Back in January of 2023, when I was beginning my rowing and moderation routine (which would result, far exceeding my modest first goal, in my losing 83 pounds as of today), I started researching supplements.

• L-Arginine and L-Citrulline: First, to assist with blood pressure, I started taking L-Arginine and L-Citrulline. I take 1200 mg per day. I was taking olmesartan for blood pressure at the same time. Around April of 2023, I started to feel a little woozy from time to time and noticed my blood pressure was pretty low. I started with a new doctor, and he said to stop taking the Olmesartan.
• Vitamin D: My levels always test low, so I started taking that. 3000 mg.
• Tongkat Ali: I fell under the spell of Andrew Hubermann around the time I decided to get my testosterone level check (about which I wrote about in “Building a Better Me“). My T was good, or as my doctor confirmed, “that’s not low!” I had laid off weight lifting in favor of rowing, and thought I’d try to add Tongkat Ali to my routine to maintain it. 400 mg.
• Fadogia Agrestis: Same reason as for Tongkat Ali. 600 mg.
• Ashwaganda: I’m a nervous nelly. It’s supposed to help with that and sleep. 500 mg.
• Vitamin B12: Rhonda bought it, so I’ve been taking it. Not sure how much.

I often wonder if it’s all a waste, but I feel pretty good! It’s not always practical to isolate variables with with a sample size of one.

This highlight from JD Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye I made on my Kindle popped up in Readwise today:

It immediately recalled Kurt Vonnegut’s “ting-a-ling!” from his alter ego, failed science fiction writer Kilgore Trout. Trout would respond “ting a ling!” to people who asked things like “how are you?” when they don’t really care what the answer is.

JH Writer, writing (ahem) about Kurt Vonnegut’s “Ting a ling!” from Timequake:

Vonnegut discusses the various meanings that various contexts produce in a phrase frequently used by one of his characters, Kilgore Trout, an out-of-print science fiction writer and Vonnegut’s admitted alter ego. The phrase is one Trout “would have said … to anyone who offered him an empty greeting, such as ‘How’s it goin’?’ or ‘Nice day’….” That phrase is: “Ting-a-ling!”

Ting-A-Ling!

I always think of this part of Timequake when I see someone in the hall and we exchange a “howyadoin.” So pretty much every day.

1. Rocco’s Town House (Hammonton, NJ): My mom invited all of us (and my current boss, Teri) out to dinner to celebrate my new job (I start next Monday). I had heard good things from Teri and was interested in checking it out. We all enjoyed the food and I even had dessert. It’s a casual bar with a dining area. Rocco’s has a great local beer selection (although I had a Manhattan and a glass of wine). I shared some pics below.
2. Beats Flex: These are decent wireless earbuds by Apple (under the Beats brand, which Apple owns). I have an older pair of white ones that charge via Lightning where one speaker is starting to go. At $49, the don’t hurt to replace.
3. Soft-boiled eggs: We all like soft-boiled eggs in our house. I cook the eggs in simmering water for 7:30 (seven minutes, 30 seconds) and chill them in cold water for a few minutes before peeling them. I crumbled some of yesterday’s leftover bacon.

Rhonda, Aaron, and I were coming home from Rocco’s Town House last night after a nice dinner in our Subaru WRX, and a fellow WRX owner passed us northbound on Route 54. He waved at me and I did so in return. WRX owners are one of those examples of drivers who acknowledge each other when they see each other on the road. They are similarly likely to park next to another WRX in a parking lot.

Jeep owners are famous for this kind of behavior as well. The subculture in that community goes so far as to gift each other with little rubber ducks.

This is endearing behavior in an otherwise indifferent world. It is, too, a great example of a Granfalloon, a concept introduced in Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Cat’s Cradle:

In the madcap-but-wise universe of that founder, Bokonon, a granfalloon is an association of people who think that association means something. It is actually meaningless. A native of Indiana, Vonnegut offers “Hoosier” as an example: No Indianan has any control over the circumstances of his or her birth, yet Hoosiers they are, just as my meaningless membership is in a class of people who just happened to be born about the same time and found themselves confined within the same walls for four years of secondary education.

You can pick your Granfalloon; you might be part of one or many. Sports teams from your home town might be one of them. Eagles fans who say “I bleed green” are identifying with a Granfalloon. They are meaningless associations to which we ascribe meaning and belongingness.

Contrast the Grandfalloon to the karass identified in the same book. People in your karass are those you keep finding yourself associated with for what is not a clear reason. In the novel, they share some genuine or meaningful connection without actually knowing why. A granfalloon, in comparison, is a false karass.

You can enjoy a Granfalloon. But it’s worth knowing what one is and especially realizing that it’s a pleasant diversion, but not cosmically meaningful.

In leadership literature, there is a style of leadership described as “transactional.” Transactional leadership is not necessarily bad; in situations where you are dealing with highly trained professionals, a leader or manager may often find herself leading transactioinally. I experienced this (although might not have had the vocabulary to understand it) in my first role as a supervisor. The Child Study Team members I supervised were not, as a rule, terribly interested in a sense of mission or purpose: they were retirees looking to make a good buck using skills they’d spent a career honing. They did the work and got paid, promptly. I am not disparaging them or their motivations.

I got to thinking… isn’t religion, in a sense, transactional? I asked Copilot to summarize the position that religion is transactional:

The position that religion is transactional suggests that faith is often approached as a kind of exchange or contract between humans and the divine. In this view, religious practices or beliefs are seen as transactions where certain actions or behaviors are expected to yield specific benefits or rewards from a higher power. This can manifest in the belief that by performing certain rituals, adhering to specific doctrines, or engaging in particular acts of worship, individuals can secure blessings, favor, or even salvation12.

Critics of transactional religion argue that it reduces faith to a series of quid pro quo arrangements, rather than fostering a genuine, transformational relationship with the divine. It may also lead to a focus on personal gain rather than spiritual growth or communal well-being. The transactional approach is contrasted with transformational faith, which emphasizes inner change, spiritual development, and a more selfless form of devotion23.

Overall, the transactional view of religion is criticized for its potential to create a superficial understanding of faith, where the depth and richness of spiritual experience are overshadowed by a focus on tangible outcomes14.

Interestingly, there is a transformational flavor of leadership in the literature as well, characterized by inspiration and motivation.

I was waxing ecstatic today in a post-conference about the utility of AI for helping generate good conversation or get writing projects started in the classroom. It could take over for me as a writer here on Uncorrected.

Aaron pointed out at dinner last night that a book I loved as a child, Tikki Tikki Tembo, is considered an inaccurate depiction of Chinese culture. I looked into it a bit and learned that it may actually based on Japanese folktale Jugemu.

Learning Ally

Lefties live in a right-handed world. It’s not an injustice, it’s just a fact of nature. Only about 10% of people are left-handed. I grew up in a time when being a lefty wasn’t something teachers sought to correct, so my handedness was never castigated, but the struggle was real.

Some things I found incredibly difficult being a lefty as a child:

• writing: I remember watching a classmate effortlessly complete a yellow sheet of paper full of Palmer Method handwriting, and I threw my pencil down in disgust. Before me, the fruit of my concentrated labors, was a smudged sheet of my own with small eraser rips. I tried pencil grips to help affix my fingers to the barrel of the pencil or pens, and bore the telltale blue or graphite-colored side of my hand from dragging it across the paper over the expressed ink or pencil scribbles.
• cutting: scissors, unless they’re made for lefties, are made for right-handed people. Depending upon the accuracy of the task and the pressure required, using right-handed scissors doesn’t work well.

But then in grad school, I remember doing a short presentation on a topic of interest, and I settled on handedness. I found “The Left Handed Syndrome” by Stanley Coren and it revealed a number of ways the world is designed for right-handed people:

• doors have their knobs where your right hand can twist them;
• phone keypads on most office phones are to the right of the receiver;
• the controls on your printer are likely on the right side of the device;
• can openers are designed to be used primarily by the left hand;
• binders and notebooks, and even clipboards, favor right-handed writers;
• western writing requires us to move from left to right, requiring lefties to obscure what they have written as the move across the page.

I grew more observant about these orientations as I encountered them; where once I just shrugged it off as “the way things are,” I realized how little, in some cases, things could be adapted without harming the right-handed majority.

There are a few things I do right-handed, having adapted to the world around me:

• Golf: I can’t say I actually golf, but once when I was a kid, I was disappointed to learn that my grandfather had gotten me a golf lesson when I was up to visit (I didn’t care much for golf). The pro giving the lesson gave up after witnessing a few worm-burners and shanks and had me switch to hitting righty. That didn’t work at all and I blame by poor golf game on him. Not that I’m bitter.
• Play guitar: Guitars are generally designed for right-handers, although you can easily get a lefty model. Nevertheless, a hapless aspiring musician is likely to find a friend’s guitar and it will be a right-handed model; but the time he’s hooked, it’s too late to switch. I think this causes some issues for lefties, in that they fret notes on the neck with to much power, and lack the motor control necessary for optimal picking and strumming in their right hands.
• Mouse: I always appreciated that the Mac came with a single-button mouse; my hunch about this was that having one button was not only simpler, but didn’t require fiddling with mouse button settings to swap button functions on multi-button mice. Even the most modern Mac mice are easily adapted to left-hand use. I remember somewhere in the mid-2000s developing some RSI symptoms in my left forearm while playing a Lord of the Rings video game, and I decided to move my mouse over to the right of my keyboard while working to reduce the usage of my left hand. It worked nicely, and now I prefer mousing with my right hand (unless I’m gaming, which is never).
• Make Pour-Over Coffee: I don’t actually know how right-handed people make pour-over coffee, but I do know that I pour with my right hand, while my left hand does nothing. I don’t know why; there’s nothing about pouring hot water out of a gooseneck kettle, nor in the design of said kettle, that begs for right-handed usage.

I wrote about Bagliani’s a while back, and after our stop at the Blue Rascal Distillery this past weekend, we stopped off to get the maraschino cherries featured at the Blue Rascal (they didn’t have them, despite what the bartender said). They did, however, have a pile of unmarked salami, and we grabbed one of these (in addition to some natural casing hot dogs). Behold.

It’s thin, chewy, a little spicy. What more could you ask for?

While organizing my bookmarks in Brave using the PARA method, I realized that some of the links I might like ready access to are blogs and sites I read often. I have eschewed the use of bookmarks for a long time, preferring instead to rely on an RSS reader (currently Feedbin, once again, despite the lack of any good windows client… but of course, there are excellent choices on Mac and iOS/iPadOS). I combed through Feedbin for some exemplars for my Reference bookmarks folder, adding some bookmarks to Brave and unsubscribing from dinosaurs. (Dinosaurs, in RSS parlance, refer to RSS feeds for sites that haven’t updated in a long while. In searching for a citation to this, however, I found Dinosaur RSS. It’s a mad world.)

My intention is, once again, to consult bookmarks when I want to read. I should probably just winnow down my Feedbin subscriptions, but I guess I’m a hoarder of feeds. I’ve been trying to use Raindrop.io for bookmark independent of any one browser (so I can switch between browsers as I like), but so far, I haven’t found myself going there much save for some archived links. Much of the reason for my bookmark and feed reading behavior is partly because I put a lot of reference material in other apps: OneNote, most (ahem) notably, and DEVONThink in more Mac-Centric times, and because of search. It’s so easy to launch a websearch from my keyboard that I don’t regularly consult the info I’ve already curated. AI will only make that more of a habit, although I still create a lot of notes in OneNote using search results from Copilot. I like doing this.

I like DEVONThink a lot; it has a great suite of apps on the Mac and iOS/iPad OS, but while it’s great for curating and organizing knowledge, it’s not an easy place to just drop quick notes, and I don’t find the search efficient.

Anyway, while scouring my RSS heap, I found this post by Brett Terpstra, who’s been a font of tech fiddling tips for a long time. He describes a system he uses to organize his file system, which I could totally get behind. Well, maybe. The thought occurred to me: I’m a categorizer. Everything I do with my devices involves some level of organization and categorization.

Oh, and just before I got into the bookmark adventure? I was listing local cheesesteak places that made Peter Genovese’s most recent list. I added them to my “Food/Dining Bucket List” in OneNote, and then realized the list was getting long enough that I needed subsections: Cheesesteaks, Asian, Mexican, Restaurants… you get the picture.

So after working for about an hour, I chose–chose–to categorize some data. Remember what I wrote about problems you like to have? I guess that’s a problem I like to have.

Into Copilot went the query: “What personality type likes categorizing information?”

The personality type that often enjoys categorizing information is associated with the Judging (J) preference in the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). This preference is part of a dichotomy that reflects how individuals approach structure and decision-making in their lives. Those with a Judging preference typically like to live in a planned, orderly way, seeking to regulate and manage their lives. They tend to make lists, create plans, and organize their world to understand and manage it12.

For example, types such as ISTJ or INTJ are known for their methodical approach and strategic thinking, often enjoying the process of categorizing and systematizing information2. However, it’s important to note that while MBTI provides a framework for understanding personality preferences, individual behaviors can vary widely within each type. 📊🗂️

I found a Jungian personality type test I took back in 2011, and I was an IFSP (Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving). I was moderate for Introverted and Feeling, slightly expressed for sensing, and distinctively perceiving. I should probably take one of these tests again one day soon.

But no J.

I hit the basement this past Sunday for another 10k. I skipped it last weekend (not rowing, just the 10k) because I hadn’t taken a break the previous Saturday (before Easter), and my knees were sqwaking at me.

I approach most 10ks with the same mix of apprehension I used to experience when squatting weights from 325 on my (never-met) march to 400 lbs. I’m not even competing with anyone, just myself. There’s nothing on the line save my self-regard, I suppose.

Anyway, despite the whisky from the day before, I put forth my best effort yet:

I shaved 16.6 seconds off my previous PR of 40:41.6 to finish in 40 minutes, 25 seconds. I was feeling pretty confident from the outset of the row, settling in to 2:00 to 2:01 splits early on in the piece, before surrendering some gains due to exertion and concentration.¹ I even started writing this post in my head, albeit crowing that I’d achieved a 40-minute 10k. That didn’t happen, but this did.

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¹ I wrote before how people have asked me if I watch movies or something while I row. I don’t do that; I watch the erg computer (PM5) or my phone’s display of (mostly) the same data (the PM5 connects to your iPhone via bluetooth to the ErgData app, the interface of which is customizable in ways the PM5 is not). But my point is that it sounds ridiculous to say that concentration is involved, but avid fitness nuts know what I’m talking about. After a while, just doing the thing isn’t enough: if you’ve lost the weight or whatever and find yourself still (manically) engaged in the pursuit, it’s often for mental wellness, maintenance of course, and a borderline obsession with your stats. And for 40 minutes at a steady state, focus is both necessary and elusive.

Here’s this week’s list of things to check out:

1. Blue Rascall Distillery: It’s a bit of a cheat for me to feature last night’s post about Blue Rascal in Serial Sunday, but it’s a charming and tasteful place. I got to thinking today that, like the breweries and wineries popping up all across the Garden State, and more appreciably in our remote spot here in South Jersey, that so many great options exist. We sat and sipped on locally made rye. Not just whisky, but rye. For all of the limitations of living in and around Cumberland County, we do have a number of treasures to appreciate. Rhonda and I were grousing a bit, though, that none of the categories we enjoy are currently here in Vineland. We did, for a time, enjoy an Amish market here in Vineland. But we have no distillery (nearby Millville does, though). We have no brewery (Millville does, though). And no winery in the land of the vines, birthplace of Welch’s. Caveat emptor: two cocktails isn’t the same as splitting a bottle of wine.

1. Hotel Starlino Maraschino Cherries; These cherries were featured at Blue Rascal, and the bartender declared them better than Luxardo. Rhonda and I both agree heartily. I ordered a big can today while walking the dogs.

1. Brave Browser: I’m not new to Brave, having used it in lieu of Chrome on the Mac due to Chrome’s resource hogging. It’s Chromium-based, so it was a good choice on the Mac as my “other” browser; I could keep myself logged into Vineland’s Google account, and turn to Brave for Google Suite work (Safari on the Mac is my preferred browser, though). So Brave was an easy choice for use on my Windows devices, once I realized how resource-hogging Microsoft’s Edge browser is. I even swapped Brave for Safari on my phone. It’s easy to set up syncing and there are granular sync controls. Brave’s search is pretty good (I think they use Bing), but you can switch to a number of other services, including Duck Duck Go. It also offers an AI assistant, Leo.¹

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¹ I had a moment of nostalgia, remembering my first beers at the Ship Inn in Milford, NJ. I turned 21 while being up in Milford with my family after my grandmother died. I believe it was the night before the funeral, and my Dad and I nipped out to celebrate my ill-timed birthday with a few pints. I don’t remember exactly what I had that night, but it was a transformative experience. Here were incredibly fresh, authentic British classic styles at a pub… in New Jersey. In sleep Milford. It was a revelation and emollient to such a sad time. It’s called Descendants Brewing now.

² I’m pretty excited to learn more about Arc and give it a go on both Mac and PC. I’m in the Windows beta, too.

Bellview Winery was having their Spring Fling this weekend, and so while that is often our weekend haunt for some rosé and cheese, Rhonda and I opted to keep our distance from our otherwise quiet spot. My boss mentioned Blue Rascal as part of a Jitney booze tour around Hammonton recently, and while searching for alternatives to Bellview, her positive remarks about Blue Rascal popped into my head.

I’ve been a martini drinker for a long time, although I enjoy other canonical examples of classic cocktails: the Old Fashioned, Manhattan, Margarita, Daquiri, and more. Most drinks are iterations of classic cocktail themes.

In entering the world of Manhattans about 20 years ago, I seized upon rye as my whisky of choice. Rye, as a whisky varietal, hails from this region (the Northeast), at least pre-prohibition, after which it largely vanished. 20 years ago, rye whiskies were few and far between, but happily there are many ryes to choose from these days, at all price points.

Blue Rascal Distillery is in nearby Hammonton, and offers, among its spirits, rye (they also have a wheat whisky). I’ve written a pile of words just to say that we had a couple of drinks each: I had a smoked old fashioned, while Rhonda had a riff on the classic called the Old Fancy. We both had Hammhattans after our Old Fashioneds.

A word: the Hammhattans (do I need to spell out that these are a kind of Manhattan?) do not use vermouth, opting instead for a black cherry liqueur. This is good, but not better, than vermouth, specifically Carpano Antiqua. The liqueur skews sweet, where vermouth is more herbal, and in the case of Carpano’s unassailable take on the aperitif, vanilla (in a good way). But man: these were good drinks.

I do think the “smoked” cocktail thing is a bit showy and unnecessary, but I suspect that bartenders who make an otherwise excellent old fashioned gild the lily with a bit of theater, not to the detraction of the cocktail itself, outside of elongating the time it takes to get to a thirsty traveler’s lips.

Via Ben Crowder, CJ Chilvers starting buying CDs not because he’s a Luddite, but because of the impermanence of digital subscription music:

A few years ago, the final studio album from Van Halen disappeared from streaming services. No one knew why.

Even Wolfgang Van Halen didn’t know why at first. Then, in an interview much later he said, “I hope people who like it have a physical version of it.”

That’s never a good sign.

A few months ago, David Lee Roth released a video explaining that he’s the problem. He refuses to renew the streaming rights.

What happened here isn’t unique. Media that was once considered stable and pervasive is now gone.

I brought physical media back into my life not to replace streaming, but to keep streaming in its place.

I’m always a little curious about the revival of vinyl: I have wonderful memories of buying a new album, spinning it up, and admiring the cover art and the lyric sheets. Dead Kennedys albums came with newsletters. Sometimes you got a sticker (Anthrax’s State of Euphoria comes to mind). But I wouldn’t trade having access to everything I ever owned and more to go back to that.

Except: like Crowder, I can’t seem to find some versions of songs that were previously in my collection (for example, when I want to listen to Incubus’s "Certain Shade of Green," I only get the chill acoustic version. That’s a fine version, but I like the one that sounds like a freight train hitting a concrete wall sometimes.) When you peer into the digital void, it looks back at you.

Why I went back to buying CDs (and you should too)