Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 453

I applied for BeautifulPeople.com, a social network for only the most beautiful of people. Here are the results of the voting.

I read about the social network BeautifulPeople.com in a piece in TIME magazine.

BeautifulPeople was originally launched as a dating site that billed itself as “an exclusively beautiful community.” It recently added an employment feature on the website intended for employers who want to hire “good-looking staff.”

To be granted entry to BeautifulPeople, individuals must submit a headshot that is voted upon by existing members of the opposite sex. If one is deemed beautiful enough to gain entry – a process the company claims is “fair and democratic” – not only will you “have access to the most attractive people locally and from around the globe,” but job seekers will also be able to look through the site’s job listings, apply directly to companies and network with other presumably “beautiful” people.

How could I not try to become a member of BeautifulPeople?

After uploading my headshot, I began the 48 hour process in which women who are already members of the social network voted on my level of  attractiveness.   

The voting is fairly transparent. At any time, you can see how you are faring on the attractiveness scale, as well as your current IN/OUT standing.

Right out of the gate, it was looking good. Solidly IN but not so much that I could brag. Just the right amount of IN, I thought.

About fifteen hours later, I was still IN, though my margin of error has diminished considerably.

I also noted that there were not a lot of “Beautiful” votes, but a bunch of women had rated me as “Hmmmm OK.”

I could live with that. Even if this was my wife’s assessment of my physical  appearance, I could live with it. But I won’t lie. The substantial number of “No” and “Absolutely Not” votes hurt a little.

It was at this point (perhaps as a defense mechanism) that I began to feel like acceptance to this social network was not something I really wanted. Anonymous strangers were evaluating my level of attractiveness for the sole purpose of determining if I could be a member of their group. This struck me as worse than high school. I felt a little dirty. I thought I might be embarrassed about my acceptance into this exclusive group.

What kind of people would engage in this kind of image obsessed behavior?

Suddenly my IN/OUT status didn’t seem so important.

Five hours later, my status had decreased slightly. Almost imperceptibly. 

Just like that, my IN/OUT status mattered a lot. I was still considered beautiful enough to be permitted access to the group, but only by the slightest of margins. And that margin appeared to be closing fast.

What the hell was wrong with these people? I may not be legitimately beautiful, but I’m at least two clicks above average, damn it.

I was angry. I wanted in. I deserved to be in. 

Six hours later, the margin of error had increased a bit.

Still almost no “Beautiful” votes but enough “Hmmmm OK” votes to apparently make up for the growing pile of “No” and “Absolutely Not” ratings.

I was feeling a little better. A majority of women thought I was cute. At least the algorithm said so.

Just three hours later, all hell broke loose.

Not really, but I dropped from IN to OUT for the first time. It appeared that my overall rating was exactly in the middle of the continuum, and yet I was OUT. Apparently average doesn’t pass muster on BeautifulPeople.com.

Stupid algorithm. 

I took solace in the small uptick of “Beautiful” votes.

Not really.

When I was IN, I didn’t care about BeautifulPeople.com. In fact, I almost wanted to be OUT.

Now that I was OUT, I wanted nothing more than to be IN. I would’ve given my right arm to be IN.

I’m left handed. 

I stayed away from the website for 9 hours before checking again. I couldn’t bare the heartache and disappointment. But when I returned, my feelings of rejection were washed away with good news. I was IN again, and by one of the widest margin thus far!

Not only was I IN, but my “Beautiful” votes had soared. Women who I would never see or speak to considered me beautiful.

What more could a man want?

Then I got cocky. I assumed that this wide margin would only continue to grow over time. I began planning ways of telling my friends and family about my verified attractiveness. I would bring it up casually in conversation, I decided, perhaps at the mention of another social network like Facebook or Twitter. I wouldn’t brag. Beautiful people don’t need to brag, I would simply be informative.

With about an hour to go before voting closed, I checked back in again, this time on my phone. I was dumbstruck. 

This had to be a mistake. I refreshed the screen, hoping for a glitch that I knew didn’t exist. Even worse, because I was on my phone now, the screen size caused the ratings to seem to change. I looked as if some of the women who had originally voted me “Beautiful” had changed their votes to “No” or “Absolutely Not.” 

I was crushed. What were the chances that things would change again within the hour?

Not good, I thought.

When the voting closed a little more than an hour later, I received an email from BeautifulPeople.com. It read:

Dear MatthewDicks,

Unfortunately, your application to BeautifulPeople was not successful.
Please note, only one in five applicants are currently accepted into BeautifulPeople.com

Even though your application was not successful, there are several things that can affect the outcome which you should be aware of:

Wearing Sunglasses on the application photo
More than one person on the photo
Bad quality photo
Lack of profile description

BeautifulPeople encourages you to try again.

Please make sure you take the time to check all your details before applying, as this will dramatically increase your chances of being accepted in by our members.

We wish you all the best success.

Sincerely,
BeautifulPeople

I tried to find a silver living in the email.

Only one in five applicants were currently being accepted. In other words, “You are not in the top twenty percent in terms of attractiveness, loser.”

I looked at the list of factors that might have contributed to my failure. None applied to me. I was not wearing sunglasses. I was alone in my photo. The headshot had been taken by a professional photographer, and my profile description had been written by a publicist.

It couldn’t get much better.

Perhaps a fifth bullet should have read:

Sadly, you provided an actual photograph of yourself. This was the cause of your downfall.

Yet there was a glimmer of hope. BeautifulPeople.com was encouraging me to apply again, and I will. Same photograph. Same bio. The one thing I will change will be my timing.

When I was dating, I learned that timing is everything.

A girl who would ordinarily never date you could be convinced to give you a chance if you caught her on the rebound.

A girl who showed no interest in you could be convinced of your charm and wit with a couple glasses of wine and the right atmosphere.

A girl who never noticed you might suddenly find you intriguing if another girl was showing interest.

Timing matters. My plan is to apply for BeautifulPeople.com again at a time when people are feeling especially happy and possibly generous.

I’m thinking Labor Day weekend.

Everyone loves a three day weekend, and though Labor Day often signals an end to the summer to many, it is a weekend filled with barbeques and good times. Perhaps if the members of BeautifulPeople.com are spending the weekend at the beach or at parties, they will be feeling slightly more generous than usual.   

The good news is I don’t need much to gain access to this loathsome and highly appealing social network. I was on the cusp on entry for the entire 48 hour period. All I need to do is catch a few more female members on the right day, at the right time, and I’m IN.

Labor Day weekend. That is my plan. That is when I will be beautiful, I hope.

I’ll let you know how it goes.   

Haunted, but the ghost is apparently a reader, so it’s okay.

It would seem that we have a ghost in our house who enjoys books just as much as my son.

My little home body

My daughter and I have a lot in common. One of these commonalities is our absolute contentment with being at home. While my wife spends her days attempting to go to as many places as possible, see as many things as possible and speak to as many people as she can, Clara and I could remain at home for days at a time and be perfectly happy.

Nothing illustrates this point more than Clara’s recent preschool activity which essentially asked her to indicate the place she would go if there were no barriers or restrictions to travel.

Her answer says a lot.

 

A career spent in quiet desperation

During my 17 years as a wedding DJ, I have played Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’ at 9:00 on a Saturday whenever possible.

Only once did someone notice.

A place where time (and boys) stand still

I visited my former Boy Scout camp, Yawgoog Scout Reservation, last week with two friends from childhood who love the place as much as me. 

Danny and I visited camp together last year, and a few years ago, before the birth of my first child, I took my wife to Yawgoog for a day so she could see the place that still holds so much of my heart.

This yearly visit has become a bit of a tradition. We hope to bring even more former boyhood friends with us next year.

Danny’s son is spending his first week at Yawgoog, and Dave brought his three boys to show them the place where so many of our childhood memories were made.

The best thing about Yawgoog is how little changes. Almost twenty-five years since I last spent my last summer day at camp as a boy, it is nearly identical today. The trading posts take credit cards now, the challenge course has added more high wire, they’ve added paddle boards and shotgun shooting to the endless array of activities for Scouts to choose, but the camp is essentially unchanged. 

While standing on the edge of Yawgoog Pond, on the edge of our old campsite, Dave said that he could still see our old friend, Jeff Durand, standing on the last of the an assemblage of rocks jutting into the pond, fishing pole in hand.

He’s right. The rocks are the same. The pond is the same. The sounds and smells are the same. And yes, I, too, could see Jeff standing there, balanced on a glacial stone, casting and reeling, casting and reeling,

 

As we walked and talked, we recalled many fond memories from camp. Dave recalled my frequent hunger strikes and the battles with a troop from Long Island. We talked about the inordinate amount of time that Danny spent at the rifle range. We laughed about my continued hatred for the craft center. We crossed the field where our troop had won many a tug-o-war contest.

The only real thing that’s changes in twenty-five years is us, though even when I look at this photograph, taken at the end of the day, I can still the young, wide-eyed boys hiding behind the faces of these men.

 

If given the chance, we would spend another week at camp in a heartbeat. Yawgoog is a bittersweet reminder of the joys of boyhood and how much it is missed.

A World War II video went viral last week. It featured the citizen’s of Warsaw, Poland and their yearly tradition of coming to a complete stop for one minute every year in honor of the Warsaw Uprising, an attempt to liberate the capital from Nazi Germany in 1944.

While not as large-scale as this Warsaw’s tradition, a bell is rung at noon every day at Yawgoog in honor of Scouts who have lost their lives in service to their country. As the bell rings out twelve times to mark the hour, every person in camp comes to an immediate halt and stands in silence.

It’s a remarkable thing. It rang while we were walking down to our former campsite. Even though twenty-five years had passed since we had heard that bell ring, all three of us came to a stop instantly, our childhood programming still running just fine.

Whether they are under the supervision of adults, paddling a canoe in the middle of the pond or hiking alone in the woods, every boy at camp without exception stops until the bell is finished ringing.

I remember being engaged in a massive water bucket fight one year with members of my troop. When the bell began ringing, hostilities ceased for the thirty seconds it takes to ring the bell. Boys armed with water buckets, poised to drench their friends, frozen in place until the twelfth and final ring.

Yawgoog is a special place indeed.

The most terrifying 27 seconds of video that you may ever see

Compiled by NASA scientists and does not include the last two years of data.

The Moth: The Robbery

The following is a story that I told at a Moth GrandSLAM at Music Hall in Williamsburg earlier this year. 

The theme of the night was The Tipping Point.

I told a story about the time that I was robbed at gunpoint. I finished in second place. 

Good Cop, Bad Cop is real. And it works.

Slate’s Aisha Harris and Sharan Shetty attempt to answer the question:

Is the “Good Cop, Bad Cop” Routine a Real Thing?

Their answer:

Not as often as movies and TV shows might make you think. Opinions vary on just how prevalent the tactic is. Joseph Pollini, a retired lieutenant commander, told us that it’s definitely used on occasion. The typical set-up, he said, will have the intimidating “bad” cop first, followed by the more personable “good” cop, who assures the suspect that everything will be “fine.” Maki Haberfeld, a professor of police science at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, says that it’s used “all the time,” mainly by detectives. “When a person is confronted by two individuals, one friendly and one hostile, he or she will ultimately create a much better relationship or zone of comfort with the friendly one,” Haberfeld explains. “Especially if the hostile one is truly threatening.”

From personal experience, I can tell you that this tactic is used by police officers at least some of the time and is surprisingly effective, even when you are fully aware of its existence. 

Prior to my arrest and trial for a crime I did not commit, I was questioned three times by police officers from Bourne, Massachusetts. The “bad cop” was an older, larger man who took my initial statement and conducted the preliminary questioning before sending me home to follow-up on my statements.

When I was called back to the police station for a second round of questioning a few days later, a second officer joined us. He was younger, thinner and more personable than the first officer. He smiled. He shook my hand when I entered the room. He offered me a soda. He sat beside me while the “bad cop” sat across a large, steel desk and glared at me. He maintained a calm, even disposition, even seeming to offer me advice and assuring me that he was looking out for my best interest. He placed his hand on my shoulder several times in an effort to calm me.

The “bad cop” raised his voice and berated me for the entire hour. He called me a liar and threatened me with jail time if I did not confess.

I was instantly drawn to this new officer, viewing him as my protector and hanging on his every word. He even encouraged me to leave the police station and think about all that was said. He assured me that I was still a free man.  “Maybe you’ll never hear from us again,” he whispered to me as he escorted me to the exit.

A week later, I was asked to return to Bourne for a “quick chat.”

Prior to this third third and final round of questioning, a speed trap was set up on I-495, specifically targeting me. I was pulled over and ticketed for driving 7 miles over the posted speed limit. When I arrived at the police station, the “good cop” took me aside and explained that the speed trap had been set up by the “bad cop” in order to rattle me. He told me that he would do whatever he could to fix my ticket so I didn’t end up in any more trouble than I was already in.

The “bad cop” was even more agitated during this final round of questioning. He shouted. He threatened me with a long prison sentence. He made claims that were not true. When I asked to be left alone to think, the “bad cop” shoved me into a closet and closed the door. I stood in dark, my feet in a mop sink, pondering my future.

When I emerged from the closet a few minutes later, I informed the officers that I was innocent and refused to confess to a crime I did not commit. The “bad cop” immediately placed me under arrest. He fingerprinted me, completed the necessary paperwork and handcuffed me before leading me to the cruiser for transport to the courthouse. Throughout this entire process, he described what would happen to me in prison in great detail and warned me that the only way to avoid a long prison sentence would be to confess.

The “good cop” drove me to the courthouse and removed my handcuffs before leading me inside. He told me that he would wait until my arraignment was completed before driving me back to the Bourne police station and my car, which was more than 20 miles away in Barnstable, MA. He suggested that I wait to make any phone call until after the arraignment, in case “things go bad with the judge.”

Before depositing me in the holding cell, he told me that the only way he could help me was for me to confess. I assured him once again that I had done nothing wrong.

He locked me up and left. I never saw him again until the day of my trial. He did not wait to transport me back to Bourne. He did not ensure that I received my phone call. After my arraignment, I slunk out of the courthouse into a strange town with not a penny to my name.

Eventually I found a payphone, made a collect call and was picked up two hours later by a friend.

I was charged with grand larceny. Had I actually been guilty of the crime, I am fairly certain that the “good cop” would have coaxed a confession out of me. He nearly had me convinced to confess to something that I did not do.

Good cop/bad cop works. Particularly when the accused is stupid enough to believe that his innocence mitigates the need for an attorney. 

Pope Francis offers a shortened stay in Purgatory if you follow him on Twitter. I offer something even better.

I’ve recently expressed admiration for Pope Francis and his comments on homosexuality and his willingness to be accessible to the people.

Unfortunately, I’m not as excited about the pope’s recent decision to offer indulgences for following him on Twitter:

According to the Vatican’s Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary publication, Pope Francis will be giving “plenary indulgences” — which is a special act that is said to reduce time in purgatory — to his Twitter followers. The Pope typically offers indulgences to those who see him in person, but for the first time this year, it will extend to virtual visits, too.

For social followers who have previously confessed their sins, have been absolved by a priest and have attended mass, they can follow along live through the social networking site and receive that special forgiveness.

The whole idea of purgatory is fairly insane, but the idea that Catholics can spend less time in this invented realm by clicking the Follow button on Twitter is ridiculous.

I understand that the pope wants to use social media to better communicate to his people, but purchasing their attention through the distribution of indulgences is not far removed from a time when the Catholic Church sold indulgences for money. .

However, that will not stop me from making an even better offer:

If you agree to follow me on Twitter, I promise to offer you my expertise in the realm of verbal sparring.

Without trying to sound self-congratulatory, I am a master of the verbal comeback. The king of quips. An expert in the art of the rapid retort.

It might be my greatest talent.

If someone says something mean, insulting, scathing or passive-aggressively cruel to you, send me the remark via Twitter and I will send you the ideal comeback.

Also, feel free to also send me the intensity level that you would like the comeback to achieve, and I will try my best to tailor the retort to meet your specific need. 

Perhaps you want a comeback suitable for use in a public setting. Maybe you’d prefer a no-holds-barred, sword-to-the-gut comeback (my favorite). Or perhaps the circumstances require a more passive-aggressive approach.   

You can even send me anticipated cruelties in order to be better prepared for your next encounter. Does your mother-in-law constantly complain about the way you’re raising your children? Does a coworker disapprove if your lifestyle choices? Is your spouse critical of your eating habits?

Send me their constant refrains and be armed with an appropriate comeback for the next encounter.

Whatever your need, I will have it, and all for the price of a Twitter follow.

Which would you prefer:

A shortened stay in a non-existent spiritual realm or access to a master in the art of verbal sparring?

Resolution update: July

In an effort to hold myself accountable, I post the progress of my yearly goals at the end of each month on this blog. The following are the results through July.

1. Don’t die.

Unless we are all living in a massive computer simulation (and I’m not sure that we aren’t), I’m still alive.

2. Lose ten pounds.

Still down ten pounds for the year. I’m attempting to lose another ten pounds during the second half of 2013.

3. Do at least 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups five days a day.  Also complete at least two two-minute planks five days per week.

Done.

4. Launch at least one podcast.

Equipment stands ready. No further progress.

5. Practice the flute for at least an hour a week.

I went to the music store with the intention of getting the broken flute repaired, only to discover that it was not in the back of my car as I thought. It must be in my classroom. I will pick it up this week.  

6. Complete my fifth novel before the Ides of March.

7. Complete my sixth novel.

Work continues on the sixth novel. The first 10,000 words are in the hands of my agent. Writing continues.

8. Sell one children’s book to a publisher.

I will send at least one of the manuscripts to my agent by the end of August, which I said last month.

9. Complete a book proposal for my memoir.

Work on the proposal for my memoir continues. I have also begun writing a golf memoir that has grown into something considerable. My agent has read the first 40,000 words and thinks it has potential.  

10. Complete at least twelve blog posts on my brother and sister blog.

One post published in July, bringing our total to 11.

11. Become certified to teach high school English by completing two required classes.

I am one class and an inexplicable $50 away from achieving certification. I planned on taking this course in the summer, but it is unavailable. Hopefully we find something in the fall.

12. Publish at least one Op-Ed in a newspaper.

I’ve have now published three pieces in the Huffington Post and one in Beyond the Margins. Nothing in an actual newspaper yet.

13. Attend at least eight Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

I attended two Moth events in July, bringing my total to eleven. I placed first in both StorySLAMs.

I also told a story for The Story Collider, a New York based storytelling organization that focuses on science. It was a noncompetitive event.

14. Locate a playhouse to serve as the next venue for The Clowns.

The script, the score and the soundtrack are in the hands of a New York City playhouse. Work has commenced on a new musical.

15. Give yoga an honest try.

No progress.

16. Meditate for at least five minutes every day.

I missed 7 days in June because of days when I was not home and days when my son awoke before 6:00 AM.

17. De-clutter the garage.

Work continues. We have found a home for all the remaining furniture. It will be removed soon.

18. De-clutter the basement.

Work continues, albeit slowly. I hope to spend the next rainy day in the basement, finishing it off.

19. De-clutter the shed

Work continues slowly.

20. Reduce the amount of soda I am drinking by 50%.

I failed to record my soda intake in July. This is not going well.

21. Try at least one new dish per month, even if it contains ingredients that I wouldn’t normally consider palatable.

I tried a new chicken dish this month. The name escapes me. My wife prepared it. It was quite delicious.

22. Conduct the ninth No-Longer-Annual A-Mattzing Race in 2013.

No progress.

23. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.

Done.