Tuesday, November 6, 2007

To continue the theme of M&M's but bringing in Monkeys...

Go Ahead, Rationalize. Monkeys Do It, Too.


Published: November 6, 2007

For half a century, social psychologists have been trying to figure out the human gift for rationalizing irrational behavior. Why did we evolve with brains that salute our shrewdness for buying the neon yellow car with bad gas mileage? The brain keeps sending one message — Yesss! Genius! — while our friends and family are saying,

“Well... ”

This self-delusion, the result of what’s called cognitive dissonance, has been demonstrated over and over by researchers who have come up with increasingly elaborate explanations for it. Psychologists have suggested we hone our skills of rationalization in order to impress others, reaffirm our “moral integrity” and protect our “self-concept” and feeling of “global self-worth.”

If so, capuchin monkeys are a lot more complicated than we thought. Or, we’re less complicated. In a paper in Psychological Science, researchers at Yale report finding the first evidence of cognitive dissonance in monkeys and in a group in some ways even less sophisticated, 4-year-old humans.

The Yale experiment was a variation of the classic one that first demonstrated cognitive dissonance, a term coined by the social psychologist Leon Festinger. In 1956 one of his students, Jack Brehm, carted some of his own wedding gifts into the lab (it was a low-budget experiment) and asked people to rate the desirability of things like an electric sandwich press, a desk lamp, a stopwatch and a transistor radio.

Then they were given a choice between two items they considered equally attractive, and told they could take one home. (At the end of the experiment Mr. Brehm had to confess he couldn’t really afford to give them anything, causing one woman to break down in tears.) After making a choice (but before having it snatched away), they were asked to rate all the items again.

Suddenly they had a new perspective. If they had chosen the electric sandwich press over the toaster, they raised its rating and downgraded the toaster. They convinced themselves they had made by far the right choice.

So, apparently, did the children and capuchin monkeys studied at Yale by Louisa C. Egan, Laurie R. Santos and Paul Bloom. The psychologists offered the children stickers and the monkeys M&M’s.

Once a monkey was observed to show an equal preference for three colors of M&M’s — say, red, blue and green — he was given a choice between two of them. If he chose red over blue, his preference changed and he downgraded blue. When he was subsequently given a choice between blue and green, it was no longer an even contest — he was now much more likely to reject the blue.

The monkey seemed to be coping the same way humans do. When you reject the toaster, you could spend a lot of time second-guessing yourself, and that phenomenon, much less common, is called buyer’s remorse. (For more on that, go to www.tierneylab.com).

But in general, people deal with cognitive dissonance — the clashing of conflicting thoughts — by eliminating one of the thoughts. The notion that the toaster is desirable conflicts with the knowledge that you just passed it up, so you banish the notion. The cognitive dissonance is gone; you are smug.

Of course, when you see others engaging in this sort of rationalization, it can look silly or pathological, as if they have a desperate need to justify themselves or are cynically telling lies they couldn’t possibly believe themselves. But you don’t expect to see such high-level mental contortions in 4-year-olds or monkeys.

As the Yale researchers write, these results indicate either that monkeys and children have “richer motivational complexity” than we realize, or our ways of dealing with cognitive dissonance are “mechanistically simpler than previously thought.” Another psychologist, Matthew D. Lieberman of the University of California, Los Angeles, suggests it’s the latter.

“If little children and primates show pretty much the same pattern you see in adults, it calls into question just how deliberate these rationalization processes are,” he says. “We tend to think people have an explicit agenda to rewrite history to make themselves look right, but that’s an outsider’s perspective. This experiment shows that there isn’t always much conscious thought going on.”

The new results jibe with those of a dissonance experiment that Dr. Lieberman and colleagues did with amnesiacs, people with impaired short-term memories, who were asked to rank an assortment of paintings. Then they chose among selected ones and ranked the whole group again. By the second time they ranked the paintings, they couldn’t consciously recall their earlier rankings or their choices, so they presumably didn’t have a psychic need to rewrite history.

Yet they showed as much new disdain for the paintings they’d rejected as did a control group with normal memories. Apparently, the rejections registered in some unconscious way, so that the amnesiacs rationalized their decisions even though they couldn’t remember them.

The compulsion to justify decisions may seem irrational, and maybe petty, too, like the fox in Aesop’s fable who stopped trying for the grapes and promptly told himself they were sour anyway. But perhaps Aesop didn’t appreciate the evolutionary utility of this behavior for humans as well as animals.

Once a decision has been made, second-guessing may just interfere with more important business. A fox who pines for abandoned grapes or a monkey who keeps agonizing over food choices could be wasting energy better expended obtaining the next meal.

And if you are the owner of a yellow gas-guzzler, you might as well convince yourself that the sensible blue car you passed up was an ugly bore. Aesop may call it sour grapes; you can call it moving on. Maybe your unconscious realizes you don’t have time for buyer’s remorse. You’ve got car payments to make.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

I can't claim this as my own.... but I still found it amusing.

M&M Evolution theory

M&M's: The Theory of Evolution

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species.

To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger,I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to: M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc. Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

Sunday, September 16, 2007

The cat's in the cradle...

So, one week into fatherhood, and everyone seems to have survived the experience relatively unscathed. We've had our first visit from the grandparents, our first bath (and second one, for that matter),

IMG_0771.jpg

our first walk around the neighborhood, and our first Jewish holiday. For even more photos and videos, you can always go to our flickr and youtube pages, respectively.

So, you ask, how is fatherhood? Honestly, it's great, and the only issue whatsoever has been the lack of sleep, which is slowly getting better itself. I realize that my wife is doing most of the hard work, just like she's been doing since the pregnancy began, but from my perspective, fatherhood is wonderful. The baby is adorable, she cries at times but not really that loudly yet, and she's just ridiculously adorable at times:

IMG_0757.jpg

It's just a really rewarding experience, and I am more than happy to trade a few hours of sleep per night for it. That said, having family in to help out is probably a crucial element of my current sanity, since nothing really compares with years of accumulated experience. My mom couldn't stop laughing at how much I bought into the rules they drilled into us at the hospital, since I just didn't know which were critical and which were more along the lines of useful guidelines. I'm sure I'll get better at this, and I'm sure there will be more difficult times, but I have to say that while you can't inherently prepare for fatherhood, if you do try to prepare yourself, it's really great.

Most surprisingly useful item: Our battery-powered multi-event timer. My mom couldn't stop teasing me about measuring how long we took between feedings, diaper changes, and my wife's pain meds (tylenol, BTW!) , but honestly at this point I no longer trust my memory enough to remember what happened several hours ago at all times. This way, the baby doesn't go all day between diaper changes (she takes care of reminding us to feed her), and the wife doesn't have to go all afternoon without at least taking the edge off the discomfort. This is not to put down all the other things we got that we knew would be useful, just a note about the one whose importance we hadn't realized in advance. The runner up is the super-fuzzy Baby Elmo blanket (available at Kohl's), which Leila just adores.

Is fatherhood lonely? Maybe someday, but certainly not yet. It's busy certainly, especially given that I'm getting spectacularly inefficient at doing things, but the few moments I've had to myself the past week have been fine. In the end, there's now double the nuclear family members to spend time with, and that's fine with me.

We get it, you're tired...: Having just seen the movie The Lookout, I've noticed that fatigue over a few days seems to mimic the symptoms of a light-to-moderate traumatic brain injury. My attention span is significantly lower than normal, and sequencing out multi-step tasks has gotten to be a non-trivial issue. I see why they recommend that new parents try not to do too much. It's not just about exhaustion, it's also a matter of safety, in that undertaking complex tasks means that they might not be accomplished fully, and are best left untried. Thankfully, sleep seems to cure these problems, and I'm already feeling a bit more up to speed now tat Leila is coming much closer to sleeping through the night but for feeding breaks/diaper changes.

Is there an evolutionary reaction where babies are just so adorable that you have to protect and care for them? Yes.

What about when they cry? I suppose this will get much worse when her lungs develop, but for now, it's still too cute for words when Leila is upset, and since she generally stops before too long, usually because we alleviate the problem, it just doesn't upset us at all when she cries.

Parents vs. non-parents? We undertook this whole process well aware of what we were getting into, and I'd recommend that when possible. Babies are a ton of work, and she's only eight days old. If someone doesn't want to have kids, they have my full blessing. It's a completely valid choice, and I place no stock in the idea that we must always give in to our evolutionary drives. Still, since parenthood is built into our genes, I really don't have any respect for the position that the society has no responsibility for taking care of what parents voluntarily bring on themselves. Parenthood is tough, and society benefits by making things easier on people. The Family and Medical Leave act is only a bare minimum, in that it allows for 12 weeks of unpaid leave, forcing many people to go back to work while there children really still need fulltime care. Just like the young pay social security so that the elderly may lead happier lives, so should society ensure that children lead happier lives. It's not a responsibility to the parents, but to the children, who otherwise have no say in the matter. Frankly, it's a moral obligation, and I just can't think of a way to construct a counter-argument that wouldn't leave me speechless. Remember, be good to kids, because they are going to grow up and be in a position to decide our fate. Mutually assured destruction is no way to deal with generational issues. More soon, once I sleep some more...

PS- What about poop? Needless to say, she poops a lot. In the hospital, I got to watch her first poop live, commenting that it was the most bizarre combination of disgusting yet fascinating I had ever seen. Thankfully, baby poop doesn't smell if a baby's diet consists entirely of breast milk. Not even a bit. Because of this, diaper changes are really no worse than cleaning up any kind of liquid spill. Of all the issues that new parents have to deal with, diapers are far easier and more pleasant that I would have imagined. Honestly, the only thing is that diaper changes take a lot of time, as do feedings, baths, and everything else involving a baby. Nothing is fast, but most things aren't as bad as one might have otherwise thought, I suppose.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Some news

Look here!

Thursday, September 6, 2007

I would argue that I'm a recovering Catholic, not a lapsed one.... but in truth I'm too apathetic to be recovering. I never really had a "bad" catholic experiences, never had a priest molest me, never had a nun try to break my knuckles, or anything of that nature. I pretty much just accepted the whole church thing as a bizarre accident of history, but then my Mom went to church primarily to watch babies.

In any case, I did have an interesting exchange recently that I felt was... thought provoking, for me at least. This all happened on myspace, and I won't name names....but it essentially went down like this:

One individual, an alum of VT, was complaining about how much attention the VT football season opener was focused on the tragic events of this past spring. Furthermore, they spent a great deal of time discussing the actions of one young man who put himself in harms way to barricade a door against the gunman. These actions apparently saved his life, and many others. That poster was upset because she felt the young man was simply trying to save his own ass:
here is the post:

So right now, I'm watching the VT vs. ECU game...and a few minutes ago, Erin Andrews (who's a stupid whore anyway) was interviewing a VT student who was wounded during the shootings back in April. She said to him, "You were one of the heroes who was wounded during your German class...and then you sacrificed yourself and barricaded the door. Thank you."

I'm sorry, but the people who were wounded and shot were not heroes. They were victims...of a tragic event...but that's it. And hearing this over and over and over again, while our soldiers are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan each day...does nothing more but make me resentful and hateful towards Virginia Tech and a lot of other people.

Heroes are the people who have CHOSEN to join our military...knowing full well that at any moment, they could be called to leave their families and loved ones for over a year...and spend that time in a combat zone...sleeping on the ground, avoiding IEDs, eating shit for dinner, etc. etc. etc.

They are the ones who have SACRIFICED their time and lives to save others -- even if they're not helping rid this country of terrorists and attacks, they ARE serving so that the rest of you don't have to. They're allowing YOU to go out to dinner...to sleep in a comfy bed...to go out to the bars for happy hour. Yet not once during this entire game has there been ANY mention of the sacrifices of our servicemen and women.

I love football, but I feel such hatred towards these people right now...because, win or lose, they get to go home to their loved ones and have a drink...while the rest of us are stuck here for months on end, waiting for those we love to come home to us. So don't fucking talk to me about the sacrifices other people are making...none of you has any clue about the true meaning of that word.

Umm.... okay. Now here was the response of my lovely wife to be:
I disagree with you here. This kid was just a college student (no basic training to prepare him to go into battle), yet he put himself on the line to barricade the door, allowing other kids to freak out and focus on saving their own hide... Not that others had a whole lot of options, but I do see a huge difference between those victims who sought to save their own lives by finding a better hiding spot or jumping out of windows or whatever and those heroes who put their own lives on the line to allow those others more time to save their own hides.

I think you're being pretty one sided here -- this kid did what you praise our soldiers for doing (put his life on the line to protect others), but without having had the chance to choose whether or not to sign up to go into a battle zone and without having special training to prepare him to react effectively in such a situation. How is that not a hero?

I agree that media coverage of the war has been pretty crappy. Most news outlets in the US are sickenly biased and hardly ever show any important news (unless you count Paris Hilton's latest zit as more important than the current death toll of US soldiers in Iraq). But I also think it's pretty asinine to suggest that someone has to join the military and leave their loved ones sitting at home for months or years to be worthy of being praised for doing something heroic.
Now to put things into context, the first poster is a cultural anthropologist, someone trained in cultural sensitivity.....in theory. The second is also a cultural anthropologist, one I'm quite fond of , disagreeing but trying to be respectful to her friend. Now the first poster has a boyfriend who is currently serving in Iraq. That individual posted this response:

That guy was obviously protecting his own ass. Heroes in the classroom..... we are all over here laughing at that situation. Ive never heard so much whining and bitching and "we are all hokies" bullshit in my life. People in africa have their entire village wiped out by rebels on a daily basis. There are constant terrorist attacks on those that live in Isreal, and we are supposed to call this guy a hero. Grow up people and get out of your bubble
Ok, now...this man is a soldier, in Iraq at the moment. I thought about it for a while and wrote the following response myself:

Well, what it comes down to is how one defines a hero. I would argue that someone who tries to keep his head together in a disaster and tries to help the people around him is a hero. The cops, firemen, and simple civilians running into the World Trade Center were heroes by any sane definition. People diving into the river and pulling an entire bus load of children out of the river in Minneapolis are heroes. Every last one of them. Soldiers defending their country are heroes. Its not a matter of being in a bubble, nor is it in any way a comment on any aspect of the trials and conditions of American Soldiers in Iraq, the people in Darfur just trying to survive, or anyone else.

Hero is a very subjective term. The fact that at least some of the people at VT put themselves in the line of fire to help save people does earn them the label of being a hero. Yes situations in Iraq an Afghanistan forces many people to be heroes, because they are nations in turmoil. No, the kid in question has not, as far as I know, joined the military. So what. Maybe on a scale of heroism he isn't the greatest hero mankind has ever seen. So what.

A hero might be a Palestinian woman trying to get food to her children through a Lebanese blockade, an Israeli soldier throwing themselves over a child to protect her from a car bomb. But at least in a small way, the ambulance drivers who drive into blinding snowstorms to help save lives are also heroes.

This in no way denigrates our soldiers, like you, who have volunteered to serve our country over seas in a time of conflict. If nothing else it raises the bar and shows the true selfless spirit of the American Soldiers, that they choose to put themselves into harms way.

The world is filled with heroes of all sorts. I for one am glad of that. This is not living in a bubble, it is seeing the range of good that the human spirit can attain, if for no other reason than to balance the evil.

That being said, the media has not done a good job informing Americans of the true range of information of the War. But I feel that is a completely different discussion.

Now there hasn't been any kind of reply to my post, I don't think there will be. Now I was trying very hard to be respectful, but the question remains, how do you approach a discussion like this? This exchange bothered me. It bothered me that someone would find the label of someone reacting, and probably saving many lives, not in the least his own, to be insulting. Why would this be? I have not seen any kind of social backlash to recent veterans simply commentary on the war. I realize I am not a soldier,but is this becoming one of those untouchable things? When did calling someone a hero cast doubt on soldiers in the field?

For all my problems with Bush, the administration, the excuses used to promote the war, the conduct of the war, and etc. none of this has anything to do with the men and women in our armed forces. Failure in Iraq will be due to the failure to create a stable government, not because our forces were unsuccessful. The problem I see is the inability to see context. Maybe as an anthropologist I've spent too much time in my own little world but how hard is it to see that perspective is an important thing, to see that one man's hero may not be another's. I question the presumption that there is only one path to take in order to be a hero.
--Alex

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Have you ever been to American wedding? Where is the vodka, where's marinated herring?

First of all, welcome to our new co-blogger. For those who know both, this is my friend Alex, not my wife's friend Alex. I have no idea what he'll write about, but I'm sure we'll find out. Though he's not a Russian Jew, I will note that he is a pretty much a lapsed Catholic, so he fits in with my lapsed Reform Judaism (which is almost exactly the same in many ways as observant Reform Judaism), and dkon's lapsed Marxism-Leninism.

Anyway, onto tonight's topic: weddings, and what they can teach us about my current predicament, er, um ... current familial situation. I'll start by attacking that favorite chestnut often repeated at weddings: "This is the happiest day of my life". No, sorry, it really isn't. The honeymoon might be, since you are finally done dealing with caterers, seating charts, complicated rituals, and a variety of prayers to intercede between family members on both sides who need to be separated...but the wedding is simply not the happiest moment in your life. This whole expression came about, as best I can tell, because it used to represent the first time one was allowed to have sex without being persecuted. Thankfully, such persecution is now on the way out, and as a result, weddings are really not the huge turning point in one's life that they used to be. Don't get me wrong, I actually had a great time at my wedding, as pictures will indicate, but I have to admit that the biggest change between before and after had much more to do with the flight to Cancun than the ring on my finger. I was pretty much committed to the relationship well before the marriage, and couldn't quite get used to the term "my wife" for a couple years afterward. For all the symbolism we would like to attach to it, in the end the wedding itself is a ceremonial rite of passage whose impact is primarily symbolic, rather than substantive. Society as a whole would be better if people would realize this, to say nothing of the benefit of forever eradicating the phrase "sanctity of marriage", especially when said by those who treated it as less than sacred, double super-especially, when that person had the New York City emergency management headquarters placed in a building known to be a terrorist target apparently so he could use it as a love nest for his mistress.

But I digress. I bring this up not to insult marriage, but rather to point out that many of the supposed turning points in our lives are much less climactic than we are led to believe. Just so no one out there is disappointed in such things when it happens to them, I should point out, with some trepidation, that finding out that your wife is pregnant may very well fit into this category. Don't get me wrong, it was exciting, but it meant that my life would be changing a full nine months into the future. In the short term, S. didn't look pregnant for a long time, she didn't have any real morning sickness (thank the deity of your choice or the lack thereof), and it basically meant that she and I both scaled back our drinking from nearly never to never and even more nearly never, respectively. For months, we knew a child was growing within her, but literally every book, website, and nurse we consulted compared it to the fruit, vegetable, or legume that it most closely matched in size. It's difficult to picture how a grape, kiwi, or nectarine will really be changing your life, and this is months into the process.

If I may be allowed a moment of misplaced Judaic chauvinism, I think I understand rather well now why Jewish law declares the quickening, or the first moment when you feel the baby move, to be the beginning of life. I think S. felt her moving a few weeks before I could, but once you finally feel your future child moving, then the tangibility of their incipient personhood hits you. By now, we can actually feel legs, feet, the butt, and all other parts sticking out (very much like this, I'm disturbed to say), and it really does seem like a small person inside there (yes, I realize that this is indeed the case). You simply can't abstract away something that kicks your hand, or something that causes rather stunningly large protuberances and indentations on your wife's stomach.

For better or worse, it seems that while many rites of passage in life are symbolic, childbirth is very demonstrably not one of them. I doubt I'll be going so far as to call it miraculous (nor "wonderfully Darwinian" while among strangers), but it is one of those things that actually sets down a marker in life, like before and after your team wins the World series or something like that. It seems as if there might be a few of those on the way for us over the next few weeks, but more on that later.

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Now playing: Gogol Bordello - American Wedding
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Umm....

Hi.

This feeling of fakin' it. I still haven't shaken it.

Incipient fatherhood awaits me. Admittedly, I've had basically the entire year up to this point to get used to the idea (we found out about the peanut's existence on the day before New Year's, after all). It's not that I'm particularly nervous, nor feel wholly unprepared, having been through birthing classes (cleansing breath, soothing touch, and why vomiting should be viewed as a positive thing), breastfeeding classes (tickle, tickle, pop the kid on), fatherhood classes (when bathing, use a different surface for each eye to prevent the spread of infection, and NEVER SHAKE A BABY!!!!). I've built cribs, shelving units, rockers, and had the car seat installed. I've even continued my long-running dabbling with insomnia, just to be maximally prepared.

No, what surprises me, even to this day, is the extent to which I'm beginning to realize how much parents fake it. I'm 30 now, by which point in my parents life I was 5 and 6. Good Lord, but it's hard to imagine having done this six years ago. Seriously, it makes you wonder what they were thinking...and yet, I'd like to think I turned out ok. Not to say we'll be the best parents in the world, but somehow the species has actually managed this trick for many thousands of years, and our ancestors for hundreds of millions prior. Even cats, among the laziest creatures in the world, manage to raise kittens when not consuming pounce and napping. And yet, I suspect most of them faked it too, at least at first.

Suffice it to say, this is not a knock on any of the parents I know, including my own and my co-blogger. They seem to have done/be doing a fantastic job, even though I can't imagine they had any more preparation than we managed to get, nor more sleep than we're prepared not to get. That they managed to keep their sanity in just about all cases, and in many cases their hair as well, we'll just chalk up to one of the mysteries of life.

In the end, I've tried to figure out the whole parenthood thing, and I still can't escape the conclusion that babies are a lot like cats, but you have to monitor their poop more closely and they aren't anywhere near as good at cleaning themselves. Lest this worry you, remember that my cat is certifiably neurotic and occasionally possessed by minor demons, and then consider the likely fate of our children...

To conclude, my honest and sincere thanks to my parents, and to all parents everywhere. Somehow y'all manage to do a job that seems more complicated than any task one should ask of a person, with vastly insufficient technical documentation and instructions, and much too little respect for what you do from many of the rest of us. If I've ever shown anything other than the proper respect and admiration, I'm certainly about to get my comeuppance. If I did show the proper respect and admiration and all that, well, I was probably doing it to buy your sympathy so we could get you to babysit someday. I may be faking it, after all, but I'm sneaky like that. I learned it from my cat.

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Now playing: Simon & Garfunkel - Fakin' It
via FoxyTunes

Back online

Enough of the hiatus. Too many thoughts to not let them loose in the tubes of the world wide internetweb. In case I go on hiatus again, you can find much better content from Atrios and Talking Points Memo, but until then, you're stuck with me.

Please note, of course, that peanut-related content will continue at It's a Peanut, so you'll find links to parental-related stuff, like ridiculously catchy music videos, there.

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Now playing: Justin Roberts - Willy Was A Whale
via FoxyTunes

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Simple answers to insipid questions

From Howie Kurtz in the WaPo:
Krugman calls for focusing on the candidates' policy proposals instead. I'm all for that. But can we really make judgments about Obama and Edwards, for example, based on the differences in their health care plans?

Umm, yes. This has been the first edition to simple answers to insipid questions, inspired, of course, by Atrios.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Odds and ends

I'm busy getting ready to watch The Sopranos' final episode, but wanted to pass along a link to an article about how lightening up roofing and highway materials is a vastly useful environmental technique, since much less heat is absorbed, especially in cities. All it takes is chalk dust. Apparently, the reason we don't do this is because it's too simple to sound impressive. From Mark Kleiman, via Matt Yglesias:
Of course, if we had political reporters who weren't pig-ignorant about science and technology, this wouldn't be as significant a problem as it is. And if politicians weren't in the habit of offering trivial pseudo-solutions to serious problems, journalists would be less cynical about things that seem too easy. But then if my grandmother had wheels she would have been a trolley car.

This is a case where simply repeating the idea until it no longer seems funny could make a difference. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to explain the idea to five people until they stop laughing.
Stop laughing!

By the way, lest we ever forget this, people are morons. This is a fundamental truth of human existence. It applies to those in the tech world who would impose arcane limits on us, crazy warmongering politicians like Joe Lieberman, the same crazy guy agreeing with Barack Obama that the internet is dangerous, etc....though I'll note that, closing the circle, Obama does know how to deal with pig-ignorant journalists.

Saturday, June 9, 2007

The wrong man was convicted

Just a quickie this morning, about last week's Repbulican debate, with actual content outsourced to the always good Paul Krugman (link is behind the NYTimes firewall, but if you have an e-mail from an .edu domain, you can see it):
In Tuesday’s Republican presidential debate, Mitt Romney completely misrepresented how we ended up in Iraq. Later, Mike Huckabee mistakenly claimed that it was Ronald Reagan’s birthday.

Guess which remark The Washington Post identified as the "gaffe of the night"?

Folks, this is serious. If early campaign reporting is any guide, the bad media habits that helped install the worst president ever in the White House haven’t changed a bit....

[I]f there’s one thing I hope we’ve learned from the calamity of the last six and a half years, it’s that it matters who becomes president — and that listening to what candidates say about substantive issues offers a much better way to judge potential presidents than superficial character judgments. Mr. Bush’s tax lies, not his surface amiability, were the true guide to how he would govern.

And I don’t know if this country can survive another four years of Bush-quality leadership.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

No Justice, No Peace

Before getting started on this morning's post, I should link to a great editorial in the WaPo from a counsel at the Electronic Frontier Foundation (the good guys), arguing that since filesharing is so incredibly easy, the RIAA and universities should just bundle in a music-sharing license in with preexisting fees currently paid by universities to musicians to cover various performances on campus. Anyway, I'll try to post some recent vacation photos tonight, but until then, onto the news of the day.

No Justice: For those not following it, or unable to figure out from the news coverage of the current scandals at the Department of Justice, here is a brief recap. Throughout the Bush administration, but more frequently during the period 2004-present, political posts throughout DoJ were filled with young lawyers lacking any proper experience who happened to be extremely loyal (and thus easily manipulable) conservative Republicans. This list could include Monica Goodling, Kyle Sampson, and yesterday's Congressional hearing embarrassment, Bradley Schlozman (click on links for bios). Said employees seem to have made it their mission to try to politicize the entire justice department by preferentially hiring Republicans, even though this is completely illegal for career positions at DoJ. Why would they do this? Well, the primary offenses revealed so far were at the Civil Rights division, the Voting Rights division, and the US Attorneys themselves, who are responsible for prosecuting crimes involving those two departments. It doesn't take much to infer that the goal was to steer voting rights/voter fraud lawsuits against Democratic groups, and prevent such lawsuits against Republicans. About half of the US Attorneys fired had refused to indict Democrats who weren't guilty of anything, and the other half seem to have been involved in actually prosecuting guilty Republicans, which is an unforgivable offense to the administration. I should make clear of course, that "voter fraud" by minorities, which Republicans like to throw around, is largely a myth designed to suppress the minority vote, since it leans heavily Democratic.

One can further infer who is behind this affair. It can certainly be suggested that the reason so many youngsters were placed in positions of power is because their strings can be pulled by a puppet master, and so far all signs seem to point to Karl Rove. Recall before the 2006 elections, he claimed Republicans would succeed because he was entitled to "THE math" on the elections. Though he never stated such, one could suggest that carefully arranging the balance of who is actually allowed to vote might explain why one might be overconfident. Unfortunately for him, his dreams of a "permanent Republican majority" actually fell victim to the fact his party was perceived as vastly too corrupt to remain in power. Shucks.

No Peace: On the international front, it seems crazy to me that there are forces in the administration pushing for war with Iran, even though Iraq and Afghanistan aren't exactly going well. Who could be doing this, you may ask? Would it shock you that it is the Vice President, Dick Cheney? From Newsweek:
A NEWSWEEK investigation shows that Cheney's national-security team has been actively challenging Rice's Iran strategy in recent months. "We hear a completely different story coming out of Cheney's office, even now, than what we hear from Rice on Iran," says a Western diplomat whose embassy has close dealings with the White House. Officials from the veep's office have been openly dismissive of the nuclear negotiations in think-tank meetings with Middle East analysts in Washington, according to a high-level administration official who asked for anonymity because of his position. Since Tehran has defied two U.N. resolutions calling for a suspension of its uranium-enrichment program, "there's a certain amount of schadenfreude among the hard-liners," says a European diplomat who's involved in the talks but would not comment for the record. And NEWSWEEK has learned that the veep's team seems eager to build a case that Iran is targeting Americans not just in Iraq but along the border of its other neighbor, Afghanistan.


Lest anyone think this is just rumor, It seems to have been confirmed by a bunch of people:
Multiple sources have reported that a senior aide on Vice President Cheney's national security team has been meeting with policy hands of the American Enterprise Institute, one other think tank, and more than one national security consulting house and explicitly stating that Vice President Cheney does not support President Bush's tack towards Condoleezza Rice's diplomatic efforts and fears that the President is taking diplomacy with Iran too seriously.

This White House official has stated to several Washington insiders that Cheney is planning to deploy an "end run strategy" around the President if he and his team lose the policy argument.


What happens, one can ask, when the administration is basically at war with itself, not to mention a bunch of other countries. well, for one thing, you end up with a badly understaffed foreign service. Also, you end up with a bunch of people lying about various matters to all sorts of people. Should the former by Chief of Staff to the Veep, and the latter by a US Attorney, this is not always a good idea, and can end up with said Chief of Staff residing at the Crossbar Hotel for 30 months (can we now call it the Paris Hilton Hilton?).

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Imprisonment

A quick summary of the news from this morning:

Imprisoned by the Universe: There is a great article by Dennis Overbye of the NYTimes this morning about dark energy, the stuff that makes the universe accelerate outward, and what this means for the ultimate fate of the galaxy (not planet, which will be long since gone, or humanity, whose future is a mystery trillions of years from now). I'd only add that measurements of dark energy are convincing, but theoretically difficult to explain, and we may yet overhaul our basic cosmological model in the future should a better theoretical grounding come along.

Imprisoned by the Government: Yesterday, a military court basically overturned the whole trial system set up to deal with detainees at Guantanamo, based on the case of a boy who was captured when he was 15. See either a good analysis piece from the NYTimes, or if you really want, a piece that basically just repeats the Bush administration spin from the WaPo.

Imprisoned by outdated moral notions: For all that FoxNews is indecent by design (see below for more on that), the government's treatment of their broadcast network, among others, has certainly been indecent. Thankfully, the courts have thrown out some ridiculously hefty fines imposed on the networks when celebrities used naughty words at live awards ceremonies. There is a boring wrap-up in the WaPo (they just can't win today), and a great one in the NYTimes:
But the judges said vulgar words are just as often used out of frustration or excitement, and not to convey any broader obscene meaning. “In recent times even the top leaders of our government have used variants of these expletives in a manner that no reasonable person would believe referenced sexual or excretory organs or activities.”

Adopting an argument made by lawyers for NBC, the judges then cited examples in which Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney had used the same language that would be penalized under the policy. Mr. Bush was caught on videotape last July using a common vulgarity that the commission finds objectionable in a conversation with Prime Minister Tony Blair of Britain. Three years ago, Mr. Cheney was widely reported to have muttered an angry obscene version of “get lost” to Senator Patrick Leahy on the floor of the United States Senate.


Imprisoned by the bonds of racism: If the charges against him are true, the Rep. William Jefferson (D-LA) will be going to jail for a long time for corruption and being stupid enough to hide $100K in his freezer!?! If so, honestly, good riddance to him, for being a stain upon our government, and if he takes fellow Dem Allan Mollohan of West Virginia along with him supposing the latter is guilty, all the better. Corrupt Democrats are corrupt officials first, and we are better off without them. Still, only FoxNews could manage to make their own faults the story when describing a 16-count indictment. It seems that FoxNews can't tell black representatives apart, even when one is the current head of the House Judiciary committee and has a moustache, and the other one is not and does not. Idiots.

Imprisoned by our own shortsightedness: What do you do when NASA satellites keep finding evidence of global warming, which is inconvenient for an anti-science administration trying to deny the existence of said phenomenon? Apparently, you cut the funds for the program!

Imprisoned by preconceived notions: Newspapers apparently don't like Google News, because, um, well, I really don't understand. It actually drives their online traffic, and they want to look the gift horse in the mouth, then slaughter it and eat it. See a wise graduate student destroy the arguments of a journalism professor here, and puzzle over the vagaries of the tenure system.

Imprisoned by themselves?: It seems that the Justice Department interprets civil rights and voter rights to mean trying to make sure that minorities don't vote, by any means necessary. Congress is investigating. Perhaps they can sic the DoJ on themselves?

Monday, June 4, 2007

Catching up #3: Technology/Music/Free Concert Clips

As I mentioned back when I was more responsible about daily blogging, I think the whole push by media companies for digital rights management (DRM) software is a load of crap. At best it makes it slightly more inconvenient to copy files illegally, and at worst it means that the CD* copy of Bruce Springsteen's We Shall Overcome album won't play on either my DVD/CD player or my computer, and thus can't be imported onto my iPod (remember, CD* means like a CD, only crappier). In what almost counts as irony, I returned the disc to the store and got it on iTunes instead, and then burned a backup copy to disc, thus freeing it from the DRM software that Apple prefers. For anyone who likes the album, let me recommend that you do this, but rearrange the tracks in alphabetical order. For unknown reasons, this is a vastly better mix than what Springsteen et al. decided to go with. This is true whether you get the additional tracks from iTunes (Bring 'em Home, How Can a Poor Man Stand such times, etc.) or not.

Anyway, Apple recently announced that they are adding non-DRM tracks to their online store, albeit at an additional cost, starting with the non-Fab component of EMI's catalog. More power to them, I say, even if they do charge more for the privilege (which, frankly, is their right). Some people, though, are now up in arms about a hidden bit of the system: apparently, they "watermark" the files by encrypting your account info into the song file. Honestly, I understand that this can be a security threat if your iPod is stolen, but let's not kid ourselves. People are angry because it means that they will have to think carefully about illegally sharing those files. Allow me to play them a dirge on the world's smallest violin....ok, better. Just because DRM is dropped doesn't give people any more right to share the music files than they possessed before, which is absolutely no right whatsoever, unless said album was released under a Creative Commons license, like They're Everywhere, by Jim's Big Ego. For those convinced that they need to share files with their friends, but are afraid of the fuzz, one might suggest the following method is not really so hard.

1. Burn music to CD.
2. Read CD back into computer.

If you aren't willing to put forth that much effort before posting your music to a torrent site, I kinda hope the law does bust you, because you're an idiot.

Speaking of music, I've been listening to a bunch of it, and here are some recommendations:

Via my co-blogger, a Mexican Ska band that just totally will rock your world, Los de Abajo (The Underdogs). Clips from their album LDA vs. the lunatics ca be found here, including the single mix of the title track, which is just awesome. Honestly, given that that link will allow you to play their entire album for free, I don't understand why you are still reading this. You can always come back to my ramblings later, if you think about it.

Speaking of albums being streamed freely over the web, Wilco is doing it again with their latest album, Sky Blue Sky, which just came out recently. Go to this page, and click on "listen" in the lower left. After that, you can buy the album if you'd like, supporting musicians who remember that their fans deserve t be respected, not threatened with lawsuits. As for the album itself, dkon loved it at first listen, but it's taken some time to grow on me, and might need a bit more time still. It's very slow and quiet, much more given to softer pop rock than the atmospherics of their past albums. Jeff Tweedy's voice is in good shape, and the lyrics are a bit more grounded than the past few album's intricate nonsense (that's not an insult, BTW, just the best way I know to describe some of their songs). For what it's worth, I liked the album when I played it outside while chilling on the porch, and it'll do nicely for just about anyone in a "porch music" capacity, to use a term I usually associate with Greg Brown. I can't really rank it above either Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which is just a brilliant, quasi-visionary album, nor Being There, Wilco's second album, a double disc of roots-inflected Rock'n'Roll that just pounds out all that is good about good ol' down home Americana rock. Still, the album is currently playing in the background and my wife has been unable to stop drumming her fingers in time with Sky Blue Sky, so it must be pretty catchy.

Staying on the alt-country vein, I have to also recommend the newest album from Golden Smog, Blood on the Slacks. For those not familiar with them, Golden Smog started off as a side project for Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, a couple members of the Jayhawks, and a bunch of other alt-country artists. Tweedy was apparently too busy with Wilco for this particular release, but the Jayhawks members are more than capable of sustaining the gig. They have a couple of free tracks available on the MySpace page I linked to, but I also have to recommend their rocked out version of David Bowie's Starman.

Delving back slightly further into the history of country rock, I stumbled across a Gram Parsons tribute album while looking for Wilco songs, and it is incredible. Return of the Grievous Angel is a staggeringly good album, and I can't say enough about "$1000 Wedding", covered by Evan Dando and Juliana Hatfield, "Sin City", by Beck and Emmylou Harris, or the title track, as covered by Lucinda Williams and fellow former Byrd David Crosby (Wilco's cover of "One Hundred Years From Now" is also very good, of course).

Finally, we've always known that They Might Be Giants were a bit ahead of the curve, but they are currently trying something that I have to say I can't remember being tried much before. Their new album, The Else, is available on iTunes exclusively, at least until July 10 when they finally ship the CDs. Here is a mashup of my favorite song on the album, Climbing the Walls with highlights from the Lost Season 3 finale (go to 0:47 for the music starting; spoiler warning?), and concert recordings of Take Out the Trash and Shadow Government.

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Catching up #2: Movies

Having watched way too many movies in addition to the recent finales of Battlestar Galactica, Heroes, Veronica Mars, Lost, The Office, and Scrubs, and the upcoming ones of The Sopranos and Entourage, here are some reviews.

Far and away the best movie we've seen this year is Hot Fuzz, from the same people who brought you Shaun of the Dead. Lest you think this is some bizarre pick, I'll note that it's currently #109 on the IMBD Top 250, and the only release this year to top it so far is Grindhouse, which we haven't seen. Hot Fuzz is just about the perfect British humor takedown of American action movies that the world has ever seen. Based around a supercop from London sent to the perfectly idyllic countryside for making his colleagues look bad by comparison, the movie somehow manages to provide two different satires of the same genre. In the first half, we have the subtle brilliance of a film edited like an action film, with all the quick cuts, slow-mos, multiple angles, and other familiar tricks, even though nothing in particular is happening other than some brilliant jokes and physical gags. In the second half, when all hell breaks loose, we have shootouts, fistfights, explosions, and cruel but hilarious imitations of the two best cop movies ever (their judgment, not mine), Bad Boys 2 and Point Break (any film that allows its actors to mock Keanu Reeves scores bonus points in my book). Hot Fuzz is probably the first film in years to have multiple "fall out of your chair" moments, and is basically a must see if you possess any kind of sense of humor.

Pirates of the Caribbean 3 is a big, exciting mess, never really making much sense but delivering a decent number of laughs and gorgeously filmed action scenes. It's probably worth seeing on the big screen, since it just won't seem as impressive on a small screen. Shrek 3 is a smaller movie, funny but a bit less consistent than either of its predecessors, and can probably be safely waited upon until it comes out on video.

From the Netflix releases, I have to give some props to "Happiness of the Katakuris", a truly bizarre Japanese movies that plays like a cross between The Sound of Music and The Evil Dead. The claymation (?!?) parts make it even stranger. I'd try to describe it further, but it really doesn't make any sense. We were pretty disappointed by The Weather Man, which didn't really go anywhere at all, and Munich, which did, but took way too long to get there. The Squid and the Whale was understated but very good, personal as only well-told semi-autobiographical works can be, with a good performance from Jeff Bridges, among others. Confetti, starring Martin Freeman (Tim from the British version of The Office), was a good quirky British comedy, and we were surprised how much we liked Now You Know, directed by Jeff Anderson (Randall from Clerks), which basically slots into the subgenre of "quirky comedies about life in New Jersey that feel a deep ambivalence toward the Garden State".

Harry Potter #5 (the movie) comes out on July 11, 10 days before Book 7 appears in print. More on films then.

Catching up #1: Books, Part 1

aka Man's Best Friend Outside of a Dog, #13-16:

The Sherlock Holmes novel(la)s: The Final Solution by Michael Chabon and The Italian Secretary, by Caleb Carr


I don't really know what motivated Michael Chabon to write a Sherlock Holmes-based novella, given that he's not particularly associated with the mystery genre (The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is a coming-of-age novel, not a detective tale). As such, he managed to write a very different sort of Holmes story than what one is used to: in the wrong era (World War II), Holmes as an anonymous protagonist without a Watson to be found, solving what would seem to be a rather insignificant crime (a boy;s lost parrot). Chabon deserves credit for his technique, in that we essentially know more about the end of the tale as readers than his characters do throughout, a rather difficult feat to pull off. Still, this reads more as an exercise in constrained literature, using pre-existing characters placed in unfamiliar settings, than as a true detective story. Chabon's characters come off as very human, especially the more commonly cold and mechanical Holmes, but the detective story feels like an afterthought. I'm still a bit unsure of the global setting of the piece (a WWII story entitled "The Final Solution" should make the subtext clear), which serves more as a disturbing reality check contrasting the relatively calm and rational image of Holmes' Victorian era with the horrors of the 20th century. Still, not a bad quick read, as is Carr's take as well.

Caleb Carr is an obvious choice for writing a Holmes-based story, as his most familiar works, The Alienist and Angel of Darkness, involve turn of the century detectives, albeit ones that prefer the science of the day to pure deductive logic. Carr clearly has a feel for the characters and the proper flow of a detective story. He may be slightly more technically inclined than Arthur Conan Doyle, and more given to filling in some crucial details for a turn of the 21st century reader that would be more familiar to his forbears, but the conversations and plot developments feel more naturally appropriate to a detective story. Still, for all that the setup is appropriately mysterious, involving a perceived threat to the British crown in the late days of Victoria's reign, the conclusion feels more than a bit muddled. In some ways, Carr's talents lie in stretching out the conclusion of a rather straightforward mystery, the literary equivalent if you'd like of a Law and Order episode, whereas here he has to draw out the conclusion of the mystery for too long, tripping over his loose ends and red herrings a bit. More than anything else, it seems like he just should have had one more go at the draft to clean up the ending, but failed to do so. Again, not a bad book, but rather a quick read of middling quality.

The Author I Love To Hate: Remains of the Day, and Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro



I hate to go up against both the Booker Prize committee and some members of my book club, but for Ishiguro, how can I not? In essence, these are the same boring book, in which a feckless narrator drives slowly through the English countryside, reminiscing slowly on how useless and feckless they actually are, slowly letting us in on the details. Frankly, it's a terrible style designed to fool the reader into the appearance of deep literature, but it lacks the cleverness that a well-plotted story should have. Essentially, you take a linear plotline, divide the terrible secret into bite-sized chunks, and then place one in each chapter surrounded by long and boring discussions between flat, emotionless characters. There's never any real twist, nor any real action, just a feeling that something more interesting has to lie eventually around the corner (hint: it doesn't). It's "artistic" pacing by dilly-dallying endlessly, and "literary" in its descriptions because the characters are so robotic that it feels like it should be insightful (I have the same complaint about French New Wave directors and their bizarrely robotic characters). In RotD, the main character is Stevens, the butler played memorably in the movie by Anthony Hopkins, who has to face up to the fact that his employer collaborated with the Nazis during WWII, and Stevens never really did a damn thing in his life other than to make exuses. This might have been slightly more interesting had the reader not realized all of this within the first few pages.

SPOILER WARNING AHEAD, skip to the next paragraph unless you want the plot possibly spolied: In NLMG, the narrator is Kathy H, who fecklessly reminisces about her classmates at an isolated boarding school. The big secret, never really well concealed, is that she and her friends are being raised to be organ donors, a la The Island. Suffice it to say, the science in the book is terrible, Ishiguro made no attempt to understand modern bioethics, and he seems to fundamentally misunderstand the notion of marginalized people in society (hint: we prefer to keep them hidden in the shadows, not in front of us everyday, e.g. migrant laborers, wounded Iraqis, third world child laborers, etc.). The book is so unrealistic that it could only work as an allegory, but he never bothers to actually set one up. One particularly caustic review suggested the characters would be more sympathetic if they were revealed to be cows. I would argue that as they go around their feckless, passionless lives in England, that not only does Ishiguro write about england as if he had no experience with the country, where he has lived since age 5, but he writes like he has no actual experience with actual people either. Seriously, I never thought I'd say this, but just watch The Island instead: at least it realizes that with a premise so ridiculous, the best thing to do is turn it into a dumb action flick rather than an insipid, boring novel.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Man's best friend outside of a dog, 12: Running With Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs

Due to a strange bit of scheduling, I read almost this entire book while sitting in the O'Hare Marriott, waiting to meet up with our ride back to Champaign. Let it be said, they have some really comfortable chairs, and are kind enough to not hassle people who spend hour after hour sitting there without any obvious purpose.
If World's Fair was about a family in which nothing too much happened, this could be considered the exact opposite situation. Burroughs' memoir, assuming it is even half truthful, deals with an upbringing about as unconventional and bizarre as just about any ever put into print. As to truthfulness, we'll leave that to the lawyers, and just evaluate the book as if it were a novel. I don't mean this as an insult in any way, because it's basically the way I read Bill Bryson, Erik Larson, and any number of other non-fiction authors whose style is more narrative than informational.

The obvious comparison for Burroughs is David Sedaris, as several hundred reviewers have noted. The comparison isn't exact, of course. Both are funny, and both are gay, but Sedaris' stories are more about minutiae blown up into shaggy dog stories, whereas Burroughs' childhood is so exaggerated that even if slightly falsified, it includes numerous felonies (with him as victim, not perpetrator) and events that should have required intervention by a host of public agencies. The comparison is inexact enough that Salon's reviewer slammed Burroughs in a three-page review for all his narrative flaws, but I find myself feeling vastly more kindly toward him. His writing style is indeed on the simple side (education was hardly his first priority growing up), but the material is so outlandish that it doesn't require verbal fireworks to jump off the page.

Burroughs is a very bemused, surprisingly detached narrator, whose adolescence was so traumatic that it is hard to treat his memoir as anything but a coping mechanism. It's a bit ironic that the family he lived with sued him, given that his tone is so nonjudgmental throughout that one could make a strong suggestion that there is a Stockholm Syndrome effect at play, especially in the case of the daughter who was apparently sold at age 13 to an adult mental patient of her psychiatrist father to be his girlfriend in order to pay the family's bills. This one seems to be on strong footing factwise, as the father lost his license as a result according to public records. In some ways, Burroughs blandness as a narrator could probably be attributed to his lack of finesse as a writer. You just don't always get the feeling he has much more to say about anyone around him. As a result, the appeal of the book is really at its heart the freak-show aspect, lightened up by its good-natured breeziness. I know I should look down on it for that, but it works. Even though his childhood was a trainwreck, the book is anything but, and makes for a disturbingly good read. I'm still surprised that I liked it so much, but I did.

The movie, it should be said, is faithful to the book, with some, but not all, of the more graphic bits removed or edited around. It falls into the category, in fact, of movies that hew so closely to their source material that they add almost nothing to the book whatsoever. Alec Baldwin's performance is good, but nothing else about the film is particularly memorable.

Sunday Concert/Picnic Blogging

Sorry for the extended absence, but I'm back, and will try to resume posting on a mroe regular basis again, as well as clear through a growing backlog of unreviewed books (yes, I know that this is my own personal obsession, but so be it).

Friday night's regularly scheduled post was interrupted by an actual event here in Champaign, a concert at one of the local bars featuring a band from out of town. It marked the second time that we've seen The Tossers, an Irish/Punk band from Chicago. I've linked to one of their videos previously, and would basically describe their music as somewhat punk-influenced Irish. If the Dropkick Murphys are about 60/40 or so Punk/Irish, and Flogging Molly about 35/65, then The Tossers are about 25/75. More than anything else, they sound a great deal like the Pogues, and like the Pogues, tend to perform frequently, and likely best, a few sheets to the wind.


Onstage drunkenness, or at least drinkingness, can have a few interesting effects. Last time we saw them, it was a Sunday night (as quiet in Champaign as just about anywhere), and they were on the last night of a reasonably long tour through the Midwest. The band, who were pretty good and hammered, proceded to play just about every Irish song I know and more (Camptown Races even), and not a single one of their own creations. Not a one, in an hour and a half of continuous music. Last night, we were treated to a mix of the new (their album Agony just came out a few weeks ago), the old (The Valley of the Shadow of Death--cheerful album titles all around), and the older (Several of the Rover songs, and a number of Pogues covers). What can I say, the show rocked. For some examples of what we heard, check out this video or perhaps this one. Drunken Irish music is best played loud (there is a reason I lean toward Irish Punk, and away from the "Celtic Ladies" movement that certain of our readership prefers), and inside a bar, it is extremely loud. Even better, Champaign has a smoking ban, so the air inside was pretty clear (only the band gets to smoke), while all the smokers had to stay outside.

Making the show even better, the opening act was actually pretty good too. I am not sure if JigGsaw is a local college band, but they do pretty good pop/progressive punk for a local band. Thanks to the wonder of the internets, you don't have to take my word for it, and can check out their music on their Myspace page. Perhaps I am kidding myself, but I thought their rhythm section actually did a surprisingly good job of mixing things up, dropping into all sorts of ska-based beats and other things to keep things interesting.

Saturday was a bit calmer, as we went for a picnic at Lake of the Woods park in Mahomet, IL. BTW, let me highly recommend a good picnic basket for anyone who lives anwhere near the outdoors, which I assume is most of you. Very little in life is as relaxing as a nice picnic.
LotW.jpg
The park is home to the Early American Museum, which is just shockingly well done for a small museum. Rarely have I seen a small museum that manages to combine as thorough a collection of artifacts (in this case 19th century housewares, photographs, and other antique items) with a reasonably good overview of the time period for the area. I particularly liked the exhibit on baseball in Illinois over the past century, something that has sadly disappeared from the area over the past couple decades.

Monday, April 30, 2007

Man's best friend outside of a dog, 11: World's Fair, by E.L. Doctorow

Last week I said I liked two out of the three final books I had read during the trip to Aruba. Oddly enough, this was the one I didn't think much of at all. I have nothing against Doctorow, and rather liked Ragtime, but there must be something up with him that rubs people the wrong way. Suffice it to say, among major literary authors, he has more copies of his works sitting in the $2 rack at used bookstores than anyone else I can think of. Janet Evanovich, Clive Cussler, sure, and about every mystery author who has ever lived, but also a constant stream of Doctorow. I haven't been able to find a single Vintage press copy of anything by Nabokov for less than 3/4 the retail price for years, but I could have owned 10 copies of Water Works or Billy Bathgate had I wanted to. In some ways, it takes some of the fun out of finding them in bookstores, since there's no excitement in the find. A nice copy of Vonnegut is impossible, Calvino a rare treat, and we've found John Irving from just about every printing through years of work, but Doctorow is just too easy.


Anyway, on to the actual review. World's Fair is a fictionalization of what I have to assume is Doctorow's own childhood growing up in New York. Unfortunately, Doctorow seems to have had a childhood much like most of ours, full of events that are only passingly memorable and the rare moment that rises to the level of minor excitement. Unfortunately, that is about the extent of it. In theory, I am supposed to suggest that New York City in the 1930's is itself a character, but the narrator is much too young to really have experienced much of it at all. As a result, the novel is more than a bit flat. The emotion ranges from kind of happy to kind of sad, and even though our narrator's parents certainly have a troubled marriage, nothing ever really comes of it to spark some real dramatic tension. The dramatic ending, in which he sees both the magic but also the tawdriness of the New York World's Fair, similarly fails to inspire, breaking no new ground whatsoever. If you want to really read about the magic and horror of a World's Fair, try Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Man's best friend outside of a dog, 10: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

Having discussed what some of the more backwards amongst us consider to be cultural Armageddon in our first post of the evening, we move onward in our second to a literary take on Armageddon that is vastly more enjoyable than the Left Behind series. Any time the end of the world is foisted upon you by Neil Gaiman, author of The Sandman graphic novels and the brilliant novel American Gods, among others, as well as Terry Pratchett, author of the Discworld series, well, you know it has to be good. Just to get the obvious references, both men have the same British wit that is typically associated with Monty Python, Douglas Adams, or maybe Shaun of the Dead. It is unclear why the British are just funnier than Americans, most likely having to do with a certain fatalism inspired by the nasty weather, horrible food, and typically undrinkable coffee. Then again, maybe when you grow up watching your politicians hurl witty insults at each other rather than vapid sound bites, it can be a bit inspirational.


In any case, this little novel, written before either of them became famous, ranges from the drop-dead hilarious to the sidesplittingly funny, even when some of the subjects of the humor are a bit obscure. Still, you have to give them credit that they made me laugh about the M25 Motorway (the loop road around London: think the Beltway, I-95, and the tri-state tollway if you are familiar with DC, Boston, or Chicago; for NY readers, think I-287 with the traffic typical of the BQE or Van Wyck) and the planned town of Milton Keynes. A sample of the book's take on life:
Many phenomena — wars, plagues, sudden audits — have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man, but whenever students of demonology get together the M25 London orbital motorway is generally agreed to be among the top contenders for exhibit A.


The plot, such as it is, concerns plans by the hosts of heaven and hell to spark Armageddon, each hoping for the ultimate victory, while a pair of friendly demons, realizing that low-level employees for competing firms often have more in common with each other than either has with their corporate management, do everything in their power to stop this from happening. Of great benefit to them is the fact that the Antichrist was misplaced at birth, and many of the supernatural beings about to wage battle are caught in traffic. Honestly, if this plot doesn't grip you yet, you probably need professional help. Fleshing out the novel are a multitude of jokes and witticisms, and it is a fun challenge to try to figure out which author wrote what. Having read a good bit of Gaiman and one book by Pratchett, I was pretty stumped, but I would imagine that an aficionado could do much better. Gaiman is the more Vonnegutian of the two, preferring jokes that rely on timing and misdirection, whereas Pratchett likes the more carefully constructed comic scenarios, but the book flows pretty seamlessly from one to the other without any obvious hitches. Even though it contains something of a moral conclusion, in that humans often act both better and worse than either God or the Devil could even imagine but that life is still better with us having free will than if we didn't, the book avoids adding too much saccharine to the mix.

If I had to choose between Gaiman and Pratchett, I could pretty comfortably choose Gaiman, but life is generous and we are lucky to be able to enjoy both. This one is definitely worth it, start to finish.

It's something no sensible person would do... I wish I was married to you

It was kind of lost in the shuffle this week, what with the continuing scandals that the administration likes to create instead of actually governing, but Governor Eliot Spitzer of New York announced he will be submitting legislation to legalize gay marriage in the state. This is a very good thing, even though it stands almost no chance of passing the Republican-led New York State Senate. It's been debated how much "political capital" he should use to try to impose his will, but short of a State Senate majority, it will have to stand for the moment as a powerful but temporarily symbolic gesture. If New York can manage to pass civil unions instead, which seems likelier at the moment, and Rhode Island also joins New Hampshire in allowing them, you will basically have legalized gay marriage in Massachusetts (all efforts to overturn it have basically gone nowhere), civil unions throughout the rest of the Northeast and West Coast, and additional pressure on the more liberal states in the Midwest that have Democratic governors and state houses to possibly follow suit (that means Illinois, by the way). It would come as no shock whatsoever if a very significant percentage of the country soon has civil unions, and the continuing refusal of Massachusetts to actually break out in Armageddon will only make it more likely that states go further, not retreat. Honestly, once you've got NY and CA, you;ve basically got the cultural centers of America (Chicago would be a bonus, and call me an unreasonable optimist but I truly believe in the power of the media elite to both reflect the culture in which they find themselves and to normalize it for the rest of the country. We've all basically known that someday gay marriage will be viewed like interracial marriages are today, as inherent rights for people opposed by bigots and those who refuse to deal with the modern world, but I think it happens sooner than we think. I give it about twenty years, give or take, especially if the Supreme Court ever goes liberal by a 6-3 majority with younger justices being able to assert themselves.

One can ask, in the midst of this hopeful flight of fancy, if there is a political price to be paid. Honestly, the answer is yes, but not for Spitzer or the NY state Democrats. No, he is way too popular at the moment to be touched, and he's actually going on the offensive against State Senate Republicans for blocking campaign finance reforms. This latter move has the potential to reshape NY State politics for the first time in my lifetime, but some explanations are in order. For basically forever, the State Assembly has had a Democratic majority , and the State Senate a Republican majority. As a result, the leaders of both houses, along with the governor, sit in a room each year and basically run the state. It's a classic top-down, party boss system and in no way allows the interests of the public to be represented at all. The stability of the arrangement has been maintained by an informal, off-the-record truce, in which neither side nor the governor really interferes in the other's affairs. Thankfully, Democrats seem to have realized that with the entire Northeast trending heavily blue, this arrangement basically screws them over for no reason. Earlier this year, they actually picked off a Republican-held State Senate seat, and indications are that they might actually try to win more in 2008 for a change.

It's important to remember that dissatisfaction with the Republicans, which led to the Democratic wave in 2006, shows no signs of retreating. We've got all sorts of indictments either underway or in the works, and public opinion continues to turn against the war in a big way. Just today, it was reported that 55% of Americans agree with Harry Reid that the war is lost, so one could easily argue that no matter how much the Republicans hyperventilate about treason and such, it really does help the Democratic cause, since the war is so bloody unpopular. Call it a hunch, but I think issues like this may carry a bit more weight that Spitzer's take on gay marriage in 2008.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Tuesday Feet blogging

Results of the first big sonogram below. All systems check out perfectly, everything looked good. We got to see the heart (all four chambers), the brain, various appendages, and all sorts of other stuff that was hard to identify. As to the big question, we're still in the dark. It seems the wee lass or laddie curently has the umbilical cord running between his/her legs, which made it impossible to see what does or does not lie beneath.

Left Foot, with approximately 5 toes (along with the giant brain [left]):
left foot

Right Foot with approximately 5 toes (looking down the leg):
rigt foot

Side view. Crown of the head is to the left. Face, looking upward, is the brighter area running horizontally on the left. He/she is chewing on one hand, which is balled into a fist. The humerus runs off horizontally to the right about 60% of the way up on the image.
side view

Monday, April 23, 2007

Keeping busy

Just in case anyone took a break from Rooted Cosmopolitans, there are four posts up from today and yesterday. We've got book reviews of Los Gusanos, by author and film director John Sayles, and Dreaming in Cuban, by Cristina Garcia, who for some reason I've been completely misidentifying as a relation of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, even though she's Cuban-American and he's rather famously Colombian. UPDATE:Forgot to mention, I'll have reviews out soon of Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, World's Fair, by E.L. Doctorow, and Running With Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs. I like two out of the three. Anyone care to hazard a guess as to which two?

On the political side, we've got my surprising support for the media in light of the Virginia Tech tragedy, though I'll note that NBC's branding of Cho's materials was more than a bit tasteless.

Finally, I seem to have started a trend by complaining about the Great Wall of Baghdad. Just yesterday, it seems, the Iraqi government let us know that they don't want it either. Needless to say, this is a colossal FUBAR on the part of everyone involved. It's getting harder and harder to say with a straight face that they are in charge when we keep disagreeing with their government about whose troops should be doing what, and we're already sounding out overthrowing the government now in power. Even if Harry Reid actually hedged his statements, I see no need. The War is lost.

Man's best friend outside of a dog, 9: Los Gusanos, by John Sayles

For the second half of our Cuban-American double feature, we have Los Gusanos (The Worms), by John Sayles. I should say off the bat that Sayles is one of those guys who has slipped under my radar. Best known as a director (Lone Star, Return of the Seacacus 7, Brother from Another Planet), the only movie of his that I've actually seen is Eight Men Out, and that only because it's about baseball. I can't claim any credit for picking this book up somewhere; as I remember, we got it during a Christmas book exchange, but sometimes you really do get lucky. Like the book I read immediately prior to it, the focus is on the Cuban-American and Cuban communities, though with a primary focus on Miami. Even though the basic setups are roughly the same, spanning decades in the lives of its protagonists, the books could hardly be more different. Sayles has a definite story to tell, and even though we often get looks insides his characters heads, they are very much rooted to their own location and situation. This is not a novel of dreams, but one of concrete histories, showing how we reach our current state through a series of events and experiences. Put another way, whereas the motivating forces in Dreaming in Cuban are primarily internal, here they are almost exclusively external. Characters are much more deeply tied to each other, in the tangled web of politics and culture that is Miami.


In many ways, the governments exist in Los Gusanos immediately off-screen, acting via the CIA and other sources to keep the community constantly in flux. Then again, I think it is fair to say that the Cuban community in Miami does a pretty good job of that all on their own. One of the greatest mysteries to me has been how the US government seems willing to maintain a policy towards Cuba that has never shown any sign of working, all while the expat community supports the vociferously no matter how many times the CIA undercuts their aspirations of retaking the island. From the Bay of Pigs to later failed insurgencies, it seems that some forces in our government are willing to trade something, be it reliable Republican votes, some control over organized crime in Southern Florida, or god only knows what, just so long as they make sure to say really mean things about Fidel. As for the Cuban-American community, you might think that having failed to overthrow Fidel for 40 years now, they might be willing to consider some amount of compromise in order to see long-separated family members...but apparently you'd be wrong.

In the novel, this plays out as a generation torn between the appeal of organized crime, ragtag invasion militias, or quieter, more humdrum lives in the beautiful weather of South Florida. Living so fast, many fail to see just how much they are pawns in the hands of the powerful (or to quote Fidel himself, Gusanos). Through vignettes, we get to see fragments of the life stories of the many protagonists, reminiscent of something one might expect from Robert Altman. It's hard to identify any particular story that is truly more compelling than the rest, but it's interesting to read a big, sprawling novel that can manage to balance any number of competing threads to paint a picture of a city across the years much more successfully than groups of blind men are typically assumed to describe elephants. If the characters themselves are a bit flat, the settings themselves certainly jump out. It's not the language per se, which features a somewhat intimidating amount of Spanish intermixed with decent prose, but rather the clear idea that he has for each chapter, infusing each with a strong sense of narrative flow that carries throughout the novel. I have to say, for a random acquisition, I really liked the book, enough to add several of his films to our Netflix queue.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Man's best friend outside of a dog, 8: Dreaming in Cuban, by Cristina Garcia

There is something of a recurring theme in the female characters that appear in magical realism novels, in that at least one woman per family needs to live at least partially on the spiritual plane. This is very clear in Isabel Allende's "House of the Spirits", forms perhaps the main theme of "Like Water For Chocolate (haven't read it, but I've seen the movie a couple times), and makes up the heart of this novel as well. The story of three generations of a family split between Cuba and New York, the book takes a very ethereal approach to issues of dislocation and separation, much more concerned with people's dreams than their politics. Garcia isn't much of a narrative storyteller, more a spinner of tales that illuminate facets of her characters and their relationships. Perhaps befitting the image of the Cuban community as a wee bit out there (let's face it, every fictional work ever set in Miami basically assumes this as truth, from Scarface to Miami Vice to CSI, or the novels of Dave Barry and Carl Hiaasen, among others), most of the characters are a wee bit insane, at least at times.


If there is a running theme in the book, it is the ways in which isolation can force us to extremes, regardless of whether the isolation is caused by family or by the politics of an embargo. From generation to generation, we have love and other emotions expressed as both alliance and antagonism, as only families can inspire. Most of the action here, such as it is, lies within it's protagonists' minds.They retreat into memory, seek out connections, and basically try to find a place in the world for themselves, all while the potential sources of stability generally conspire against them. Still, it is not so much the events in their lives that define them, but rather their reactions to them, and the people who surround them. Inasmuch as the book is a meditation about mindsets, it is ultimately successful, more a painting than a story to remember. Garcia, it should be noted, writes in English like the world's finest writers write in Spanish, heavy on the adjectives but in a way that explores the bounds of expression. Think Marquez, but with multiple sentences per page. It's rare to find such confident prose stylings, and really stands out among the various Spanish/Latin American authors out there.
 

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