Blog
July 29, 2006
MOVIE OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
As I watched his new movie "Scoop", I couldn't help but marvel at the way Woody Allen has managed to let his nose and ears continue to grow over the years while somehow keeping his bald spot exactly the same size. This is indeed a trick more impressive than any that he performs in his role as Splendini the Magician in this quite likeably loose and lighthearted film. Indeed, with his age-enhanced features, he looks more like a caricature of himself all the time. While somehow also looking more and more like Alan Greenspan in the process.
Also, it was strange to see Ian McShane in a role other than Swearingen in my favorite show "Deadwood." I am sure I would have had all kinds of astute observations about the movie to share with you, but frankly I was too distracted by the disorienting spectacle of Mr. McShane speaking with some kind of vaguely British accent and not saying "cocksucker" every few words. I was also, of course, distracted by Scarlett Johanson's meaty lips and Woody's efforts not to break out of his paternal role and kiss them. (Although I guess paternal roles haven't stopped him from such activity in the past. But lest it seem that I'm slamming him, let me add, in tribute to the film, that I think he's a "beautiful, beautiful human being and credit to his race.")
NON MOVIE OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
I just read that Saddam asked that, if convicted, he be shot by a shooting squad like a soldier rather than be hanged like a common criminal. I had no idea there was more prestige in the former than the latter. No suspicion that there was a hierarchy in the world of capital punishment. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It seems everything is ultimately about status and competition. From whose baby is cuter or smarter. To whose delivery was more grueling. (“Oh, you used an epidural?…Wimp!!). To whose tumor is more impressive. (“That blastoma is nothing. Mine is the size of a volleyball." ) to of course—as famously observed by Sarah Silverman--concentration camps. (“Yeah, many members of my family were killed in the holocaust—but we were in one of the better camps.”)
There seems to be no concern so ultimate and primal as to be unsullied by the human quest for status. Sort of sad. Sort of fascinating. Sort of ecce homo.
FRAGMENT OF THE DAY:
Her pay-per-view eyes, his time share heart.
STAGGERING (DEPRESSING) FACT OF THE DAY:
According to a recent Harris Poll, 64 Percent of Americans still believe that Saddam had strong links with Al Qaeda.
QUOTE OF THE DAY/LOOPHOLE OF THE DAY:
As Paul Krugman reminds us in his NYT Op-Ed column today, Condi Rice acknowledged that "as far as we know Saddam did not order 9/11 and may not have even known about 9/11, But, that's a very narrow definition of what caused Sept. 11." That, of course, is a very broad definition of logical. But a very useful definition of the surreal rhetorical strategy of this administration. I hear rumor that she continued: "As far as we know Paul Krugman did not order 9/11 and may not have even known about 9/11. But that's a very narrow definition of what caused Sept 11 and does not mean that we were not fully justified in locking Mr. Krugman up in one of our secret prisons which as far as you know don't really exist."
MEDIA CRITIQUE OF THE DAY: (With debt to Krugman).
Not correcting the simple dishonesties and untruths disseminated by the government's disinformation machine. For example, when Bush says the U.S. had to invade Iraq because Saddam wouldn't let U.N. weapons inspectors in--as he did as recently as a few weekes ago--no one in the media points out the blatant untruth of that statement. The exposure of a factual untruth is somehow not deemed newsworthy. Whereas the quotation of a certifiable untruth somehow is. Despite recent signs of a more emboldened media, this fascinating complicty persists. Of course, instead of being quietly grateful that the media is not reporting on the demonstrable untruth of certain statements made by the White House, the administration spinmasters continue their preposterous charges of left wing media bias and chide the press for not reporting on "good news" from Iraq. It's a tribute to the Orwellian success of the administration's disinformation machine (and the power of human wish fulfillment, denial, gullibility and ignorance), that they have managed to make those of us who want simple recourse to the factual record look like anti-American whiners. Truly dazzling.
IRAQ GOOD NEWS OF THE DAY: (In the spirit of the "fair and balanced" reporting asked for by the administration).
No American Solders were accused of rape or murder today in Fallujah.
REQUEST--NO, MAKE THAT DEMAND-- OF THE DAY:
(After seeing an ad for "Ricky Bobby") I don't ever want to have to see Will Ferrell in his underwear again.
WISH I HAD A CAMERA MOMENT OF THE DAY:
I am in a restuarant. I see a woman sitting in a chair outside with the reflection of an open flame from within the restaurant perfectly centered abover her head on the window through which I see her. It gives the perfect photo-shopped impression of a woman with her head on fire. It is very entertaining to look at as she, totally unaware of her apparent immolation, goes about the business of eating her sandwich and making her calls.
POST BIRTHDAY ANECDOTE OF THE DAY:
I am pleased to report that I began my most recent lap around the sun in fine fashion, with my best performance on the basketball court in years. It was a crazy burst of energy that made me think I should submit a urine sample for steroids testing after the game. But then of course, I realized that I, like Mr. Landis, must've just had a naturally high testoserone level--perhaps elevated by the previous night's birthday alcohol. Anyhow, it helped lift my spirits and helped me defy the tyranny of chronology. Age is just a number. Etc. etc. Or at least that's what I told myself until I woke up so stiff and sore the next morning that I almost needed a walker.
MEDIA OBSERVATION:
The NY Post the other day had a cover article implying some scurrilous association between Christy Brinkley’s adulterous cradle robbing husband and Hillary Clinton--basically because he at some point donated some money to her campaign. Moral contamination by association. Adultery by osmosis. Quality journalism by example.
NATURE IS ONE SCARY MOTHER ARTICLE OF THE DAY:
http://www.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn7927
Warning: If susceptible ot nightmares, do not read.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“In some ways (he) does remind me of my father,” she told me. “He was brave, tall, strong, he liked killing animals and he was unreliable.” From article “Ruffled Feathers” by John Seabrook in May 29 New Yorker.
ONION-ESQUE (OR SHALLOT-LIKE) HEADLINE OF THE DAY:
In effort to lose label as least hip neighborhood, Upper East Side to rebrand itself as Lower East Harlem.
CARTOON WITHOUT ILLUSTRATION OF THE DAY:
VISUAL: Young man with a big lip ring on his upper lip. On his cheek is a tattoo with an arrow pointing to the lip ring. The tattoo reads: "Desperate Cry for Attention."
Behold the perfectly ironized man.
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
His capacity for heartlessness was matched only by his capacity for self-pity.
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Posted on 7/29/2006
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July 26, 2006
GESTURE OF THE DAY:
When you answer a question right or do anything remotely successful, give the basketball shot motion with the hand hanging overhead on the follow through as the imaginary shot goes through the imaginary hoop...and just leave it hanging up there indefinitely. Until it becomes really awkward (or your arm falls asleep--whichever comes first.)
PROMISE OF THE DAY:
Once I find the cable cord for my digital camera, I'll post a photo of the aforementioned gesture of the day--in case my verbal description does not evoke a sufficiently vivid image.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I hate to give the Gibb boys credit, but God DAMN could they sing like girls!"
(Upon overhearing a song from "Saturday Night Fever.")
BIRTHDAY REFLECTION OF THE DAY:
Life is arguably a perpetual orbit around the mystery of our birth (and --by implication--our death). On our birthday, we take a day to reflect on these twinned mysteries, on the space that stretches out betweeen them and on the pleasure of having other people pay for our drinks.
On our birthday we sit back and accept the congratulations of others. We rest on our laurels. And our laurel in this case is having been born.
CONCEPTUAL ART IDEA OF THE DAY:
Prompted by seeing a sign that said "Lost. 3 legged black cat. If found, please call _________" on my way to work and after asking myself "How in the world do you lose a 3 legged cat? How in the world can it get far enough away to be lost?" and not finding any satisfactory answer. Anyhow, without further ado, the idea: Plaster the neighborhood with "Lost. My innocence. Last seen in 1983. If found, please call---." and "Lost. My youth. Not quite sure when it slipped away. But if you find it, please call." "Lost. My hair." "Lost. My Mojo. If found, please call." Etc. I think it could be cool to post these things and photo document them--and perhaps the response people have to them.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED INTERACTIVE FEATURE OF THE DAY:
Should I actually execute the above idea or leave it mercifully in the realm of things conceived and not acted upon?
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
I am a little concerned about this whole resurgence of all things German. There's the teutonic Dr. Z exclaiming the virtues of German Engineering in that Daimler Chrysler campaign. There's the whole "V Dub in da House" German guy rapping Ali G. style for VW. There's the whole World Cup in Germany thing--taking place in the stadium where Hitler opened the 1936 Olympic games. There's Chancelor Angie Merkel looking aghast at non-V W's attempt to give her a back rub at the G-8 Conference. And, most disconcertingly, an ad campaign along an entire corridor of Grand Central station, with the slightly menacing (at least for me) tagline: Germany: Land of Ideas. Yeah, yeah. We know ALL about those ideas. The sequence of ads ends with a poster that reads: See you in Germany. Hmmm. I think I'm gonna pass.
QUANDARY OF THE DAY:
As a hardcore, long-suffering Knicks fan and confirmed Dolan and Isaiah hater, do I root for or against the Blue and Orange this season? Part of me really wants to see Isaiah fall on his face. But there's less enduring pleasure in rooting against your team than their is in rooting for it. What to do? What to do? One has to weigh the pleasure of seeing the guys you like winning (Frye, Lee, Crawford) versus the pleasure you'd feel seeing the guys you hate (Isaiah, Marbury etc.) losing. A tricky emotional calculus, this one. Of course, the worst thing that could happen for all parties concerned is to have this rag tag futureless, untenable group play .500 ball, make the playoffs as like a 7th or 8th seed and allow this illusion of competitiveness to prevent the house cleaning that's needed for actual progress. It'll be interesting to see how my old heart responds when the season is actually underway. I suspect I'll be rooting against them--as there are enough surrogate teams and players whom I actually like rooting for (Phoenix, Dallas, etc.) to sustain me.
DESCRIPTION OF THE DAY:
After the break-up, while the possibility of friendship or even reconciliation was still alive, her voice--upon answering the phone when he'd call--would modulate exquisitely from icy distance to loving warmth to guarded neutrality in the space of a single sentence. She betrayed almost a tonal attitude per phoneme--the conversation eloquently encapsulating, in its brief entirety, the emotional uncertainty of the space they, for a time, inhabited.
BIRTHDAY PLAYLIST OF THE DAY:
"Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters" by Elton John
"Umbrella" by Innocence Mission
"Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood" by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
:Neighborhood" 1 by Arcade Fire
"This Must Be The Place" by the Talking Heads
"Wondering Aloud" by Jethro Tull
"Born In Time" by Bob Dylan
"Cutting Branches for a Temporary Shelter" by Penguin Cafe
INDIGNITY OF THE DAY:
Having two twenty somethings humorlessly complain about incipient (and indeed invisible) hairloss and on the bodlily symptoms of advancing age as I gummed down my shrimp with lobster sauce.
FELICITOUS MISPRONUNCIATION OF THE DAY:
"Plutonic." As in an assurance by someone in the Bill Bellichick adultery case, that the relationship was totally "Plutonic."
WORST SELLING VIDEO OF THE DAY:
Bad Girls Gone Good.
MUSIC OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:/ COMPARISON OF THE DAY:
The Stones versus Rufus Wainright. Whereas the Stones pick the hottest backup singers in the world to distract you from the unseemliness of 62 year old men thrusting their pelvises as they sing about sexual conquest, Rufus picks female backup singers whose physical and vocal beauty compare unfavorably with his own. The Stones want to give the impression that they can still fuck the prettiest girl in the room while Rufus simply wants to be the prettiest girl in the room.
MOVIE OF THE DAY:
"Bad Santa." Really surprisingly funny. Amazing chemistry between the chubby effeminate blank-faced kid and the unredeemably degenerate Billy Bob Thornton. A chemistry as comedically successful as any I've seen since that between Ben Stiller and Robert DeNiro in "Meet the Parents."
OXYMORON OF THE DAY:
"Wildly efficient"--a phrase actually used --with no apparent irony--in an e-mail I received yesterday.
NAME OF THE DAY::
Seattle Pitcher J.J. Putz.
BAD ADS OF THE DAY:
What's with these Snickers ads--written in that Snickers signature font? With inane addy copy like "Nugatocity" and the appetite inhibiting ""Hungerectomy." Isn't it bad enough that the Snickers bar (and Snickers packaging) already look unflatteringly fecal? Did they need to add images of sexual organs being removed to further gild the brand? How about "Stupidocity" or "Inane-o-licious?"
NEWS ITEM OF THE DAY:
http://www.forbes.com/home/feeds/ap/2006/07/24/ap2900817.html
Congress (under Arlen Specter) is finally prepping a bill to oppose the Bush signing statements (and associated illegal transfer of power from the legislative to the executive branch of our government) that I've written about a few times on these electronic pages. They've finally awakened to the no-holds-barred power grab of the imperial presidency.
EMOTIONAL MOMENT OF THE DAY:
On my birthday, looking at photos of my bar mitzvah, I am dazzled by the dislocating passage of time. There are my parents, recently separated. There are their friends--coiffed in 70s dos and still in the bloom of their youth--all younger than I am myself now. There are my beloved dear departed grandparents, drinks raised in toast, smiles forever fixed on their loving faces There is my 7th grade crush Carolyn Mello, whose feline beauty-- I am shocked to discover--still makes my heart skip a beat. And there I am, amidst the family and the friends (almost all now absent--out of death or disconnection). There I am--like it was yesterday-- in my yellow shirt, my red pants, my braces and my innocence...I who have been more aged than ripened by the succession of years. I who am still in some sense staggered that it had all been as a dream--a fluxus I mistook for a locus, a river I mistook for a rock, a perpetual point of departure I mistook for a home.
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
Behind the distracted facade was a man who was truly and completely not there.
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Posted on 7/26/2006
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July 21, 2006
POLITICAL OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
After declining invitations to speak to the NAACP for the last 6 years, Bush finally addressed the organization earlier this week and began his speech with the quippy ice-breaker "Bet you're all thinking what took me so long?" No, actually, that's what the folks in New Orleans were thinking. These people are quite aware of what took you so long: Your busy schedule of vigorous Crawford vacations, staged press conferences and NAAWP functions. Oh, and your complete lack of interest in black people not named Condi.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
""See the irony is that what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over"
-Bush caught by microphone talking to Tony Blair while chewing on a buttered roll.
http://graphics.nytimes.com/packages/audio/politics/bush_g8audio.mp3
What's noteworthy to me is not Bush saying "shit" but Bush using the word "irony." Now that, my friends, is something truly shocking and unexpected. A concept and a word I did not think he was familiar with. There we go, underestimating him again!
BEST SONG EVER OF THE DAY:
“Mr. November”, by The National. A raw emotionality, reminscent of Arcade Fire. Such passion and longing and nostalgia. For youth. For love. For the intensest autumn of the heart.
Such poetry in the line “I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders.” And the aching desire to hold it all together, under the sign of the mythic self. ”I won’t fuck us over.”, the singer promises—in what one feels is already an acknowledgment of a previous inability to do so and, hence, less a promise than an apology, a loss-haunted effort to make things right. “I’m Mr. November. I’m Mr. November. I won’t fuck us over. “
It’s a striking song because the lyrics are so boastful and conceited like in stereotypical rap, but they are belied by the incredible lyricism and vulnerability of the melody--which make it clear that it is a song about failure and not victory.
When I listen to Mr. November I am falling falling through a perpetual autumn past the trees of my innocence towards the wound of my birth.
OTHER CONTENDERS FOR FUTURE BEST SONG EVER OF THE DAY CONSIDERATION:
“Wild is the Wind” The David Bowie Version, “I Want You” by Elvis Costello, “It’s Fall Again” by Kath Bloom, “Atmosphere” By Joy Division.
ACTUAL E-MAIL EXCHANGE OF THE DAY:
(Actually, it happened about a year ago, but I was reminded of it by the fact that our street was cordoned off again today for some U.N. meeting.)
E-mail Sent:
Just exited my building at the same moment the Bush motorcade passed by on the cordoned off street. The entire force of the state summoned for this ostentatiously imperial display---as the emperor chimp was escorted to an institution he doesn't believe in to read a (phonetically transcribed) speech he did not write. The spectacle of 100 motorcycles and about 75 black SUVS with flashing lights and grim-looking, camo-attired military guys sporting barely concealed sub-atomic rifles (and an obvious eagerness to use them), filled me with such rage and disgust that I had to shout out--in a kind of self-destructive tourretic outburst-- "Nice way to conserve gasoline! Nice Way to conserve gasoline! What would Jesus drive? God Bless America."
E-Mail received:
prank caller. prank caller. i think you must have sent
this email in error. i don't know you, and even if i
did i would not subscribe to your unpatriotic rant. i
love george bush. i wish him no harm. conservation is
a personal virtue, not a basis for an energy policy.
drill the arctic. i want to buy a humvee. evolution is
a jewish plot to undermine jesus. i like football.
amen.
TRIBUTE TO THE POWER OF BARRY MANILOW OF THE DAY:
www.johnhesch.com/2006/07/17/barry-manilow-discourages-park-hooligans/
Barry Manilow. A force so strong it can overcome a swarm of amped-up, trouble-seeking angry young hooligans.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED INTERACTIVE FEATURE OF THE DAY::
R.I.P. to the Founder of Hooters, who died on Monday. What, I wonder, is the most fitting memorial tribute?
a) A 21 boob salute.
b) Only black hooter tops will be worn for a week.
c) Patrons' boners will be worn at half mast.
d) Other
TEDDY VEGAS UNBRANDED INTERACTIVE FEATURE OF THE DAY:
On what date will Barry Bonds be indicted (or definitively cleared of criminal wrongdoing)? The respondant who guesses closest wins his choice of a juicer or a syringe filled with Vitamin water.
SUBWAY FRUSTRATION OF THE DAY:
An announcement that was intelligible up to the point of the key piece of information --which was perfectly timed to correspond to the arrival of a loud train and was hence completely inaudible. "Because of a break in a water main at 34th street and 7th avenue, there is no service on the 7th avenue line. For downtown service please take the------(Insert sound of arriving train.)" This was repeated three straight times. Which seems like a sufficeintly large sample for me to conclude that it could not be the product of mere chance and incompeteence and so must have been the product of malice and forethought. Indeed, evidence of Malevolent Design.
EDIFYING IF INADVERTENT EAVESDROPPING MOMENT OF THE DAY:
I overheard a woman at a newstand speaking to her friend.
WOMAN: Is that Katie Holmes?…Wait, no..it’s Brittney Spears.
The fact that the two could be so easily confused felt like a poignant comment on the perils of motherhood with unloving, self-involved self-esteem diminishing husbands. Turns women as diverse as Katie Holmes and Brittney Spears into indisguishable blobs with blank looks on their faces.
PEEVE OF THE DAY:
TD Waterhouse Ameritrade ads. Double grievance. First they did that "Born Free" grandstrosity...with people singing "Born free...as free as the wind blows etc." at their ATM machines. And the payoff--if one wants to dignify it by calling it that--is that there's free checking or something. Get it? A different meaning of "free" with no relationship whatsoever to the meaning of the song. A first ballot entry into the Advertising Hall of Shame. An ad that makes you embarrassed to be in advertising. Hell, an ad that makes you embarassed to be human. Anyhow, now, they have followed up that audio visual inanity by running another ad that completely ruins the beautiful anthem "Bittersweet Symphony" for all of us. This time at least there is not a twisted misconceived botched word play at the end of it. In fact--and perhaps this is for the best--there is not even a shadow of a trace of a hint of a concept. Except general desecration. I guess that's the concept.
NOT ENTIRELY PLEASANT IRONY OF THE DAY::
Returning from seeing Ralph Fiennes in Faith Healer to find David Wright shilling for a faith healer in a mid-game commecial.
BUSINESS CARD TITLE OF THE DAY:
Rich Dinkes, VBD. (Very Big Deal).
PARADOXICAL REACTIONS OF THE DAY:
Guy who saw “Slow: Danger zone” sign and sped away cause he wanted to get as far away from it as possible.
Guy who saw cigarettes cause lung cancer ad and got so stressed out by it that he needed to smoke.
GRATUITOUS SOCIOLOGICAL EXPERIMENT OF THE DAY:
Instead of saying "Gesundheit", "God bless you" or even the Seinfeldian "You are so good looking" when someone sneezes, try saying "That is a disgusting habit!" with as much disdain as you can muster.
SINGLE SENTENCE RANDOM PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
He worked on a Need-To-Not-Know basis.
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Posted on 7/21/2006
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July 15, 2006
BEST ZIDANE THEORY OF THE DAY: (Before the actual utterance was revealed--via a crack staff of lip readers and, then, Zidane himself.)
"My guess is that the Italian guy said "Mocki Hoy Ding-Ding". I don't know what it means but I know it makes big trouble since, as a small kid in Washington Heights, I would occasionally open the door of George the Chinese laundryman's place and yell it. He would then chase me with a long knife. it was the beginning of my track and field career."
QUOTE OF THE DAY: (Again, before the actual utterance was revealed.)
I did insult him, it's true," Materazzi said in Tuesday's Gazzetta dello Sport. "But I categorically did not call him a terrorist. I'm not cultured and I don't even know what an Islamic terrorist is."
ZIDANE OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
OK. After all the enjoyable speculation as to what Materazzi said to Zidane to provoke the headbutt, it appears that it was not a terrorist slur, nor an indictment of Zidane's manhood, nor an unflattering representation of his mother, nor the taunt "Moki Hoy Ding Dong", nor an aspersion cast on French cuisine, but rather an insult to the honor of his sister. According to Zidane, the Italian player was tugging at his shirt and he (Zidane) responded, "If you want my shirt so badly I'll give it to you after the game." To which the Italian wit responded, "I'd rather have it off the back of your whore sister." At which point, as we all know, Zidane gave him head--in a most public and unamorous fashion.
There is a code of honor among sports competitors learned from the schoolyard on up: You can trash talk all you want about the person and his dubious manhood. You can call him honey. Sweety. Your bitch. Whatever. But you simply don't talk about his mother or sister. Materazzi's insult was in flagrant violation of the tacitly acknowledged code of the game--and of family honor. While Zidane's response was indefensible in terms of his identity as a professional athlete, it was completely defensible in terms of his identity as a man. The meaning of his gesture was this: The ancient code of family honor trumps the concerns of internationalism and the logics of victory and defeat. There is at least some kind of case to be made that such a position is somehow righteous. Or at the very least, honestly human.
While he is no transcendent hero, he is no villain or monster either. He is simply a guy.
Anyhow, my reflection on the matter is this: (Warning: Gross cultural. stereotypes to follow). In an assessment of French history and the French "character", non confrontation and compensatory condescension loom large. Escort the Nazis into Paris. And then look down your nose at them. Beg the Americans to save your ass in WWII and then act like they are beneath your gratitude and contempt. It is a culture of endless abstraction and equally endless inaction--one far more comfortable with discourse than with force. The only iconic tough guys I can think of in French culture are the film noir heroes like Jean Pierre Belmondo--who are explicitly modelled on American noir toughs and thugs. Granted, this is a broad cultural generalization. But, like most such generalizations, it is sustained by a certain grain of truth. When an American argues with a French person (or for that matter most middle and northern Europeans), the French faith in and taste for discourse and reason usually far exceeds the American's...who often ends up attempting to resolve the matter not by reason, but by force. In the ancient relationship between force and discourse, the French are infinitely less comfortable with the former than the latter. (Although they could no doubt kick our ass in the theory department by writing impressive volumes on the altercation like--and I apologize in advance for what may be as unseemly an assault on the magnificent French language as Zidane's headbutt was on Materazzi's magnificent sternum-- "La Language de la lutte physical" or "La Signification Dialectique de la geste violente.")
I suppose that a culture based on "I think therefore I am" finds unreasoned brute action somehow offensive to its core identity. This is why I found the Zidane gesture so significant. For once, here was a French guy not avoiding confrontation (and seeking the consolation of compensatory condescenion and retrospective ridicule), here was a French guy not acquiescing and then resenting, here was a French guy not resorting to abstraction and the godly pretentions of discourse, in fact here was a French guy not even resorting to thought at all (not even the simple calculus of self-interest.): Instead here was a French guy doing the far more American thing of seeing red and kicking ass. Of pulling a cranial version of Operation Shock and Awe.
I have a feeling that in some funny way, it was cathartic for the French for once to be on the side of force versus reason. Of aggression versus abstraction. Of finally liberating their heads from the oppressive imperatives of thought. I think this explains the French obsession with the incident. And their refusal to condemn Zidane, even before he explained what had precipitated the act.
(Come to think of it, the only other act of brute unreasoned violence in Frensh literature I can think of was provided by another Algerian-French figure, Albert Camus, via his protagonist Meursault in "The Stranger" --although that act of "absurd" violence was neither cathartic nor a defensible response to a provocation.)
I can see thiswhole Zidane Incident having an enduring effect on the French psyche. "Cogito Ergo Sum"* will turn into "Cogito Ergo Boom." Or is it "Non Cogito Ergo Boom??"
--
*For the pretentiousness challenged: That is Latin for "I Think therefore I am."
FRENCH CELEBRITY DEATH MATCH QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Zidane versus Descartes. In 100 years, which will be seen as being a more important event in French cultural history: Descartes saying "Cogito Ergo Sum." or Zidane saying "Boom?" Which is the more significant use of the head? Which will have a more enduring effect on the French national character?
CLARIFICATION/SELF-INDICTMENT OF THE DAY:
The preceding gratuitous bashing of the French in no way implies a concommitant valorization of the Americans. I'd rather sit on the fence--like someone more French than the French--and take pot shots at them both!
ZIDANE QUESTION OF THE DAY:
What language was Materazzi's insult delivered in? Italian? French? English? Esperanto? Semaphore? It's never discussed. It's funny that even these two self-avowed un-cultured european street kids obviously know at least two languages each--which makes them more linguistically diverse than 90% of college educated Americans.
NEWS SUMMARY OF THE DAY:
On the downside, it looks like World War III may be breaking out in the Middle East. On the upside, scientists have created a kind of chocolate that doesn't melt!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/space/20060714/sc_space/scientistsconcoctchocolatethatwontmelt
HEADLINE OF THE DAY/MEDIA COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
"Outbreak of War in Middle East Deflecting Attention From Administration's Progress in Region."
In the Wall Street Journal (of course). Spinning to the bitter end. Interestingly, pretty much everything in the article undermined the notion that Bush is making progress in Iraq. But the pro administration headline writer just threw in the gratuitous plug for his boys. I can imagine a headline some time down the road: "Global Nuclear Holocaust validates Bush's Foreign Policy."
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Interesting to see Valerie Plame suing Cheney and Rove--using the civil court as a recourse when the satisfactions of the criminal court are denied. In this ritual re-enactment of the OJ drama, the role of the Goldman family will be playhed by Valerie Plame. (OK, one was an unpunished hatchet job, the other was an unpunished slashing. But close enough.)
IRONY OF THE DAY:
I had to spend about an hour this morning, trying to figure out where to put the various organizational devices I've bought over the course of the last few years and never used! About half of that time was devoted to organizing the unused organizers--file folders, shoe racks, under the bed garment bags etc. I suppose I can credit this to off-the-charts laziness or extreme organizational dysfunction. Or I can attempt the more flattering explanation that it's a product of my extreme weakness for recursive logic and self-referential irony. (The smart money is on the laziness.)
IRONY OF THE DAY #2: (With an accent on the IRON in "IRONY.")
They now make these Gummy vitamins so tasty and candy like that kids regularly eat the whole jar full and have to get hospitalized for having excessive iron in their system.
QUOTE OF THE DAY #2:
"Hey, were the attacks in Mumbai or Bombay??"
LINK OF THE DAY:
The dicklessly dickish digressions of one Ricky Gervais. Perhaps the funniest sequence I've ever seen of his.
www.devilducky.com/media/47944/
REFUTATION OF INTELLIGENT DESIGN OF THE DAY:
A Maine Lobsterman caught a rare two-toned lobster--one that looks nothing so much as half-baked.
http://www.boston.com/news/odd/articles/2006/07/14/maine_lobsterman_pulls_up_rare_lobster/
I think it's nature way of saying "hooey" to the Intelligent design argument. "Look. Lots of my ideas aren't intelligent. In fact they're half-baked."
COMEDY BIT OF THE DAY:
One armed guy looks in the mirror and says: "Hey, why didn't anyone tell me I was missing an arm!"
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Posted on 7/15/2006
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July 10, 2006
WORLD CUP COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
In a delightful contest between former Nazi collaborators--in the very stadium where Hitler watched the 1936 Olympic games--France controlled pretty much all of the action over the last 75 mintues of the game yet still managed to lose 2-1 to the magnifently coiffed Italians. It was nice to see France confirm its repuation as a heady, cerebral culture--with Zenmaster Zidane ending his storied career with a perfectly ill-timed header to the sternum. Pretty startling use of the old noggin. One has to wonder what the Italian guy said to him to pique his ire and prompt the ridiculously ill-advised illegal use of head. A sexual, racial or religious slur? A claim that Fellini is greater than Truffaut? An observation that the Rogaine isn't working? Whatever it was that provoked this Ron Artest moment, the follicularly-challenged great will have a lot of explaining to do to the teammates he let down.
And speaking of letting down: It's terribly unsatisfying to see matters of such global importance resolved by recourse to penalty kicks--particularly with the day's clearly inferior team prevailing.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
What did the Italian guy say to Zidane to prompt his most unamorous giving of head?
FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE WORLD CUP:
Nice to see the World Cup failing to feed America's delusions of world dominance. Nice to have the other nations in the world join forces to say, in effect, "Yes, you're the special country. But now you have to go home." I think, in the end, that is good for our national character.
Seemed appropriate that the perfectly coiffed Italian team had a star goalkeeper named Buffon (That's a hair-do, right?). Oh, wait, that's 'bouffant.' Never mind. Quip disallowed.
MOVIE REFLECTION OF THE DAY:
The other night, I was somehow persuaded to see "The Devil Wears Prada" --essentially a two hour Sex and the City episode. Before the movie I saw a trailer for this new movie about the 9/11 attacks entitled "World Trade Center." While I never saw more than the trailer for the Flight 93 movie, I somehow didn't find the idea of that cinematic effort totally objectionable. But there is something about the presence of a movie star (a creepily mustached and outer borough accented Nicolas Cage), that makes this movie feel obsene and exploitative-- a bit too produced and Spielbergian in its efforts at pop redemption and communal healing. The presence of a star somehow makes you acutely aware of the Hollywood machine and the egos that grease it. Flight 93 had no recognizeable actors and so was able to function as a transparent window onto these awful events. But, here, the window is inescapably smudged by celebrity and ego-- or at the very least is somewhat less than perfectly transparent, bearing as it does the reflection of the actors and director behind it. Alternatively put, in a Hollywood pic, a star never merely serves the story. The story also serves the star (his career, his rep, his aura). And in a case like this, it feels unseemly. Perhaps even a desecration.
I am also struck by the irony of a movie about a reality that felt--as it was unfolding--like a movie. (Remember how many people kept saying "It doesn't feel real or it feels too real. Like it's a movie.")
Frankly, I can't imagine what sense of insane egotism or misguided humilty or insistent blandishments of Oliver Stone led Nicolas Cage to agree to make this film. Probably the same misguided instincts that convinced him to marry Elvis's daughter.
WIMBLEDON COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
One has to love the excruciating awkwardness of the family box at the championship match. The perpetual battle between emotion and etiquette on display for all to see.
Why does the Chair umpire get a trophy? He didn't play anyone.
And what was Celine Dionne doing in the aforementioned family box with the uncomfortable family members?
OBLIGATORTY GOLF QUIP OF THE DAY:
Not surprisingly, the Cialis Open featured some stiff competition.
MEDIA QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Kobayashi is probably the greatest athlete in the world today."
--Quote made without irony by the ESPN color commentator for the Nathan's Coney Island Hot Dog Eating contest, after extolling the wonders of Kobayashi's 8 dog per minute pace and after seeing a graphic comparing him to Babe Ruth in terms of setting an unprecedented standard for his realm of endeavor. Speaking of which, I'll bet the Babe could have given this strange little dude a run for his money at Nathan's.
SPORTS TERMS OF THE DAY: (From the same broadcast).
"Jaw fatigue", "hot dog management" and "the spray zone."
And just a little more from that broadcast, since stuff like this is just too good to pass up: "Let's go to the highlights..look at that jaw work...a great eater...a credit to his country ...trying to put his name up there with the great Italian athletes...Andretti, Dimaggio...just a credit to his people and his sport."
SPECTACLE OF THE DAY:
Lingering on the competitors after the closing bell as they labored in extended and agonized fashion to swallow all of the dogs they'd managed to cram into their pie hole. (Evidently if they spit them up they don't get credit for them and the contest was so close that a single act of oral expulsion might have altered the outcome.) It looked like some medieval imagining of one of the outer rings of hell--except for the sleeveless t-s, the bling and the sunglasses.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I was flawless" --Roger Federer, in an assessment that was in no way hyperbolic or boastful after beating Jonas Bjorkman 6-2, 6-0, 6-2 in the semi finals of Wimbledon. What was remarkable was not merely the staggeringly high level of his play but the fact that that quotation came across as in no way hyperbolic or boastful. It was simply a matter of fact. Essentially indisputable. Like God saying "I could do no wrong" or Charlize Theron saying "I was gorgeous."
HEADLINE OF THE DAY:
On AOL.com, I saw a headline that read: "Sherryl Crow on Cancer, Lance Armstrong."
And, I expect it to continue, "and on which one is worse."
NEW HAND GESTURE OF THE DAY:
Name: The Steady Shaky. Aka the Calm Crizazy.
Description of Gesture: A calm hand, flat to the ground as in a classic "smooth sailing" gesture...except in this bi-polar variant, the smooth sailing motion is repeatedly punctuated by a brief interval of frenetic shakiness (like the sensors on a lie detector machine during a blatant untruth)--with the schizoid alternations of the two modes creating the net impression of a panicky anxiety erupting though a cool calm exterior.
Try it out. Impress and amuse your friends. Again, experience the delights of pushing a gesture towards its all but inevitable cultural tipping point...and the pride that will come with being able to tell your grandchildren that you were once part of something bigger and grander than yourself.
TEDDY VEGAS UNBRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Who has done a worse job of leadership: Bush/Cheney or Dolan/Thomas?
CARTOON WITHOUT ILLUSTRATION OF THE DAY:
Two bombs falling through the sky, one has "We apologize for the inconvenience" written on it. The other has "No Carbs!"
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Posted on 7/10/2006
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July 05, 2006
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Americans had a rough week in sports. First getting bounced from the World Cup. Then having all of their entrants eliminated from Wimbledon before the quarterfinals--Agassi, Roddick and Williams all on the same day. So on this July Fourth, we are able to proudly celebrate our independence...from international competitiveness.
STAGGERING JOURNALISTIC REVELATION OF THE DAY:
Lawrence Wright's article in this week's New Yorker detailing the the failures (not so much of intelligence but of communication between the intelligence agencies) that prevented the U.S. from stopping the 9/11 attacks. To see instance after well documented instance of the petty forces of ego and territoriality conspiring to allow these readily preventable attacks to happen inspires a mute making rage usually reserved for the duplicitous dealings of Rove, Cheney and Co. Again, we knew that there were general failures of cooperation between the CIA and FBI in the months leading up to the attacks. But to see the specifics laid out simply puts the mind in awe and the amygdala in spasm. In a sense, these CIA careerists have almost as much blood on their hands as Bin Laden.
IRONY OF THE DAY:
No sooner did I type the above paragraph than I went to Yahoo and read that the CIA unit dedicated to finding Bin Laden has just been disbanded as of today. Incredible coincidence. All those CIA functionaries lost their jobs anyhow. Even from a cynically self-interested career perspective, all of their uncooperative gestures ended up being in vain. Lots of lives were lost. And no jobs were even saved.
CONCEPT OR PRACTICE OF THE DAY:
Using the two handed, four-fingered “quote -unquote” gesture much more liberally and randomly-no longer to highlight the signifier in question and indicate the dubious nature of the claim but to extend the spirit of ironic commentary (and spread the havoc of suspicion) to random (other) parts of speech. Hence, when saying “He was planning on going to a Gentlemen's club” the gestural quotation marks would be used not only on the dubious term “gentleman's” but also -arbitrarily--on the pronoun “he” or the verb “going” or perhaps on the copulative “was” or the indefinite article “a.” I just think it's be an enjoyably reckless way to jam the codes. And exercise the fingers.
By extension, it would be cool to see some expansion of hand commentary and punctuation, such as:
The sideways slanting of two pairs of fingers to indicate Italics.
The air parentheses-formed by cupping your hands about a foot apart.
And, last but not least, the air ellipsis…formed by facing your hand towards your interlocutor and tapping your pointer, middle and ring finger in quick succession-as if on an invisible wall between you.
Practice all these things on your own and start to seed them in the space of social signification. I think you'll feel the joy and power of being part of something bigger and more important than yourself.
REVISION OF THE DAY:
Let's ennoble the preceding idea by humbly calling it "Revolutionary New Movement of the Day."
WORLD CUP COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
I enjoyed hearing the announcers' repeated attempts to convince the American audience that the action during the Germany-Italy game was exciting. "Oh, I'd describe this game as quite exciting so far," claimed one--despite the failure of either team to score in regulation or even for that matter to mount any kind of real attack. Hey, I enjoy being told what's exciting as much as the next guy. I hate making up my mind about things like that. Also enjoyed the increasingly preposterous lengths they would do to make the narrative somehow relevant to an American audience. The German coach lived in California for a while. America was the only team to score a goal against Italy (of course it was an "own goal"--but who's counting?). Some of the training methods of the Italians were partially developed in America. Etc. They were one step from announcing that one of the German players once ate a Big Mac. For a moment, I was insulted that they assumed the absolute cultural self-centeredness of the American audience--until I realized that these comments were the about the only part of the game I was really paying attention to. Other observations during this battle of Axis powers: The Italian guys have great hair...and it never seems mussed or tussled regardless of how many times they fall to the ground writhing in pain from yet another apparently career ending injury. I was also interested to see a man of color on the German team and wondered if his presence on the field was not in some indirect way a consequence of Joe Louis's and Jesse Owen's debunking of the myth of Aryan superiority. And in the end, I was quite pleased to see some genuinely stellar Italian offense and not to have to witness another Teutonic orgy of celebration.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY #2:
The Presidential signing statements I wrote about about a month ago (after reading about them in the New York review of Books) , have finally gotten a lot of notice in the mainstream press--largely in connection with the Supreme Court cases over the constitutionality of the some of Bush's uses of military law in the "War Against Terror." Congress is waking up and taking notice that Bush has had his fingers crossed every time he signed one of their bills into Law. There was also a long article in either the New Yorker or the Times about the White House legal advisor who is evidently the chief architect of these Signing Statements (and indeed of the entire legal basis for the "War on Terror"): a guy named David Addington--who is referred to both by his admirers and detractors as 'Cheney's Cheney." Pretty amazing that the man who has arguably made the greatest imprint on our nation's laws and conduct has been completely unknown and invisible until now.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Is Cheney's undisclosed location the same as Cheney's Cheney's undisclosed location? And if not, whose location is more undisclosed?
CELEBRITY OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Sarah Jessica Parker: The only person who can make Julia Roberts look positively non equine. In fact, she could do the same for Mr.Ed.
LITERARY OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Just finished Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. I was struck by how the central concept was not dissimilar from that of "Snow" by Orhan Pamuk: the creation of a sheltered idyll in the middle of great conflict-- a refuge from time and the exigencies of the external world that is then, of course, destroyed by that external world. Then an epilogue to address what survived the destruction. Both of the books were enjoyable reads--but if I were to recommend a book it would instead be...
BOOK REVIEW OF THE DAY:
“Gilead” by Marilynne Robinson--a soulfully luminous, beautifully observed reflection on a life. The spiritual antidote to Michel Houellebecq. In fact, “Gilead” and “Platform” (Or “Whatever”-the pithily titled translation of Houellebecq's “Extension de La Domaine de la Lutte.”) would make a fascinatingly schizoid literary double bill.
PET PEEVE OF THE DAY:
A Verizon TV commercial where we are looking at a pen on a table as we hear,"You're looking at one of the thinnest pieces of wireless technology…" Then a hand moves the pen and we see the thin phone that has been concealed behind it. "Oh, there it is." So, in other words, you're NOT looking at it at the time they tell you that you are looking at it. They completely flubbed the language of the misdirection. "INTRODUCING one of the thinnest pieces of wireless technology" maybe…then the voila revelation of the little skinny phone behind the pen. But don't tell me I'm looking at something and then reveal that actually I haven't been looking at it and think that is gonna pass as a clever misdirection. Flagrant conceptual foul. 15 yards. Loss of down.
THING I JUST DON'T GET OF THE DAY:
That Toby Macguire and Keenu Reeves--actors of extraordinarily limited range--indeed actors with two gestures--or, more accurately, two states of stunnedness--get paid about 30 million dollars per movie. Which means about $15 million per signature look or gesture.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY #3:
After a certain age (say 35) and in a certain socio-economic stratum, nothing says "don't date me" more than dragging a laundry bag around with you to the laundromat. You basically become invisible--even if you look like George Clooney. And if you are visible at all, it is merely as a big billboard on which is written "Loser" and "I might as well be wearing Depends."
BIRTHDAY PRESENT OF THE DAY:
Yankee owner George Steinbrenner shares (and I hope this is no comment on our national character) a birthday with our country. On his birthday today, he was given a big bash by the opposing team. Indeed, Cleveland celebrated George's big day by smashing 6 home runs and beating the Yankees by a historic 19-1 margin. Not only that, but a Cuban pitcher whom the legendarily choleric and competitive Yankee boss let go of about 2 years ago, celebrated George's birth by winning his 17th consecutive decision. Again, historic. With celebrations like this, the Yankee owner should age quite a few years before his next birthday.
CREEPY IMAGE OF THE DAY:
That mouth eye (or ocula dentata) in the sublymonal ad for Sprite.
SAD BUT TRUE FACT OF THE DAY:
On my plane ride back from LA, I read a big article in Newsweek (or was it Time??) about the Al Qaeda plans for a cyanide subway attack on NYC. It was a "behind-the-scenes" type story, taking us into the secret world of intelligence operations and White House meetings. Evidently, central to the planned attacks was the invention of an ingeniously simple little device called the Mubtakkar which is no bigger than a spool of thread and allows for the successful and efficient dispersal of the deadly gas (evidently something of a practical obstacle in the past). When Bush and Cheney and Co. were shown the device they just stared at it and muttered "It's a nightmare." --which, of course, from the point of view of detection and prevention, it most certainly is. Anyhow, the article said that Bush became obsessed with this terrible new security threat and "every single day he would ask for any new information they had on the Mubtakkar." And here's the aforementioned sad but true fact. It's not that this thing exists--something which would be more accurately categorized under Terrifying but True--but the fact that as I read the article, filled with an entirely appropriate sense of sickening anxiety, a small but audible voice in my head was saying "There is NO WAY Bush can pronounce the word 'Mubtakkar'!" Sad but true, my friends. Sad but true that one would have a legitimate basis for being distracted by a thought like that in a context like that.
CURIOUS EXPERIENCE OF THE DAY:
Seeing a Hollywood video that is actually in Hollywood.
FUNNY SPEC AD OF THE DAY:
Guy trying unsuccessfully to pick up his ever so slightly chubby girlfriend. One of them says: "Either you need to get to the gym or I do."
PREMISE OF THE DAY:
People driving all week around LA in search of the Hollywood sign. They think maybe someone removed it to prank them. They'd ask for directions except they're in a rented mini-van and are too ashamed. They feel like they'd be forced to say “Hi, We're in from Idaho and we're looking for a sign we have to find for this treasure hunt we're on. We hear there's a sign around here…Hillywood or Hollyflower or something. Can you point the way?“
Maybe they finally see the Hollywood sign. But it's the Hollywood video sign. They get 50% credit on the family treasure hunt.
I like the idea of the perpetual clueless search for the elusive something. For its comic as well as its existential overtones.
META-SIGN OF THE DAY:
In a local donut shot. (I was, sadly, without camera).
“This sign is not here.”
UNFORTUNATE REALIZATION OF THE DAY:
As I was thinking about a title for this posting, it occured to me, there HAS to be some adult video called "Porn on the Fourth of July." Sorry to have shared.
PLAYLIST OF THE DAY:
"Independence Day" By Elliot Smith.
"Independence Day" By Bruce Springsteen.
TEDDY VEGAS UNBRANDED QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Why are all the songs (read: both the songs) I know about Independence Day so incredibly sad?
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Posted on 7/5/2006
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