1/12/09
Bush Goodbye
I've read some about Bush's talk today, a final attempt at spinning his legacy. Slate had it right with the headline 'A riddle wrapped in mystery inside a moron.' I didn't watch Bush’s speech as I've avoided watching the man at all the last several years. I can only take him in print. Truthfully, I probably haven't seen a total of two hours of Bush talking since 2004. Even hearing that ignorant voice turns me into a monkey looking for a club. For my own well being I tune him out. At this point, what he thinks about anything is of consequence to me only for another eight days. Past that long awaited threshold, he could die eating dynamite and I wouldn't care. He could fall on his chainsaw and it would be a one day story. That idiot's funeral is going to be an awkward day for America.
12/30/08
Ricochet humor
I’m amazed at the ability of professional Republicans to shoot themselves over and over with the same bullet. A candidate for RNC chairman, Chip Saltsman, sent out a CD with Xmas tunes on it, one of which was ‘Barack the Magic Negro.’ When complaints were heard, instead of apologizing for his transparently bad taste, he defended it by saying Republicans had a sophisticated understanding of parody. When that piece of nonsense was attacked, as it inevitably would be, Saltsman’s supporters came to his defense, defending the song and attacking others because they didn’t appreciate the minstrel humor at work.
Now, according to some, this dispute has enhanced Saltwalter’s candidacy to be the RNC chair. Perhaps so. We can only hope.
Now, according to some, this dispute has enhanced Saltwalter’s candidacy to be the RNC chair. Perhaps so. We can only hope.
10/18/08
Modern Courage
Read an article this morning about the dramatic rescue of a mountain climber who had gone missing several days. I love stories of indomitable will overcoming impossible odds where some guy pulls himself five miles over sharp rocks while dragging two broken legs behind him, chewing tree bark for food and swatting away bears with a long stick. Who doesn’t read these tales with admiration and respect? But this morning I noticed something. A purely editorial concern, but all of these stories seem to start in the middle, at the moment so’n’so stepped on the crumbly rock while looking ahead and found himself tumbling down 200 feet of broken tree stumps and cactus and into a hole 20 feet deep.
It’s natural to start a story at the most exciting part and then focus on the struggle and rescue. These dramatic editorial values are well understood in a time of pop’n’go quick reads and over-stated headlines. But it occurred to me this morning that it’s not a very accurate account of the story. The actual story started in his warm bed that morning, and if you think about that warm bed a moment instead of leaving it entirely out of the story, everything after that looks different. He didn’t fall out of that bed into a 20 foot hole, breaking both legs and requiring a five mile scramble to save himself. No, he had to get up and pack a bag and wear special clothes and shoes and then drive himself many miles out to the woods, and then hiking many more miles to the scene of the accident before anything dramatic could even start to happen.
See what the inclusion of one detail changes? Everything. Instead of a story of courageous self-rescue, it begins to look more like a self-inflected wound. Now, I don’t mean to heap criticism on this poor guy laying in a hospital somewhere, but would you imagine this is a learning experience for him, or is he one of those guys who, once trampled by a horse, throws himself on the next horse he can find?
What is it about ‘extreme sports’ we don’t want to think about? And why don’t we want to think about it? Why are these stories always told in such a narrow frame? Is there something we’re not supposed to see? I'd suggest a new way to tell them: start every one of these ‘rescue stories’ at the end and tell it backward, beginning with the emaciated, filthy, scabbed over, double tourniqueted fellow dragging himself onto the trail where he’s discovered by a couple from Portland and their two children out for a day of fun with their GPS locator. Then take us backward through events to explain what on earth happen to a fellow who lives in a nice apartment in a nice town and the mania that led him to such a state out in the woods. I could see a general benefit to this.
It’s natural to start a story at the most exciting part and then focus on the struggle and rescue. These dramatic editorial values are well understood in a time of pop’n’go quick reads and over-stated headlines. But it occurred to me this morning that it’s not a very accurate account of the story. The actual story started in his warm bed that morning, and if you think about that warm bed a moment instead of leaving it entirely out of the story, everything after that looks different. He didn’t fall out of that bed into a 20 foot hole, breaking both legs and requiring a five mile scramble to save himself. No, he had to get up and pack a bag and wear special clothes and shoes and then drive himself many miles out to the woods, and then hiking many more miles to the scene of the accident before anything dramatic could even start to happen.
See what the inclusion of one detail changes? Everything. Instead of a story of courageous self-rescue, it begins to look more like a self-inflected wound. Now, I don’t mean to heap criticism on this poor guy laying in a hospital somewhere, but would you imagine this is a learning experience for him, or is he one of those guys who, once trampled by a horse, throws himself on the next horse he can find?
What is it about ‘extreme sports’ we don’t want to think about? And why don’t we want to think about it? Why are these stories always told in such a narrow frame? Is there something we’re not supposed to see? I'd suggest a new way to tell them: start every one of these ‘rescue stories’ at the end and tell it backward, beginning with the emaciated, filthy, scabbed over, double tourniqueted fellow dragging himself onto the trail where he’s discovered by a couple from Portland and their two children out for a day of fun with their GPS locator. Then take us backward through events to explain what on earth happen to a fellow who lives in a nice apartment in a nice town and the mania that led him to such a state out in the woods. I could see a general benefit to this.
10/17/08
The Big Flush
I’ve avoided starting a blog until now simply because I didn’t want to write about Bush every day. Like handcuffing yourself to an idiot, thinking about him that much would be exhausting and eventually I'd probably self-ignite and die. He’s a thug. Let’s leave it at that.
I may occasionally have to refer back to him though as he is the modern world’s preeminent example of a nitwit. We’ll be calculating the cost of that man for decades to come.
That said, America will have to draw upon it’s post-nuclear cockroach energy to begin thriving again and rebuilding a sense of decency. My plan is to write about that. I’ve got my fingers crossed.
Right now we need to flush the system. And then flush the sewers underneath the system. Then go through and scrub the pipes. Bush has left us with an awful lot of crap.
I may occasionally have to refer back to him though as he is the modern world’s preeminent example of a nitwit. We’ll be calculating the cost of that man for decades to come.
That said, America will have to draw upon it’s post-nuclear cockroach energy to begin thriving again and rebuilding a sense of decency. My plan is to write about that. I’ve got my fingers crossed.
Right now we need to flush the system. And then flush the sewers underneath the system. Then go through and scrub the pipes. Bush has left us with an awful lot of crap.
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