First Discriminatory Amendment
Just a little note for history's sake: Today, February 24th, 2004, compassionate conservative president George W. Bush, who is a uniter and not a divider, publicly put his support behind a Federal Marriage Amendment, which is, to my knowledge, the first amendment to the U.S. Constitution explicitly designed to limit the rights of a subgroup of U.S. citizens.
Wait... did I get that link right?
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Friday, February 20, 2004
One more for idealism!
Actually, now that I've got that off my chest, let me propose to all my fellow mourning Deaniacs that we pour a Vermont microbrew, turn up the soundtrack, and raise a toast to what might have been.
Yeeeeeeeeeeearrrrgh!
Actually, now that I've got that off my chest, let me propose to all my fellow mourning Deaniacs that we pour a Vermont microbrew, turn up the soundtrack, and raise a toast to what might have been.
Yeeeeeeeeeeearrrrgh!
So...
Since everybody knows I've been supporting Howard Dean, I've noticed lately that a lot of people seem to be waiting for me to say something about the dissolution of his campaign. I haven't had much to say because the whole thing has been so disappointing and infuriating that it just puts me in a bad mood to think about it too hard. But now that it's officially over, I suppose I ought to say whatever it is I have to say and get on with it.
The end of this, the "First Internet Campaign" has seen a lot of internet soul-searching and internet post-mortems, and there are a number of analyses of what went wrong that broadly capture my own feelings. Still, if you want to know what I think happened and how I feel about it, well, here's what I think happened and here's how I feel about it.
I think Dean lost Iowa fair and square. They sent a bunch of volunteers in there who didn't know how to work a caucus and so they screwed it up. This was a mistake that reflected the nature of their outsider campaign; sometimes insiders know stuff you need to know if you want on the inside too. The Gephardt/Dean ad wars probably didn't help, but I doubt they made as big a difference as the mainstream pundits claim. In any case, Dean lost Iowa because he deserved to lose Iowa.
He didn't deserve to lose New Hampshire, however. In different times, his loss in Iowa wouldn't have meant anything to New Hampshire voters, who have shown a willingness in the past to ignore the judgement of their midwestern brethren. He lost New Hampshire, in my view, because of two factors he did not control: the sheer terror of Democrats nationwide at the prospect of seeing Bush (re)elected, and the determination of the mainstream press to assassinate his candidacy.
Democrats are scared about a second Bush administration, and I don't blame them. The prospect of Bush making Supreme Court appointments is enough to make we wake up screaming at night. The arbitraryness of the Bush v. Gore decision and the gutless passivity of Democratic "leadership" only heightens a sense of powerlessness that exacerbates that fear. The result is that most Democratic primary voters don't give a shit who their next president is, as long as it isn't Bush. Thus, the "electability" criterion: people are making their primary voting decision based on who they think other people will vote for. I could write pages on why this is a mistake, but I'll leave it at this – beyond some very broad generalizations (Al Sharpton, for example, was never gonna be president) it is an impossible calculation to make to get inside the head of a mythical national voter averaged over class, race, gender, geographic location, education level, etc, and try to gauge who this nonexistant model voter would find appealing. The very act of trying to make this judgement was bound to obscure our own emotional reactions to a candidate which are, ironically, probably the best predictors of who other people would vote for.
And this is how the trap was set. Long before the fateful Iowa concession speech, the mainstream media had been developing a narrative of Dean as "unelectable." Before I go any further, let me be perfectly clear about something:
There was ABSOLUTELY NO objective reason why Dean was less electable than any of the other Democratic candidates. None.
But not if you listened to any of the talking heads on TV and radio. Dean was unelectable because he was too liberal. Because he was too conservative. Because he was too angry. Because he was too nice to gays. Because he was anti-war. Because his supporters were too white/young/educated. Because he was from Vermont. Because doctors are arrogant. Because Vermonters are hippies/yuppies. Because he was "unstable." Because he "shot from the hip." Because he was dishonest. Because he told the truth too much. Et cetera. The biggest thing all these reasons had in common was that they were all demonstrably, obviously untrue to anyone who was paying attention. To those of us who knew Dean up close from his time as governor of Vermont, the "liberal" tag was laughable; one of the things I liked about him early on was that he was, like me, a little too conservative to be called liberal but a little too liberal to put up with conservatives. Silly me, I actually thought this would make him more, you know, electable. But really, all of these characterizations were laughable.
Since we all knew already that Dean was angry and unstable, the Iowa concession speech could only be seen as proof. Why else would someone holler like that? Because he was trying to be heard in a very noisy room, perhaps? Because he was trying to pump up a room full of shocked and disappointed supporters? Because the audio signal we heard played hundreds of times in the next week was fed directly from his directional mic? No, no, no. It's obvious. He must be crazy.
One of the saddest parts about the whole thing was that I wasn't hearing this from my conservative family members. I was hearing this from my liberal friends, educated people who were paying attention to the race. What they weren't paying attention to was how they were being manipulated by the media, and how their own decision making was being twisted against their purposes. They were relying on a professional class of media political analysts to do their filtering, and didn't realize they were being swindled by those same professionals.
In the end I hope that this will be one of the upsides of the Dean campaign: a lot of people who got emotionally involved in the campaign had their attention drawn, in a memorably painful way, to the power and corruption of mainstream media filters. Maybe some of those people on Dean's activist list will be not only more sophistcated consumers of news media, but will help to spread the word. Being a loyal reader of the Daily Howler, I already have an appreciation of just what a bitterly ironic joke it is when people claim that the media has a liberal bias. But most people don't, and this is one of so many examples of how Republicans have been far more effective at shaping appealing narratives than Democrats have. I hope Dean's figurative assassination is a wake-up call for Democrats. I also hope that the experience that all those Dean supporters had with the organizing and communicating power of the internet will be the beginning of the end for establishment media. I still have a "Kill Your Television" bumper sticker on my car, and now I mean it more than ever.
As for how I feel, well, I feel like crap. A familiar kind of crap, unfortunately. The same kind of crap I've felt like during every other presidential campaign as I anticipated casting a lesser-of-two-evils vote. It was pretty exciting for a minute there to think that we might actually have a president who was one of us. Kerry will certainly be an improvement on Bush. But "not unbelievably awful" isn't the same thing as "good."
Since everybody knows I've been supporting Howard Dean, I've noticed lately that a lot of people seem to be waiting for me to say something about the dissolution of his campaign. I haven't had much to say because the whole thing has been so disappointing and infuriating that it just puts me in a bad mood to think about it too hard. But now that it's officially over, I suppose I ought to say whatever it is I have to say and get on with it.
The end of this, the "First Internet Campaign" has seen a lot of internet soul-searching and internet post-mortems, and there are a number of analyses of what went wrong that broadly capture my own feelings. Still, if you want to know what I think happened and how I feel about it, well, here's what I think happened and here's how I feel about it.
I think Dean lost Iowa fair and square. They sent a bunch of volunteers in there who didn't know how to work a caucus and so they screwed it up. This was a mistake that reflected the nature of their outsider campaign; sometimes insiders know stuff you need to know if you want on the inside too. The Gephardt/Dean ad wars probably didn't help, but I doubt they made as big a difference as the mainstream pundits claim. In any case, Dean lost Iowa because he deserved to lose Iowa.
He didn't deserve to lose New Hampshire, however. In different times, his loss in Iowa wouldn't have meant anything to New Hampshire voters, who have shown a willingness in the past to ignore the judgement of their midwestern brethren. He lost New Hampshire, in my view, because of two factors he did not control: the sheer terror of Democrats nationwide at the prospect of seeing Bush (re)elected, and the determination of the mainstream press to assassinate his candidacy.
Democrats are scared about a second Bush administration, and I don't blame them. The prospect of Bush making Supreme Court appointments is enough to make we wake up screaming at night. The arbitraryness of the Bush v. Gore decision and the gutless passivity of Democratic "leadership" only heightens a sense of powerlessness that exacerbates that fear. The result is that most Democratic primary voters don't give a shit who their next president is, as long as it isn't Bush. Thus, the "electability" criterion: people are making their primary voting decision based on who they think other people will vote for. I could write pages on why this is a mistake, but I'll leave it at this – beyond some very broad generalizations (Al Sharpton, for example, was never gonna be president) it is an impossible calculation to make to get inside the head of a mythical national voter averaged over class, race, gender, geographic location, education level, etc, and try to gauge who this nonexistant model voter would find appealing. The very act of trying to make this judgement was bound to obscure our own emotional reactions to a candidate which are, ironically, probably the best predictors of who other people would vote for.
And this is how the trap was set. Long before the fateful Iowa concession speech, the mainstream media had been developing a narrative of Dean as "unelectable." Before I go any further, let me be perfectly clear about something:
There was ABSOLUTELY NO objective reason why Dean was less electable than any of the other Democratic candidates. None.
But not if you listened to any of the talking heads on TV and radio. Dean was unelectable because he was too liberal. Because he was too conservative. Because he was too angry. Because he was too nice to gays. Because he was anti-war. Because his supporters were too white/young/educated. Because he was from Vermont. Because doctors are arrogant. Because Vermonters are hippies/yuppies. Because he was "unstable." Because he "shot from the hip." Because he was dishonest. Because he told the truth too much. Et cetera. The biggest thing all these reasons had in common was that they were all demonstrably, obviously untrue to anyone who was paying attention. To those of us who knew Dean up close from his time as governor of Vermont, the "liberal" tag was laughable; one of the things I liked about him early on was that he was, like me, a little too conservative to be called liberal but a little too liberal to put up with conservatives. Silly me, I actually thought this would make him more, you know, electable. But really, all of these characterizations were laughable.
Since we all knew already that Dean was angry and unstable, the Iowa concession speech could only be seen as proof. Why else would someone holler like that? Because he was trying to be heard in a very noisy room, perhaps? Because he was trying to pump up a room full of shocked and disappointed supporters? Because the audio signal we heard played hundreds of times in the next week was fed directly from his directional mic? No, no, no. It's obvious. He must be crazy.
One of the saddest parts about the whole thing was that I wasn't hearing this from my conservative family members. I was hearing this from my liberal friends, educated people who were paying attention to the race. What they weren't paying attention to was how they were being manipulated by the media, and how their own decision making was being twisted against their purposes. They were relying on a professional class of media political analysts to do their filtering, and didn't realize they were being swindled by those same professionals.
In the end I hope that this will be one of the upsides of the Dean campaign: a lot of people who got emotionally involved in the campaign had their attention drawn, in a memorably painful way, to the power and corruption of mainstream media filters. Maybe some of those people on Dean's activist list will be not only more sophistcated consumers of news media, but will help to spread the word. Being a loyal reader of the Daily Howler, I already have an appreciation of just what a bitterly ironic joke it is when people claim that the media has a liberal bias. But most people don't, and this is one of so many examples of how Republicans have been far more effective at shaping appealing narratives than Democrats have. I hope Dean's figurative assassination is a wake-up call for Democrats. I also hope that the experience that all those Dean supporters had with the organizing and communicating power of the internet will be the beginning of the end for establishment media. I still have a "Kill Your Television" bumper sticker on my car, and now I mean it more than ever.
As for how I feel, well, I feel like crap. A familiar kind of crap, unfortunately. The same kind of crap I've felt like during every other presidential campaign as I anticipated casting a lesser-of-two-evils vote. It was pretty exciting for a minute there to think that we might actually have a president who was one of us. Kerry will certainly be an improvement on Bush. But "not unbelievably awful" isn't the same thing as "good."
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Josh's Law for predicting political outcomes:
Assume the worst-case scenario. You will always be rewarded, either with the satisfaction of being right, or the pleasant surprise of exceeded expectations. Usually the former.
Example 1. John Kerry will be the Democratic Party nominee for presidential candidate.
As a bonus: Josh's Law for evaluating conspiracy theories: Assume stupidity until malevolence can be established. Even when it can, you'll rarely have cause to regret the stupidity assumption.
Example 2. The (second) Bush administration: both stupid and evil.
Assume the worst-case scenario. You will always be rewarded, either with the satisfaction of being right, or the pleasant surprise of exceeded expectations. Usually the former.
Example 1. John Kerry will be the Democratic Party nominee for presidential candidate.
As a bonus: Josh's Law for evaluating conspiracy theories: Assume stupidity until malevolence can be established. Even when it can, you'll rarely have cause to regret the stupidity assumption.
Example 2. The (second) Bush administration: both stupid and evil.
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Monday, January 26, 2004
One More Reason
To love Howard Dean. From Tapped: "The Deans are a couple who met in a neuroanatomy class."
Aren't I always sayin' brains is sexy?
(the link is worth reading, btw: a case for why having a nerd president might be a good idea)
To love Howard Dean. From Tapped: "The Deans are a couple who met in a neuroanatomy class."
Aren't I always sayin' brains is sexy?
(the link is worth reading, btw: a case for why having a nerd president might be a good idea)
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Frostbitten for Dean
Went to a rally for Hoho preceding this event. It was pretty fun, but GAT DAMN was it cold. There was a lot of "Jumping Dean" and "Hop for Howard" calls among the cheers to keep the old toes from freezing off, and at one point I ran into a nearby building and jammed my toes inbetween the blades of a classroom radiator to get some feeling back. The forum itself was quite good, and I have to say, Dean is just SO many heads above any candidate I've ever seen before. It'll be a cryin' shame if the stupid-assed media succeeds in driving him out of the race.
Went to a rally for Hoho preceding this event. It was pretty fun, but GAT DAMN was it cold. There was a lot of "Jumping Dean" and "Hop for Howard" calls among the cheers to keep the old toes from freezing off, and at one point I ran into a nearby building and jammed my toes inbetween the blades of a classroom radiator to get some feeling back. The forum itself was quite good, and I have to say, Dean is just SO many heads above any candidate I've ever seen before. It'll be a cryin' shame if the stupid-assed media succeeds in driving him out of the race.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
Dear Democratic Iowa Voters:
I heard a lot of you interviewed last night and this morning in the wake of the surprising caucus results yesterday. The sentiment that the media seemed to capture in these interviews was that you were most concerned with finding a candidate who could beat George W. Bush in the general election. I gather that because of all the soundbites with Iowans saying, "I just want someone who can beat Bush." I agree! We should be very concerned about beating George W. Bush, because after four more years of his administration, we're going to be in very serious trouble.
Apparently, a majority of you thought John Kerry has the best chance of beating George W. Bush, since you gave him the most delegates. Good thinking! Because, you know how the American voter is - always making decisions on silly things like looks and style. A candidate who looks and sounds like Boris Karloff in zombie drag will definitely win the hearts of the American voter! American voters aren't just about superficial stuff, though, because they care about integrity. I know this because I heard a Republican Iowa caucus-goer (who no one on Earth but that dern liberal-biased media cares about since the Republican caucus doesn't mean anything to anyone this year) interviewed, and she said, "President Bush has proven his integrity." That's why he's so popular! And that's why John Kerry is the man to beat him, because he's proven his integrity, too. He proved it by basing his early career on his courageous protests against an expensive and pointless war, sold to Americans with lies, and then courageously voting to approve George W. Bush's pursuit of an expensive and pointless war, sold to Americans with lies. We've got our man!
Apparently many of you also felt that John Edwards was the man to beat George W. Bush. And I think you're on to something, you shrewd Iowans! He's pretty, no doubt about that, and American voters like 'em pretty. I mean, I know I do. He has nice hair, too. Bill Clinton had nice hair. I know because the media used to like to talk about it all the time. He spent a lot of money on his haircuts and even brought the Los Angeles airport to a standstill having an expensive haircut on Air Force One. Okay, he didn't actually, but that dern liberal-biased media didn't want to spoil our fun by telling us the truth. Anyway, John Edwards sure is pretty and has pretty hair. He's Southern, too, and all of our presidents have to be Southern now. That was a condition of surrender when the South lost the Civil War. George W. Bush knows this and that's why he pretends to be from Texas when he's really from Connecticut. He's smart. So is John Edwards, which is why he's really a man to beat Bush. I'm sure his advantages of prettiness and Southernness -- real Southernness! -- will be enough to outweigh his disadvantages of not having any money or campaign organization. Because everybody knows that money and organization aren't really that important in modern American politics. Especially when you're pretty!
So, I just wanted to write you Democratic Iowans and say: Good job! Nice Work! Now you can go back to all your farm chores and stop fucking up my election.
Love,
Josh
P.S. I am never eating corn again. -J.
P.P.S. Nobody's taken ethanol seriously as an alternative energy source for decades, so let's just call it what it is -- welfare -- and call you what you are: barnyard-smellin' welfare queens in coveralls. Okay, thanks again! xxooj
I heard a lot of you interviewed last night and this morning in the wake of the surprising caucus results yesterday. The sentiment that the media seemed to capture in these interviews was that you were most concerned with finding a candidate who could beat George W. Bush in the general election. I gather that because of all the soundbites with Iowans saying, "I just want someone who can beat Bush." I agree! We should be very concerned about beating George W. Bush, because after four more years of his administration, we're going to be in very serious trouble.
Apparently, a majority of you thought John Kerry has the best chance of beating George W. Bush, since you gave him the most delegates. Good thinking! Because, you know how the American voter is - always making decisions on silly things like looks and style. A candidate who looks and sounds like Boris Karloff in zombie drag will definitely win the hearts of the American voter! American voters aren't just about superficial stuff, though, because they care about integrity. I know this because I heard a Republican Iowa caucus-goer (who no one on Earth but that dern liberal-biased media cares about since the Republican caucus doesn't mean anything to anyone this year) interviewed, and she said, "President Bush has proven his integrity." That's why he's so popular! And that's why John Kerry is the man to beat him, because he's proven his integrity, too. He proved it by basing his early career on his courageous protests against an expensive and pointless war, sold to Americans with lies, and then courageously voting to approve George W. Bush's pursuit of an expensive and pointless war, sold to Americans with lies. We've got our man!
Apparently many of you also felt that John Edwards was the man to beat George W. Bush. And I think you're on to something, you shrewd Iowans! He's pretty, no doubt about that, and American voters like 'em pretty. I mean, I know I do. He has nice hair, too. Bill Clinton had nice hair. I know because the media used to like to talk about it all the time. He spent a lot of money on his haircuts and even brought the Los Angeles airport to a standstill having an expensive haircut on Air Force One. Okay, he didn't actually, but that dern liberal-biased media didn't want to spoil our fun by telling us the truth. Anyway, John Edwards sure is pretty and has pretty hair. He's Southern, too, and all of our presidents have to be Southern now. That was a condition of surrender when the South lost the Civil War. George W. Bush knows this and that's why he pretends to be from Texas when he's really from Connecticut. He's smart. So is John Edwards, which is why he's really a man to beat Bush. I'm sure his advantages of prettiness and Southernness -- real Southernness! -- will be enough to outweigh his disadvantages of not having any money or campaign organization. Because everybody knows that money and organization aren't really that important in modern American politics. Especially when you're pretty!
So, I just wanted to write you Democratic Iowans and say: Good job! Nice Work! Now you can go back to all your farm chores and stop fucking up my election.
Love,
Josh
P.S. I am never eating corn again. -J.
P.P.S. Nobody's taken ethanol seriously as an alternative energy source for decades, so let's just call it what it is -- welfare -- and call you what you are: barnyard-smellin' welfare queens in coveralls. Okay, thanks again! xxooj
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Good News!
This is my favorite news story of the day, and would be even if it didn't feature this sentence:
This is my favorite news story of the day, and would be even if it didn't feature this sentence:
"Well, I haven't won the lottery yet, so I don't figure I'll get that," Moore said as a hot cow brain sandwich cut in half sat on a plate before him.
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Resolutions
I’m a big believer in New Year’s resolutions. Like practically everybody else, I’ve made zillions of them that I didn’t keep past the first week, but occasionally the feeling of hitting the reset button at the start of a new year can have powerful results. I think it was 7 years ago that I made this New Year’s resolution: “I will start the process of applying to graduate school and change my career.” That was a biggie, and I took it seriously, and in a few months, lord willing, I’ll be graduating with my Ph.D.
That same year I started a practice which I continued for several years afterward, but haven’t done recently. I took a 6-week break from all my vices, which at the time were: booze, coffee, cigars, TV, and junk food. The point was not that I had a real problem with any of these, but cutting them all out was a lesson in the place they took in my life. How much time, for instance, did I take making coffee everday, and when was it that I had an urge to drink it? I’ve never watched much TV since then, my interest in cigars is on a slow wane – they’re really nice to be sure, but I just never have time – I’ve never drunk nearly as much coffee as I did then (2 pots a day) although the coffee-making ritual has certainly been a handy avoidance behavior at work sometimes. I have continued, occasionally, to indulge in drink more than is good for me, but my pleasure in doing so declines as my interest in my work increases: you need brains to study brains.
Since I’ve been in grad school, this ritual’s been complicated by two things. One is that my vices are considerably more dear comforts in this environment. Without them, I’ve got precious little goodness going on until I get out of here. The other is that they’re not really vices anymore. The lesson I learned the first few times stuck, basically, and so now my six weeks of abstinence seem like a pointless gesture. The last couple of times I’ve tried it, I reach a point a few weeks in where I’m saying, “Why am I doing this, again? I really want a god damn cup of coffee.” But I’ve really been feeling like I’d like that sense of rebooting again, though, so I’ve given a lot of thought to a big, bad new list of resolutions for 2004. Enough thought that I’m just now ready to get started with ‘em.
And after all that, I’m not going to tell you what they are. C’mon, that stuff is personal. But if you’re wondering, yes, one of them involves this blog.
I’m a big believer in New Year’s resolutions. Like practically everybody else, I’ve made zillions of them that I didn’t keep past the first week, but occasionally the feeling of hitting the reset button at the start of a new year can have powerful results. I think it was 7 years ago that I made this New Year’s resolution: “I will start the process of applying to graduate school and change my career.” That was a biggie, and I took it seriously, and in a few months, lord willing, I’ll be graduating with my Ph.D.
That same year I started a practice which I continued for several years afterward, but haven’t done recently. I took a 6-week break from all my vices, which at the time were: booze, coffee, cigars, TV, and junk food. The point was not that I had a real problem with any of these, but cutting them all out was a lesson in the place they took in my life. How much time, for instance, did I take making coffee everday, and when was it that I had an urge to drink it? I’ve never watched much TV since then, my interest in cigars is on a slow wane – they’re really nice to be sure, but I just never have time – I’ve never drunk nearly as much coffee as I did then (2 pots a day) although the coffee-making ritual has certainly been a handy avoidance behavior at work sometimes. I have continued, occasionally, to indulge in drink more than is good for me, but my pleasure in doing so declines as my interest in my work increases: you need brains to study brains.
Since I’ve been in grad school, this ritual’s been complicated by two things. One is that my vices are considerably more dear comforts in this environment. Without them, I’ve got precious little goodness going on until I get out of here. The other is that they’re not really vices anymore. The lesson I learned the first few times stuck, basically, and so now my six weeks of abstinence seem like a pointless gesture. The last couple of times I’ve tried it, I reach a point a few weeks in where I’m saying, “Why am I doing this, again? I really want a god damn cup of coffee.” But I’ve really been feeling like I’d like that sense of rebooting again, though, so I’ve given a lot of thought to a big, bad new list of resolutions for 2004. Enough thought that I’m just now ready to get started with ‘em.
And after all that, I’m not going to tell you what they are. C’mon, that stuff is personal. But if you’re wondering, yes, one of them involves this blog.
Sunday, November 02, 2003
Milestones
Welcome, Lena Logan Adams! (born October 31st, yet surprisingly not-scary looking for a newborn...)
Happy Birthday, Lev Bradford "Happiest! Baby! Ever!" Shuster!
God bless you and happy bishopification, Gene Robinson.
Welcome, Lena Logan Adams! (born October 31st, yet surprisingly not-scary looking for a newborn...)
Happy Birthday, Lev Bradford "Happiest! Baby! Ever!" Shuster!
God bless you and happy bishopification, Gene Robinson.
Music Nerds
Saw the Pat Metheny Trio last night. I know Metheny is pretty iconic to guitarists, but I’ve never listened to much except for his collaboration album with Ornette Coleman, where I was really listening to the Ornette Coleman part. But he was playing with just a drummer and bassist, the latter being Christian McBride, who’s pretty much the best living bassist I’ve ever heard play. So I thought, here’s my chance to hear him playing stuff I’m likely to like, and anyway I was asked there by an exceedingly cute and groovy undergraduate of my acquaintance, so who would say no to that?
The guys in the next row who were doing the “I’m not worthy” bow and screaming like they were at the Superbowl instead of a small college auditorium were my first clue, and when Pat came out with a three-necked guitaroid instrument clearly of his own design, I knew that what I was about to hear was all about guitar nerd-dom. Fair enough; the solo numbers he started with were not my cup o’tea, but it got good after the band joined him, and the encore number was an Ornette Coleman tune that I really liked. Certainly a good player but for style, I’d rather listen to Grant Green (if he weren’t dead, I mean.) Call me a traditionalist.
One thing’s for sure, though - I don’t know if I’ll ever have the nerve to do it, but I can definitely get behind the nerds with big hair thing.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Better Business Bureau
As the ACLU-card-carrying, tree-hugging, Birkenstock-wearing liberal that I am, I have a healthy distrust of big, evil, pork-loving corporate-welfare queen companies. What I'm saying is, I like to see small businesses succeed.
That being said, while normally I would never wish ill on a new entrepreneur with a sewing machine, a family loan, and a dream, I kind of think I would feel better about the world we live in if this company could go out of business as soon as possible, please.
To these guys, on the other hand, I wish all the best.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Up for the Season
This past weekend Laurie and I moved all the patio furniture off the balcony and into the garage. The morning glories are all black and scary looking and it’s cold enough now that the balcony holds little appeal besides the evil pleasure of watching the cats run outside at the first opportunity only to turn right around and start pawing at the glass to be let back in.
We took advantage of what little warmth there is left and went kayaking one last time on Sunday, the last day before the canoe club closes for the year. It was a quick outing, because when I say “what little warmth there is left,” I mean very little warmth. It was pretty cold and to make things worse, the paddles that come with the rental kayaks don’t have drip guards, so I got quite wet. I’d still say it was worth it, though. The Connecticut has meant a lot to me during my time here, and I needed one last look. It was quite overcast with big, gloomy cumulonimbus clouds hanging above making the water dark and slatey, but enough little beams of light broke through at oblique angles to light up the fall colors in the low trees along the banks, making for a striking and unusual effect. The wind was pretty strong, blowing mostly downstream, and whenever we stopped to float for a while – which one wants to do every so often, just to have a good look at the scenery – we’d start turning in circles. I’ve got a hell of a blister just from controlling the boat on the paddle back in. Laurie’s kayak (she has her own) is now parked in the garage until spring.
Saturday night, I went to a "cabin-closing" party hosted by a guy who lives in a hunting cabin deep in the woods during the summer and then moves into a winterized but much less charming house in White River Junction for the winter. Hearty stews (his discription, but I have to admit, they WERE pretty hearty) and mulled cider were the fare, and the smokers and antisocials (like me) huddled around a fire outside for as long as we could stand the cold. It was hard to leave the Vermont night sky for the warm indoors, because it, like the Connecticut River, is something I know I won't be getting much of once I move. Which reminds me, if you're going to stand out in the cold looking at the sky, go to a party with a lot of science nerds. The last one I went to was during the big Mars thing, and somebody actually brought out their own telescope, a serious one. Not only did I see Mars, but its moons as well.
It was snowing this morning when I went down to start the car. It usually snows a little before Halloween, but it just seems too early this year. I didn’t think I’d be here this long, so I optimistically packed most of my heavy clothes away (even though I’m only moving to New York. I know. Shut up.) and had to go digging through some boxes in the garage. I still don’t know where my gloves are. I’m feeling kind of bad that I’m going to be here for at least part of another winter; it’d been my goal to be gone before I had to deal with any more snow. I really wasn’t up for another winter here but now I’ll have to find a way to deal with it or ignore it long enough to finish my shit and get out.
I’ve enjoyed sometimes making fun of how much people here dwell on the weather. I know a lot of people here who watch the Weather Channel like it’s… regular teevee, and the weather reports on Vermont public radio are remarkable – on week mornings, they take up a good 25 minutes of every hour during the drivetime shows. To make things worse, on the radio they also have these long commentaries by local people who invariably wax poetic – uh, kind of like I did above – about the changing seasons. But you know, when the seasons beat you over the head like they do here, you just can’t help it. Being plunged into darkness for 6 months at a time (to be charitable) has an effect on your worldview, there’s no two ways about it, and you just have to talk it through. In a little while, I hope, my winter ruminations will be about steam gratings and chestnut stands instead of snow and darkness, and maybe if I’m lucky, in a little while longer, they’ll be about the Berkeley hills turning green again.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Welcome to the Hotel Gal-ifornia
Several people have posed the perfectly understandable question of what the hell I was thinking by committing myself to an apartment in New York when I wasn’t finished living in New Hampshire. The reasons are several, complicated, and somewhat personal, but part of the answer I jokingly give is that I’m afraid I’m getting eccentric bachelor syndrome and run the risk of becoming weird by living by myself too long. It’s one of those half-jokes that a number of my male friends who have spent some time living alone all seem to get. I mean, you might not really get weird just by being male and living alone, but there are certain, uh, lifestyle habits involving hygeine, housekeeping, eating off paper plates, and such that seem to be a common experience.
Now, I think I’ve found the female version.
I just moved in to my seventh residence in six years here, an apartment in Lebanon, NH which I’m sharing with a female grad student in my department who, like me, returned to school after a bit of a “break.” Actually, it’s more accurate to say that she’s sharing it with me; it’s her apartment full of her stuff and I’m staying here mostly out of her generosity. Now, let’s go back to that “full of her stuff” part for a sec. Full of her stuff means, full of the GIRLIEST bunch of stuff I’ve ever seen assembled under one roof. We’ve got your dried flowers, silk flowers, candles, cats (3), pictures of cats, pictures of cute, anonyous children, pictures of lighthouses and johnboats and seagulls by the shore, kaliedescopes, windchimes, small plush toys, millions – literally, I think – of family snapshots, figurines (oh, the figurines!), pots of potpourri, wall sconces, vinyl houseplants, lacy curtains, fragrant bath accoutrements (mysteriously, in rooms that are not the bathroom), empty bottles made of colored glass assembled tastefully to catch sunlight through the windows, stained glass dangly thingies hanging in the windows, woven baskets, refrigerator magnets, furniture with intricate floral patterns, blankets with intricate floral patterns, dishes with intricate floral patterns, and throw pillows with intricate floral patterns. My god, the throw pillows – you gotta throw half a dozen of them off the couch just to make a place to sit. Every single coffee mug on the mug-tree (of course there is a mug tree) features either flowers, hearts, baby animals, or some combination thereof. And did I mention candles? You could light up the National Cathedral with the candles in this place. Smell it up, too, because they’re all scented. That’s an advantage, actually, because between the scented candles and the potpourri and the flowers, the cat pans are noooooo problem. And glitter – lots of stuff with glitter in it or on it, like some faeries got drunk and trashed the place. Seriously, I expect to see Stevie Nicks come twirling through any time now. Even the food is girlie: as I write, there’s a tray of cupcakes sitting on the counter. Cupcakes.
The thing is, I’m not really making fun. I can honestly say that it’s the homiest and most tastefully appointed grad-student apartment I’ve been in. But its particular charm happens to be a hyperfeminine one. We all know what happens when men get to define their own space without a moderating female presence, and it usually inolves unpleasant smells and frightful accretions in the bathroom. Now, I think I can see what happens when the tables are turned, and while it’s a lot more pleasant, I couldn’t really say it’s less exteme in its own way.
Since I’m a temporary resident, there’s only so much I can do to add a little toilet-seat-up yang to the fluffy-pink-floral yin here, but I’ll do what I can. I started by burning a frozen pizza in the oven this weekend, and I’m careful to always load the dishwasher wrong.
Monday, August 04, 2003
Everytime you say goodbye, I cry a little
I knew I wanted to be a professor before I knew what I wanted to be a professor of. The rewards seemed so obvious: most of the independence of being self-employed without any of the risk, being surrounded by educated people with active minds, a comfortable if not posh standard of living, and great scenery to boot – well groomed college campuses and fresh-faced 20 year olds everywhere you look. I have since become aquainted with the downsides as well, though fortunately they are few: having to put up with the smug anti-intellectualism of some conservative types, the strenuously competitive job market which in turn limits one's choices of where to live. I think the very worst of the downsides, though, is the transitory nature of academic life. With so many people coming and going, you're pretty much guaranteed a few weepy goodbyes a year. To make it worse, you tend to spend so much time with so few people, it's not like you can just decide not to get attached.
I skipped graduation this year because I just can't stand it. It’s the same scene every year, with the bell tower and blue sky as backdrop to the stage and the Green dressed up like an LL Bean catalog: little brothers stumbling around in yellow oxfords and clip-on ties, black labradors with Dartmouth-green bandanas around their collars, and grandpas standing across the street to keep pipes and cigars at a safe distance. I love seeing the off-color clumps, here and there, of those visiting from farther away; entire extended families hauled in from India, Africa, or Asia to witness the moment. They move into the dormitory commencement-housing en masse and immediately take over the kitchens to feed the children the food they're accustomed to. On the first trip out of their home country, dads and brothers-in-law recording every moment on video. And why shouldn’t they? This is it, the leaping-off point, the moment every parent waits for and dreads, when all the preparation you can possibly put into a human life begins to play out. It’s when they say the most profound kind of goodbye, too: goodbye to their role as parents (at least, to the graduating child). With that kind of scene as the backdrop to all the personal goodbyes that come around graduation time in the life of an academic, can you blame me if that Joni Mitchell song about the carousel of life starts swelling in my ears, and I get a little quiver in my lip? I don't know what I'll do when I actually HAVE to go because of my position. I can imagine a ritual of dread and cleansing repeated every year, starting with pulling the robes and cowl out of the closet and ending with a dunking in the whiskey bottle, and the tender and pasty-mouthed next morning signalling a new emotional season as surely as labor day begins preparation for the winter to come.
I survived my most recent round of goodbyes last week, to Russ and Fay who have gone off to their first teaching jobs in Texas, to Chris, a New Hampshire country boy off to a whole different world in Miami, and a repeat performance for Landis and Leanne, who had already made their exits but came back to torment... uh, for a visit. I have no doubt that I’ll see all these people again, which is comforting. But proximity is a big part of friendship, and these folks are now (probably) forever out of my daily life, and daily is exactly how we all pass our lives. And there's just more and more of this to come.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Sunday, July 27, 2003
Ketchup and Coffee
I have quite a bit of catching up to do here but as usual no time for it. So: I have until I finish my cup of coffee to write what I can.
New Digs: I do not dig my new digs. I'm all moved into Shabazz, the African-American affinity house (theme dorm, in other words) for my last two months of rent-free living. Why the Residential Education office chose to put me here, I have no idea. It is quite close to the psychology building, which is nice, but its amenities pretty much end there. I'm packed into a tiny room on the third floor of an un-air-conditioned building which is very full of students. Students who do not share my sleep schedule. I do, however, share a single-user bathroom with all the men on the floor (I have no idea how many that is) and a kitchen with all the residents of the building, none of whom, apparently, were taught to clean up after themselves. There is no parking anywhere in the vicinity of the building. And I don't mean legal parking. I mean, no place where a car would fit on the ground. As much as I'm tempted to wink-nudge the racial thing for humor, being the only white guy there actually doesn't seem like an issue for me or them. On the other hand, I have to assume my AGE is a bit perplexing to these students (all sophomores), and I can't really blame them. I'm sure that if I were 20 and enjoying what is supposed to be a laid-back, fun summertime semester at college, and some old guy that nobody knew periodically appeared on the floor, I would be a bit suspicious. These little interludes of undignified misery can certainly lead one to question his choices in life. In stronger moments, they're good incentive to do what needs to be done. Speaking of which…
Let the data rain down!: The data drought is over! I have recorded several cells now for my dissertation project. Not only do I have an effect, but it is, more or less, the effect I predicted. I love being right. The only hitch is that my effect is quite a bit more pronounced than I expected, so much so that I now have to reconsider how best to analyse it to reveal what's going on. There could certainly be worse problems.
A Hard Row to Ho': I'm rowing with the Dresden group again this year and enjoying the hell out of it. I'm in a competetive program, rowing 4 days a week in the afternoons. The light on the river at 6:00 in the evening is glorious and makes the pain of exertion and stress of work melt away. Sadly, this will be my last rowing for a long time -- I won't have the opportunity in New York -- so I'm really savoring it, even though I could really use a less time-consuming recreation right about now. On the other hand, the blisters on my hands are pretty unbelievable, I've got holes in my calves from hitting the seat tracks, and the practice schedule has left me sore and creaky all over. So I won't be completely sorry to see the season end in August.
Go Ho-Ho!: Saw Howard Dean speak at the opening of the Lebanon campaign office last week. It was pretty fun, the crowd was about quadruple what was expected, and Hoho didn't disappoint. I wore my "Jeezum Jim" (referring to Jim Jeffords) t-shirt just for the occasion, and Dean referred to him in his speech. I have to admit, Dean looked a little tired, and I think he spaced out a couple of times during his speech. Didn't matter much to the crowd, though, nor to me.
The Last Brewfest: Last Saturday, I was up in Burlington for one last Vermont Brewers' Festival. Despite ominous looking clouds, it was a beautiful day, and an infectiously happy crowd. It's hard to believe that you could fill a state park with drunk people and keep everything so pleasant. But pleasant it was; this year there was a new spontaneous behaviour I haven't seen previously. Periodically, some drunken foo -- uh, happy beer appreciator -- would raise his glass to the sky and make a long, hooting, viking noise, which in turn would prompt everyone else to follow in kind. Everyone across the entire park would just stop what they were doing, hold up their glass, and bray. It was pretty funny, and added a lot to the congenial atmosphere. After the festival, the Dartmouth crowd I was with (most of the original Snergers) went to Nectars for a last round of the best gravy fries in the world (mmmmmm), and then back to the hotel, where seven of us (plus a dog) piled into one room, regressed back to our high school field trip selves, and stayed up giggling until a security guard came to the door to tell us to shut up. It's been a good while since I aroused the interest of a security guard… A hungover but delicious breakfast at Penny Cluse the next morning, and we were on the road. All in all, a grand time, and I think a needed break from too much seriousness in the lives of this particular crowd, all of us so heavy into stressful transitions. More on that subject to come, I fear (sigh).
Geraynimonaaaaaaa!: I do believe that my friend Raymona (aka Leanne) went and flung herself from an airplane this morning. As of this writing, I don't know if this desperate act ended with a splat or a squeal of exhilaration, but I will of course post an update when I hear the outcome.
Bloggered: Of course I deserve it for going so long (again) without a post, but I come back today to post this, and wtf, but Blogger is different. Can't find a damn thing. All the cool big-kid bloggers, I notice, go to Moveable Type (a move always accompanied by e-cries of pain); I am not looking forward to jumping on that bandwagon, but I am rather excited about plans for my site once I actually have some time to put into it.
Man, that was some good coffee.
I have quite a bit of catching up to do here but as usual no time for it. So: I have until I finish my cup of coffee to write what I can.
New Digs: I do not dig my new digs. I'm all moved into Shabazz, the African-American affinity house (theme dorm, in other words) for my last two months of rent-free living. Why the Residential Education office chose to put me here, I have no idea. It is quite close to the psychology building, which is nice, but its amenities pretty much end there. I'm packed into a tiny room on the third floor of an un-air-conditioned building which is very full of students. Students who do not share my sleep schedule. I do, however, share a single-user bathroom with all the men on the floor (I have no idea how many that is) and a kitchen with all the residents of the building, none of whom, apparently, were taught to clean up after themselves. There is no parking anywhere in the vicinity of the building. And I don't mean legal parking. I mean, no place where a car would fit on the ground. As much as I'm tempted to wink-nudge the racial thing for humor, being the only white guy there actually doesn't seem like an issue for me or them. On the other hand, I have to assume my AGE is a bit perplexing to these students (all sophomores), and I can't really blame them. I'm sure that if I were 20 and enjoying what is supposed to be a laid-back, fun summertime semester at college, and some old guy that nobody knew periodically appeared on the floor, I would be a bit suspicious. These little interludes of undignified misery can certainly lead one to question his choices in life. In stronger moments, they're good incentive to do what needs to be done. Speaking of which…
Let the data rain down!: The data drought is over! I have recorded several cells now for my dissertation project. Not only do I have an effect, but it is, more or less, the effect I predicted. I love being right. The only hitch is that my effect is quite a bit more pronounced than I expected, so much so that I now have to reconsider how best to analyse it to reveal what's going on. There could certainly be worse problems.
A Hard Row to Ho': I'm rowing with the Dresden group again this year and enjoying the hell out of it. I'm in a competetive program, rowing 4 days a week in the afternoons. The light on the river at 6:00 in the evening is glorious and makes the pain of exertion and stress of work melt away. Sadly, this will be my last rowing for a long time -- I won't have the opportunity in New York -- so I'm really savoring it, even though I could really use a less time-consuming recreation right about now. On the other hand, the blisters on my hands are pretty unbelievable, I've got holes in my calves from hitting the seat tracks, and the practice schedule has left me sore and creaky all over. So I won't be completely sorry to see the season end in August.
Go Ho-Ho!: Saw Howard Dean speak at the opening of the Lebanon campaign office last week. It was pretty fun, the crowd was about quadruple what was expected, and Hoho didn't disappoint. I wore my "Jeezum Jim" (referring to Jim Jeffords) t-shirt just for the occasion, and Dean referred to him in his speech. I have to admit, Dean looked a little tired, and I think he spaced out a couple of times during his speech. Didn't matter much to the crowd, though, nor to me.
The Last Brewfest: Last Saturday, I was up in Burlington for one last Vermont Brewers' Festival. Despite ominous looking clouds, it was a beautiful day, and an infectiously happy crowd. It's hard to believe that you could fill a state park with drunk people and keep everything so pleasant. But pleasant it was; this year there was a new spontaneous behaviour I haven't seen previously. Periodically, some drunken foo -- uh, happy beer appreciator -- would raise his glass to the sky and make a long, hooting, viking noise, which in turn would prompt everyone else to follow in kind. Everyone across the entire park would just stop what they were doing, hold up their glass, and bray. It was pretty funny, and added a lot to the congenial atmosphere. After the festival, the Dartmouth crowd I was with (most of the original Snergers) went to Nectars for a last round of the best gravy fries in the world (mmmmmm), and then back to the hotel, where seven of us (plus a dog) piled into one room, regressed back to our high school field trip selves, and stayed up giggling until a security guard came to the door to tell us to shut up. It's been a good while since I aroused the interest of a security guard… A hungover but delicious breakfast at Penny Cluse the next morning, and we were on the road. All in all, a grand time, and I think a needed break from too much seriousness in the lives of this particular crowd, all of us so heavy into stressful transitions. More on that subject to come, I fear (sigh).
Geraynimonaaaaaaa!: I do believe that my friend Raymona (aka Leanne) went and flung herself from an airplane this morning. As of this writing, I don't know if this desperate act ended with a splat or a squeal of exhilaration, but I will of course post an update when I hear the outcome.
Bloggered: Of course I deserve it for going so long (again) without a post, but I come back today to post this, and wtf, but Blogger is different. Can't find a damn thing. All the cool big-kid bloggers, I notice, go to Moveable Type (a move always accompanied by e-cries of pain); I am not looking forward to jumping on that bandwagon, but I am rather excited about plans for my site once I actually have some time to put into it.
Man, that was some good coffee.
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