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POLITICAL RUMINATION OF THE DAY:
I like that both David Remnick in his defense of the New Yorker cover (on Charlie Rose) and Obama in his overall campaign message (if not in his response to the New Yorker cover) both assume and appeal to the intelligence of the American citizen. This is obviously the right rhetorical position to assume--and is, in every respect, superior to the prevalent assumption that what Americans need is a good dumbing down to. However, that said, this belief or attitude stands in some dissonance with the consistently disappointing (indeed, muteness-inducing) evidence of the polls. Recent findings indicate that 37% of Americans don't know that Obama is a Christian--with 13% claiming he is a Muslim, 17% claiming they've heard he's a Muslim but are not sure and, my personal favorite, 7% claiming they just don't have enough information to be sure. Combine this with reports that 43% of Americans still believe the Iraq attacked us on 9/11 and it is virtually impossible not to take the respect for American's intelligence as anything other than a cynically calculated rhetorical posture. Or a beautiful and necessary myth. Again, who really knows how the questions were phrased etc. But my goodness, it really makes the notion of an informed democracy seem about as preposterous as a world of steroids-free sports.
But perhaps, this ignorant, inert and ill-informed public is as much the consequence of low expectations as a rationale for them.
And with that most tentative of hypotheses, let's turn to our:
CRUEL REMINDER OF THE DAY:
Al Gore's Kennedy'-esque visionary challenge to wean ourselves entirely from oil within 10 years. Bold and wonderful for sure, but it just reminds you so acutely how different (and, of course, indescribably better) the last 8 years might have been had be been in office rather than the Ass Clown Prince aka Pretender in Chief. Imagine a president who responded to 9/11 by honoring the overwhelming public longing for some sort of bond-forging, pride-elevating meaningful collective sacrifice rather than by offering the "just keep shopping" mantra that we all received. Imagine leadership that dared to respect the intelligence and resources of our people by candidly addressing underlying realities and by challenging us to take the steps necessary to improve them--whether it be in the context of terrorism or the intimately related contexts of oil dependency and climate change.
One has to think that clear-eyed, honest, mature, intelligence-respecting, sacrifice-requesting, reality-based, solution-oriented leadership rather than the passifying proclamations of a Denier-in-Chief would help build a sense of pride and initiative amongst the electorate and make citizens feel like they are active participants in something bigger than themselves. And maybe, just maybe, that sense of being challenged, respected and involved would motivate people to be a bit less ignorant and bit more informed. Or at least: Isn't it pretty to think so?
I don't want to overstate it because sometimes ignorance and stupidity are just ignorance and stupidity. And sometimes Bubba is just Bubba and Beavis is just Beavis and Butthead is just Butthead. But it really does feel like most Americans have been treated like kids in a class from whom no one expects anything. And we all know those experiments where the kids arbitrarily designated "Gifted and Talented" fulfill those expectations while those arbitrarily labelled not gifted and talented regularly fulfill those.
LFAQ of th DAY:
0:39 AM ET
Obama Talks Terrorism And Drugs With Karzai
10:22 AM ET
How misleading a headline is that in a woefully ill-informed and incurious country? Will people misread it as confirmation that that Muslim terrorist presidential candidate who admitted to doing drugs once is plotting a terrorist attack and drug deal with some other Islamic sounding guy???
Was it a downer to go back to the empirical reality of societal ignorance after a stirring appeal to the possibility of an informed electorate or was it a much-welcomed dose of realism after a fatuous utopian pipe dream? Or was it a little bit of both and a whole lot of neither?
UNNATURAL SHOCK OF THE DAY: (Only 906 to go!)
A guy wearing “World’s Greatest Dad” T-Shirt to a sexual encounter with a minor. (I can't find the link right now, but honest to goodness. I read about this somewhere. I guess on the upside, at least he wasn't wearing a "World's Greatest Dad" T-Shirt to a sexual encounter with one of his children. Although I suspect that has happened at some point in this great land of ours.)
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
She liked to, like, use the word "like."
P.S. OF THE DAY:
I am completely in love with the rhythm of that preceding line. Say it a few times out loud. It's addictive.
DESECRATION OF THE DAY:
Was having drinks on Wednesday at the Irish bar where we've been going weekly for the last 8 or so years after hoops. It's been getting louder and ever more gentrified and we have been contemplating finding a new weekly watering hole. But inertia has prevailed. In any event, I think the inertia may have finally been overcome--due in large part to the efforts of one "singer" who plugged in his electric guitar on the mini stage to "entertain" the bar patrons at 11 p.m.
If I say this may have been the worst musical performance ever, I am not being glib or hyperbolic. Indeed, in analyzing the awfulness of a vocalist's performance, one must remember that if the singing is ostentatiously atrocious, it can have the redeeming value of inadvertent comedy. Or if it is distinguished enough in its awfulness, it can assume anecdotal value by becoming entertainingly insufferable. But--as if obeying some complex pleasure minimization/displeasure maximization function--this singing was as bad as it's possible to be without becoming in any way remarkable. The singer's melodic (and perhaps spiritual) inadequacies were amplified by the soulfulness of the songs he selected. Some fine Neil Young fare. And Dylan's beautiful "GIrl From the North Country." How can a soul be drawn to such beautiful music and then insist on mangling it? What fatal lack of self-awareness could lead to this kind of an audio disaster? His insipid assault on our ears and souls inspired the following:
ONIONESQUE (SHALLOT LIKE) HEADLINE OF THE DAY:
GIrl From North Country Murdered in Chelsea Bar.
And the story would go on to say how she was murdered using an overpriced Ovation guitar, a microphone stand and a larynx. Witnesses said she was mangled beyond recognition.
UNNATURAL SHOCK OF THE DAY: (Only 905 to go!)
Bush tells G8 conference: "Goodbye, from the world's biggest Polluter!"
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/2277298/President-George-Bush-'Goodbye-from-the-world's-biggest-polluter'.html
Indeed, goodbye from the world's biggest asshole. His knack for making shockingly offensive, tone-deaf jokes about his most egregious failures and deceptions ("Hey let me look down here, I think the WMDs are under the podium.") make one's jaw drop in disbelief and one's spleen go into spasm. The frat boy princely cluelessness of this mean spirited and out of touch play actor is absolutely evergreen in its capacity to amaze and enrage. I regret that--with my thumb still damaged-- I only have one fist to sacrifice at the altar of his face. I will design a urinal puck with his picture on it.
IM CHAT OF THE DAY:
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: da- dum dummmm.. da- dum-dum.
TCohn725: please. i'm busy.
friendwhoshallremainnameless: like I'm not?
AMAZING MOMENT OF THE DAY:
I was watching a fully improvised show at the Upright Citizen's Brigade between two people on an airplane flight. The characters established themselves as a womanizing, slightly belligerent sportswriter and a history teacher at Boston Latin who is fleeing charges of statutory rape. They establish that they are flying from Boston to LA--one to write a story about the Lakers, the other to flee the law--and they exchange views on this, that and the other thing. Then about bout 10 minutes into this meandering, but enjoyable conversation, events take a shocking and amazing turn. One of them, a propos of something I can't recall, asks the other about Y2K and the other says "that's bullshit, because everyone knows the real millennium is this year...2001."
Suddenly, a wave of gasps and shouts and nervous laughter makes its way through the audience as it suddenly dawns on all of us (including the performers) that these characters we've been listening to are on board one of the doomed 9/11 flights. It is a breathtaking moment of discovery. The audience and the actors are suddenly discovering, in an improvised out-of-the-blue moment in real time, a reality that changes everything-in a way that eerily evokes the terrible real moment of real human experience in which the actual passengers on that actual plane suddenly discovered that something was terribly amiss. The experience in the theater and the experience in that plane are, in a sense, mirrors of each other, equal but opposite vectors of staggeringly powerful spontaneous realization. One group discovering in real time that something has gone (dramatically speaking) terribly right. The other discovering in real time that something has gone terribly wrong. Really fascinating. The rest of the improv was locked into that irrevocable background reality and resonated powerfully against it (the most mundane comments assuming profundity through the terrible dramatic irony of our asymmetrical awarenesses.)
CONCEPT OF THE DAY:
A relationship unveiling. That is when after many consecutive years of celebrating someone's birthday, you decide not to even acknowledge it. Somewhere in some now distant life, a phone's silence solemnly rings.
QUIP OF THE DAY:
He makes me feel like Uma Thurman. And i don't mean tall and blonde. I mean stalked.
STORY OF THE DAY:
http://blog.washingtonpost.com/sleuth/2008/07/christian_sites_ban_on_g_word.html
Introducing Tyson and Rudy Homosexual.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Problems don't age well."
-Jamie Dimon, CEO of Chase J.P. Morgan
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
She was so obsessively detail oriented and so prodigiously gifted in the forest-for-the-trees department, that if she were to be eaten by a lion her last thought would probably be “You have something stuck between your teeth.”
A THOUGHTS ABOUT THE GREATEST TENNIS MATCH EVER:
Can't stop thinking about the Nadal-Federer match today. Really reminiscent of the way I felt after Ali lost to Frazier when I was a little kid. A champion/hero for whom I was rooting passionately, performing brilliantly against an equal and opposite adversary --in a timeless battle of styles--and coming up just, heartbreakingly short. Participating in a match that was instantly deemed to be among the greatest (if not the greatest) ever and experiencing the entirely unaccustomed and totally bitter taste of defeat. As I wrote a few days ago, I had been anticipating this epic showdown with an excitement I hadn't felt since that boxing match that took place in my childhood. And it turns out that not just the anticipation but the after effects are similar as well. Indeed, I don't think I've been as profoundly affected by any sports event since that memorable fight at the Garden on March 8. 1971--which, was incidently, my father's 43rd birthday. I think in many ways both agons truly transcended sport and achieved some of the power of tragic theater. Or maybe they only did so for those who experienced themselves to be on the losing end of the epic battle. I know this sounds a bit purple and hyperbolic. But it is genuinely how I feel. I felt I was transported to some place of relentless, exquisite tension and experienced a profound participation in greatness and loss.
Loss is more painful than victory. But arguably more profound.
Or at least that's what we on the losing side must console ourselves with.
Anyhow, enough. I know this bespeaks a totally unhealthy and ridiculously extreme emotional investment in something that has nothing real to do with my life. And that I sort of felt the same way as a little kid when I saw the invulnerable Gigantor (my first and only cartoon hero) crushed by a bigger monster/adversary. But so be it: It's nice to know that in spite of everything, a little part of my childhood lives on.
A few more thoughts:
That is unquestionably the best a human being has ever played tennis and lost.
There’s no more sense of inevitability to Federer ultimately breaking Sampras’s record. Sure, it remains likely. But Federer has never been shaken like this before and it remains to be seen how his will and confidence will recover. Losing while playing your best on your best surface is --especially for someone long deemed invulnerable--a profound alteration of the order of things and may have lasting psychological consequences. Federer may very well suffer something of an identity crisis--and the history of tennis is rife with people who fall precipitously from the top due to the tiniest of tweaks. (Borg quit after being unable to solve McEnroe, McEnroe quit after confronting the Sampras, Agassi, Courrier generation etc.). It takes amazing focus and belief to maintain the razor's edge that separates a champion from an incredibly gifted also ran. And while I have all the belief in the world in Federer's continued greatness, it remains to be seen how he will respond to this devastating loss and how he will navigate his way though this totally uncharted territory. Of course, in addition to the psychological component, there is the more substantial matter of Nadl's continuiing ascent as a player. And of course, the presence of other legitimate young threats like Djokovic. Things change awfully quickly in the tennis world and while if I were a betting man, I'd still expect to see Federer win at least a couple more Grand slam titles, it is by no means inconceivable that he won't.
I just couldn't bear to see the charming cyborg cry.
UNNATURAL SHOCK OF THE DAY: (Only 904 to go!)
I think I heard Ira Glass say he played in a weekly basketball game.
GRATUITOUS A-ROD BASHING OF THE DAY:
A few thoughts about the A-Rod-Madonna business.. First off, can you think of more iconically self-absorbed and hence boring couple (or should i say coupling?) than A-Rod and The Material Madge? It makes Alec Baldwin and Kim Bassinger look like a mutual, other-regarding, truly devotional pair. Hell, it makes Donald Trump and Donald Trump look like Orpheus and Eurydice. Second: Isn't it weird that Madonna is 20 years older than the Rod? Is that suggestive of a search for the mother or perhaps an implicit admission of homoerotic longing? A-Rod can't come out of the closet except by being romantically associated with a female gay icon almost his mother's age. Third: If, as A-Rod's wife alleges in the story linked above, the Kabbalah IS responsible for this ungodly pairing (and I certainly hope it isn't)--isn't it going to fan the flames of international anti-semitism like nothing since the protocol of the elders of Zion? And frankly, if the Jews (even the new age mystical Jews) ARE responsible for this atrocity, then the anti-semitism is probably richly deserved!
MOVIE COMMENT OF THE DAY:
Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. Quite brutally relentless, bracing and good. Phillip Seymour Hoffman: A fatter Leonardo de Caprio. Don't laugh. Look in the eyes and forehead. Especially in this movie. An OMG/eureka moment awaits you.
BRIEF STORY OUTLINE OF THE DAY:
He sees his lost love and tells her that every night in his dreams he talks to her and tells her that they shared one soul and cries. And then he realizes he is crying. And then he realizes he is dreaming.
MUSICAL COMMENTS OF THE DAY:
a)
Despite my newfound affection for Jonathn Schwartz and the singers of my father's generation, I still find Tony Bennett's voice annoying.
b)
I like Dan Bern's melodies and voice a lot but really don't like the cutesie lyrics. I don't think they're commensurate with the dignity of the music and the conceptual matter being addressed in the songs.
c)
Karen Peris of Innocence Mission. The voice of a diaphanous creature, half born, shimmering in the half light between time and eternity. Yeah...I like her.
LFAQ OF THE DAY:
Can one excel at being mediocre?
CONSUMER OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
I see an ad for the new Angus Third Pounder from McDonalds and I reflect back to childhood memories of when McDonalds launched the Quarter Pounder and then I think to myself: When are they just gonna come out with it: The Angus Pounder? Yeah, give me two Angus Pounders and a vat of corn syrup please. No, you know what: Supersize that for me, would you?
ADVERTISING OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Whenever I see or hear the TBS tagline "Very Funny" it comes across as sarcastic.
A
MOVIE COMMENTS OF THE DAY:
Saw and enjoyed Wall-E. Pixar rocks. A few quick thoughts (warning, plot spoilers and, perhaps, mood spoilers ahead).
-Call me dark-hearted, but I really sort of liked the bleak severity of the unpeopled post-apocalyptic trash bound earth. Somehow, it had more dignity than the peopled, trafficked planet.
-I really sort of wanted Wall-E to fail to remember Eva at the end. Crushing as that would have been, it would have introduced a truly powerful element of tragic gravitas to the feel good narrative and elevated it from the realm of the wonderfully entertaining to that of the unforgettably profound. But it probably would have also led to the unnecessary traumatization of children everywhere and i really don't need that on my conscience. Plus it might have then verged on becoming just another allegory of a being who sacrificed himself for the good of mankind.
-By making WALL E much cuter than his female counterpart, the movie created an affective asymmetry that kept straight male adult viewers at a certain emotional remove. If EVA had more expressive eyes (like Bambi or whatever), I might have been more seduced by the love story and rooted much harder for WALL E to recover from his mechanical amnesia near the end.
-I liked the depiction of the soft, infantilized, helplessly fat humans orbiting in their perpetual pleasure drome and took that as an allegorical appeal to us viewers (lounging in our comfy seats with our tub-sized "medium" sodas and popcorn) to get off our fat asses and do something to save the planet before it is too late.
BRIEF NARRATIVE OF THE DAY: A night in the life.
I wind up a long day pretending I'm a gay guy or a woman so i can write convincing copy for Lip Fusion ads and then run off to The Four Seasons--bastion of Philip Johnson/Mies Van Der Rohe canonical modernism--for farewell drinks with a friend who has finally made it out of the pits of mammon where he has toiled thanklessly and fruitlessly for decades--in order to pursue a degree in architecture. I toast him in high style amongst his friends--a lovely batch of poets, photographers, trust fund philanthropists and the like. It is a moving and affirming affair.
I then head to the Upright Citizen's Brigade in order to fulfill the show watching requirement for my improvisational comedy class. I watch a bunch of expert practitioners of the craft and find that I while I am laughing quite a bit, I am seldom laughing at the same time as the other people. I can't tell if this is because I am anticipating the comedy, missing it and laughing late, laughing arbitrarily and then trying to retrofit a rationale for having done so or-- and this seems the most viable hypothesis--laughing at the fact that I am older that any of the other attendants' parents and wondering what on god's green spinning rock, I am doing here. I spot two underage classmates of mine and interrupt my reflection on the asynchrony of my laughter by buying them each a beer. They are tickled by the "awesome" quasi-avuncular, semi-illegal gesture.
After two pretty funny shows, I leave and grab dinner at the local Chipotle. As a hungry diner, I am enjoying the fare and as a partial owner, I am enjoying the rather vigorous late night business when an old homeless lady who somehow resembles both my great aunt Edna and my late great uncle Siggy wanders into the place and starts crying in front of me. Her breath is foul and is interfering with my appetite. Out of some hybrid of human compassion and a desire to get her breath away from my meal, I offer to buy her dinner. I make my selfish/humanitarian payment and then leave.
On the subway, I sit across from a guy with a huge (and, of course, paradoxical) Jewish star tattoo, a bike called le nomade and a lock called Lox. I am about to inquire at to the irony ratio behind the Judeo-centrically themed self-branding efforts when I spot an old friend/acquaintance who it so happens was raised an orthodox Jew and now has broken off to become a secular humanist computer scientist --a decision that has led his family to essentially disown him. We talk about life and the Knicks briefly before I have to get off at my stop.
On my way home, I decide to stop into Haagen Daz to get a hot fudge mint chocolate chip sundae--you know, for the troops. On my way out of the store, a bunch of delightfully enthusiastic 20-ish young women excitedly ask me what I've ordered-- a gesture that I once might have interpreted as flirtatious interest --especially since I am wearing my dignified white suit for the Four Seasons affair--but now have the sense to realize is simply an expression of general good will flowing from an oral desire the imminent fulfillment of which I have absolutely nothing to do with.
As I finish off my sundae, I reflect a bit on feeling perpetually betwixt and between--like a sports-crazed, non prophetic Tiresias, who happens not to be blind--and then I head back to the apartment where I take the Lipitor, check the scores and scribble the thoughts.
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
He was always just saying.
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Posted on 7/22/2008
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