A day in the life

If I kept a diary, this is what I’d write about on September 11, 2013:

Although there was little notice of it elsewhere, I observed that the History Channel—both of them—seemed to be running wall-to-wall with 9-11 oriented programming. I checked the calendar and determined that indeed this was the 12^th anniversary of the terrorist attack. Bush administration officials (well, at least Condoleezza Rice) provided the “insider” talking head on at least one of the segments. Of course no tough questions were asked to what the administration knew before the event. I recall earlier on a late night radio program listening to some solemn-voiced nonsense intertwining right-wing paranoia with the paranormal; the host had unknowingly made the mistake of inviting a guest who proceeded down a sordid and tawdry laundry list of Bush administration officials and private persons whose scheming it abetted, all who in some way or another helped make 9-11 not only a reality but an inevitability. The host moaned and groaned at these revelations, apologizing to listeners for obliging them to hear things so unexpected and puzzling. Listeners were leaving text messages decrying that it was all left-wing propaganda, or at worst it detailed “incompetence” on the part of the Bush administration, rather than outright criminality. 

Meanwhile, on right-wing KOMO news radio, it was mentioned every hour that the Republicans were continuing their efforts to try to turn the attack in Benghazi and the four Americans killed in the diplomatic compound last year into a political scandal. Not to take anything away from the tragedy, but isn’t it odd how the bigger the outrage, the less anyone is required to take responsibility for it, or turn it into something wholly different than what it is? Remember the Iran-Contra affair? That was treason, yet the perpetrators somehow managed to convince many Americans that they were “patriots,” and eventually almost all involved emerged unscathed and unpunished. Prior to 9-11, the Bush administration received warnings from the Clinton administration and FBI field agents about a potential attack on US soil involving aircraft. If these warnings were followed-up, some of the hijackers would likely have been detained and deterred the rest. 

But the Bush administration intended on launching a war in Iraq and needed a pretext; remember George Bush’s look of confused dismay when he was first informed of the World Trade Center crash in that classroom? Could it have meant that he had expected something to happen, just not this? 3,000 people who need not have died—wasn’t this something like being an accessory to murder? How was he going to explain this? And then compounding the outrage by lying to the American public about the need to invade Iraq and costing yet more thousands of American lives? I’ve posted some recent headlines coming out of Iraq; who can honestly say that the country is better off today than it was pre-US invasion? In many ways it is actually worse off. And for all that bloodletting, Republicans are still trying to hang the Obama administration over Benghazi? Who has greater contempt for the American people and their interests?

But this was only part of what I experienced today, because I had some things to do in the outside world. I had to pick up my mail in “liberal” Seattle, and then go to a public storage facility in right-wing Kent. Here are some of things I noted riding a bus to Seattle:

I am constantly confronted with images that conceal true purposes. Take for instance Planned Parenthood. Posted among a row of advertisements is its current ad campaign, having ditched the vaguely racist one concerning the Latina mother and daughter. The one I observed now proclaims “Reason #9 to love Planned Parenthood”—apparently that it accepts most insurance plans. Of course the question is how many insurance plans accept it. As always, these ads never explicitly state what its principle “service” is. I also don’t recall what the other 8 reasons were. 

I observed this white female get on the bus. She was wearing this goofy hat out of the Bowery Boys that she apparently thought gave her “character,” or at least made her look “special.” Not in the way of a “blueblood,” but in the way of a supreme egoist. I noted that she kept her blue eyes straight ahead and she had that “I’m superior to the rest of you” smirk on her mug. I observed her strolling past the “unacceptable” types until she encountered another white female, who apparently had a bag next to her. Our Ms. Special did not say a word, but motioned her hand in that imperious manner that was expected to command immediate obedience. The woman in the seat looked at her as if she was crazy, but complied. As the subject was vacating the bus, she kept her eyes straight ahead, with same self-involved, holier-than-though smirk. As she passed by me, I said “How arrogant are you?” I observed that for a split moment her eyes and smirk altered their position, if slightly. At least the point was made, if nothing else.

I saw this billboard that showed a silhouette of what appeared to be a girl of about eight, with pony tails. Report child prostitution, it said. Despite what the creators of this billboard believe, it is not likely to create the reaction intended. For one thing, it is not believable. There is underage prostitution to be certain, but the numbers are sketchy at best and overblown at worst, while the “profile” of these tend to be teenage runaways who are looking to make a "easy" buck, and few are under the control of pimps, and there are nearly as many young males as females. Thus the image of an eight-year-old in pony tails out on the streets or even on-line is the unlikeliest scenario, thus leaving one the sense of being conned, maybe for “donations.” 

Along these lines I heard a radio ad concerning human trafficking, after putting on my headphones to drown out the person sitting behind me with the annoying and loud voice talking (or rather, shouting) on her cellphone. This exact same ad was being run by at least two different sponsoring groups, one them calling itself “Seattle against slavery.”  It turned me off immediately when it stated that human trafficking could be occurring in venues that you would “least expect,” starting off with the farming and construction. I viewed this as an open invitation to anti-immigrant xenophobes and businesses wanting to take out competitors. The fact is that “human trafficking” occurs on a much smaller scale in the US than the propaganda suggests; since farm workers and immigrants in the construction industry are presumably ”low wage,” this is used as a rationalization by anti-human trafficking advocates to include them in their statistics, which is helpful since their numbers are more considerable than what these groups can legitimately lay claim to. Thus their “concern” for farm and construction workers is nothing more than a rhetorical device that causes more harm to the alleged “victims” than good.

When I’m in Seattle, I frequently encounter people who think that being “friendly” means asking if I want to buy drugs, or have any to sell, mostly the latter. If not that, I mostly get noticed by people who want to beat me up or think I’m going to rob their cars. Otherwise I’m mostly ignored. Another thing I think about when I’m in Seattle is that while people insist that our society should be meritocracy-based, I can’t help but wonder what extent superficial considerations—like physical characteristics and glibness—play into “success.” The media certainly plays a role in this. Back in the day, there was Ironside in his wheelchair, Kojak and his bald head, Cannon and his immense girth, and lots of actors who first made names for themselves in television, but were not “glamorous” or Ken Dolls, and had real charisma of a kind that differentiated them from the common run--rugged-faced men like Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen. Now, all you see are, well, “pretty people” indistinguishable from one another, save for the way they express their narcissism and self-involvement. On the streets of Seattle, it’s the same thing.

I’m back in Kent. Nothing changes much, except the politics. I’m walking down this sidewalk when this white female cuts in front of me from a parking lot. It was still early afternoon and near 90 degrees, and she is wearing a black outfit that absorbs heat; I notice this a lot, women wearing black clothes instead of something with a little color. It’s obviously meant as a “statement,” although one I don’t see the usefulness of.  She had just parked her car, and when she noticed me she beeped her car and took several glances toward it to make certain that it was “safe.” She glanced behind a few more times and for some reason she put her hand into a sack she had strapped to her shoulder, and kept it there despite the fact it gave her stride an odd appearance. The only explanation for it was that she was letting me know that she had gun, mace or some other weapon to use just in case I “tried” something. I startled her as I walked past her, saying “Now who has the sick mind?” A few minutes later I walked into a convenience store and bought a cup of coffee; when I walked out I observed the same woman standing outside a espresso stand. I called out to her “I don’t see your hand in your bag now,” which as before seemed to “startle” her. I like to do that when I encounter arrogant, conceited narcissists who make judgments on people they only know from their own prejudices. 

So finally I’m digging around in my public storage unit when I received unwanted company from a couple of older white people, well-to-do types who had too much “stuff” in the attic. They came in for a few minutes to dump odd, probably useless objects they didn’t quite feel they wanted to discard, in their unit; they noticed me and seemed somewhat perturbed. They whispered to each other, which I took a little offense to. Before they left the locks were checked, and doubled checked, and triple checked, and quadruple checked. Then they reluctantly left. I then heard agitated conversation outside, and the male of the pair came back in and shook the door and locks multiple times, looking at me in an accusatory fashion. I wanted to say something about Nazis in Kent, but I stifled this impulse just long enough for the old bastard to leave for good. Now, I know I’m not supposed to have an opinion or “feelings” about any of this, but question is “Who does this say more about—me, or them?” 

Such is a day in the life. And I have many just like this. This is why I view the world as I do.

Opening week of NFL season a snoozer

It was a strictly ho-hum opening week in the NFL, with dull games and bad play, which I suspect is something we might expect in this “new” era which allegedly has provided fans with a new level of excitement. The Manning brothers did combined for 912 yards passing and 11 TD passes, which I suppose is some kind of record; but since I find both personally irritating if not offensive, I won’t waste any more time on them, Here are the games I did find "interesting" from Week One. 

Jets 18  Buccaneers 17

As I’ve stated before, I’m no fan of the way things went down that enabled Geno Smith to acquire the Jets’ starting quarterback job. But like EJ Manuel and Terrelle Pryor he played just well enough to give fans “hope,” at least for another game. He was also well on his way to joining those two in losing his first game against a Tampa Bay team that was only on life support because Smith made his rookie mistakes at inopportune times. When the Buccaneers’ offense finally showed some life late in the game and kicked the apparent game-winning field goal, I felt the Jets’ organization and fans got exactly what they deserved. But I didn’t count on was the kind of boneheaded play that drives one beyond the realm of sanity. 

With 15 seconds left in the game and no timeouts, Smith ran out of the pocket for ten yards to the Tampa Bay 45 yard line with just two seconds remaining, too far for a field goal try and only time for one desperation heave. Only one problem: The Buc’s Lavonte David lost his marbles and shoved Smith just as he was stepping out of bounds, drawing a personal foul penalty that put the ball on the 30 yard line, and Nick Folk booted a 48 yard field goal for the impossible Jets’ win. Personally, I think that the hit that enabled Smith to be the starting quarterback was more “foul” than David’s, and Smith’s histrionic flop-job would make an NBA player proud. But give Smith credit— he did the only thing left for him to do, and the ref’s bought it hook, line and sinker.

Seahawks 12  Panthers 7

I don’t care what local sports radio and fans say, this was a stinker of a win for the Seahawks and the dullest game of the day. If not for a secondary brain cramp, the Panthers would have “eked out” a 7-6 victory, which is only just more impressive than a 3-2 win, or 2-0. This game was so mind-numbing that I got it into my head that it would be interesting to dig up some historical fun-facts. According the Pro Football Reference, there have been a total of 73 professional football games in which the score was 0-0, the last time in 1943 between the New York Giants and the Detroit Lions. There have been 59 games in which the score was 3-0, the last one in 2007 when the Steelers beat the Dolphins. Rarer still is the 2-0 score, of which there are only 5 recorded instances; the last time the only score was a safety was in 1938 when the Bears beat the Packers. But only twice has there been a score of 3-2; in 1921 the Daytona Triangles beat the Cleveland Indians by that score, and in 1926, when the Chicago Cardinals beat the Milwaukee Brewers. 

Oh right, the game. Wilson threw for 320 yards, but as was often the case until late in the season last year, such “production” was more show than substance. Needless-to-say, I’m not as “bullish” on the Seahawks as many people seem to be. 

Titans 16  Steelers 9

Who would have thunk it? Two teams that came out of preseason with question marks instead of numbers on their jerseys, and playing the opener like they were trying to give away the game and nobody wanted to take the fetid thing. Barely 400 yards of total offense between the two of them, with the Titans averaging 3.6 yards per play, and the “mighty” Steelers only 3.7 yards in front of their home crowd.  The Titans are not going anywhere this year, so the question is whether the Rothlisberger Era is nearing its end. He has only played one full season in his career, and only twice has he passed for more than 4,000 yards. During the best years of his tenure, the Steelers had a more than adequate running game and a dominating defense. Rothlisberger is not the kind of quarterback who can carry a team on his shoulders all by himself, no matter how big they are. 

Eagles 33  Redskins 27

Former Oregon coach Chip Kelly unleashed his mile-a-minute offense, and for at least a half it looked unstoppable. Save for a few miscues the score could have been 40-0 at halftime, which was typical for his Oregon teams. But there is reason to doubt that the Eagles can keep this up; they clearly ran out of gas in the second half. Michael Vick was efficient save for those turnovers, but after he hobbled off the field in the second half, it is obvious, as always, he is only as good as his health is. The question may be, sooner or later, if Nick Foles can function in the spread offense. But that may be moot point because Foles is molasses slow, certainly a lot slower than Matt Barkley. I frankly am mystified that Kelly thinks that Barkley can run his kind of offense; Geno Smith probably would have been a better “fit.” There is a reason why teams don’t use offensive schemes like the no-huddle every series, even when opponents seem to be unable to stop it; it wears out older players, unlike in the college game where the best programs are deep with teenage talent they can run out at will. I’d be surprised if the Eagles can keep this up for more than a half-season.

49ers 34  Packers 28

I have to admit that as a Packer fan, I’m of two minds concerning head coach Mike McCarthy. By all accounts he prepares the team well for games, but once they get on the field, sometimes you wonder if he really knows what he is doing. He’s like a staff officer who is excellent at administrative tasks, but as a commander in the field he’s somewhat less competent. I understand that Aaron Rodgers was often under “duress” much of the game, especially on third down. But he was burning the 49ers’ pass defense on first and second down in first half. So why, after the 49ers scored on the opening drive of the second half to take a 21-14 lead, do you continue to try to “establish” a running game deep inside your own territory when it has failed you up to that point? Two running plays that netted a total of two yards, and then on an obvious passing down the 49ers’ defense again flusters Rodgers, forcing a quick three and out, putting Colin Kaepernick and company right back in business. 

Still, despite what the pundits were saying postgame, the Packers’ did a good job of bending but not completing breaking, and the Packers were in a good position to win the game and might have done so had it not been for head-scratching coaching decisions and the failure to stop the 49ers on a fourth-and-2 play late. As an aside, I wish that if Clay Mathews was going to do something to deliberately draw a personal foul penalty, I wish he would have done it right--like making sure that Kaepernick would have to make his arrogant postgame comments through a wired jaw.

Quarterbacks of destiny?

Football season is my favorite season, but I chose to refrain from making any observations concerning preseason activities until things shook themselves out. I suppose the most obvious observation to make is in regard to the quarterback situation on several teams. Now, back in 1999 Oliver Stone released a football film called Any Given Sunday. Jamie Foxx starred as a “quarterback of the future,” likely based on “prototypes” which that year included Randall Cunningham, Kordell Stewart, Steve McNair, Rodney Peete and Tony Banks; the film made a conscious effort to differentiate “new” and “old” school quarterback, with “new school” quarterbacks as much “athletes” who were running threats as well as passers. 

Out of all of these, only McNair would make it as far as the Super Bowl. As it turned out, the immediate future was not quite ready to be taken over by the “new school” quarterback, but after the apparent success of the likes of Robert Griffin III, Russell Wilson and Colin Kaepernick, it appears that every team without an established “traditional” passer is aching to get their hands on one, if for no other reason but to excite the fan base. 

At least three other teams are hoping to catch lightning in a bottle this season, the New York Jets with Geno Smith, the Oakland Raiders with Terrelle Pryor, and the Buffalo Bills with EJ Manuel. None of these quarterbacks were particularly impressive in the preseason. Smith, for example, threw three interceptions and “scored” a bone-head safety in his last start preseason start; Smith, as one may recall, was the leading Heisman Trophy candidate last season after putting up mind-boggling numbers against awful defenses (like Marshall’s 103^rd ranked defense, Baylor’s 123^rd,  Kansas’116^th,   and subdivision James Madison’s). But he quickly dropped out of contention after losing five straight games against the cream of the Big 12. 

But for some reason people think Smith is the future, and Mark Sanchez is the “past.” Sure, Sanchez played well enough to reach the AFC Championship game his first two seasons, but commentators and fans thought this wasn’t good enough, when it took Peyton Manning nine seasons to reach the Super Bowl. But during the past two seasons, Sanchez received the brunt of the blame on a team with substandard offensive weapons and poor offensive line play; while fans and commentators joked about Sanchez, they had surprisingly little to say when after he was benched last season, backup Greg McElroy was sacked a record-tying eleven times against San Diego. 

This year, it was no secret that new Jets general manager John Idzik wanted Smith installed as starting quarterback, even to the point of having him play injured. After Smith was pulled against the Giants, Sanchez was inserted behind a backup starting line, which in retrospect was a move criticized by many, including Joe Namath. Sanchez injured his shoulder on what was clearly a dirty play by the Giants’ Marvin Austin, who simply bulled into Sanchez well after he had thrown the ball; perhaps it was his way of “helping” his man Geno secure the starting job. In any case, Jets owner Woody Johnson had the mendacity to say that Sanchez should have “protected” himself on the play, and it is clear that the Jets are willing to toss him off into the trash bin. It is a sorry way to treat a quarterback who has won as many playoff games as all the rest of the team’s quarterbacks in their entire history. 

Meanwhile, in Oakland it seems that Matt Flynn has lost out yet again after being the “presumptive”: starter going into training camp. I’ve been on Flynn’s side from the start, but he has again been upstaged by another more “exciting” quarterback, this time Terrelle Pryor, who one may remember was booted off Ohio State for violating NCAA rules. Like Smith, Pryor was not impressive during the preseason, but his ability to “make plays” running downfield has Raider fans dreaming of another Wilson, who “beat out” Flynn for the Seattle job. Technically, Flynn supposedly has arm problems, and this may be true; but Flynn’s 480-yard, 6-TD performance the last time he was called upon to perform in a game that counted is a distant memory, and nobody seems to know or care how he did it. He’s too bland and vanilla, and Pryor is “exciting”—or at least some people think he is—and this is enough for the short term. 

Over in Buffalo, it seemed that Jeff “Tuel time” was canceled now that former Florida State quarterback EJ Manuel has recovered enough to play. ESPN’s Adam Shefter said it was his “destiny” to be the Bills’ starting quarterback, but Manuel was hardly impressive during his two preseason games; his numbers were “conservative” to say the least, only 199 yards passing on 26 completions. But again, he is the “type” who has fans and commentators believing that this kind of “athletic,” running quarterback are not just the wave of the future, but can be simply plucked like an apple from a tree if you only have the wherewithal to take the leap. 

Whether or not this fascination with the second wave of  “new school” quarterbacks will have the longevity of the first wave is an open question. The Green Bay Packers showed how a quarterback like Russell Wilson can be neutralized during their preseason game against Seattle, but the true test will be how they contain Kaepernick in the season opener against San Francisco on the road. If the Packers can contain him and actually win the game, then it may have the effect of showing other teams how to delay “destiny” once again,

Whether fiction or fact, racial stereotypes have same power

I once saw a film made in 1967 by a British director called “Dutchman,” which was based on a one-act drama written by black playwright/poet LeRoi Jones in 1964. Jones wrote this while his marriage to a white woman of Jewish extraction was breaking up; one suspects that it reflected Jones own severly altered attitude about the nature of their relationship. Jones would later change his name to Amiri Baraka, suggesting a rejection of “assimilation” and embracing his African roots. 

The film follows the original dialogue of the play, which occurs almost entirely in a New York subway train. A lithe, young, blonde, sexually aggressive white female in a mini-skirt is seen standing on the ramp when she notices a young black male in a suit and tie taking a look or two at her from inside the train. The next moment she boards the train and strolls toward him in a brazenly suggestive manner; the man is obviously flattered by the attention but doesn’t want to be made a fool of, and responds to her come-ons in a way that tries to gauge her “seriousness.” 

But it is all an act; the woman merely wants him to confirm sexual stereotypes about black males and embarrass him with it; when he doesn’t “play along”—instead trying to force her to be more “specific” about her intentions—she turns on him and taunts him for “rejecting” his “blackness” and pretending to be “white.” The man then launches into a speech about how he really feels about being black in a white society, and having cleared his conscience boldly announces his rejection of the white female and the sexual temptation she represents. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize he is dealing with a psychotic with an agenda, and she quite coolly stabs him in the chest. The next scene shows her approaching another black male sitting alone a train, reading a book; he is obviously her next victim.

This story is probably best seen as an allegory about black/white relations and commonly-held stereotypes. But it is not entirely in the realm of fantasy; the other day I observed an incident that at least shared a similar context. I was riding a Metro bus, sitting near the front. At some point the driver employed the loudspeaker to request that two passengers sitting in the back of the bus separate; looking behind me, I could see a black teenage male sitting in the rear seat engaging with a slightly older white female a few seats up; I knew the “type”: smug, sarcastic, self-satisfied, someone who was attractive but probably gave herself more credit than she deserved. 

I couldn’t quite hear everything that was being said, but the black male was obviously agitated, and the white female’s expression was that of someone who was taking delight at taunting him. I doubted they knew each other; perhaps he tried to talk to her, but her initial response was interpreted as demeaning, and their conversation “devolved” from there. It seemed that every time the black male demanded she refrain from insulting him, she responded with another insult.

The driver tried to persuade the black male to be “the man” and move away from the female, and with some reluctance he appeared to be about to do so; but as he passed the white female he suddenly turned on her on smirking countenance and a noticeably large projectile of spittle ejected from his mouth. It didn’t appear to strike her, but my own reaction was frustration in that it was an unnecessary gesture. The next thing I knew was that a young white male who was sitting at the very front of the bus was flying past me to the back of the bus, and in the next moment I saw four white males scuffling with the black male. The driver, a white female, obligingly opened the rear door, and the black male was thrown was unceremoniously off the bus. 

The driver of a truck who had witnessed the ejection drove up to the bus and informed the bus driver that he had just seen something that he found disturbing, but he was told that it was “alright” because there had been a “fight,” and the black male had been causing “problems.” I, however, made it known that I had a different perspective on the incident. I yelled toward the back that the white female was no “victim,” which I felt compelled to do in light of her overly satisfied expression in response to the course of events; my observation elicited  as a response from one of the white assailants a “what do you mean?” When the white male who had run to the back returned to his seat in the front of the bus, he seemed flushed with pride at his accomplishment; I sneered that it took four of them to throw one black kid off the bus, and that all I had seen was a bunch of white guys “protecting” the “sanctity” of some conceited white female. My contempt for the proceedings was such that the driver felt obliged to admit that she didn’t understand why the “victim” wouldn’t stop talking, instead continuing to egg the black male on. 

As someone who usually tends to mind his own business and avoid personal entanglements, I don’t always understand why people choose to “communicate” with each other as they do. But it is clear that there is a serious disconnect in how one group interprets meanings and intentions of another, especially given the racial divide—not helped by the admixture of stereotypes, deceit and arrogance.

What crazy things people do for fame and fortune--and that is before the questions

The 64-year-old long-distance swimmer Diana Nyad is nothing if not persistent, and after three previous failed attempts, she got all her protective measures in line and accomplished the feat of swimming (more or less) from Cuba to Florida, a distance of 103 miles. Aftwerward she looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Why would anyone wish to do this? Obviously for publicity, fame and fortune (for Nyad, I would add politics). I confess that if she had to abandon a sinking ship and swam the distance with no rescuers in sight, I would be more impressed; most people lost at sea do not have a nearby support staff on ship ready to supply food and water. Nyad had at least one overnight, and I’m sure there were no prying cameras to observe her activities during that period. She also wore this ghoulish mask that prevented stinging from jellyfish; it was pointed out that at some point divers cleared the final distance of those nasty jellyfish that helped divert her previous attempts. I would I suspect that Nyad also used “performance enhancing” chemicals, but then again she doesn’t engage in a regulated “sport.” 

Some people may recognize Nyad’s name, and assume that she was an Olympic champion. In fact she was never an Olympian; her notoriety is based solely on the occasional personal feats of derring-do, mostly long-distance swimming. She never actually “competed” against anyone but herself. But she is hardly alone in trying to make a name for herself in what is usually engaged in as a leisure activity. 15 years ago, a much younger Susie Maroney, an Australian, swam the same distance while inside a shark cage. Now, some people might question how you can “swim” in a shark cage unless it is being towed along by a boat, which might have helped her along her way in more subtle ways. 

More recently another Australian, Penny Palfrey, swam between the Gand and Little Cayman Islands, a distance of about 70 miles, and supposedly the longest solo “unassisted” open water swim. Of course, women are not the only people who think that long-distance swimming is a worthwhile occupation; in 2006, a Croatian named Veljko Rogosic swam nearly 140 miles in the Adriatic Sea; it is listed by Guinness World Records as the longest swim in open water without flippers.

And then there are the more "impressive"--and even more dubious--accomplishments. Ben Lecompte allegedly swam the Atlantic Ocean in 1998, although there was some debate on how far the boat he occasionally took rest breaks “drifted” forward. Amateur mathematicians calculated that he would have had to swim an average of 8 miles per hour to go 3,716 miles in 73 days; the fastest marathon runners run less than 13 miles an hour—and then their legs feel like logs for a week.

There is no doubt a great deal of fakery goes on in long-distance swimming, A few years ago, Jennifer Figge allegedly swam the shorter route across the Atlantic, 2,700 in just 24 days. It was noted that in order to accomplish that feat, Figge would have had to swim faster than Olympic champion Michael Phelps—minute-by-minute, 24 hours a day. When confronted with the numbers, Figge later confessed that she spent at least five full days on her support boat, and for “several” more days spent most of her time on said boat.

It should be noted that most of these long-distance swims take place in warm, tropical or semi-tropical waters; according to our history books, all but a handful of passengers left in the water after the Titanic sank survived for only a few hours in the bone-chilling April waters of the North Atlantic. Thus a more impressive feat of swimming was that performed by Lewis Pugh, a British barrister and non-professional swimmer. In 2007 he swam a distance of one kilometer (approximately .62 miles) at the North Pole, in waters at or below freezing, In waters that most people would expire in minutes, Pugh dived in protected only by Speedo briefs and a cap. Afterwards, he described how "The pain was immediate and felt like my body was on fire. I was in excruciating pain from beginning to end and I nearly quit on a few occasions."

Pugh later performed the same feat in the waters off the coast of Antarctica. “As soon as I dived in, I had a screaming pain all over my body,” he said. “After three minutes, I'd lost all feeling in my hands and feet. And after six minutes I lost all feeling throughout my arms and legs. I am not sure how I kept on going for so long. I had to concentrate all the time and swim as fast as I could to keep the cold out.”

Of course, we can go back to the question of why people would subject themselves to extreme physical agony over a quest that has no real value in the grand scheme of things, save as some bizarre medical experiment on the capacities of the human body. Perhaps beyond the simple desire of fame and glory, maybe it is just the desire of do something no one else can claim, no matter how head-scratching. Of course, it would be nice to know that there was no “cheating” involved in the accomplishment, because that only makes the incomprehensible ridiculous.