Archive for the ‘news’ category

Pattinson/Palin;Twilight/Fox.

December 15, 2010

Pattinson

Palin

I was thinking last night about past topics/obsessions of this blog.  Two came to mind:  Sarah Palin and Robert Pattinson (who, for the non-cognoscienti, plays Edward Cullen, star vampire, in the movies based on Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight.)

So, what do Palin and Pattinson have in common?

  1. Big hair.
  2. Careers in which they act out the part of  ordinary Americans.   (Rob, of course, pretends to be a blood-sucking ordinary American, Sarah to be a non-money and celebrity-sucking ordinary American.)
  3. Close relationships with dark-haired teenage girls (or just past teenage), which have somehow augmented their celebrity.  (Okay, that one’s a bit silly.)
  4. Media vehicles that promote fantasy, the bare suppression (or not) of intense (seeming) passion, and (ahem) abstinence.  (Twilight/Fox).
  5. Fortunes that have been made from such media vehicles.
  6. Exuberant fans who do not seem to question what skeptics view as possible deficiencies–Rob’s acting, Sarah’s governing.   (Query–is it the hair?  Or the fantasy?)


Oh, the brave, the stalwart, the burned.

December 9, 2010

Toast and the Flag

Oh, the brave House Democrats who say they will oppose Obama and the Republicans’ tax deal, their last best chance to avoid tax raises on the middle class and keep unemployment benefits in force.  They are like people who have run to hide under their beds during a kitchen fire (i.e. the election) and later say that they can’t stand burned toast (even with some of the most charred crusts shaved off.)

Oh, the stalwart Senate Republicans who won’t budge on anything, especially any thing they weren’t likely to budge on anyway, like don’t ask/don’t tell and benefits for 9/11 workers, without getting tax breaks for the rich.

Oh, the brave 9/11 workers who did charge into fire and smoke and charred their lungs (not just their toast).

Oh, the stalwart gay soldiers who have long been asking, not telling.

Can’t read the paper (not a problem of eyes.)

December 7, 2010

Lately I just can’t make myself read the newspaper.  Everything turns my stomach.   The New York Times especially.

I’ve even begun  to wonder whether the paper is following its ordinary lay-out; nothing holds the eye.

 This is not because the news is sad–some of it, such as the death of Elizabeth Edwards, certainly is.   Oddly, I can stand to read that story even though I  feel terribly sorry for Mrs. Edwards and certainly her children; there are elements of courage, strength, tragic loss.

Is it just me?  My over-stimulated ADD?

Or are stories laced with greed, posturing, and self-righteousness more sickening than stories about cancer? 

All the tax business, all the Wikileaks business, all the posturing, self-righteous business, all the posturing in the name of ‘small business’ business, all the greed.

I don’t think I would mind it so much if people flat-out admitted their weaknesses—if the New York Times, for example, in connection with its publication of all the Wikileaks stuff, said, “look, we want readers.”   

If the Republican leadership flat-out said, “look, we serve the rich.”   

 If Obama just said, “look, they’ve got me in a stranglehold.” 

Actually, I guess Obama is kind of saying that.  My eyes, heart, stomach, simply find it very hard to take.

 

Julian Assange and Client-9 (Not Trojan Warriors?)

December 1, 2010

Hmmm....

What is it about pale arrogant self-anointed “bastard-crushing” men and condoms?

Julian Assange, founder of Wikileaks, is now subject to a “Red Notice” issued by Interpol for arrest and extradition to Sweden, where he is wanted for questioning on suspicion of “rape, sexual molestation and coercion.”   The possible sexual misconduct charges have arisen in connection with encounters Assange had with two different women in which a condom broke or was not used by Assange and the sex (according to the women) became clearly nonconsensual.

Does this remind you of anyone?

Maybe you have to be from New York.

I’m thinking of Client-9, Eliot Spitzer, another self-righteous accusatorial type who seemed to have a penchant for casual, and unprotected, sex.

What is wrong with these guys?

Okay, okay, this isn’t fair.  You can’t really compare Spitzer’s attacks on the New York State legislature (or CEOs) with Assange’s egomaniacal onslaughts.  Spitzer didn’t put peoples’ lives at risk.  Sure, he didn’t do much for trust in government, but he also didn’t burden diplomatic channels between nations.  (And for what, Julian?  The fact that something is confidential doesn’t actually make it secret.)

It’s also unfair to compare Spitzer and Assange on a sexual level.  Spitzer’s payments to high-priced prostitutes do not place him on a high moral plane, but they do seem to raise him several steps above rape and coercion.  Plus, in Spitzer’s case, he seems to have come around (pun intended) on the condom issue.

So, actually, these guys may have nothing in common.  Except perhaps arrogance.  And hypocrisy.  Only in Assange’s case, these seem untempered by any kind of caution, self-doubt, and also an ability to hear others’ pleas.  (Especially when it comes to the word “no.”)

Certainly, it seems unlikely that Assange will get a U.S. talk show.

Restrepo on Cyber-Monday

November 30, 2010

It’s amazing how our culture comes up with new spending rituals– Black Friday, Cyber-Monday, National Administrative Assistants’ Day.  Even traditional rituals seem to have whole new levels of consumption associated with them–weddings planned for years, graduations celebrated from nursery school on.

Then, of course, there are holidays that have become primarily shopping days–Presidents’ Day, Labor Day, Veteran’s Day.

On this Cyber-Monday evening, I find myself watching the very non-festive documentary, Restrepo, a movie by Sebastian Junger and Tim Heatherington, about U.S. forces in the Korangal Valley in Afghanistan.   The film documents a platoon that sets up an operation post some distance from the base camp which is named for Restrepo, an individual soldier killed in the Valley close to the beginning of the deployment.

It’s a very sad movie–so much good will, energy, and, of course, life, spent in an effort that seems doomed from the start.  (In fact, U.S. forces have now evacuated the Korangal Valley.)  The idea that American soldiers, creatures of a culture that invented Cyber-Mondays (a triumph of the insular, yet gung-ho, consumer), can persuade village elders to work against their traditional (and sometimes related) strong men is just crazy.  It’s especially crazy given the relatively short (if interminable seeming) time frame of U.S. deployment; the dual role of the military (fighters/diplomats); and the youth and cultural inexperience of many of the soldiers.

Then in the midst of the fear and digging, drawn faces, gunfire, tension, loss and profanity of the infantrymen comes repeated LEXUS commercials.  “No one ever found a gift too big,” says a voice as a beamingly groomed woman leads an incredibly clean-looking (compared to the infantrymen) guy to a huge wrapped package stationed in (alternately)   (i) a landscaped driveway or (ii) a huge and sparkling living room.  The wrapped package splits in the middle to reveal–tada!–a new car!  For Christmas!

It all has to make you wonder:  what are we doing there?  What are we doing here?

Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta On Colbert

November 20, 2010

Here’s the link for Stephen Colbert’s interview of Medal of Honor recipient Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta.

Whatever your views of the war in Afghanistan (or of war generally), it is impossible not to be moved by Sergeant Giunta’s earnestness, humility and articulate devotion to his fellow soldiers.  His sweet sincerity and quiet bravery are impressive on their own, but in the midst of the back-biting, self-promotion and pretense of much in the public media, they are especially striking.  The soldier’s sense of his job, his mission, his pride in his training–all of it is simply incredibly interesting (to me at least).  Colbert handles the interview with his typical arch humor but also a very large dose of his particular brand of sensitivity and respect.  Worth watching.

Pat Downs

November 19, 2010

Uncomfortable, maybe, but truly a nightmare? ( Sorry- the elephant search above is not a true "pat-down" or even "trunk-down.")

Maybe it’s because I’m a New Yorker, used to the jam of bodies on the subway system, or maybe it’s because I’m a New Yorker who was an  an eye witness to the second plane hitting the South Tower of the World Trade Center on 9/11.  Whatever the reason,  as a New Yorker, I find the consternation about increased airline security, particularly body pat-downs, at best ridiculous, at worst, maddening.

I can understand the worry about the radiation hazards of body scans, but the pat-downs–  Come on, People!

The protest over the patting seems, in part, a sign of the of the over-sexualization of the culture (which tends to fill every touch with innuendo).

Yes, I suppose it’s possible the searches can, and will be, abused.  (Already I find myself backtracking!)  But many are complaining about the concept of any physical search.  (Some of the complaints remind me of a conversation I overheard in Florida just after the ban on taking liquids overseas;  “if Americans can’t take their carry-on on airplanes, the terrorists have won!” )

In many places in the world, these types of searches are routine.  In India, visits to the Taj Majal at night as well as to many museums, and certainly any airplane flight,  involve universal pat downs  – women police officers patting down ladies behind a screen, men patting down men.

Now there’s a thought!  Maybe the answer in this country, given its more sexualized culture, would be to give passengers their choice, gender-wise, of “patter-downer.”

But the part of the controversy that makes me truly upset is the part that places convenience and avoidance of discomfort over concerns of airplane security.   The other day, thinking about this, Patrick J. Brown came to mind, Paddy Brown. (Maybe I thought of him, I realize now, because of the rhyme.).  Brown was an NYPD captain, killed on 9/11.  I did not know him, but several different friends did–one group, because he practiced yoga; another, because he was a martial artist who taught karate to the blind.  All agree that he was a truly remarkable person.  He died because he refused to leave a group of injured people on a high floor of the WTC, waiting with them in the hope of further help.

The Merchant of Venice – Not Glenn Beck

November 12, 2010

I took a break from my normal cut-in-stone activities last night to see the wonderful Al Pacino in Daniel Sullivan’s production of The Merchant of Venice (previously done as part of Shakespeare in the Park.)

I have to confess to never having seen the play before.   Its easy characterization as Anti-semitic makes it a play at which many Shakespeare lovers (even Shakespeare idolators) tend to cringe.

But the play (at least in this incarnation) is frankly amazing, both funnier, much much sadder, and more nuanced, than I had ever realized.

Of course, the language used about and against Jews by the “Venetians” is horrible;  the insinuations and contempt are hard to listen to.  Were the slurs accepted easily in Elizabethan England?  Undoubtedly.  Do they represent Shakespeare’s views?   All one can say is that, as the play goes on, it becomes clear that many of the Christian characters using this language are faithless and venal, many of them oath-breakers and seekers of other’s fortunes.  (See e.g. the romantic hero, Bassanio.)

Shylock in contrast, clings to oaths and bonds.  Played in both a very human yet shruggingly stereotyped fashion by Pacino, he has a Lear-like majesty and pathos.  (“I had a daughter.”).  He is certainly vengeful, but, the Venetians (in this production) are also pretty vengeful.   The characters, and virtually everything else in the play–daughters, metal caskets, the law, mercy, even rings–have at least two sides.

Which brings me to Glenn Beck and George Soros.   I haven’t been able to get myself to listen to all of Beck’s recent rant on Soros, but the part I heard involves Beck accusing the 14-year old Soros of assisting the Nazis during his youth in Nazi-occupied Hungary.  Soros, Beck says, “used to go around with this anti-Semite and deliver papers to the Jews and confiscate their property and then ship them off.”

Did Soros feel guilt about that?  No! Beck says.  Does the goodly Beck judge him?  Again, no!   This is between Soros and God, Beck says.

(To inject a few facts–Soros, to hide his identity in Nazi-occupied Hungary, lived with an agriculture official bribed by his father to pretend that the boy was his Christian godson. Soros once had to accompany his protector to inventory a confiscated Jewish estate. Asked by 60 Minutes if he felt guilty about it, he said no, because he wasn’t a participant and couldn’t stop it.)

Beck’s piece is sickening; it traffics in hyperbole and innuendo; it degrades and distorts history.

What makes it (almost) worse is Beck’s disingenuousness.

One of the wonderful things about Shylock’s character is his straight-forwardness–when asked why he insists on his pound of flesh, he basically says it’s because he’s been wronged, he’s vengeful and he hates Antonio.  No lies, no innuendo, minimal psychobabble.

Michele Bachmann, Nanowrimo Novel Writing, Practical Mathematics

November 10, 2010

Insisting on Credibility?

One of my hardest obstacles in writing fiction is credibility.  I get completely mired in questions of believability.    (You should have seen how I suffered over the talking dog in one book, till Pearl, my bichon, assured me that it really was okay.)

I have to constantly remind myself that I’m writing a story; that, in other words, it needs drama, to re-adjust the normal daily percentages of humdrum and startling.

I am trying to get over this tendency in my current nanowrimo novel.  (Why, for example, have one of my protagonists just leave a sketchy boyfriend, if, on the way to the door, he can grab her and tie her up?)

(Sigh, It’s hard.)  In the last couple of days, however, I’ve encountered a new teacher:  Michele Bachmann!

Obama’s trip to India, she proclaims, wild- and wide-eyed, is costing taxpayers $200 million a day!  (Maybe, she goes on, he should consider videoconferencing.)

I wondered how she could believe what she was saying.  But then it occurred to me that rather than illustrating the art of fiction, Bachmann might truly be an illustration of the deterioration in practical mathematics.

Which brings me to my  father-in-law;  he is about to be 100 years old.  One of his many admirable qualities is a strong grasp of the mathematical properties of the physical world–he is an incredible judge of distances, surface areas, cubic footage, weight, density, and all the combinations of the above.  When he says 120 square feet or 13 fluid ounces, he knows exactly what he’s talking about.  Part of his skill at estimation results from growing up in a time where this kind of physical understanding was included in one’s education, part may result from a preternatural cleverness–whatever the reason, the ability to make reliable estimates seems to have declined in the modern world (and not just among contractors.)   This decline has in turn led to a gullibility about numbers.  People who don’t bother, or can’t, estimate realistically, readily accept all kinds of crazy figures.

And now we have Michele Bachmann!  Mistress of the Art of fiction?  Drama queen?  Mathematical nitwit?

Still Sheepish on Halloween

October 30, 2010

Sheepish About Halloween

In honor of Halloween and under pressure due to the upcoming Nanowrimo (Novel Writing Month), I direct your attention to a post I wrote last year about my conflicted feelings about Halloween, and my all-time favorite homemade costume, depicted above–my daughter as a sheep.

As a side note, congratulations to Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert for bringing off their rally.  Congratulations to counter-terrorism operatives for finding Yemeni explosives.  Congratulations to all of us for getting through more than two years since the fall of Lehman Brothers and all that followed.

Happy Halloween.