Remembering Jim Wiedner

Before starting up for the spring semester, we would like to take a moment to remember Jim Wiedner. Those of us on the viz. team had the privilege of working with Jim both on the blog and in the Digital Writing and Research Lab. In every writer’s meeting, Jim was always incredibly kind and thoughtful to each of us. We'll miss viz.'s “Resident Dude”—as both a colleague and a friend. We hope the posts below give you a sense of the Jim we knew: a funny, sharp, and well-dressed guy a heart of gold.

And Now, A Reading from The Book of Bro

“For the bro, the physicality of his books (individually and collectively) is the first and foremost consideration. Just as was the case with bro clothing, bro books need to look as though they were simply ‘thrown together’ by the bro in question. A neatly organized shelf of books would be anything but ‘chill.’”

(White) Men Behaving Badly, or, Why I'll Be Staying Home This Halloween 

“Now, at first blush, this all might not seem limiting at all. God knows there's no shortage of white guys breaking the law or otherwise inviting public disdain. But here's the problem: They all look exactly the same.”

If the Hipsters Don’t Die, the Dive Bar Will

“Personally, I’ve never felt particularly comfortable at the “classy” bars that my contemporaries frequent. I prefer cans of beer to $7.00 cocktails with things like orange zest as an ingredient. I’ve never had a romantic relationship that began in a bar end well, so the groups of attractive girls looking for guys to flirt with and pilfer drinks from doesn’t really compel me to frequent such places, either. Never mind the fact that I’d generally rather wear what I happen to have on when I go out, rather than spend time engaged in a one-man wardrobe consult.”

"Rueful Reluctance:” An Unwitting Cat Owner’s Search for Meaning Among Memes

“My manipulative neighbor was playing me like a fiddle. He knew I had a soft spot for that cat; hell, I was the one to feed her on multiple occasions when her deadbeat dad couldn't be bothered to do so. The cat liked me, too. Whenever she’d enter my apartment, she’d survey her surroundings and then proceed to scratch the side of my couch like it was her job. I’d tell her to knock it off, and she would, but not without looking at me with what I swear was a bit of amusement.”