John Frusciante YouTube Biography

Plagiarism on blogs OK. In college, frowned upon.

I know there can be a shady line between paraphrasing and plagiarism in academic writing, but Jezus, check out the shit writing I got from a senior at the University of Minnesota yesterday. Her, myself, and three others had to write a 40 some odd page paper about technology as perceived in American culture. We ended up watching a variety of techno-centric American films and sort of breaking them down one at a time. She decided to watch the movie Minority Report.

          A few parts of her writing jumped out at me as I read. Not only because they seemed like the words of a person with very lofty thoughts, but also because they didn’t necessarily align nicely with the context of our paper. So I decided to check her words for authenticity.

          If you ever want to find out if someone plagiarized, you don’t have to search the dusty corners of the library. After all, it takes time to go the library. Instead, to quickly determine if words are plagiarized, pretend that you are the laziest person on Earth and begin to research the topic yourself. That’s what I did.

          I decided to search wikipedia for “Minority Report.” Sure enough, I found where her information was lifted from. Keep in mind, this is the only part of her paper that I decided to check up on. You can tell she tried to paraphrase the original words; instead she basically just ended up using the synonym feature in MS Word to exchange random words to at least make them look different. However, I did notice that one sentence is lifted almost verbatim.

          I ended up asking her to further revise her section; pointing out the similarities of the writing. She was embarrassed, but agreed. The whole thing was awkward.

 

Wikipedia:

The main theme of Minority Report is the classical philosophical question of free will vs. determinism.[13][14] One of the main questions the film raises is whether the future is set or whether free will can alter the future.[15] As critic C.A. Wolski commented, “At the outset, Minority Report… promises to mine some deep subject matter, to wit do we possess free will or are we predestined to our fate?”[13] However, there is also the added question of whether the pre-cogs visions are… accurate, or has it in some way been tampered with?

 

Her copy:

The main theme of Minority Report is the orthodox philosophical paradox of free will versus determinism. Questions such as: Is the future a concrete certainty or can free will rewrite the potential processes and actions of individuals or groups of people? As critic C.A. Wolski commented, “At the outset, Minority Report… promises to mine some deep subject matter, to wit do we possess free will or are we predestined to our fate?” Also, the movie raised suspicions on whether pre-cog visions are consistently reliable or can they be manually altered? If you know what lies in your future, do you have the power and capacity to change it?

 

I don’t know, I thought it was interesting…

 

Darude meets Derailler

What do you get when you combine Techno Darude’s “Sandstorm” with footage of Le Tour De France? Well, you get this disturbingly catchy Lance Armstrong montage of course! It was made by a student for a presentation; I’m assuming he got an A. The video has over 300K views and has me wanting to buy a $4,000 bicycle so I can begin speed racing at 90kpgs. Dave 4114, as a bicyclist and a man with a degree in videography, I’m impressed.

Music Review: Mundane Continental

 

          Listening to Mundane Continental is like awaiting your best friend’s birthday celebration all day. At work, as you sit in your isolated cubical you catch yourself checking the clock more times then you ever have, just waiting in anticipation for the madness that the night is about to have. After convincing a quiet and pretty female coworker, whom you’ve never conversed with to clock out for you at five, you decide to duck out of work at 3:30 so that you can get a haircut. As you are getting your hair cut the barber accidentally cuts a bald spot in the back of your head. In an effort to cover up the spot, you wear a hat…something you haven’t done in years, to the party. As you get there you recognize the same pretty girl from work. After a few beers you work up enough nerve to approach her and have an actual conversation. She doesn’t recognize you with your hat on. Instinctively you take off the hat and you suddenly feel the chill of the autumn air on your bald spot. She looks hesitantly into your eyes as you slowly reach your right hand back and finger the spot in embarrassment. Almost without moving at all, she takes your hand into hers and reaches it to the back of her head. She moves your left hand through her beautiful black hair until you reach a similar smooth spot on the back of her head. You begin to circulate the two bald spots…your eyes are still fixed in a sort of primitive passion. Acting on instinct you advance for a kiss. Your lips meet when suddenly you feel a crashing blow to the temple from a fist. You have been punched to the ground. As you pick yourself up off the floor you can feel the blood running down your face and onto your chest. The girl pleads with the drunken ex to let you go.
But he won’t.

He has you in his dirty, drunken grips. She begs him, she pleads with him to just let you go; to let you lay there lifeless until you have the strength to pick yourself up again. But he knows that if he gives you the chance, if he allows you to have freewill, you will run away. This is the Height of Apathy, this is the absolute depths of desolation; this is mundane to the core. This is melancholy driven by excitation. You feel a tremor of life. But your senses have no apprehensions of escape.
He hits you…
Then again.
He hits you four times to the track of your heart. As he strikes you with all of his energy he begins to speak. You can barely extract his voice from the deathblow, but it is there, it is real, and it is telling the complete and total truth. Despite obtaining absolute comprehension of these words you are completely certain that what he is saying is central to his heart and manipulated exclusively by his soul; something you begin to feel intimate with.

You awaken.

You’ve forgotten about the past. She’s gone. He’s gone. You’re left alone. Unknowingly, you carry on blindly. You know something is missing. It is so sad that it makes you cry. But this amnesia is a gift; you’d never know why. At least for now, the worst parts are evaporated from your understanding.

As you walk back to your car the sun stings your eyes. In your back pocket is a birthday card you meant to give to your friend; ruined. You rip off a piece of the card. Soaked in your own blood, you use the paper to roll a small and discrete joint; but you have no light. For a moment the sun hides behind clouds permitting a mirror-like reflection from your car window. An unrecognizable figure peers at you in the glass. You are badly wounded. You ask yourself if lies are being reflected to your eyes. Surely, amongst the smears of the window, your eyes are getting the wrong reflection. But despite your hopes, your eyes work perfectly.

And it is true that seeing is believing. But beliefs don’t equal sight. You take refuge in this contradiction for a moment as you begin to recognize your reflection. Underneath the blood, you’re entire body is numb except for the small marble sized bald spot on the back of your head. Here you can still feel her finger, hypnotically caressing in concentric circles. But she’s not with you. She’s gone. But you can still feel her hand. You begin to wonder if feeling is believing. As you stand in front of your car you cannot help but question your philosophical existence in this reality.

You consider these existential terms as you drive forward without a destination.

 

 

 

You can listen to the music of Mundane Continental at http://www.myspace.com/mundanecontinental

Meanwhile, I see my family is speaking out in Madison.

I couldn’t get the video transfered to here, but check it out at the source…

http://www.nbc15.com/home/headlines/17230569.html#

Zimmerman called Madison 911; they did nothing.

          What the hell is going on in Madison?

          According to yesterday’s article in the Isthmus, Brittany Zimmerman called the Madison 911 Center before she was killed. However, the Center did not dispatch police or call her back. More outrageous, the Center did not immediately or accurately inform the Madison Police Department about the call after the cops found her body. In other words, someone failed to follow policy.  

 

It gets worse.

 

In the weeks following Zimmerman’s murder Madison 911 has refused to provide the public with basic information about call activity on the day of Zimmerman’s death. 911 Director, Joe Norwick said he was basing this refusal on a request from the Madison Police Department because it would “seriously impair” the murder investigation.

 

          Madison police officials vigorously dispute this.

 

          In a press conference Norwick held earlier this week, Isthmus journalist Kristian Knutsen wrote “The reporters in the room weren’t buying it. They conveyed a belief, in their every question and gesture, that details were not being withheld to protect the investigation but to protect the 911 Center.” Knutsen goes on  “Norwick refused to answer one valid question after another.”

 

When asked what changes have been implemented to prevent a recurrence. Norwick replied “We’re still investigating our policies and procedures.” When asked why the last 30 days since the call have not been enough time for such internal analysis Norwick “wouldn’t answer.”

 

Joe Norwick and the Madison 911 Center should be held accountable.

 

http://www.isthmus.com/daily/article.php?article=22513

http://www.thedailypage.com/isthmus/article.php?article=22502

http://www.kare11.com/news/news_article.aspx?storyid=507864

 

 

 

Haha haha

Paul Douglas Accuses WCCO of Theft

Paul Douglas, longtime WCCO weatherman and one of the Twin Cities’ most well-liked media personalities, was released from the station On April 4^th as part of nationwide cuts by CBS in response to dwindling ad revenue. Also generating record low viewership, WCCO’s popularity has plummeted to the lowest level in the station’s long lasting history. Just when the station’s public appeal seemed incapable of reaching lower levels, Paul Douglas blandishes the network for theft.

  “They also stole my Hot-Pockets from the staff lounge.”

Secluded, Douglas has yet to speak publicly about his job termination. I had the chance encounter of running into Douglas at Matt’s Bar in South Minneapolis last night. Sharing a pitcher of Premium, the former weatherman spoke candidly to me about this recent unfurl.

“I understand that it was a business maneuver by the network (CBS)…it’s all about numbers; plain and simple. But why would they steal my Hot-Pockets? I mean, how low will they go?”

Douglas, who has held the City Pages’ “Most Well Liked Man” title for five of the last six consecutive years (the accolade was given to the memory of the late Kirby Puckett in 2004), continues to be the bigger person. “I can only hope that the network will donate my Hot-Pockets to any of the the many starving children, right here in Minneapolis.”  

“How can the people at WCCO live with themselves? To fire such a nice man as Paul Douglas is one thing; but to steal his Hot-Pockets–that’s just sad.” Said Mary Godschild, a patron at Matt’s Bar. “I’ll get my weather elsewhere.”

WCCO declined to be interviewed on this recent development, however did supply a comment:  

CBS would like to thank Paul Douglas for 11 devoted years of outstanding meteorological service to the Twin Cities area. On behalf of the network we would just request everyone to watch Survivor on Monday nights at 8pm. Buy Downey Fabric Softener.

Minneapolis Police Chief Sam Scout suspects foul play. “I’ve seen cases like this time and time again. One minute the Hot-Pockets are here, the next, poof–there gone; nobody saw anything.”

“Somebody knows something” Douglas said. “I wrote my name on every single one of those Hot-Pockets; there out there.”

This World

http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/04/03/campus.deaths.ap/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

Mailin’ sailin’

I want to be my brother, my brother

Down in Madison, you talk about a sin

I guess I can’t rationalize everything

But I’ll try-

But its been a trivial 25 years

So far removed from emotions and fears

But you know-

If you need some space I can give it to ya

My brother I love you so

Tomorrow-

I’m going to drive home, and I’m going to turn off the radio and open the window

I get so fucking tired of this world sometimes

How does this happen?

Everything- In Madison

Ought to just shut right down until they figure this out

But I know-

They can’t do that but they ought to

I remember-

Smokin cigarettes in the front of this shady apartment complex

You taught me about Pavlov’s dogs

And I hope that I taught you something too

How- does this make sense

It was always such a pleasure just to be around your radiance

And I guess we’ll stall

We’re all walkin and talkin but eventually we fall

I get so fucking tired of this world sometimes

How does this happen?

Obama and McCain in Crossfire over Iraq yet I Still Don’t Give a Fuck

Obama attacked both McCain and his Democratic opponent, New York Sen. Hillary Clinton, as representing conventional thinking in Washington that needs to be changed in the November election. Who gives a rat’s ass? I’m too busy watching past episodes of Entourage to really give two shits about politics. Thanks HBO!!!