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Tonight was the second time I got pulled over in as many weeks. The first time, I was driving my mom’s car with both her and my sister as passengers. Now, I knew one of the headlights was out. So when a cop passed us, slowed down again, and pulled behind us, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. What did throw me off guard was when the officer walked around to the front of the car, explored with his flashlight, and returned to apologize. “Sorry about that,” he said, his young face looking bewildered, “It looked like one of your headlights was out when I passed you before.” At this point, I had to mentally restrain myself from retorting, “Yes, well, that is surprising, given it’s been busted for a while now.” Instead I said something like, “Ah, that’s strange. It looks OK now?” He bid us a good day and I hauled ass home, knowing full well what he would see if allowed to pass us again: a broken headlight. Was the officer tricked by a play of light? Had I accidentally turned on my brights? Was he simply using it as an excuse to pull us over and, finding that I was a sober young man driving his dear mother and sister home, decided to give us a break? It is a mystery for the ages.

Then there was this evening, a dark and stormy night on the California 92. I was cruising at the speed limit, being unfamiliar with the windy road. I watched in my rear view mirror as a car approached and sped past. Then, suddenly, they hit the brakes, let me pass, pulled behind, and did the light-show thing. I recognized the police cruiser relatively early on in this process because I am paranoid about these things, so I knew even before I saw the red and blue what was going to happen. “Is there a problem, officer?” I asked this, even though my being pulled over was a pretty good indication that, yes, there was a problem. “Yes, actually,” the officer predictably replied as his partner approached the other side of the car. Rain was now falling into both windows. “We ran your plates and they don’t seem to be coming up in the system.” I explained that I had moved recently, but that my registration should have gone through by now. It had been weeks. I had all the paperwork, so there wasn’t much more to be said on the matter. They explained they wanted to make sure the car wasn’t stolen, and I explained that, if someone had stolen my car, I would very much want the officers to pull that person over. Later, I thought I should have added, “and then beat them with your night sticks.” Sometimes I’m lucky my brain works slowly.

I’ll say something of merit in the next few days, but now I’m sleepy. The life of an outlaw is exhausting.

There you have it, folks: Bush authorized the NSA to conduct domestic spying. He ordered them to spy on you, for your own good. He says he will continue to do so as long as he is President. That’s not all, however, because he also accuses the press of endangering national security by reporting on this debacle after news of it leaked to people at the Times. It’s not illegal, he asserts, despite the fact that numerous NSA officials refused to participate because of… wait for it… legality concerns. Perhaps most intriguing of all is the President’s curious statement, “I’m also using constitutional authority vested in me as Commander-in-Chief.” Not as President; as Commander-in-Chief. Was martial law declared without our knowledge? All of this was done, so the President says, “to protect our people, our freedom, and our way of life.”

Instead of consulting your internal moral compass and asking whether, legality aside, Mr. Bush is behaving ethically, let’s instead discuss his claims from a logical perspective and see if we can’t find a disturbing rational hole through which one could pass the entirety of the Universe. I think we can all agree that the Founding Fathers would have considered governmental phonetaps without court approval to be in violation of the spirit of the Fourth Amendment. Even though the Founders never established a Right to Privacy, making a phone call to a friend is a situation in which a reasonable American would have an expectation of privacy. Again, however, let’s not focus on legality. Let’s not focus on the President’s mistaken impression that his oath was about protecting the American people rather than defending and upholding the Constitution. Those are all interesting topics, but, instead, let’s talk about who is endangering “our freedom” and “our way of life.”

Our American way of life includes being about to read any books we want, without wondering if Homeland Security is going to come knocking. Our American way of life includes the right to not be

I have a favor to ask of you, my friends, family, and random ‘net folk: buy gifts for me. Most of you didn’t buy me anything for the holidays last year, and that’s fine. There’s nothing I really wanted, anyway. I recognize that it’s a bit out of character for me to insist that you purchase presents for me this holiday season, but that’s what I’m doing. Except, of course, the gifts aren’t for me.

Every year, Penny Arcade runs a charity called Child’s Play. A number of children’s hospitals around the world participate in the charity. For each hospital, an Amazon Wish List is set up with various toys, books, music, and video games. You go to the wish list for the hospital of your choice, buy some of the presents, and get them shipped directly to the hospital. Your gift goes to kids who are coming out of or going into surgery, fighting diseases, or living in a hospital due to some chronic illness. They also run a charity dinner and take straight up corporate sponsorship. In past years they have received more than a quarter of a million dollars in gifts and donations. You can read more about it on the site.

On the whole, I am wary of charities. I imagine them skimming off 20% for administrative fees. I picture them spending my donation on overpriced services. I worry that my hard-earned cash ends up going either to people who just too lazy or incompetent to get a job, or to people whose greatest need is not money. Not to mention that most charities try to motivate donation through guilt. My suspicion of and dislike for these organizations outweighs my desire to do good works.

Child’s Play is a different beast. First of all, it’s not some monolithic charity organization; it’s Gabe and Tycho. I’ve read their news and webcomic for years. I know their names and their children’s names. I know their taste in video games, for crapsake. In their own words, “There are no ‘administrative fees’ or other hidden costs associated with giving to Child’s Play - every cent is passed on.” Everything you purchase or donate goes to a sick child. It’s a good cause run by good people.

I just bought a couple of books for the Children’s Hospital Oakland, where I am making plans to volunteer as well. One book was about asthma, because I’m a survivor (heh), and the other was called The Mighty Asparagus, which is just a fucking awesome name for a children’s book. I’m only telling you this because I think it may help motivate you to do the same.

So, this holiday season, fuel my selfish desire to feel good about myself. Make up for not buying me anything for Christmas or Hanukkah last year. Go to the Child’s Play site, right now, and buy something for a sick kid. You cheapskates owe me.

Comprehensive exams are over, with relatively positive results. I passed 6 of the 8 that I needed, which is sufficient for me to advance to Ph.D. candidacy and which constitutes me making “reasonable progress” through the end of my second year. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, “reasonable progress” is the vague metric by which the Department, University, and my fellowship determine whether I’m actually worth the hundreds of thousands of dollars they are paying for me to be here. Making reasonable progress is good, and I am.

The last few weeks have been a bit surreal, actually. Aside from taking 13 hours of exams, I also meditated with the Dalai Llama while he visited Stanford, met Orkut (of orkut.com fame) at a bar in Mountain View (I believe my companions were more excited about this than I was, but that’s another story), celebrated International Jane Weekend, and a number of other minor adventures I’ll have to save for another time (because one of them is a surprise… shhhh). I was very impressed by the Dalai Llama, by the way. He was friendly, good-natured, intelligent, and, for someone whose English is by his own admission “a disgrace,” quite well-spoken. Had he not been selected at age two to become the religious leader of a third of a billion people, he said he would like to have been an engineer. His answers to audience questions (including one about genetic engineering) were structured with a respect for science, logic, and practical concerns. He talked about how, as a young man, he was obliged to memorize an ancient Buddhist text that exhaustively accounted for the movement and position of the heavens in a way that was meticulous, precise, and “completely wrong.” To paraphrase his conclusion, there was no sense ignoring what the world was telling us; blindly following the words of a religious text despite the evidence of your own senses is silly. He laughed heartily, and always a little longer than the situation merited. The world could use more religious men like him.

More tidbits: I’ve officially aligned with a research advisor, which roughly means that my bribe check cleared. But seriously, Alex Aiken has agreed to guide me through the doctoral jungle. From my few interactions with him so far, he lives up to his stellar reputation. I am very excited for the opportunity to work with him. I have temporarily put him on hold, however, to work on some residual topics related to my Master’s thesis. In particular, I am preparing a paper for a December 9th deadline. I am also working on a post about torture; keep an eye out for that, because I know you have nothing better to do. Tomorrow, I fly to Boston to spend the week with my girlfriend (Amanda-face!) and family for Thanksgiving. Can I get a “hell, yeah”?

I knew that I could. Time for me to retire now, and become a duck.

Amanda manda manda, amanda amanda amanda. Manda manda-manda, amanda amanda amanda! Amanda amanda amandamandamanda; manda amanda. Amanda? Manda manda… amanda. Amanda amanda amanda. Manda amanda amanda (manda manda, manda amanda!), manda amanda. Mandabear amanda, manda-butt.

Anna! Anna anna anna:

• Anna annabella, anna anna.

• Anna? Anna anna anna.
• Anna-face, anna.

Anna anna anna, anna anna, anna anna anna. Anna anna; anna annaaaaaaa!

There, now are you two happy? Sheesh.

(Thanks, Daniel.)