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Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Forcing the issue
What’s the password?
Fuckin Republicans
Yer in.
I can’t believe we have to do all this clandestine shit. Passwords. Semiphore (Damn, that was a bitch to learn). Communicating through blogs.
Yeah I know, but we’re supposed to icksnay the blogging, since Homeland Security passed.
You really think Poindexter’s Total Information Awareness office will be checking blogs?
Nah, not the little ones. Let’s the rabble blow off steam. But if you ever got big, got a lot of readers and looked to be a potential leader or lightening rod or somethin…Boom, here comes the boys in black, hustling you off to 8x9 cell never to be heard from again.
Oh Brave New World!
You said it, brother. It is a whole new world. You could be painted as an America-hating terrorist, even as everything you did was out of love for your country. But how would anyone, outside of the small number of family and friends, know the truth? With every news anchor, every pundit, every radio show, and every newspaper repeating the same lies, they could even make people who know you doubt themselves.
Jeez. It doesn’t look good. What can we do?
Start small. Build community. Try to stay human. Put humans first. Try to have compassion.
Yeah, but that’s a tall order sometimes. Like the bumper sticker I saw the other day when I was stuck in traffic and hating it, “Love One Another.” Yes, I thought. But why is that so difficult? And why does that message stand out so? And the obvious answer is that we are bombarded with messages of self-interest. That’s why a good church can be quite a balm to your soul: Wow, a place where the message isn’t commercial. How refreshing.
Yeah, same goes for lots of blogs, too. But what can be done? Well, blogs are one place people can explore the answers. Just the other day a blogger noted:
Yes, we need tip jars, buskers, sleeping bags on floors of churches before a march on Washington, and we need crazies in paper mache heads, and women walking around with bare breasts and war paint -- why not? We need hit and run detournement of the propaganda engines, and indy and alternative sources of information. But, until we have the millions flowing through an underground system of fundraising, the right will win every debate, because they will own, occupy, co-opt or corrupt every possible message and messenger. They will frame the debate as Idiot A against Idiot B, posturing harmlessly between the ads -- the Corporate interests -- that are in charge of the whole damn show.
Yes! Sing it with me. Me and Paul Weller:
Something’s happening here today
A show of strength with your boy's brigade
and I'm so happy and you're so kind
You want more money, of course I don't mind
To buy nuclear textbooks for atomic crimes
And the public gets what the public wants
But I want nothing this society's got
I'm going underground (going underground)
Well the brass bands play and feet start to pound
Going underground (going underground)
Well let the boys all sing and let the boys all shout for tomorrow
Some people might get some pleasure out of hate
Me, I've enough already on my plate
People might need some tension to relax
Me, I'm too busy dodging between the flak
What you see here is what you get
You've made your bed, you better lie in it
You choose your leaders and place your trust
As their lies wash you down and their promises rust
You'll see kidney machines replaced by rockets and guns
And the public wants what the public gets
But I don't get what this society wants
I'm going underground (going underground)
Well let the brass bands play and feet start to pound
Going underground (going underground)
So let the boys all sing and the boys all shout for tomorrow
We talk and talk until my head explodes
I turn on the news and my body froze
These braying sheep on my TV screen
Make this boy shout, make this boy scream
Going underground, I'm going underground
I'm going underground, I'm going underground
Monday, November 25, 2002
A different era
Found something good at Seeing The Forest.
The problem is not that they [the Democrats] aren't saying things, it's that you wouldn't KNOW they are saying these things if you watch regular TV or listen to regular radio or read regular newspapers. It's a different era and we have to get used to it - the Republicans control the media. Democrats CAN'T "take to the airwaves." Get used to it.
Don't get mad at the Democrats for being shut out by the media. Instead, we need to build a "media" for people to get information! As I wrote the other day, I think the best place to start this is BuzzFlash. Tell everyone you know to check BuzzFlash every day.
WTF Is It Now??
Has Glenn Instafuckhead Reynolds ever made you laugh? I didn't think so. That, alone, should tell you something.
Hopefully, my fellow lefties, you've snuck a smile or hiccoughed a "ha" over here, because, ya know, if life ain't funny/crazy/absurd, it's just a flat-lined slog punctuated by random fantasies of techno-military superiority.
If you're not a lefty, there's still time. Act now, and receive a laminated membership card, decoder ring, lingo guide, trial supscription to "Z" magazine, and autographed photo of Naomi Klein.
Or just read cool people like skippy the most excellent bush kangaroo, who will then point you to the hilarious (my highest recommendation) maru the crankpot. That should get you started. If you end up raving at the pervasive media BS, just remember, blog posts, either reading them or writing them, can restore your equilibrium.
Here's a sample from Maru (just happens to be one that appeals to my cruder side; they're not all like this):
Today's poll - for our military personnel only:
During the Vietnam War, George W. Bush was AWOL during his National Guard Service. In your mind, does this make him
a) commander-in-chief - of dogturds!
b) a complete waste of airspace
c) a total disgrace as a human being, or
d) a f*cktard
Thank you. As always, your vote will remain confidential unless the mgmt deems it pretty damn funny.
UPDATE: More on the humor angle. Found this: "Have all these books on Gandhi. Did he have a sense of humor? Yes." at Hot Juicy Breathless Bla Bla.
And Tony at abuddhas memes says: "Ever aware that the best means of innoculation for memetic viruses is humor (a memebit that locks into the tensile memetic code and renders the structure funny, and thus unstable and incapable of straight transmission), I muse over a transmemetic highball. In Praise of Close-Mindedness- A Manifesto for the Thoughtful Asshole."
Friday, November 22, 2002
Happy Friday, comrade
It's Friday, I know. We all want to leave our cares behind and enjoy our family and friends. Who wants to dwell on the negative?
But Friday is also the day Chris Floyd publishes his column -- in The Moscow Times, of all places. He is one of the sharpest observers of America's political scene and a great writer. Here's the conclusion of today's reading of the dark clouds over the land:
Bush's dictatorial powers of arrest and imprisonment are only part of an unprecedented expansion of militarized state power into every aspect of American life, coupled with an unprecedented level of secrecy surrounding government activity. These changes are meant to be permanent -- and they are meant to remain under the control of the Bush Regime and like-minded successors. It is absurd to believe that Bush, Cheney and the rest of the junta are constructing this vast machinery of dominance only to risk turning it over to any political adversary who genuinely opposed empire, plutocracy and rule by a privileged elite.
It is equally absurd to believe that these new, unconstrained powers will not be abused. The very fact of their assertion is itself an abuse, a perversion of the freedoms that Bush has sworn -- falsely -- to uphold. They are a far greater threat to the foundations of American liberty than even the most horrendous attack by murderous criminals. No foreign terrorist can strip the entire American system of its basic freedoms -- the inviability of the citizen, the right to due process, the constitutional separation of powers, the people's right to know what their government is doing in their name.
Only an American tyrant can do that. And he is doing it, day by day.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
A Second Look at the War on Terrorism
The Grand Deception - Part One
The Grand Deception - Part Two
The burning question that now must be answered is this: Is the war on terrorism a repeat of history? Is it merely a grand deception to intimidate and frighten us into accepting the harsh realities of collectivism - and the continued loss of freedom - as a reasonable price for safety in time of war? ~ Edward Griffin
Recommended reading, via abuddhas memes.
Wednesday, November 20, 2002
Some things never leave you
Barry Gifford is one of my favorite authors. He’s incredibly versatile, but probably best known for his tales of Sailor and Lula, the criminal lowlifes featured in “Wild at Heart” and “Sailor’s Holiday.” They are great books, but my favorites are probably two of his memoirs, “The Neighborhood of Baseball: A Personal History of the Chicago Cubs” and “A Good Man to Know”, and his collection of short essays on film noir called “Out of the Past: Adventures in Film Noir” (although my earlier edition is titled “The Devil Thumbs a Ride and other unforgettable films”). Here’s his page on Amazon.
It was in one of the memoirs, I think, that I ran across an anecdote that has stuck with me. It goes something like this: A boxing coach is discussing boxing with an enthusiast. He’s talking about all the fighters he has trained, and he says, “a lot of guys have it – they could go far, they could do it, if they just will.”
I always think about that when I think about my time as an art major in college. At first I was undecided about what to do with my life. I was taking my time making up my mind, plus I was having too good a time to worry about it too much.
But two things I had always done well were write and draw. I was thinking I’d probably get a journalism degree, and that is what I ended up with, but for a year, my third year, about the time one has to declare something, I went for it. I was going to get a degree in art.
One thing that has not come naturally for me is self-esteem. Well, actually it did, it comes naturally to everyone, but too often environmental factors drive it away. Such was the case with me. So, when I saw the work of many of my fellow students, my estimation of my own talent, already fragile, was shaken.
I persevered for a year. I struggled mightily with some classes, particularly Color Theory and Sculpture, but did relatively well with anything involving drawing. I also produced some decent watercolors.
It was my figure drawing class that most suited my self-taught abilities, which I had developed by copying other printed material – coloring books, comic books, album covers, and photos. Much of the class was devoted to sketching the nude figure from live nude models, but we were sometimes given homework assignments along the lines of sketching still lifes and portraits of friends.
We would bring our sketches in and set them up around the room, and our teacher would walk around looking them over, commenting here on technique, there on composition, etc. In one such session, a student had brought in a self-portrait. It was nicely done, very polished and professional looking. I remember the teacher commenting that the student had idealized himself a bit. I thought so too; he looked like a saint.
My memory is a little hazy on the assignment we were given after that. It might have been that we were all to do self-portraits, or it might have been left up to us what to draw, but I returned to my apartment intending to do my own self-portrait. I think I was kind of pissed that the teacher had mostly been very complimentary, certainly more than he’d ever been about my work, about the beatific self-portrait.
So it was with a “I’ll show him” attitude that I set out to render my own visage. I sketched with a passion, and what came out wouldn’t be called beautiful by most. One side of my face was a bit more shadowed than the other, and I had a somewhat aggressive look, rather lupine, really, a wolf you wouldn’t want to cross on a dark night. You could see my teeth.
The next day we set up our pieces for review. The professor walked around, making his comments, although, as usual, he didn’t comment on every drawing. He had once pointed out something I’d done during one of our quick sketches from the live model, but that was about it for me. It was still fairly early in the semester. He approached my drawing, he took a step toward the next drawing, and he stopped. His head swiveled back. It was the classic double-take. He looked again, more closely, at my self-portrait. But he didn’t say anything.
However, he did something unusual after that. He asked us to rank the pieces in some way. Maybe pick out the top five, I can’t remember exactly. But I do remember that my piece ranked very low, and I believe we discussed the reasons for the rankings, including discussion of my piece, of me. I don’t remember anything that was said.
I’ve always wondered if he was trying to tell me something that day, if he knew my classmates wouldn’t think much of what I’d brought in, and that this was something I needed to learn.
I do remember that at the end of the semester we each met with the teacher one-on-one, a portfolio of our best work from the class in hand. After we’d gone over my work, he said to me: “You’ve got the talent to do this. There are many people who have greater technical ability, but they would love to have a talent like yours, an ability to put something more into their work.” He told me about a student who went on to a successful career as an illustrator but struggled to express himself. “You have the talent, but you have to have the will to develop it,” he said.
There’s another anecdote that comes to mind, this one related by another art teacher, a very cool sculpture teacher who would rap brilliantly, taking tangents far out into seemingly unrelated realms of thought and endeavor, but always bringing it back home to the day’s theme. He once told us students, many of whom would affect postures clearly communicating boredom, about a middle-aged friend who had pursued an art career, but had given up on it. He said this person had found some paintings by his younger self and had trashed them in a rage. He wondered if we could guess why, and was greeted with stony silence. This friend, he answered himself, had been able to see in these paintings a talent he had neglected.
I didn’t ask then, but I might now, was it really too late?
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
Howling at the moon
Bob Somerby of The Daily Howler nails spin, to wit:
PUNDITS ARE GOOD AT RECITING: Andrea Mitchell knows how to recite. On last Sunday’s Chris Matthews Show, Michelle Cottle described Gore’s recent approach:
COTTLE: He’s trying to be kind of a jollier, better communicator. You know, he really does think that this time around he can be kind of a looser, friendlier, happier guy.
Mitchell wasn’t buying that crap. She knows her key spin-points, and she knows when to use them. Sadly, your discourse lies in the hands of these people. Here’s what the crabby one said:
MITCHELL: It’s just another reinvention.
Ah yes! Al Gore is constantly reinventing himself! It was one of the great and mighty spin-points of the press corps’ 2000 campaign.
Yeah, and he said he invented the Internet, too. He’s a liar. How many times was that repeated? And all he did was say that he had helped bring about the Internet through support, funding, etc., the kind of things powerful politicians do. But, boy did that little “inventing the Internet” soundbite have legs. It was perfect, because we can all relate to such a line; it sounds like a punch line or just someone being facetious: “yeah, Bill, I invented the Internet. Didn’t you know? Of course, I never get the credit, not that I’m bitter.” And here was Gore apparently thinking he could seriously fool us with it.
My wife says I need to get off of this political stuff. I mean, there’s real life: one-year-old birthday parties (Winnie the Pooh themed), a precocious preschooler, romantic dinners with red wine.
But, but, but…. truthout, man, truthout. My friend Billy says I can’t handle the truth (well, in so many words). He thinks I’m a bit too suspicious of the Right, and that I will gladly jump to conclusions to confirm my suspicions. You know, knee-jerk, paranoid lefty. See what you want to see. BUT it ain’t paranoia if they are REALLY out to get you, as the ironically named Mr. Helpful recently commented, trying to be ironic himself, but failing miserably.
For example, I’ve been saying political dissent will become “terrorism” since, oh, Sept. 12, 2001. I knew very well I wasn’t “with” the sleazy folks in the White House. I also said, just the other day, in rhymed verse, that it was quite a coincidence that Osama popped back up in time for the crucial “debate” on the Homeland Security bill. And today I find William Rivers Pitt, the Boston-based teacher, providing an overview of the Bushie’s use of Osama Bin Laden and terrorism to take over the headlines and keep us fearful while they strip our Constitutional rights, and pointing out how the proposed legislation will “refine” the definition of terrorist:
In the days leading up to the mandated Congressional debate regarding said legislation, terror warnings suddenly bloom like nightshade. The White House or the FBI or the CIA, or all three in concert, ratchet up the national tension level with forecasts of doom and death and fire from unknown quarters. Said legislation passes without so much as leaving a wake in its path, nothing explodes, and everyone goes on with their lives in the belief that they just narrowly dodged a bullet.
snip
[Homeland Security] Redefines the term 'Terrorism.' Before, 'Terrorism' involved explosions, murder, kidnapping and any activity that used violence to frighten civilians and change the manner in which a government functioned. Under the new legislation, the definition of 'Terrorism' is expanded. Now, 'Terrorism' is defined as an act that, "Is a violation of the criminal laws of the United States or of any State or other subdivision of the United States," or "Appears to be intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population." Protests against the government or against a private contractor involved with the government are intended to 'coerce' the civilian population. Loitering is a criminal offense. If you do either of these from now on, you may consider yourself welcomed into the ranks of international terrorism. Seriously.
Then I find a link to The New Post-Imperial Imperialism at the invisible worm (thanks again, referrer service, for pointing it out). Here’s the cheery scoop from the Common Dreams article:
'America is the terrorist," said Bileh, 25, a street vendor.
This statement, from a Globe and Mail story filed from Indonesia, seems to me to sum up the future of global politics. It is the response and counterpart to the Bush doctrine and Cheney plan (or Plan, as it is now referred to), with their grandiosity and bluster. It is the fertile ground on to which the latest Osama bin Laden tape falls. It is not a sentiment Osama bin Laden creates, but he profits from it. The sentiment is neither new nor confined to street vendors. At Saturday's enormous anti-war protest in Florence, a banner read, "The real terrorist is the West." But that has the used sound of rhetoric; Bileh is more chilling.
Meanwhile, we’ve had gorgeous fall weather here in Atlanta, GA, crisp air and colorful leaves against an intensely blue sky. A quick scan of the windows shows it looks promising out there right now. So enough of this, there’s still some lunch hour to kill.
I wonder how Eleanor enjoyed her first experience bowling at a real bowling alley…
Monday, November 18, 2002
Synchronicity
In preparing the post below, I found that San Francisco Chronicle columnist Mark Morford has touched on a subject that some friends of mine have been talking about recently, the friends being Tracy, Zary and Ray. The subject being the 1988 Bill Moyers/PBS documentary Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth. Here's a quote from Mark's piece:
Campbell is the famous master of myth, the warmly articulate weaver of cultural tapestry, the great professor effortlessly revealing, in these luminous talks with journalist Bill Moyers, how every culture's consecrated tales of gods and goddesses, heroes and monsters, angels and demons, Jesus and Buddha and Allah and Yahweh and Yoda et al., simply represent and illuminate various elements of the human psyche, the human heart, the human condition.
And, more important, he illuminates, gently, calmly, effortlessly, without prejudice or bias, without spin or piousness or even heavy resigned sighing, and without actually saying so, the dangerous absurdity of a people taking these tales -- and gods -- way, way too literally.
And here's the link to more of Mark's stuff: link.
Easiest $5 Mil You Will Ever Make
The Bush administration is offering up to $5 million for information that allows the government to stop the flow of money to terrorists. The Treasury and State departments announced the reward, marking the government's latest effort to sever terrorists from their funding sources. After roughly ten million people rushed right over to either ExxonMobile HQ and any Hummer/SUV dealership or CIA HQ or Dick Cheney's office and then called the Treasury, saying they've found the info and demanding their $5 mil, the White House issued a hastily revised version of the offer, saying the info could not have anything to do with the US government's obvious and ongoing multibillion-dollar military and cash support for shady violent terrorist-supporting nations. "No no no, I mean information *besides* all the stuff we already do ourselves to instigate and support terrorism in the name of oil! Sheesh!" said a flustered Treasury spokesperson. "Now please quit sending us those Cadillac Escalade brochures with the MPG ratings highlighted." ~ Mark Morford
The preceding is from the San Francisco columnists Morning Fix newsletter. For more from Mark, see his SF Gate archive.
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Near the end of "Straight Man"
The Richard Russo comedic novel about academia, there's this:
As I drift back into sleep, I can't help thinking that it's a wonderful thing to be right about the world. To weigh the evidence, always incomplete, and correctly intuit the whole, to see the world in a grain fo sand, to recognize its beauty, its simplicity, its truth. It's as close as we get to God in this life, and we reside in the glow of such brief flashes of understanding, fully awake, sometimes, for two or three seconds, at peace with our existence. And then back to sleep we go.
It's the first novel by Russo for me, recommended by a friend. We both decided it would be worth checking out some of his other novels.
Friday, November 15, 2002
Flippin channels
Will you pray with me brother?
Get down on your knees, c’mere, crouch
The simulacra’s awaitin brother
And I think the remote’s under the couch
Shit, homeland security!
Hell, Osama’s still alive!
Funny how these things
Tend to coincide
Now you know there’s no need to worry (they say)
No need to bitch and moan
If you ain’t done nothing wrong
The government will leave you alone
It’s them turists that hate our freedoms
The whole country’s seein red
And Fox has got the scoop
On all the shit Osama said
He praised the Chechens
He thought Bali somethin to see
He’s one scary, global mastermind
Personally out to get you and me
There’s a commercial break
Time to think about some other shit
Like whether peace is possible
Or should we just give up, and, ya know, quit
What the hell are you talkin about?
Where the hell is that remote?
Don’t you realize what you have?
The power of the vote?
Ha, you’re joking
There’s no opposition anymore
And the jerks will always win
In a world based on war
Hey, the show’s back
It doesn’t look too good
There’s too many WMDs
(Yeah, and we made most of ‘em, dude)
Let’s not go there
The pundits wouldn’t approve
Just read that scroll bar along the bottom
Something about our latest move
Shit, I can’t tell who’s ahead
It’s too hard on my eyes
And O’Reilly keeps whisperin
His bucketful of lies
What are you talkin about?
I’ve got it on mute
Maybe you are gettin religion
God, please don’t stand and salute
But look, there’s the flag
And it’s “Live” and in my room
This is the way it is
In the land of fear and doom
Dude, I was just jokin
About worshippin the box
You know it’s just crazy shit
Made to keep people under locks
No, I’ve got it
Just sit and nod your head
And take it on faith
That the evil will be dead
Come on, it doesn’t work that way
The world’s more comlpex and hardly fair
I want to show you somethin
I think you need some air
Look, see these trees
See the moon up above
This is what life is
A process infused with love
And it’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?
That’s why we have to act
A better world is possible
But not when we’re all so slack
Whew, yeah, we’ve had our fun tonight
Would you get me a beer?
We can sit out here and clear our heads
I think I saw a deer
Thursday, November 14, 2002
I'm Karl Barth. Who knew?
"We reject the false doctrine that the church could have permission to hand over the form
of its message and of its order to whatever it itself might wish or to the vicissitudes of the
prevailing ideological and political convictions of the day."
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You are Karl Barth!
You like your freedom, and are pretty stubborn against authority! You don't
care much for other people's opinions either. You can come up with your own fun, and
often enough you have too much fun. You are pretty popular because you let people have their
way, even when you have things figured out better than them.
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What theologian are you?
A creation of Henderson
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, a review
(Warning: George Partington, chief writer for High Water, has slipped into his critical pontificator persona. Proceed at your own risk. – ed.)
It was okay. It wasn’t bad, just nothing special.
That’s how I characterized Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to a friend of mine who works as journalist covering films and therefore had passes to give me for an advanced screening.
I went into the film with mixed feelings. I love the books, but suspect filmed versions will only discourage new generations of readers, or failing that, it will usurp their imaginations as they watch the films prior to reading the tales.
And, not to be a total curmudgeon, but to see Harry Potter take his place in a culture of stupidly expensive, over-hyped products – as a movie, DVD, action figure, lego set, stuffed doll, fast-food tie-in, etc. -- is a bit dispiriting.
But then again, I enjoyed the elaborate detail of the first film, as well as the opportunity to experience J.K. Rowling’s fantasy world and its compelling fictions in another medium. Such is modern life and its guilty pleasures. Not that I would characterize the books as “guilty pleasures.” They are rich in humor, drama, and imagination. As millions of readers attest, there is no need to pigeonhole them into a category such as “children’s literature;” they are simply excellent fiction.
The first film drew me in as a good film should. The opening was full of anticipation of Harry’s escape from his hellish life – the letters from Hogwarts increasing in number until the air in the Dursley’s living room was thick with them, the retreat to an island to get away from the assault, and the entrance of Hagrid, realized beautifully by Robbie Coltrane. Then, as the tension was released, there was the majestic unfolding of Harry’s new world – Diagon Alley, train platform 9&3/4, the train ride with new friends, and finally, Hogwarts.
But with that film, as with the new one, I left the theater less than satisfied. Our three heroes, as in the books, were likable, and I was behind them, but by the end of both 21/2+ hour films I was mostly exhausted and reminded, more than anything else, of Rowling’s brilliance, her way with a fantasy world that feels grounded yet fanciful, and above all, humorous. The Whomping Willow in “Chamber of Secrets” is a perfect example. It’s grounded (obviously), it’s fanciful (a tree that whomps anyone who gets too close), and it’s humorous (the name alone).
The problem, as was the case in the first film, is that by the last third it all starts to look labored. What should be movie magic by the end turns into a standard, familiar, and inevitable confrontation with evil and an equally inevitable victory by our heroes. (Advice to Chris Columbus: there’s only one Spielberg.)
Even though, whether reading the books or watching the movies, we know our heroes will triumph, in the books the suspense is terrific, while in the movie, by the end, there’s too much of a spectacle, roller coaster feel, and not enough atmosphere and suspense. I couldn’t help imagining the big battle as a thrill ride at a theme park.
It worked much better in the books. I marveled at the way the plot pieces snapped together with a satisfying “click,” and the evil that Harry confronts feels menacing and real, instead of obligatory and comic-bookish. Truth be told, those we’re supposed to hate (other than Voldemort), the Dursleys and the Malfoys, are extremely wooden in both mediums. In particular, Draco and his father Lucius, are required to sneer and utter hiss-worthy lines that few actors could pull off, especially child actors.
The actors portraying Harry, Ron, and Hermione are again up to the task, infusing their characters with the necessary innocence and wonder, but coming off as three-dimensional. And the British thespians – Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, and Alan Rickman – are a joy to watch. Rickman’s performance, in particular, provides thrills for the way it skates the line between camp and character. Not so for Kenneth Branagh’s Gilderoy Lockhart. I found him to be too cartoonish and over-the-top. Kenneth seemed to be having a good time with the pompous character, but I wasn’t.
Many of the films’ weaknesses could be mitigated, were they headed by a more imaginative director. Or maybe they just needed to be more tightly edited. Two hours and 41 minutes is too much time to be in the hands of a pedestrian director; nor does it help that I feel that pop movies, like pop songs, have an ideal length – 1 hour and 45 minutes.
Still, there are plenty of magical, engrossing moments, and as escapes to the movie theater go, you could do a lot worse.
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
What to do about childhood education?
Euan Semple, whose blog The Obvious? I’ve been reading for a long time (it was one of the first I ever bookmarked), left a comment on a recent post about my 3-year-old daughter. He said, “I don't know about you George but I am worried about how much school is going to drive the imagination out of them [children] - I keep being blown away by my two.”
I have the same worries, which is why Leigh and I are considering enrolling Eleanor, and eventually Audrey, our 11-month-old, in a Waldorf School. We’re investigating our local school now, and it looks promising.
If anyone has any experience or knowledge of the Waldorf Schools, or any other thoughts to share on education, please feel free to leave a comment or send me an e-mail.
And thanks for saying “hello,” Euan.
Monday, November 11, 2002
Ruminations
A comment on George Sessum's blog led me to Lisa English's blog, Ruminate This. And that is just what I'm now doing, I'm ruminating this:
I've so many questions about so many issues. They all seem to segue into one big interrogatory after awhile. Where is the Wellstone NTSB report? Where is the black box? Where is the investigation? Those questions blend into other cases: Why do we permit elections to be stolen in this country and not make a peep? Why won't Cheney turn over the energy documents? Why are the families of 911 being fobbed off, and an investigation into the circumstances surrounding that national tragedy falling by the wayside? Why are we embarked on a never ending war to seize someone else's resources? Why are we inspiring terrorism? ..more
Lisa also provides a link to a commentary called Terror On the Hill from the Truthout site, which I'd never been to. An excerpt:
The [Wellstone] crash itself has slipped quietly away. Not a single report of the circumstances surrounding the crash has come. We have no NTSB reports, no expert analysis no hard questions inconveniently raised prior to the election that would sweep the right to control of the entire federal government. Instead, the story has been pushed aside by news of glorious victories by those who oblige the powerful.
There were warnings, of course. Tom Daschle, that pesky obstructionist. managed to outflank the Republican leadership for a time and seize control of the Leader's office. He got a gift of deadly anthrax. Patrick Leahy, that radical from Vermont, made the unwise choice of opposing right-wing judges. His anthrax warning was likewise delivered.
One final thought from Ruminate This:
"The enormous gap between what US leaders do in the world and what Americans think their leaders are doing is one of the great propaganda accomplishments of the dominant political mythology." ~ Michael Parenti, author of Inventing Reality: The Politics of News Media
Friday, November 08, 2002
Portrait of the artist as a young preschooler
My little girl, Eleanor, is three. Like most small children, she has a wonderful imagination. Of course, I tend to think she’s especially brilliant in both imaginative and verbal skills. The fact that those are the skills a writer employs is hardly surprising, considering both her mother and I are writers. I suspect she will grow up to be a writer, maybe even have her own blog.
Ever since she’s been mobile, we’ve found little odd groupings of toys all over the house: a block, toy baby bottle, and plastic horse, for instance, or a plastic cooking pot full of a rock, a dollhouse figure, some fabric and a plastic ear of corn. It all makes sense in her imagination, I suppose, although I think it was just coincidence the time we found a reproduction of a colonial era doll, who we call Colonial Man, with his arm around a naked Raggedy Ann.
Lately, we’ve been playing Bob the Builder. I play Bob, and we build things. Anything can be a tool, and what we build is often purely imaginary. Eleanor calls this a “game,” but it usually devolves into her just talking to “Bob” about all kinds of things, her day at preschool, the upcoming holiday, her dolls and what their names are. I think she enjoys having someone come to visit her, someone she can talk to about her life in a way she wouldn’t be able to talk to me about it. If Bob’s lucky, she might cook him a meal in her play kitchen.
Sometimes, when she’s asked to do something she considers too difficult, she says, “I’m just a little girl named Eleanor.” We have no idea where she got it.
The other night, Leigh was telling me about an encounter with Eleanor’s imagination. She said Eleanor was giving her baby doll a bottle, but she couldn’t find the toy baby bottle she usually uses. So she picked up something handy and pretended it was a bottle. It was a toy tractor, about the size of a bottle. Eleanor was pretending the exhaust pipe sticking out of the hood was the nipple and she had that pressed to the doll’s lips.
“Am I doing this right?” she asked.
I think so. I think she has the whole imaginative preschooler thing down. I can’t wait to see what she does with elementary school kid and beyond.
In a good way, right?
I posted my "100 Things About Music" list (below) on Blogcritics, and got some interesting feedback. Judging from the three who responded, about 66 percent of the Blogcritics reading public thinks I'm weird.
First, there's this from Eric Olsen:
"I know all this and more: great lists are provocative and irritating as much as reassuring. Your list is that.
You are weird.
I agree with you about both GP's."
And then this from "The Theory":
"I tend to agree with Eric Olsen. You *are* weird. haha.
But it was an amusing read, and I agree with you on everything "dylan" related."
They were both complimentary, so I'm not taking it personally (too much). I've heard the phrase "growing up in public" (and where did that come from?), but I seem to be "growing weird in public." Or does the former presuppose the latter?
Ralph Nader's predecessor
"I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country... Corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic
is destroyed." ~ Abraham Lincoln, 1864
Is it a crisis yet?
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Trent Lott: I feel good!
Oh jeez. O happy day. The lunatics have been given full reign of the asylum.
From CNN.com: "Republicans will be in the driver's seat in Washington after a historic midterm election in which the GOP held the House and regained the Senate. The Senate's top Republican, Trent Lott, said "It'll feel good to be on offense,"
Is all hope lost? NO. nuh uh. Not gonna do it. Not gonna throw in the towel. Not at this juncture.
No, I'm going to the movies. Specifically, Godfrey Reggio's "Naqoyqatsi," part of the Qatsi trilogy. From the Salon.com review:
The point of "Naqoyqatsi," for example, is not to follow the Schwarzenegger formula for inducing a fear-based rush or to eroticize violence. The message seems to be that we had the capacity to create this society and we have the capacity to change it.
Reggio's advice: "Live your own creative life. Don't make your college diploma a death certificate because it conjoins you to the great myth of making money, and the pursuit of technological happiness through 'commodotization.'" He admits that the films are about tragedy, to a certain extent, but believes that the journey they invite us to take is a cathartic one. "The purpose of tragedy is not to depress; it's to purge, to rebel against our destiny."
What is High Water?
Googlism knows...
high water is on the rise
high water is the mistaken belief that you cannot successfully fish a strong current
high water is making the job more difficult this year
high water is the water
high water is a four piece bluegrass band from the heart of wisconsin
high water is the best time for canoeing the amazon
high water is the time at billingsgate for all passengers that are bound for gravesend
high water is hiding rocks and other hazards such as brush and trees that can snag or pin down even the strongest swimmers
high water is a great album
high water is dangerous
high water is tinsley ellis' debut cd for telarc records
high water is chock full of poignant fills
high water is never won because of the ongoing man
high water is owned by the public
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
I have voted
For the first time in a long while, I have voted. I missed the presidential election two years ago because I couldn't get my shit together. I registered in my new county, but didn't receive my precinct card until several days after the election, and I didn't get it together enough to find out where my polling place was. I was going to vote for Ralph Nader. Georgia was going to Bush no matter what. Plus, I didn't blieve there would be that much difference between Bush and Gore -- they were both bought and paid for and would both serve their corporate masters at the expense of the majority of Americans.
But nothing will bring about a political awakening like an extremist bent on, in one sense or another, dictatorship. In the past, I kept up with how far the country was drifting away from democratic, fair and socially just ideals -- under any administration, Democratic or Republican. Now, I see that one party has completely sold its soul, while the other can be bought, but has a few reservations. Today, I cast my firm vote for the one with reservations. Granted, Democrats have quelled their internal doubts as they seek to play the cut-throat game of politics on a field tilted ever farther to the right and loaded down with corporate money.
BUT, a vote for a Democrat right now is a vote AGAINST the Bush agenda. The key, as I see it now, is to vote for your candidate and then FOLLOW-UP. Write your candidate, call your candidate, write your newspaper, whatever it takes to let them know what you were intending to vote for. It's all about making your voice heard, in the voting booth and beyond, the streets, the phone, letters, and, yes, even in a blog.
Friday, November 01, 2002
100 Things About Music
1. The Blues will keep you honest
2. B.B. King is an underrated vocalist
3. No one sings with more soul than Lucinda Williams
4. Gram Parsons is great – in small doses
5. Graham Parker’s “Heat Treatment” and “Howlin’ Wind” are the very definition of rock-n-roll
6. The world needs 0 more love songs
7. Take the skinheads bowling
8. And always wear sunscreen
9. But not while bowling
10. Unless you’re a freak
11. Bowling alleys should play nothing but classic rock
12. Fairly loud
13. Napster increased CD sales
14. Did the VCR kill moviegoing?
15. What happened to music with a social conscience?
16. Dylan’s Union Sundown, yeah, but that was 1983
17. Bobdylan.com is a damn good site
18. Ironic, coming from an old troubadour, rather than a tech-savvy youngster
19. Remember Live Aid?
20. That takes me back
21. Or No Nukes, remember that concert in Madison Square Garden?
22. Now it’s nothin but nukes
23. And energy cartels
24. You wear it well
25. A little old fashioned
26. But that’s alright
27. Sometimes you can hear classic rock
28. But mostly you just hear echoes of your youth
29. Beer and music were made for each other
30. But when frat boys combine them, it’s not pretty
31. If the Oxford American is dead, I’ll sure miss their musical compilations
32. Good news: The Oxford American is not dead
33. So says oxfordamericanmag.com
34. Nostalgia is a funny thing
35. It can make you fond of “A 5th of Beethoven”
36. And the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack
37. Samurai Night Fever – now that was funny
38. How anyone can watch Saturday Night Live now is beyond me
39. Tuesday’s gone with the wind
40. I fooled around and fell in love
41. With rock-n-roll
42. And I haven’t been the same since
43. This is a good thing
44. But hardly profitable
45. Monetarily
46. A friend and I once burned a Yes album in a fan’s front yard
47. An example of the cruelty of youth, or act of intervention?
48. I don’t know; I’m asking
49. It was a statement, that’s for sure
50. But we were harmless
51. We’d crank the music as we drove by
52. Trying to shake up the everyday world
53. Romantic rebels or callow youths, it’s a fine line
54. Why complain about commercial radio?
55. Just don’t listen; you don’t need it
56. And you certainly don’t need to waste time complaining about it
57. I listened to Three Dog Night and Bread in my sisters’ basement room
58. Joy to the World indeed
59. And Elton John – Sugarbear…
60. Someone saved my life that night
61. With nothing but a turntable and a scratchy needle
62. I was curious about the lyrics in “You’re So Vain”
63. But my sister said I was too young
64. “I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee” – knocked me out
65. Gypsies, tramps and thieves
66. And tramps like us
67. And short pants and patchy grass and summer days
68. And slurpees
69. Not rushing, being
70. In the days before rock-n-roll
71. A good pop song is a joy forever
72. It’s just another manic Monday
73. For instance (whoa-awhoa)
74. And then I saw her face
75. Now I’m a believer
76. Where were you the day the music died?
77. Hey hey, my my, Neil Young said it so well
78. It’s always coming and going
79. Which is why a CD player in your car is essential
80. Muddy Water’s “Hard Again” is a great album
81. It grows on you
82. The blues had a baby and they called it rock-n-roll
83. Jazz, rock, blues, folk…I go through phases
84. It’s rock right now
85. I’m just an Excitable Boy
86. Yes, Zevie is ridin with me
87. I can’t believe his ride is here
88. I love the greats – Bob Dylan, Louie Armstrong, Aretha Franklin – but I pull for the little guy
89. The Pogues rocked
90. Poguetry in motion
91. Live music is better
92. But I hate overcrowded bars
93. And overamplified bands
94. And music should start no later than 8 p.m.
95. The famous hammond B-3 organist Jimmy Smith sucked in concert
96. Jackson Browne was a rocker
97. Linda Paloma notwithstanding
98. Jeremiah was a bullfrog
99. And Cisco Kid was a friend of mine
100. My my, hey hey
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