September 2, 2005
A Can't-Do Government
By PAUL KRUGMAN
Before 9/11 the Federal Emergency Management Agency listed the three most likely catastrophic disasters facing America: a terrorist attack on New York, a major earthquake in San Francisco and a hurricane strike on New Orleans. "The New Orleans hurricane scenario," The Houston Chronicle wrote in December 2001, "may be the deadliest of all." It described a potential catastrophe very much like the one now happening.
So why were New Orleans and the nation so unprepared? After 9/11, hard questions were deferred in the name of national unity, then buried under a thick coat of whitewash. This time, we need accountability.
First question: Why have aid and security taken so long to arrive? Katrina hit five days ago - and it was already clear by last Friday that Katrina could do immense damage along the Gulf Coast. Yet the response you'd expect from an advanced country never happened. Thousands of Americans are dead or dying, not because they refused to evacuate, but because they were too poor or too sick to get out without help - and help wasn't provided. Many have yet to receive any help at all.
There will and should be many questions about the response of state and local governments; in particular, couldn't they have done more to help the poor and sick escape? But the evidence points, above all, to a stunning lack of both preparation and urgency in the federal government's response.
Even military resources in the right place weren't ordered into action. "On Wednesday," said an editorial in The Sun Herald in Biloxi, Miss., "reporters listening to horrific stories of death and survival at the Biloxi Junior High School shelter looked north across Irish Hill Road and saw Air Force personnel playing basketball and performing calisthenics. Playing basketball and performing calisthenics!"
Maybe administration officials believed that the local National Guard could keep order and deliver relief. But many members of the National Guard and much of its equipment - including high-water vehicles - are in Iraq. "The National Guard needs that equipment back home to support the homeland security mission," a Louisiana Guard officer told reporters several weeks ago.
Second question: Why wasn't more preventive action taken? After 2003 the Army Corps of Engineers sharply slowed its flood-control work, including work on sinking levees. "The corps," an Editor and Publisher article says, citing a series of articles in The Times-Picayune in New Orleans, "never tried to hide the fact that the spending pressures of the war in Iraq, as well as homeland security - coming at the same time as federal tax cuts - was the reason for the strain."
In 2002 the corps' chief resigned, reportedly under threat of being fired, after he criticized the administration's proposed cuts in the corps' budget, including flood-control spending.
Third question: Did the Bush administration destroy FEMA's effectiveness? The administration has, by all accounts, treated the emergency management agency like an unwanted stepchild, leading to a mass exodus of experienced professionals.
Last year James Lee Witt, who won bipartisan praise for his leadership of the agency during the Clinton years, said at a Congressional hearing: "I am extremely concerned that the ability of our nation to prepare for and respond to disasters has been sharply eroded. I hear from emergency managers, local and state leaders, and first responders nearly every day that the FEMA they knew and worked well with has now disappeared."
I don't think this is a simple tale of incompetence. The reason the military wasn't rushed in to help along the Gulf Coast is, I believe, the same reason nothing was done to stop looting after the fall of Baghdad. Flood control was neglected for the same reason our troops in Iraq didn't get adequate armor.
At a fundamental level, I'd argue, our current leaders just aren't serious about some of the essential functions of government. They like waging war, but they don't like providing security, rescuing those in need or spending on preventive measures. And they never, ever ask for shared sacrifice.
Yesterday Mr. Bush made an utterly fantastic claim: that nobody expected the breach of the levees. In fact, there had been repeated warnings about exactly that risk.
So America, once famous for its can-do attitude, now has a can't-do government that makes excuses instead of doing its job. And while it makes those excuses, Americans are dying.
E-mail: krugman@nytimes.com
Friday, September 02, 2005
A Letter From Mr. Moore To Mr. Bush
Friday, September 2nd, 2005
Dear Mr. Bush:
Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.
Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?
Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!
I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?
And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!
On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.
There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.
No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!
You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.
Yours,
Michael Moore
P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.
Dear Mr. Bush:
Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.
Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?
Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!
I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?
And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!
On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.
There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.
No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!
You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.
Yours,
Michael Moore
P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
State Fair Rock
This guy is a little hard on Foreigner, and he does elevate KISS to the stature of Led Zeppelin, but his underlying points are valid.
70s rockers reduced to playing state fairs
By JOHN WENZ
August 30, 2005
So, Foreigner is playing at the State Fair tonight for the low price of “free.”
This is the kind of “free,” though, that requires tickets to the fair, which cost a little bit more than free.
It’s not the Edgar Winter “Free Ride,” which was sort of free, unless you bought the album.
This all harkens to a conversation over some tacos.
Sunday night, I and two of the reporters in our fine section sat in a local bar, eating tacos and listening to tepid classic rock.
A few songs in, someone reflected that classic rock radio is one of the worst things to happen to music.
It’s not necessarily the music itself that is bad. After all, it’s probably the only place to go to get your fill of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd and some of the other greats of the era.
But for every Zeppelin, there are 10 dupes who don’t reach even the bottom tier of Page and Plant’s output.
These artists, in turn, get played twice per hour during the so-called “rock blocks.”
And with the increasing homogenization of radio thanks to media conglomeration, these artists are now getting played twice per hour on rock blocks nationwide.
Because they get played twice an hour every hour in every corner of our country, the bands are able to find a striking relevance with their fans, and though they may not fill arenas, the bands still are able to drive in the beer-swilling old guard who just want to rock ’n roll all night and party every day.
I would be hard-pressed to call Foreigner influential. I can name exactly one person who swore eternally by Foreigner: Mr. Z, my high school theology teacher (this is the part where I reveal my Catholic school background).
But I can’t name a single band that has ever name-checked Foreigner, or even covered a Foreigner song. “A String Band Tribute to Foreigner” is nowhere to be found in any Wal-Mart or FYE CD rack, and “Hot Blooded” is now hardly anything more than a relic of a bygone era.
Foreigner would seem to live in their little cultural bubble, a bubble populated almost exclusively by their contemporaries and bar cover bands. They are neither as ruthlessly incompetent as Bachmann-Turner Overdrive nor as refined in their cheesiness as Journey.
They are their own entity in their anonymously bland way. “Cold as Ice,” “Double Vision” and “Juke Box Hero” are hardly “classic” in the same sense as KISS, Zeppelin or Sabbath. But they are distinctly Foreigner: calculating, homogenous and soulless yet propulsive, hard and driving.
They are the quintessential band for hard rock monkeys like any character in “Dazed and Confused.” They play rock, or did until “I Want to Know What Love Is.” But they do so in a way that requires virtually no reflection, and in a non-confrontational way that unites the legion of rock fans.
Mick Jones and his cronies are relegated to K-Tel compilations and fading memories of such glory. Our current musical landscape is producing the next Foreigners, distinctive yet bland.
They are living the “now playing state fairs” clichés live and in living color.
In some ways, it’s curiously sublime. In our generation, they are relegated to a sort of pun, an irony of the bygone era. And to the fans that were there, they are nostalgia, the reliving of times past.
In some way, they continue to live in that same mid-level bubble of 1970s hard rock, doomed to the same fate as their contemporaries. But it’s a bubble that will never truly pop until Mick Jones and his crew are too old to rock.
It’s better to burn out than fade away, according to Neil Young. But how does it apply to the bands that never burnt out and never faded away, but instead were, in some ways, always there?
70s rockers reduced to playing state fairs
By JOHN WENZ
August 30, 2005
So, Foreigner is playing at the State Fair tonight for the low price of “free.”
This is the kind of “free,” though, that requires tickets to the fair, which cost a little bit more than free.
It’s not the Edgar Winter “Free Ride,” which was sort of free, unless you bought the album.
This all harkens to a conversation over some tacos.
Sunday night, I and two of the reporters in our fine section sat in a local bar, eating tacos and listening to tepid classic rock.
A few songs in, someone reflected that classic rock radio is one of the worst things to happen to music.
It’s not necessarily the music itself that is bad. After all, it’s probably the only place to go to get your fill of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd and some of the other greats of the era.
But for every Zeppelin, there are 10 dupes who don’t reach even the bottom tier of Page and Plant’s output.
These artists, in turn, get played twice per hour during the so-called “rock blocks.”
And with the increasing homogenization of radio thanks to media conglomeration, these artists are now getting played twice per hour on rock blocks nationwide.
Because they get played twice an hour every hour in every corner of our country, the bands are able to find a striking relevance with their fans, and though they may not fill arenas, the bands still are able to drive in the beer-swilling old guard who just want to rock ’n roll all night and party every day.
I would be hard-pressed to call Foreigner influential. I can name exactly one person who swore eternally by Foreigner: Mr. Z, my high school theology teacher (this is the part where I reveal my Catholic school background).
But I can’t name a single band that has ever name-checked Foreigner, or even covered a Foreigner song. “A String Band Tribute to Foreigner” is nowhere to be found in any Wal-Mart or FYE CD rack, and “Hot Blooded” is now hardly anything more than a relic of a bygone era.
Foreigner would seem to live in their little cultural bubble, a bubble populated almost exclusively by their contemporaries and bar cover bands. They are neither as ruthlessly incompetent as Bachmann-Turner Overdrive nor as refined in their cheesiness as Journey.
They are their own entity in their anonymously bland way. “Cold as Ice,” “Double Vision” and “Juke Box Hero” are hardly “classic” in the same sense as KISS, Zeppelin or Sabbath. But they are distinctly Foreigner: calculating, homogenous and soulless yet propulsive, hard and driving.
They are the quintessential band for hard rock monkeys like any character in “Dazed and Confused.” They play rock, or did until “I Want to Know What Love Is.” But they do so in a way that requires virtually no reflection, and in a non-confrontational way that unites the legion of rock fans.
Mick Jones and his cronies are relegated to K-Tel compilations and fading memories of such glory. Our current musical landscape is producing the next Foreigners, distinctive yet bland.
They are living the “now playing state fairs” clichés live and in living color.
In some ways, it’s curiously sublime. In our generation, they are relegated to a sort of pun, an irony of the bygone era. And to the fans that were there, they are nostalgia, the reliving of times past.
In some way, they continue to live in that same mid-level bubble of 1970s hard rock, doomed to the same fate as their contemporaries. But it’s a bubble that will never truly pop until Mick Jones and his crew are too old to rock.
It’s better to burn out than fade away, according to Neil Young. But how does it apply to the bands that never burnt out and never faded away, but instead were, in some ways, always there?
Roger Waters Article
This appeared on the Pink Floyd Mailing List - Echoes. Think of it what you will. Seems a tad over the top to me, and there's really no guarantee that it's for real, since it was not attributed to a certain magazine or interview.
Hollywood, CA —Roger Waters, former vocalist, writer, bass playing extraordinare for the multi-platinum group Pink Floyd, announced Tuesday that heis no longer into himself.
"I used to be a hardcore Roger Waters fan," said Waters on the porch of his Brentwood home. "I had all my records and posters. I was so blown away by everything I did—especially my live performances. I remember me and my buddies used to drive for hours just to go to one of our shows." Waters, who formed Pink Floyd in the late 1960s, is perhaps best known for the hit albums "The Wall" and "Dark Side of the Moon."
"Me and my band were okee-dokee, but I just grew out of them," Waters said."Back when I was in the school, we were about all I listened to, but I guess I'mat the point in my life where rock music just doesn't speak to me." Waters admitted that most of his current listening is confined to overhearing a hit single on a jukebox or PA system. However, while doing dishes last weekend, he tried listening to his latest recorded studio rock songs (unreleased), an album he had not heard in close to two years. The singer admitted that by the fourth track, he was barely even listening. "It sounded like this sort of bullshit background drone," Waters said. "So I took it off and put on my latest opera instead."
"Rock music? I don't know," Waters added. "Seemed cool once."
Although Waters will continue to attend every single performance of his solo band, and even his own solo appearances, he claims it's "more out of obligation"than out of passion for his music. Waters said that while he once felt exhilarated whenever Pink Floyd launched into one of their famous prolonged jam sessions, he can now "barely sit throughhis own rehearsals."
Said Waters:: "Lately, I try to vary my routine so I don't get bored on stage. Usually, if there's a long instrumental or extended solo (like at the end of "Comfortably Numb"), I'll go get a beer or check out the chicks."
Waters still feels isolated from fans with whom he once felt a strong bond, disparaging them as "lame." He also admits that the older he gets, the more out of place he feels around "kids in their Pink Floyd phase."
"I used to talk for hours about my music or spend a whole night in a Pink Floydchatroom," I really screwed 'em up with a prank I still call the Publius Engima,Waters said.
"But now, those people seem like such geeks, sitting there believing all of my bullshit. They're really, really boring, too. What do I have in common with them? They're just a bunch of geeks who needed someone to look up to. Why would I look up to me? I'm so 1979."
Yet for all his disenchantment with rock music, he'll still "probably check hislatest Pink Floyd performance on DVD upon its release."
Added Waters: "If I'm up there playing I don't even care anymore. Roger Waters—that is to say, me—justisn't where I'm coming from anymore."
Singer-bassist Roger Waters (Pink Floyd) is 62 on Sept 6.
Hollywood, CA —Roger Waters, former vocalist, writer, bass playing extraordinare for the multi-platinum group Pink Floyd, announced Tuesday that heis no longer into himself.
"I used to be a hardcore Roger Waters fan," said Waters on the porch of his Brentwood home. "I had all my records and posters. I was so blown away by everything I did—especially my live performances. I remember me and my buddies used to drive for hours just to go to one of our shows." Waters, who formed Pink Floyd in the late 1960s, is perhaps best known for the hit albums "The Wall" and "Dark Side of the Moon."
"Me and my band were okee-dokee, but I just grew out of them," Waters said."Back when I was in the school, we were about all I listened to, but I guess I'mat the point in my life where rock music just doesn't speak to me." Waters admitted that most of his current listening is confined to overhearing a hit single on a jukebox or PA system. However, while doing dishes last weekend, he tried listening to his latest recorded studio rock songs (unreleased), an album he had not heard in close to two years. The singer admitted that by the fourth track, he was barely even listening. "It sounded like this sort of bullshit background drone," Waters said. "So I took it off and put on my latest opera instead."
"Rock music? I don't know," Waters added. "Seemed cool once."
Although Waters will continue to attend every single performance of his solo band, and even his own solo appearances, he claims it's "more out of obligation"than out of passion for his music. Waters said that while he once felt exhilarated whenever Pink Floyd launched into one of their famous prolonged jam sessions, he can now "barely sit throughhis own rehearsals."
Said Waters:: "Lately, I try to vary my routine so I don't get bored on stage. Usually, if there's a long instrumental or extended solo (like at the end of "Comfortably Numb"), I'll go get a beer or check out the chicks."
Waters still feels isolated from fans with whom he once felt a strong bond, disparaging them as "lame." He also admits that the older he gets, the more out of place he feels around "kids in their Pink Floyd phase."
"I used to talk for hours about my music or spend a whole night in a Pink Floydchatroom," I really screwed 'em up with a prank I still call the Publius Engima,Waters said.
"But now, those people seem like such geeks, sitting there believing all of my bullshit. They're really, really boring, too. What do I have in common with them? They're just a bunch of geeks who needed someone to look up to. Why would I look up to me? I'm so 1979."
Yet for all his disenchantment with rock music, he'll still "probably check hislatest Pink Floyd performance on DVD upon its release."
Added Waters: "If I'm up there playing I don't even care anymore. Roger Waters—that is to say, me—justisn't where I'm coming from anymore."
Singer-bassist Roger Waters (Pink Floyd) is 62 on Sept 6.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Why Do I Get The Feeling We're Moving Backward?
More discouraging news about people in our country - the only industrialized nation where close to fifty percent disbelieve evolution.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
National Parks - NYT Editorial
Once again, we find evidence of what we already suppose...
Destroying the National Parks
Most of us think of America's national parks as everlasting places, parts of the bedrock of how we know our own country. But they are shaped and protected by an underlying body of legislation, which is distilled into a basic policy document that governs their operation. Over time, that document has slowly evolved, but it has always stayed true to the fundamental principle of leaving the parks unimpaired for future generations. That has meant, in part, sacrificing some of the ways we might use the parks today in order to protect them for tomorrow.
Recently, a secret draft revision of the national park system's basic management policy document has been circulating within the Interior Department. It was prepared, without consultation within the National Park Service, by Paul Hoffman, a deputy assistant secretary at Interior who once ran the Chamber of Commerce in Cody, Wyo., was a Congressional aide to Dick Cheney and has no park service experience.
Within national park circles, this rewrite of park rules has been met with profound dismay, for it essentially undermines the protected status of the national parks. The document makes it perfectly clear that this rewrite was not prompted by a compelling change in the park system's circumstances. It was prompted by a change in political circumstances - the opportunity to craft a vision of the national parks that suits the Bush administration.
Some of Mr. Hoffman's changes are trivial, although even apparently subtle changes in wording - from "protect" to "conserve," for instance - soften the standard used to judge the environmental effects of park policy.
But there is nothing subtle about the main thrust of this rewrite. It is a frontal attack on the idea of "impairment." According to the act that established the national parks, preventing impairment of park resources - including the landscape, wildlife and such intangibles as the soundscape of Yellowstone, for instance - is the "fundamental purpose." In Mr. Hoffman's world, it is now merely one of the purposes.
Mr. Hoffman's rewrite would open up nearly every park in the nation to off-road vehicles, snowmobiles and Jet Skis. According to his revision, the use of such vehicles would become one of the parks' purposes. To accommodate such activities, he redefines impairment to mean an irreversible impact. To prove that an activity is impairing the parks, under Mr. Hoffman's rules, you would have to prove that it is doing so irreversibly - a very high standard of proof. This would have a genuinely erosive effect on the standards used to protect the national parks.
The pattern prevails throughout this 194-page document - easing the rules that limit how visitors use the parks and toughening the standard of proof needed to block those uses. Behind this pattern, too, there is a fundamental shift in how the parks are regarded. If the laws establishing the national park system were fundamentally forward-looking - if their mission, first and foremost, was protecting the parks for the future - Mr. Hoffman's revisions place a new, unwelcome and unnecessary emphasis on the present, on what he calls "opportunities for visitors to use and enjoy their parks."
There is no question that we go to national parks to use and enjoy them. But part of the enjoyment of being in a place like Yosemite or the Grand Canyon is knowing that no matter how much it changes in the natural processes of time, it will continue to exist substantially unchanged.
There are other issues too. Mr. Hoffman would explicitly allow the sale of religious merchandise, and he removes from the policy document any reference to evolution or evolutionary processes. He does everything possible to strip away a scientific basis for park management. His rules would essentially require park superintendents to subordinate the management of their parks to local and state agendas. He also envisions a much wider range of commercial activity within the parks.
In short, this is not a policy for protecting the parks. It is a policy for destroying them.
The Interior Department has already begun to distance itself from this rewrite, which it kept hidden from park service employees. But what Mr. Hoffman has given us is a road map of what could happen to the parks if Mr. Bush's political appointees are allowed to have their way.
It is clear by now that Mr. Bush has no real intention of living up to his campaign promise to fully finance the national parks. This document offers a vivid picture of the divide between the National Park Service, whose career employees remain committed to the fundamental purpose of leaving the parks unimpaired, and an Interior Department whose political appointees seem willing to alter them beyond recognition, partly in the service of commercial objectives.
Suddenly, many things - like the administration's efforts to force snowmobiles back into Yellowstone - seem very easy to explain.
Destroying the National Parks
Most of us think of America's national parks as everlasting places, parts of the bedrock of how we know our own country. But they are shaped and protected by an underlying body of legislation, which is distilled into a basic policy document that governs their operation. Over time, that document has slowly evolved, but it has always stayed true to the fundamental principle of leaving the parks unimpaired for future generations. That has meant, in part, sacrificing some of the ways we might use the parks today in order to protect them for tomorrow.
Recently, a secret draft revision of the national park system's basic management policy document has been circulating within the Interior Department. It was prepared, without consultation within the National Park Service, by Paul Hoffman, a deputy assistant secretary at Interior who once ran the Chamber of Commerce in Cody, Wyo., was a Congressional aide to Dick Cheney and has no park service experience.
Within national park circles, this rewrite of park rules has been met with profound dismay, for it essentially undermines the protected status of the national parks. The document makes it perfectly clear that this rewrite was not prompted by a compelling change in the park system's circumstances. It was prompted by a change in political circumstances - the opportunity to craft a vision of the national parks that suits the Bush administration.
Some of Mr. Hoffman's changes are trivial, although even apparently subtle changes in wording - from "protect" to "conserve," for instance - soften the standard used to judge the environmental effects of park policy.
But there is nothing subtle about the main thrust of this rewrite. It is a frontal attack on the idea of "impairment." According to the act that established the national parks, preventing impairment of park resources - including the landscape, wildlife and such intangibles as the soundscape of Yellowstone, for instance - is the "fundamental purpose." In Mr. Hoffman's world, it is now merely one of the purposes.
Mr. Hoffman's rewrite would open up nearly every park in the nation to off-road vehicles, snowmobiles and Jet Skis. According to his revision, the use of such vehicles would become one of the parks' purposes. To accommodate such activities, he redefines impairment to mean an irreversible impact. To prove that an activity is impairing the parks, under Mr. Hoffman's rules, you would have to prove that it is doing so irreversibly - a very high standard of proof. This would have a genuinely erosive effect on the standards used to protect the national parks.
The pattern prevails throughout this 194-page document - easing the rules that limit how visitors use the parks and toughening the standard of proof needed to block those uses. Behind this pattern, too, there is a fundamental shift in how the parks are regarded. If the laws establishing the national park system were fundamentally forward-looking - if their mission, first and foremost, was protecting the parks for the future - Mr. Hoffman's revisions place a new, unwelcome and unnecessary emphasis on the present, on what he calls "opportunities for visitors to use and enjoy their parks."
There is no question that we go to national parks to use and enjoy them. But part of the enjoyment of being in a place like Yosemite or the Grand Canyon is knowing that no matter how much it changes in the natural processes of time, it will continue to exist substantially unchanged.
There are other issues too. Mr. Hoffman would explicitly allow the sale of religious merchandise, and he removes from the policy document any reference to evolution or evolutionary processes. He does everything possible to strip away a scientific basis for park management. His rules would essentially require park superintendents to subordinate the management of their parks to local and state agendas. He also envisions a much wider range of commercial activity within the parks.
In short, this is not a policy for protecting the parks. It is a policy for destroying them.
The Interior Department has already begun to distance itself from this rewrite, which it kept hidden from park service employees. But what Mr. Hoffman has given us is a road map of what could happen to the parks if Mr. Bush's political appointees are allowed to have their way.
It is clear by now that Mr. Bush has no real intention of living up to his campaign promise to fully finance the national parks. This document offers a vivid picture of the divide between the National Park Service, whose career employees remain committed to the fundamental purpose of leaving the parks unimpaired, and an Interior Department whose political appointees seem willing to alter them beyond recognition, partly in the service of commercial objectives.
Suddenly, many things - like the administration's efforts to force snowmobiles back into Yellowstone - seem very easy to explain.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Kurt Vonnegut Essay
This is from May 2004. As many of you know, I'm a big fan of Mr. Vonnegut's work. We're reading his Slaughterhouse-Five in my Contemporary Novel class right now, and I'm doing a little research for a project. I stumbled upon this article. There are others that can be found at this address http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_Vonnegut#External_links. Check it out.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Intelligent Design?
I can't really convey just how well this guy argues his point. Read this no matter how you feel about the issue.
August 28, 2005
Show Me the Science
By DANIEL C. DENNETT
Blue Hill, Me.
PRESIDENT BUSH, announcing this month that he was in favor of teaching about "intelligent design" in the schools, said, "I think that part of education is to expose people to different schools of thought." A couple of weeks later, Senator Bill Frist of Tennessee, the Republican leader, made the same point. Teaching both intelligent design and evolution "doesn't force any particular theory on anyone," Mr. Frist said. "I think in a pluralistic society that is the fairest way to go about education and training people for the future."
Is "intelligent design" a legitimate school of scientific thought? Is there something to it, or have these people been taken in by one of the most ingenious hoaxes in the history of science? Wouldn't such a hoax be impossible? No. Here's how it has been done.
First, imagine how easy it would be for a determined band of naysayers to shake the world's confidence in quantum physics - how weird it is! - or Einsteinian relativity. In spite of a century of instruction and popularization by physicists, few people ever really get their heads around the concepts involved. Most people eventually cobble together a justification for accepting the assurances of the experts: "Well, they pretty much agree with one another, and they claim that it is their understanding of these strange topics that allows them to harness atomic energy, and to make transistors and lasers, which certainly do work..."
Fortunately for physicists, there is no powerful motivation for such a band of mischief-makers to form. They don't have to spend much time persuading people that quantum physics and Einsteinian relativity really have been established beyond all reasonable doubt.
With evolution, however, it is different. The fundamental scientific idea of evolution by natural selection is not just mind-boggling; natural selection, by executing God's traditional task of designing and creating all creatures great and small, also seems to deny one of the best reasons we have for believing in God. So there is plenty of motivation for resisting the assurances of the biologists. Nobody is immune to wishful thinking. It takes scientific discipline to protect ourselves from our own credulity, but we've also found ingenious ways to fool ourselves and others. Some of the methods used to exploit these urges are easy to analyze; others take a little more unpacking.
A creationist pamphlet sent to me some years ago had an amusing page in it, purporting to be part of a simple questionnaire:
Test Two
Do you know of any building that didn't have a builder? [YES] [NO]
Do you know of any painting that didn't have a painter? [YES] [NO]
Do you know of any car that didn't have a maker? [YES] [NO]
If you answered YES for any of the above, give details:
Take that, you Darwinians! The presumed embarrassment of the test-taker when faced with this task perfectly expresses the incredulity many people feel when they confront Darwin's great idea. It seems obvious, doesn't it, that there couldn't be any designs without designers, any such creations without a creator.
Well, yes - until you look at what contemporary biology has demonstrated beyond all reasonable doubt: that natural selection - the process in which reproducing entities must compete for finite resources and thereby engage in a tournament of blind trial and error from which improvements automatically emerge - has the power to generate breathtakingly ingenious designs.
Take the development of the eye, which has been one of the favorite challenges of creationists. How on earth, they ask, could that engineering marvel be produced by a series of small, unplanned steps? Only an intelligent designer could have created such a brilliant arrangement of a shape-shifting lens, an aperture-adjusting iris, a light-sensitive image surface of exquisite sensitivity, all housed in a sphere that can shift its aim in a hundredth of a second and send megabytes of information to the visual cortex every second for years on end.
But as we learn more and more about the history of the genes involved, and how they work - all the way back to their predecessor genes in the sightless bacteria from which multicelled animals evolved more than a half-billion years ago - we can begin to tell the story of how photosensitive spots gradually turned into light-sensitive craters that could detect the rough direction from which light came, and then gradually acquired their lenses, improving their information-gathering capacities all the while.
We can't yet say what all the details of this process were, but real eyes representative of all the intermediate stages can be found, dotted around the animal kingdom, and we have detailed computer models to demonstrate that the creative process works just as the theory says.
All it takes is a rare accident that gives one lucky animal a mutation that improves its vision over that of its siblings; if this helps it have more offspring than its rivals, this gives evolution an opportunity to raise the bar and ratchet up the design of the eye by one mindless step. And since these lucky improvements accumulate - this was Darwin's insight - eyes can automatically get better and better and better, without any intelligent designer.
Brilliant as the design of the eye is, it betrays its origin with a tell-tale flaw: the retina is inside out. The nerve fibers that carry the signals from the eye's rods and cones (which sense light and color) lie on top of them, and have to plunge through a large hole in the retina to get to the brain, creating the blind spot. No intelligent designer would put such a clumsy arrangement in a camcorder, and this is just one of hundreds of accidents frozen in evolutionary history that confirm the mindlessness of the historical process.
If you still find Test Two compelling, a sort of cognitive illusion that you can feel even as you discount it, you are like just about everybody else in the world; the idea that natural selection has the power to generate such sophisticated designs is deeply counterintuitive. Francis Crick, one of the discoverers of DNA, once jokingly credited his colleague Leslie Orgel with "Orgel's Second Rule": Evolution is cleverer than you are. Evolutionary biologists are often startled by the power of natural selection to "discover" an "ingenious" solution to a design problem posed in the lab.
This observation lets us address a slightly more sophisticated version of the cognitive illusion presented by Test Two. When evolutionists like Crick marvel at the cleverness of the process of natural selection they are not acknowledging intelligent design. The designs found in nature are nothing short of brilliant, but the process of design that generates them is utterly lacking in intelligence of its own.
Intelligent design advocates, however, exploit the ambiguity between process and product that is built into the word "design." For them, the presence of a finished product (a fully evolved eye, for instance) is evidence of an intelligent design process. But this tempting conclusion is just what evolutionary biology has shown to be mistaken.
Yes, eyes are for seeing, but these and all the other purposes in the natural world can be generated by processes that are themselves without purposes and without intelligence. This is hard to understand, but so is the idea that colored objects in the world are composed of atoms that are not themselves colored, and that heat is not made of tiny hot things.
The focus on intelligent design has, paradoxically, obscured something else: genuine scientific controversies about evolution that abound. In just about every field there are challenges to one established theory or another. The legitimate way to stir up such a storm is to come up with an alternative theory that makes a prediction that is crisply denied by the reigning theory - but that turns out to be true, or that explains something that has been baffling defenders of the status quo, or that unifies two distant theories at the cost of some element of the currently accepted view.
To date, the proponents of intelligent design have not produced anything like that. No experiments with results that challenge any mainstream biological understanding. No observations from the fossil record or genomics or biogeography or comparative anatomy that undermine standard evolutionary thinking.
Instead, the proponents of intelligent design use a ploy that works something like this. First you misuse or misdescribe some scientist's work. Then you get an angry rebuttal. Then, instead of dealing forthrightly with the charges leveled, you cite the rebuttal as evidence that there is a "controversy" to teach.
Note that the trick is content-free. You can use it on any topic. "Smith's work in geology supports my argument that the earth is flat," you say, misrepresenting Smith's work. When Smith responds with a denunciation of your misuse of her work, you respond, saying something like: "See what a controversy we have here? Professor Smith and I are locked in a titanic scientific debate. We should teach the controversy in the classrooms." And here is the delicious part: you can often exploit the very technicality of the issues to your own advantage, counting on most of us to miss the point in all the difficult details.
William Dembski, one of the most vocal supporters of intelligent design, notes that he provoked Thomas Schneider, a biologist, into a response that Dr. Dembski characterizes as "some hair-splitting that could only look ridiculous to outsider observers." What looks to scientists - and is - a knockout objection by Dr. Schneider is portrayed to most everyone else as ridiculous hair-splitting.
In short, no science. Indeed, no intelligent design hypothesis has even been ventured as a rival explanation of any biological phenomenon. This might seem surprising to people who think that intelligent design competes directly with the hypothesis of non-intelligent design by natural selection. But saying, as intelligent design proponents do, "You haven't explained everything yet," is not a competing hypothesis. Evolutionary biology certainly hasn't explained everything that perplexes biologists. But intelligent design hasn't yet tried to explain anything.
To formulate a competing hypothesis, you have to get down in the trenches and offer details that have testable implications. So far, intelligent design proponents have conveniently sidestepped that requirement, claiming that they have no specifics in mind about who or what the intelligent designer might be.
To see this shortcoming in relief, consider an imaginary hypothesis of intelligent design that could explain the emergence of human beings on this planet:
About six million years ago, intelligent genetic engineers from another galaxy visited Earth and decided that it would be a more interesting planet if there was a language-using, religion-forming species on it, so they sequestered some primates and genetically re-engineered them to give them the language instinct, and enlarged frontal lobes for planning and reflection. It worked.
If some version of this hypothesis were true, it could explain how and why human beings differ from their nearest relatives, and it would disconfirm the competing evolutionary hypotheses that are being pursued.
We'd still have the problem of how these intelligent genetic engineers came to exist on their home planet, but we can safely ignore that complication for the time being, since there is not the slightest shred of evidence in favor of this hypothesis.
But here is something the intelligent design community is reluctant to discuss: no other intelligent-design hypothesis has anything more going for it. In fact, my farfetched hypothesis has the advantage of being testable in principle: we could compare the human and chimpanzee genomes, looking for unmistakable signs of tampering by these genetic engineers from another galaxy. Finding some sort of user's manual neatly embedded in the apparently functionless "junk DNA" that makes up most of the human genome would be a Nobel Prize-winning coup for the intelligent design gang, but if they are looking at all, they haven't come up with anything to report.
It's worth pointing out that there are plenty of substantive scientific controversies in biology that are not yet in the textbooks or the classrooms. The scientific participants in these arguments vie for acceptance among the relevant expert communities in peer-reviewed journals, and the writers and editors of textbooks grapple with judgments about which findings have risen to the level of acceptance - not yet truth - to make them worth serious consideration by undergraduates and high school students.
SO get in line, intelligent designers. Get in line behind the hypothesis that life started on Mars and was blown here by a cosmic impact. Get in line behind the aquatic ape hypothesis, the gestural origin of language hypothesis and the theory that singing came before language, to mention just a few of the enticing hypotheses that are actively defended but still insufficiently supported by hard facts.
The Discovery Institute, the conservative organization that has helped to put intelligent design on the map, complains that its members face hostility from the established scientific journals. But establishment hostility is not the real hurdle to intelligent design. If intelligent design were a scientific idea whose time had come, young scientists would be dashing around their labs, vying to win the Nobel Prizes that surely are in store for anybody who can overturn any significant proposition of contemporary evolutionary biology.
Remember cold fusion? The establishment was incredibly hostile to that hypothesis, but scientists around the world rushed to their labs in the effort to explore the idea, in hopes of sharing in the glory if it turned out to be true.
Instead of spending more than $1 million a year on publishing books and articles for non-scientists and on other public relations efforts, the Discovery Institute should finance its own peer-reviewed electronic journal. This way, the organization could live up to its self-professed image: the doughty defenders of brave iconoclasts bucking the establishment.
For now, though, the theory they are promoting is exactly what George Gilder, a long-time affiliate of the Discovery Institute, has said it is: "Intelligent design itself does not have any content."
Since there is no content, there is no "controversy" to teach about in biology class. But here is a good topic for a high school course on current events and politics: Is intelligent design a hoax? And if so, how was it perpetrated?
Daniel C. Dennett, a professor of philosophy at Tufts University, is the author of "Freedom Evolves" and "Darwin's Dangerous Idea."
August 28, 2005
Show Me the Science
By DANIEL C. DENNETT
Blue Hill, Me.
PRESIDENT BUSH, announcing this month that he was in favor of teaching about "intelligent design" in the schools, said, "I think that part of education is to expose people to different schools of thought." A couple of weeks later, Senator Bill Frist of Tennessee, the Republican leader, made the same point. Teaching both intelligent design and evolution "doesn't force any particular theory on anyone," Mr. Frist said. "I think in a pluralistic society that is the fairest way to go about education and training people for the future."
Is "intelligent design" a legitimate school of scientific thought? Is there something to it, or have these people been taken in by one of the most ingenious hoaxes in the history of science? Wouldn't such a hoax be impossible? No. Here's how it has been done.
First, imagine how easy it would be for a determined band of naysayers to shake the world's confidence in quantum physics - how weird it is! - or Einsteinian relativity. In spite of a century of instruction and popularization by physicists, few people ever really get their heads around the concepts involved. Most people eventually cobble together a justification for accepting the assurances of the experts: "Well, they pretty much agree with one another, and they claim that it is their understanding of these strange topics that allows them to harness atomic energy, and to make transistors and lasers, which certainly do work..."
Fortunately for physicists, there is no powerful motivation for such a band of mischief-makers to form. They don't have to spend much time persuading people that quantum physics and Einsteinian relativity really have been established beyond all reasonable doubt.
With evolution, however, it is different. The fundamental scientific idea of evolution by natural selection is not just mind-boggling; natural selection, by executing God's traditional task of designing and creating all creatures great and small, also seems to deny one of the best reasons we have for believing in God. So there is plenty of motivation for resisting the assurances of the biologists. Nobody is immune to wishful thinking. It takes scientific discipline to protect ourselves from our own credulity, but we've also found ingenious ways to fool ourselves and others. Some of the methods used to exploit these urges are easy to analyze; others take a little more unpacking.
A creationist pamphlet sent to me some years ago had an amusing page in it, purporting to be part of a simple questionnaire:
Test Two
Do you know of any building that didn't have a builder? [YES] [NO]
Do you know of any painting that didn't have a painter? [YES] [NO]
Do you know of any car that didn't have a maker? [YES] [NO]
If you answered YES for any of the above, give details:
Take that, you Darwinians! The presumed embarrassment of the test-taker when faced with this task perfectly expresses the incredulity many people feel when they confront Darwin's great idea. It seems obvious, doesn't it, that there couldn't be any designs without designers, any such creations without a creator.
Well, yes - until you look at what contemporary biology has demonstrated beyond all reasonable doubt: that natural selection - the process in which reproducing entities must compete for finite resources and thereby engage in a tournament of blind trial and error from which improvements automatically emerge - has the power to generate breathtakingly ingenious designs.
Take the development of the eye, which has been one of the favorite challenges of creationists. How on earth, they ask, could that engineering marvel be produced by a series of small, unplanned steps? Only an intelligent designer could have created such a brilliant arrangement of a shape-shifting lens, an aperture-adjusting iris, a light-sensitive image surface of exquisite sensitivity, all housed in a sphere that can shift its aim in a hundredth of a second and send megabytes of information to the visual cortex every second for years on end.
But as we learn more and more about the history of the genes involved, and how they work - all the way back to their predecessor genes in the sightless bacteria from which multicelled animals evolved more than a half-billion years ago - we can begin to tell the story of how photosensitive spots gradually turned into light-sensitive craters that could detect the rough direction from which light came, and then gradually acquired their lenses, improving their information-gathering capacities all the while.
We can't yet say what all the details of this process were, but real eyes representative of all the intermediate stages can be found, dotted around the animal kingdom, and we have detailed computer models to demonstrate that the creative process works just as the theory says.
All it takes is a rare accident that gives one lucky animal a mutation that improves its vision over that of its siblings; if this helps it have more offspring than its rivals, this gives evolution an opportunity to raise the bar and ratchet up the design of the eye by one mindless step. And since these lucky improvements accumulate - this was Darwin's insight - eyes can automatically get better and better and better, without any intelligent designer.
Brilliant as the design of the eye is, it betrays its origin with a tell-tale flaw: the retina is inside out. The nerve fibers that carry the signals from the eye's rods and cones (which sense light and color) lie on top of them, and have to plunge through a large hole in the retina to get to the brain, creating the blind spot. No intelligent designer would put such a clumsy arrangement in a camcorder, and this is just one of hundreds of accidents frozen in evolutionary history that confirm the mindlessness of the historical process.
If you still find Test Two compelling, a sort of cognitive illusion that you can feel even as you discount it, you are like just about everybody else in the world; the idea that natural selection has the power to generate such sophisticated designs is deeply counterintuitive. Francis Crick, one of the discoverers of DNA, once jokingly credited his colleague Leslie Orgel with "Orgel's Second Rule": Evolution is cleverer than you are. Evolutionary biologists are often startled by the power of natural selection to "discover" an "ingenious" solution to a design problem posed in the lab.
This observation lets us address a slightly more sophisticated version of the cognitive illusion presented by Test Two. When evolutionists like Crick marvel at the cleverness of the process of natural selection they are not acknowledging intelligent design. The designs found in nature are nothing short of brilliant, but the process of design that generates them is utterly lacking in intelligence of its own.
Intelligent design advocates, however, exploit the ambiguity between process and product that is built into the word "design." For them, the presence of a finished product (a fully evolved eye, for instance) is evidence of an intelligent design process. But this tempting conclusion is just what evolutionary biology has shown to be mistaken.
Yes, eyes are for seeing, but these and all the other purposes in the natural world can be generated by processes that are themselves without purposes and without intelligence. This is hard to understand, but so is the idea that colored objects in the world are composed of atoms that are not themselves colored, and that heat is not made of tiny hot things.
The focus on intelligent design has, paradoxically, obscured something else: genuine scientific controversies about evolution that abound. In just about every field there are challenges to one established theory or another. The legitimate way to stir up such a storm is to come up with an alternative theory that makes a prediction that is crisply denied by the reigning theory - but that turns out to be true, or that explains something that has been baffling defenders of the status quo, or that unifies two distant theories at the cost of some element of the currently accepted view.
To date, the proponents of intelligent design have not produced anything like that. No experiments with results that challenge any mainstream biological understanding. No observations from the fossil record or genomics or biogeography or comparative anatomy that undermine standard evolutionary thinking.
Instead, the proponents of intelligent design use a ploy that works something like this. First you misuse or misdescribe some scientist's work. Then you get an angry rebuttal. Then, instead of dealing forthrightly with the charges leveled, you cite the rebuttal as evidence that there is a "controversy" to teach.
Note that the trick is content-free. You can use it on any topic. "Smith's work in geology supports my argument that the earth is flat," you say, misrepresenting Smith's work. When Smith responds with a denunciation of your misuse of her work, you respond, saying something like: "See what a controversy we have here? Professor Smith and I are locked in a titanic scientific debate. We should teach the controversy in the classrooms." And here is the delicious part: you can often exploit the very technicality of the issues to your own advantage, counting on most of us to miss the point in all the difficult details.
William Dembski, one of the most vocal supporters of intelligent design, notes that he provoked Thomas Schneider, a biologist, into a response that Dr. Dembski characterizes as "some hair-splitting that could only look ridiculous to outsider observers." What looks to scientists - and is - a knockout objection by Dr. Schneider is portrayed to most everyone else as ridiculous hair-splitting.
In short, no science. Indeed, no intelligent design hypothesis has even been ventured as a rival explanation of any biological phenomenon. This might seem surprising to people who think that intelligent design competes directly with the hypothesis of non-intelligent design by natural selection. But saying, as intelligent design proponents do, "You haven't explained everything yet," is not a competing hypothesis. Evolutionary biology certainly hasn't explained everything that perplexes biologists. But intelligent design hasn't yet tried to explain anything.
To formulate a competing hypothesis, you have to get down in the trenches and offer details that have testable implications. So far, intelligent design proponents have conveniently sidestepped that requirement, claiming that they have no specifics in mind about who or what the intelligent designer might be.
To see this shortcoming in relief, consider an imaginary hypothesis of intelligent design that could explain the emergence of human beings on this planet:
About six million years ago, intelligent genetic engineers from another galaxy visited Earth and decided that it would be a more interesting planet if there was a language-using, religion-forming species on it, so they sequestered some primates and genetically re-engineered them to give them the language instinct, and enlarged frontal lobes for planning and reflection. It worked.
If some version of this hypothesis were true, it could explain how and why human beings differ from their nearest relatives, and it would disconfirm the competing evolutionary hypotheses that are being pursued.
We'd still have the problem of how these intelligent genetic engineers came to exist on their home planet, but we can safely ignore that complication for the time being, since there is not the slightest shred of evidence in favor of this hypothesis.
But here is something the intelligent design community is reluctant to discuss: no other intelligent-design hypothesis has anything more going for it. In fact, my farfetched hypothesis has the advantage of being testable in principle: we could compare the human and chimpanzee genomes, looking for unmistakable signs of tampering by these genetic engineers from another galaxy. Finding some sort of user's manual neatly embedded in the apparently functionless "junk DNA" that makes up most of the human genome would be a Nobel Prize-winning coup for the intelligent design gang, but if they are looking at all, they haven't come up with anything to report.
It's worth pointing out that there are plenty of substantive scientific controversies in biology that are not yet in the textbooks or the classrooms. The scientific participants in these arguments vie for acceptance among the relevant expert communities in peer-reviewed journals, and the writers and editors of textbooks grapple with judgments about which findings have risen to the level of acceptance - not yet truth - to make them worth serious consideration by undergraduates and high school students.
SO get in line, intelligent designers. Get in line behind the hypothesis that life started on Mars and was blown here by a cosmic impact. Get in line behind the aquatic ape hypothesis, the gestural origin of language hypothesis and the theory that singing came before language, to mention just a few of the enticing hypotheses that are actively defended but still insufficiently supported by hard facts.
The Discovery Institute, the conservative organization that has helped to put intelligent design on the map, complains that its members face hostility from the established scientific journals. But establishment hostility is not the real hurdle to intelligent design. If intelligent design were a scientific idea whose time had come, young scientists would be dashing around their labs, vying to win the Nobel Prizes that surely are in store for anybody who can overturn any significant proposition of contemporary evolutionary biology.
Remember cold fusion? The establishment was incredibly hostile to that hypothesis, but scientists around the world rushed to their labs in the effort to explore the idea, in hopes of sharing in the glory if it turned out to be true.
Instead of spending more than $1 million a year on publishing books and articles for non-scientists and on other public relations efforts, the Discovery Institute should finance its own peer-reviewed electronic journal. This way, the organization could live up to its self-professed image: the doughty defenders of brave iconoclasts bucking the establishment.
For now, though, the theory they are promoting is exactly what George Gilder, a long-time affiliate of the Discovery Institute, has said it is: "Intelligent design itself does not have any content."
Since there is no content, there is no "controversy" to teach about in biology class. But here is a good topic for a high school course on current events and politics: Is intelligent design a hoax? And if so, how was it perpetrated?
Daniel C. Dennett, a professor of philosophy at Tufts University, is the author of "Freedom Evolves" and "Darwin's Dangerous Idea."
Excellent Frank Rich Column from NYT
Mr. Rich talks about some of the parallels between the early stages of the US involvement in Vietnam and our current conflict, while lambasting both Republicans and Democrats for not offering a valid alternative to Bush's hapless policy-making on the matter. Exceptions include Republican Chuck Hagel and Democrat Russ Feingold.
I also watched part of "CNN Presents" last night when I got home from work. It actually had some decent examples of good journalism - some analysis of just how we got suckered by the "intelligence" that led us into war and allowed Bush to cite dubious information about the (non-existent) Iraqi WMD program.
I also watched part of "CNN Presents" last night when I got home from work. It actually had some decent examples of good journalism - some analysis of just how we got suckered by the "intelligence" that led us into war and allowed Bush to cite dubious information about the (non-existent) Iraqi WMD program.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Picking a Method of Transportation
When I go, will it be in a handbasket, an automobile, an airplane, or perhaps a little red wagon?
Well, my classes have started as of Monday. I'm not thrilled to be back, but I am fairly willing to get started and get things over with, since I'm sure they'll go quickly. What is the next phase of my life? Will it be the internship in DC - will that even be a possibility? And if I do that, will I like it, or will it be just one more detour along the way to my ultimate destination?
The summer was too short, as always. My birthday, since I was five, has always signaled the end of summer to me, and the resumption of worries about school. It makes me uneasy. Actually being in class has been better since my hiatus of roughly two years. I'm a little more relaxed. Even when I'm stressing out, I realize that it's either going to work out or it's not, and that seems to be somewhat comforting.
A lot of my friends are (or are certainly going to be) very successful in the traditional definition of that term. In other words, they went to great schools, they're going to have great jobs, and they're going to make lots and lots more money than I ever will.
I used to have a pretty high opinion of myself and my level of intelligence, and occasionally I still do. However, I now realize that barring some unforseen development, I'm not going to be wealthy and I may not even be particularly "comfortable" in the same way that my life was growing up (in a lower to middle middle class family). I may have to struggle to make ends meet in a less than desirable apartment somewhere, and I won't have money to throw at new music and concerts and eating out and buying rounds for friends. Right now I can do many of those things purely because I'm getting student loans, and even with those, this semester is going to be tough. Living on my own is not only quite lonely, it's also expensive. I eat a lot. Grocery shopping is expensive, gas is pricey, and getting into car accidents and picking up speeding tickets doesn't help one bit. Paying back generous relatives and buying computers will be difficult. Going to DC in the spring will undoubtedly be a little challenging too.
I don't really want to get into a big thing on class warfare here, but lots of time, rich people make me very angry and resentful. I'm sure they often don't realize they're doing it, they just take things for granted and say things accordingly.
Of course, another group of my friends may never be wealthy either, but they have established a path for themselves that will allow them to be very happy, despite an occasional dearth of funds. They have found more important things in life to satisfy themselves, and they may be more "self-actualized" in the long run. I am very happy for them.
A key component of their contentment will no doubt be their companion or spouse, and maybe that's all that's missing for me. Hell - maybe there's more to it than that though. I thought I had something good once, but we often argued about finances even then.
I need to cultivate a situation in which I feel secure and content and needed and desired. I am not in such a situation now. I have none of those things. I am seldom very happy when I give significant thought to my present condition. Usually, it takes the addition of close friends to put a smile on my face. Although friends are enormously important, I need to learn how to make myself truly happy in the absence of others. Books have usually provided this for me, but even then, they are only temporary.
Everything, it seems, is very temporary. If and when I get to an afterlife, I hope that I'll be able to experience the feeling of love and kinship that I often enjoyed this summer, but that it will be available on a regular basis. A sense of permanence about our happiness is something we all strive for, I think.
Wow - you'd almost think from reading this that I had some kind of philosophy class today or something. But really that's not what fueled this...though I did have a philosophy class. I've just been thinking quite a bit lately. There's a lot of down time up here in Fredonia with no one else living with me.
That's it for now.
Well, my classes have started as of Monday. I'm not thrilled to be back, but I am fairly willing to get started and get things over with, since I'm sure they'll go quickly. What is the next phase of my life? Will it be the internship in DC - will that even be a possibility? And if I do that, will I like it, or will it be just one more detour along the way to my ultimate destination?
The summer was too short, as always. My birthday, since I was five, has always signaled the end of summer to me, and the resumption of worries about school. It makes me uneasy. Actually being in class has been better since my hiatus of roughly two years. I'm a little more relaxed. Even when I'm stressing out, I realize that it's either going to work out or it's not, and that seems to be somewhat comforting.
A lot of my friends are (or are certainly going to be) very successful in the traditional definition of that term. In other words, they went to great schools, they're going to have great jobs, and they're going to make lots and lots more money than I ever will.
I used to have a pretty high opinion of myself and my level of intelligence, and occasionally I still do. However, I now realize that barring some unforseen development, I'm not going to be wealthy and I may not even be particularly "comfortable" in the same way that my life was growing up (in a lower to middle middle class family). I may have to struggle to make ends meet in a less than desirable apartment somewhere, and I won't have money to throw at new music and concerts and eating out and buying rounds for friends. Right now I can do many of those things purely because I'm getting student loans, and even with those, this semester is going to be tough. Living on my own is not only quite lonely, it's also expensive. I eat a lot. Grocery shopping is expensive, gas is pricey, and getting into car accidents and picking up speeding tickets doesn't help one bit. Paying back generous relatives and buying computers will be difficult. Going to DC in the spring will undoubtedly be a little challenging too.
I don't really want to get into a big thing on class warfare here, but lots of time, rich people make me very angry and resentful. I'm sure they often don't realize they're doing it, they just take things for granted and say things accordingly.
Of course, another group of my friends may never be wealthy either, but they have established a path for themselves that will allow them to be very happy, despite an occasional dearth of funds. They have found more important things in life to satisfy themselves, and they may be more "self-actualized" in the long run. I am very happy for them.
A key component of their contentment will no doubt be their companion or spouse, and maybe that's all that's missing for me. Hell - maybe there's more to it than that though. I thought I had something good once, but we often argued about finances even then.
I need to cultivate a situation in which I feel secure and content and needed and desired. I am not in such a situation now. I have none of those things. I am seldom very happy when I give significant thought to my present condition. Usually, it takes the addition of close friends to put a smile on my face. Although friends are enormously important, I need to learn how to make myself truly happy in the absence of others. Books have usually provided this for me, but even then, they are only temporary.
Everything, it seems, is very temporary. If and when I get to an afterlife, I hope that I'll be able to experience the feeling of love and kinship that I often enjoyed this summer, but that it will be available on a regular basis. A sense of permanence about our happiness is something we all strive for, I think.
Wow - you'd almost think from reading this that I had some kind of philosophy class today or something. But really that's not what fueled this...though I did have a philosophy class. I've just been thinking quite a bit lately. There's a lot of down time up here in Fredonia with no one else living with me.
That's it for now.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Article on Rock Snobs
I don't actually consider myself a rock snob, since most of the bands I like are actually adored by many people - just not many of my close friends.
However, given the ridicule that I've endured about my obsessive nature, I do identify somewhat with the characters in High Fidelity, which is mentioned in this article. I also have come to resent others being able to just download music that cost me hundreds of dollars.
I'm one of those people who enjoy collecting music in its tangible forms, complete with the artwork, liner notes, et cetera - so this speaks to me. Enjoy.
However, given the ridicule that I've endured about my obsessive nature, I do identify somewhat with the characters in High Fidelity, which is mentioned in this article. I also have come to resent others being able to just download music that cost me hundreds of dollars.
I'm one of those people who enjoy collecting music in its tangible forms, complete with the artwork, liner notes, et cetera - so this speaks to me. Enjoy.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Well...
There are quite a few posts still in the draft form that have yet to be published - that's what happens when I don't have regular access to a computer with a decent connection.
So I just deleted a very long unfinished post on the topic that I was going to elaborate on at a later date. I believe I have good reason for doing this. Perhaps I will explain my feelings at a still later time. However, things are not quite as concluded as they may have been, which tends to happen sometimes.
I believe I'm more emotionally involved in this than I was previously admitting to myself.
So I just deleted a very long unfinished post on the topic that I was going to elaborate on at a later date. I believe I have good reason for doing this. Perhaps I will explain my feelings at a still later time. However, things are not quite as concluded as they may have been, which tends to happen sometimes.
I believe I'm more emotionally involved in this than I was previously admitting to myself.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
The Politics of Evolution vs. "Intelligent Design"
This article discusses a foundation/think tank pushing the so-called Intelligent Design theory and the organization's funding sources.
Very Informative Article on Oil Production & Capacity
Anyone interested about the future of gas prices and their effect on our economy should read this.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Christopher Walken for President
With thanks to ozcorpdailybyte.blogspot.com, and while still not believing this is for real...
Christopher Walken is running for president in 2008. Check out the website - it certainly looks as if he's a progressive.
Christopher Walken is running for president in 2008. Check out the website - it certainly looks as if he's a progressive.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Maureen Dowd NYT Piece - Biking Toward Nowhere
Here's a sample:
'"I just don't like taking questions on serious matters on my vacation," the usually good-natured Bush senior barked at reporters on the golf course. "So I hope you'll understand if I, when I'm recreating, will recreate." His hot-tempered oldest son, who was golfing with his father that day, was even more irritated. "Hey! Hey!" W. snapped at reporters asking questions on the first tee. "Can't you wait until we finish hitting, at least?"
Junior always had his priorities straight.'
'"I just don't like taking questions on serious matters on my vacation," the usually good-natured Bush senior barked at reporters on the golf course. "So I hope you'll understand if I, when I'm recreating, will recreate." His hot-tempered oldest son, who was golfing with his father that day, was even more irritated. "Hey! Hey!" W. snapped at reporters asking questions on the first tee. "Can't you wait until we finish hitting, at least?"
Junior always had his priorities straight.'
Pierce Brosnan Out as 007
Not entirely unexpected, since we've been hearing rumors since the last film...however, this appears to be confirmation.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
2005.08.13 Everclear at Gateway Harbor Park Tonawanda, NY
Setlist:
Everything to Everyone
Heroin Girl
Volvo Driving Soccer Mom
Fire Maple Song
Almost Instant Karma
Heartspark Dollarsign
Wonderful
Song from an American Movie, Part 1
Brown Eyed Girl (Van Morrison)
Strawberry
Father of Mine
Glorious
I Will Buy You a New Life
Encore:
Beautiful Dream
Santa Monica
867-5309/Jenny (Tommy Tutone)
were found in the Flickr stream of Dennis Reed Jr.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/agenbyte/sets/72157604860051304/page2/
There was a favorable review in The Buffalo News (see below) about this show, but I can tell you that it was pretty shitty... the bass-heavy mix was very bad and the performance was below-average. Some idiot decided to crowd-surf and managed to kick Chelsea in the head, which didn't exactly make either of us very happy.
______
Everclear Gives Crowd a Shot of the Strong Stuff
By Mike Regan
News Contributing Reviewer
Published 8/14/2005
Concert review
Everclear and Last Conservative
Saturday night at the Molson Canal Concert Series, Gateway Park, Tonawanda.
Some moments are worth waiting for.
That could have been the theme Saturday night at North Tonawanda's Molson Canal Series in Gateway Park. After taking the stage more than an hour after its scheduled time, Everclear made up for hurt feelings and rocked the crowd.
"How are you guys doing tonight? We're Everclear. We're from Portland, Oregon," said lead singer Art Alexakis as the band burrowed into the beginning of its set.
Labeled post-grunge, alternative, punk and pop, Everclear began a quick rise up the ladder of musical triumph after it formed in 1991. By the mid-'90s the band was practically a household name.
With hits like "Father of Mine" and "Fire Maple Song," Everclear translated Alexakis' difficult upbringing to its audience though its reverberations. Everclear did dip into its bag of mainstream hits Saturday, but was avoided the somewhat brooding overtones of a few of its songs.
From the opening "Everything to Everyone," onlookers were ready for more. And Everclear didn't disappoint them. Alexakis came off as a veteran musician, prodding the gatherers to move as he barked at them to "jump."
And the masses gladly complied.
The evening began on the right note with the passionate Middleman. The four-piece band from England is touring the States and brought its mildly distinctive pop-hop style to the canal with a combined style of live and electronic music.
Buffalo's own Last Conservative showed why it is one of the more popular performers in the area. Its new CD, "On to the Next One," was recently released and the group didn't hesitate to introduce it to the audience.
During its 45-minute set, Last Conservative drilled home a few new songs like "The Answer" from the new CD. The group's rocking style came across with such vivaciousness that members may have influenced the crowd to sweat right along with them.
http://www.buffalonews.com/editorial/20050814/1067227.asp
Friday, August 12, 2005
Everclear Saturday
Tomorrow I'm headed to a free Canal Concert Series performance in Tonawanda by the band Everclear, or at least what's left of them. Everclear was the first concert I ever went to, back on March 7, 1999 at SUNY Geneseo.
Anyway, it seems like a bunch of us will be heading up tomorrow, so that should be fun. Like old times, except we're a lot older and some people are married and Art's the only one left in the band.
Guess it's not like old times after all. Perhaps the songs will remain the same.
Anyway, it seems like a bunch of us will be heading up tomorrow, so that should be fun. Like old times, except we're a lot older and some people are married and Art's the only one left in the band.
Guess it's not like old times after all. Perhaps the songs will remain the same.
Pink Floyd Reunion Aftermath
This was posted to the Echoes mailing list that I subscribe to...there are some errors, and when I cut and pasted it from my email, it became sort of jumbled. However, I am for the most part leaving it alone because I don't have the time now to adjust it and I think there will be some interest among the readership. It's an interview with Bob Geldof after Live 8 with some quotes from some others thrown in. As the Echoes member writes, it is not a complete transcription of the article, but most of the important parts are included. Enjoy.
To: "Echoes" <>
I don't think anybody has put this online yet, so here it is. It's not complete (can't possibly transcribe the whole thing) but I made sure all the juicy bits are including, leaving out stuff that has already been printed elsewhere.
Live 8 / Floyd Feature in Word magazine
Transcribed by Thanasis Tsilderikis WITHOUT PERMISSION
WORD MAGAZINE, July 2005 issue
When, midway through their 20-minute set, Waters announced he felt "incredibly emotional to be back with these three guys again", he meant it. As he tried to sing Wish You Were Here, a song about Syd Barrett, his childhood friend and the band's inspirational founder who left in 1968, his voice cracked and he could barely get the words out. Gilmour, Waters's arch-enemy in one of the longest feuds the rock world has witnessed, carried on scowling down at his electric guitar. Although the band played on, none of them had expected such a public declaration from the man who had sued, insulted and mostly just ignored them for 20-odd years. Even Nick Mason, the group's unflappably urbane drummer - and the only member on speaking terms with Waters before the Live 8 reunion - admitted later that "we were all very surprised at the way Roger behaved".
Peter Jenner, the band's first manager, recalled that Waters "was the one who had the courage to drive Syd out, because it was chaos", but that it hurt. "Syd was the only person, I think, who Roger has ever really liked and looked up to, and he always felt very guilty about the fact that he'd blown out his mate." According to Gilmour, Waters proceeded to take it out on him. "I was the new boy. Not only that, I was two years younger than the rest of them, and you know how those playground hierarchies carry over. You never catch up. Roger is not a generous-spirited person. I was constantly dumped on."
Mason believes that it is Waters' absorption in his solo projects which has taken the sting out of rejoining his old adversaries. "Roger's very pragmatic. Because he's enjoyed working on his own, I think that being back with the band feels like a novelty to him."
As relations were warming in one corner of the frosty foursome, they were cooling somewhat in another. Mason's lavishly illustrated, delightfully chatty personal account of Pink Floyd - Inside Out, published in 2004 - did not find favour with David Gilmour.
The book's gossipy, self-deprecating style shortchanged the band's real musical achievements, Gilmour grumbled privately to friends. (Though they live not far from each other in the South of England, in West Sussex and Wiltshire respectively, Gilmour and Mason haven't socialised for years.)
In terms of their recent public profile, the closest thing to a gig Pink Floyd had done prior to Geldof's intervention was a brief performance at the funeral of their manager, Steve O'Rourke, in the summer of 2004. Gilmour, Mason and Wright played WYWH during the service at Chichester cathedral and Wright followed it with a solo piano rendition of Great Gig in the Sky. "It didn't feel like a gig," Mason noted, "and we didn't ask Roger to take part because he still had some differences with Steve, who was very much a part of our team. So he wasn't asked to come at all."
(comment ---> this, I believe, is the first official confirmation that such a 'performance' in O'Rourke's funeral took place, other than the initial rumours that claimed Roger played too, along with Dick Parry.) But here comes the good part. Geldof's own account of the reunion, with his characteristic, wholy un-British, frankness. Enjoy! :-)
Word magazine: Why were you after PF in particular? Bob Geldof: Well, that world audience, those sales. Also, that morning I'd receive a print-out from some guy from an Internet site saying that the Pink Floyd would never play again unless it was something exceptional like Live Aid. So I rang Nick Mason. He said, are you serious? I can't see what would make the others talk to each other. So I called David Gilmour. I've known him since The Wall and he was driving up to London with Polly and he practically swerved off the road. And said mmmm, you know? I said, well, I'll come and see you. I rang him again and he said, look, the answer's no. I want to do my solo album now. Also there's the concern that the record company think there is a giant pot at the end of the PF rainbow. I did a Vicky Pollard - yeah, but, no, but - I said well, don't say no now [ed: Vicky Pollard is a comedy character on British TV, satirical of the 15-year-old working class girls in 'Little Britain' and the way they talk in fits and starts]. Give me a chance to lay out my stall, my purpose, let me come and see you and maybe argue my position. I said I've got to come down and see you, which train do I get? So I get to Croydon and he rings me says Bob, there's no point. I've got as far as Croydon. I'm at East Croydon station, Croydon East, you know! And I said, at least come and pick me up. He was a bit grumpy but he turned up in this lovely od Merc and we went back to his place. And I went into it. He knew I was there to pitch. He was being kind but it was a little awkward and he kept his head and at the end he just said, I just can't go through all that stuff again, and told me I had to try and understand all that.
- - So how did you sell it to him?
Geldof: I laid out the politics of the thing, what would happen if the PF played. The world audience, the uniqueness of the event, the fact that they never said goodbye to the audience, and that every person who ever bought a PF album in the world would have access to them again. He was sotto voce in the end. He took me upstairs and played me some tracks from his new solo album and I told him to take some speed! He said, I get a lot of pleasure out of all this, and they ware very beautiful songs. So he said well, I don't know, I'm not going to change my mind now, Bob. So I didn't crap on about it. I said, at least think about it. He said he was going on holiday for a week and there'd be no time to rehearse. I said do think about it. But then Mason called to say how did you get on? I said, I don't think very well but I'll write him a letter. Next Roger Waters calls me, in a great mood. I think a lot of people think he's bitter and cynical but I don't think he is at all. He's hilarious and has this acerbic wit and he's very up and funny. And he said what's happening? I said will you play? And he said all things considered, I'd love to. That took me back a bit, so I checked with Nick that Rick Wright would be up for it and he said he would. And I rang Roger back and Roger said 'What's Old Grumpy up to? I said, still being fairly grumpy."
:-D :-D :-D
Geldof: "There were clearly lots of unarticulated things going on, lots of water still flowing under those bridges. And Roger said I'd like to do it and I'd like to do it in London if we can do it. I said, dude, you can do it on the moon, you know! Now Nick, Rick and Roger appeared to be absolutely wanting to do it but Dave was away. I said I'd written Dave a letter, I called Nick again and told him about Dave and he said "It's the curse of leadership."
- - Referring to Roger or Dave Gilmour?
Geldof: "Referring to Dave, I suppose, as Dave's the one who has led the Floyd for the last 20 years. The burden of carrying on gradually. And Dave is with his new family and he's just got rid of that house and Dave I think just didn't want to go back to that place he'd been before. Roger on the other hand had become hugely expansive and was wanting to gig and quite prepared to let sleeping dogs lie. Terrible cliche but it's true. It was sort of like a reversal of roles really. And Roger said, have you got Gilmour's number? I heard no more for two weeks and then the phone goes and a voice says, all right then. I said sorry? He said "It's Gilmour. All right then." "I said you're not fucking serious! Fuckin' hell, you've made an old man very happy. Not that I can stand you cunts but you've made an old retro-punk very happy! Cos I never liked their music, really."
comment ---> Sir Bob doesn't mince his words, does he? You gotta give him that!
Geldof: "I rang Roger and told him Dave had called and he said "Oh Good. Where will we be on the bill?" Apparently that first meeting they had together was great. What older people should behave like, all grins and smiles. Nick told me, you know without being mawkish or anything, that it was like being in a band again. So familiar and fun and so good. Instantly they got to sorting out what songs they would play and even asked me at one point if I thought they were all right. 'What do you think?' I said, what do you mean what do I think?! The enormity of the Floyd playing again. The sheer numbers of eyeballs watching, all marshalled to a political end, it's amazing. In the US this is a bigger story than Live 8, why this band with such a painful history of disorder, why are they doing it?
- - Was this the biggest news story you could have engineered? I can't think of a bigger one.
Geldof: "In pop terms, absolutely. The whole point was the brand, and the individuals have become more and more fascinating as a result. As you began to understand the dynamics of each song and who did which bit it became fascinating. And their strange sense of politics, politics on a polite English level but with a profound bitterness. I didn't care for the music much but I genuinely like them as people.
- - Do you think all bands will reunite eventually, and that events like Live 8 just give them the excuse to do so?
Geldof: "No, I don't really. I think age is the excuse. You look at it and think back to what it was. We were glorious, you know! I don't know why we were glorious but let's acknowledge it! I'd like to play to all those people again! Whatever happened to us was just clearly uniquely good. It's not to recapture the old glory." Later in the article, there's that Mason quote reprinted again: Mason: "Bob and Roger are a bit like Hitler and Stalin with a better sense of humour. And, in Bob's case, worse hair."
There's an interesting account (Nick's) of the whole dynamics of Gilmour's upcoming solo album and PF reuniting for Live 8: Mason: "The moral pressure on anyone to do something like this is phenomenal." He totally sympathised with Gilmour's predicament:
"Live 8's going to impinge on next year when he tours as a solo artist. People will be saying, "Come on Dave, do some Floyd material", as they will have just seen him do some. And it takes a hell of a long time to establish yourself as a solo artist. But Bob rang me and said 'David Gilmour won't do it'. And I felt, well, that's Dave. You can take a horse to water but you can't make him drink. In Dave's case you can't even get him near the water. So Roger rang David and that cemented it. Bob then spoke to Roger and he agreed. I think he felt -well we all felt actually - that it was a shame we didn't play Live Aid but we didn't really exist as a band at the time."
Very interesting stuff.
To: "Echoes" <>
I don't think anybody has put this online yet, so here it is. It's not complete (can't possibly transcribe the whole thing) but I made sure all the juicy bits are including, leaving out stuff that has already been printed elsewhere.
Live 8 / Floyd Feature in Word magazine
Transcribed by Thanasis Tsilderikis WITHOUT PERMISSION
WORD MAGAZINE, July 2005 issue
When, midway through their 20-minute set, Waters announced he felt "incredibly emotional to be back with these three guys again", he meant it. As he tried to sing Wish You Were Here, a song about Syd Barrett, his childhood friend and the band's inspirational founder who left in 1968, his voice cracked and he could barely get the words out. Gilmour, Waters's arch-enemy in one of the longest feuds the rock world has witnessed, carried on scowling down at his electric guitar. Although the band played on, none of them had expected such a public declaration from the man who had sued, insulted and mostly just ignored them for 20-odd years. Even Nick Mason, the group's unflappably urbane drummer - and the only member on speaking terms with Waters before the Live 8 reunion - admitted later that "we were all very surprised at the way Roger behaved".
Peter Jenner, the band's first manager, recalled that Waters "was the one who had the courage to drive Syd out, because it was chaos", but that it hurt. "Syd was the only person, I think, who Roger has ever really liked and looked up to, and he always felt very guilty about the fact that he'd blown out his mate." According to Gilmour, Waters proceeded to take it out on him. "I was the new boy. Not only that, I was two years younger than the rest of them, and you know how those playground hierarchies carry over. You never catch up. Roger is not a generous-spirited person. I was constantly dumped on."
Mason believes that it is Waters' absorption in his solo projects which has taken the sting out of rejoining his old adversaries. "Roger's very pragmatic. Because he's enjoyed working on his own, I think that being back with the band feels like a novelty to him."
As relations were warming in one corner of the frosty foursome, they were cooling somewhat in another. Mason's lavishly illustrated, delightfully chatty personal account of Pink Floyd - Inside Out, published in 2004 - did not find favour with David Gilmour.
The book's gossipy, self-deprecating style shortchanged the band's real musical achievements, Gilmour grumbled privately to friends. (Though they live not far from each other in the South of England, in West Sussex and Wiltshire respectively, Gilmour and Mason haven't socialised for years.)
In terms of their recent public profile, the closest thing to a gig Pink Floyd had done prior to Geldof's intervention was a brief performance at the funeral of their manager, Steve O'Rourke, in the summer of 2004. Gilmour, Mason and Wright played WYWH during the service at Chichester cathedral and Wright followed it with a solo piano rendition of Great Gig in the Sky. "It didn't feel like a gig," Mason noted, "and we didn't ask Roger to take part because he still had some differences with Steve, who was very much a part of our team. So he wasn't asked to come at all."
(comment ---> this, I believe, is the first official confirmation that such a 'performance' in O'Rourke's funeral took place, other than the initial rumours that claimed Roger played too, along with Dick Parry.) But here comes the good part. Geldof's own account of the reunion, with his characteristic, wholy un-British, frankness. Enjoy! :-)
Word magazine: Why were you after PF in particular? Bob Geldof: Well, that world audience, those sales. Also, that morning I'd receive a print-out from some guy from an Internet site saying that the Pink Floyd would never play again unless it was something exceptional like Live Aid. So I rang Nick Mason. He said, are you serious? I can't see what would make the others talk to each other. So I called David Gilmour. I've known him since The Wall and he was driving up to London with Polly and he practically swerved off the road. And said mmmm, you know? I said, well, I'll come and see you. I rang him again and he said, look, the answer's no. I want to do my solo album now. Also there's the concern that the record company think there is a giant pot at the end of the PF rainbow. I did a Vicky Pollard - yeah, but, no, but - I said well, don't say no now [ed: Vicky Pollard is a comedy character on British TV, satirical of the 15-year-old working class girls in 'Little Britain' and the way they talk in fits and starts]. Give me a chance to lay out my stall, my purpose, let me come and see you and maybe argue my position. I said I've got to come down and see you, which train do I get? So I get to Croydon and he rings me says Bob, there's no point. I've got as far as Croydon. I'm at East Croydon station, Croydon East, you know! And I said, at least come and pick me up. He was a bit grumpy but he turned up in this lovely od Merc and we went back to his place. And I went into it. He knew I was there to pitch. He was being kind but it was a little awkward and he kept his head and at the end he just said, I just can't go through all that stuff again, and told me I had to try and understand all that.
- - So how did you sell it to him?
Geldof: I laid out the politics of the thing, what would happen if the PF played. The world audience, the uniqueness of the event, the fact that they never said goodbye to the audience, and that every person who ever bought a PF album in the world would have access to them again. He was sotto voce in the end. He took me upstairs and played me some tracks from his new solo album and I told him to take some speed! He said, I get a lot of pleasure out of all this, and they ware very beautiful songs. So he said well, I don't know, I'm not going to change my mind now, Bob. So I didn't crap on about it. I said, at least think about it. He said he was going on holiday for a week and there'd be no time to rehearse. I said do think about it. But then Mason called to say how did you get on? I said, I don't think very well but I'll write him a letter. Next Roger Waters calls me, in a great mood. I think a lot of people think he's bitter and cynical but I don't think he is at all. He's hilarious and has this acerbic wit and he's very up and funny. And he said what's happening? I said will you play? And he said all things considered, I'd love to. That took me back a bit, so I checked with Nick that Rick Wright would be up for it and he said he would. And I rang Roger back and Roger said 'What's Old Grumpy up to? I said, still being fairly grumpy."
:-D :-D :-D
Geldof: "There were clearly lots of unarticulated things going on, lots of water still flowing under those bridges. And Roger said I'd like to do it and I'd like to do it in London if we can do it. I said, dude, you can do it on the moon, you know! Now Nick, Rick and Roger appeared to be absolutely wanting to do it but Dave was away. I said I'd written Dave a letter, I called Nick again and told him about Dave and he said "It's the curse of leadership."
- - Referring to Roger or Dave Gilmour?
Geldof: "Referring to Dave, I suppose, as Dave's the one who has led the Floyd for the last 20 years. The burden of carrying on gradually. And Dave is with his new family and he's just got rid of that house and Dave I think just didn't want to go back to that place he'd been before. Roger on the other hand had become hugely expansive and was wanting to gig and quite prepared to let sleeping dogs lie. Terrible cliche but it's true. It was sort of like a reversal of roles really. And Roger said, have you got Gilmour's number? I heard no more for two weeks and then the phone goes and a voice says, all right then. I said sorry? He said "It's Gilmour. All right then." "I said you're not fucking serious! Fuckin' hell, you've made an old man very happy. Not that I can stand you cunts but you've made an old retro-punk very happy! Cos I never liked their music, really."
comment ---> Sir Bob doesn't mince his words, does he? You gotta give him that!
Geldof: "I rang Roger and told him Dave had called and he said "Oh Good. Where will we be on the bill?" Apparently that first meeting they had together was great. What older people should behave like, all grins and smiles. Nick told me, you know without being mawkish or anything, that it was like being in a band again. So familiar and fun and so good. Instantly they got to sorting out what songs they would play and even asked me at one point if I thought they were all right. 'What do you think?' I said, what do you mean what do I think?! The enormity of the Floyd playing again. The sheer numbers of eyeballs watching, all marshalled to a political end, it's amazing. In the US this is a bigger story than Live 8, why this band with such a painful history of disorder, why are they doing it?
- - Was this the biggest news story you could have engineered? I can't think of a bigger one.
Geldof: "In pop terms, absolutely. The whole point was the brand, and the individuals have become more and more fascinating as a result. As you began to understand the dynamics of each song and who did which bit it became fascinating. And their strange sense of politics, politics on a polite English level but with a profound bitterness. I didn't care for the music much but I genuinely like them as people.
- - Do you think all bands will reunite eventually, and that events like Live 8 just give them the excuse to do so?
Geldof: "No, I don't really. I think age is the excuse. You look at it and think back to what it was. We were glorious, you know! I don't know why we were glorious but let's acknowledge it! I'd like to play to all those people again! Whatever happened to us was just clearly uniquely good. It's not to recapture the old glory." Later in the article, there's that Mason quote reprinted again: Mason: "Bob and Roger are a bit like Hitler and Stalin with a better sense of humour. And, in Bob's case, worse hair."
There's an interesting account (Nick's) of the whole dynamics of Gilmour's upcoming solo album and PF reuniting for Live 8: Mason: "The moral pressure on anyone to do something like this is phenomenal." He totally sympathised with Gilmour's predicament:
"Live 8's going to impinge on next year when he tours as a solo artist. People will be saying, "Come on Dave, do some Floyd material", as they will have just seen him do some. And it takes a hell of a long time to establish yourself as a solo artist. But Bob rang me and said 'David Gilmour won't do it'. And I felt, well, that's Dave. You can take a horse to water but you can't make him drink. In Dave's case you can't even get him near the water. So Roger rang David and that cemented it. Bob then spoke to Roger and he agreed. I think he felt -well we all felt actually - that it was a shame we didn't play Live Aid but we didn't really exist as a band at the time."
Very interesting stuff.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Bye Week Lives Again
With the help of what may be described as a 'ringer' (a professional playing for an amateur team....we were assisted by Alex's friend Eric, who recently graduated from Princeton), Team Bye Week climbed back to the top of the heap at the Anchor Inn Trivia Night. The team was composed this Tuesday of Alex, Eric, Matt, Turck, Lindsay, Chelsea, and myself.
Turck and I celebrated with Irish Carbombs. Following a White Russian, some of us went to the Saloon to play some darts and pool. Nate was in all his Graceful Turck glory.
A fun night.
Turck and I celebrated with Irish Carbombs. Following a White Russian, some of us went to the Saloon to play some darts and pool. Nate was in all his Graceful Turck glory.
A fun night.
The Land of Oz
Due to popular demand, this is the link to Alex's (Ozzie) Cell Blog D. Enjoy at your own risk.
You never know what topic Oz will tackle next - from steroid use to date rape to the most pressing concerns of Harry Potter fans everywhere....and last week he even managed to use the blog as a very indirect way of breaking up with his girlfriend.
For the most diverse use of blogging technology, I salute you.
You never know what topic Oz will tackle next - from steroid use to date rape to the most pressing concerns of Harry Potter fans everywhere....and last week he even managed to use the blog as a very indirect way of breaking up with his girlfriend.
For the most diverse use of blogging technology, I salute you.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Zach's Wedding Weekend
Thursday night at Sears, I called and checked my messages at home. It was fortunate that I did, because Kristen had called to let me know that everyone had arrived and was ready to hang out. I had been house-sitting for my grandparents all week, so I went there to make sure everything was in proper condition as well as to change out of my work clothes. What follows are just some of the many highlights from a very entertaining and fun weekend.
When I got to Kristen's house and hugged Kristen, John, Steve, Christine, and Bruce - and also met up with Clayt for the first time in about six years - we made our plans for an abbreviated Second Street Shuffle. The Triple S involves hitting every tavern, bar, and pub on Second Street from Falconer to Jamestown and having a beer, shot, or mixed drink. I'm not sure it's actually possible, but if anyone could do it, I think we had some promising candidates with us. We were also joined by John's sister Laura, Randy Binko and his girlfriend, as well as Debbie Yahn and Mrs. Bisignano.
Our first stop was Bonesy's (or Bonsey's, depending on what sign over the bar you'd like to believe). There was confusion among the regulars as to what our true purpose was, but we quickly confirmed that it was to drink. Licenses were tossed on the bar from California, Colorado, and New York. Clayt was wearing a curly black wig. Biz spotted his drink of choice in the cooler behind the bar, and seven bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon (what? It comes in bottles? Apparently....) were ordered. We made another positive impression on the crowd when we played the same Stones song twice to kick off our jukebox selections - I believe it was Gimme Shelter, but I could be wrong. Steve's hat was tossed out the door on three occasions. Eventually, we determined that it was time to leave and we simply couldn't grace Bonesy's with our collective presence any longer. Kristen enlisted my help to finish her beer - a trend that would continue during the evening.
We left Bonesy's with Mel's Place as our next destination - yet another fine establishment that I had never visited. John and Laura took off at an astonishing pace, and we could barely keep up. In apparent frustration, Clayt kicked a composite stone garbage can at a high rate of speed. He did not fall, but he would later accuse Steve of giving him a stress fracture due to the fact that he had no memory of the garbage can kick. After a brief sprint, we strolled up to Mel's Place, a bar that boasted numerous NASCAR signs and a POW/MIA flag. Upon entering, we were treated to Shania Twain's Come On Over. We were able to play some 'ski-bowling', a game which I do not have any talent for playing. Kristen and Steve encountered a former neighbor, and Mrs. Yahn was hit on, and then it was time to leave.
From Mel's, we headed over to the glorious Bullfrog Hotel. Surprise and dismay was expressed at the fate of the Long Branch, which had burned down. Upon entering the lobby of the deluxe Bullfrog, we discovered that a shitty band was playing very loudly, and also that it was approximately 819 degrees Fahrenheit inside. We decided to skip the Bullfrog and head directly to Miley's, where Zach and others - including Tony, John's brother - were waiting for us. The moms took John, Laura, and I in one car. No sooner had we pulled out of the parking lot and passed our comrades in front of the hotel that John stuck his upper torso out the back window and yelled "WOOOOOOO!" just in time for a passing patrol car to see him and pull a U-turn, lights flashing. The officer was very understanding once he saw that our party had the benefit of maternal guidance and left us with a few words of wisdom - "try to stay in the car while it's moving..."
Stuck in Draft form for about 7.5 years, I think I'll publish this now without attempting to remember anything else from that weekend... 2013.02.08
When I got to Kristen's house and hugged Kristen, John, Steve, Christine, and Bruce - and also met up with Clayt for the first time in about six years - we made our plans for an abbreviated Second Street Shuffle. The Triple S involves hitting every tavern, bar, and pub on Second Street from Falconer to Jamestown and having a beer, shot, or mixed drink. I'm not sure it's actually possible, but if anyone could do it, I think we had some promising candidates with us. We were also joined by John's sister Laura, Randy Binko and his girlfriend, as well as Debbie Yahn and Mrs. Bisignano.
Our first stop was Bonesy's (or Bonsey's, depending on what sign over the bar you'd like to believe). There was confusion among the regulars as to what our true purpose was, but we quickly confirmed that it was to drink. Licenses were tossed on the bar from California, Colorado, and New York. Clayt was wearing a curly black wig. Biz spotted his drink of choice in the cooler behind the bar, and seven bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon (what? It comes in bottles? Apparently....) were ordered. We made another positive impression on the crowd when we played the same Stones song twice to kick off our jukebox selections - I believe it was Gimme Shelter, but I could be wrong. Steve's hat was tossed out the door on three occasions. Eventually, we determined that it was time to leave and we simply couldn't grace Bonesy's with our collective presence any longer. Kristen enlisted my help to finish her beer - a trend that would continue during the evening.
We left Bonesy's with Mel's Place as our next destination - yet another fine establishment that I had never visited. John and Laura took off at an astonishing pace, and we could barely keep up. In apparent frustration, Clayt kicked a composite stone garbage can at a high rate of speed. He did not fall, but he would later accuse Steve of giving him a stress fracture due to the fact that he had no memory of the garbage can kick. After a brief sprint, we strolled up to Mel's Place, a bar that boasted numerous NASCAR signs and a POW/MIA flag. Upon entering, we were treated to Shania Twain's Come On Over. We were able to play some 'ski-bowling', a game which I do not have any talent for playing. Kristen and Steve encountered a former neighbor, and Mrs. Yahn was hit on, and then it was time to leave.
From Mel's, we headed over to the glorious Bullfrog Hotel. Surprise and dismay was expressed at the fate of the Long Branch, which had burned down. Upon entering the lobby of the deluxe Bullfrog, we discovered that a shitty band was playing very loudly, and also that it was approximately 819 degrees Fahrenheit inside. We decided to skip the Bullfrog and head directly to Miley's, where Zach and others - including Tony, John's brother - were waiting for us. The moms took John, Laura, and I in one car. No sooner had we pulled out of the parking lot and passed our comrades in front of the hotel that John stuck his upper torso out the back window and yelled "WOOOOOOO!" just in time for a passing patrol car to see him and pull a U-turn, lights flashing. The officer was very understanding once he saw that our party had the benefit of maternal guidance and left us with a few words of wisdom - "try to stay in the car while it's moving..."
Stuck in Draft form for about 7.5 years, I think I'll publish this now without attempting to remember anything else from that weekend... 2013.02.08
Thursday, August 04, 2005
August 4, 1981
Happy Birthday to anyone who might have been born on this day. Hope your life is going as well as you'd like.
NYT Article Regarding SC Nominee John Roberts
Some disturbing, but likely unsurprising information about John Roberts and his views on the renewal of the Voting Rights Act in 1980-81.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Ramble
Well, I've been posting rarely, since it's difficult to write anything substantial while at work and my only other opportunity to access the internet comes at a blazing 26400 bps via the antiquated phone line that connects my parents' house to the rest of the world. I don't venture to Fredonia that often - in fact I mostly just go to pick up and pay bills. My apartment's climate is stiflingly hot since it is on the second floor. I stole a fan from my parents' basement two days ago and brought it there to help alleviate the jungle atmosphere.
I have not made any concerted effort to find a roommate since Matt's loan reduction forced him to back out of living there in the fall. The walls are bare and now the couch is gone, so it's even more attractive now. I don't think I'm going to bother spending too much to replace furniture or various amenities that Aaron reclaimed when he moved out. It seems to make little sense to move a bunch of stuff up there when I'll be out by the end of December or early January. I don't feel like looking for/auditioning roommates either, since I'm fairly particular about who/what I will tolerate. In other words, I'm an asshole.
With recent increased readership, I've become somewhat more reluctant to post my feelings about current events (in my life - not the world in general). Hopefully that will change as the summer draws to a close. ...and yes, I probably could be more vague if I really tried.
Anyway, I've seen quite a few movies lately and I've been reading quite a bit. I'd like to devote some space to that kind of thing, but this internet connection just tries my patience so much that I doubt I'll get to it very soon.
In the world of politics and global current events, it may seem as if things have slowed down, but of course that's not really true. I'm certainly not as informed now as I was during school, since I've been effectively limited to the 24-hour "news" channels that spend as much time on shark attacks and missing person cases as they do to Supreme Court nominations or scandals involving chief Republican strategists like Karl Rove. Without the high speed connection to monitor Democracy Now or even really the time to read talkingpointsmemo.com and the NY Times on a regular basis, I feel a hell of a lot dumber, or at least out of the loop.
Life is funny, in a sad kind of way of course. If you've ever doubted that, talk to me sometime. Things are weird.
I know, I know - not too eloquent, right?
You may have noticed - or even emitted a sigh of relief - that I never got around to posting reviews of the Plant shows. I feel bad about that, but a large part of my laziness in that matter was due to my disappointment with other people that attended the shows and sat down for every non-Zeppelin song. At the Toronto show I finally got angry enough to mock people and tell people that they better sit down whenever a track off the new album was played.
Oh - one highlight of that trip...in the bathroom before the show started, Thom overheard this exchange...
"What has seven arms and sucks?"
"I don't know - what?"
"Def Leppard."
For anyone who doesn't know, the drummer for DL lost an arm in a car accident.
Yeah, it's mean. But you laughed.
Alright. Well, I'm going to take off now. I'm housesitting for my grandparents this week. No computer there. No cable/satellite either. So I read and watch movies.
This post sucks. Sorry.
I have not made any concerted effort to find a roommate since Matt's loan reduction forced him to back out of living there in the fall. The walls are bare and now the couch is gone, so it's even more attractive now. I don't think I'm going to bother spending too much to replace furniture or various amenities that Aaron reclaimed when he moved out. It seems to make little sense to move a bunch of stuff up there when I'll be out by the end of December or early January. I don't feel like looking for/auditioning roommates either, since I'm fairly particular about who/what I will tolerate. In other words, I'm an asshole.
With recent increased readership, I've become somewhat more reluctant to post my feelings about current events (in my life - not the world in general). Hopefully that will change as the summer draws to a close. ...and yes, I probably could be more vague if I really tried.
Anyway, I've seen quite a few movies lately and I've been reading quite a bit. I'd like to devote some space to that kind of thing, but this internet connection just tries my patience so much that I doubt I'll get to it very soon.
In the world of politics and global current events, it may seem as if things have slowed down, but of course that's not really true. I'm certainly not as informed now as I was during school, since I've been effectively limited to the 24-hour "news" channels that spend as much time on shark attacks and missing person cases as they do to Supreme Court nominations or scandals involving chief Republican strategists like Karl Rove. Without the high speed connection to monitor Democracy Now or even really the time to read talkingpointsmemo.com and the NY Times on a regular basis, I feel a hell of a lot dumber, or at least out of the loop.
Life is funny, in a sad kind of way of course. If you've ever doubted that, talk to me sometime. Things are weird.
I know, I know - not too eloquent, right?
You may have noticed - or even emitted a sigh of relief - that I never got around to posting reviews of the Plant shows. I feel bad about that, but a large part of my laziness in that matter was due to my disappointment with other people that attended the shows and sat down for every non-Zeppelin song. At the Toronto show I finally got angry enough to mock people and tell people that they better sit down whenever a track off the new album was played.
Oh - one highlight of that trip...in the bathroom before the show started, Thom overheard this exchange...
"What has seven arms and sucks?"
"I don't know - what?"
"Def Leppard."
For anyone who doesn't know, the drummer for DL lost an arm in a car accident.
Yeah, it's mean. But you laughed.
Alright. Well, I'm going to take off now. I'm housesitting for my grandparents this week. No computer there. No cable/satellite either. So I read and watch movies.
This post sucks. Sorry.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Stuff
Tuesday night, I met up with good friends Paul and Tia, who are in town for a few weeks prior to their move to Washington, DC for graduate school.
After yet another unsuccessful night at trivia, Turck accompanied us to the Good Time Saloon, where we played a few rounds of pool before retiring to Nate's house for a few shots of Wild Turkey (bad idea, Turck) and various other indulgences. A good time was had by all, and I didn't crawl onto the Turck family futon until after 4am. I did brandish a chemically-enhanced southern/hillbilly accent for a lenthy amount of time before turning in. Anyway, we had some fun and it was good to see them.
Next Friday, Kristen and John will be home and I'll be attending a little barbecue at Kristen's.
After yet another unsuccessful night at trivia, Turck accompanied us to the Good Time Saloon, where we played a few rounds of pool before retiring to Nate's house for a few shots of Wild Turkey (bad idea, Turck) and various other indulgences. A good time was had by all, and I didn't crawl onto the Turck family futon until after 4am. I did brandish a chemically-enhanced southern/hillbilly accent for a lenthy amount of time before turning in. Anyway, we had some fun and it was good to see them.
Next Friday, Kristen and John will be home and I'll be attending a little barbecue at Kristen's.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Billy Takes an Early Exit Down Under
American rocker BILLY CORGAN abandoned a solo concert in Melbourne, Australia last night (26JUL05) after fans repeatedly asked him to play songs by his former band SMASHING PUMPKINS.
Despite placing an advert in the Chicago Tribune expressing his intent to reform the Smashing Pumpkins last month (JUN05), Corgan became increasingly angered by continued catcalls from the audience.
According to reports in Melbourne newspapers, one fan heckled "play some Pumpkins" to which Corgan replied, "Can I live my life for today?"
Later in the performance, another audience-member shouted "We want rock" - prompting Corgan to suggest he ask for his money back.
The final straw came towards the end of the show when another fan requested Pumpkins material. Corgan declared "F**k this" and stormed off stage ignoring calls to return.
Despite placing an advert in the Chicago Tribune expressing his intent to reform the Smashing Pumpkins last month (JUN05), Corgan became increasingly angered by continued catcalls from the audience.
According to reports in Melbourne newspapers, one fan heckled "play some Pumpkins" to which Corgan replied, "Can I live my life for today?"
Later in the performance, another audience-member shouted "We want rock" - prompting Corgan to suggest he ask for his money back.
The final straw came towards the end of the show when another fan requested Pumpkins material. Corgan declared "F**k this" and stormed off stage ignoring calls to return.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Good Times Bad Times
The title of the post does not just refer to the first song on Led Zeppelin's first album.
One year ago today, I fell asleep while driving home and hit a guard rail about one hundred yards from my own driveway. About an hour afterward, I picked up a very attractive but seemingly empty-headed girl and had to have her crawl in to her seat through the driver's side door. Very dignified. We had dinner at Red Lobster and then walked along the lake at Celeron, where she told me it was "weird" to hold hands.
The next day, we went to Matt's 4th of July celebration, where she did not interact with any of my friends and did not play frisbee with those of us who were doing so. I had to take her home at 12:30 to meet her curfew. Although I found that, in principle, dating a girl originally from Ukraine had some exotic appeal, it wasn't quite as good as one may have hoped.
Five days later, we had broken up.
I do not mourn the end of that relationship.
__________________________________
One year ago today, I fell asleep while driving home and hit a guard rail about one hundred yards from my own driveway. About an hour afterward, I picked up a very attractive but seemingly empty-headed girl and had to have her crawl in to her seat through the driver's side door. Very dignified. We had dinner at Red Lobster and then walked along the lake at Celeron, where she told me it was "weird" to hold hands.
The next day, we went to Matt's 4th of July celebration, where she did not interact with any of my friends and did not play frisbee with those of us who were doing so. I had to take her home at 12:30 to meet her curfew. Although I found that, in principle, dating a girl originally from Ukraine had some exotic appeal, it wasn't quite as good as one may have hoped.
Five days later, we had broken up.
I do not mourn the end of that relationship.
__________________________________
Friday, July 01, 2005
Return to Form
Tuesday night, our team Bye Week - with its shifting lineup comprised this week of Thom, Turck and Lindsay, and me - regained the top spot on Trivia Night at the Anchor Inn in Lakewood. The prize this week was a slightly more generous $25 bar tab. The place had no shot glasses left, so our Jack Daniels and Jagermeister was poured into plastic cups (in what seemed to be three ounce servings).
Once again, each member of the team proved to be invaluable. Trivia Night has been fun each time, but it's a hell of a lot more fun when we win.
Once again, each member of the team proved to be invaluable. Trivia Night has been fun each time, but it's a hell of a lot more fun when we win.
Long Post
I have a folder in my room at my parents’ house where I keep most of the notes that Destini wrote to me during our relationship, as well as a few photographs and other reminders. Yesterday, for whatever reason, I got it out and began looking through it. There are literally dozens of letters and little notes, from September 26, 2000. The last one in the folder (but not the last one I received – those came to me in the mail in Fort Collins, CO) was one from January 18, 2003 – months after the end and just a few weeks before I left to head west.
The majority of those letters were just amazing in their expression of love. I remember the days that she describes in those words. It seems that we were immeasurably younger and more confident in ourselves and in our ability to survive anything and everything. I was talking to one of my married friends not too long ago about how Destini and I had not spoken very much about marriage. I remembered that I had asked her very early on whether she wanted that and she had disappointed me somewhat by saying that she really didn’t. However, I found a letter yesterday from the mid-to-late period of the relationship that refers to her happiness at something that I said to her about getting married and how it was something she wanted, which of course made me feel just a little bit worse than I had been feeling already. It’s probably sick to hang onto this kind of thing. I just can’t possibly imagine throwing it away. Those letters are such an incredible body of work that provides tremendous insight into the feelings of the most important person I’ve known in my life.
I didn’t read every one yesterday. I read a few lines from every third or fourth page and every so often I would read an entire note. I kind of expected a progression from the almost delirious beginnings to the peak of our happiness and then a downward movement as the end approached. But it seems for the most part that Des wrote mainly when she had something incredibly nice and loving to say. So there was really just a sharp downturn toward the very, very end and it shocked me a little bit. As much as you can be shocked by something when you already know the outcome, that is. This is the girl that quoted Led Zeppelin lyrics back to me, even to the last. One of the letters she wrote to me while I was in Colorado was sent in an envelope that had “Since I’ve Been Loving You” on the back. I don’t know why I kept reading when things got ugly. It hit me hard – again, like it was unexpected? Of course, if life followed the desires of my mind, the story would have changed – Butterfly Effect style, if anyone’s seen that movie – and as I got to the “end,” the bad stuff wouldn’t be there and there would be many letters after the last one. Des would come walking into the room, take one glance at the folder and smile, asking me why I was going through those again. However, as some people like to point out to me, my life is not a movie and that kind of thing doesn’t really happen. And if it is a movie, it’s pretty goddamn depressing in many ways.
Those were days when friends would tell me I had never seemed happier or more content.
Like I said, although it makes no sense, the last of the letters hit me hard – as if the outcome was in doubt. I cried – suddenly and without any apparent warning. It was weird. I had started to get the same near-nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had for weeks after the breakup and through the time with Andrea at her cabin and then of course again when I found out that Destini had ‘reciprocated’ in her way. Back when I didn’t really want to blow my own head off so much as I wanted someone else to do it for me. I don’t remember the last time I actually cried. I am the kind of guy, for better or worse, that gets teary-eyed at emotional movies – but I don’t usually actually sob or anything. Yesterday it felt like I had forgotten how to cry. It was halting and stilted and unnatural. It didn’t last long. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t really feel any better after I had done it, like you’re supposed to. I cried for what is gone, what is past, and what can never be again.
It’s really not possible to meet anyone like Destini was ever again, but I think if I did, I would do my best to turn her away. It wouldn’t be right to put anyone through the dizzying highs and correspondingly crushing lows that we were subject to.
I went through a stage after the relationship during which I didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it in matter-of-fact “my girlfriend and I broke up” kind of terms, because I thought it was so much more than that. She and I had something that defied “conventional wisdom” or dumb clichés. Then after a while, I began to be more casual about it. I was informed that everyone had something like that in their past and everyone’s hurt and everyone has to move on.
Well, I think I’m back to where I was. Far from moving on – I am stuck in time. I have gone thousands of miles out of my way in order to return to the same place, to come – if not full circle, at least most of the way. I can compare individual moments or deeds or events or brief periods to other people and relate to them in that way, but the time with her as a whole is unique, and I am sticking to that. It is not like anyone else or anything else. It is – was – ours and only ours. There were countless ups and downs and things that I complained about, but underlying our relationship together as a whole is something no one else can even approach. I’m confident that I will never be loved or looked upon the same way by any woman ever again, and I can say with all certainty that I have that Destini will never be loved by any man ever again in the way that I loved her.
I am not so unrealistic any more as to believe that the two of us could ever really reconstruct what we had. It would, in all likelihood, be too painful to try.
The whole thing has, as I think I’ve said before, pretty much kept me from getting involved too much with anyone else, though I’ve had some limited opportunities (none for about the last eight months, however). Anything that gets even remotely close is shut down pretty quickly. Last November, I effectively ditched the girl I was “seeing” by not asking her to the Plant show until the day of the event, because I was waiting for Destini to tell me that she wanted to go. She never did, and the other girl – who is a really cool person and fun to be around – knew about it. Not surprisingly, we didn’t “see each other” any more after that.
I had a dream last night. It was some sort of confrontation between whoever is in her life right now and myself. The guy was called Matt (Baxter – whom I refer to as “the cokehead”) – but it was not. For some reason, there was a series of things that we had to compete in, and this guy was not the little shit that the cokehead is; this was a much bigger guy and I felt real fear. Not actually fear of him, but fear that I would not be able to beat him and show that I was indeed better.
For many years, I’ve had dreams where I am in a fight and while I feel powerful and confident in myself and my abilities in the dream, I can’t seem to connect with my punches. They are either off-target and glance off, or they are not as strong as I feel like they should be. If I had to take a guess, I think I could figure out what that probably symbolizes.
Anyway, last night was the same story. I had all the rage and adrenaline in the world, but I couldn’t put the guy away the way I felt I was eminently capable of doing. I think part of the reason for this is that I’ve never been in a real fight and I’m not sure of how I would do if I had to fight someone.
Well, either the dream ended before the outcome could be reached or I don’t remember what happened. That’s the kind of sleep where you wake up and you are not exactly refreshed.
___________
Speaking of fights, I had the pleasure of running into Jess Moyer yesterday at Sears. I even shook his hand. He and Jim Ribaudo were walking through the mall gearing up for their camping excursion with other people from Cummins. I stifled the urge to ask Jess if he had been arrested lately. I don’t think I can count the number of dreams I’ve had about winning a fight with Jess. Of course, when we see each other now, the way he treated me through the majority of our adolescence is never a topic of discussion, and he acts like we’re old friends. It’s somewhat exasperating.
______________
Later, I approached a customer and asked if he needed any help. The guy turned around and it was Abe, recently returned from the South – New Orleans, parts of Florida, Kentucky, Tennessee, and elsewhere. It was good to see Abe and talk with him about his last six months or so. We were going to hang out last night, but he ended up going to the Casino in Bemus Point with his brother. I almost asked him to say hi to Destini if he saw her, but I didn’t. That was the last place I saw her – in late July last year. But he’ll probably see her at Blue Heron in a few more days anyway.
______________
I need to write my reviews of the Philly shows soon, while I can remember any of what happened. I just haven’t had the ambition. Next Wednesday is the Toronto show.
The majority of those letters were just amazing in their expression of love. I remember the days that she describes in those words. It seems that we were immeasurably younger and more confident in ourselves and in our ability to survive anything and everything. I was talking to one of my married friends not too long ago about how Destini and I had not spoken very much about marriage. I remembered that I had asked her very early on whether she wanted that and she had disappointed me somewhat by saying that she really didn’t. However, I found a letter yesterday from the mid-to-late period of the relationship that refers to her happiness at something that I said to her about getting married and how it was something she wanted, which of course made me feel just a little bit worse than I had been feeling already. It’s probably sick to hang onto this kind of thing. I just can’t possibly imagine throwing it away. Those letters are such an incredible body of work that provides tremendous insight into the feelings of the most important person I’ve known in my life.
I didn’t read every one yesterday. I read a few lines from every third or fourth page and every so often I would read an entire note. I kind of expected a progression from the almost delirious beginnings to the peak of our happiness and then a downward movement as the end approached. But it seems for the most part that Des wrote mainly when she had something incredibly nice and loving to say. So there was really just a sharp downturn toward the very, very end and it shocked me a little bit. As much as you can be shocked by something when you already know the outcome, that is. This is the girl that quoted Led Zeppelin lyrics back to me, even to the last. One of the letters she wrote to me while I was in Colorado was sent in an envelope that had “Since I’ve Been Loving You” on the back. I don’t know why I kept reading when things got ugly. It hit me hard – again, like it was unexpected? Of course, if life followed the desires of my mind, the story would have changed – Butterfly Effect style, if anyone’s seen that movie – and as I got to the “end,” the bad stuff wouldn’t be there and there would be many letters after the last one. Des would come walking into the room, take one glance at the folder and smile, asking me why I was going through those again. However, as some people like to point out to me, my life is not a movie and that kind of thing doesn’t really happen. And if it is a movie, it’s pretty goddamn depressing in many ways.
Those were days when friends would tell me I had never seemed happier or more content.
Like I said, although it makes no sense, the last of the letters hit me hard – as if the outcome was in doubt. I cried – suddenly and without any apparent warning. It was weird. I had started to get the same near-nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had for weeks after the breakup and through the time with Andrea at her cabin and then of course again when I found out that Destini had ‘reciprocated’ in her way. Back when I didn’t really want to blow my own head off so much as I wanted someone else to do it for me. I don’t remember the last time I actually cried. I am the kind of guy, for better or worse, that gets teary-eyed at emotional movies – but I don’t usually actually sob or anything. Yesterday it felt like I had forgotten how to cry. It was halting and stilted and unnatural. It didn’t last long. I didn’t like it. And I didn’t really feel any better after I had done it, like you’re supposed to. I cried for what is gone, what is past, and what can never be again.
It’s really not possible to meet anyone like Destini was ever again, but I think if I did, I would do my best to turn her away. It wouldn’t be right to put anyone through the dizzying highs and correspondingly crushing lows that we were subject to.
I went through a stage after the relationship during which I didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it in matter-of-fact “my girlfriend and I broke up” kind of terms, because I thought it was so much more than that. She and I had something that defied “conventional wisdom” or dumb clichés. Then after a while, I began to be more casual about it. I was informed that everyone had something like that in their past and everyone’s hurt and everyone has to move on.
Well, I think I’m back to where I was. Far from moving on – I am stuck in time. I have gone thousands of miles out of my way in order to return to the same place, to come – if not full circle, at least most of the way. I can compare individual moments or deeds or events or brief periods to other people and relate to them in that way, but the time with her as a whole is unique, and I am sticking to that. It is not like anyone else or anything else. It is – was – ours and only ours. There were countless ups and downs and things that I complained about, but underlying our relationship together as a whole is something no one else can even approach. I’m confident that I will never be loved or looked upon the same way by any woman ever again, and I can say with all certainty that I have that Destini will never be loved by any man ever again in the way that I loved her.
I am not so unrealistic any more as to believe that the two of us could ever really reconstruct what we had. It would, in all likelihood, be too painful to try.
The whole thing has, as I think I’ve said before, pretty much kept me from getting involved too much with anyone else, though I’ve had some limited opportunities (none for about the last eight months, however). Anything that gets even remotely close is shut down pretty quickly. Last November, I effectively ditched the girl I was “seeing” by not asking her to the Plant show until the day of the event, because I was waiting for Destini to tell me that she wanted to go. She never did, and the other girl – who is a really cool person and fun to be around – knew about it. Not surprisingly, we didn’t “see each other” any more after that.
I had a dream last night. It was some sort of confrontation between whoever is in her life right now and myself. The guy was called Matt (Baxter – whom I refer to as “the cokehead”) – but it was not. For some reason, there was a series of things that we had to compete in, and this guy was not the little shit that the cokehead is; this was a much bigger guy and I felt real fear. Not actually fear of him, but fear that I would not be able to beat him and show that I was indeed better.
For many years, I’ve had dreams where I am in a fight and while I feel powerful and confident in myself and my abilities in the dream, I can’t seem to connect with my punches. They are either off-target and glance off, or they are not as strong as I feel like they should be. If I had to take a guess, I think I could figure out what that probably symbolizes.
Anyway, last night was the same story. I had all the rage and adrenaline in the world, but I couldn’t put the guy away the way I felt I was eminently capable of doing. I think part of the reason for this is that I’ve never been in a real fight and I’m not sure of how I would do if I had to fight someone.
Well, either the dream ended before the outcome could be reached or I don’t remember what happened. That’s the kind of sleep where you wake up and you are not exactly refreshed.
___________
Speaking of fights, I had the pleasure of running into Jess Moyer yesterday at Sears. I even shook his hand. He and Jim Ribaudo were walking through the mall gearing up for their camping excursion with other people from Cummins. I stifled the urge to ask Jess if he had been arrested lately. I don’t think I can count the number of dreams I’ve had about winning a fight with Jess. Of course, when we see each other now, the way he treated me through the majority of our adolescence is never a topic of discussion, and he acts like we’re old friends. It’s somewhat exasperating.
______________
Later, I approached a customer and asked if he needed any help. The guy turned around and it was Abe, recently returned from the South – New Orleans, parts of Florida, Kentucky, Tennessee, and elsewhere. It was good to see Abe and talk with him about his last six months or so. We were going to hang out last night, but he ended up going to the Casino in Bemus Point with his brother. I almost asked him to say hi to Destini if he saw her, but I didn’t. That was the last place I saw her – in late July last year. But he’ll probably see her at Blue Heron in a few more days anyway.
______________
I need to write my reviews of the Philly shows soon, while I can remember any of what happened. I just haven’t had the ambition. Next Wednesday is the Toronto show.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Very Odd
Well, I'm back. Alex and I had a good time in Philadelphia. We met up with Cindi - a woman I met at the Myrtle Beach show in March - and her friend, Matt. I'll post setlists and reviews of the two shows when I get a chance.
For now, I wanted to relate two things that happened on the trip that were somewhat out of the ordinary.
We got into the city around 9:30 on Monday night and after driving by the Tower City Theatre and seeing "Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation - SOLD OUT" outside, we set about finding a place to stay. We ended up at the Summit Inn Hotel and were greeted by a mildly effeminate Andy Dick (of NewsRadio fame) look-a-like.
Andy instructed me to fill in a registration form. One of the spaces was for the make and model of the vehicle, and although I realized later that I didn't need to fill that portion in, I wrote down Alex's Dodge Intrepid license number. I thought nothing of that until 5:45 the next morning, when we were awakened in our hotel room by the blaringly loud ring of the phone. I answered it and was informed that our car was blocking someone in and we needed to move it immediately. I tried to confirm that it was indeed our car and was told it was. I wasn't sure how that was possible.
When Alex and I arrived in the lobby, we were met by a short man in coveralls telling us that we were blocking his truck in. We went out the front door, walked a short way to the car, looked around, and looked quizzically back toward the entrance. The man was holding the door open to the lobby and shouting in, "it's not their car!"
Then he came toward us, motioning for us to follow him to the side of the hotel to see where someone else's Dodge was blocking his truck in. He continued to beckon us as we stood completely still by the car (I was looking at my watch). He finally ascertained that we were not going to follow him and again came toward us, saying,
"LOOK - they blocked me right in! I know what my driver's gonna say: FUCK IT! That's what he's going to say - FUCK IT! That's what he'll say alright!"
Meanwhile, Oz and I had started walking back to the hotel with the guy yammering behind us all the way. I leaned slightly toward Alex while the guy was still talking and said, "well, I know what I'm about to say..."
So that was Tuesday morning. It took me about an hour to get back to sleep. I kept thinking what the front desk guy was going to have to do, since no one else really fills in their vehicle information when they check in and I had only done so because I wasn't sure that I didn't have to do so. Would they call everyone in the place and ask them what kind of car they drove? I was more amused than pissed off, but I'm sure other people might not feel the same way.
_________________________
On Wednesday night after the second show, we were waiting at the corner on the left side of the venue in hopes that Robert's vehicle would drive by us or perhaps stop and take us all to some fantastic place. Okay, well I knew that wasn't going to happen. I don't really know what we were doing there.
Anyway, our little group of four was approached by what looked to be a short, staggering troll. As it turned out, that was pretty much correct. One may also add the adjective 'drunken' to the description. The troll spoke to Cindi for a bit in terse unintelligible sentences before coming close to me. She (the troll) looked up at me and said something I failed to understand. She repeated, "can I kick you in the knee?"
I was not positive that I was hearing her right so I made an effort to confirm what she had said.
Me: "Can you kick me in the knee - is that what you're asking?"
Troll: "Yeah. Can I?"
Me: "Um.... Sure. Why not...."
At this point, the troll raised her right leg and struck a glancing blow to my shin with her foot.
Me: "You missed. Any particular reason you wanted to do that?"
The troll appeared not to hear me. Cindi asked why she would do something like that.
Troll: "Because he's hot and good-looking and taller than me."
Mystery solved.
As far as the hot and good-looking part, I did mention that she was intoxicated, didn't I?
For now, I wanted to relate two things that happened on the trip that were somewhat out of the ordinary.
We got into the city around 9:30 on Monday night and after driving by the Tower City Theatre and seeing "Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation - SOLD OUT" outside, we set about finding a place to stay. We ended up at the Summit Inn Hotel and were greeted by a mildly effeminate Andy Dick (of NewsRadio fame) look-a-like.
Andy instructed me to fill in a registration form. One of the spaces was for the make and model of the vehicle, and although I realized later that I didn't need to fill that portion in, I wrote down Alex's Dodge Intrepid license number. I thought nothing of that until 5:45 the next morning, when we were awakened in our hotel room by the blaringly loud ring of the phone. I answered it and was informed that our car was blocking someone in and we needed to move it immediately. I tried to confirm that it was indeed our car and was told it was. I wasn't sure how that was possible.
When Alex and I arrived in the lobby, we were met by a short man in coveralls telling us that we were blocking his truck in. We went out the front door, walked a short way to the car, looked around, and looked quizzically back toward the entrance. The man was holding the door open to the lobby and shouting in, "it's not their car!"
Then he came toward us, motioning for us to follow him to the side of the hotel to see where someone else's Dodge was blocking his truck in. He continued to beckon us as we stood completely still by the car (I was looking at my watch). He finally ascertained that we were not going to follow him and again came toward us, saying,
"LOOK - they blocked me right in! I know what my driver's gonna say: FUCK IT! That's what he's going to say - FUCK IT! That's what he'll say alright!"
Meanwhile, Oz and I had started walking back to the hotel with the guy yammering behind us all the way. I leaned slightly toward Alex while the guy was still talking and said, "well, I know what I'm about to say..."
So that was Tuesday morning. It took me about an hour to get back to sleep. I kept thinking what the front desk guy was going to have to do, since no one else really fills in their vehicle information when they check in and I had only done so because I wasn't sure that I didn't have to do so. Would they call everyone in the place and ask them what kind of car they drove? I was more amused than pissed off, but I'm sure other people might not feel the same way.
_________________________
On Wednesday night after the second show, we were waiting at the corner on the left side of the venue in hopes that Robert's vehicle would drive by us or perhaps stop and take us all to some fantastic place. Okay, well I knew that wasn't going to happen. I don't really know what we were doing there.
Anyway, our little group of four was approached by what looked to be a short, staggering troll. As it turned out, that was pretty much correct. One may also add the adjective 'drunken' to the description. The troll spoke to Cindi for a bit in terse unintelligible sentences before coming close to me. She (the troll) looked up at me and said something I failed to understand. She repeated, "can I kick you in the knee?"
I was not positive that I was hearing her right so I made an effort to confirm what she had said.
Me: "Can you kick me in the knee - is that what you're asking?"
Troll: "Yeah. Can I?"
Me: "Um.... Sure. Why not...."
At this point, the troll raised her right leg and struck a glancing blow to my shin with her foot.
Me: "You missed. Any particular reason you wanted to do that?"
The troll appeared not to hear me. Cindi asked why she would do something like that.
Troll: "Because he's hot and good-looking and taller than me."
Mystery solved.
As far as the hot and good-looking part, I did mention that she was intoxicated, didn't I?
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Father's Day
Well, I spent 12-6 working at Sears. I saw Rebecca Ball with her brother today. Michael bought a Sony mp3 player. She was, and continues to be, a very nice person to me. Rebecca greeted me with a hug and what seemed to be sincere interest in how I'm doing.
After that little incident with the Ant/Grasshopper Affirmative Action email in 2003 or 2004, she and Chelsy both emailed me and were extremely supportive. That was a big surprise. I always liked Rebecca - I wrote her a horribly long love letter in 6th grade. She was very compassionate in the way that she crushed my eleven year old dreams though. Anyway, she looks great and I believe she's getting married soon or perhaps already is. I don't know. Nice to see her.
I also saw Steve Anderson, who was a great friend to me growing up. I used to get off the bus at my grandparents' house after school until I was 13 or so, first because both my parents worked and later because most of my friends lived around that area (Drew Erlandson, John Matteo, Steve). Steve lived just up the road and was friends with a few of the guys I always considered to be assholes. He always stuck up for me and was just a good guy all around. He's had kind of a tough time in life to a certain extent and always handled himself very well. It was good to see him.
I'll be going to my grandparents' after I get out of work and then over to Ozzie's to plan our trip to Philly.
After that little incident with the Ant/Grasshopper Affirmative Action email in 2003 or 2004, she and Chelsy both emailed me and were extremely supportive. That was a big surprise. I always liked Rebecca - I wrote her a horribly long love letter in 6th grade. She was very compassionate in the way that she crushed my eleven year old dreams though. Anyway, she looks great and I believe she's getting married soon or perhaps already is. I don't know. Nice to see her.
I also saw Steve Anderson, who was a great friend to me growing up. I used to get off the bus at my grandparents' house after school until I was 13 or so, first because both my parents worked and later because most of my friends lived around that area (Drew Erlandson, John Matteo, Steve). Steve lived just up the road and was friends with a few of the guys I always considered to be assholes. He always stuck up for me and was just a good guy all around. He's had kind of a tough time in life to a certain extent and always handled himself very well. It was good to see him.
I'll be going to my grandparents' after I get out of work and then over to Ozzie's to plan our trip to Philly.
Movie
Batman Begins was excellent. I went to see it with Matt and Thom last night. My only (slight) complaint is with the Batmobile, which in this film is a converted military vehicle - somewhat reminiscent of an oblate Hummer - painted black, of course. However, it was definitely "action-packed" as they like to say.
I'll restrain myself from making any further comment, just in case other people are going to see it.
I'll restrain myself from making any further comment, just in case other people are going to see it.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Madness
I watched The Forgotten last night. I was supposed to meet Randy and Laura at The Watermark in Mayville to watch a little two-piece band, but when I got there I did not see either of their vehicles. I went inside and didn't see them there either. By the time I got back through Lakewood, I was too late to catch the 9:45 showing of Batman Begins.
I'm pretty sure it was only last year that I started going to movies by myself. Actually, never mind - it was 2003 when I got back from Colorado. At first it was just as bad as going to eat at a restaurant alone. I don't mean the actual act of watching the movie. I mean buying the ticket with a bunch of couples around. Oh well, I guess. Why shouldn't I be able to watch a movie just because no one will go with me? I went to a lot of them last summer.
Anyway - so I was too late and ended up going to Blockbuster and renting a couple things. I got Curb Your Enthusiasm (Season 3) just in case The Forgotten freaked me out too much; I would have something light to watch afterward. I tend to like to watch something funny after a horror/thriller. Really just thrillers, because I usually find horror movies distasteful and stupid.
I would recommend The Forgotten to anyone who can handle science fiction. Some people can't. I know Aaron hates it because it's just too weird for him. If it's not realistic, he tends to focus on the unreality of things rather than the underlying premise that is being explored, which of course is what science fiction is really about. Many people in my science fiction English class last semester were pretty hung up on whether or not the book was realistic. Apparently they forgot what kind of class they had enrolled in.
It's no secret that I can become pretty emotionally involved with movies and television if they are touching on things that I find relevant to my own life in some way. Ben once criticized me for essentially seeing my life as The Wonder Years played out in real life. So anyway - I think the reason why the movie last night and of course Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind hit me so hard is because of how attached I am to my memories.
You know - I always start these things or compose them in my head and they're much more complete than they end up being when I post them.
At work yesterday, I recorded Grosse Pointe Blank on the DVR because I've never seen it in its entirety and I love John Cusack movies. So I'm watching it and he tells Minnie Driver's character that he's had dreams about her roughly five nights per week for the last ten years. I don't need to tell you what that reminded me of and started me thinking whether that's going to happen to me. Of course after the movie last night I predictably had a dream about Destini. Many times I can't remember exactly what the dream consisted of, I'm only left with the knowledge that her presence in it was pervasive and complete. Surely, this is madness, is it not? Obsession?
I will reiterate that I have not seen her since late July 2004 and have not heard from her via email since December. That doesn't mean that I haven't emailed her. But I'm not getting responses anymore. Probably because she has moved on and now views me as pathetic and/or crazy. Of course I don't know what I'm really asking for, because knowing how incredibly jealous I am, there is little chance that, given a second chance at things, I would be able to erase enough of my bad memories to allow a positive relationship to proceed. So maybe that's what she knows and she's sparing us both the heartache that would accompany any attempted reunion. I don't know. All I know is that watching Curb Your Enthusiasm was not a big relief - the last episode I watched featured Larry's wife going to see a play that her friend Brad is performing in, and Larry's first reaction is to say go ahead and go, even if he doesn't feel good about it. Of course the thing is a comedy and everything developed in a humorous manner, but I was stuck in a memory of mine. It was after the break-up and Destini was leaving my house to see a band play. I was doing her laundry. She was supposedly going to see the band because her friend Melinda liked a guy that played with them. Of course the guy was the cokehead and within weeks I found out that was the guy who she was sleeping with. It's possible no one else will see my mental progression on that one. Nonetheless, it was there.
Maybe that's why I don't usually finish these things - because I seem much crazier after I write it out than when I'm stewing over it in my head.
I'm pretty sure it was only last year that I started going to movies by myself. Actually, never mind - it was 2003 when I got back from Colorado. At first it was just as bad as going to eat at a restaurant alone. I don't mean the actual act of watching the movie. I mean buying the ticket with a bunch of couples around. Oh well, I guess. Why shouldn't I be able to watch a movie just because no one will go with me? I went to a lot of them last summer.
Anyway - so I was too late and ended up going to Blockbuster and renting a couple things. I got Curb Your Enthusiasm (Season 3) just in case The Forgotten freaked me out too much; I would have something light to watch afterward. I tend to like to watch something funny after a horror/thriller. Really just thrillers, because I usually find horror movies distasteful and stupid.
I would recommend The Forgotten to anyone who can handle science fiction. Some people can't. I know Aaron hates it because it's just too weird for him. If it's not realistic, he tends to focus on the unreality of things rather than the underlying premise that is being explored, which of course is what science fiction is really about. Many people in my science fiction English class last semester were pretty hung up on whether or not the book was realistic. Apparently they forgot what kind of class they had enrolled in.
It's no secret that I can become pretty emotionally involved with movies and television if they are touching on things that I find relevant to my own life in some way. Ben once criticized me for essentially seeing my life as The Wonder Years played out in real life. So anyway - I think the reason why the movie last night and of course Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind hit me so hard is because of how attached I am to my memories.
You know - I always start these things or compose them in my head and they're much more complete than they end up being when I post them.
At work yesterday, I recorded Grosse Pointe Blank on the DVR because I've never seen it in its entirety and I love John Cusack movies. So I'm watching it and he tells Minnie Driver's character that he's had dreams about her roughly five nights per week for the last ten years. I don't need to tell you what that reminded me of and started me thinking whether that's going to happen to me. Of course after the movie last night I predictably had a dream about Destini. Many times I can't remember exactly what the dream consisted of, I'm only left with the knowledge that her presence in it was pervasive and complete. Surely, this is madness, is it not? Obsession?
I will reiterate that I have not seen her since late July 2004 and have not heard from her via email since December. That doesn't mean that I haven't emailed her. But I'm not getting responses anymore. Probably because she has moved on and now views me as pathetic and/or crazy. Of course I don't know what I'm really asking for, because knowing how incredibly jealous I am, there is little chance that, given a second chance at things, I would be able to erase enough of my bad memories to allow a positive relationship to proceed. So maybe that's what she knows and she's sparing us both the heartache that would accompany any attempted reunion. I don't know. All I know is that watching Curb Your Enthusiasm was not a big relief - the last episode I watched featured Larry's wife going to see a play that her friend Brad is performing in, and Larry's first reaction is to say go ahead and go, even if he doesn't feel good about it. Of course the thing is a comedy and everything developed in a humorous manner, but I was stuck in a memory of mine. It was after the break-up and Destini was leaving my house to see a band play. I was doing her laundry. She was supposedly going to see the band because her friend Melinda liked a guy that played with them. Of course the guy was the cokehead and within weeks I found out that was the guy who she was sleeping with. It's possible no one else will see my mental progression on that one. Nonetheless, it was there.
Maybe that's why I don't usually finish these things - because I seem much crazier after I write it out than when I'm stewing over it in my head.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Philadelphia Bound
On Monday, I'll depart for Philadelphia with Oz to catch two Robert Plant shows on June 21 & 22.
Trial
The Michael Jackson trial is over, and to rip off NewsRadio (read in stilted Captain Kirk voice): 'if what you're saying is true....then I still don't care...'
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Trivia Champs
Tuesday at the Anchor Inn in Lakewood, Thom, Matt, Turck, and I competed in a trivia contest with perhaps twelve other teams. The questions were read by a professional trivia master (which is to say a busboy with a laptop). The battle consisted of three rounds, with each round comprised of questions worth more than the last. Our team, Bye Week, was victorious by five points. It was pretty exciting because we climbed from far back in the pack over the course of the three rounds and many of the leaders fell away in the final round.
Curiously, most of the questions seem to have been made up in 1997 or thereabouts. The queries ranged in subject matter from music to movies to politics.
Our prize was a whopping fifteen dollar tab at the bar, which we used on four beers and a shot of Jack Daniels for Thom and I. I expect that we'll be back next Tuesday in an effort to defend our title.
Curiously, most of the questions seem to have been made up in 1997 or thereabouts. The queries ranged in subject matter from music to movies to politics.
Our prize was a whopping fifteen dollar tab at the bar, which we used on four beers and a shot of Jack Daniels for Thom and I. I expect that we'll be back next Tuesday in an effort to defend our title.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
It's Been Over Two and a Half Years...
so why do I continue to dream about her on a semi-nightly basis and why is she so pervasive in my thoughts?
Last time I actually saw her was last July. Last time I had any communication with her was in December.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Last time I actually saw her was last July. Last time I had any communication with her was in December.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Laughing on the Inside
I went out last night to join Matt and Thom at the Cherry Lounge. We were later joined by Matt's friend Stephanie/Stefanie, who attended JCC when I did. We've met a few times. Anyway, I was told at one point that I appear to be laughing at my own internal joke much of the time.
Coupled with some other remarks that were made, I might be forgiven if I got the impression that she thinks I'm an arrogant prick. But hey, I'm sure that's not true.
Coupled with some other remarks that were made, I might be forgiven if I got the impression that she thinks I'm an arrogant prick. But hey, I'm sure that's not true.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Military Recruiters Encounter Opposition from Parents
This is definitely worth reading. Does everyone recall the recruiters in Fahrenheit 9/11?
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Bush Opposes More Aid to Africa
If you asked most people in the United States what percentage of our Gross National Product goes to foreign aid, I'm sure you'd get quite a few inaccurate responses. If you asked how much our country gives in comparison to other rich nations, you'd probably get a few more wrong answers.
In reality, the United States of America gives less money proportionally than almost any industrialized nation to foreign aid, less than one percent of our GNP.
The article also touches on what the US has done since our country declared the Darfur situation in Sudan to be genocide. (Virtually nothing.)
In reality, the United States of America gives less money proportionally than almost any industrialized nation to foreign aid, less than one percent of our GNP.
The article also touches on what the US has done since our country declared the Darfur situation in Sudan to be genocide. (Virtually nothing.)
Bob Herbert Editorial from NYT
Here's an editorial from Bob Herbert with parallels drawn in the Nixon and Bush administrations. A nice, concise piece.
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