It's Axiomatic!

"From each according to his ability, to each according to his need."
Karl Marx

"From each according to his ability, to each according to his work."
Raul Castro

"Socialism means social justice and equality, but equality of rights, of opportunities, not of income..." Raul Castro

"All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others. "
George Orwell

Elegy for a Dictatorship?

This month’s Condé Nast Traveler boasts an article about Cuba entitled “Remains of the Revolution.” And it certainly lives up to the allusion of the title, as author John Graham provides not only a travelogue of sorts, but also a requiem for an era and a regime. His is not a look-at-the-reforms type of piece: these he treats with skepticism. No, rather the impression, unstated, is one of inevitability, like the fate of those multi-storied Havana buildings, decayed and crumbling under the weight of time.

Starting at the Floridita where he finds himself drinking with the likes of Padura, he never loses sight of those Cuban realities most mojito swilling tourists seem to miss. For instance, after telling us he loves Cuba, he feels the need to qualify the statement-

But lest you regard me as a sentimental fool, let me couch my amour in a little pragmatism. Unlike Jack Nicholson, who arrived here in 1998 and proclaimed Fidel "a genius," I see a place that possesses a magnificent legacy architecturally, culturally, and spiritually but that has been suppressed and held back by fifty years of Socialist torpor. Far from being a genius, Fidel was a political anachronism for decades before he resigned. Holding on to l'illusion lyrique (the early, idealistic phase of the revolution) far beyond its sell-by date, he has dragged his talented, free-spirited people down with him.

The sound you hear is yet another chink in the Great Wall of Denial that has shielded the Castroite regime. Are there things he writes that I don’t like? Sure, but I am impressed by just how much he gets right. Read it here.

Cross-posted at Babalublog

Quote of the Day

"It just seems like another racial move on their part," Tejada said. "They know how many lower-income families live in the neighborhood and how much it will impact them. There are a lot of big families here."

Gillespie Park resident Maritzabel Tejada on the parking ban.

The War Against the Poor: More of the Same in Sarasota

For decades, there has been a tension in Sarasota between the haves and the have nots, leading to the anecdote often tossed into discussions that many years ago when one of the former was queried as to who would cut their lawns if the latter could not afford to live in the city, he supposedly responded with "Let them live in Bradenton," the Gulf Coast equivalent to "Let them eat cake," one supposes.

One of the first things I noticed when I moved to this town were the gated developments rising all over the county. My Northern brain could not comprehend the wall upon wall before me when there was so little crime. Alas, at the time I was blissfully oblivious to the wannabe factor. A town of aspiring social climbers, many of whose entire capital resulted from the sale of the Long Island Cape Cod and others whose only endowment is a decided talent for self-aggrandizement, has no room for real people, for the gritty, messy, unraveled ends of humanity.

It strikes me that if this crew has its way, and it has taken over the centers of legal authority, all of Sarasota will morph into a over-sized Longboat Key. For the uninitiated, there is not a single foot of undeveloped, unobstructed beachfront not in private hands on Longboat, unless you include the small patch of public beach with no parking for miles. That'll keep the riff-raff out. There is also nary a poor person on the island. But it is the grass that seizes my imagination. Mile after mile of lawn is so manicured and uniform in color that it resembles nothing more than a carpet, as if no blade of grass would dare defy the strictures of the place by growing wild or unevenly.

So where are we now? Well, we have the use of public funds in the name of parking spaces for development projects of near million dollar condos. Then there are the temperance society smoking laws: no smoking on the beaches, no county employment for smokers. And now apparently we have the parking laws. The latest front in the war against the poor is the parking ban in Gillespie Park, a working class neighborhood, too close to the gentrified downtown for its own good. From now on, parking is limited to driveways and the streets. It is hinted that the same will befall the rest of Sarasota. Sounds logical, doesn't it? I mean, nobody wants to live next to the Jukes with the rusting hulks on the lawn or the immigrants of questionable legal status who live dorm style in a two bedroom cottage.

That is the problem. Each proposal sounds reasonable but carries with it more and more erosion of the live and let live atmosphere that once characterized the place. To many people, it is just code for another measure to make it more difficult for the working class, many of whom have about five feet of driveway and at least two cars of whatever vintage. If nothing else, it is symptomatic of the prissiness that is taking over our lives, here in Paradise.

I stand to gain nothing in this discussion, as I have no garage or driveway. Lucky for me, I don't live in Gillespie Park, either. But they will come for me, fear not.

The Sarasota Herald Tribune has done some solid reporting here. Good column here.

Life as Art

You can blame this post on Obama, because going by the leading bookstore indicators, Obama fatigue has set in. That is not to say he will not win, but no longer does his mug on the cover of anything guarantee swift sales. Noting this reminds me of the infamous Warhol quote about "15 minutes" of fame. I'll grant Obama more than 15 minutes, but his star is dimming just the same.

Roundabout this time, I come across the book pictured above. It occurs to me that I know very few people who love Hemingway's writing. Those that do seem to be either advanced in years or male or both. Yet Hemingway as a character himself is almost universally beloved. I wonder how the great man would feel that it is his colorful career rather than his spartan prose that excites many readers?

***

Fertile ground for rumination, here. After all, there have been a plethora of autobiographies by people who are essentially nobodies. They haven't crossed the Delaware, cured polio, or even performed Hamlet on stage. True, in the modern purview even Willie Loman was worthy of a work of literature. "Could it be that there is something more to this, though?" I ask myself. So...

***

Deep, deep thought of the day: In a world in which we deny the existence of great men and women... even Mother Teresa came in for criticism and had her faith questioned... in a world that is increasingly less literate... the average adult American reads four books a year and when was the last time a book of poetry by anyone other than a talented dying boy who appeared on Larry King was a best seller... centered more and more on the ego... could it be that in a stark, post modern world, stripped of furbelows and flounces, our creative impulses have turned inward and we look upon our lives as just so much clay to make a statement? It could explain the inauthenticity which surrounds us. Verry Interresting.

By the way, the book looks interesting. More here.

Airlines Fighting Back

The little one who is a frequent flier received this today from an airline. Thought it might be of interest.

An Open Letter to All Airline Customers



Our country is facing a possible sharp economic downturn because of

skyrocketing

oil and fuel prices, but by pulling together, we can all do something

to help now.



For airlines, ultra-expensive fuel means thousands of lost jobs and

severe reductions in air service to both large and small communities.

To the broader economy, oil prices mean slower activity and widespread

economic pain. This pain can be alleviated, and that is why we are

taking the extraordinary step of writing this joint letter to our

customers.



Since high oil prices are partly a response to normal market forces,

the nation needs to focus on increased energy supplies and

conservation. However, there is another side to this story because

normal market forces are being dangerously amplified by poorly

regulated market speculation.



Twenty years ago, 21 percent of oil contracts were purchased by

speculators who trade oil on paper with no intention of ever taking

delivery. Today, oil speculators purchase 66 percent of all oil

futures contracts, and that reflects just the transactions that are

known.



Speculators buy up large amounts of oil and then sell it to each

other again and again. A barrel of oil may trade 20-plus times before

it is delivered and used; the price goes up with each trade and

consumers pick up the final tab. Some market experts estimate that

current prices reflect as much as $30 to $60 per barrel in unnecessary

speculative costs.



Over seventy years ago, Congress established regulations to control

excessive, largely unchecked market speculation and manipulation.

However, over the past two decades, these regulatory limits have been

weakened or removed. We believe that restoring and enforcing these

limits, along with several other modest measures, will provide more

disclosure, transparency and sound market oversight. Together, these

reforms will help cool the over-heated oil market and permit the

economy to prosper.



The nation needs to pull together to reform the oil markets and solve

this growing problem.



We need your help. Get more information and contact Congress by

visiting www.StopOilSpeculationNow.com/sos.





Sincerely,





Robert Fornaro

Chairman, President and CEO

AirTran Airways, Inc.



Bill Ayer

Chairman, President and CEO

Alaska Airlines, Inc.





Gerard J. Arpey

Chairman, President and CEO

American Airlines, Inc.



Lawrence W. Kellner

Chairman and CEO

Continental Airlines, Inc.





Richard Anderson

CEO

Delta Air Lines, Inc.



Mark B. Dunkerley

President and CEO

Hawaiian Airlines, Inc.





Dave Barger

CEO

JetBlue Airways Corporation



Timothy E. Hoeksema

Chairman, President and CEO

Midwest Airlines





Douglas M. Steenland

President and CEO

Northwest Airlines, Inc.



Gary Kelly

Chairman and CEO

Southwest Airlines Co.





Glenn F. Tilton

Chairman, President and CEO

United Airlines, Inc.



Douglas Parker

Chairman and CEO

US Airways Group, Inc.

About That Silver Lining...

A few days ago, I posted about the potential positives in our current economic situation. This week's Time has "10 Things You Can Like About $4 Gas." That last point kinda reminds me of all those studies that say hunger was healthy for Cubans during "the special period." For what it's worth.

You say "Village"...

Cuba's village of Camaguey, settled in 1528, contains large and small squares, serpentine streets, alleys and irregular urban blacks[blocks?], which make it "highly exceptional for Latin American colonial towns" located on the plains, the world heritage committee said late Monday.

I'm sure that in the 1500's, it was a village. But by the 20th century, my mother would have said "city." That's because Camaguey was the provincial capital, the place to go for upscale shopping and high brow ladies, girdled up to their sternums. Be that as it may, word is out today that Unesco has designated Camaguey as a World Heritage Site. You can read about it here.

Telex Reviewed: Updated

Update: A kindly anonymous comment indicates that Kushner has put up a website associated with the book. It is quite lovely. Just click on the circles for some slide shows and more.

A while back I posted on Telex from Cuba. Well, some of the reviews are in. Both the San Francisco Chronicle and the LA Times have write-ups here and here. The latter includes some author's commentary. Perhaps the prettiest review comes from the International Herald Tribune. The New York Times has the first chapter . As for your humble correspondent, my earlier impressions.

Whose Wiser?

Here's an interesting angle to the proposed hostile takeover of Anheuser-Busch by Belgian InBev. Among the machinations afoot is a move to replace the board which turned down InBev's offer. The Budsters have countered with a number of moves. In this Reuters article the embattled company discloses an eye opening fact about their unwanted suitor:

Anheuser also made a political jab at InBev. It said that InBev, through a subsidiary, has a partnership with the government of Cuba to produce and distribute products in Cuba.

Gee, that's illegal, isn't it?

Sunday Song

What's it all about? BO professes himself a bit flummoxed by the uproar caused by his "refining" his Iraq policy according to this Reuters' report on MSNBC. I would agree with him that it is a good thing to adapt to circumstances. Only problem is that had we followed his earlier prescription we would have lost the war. Bit of a problem, there.

Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear.... While on the topic of MSNBC, I've read in a few venues- most of them conservative- that there is a struggle going on for the soul of the NBC network. The latest entry is from Jed Babbin at Human Events. Sad thing is I really miss the network of old, even MSNBC which before its hosts went off the reservation had the most interesting political coverage. Website is still pretty good.

Let's call the whole thing off. Robert Samuelson in Newsweek informs us that the effects of speculation in the commodities markets have been exaggerated. After all, it's pension funds and school endowments dabbling in futures. Question, if they are in the market are they not increasing demand? Still, it's worth reading.

Fly me to the moon. If you've ever wondered how much of a difference one person can make, read this and see how a single goat was enough to change a young woman's life. The requisite heart-warming human interest story here.

Why? Being intimately acquainted with Slovenians, or Slovenskis, as they call themselves, this tragic story does not surprise. An officially organized last trip down the river turned tragic as two canoes were sucked into the soon to be opened dam. Among the eight lost, the mayor and member of parliament. Read about it here.

When Road Leads to Neverending Road

There's a line in Waiting for Godot, something to the effect that it is the worst thing to have thought, which would seem pretty stupid. And yet like much of Godot, though it be madness, yet there is a method in't. Witness what happens when instead of jumping on a bandwagon of whatever stripe, you find yourself actually trying to sort things out for yourself.

From the very beginning of the Bobama odyssey, I have been asking, "What, pray tell, is an organizer?" I mean what kind of occupation is that? As a title, it has no substance, an occupation built of air, shapeless, open to all sorts of construction. Then last week, I stumbled upon an article by Byron York in the National Review that took that very tack, namely, what is an organizer and what did Barack Obama do during his tenure as such.

A portion of the article is available on line, and the magazine is still available for a day or two. Aha, I thought upon reading, organizer is just another word for rabble-rouser, because going by the Saul Alinksky rule book, you have to convince people they are wronged, then cause all sorts of grief. Smugly, I thought, "I knew it."

But then I stumbled upon a link to an article/essay by Camille Paglia about Hillary on Penúltimos Días. Now I'm not going to cry crocodile tears for old Hil. If she were a true feminist, she would have given old Bill a good, swift kick in his ample posterior when she discovered he was doing some variation of the dirty with young Monica. She did not. So while I admire her single-mindedness, I cannot see her as the poster girl for feminism. Yet, I know full well that to many men, she is the prototypical emasculating woman. These last would vote for Kim Jong-Il before they would cast a vote in her direction.

It was not the article, then, that got to me, rather, it was the era. I used to love to inform my students that I attended Barnard and not Columbia because that worthy institution admitted men only. You see, I hit my teens during the "women's lib" movement. I benefited from their activism, dare I say "organizing." What was consciousness raising after all? So now, I had to alter my perspective somewhat.

As all roads seem to lead to Cuba lately, I began to realize something the opposition in Cuba has been saying. Just like downtrodden women...do I begin to head toward battered women...no, this near interminable post will never end then....Anyway, it occurs to me that, shockingly, people who have been beaten down might actually need to be informed of the same. I'm not sure what the mechanism is, whether you begin to lose the sense of entitlement as a human being, whether you think that the consumption of crumbs is your appointed lot in life, whatever.

In the end, then, one man or woman's organizer is an other's rabble-rouser. I promise to look into this one carefully. Meantime, "Let's go." (They stay seated.)

The Escapist Reader: Taking It Out On Trade

It's a funny thing, but the format of a book can tell you much about its contents, for instance, those trade paperbacks, you know, the ones that have exactly the same story as your regular joe paperback but cost twice as much. Of course, the kind of trade paperbacks to which I'm referring would not be caught dead in the form of one of those low brow less than tomes. No, these are stories that will never appear in any other form. They will follow the lives of ineloquent, white bread residents of the Midwest, or women with psychosocial "problems," or nonwhites in some distant country. One thing they all share is that nothing much seems to happen, or that by the time the one thing does happen the reader has ceased to care.

I blame Oprah for the rise of the trade paperback, although I do so with a heavy heart. Oprah has done a good thing with her book recommendations: rekindled the interest of many women in reading, stimulated a portion of the beleaguered publishing industry, and generally presented reading as a good thing in our increasingly non literate society. I used to read all of her selections until Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone, circa nineteen ninety something, which was so depressing it crystallized for me what was wrong with them. The people were boring, and their lives were enough to send me reaching for the scotch that must be somewhere in the back of the junk closet. In the past few years, thankfully, she's turned to the classics so at least we can be depressed with more style. Here's a complete list of her book club titles.

Actually, I don't object to all of them, just the contemporary trade paperback titles. Have a gander at the summer reading list in her magazine here. Don't think I'll be picking up any of these babies anytime soon. Call me a Philistine, but I have my own theory of what a summer reading book should be. It should have a beginning, middle, and an end, even if the end is at the beginning. It should have interesting characters, not lumpen. Most importantly, something should happen. For sitting on a beach, nothing beats murder, mayhem, international espionage, even romance. What I don't want while on the sand is a book that forces me to think, that makes it a struggle to focus. Instead, engross me, make me care about your characters, carry me along with the strength of the writing, and stay away from the passive voice. Let me have a little vicarious thrill. There will be time enough for serious matter in the fall.

A Barnyard Story

A friend sent me this one, and I just had to share. I wish I could give credit where it is due.

THE BELLS

John the farmer was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets', and ten roosters, whose job it was to fertilize the eggs.

The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time, so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so John could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.

The farmer's favorite rooster was "old" Butch, a very fine specimen he was, too. But on this particular morning John noticed "old" Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! John went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringin g. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.

But to Farmer John's amazement, "old" Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the Renfrew County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.

The result...The judges not only awarded "old Butch" the No Bell Piece Prize but they awarded him the Pulletsurprise as well.

Clearly "old Butch" was a politician in the making: who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.

Vote carefully this year...the bells are not always audible

Summer Rain

I'm driving home, stopped at a red light. A few minutes later, as I cross the intersection, I go from overcast brooding sky to torrential Florida rain. There is something wonderful in the moment, something intimate as the skies break all around me. And I realize I have been happy all day. It hits me that I am a lucky woman.

It's not my circumstances- they can be heartbreaking. It is that somewhere along the road, I've picked up the ability to enjoy the moment. To appreciate just moving and breathing, music in the background, as I go about my work day. To absorb the warmth and the sun, even when it is torrid, or accept the invitation to settle in when the tropical rains come. In short, to enjoy just being alive. Who could have it better?

Sometimes, when things are really tough and I'm feeling overwhelmed, I think of the Taoist story about Chef Ting. And I think to myself that I've had to live my life in the spaces between the joints, as if others had gotten much more. Camus' Meursault thinks he could get used to living in the trunk of a tree. I wouldn't go that far. But I do know that there is happiness to be found in the spaces between the life we thought we would lead and the one we have.

Not Always on a Sunday Round-Up

The rumors of his election demise may be greatly exaggerated. In this Wall Street Journal Article, John Fund offers McCain some advice, maintaining that McCain's loss is not a given and that some of the polls reflecting huge leads for BO are somewhat skewed by sampling.

A plague on both your houses! And from Variety, a piece on the expansion of the Olbermann/O'Reilly feud. Let's play a game and see if you can spot where the author's bias rears its sneaky head. There is one truth here, that MSNBC has damaged its news cred bigtime.

They weren't whistling "Dixie," that's for sure. Interesting discovery of Aztec "Death" whistle here. Sounds spooky, apparently. Who knew there was a new field, studying sound in Aztec culture.

Just when you think you have seen it all. In the "say, what?" department, you can now order your very own cute and cuddly Ebola... is it a Prion, or am I thinking of Mad Cow? Incidentally, you can get that, too, at Giant Microbe, the stuffed doll(?) that is.
H/T SweetBeulahLand.blogspot.com

Glimmers of a Silver Lining

The host of Squawk Box was scrounging for some good news this AM while making an appearance on Morning Joe. He started out speaking about inflation in Asia, added in fuel costs, and presented the notion that American companies were rethinking outsourcing, as in the jobs may come back. Got me to thinking.... Not to make light of the economic situation, but could there be positive aspects to a dismal situation?

Let's take his example, if inflation is pushing up Asian wages, and oil prices increasing transport costs, then producing in the USA becomes possibly more attractive. Heck, maybe the United States Army will actually purchase its berets from an American manufacturer.

And won't rising global inflation, particularly the increased cost of gasoline, help tamp down global demand and potentially loosen supply?

Could, potentially, these higher costs spur the development of alternative technologies to the point that they could eventually be more cost effective?

Haven't the increased prices at the pump already had an effect on driving habits? As we curtail the use of our cars, won't supplies be increased, thereby putting pressure on the price, and if nothing else won't reduced carbon emissions cheer up the "global warming" crowd?

Speaking of increased transport costs... horrible on the trucking industry, I know. But will they mean that the long, neglected railroads might get a bit of attention?

What about the housing debacle? Granted that it will be more difficult to get a mortgage and the job situation can be iffy, but will the declining home prices provide more first time home buyers, particularly the young, a shot at owning a home?

Although I foresee a great deal of pain, I am optimistic. Markets tend to right themselves over time; they are incredibly efficient in that way. And when this all plays out, we will have had a lesson in the risks inherent in our dependence on fossil fuels, and we will have progressed a bit in developing alternative fuel sources before falling costs lead us back to our old ways. And that's important, remember Hubbard's Pimple? We are ever closer to the day when oil prices will be dictated by geologic fact and not the vagaries of markets.

Doo Doo Demographics

The race has a subtext, a historic encounter between the Old America and the New, and suddenly the Old America—those who are literally old, who married a guy who fought at the Chosin Reservoir, and those not so old who yet remember, and cherish, the special glories of the Old—will rise, and join in, and make themselves heard. They will not leave without a fight.

So writes Peggy Noonan of the presidential race. These few lines, taken out of context, evoke thoughts of George Carlin. How we laughed that sneaky, little laugh of the guilty when he would launch into his seven-words-you-can-never-ever-say-on-television bit. But now in the cold light of advancing middle age, how puerile it seems. We were no different than the two year old who learns how to say, “caca,” then proceeds to repeat it endlessly, tittering every time he utters the forbidden word. It seemed harmless enough at the time, but it was the first step in the slow downward evolution of our television, movies, and music into a cesspool of amorality so pervasive that families now have to screen the offerings coming into their homes.

That is the problem with the New America. It was forged by a generation whose very “baby” boomer moniker relates not only to the population demographic, but to the immaturity of its members. They enshrined a Peter Pan syndrome of entitlement, irresponsibility, and self-indulgence as the cultural norm. In other words, it is a generation that didn’t grow up, one that dragged its adolescent antics- the mindless pursuit of “cool,” the indulgence in mind-altering substances, the sexual revolution, and a pervasive distrust and disdain of all authority- well into adulthood and beyond where it has metamorphosed into a Hydra-headed monster. As it moved into positions of power, its members spurned such traditional values as duty and self-reliance and self-sacrifice at the same time they accommodated themselves to the acquisition and conspicuous consumption of wealth, a greed unconstrained by traditional strictures.

So now we jump on political bandwagons without real thought; we expect others to take care of us. There is no such thing as civil discourse. People who disagree with our political positions are incomprehensible, stupid, even evil. We forbid the public mention of God, but subject society to scatological description of every conceivable sexual practice. We neglect our children in the pursuit of our own fulfillment or the McMansion in the suburbs. Then we turn and attack and even sue teachers, school bus drivers, or the police when they impose the limits we have failed to instill in our children. We have forgotten the concept of the well-earned shame. Everything is someone else’s fault. We are a nation of angry people, no one getting quite enough.

As a baby boomer I bear my part of the blame, only I’ve grown up and looked around at what we helped create. Frankly, our sole achievement as a generation has been in the arena of battling discrimination, although even that process was started by the greatest generation and has become tainted with the pall of political correctness, moral equivalence, and just plain excess. So forgive me if I side with the Old America. It was a country that produced strong, independent, god-fearing people. I miss it. We need it. More importantly, our children do, too.

Exasperation

Burt Prelutsky gets the quote of the day in this less than amusing look at the candidate for this one:

Frankly, what I find even scarier than Iran’s getting its dirty little hands on a nuclear bomb is the fact that tens of millions of my fellow Americans are eager to elect this numbskull in November.

Sorry, I had to allow myself one vitriolic, liberal left moment. There, now I am myself again. The entire column here.

While You Were Gone

After spending three days immersed in Stephen King's Duma Key which I found somehow mesmerizing, I have a collection on items I wanted to mention:

Death of a Canadian. José Manuel Caraballo Bravo has a somewhat cryptic piece on Miscelaneas, entitled "Death Surprises Mr. Canada" about an ill-fated tourist. It seems that one known to locals as "Morris," "Mr. Whisky," or just "Mr. Canada" on a return trip to Cuba forsook his resort lodgings for a hotel in town, where not his bad liver but a simple cut on his toe led to somewhat mysterious demise. Horrified at the conditions in the medical socialist paradise- he was heard to utter that he had never seen such a filthy hospital- angered that he was charged for treatment, he betook himself and his festering foot from the hospital to his lodgings where he was found dead in the lobby the following morning. There was a question as to whether he had keeled over or had been the victim of foul play. In Spanish, here.

Death in the Morning. In an even stranger story, a veterinarian was mortally wounded by a rhinoceros named Kiala in the Havana Zoo. In an excess of sympathy, an unnamed colleague characterized it as a tragic accident that could have been avoided if the deceased had taken adequate security measures. At least it wasn't an ape. Under Spanish rules, they probably would have had to try the beast.

Lesson to be Learned? In the twilight zone of truth goes this one from the Huffington Post by Martin Carnoy which posits the question whether we could learn from Cuba's education system. I'll skip the indoctrination angle because he does. So I won't take the cheap shot of preschoolers in Peoria chanting "I will be like Che." I confess to being in a quandary. He has both anecdotal evidence and all these neat statistics, although they do require a bit of monkeying. But as to "Cuban teacher education is tightly controlled by the Ministry of Education, which insists that teachers know how to teach the curriculum," I've got a bit of a problem. Since Cuba is now putting teenagers in the front of classrooms (remember the 14 yr old who killed his student), and Raul recently sacked the minister of education because things on the educational front are so dismal, how can this be true? Well, could there be other factors at work? Cultural values? Selective testing? Changes in the past few years?

Rafael in Havana. He mentioned his discourse in a comment, and it's a must read, laugh out loud. Te la comistes, man! Read it here- it's in English. A note of congratulations, too, for reaching 100,000 hits. Wow!