- Remember when Newsweek demonized Sarah Palin by showing a close-up of her face on the cover? Well Fox News just struck a counter-blow for conservatives on their home page!
I mean, look at those wrinkles! (M) - The new Microsoft Office won't be released until 2010. Which means it won't be fit for consumption until 2012. (P)
- A Tibetan monk sets himself on fire, and a Chinese policeman shoots him. 'Nuff said, right? (P)
- Welcome back to $25,000 Pyramid. Let's get started with our first clue: homophobia, attacks on Hollywood . . . Oh! Things Iran's Theocracy and the Religious Right Have in Common! Ding-ding-ding! (P)
- He came on the radio every morning, while my father drove me to school. And he'd sign off all of his broadcasts with "Paul Harvey — [extended pause] — good day." I like to think I know what his last words were. (P)
- Iran "not close" to nuclear weapon; all materials at Natanz under control; US fears that Iran has material to build a nuclear bomb; Iran close to building nuke; Iran may have "enough material" to build nuclear bomb; Iran has enough material to make nuclear bomb; Iran can make a bomb; ran the headlines today. Everybody clear? Everybody confident? (M)
Sunday, March 01, 2009
FO News Roundup: March 1, 2009
In like a lion, baby! Let's get started:
Aggressive GPS Assumptions
WHITECOLLAR REDNECK
I very much enjoy using my Garmin Nuvi GPS on long trips. My only complaint is the incredibly aggressive assumptions they use to come up with an estimated arrival time when you program in a destination. I drove from Baltimore to Jersey City yesterday, with no stops and no traffic. I was going roughly 80 mph on a consistent basis, and as I drove the estimated arrival time kept ticking later and later. I'm not sure how fast they think you're supposed to be driving, but when you're going 80 and falling off the pace, I think they're being too aggressive.
I very much enjoy using my Garmin Nuvi GPS on long trips. My only complaint is the incredibly aggressive assumptions they use to come up with an estimated arrival time when you program in a destination. I drove from Baltimore to Jersey City yesterday, with no stops and no traffic. I was going roughly 80 mph on a consistent basis, and as I drove the estimated arrival time kept ticking later and later. I'm not sure how fast they think you're supposed to be driving, but when you're going 80 and falling off the pace, I think they're being too aggressive.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Havana Nocturne: How the Mob Owned Cuba and Lost It to the Revolution
PHUTATORIUS
Assassins turn their guns on Albert Anastasio, the notorious capo of a national contract-murder syndicate, in his New York City barber shop. Mobbed-up casino owners arrange a sex party for then-Senator John F. Kennedy in Havana (and later kick themselves for failing to film it). A young Fidel Castro abandons ship nine miles off the Cuban coast to escape a rival with homicidal intentions. I gotta say, Havana Nocturne is a fun read.
T.J. English's plot is straightforward: he lays it all out in the book's subtitle. American gangsters see opportunity in Havana's licentious nightlife — gambling! glitz! girls! — Mob cultivates a partnership with ex-President Fulgencio Batista, Batista retakes power, and Havana really starts to hop. Batista has a strong hand politically but manages to overplay it. The revelry in Havana ends — poetically — in the wee hours of New Year's Day, 1959, as Castro's revolutionaries put Batista to flight and swarm over the city. A six-year party, followed by a fifty-year (and counting) hangover.
By now we're all familiar with the broad contours of this history, and English doesn't add much from a big-picture standpoint. There's no innovative historical argument here, no challenge to the conventional wisdom. It's the richness of detail that makes this book such a good read. It's the synthesis of sources, the cobbling together of a hundred gripping, tabloid-quality anecdotes of sleaze, corruption, excess, debauchery, murder, repression, insurgency, and riot. Oh — and Sinatra, too. How could anyone not want to read this book?
More...
Two dynamic personalities drive the narrative here, and neither of them is Batista. The first is Meyer Lansky. Lansky, an unheralded Mob organizer and financier — and onetime protegé of Arnold Rothstein, scourge of baseball fans the world over — was the visionary who, along with Lucky Luciano, founded "the Commission," a sort of national governing board for the Mafia and later led the Commission's bid to colonize Havana's tourism and entertainment industry. Hyman Roth's character in The Godfather, Part II is modeled after Lansky. The other mover and shaker is Fidel Castro, and of course we know all about him.
It should not be surprising that Lansky and Castro's stars were in opposition. As English tells it, these two were polar opposites in every way — they were matter and anti-matter (you can decide which was which). Castro, the son of a prosperous landowner family, grew up in the country; Lansky was raised in poverty on Manhattan's Lower East Side. Lansky was disciplined, deliberate, and pragmatic, as much of a "peacemaker" as any gangster can be (the Anastasio hit notwithstanding); Castro is aggressive and confrontational, the consummate risk-taker. Lansky survived and thrived by flying under the radar — of law enforcement, of his Mob colleagues, of American journalists obsessed with the Mafia. Castro promoted a cult of personality that put himself forward as the very embodiment of the People's Revolution.
English works hard to place Lansky's Havana Mob and Castro's 26th of July movement in tension, but the truth is that his book tells two parallel narratives. The only point of connection between Lansky and Castro is Batista's regime, the fixed point around which these two characters pivot. Lansky's Havana "scene" parties on, at first blissfully, then willfully ignorant of the threat posed by Castro; meanwhile, Castro soldiers on in the mountains, plotting his revolution. He is aware of the influence of American gangsters in Cuba, but his obsession is with Batista — always Batista. If anything, it is surprising that these two elements could coexist in Cuba for as long as they did. It's clear that this island wasn't big enough for the both of them, and one man's ascendance necessarily excluded the other. For all that, though, Lansky and Castro's respective crews never came into active conflict, English's book is a bit anticlimactic as a result, and you can almost feel the author chafing at that fact.
If English advances a thesis at all, it is a subconscious one. He doesn't argue the point, but you can't help but get the feeling that this ending was foreordained. Lansky's plans could never have worked, in the long term. The active ingredient in the Mob's Cuba formula was a government partner that would sell the country's guts and soul to foreign investors for a cut of the take. Without Batista — and exactly Batista — Lansky and his partners in the Syndicate would never have gained their foothold in Havana. And yet Batista's was exactly the sort of regime that can never sustain itself. In retrospect, it's hard to see the Mob's Havana holiday as anything but a time-limited proposition. What was not predictable, necessarily, is that Fidel would not allow the Mob to co-opt him into its Cuba project. Turns out you can refuse an offer from the Mafia. This might explain why, after managing somehow to survive that first refusal, Castro is still around.
UPDATE: For all you doubters about the long-term prospects of This Thing of Ours, it's worth pausing to consider Lansky and Luciano's fruitful partnership — proof positive that a Jew and an Italian can work together and succeed in this world. FO is the Internet's "Commission," and don't you forget it.
Assassins turn their guns on Albert Anastasio, the notorious capo of a national contract-murder syndicate, in his New York City barber shop. Mobbed-up casino owners arrange a sex party for then-Senator John F. Kennedy in Havana (and later kick themselves for failing to film it). A young Fidel Castro abandons ship nine miles off the Cuban coast to escape a rival with homicidal intentions. I gotta say, Havana Nocturne is a fun read.
T.J. English's plot is straightforward: he lays it all out in the book's subtitle. American gangsters see opportunity in Havana's licentious nightlife — gambling! glitz! girls! — Mob cultivates a partnership with ex-President Fulgencio Batista, Batista retakes power, and Havana really starts to hop. Batista has a strong hand politically but manages to overplay it. The revelry in Havana ends — poetically — in the wee hours of New Year's Day, 1959, as Castro's revolutionaries put Batista to flight and swarm over the city. A six-year party, followed by a fifty-year (and counting) hangover.
By now we're all familiar with the broad contours of this history, and English doesn't add much from a big-picture standpoint. There's no innovative historical argument here, no challenge to the conventional wisdom. It's the richness of detail that makes this book such a good read. It's the synthesis of sources, the cobbling together of a hundred gripping, tabloid-quality anecdotes of sleaze, corruption, excess, debauchery, murder, repression, insurgency, and riot. Oh — and Sinatra, too. How could anyone not want to read this book?
More...
Two dynamic personalities drive the narrative here, and neither of them is Batista. The first is Meyer Lansky. Lansky, an unheralded Mob organizer and financier — and onetime protegé of Arnold Rothstein, scourge of baseball fans the world over — was the visionary who, along with Lucky Luciano, founded "the Commission," a sort of national governing board for the Mafia and later led the Commission's bid to colonize Havana's tourism and entertainment industry. Hyman Roth's character in The Godfather, Part II is modeled after Lansky. The other mover and shaker is Fidel Castro, and of course we know all about him.
It should not be surprising that Lansky and Castro's stars were in opposition. As English tells it, these two were polar opposites in every way — they were matter and anti-matter (you can decide which was which). Castro, the son of a prosperous landowner family, grew up in the country; Lansky was raised in poverty on Manhattan's Lower East Side. Lansky was disciplined, deliberate, and pragmatic, as much of a "peacemaker" as any gangster can be (the Anastasio hit notwithstanding); Castro is aggressive and confrontational, the consummate risk-taker. Lansky survived and thrived by flying under the radar — of law enforcement, of his Mob colleagues, of American journalists obsessed with the Mafia. Castro promoted a cult of personality that put himself forward as the very embodiment of the People's Revolution.
English works hard to place Lansky's Havana Mob and Castro's 26th of July movement in tension, but the truth is that his book tells two parallel narratives. The only point of connection between Lansky and Castro is Batista's regime, the fixed point around which these two characters pivot. Lansky's Havana "scene" parties on, at first blissfully, then willfully ignorant of the threat posed by Castro; meanwhile, Castro soldiers on in the mountains, plotting his revolution. He is aware of the influence of American gangsters in Cuba, but his obsession is with Batista — always Batista. If anything, it is surprising that these two elements could coexist in Cuba for as long as they did. It's clear that this island wasn't big enough for the both of them, and one man's ascendance necessarily excluded the other. For all that, though, Lansky and Castro's respective crews never came into active conflict, English's book is a bit anticlimactic as a result, and you can almost feel the author chafing at that fact.
If English advances a thesis at all, it is a subconscious one. He doesn't argue the point, but you can't help but get the feeling that this ending was foreordained. Lansky's plans could never have worked, in the long term. The active ingredient in the Mob's Cuba formula was a government partner that would sell the country's guts and soul to foreign investors for a cut of the take. Without Batista — and exactly Batista — Lansky and his partners in the Syndicate would never have gained their foothold in Havana. And yet Batista's was exactly the sort of regime that can never sustain itself. In retrospect, it's hard to see the Mob's Havana holiday as anything but a time-limited proposition. What was not predictable, necessarily, is that Fidel would not allow the Mob to co-opt him into its Cuba project. Turns out you can refuse an offer from the Mafia. This might explain why, after managing somehow to survive that first refusal, Castro is still around.
UPDATE: For all you doubters about the long-term prospects of This Thing of Ours, it's worth pausing to consider Lansky and Luciano's fruitful partnership — proof positive that a Jew and an Italian can work together and succeed in this world. FO is the Internet's "Commission," and don't you forget it.
It Was P.T. Barnum
PHUTATORIUS
Would it have been intrusive and pedantic of me to tell the people in the elevator just now — whom I didn't know — that it wasn't W.C. Fields who said "There's a sucker born every minute?"
Probably, so I decided to blog about it instead.
Would it have been intrusive and pedantic of me to tell the people in the elevator just now — whom I didn't know — that it wasn't W.C. Fields who said "There's a sucker born every minute?"
Probably, so I decided to blog about it instead.
John McCain Is Back, and We Welcome Him
MITHRIDATES
For anyone who cares about Afghanistan (remember that other War?), John McCain's speech to the American Enterprise Institute is worth a read. Whether you're a lefty or righty, it's hard not to listen to this guy and not believe we would have been better off with him at the helm the past eight years — we'll agree to disagree on the next four. Some things might not have been different enough for some, but it's hard to think they would been worse.
More...
This is what we need. Leaders willing to give the occasional sober assessment of the situation and to make the right changes until they get it right.
But unlike others who tout numbers of enemy killed as a measure of success, he openly admits this doesn't count for much.
Hope? Bipartisanship? Maybe? The good will and support won't last forever.
For anyone who cares about Afghanistan (remember that other War?), John McCain's speech to the American Enterprise Institute is worth a read. Whether you're a lefty or righty, it's hard not to listen to this guy and not believe we would have been better off with him at the helm the past eight years — we'll agree to disagree on the next four. Some things might not have been different enough for some, but it's hard to think they would been worse.
More...
This is what we need. Leaders willing to give the occasional sober assessment of the situation and to make the right changes until they get it right.
The problem in Afghanistan today is not innate xenophobia or hostility to the West. It is our own failed policies that are the problem. We have tried to win this war without enough troops, without sufficient economic aid, without effective coordination, and without a clear strategy. The ruinous consequences should come as no surprise.Let's get this out there before objections are shouted out. Yes, one big reason there weren't enough troops in (or focus on) Afghanistan was because of the other War the man championed. Can we move on?
But unlike others who tout numbers of enemy killed as a measure of success, he openly admits this doesn't count for much.
Although we succeeded in killing numerous terrorist leaders through this approach — including the head of al Qaeda in Iraq, Abu Musab al Zarqawi, the insurgency continued to grow in strength and violence. It was not until we changed course and applied a new approach — a counterinsurgency strategy focused on providing basic security for the population — that the cycle of violence was broken and al Qaeda was seriously damaged.So ignore the repeated mention of the surge (election's over, John). We've got a President willing to refocus on Afghanistan and commit more troops; a chance to get our allies to finally contribute more now that Bush and his ham-handed diplomacy are gone (think Obama can actually get them to pony up?); and a thoughtful opposition leader more or less on the same page.
Hope? Bipartisanship? Maybe? The good will and support won't last forever.
None of this will be easy. While today Afghanistan is seen by many as "the good war" and the one into which the dispatch of thousands of additional American troops can go mostly uncontested, this day may soon pass. It is possible — indeed likely — that sometime in the near future, perhaps a year from now, as the fighting in Afghanistan increases, the costs grow more dear, and casualties become more numerous and more visible, that the will to finish this mission will dramatically erode.Let's get it right while we've got the chance. Let's hope Obama keeps this guy in the loop.
My Latest Accomplishment
WHITECOLLAR REDNECK
My list of recent work successes is a brief one — as a professional investor, "Still employed" is about the best I can come up with. However, I had a triumph in my personal life today about which I am particularly proud — I finished the last Q-Tip in one of those giant Q-Tip boxes that no one ever finishes. I've had this thing through at least my last two apartment moves — I always assumed that at some point I'd just lose it before I ever finished it. But no! This morning, I pulled out the last cotton-tipped swab, and threw the box away before removing a modest amount of waxy buildup from my ears. I think it's some kind of omen or portent, I will be buying stocks in my personal account today.
My list of recent work successes is a brief one — as a professional investor, "Still employed" is about the best I can come up with. However, I had a triumph in my personal life today about which I am particularly proud — I finished the last Q-Tip in one of those giant Q-Tip boxes that no one ever finishes. I've had this thing through at least my last two apartment moves — I always assumed that at some point I'd just lose it before I ever finished it. But no! This morning, I pulled out the last cotton-tipped swab, and threw the box away before removing a modest amount of waxy buildup from my ears. I think it's some kind of omen or portent, I will be buying stocks in my personal account today.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
FO News Roundup: February 27, 2009
- Policy change: the press can publish photos of soldiers' coffins. Same SecDef, different Administration. We're told the rationale for the old policy wasn't the Pentagon's keen interest in suppressing talk of the human cost of war — it was deference to families. You know, because it intrudes on their privacy for the world to see their sons' identical flag-draped caskets. (P)
- Chris Brown allegedly hit Rihanna more than once. And thousands of people in Zimbabwe are dying of starvation and cholera. So many causes for outrage: don't make me choose! (P)
- Former CIA operative Kyle "Dusty" Foggo has been sentenced to 37 months for fraud. "We saw right through him," said gloating prosecutors. Foggo's assistant, Misty McCloud, has not been charged. (P)
- Calcium lowers your risk of cancer, but a diet rich in dairy increases your risk of heart attack; alcohol reduces your risk of heart attack, but increases your risk of cancer. White Russian, please. (M)
- No peace activists dancing in the streets. No Republicans saying the sky is falling. No talk of a giant victory parade. Just a reasonable plan laid out to end a long war and maintain an appropriate presence (for 100 years?). (M)
- Every Feigned Outrage author and reader line up to fight these people! Unions, moveon.org, and bears! "This is not an ideological crusade," said Markos Moulitsas, creator of the blog DailyKos and a supporter of the group. "What we want to do is move the Democratic Party to the mainstream." He said, without irony. (M)
No Fair!
PHUTATORIUS
This was a right-wing talking point for a while — usually served up in tandem with union card-check: Obama's going to bring back the Fairness Doctrine, a policy that once called for the FCC to enforce viewpoint neutrality on the broadcast bands. He's a tyrant who doesn't believe in free speech!
More...
And of course he isn't going to do that. The Senate voted 87-11 today to prohibit the FCC from reviving the fairness doctrine. The 11 dissenters are named in Politico; they're Democrats, so everyone can go ahead and talk about how awful it would be if Democrats were running Congress.
This after Obama said last June that he opposed the Fairness Doctrine, and a spokesperson recently confirmed the Administration's position to Fox News. Obama's position never changed in the interim — but then again, whispered the Forces for Truth, Justice, and the American Airwave, you never know what a politician REALLY thinks.
Obama's position means that the FCC won't require broadcasters to extend corrective airtime to politicians when radio nut jobs make shit up about them to scare people. That's the right answer, as a policy matter. But that doesn't mean certain of us at FO can't say to the nut jobs (and at least one of our other writers), Duh — that's what we've been telling you.
This was a right-wing talking point for a while — usually served up in tandem with union card-check: Obama's going to bring back the Fairness Doctrine, a policy that once called for the FCC to enforce viewpoint neutrality on the broadcast bands. He's a tyrant who doesn't believe in free speech!
More...
And of course he isn't going to do that. The Senate voted 87-11 today to prohibit the FCC from reviving the fairness doctrine. The 11 dissenters are named in Politico; they're Democrats, so everyone can go ahead and talk about how awful it would be if Democrats were running Congress.
This after Obama said last June that he opposed the Fairness Doctrine, and a spokesperson recently confirmed the Administration's position to Fox News. Obama's position never changed in the interim — but then again, whispered the Forces for Truth, Justice, and the American Airwave, you never know what a politician REALLY thinks.
Obama's position means that the FCC won't require broadcasters to extend corrective airtime to politicians when radio nut jobs make shit up about them to scare people. That's the right answer, as a policy matter. But that doesn't mean certain of us at FO can't say to the nut jobs (and at least one of our other writers), Duh — that's what we've been telling you.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
FO News Roundup: February 25, 2009
- And the Oscar for most gratuitous and tasteless exhibition passed off as news goes to . . . Boston.com, for their School Sex Scandal Photo Gallery!
- Websites technically do have numbers. The Internet is actually a "series of tubes". Give me your number, I'll send you an internet. Trust in government.
- Some schools with low test scores have resorted to reducing recess to spend more time cramming math facts down their students' throats. Turns out this remarkably stupid idea is indeed remarkably stupid.
- US deals crushing blow to drug cartel! Maybe this time no other group from an impoverished country will take their place in the extremely lucrative market of narcotics smuggling.
"What Made the Greeks Laugh?"
WHITECOLLAR REDNECK
I enjoyed this article/book review about humor in Ancient Greece. A sample:
An Abderite saw a eunuch talking to a woman and asked if she was his wife. When he replied that eunuchs can't have wives, the Abderite asked, 'So is she your daughter then?'
That's the stuff that had them slapping their knees in the agora — and it is kind of funny, still!
I remember when I was learning German, the first time I felt like I really spoke it, understood it, and got it was when I was able to understand a German joke. When you understand what a culture thinks is funny, I think you're well on your way to understanding what makes them tick. I do think I understand the Greeks a little better having read this piece about their jokes.
I enjoyed this article/book review about humor in Ancient Greece. A sample:
An Abderite saw a eunuch talking to a woman and asked if she was his wife. When he replied that eunuchs can't have wives, the Abderite asked, 'So is she your daughter then?'
That's the stuff that had them slapping their knees in the agora — and it is kind of funny, still!
I remember when I was learning German, the first time I felt like I really spoke it, understood it, and got it was when I was able to understand a German joke. When you understand what a culture thinks is funny, I think you're well on your way to understanding what makes them tick. I do think I understand the Greeks a little better having read this piece about their jokes.
Attention Harvard Grads - Vote!
MITHRIDATES
Here's a Boston Globe column worth reading. Why?
Our universities get routinely slammed by certain political groups. Most of it is unwarranted. Our universities are the best in the world and, as much as anything else, provide a competitive advantage for the US. The best talent still comes here to go to our universities. They develop innovative companies here. They advance science here. Maintaining the preeminence of our higher education should be a priority of any administration that cares about the long-term competitiveness of the US.
But the criticisms about free speech and political correctness are valid and need to be addressed. And this may have to be done locally. A small step in the right direction by Harvard could make it easier for others to follow. I wish I had a vote in that election . . .
Addendum: Please don't let this post suggest any support or knowledge of any of the candidates beyond what's written in the Globe column. Oftentimes those who are fighting political correctness are just assheads spouting out crap. This may be the case here, for all I know. But at least let's get the issue on the table . . .
Here's a Boston Globe column worth reading. Why?
- Because it still does matter what type of example Harvard sets. Other institutions often do follow its lead.
- Because there has to be a greater willingness for faculty and students to have honest and open debate, instead of sanctioning one politically correct opinion and shunning all others.
- Because science doesn't happen magically overnight. It requires a constant challenging of ideas and objective analysis free from political interference.
Our universities get routinely slammed by certain political groups. Most of it is unwarranted. Our universities are the best in the world and, as much as anything else, provide a competitive advantage for the US. The best talent still comes here to go to our universities. They develop innovative companies here. They advance science here. Maintaining the preeminence of our higher education should be a priority of any administration that cares about the long-term competitiveness of the US.
But the criticisms about free speech and political correctness are valid and need to be addressed. And this may have to be done locally. A small step in the right direction by Harvard could make it easier for others to follow. I wish I had a vote in that election . . .
Addendum: Please don't let this post suggest any support or knowledge of any of the candidates beyond what's written in the Globe column. Oftentimes those who are fighting political correctness are just assheads spouting out crap. This may be the case here, for all I know. But at least let's get the issue on the table . . .
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
FO News Roundup: February 24, 2009
We're putting aside our "best/worst dressed on Oscar night" feature ("Phutatorius went with depression chic on Sunday night: blue jeans, green Stereolab T-shirt, fraying gray hoody sweatshirt.") for some news bullets. Bear with us:
More...
- Turns out you can't see Atlantis on Google Earth. But if you go to Street View you can see a unicorn in my front yard. Oh, no, wait — that's just a fertilizer bag. (P)
- The SEC announced a big policy shift today: they're going to try to do their jobs. (P — not holding his breath).
- The Octuplets' Mother's Ex wants a piece of the action. Would he be as interested if the kids were a much less marketable set of quints? (P)
- According to this morning's headlines: Bernanke says recession to end in 2009, recession should end in 2009, there is some possibility of recession ending in 2009, recession may last into 2010, and the economy is suffering a severe contraction. He hopes 2010 is the year of recovery, sees 2010 recovery only if banks stabilize, offers a jobless recovery, and says the recovery will take years. Everyone clear? Everyone confident? (M)
- Nicky Hilton made a citizen's arrest at IHOP early Saturday morning. The perp, who apparently bumped into Ms. Hilton on the way out of the building (a strict liability offense, per California Dissolute Heiresses Protection Code § 2.14), will be arraigned Wednesday in the restaurant's "Kangaroo Court." (P)
- For crying out loud, the guy's living in a basement. If you want to talk about his tax liability for that, you're hurting for causes, and a cafeteria just opened up for your sit-in. (P)
Monday, February 23, 2009
Great Moments in Music Video: Van Halen Edition
PHUTATORIUS
Van Halen today — lest we should appear overly biased in favor of post-punk new-wave acts. An argument can be made that pretty much any video made for the 1984 album should earn its props in this department, but in this case selectivity is the mother of selection.
More...
Let's consider the candidates:
(1) "Jump." A workmanlike video performance, and nothing more. Great costuming, and there are inklings here — as in "Pretty Woman" — that the band would have fun in this medium down the road. It's notable that David Lee Roth manages to rhyme "machine" and "saying," but this achievement is an artifact of the recording, not the video. Hold for now, as there might be something better.
(2) "Panama." There, right there, at 0:44-0:53: policemen are hauling a wild-eyed Roth (or is it Lee Roth?) out of a hotel room in a bath towel and handcuffs. This narrative thread (such as it is) surfaces without warning, then drops out of the video entirely. It's a complete non sequitur, but for me, this is the Quintessence of Roth. Bath towel and handcuffs. No Spandex, no war paint, no fringed chaps: this is about possibility. It's what you didn't see — whatever happened to precipitate the arrest — that fires the imagination. This would be the Moment of Moments, but here it's just a runner-up, because of
(3) "Hot for Teacher." (see above) It all comes to a head here. Where to start? The orgasmic (!) inflections in Waldo's mother's voice, as she leaves her son for the bus? The band's woefully choreographed soft-shoe in 70s wedding tuxedos? The scaled-down school-age lookalikes? The 'Where are They Now?' segments at the end of the video (is that Rick Moranis playing Waldo the Pimp?) are fun. A lot of potential Moments here, but these are all a bit too gimmicky to take the prize. Van Halen's Great Moment in Music Video, chapter and verse — "Hot for Teacher" 1:33-1:45:
Band breaks out into full-on audio assault, black and white explodes into full color, Miss Chemistry blitzes the classroom stage in blue string bikini. Bam. That's it.
Roth is absolutely a ham (kosher, of course), and he'd overindulge himself in the solo vids that followed on the heels of 1984. "California Girls" and "Just a Gigolo" were good for a few laughs, but in the end, "Hot for Teacher" wasn't so far off when it projected Roth as "American's Favorite T.V. Game Show Host." I'll leave it to more knowledgeable fans to assess Van Halen's overall career. But in my capacity as self-appointed authority and enthusiast of music video, I declare that the band's crowning achievement in that medium was "Hot for Teacher."
CLASS DISMISSED!
Van Halen today — lest we should appear overly biased in favor of post-punk new-wave acts. An argument can be made that pretty much any video made for the 1984 album should earn its props in this department, but in this case selectivity is the mother of selection.
More...
Let's consider the candidates:
(1) "Jump." A workmanlike video performance, and nothing more. Great costuming, and there are inklings here — as in "Pretty Woman" — that the band would have fun in this medium down the road. It's notable that David Lee Roth manages to rhyme "machine" and "saying," but this achievement is an artifact of the recording, not the video. Hold for now, as there might be something better.
(2) "Panama." There, right there, at 0:44-0:53: policemen are hauling a wild-eyed Roth (or is it Lee Roth?) out of a hotel room in a bath towel and handcuffs. This narrative thread (such as it is) surfaces without warning, then drops out of the video entirely. It's a complete non sequitur, but for me, this is the Quintessence of Roth. Bath towel and handcuffs. No Spandex, no war paint, no fringed chaps: this is about possibility. It's what you didn't see — whatever happened to precipitate the arrest — that fires the imagination. This would be the Moment of Moments, but here it's just a runner-up, because of
(3) "Hot for Teacher." (see above) It all comes to a head here. Where to start? The orgasmic (!) inflections in Waldo's mother's voice, as she leaves her son for the bus? The band's woefully choreographed soft-shoe in 70s wedding tuxedos? The scaled-down school-age lookalikes? The 'Where are They Now?' segments at the end of the video (is that Rick Moranis playing Waldo the Pimp?) are fun. A lot of potential Moments here, but these are all a bit too gimmicky to take the prize. Van Halen's Great Moment in Music Video, chapter and verse — "Hot for Teacher" 1:33-1:45:
"Wait a second man — what do you think the teacher's gonna look like this year? WHOA!"
Band breaks out into full-on audio assault, black and white explodes into full color, Miss Chemistry blitzes the classroom stage in blue string bikini. Bam. That's it.
Roth is absolutely a ham (kosher, of course), and he'd overindulge himself in the solo vids that followed on the heels of 1984. "California Girls" and "Just a Gigolo" were good for a few laughs, but in the end, "Hot for Teacher" wasn't so far off when it projected Roth as "American's Favorite T.V. Game Show Host." I'll leave it to more knowledgeable fans to assess Van Halen's overall career. But in my capacity as self-appointed authority and enthusiast of music video, I declare that the band's crowning achievement in that medium was "Hot for Teacher."
CLASS DISMISSED!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Migracorridos
MITHRIDATES
Finally some creative thinking about illegal immigration. Take "migra", the derogatory term used by illegal immigrants for the US Border Patrol, and "corrido", traditional Mexican ballads, and what do you get:
Migracorridos, a five-song CD distributed by the USBP to Mexican radio stations containing such hits as "El Enemigo Mas Grande", a ballad about a Mexican watching his cousin die in the desert. The CD also includes "La Carta" (The Letter), "La Tumba" (The Tomb), and "El Funeral" (you're on your own with this one).
More...
The good news is it actually represents some creative thinking by our border control. Mexican drug traffickers are known to sing narcocorridos to brag about their exploits and the USBP now has a competing offer. And they're apparently quite popular. Read the rest of the Daily News article (hooray, they produced something worth reading! Oh wait, that's just an AP reprint) for more about the Border Crossing Initiative. The BCI claims success, as deaths are down from a peak of 492 in 2005 to 390 in 2008, but it's unclear how much of this is from fewer border crossing attempts due to fewer opportunities en el norte during the recession.
The sad news is that an effort like this is only noteworthy in the absence of any reasonable immigration policy. Eight years ago a governor from a border state ran for President with a sensible position based on years of first-hand experience with immigration. Too bad he never got the chance to make it happen. From 2005 and 2007, John McCain*, Ted Kennedy, and others led an effort for a comprehensive immigration reform that sought to address the major issues in a reasonable way by largely ignoring the rantings from the right and left extremes. The resulting rants of these extremes against the bill suggest it had some merit.
It was not perfect. It was not how I would have drawn it up. But considering the usual crap that comes out of Congress it wasn't that bad. It had the support of the last President. Would it have the support of this one? I think so. Can it get through the new Congress? It came close last time and seems worth a try now. But will ecomonic troubles and a temporary decline in illegal immigration remove it from the agenda entirely?
This seems like something the current Congress and President could get done in a reasonable way. So what gives? We'll tackle this issues in depth at a later date, but for now, can't we at least get it back on the table?
* note: when this author refers to "John McCain", he is not referring to the alien-demon-possessed 2008 presidential candidate who ran under the same name and said he would actually vote against the immigration bill the real John McCain sponsored back in 2006.
Finally some creative thinking about illegal immigration. Take "migra", the derogatory term used by illegal immigrants for the US Border Patrol, and "corrido", traditional Mexican ballads, and what do you get:
Migracorridos, a five-song CD distributed by the USBP to Mexican radio stations containing such hits as "El Enemigo Mas Grande", a ballad about a Mexican watching his cousin die in the desert. The CD also includes "La Carta" (The Letter), "La Tumba" (The Tomb), and "El Funeral" (you're on your own with this one).
More...
The good news is it actually represents some creative thinking by our border control. Mexican drug traffickers are known to sing narcocorridos to brag about their exploits and the USBP now has a competing offer. And they're apparently quite popular. Read the rest of the Daily News article (hooray, they produced something worth reading! Oh wait, that's just an AP reprint) for more about the Border Crossing Initiative. The BCI claims success, as deaths are down from a peak of 492 in 2005 to 390 in 2008, but it's unclear how much of this is from fewer border crossing attempts due to fewer opportunities en el norte during the recession.
The sad news is that an effort like this is only noteworthy in the absence of any reasonable immigration policy. Eight years ago a governor from a border state ran for President with a sensible position based on years of first-hand experience with immigration. Too bad he never got the chance to make it happen. From 2005 and 2007, John McCain*, Ted Kennedy, and others led an effort for a comprehensive immigration reform that sought to address the major issues in a reasonable way by largely ignoring the rantings from the right and left extremes. The resulting rants of these extremes against the bill suggest it had some merit.
It was not perfect. It was not how I would have drawn it up. But considering the usual crap that comes out of Congress it wasn't that bad. It had the support of the last President. Would it have the support of this one? I think so. Can it get through the new Congress? It came close last time and seems worth a try now. But will ecomonic troubles and a temporary decline in illegal immigration remove it from the agenda entirely?
This seems like something the current Congress and President could get done in a reasonable way. So what gives? We'll tackle this issues in depth at a later date, but for now, can't we at least get it back on the table?
* note: when this author refers to "John McCain", he is not referring to the alien-demon-possessed 2008 presidential candidate who ran under the same name and said he would actually vote against the immigration bill the real John McCain sponsored back in 2006.
Kurt Vonnegut Saw This Coming
PHUTATORIUS
. . . or something like it, anyway, in his 1985 novel, Galápagos:
As it plays out in Galápagos, rioting, civil war, starvation and disease follow, and in the end (or rather, the beginning, as Vonnegut's ghost-of-a-narrator, Leon Trotsky Trout, tells the tale from a million years into the future) the last humans left alive are a gang of tourists, Ecuadoran refugees, and a ship's crew who find themselves shipwrecked on the island of Santa Rosalia in the Galápagos archipelago (say that five times fast). A million years later, these humans' descendants have evolved flippers and substantially smaller brains — advancements that, in the narrator-ghost's view, leave them much improved on their twentieth-century progenitors.
Did Vonnegut have it right? The last year has shown us Homo sapiens sapiens's capacity to outwit itself — and we find the fallout right where Vonnegut placed it two dozen years ago — in the delusional world of high finance. Could it be that our brains really are too big for our own good?
I think Kurt oversimplifies things a bit. If there's a big evolutionary flaw in the species, it's not that our brains are too big. It's that certain areas of our brains are overdeveloped, at the expense of others. The Ancient Greeks had two words for knowledge: tekne and sophia; these terms roughly correspond to "know-how" and "wisdom." It seems to me our tekne tends to get out ahead of our sophia, usually by about a decade or two. It's the tekne in us that enables us to develop intricate, destructive works of artifice like the atomic bomb and the collateralized debt obligation, and only years later does our sophia show us how our celebrated tekne has worked us into a corner. If only the sophia side of our big brains were more advanced, we might find ourselves in better stead.
It ought to be a sign unto us that the world's foremost economic minds (our vaunted "technocrats") crapped out in predicting the present state of affairs, but a wicked Juvenalian satirist like Vonnegut (a "philosopher?") saw it all coming as far back as the 1980s. Somewhere Vonnegut's own ghost is narrating today's events to a chuckling audience — and my guess is that he's taking no prisoners in the telling.
Love ya, Kurt.
. . . or something like it, anyway, in his 1985 novel, Galápagos:
The thing was, though: When James Wait got there, a worldwide financial crisis, a sudden revision of human opinions as to the value of money and stocks and bonds and mortgages and so on, bits of paper, had ruined the tourist business not only in Ecuador but practically everywhere.More...
* * *
Mexico and Chile and Brazil and Argentina were likewise bankrupt — and Indonesia and the Philippines and Pakistan and India and Thailand and Italy and Ireland and Belgium and Turkey. Whole nations were suddenly . . . unable to buy with their paper money and coins, or their written promises to pay later, even the barest essentials. Persons with anything life sustaining to sell, fellow citizens as well as foreigners, were refusing to exchange their goods for money. They were suddenly saying to people with nothing but paper representations of wealth, "Wake up, you idiots! Whatever made you think paper was so valuable?"
* * *
The financial crisis, which could never happen today, was simply the latest in a series of murderous twentieth century catastrophes which had originated entirely in human brains.
As it plays out in Galápagos, rioting, civil war, starvation and disease follow, and in the end (or rather, the beginning, as Vonnegut's ghost-of-a-narrator, Leon Trotsky Trout, tells the tale from a million years into the future) the last humans left alive are a gang of tourists, Ecuadoran refugees, and a ship's crew who find themselves shipwrecked on the island of Santa Rosalia in the Galápagos archipelago (say that five times fast). A million years later, these humans' descendants have evolved flippers and substantially smaller brains — advancements that, in the narrator-ghost's view, leave them much improved on their twentieth-century progenitors.
Did Vonnegut have it right? The last year has shown us Homo sapiens sapiens's capacity to outwit itself — and we find the fallout right where Vonnegut placed it two dozen years ago — in the delusional world of high finance. Could it be that our brains really are too big for our own good?
I think Kurt oversimplifies things a bit. If there's a big evolutionary flaw in the species, it's not that our brains are too big. It's that certain areas of our brains are overdeveloped, at the expense of others. The Ancient Greeks had two words for knowledge: tekne and sophia; these terms roughly correspond to "know-how" and "wisdom." It seems to me our tekne tends to get out ahead of our sophia, usually by about a decade or two. It's the tekne in us that enables us to develop intricate, destructive works of artifice like the atomic bomb and the collateralized debt obligation, and only years later does our sophia show us how our celebrated tekne has worked us into a corner. If only the sophia side of our big brains were more advanced, we might find ourselves in better stead.
It ought to be a sign unto us that the world's foremost economic minds (our vaunted "technocrats") crapped out in predicting the present state of affairs, but a wicked Juvenalian satirist like Vonnegut (a "philosopher?") saw it all coming as far back as the 1980s. Somewhere Vonnegut's own ghost is narrating today's events to a chuckling audience — and my guess is that he's taking no prisoners in the telling.
Love ya, Kurt.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Masthead Archive: February 20, 2009
More...
"Let us feed the unknown, not from despair, but simply to enrich the unfathomable reservoirs of the Absurd!"
"Let us feed the unknown, not from despair, but simply to enrich the unfathomable reservoirs of the Absurd!"
The Futurist Manifesto at 100
PHUTATORIUS
100 years ago today Le Figaro published F.T. Marinetti's Futurist Manifesto. Here's a full English translation. But we'll cover some of the wilder bits here:
Immediately here we see the difference between French and American newspapers. Just you try and submit something like this to the Wall Street Journal, Cleveland Plain Dealer, or Camden Courier-Post. This doesn't fly Stateside — not even in 1909. Oh, today's rags publish their fair share of "demented writing" that tests the "limits of logic" — but you have to earn that privilege first as a staff columnist.
Cliff's Notes: Rich kid gets hammered, runs his car off the road, tells bystanders "I meant to do that."
These are the 11 canons/commandments of Futurism. Let's report back to Maronetti on how all this is working out, a century later:
*The 20th century was surely the Century of the Automobile. We've made good on this, F.T.: we've come up with hot rods, Interstates, NASCAR, Hunter S. Thompson. There have been stumbles: we briefly flirted with the idea of trading our big, angry engines for bumper-car electrics, but all that's by the wayside now. Gas prices are down to two bucks a gallon. The car companies are on life-support, but we think they'll pull through. What — are we all gonna ride bikes?
*I think we struck out with literature. There's just one book now. It's about a young, liberated professional woman and her urban odyssey toward self-actualization and true love. Well, there's that and all the Jesus/ Armageddon books. You might like the Jesus/ Armageddon books, but you have to go to a special store (Wal-Mart) to get them.
*Our museums and libraries are still standing. That's the bad news. The good news is we have the Internet, and the sheer volume of its published content overwhelms all the dusty old books gathered in hard-copy archives. And I hear that most web sites turn over completely in less than three months. Out with the old! Go forth, TiVo, and delete this two-week-old recording of Grey's Anatomy from my hard drive. In fact, delete all of 'em.
*Lethal, beautiful ideas had their time in the sun, thanks to Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot. Whoopee. Hooray. War, militarism, patriotism, contempt for woman — we pretty much locked down (9) for you. The anarchists petered out, but then again, they were never all that well-organized.
*Re (11): wow! Quite a lot to cover there. These days great crowds are agitated because they're not working. We're trading carbon credits now, so smoke tendrils are a bit passé. Steamers are long gone, unless you're ordering mussels. We still have trains, but Mithridates will tell you that they're limping along languidly, with the occasional kick in the backside from a government subsidy. We did just earmark three quarters of a trillion dollars for a lot of this stuff. Oh, we'll have bridges, Signore, bridges spanning the great yawning chasm of this stolid, stupefied Economy. Great, graceful arcing bridges to Prosperity. And bridge loans for banks. Harrumph.
And it was in Italy that Futurism found an evil twin — or punk cousin — in Mussolini's Fascism. Did some corruption of meaning happen in the retranslation back from French? Hey, everybody — let's drain the swamps, get those trains running on time, and invade Ethiopia! Let's get wrecked and drive the country into a ditch!
It ought to be clear from all this that F.T. Marinetti was declaring a permanent state of rock 'n' roll. Noise, speed, reckless youth, generational warfare. Shoot, the rock tradition (in its purest form, anyway) even calls for "contempt for woman." What's the difference, really, between Marinetti and Jim Morrison, other than that Marinetti was actually a poet?
I don't think I like this 40-year cutoff point for relevance. Urk. This Frustrated Writer has only five years left before his useless manuscripts (their words, not mine) would hit the Waste Paper Basket. And what does this mean for rock music, now that I've raised this issue? Yeah, so maybe I enjoyed the "light cadence" of the first Killers album, but I'm damned if I let those poseurs push aside the Old Masters.
And Signore, you're pushing one hundred and forty. Would a true Futurist be pleased that his work has been assigned a library call number, that he's been stuffed away in the proverbial climate-controlled storage facility, to be released only for the occasional time capsule-style review in a blog post?
I'll leave you to think this through, Signore, but I enjoyed the exercise.
100 years ago today Le Figaro published F.T. Marinetti's Futurist Manifesto. Here's a full English translation. But we'll cover some of the wilder bits here:
We have been up all night, my friends and I, beneath mosque lamps whose brass cupolas are bright as our souls, because like them they were illuminated by the internal glow of electric hearts. And trampling underfoot our native sloth on opulent Persian carpets, we have been discussing right up to the limits of logic and scrawling the paper with demented writing.More...
Immediately here we see the difference between French and American newspapers. Just you try and submit something like this to the Wall Street Journal, Cleveland Plain Dealer, or Camden Courier-Post. This doesn't fly Stateside — not even in 1909. Oh, today's rags publish their fair share of "demented writing" that tests the "limits of logic" — but you have to earn that privilege first as a staff columnist.
"Let us leave good sense behind like a hideous husk and let us hurl ourselves, like fruit spiced with pride, into the immense mouth and breast of the world! Let us feed the unknown, not from despair, but simply to enrich the unfathomable reservoirs of the Absurd!"
As soon as I had said these words, I turned sharply back on my tracks with the mad intoxication of puppies biting their tails, and suddenly there were two cyclists disapproving of me and tottering in front of me like two persuasive but contradictory reasons. Their stupid swaying got in my way. What a bore! Pouah! I stopped short, and in disgust hurled myself — vlan! — head over heels in a ditch.
Oh, maternal ditch, half full of muddy water! A factory gutter! I savored a mouthful of strengthening muck which recalled the black teat of my Sudanese nurse!
Cliff's Notes: Rich kid gets hammered, runs his car off the road, tells bystanders "I meant to do that."
(1) We want to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and rashness.
(2) The essential elements of our poetry will be courage, audacity and revolt.
(3) Literature has up to now magnified pensive immobility, ecstasy and slumber. We want to exalt movements of aggression, feverish sleeplessness, the double march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist.
(4) We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing automobile with its bonnet adorned with great tubes like serpents with explosive breath . . . a roaring motor car which seems to run on machine-gun fire, is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
(5) We want to sing the man at the wheel, the ideal axis of which crosses the earth, itself hurled along its orbit.
(6) The poet must spend himself with warmth, glamour and prodigality to increase the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.
(7) Beauty exists only in struggle. There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character. Poetry must be a violent assault on the forces of the unknown, to force them to bow before man.
(8) We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries! What is the use of looking behind at the moment when we must open the mysterious shutters of the impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We are already living in the absolute, since we have already created eternal, omnipresent speed.
(9) We want to glorify war — the only cure for the world — militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of the anarchists, the beautiful ideas which kill, and contempt for woman.
(10) We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism and all opportunist and utilitarian cowardice.
(11) We will sing of the great crowds agitated by work, pleasure and revolt; the multi-colored and polyphonic surf of revolutions in modern capitals: the nocturnal vibration of the arsenals and the workshops beneath their violent electric moons: the gluttonous railway stations devouring smoking serpents; factories suspended from the clouds by the thread of their smoke; bridges with the leap of gymnasts flung across the diabolic cutlery of sunny rivers: adventurous steamers sniffing the horizon; great-breasted locomotives, puffing on the rails like enormous steel horses with long tubes for bridle, and the gliding flight of aeroplanes whose propeller sounds like the flapping of a flag and the applause of enthusiastic crowds.
These are the 11 canons/commandments of Futurism. Let's report back to Maronetti on how all this is working out, a century later:
*The 20th century was surely the Century of the Automobile. We've made good on this, F.T.: we've come up with hot rods, Interstates, NASCAR, Hunter S. Thompson. There have been stumbles: we briefly flirted with the idea of trading our big, angry engines for bumper-car electrics, but all that's by the wayside now. Gas prices are down to two bucks a gallon. The car companies are on life-support, but we think they'll pull through. What — are we all gonna ride bikes?
*I think we struck out with literature. There's just one book now. It's about a young, liberated professional woman and her urban odyssey toward self-actualization and true love. Well, there's that and all the Jesus/ Armageddon books. You might like the Jesus/ Armageddon books, but you have to go to a special store (Wal-Mart) to get them.
*Our museums and libraries are still standing. That's the bad news. The good news is we have the Internet, and the sheer volume of its published content overwhelms all the dusty old books gathered in hard-copy archives. And I hear that most web sites turn over completely in less than three months. Out with the old! Go forth, TiVo, and delete this two-week-old recording of Grey's Anatomy from my hard drive. In fact, delete all of 'em.
*Lethal, beautiful ideas had their time in the sun, thanks to Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot. Whoopee. Hooray. War, militarism, patriotism, contempt for woman — we pretty much locked down (9) for you. The anarchists petered out, but then again, they were never all that well-organized.
*Re (11): wow! Quite a lot to cover there. These days great crowds are agitated because they're not working. We're trading carbon credits now, so smoke tendrils are a bit passé. Steamers are long gone, unless you're ordering mussels. We still have trains, but Mithridates will tell you that they're limping along languidly, with the occasional kick in the backside from a government subsidy. We did just earmark three quarters of a trillion dollars for a lot of this stuff. Oh, we'll have bridges, Signore, bridges spanning the great yawning chasm of this stolid, stupefied Economy. Great, graceful arcing bridges to Prosperity. And bridge loans for banks. Harrumph.
It is in Italy that we are issuing this manifesto of ruinous and incendiary violence, by which we today are founding Futurism, because we want to deliver Italy from its gangrene of professors, archaeologists, tourist guides and antiquaries.
And it was in Italy that Futurism found an evil twin — or punk cousin — in Mussolini's Fascism. Did some corruption of meaning happen in the retranslation back from French? Hey, everybody — let's drain the swamps, get those trains running on time, and invade Ethiopia! Let's get wrecked and drive the country into a ditch!
The oldest among us are not yet thirty years old: we have therefore at least ten years to accomplish our task. When we are forty let younger and stronger men than we throw us in the waste paper basket like useless manuscripts! They will come against us from afar, leaping on the light cadence of their first poems, clutching the air with their predatory fingers and sniffing at the gates of the academies the good scent of our decaying spirits, already promised to the catacombs of the libraries.
It ought to be clear from all this that F.T. Marinetti was declaring a permanent state of rock 'n' roll. Noise, speed, reckless youth, generational warfare. Shoot, the rock tradition (in its purest form, anyway) even calls for "contempt for woman." What's the difference, really, between Marinetti and Jim Morrison, other than that Marinetti was actually a poet?
I don't think I like this 40-year cutoff point for relevance. Urk. This Frustrated Writer has only five years left before his useless manuscripts (their words, not mine) would hit the Waste Paper Basket. And what does this mean for rock music, now that I've raised this issue? Yeah, so maybe I enjoyed the "light cadence" of the first Killers album, but I'm damned if I let those poseurs push aside the Old Masters.
And Signore, you're pushing one hundred and forty. Would a true Futurist be pleased that his work has been assigned a library call number, that he's been stuffed away in the proverbial climate-controlled storage facility, to be released only for the occasional time capsule-style review in a blog post?
I'll leave you to think this through, Signore, but I enjoyed the exercise.
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