer: Smartass Sawyer, who loves the fact that Kate is in handcuffs, and I'm-going-to-shoot-you-in-the-face Sawyer, who really is completely justified in tearing Jack's arm from its socket and beating him to death with it. These two Sawyers can't always coexist, except in this dual storyline, we get the best of both worlds.

Crashless Sawyer also gets the best line of the night.

Security Guy: We have a 341!
Sawyer: Sounds serious. What's a 341?
Security Guy: That's confidential.
Sawyer: If it's confidential, how the hell am I supposed to know if I see one?

Locke: Also dead. After Juliet dying, learning about Locke's death was perhaps the most devastating moment in the episode. The writers had set up Locke to be the most important character in the series -- the Island's savior, in fact -- and given this poor, sad, paralyzed box company employee a purpose in life. And then he gets killed in a lonely hotel room. And now we learn that his last thought, tragically, was: "I don't understand." Oof.

So it seems the Man in Black and Smokey the Monster and Fake Locke are all the same thing. And it seems they want to destroy everyone on the island. And it can't cross through ashes.

Smokey the Monster tearing through the guerrillas? Awesome.

Ben Linus: I liked Ben a lot better when he was a badass manipulating everyone around him. Now? He's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. You have to give it up for Michael Emerson -- he can convey Ben's shock over what just happened using only body language. That scene where he is standing over the fire like a scarecrow who just lost his stuffing? Terrific stuff. But please, writers, return him to his former glory. Remember this?

Jin & Sun: Meh.

Sayid: I have no clue what the hell happened here. Sayid got shot in the stomach, bled like a stuck pig, got tossed around in a hippie bus being driven over jungle terrain, and managed to survive a bullet in his gut for a good few hours. So who can save him? The temple!

We finally get to see the temple, which looks like the set of Legends of the Hidden Temple and which, per temple guidelines, has its own cult. Except this cult is led by Pirate Mr. Miyagi and the late John Lennon. And it has the Eternal Fountain of Youth. Or regeneration, I guess.

The magic fountain seemed to be malfunctioning, failing to close Pirate Miyagi's hand when he went all Wolf Pack on us and cut his own palm. Then Sayid gets drowned by the pirates. And dies. And then he comes back to life. Or is it him? Or is it Jacob? Or Smokey the Monster? And did anybody else think it was ironic that they put the Iraqi in a hole in the ground?

Hurley: Hurley is really getting the hero's edit, isn't he? "Jack, can you save him?" "No." "Then you're going to have to let me do it." Boom. And then taking charge in the Temple of Doom? Boom again. Though I must confess I did think he was accidentally going to shoot Sayid when he was fumbling around with the gun.

Misc: God knows what this sideflash means. Alternate realities? Multiple worlds? Unexplainable time paradox? I won't even venture a guess. But it's good to see Desmond again. Boone appears to be there sans Shannon. For a second, I thought Charlie was saved from death by drowning only so he could die of choking on a heroin bag. And Kate just took a pregnant Claire hostage. That ought to go over well with the D.A.

Oh, also, Frogurt returned! He wasn't Frogurt on fire this time, but there's a lot of season left.

Big Red Ranking

If you go on Facebook, every Cornellian there will be wooping it up with a #25 in their status.

This is in reference to Cornell cracking the college basketball rankings for the first time in program history. Only ranked #25 in the coaches' poll, yes, BUT CORNELL IS RANKED, SO GIVE ME A HAPPY DANCE!

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Thank you, Stimpy.

I am, of course, thrilled. This is a huge moment for the otherwise hockey-and-lacrosse-heavy Cornell sports program, and while we're not quite here yet, it's a nice feeling nonetheless. I would only ask that non-Cornellians use restraint when making Andy Bernard jokes. Remember, we're in a recession.

As ESPN's Eamonn Brennan says:

This is good news for a variety of reasons. The first? It's always good to see the Ivy League in the national picture. The second? Kids at Ivy League schools have it pretty rough, sports-wise and this is something to rally around. Third? More Andy Bernard jokes! There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Damnit, what did I say about Andy Bernard jokes?

The Grade Deflation

Students unfortunate enough to attend Princeton University already bear the heavy burden that is going to school in New Jersey. To this indignity, the NYT reported earlier this week, Princetonians must also add the horrifying prospect of grade deflation. A full account of the tragedy, with additional commentary, follows:

When Princeton University set out six years ago to corral galloping grade inflation by putting a lid on A’s, many in academia lauded it for taking a stand on a national problem and predicted that others would follow.

Yes, grades, like a wild stallion that can not be tamed, became a national problem six years ago. General Princeton Tiger, commanding an army of dissatisfied and ornery professors fighting each other for tenure, set a course for battle that would save this country from the terror of Ivy League students getting A's. The name of the campaign? "Shock and A-Minus."

But the idea never took hold beyond Princeton’s walls, and so its bold vision is now running into fierce resistance from the school’s Type-A-plus student body.

Of course, a Type-A student would be the first to tell you that Type-A-Plus personality does not exist, and that making this exaggeration cheapens the neurotic accomplishments of true Type-A's. "Would a general like it if you started calling some of them general plus?" asked one of them, tossing some Prozac-plus into her mouth. "I don't think so."

With the job market not what it once was, even for Ivy Leaguers, Princetonians are complaining that the campaign against bulked-up G.P.A.’s may be coming at their expense.

“The nightmare scenario, if you will, is that you apply with a 3.5 from Princeton and someone just as smart as you applies with a 3.8 from Yale,” said Daniel E. Rauch, a senior from Millburn, N.J.

The nightmare scenario indeed. Everyone knows Yale graduates can barely tie their shoes. To think that someone like Lloyd Blankfein might even consider Yalies in the same conversation as a Princetonian is unthinkable, especially when they are "just as smart as you" and have the advantage of a completely arbitrary grade obtained from a transcript that consists almost exclusively of humanities classes. What's next? Interviewing someone from Brown?

The percentage of Princeton grades in the A range dipped below 40 percent last year, down from nearly 50 percent when the policy was adopted in 2004. The class of 2009 had a mean grade-point average of 3.39, compared with 3.46 for the class of 2003.

Wait a minute and hold the phone. This whole thing is an issue because of a drop of 0.07 points on a college GPA? That is what those kids are crying about? 0.07? The only people for whom 0.07 should be a significant number are those who get pulled over after a couple of drinks.

But you know, at the very least, we can at least be grateful that we have located the source of the classhole invasion. Now if only we could contain them.

In a survey last year by the undergraduate student government, 32 percent of students cited the grading policy as the top source of unhappiness (compared with 25 percent for lack of sleep).

In a survey this year, 100 percent of students cited "Going to school where 32 percent of the students are douchebags who cite a grading policy as their top source of unhappiness" as the top source of unhappiness.

The undergraduate student body president, Connor Diemand-Yauman, a senior from Chesterland, Ohio, said: “I had complaints from students who said that their professors handed back exams and told them, ‘I wanted to give 10 of you A’s, but because of the policy, I could only give five A’s.’ When students hear that, an alarm goes off.”

This alarm -- also known as the "can you believe this?" entitlement bell -- also goes off when the first cab that goes by has their light on despite having passengers inside, when someone presses the wrong button in the elevator and provokes an extra stop, or when a momentary flash of insolence flares in their butler's eyes after you tell him that your sandwich should be cut into rectangles, not triangles.

Nancy Weiss Malkiel, dean of the undergraduate college at Princeton, said the policy was not meant to establish such grade quotas, but to set a goal: Over time and across all academic departments, no more than 35 percent of grades in undergraduate courses would be A-plus, A or A-minus.

The policy being attacked is one in which more than a third of the students get A's? I'm in law school. I, and every single one of my classmates, would gladly set you and your mother on fire for such a guarantee.

Early on, Dr. Malkiel sent 3,000 letters explaining the change to admissions officers at graduate schools and employers across the country, and every transcript goes out with a statement about the policy. But recently, the university administration has been under pressure to do more. So it created a question-and-answer booklet that it is now sending to many of the same graduate schools and employers.

"Dear Potential Employer, We all know that the most important factor in hiring someone is their college GPA. We ask that you keep in mind the fact that only a third of our students get one of the three types of A's. Everyone else gets a B+. Please consider this, if only to ensure that grades continue to matter for more than six months after graduation."

Princeton also studied the effects on admissions rates to top medical schools and law schools, and found none. While the number of graduates securing jobs in finance or consulting dropped to 169 last year from 249 in 2008 and 194 in 2004, the university attributed the falloff to the recession. (Each graduating class has about 1,100 students.)

So it hasn't affected the only two areas -- law and med schools -- where grade performance has a significant effect. And finance and consulting jobs were affected only after the Great Recession hit. In fact, finance and consulting jobs had increased by 25 percent in the time the policy was actually in place. Doesn't that eviscerate the whole premise behind the complaints and this article?

My guess? The reporter heard some little bastard from Princeton complain about his grades. Then she wrote the story. Then, to her credit, she actually checked out some facts. And the facts contradicted the premise of her story. And then she thought, should I drop this? And went, naaah.

But the drop in job placements, whatever the cause, has fueled the arguments of those opposed to the policy.

Wait. Princetonians are actually making this argument? They actually doubt whether the Great Recession is the cause of the drop in finance jobs? Are they doing this with a straight face? If so, then have they considered that maybe the reason for grade deflation is neither the policy nor the teachers enforcing it?

Stuart Rojstaczer, a retired professor at Duke who maintains a Web site dedicated to exposing grade inflation, said that Princeton’s policy was “something that other institutions can easily emulate, and should emulate, but will not.” For now, Princeton and its students are still the exception. “If that means we’re out in a leadership position and, in a sense, in a lonelier position, then we’re prepared to do that,” Dr. Malkiel said. “We’re quite confident that what we have done is right.”

Yes, nobody is lonelier than a Princeton graduate who complains about his 3.39 GPA. They stand alone, scarred forever by that B+ average from an Ivy League school, weathering the gale that is the world's scorn. But they stand secure in the knowledge that they are pioneers, valiant souls who endure the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune, taking arms against a sea of A's, to oppose and end them. Endure, brave ones. Endure.

It's lonely at the top indeed.