Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Us and Them... Over and Over Again

There's a nearly infinite list of platitudes beginning with the words "There are two kinds of people in the world." A Google search of this exact phrase generates roughly 46,000 results, although about 60% of those involve Robert Benchly's astoundingly unfunny "There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don't." In addition to being mildly retarded even by nineteenth-century standards of wit, Benchly's Law of Distinction is such a facile observation that it's doubtlessly been "coined" independently by thousands of people who have never so much as heard of Robert Benchly. It's like a comedian who claims he was the first to wonder what the deal is with airline peanuts; even in the unlikely event that it's true, it's not worth taking credit for.

Despite the obvious logical problems (the excluded middle principal, the false dilemma), most "two kinds of people" observations are patently false for practical reasons. You're either a Beatles person or a Stones person (or Beatles/Elvis)? Really? Dog person or cat person? Even if you forced people to pick a favorite in these situations, you're ignoring those who hate pets. Or Amazon tribesmen who don't know what the fuck a Beatle is. You're only going to get it right if you claim that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who are identical to me, and everyone else. I suppose you could also claim that there are approximately 6.70 billion kinds of people (as of March 2008), and they correspond to Earth's population in a 1:1 ratio, but you'd have to meet them all to define your types.

The real purpose of the phrase is to establish an adversarial, "us vs. them" relationship. Flaccid one-liners aside, the speaker is usually on one side of an imaginary divide. You can love both the Beatles and the Stones, but some people are dedicated to one being superior, and that is somehow tied up in the existence of a diametric. The either/or thing is exclusionary... it's fightin' words. That's why Chuck Klosterman's claim in his essay "33" that "there is no relationship that isn't a Lakers-Celtics relationship" gets so much play in the sporting press. Because the Lakers-Celtics dynamic is so clearly based on an exclusionary relationship, people will convince themselves of its universality. It's funny because it's true! But Klosterman's point (and most other successful "two kinds of people" arguments share this quality) isn't that you either love the Lakers or you love the Celtics. That wouldn't be a terribly compelling read. His point is that a certain worldview is shared by the Lakers (or cat or Beatles or beer) person, one that is simultaneously opposed to and dependent upon its "opposite" number. And the people who buy into this argument do so because they have already bought into it. Everyone else just stops reading because the whole "debate" strikes them as pointless, which, ultimately, it is.

Which is why, platitudes, sad witticisms, and logical fallacies aside, it is true that there are two kinds of people in the world, Captain Kirk people and Captain Picard people.


Interestingly, the notion of Kirk and Picard as an either/or proposition is even more widespread (on the Interwebs, anyway) than the tired old "there are two kinds of people" idea. A Google search of the phrase "Kirk vs. Picard" yielded an impressive 64,000 results. By my (totally untestable) estimation, that comes out to millions of words worth of nerd vitriol. There was an official Kirk vs. Picard contest that allowed fans to submit projects supporting their fictional captain of choice. There are countless lists detailing Kirk's superiority, and just as many lists going the other way. This is decidedly not a rejoinder in that ongoing debate. (It's a stupid debate for several reasons, not least of which is the fact that both men had the same job, the same mission, and the same employer... and they even worked together once and seem to hit it off quite well.) The beauty of the "two kinds of people" argument is that it does not require that either side desire the subjugation of the other. The Celtics and Lakers are supposed to try and beat the shit out of each other. Lakers people and Celtics people, on the other hand, should be able to coexist peacefully (as long as there isn't a game on TV).

The same is true of Kirk people and Picard people. The two men are archetypes, and choosing between them is both unnecessary and fruitless; depending on where you fall on the nature/nurture debate, it's possible that we're all one or the other from birth anyway. You know the stereotypes: The Kirk person is passionate, loyal, lusty, brash, and quick to action. The Picard person is refined, noble, dedicated to reason and negotiation. The Kirk person likes sex, beer, and shirtless fighting. The Picard person likes romantic poetry, wine, and fencing. Kirk is fiery, Picard is sensitive. Put in the most flattering terms, Ernest Hemingway is a Kirk, while Noam Chomsky is a Picard. In less-than-flattering terms, Matthew McConaughey is a Kirk and James Lipton is a Picard.

Kirk people: prone to shirtlessness

Hell, if you were to just read down that list of characteristics, chances are I described half the marriages you can think of. (Chances are Kirk is the guy in, like, 90% of them, but that's another essay.) The supposed "opposition" of Picard and Kirk really breaks down to differences in approach and temperament, and only those who identify with one or the other in the first place feel the need to choose.

It will always be true that there are two kinds of people in the world, Captain Kirk people and Captain Picard people. Luckily, there's room enough in the universe for all of us.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Secret Squares: The Triumphant Return


Don't want to duplicate posts, so head over to the Secret Squares site for full details...

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Come Hungry. Leave Happy.


I love (or, more accurately, used to love) the International House of Pancakes. It's way before my time, but this unbelievably bizarre 1969 commercial has brought those old feelings rushing back...



"Of course it says pancakes on the outside, but there's a lot more on the inside." Evidently "a lot more" includes a deranged, acid-damaged chipmunk.

During my "extensive research" for this "piece," I discovered that IHoP is currently celebrating its fiftieth year. The flapjack flagship, if you will, opened in Toluca Lake, California, in 1958. (Sadly, there isn't a single IHoP in Toluca Lake these days.) Impressively, the chain was already adding locations a mere two years later, and by 1963 "International Industries" had reached conglomerate status, acquiring several other brands (including Orange Julius and something called The Original House of Pies).

The classic lineup: blueberry, boysenberry, butter pecan, and strawberry

And yet, despite my very happy IHoP memories from the early 1980s, it seems the chain's descent into mass-market pablum began with two pivotal shifts in the 1970s: In 1973 the company officially embraced the "IHOP" acronym in its marketing materials; and in 1979 they built their last A-frame building.

Remember when you couldn't order the Rooty Tooty Fresh & Fruity breakfast without everyone thinking you were a great big HOMO?(Here's another example of America's Fresh&Fuityphobia.)

I haven't had an IHoP pancake in years because a) I haven't been on a road trip with my dad since I was a teenager; b) you can't really get decent chain food in Manhattan; and c) the franchise has gradually become just another strip-mall symbol of America's slackening jaw and thickening waistline... after all, last year IHoP purchased Applebees. It's hard to consider something a special treat when it's traded on the Nasdaq (IHP) and the iconic building has been replaced by thousands of shitty looking blue monstrosities. According to Wikipedia, "As of September 30, 2007, the chain had 1,328 restaurants in 49 states, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Canada, and Mexico." Hell, these days they use "International House of Pancakes" as a "secondary name."


Anyway, the company's official timeline, along with the Wikipedia entry, make for fascinating -- if ultimately depressing -- reading. I did use the restaurant locater to find my nearest IHoP: just a block from the Hoyt/Schermerhorn subway stop in Brooklyn. I won't be eating pancakes in that neighborhood anytime soon, so I'll have to wait until the next road trip.

At least now they have cool celebrity spokespeople...