McD-Link-T.
Here are some articles I've recently encountered on the intertubes that are worth noting:
*Beyond Hope by Derrick Jensen:
When we stop hoping for external assistance, when we stop hoping that the awful situation we’re in will somehow resolve itself, when we stop hoping the situation will somehow not get worse, then we are finally free—truly free—to honestly start working to resolve it. I would say that when hope dies, action begins.
People sometimes ask me, “If things are so bad, why don’t you just kill yourself?” The answer is that life is really, really good. I am a complex enough being that I can hold in my heart the understanding that we are really, really fucked, and at the same time that life is really, really good. I am full of rage, sorrow, joy, love, hate, despair, happiness, satisfaction, dissatisfaction, and a thousand other feelings. We are really fucked. Life is still really good.
Many people are afraid to feel despair. They fear that if they allow themselves to perceive how desperate our situation really is, they must then be perpetually miserable. They forget that it is possible to feel many things at once. They also forget that despair is an entirely appropriate response to a desperate situation. Many people probably also fear that if they allow themselves to perceive how desperate things are, they may be forced to do something about it.
*The case for imperial liquidation by Chalmers Johnson:
Imperialism and militarism have thus begun to imperil both the financial and social well-being of the American republic. What the country desperately needs is a popular movement to rebuild the constitutional system and subject the government once again to the discipline of checks and balances. Neither the replacement of one political party by the other nor protectionist economic policies aimed at rescuing what's left of America's manufacturing economy will correct what has gone wrong. Both of these solutions fail to address the root cause of America's decline.
I believe that there is only one solution to the crisis we Americans face. The American people must make the decision to dismantle both the empire that has been created in their name and the huge (still growing) military establishment that undergirds it. It is a task at least comparable to that undertaken by the British government when, after World War II, it liquidated the British Empire. By doing so, Britain avoided the fate of the Roman Republic - becoming a domestic tyranny and losing its democracy, as would have been required if it had continued to try to dominate much of the world by force.
For the US, the decision to mount such a campaign of imperial liquidation may already come too late, given the vast and deeply entrenched interests of the military-industrial complex. To succeed, such an endeavor might virtually require a revolutionary mobilization of the US citizenry, one at least comparable to the civil-rights movement of the 1960s.
*Some thoughts on journalists and the blogosphere by Kagro X:
Journalists are, I think, by the nature of their business, limited in their ability to bring a mass audience "the Truth" in doses sufficient for everyone. What I mean is that they're limited in several critical ways, most of which are beyond their control:
1. Personal knowledge/understanding/expertise in ever-changing subject matter -- they are, of necessity, generalists.
2. Space constraints -- even if they wanted to report on every intricacy, most traditional media don't have the time or space for it.
3. Deadline pressures -- even if they knew everything there was to know and had the time/space for it, they couldn't get it all done by 5pm.
This list, too, is a generalization. It's obviously not going to be true of all journalists. But it describes what I think are some of the key constraints of the trade which don't exist in the same form for bloggers, and which I think contributes to the ongoing tension between them. While bloggers are also often generalists, there are no commercial pressures requiring that they maintain a capacity for general subject matter. The other two restraints on traditional journalists simply don't exist at all for bloggers. There are no space limitations, and there are no deadlines. And as a result, bloggers can go into excruciating detail on their chosen subject matter (and it is their chosen subject matter -- no assignments from editors to unwanted stories), and keep after it forever. That can have the effect of turning them into experts, in the best cases, or extraordinarily verbose idiots, in the worst.
*Abortion: Is it Possible to be both “Pro-life” and “Pro-Choice”? by Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan:
Thinking occurs, of course, in the brain--principally in the top layers of the convoluted "gray matter" called the cerebral cortex. The roughly 100 billion neurons in the brain constitute the material basis of thought. The neurons are connected to each other, and their linkups play a major role in what we experience as thinking. But large-scale linking up of neurons doesn't begin until the 24th to 27th week of pregnancy--the sixth month.
By placing harmless electrodes on a subject's head, scientists can measure the electrical activity produced by the network of neurons inside the skull. Different kinds of mental activity show different kinds of brain waves. But brain waves with regular patterns typical of adult human brains do not appear in the fetus until about the 30th week of pregnancy--near the beginning of the third trimester. Fetuses younger than this--however alive and active they may be--lack the necessary brain architecture. They cannot yet think.
Acquiescing in the killing of any living creature, especially one that might later become a baby, is troublesome and painful. But we've rejected the extremes of "always" and "never," and this puts us--like it or not--on the slippery slope. If we are forced to choose a developmental criterion, then this is where we draw the line: when the beginning of characteristically human thinking becomes barely possible.
It is, in fact, a very conservative definition: Regular brain waves are rarely found in fetuses. More research would help… If we wanted to make the criterion still more stringent, to allow for occasional precocious fetal brain development, we might draw the line at six months. This, it so happens, is where the Supreme Court drew it in 1973--although for completely different reasons.
*Sucking in the '70s by Kate Sullivan:
Music today should suck so good. To wit (insert Kasem’s voice here): “On AT 40 this week, here’s the record that takes the biggest drop. It moves all the way from No. 11 down to No. 26! It’s Queen, and ‘We Are the Champions.’”
Real sucky, right? It’s only Queen. It’s just fucking “We Are the Fucking Champions,” falling to No. 26.
The story gets better. The No. 1 soul song during this random crappy week was called “Flashlight,” by a quirky li’l group named Parliament. Like I said: No big deal, right? I mean, it’s only deathless, trailblazing pop from outer space that would make possible everyone from Prince to the Red Hot Chili Peppers to OutKast.
...
All this music was the most commercialized crap the record industry could crank out. And most of it gets played on radios, stereos, iPods and jukeboxes every day, bringing pleasure to millions. But 1978 is even more impressive when you add to the equation what was happening off the Top 40 chart — in punk, new wave, metal, electronica, folk, reggae, rap. Pretty amazing, right? It’s difficult to imagine almost anything from the Top 40 of the past few years enduring for decades to come; sadly, the same goes for the indie scene.
So when record labels today blame illegal downloading for the death of record sales, I gotta raise an eyebrow. And yet I can’t blame record labels alone for sagging musical standards.
The late ’70s was the last moment when American radio was still, by and large, a mom-and-pop industry. Consultants and corporations were already part of the radio landscape, of course, but they couldn’t do nearly as much damage when they were limited to owning a handful of stations. But just a few years after our random, crappy-magical Saturday in ’78, Reagan would usher in the age of radio deregulation, which, in turn, ushered in the era of consolidation. The quality of Top 40 music would never be the same.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Thursday, June 07, 2007
They Can Help
Thursday has become prime article-writing time for me, and it can take awhile in the morning to get mentally prepped. As I continue to net surf, drink coffee, andput off formulate the story I'm to write for a future issue (hopefully next Thursday) of The Oregonian, here's this week's piece, and I think it's a good one:
Visit to remote villages inspires couple to return to Mozambique
Lange and the Wilsons met and talked, and Lange invited the couple to visit her at her field location in Balama, in Mozambique's Cabo Delgado province. With their home and farm for sale, the Wilsons departed for Africa in August.
Will Wilson, a retired carpenter and construction worker, intended to help with a well extension. But the group was unable to get a drilling permit before the Wilsons left in November.
Regardless, they found plenty of other work to keep them busy.
In a big Nissan flatbed truck carrying nearly six tons of rice and beans, Will Wilson made regular delivery trips of 150 miles to help feed orphans and the families who've taken them in who live in the remote northern village of Meluco.
It's an area of the country where it's not uncommon to see baboons and lions roaming in the wild.
"Those roads ate the trucks up," Will Wilson said. "About 50 miles of the road was paved; the rest not."
"They make the forest roads on Mount Hood seem normal," Shirley Wilson said.
Thursday has become prime article-writing time for me, and it can take awhile in the morning to get mentally prepped. As I continue to net surf, drink coffee, and
Visit to remote villages inspires couple to return to Mozambique
Lange and the Wilsons met and talked, and Lange invited the couple to visit her at her field location in Balama, in Mozambique's Cabo Delgado province. With their home and farm for sale, the Wilsons departed for Africa in August.
Will Wilson, a retired carpenter and construction worker, intended to help with a well extension. But the group was unable to get a drilling permit before the Wilsons left in November.
Regardless, they found plenty of other work to keep them busy.
In a big Nissan flatbed truck carrying nearly six tons of rice and beans, Will Wilson made regular delivery trips of 150 miles to help feed orphans and the families who've taken them in who live in the remote northern village of Meluco.
It's an area of the country where it's not uncommon to see baboons and lions roaming in the wild.
"Those roads ate the trucks up," Will Wilson said. "About 50 miles of the road was paved; the rest not."
"They make the forest roads on Mount Hood seem normal," Shirley Wilson said.
Monday, June 04, 2007
About To Set Sail
Vicktoria with Captain Jack Sparrow, 2007.
Click on photo to enlarge.
The week started with me and my family going out for my 45th birthday on Sunday, to tea and pizza downtown; picking up some video games for the kids and Fountains of Wayne's latest CD Traffic and Weather for myself, and catching an afternoon showing of the third Pirates of The Caribbean movie.
Near the end of the week, on Friday, my daughter Vicktoria will graduate from high school. It'll be outdoors on the grounds of the football field, and hopefully there won't be rain.
She's been accepted to attend Western Oregon University, and plans to major in Forensic Science and minor in Theater Arts. In the next couple months we will finish completing a plan on just how the hell we're going to pay for the next four years.
She is a bright light, with an upbeat personality and a stellar school record. College will require a step up in personal discipline for her, but I feel confident she will rise to the challenge.
***
Vicktoria's time in high school has nicely dovetailed with the timeline of the three Pirates movies: the first movie released just before she started freshman year; the third one coming just before she graduates. She loves her some Johnny Depp as many a teenage girl does, but so far it's mostly an infatuation with his portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow.
The new movie, At World's End, isn't quite as bad as I'd been led to believe by the majority of the reviews, although it's certainly as overlong and hard to follow as its critics claim. I thought Depp actually regained some acting mojo in the third film that he'd lost somewhat in the second, as other characters established themselves, for better or worse. Whether intentionally or not, the filmmakers allow Depp to indulge more of the surreal drug-influenced side of his persona that enabled him to portray his friend Hunter S. Thompson in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. (Message: Drugs are bad, kids, but Johnny Depp acid visions are money in the bank.)
Keith Richards plays the pirate father of Captain Jack, and his brief turn ends up being one of the film's more inspired moves. Much has been written about how Depp based his character's mannerisms on those of Richards, but one thing I noticed in the third movie is how much the Sparrow shtick might be influenced by another classic character: the young Bob Hope. Hope early on mastered the comic possibilities of what might be called ballsy cowardice, a committed chicken/weasel passionately following the dictates of his own selfishness. When Captain Jack says in this movie, we fight...so that we can run away, you can almost imagine Hope saying something similar in a Road picture.
***
The Fountains of Wayne CD is more hit-or-miss than the group's previous two or three CDs, and the hits (about half of the 14 tracks, including "Someone To Love," "Strapped For Cash" and "Yolanda Hayes") don't resonate for me as much as the highs on Utopia Parkway and Welcome Interstate Managers. I think part of the problem is that they've become more of a lyrics-reliant band, resting on what's become their calling card: savvy vignettes about young adults leading lives of quiet desperation. In the process, not only have they sometimes failed to back up the lyrics with solid-enough melody or arrangement or production, but the vignettes themselves at times are sounding tired and rote, like FoW is presenting more a kind of expected pop hackwork than something fresh.
They're too good when they're on to dismiss, but maybe from here on it's best to just look for the three or four classic tracks that will show up on the inevitable Best Of, rather than expect from FoW another studio album that stands on its own as a sustained piece of work.
Vicktoria with Captain Jack Sparrow, 2007.
Click on photo to enlarge.
The week started with me and my family going out for my 45th birthday on Sunday, to tea and pizza downtown; picking up some video games for the kids and Fountains of Wayne's latest CD Traffic and Weather for myself, and catching an afternoon showing of the third Pirates of The Caribbean movie.
Near the end of the week, on Friday, my daughter Vicktoria will graduate from high school. It'll be outdoors on the grounds of the football field, and hopefully there won't be rain.
She's been accepted to attend Western Oregon University, and plans to major in Forensic Science and minor in Theater Arts. In the next couple months we will finish completing a plan on just how the hell we're going to pay for the next four years.
She is a bright light, with an upbeat personality and a stellar school record. College will require a step up in personal discipline for her, but I feel confident she will rise to the challenge.
***
Vicktoria's time in high school has nicely dovetailed with the timeline of the three Pirates movies: the first movie released just before she started freshman year; the third one coming just before she graduates. She loves her some Johnny Depp as many a teenage girl does, but so far it's mostly an infatuation with his portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow.
The new movie, At World's End, isn't quite as bad as I'd been led to believe by the majority of the reviews, although it's certainly as overlong and hard to follow as its critics claim. I thought Depp actually regained some acting mojo in the third film that he'd lost somewhat in the second, as other characters established themselves, for better or worse. Whether intentionally or not, the filmmakers allow Depp to indulge more of the surreal drug-influenced side of his persona that enabled him to portray his friend Hunter S. Thompson in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. (Message: Drugs are bad, kids, but Johnny Depp acid visions are money in the bank.)
Keith Richards plays the pirate father of Captain Jack, and his brief turn ends up being one of the film's more inspired moves. Much has been written about how Depp based his character's mannerisms on those of Richards, but one thing I noticed in the third movie is how much the Sparrow shtick might be influenced by another classic character: the young Bob Hope. Hope early on mastered the comic possibilities of what might be called ballsy cowardice, a committed chicken/weasel passionately following the dictates of his own selfishness. When Captain Jack says in this movie, we fight...so that we can run away, you can almost imagine Hope saying something similar in a Road picture.
***
The Fountains of Wayne CD is more hit-or-miss than the group's previous two or three CDs, and the hits (about half of the 14 tracks, including "Someone To Love," "Strapped For Cash" and "Yolanda Hayes") don't resonate for me as much as the highs on Utopia Parkway and Welcome Interstate Managers. I think part of the problem is that they've become more of a lyrics-reliant band, resting on what's become their calling card: savvy vignettes about young adults leading lives of quiet desperation. In the process, not only have they sometimes failed to back up the lyrics with solid-enough melody or arrangement or production, but the vignettes themselves at times are sounding tired and rote, like FoW is presenting more a kind of expected pop hackwork than something fresh.
They're too good when they're on to dismiss, but maybe from here on it's best to just look for the three or four classic tracks that will show up on the inevitable Best Of, rather than expect from FoW another studio album that stands on its own as a sustained piece of work.
Memento File
Last Friday my son Andrew had his last SFA reading class. SFA stands for "Success for All," and it's a grade-school reading program that's made a decided difference in the reading skills of both my kids. I'm grateful to our local school district for making it available to them.
Andrew's wrapping up 5th Grade and is headed to middle school next year, and his final SFA assignment was to prepare a report to read in front of the class about his early childhood years. We gathered a couple of his early drawings, and put our heads together to come up with the following childhood memories:
*He watched Toy Story, Space Jam and Hercules over and over and over, to the point where we memorized much of the dialogue in those movies and were regularly dropping lines from them into our conversations. (He also watched videos of Bananas In Pajamas over and over at one point, but didn't want to mention that.)
*He got a little basketball hoop one Christmas morning, and after seeing it he came into our bedroom and exclaimed, "Mom, look what Michael Jordan got me for Christmas!"
*He went to Hawaii and met a Samoan Chief and swam on Waikiki Beach. (He also had his picture taken with the "native" performers at a Luau show on Kauai, and he posed so well with them that the photo likely would've been a classic worth sharing. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out.)
This reminds me of another great Andrew moment in Hawaii: At an open-air mall on Kauai, we were watching a group of women and girls doing hula dances, followed by them placing leis on various spectators. The smallest dancer was a tiny girl about the same size as Andrew (who was 4-1/2 at the time) and she discovered she didn't have a lei. So she went back to the dressing room or wherever to get one; as she came out with the lei, she ran right into Andrew, and without a word put the lei around his neck. Cutest damn thing you ever saw.
Here's my personal favorite:
*On the Disney Magic cruise ship, Andrew was two months shy of his third birthday. He was walking along with his family, and all of a sudden he heard thumping dance music coming from an open door leading to a nearby dance floor. Without a word, he walked straight to the middle of the floor and started dancing with the other kids and adults there. His dad soon followed along, and together they danced under the disco strobe lights for the next several minutes.
***
Andrew said he got a good response from the class, apparently as good or better than any other student's presentation. Which made me feel good.
I asked Andrew if he still had the sheet with the presentation info that we put together, so I could save it in our memento file. He said he threw it away after he was done with it.
Oh well. Maybe when he has a child, he'll understand why I care about saving things like that sheet. And at least I have this blog to record sentimental memories with.
Last Friday my son Andrew had his last SFA reading class. SFA stands for "Success for All," and it's a grade-school reading program that's made a decided difference in the reading skills of both my kids. I'm grateful to our local school district for making it available to them.
Andrew's wrapping up 5th Grade and is headed to middle school next year, and his final SFA assignment was to prepare a report to read in front of the class about his early childhood years. We gathered a couple of his early drawings, and put our heads together to come up with the following childhood memories:
*He watched Toy Story, Space Jam and Hercules over and over and over, to the point where we memorized much of the dialogue in those movies and were regularly dropping lines from them into our conversations. (He also watched videos of Bananas In Pajamas over and over at one point, but didn't want to mention that.)
*He got a little basketball hoop one Christmas morning, and after seeing it he came into our bedroom and exclaimed, "Mom, look what Michael Jordan got me for Christmas!"
*He went to Hawaii and met a Samoan Chief and swam on Waikiki Beach. (He also had his picture taken with the "native" performers at a Luau show on Kauai, and he posed so well with them that the photo likely would've been a classic worth sharing. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out.)
This reminds me of another great Andrew moment in Hawaii: At an open-air mall on Kauai, we were watching a group of women and girls doing hula dances, followed by them placing leis on various spectators. The smallest dancer was a tiny girl about the same size as Andrew (who was 4-1/2 at the time) and she discovered she didn't have a lei. So she went back to the dressing room or wherever to get one; as she came out with the lei, she ran right into Andrew, and without a word put the lei around his neck. Cutest damn thing you ever saw.
Here's my personal favorite:
*On the Disney Magic cruise ship, Andrew was two months shy of his third birthday. He was walking along with his family, and all of a sudden he heard thumping dance music coming from an open door leading to a nearby dance floor. Without a word, he walked straight to the middle of the floor and started dancing with the other kids and adults there. His dad soon followed along, and together they danced under the disco strobe lights for the next several minutes.
***
Andrew said he got a good response from the class, apparently as good or better than any other student's presentation. Which made me feel good.
I asked Andrew if he still had the sheet with the presentation info that we put together, so I could save it in our memento file. He said he threw it away after he was done with it.
Oh well. Maybe when he has a child, he'll understand why I care about saving things like that sheet. And at least I have this blog to record sentimental memories with.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Too Damn Young To Go
Sad news that Steve Gilliard, one of the most popular and acclaimed bloggers around, died Saturday morning at the age of 42. His recent health problems were formidable, and yesterday's news couldn't really be called a surprise; still one hoped that the mental strength he demonstrated in presenting and defending his positions online might somehow help him beat back his physical ailments. But it was not to be. In the wake of his passing he's received several fine and well-deserved tributes online.
Steve was always so adamant that George W. Bush would end up resigning or impeached. The fact that Bush now seems likely to serve out his term may have something to do with the fact that there just aren't enough progressive voices as loud, strong and clear as Steve's was.
He maintained a healthy dialogue between himself and his readers in his comments sections, directly and passionately replying to issues raised. As the recipient of a few of those replies, I always greatly respected this aspect of his blogging, even when I didn't fully agree with his opinion. It was important to him that lefty blog commenters expose themselves to critical commentary; he must've known that the elitist, protective bubbles created by and for the odious MSM pundits are a big part of the problem today, and he didn't want Left Blogistan becoming nothing but a clique-y hangout for those reluctant to go beyond preaching to the choir.
Sad news that Steve Gilliard, one of the most popular and acclaimed bloggers around, died Saturday morning at the age of 42. His recent health problems were formidable, and yesterday's news couldn't really be called a surprise; still one hoped that the mental strength he demonstrated in presenting and defending his positions online might somehow help him beat back his physical ailments. But it was not to be. In the wake of his passing he's received several fine and well-deserved tributes online.
Steve was always so adamant that George W. Bush would end up resigning or impeached. The fact that Bush now seems likely to serve out his term may have something to do with the fact that there just aren't enough progressive voices as loud, strong and clear as Steve's was.
He maintained a healthy dialogue between himself and his readers in his comments sections, directly and passionately replying to issues raised. As the recipient of a few of those replies, I always greatly respected this aspect of his blogging, even when I didn't fully agree with his opinion. It was important to him that lefty blog commenters expose themselves to critical commentary; he must've known that the elitist, protective bubbles created by and for the odious MSM pundits are a big part of the problem today, and he didn't want Left Blogistan becoming nothing but a clique-y hangout for those reluctant to go beyond preaching to the choir.
