Discuss.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
On Alien Amnesty
Interesting how things are heating up about this. I really can't believe this whole wall across Texas and New Mex and AZ. Where have we seen this before? That is so 1989.
Alien amnesty will happen for the simple reason that the forces of capitalism favor it, and I don't see special interest legislation overriding it. The free flow of goods in our global economy requires the free flow of its most important commodity: labor power. This is the key commodity and often only power we as workers have to offer in this exchange game. As the engines of capital continue to turn, the need for labor persists, even and especially with the rise of a service economy which provides the backbone for the much-touted information economy. The corollary to free trade is the free crossing of borders, one won't work long without the other. Our economies have always been global, so fears of "outsourcing" and the "loss" of jobs overseas are equally silly.*
It's interesting, though, the bipartisan ideological contradiction. Many conservatives advocate free trade (think NAFTA), seeing, often rightly, the possibility of continued US economic growth and dominance, the chance to exploit untapped markets, the change to keep developing nations in a chokehold of dependence. These same folk oppose alien amnesty, sometimes under economic guise ("they're taking our jobs") and often for racial and nationalistic reasons ("they're taking our jobs"). They thereby limit the free flow of our key commodity.
Liberals talk more of "fair trade" and the role of government regulation to ensure empowerment of developing nations. Sometimes this involves tariffs or subsidies (conservatives certainly use these means too when it serves their interests--but here I'm addressing their rhetoric), thereby lessening the freedom of the flow of goods. Yet such progressives often advocate for amnesty and--also along culturalist lines--the social and political inclusion of such migrant workers. Here they help grease the wheels of economy through the free flow of labor power.
It seems a bit ironic that both sides straddle and therefore gridlock the process. Perhaps one side needs to go whole hog and advocate an economically consistent position.
--
On a somewhat related note, it is funny to me what constitutes legality and illegality in this case. To be legal, one has to have submitted oneself to our bureaucracy. Their "crime" is failing to stand in line, fill out paperwork, and deal with government personnel who are guaranteed to be in the best of moods. Think of your last trip to the DMV-- fun stuff; it seems our quest for legality for our across the border brethren is making sure they too have experienced this joy of joys.
----
On a somewhat somewhat related note. There was some senator or congressman who proposed legislation to make it a capital offense --punishable by fines and jail time-- for anyone to offer aid to illegals. Anyone who aided and abetted them, like thru shelter or material goods or jobs or whatever, would be a major criminal. I kind of hope such legislation will get passed so I can have a clear guideline for what it means to be a Christian. As soon as that law goes into effect I'm hitting the street to find the first illegal immigrant and I'm going to help the hell out of them. It would only be a dim, dim echo of Le Chambon, but it would still give a nice signal for a clear cut way to live the gospel in a mad, mad world.
-----
* Let's not forget that the U.S. economy would be fundamentally different, indeed irretrievably irrecognizable, without the "outsourcing" of labor from Africa during its inception. We've always been global, baby.
Alien amnesty will happen for the simple reason that the forces of capitalism favor it, and I don't see special interest legislation overriding it. The free flow of goods in our global economy requires the free flow of its most important commodity: labor power. This is the key commodity and often only power we as workers have to offer in this exchange game. As the engines of capital continue to turn, the need for labor persists, even and especially with the rise of a service economy which provides the backbone for the much-touted information economy. The corollary to free trade is the free crossing of borders, one won't work long without the other. Our economies have always been global, so fears of "outsourcing" and the "loss" of jobs overseas are equally silly.*
It's interesting, though, the bipartisan ideological contradiction. Many conservatives advocate free trade (think NAFTA), seeing, often rightly, the possibility of continued US economic growth and dominance, the chance to exploit untapped markets, the change to keep developing nations in a chokehold of dependence. These same folk oppose alien amnesty, sometimes under economic guise ("they're taking our jobs") and often for racial and nationalistic reasons ("they're taking our jobs"). They thereby limit the free flow of our key commodity.
Liberals talk more of "fair trade" and the role of government regulation to ensure empowerment of developing nations. Sometimes this involves tariffs or subsidies (conservatives certainly use these means too when it serves their interests--but here I'm addressing their rhetoric), thereby lessening the freedom of the flow of goods. Yet such progressives often advocate for amnesty and--also along culturalist lines--the social and political inclusion of such migrant workers. Here they help grease the wheels of economy through the free flow of labor power.
It seems a bit ironic that both sides straddle and therefore gridlock the process. Perhaps one side needs to go whole hog and advocate an economically consistent position.
--
On a somewhat related note, it is funny to me what constitutes legality and illegality in this case. To be legal, one has to have submitted oneself to our bureaucracy. Their "crime" is failing to stand in line, fill out paperwork, and deal with government personnel who are guaranteed to be in the best of moods. Think of your last trip to the DMV-- fun stuff; it seems our quest for legality for our across the border brethren is making sure they too have experienced this joy of joys.
----
On a somewhat somewhat related note. There was some senator or congressman who proposed legislation to make it a capital offense --punishable by fines and jail time-- for anyone to offer aid to illegals. Anyone who aided and abetted them, like thru shelter or material goods or jobs or whatever, would be a major criminal. I kind of hope such legislation will get passed so I can have a clear guideline for what it means to be a Christian. As soon as that law goes into effect I'm hitting the street to find the first illegal immigrant and I'm going to help the hell out of them. It would only be a dim, dim echo of Le Chambon, but it would still give a nice signal for a clear cut way to live the gospel in a mad, mad world.
-----
* Let's not forget that the U.S. economy would be fundamentally different, indeed irretrievably irrecognizable, without the "outsourcing" of labor from Africa during its inception. We've always been global, baby.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Have a nice day??
I freely admit that, when in elementary school, I was totally into Bon Jovi. I can remember as a fifth or sixth grader rockin' out to "Shot through the heart" or "Living on a prayer". Even a bit later, "Blaze of Glory" and "Cowboy" still got me groovin'.
(On a side note, I do wonder what it means that grown men and women get all worked up over the same music that invigorated an eight-year old. I guess all it means is that I'm elitist. In fairness, I suppose those songs would still get me excited today. But they are forever grounded in my pre-teen existence.)
At any rate, I cannot make heads or tails of this new hit. Granted, Bon Jovi has come a long way down hill, with lame ass anthems like "Raise your hand" etc. But, "Have a nice day"? Pardon? The funniest thing about this song is the self-assured hardness and toughness of it. Jonny boy croons, "When the world gets in my face...I say, Have a nice dayayayayaya!" Wow, yeah man. That's what I was missing. That's what I frickin' needed. I'm gonna stick it to the man, to that whole bunch of lame asses gettin' me down. "Have a nice day...turkies..."
I dunno, maybe he got funding from Reading Rainbow or some other constructive public service announcement organization that encouraged him to write a non-confrontational, anger management song. "Mr. Bon Jovi, we're tired of those gangster rappers with their songs about AKs and doing their, um, ho's, and smoking their, um, blunts. Would you please write a song that will show kids these days that one can draw boundaries between oneself and those of ill-will in a more productive way? We will be sure to fund it so that it gets air time on all the stations, because on its own, we know it would flop." Well, if that's the case, then my hats off to Jonny. If people are out there rockin' out to this, visualizing in their head their bosses, their ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, that jerk who cut them off in traffic, etc, and if they are seeing themselves drawing a line in the sand and saying with pride "Have a nice day", and if they are seeing this instead of seeing themselves sockin' them in the eye, well, then, maybe Mr. Bon Jovi has done us a great service.
But in terms of music, this song is simply perfect...for me to poop on.
(On a side note, I do wonder what it means that grown men and women get all worked up over the same music that invigorated an eight-year old. I guess all it means is that I'm elitist. In fairness, I suppose those songs would still get me excited today. But they are forever grounded in my pre-teen existence.)
At any rate, I cannot make heads or tails of this new hit. Granted, Bon Jovi has come a long way down hill, with lame ass anthems like "Raise your hand" etc. But, "Have a nice day"? Pardon? The funniest thing about this song is the self-assured hardness and toughness of it. Jonny boy croons, "When the world gets in my face...I say, Have a nice dayayayayaya!" Wow, yeah man. That's what I was missing. That's what I frickin' needed. I'm gonna stick it to the man, to that whole bunch of lame asses gettin' me down. "Have a nice day...turkies..."
I dunno, maybe he got funding from Reading Rainbow or some other constructive public service announcement organization that encouraged him to write a non-confrontational, anger management song. "Mr. Bon Jovi, we're tired of those gangster rappers with their songs about AKs and doing their, um, ho's, and smoking their, um, blunts. Would you please write a song that will show kids these days that one can draw boundaries between oneself and those of ill-will in a more productive way? We will be sure to fund it so that it gets air time on all the stations, because on its own, we know it would flop." Well, if that's the case, then my hats off to Jonny. If people are out there rockin' out to this, visualizing in their head their bosses, their ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, that jerk who cut them off in traffic, etc, and if they are seeing themselves drawing a line in the sand and saying with pride "Have a nice day", and if they are seeing this instead of seeing themselves sockin' them in the eye, well, then, maybe Mr. Bon Jovi has done us a great service.
But in terms of music, this song is simply perfect...for me to poop on.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Rumors...demise...exaggerated
Shawshank:
Thank you for your conscription offers and for the stylish jumpsuits. I will try to re-enter society for a bit before exiting again.
Heart:
Those figure skater couples this last Olympics were badass. The russians who had to deal with that accident where he straight dropped that girl on the ice, concussing her head big time and concussing his confidence even bigger. The one china team with the cat with the torn achilles, back on the ice and skating just a few months after, and how he did fine and how his partner, enmeshed in the bonds of solidarity and empathy fell in his stead, so concerned for his landings rather than hers. And that other china team, where she fell slamming her knees and spread eagling all awkward across the ice to slam into the side, then to weep rightly for a bit, and then to come back, skate flawlessly, and take silver. Sheeet maaan. Badasses, all of em.
Blather:
What's the deal with Crash? Did no one see Higher Learning with Ice Cube, years ago, an equally simplistic, shallow caricature, with characters as ciphers wearing sandwich boards for their "positions"? Higher Learning sucked as well, but it has dibs because it got there first--not first really, lots of films have addressed these issues--but first in topic, form and presentation. It was just Crash with college kids. or rather, Crash was just Higher Learning with working folk.
I thought this review captured some of the problems. I don't like to "issue-ize" flicks, but since there is so much hype, just thought I'd toss in my minus two cents.
Thank you for your conscription offers and for the stylish jumpsuits. I will try to re-enter society for a bit before exiting again.
Heart:
Those figure skater couples this last Olympics were badass. The russians who had to deal with that accident where he straight dropped that girl on the ice, concussing her head big time and concussing his confidence even bigger. The one china team with the cat with the torn achilles, back on the ice and skating just a few months after, and how he did fine and how his partner, enmeshed in the bonds of solidarity and empathy fell in his stead, so concerned for his landings rather than hers. And that other china team, where she fell slamming her knees and spread eagling all awkward across the ice to slam into the side, then to weep rightly for a bit, and then to come back, skate flawlessly, and take silver. Sheeet maaan. Badasses, all of em.
Blather:
What's the deal with Crash? Did no one see Higher Learning with Ice Cube, years ago, an equally simplistic, shallow caricature, with characters as ciphers wearing sandwich boards for their "positions"? Higher Learning sucked as well, but it has dibs because it got there first--not first really, lots of films have addressed these issues--but first in topic, form and presentation. It was just Crash with college kids. or rather, Crash was just Higher Learning with working folk.
I thought this review captured some of the problems. I don't like to "issue-ize" flicks, but since there is so much hype, just thought I'd toss in my minus two cents.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Incarcerate me, please
To:
The Wardens of Jale, The Hard Yard, and Windy City Lockdown
From:
Yours truly
Re:
Doin' Time
Dear Sir or Madam:
I write with the utmost sincerity to express my desire to find a place among your latest shipment of inmates. I seek the flogging, torture, and purging that your esteemed houses of suffering are known to offer. I long to lose years of my life, to expend the productive days of my youth, in your dark halls and musty cells. The prospects of gainful employment and active participation in "normal" society pale in comparison to the promise of fruitless toil, abuse, and self-doubt afforded by your illustrious chain gangs. I look forward to meeting your guards, notorious for their inflated egos, and to receive the discipline they offer, to submit to their ways and solve my "failure to commun'cate". Solitary confinement? I shall relish it. Watery porridge, occasionaly trembling with maggots? Please sir, may I have some more? The fear of dishonorable deeds done to me by fellow inmates while showering? This too, I shall weather.
I wait with anxious anticipation for my conscription, my cell block number, and my striped or orange jumpsuit, whichever style you prefer.
Thank you for your consideration.
The Wardens of Jale, The Hard Yard, and Windy City Lockdown
From:
Yours truly
Re:
Doin' Time
Dear Sir or Madam:
I write with the utmost sincerity to express my desire to find a place among your latest shipment of inmates. I seek the flogging, torture, and purging that your esteemed houses of suffering are known to offer. I long to lose years of my life, to expend the productive days of my youth, in your dark halls and musty cells. The prospects of gainful employment and active participation in "normal" society pale in comparison to the promise of fruitless toil, abuse, and self-doubt afforded by your illustrious chain gangs. I look forward to meeting your guards, notorious for their inflated egos, and to receive the discipline they offer, to submit to their ways and solve my "failure to commun'cate". Solitary confinement? I shall relish it. Watery porridge, occasionaly trembling with maggots? Please sir, may I have some more? The fear of dishonorable deeds done to me by fellow inmates while showering? This too, I shall weather.
I wait with anxious anticipation for my conscription, my cell block number, and my striped or orange jumpsuit, whichever style you prefer.
Thank you for your consideration.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The Battle Rageth On...
My dear mother, ever the active learner and incessant student, has been taking classes at her local seminary in the Washington, D.C. area. We've had many conversations about the scarily fundamentalist nature of the school and the questionable things it is teaching. As we've talked I've found myself consistently at odds with the things she's learning in class. She often just laughs at the exceptions I take, chalking it up to the various theological differences that make up our diverse global church. But now it's starting to hit closer to home for her. Here is an excerpt of an email response she received after trying to sign up for a preaching class at her school:
"The sermon preparation and delivery courses are virtually the only courses not open to women in the Seminary. The reason is that sermons are normally given by the senior spiritual leadership in a local church, which is a role assigned to men in Scripture. If the Seminary were to admit women into the two courses it would be indirectly endorsing having women as elders and senior spiritual leaders over churches. Your desire to use the kind of techniques presented in the course as a Bible teacher of women and young people is understandable. At this point the only option remaining would be to address the issue to Dr. ___'s attention. Be assured that the Seminary is attempting to follow the Biblical mandate for gender roles in the church. It is not trying to place unnecessary restrictions on opportunities available to women. "
Mind you, she had never said anything about only planning to teach women and kids; this was simply assumed by the respondent.
It all makes my blood boil. Ah the blinders! Ah the excuses! Ah the fallacies!
"The sermon preparation and delivery courses are virtually the only courses not open to women in the Seminary. The reason is that sermons are normally given by the senior spiritual leadership in a local church, which is a role assigned to men in Scripture. If the Seminary were to admit women into the two courses it would be indirectly endorsing having women as elders and senior spiritual leaders over churches. Your desire to use the kind of techniques presented in the course as a Bible teacher of women and young people is understandable. At this point the only option remaining would be to address the issue to Dr. ___'s attention. Be assured that the Seminary is attempting to follow the Biblical mandate for gender roles in the church. It is not trying to place unnecessary restrictions on opportunities available to women. "
Mind you, she had never said anything about only planning to teach women and kids; this was simply assumed by the respondent.
It all makes my blood boil. Ah the blinders! Ah the excuses! Ah the fallacies!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
My Own Private Indiana
So it's Sunday afternoon, and I'm on the place back from DC to Chicago. US Airways flight 3335. About 30 minutes outside of Chicago, the pilot gets on and says,
"Sorry ladies and gentlemen, unfortunately we're gonna have to divert our plane to Indianapolis. We have a low reading on one of our hydraulic systems and we need to land as soon as possible. Too much air traffic in Chicago means that we'll be circling for a while and we don't want to take that risk."
Great. You gotta be kidding. So freaking close to home.
So the flight attendants get on the com and start telling everyone remove all items from the seat pocket in front of you. They stress especially any large or hard items. I think to myself,
"Shit, their gonna ask us to assume crash position."
The pilot gets on again to explain,
"Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is that our front wheel may not respond and we may not be able to steer. So, as a precaution, there will be fire trucks on the runway. No need to be alarmed about this."
Several passengers chuckle. One makes wise cracks. The woman in front of me looks out her window nervously. She's not amused.
So, we come in for landing. No instructions to assume crash position. I guess it's no that bad. I look out and see at least ten bright yellow fire trucks, lights flashing, lining various parts of the runway. We come in and land and it's the softest, most gentle landing I can remember. People sigh. The fire trucks mobilize and follow us at a distance on both sides, a bright gauntlet of welcome.
So, we deplane at the gate and wait for further instructions.
"It's Thanksgiving weekend, the busiest travel time. Please be patient as we figure out what to do with you."
Thirty minutes later the announcement comes out,
"Ladies and gentlemen, your plane is being taken to a hangar for repairs. Unfortunately, there are no spare planes available. We have no flights out until tomorrow (Monday) evening. We are happy to put you up in a hotel."
What? You gotta be kidding. I'm not staying a night here. I gotta be at work. I gotta be at O'Hare in a few hours to pick up MarianEvans from her inbound flight. I gotta move on with my life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are exploring the possibility of a bus to Chicago. Please put your name on a sign-up list. Also, you are welcome to rent a car. We can't pay for this up front, but we recommend you rent one and send a letter to customer relations and hopefully they will reimburse you."
Hopefully? Crap, it's a risk I gotta take. So I go to the Enterprise counter and explain the situation and that I need to rent a car. No problem, plenty of cars available. Whew. Only $55 a day. Great. "What, you are driving one way to Chicago and won't be returning the car here?" "Um, hello, yes, that's the idea." "We'll since it's interstate and one way, we'll need to charge you a drop fee, since we'll need to drive the car back ourselves. The fee is... let's see here... $400." Fantastic. Couldn't be better. Sure, I'll take it. (US Airways, you better cover my ass here!)
So I rent the car, totally smooth process with peachy keen smiley Enterprise lady, ex sorority girl who partied too hard in college. (Why are ALL enterprise salespeople ex frat boys or sorority girls? I have major issues with the enterprise "type" they recruit.)
So I get on 465, then 65 and drive my ass the 3.5 hours from Indianapolis to Chicago, amidst light rain and thanksgiving traffic, all the while hacking up a lung with this cough that won't go away, and out $400 and hoping I don't get stiffed by this piece of crap airline, having just had my first emergency landing experience, and really wanting to be home, warm and in bed.
Fuck.
"Sorry ladies and gentlemen, unfortunately we're gonna have to divert our plane to Indianapolis. We have a low reading on one of our hydraulic systems and we need to land as soon as possible. Too much air traffic in Chicago means that we'll be circling for a while and we don't want to take that risk."
Great. You gotta be kidding. So freaking close to home.
So the flight attendants get on the com and start telling everyone remove all items from the seat pocket in front of you. They stress especially any large or hard items. I think to myself,
"Shit, their gonna ask us to assume crash position."
The pilot gets on again to explain,
"Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is that our front wheel may not respond and we may not be able to steer. So, as a precaution, there will be fire trucks on the runway. No need to be alarmed about this."
Several passengers chuckle. One makes wise cracks. The woman in front of me looks out her window nervously. She's not amused.
So, we come in for landing. No instructions to assume crash position. I guess it's no that bad. I look out and see at least ten bright yellow fire trucks, lights flashing, lining various parts of the runway. We come in and land and it's the softest, most gentle landing I can remember. People sigh. The fire trucks mobilize and follow us at a distance on both sides, a bright gauntlet of welcome.
So, we deplane at the gate and wait for further instructions.
"It's Thanksgiving weekend, the busiest travel time. Please be patient as we figure out what to do with you."
Thirty minutes later the announcement comes out,
"Ladies and gentlemen, your plane is being taken to a hangar for repairs. Unfortunately, there are no spare planes available. We have no flights out until tomorrow (Monday) evening. We are happy to put you up in a hotel."
What? You gotta be kidding. I'm not staying a night here. I gotta be at work. I gotta be at O'Hare in a few hours to pick up MarianEvans from her inbound flight. I gotta move on with my life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are exploring the possibility of a bus to Chicago. Please put your name on a sign-up list. Also, you are welcome to rent a car. We can't pay for this up front, but we recommend you rent one and send a letter to customer relations and hopefully they will reimburse you."
Hopefully? Crap, it's a risk I gotta take. So I go to the Enterprise counter and explain the situation and that I need to rent a car. No problem, plenty of cars available. Whew. Only $55 a day. Great. "What, you are driving one way to Chicago and won't be returning the car here?" "Um, hello, yes, that's the idea." "We'll since it's interstate and one way, we'll need to charge you a drop fee, since we'll need to drive the car back ourselves. The fee is... let's see here... $400." Fantastic. Couldn't be better. Sure, I'll take it. (US Airways, you better cover my ass here!)
So I rent the car, totally smooth process with peachy keen smiley Enterprise lady, ex sorority girl who partied too hard in college. (Why are ALL enterprise salespeople ex frat boys or sorority girls? I have major issues with the enterprise "type" they recruit.)
So I get on 465, then 65 and drive my ass the 3.5 hours from Indianapolis to Chicago, amidst light rain and thanksgiving traffic, all the while hacking up a lung with this cough that won't go away, and out $400 and hoping I don't get stiffed by this piece of crap airline, having just had my first emergency landing experience, and really wanting to be home, warm and in bed.
Fuck.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Too little, too late
Current war protesters annoy me.
When I heard about that huge march on washington a few months back, I just rolled my eyes.
When I heard all the hoopla about what's her face down there camped in front of our turkey-in-chief's house, I just shook my head.
When an upstanding, republican acquaintance of mine said his confidence in Mr Pres was eroding, I just smiled while inside I boiled.
Look, all you newbies, this is as much sense as I can make of your newfound outrage:
1) Perhaps your quota of death has now been reached. "A few soldiers dying, well, that's ok. It's for a good cause, the cause of liberty, democracy, freeeeedom. But now, gosh darn it, just too many have died. It's too much, bring em home. Lets just stop whatever the hell it is we're doin and pull out. "
2) Maybe your attention span has reached its limits. "Damn, this here war's taking too long. We shoulda been done n gone b'now. I can't sustain this kind of focus, let's put an end to it. "
3) Similarly, has your patience run its course? "Now, i was behind you when this thing got going, but, dog gonnit, it's taking too long. Too long. Just finish up already."
4) Are yours financial concerns? "These here tax dollars should be going to other things. What about schools, healthcare, Katrina relief?"
5) Did you suffer personal loss? "I was 100% behind the war, waving those flags. But now that my boy has died over in Fallujah, well, now, all of a sudden, I'm against this war. Shame on you mr Pres, shame on you. Now that you took away my kid, now my principles have changed."
I dont mean to sound self-righteous (Im as apathetic as the next chump) but arent you turkey's a bit late and getting on board for all the wrong reasons? Shouldnt you have been against the war because it was unjust, because it was a farce, because it was so obviously started for reasons we weren't being told, because it went against the international community, shunned diplomacy, and broke with consensus war theory (ie preemptive)? No, you jackasses were right up front waving the red, white and blue and egging on the warmongers in the name of God and country. You were behind "God's man in the whitehouse" 100%.
But now, oh now, things have changed. Should the war boys have cleaned up their shit quicker? Should they have waged injustice at less cost and casualty? Should you not now have to fork over the change to fund your adventures in bullshit? Or now, because you personally had to pay a price and lose someone close to you, has your view suddenly changed? Are you all of a sudden ready to shout down this war that you helped start since you had to pay the ultimate price? Dont be a fair weather friend to our cowboy in chief. Stick by your man. You supported him, you rode with him into the streets of Baghdad in the name of capitalism. Don't abandon him now.
When I heard about that huge march on washington a few months back, I just rolled my eyes.
When I heard all the hoopla about what's her face down there camped in front of our turkey-in-chief's house, I just shook my head.
When an upstanding, republican acquaintance of mine said his confidence in Mr Pres was eroding, I just smiled while inside I boiled.
Look, all you newbies, this is as much sense as I can make of your newfound outrage:
1) Perhaps your quota of death has now been reached. "A few soldiers dying, well, that's ok. It's for a good cause, the cause of liberty, democracy, freeeeedom. But now, gosh darn it, just too many have died. It's too much, bring em home. Lets just stop whatever the hell it is we're doin and pull out. "
2) Maybe your attention span has reached its limits. "Damn, this here war's taking too long. We shoulda been done n gone b'now. I can't sustain this kind of focus, let's put an end to it. "
3) Similarly, has your patience run its course? "Now, i was behind you when this thing got going, but, dog gonnit, it's taking too long. Too long. Just finish up already."
4) Are yours financial concerns? "These here tax dollars should be going to other things. What about schools, healthcare, Katrina relief?"
5) Did you suffer personal loss? "I was 100% behind the war, waving those flags. But now that my boy has died over in Fallujah, well, now, all of a sudden, I'm against this war. Shame on you mr Pres, shame on you. Now that you took away my kid, now my principles have changed."
I dont mean to sound self-righteous (Im as apathetic as the next chump) but arent you turkey's a bit late and getting on board for all the wrong reasons? Shouldnt you have been against the war because it was unjust, because it was a farce, because it was so obviously started for reasons we weren't being told, because it went against the international community, shunned diplomacy, and broke with consensus war theory (ie preemptive)? No, you jackasses were right up front waving the red, white and blue and egging on the warmongers in the name of God and country. You were behind "God's man in the whitehouse" 100%.
But now, oh now, things have changed. Should the war boys have cleaned up their shit quicker? Should they have waged injustice at less cost and casualty? Should you not now have to fork over the change to fund your adventures in bullshit? Or now, because you personally had to pay a price and lose someone close to you, has your view suddenly changed? Are you all of a sudden ready to shout down this war that you helped start since you had to pay the ultimate price? Dont be a fair weather friend to our cowboy in chief. Stick by your man. You supported him, you rode with him into the streets of Baghdad in the name of capitalism. Don't abandon him now.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
One by one they fall...
It's like I was trying to get into this party, but kept finding out the people I wanted to hang with kept leaving. Then I says to myself, do I want to go to this party anymore? Not so sure.
1) Arjun Appadurai heads for New School
2) Anthropologist David Graeber "let go"
3) Eminent sociologist Paul Gilroy heads to London School of Economics
1) Arjun Appadurai heads for New School
2) Anthropologist David Graeber "let go"
3) Eminent sociologist Paul Gilroy heads to London School of Economics
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Ed's Bunny
Ok, so I like animals. I was one of those kids who was raised on nature shows. Nature, Wild America, National Geographic, you name it, loved it. One reason ME and I click so well is that she was so similarly formed in that respect.
At any rate, over the past couple of years, I'd gotten into my mind that someday it would be nice to have a rabbit. I don't want one that just sits in a cage, eats food, poops out little pellets, eats the pellets, etc. I want a cuddly bunny, a floppy-eared, down-soft, Hazel or Fiver type bunny that will sit in my lap, maybe burrow under my arm, and just be all around cute. After all, I reasoned, aren't bunnies just warm, pliable, compliant, safe and quiet. Aren't they about the closest we can get in a pet to some sort of stuffed animal. Sure, they hop around, but they don't seem squirmy, don't seem contrary, seem like they'd just be happy to sit quietly and be petted.
Enter Ed's bunny. We went over to Ed's house a few months back and lo and behold, I discover he's got one of them cute buggers. It's holed up on the laundry room, with its cage and some boxes for it to hide in. Ed lets me in after I, giddy with childish glee, ask if I can see it. Ed gives me some pellets to feed to it, telling me it's a bit shy (naturally, of course) and that I can lure it out of hiding with the snacks.
I peek into a crevice between two boxes and there is, sitting and watching me. I hold out my hand with nothing in it, to see if I can simply coax it out sans bribe. It wiggles its nose, sniffing. No take. Ok, so I put down some pellets. Out moves the bunny bus, a large, sausage shaped, rather ugly (I must confess) rabbit, with scrunched face and wee beady eyes. It eats the pellets and stays out for a bit, looking at me. I hold out my hand again, to see if it will be comfortable with me, it sniffs the air and backs away, able to tell I've got no food. So I repeat the food lure.
Ok, it's a bit odd looking, rather brutish, but, hey, its a frickin' bunny; it's still fuzzy and cuddly. I just gotta pet it. I just need to scratch it behind the ears, or rub its soft pelt. So I move my hand towards the top of its head, making those cooing and chuffling noises some of us are prone to do around little fuzzy things. Gradually my hand get near its head, having moved slowly to avoid startling it. It watches me, sniffing. When my hand is about two inches from its head, up it lunges, teeth bared, with a loud bark. If you've ever watched nature shows on monkeys and have heard a baboon bark, think that but of course not as loud. A short burst, a gutteral, grunting, Ewok-ish exhalation; a mini roar.
I jump back, withdrawing my hand just in time. Good God! What the hell just happened? Adrenaline pumping, I leave the laundry room a changed man.
I'm traumatized, my world has been turned upside down. Do I really want a bunny? Can it be that there are other bunnies out there with this rage? Are they not all quiet, subdued, warm and safe? How will I know? How can I cuddle in peace and security? I don't know if I will ever get a bunny at this rate.
At any rate, over the past couple of years, I'd gotten into my mind that someday it would be nice to have a rabbit. I don't want one that just sits in a cage, eats food, poops out little pellets, eats the pellets, etc. I want a cuddly bunny, a floppy-eared, down-soft, Hazel or Fiver type bunny that will sit in my lap, maybe burrow under my arm, and just be all around cute. After all, I reasoned, aren't bunnies just warm, pliable, compliant, safe and quiet. Aren't they about the closest we can get in a pet to some sort of stuffed animal. Sure, they hop around, but they don't seem squirmy, don't seem contrary, seem like they'd just be happy to sit quietly and be petted.
Enter Ed's bunny. We went over to Ed's house a few months back and lo and behold, I discover he's got one of them cute buggers. It's holed up on the laundry room, with its cage and some boxes for it to hide in. Ed lets me in after I, giddy with childish glee, ask if I can see it. Ed gives me some pellets to feed to it, telling me it's a bit shy (naturally, of course) and that I can lure it out of hiding with the snacks.
I peek into a crevice between two boxes and there is, sitting and watching me. I hold out my hand with nothing in it, to see if I can simply coax it out sans bribe. It wiggles its nose, sniffing. No take. Ok, so I put down some pellets. Out moves the bunny bus, a large, sausage shaped, rather ugly (I must confess) rabbit, with scrunched face and wee beady eyes. It eats the pellets and stays out for a bit, looking at me. I hold out my hand again, to see if it will be comfortable with me, it sniffs the air and backs away, able to tell I've got no food. So I repeat the food lure.
Ok, it's a bit odd looking, rather brutish, but, hey, its a frickin' bunny; it's still fuzzy and cuddly. I just gotta pet it. I just need to scratch it behind the ears, or rub its soft pelt. So I move my hand towards the top of its head, making those cooing and chuffling noises some of us are prone to do around little fuzzy things. Gradually my hand get near its head, having moved slowly to avoid startling it. It watches me, sniffing. When my hand is about two inches from its head, up it lunges, teeth bared, with a loud bark. If you've ever watched nature shows on monkeys and have heard a baboon bark, think that but of course not as loud. A short burst, a gutteral, grunting, Ewok-ish exhalation; a mini roar.
I jump back, withdrawing my hand just in time. Good God! What the hell just happened? Adrenaline pumping, I leave the laundry room a changed man.
I'm traumatized, my world has been turned upside down. Do I really want a bunny? Can it be that there are other bunnies out there with this rage? Are they not all quiet, subdued, warm and safe? How will I know? How can I cuddle in peace and security? I don't know if I will ever get a bunny at this rate.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Tickin' in my head
I once believed that transitioning from student life to work life would mean more free time. No more homework clogging my "off" time, no research, no writing papers, etc. Work would be, ahhh, stable, 9-5, free time galore, so much time for things like...blogging.
Well, work life is stable; but my lack of free time is also quite stable. How the hell do you 9-5'rs get anything done? Sheesh. I get home at 530 exhausted, barely scrape together dinner, eat, slouch, do a bit of necessary but annoying admin, and then go to bed.
My work situation is a lock down. No internet time, in fact no internet on our computers. So, unlike Gaunilo, I cannot make more productive use of my work time by blogging. Hence, the little free time I do find, the shards pieced together from the life shattered by a corporate jauggernaut (waah), are devoted to more pressing matters.
Well, work life is stable; but my lack of free time is also quite stable. How the hell do you 9-5'rs get anything done? Sheesh. I get home at 530 exhausted, barely scrape together dinner, eat, slouch, do a bit of necessary but annoying admin, and then go to bed.
My work situation is a lock down. No internet time, in fact no internet on our computers. So, unlike Gaunilo, I cannot make more productive use of my work time by blogging. Hence, the little free time I do find, the shards pieced together from the life shattered by a corporate jauggernaut (waah), are devoted to more pressing matters.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
It's been a long time since I rocked and rolled!
It's been a long time
been a long time
been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time!!!!!
been a long time
been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time!!!!!
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Barnum and Bailey's
Well folks, today is the day. ME and I must jump through one of those hoops they set out for idiots like us who pursue further education. In a few hours, we'll be doing high school geometry and word problems that will kick our asses, and trying to infer whether the author of the passage on desert cactus would "most likely agree" w/ which of the following forms of enema. If you think of us, send out a prayer, or, if you're not the prayin' type, send some well-wishes our way. Gracias!
Ole!
Ole!
Thursday, July 28, 2005
.............Years
.................................poder vivir sin aire
como quisiera............................
me encantaria quererte.....................
............................................vivir sin ti
Pero no puedo.............................
...................................sin tu amor
Como quisiera................................
como quisiera..................................
..........................poder vivir sin agua
................................robar......................
Como......................
..............................................
.................................
.............................................
................................
..........................................tierra
...................quisiera
poder vivir sin.......
como quisiera............................
me encantaria quererte.....................
............................................vivir sin ti
Pero no puedo.............................
...................................sin tu amor
Como quisiera................................
como quisiera..................................
..........................poder vivir sin agua
................................robar......................
Como......................
..............................................
.................................
.............................................
................................
..........................................tierra
...................quisiera
poder vivir sin.......
I'm going corporate
Yes, it's official. I am joining the corporate world. All that stuff about social justice and ragin' against capitalism, well, that's on hold right now while I try to make mad cash. 
Say...Moltmannian...did you get the memo?
Dude...whah? Theobloggoliciasaurus?
Um...excuse me...I'd like my textus receptus with my stapler.
Say...Moltmannian...did you get the memo?
Dude...whah? Theobloggoliciasaurus?
Um...excuse me...I'd like my textus receptus with my stapler.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Hyperreal proliferates
Persistence of History
The Wall Street Journal today ran a lead article about websites like Google and Wayback Machine that archive pages. Years of websites that are currently unavailable because they've been dismantled have been stored away. There is no way now to subvert the strands of time and feign a nonexistence: if you've had a web presence but need to make yourself scarce, you can't. This came up in various court cases, usually about domain and copyright infringement. Rather than "Googling," lawyers simply "Waybacked" to prove particular site owners were at one point in violation of certain codes or statutes, etc.
It appears that even the web world, the sphere of "time-space compression" (David Harvey) cannot escape historicization. History finds a way even there. Of course, it is a strange new history, one where the archive dominates. Rather than a narrative, it is a file.
The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (reprise)
While watching Access Holywood tonight (umm, for research of course), I was informed of a new television drama about the current gulf war. The creator of such classics as NYPD Blue is making a series that documents the trials of soldiers both in the field and off. They want to work in backstory, the struggle of the families, etc, and not just focus on "everyone going to the party / have a real good time / dancin' in the desert / blowin' up the sunshine".
The producers are getting flack mainly because the war is still going on and some find this distasteful and in poor judgment. But I think it's perfectly in order with the logic of our current times for the hyperreal to merge with the real and absorb it. We don't really know or care which one is real and which is the copy.
Baudrillard's little manifesto in response to father Bush's escapades-
- appears to be repeating itself.
The Wall Street Journal today ran a lead article about websites like Google and Wayback Machine that archive pages. Years of websites that are currently unavailable because they've been dismantled have been stored away. There is no way now to subvert the strands of time and feign a nonexistence: if you've had a web presence but need to make yourself scarce, you can't. This came up in various court cases, usually about domain and copyright infringement. Rather than "Googling," lawyers simply "Waybacked" to prove particular site owners were at one point in violation of certain codes or statutes, etc.
It appears that even the web world, the sphere of "time-space compression" (David Harvey) cannot escape historicization. History finds a way even there. Of course, it is a strange new history, one where the archive dominates. Rather than a narrative, it is a file.
The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (reprise)
While watching Access Holywood tonight (umm, for research of course), I was informed of a new television drama about the current gulf war. The creator of such classics as NYPD Blue is making a series that documents the trials of soldiers both in the field and off. They want to work in backstory, the struggle of the families, etc, and not just focus on "everyone going to the party / have a real good time / dancin' in the desert / blowin' up the sunshine".
The producers are getting flack mainly because the war is still going on and some find this distasteful and in poor judgment. But I think it's perfectly in order with the logic of our current times for the hyperreal to merge with the real and absorb it. We don't really know or care which one is real and which is the copy.
Baudrillard's little manifesto in response to father Bush's escapades-
- appears to be repeating itself.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Jeet Kune Do and Postmodernity I
To the uninitiated, Bruce Lee is simply just another martial arts film star, like Jackie Chan or Jet Li. "Was he really any good?" some might ask. "Did he do those stunts? Did someone show him those moves?"
But for those familiar with the world of martial arts, the claim that Lee was one of the greatest martial artists in living memory is a familiar and justifiable one. Not only was he in top physical condition, having devised numerous training methods and exercises that were ahead of their time; he is also credited with developing a revolutionary approach to the martial arts. Jeet Kune Do- the way of the intercepting fist- is a collection of philosophical and methodological innovations that apply to combat arts, and, as many claim, to life more broadly.
There are many summaries on the web, so I won't belabor one. For a definitive introduction, I direct the reader to Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do, one of the most helpful martial books ever written. I will, however, review a few elements that pertain to this post:
Lee was dissatisfied with complex, "flowery," and smug approaches to the martial arts. Simplicity, efficiency, pragmatism became the mantras of his method. He critiqued the guarded traditions of "pure" and "authoritative" styles (e.g., Chang Chuan, Wing Chun, Tien Shan Pai, Choy Li Fut, etc.), believing they had come to stultify growth, innovation and development. Practitioners were burdened with learning and mastering thousands of movements kept alive less for their practicability and combat effectiveness than because of their being part of the tradition. Modern exponents were repeating movements designed for radically different combat contexts, like fighting with armor or on horseback or barefoot. After coming to the U.S. (Seattle and San Francisco), Lee began a productive career of writing, teaching and training, setting out these principles through what he initially called Jun Fan Kung Fu. (It was only much later, after much deserved fame in the martial arts world, that Lee came to the screen- with Fists of Fury (also called Chinese Connection) as his debut which initiated a new tradition of martial arts films.) Lee received much criticism from teachers back in China, as well as prominent martial artists in the U.S., for his perceived cheekiness, subverting tradition and iconoclastically dismantling the edifice of ossified and totalizing martial arts systems. Needless to say, he made a lot of enemies (later to feed into conspiracy theories surrounding his untimely death).
Lee demonstrating his famed "One-Inch Punch"
In many ways Lee's approach served as progenitor to the mixed-martial arts craze going on today, and to the popularity of events like the Ultimate Fighting Championship, which pits various styles and approaches against each other in a "real" fight setting. Schools teaching "JKD concepts" have cropped up everywhere, along with a (counterintuitive) obsession with lineage ("I was trained by X, one of Lee's original students...").
In some ways Lee's was seen as a truly "American" approach, cutting back the extraneous and traditional in the name of pragmatism and effectiveness. There may be something to this. But what strikes me are the postmodern undertones to his project (Lee was doing his work in the 60s-70s). He questioned the view of tradition as pristine, self-enclosed, and able to be passed on without alteration. He challenged conventional canons on martial art technique and training. Application of his method seemed to celebrate diversity and plurality (many have mistaken Jeet Kune Do as a hodgepodge or random sampling of different styles. While this is not the case, there are certain underlying principles that value diversity and that can lend this impression.) Pragmatism and practice served as touchstones over against the authority of tradition, origin, or aesthetics. His injunctions to "use no way as a way" or to "seek to be like water, formless and utterly adaptable," while admittedly Zen-inspired, seem akin to the shifting, transient sands of our current pomo playground.
In a later post, I want to explore the relationship of JKD to tradition, and hazard a way to think about this relationship that, while not only being helpful for martial arts practitioners, may be of use to philosophers in general.
But for those familiar with the world of martial arts, the claim that Lee was one of the greatest martial artists in living memory is a familiar and justifiable one. Not only was he in top physical condition, having devised numerous training methods and exercises that were ahead of their time; he is also credited with developing a revolutionary approach to the martial arts. Jeet Kune Do- the way of the intercepting fist- is a collection of philosophical and methodological innovations that apply to combat arts, and, as many claim, to life more broadly.
There are many summaries on the web, so I won't belabor one. For a definitive introduction, I direct the reader to Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do, one of the most helpful martial books ever written. I will, however, review a few elements that pertain to this post:
Lee was dissatisfied with complex, "flowery," and smug approaches to the martial arts. Simplicity, efficiency, pragmatism became the mantras of his method. He critiqued the guarded traditions of "pure" and "authoritative" styles (e.g., Chang Chuan, Wing Chun, Tien Shan Pai, Choy Li Fut, etc.), believing they had come to stultify growth, innovation and development. Practitioners were burdened with learning and mastering thousands of movements kept alive less for their practicability and combat effectiveness than because of their being part of the tradition. Modern exponents were repeating movements designed for radically different combat contexts, like fighting with armor or on horseback or barefoot. After coming to the U.S. (Seattle and San Francisco), Lee began a productive career of writing, teaching and training, setting out these principles through what he initially called Jun Fan Kung Fu. (It was only much later, after much deserved fame in the martial arts world, that Lee came to the screen- with Fists of Fury (also called Chinese Connection) as his debut which initiated a new tradition of martial arts films.) Lee received much criticism from teachers back in China, as well as prominent martial artists in the U.S., for his perceived cheekiness, subverting tradition and iconoclastically dismantling the edifice of ossified and totalizing martial arts systems. Needless to say, he made a lot of enemies (later to feed into conspiracy theories surrounding his untimely death).
Lee demonstrating his famed "One-Inch Punch"
In many ways Lee's approach served as progenitor to the mixed-martial arts craze going on today, and to the popularity of events like the Ultimate Fighting Championship, which pits various styles and approaches against each other in a "real" fight setting. Schools teaching "JKD concepts" have cropped up everywhere, along with a (counterintuitive) obsession with lineage ("I was trained by X, one of Lee's original students...").
In some ways Lee's was seen as a truly "American" approach, cutting back the extraneous and traditional in the name of pragmatism and effectiveness. There may be something to this. But what strikes me are the postmodern undertones to his project (Lee was doing his work in the 60s-70s). He questioned the view of tradition as pristine, self-enclosed, and able to be passed on without alteration. He challenged conventional canons on martial art technique and training. Application of his method seemed to celebrate diversity and plurality (many have mistaken Jeet Kune Do as a hodgepodge or random sampling of different styles. While this is not the case, there are certain underlying principles that value diversity and that can lend this impression.) Pragmatism and practice served as touchstones over against the authority of tradition, origin, or aesthetics. His injunctions to "use no way as a way" or to "seek to be like water, formless and utterly adaptable," while admittedly Zen-inspired, seem akin to the shifting, transient sands of our current pomo playground.
In a later post, I want to explore the relationship of JKD to tradition, and hazard a way to think about this relationship that, while not only being helpful for martial arts practitioners, may be of use to philosophers in general.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
