So here’s why. It’s all about keeping Net Neutrality. I’ll quote the site’s information because they’re better at saying it than me:

The consequences of a world without Net Neutrality would be devastating. Innovation would be stifled, competition limited, and access to information restricted. Consumer choice and the free market would be sacrificed to the interests of a few corporate executives.

On the Internet, consumers are in ultimate control — deciding between content, applications and services available anywhere, no matter who owns the network. There’s no middleman. But without Net Neutrality, the Internet will look more like cable TV. Network owners will decide which channels, content and applications are available; consumers will have to choose from their menu.

The free and open Internet brings with it the revolutionary possibility that any Internet site could have the reach of a TV or radio station. The loss of Net Neutrality would end this unparalleled opportunity for freedom of expression.

The Internet has always been driven by innovation. Web sites and services succeeded or failed on their own merit. Without Net Neutrality, decisions now made collectively by millions of users will be made in corporate boardrooms. The choice we face now is whether we can choose the content and services we want, or whether the broadband barons will choose for us.

Okay, I realize that that was long, but still. I’ll summarize it for you. Net neutrality = good. Big companies making it so that if you pay a lot, you keep getting fast service (that you’re used to) and you can go to the sites that you’ve always been able to go to, and if you pay less, your service will be slow and you will be limited as to what sites you can visit = bad. It would mean taking away the freedom that we presently have online. So go to go to save the internet.com. Do something.

Of course, all of that is true. The news gives us what we want. But why do we want that? Why don’t we want to hear about the important issues rather than the superficial? I’d argue that it’s part of self-preservation, at least psychologically. No one wants to think about things that are tragic and unfair in the world when there’s nothing they can do about it. It’s mentally taxing. Plus, if we want to see gore and hear about atrocities, we can always watch a violent movie and then brush it off because it isn’t real. With the news, not so much.

For instance. The other night in class we learned about this story that got pushed to the back of the nightly news so that most people were asleep when it came on. The story was about how some of the hospitals that America has built in Iraq aren’t finished; the sewage is all messed up, they can’t afford to power the hospitals, they only have one oxygen machine for the NICU so that babies have to share–that’s right–take turns getting oxygen. Oh! And this nice truck that America donated to them, which has an American flag and “from the American people” written on the side, and has new wheels and a new coat of paint (they were told it was new), is actually over 60 years old. They had to crank the thing up. So the claim that we’re over there spreading democracy and trying to help seems all the more like an unconvincing facade; we only want to look like we’re over there for a noble cause. But here’s the thing. There’s nothing I can do about that. I don’t have the money or the equipment to help finish the hospitals. And all it does is make me sad and annoyed. Yeah, I can “do my part” by voting, and I will, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

So yeah, I do prefer to hear about trivial things. I haven’t gotten to a point where I don’t watch or read the news (I have CNN, BBC, and Yahoo news on my RSS feed), but I’m getting close.

Isn’t that the most lame thing ever? You have a little money to spend on yourself for your birthday, and the DMV goes ahead and takes it away. It reminds me of that scene in Disney’s Robin Hood where the honorable sheriff of Nottingham takes away Skippy’s (the bunny’s) birthday farthing for taxes. Greedy DMV.

If I don’t get to use my fireplace this winter, I’m totally going to join the tree huggers. And then won’t you feel guilty?

Smashed Burgers and Clogged Arteries    

What’ll ya have? I stood transfixed, struggling to pick out a menu item as the lady behind the cash register’s patience seemed to be spent. So this was the Varsity (or The Varsity Jr. anyway). Already I had growing doubts about the restaurant, but I tried to silence them by telling myself to give the place a chance. A burger. I could order a burger. I piped up, “I’ll have a cheeseburger and…” She pressed a button and looked back up at me. “Um, some fries and a coke.” She rang it up and told me the total. Hmm, a bit pricey. I stepped aside and waited for my food. When the items were all piled on the red tray, I surveyed the victuals. It didn’t look good. It looked greasy. It didn’t look all that fresh. And I could tell my arteries were soon going to be crying out in agony. But I was determined.

When I first encountered The Varsity, I had recently moved to Atlanta from sunny California. A friend, upon learning that we were moving to Atlanta, immediately recommended The Varsity. “It’s just like In-N-Out,” he said. To anyone unfamiliar with West Coast fast food dining, In-N-Out is well-known for its fresh ingredients––high quality beef, fresh toppings, and never-frozen french fries. The prices are very reasonable for such quality, and the employees are very willing to cook your burger just the way you want it. Do you want it cooked with mustard? No problem. Want an obscene amount of pickles? Done. Do you want grilled onions and raw onions? Why not? It was a delight to eat at In-N-Out.

Since my friend compared The Varsity to In-N-Out, I will do the same, as my expectations were such. I knew no history of the restaurant. I didn’t know if it was known for its sports patronage, or its rich history in the city. I didn’t know if it was valued for its novelty or its food. All I knew was that I missed California and In-N-Out, and this place should at least provide a bit of comfort.

Not so much. Let’s go back to the appearance of my food. The burger was small, and on top of that, the bun appeared flattened, as a burger that has been mercilessly stomped. The french fries appeared burned, but not crispy. They were brown and veiny, resulting from sitting in old oil and being cooked too much. The fries were flaccid, coated in seasoning salt. But, on the bright side, my soda was acceptable. It’s hard to mess that up.

The taste of the food pretty much resembled the appearance. I ended up eating half of my meal, after dousing the fries in ketchup and, driven by hunger, eating half of the burger. How could such greasy food taste so dry? It was impressive that they could manage that. After throwing away the remaining food, it hit me. Perhaps I had ordered the wrong thing! All restaurants are known for something that they cook especially well, and perhaps burgers weren’t The Varsity’s high point. Plus, I’d eaten at The Varsity Jr. Perhaps the original Varsity was better. So I vowed to give the “real” Varsity a chance.

The Varsity was much larger than The Varsity Jr. Makes sense. My husband and I walked in and stood in line. The sounds of the kitchen resonated. Every minute or so, “WHAT’LL YA HAVE?” was barked at a customer. Okay, what to order? A hot dog! Yes, maybe that’s what everyone likes so much. I ordered a hot dog, and for good measure, I also ordered hot wings. Both sounded good at the time. But once again, upon receiving the full tray, I surveyed it with disappointment. The hot dog wiener was shriveled. The bun enveloped it like an adult-sized life jacket on a toddler. The wings were strikingly small. I suspected the chicken that supplied the wings had not had the pleasure of reaching adolescence. However, the buffalo sauce was fairly palatable.    

Now I will share with you a shocking revelation: my husband likes The Varsity. He thinks the food is acceptable for consumption. I don’t know what they slipped into his food to give him that impression, but I wish they’d given it to me as well. 

My last trip to The Varsity occurred when some friends came to visit from California (no, not the ones that recommended The Varsity—if you can call a person that would do that a “friend”). When my husband mentioned The Varsity, I could scarcely hide an evil cackle. Yes, let’s take them there. They can see what good food they have. This would prove that my husband and his confused taste buds were wrong, terribly wrong. So we went for lunch. And I was thrilled that The Varsity didn’t disappoint this time, simply by doing what they’ve always done. My husband’s burger was smashed. My hot dog was as shriveled as ever. And our friend’s onion rings were smothered in grease, with extra slimy strings of onion lurking inside the shell of batter. Unfortunately, our most picky friend ordered the chicken fingers and actually enjoyed them. I suspect they were Tyson chicken fingers, bought frozen and cooked up in a way that wasn’t disgusting. Imagine! Afterward both friends said that they mostly agreed with me about the quality of the restaurant, which was nice because it was a victory, but was mostly overshadowed by the fact that I had to eat there.

So if you dare try The Varsity, or worse, recommend The Varsity, please remember that that sort of torture upon humanity is highly frowned upon—much like smashed burgers and clogged arteries.

Whenever I talk to friends back in southern California during the winter, and they boast that it’s 75 degrees when it’s 40 degrees in Atlanta, I actually don’t envy them. I like cold weather because I like sweaters and hot chocolate and whatnot. But when they brag that it’s 75 degrees there when it’s a bajillion degrees here (or 100, but what’s the difference?), I struggle to remember exactly why we moved. Back in SoCal, we used our air conditioner about three times a year. You can’t survive here without air conditioning. You’d have a heat stroke, or in the least suffer from exhaustion since it’s impossible to sleep when it’s hot.

Our apartment heats up like crazy, and I’m not really sure what to do to conserve energy, because I refuse to allow the thermostat to go over 80. Our apartment is on the third floor, we have vaulted ceilings, and the sun shines pretty strongly on parts of our apartment. But we have trees blocking out some of the sun, and blinds and curtains, but it doesn’t seem to help. I’m hoping that we’ll be able to go without air conditioning or heating in the Fall months, which are usually pretty temperate, to make up for our soaring electric bill during the Summer.

Wow, this was a mundane post. Maybe next time I’ll talk about something interesting, like my cat. You guys like that, right?

The song of topic today is “If Everyone Cared” by Nickelback. I’ve heard this song on the radio a few times. For a while I wasn’t sure which grungy Creed-like band did this song - not that it really matters. It all blends together anyway in the mediocre pool of songs that “best hits” radio stations rotate without thought or passion. Anyway. Anyone who has been unlucky enough to be in the car with me when this song graced the radio waves has already heard this rant, because I just can’t hold this rant in if I listen to more than a minute of the song (in the incidence that I forget my iPod and all the other stations, including the mariachi stations, are playing commercials).

Let’s get to it then.