If you have an adolescent in your home, you might find yourself in my position, that is beating the bushes for a book that does not involve intimacy with the living dead. I have nothing against vampires per se. As a librarian, I read an early copy of Twilight and passed it on to others, although I have to say that had I known there would be another umpteen books with less savory plot lines, I might have hesitated in sending it to my niece.
So here I am, trying to find a decent title for this year's Christmas present. In this context I come across a new (to me) genre: steampunk. If you want a definition, look it up 'cause I can't explain it. It kinda reminds me of the modernist movement, lots of machinery. Anyway, to make a long story short I pick up Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld. The first fifty pages I almost put it down, thinking "I'm too old for this...." There's a young prince Alek whose parents have been murdered forcing him to flee for his life in a "walker," which is fitting since he is Austrian and a "Clanker." Switch to England, home of the "Darwinists," and a variety of misbegotten creatures, as well as young Deryn Sharp, a young girl masquerading as a boy so she can be a midshipman. From there the plot thickens. And you begin to realize it all sounds a bit like the beginnings of WWI. You get the point.
Suddenly I am interested and I realize that this is "alternative history" as the author terms it, at the same time that it is a story about growing up. By the end I'm waiting for the next installment, 'cause you know one is down the pike somewhere. Loved the illustrations by Keith Thompson, too. By the way, the Leviathan of the title is a huge inflatable whale of sorts, a species (pardon the pun) of zeppelin.
It's listed most places as a young adult book. I'd peg it on the lower part of that range, although I enjoyed it. For what it's worth.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Pithy Observation of the Eve
After seeing photos of Obama's jobs summit and getting a gander at who was-SEIU- and was not invited-the Chamber of Commerce- one has to conjecture that the entire proceeding might have been a tad more productive had the attendees actually created a job or two in the past. Just a thought. Was that Thomas L Friedman I saw?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Of Kangaroos and Courts
Let's see here.... The administration maintains that the 9/11 mastermind et al can be ably tried by our justice system. The President says that KSM will be convicted and sentenced to death. Huh? If there is no doubt of the outcome, what function does providing this opportunity for the opposition to spout their hateful ideology serve? Silly me. I forgot. It placates the ACLU and provides a marvelous distraction in the form of Bush bashing.
Now when a liberal judge hurls the charges from his courtroom as fruit of the poisoned waterboard, although they won't introduce that evidence, we are not to worry that the malefactors will be released. I did notice that Holder today used the terms that KSM would not walk our streets, which leads me to wonder whether he will walk the dusty streets of Peshawar and plot anew. Conversely, perhaps they can prosecute him for jaywalking in Guantanamo or violating the civil rights of those Americans pulverized by his machinations. Holy Doublespeak.
In any case, isn't there something Castroesque, Hitleresque, Stalinesque out of trying someone for show when the result is foreordained? I mean if the administration's point is that they, like good lawyers, believe in the legal system, why don't they trust it? I have not the smallest iota of an iota of compassion for the 9/11 crowd, but I'm seriously perturbed by a proceeding that smacks of cynicism. Much better, at least more honest, to haul them up before the military as enemy combatants who murdered three thousand American citizens and put them out of our misery forthwith.
Now when a liberal judge hurls the charges from his courtroom as fruit of the poisoned waterboard, although they won't introduce that evidence, we are not to worry that the malefactors will be released. I did notice that Holder today used the terms that KSM would not walk our streets, which leads me to wonder whether he will walk the dusty streets of Peshawar and plot anew. Conversely, perhaps they can prosecute him for jaywalking in Guantanamo or violating the civil rights of those Americans pulverized by his machinations. Holy Doublespeak.
In any case, isn't there something Castroesque, Hitleresque, Stalinesque out of trying someone for show when the result is foreordained? I mean if the administration's point is that they, like good lawyers, believe in the legal system, why don't they trust it? I have not the smallest iota of an iota of compassion for the 9/11 crowd, but I'm seriously perturbed by a proceeding that smacks of cynicism. Much better, at least more honest, to haul them up before the military as enemy combatants who murdered three thousand American citizens and put them out of our misery forthwith.
Monday, November 16, 2009
That's Gratitude for You!
Just finished reading a letter from Citibank regarding my credit card, the interest rate of which they are raising to 18.99%. In the old days a rate like that was near usury. The hubster, having read a similar missive earlier in the day, called to complain. From what I gather he used the "we bailed you out and this is what we get" approach, followed by "the interest is 0" stratagem. When the young man at the other end of the line maintained that they paid considerably more, the hubster quickly countered with "You don't pay me that on my savings." Alas, all his sallies produced nothing, not even sympathy. So he cancelled the account. Easy for him: he owes like 14 dollars.
I'm in a slightly different situation, but I can transfer or pay off the balance- uncomfortable as the latter alternative might be- which I intend to do. What happens to people without resources?
If they are charging me with my nifty credit score this rate, just how much are they charging more marginal types? By the bye, hubby's rate was two points lower, despite his paying both bills.
A close friend of my Dad's, unashamedly alcoholic, could always be counted on for a snarky saying or two. He used to say that if you saw someone drowning, you should step on him to make sure, 'cause that sucker is going to take you down, too. I always considered it a horrendous thought. In the case of Citi, maybe he was on to something. Obscene.
I'm in a slightly different situation, but I can transfer or pay off the balance- uncomfortable as the latter alternative might be- which I intend to do. What happens to people without resources?
If they are charging me with my nifty credit score this rate, just how much are they charging more marginal types? By the bye, hubby's rate was two points lower, despite his paying both bills.
A close friend of my Dad's, unashamedly alcoholic, could always be counted on for a snarky saying or two. He used to say that if you saw someone drowning, you should step on him to make sure, 'cause that sucker is going to take you down, too. I always considered it a horrendous thought. In the case of Citi, maybe he was on to something. Obscene.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Is Obama American?
No, no, this isn't about the infamous phantom birth certificate. Nor am I implying that the President is un-American in the stereotypical perjorative sense. No, this is deeper.
In a conversation a while back someone told me, "I don't consider him an American. Look where he grew up. Look at the people who surrounded him. He doesn't know what it is to go to little league games...." Now I don't know if he ever played little league, although he does make rather a show of playing basketball, but I do know that the President, the reputedly great orator, demonstrates a certain tone deafness when it comes to Mom, flag, and apple pie. Ms. Calabaza points out a faux pas here, not the first one, I might add.
Another case in point is the apparently lukewarm nature of his comments on the Fort Hood Massacre. My own observations of the response were similar: Clinton would have felt their pain; Bush would have been hugging the families of the fallen, while vowing to see justice done; Obama, however, strangely removed, almost wooden, treats it as a parenthetical element in a shoutout to Native Americans. It can be argued that his reaction was a function of geography and personality. Northerner Mr. Obama would seem to live more in his head than the other two more emotive leaders with their Southern ties.
Whatever the case, El Presidente demonstrated an inability to gin up the emotion his churchgoing, gun-toting fellow Americans expect of their leader, and a tin ear when it came to just what those expectations were. Shouldn't need a weatherman.... (no pun intended.)
In a conversation a while back someone told me, "I don't consider him an American. Look where he grew up. Look at the people who surrounded him. He doesn't know what it is to go to little league games...." Now I don't know if he ever played little league, although he does make rather a show of playing basketball, but I do know that the President, the reputedly great orator, demonstrates a certain tone deafness when it comes to Mom, flag, and apple pie. Ms. Calabaza points out a faux pas here, not the first one, I might add.
Another case in point is the apparently lukewarm nature of his comments on the Fort Hood Massacre. My own observations of the response were similar: Clinton would have felt their pain; Bush would have been hugging the families of the fallen, while vowing to see justice done; Obama, however, strangely removed, almost wooden, treats it as a parenthetical element in a shoutout to Native Americans. It can be argued that his reaction was a function of geography and personality. Northerner Mr. Obama would seem to live more in his head than the other two more emotive leaders with their Southern ties.
Whatever the case, El Presidente demonstrated an inability to gin up the emotion his churchgoing, gun-toting fellow Americans expect of their leader, and a tin ear when it came to just what those expectations were. Shouldn't need a weatherman.... (no pun intended.)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Medicare for All And for All Not Quite Enough
It boggles the mind that this two thousand page abomination of a health care bill is still being rammed down our throats. Is it not somehow unethical for politicians to push a sweeping overhaul of a system which affects all when a majority of the populace rejects the same? Do they think the public will forget, or are they that wedded to their ideology? Is it rank paternalism? They know better than the people who pay the premiums and receive the services?
Anyway in order to make the force feeding a bit more palatable, the Dems have hit on the happy expedient of calling the public option, "Medicare for all," seeking to comfort with the security of of the government. My own observation of Medicare in action, that is covering real people in real situations, is that the coverage like that of a not quite big enough blanket leads to considerable exposure. Deductibles, co-pays, and the twenty percent patient responsibility, as well as reimbursement rates that lead to additional physician bills, all add up when you get sick.
Since our elected officials have their own marvy insurance plan, when they extol Medicare, they know not of what they speak. I propose that congressional members be stripped of their insurance and required to participate in Medicare for one year before they are allowed pronounce on the subject. Just a thought.
Anyway in order to make the force feeding a bit more palatable, the Dems have hit on the happy expedient of calling the public option, "Medicare for all," seeking to comfort with the security of of the government. My own observation of Medicare in action, that is covering real people in real situations, is that the coverage like that of a not quite big enough blanket leads to considerable exposure. Deductibles, co-pays, and the twenty percent patient responsibility, as well as reimbursement rates that lead to additional physician bills, all add up when you get sick.
Since our elected officials have their own marvy insurance plan, when they extol Medicare, they know not of what they speak. I propose that congressional members be stripped of their insurance and required to participate in Medicare for one year before they are allowed pronounce on the subject. Just a thought.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Holy Minimizing, Batman!
By now I should be inured to the apologias for the Cuban ruling military junta purporting to be news reports, but this AP effort is a pip. Its treatment of the violent apprehension, detention, and intimidation of Cuban blogger Yoani Sanchez on Friday is a study in understatement. Ms. Sanchez, it reports, was "briefly detained" and "warned," about her activities as she was "stopped" by agents of state security.
Brevity is a relative thing, particularly when one is dragged off the street, thrown into a car headfirst, beaten, and informed that this is as far as you go. The warning consisted of threats carrying all of the weight of a capricious totalitarian state with a population of dissenters languishing in fetid jails, wasting away from malign neglect. The report, however, makes it all seem so civilized that by the time they quote Ms. Sanchez we can picture her in a wing chair, plopping a sugar cube in her tea, and uttering in upper class British accents- "It was very violent."
Of course, we are informed, none of this can be corroborated. Is the implication here that Yoani is pulling a Tawana Brawley? Well since they seem to have developed a belated sense of journalistic ethics, in the future maybe the AP can attempt to corroborate the claims of the regime before bruiting them as truth.
For a slightly different take on the incident, here's a poem inspired by the event and penned by the other victim of the security apparatus.
H/T Ziva
Brevity is a relative thing, particularly when one is dragged off the street, thrown into a car headfirst, beaten, and informed that this is as far as you go. The warning consisted of threats carrying all of the weight of a capricious totalitarian state with a population of dissenters languishing in fetid jails, wasting away from malign neglect. The report, however, makes it all seem so civilized that by the time they quote Ms. Sanchez we can picture her in a wing chair, plopping a sugar cube in her tea, and uttering in upper class British accents- "It was very violent."
Of course, we are informed, none of this can be corroborated. Is the implication here that Yoani is pulling a Tawana Brawley? Well since they seem to have developed a belated sense of journalistic ethics, in the future maybe the AP can attempt to corroborate the claims of the regime before bruiting them as truth.
For a slightly different take on the incident, here's a poem inspired by the event and penned by the other victim of the security apparatus.
H/T Ziva
Friday, November 6, 2009
Greeting Card Wisdom
Spotted on a birthday card:
Cover: "The Democrats took your birthday cake"
Inside: "They sliced it up and gave it to others who don't have a birthday today."
No lie.
Cover: "The Democrats took your birthday cake"
Inside: "They sliced it up and gave it to others who don't have a birthday today."
No lie.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Meanderings: The Coming of the Cold
There's a slight nip in the air tonight, the same air, if not the same molecules, which earlier radiated heat worthy of a blast furnace in the Amazon. For a few days last week, the temperature plummeted, not with the seasonal relief of tonight's breezes, but with that bone chilling Northern cold. Of course, the temperature never went below 40, 60 during the day.
We're not used to it, but then Northerners have never endured 40 with our humidity, the experience like that of being massaged by icy fingers. It is not unusual to go to bed cold in such a case, since heat is a touch and go sort of thing here, usually attached to the central air.
Such is possible because there are years here in Sarasota when you don't even get to wear a sweater. Even in a bad year, sweater weather days can be counted on the fingers of your hands. When the temperature does dip, the locals emerge, a riotous and improvised display of jarring wardrobe don'ts. It could be that by throwing a pullover sweater over our shorts-clad bodies and flip-flopped feet we deny the coming reality of winter, at the same time we celebrate the relief in the incessant heat that is our daily portion. (Northerners, just think how you feel on the first warm day of Spring.) Then once we get used to the idea of winter, we start wearing pants, sometimes even socks. (If you ever want to spot the tourists in December, just look for the shorts.) On the rare occasion when coats are called for, it's really easy to spot the locals. A really cold day sets in motion of fashion show of styles from the 60's on, an exhibition worthy of the Costume Institute, as no one has purchased a coat here since the day the moving van drove away.
Tonight's air is merely soothing, long-sleeve weather, not much. It excites, enlivens, but that's it. By noon tomorrow, it will be on the sweaty side of balmy, and maybe, just maybe, by nightfall the air conditioner will get a long-deferred, but well-earned rest. One can hope.
We're not used to it, but then Northerners have never endured 40 with our humidity, the experience like that of being massaged by icy fingers. It is not unusual to go to bed cold in such a case, since heat is a touch and go sort of thing here, usually attached to the central air.
Such is possible because there are years here in Sarasota when you don't even get to wear a sweater. Even in a bad year, sweater weather days can be counted on the fingers of your hands. When the temperature does dip, the locals emerge, a riotous and improvised display of jarring wardrobe don'ts. It could be that by throwing a pullover sweater over our shorts-clad bodies and flip-flopped feet we deny the coming reality of winter, at the same time we celebrate the relief in the incessant heat that is our daily portion. (Northerners, just think how you feel on the first warm day of Spring.) Then once we get used to the idea of winter, we start wearing pants, sometimes even socks. (If you ever want to spot the tourists in December, just look for the shorts.) On the rare occasion when coats are called for, it's really easy to spot the locals. A really cold day sets in motion of fashion show of styles from the 60's on, an exhibition worthy of the Costume Institute, as no one has purchased a coat here since the day the moving van drove away.
Tonight's air is merely soothing, long-sleeve weather, not much. It excites, enlivens, but that's it. By noon tomorrow, it will be on the sweaty side of balmy, and maybe, just maybe, by nightfall the air conditioner will get a long-deferred, but well-earned rest. One can hope.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Read: A Colossal Failure of Common Sense; The Inside Story of the Collapse of Lehman Brothers
Just put down Lawrence G. McDonald's post mortem on the once great investment firm. I had a bit of interest in the topic to begin with, having read an exhaustive New York Times article about firm years before when it got in major trouble. Like that pivotal moment in a Greek tragedy, it would seem that the seeds of the firm's destruction were sown in the years when trader Lewis Glucksman wrested control of the company from the patrician Peter G. Peterson. It was Glucksman's protege Richard Fuld who would later steer the firm into a rather large iceberg, a collision from which there could be no recovery.
McDonald's portrayal of "King Richard" is scathing. The book portrays him as arrogant, bullying, out of touch, and intellectually incapable of grasping the new math of securitization. In perhaps part of the strongest parts of the book, McDonald makes clear the various steps along the path to the nation's, the world's, economic breakdown in his attempt to chronicle the demise of Lehman. The success of this aspect of the book was readily apparent when my eyes only crossed two or three times during explanations of the alphabet soup of credit vehicles.
Ghost writer Patrick Robinson outdoes himself. The book is nicely written and fascinating, combining McDonald's early years, the Lehman debacle, and government policy. Overall, though, there is the faintest aroma of sour grapes here. Every trader is described as brilliant and sagacious. The equation seems to be "Traders good; head guys bad." Finally, although I've heard the theory before, McDonald's implied assertion that Paulson's letting Lehman die set off the financial collapse is not something that is axiomatic. The weight of all the bad paper only made it a question of when. And sorry, I can't feel too sorry for the losses of people who made in one year more than I will earn in a lifetime.
All that being said, it is an eminently readable book and an excellent primer on the currents which led to the maelstrom which almost sank us all.
McDonald's portrayal of "King Richard" is scathing. The book portrays him as arrogant, bullying, out of touch, and intellectually incapable of grasping the new math of securitization. In perhaps part of the strongest parts of the book, McDonald makes clear the various steps along the path to the nation's, the world's, economic breakdown in his attempt to chronicle the demise of Lehman. The success of this aspect of the book was readily apparent when my eyes only crossed two or three times during explanations of the alphabet soup of credit vehicles.
Ghost writer Patrick Robinson outdoes himself. The book is nicely written and fascinating, combining McDonald's early years, the Lehman debacle, and government policy. Overall, though, there is the faintest aroma of sour grapes here. Every trader is described as brilliant and sagacious. The equation seems to be "Traders good; head guys bad." Finally, although I've heard the theory before, McDonald's implied assertion that Paulson's letting Lehman die set off the financial collapse is not something that is axiomatic. The weight of all the bad paper only made it a question of when. And sorry, I can't feel too sorry for the losses of people who made in one year more than I will earn in a lifetime.
All that being said, it is an eminently readable book and an excellent primer on the currents which led to the maelstrom which almost sank us all.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Meanderings: Isn't It Somethin'?
Just got my internet connection restored this very minute. Kinda moved yesterday, not quite in the new place, not quite outta the old. Got me to thinkin'. In the old days when you moved, you got to your new home and plugged the TV in and presto- there it was. Telephone took forever, but we actually survived without having the same attached to our ears, so we were used to it. There was no internet.
So last night the hubster and I are looking at each other. Part of getting older, at least for him, seems to consist of being resistant to change. So there we are, looking at each other, with no TV and no internet. I had one book left in my arsenal, but out of fellow feeling I joined him as he finally got around to checking out the scads of CD's he brings home 'cause he's gonna listen someday. The important thing to note here is that not a single label on one of these sports not a single recognizable moniker. In point of fact, a considerable number of them seem to be the offspring of the superannuated folky who sings at the local fish house on Sundays. The selection last night was a bit more diverse. First Classical was rejected; then I put the kibosh on some Cumbia via Mexico; finally he settled on some variation of techno.
Somehow we got through the eve, and here I am, posting. Can't help but think, however, that our forbears were a tad more resourceful. Just thinkin'.
So last night the hubster and I are looking at each other. Part of getting older, at least for him, seems to consist of being resistant to change. So there we are, looking at each other, with no TV and no internet. I had one book left in my arsenal, but out of fellow feeling I joined him as he finally got around to checking out the scads of CD's he brings home 'cause he's gonna listen someday. The important thing to note here is that not a single label on one of these sports not a single recognizable moniker. In point of fact, a considerable number of them seem to be the offspring of the superannuated folky who sings at the local fish house on Sundays. The selection last night was a bit more diverse. First Classical was rejected; then I put the kibosh on some Cumbia via Mexico; finally he settled on some variation of techno.
Somehow we got through the eve, and here I am, posting. Can't help but think, however, that our forbears were a tad more resourceful. Just thinkin'.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Read: Havana Fever
Just coming off of a primo reading experience. I've always enjoyed Leonardo Padura's crime novels; but Havana Fever (2003), the latest to be translated into English, transcends the genre and launches into realms he's just hinted at in earlier efforts.
This one takes place years after Mario Conde has left the police force. The onetime ace sleuth pursues books for a living these days. Plagued by misgivings and guilt, wary of taking advantage of desperate people selling off the remains of their legacy, he acts as a middle man in selling off the family library. It is in this context that he stumbles across the library of Alcides Monte De Ocas, discovers a clipping about a long lost Cuban chanteuse, and becomes the prime suspect in a murder.
Intrigued, one might say obsessed, he investigates the fate of Bolero singer Violeta del Rio. This quest in and of itself becomes a vehicle for exploring the Cuba that once was. The novel is a study in contrasts, the mythical past which has to be painstakingly pieced together against the
desperate and debauched backdrop of Cuba's present at the end of "the special period," if it can truly be said to have ended.
Famed for his mastery of the noir genre, the only light in this very dark novel comes from the human relationships that will not bow to circumstance. The joy evoked by Conde's windfall and it subsequent use in preparing veritable banquets for him and his longtime friends speaks volumes.
It's ironic really. I have been worrying of late. Propaganda, pedagogy, and prejudice threaten to erase whole swaths of Cuban history. It's as if the world expropriated physically has now been obliterated even in memory, so it is reassuring to see that flame still burning, however tenuous.
This one takes place years after Mario Conde has left the police force. The onetime ace sleuth pursues books for a living these days. Plagued by misgivings and guilt, wary of taking advantage of desperate people selling off the remains of their legacy, he acts as a middle man in selling off the family library. It is in this context that he stumbles across the library of Alcides Monte De Ocas, discovers a clipping about a long lost Cuban chanteuse, and becomes the prime suspect in a murder.
Intrigued, one might say obsessed, he investigates the fate of Bolero singer Violeta del Rio. This quest in and of itself becomes a vehicle for exploring the Cuba that once was. The novel is a study in contrasts, the mythical past which has to be painstakingly pieced together against the
desperate and debauched backdrop of Cuba's present at the end of "the special period," if it can truly be said to have ended.
Famed for his mastery of the noir genre, the only light in this very dark novel comes from the human relationships that will not bow to circumstance. The joy evoked by Conde's windfall and it subsequent use in preparing veritable banquets for him and his longtime friends speaks volumes.
It's ironic really. I have been worrying of late. Propaganda, pedagogy, and prejudice threaten to erase whole swaths of Cuban history. It's as if the world expropriated physically has now been obliterated even in memory, so it is reassuring to see that flame still burning, however tenuous.
The Wheels on the Bus....
That undercarriage must be getting pretty crowded by now with the addition of the Dalai Lama. Dis the Dalai Lama? A sad day in deed.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Trio of Quickies
There's no mystery here. As Obamaites scramble to essplain the great Denmark Debacle, it's really a no brainer. Where would you rather spend a week? Rio? Chicago?
The best man is a woman. In a display of metaphorical cojones , Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen on a trip to Honduras noted that despite the administration's refusal to recognize Roberto Micheletti as such, she had no doubt that she was sitting with the legal President of same. You, go, girl!
Twelve is the loneliest number. In today's media moment, President Obama was surrounded by 100 (oops!) physician/disciples, suitably garbed for the cameras in pristine white lab coats meant to symbolize the support of the medical community. Talk about your transparency.
The best man is a woman. In a display of metaphorical cojones , Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen on a trip to Honduras noted that despite the administration's refusal to recognize Roberto Micheletti as such, she had no doubt that she was sitting with the legal President of same. You, go, girl!
Twelve is the loneliest number. In today's media moment, President Obama was surrounded by 100 (oops!) physician/disciples, suitably garbed for the cameras in pristine white lab coats meant to symbolize the support of the medical community. Talk about your transparency.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Clearing Out The Favorites
Here's a passel of stuff I've been meaning to share:
I'll start with this entry by Thomas Sowell ostensibly about rooting for the underdog. Somewhere along the way, he makes us question the definition of the underdog, praises public schools of the past, and makes a pitch for perseverance.
As to the mass demonstration in Washington, read Chris Burgard's first person account over at Big Hollywood. The impression he takes away is one I share. I remember remarking that whatever the individual cause, those big yellow flags said it all: "Don't' tread on me." Funny the media didn't notice them.
And I can't miss commenting on this Sarasota Herald Tribune article about the "civility" of our local town hall meeting. It's probably true. Before they set about regulating us to death, attempting to do to human nature what was done to nature on Longboat Key, this great little city was characterized by its graciousness and tolerance.
Someone should tell ImPOTUS there ain't no winning. The rest of the world is never going to like us. Try the harsh tone of this commentary which manages to insult the President and our system of government, even as it rings a death knell for our standing in the world. Granted it is in the Guardian, but one would think they would be kinder to a kindred spirit.
Finally on a bittersweet note, check this out.
I'll start with this entry by Thomas Sowell ostensibly about rooting for the underdog. Somewhere along the way, he makes us question the definition of the underdog, praises public schools of the past, and makes a pitch for perseverance.
As to the mass demonstration in Washington, read Chris Burgard's first person account over at Big Hollywood. The impression he takes away is one I share. I remember remarking that whatever the individual cause, those big yellow flags said it all: "Don't' tread on me." Funny the media didn't notice them.
And I can't miss commenting on this Sarasota Herald Tribune article about the "civility" of our local town hall meeting. It's probably true. Before they set about regulating us to death, attempting to do to human nature what was done to nature on Longboat Key, this great little city was characterized by its graciousness and tolerance.
Someone should tell ImPOTUS there ain't no winning. The rest of the world is never going to like us. Try the harsh tone of this commentary which manages to insult the President and our system of government, even as it rings a death knell for our standing in the world. Granted it is in the Guardian, but one would think they would be kinder to a kindred spirit.
Finally on a bittersweet note, check this out.
Passing Thought
The word is that the President, faced with the request for additional troops in Afghanistan, is contemplating changing strategy. The new strategy, purportedly put together by Vice President Biden, involves the reverse, essentially reducing our military footprint. Question arises as to whether this is the same Joe Biden who advocated turning Iraq into three different countries.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Updated: Juanes And The Language of Subtlety
Update: For other perspectives, try Babalu here and here. And if a cartoon is worth a thousand words, try this.
Like many I was affronted and very cynical as to why Juanes was holding a "Peace Concert" in Havana, perceiving him as yet another stooge. I still find the motive dubious, but the event itself turned out to be not quite what anyone envisioned.
We in the United States are so accustomed to speaking frankly that we miss the nuances of what those on the island call "doble cara." We cannot truly understand the lexicon of gesture and symbol that envelops the lives of people who live at the whim of an all powerful state and who have been fed with the mother's milk of indoctrination by that same entity.
So while the embargo lifters will have a field day using the concert to bash those recalcitrant exiles, they may be missing an important subtext. Knowing the Cuban temperament, the multitudes came out for a good time, but were they there for something more? Is it the first time they went to that plaza, the plaza of mandatory revolutionary pagentry, of their own volition in a country where free assembly is forbidden? Is it possible that when Olga Tañon sang- as reported by the Herald- "Es mentiroso ese hombre," or "That man is a liar" and brought the house down, the crowd might have their own candidate in mind? The point was reinforced by a fellow Cuban, who posted this reminiscence. Remember the role music has played in demonstrating disaffection with the regime, whether the rock and roleros of the past or Gorki in the present day.
Could be the opening whimper. If nothing else, to his credit Juanes shouted the words "Cuba Libre," albeit couched in conciliatory thoughts. In my experience, a good number of Cubans are not political. They have had enough of incessant propaganda. But no amount of repression or refrain can cover up the absolute debacle the revolution has created. What Cubans do know is that their lives are untenable and that they want something different, jama being primary on their wish list.
As more information emerges, I may yet change my mind. For right now, it seems that ordinary Cubans massed at the venue and made it their own. What would seem something of a blow to those who want so much more for them, may in fact be a triumph delivered in the language of subtlety.
*doble cara - double face or two-faced
*Cuba libre- free Cuba
*jama- food
Like many I was affronted and very cynical as to why Juanes was holding a "Peace Concert" in Havana, perceiving him as yet another stooge. I still find the motive dubious, but the event itself turned out to be not quite what anyone envisioned.
We in the United States are so accustomed to speaking frankly that we miss the nuances of what those on the island call "doble cara." We cannot truly understand the lexicon of gesture and symbol that envelops the lives of people who live at the whim of an all powerful state and who have been fed with the mother's milk of indoctrination by that same entity.
So while the embargo lifters will have a field day using the concert to bash those recalcitrant exiles, they may be missing an important subtext. Knowing the Cuban temperament, the multitudes came out for a good time, but were they there for something more? Is it the first time they went to that plaza, the plaza of mandatory revolutionary pagentry, of their own volition in a country where free assembly is forbidden? Is it possible that when Olga Tañon sang- as reported by the Herald- "Es mentiroso ese hombre," or "That man is a liar" and brought the house down, the crowd might have their own candidate in mind? The point was reinforced by a fellow Cuban, who posted this reminiscence. Remember the role music has played in demonstrating disaffection with the regime, whether the rock and roleros of the past or Gorki in the present day.
Could be the opening whimper. If nothing else, to his credit Juanes shouted the words "Cuba Libre," albeit couched in conciliatory thoughts. In my experience, a good number of Cubans are not political. They have had enough of incessant propaganda. But no amount of repression or refrain can cover up the absolute debacle the revolution has created. What Cubans do know is that their lives are untenable and that they want something different, jama being primary on their wish list.
As more information emerges, I may yet change my mind. For right now, it seems that ordinary Cubans massed at the venue and made it their own. What would seem something of a blow to those who want so much more for them, may in fact be a triumph delivered in the language of subtlety.
*doble cara - double face or two-faced
*Cuba libre- free Cuba
*jama- food
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Meanderings: A Tapestry of Sorts
The evening started with a most enlightening view of Chicago inbreeding on Beck's show, followed by a Lifetime movie. I'm sure you know the kind. You're channel surfing, and you pass LMN. Don't pause, not even for a moment, otherwise you wind up watching a two hour potboiler about some woman being abused by her husband, lover, or in tonight's movie, her shrink.
Afterward, one channel away was a movie about Georgia O'Keefe. This week's opus followed one last week about Dorothy Parker. Initially, I envied them both, not their talent, but the entree into circles with interesting people, the achievement. I've been on the what-have-I-done-with-my-life kick lately, or more to the point- what haven't I done with my life. I console myself with a thought I picked up reading Woolf's To the Lighthouse that somehow domesticity, the pull of family, hampers achievement. Only as I learn more about O'Keefe's painful marriage, I have to rethink my previous supposition.
The other day I discovered that someone I know in passing is in an unhappy situation. My first thought was to blurt out "Leave him now when you are young, so you won't realize thirty years down the road that you sacrificed your life to his dysfunction and are left with ashes of the life you could have led." I didn't say anything, however, because as Sherwood Anderson realized, "whatever I said would have been a lie."
That, I guess, is the truth. It is such a nebulous thing. I have friends who envy me for essentially dropping out of the rat race. At the same time I envy their success, their independence. Who knows what choices we make, should make? Of one thing I'm sure, we are called upon to make such life shaping decisions when we are least suited to, when the fever is in the blood and reality is yet to bare its teeth.
Afterward, one channel away was a movie about Georgia O'Keefe. This week's opus followed one last week about Dorothy Parker. Initially, I envied them both, not their talent, but the entree into circles with interesting people, the achievement. I've been on the what-have-I-done-with-my-life kick lately, or more to the point- what haven't I done with my life. I console myself with a thought I picked up reading Woolf's To the Lighthouse that somehow domesticity, the pull of family, hampers achievement. Only as I learn more about O'Keefe's painful marriage, I have to rethink my previous supposition.
The other day I discovered that someone I know in passing is in an unhappy situation. My first thought was to blurt out "Leave him now when you are young, so you won't realize thirty years down the road that you sacrificed your life to his dysfunction and are left with ashes of the life you could have led." I didn't say anything, however, because as Sherwood Anderson realized, "whatever I said would have been a lie."
That, I guess, is the truth. It is such a nebulous thing. I have friends who envy me for essentially dropping out of the rat race. At the same time I envy their success, their independence. Who knows what choices we make, should make? Of one thing I'm sure, we are called upon to make such life shaping decisions when we are least suited to, when the fever is in the blood and reality is yet to bare its teeth.
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Art of Politics
New George Will column on the NEA brouhaha as symptomatic of "the Obama administration's incontinent lust to politicize everything." What a turn of phrase! How true.
Will has hit the nail on the head. Was it objectionable that the President was to address school children and exhort them to do well in their studies? No. But the accompanying study materials, put out by the Department of Education, made clear a political agenda. In the case Will cites, powers at the National Endowment for the Arts sought to use the recipients of their largess to advance the Obamian agenda. It is amazing that none of those in charge at the NEA seem to grasp that turning their organization into the propaganda wing of the administration was not only unseemly, but wrong.
This tone deafness is symptomatic of this administration, which seems to be unable to see beyond the person of the President, which assumes that no one could object to the glorification of same. It is this cult of personality thing, the insidious infusion of all things Obama into all things, that is truly scary, that has thousands massing at the Capitol.
So read the column....just the swipes at the art world make it worthwhile. Ever been to the top floor at MOMA?
Will has hit the nail on the head. Was it objectionable that the President was to address school children and exhort them to do well in their studies? No. But the accompanying study materials, put out by the Department of Education, made clear a political agenda. In the case Will cites, powers at the National Endowment for the Arts sought to use the recipients of their largess to advance the Obamian agenda. It is amazing that none of those in charge at the NEA seem to grasp that turning their organization into the propaganda wing of the administration was not only unseemly, but wrong.
This tone deafness is symptomatic of this administration, which seems to be unable to see beyond the person of the President, which assumes that no one could object to the glorification of same. It is this cult of personality thing, the insidious infusion of all things Obama into all things, that is truly scary, that has thousands massing at the Capitol.
So read the column....just the swipes at the art world make it worthwhile. Ever been to the top floor at MOMA?
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