May 29, 2006
MEMORIAL DAY OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (HENCE ALL THE "IN MEMORIAM" STUFF THAT FOLLOWS).
I am sure this will be noted by many. But I not going for originality here. I am going for simple truthfulness.
There is something perverse about a president solemly memorializing the lives of soldiers whom he effectively sent to entirely unnecessary deaths. And there is something maddening about the absurd circularity of the rationale that we must continue fighting the War in Iraq (subsumed under the ever shifting, conveniently amorphous War on Terror) in order to honor those who have already died for the cause. But alas, he is the decider. And he decides who shall live and who shall unnecessarily die.
Also, while he's at it: He might want to pay tribute to the uncounted (but estimates suggest up to 100,000) Iraqis who've died at our hands during the war in the name of their own freedom.
AWKWARDNESS OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: DIGNITY.)
I suppose it was awkward to be having these solemn ceremonies taking place with investigations into a My Lai type Marines killing spree taking place in the background. In some funny way, it sort of parallels the awkwardness of the Barry Bonds home run chase. It's a time when everything seems sadly and unnecessarily sullied. I think that is why I was so moved by "Good Night and Good Luck" which I finally saw the other night. You just don't see people doing something truly dignified and brave and honorable in public life very often these days. In Memoriam: Edwin Murrow. And Big Ups to you and your spiritual heirs.
REMINDER OF THE DAY:
And in the spirit of Memorial Day, let us remember this:
That George W. Bush's 2000 presidential campaign was all about restoring honor and dignity to the White House.
ANALOGY OF THE DAY:
Having Bush pay tribute to the soldiers fallen in the Iraq War is a bit (just an itty bitty bit) like having OJ deliver Nicole's eulogy. OK, that was a cheap shot. It's unfair to compare Bush and OJ. After all, OJ is only responsible for the deaths of 2 people.
APOLOGY OF THE DAY:
For the unseemly glibness of the preceding comment. I hope it does not undermine the seriousness of the remarks (or the occasion) that preceded it. In the course of a dead serious reflection, I simply stumbled upon a funny thought and was not equal to the challenge of suppressing it. I gave in to my weaker, attention-seeking, anything-for-a-laugh impulses and for that I apologize.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: THE SISTERHOOD).
Interesting to see the Duke women wearing "innocence bands" in support of the Duke Lacrosse players who have been accused of raping an African American woman.
It speaks to racial and class affiliations trumping gender associations.
NEWS ITEM OF THE DAY: ( A bad hazing for the fat cat frat boys). (IN MEMORIAM: " I DIDN'T KNOW" AS A DEFENSE.)
Wow. Skilling and Lay are found guilty. One would like to think that the verdict has symbolic implications beyond this specific case. That it is, in fact, a resounding slap in the face not just to the defendants but to the whole Enron-Bush-Cheney fast and loose with the truth (loosy goosy with the truthy) back-slapping, bear hugging, booyah shouting, circle jerking good ole boy culture. A demand for accountability from corporate and political leaders who have somehow presumed to place themselves beyond it. “I didn’t know what was going on” just won’t cut it any more. One hopes, one hopes…But, unlike David Blaine, my breath is not held.
Seems accountability is in the zeitgeist today. Rove must have a new memo out. As a result, Bush and Blair—for the first time-- acknowledged a few mistakes in Iraq. Not to be cynical, but I suspect if Lay and Skilling had been exonerated, I don’t think you would have heard those belated admissions of the obvious. I think they would have stayed with the same admit no mistakes—stay the course—script. But Rove has stuck h is finger up the rectum of America and taken its temperature and seems to think it’s time to play the “accountability” or the “limited mea culpa” card.
Indeed, I’ll bet the big disinformation machine of the right is trying to cynically spin this into a victory for the Bush administration. They’ll issue a statement saying something like “Back in 2001, President Bush said he’d make sure these people face justice and now they have. The administration stands behind these convictions. This is further evidence of the (I didn’t know Kenny Lay-Jack Abramoff-What was going on in Abu Graib—Or in Guantanamo Bay--Who leaked Valerie Plame’s Name- That the situation in New Orleans was so serious) Administration’s commitment to truthfulness and accountability in all matters of public life. “ Then they’ll issue a press release about Al Gore’s new movie, reminding us that Global Warning—like Evolution and Gravity--is just an unsubstantiated theory.
Oh, in case there was any confusion, the parenthetic qualifier above will not be part of their official statement.
Cynicism aside: I do believe the pendulum is swinging back towards a culture of accountability.
CARTOON WITHOUT ILLUSTRATION OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: BOOYAH!)
I can imagine Skilling and Lay talking to each other after the verdict.
SKILLING: The jurists. They hate us for our freedom. -- Our freedom from accountability and law.
LAY: Yeah, They hate us for the way we live. -- Fat and bloated on ill gotten gains.
MOCK PROPOGANDA OF THE DAY:
If we hold our leaders accountable, then the terrorists have already won!
TEDDY VEGAS ROVE-INSPIRED, CUSTOM-IRONIZED BUMPER STICKER IDEAS OF THE DAY:
To love the environment is to hate America.
Al Gore hates us for our freedoms.
Support our SUVs.
Global Warming is not just a theory. It's a conspiracy.
If we become less dependent on oil then the terrorists have already won.
I did not have sex with that man—Jack Abramoff.
ZEN-KOAN QUESTION OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: UNPROBLEMATIC COMMUNICABILITY).
If an act of ironic satire so fully conforms with the thing it is mocking as to be arguably indistinguishable from it, is it still an act of ironic satire?
BARRY OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: THE CULTURAL ASSOCIATION BETWEEN BASEBALL AND INNOCENCE.).
(Written after 714 and before 715)
The spectacle of Bonds chasing Ruth feels like two parallel paths being pursued at once—one in which he’s pursuing an all time record and another in which he’s already died or retired. Alternatively put, there is a ghostly, attenuated quality to it. A not-really-happening-ness, an uncategorizability, a plausible deniability that is fascinating to experience and attempt to define. Part of it is reminiscent of other public figures who have been disgraced (OJ, Martha Stewart etc.) –but none of them has ever been simultaneously disgraced AND in the middle of a legendary near mythic public achievement. Yes, that's it: It’s the uniquely bizarre and totally public pairing of the disgraced and the heroic, the fallen and the elevated that is so strangely rivetting. One is perpetually looking towards and away in the same gesture.
It’s sort of like the guy who’s already been fired at the office who is still working there and hanging around…in a morale-diminishing kind of a way, Except the twist is that between his being fired and his actually leaving the place, he ends up moving up the corporate ladder and makes it to the top. Or some such.
Anyhow, the race is on. Not just to catch Aaron. But to find an appropriate way to describe this highly peculiar phenomenon.
P.S. OK, he passed Ruth yesterday. Fittingly, the live announcer was cut off mid way through the call ("Bonds hits it and...."). It's almost like the "accidental" break in the broadcast was an expression of the media world's desire to not acknowledge the event. There was a little burst of public celebration (a discreet little mention at the bottom of the front page of the NYT, a modestly sized headline on the first page of the NYT sports section etc., a few high minded quotes of praise from fellow players) and now, one suspects, he will return to a sort of ghostly half life as he attempts to travel the road from Ruth to Aaron.
CONCEPTUAL ART FORM OF THE DAY: THE OBITUARY (IN MEMORIAM: TRANSPARENT, TRUSTWORTHY DEATH NOTICES)
At the Biennial this year, one of the things that impressed me most, was a series of fictionalized NYT style obituaries of famous figures (Bill Clinton, Nicole Kidman, Rod Stewart etc.) written as if they had died in 2004. What was striking was the way the randomness of the chosen figures echoed the randomness of death itself. And the way the concept of the premature obit offered an artificial closure that was shocking (and dislocating) in its false finality. It made one think of how conceptually interesting it would be to see obits of famous living people written with the conceit that they had died young—before perception-altering second acts in the public eye altered their legacy forever. For example, an obit of OJ Simpson with the premise that he had died in a car crash in 1993. Or, say, of Mike Tyson if he had died at 25. Or, conversely, fictionalized obits of people who had in fact died young…assuming they’d lived to ripe old ages: Alternative histories in which Jimi Hendrix died of liver failure at 80 after starting a vegan cult off the coast of Madagascar. Or James Dean of AIDS-related complications at 77 after being a star in a popular sit com. Etc. Of course, the former variation is more compelling than the latter in that it relies on less of a fictitious element and more on a reality-based reframing of actual events. Disorientation by plausible subtraction rather than by somewhat dismissable addition.
Anyhow, obituaries--as the public statement of final absence --are inherently compelling. But an obituary without death is jarring and powerful in a very particular and unusual way.
ART OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
Walking through Times Square the day after seeing the generally underwhelming Biennial, I couldn't help but think that virtually any of the performers was more compelling than most of the stuff in the Whitney and, with the addition of a single layer of representational self-consciousness, might very well have been playing there instead of in the subway.
SPORTSWEAR COMMENTARY OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: THE IRAQI BEACH VOLLEYBALL TEAM)
For anyone who ever thought David Stern's NBA dress code was harsh, some Iraqi athletes (tennis players, I think) were shot to death by Islamic Extremists for wearing shorts. It's going to seriously hold back the Iraqi national team's rise towards international competitiveness if their male athletes have to wear long pants and their female athletes have to wear burqas.
QUIP OF THE DAY/RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE DESCRIPTION OF THE DAY:
Rumours of his life were greatly exaggerated.
REVISED QUIP OF THE DAY/RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE DESCRIPTION OF THE DAY For people not familiar with the Mark Twain reference quote.
Rumours of his being alive were greatly exaggerated
"WE ARE ALL WITNESSES" MOMENT OF THE DAY:
A truck called G.O.D. (Guaranteed Overnight Delivery) drives throught the streets of the godless city. “Student Driver” is says after the name.
FEEL BAD THEN GOOD THEN BAD AGAIN STORY OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: DECENCY.)
12 climbers passed a fellow climber struggling with his oxygen near the top of Everest and decided to make it to the top instead of trying to save him. He was reported to have died and Everest climbing pioneer Sir Edmund Hillary (about 100 years old) condemned them for their shameless behavior--which could be characterized as somewhere between unsportsmanlike and negligently homicidal. Anyhow, it turns out reports of the climber's death were, in fact, a bit exaggerated and he was revived and saved. It'd be great if they'd film the left-for-dead guy's encounter with the glory-bound, summit-obsessed climbers who passed him by. That'd be some nice, deliciously awkward reality tv, huh?
Who the hell were those climbers, anyhow? Skilling and Lay? Kozlowski and Abramoff?
Whoever they were, I would not be surprised if Bush and Cheney congratulated them for demonstrating true American values.
NEWS ITEM OF THE DAY #2:
Bin Laden denies Maoussaoui story: Says he was never a part of 9/11/ plot.
So, was he a random loony tune telling us exactly what we wanted to hear? I’ve suspected that this was a possibility all along. Especially when he brought up the connection to Robert Reed during his trial. The likelihood that the two random loony tunes the government had managed to drag up to take the fall for 9/11 (to allow us to collectively exorcise our demons of 9/11 in a symbolic act of “justice”) actually were supposed to do a mission together was so incredibly remote that I clearly suspected he was just parroting back the government’s story for maximal martyr-ish mayhem. It just seemed so implausably convenient...sort of like Kevin Spacey's/Kaiser Soze narrative in "The Usual Suspects." Robert Reed was Maissaoui's "Kobayashi." Sure makes the one jurist who held out against the death penalty look good. Also, sadly, makes Bin Laden look like a genius (and the U.S. Government look like a bunch of keystone cops.)
I mean, every time Bin Laden makes a statement, he is delivering a meta statement. The manifest statement in this case was "The U.S. Government got it wrong. Maossaoui was not involved in the 9/11 plot. I am the decider. I decide. I know who was involved and who was not. And he was not." But the unspoken meta-statement was: "I am still at large...and getting larger. You have failed in your promise to get me dead or alive. And not only have you failed, but I m not even on the run or diminshed in any way. I have the freedom and power to get my messages safely to the media without being discovered and to hold the world captive as I smugly upstage your failed efforts to fight me and all that I represent."
Not a proud moment for the administration. But, again, a very proud moment for the dissident jurist and--by implication--the American judicial system.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I learned some lessons about expressing myself maybe in a little more sophisticated manner, you know," Bush said softly--acknowledging for the first time that some errors had been made in relation to the Iraqi War.
NOTE OF THE DAY:
Hmm. Note to Dubya: You might want to think about not just saying things in a more sophisticated way, but actually doing things in a more sophisticated way, you know? Like, say, giving the troops the right equipment. And like planning ahead a bit for all the things you'd been warned would happen. And, uh, making sure the promised funds actually went to Ground Zero and New Orleans and uh, well, you know...the whole DOING thing.
What was interesting (and unreported) was that the first time he tried to make that statement it came out as: "I learned some lessons about expresso-ing my self in a little more sophmoric way, you know." But the liberal media suppressed any reporting on the gaffe--in their collective refusal to let the story devolve into another innocuously dissmissable installment of the running series "Curious George And the Mother Tongue" and in their collective zeal to keep the president accountable for a change.
FIGHTING WORDS OF THE DAY:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060526/ap_on_re_eu/britain_galloway
British MP George Galloway said the assassination of Tony Blair would be morally justified--but made clear that he was not advocating said assassination. And let me be clear--(attention National Security Officers should you be screening this!) neither am I. And let me also be clear: This is not the part of the story that led me to grant it the eagerly sought "Fighting Words of the Day" status. This is:
In his magazine interview, Galloway claimed to been the best fighter at his school, and said he would like to go a few rounds with both Blair and Bush.
"I'd take them both at once," Galloway said.
"That's what really upsets me. They are the sort of men who are ready to fight to the last drop of other people's blood. They couldn't personally punch their way out of a paper bag. They send other mothers' sons to their death, and I find them both deeply repugnant," he said.
TEDDY VEGAS BRANDED INTERACTIVE POLL QUESTION OF THE DAY #2:
Which is the bigger exaggeration/lie?
Reagan won the cold war. Or Al Gore invented the Internet?
SUGGESTED BAND NAME OF THE DAY:
The hottie spinsters.
TATTOO IDEA OF THE DAY:
Tramp stamp tattoo at the base of the back: SPINSTER.
PAT ROBERTSON BIZARRE DISPUTED “FACTOID” OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: HIS CREDIBILITY)
If I heard God right, Pat Robertson said he has--at the tender age of 73-- leg pressed 2000 pounds.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060526/ap_on_re_us/robertson2000
2000 pounds! That's twice as much as any NFL football player has ever leg pressed. Damn, I have to get this Spiritual Hearing Aid adjusted. Oh, wait...now it's working better. Oh, I misheard him. What he was saying is "Dundering doodoo Pat Robertson will soon be crushed by a 2000 pound leg press as his so called spotters stand back and give each other evangelically righteous high fives."
THOUGHT OF THE DAY:
Remember after 9/11 all of us in New York were for a brief time taken out of our atomized, separate little worlds and united in a common drama that was bigger than ourselves? For once in our great city, we were all transparent to one another and-- black or white, rich or poor, young or old --we could instantly tell that we were thinking about the very same thing. Well, that remarkable feeling returned again last week. Only this time the thought was: Who's gonna win American Idol, Taylor or Katherine??
CONFESSION OF THE DAY:
I had written that thought down a few years ago with the punch line being "Reuben or Clay?" and have shamelessly repurposed it here. Upon reflection, it is much much better as Reuben or Clay. The names are much more memorable. And, in truth, it was a bigger cultural event back then that it is now.
SHORT FILM IDEA OF THE DAY: A BRIEF REBUTTAL OF THE THEORY OF KARMA.
A man in NYC is walking down the street. He takes the gum out his mouth and tosses it towards the trash can. It misses. Seeing the gum lying just beyond the curb and not wanting to have anyone experience the acute displeasure of stepping in it, the considerate pedestrian goes out into the street to pick it up. As he bends over to clean up the mess he has inavertently made, he is run over by a passing bus.
SIGN OFF OF THE DAY: (IN MEMORIAM: THIS POSTING.)
In Memoriam: This whole "In Memoriam" thing.
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Posted on 5/29/2006
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May 22, 2006
QUOTE OF THE WEEK:
Yesterday, Pat Robertson was quoted as saying “If I heard the Lord right, the coast of America will be lashed by storms in 2006.” Get a hearing aid, asshole. What the Lord said was “I’m really, really sick of you speaking for me and, in 2006, I’m gonna wreak some fire and brimstone shit on your hate-mongering ass big time.”
The evangelical community is distancing themselves from him the same way the Republican conservatives have been distancing themselves from Bush. The same way, in fact, that Bush has been distancing himself from reality --with its (thank you Stephen Colbert) well known liberal bias.
FREE MARKET DEMOCRACY MOMENT OF THE WEEK:
Evidently a brouhaha broke out in the newly established Iraqi congress (or parliament or whatever they’re calling it) when a cell phone went off with a Shiite chant ring tone. No, seriously. You can’t invent this stuff. Yes, assert your identity in the market place of life through the self-expressive wonder of the ring tone! And then watch the frail, fledgling democracy that you live in tumble into chaos! Sort of interesting to think that a certain restriction of individual free market freedoms might be essential for keeping this experiment in “democracy” alive. In any event, it can’t be long before one of the big international cell phone companies sees this as a terrific marketing opportunity---offering the same free ring tone to all the members of the new Iraqi legislative body (sort of like the way Nextel tried to capitalize on the 9/11 disaster by distributing free cell phones to everyone down at Ground Zero. Brilliant product placement.). Suggested ring tones: “Give Peace a Chance”, “One Love”, “Kumbaya” or, on the more sardonic side, The Smiths “If it’s not love then it’s the bomb the bomb the bomb that will bring us together.”, Talking Heads’ “Burning Down the House” or “Life During Wartime” or R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” or even, “It’s The End of the World as We Know It.”
TEDDY VEGAS INTERACTIVE FEATURE OF THE WEEK:
Suggest the ring tone for all the members of the Iraqi government to use. If you win, you can appear on a commercial with all the members of the Iraqi government karaoke singing your winning song!!
NEWS ITEM OF THE WEEK: (And analysis therof)
Most New Yorkers Skip 9/11 Donation
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060520/ap_on_re_us/attacks_memorial
Evidently, very few New Yorkers opted to check the box on their tax returns indicating their desire to give a small donation to a special 9/11 World Trade Center Memorial Fund. I’m not at all surprised. But I do wonder what the main reason is. Is it disgust with the ongoing squabbling over what will be built there? Disgust with the shameless and transparently self-serving politicization of the event by the Bush Administration? Perceptions of unseemly and greedy conduct by the families of the survivors? Disgust with the war that the attacks were somehow misused to legitimize and are—hence—now inextricably associated with? Good old-fashioned historical amnesia and the desire to move on with things already ("9/11?? That is SO five years ago!"). Lack of confidence that charitable donations ever end up going to the people or causes they’re intended for? Basic cheapness? All of the above? One thing is for sure: What was at one time perhaps the most transcendently tragic unifying event (the singular unifying unspeakable) in recent American history—the one pure point of convergence for all American hearts and minds—has been irrevocably tarnished and cheapened by the forces of greed, politics and ego. It’s a humbling object lesson on the human capacity to sully the "sacred."…the ineluctable human (or is it just American?) tropism towards the tawdry and the tarnished; the propensity towards the petty and the impure. I would be quite interested in knowing if the awful and awesome human tragedies that took place in Bhopal or Sumatra or Hiroshima or Dresden (while—granted-- not all truly analogous as some were natural disasters, others man-made disasters and others acts that took place in the context of a fully engaged war) ever went through a similarly swift decline in dignity, tragic authority and emotional prestige within their own cultures and within their own times?
I am sure this kind of degradation is a universally human phenomenon--but I suspect that it's been exacerbated by the cynical disregard for truth demonstrated from the top down in our recent political and corporate cultures.
REFLECTION OF THE WEEK:
I was at a cocktail party the other night and an older, sophisticated-looking gentleman next to me asked me if the facial hair I was sporting would be called a Van Dyke. I told him I’m not sure what this particular work in progress would be called, but I assured him it was Velcro and detachable. He smiled politely and then began to speculate on the history of hirsuteness in our country. Obviously an erudite guy, he began charting facial hair popularity through the American Presidents. No president was sporting much a beard until Lincoln. Then they evidently became pretty much ubiquitous for much of the mid to late 1800s--only to fall out of popularity for most of the 20th century. He wondered aloud about the historical forces that informed the fashionability or unfashionability of beards and speculated that the outgrowth (if you will) of beard popularity in the 19th century must have come from some taste maker in Europe --as it’s only in the post WWII period that Americans have been international taste makers or trend setters of any kind. He was very serious and interesting and he asked me if I though bearded-ness would ever make a widespread comeback in this culture. I thought about it and said that I didn’t think so—because of the general worship of youth in this culture. Beards both connote and betray age and, I suspect, back in the time of Lincoln, the aged and mature enjoyed much greater prestige (indeed, perhaps veneration) than they do today. Today, age is not merely not esteemed, it’s flat out stigmatized. Among very young men, beards have enjoyed a certain resurgence of popularity—but that is only because they connote a certain arty sophistication (sophistication, of course, being inextricably associated with experience and hence age). Young guys will wear them as cool novelty items when they’re safely within the embrace of their youth—but once they become old enough for age to actually be an issue, they will shave them off before they experience the trauma of being addressed as “Sir.”. He thought there was something to my theory. In a culture that makes perpetual youth its holy grail, something that actually makes one look older is unlikely to thrive. Indeed, beards gray faster than head hair. And –in our age-horrified times—gray isn’t merely the new black, it’s the new leprosy. (Actually, I suppose, baldness is the new leprosy.) We both agreed, that, barring an Islamic takeover of our nation, beards (at least full beards) were highly unlikely to ever again enjoy widespread popularity in America. We did not discuss our respective senses of the likelihood of an Islamic takeover--which, I suppose, is all for the best. Nothing like the prospect of imminent fundamentalism to sour the pleasures of speculative chit chat and some nice Sancerre and brie.
SAD LITTLE COMEDY OF THE WEEK:
Who would have thought that legendary songbird Paul McCartney, 63, would split up with wife Heather Mills after 4 years of marriage and need to find someone else to need him, someone else to feed him when he’s 64?
BTW: It was one of those pieces of manna from heaven. The moment someone told me the news of the separation, I instantly thought—oh please, please, please let him be 63 years old so I can make that joke. I looked it up and there it was—as if god were a snarky comic, working in invisible ways.
OBSERVATION OF THE WEEK:
April flowers bring May flowers, my ass. They bring May monsoons. I guess with global warming, they really have to modify some of these seasonal truisms i.e. On the Twelfth Day of X-mas, my true love gave to me, twelve fans a fanning, eleven ice creams melting, ten tubes of sunscreen, nine sets of kadima paddles, eight golden flip flops, seven swimsuits, six straw hats, five cold glasses of spring water, four icy lemonades, three sunglasses, two vats of aloe and a simply gynormous parasol. Yeah, that's the spirit.
GRIPE OF THE WEEK:
Jack Nicholson --perennial courtside fixture at Lakers' games--suddenly becoming an L.A. Clippers fan. So lame it should be pronounced Frech-style with an accent aigue: Lamay. Hollywood royalty deigning to grace the long neglected Clippers with his iconic presence. Fuck that shit. It's like if Spike Lee suddenly started appearing at Nets' playoff games. Lending his fanly prestige to the cause. Lame. "What if he really just loves good basketball?", a friend replies. Well, then he can watch it on f-cking TV like the rest of us. Don't need his ass lending his Q ratings to the Clips.
QUESTION OF THE WEEK:
When the dentist pokes into your molars with that sharp metal hooked pick—probing relentlessly for soft spots—do you subtly give way in a kind of dental ju-jitsu to deny it any workable resistance? I suspect this is one of those phenomena that is virtually universal but seldom articulated. If not, then it’s just another of those moments in which I’m exposed and alone.
TOTALLY GRATUITOUS ANALYSIS OF THE WEEK: RELATIVE ASSESSMENT OF COMMON NAMES FOR THE FACILITY:
The Wash Room: Very optimistic act of naming. Indeed, based on my observations of behavior in the men's room, downright misleading. Sadly, one cannot assume there is washing going on in there.
Rest room: Again, misleading. Not too much resting going on in there. Except, I suppose, on the bowl. And sometimes that's hard work. Not really restful at all.
Water Closet (WC:) Yes, there's usually water in there. But it's not really a closet. Plus the name gives no indication of the intended uses of the water in the nonexistent closet. Oblique to the point of irrelevance. But the WC part is sort of catchy.
Toilet. Honest. Accurate. But rudimentary and off putting. No one wants to think about the porcelain target of one's basic biological activities.
John. Negative prostitution connotations. Plus, not gender neutral. Weird to call the Ladies' room a John. Maybe it would be OK if there were a Jane to go along with the John but then it gets complicated.
Loo: Sounds too much like goo. or Pooh.
The Head. Pretentious when used on land. At sea, you can call the damn thing whatever you want...as you stagger in to vomit from sea sickness.
Bathroom. Misleading. Seldom includes a bath.
Powder Room. Again misleading. Unless one's at a nightclub.
The crapper. Blunt. But not always accurate. Because sometimes you really go to piss. Maybe if they called it the crapper and pisser. But that doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Ugh..perish the thought.
TEDDY VEGAS NAMING CHALLENGE OF THE WEEK:
If you have any new candidates, please send along. I submit The Release Room, The Relief Room and The Reliefatorium for your consideration. Address your concerns to the New Name for The Room in which Defecations, Urination and, One Would Hope, Washing Takes Place Contest.
APOLOGY IN ADVANCE OF THE WEEK:
Attention non sports enthusiasts. There are more sports-related comments than usual—as I have been riveted by the NBA playoffs, the Mets-Yankees subway series and the tragic accident at the Preakness. I have made some effort to make the sports-related material accessible and of interest to non sports enthusiasts, but if you choose to skip them I will only be a little bit hurt.
SPORTS WISH OF THE WEEK:
(Note For the Sports-challenged: Hubie Brown is a 70-ish former legendary coach and current basketball commentator who tends to refer to everyone on the court as “This young man…” Curiously, he’s been saying it for about 50 years. The Old Timers I refer to are all in their 60s or 70s as well, so they're roughly Hubie's contemporaries, if not a bit older. )
That I could see Hubie Brown announcing an NBA old-Timers game. I mean really old timers, like Bob Cousy and Tommy Heinsohn and Bob Petit (is he still alive?) and Bill Russel and Rick Barry and John Havilcek and Jerry West. Why is this my wish of the day? Because I want to see if he’d still refer to those guys as “Young Men.” i.e. “Cousy heaves it up from 15 and—ohh...looks like he’s thrown out his shoulder. I’ll tell ya: this young man has a lot of fortitude out there. OK, play has resumed. Jerry West limps over mid court. And tosses it over to Heinsohn on the walker. Now Heinsohn looks into Russell and…oh…his hip gave out. Oh, you hate to see this kind of thing. Now this young man, Russell, he’s got the whole package. Terrific defense. Great court awareness. But, it looks like he may have come back too soon from that hip replacement operation. Oh, you hate to see that happen to a quality young man like this. " Etc. etc.
REGRET OF THE WEEK:
(Note: Kobe Bryant is an NBA basketball star—accused and acquitted of rape in Eagle County about 2 years ago. He has been engaged in a vigorous attempt at image rehabilitation. Also, he was criticized for not being aggressive enough on the court by commentator Charles Barkely during his team’s recent playoff loss to the Phoenix Suns. Full disclosure: I only added this to justify including the word "metacommentarial" which you'll find --in all its neologist glory--written below twice!)
That I didn't see or remember to Tivo Kobe's appearance as TNT Guest commentator with Ernie and Kenny and, most important, Charles. Would have loved to have seen if evinced any residual bitchiness about Charles' accusations of paradoxical selfishness (selfishness based on not shooting enough) in the deciding game against the Suns or if he feigned forgiveness in the continued interests of post-Eagle county image rehabilitation. Also would have been interested in how gracious he was able to be vis a vis Raja Bell's remarkable second round exploits and in how convincing he was able to be in that obligatory gesture of feigned graciousness. I think I might have had a metacommentarial field day--in full awareness that metacommentarial is not a word.
KNICKS ACHIEVEMENT OF THE WEEK:
(Note: The Knicks are the NYC NBA basketball team. They are absolutely terrible. They are having some kind of a botched mutiny going on in their upper management right now. I guess I only included this out of a certain fondness for weird uncles.)
In their tragicomic dysfunction, they've found a way to draw attention to themselves during the playoffs--despite missing them by about 25 wins. I never thought I’d say this as a Knicks fan, but I just don’t want to hear anything more about them. They’re nothing more than a noisy, unseemly distraction from a magnificent NBA post-season. A sort of collective embarrassment—like the weird uncle getting drunk and obnoxious at the lovely family wedding.
Let's shut down this tawdry side show.
SPORTS DISASTERS OF THE WEEK: (That happened on the same day) PREFACED BY "ON SECOND THOUGHT" OF THE WEEK.
(Note: This notating stuff is a bit exhausting. If you don’t know much or care much about the Mets or horseracing or the ungovernable intrusions of the tragic, please just skip this section. My fingers really, really hurt from typing.)
Billy Wagner and Barbaro encounter catastrophe--right out of the gate. Wagner comes out the bullpen to blow the save (and my afternoon) in flamboyant fashion. Barbaro comes out of the paddock and breaks his ankle--ending his racing career and, in all likelihood, his life. Wagner, the bull from the pen, was going for the second leg of the Mets’ subway triple crown against the Yankees. Barbaro, the horse from the stable, was going for the second leg of the thoroughbred racing Triple Crown. Barbaro’s misfortune evokes feelings of nausea and profound empathy and sadness. Wagner's evokes feelings of murderous rage and a desire to buy a dartboard with his face on it.
REAL TIME SPORTS NOTES OF THE WEEK: TEDDY VEGAS ON THE TITANIC
(Ditto the above parenthetic note.)
Amazing performance by Pedro. Pitching an absolute gem. Iperhaps the best game I’ve ever seen him pitch against the Yankees. Plus, all the key guys getting key hits. Reyes, Beltran, Wright, Delgado, Floyd. A thing of beauty. The Yankees look like a docile, beaten team…calmly awaiting inevitable defeat.
Hmm. Surprised they’re bringing in Wagner in this non-save situation. Ok, guess they just want to establish him as an intimidating force in the Yankee’s psyche. Turn him into a symbol of futility for the boys in pinstripes. Like Mariano has been for the Mets and almost every other team in baseball for about a decade.
Oh god...I can't believe this. Wagner is struggling. It’s all threatening to unravel. Total meltdown…total reversal from yesterday’s dominance. INSTEAD OF ACCESSING HIS INNER MARIANO RIVERA, HE'S ACCESSING HIS INNER RICK ANKIEL!!! He cannot find the plate. This is not happening. This is NOT HAPPENING!!! Holy f-ck, tell me this IS NOT HAPPENING!!! If he blows this one, Pedro should sue him for damages. I think it’ll be the third time he’s blown one of his masterpieces.
HOLY CRAP HE’S COMPLETELY SHITTING THE MOUND!!! And He's wiping his loose stool all over his fans and teammates.
The confidence and aura of invincibility has taken a Jason Terry style shot to the groin. He may have come in as a pitcher…but he left as a catcher. He came in as a hammer and ended up screwing his team. In the Yankee's eyes, he's now as untouchable as a pinata.
I hope he has the kind of dignity that James Dolan lacks. The proper understanding of the honorable role for ritual suicide. (Ok, ok...I know...Teddy's just a bit agitated.)
An hour later, the recently unthinkable and then suddenly inevitable has come to pass. The Mets have freaking lost.
A double disaster. Not only did he blow that game all by himself (screwing Pedro out of yet another win and giving the thoroughly beaten Yankees a completely unearned, confidence-building victory) but he screwed me and millions of other Mets fans out of an hour outdoors on this beautiful day, as we--slaves to our fanaticism--watched the excruciatingly extended, ill-fated debacle--as one might watch a tower burn or a ship sink. Horrified, but unable to avert our gaze. Who ever thought I'd be waxing nostalgiac for Braiden Looper? Even Armando Benitez never melted down in a huge game like THAT!
I need to do about 300 sit-ups and then buy a Billy Wagner Blow Up doll and beat it senseless.
OK, so I’ll distract myself from that debacle by watching the Preakness. Shift emotional gears and invest in the second most exciting 2 minutes in sport. Wow. Barbaro is going off as a 1-2 favorite. He must be the real deal. They’re talking about him like he’s the next Secretariat. Man, he looks pretty hopped up heading towards the starting gates.
O man. Never seen that. Barbaro bursts out of the gate before the gun. Hopped up indeed. They’re really having to struggle to get him back in the stall. Boy just wants to run!
Oh no no no NO NO NO!!! Barbaro pulls up lame! A second nauseating feeling on this beautiful day. A second sudden iceberg from out of the clear blue sea.
One second they’re wondering whether he’ll win the Triple Crown. The next, they’re wondering if he’ll be turned into glue. I really feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.
The funny thing is that—in the wake of the Wagner Disaster—I actually had a weird flash of a Ruffian like tragedy as they were loading them into the starting gates. But lest you think I’m claiming to have a prophetic gift, let me assure you that I also predicted the Pistons to win in 5 and the Nets to win in 7.
I feel sick. Truly sick. Like the towers have just fallen. Or The Challenger just exploded. Or the dog just died. Sick.
It’s a bracing intrusion of the terrible. If I were Pat Robertson I would say" "If I heard him correctly--and I'm just not sure cause this damn spiritual hearing aid is on the fritz-- God is punishing us for our slovenly addiction to narcotizing spectacles and our flight from his true and real creation. Oh,. No..that’s not what he was saying…he was saying “Pat Robertson is a turd.” Damn. I’ve got to get this thing fixed!”
Anyhow, really, really sickening.
Almost puts the Wagner debacle in perspective.
Almost.
I still want a dartboard with his face on it.
BEST REPONSE SO FAR TO THE TEDDY VEGAS NAMING CHALLENGE OF THE WEEK:
The Happy Room.
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May 15, 2006
DICK MOVE OF THE DAY:
The New York Times got a hold of some evidence that Special Prosecutor Fitzpatrick is planning to use in his prosecution of Scooter Libby. The document: A copy of the January 2003 op-ed piece by then special ambassador Joseph Wilson criticizing the case for war in Iraq. The cut-out op-ed piece has what are alleged to be Dick Cheney’s notes scribbled neatly in the margins. It is clearly an attempt to fashion an attack on Wilson. The last, intriguing note reads, “Did his wife send him there on a junket?” Alas. Cheney’s notes on Plame. The smoking gun. Or the Plaming pile of poop. Motive. Knowledge. Opportunity. While only Libby has been indicted, it suggests the intriguing possibility that the chain of accountability went up as high as Cheney…and the even more intriguing possibility that there might be a legal basis for going after him. No, my breath is not held. I’m not pulling a David Blaine on this one. But, whether he’s implicated or indicted or neither, I’ll say this about Cheney: His doodles and marginal scribblings are surprisingly legible for such a self fashioned arrogant/macho prick. I’d always assumed there was an inverse relationship between one's level of macho arrogance and one’s quality of penmanship (see doctors' famous disregard for legibility and diffident schoolgirls’ famous prioritization of it.) Is this just a gratuitous observation from the margins of political history, or perhaps evidence of a kinder gentler, more effeminate side to the Imperial Dick—a more Brokeback side to the quail hunting cowboy?
“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT” MOMENT OF THE DAY
I know what I am about to say is nothing new. Indeed, it may be tired to the point of cliché. But then again, the fact that we are all going to die or that the earth is forever spinning or that Adam Sandler is considered a great talent is nothing new either. But we still look upon these things with newfound amazement from time to time. So, all this by way of preface. What I want to say—unoriginal though incomprehensible as it might be –is: So, let me get this straight. Our last president lied about a blow job and was impeached. But this administration has lied to start a war in which over a hundred thousand people have been killed, ordered illegal wiretappings of countless citizens and, as the immaculately scrivened Cheney op-ed notes suggest, jeopardized the life of an undercover American CIA agent by revealing her identity in an act of political revenge on her husband---and no is even talking about impeachment in a serious manner? Add to this, illegal fundraising initiatives incompetence and deception of epic proportions in matters of the environment, taxation and campaigning, etc etc. etc. and…OK, just wanted to make sure. Fine. No problem. Just checking.
That said: I’m a big fan of the Democrats looking forward rather than backward; coming up with a clear, relevant alternative platform rather than dissipating their energies on the vengeful wish to punish the administration for their crimes…But still. C’mon. Dang.
2008 THOUGHT OF THE DAY: GORE ON SNL
Talking about looking forward and looking back: The man who won the popular vote for the presidency in 2000 made a surprise appearance on SNL this weekend—offering us a superficially amusing but deeply painful glimpse of how things might be different now if the popular will of the country had been respected at that time. His appearance convinced me that he is seriously testing the waters for a run in 2008—a development I’d personally applaud. In the public imagination, he was last seen right before the epoch-defining, politically-manipulated attacks of 9/11. And while one might think this would cast him irrevocably into the fog of historical irrelevance, I think that, to the contrary, it gives him a unique and powerful position from which to speak. Indeed, I believe having been offstage during these compromised and compromising 6 years, he can benefit from the myriad failures and embarrassments of this administration and can ride the “road not taken” sentiment much farther than any of the other Democrat candidates. Indeed, his absence over the last two terms is arguably his strongest virtue—as no one has come out of these rotten times unscathed. His gravitas and emotional authority are unassailable and so long as he abandons his carefully focus-grouped, wooden candidacy of 2000 (an embarrassment one suspects he rues every waking moment and will never ever repeat), I think he can actually win the damn thing. With respect to moderate voters who’ve become alienated by Bush-Cheney but still harbor irrational hatred of Clinton, Gore will not be tinged by associations with the former president—as he clearly separated himself from him during the campaign of 2000. And I think after 8 years of an imperial Chimp, moderate America might be more interested in a candidate’s “Presidentiality” and breadth of actionable knowledge than in his “would I like to have a beer with him?” factor. Kerry is shot. He’ll still be trying to clarify his position on the war until at least 5 mintues after his death. And Obama is not ready (not to mention not white enough). The big challenge of course will be Hillary--a candidate the Democratic party power structure is pledged to support—despite lingering doubts about her electability. Let’s be clear. I actually sort of like Hillary (her transparently calculated positions shifts and barely veneered ambition notwithstanding). But there is no way on earth that she can win the election. People in the party must know this and must be hoping that someone (like Gore) comes along with enough independent momentum to allow them to save face in switching horses. (Defending their move on the grounds of electability and “Party unity.”)
MUSIC COMMENT OF THE DAY: PAUL SIMON ON SNL
Another 55 year old plus liberal made an appearance on SNL with Gore, albeit one about a foot and a half shorter. It was Paul Simon. He sang two lovely, catchy songs from his most recent album “Surprise”—the second of which repeated the lyrics: “Who’s gonna love you when your looks are gone? Who’s gonna love you when your looks are gone? Who’s gonna love you when your looks are gone? Who’s gonna love you when your looks are gone?” It was a nice song and an important question, but it’d be more impressive for someone like Jacob Dylan or Julien Casablancas (of The Strokes) to be singing it. Someone whose looks weren’t already gone…at birth. Now that’d be a striking statement in this age of vanity and youth worship. But, hey, from Paul, it was pretty nice too.
A propos of this question, I couldn’t help by thinking—as I watched the frumpy little rhymer-- how the fact that Edie Brickell is in love with him is an eloquent testimony to the superior spiritual depth of women over men. You didn’t see Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix falling in love with Janis Joplin because she was so beautiful on the inside, did you? (Sorry for shifting eras, but I just couldn’t think of any soulful but unlovely female singer from today. Perhaps that’s because the MTV-ization of music has made it next to impossible for a less than moderately attractive woman to get a record contract? Or maybe it’s just that I couldn’t think of one and so—lazily—went old school where the picking was easy. Thank you Janis.)
MEMORY OF THE DAY:
Speaking of Gore: I remember when I was still embittered by Gore’s self-defeatingly wooden run for the roses in 2000 and I saw him endorse Dean in 2003. He was passionate, uncompromising, charismatic—in short, everything he had failed to be against Bush. I remember thinking: That Gore. He can’t run. But MAN can that guy endorse!!!
WISH FOR THE DAY:
May there come a day when there will be something more than our ring tones to differentiate or unite us.
TV COMMENT OF THE DAY:
It was brought to my attention that one of the comelier female contestants on Survivor had lost a lot of weight over the course of the show and was looking really great. I suspect that even if Survivor fails to survive as a Reality TV show, it will continue to thrive as a weight loss program—no longer competing against “Lost” or “Alias” or “24” but instead competing against Trimspa.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
As we all know, people are seldom polite in the subways any more. Men never even offer a pregnant woman a seat unless she’s really hot. So why does it seem that the only time people are unfailingly polite in the subway is when you’ve dropped the Sunday circular crap out of the interior of your newspaper and they pick it up and offer it back to you?? Let’s face it: the spilling of the filler was a fortuitous act of kibble reduction—unintended though not undesired. But now you have to act grateful for the gesture of help--lest you appear like an unappreciative litterbug. Is this helpfulness or a perverse passive aggressiveness on their part? Are your fellow passengers coming to your aid or trying to thwart and reproach you with an apparent act of assistance?
CURIOSITY OF THE DAY:
Ted Kennedy’s plane was hit by lightning. On the one hand, you can say "My Goodness, Proof that the Kennedy Clan is cursed!" But the fact that he didn't die can also be interpreted as meaning he lacks the gravitas and moral authority to be a true Kennedy. If he were a true Kennedy, you know that plane would have caught fire and crashed. It's like fate is snubbing him--depriving him the familiar familial immortalization of a tragic end. He's probably condemned to being the first Kennedy to die the undignified death of an old drunk. Or, as my friend suggests,he may finally have so much residual alcohol fumes coming out of his pores that he may walk by a fireplace one day and spontaneously combust. But still, hardly a Kennedy-esque ending.
COLBERT QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I admire this man. He doesn't just stand for things, he stands ON things. Things like rubble and aircraft carriers and recently flooded city squares. And that sends a strong message: that no matter what happens to America, she will always rebound -- with the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world."
CHERRYHILL SCAMMER UPDATE OF THE DAY:
Still no word from the nice British Jewish man I loaned money to in Grand Central Station. But I just read about a letter that was delivered after 54 years, so I'm not giving up hope! Like Anne Frank, I still believe that mankind is basically good. But unlike Anne Frank, I'm sort of kidding.
MEDIA META-COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
ESPN's getting into bed with Barry Bonds (by broadcasting a “reality TV show” that functions as a propoganda vehicle for the embattled superstar) is like the rest of the media getting into bed with the administration at the outset of the war. Ah, the compromised fourth estate. Ah, ABC/Disney! Ah, humanity!
HERO OF THE DAY:
QWEST. For refusing to turn over phone records to the NSA over concerns about its legality.
QUESTION OF THE DAY:
How will we know when the “War on Terror” is over? (Hmm. Isn’t THAT convenient.)
UNOFFICIAL WHITE HOUSE REMINDER OF THE DAY:
Remember: Gravity is just a theory.
IMAGE FROM THE WEEKEND:
Awakening at dusk in a train as you pass the stop that was your childhood.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Overheard being said plaintively with a surprisingly high voice into his cell phone by a large African-American guy on the street:
“But why should we have gone to fisticuffs? Why?”
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May 11, 2006
TALKING POINTS OF THE DAY:
According to Monday’s Washington Post, the White House has sent communications packets to selected career appointees at the Department of Agriculture encouraging them to include scripted positive talking points about the Iraq war in all of their public statements and indicating that officials will be graded on both the frequency and faithfulness with which they parrot the propaganda. If they get bad grades they’re taken out back behind the woodshed by Dick Cheney…and he does unmentionable things to them and their faces.
Oh and in case you’re wondering how they’re supposed to work pro-administration comments about the Iraq war into speeches about farming, feed and fertilizer, the White House Speechwriter’s office has included a handy list of suggested seamless segue-ways. While I didn’t read the list of artfully constructed rhetorical maneuvers myself, I suspect they were something along the lines of: “With regard to concerns about the Avian flu, let me assure all Americans that things are going really really well in Iraq.” Or “Speaking about the Farm Bill, President Bush has a fabulous plan for success in Iraq.”
Here in the No Fact Zone, the Spin Shall set us free.
In a related development, Dubya has agreed to give a huge donation to Yale on the condition that they offer a graduate degree in Intelligent Design and Political Strategery and change their motto to Spin et Veritas.
Just kidding about this second development. But, really, we've long since reached the point where it’s impossible to draw the line between parody and plausibility.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“Here in the duskgarden it’s getting so you can’t tell/an abyss from a pageant.” -Joshua Clover, from his collection of poems about post 9/11 society entitled“The Totality for Kids.”
VISUAL OF THE DAY:
/>http://monkeysaurus.net/321/moore-goode-dick.htm
MOVIE REVIEW OF THE DAY:
Somehow, I allowed the Onion’s A-V Section (usually a very reliable movie review source) to convince me to see “Friends With Money.” Oh my goodness! A bunch of wealthy L.A. women improbably affiliated with an unwealthy L.A. Woman—angsting over the blessings and burdens of wealth and relationships in an earnest –but wholly unconvincing—approximation of real dialogue. Awkward. Uncomfortable. But not in in a good way. Think “Curb Your Enthusiasm” without the comedy. Then think “Thirtysomething” with some unintended laughs. Then put the two thoughts together. Then shudder. Then be grateful you didn’t spend 2 hours of your life inside of that thought.
Maybe—in this case--I’m a little biased by estrogen deficiency (as it’s clearly a chick flick), but it appears that it’s enough these days for a movie to gesture towards real lives, emotional truth and intelligent insight for people to hail it as real, emotional and deep. It seems not to matter if the characters are unconvincing, the emotions canned and the insights pedestrian. You couldn’t imagine, say, a French movie hitting so many false notes and being praised as piercing and perceptive. I can’t help but thinking our collective standards for real and profound have fallen to troubling new lows.
Generous interpretation: People are so hungering for something real and moving and intelligent that they gladly feast on anything remotely suggestive of it.
Ungenerous interpretation: People have been living inside the entertainment-media-matrix for so long, they can’t even remember what emotional truth is.
Third possibility: Everyone knows the movie was a well intended travesty of a mockery of a sham. But the Director had Friends With Money who paid the reviewers off.
BTW: I don’t think the estrogen-deficiency issue is relevant as the female-friendly “You Can Count on Me” was one of my favorite movies of the last 10 years.
I’ll end my review with a post I saw about the movie on IMDB (when I went to see what in the world people thought they saw in this movie.): The quote: “This movie made me ashamed to be white.”
MISFORTUNE OF THE DAY:
I have a kind of cinema specific narcolepsy—which causes me to nod off for about 10-15 minutes in the middle of almost every film I see. Even if the film is otherwise riveting. Something about the comfort of the seats. The darkness of the room. Whatever. Anyhow, for whatever reason, I did not submit to my usual 40 winker during the movie and was, hence, subjected to 100 uninterrupted minutes of excruciating falseness masquerading as gripping realness. I’m probably being a little hard on this movie.
But it spewed.
TIP OF THE DAY:
How to appear fabulously popular—in three easy steps. 1) Drop your fold-up cell phone and crack your screen—so it looks like a death star black spider. 2) Wait 3) After enough days or weeks or months go by, you will have accumulated the requisite critical mass of text messages for your phone to ring, with the exterior L.E.D. display indicating “Text Messages Full.” Your cell phone provider will not know that you are unable to access said messages because you have a broken screen and, hence, will continue to call you at 20 minute intervals throughout the day to bring this problem to your attention. With your phone ringing all the time, friends and colleagues will think you are the most popular guy around. It’s that simple.
As you might have guessed, I speak here from experience. This audible dysfunctional loop has become my new (and entirely unmeditated) signature thing. My old signature thing was having a chaotic pile of junk in my pocket without a wallet. And my future signature thing—should I become fabulously wealthy—will be to hire a geisha girl to follow me around all day dispensing those hot rolled up towels at 10 minute intervals.
SCANDAL OF THE DAY:
That Chris Paul only received 124 out of the 125 first place votes for NBA Rookie of the Year. That Deron Williams of all people received a first place vote represents an obvious contempt for truth and reality that is sure to land that sportswriter a high position in the Bush administration.
IRONY OF THE DAY:
Having my office mailbox filled with “Your Mailbox is filled” notices.
BIG BROTHER DEVELOPMENT OF THE DAY:
I know a lot of people are up in arms about the revelation that the NSA has accessed and archived pretty much every single phone call by every single American over the last few years. Some are even going so far as to evoke comparisons to Big Brother and all that. But me? I think there’s an unexplored upside. It means some of my finest impromptu voice mail messages have been archived and preserved somewhere. The government could really reduce the national debt by selling those taped calls back to the people who want them They could also provide a public service by allowing people to consult the old phone calls to adjudicate any domestic disagreements over what people did and did not say. “Honey, I TOLD you I had plans to go to the game on Wednesday night. Yes, yes, I did, I swear. Remember I called you from work yesterday and told you that. OK, well, I guess we’re gonna have to write to the government again to resolve this.”
It’s sort of ironic that the party that advocates keeping government out of private life has gotten it involved in private life like never before. Oh, wait, I see. It’s not private life any more…so there’s no contradiction. My bad.
QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Bought the new Pearl Jam CD. Can’t tell how much I like it yet, but something in the conjunction of the NBA Playoffs and a new Pearl Jam offering reminded me that I’d read somewhere that the band members are all huge NBA fans and the band had, in fact, previously been named “Mookie Blaylock” –after their favorite basketball player. Evidently their first album “Ten” was inspired by Mookie Blaylock’s uniform number. Which makes one wonder: If Mookie had worn number 99, would they have had to come up with 89 additional songs?
THEORY OF THE DAY:
A colleague and I were watching a reel of television commercials when he opined “I’ll bet 90% of all garden gnomes bought in the United States end up in television commercials.”
"THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO HMM...OR IS IT SIEG HEIL?" IMAGE OF THE DAY:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12733214/
Democracy is on the March in Iraq. And it looks an awful lot like something else.
DEFENSE OF INTELLECTUALISM OF THE DAY:
From a recent installment of Ze Frank’s excellent daily video blogs.
www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/050506.html
RANDON SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
He was a real team player, only for the other team.
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May 09, 2006
I tune in, minutes before the pruning exhibitionist begins his breathless shenanigans. My thoughts:
The macabre investment of ABC. They build up to this event by showing us the tragic death of this beautiful young deep sea diver after only 8 minutes of oxygen deprivation. And now, they remind us, "David Blaine is attempting to go without oxygen for 9 minutes. Next."
We cut to a promo: “See David Blaine talk about his amazing week, tomorrow morning only on “Good Morning America.”
The juxtaposition of life and death suspense with a morning talk show commitment is delightfully absurd.
We now see the Navy Seal guy prepping him for the long awaited stunt. “David…you have 1 minute and 30 seconds. Begin your preparations.” He intones calmly and reassuringly. “You know what to do. You;ve trained for this. Just relax and breathe…”
As he draws his last breath before the stunt, I think to myself “What if he laughed? What if someone said something really really funny just as he was going under? What if an involuntary chuckle popped the weeklong balloon of expectation and turned the entire preceding 7 days into the set up for a joke rather than the build up to a death-defying act?"
For the first two or three minutes under water, I’m thinking “Yeah, maybe you can do this with the guy talking you through this peaceful visualization. But could you do it if he were doing stand-up? Now THAT would be impressive. Plus it'd be a very funny reality TV show."
As time goes by, I start to find the whole thing really disturbing. The spectacle is unseemly. The people watching (including yours truly) are, at some level, like vultures—attracted by the scent of possible imminent death.
I’m also thinking, "I’ll bet all that screaming isn’t helping him. Did he train with these simulated conditions? Did the Navy Seals provide him with loud tapes of people screaming his name?"
The whole thing feels so artificial and constructed and shot through with tawdry commercialism and the the faux drama of Regis Philbin asking “Is that your final answer?” And yet there is something undeniably real and dangerous going on here. And I sort of feel like I shouldn’t be watching it.
As the minutes pass, I am feeling strangely uncomfortable. Almost breathless --if you will--with anticipation. Of what, I am not sure. Indeed, I can't tell if I'm rooting for him or against him. But it does feel like the oxygen isn't getting to my extremities. Clearly, I'm way too empathic.
Stuart Scott—master of inane solemnity and chief explicator of the obvious—reminds us “Now, remember: The medical experts have told us that if David is in trouble, we will see air bubbles.”
Ooops. I see some air bubbles.
Oops. It’s over.
Suddenly, it is clear: Millions of people have gathered to watch some guy catch his breath and get dried off with a towel. Stewart Scott solemnly reminds us "You are seeing this happen."
It's obvious that they had absolutely no contingency plan for what to talk about if he failed. Stewart Scott slings a few more platitudes about failure and success. Then we get to see Blaine blubberingly thank everybody "for making the week fly by."
The best part about it, of course, is that he failed. That confers some dignity and legitimacy on the proceedings; frees it of any suspicions of skullduggery or tricksterism.
OK, I wanted to scribble this up quickly so I could post it while it still had some "news" value.
But I have to sign off now, because I have to be up at 6 a.m for work. In fact, what I have to go through tomorrow makes what David Blaine went through seem like a nice warm bath. He may have been trapped all week in a small water filled sphere, but I’ll be trapped all day in a deadly boring meeting with a client.
Maybe I can get ABC to broadcast that. See if Teddy Vegas can survive 8 hours of mind-numbing jargon without any access to the Internet. Hmm. I'll have to talk to them.
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May 08, 2006
REALITY OF THE DAY:
According to a few articles I read recently, the super rich are gaining the most and giving the least --at least as a percentage of wealth. And not by small margins, but rather by staggering multiples. Hence the absurd bankruptcy of the extreme right’s position that the well being of the worst off among us should not be guaranteed by the public trust of government, but rather should be granted by the personal virtue of charity. Just another big big lie in the hateful attempt to consolidate wealth in the hands of the same 63 rich white families-- –in the face of the increasing and inevitable un-whitening of America. The reason charity doesn’t work in a fear-driven, greedy capitalist culture is based on a simple asymmetry: There is no such thing as “enough” but there is such a thing as “not enough.” The wealthiest segment of our society internalizes the former psychological truth, while the poorest segment experiences the latter material reality.
UNINTENDED IRONY OF THE DAY:
Someone pointed out that William T. Vollman is so ridiculously undisciplined and excessive in his writing that he managed to use the phrase “in short” twice in the same sentence!! Now, in a geekazoid kind of a way, THAT is pretty funny.
I’ll try to find the sentence for my next posting.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (With article of the day and rant of the day thrown in free of charge.)
There is one guy we’ve been hearing even less about in the main stream media than Stephen Colbert. His name is Osama Bin Laden. Remember him? The guy who actually attacked us on September 11? The guy Bush promised to capture dead or alive? The guy who the Bush-Cheney spin masters and war mongers somehow conveniently morphed into Saddam Hussein? For more on this, check out Frank Rich’s Op-Ed in Sunday’s Week in Review. He points out that our nation has completely lost sight of who our real enemy is and where the real threat to our national security lies and, as a result, is absurdly—indeed, terrifyingly—unprepared to meet the real challenges we face. Meanwhile, evidently, all the gains made in the first and actually justified war (Afghanistan) have been erased and the country is pretty much back in the hands of the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The stupidity, incompetence, arrogance and ineffectiveness of this administration…the squandered opportunities, resources and international good will…the…the…the…it’s dazzlingly, stupefyingly, mute-makingly, blood-boilingly infuriating…it’s enough to make even a reasonably level headed, semi-articulate person become a s-s-stammering…sp-sp-spewing…sp-sp-sputtering…Tourettic twitch machine.
I don’t know what I’d do without the NBA playoffs.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: (A props of the David Blaine spectacle and the
associated problems with dermal pruning).
When you're in warm water, why do only your fingers and toes prune? If
you stayed submerged in warm water indenitinitely would you begin to
prune from the extremities back towards your core? How long would it
take for your torso to wrinkle and furrow? Would it ever happen?
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY #2: (A propos of the above)
In David Blaine there seem to be two fascinatingly contradictory
impulses at work. One is a kind of rigorous and humble
discipline--evident in his commitment to pushing himself to the
extremes of human experience (being buried, standing still for 2 days,
not eating for a week etc.). The other is his remarkable
exhibitionism. The odd pairing of quasi spiritual discipline and
shameless exhibitionism is sort of fascinating--if you go for that kind
of a thing, which I'm not sure I do.
MEMORY OF THE DAY: (A propos of the above.)
My grandmother saying to me about a certain building in New Haven:
-That's a lovely building.
-Really? You like that?
-Well, if you go for that sort of modern architecture--which of course
I don't.
FURTHER REFLECTION ON OBSERVATION OF THE DAY #2:
Of course, perhaps there is no contradiction at all. Perhaps his
motivations in pushing the limits of human experience are not spiritual
and humble in the least but rather grandiose and glory seeking.
Perhaps they are just a way to build up his mystification quotient to
get laid by the few hot models he hasn't been laid by already. Perhaps
submerging himself shirtless in a water-filled transparent bubble is
just a way of using the magnifying powers of water to exaggerate the
musculature of his gym built torso. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps.
NOTE ON THE DAY:
May 6. Willie Mays' birthday and the day that my parents told me they
were getting divorced (33 years ago). As Willie Mays was my favorite
baseball player, his birthday was a very happy event. As my parents
were my favorite parental unit, the announcement of their (entirely
unsuspected) unhappiness with one another was a very unhappy event.
For me, May 6, is a day of ambivalent emotions. Except for today.
Today, my teams won.
Yay teams!!
TEAM OF THE DAY #1:
First off the Mets. Jorge Julio gets vote of confidence from Willie
and comes through--holding on to save a 6-5 victory that felt like it
made it official: The Mets have turned the tables on the Braves. I
really didn;t even have the feeling of inevitable collapse that I've
had every one of the last 14 years versus the Braves. And I don't
think any of the players on either team had it either. It's a new era.
I'm not saying the Mets have the Braves number. I'm not saying
they'll win the division. I'm not saying the Braves are the Mets'
beatches. I'm just saying.
Thank you Carlos and Carlos and Jose and Julio and Kazuo and Co. for a
very nice Nice Willie Mays' birthday/Parent's Divorce Day present.
TEAM OF THE DAY #2:
The Suns total eclipse of the Lakers. Love that Stevie Nash. Right up
there with Stevie Colbert in the current Teddy Vegas Stevie Pantheon.
NAME OF THE DAY:
I just read that Dennis Rodman's estranged deadbeat dad (whom the former basketball star and current weirdo has evidently only met twice) showed up at a recent exhibition game for some transparently opportunistic purpose. The father’s name? Philander. Yes. Can you believe it? Middle name might even be R. Philander R. Rodman. I’m surprised his parents didn’t just name him Adulter . I guess with a father named Adulter…er… I mean Philander, well that helps explain some of young Dennis’s issues with authority.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“An indiscriminate premium has been placed on the particular, the
tactile, the “crisp” and the “tart”—as if literary worth should be
calibrated by resemblance to an apple (or in the lingo of
hyperspecificity, a Macintosh.)"
--Elif Batuman, in his critique of modern American short story writing
in the journal N 1
MOVIE OBERVATION OF THE DAY:
Crash. I know a lot of people loved it and Hollywood gave itself a nice
big self-congratulatory racially enlightened hug by acknowledging it at
the Oscars, but I have a few problems with it. First off, it was, to
my mind, rather schematic and predictable--dealing in racial cliches
that masqueraded as piercing socio-psychological insights. But more
important: It not only stole its name from another movie (Cronenburg's
"Crash"), but it stole its plot from two other movies ("Magnolia" and
"Grand Canyon.")! That said, I guess for a movie that had a borrowed
title and had been made at least twice before, it was pretty good.
STRANGELY AESTHETIC MOMENT OF THE DAY:
When Barry Bonds hit his 713th HR last night to put him one behind Babe Ruth on the all time list, a sea of fans lifted up little asterisks in unison—to indicate that alleged steroid use has compromised the integrity of his official record. The visual usually associated with historic home runs (When McGuire was chasing Maris’s single season record for example) is a sea of flashing cameras. But this gesture of collective protest had a strange beauty of its own—turning the sporting event into a sort of post modern interpretation of Monet’s water lilies or something.
GRIEVANCE OF THE DAY:
In their commercials with Lebron, Nike boasts the pretentious motto "We
are All Witnesses." "Witnesses to what?", I ask. "A pretentious and
stupid ad campaign? "
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:
He was the thinking man's Homer Simpson.
COLBERT THOUGHT OF THE DAY:
The essential verbal gesture of the entire performance: "Mr.
President, I am just like you. I'm a total asshole! I am just like
you. I am a heartless lying sack of shit! Ladies and Gentlemen, I love
this man, because he,like I, is a totally duplicitous scumbag!" A
brilliant rhetorical strategy not unfamiliar to readers of Moliere or
Shakespeare.
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May 05, 2006
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“These aren’t pigs in blankets. These are mini hot dogs wrapped in some kind of dough.”
QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Who is more likely to find a receptive audience: Moussaoui at his sentencing hearing or Colbert at The White House Correspondents' Dinner? And, a related question: Which of the two men does George W. Bush more want to see dead?
SLAM OF THE DAY:
Anyone with an appreciation for the use of negative space would love the MRIs of his brain.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“These aren’t pigs in blankets. These are mini hot dogs wrapped in some kind of dough.”
THEME OF THE DAY:
Redundancy.
PROPOSED BAND NAME OF THE DAY:
The Stasis Junkies.
EUPHEMISM OF THE DAY: (A Propos of the aforementioned non existent band.)
Risk aversive is the clinically dignified term for wimp.
BRIEF RECS OF THE DAY:
Jhumpa Lahiri's story in this week's New Yorker.
The David Smith exhibit at the Guggenheim (closing in a week).
The Intro article on "Freud and Totalitarianism" in last week's Sunday NYT Mag section.
The article about a liberal post 9/11 foreign policy in the same.
The deciding game of the Suns-Lakers series on Saturday.
(I may have some more (which is to say something) to say about some of these things at some point, but I am rushing to get out of here for some Cinco de Mayo drinks. Full disclosure I am also---courtesy of the Some Council-getting paid a dollar for every time I used the word "some" in this posting.)
QUOTE OF THE DAY #2
"Nice guy. Nice guy. An asshole. But a nice guy."
"I'LL TAKE A PASS ON THAT ONE" MOMENT OF THE DAY:
Getting an Instant Message Prompt from an unknown person with the moniker RURU. RURU? Uh, that'd be NONO.
STEPHEN COLBERT THOUGHT OF THE DAY:
It would have been great to have had an inset image of Bush's face throughout the Colbert Speech, so you could monitor the vicissitudes of his eye batting chagrin and pursed lipped rage. Or at least see which "jokes" he got.
EXCERPTS OF THE DAY:
"If Colbert came off as "shrill and airless," in Lehman's words, inside the cozy terrarium of media self-congratulation at the Washington Hilton, that tells us more about the audience than it does about Colbert.
Colbert's deadly performance did more than reveal, with devastating clarity, how Bush's well-oiled myth machine works. It exposed the mainstream press' pathetic collusion with an administration that has treated it -- and the truth -- with contempt from the moment it took office. Intimidated, coddled, fearful of violating propriety, the press corps that for years dutifully repeated Bush talking points was stunned and horrified when someone dared to reveal that the media emperor had no clothes. Colbert refused to play his dutiful, toothless part in the White House correspondents dinner -- an incestuous, backslapping ritual that should be retired. For that, he had to be marginalized. Voilà: "He wasn't funny."
This is a battle that can't really be won -- you either got it Saturday night (or Sunday morning, or whenever your life was made a little brighter by viewing Colbert's performance) or you didn't. Personally, I'm enjoying watching apologists for the status quo wear themselves out explaining why Colbert wasn't funny. It's extending the reach of his performance by days without either side breaking character -- the mighty Colbert or the clueless, self-important media elite he was satirizing. For those who think the media shamed itself by rolling over for this administration, especially in the run-up to the Iraq war, Colbert's skit is the gift that keeps on giving. Thank you, Stephen Colbert!" --From Joan Walsh's article "Making Stephen Colbert Go Away" at Salon.com
--
"Colbert has found a way to do the impossible: to satirise the unsatirisable (made up word, but you get my point). We've all been shocked and floored at what these Repugs can do, how stupid and brazen they can be, that they impossible to turn into satire. Well, Colbert did it. That's an act of brilliance. He took it just far enough past what they do in the course of a normal day, that he was able to turn it into satire. Brilliant.
I don't know how he was allowed to speak, but I suspect that he exploited a huge hole in the Repug edifice: those people are territorial chimps, especially Shrub, they respond to animal-level, non-verbal dominance cues. And Colbert has got that schtick down so cold... he really looks and acts and has the voice tone (notice: these are non-intellectual, mammalian cues) just like a wingnut, that it puts those people at ease. Of course they "knew" his schtick... "knew" in an intellecutal sense, but their "gut" didn't throw any alarms because their "gut" told them that underneath the schtick he was just like them. This is why his whole "gut" bit is so devastating: his very presence on that stage was a visceral (pun intended!) reminder of why your "gut" is not what you should rely on for policy decisions. He spoke to the Repug powers that be in their own language-- the language of alpha-male dominance-- and chumped them.
In short, absolutely brilliant. "
-Blog comment on Daily Kos by goatchowder on Sun Apr 30, 2006 at 04:31:06 PM PDT
NEW TERM FOR THE DAY:
Ironoclasm.
QUOTE OF THE DAY #3: (Found on some blog commentary)
"George W. Bush is just like Forrest Gump. Except that Forrest Gump is honest and cares about other people."
REPEATED FLASHBACK OF THE DAY:
"The last third is Backwash." Truly brilliant.
NBA ON TNT QUESTION OF THE DAY:
What IS that on the left side of Ernie Johnson’s face? I can’t believe no one is commenting on it. It’s like the Colbert speech.
QUIP OF THE DAY:
I have a sleep disorder: I only snore when there is someone else in the room.
QUOTE OF THE DAY #4: (Bringing the jazzed and the jaded into delicious contiguity.)
"Omigod!!! Whatever."
-Overheard on the street
THEME OF THE DAY #2:
Quotability.
RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE DESCRIPTION OF THE DAY:
He wasn’t the most organized knife in the sock drawer.
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May 02, 2006
QUESTION OF THE DAY:
Are you ready to accept Stephen Colbert as your personal savior???
IRONY/OBSCENITY OF THE DAY:
The fact that the same media that couldn’t laugh at Colbert’s truthful and accurate deriding of them, laughed heartily when Bush joked about not being able to find the WMDs—a joke about a lie that has cost over 2000 American lives and possibly hundreds of thousands of Iraq lives—a joke about a lie that has cost our country over 320 billion dollars and counting. They were humorless about the shamefully funny truth. But they were able to laugh off a deadly untruth.
MYSTERY OF THE DAY: WHY DID THEY INVITE STEPHEN COLBERT?
Could they have possibly been so stupid that they failed to see the irony in his Colbert report blow hardy Bill O’Reilly caricature and took it to be sincere? No, that’s not possible. I suppose they thought they could defang and appropriate this critical voice by inviting it into the club. I guess the assumption was that he’d cooperate. He’d play ball. He’d take the little honorific bone they were tossing his way and wag his tale like a good dog. But instead the truth crazed dog bit the hand that tried to feed it. Then bit some softer and more meaty bits. To say they miscalculated is like saying that the Challenger flight didn’t go too smoothly. You’d think they’d have learned from Jon Stewart’s experiment at the Oscars. He and Colbert are not looking to appease and entertain. They are not looking to leverage their anti-establishment critical comedic cache into a lifelong membership in the establishment inner sanctum. (At least not yet). For now, they are smart, angry guys who are truly outraged by the course this country has taken.
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
We have reached a point in this society where it is hard for people to fathom anyone caring about something more than money, power and fame. To reject these enticements is to truly and dangerously confound.
UNFAIR COMPARISON OF THE DAY:
Jon Stewart at the Oscars vs. Stephen Colbert at the Press Dinner.
Where Jon Stewart seemed a little unprepared for (and knocked off his stride by) the frosty glares and uncomfortable silences he received at the Oscars (and seemed to get a bit lost between his desire to be loved by the live audience and his desire to be truthfully funny about it), Colbert embraced the awkwardness with gusto, escalating the virulence of his assault with each awkward cough, shifting chair and strangled chuckle. Certainly, he was helped by the fact that he spoke from behind the “mask” of a seamlessly constructed character--the bombastic blowhard caricature he’d created for the Colbert Report—and, as such, had an emotional freedom probably unavailable to someone like Stewart who was speaking as and for himself. The genius of the entire affair of course, was that everyone knew that his character voice reflected his own true voice. But—at a psychodynamic level—I am sure the plausible deniability (“Hey I was only playing the part”) helped embolden him for the withering, tour de force performance that he gave.
NEWS SUMMARY OF THE DAY:
It’s one of those days when I can’t update my browser without something intoxicatingly insane having happened. The Red Sox make a desperate overnight trade for the only catcher who can catch Tim Wakefield’s knuckleball. He’s flown into town and given a 100 mph emergency police escort from the airport to Fenway—changing in the back seat of the police car—so he can arrive in time for the Yankees-Red Sox game. Denver Nugget Reggie Evans grabs and clutches L.A. Clipper Chris Kaman’s testicles, incurring a fine for $10,000 or $5000 per nut. A a 33 year old man marries a 104 year old woman. Kobe and Shaq’s daughter’s are born minutes apart. Another actor on the “Sopranos” is arrested. A holy fool exposes the world’s most powerful man as an ass clown and the media as the ass clown’s doting butt boy.
Oh, wait, that one happened but wasn’t actually reported.
QUESTION OF THE DAY #2:
Why is there a near total media blackout on the Stephen Colbert speech?
ATTEMPTED ANSWER OF THE DAY:
The press won’t report on him because he indicts their entire discourse. Their defense is that it doesn’t properly constitute news. In fact, it’s too big and categorical an indictment of the discourse of the news to be contained within the news as a news item. Instead they report of a few amicable, good-natured ribbings by other celebrities and some bits that indicate Bush’s regular guy willingness to poke fun at himself. (But again think of his WMDs joking.) And, of course, they go on and on about the appearance of George Clooney. Morgan Fairchild and others at Bloomberg’s fab after party. In this celebrity addled culture THAT is news.
The President of the United States being mercilessly taken to task in front of the media elite and the world. Uh, that's news.
MAN OF THE DAY: (Which is 24 times as impressive as Man of the Hour.)
Stephen Colbert.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Reality has a liberal bias" -Stephen Colbert
OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:*
When I was down in Tennessee, my female colleague told me she found it so charming and sweet than the southern boys would say “No, Ma’am.” And “Yes, Ma’am.” She’d glaze over and neglect to hear anything else that was said. Which might as well have been. “Yes, ma’am. I raped your daughter. Hit her on the head with a crowbar. Totally violated her. Yes ma’am. That’s what happened.”
“Oh, I just love it when he says “Yes Ma’am.””
*ADDENDUM OF THE DAY:
I had to include the "Yes Ma'am" business because Stephen Colbert told me that he'd be really uncomfortable with my taking the unprecedented step of having my entire blog be about one thing if that one thing was him. And I really didn't want to get on Stephen Colbert's bad side.
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May 01, 2006
LINK OF THE DAY/POLITICAL ACT OF THE DECADE
http://www.salon.com/ent/video_dog/politics/2006/04/30/colbert_press/
Stephen Colbert at the Washington Correspondents Dinner. Absolutely rivetting. Not just for the balls of steel material. But for the stony, uncomfortable response. Quite possibly the bravest political act of the decade. Comparable, in its bold defiance of authority and it's fearless affirmation of democratic values, to the guy standing in front of the tank at Tiannamen Square. And before you laugh off the comparison, remember this: There were 100 armed Secret Service men in that room to protect the president and Colbert was killing him right before their eyes. (Bush was trying to give the secret repetitive blink signal for them to shoot, but he couldn't remember how many times he was supposed to blink.) This was not a roast. This was a smart bomb. This eviscerating instance of speaking truth to power was the real operation Shock and Awe.
(P.S. Who would have thought that the only truly must-see TV this year would be on C-Span? If for any reason, you are not able to access the video at the link above because you are not a subscriber to Salon.com, write me at TCohn725@aol.com and I--since I am a subscriber-- will forward you the video from within the site. I cannot emphasize enough how much you need to see it. Not surprisingly, the mainstream media whose complicity and cowardice he viciously indicts has been very reluctant to report on this brave and brilliant performance. It is the one time anyone has dared to say the things that need to be said to the people who most need to hear them. Hence watching (and sharing!) this video is more than spellbindingly entertaining. It is an important political act.)
DEFINITION OF THE DAY:
Milkshake: The taste of imminent fatigue.
ALTERNATE DEFINITION OF THE DAY:
Milkshake: The antidote to thought.
/>FUDDYDUD OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (To be expanded on perhaps at some later juncture).
I recently saw a tween aged girl sitting across from her mother on the subway. She had "1969" written on her jeans. I was very curious about the significance of the date and asked her "Wow, 1969. I'd think that would be a date that means more to your mother than to you. Why did you choose to put it on your jeans? Was it becuase of Woodstock? Or Man Landing on the Moon? Or did it have some personal meaning for your family?" She shrugged. "No. The jeans just came like that." Alas, the meaning of "1969" was that it didn't mean anything. I was reminded of this, when a friend mentioned a similar experience she'd had with a young girl who had some political slogan on her coat but had neither knowledge nor curiosity about what it referred to. It appears that for this generation, the political and historical have been entirely subsumed by fashion. Kids are just billboards now, plastered with signifiers which signify nothing beyond themselves. Che Guevara? The Peace Symbol? The Swastika? Design elements. Nothing less. And nothing more. The end of history and meaning in a stylish, lowriding denim form.
SORT OF A PROPOS EXCERPT OF THE DAY: (Or, as they might say in academe, apposite.)
"It's that frustrating last 10 pounds of history that folks can't seem to shed, no matter how much they modernize their diets." -From Walter Kirn's review of Gary Shteyngart's new book "Absurdistan" in last Sunday's NYT Book Review.
SENTENCE OF THE DAY:
I plan to cultivate a studied inarticulateness.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Scott McLellan. He could say nothing like no one else." -Stephen Colbert
AMBIGUOUS PHRASE OF HE DAY:
Not that many people like him.
(Is it short for the glowing "There are not that many people like him?"
COMMERCIAL COMMENT OF THE DAY:
Did you see that new AT&T ad about the ever more convincing approximation of automated computer voices to human voices…converging towards the omega point of indistnguishability? It’s supposed to be a reassuring message about corporate service and technologoical progress. But it’s really a bit creepy—reminding us of the undetectable and inexorable intrusion of the inhuman into the human.
NEW PRODUCT OF THE DAY:
Personality diaper. For the emotionally incontinent.
SPORTS AND RACE COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:
Saturday a little after noon. In my coffee shop. Watching the NFL draft unfold on the muted plasma television. People rivetted by the spectacle of supersized (mostly African-American) men walking up to the stage at 15 minute intervals to be christened as multi-millionaires. One of the great public rituals of wealth transference in our culture. (With strange overtones of an inverted slave auction that functions perversely as an indirect, unofficial reparation for slavery.) At an athletic level, this sports event makes a golf tournament look like a triathlon. It's about getting millions of seated people to watch a handful of other seated people waiting for their chance to take a very short walk. Of course, it's about more than that. It's a chance for millions of vicarious armchair athletes like myself to gage their likely ratio of frustration to exaltation in the coming football seasons. A chance to see the new faces they will waste innumerable hours rooting for, cursing at and obsessing about. Something about the absence of sound underscores the absurd reality of all sports-fandom. Anyhow, I watch the silent proceedings to see how my beloved Jets will exercise their chance to break their fans hearts. With Matt Leinart still available (we have been cutting back to him repeatedly as others have been picked ahead of him and his stock has continued to fall), there is the temptation to go with the mediagenic possible star QB instead of the offensive lineman (Fergusson) you need to protect the quarterback. It's an actual crisis. A moment of truth for the organization. Do you give up on Pennington and Ramsey and commit to Leinart as your franchise QB or do you commit to the Pennington/Ramsey tandem and pick someone to protect them? As one of the few Jets fans I know who had refused to give up on Chad Pennington and as someone who has long felt that a football team only goes as far as its offensive line takes them, I am pleasantly surprised to see them pass up the temptation of Leinart (an excellent player...but in my mind no better than a healthy Chad...ay healthy...there's the rub) and pick Ferguson. They cut to Leinart, dropping his head as he feels his stock go into free fall like Juniper Networks in January 2001 and then we see Ferguson lumber up to the stage to be annointed among the wealthy. Chad must be doing some kind of crazy white man dance somewhere. I tear myself from the rivetting spectacle and set out for other time wasting activities.
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