An unpublished poem by Shel Silverstein

 When I Am Gone
   by Shel Silverstein

When I am gone what will you do?
Who will write and draw for you?
Someone smarter—someone new?
Someone better—maybe YOU!

We all were appalled

Right off, last night CNN's Republican debate moderator John King asked Newt Gingrich about his ex-wife's new claim that he asked for an open marriage. Newt answered,

I think the destructive, vicious, negative nature of much of the news media makes it harder to govern this country, harder to attract decent people to run for public office. And I am appalled that you would begin a presidential debate on a topic like that. Every person in here knows personal pain. Every person in here has had someone close to them go through personal things. To take an ex-wife, and make it two days before the Primary, a significant question in a Presidential campaign, is as close to despicable as anything I can imagine.

Despite his admitting to having a weak imagination, this morning's coverage calls Newt's reply brilliantly calculated. What made it a hit was not so much Newt's words but rather (1) the timing of the exchange, (2) Newt's delivery, (3) King's freezing up, and (4) the audience's enthusiasm.

No doubt King thought his opening rhetorical situation a golden opportunity; he hoped to start with fireworks, embarrassing Newt by capitalizing on the big ABC tabloid interview with the ex-wife. But doing so created an even bigger rhetorical situation for Newt, one he seized with his customary bluster by rejecting the question on moral grounds. That he got to do so right in the beginning, at the moment when anticipation and energy were peaking and ratings were highest, only magnified the exchange and created an immediate emotional outlet for the audience, who cheered Newt on as he chastised the media, the moderator.

Here we have a politician who publicly preaches values, from the party that owns family values, caught violating those values, claiming that he is morally above public inquiry into his values and his personal life.

The hypocrisy is plain as day, yet King fumbles on the opportunity, and Gingrich looks brilliant because he gets away with it.

Gingrich holds aloft his righteousness in his staccatoed indignation. He summons the dignity of the moment--a Presidential debate (a Primary debate)--a dignity due to such an event in abstraction, but not often felt in practice.

King could have countered along another route: Gingrich faults "the destructive, vicious, negative nature of much of the news media" while enjoying the destructive, vicious, negative nature of attacks hurled at candidate Romney by him and his Super PAC.

All this aside, what to make of Gingrich's appeal to "personal pain"? What pain? The pain of the divorce? And whose pain? His? The ex-wife's?

The answers don't matter. What matters is, What does the pain speak of? I'd venture that, for Gingrich, "pain" in this context is the pain we inflict and feel ourselves when confronted by personal failings. Gingrich has them in spades, but a candidate can't say so. Instead, "pain" is a code, a signifier of the unspeakable. Pain communicates to us without words and carries its own meaning. I'd venture further and say most his audience understands this, personal failings, even if they don't know it.

And if I'm right about what Gingrich is saying, I'd be tempted to see this as a product of his recent conversion to Catholicism, as his statement has in it an element of Confession.

Blackout

Communities plan to protest passage of PIPA and SOPA by staging web site blackouts. Wikipedia and Reddit, for example. Presumably a blackout shows the result of the bills' passage, which could force such sites offline. The black screen represents an electronic abyss, which metaphorically is apt as a symbol of what the internet post-PIPA/SOPA might be.

But this method, instituting a blackout, feels like negative reinforcement: If you don't protest, this will happen! A more productive tactic might have been, for example, replacing the site's usual content with a simple search that allows a user to quickly find his representative's contact info so that he can call or email his opposition to the person most capable of stopping passage.

Note:

• Wikipedia's message to its users states "But although Wikipedia’s articles are neutral, its existence is not."
• Links: Press release and message to users

Rue McClanahan's autobiography "My First Five Husbands ... And the Ones Who Got Away"

Although she spent much of her career on the theater stage, sitcom acting earned Rue McClanahan the most fame, having played Vivian on "Maude" and Blanche on "The Golden Girls". Her autobiography is like a chronology of lovers--she had a panicky need for male companionship likely brought on by her distant father. But hers is not a tale of dysfunction or sadness; instead she admits to only a few recurring mistakes within in a lifetime happiness. She ends with this:

Even as a child I had the strong feeling that life was good. I had a passion for work, an openness to love, and a penchant for joy. In a word, I had hope. 

I still have it.

The prose is light and bubbly, probably true to McClanahan's personality. The woman herself sounds like her trademark character, Blanche--slept around a lot but had a strong independent streak and beamed positivity, charming those in her company. But, the story goes, she succeeded purely on her acting chops.

I expected more gossip about television actors, but she offers almost none aside from acknowledging that Estelle Getty was not very good and Bea Arthur was an intimidating personality prone to dispensing harsh judgements. Although published in 2006, just four years before her death at age 76, the book isn't some old worldly woman's book of truisms. Mostly she cautions readers about marriage, lamenting that love alone isn't enough. Despite that minor key note, the book is a fast, fresh read.

More than a stenographer?

To give us an idea of where journalism is at here in the 21st century, today The New York Times Public Editor, the institution's "readers' representative", asks "Should The Times Be a Truth Vigilante?" Apparently printing every crazy old claim without verifying it has ruffled a few readers' feathers.

"Vigilante" is such a strong word. See the comments--now they're good reading!

On a walk

Starts with the interloper's wedding march: the ceremonial song of unarticulated thought that accompanies one who ends each step by committing to the next. Music fades out.

You start train hopping, hoping to find one with a destination promising enough you can stand the ride.

Each lawn, a palm reading: each house, a face. I am a back turning.

Know in your life one journey full of meaning and longing, the meanest kind of longing, that is the wish to turn back when you cannot.

Traveling distracts from meaningless journeys. To move is to be in transition, in neither one place nor the next. When transition is not pleasant, that is because it is change.

Once, pacing the street in the dark a big man just home from work took a fighter's stance with a How's it goin'? to let you know he saw you without trusting. You ducked in reply, he chuckled to drop his hands which means you flinched.

More than once the sky slept in its own pinks and gray while you watched. More than once dark warmed like the day from lights cloaked in dining room curtains and the moment took on your singular reflection.

A thing about Nikki Sixx's autobiography "The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star"

Nikki Sixx is the creative force and bass player for Motley Crue, the infamous glam-ish metal band that peaked in the late 1980's, early 1990's. His journal-form autobiography, The Heroin Diaries, follows Sixx through 1986-1987, the height of the band's excesses and Sixx's drug use. Brief commentaries by witnesses and peripheral characters pepper the book, filling in details left out of the journal entries which, I suspect, were massaged or even, in cases, written after the fact for continuity's sake. The almost 20 years between then and the book's publication date (2006) are covered as bullet points in the last half-dozen pages. It's a fast read despite the predictable redundancies inherent in the life of a junkie.

As a narrative, this is the story of a man who seemed to have it all and had a lot of fun while feeling completely miserable. In bits and pieces we learn that an unfortunate but not unprecedented family drama spoiled Sixx's childhood, amounting to what you'd call abandonment issues that in part fueled his addictions. He frames the book as a cautionary tale but, realistically, its appeal lies in its modest gossip and voyeuristic value.

In theory, rock autobiographies and biographies sound like good reading. But they rarely are so, for various reasons including the fact that musicians are not often interesting people and because the genre attracts a lot of hack writing by unskilled storytellers. The best I've read was No One Here Gets Out Alive and Miles: The Autobiography.

Free passes

The Root has a piece marking the 100th anniversary of the African National Congress titled "The African National Congress Turns 100" that dismisses the decidedly undemocratic and discouraging turn taken by the ANC of late. The piece treats all the high-level corruption and personal misconduct, and the totalitarian secrecy bill attacking the free press as mere growing pains. The author barely put effort into writing the dismissal, as evident in his conclusion:

And so, back to the celebration of the ANC's 100th anniversary. Whatever issues now confront it, and however they get resolved, on Jan. 8, even critics say, a celebration is indeed appropriate because, as one disaffected ANC member told me, "The ANC and its history belong to us, the people of South Africa."

If I felt like tossing off an allegation, I'd bet the author is just a party hack who belongs to the press union in Johannesburg.

The author's flippancy, his avoidance of problems and uncritical support fit right in at The Root. While the site, which seeks to raise "the profile of black voices in mainstream media", doesn't necessarily voice elite perspectives, it rarely (if ever) gives voice to the marginalized. The primary example: The Root offers no criticism of President Obama despite the failures of his technocratic governance and his neglecting his Progressive base.

We have high hopes

In its first sentence, The New York Times article "Big Study Links Good Teachers to Lasting Gain" shows just how crazy expectations on teachers have become:

Elementary- and middle-school teachers who help raise their students’ standardized-test scores seem to have a wide-ranging, lasting positive effect on those students’ lives beyond academics, including lower teenage-pregnancy rates and greater college matriculation and adult earnings, according to a new study that tracked 2.5 million students over 20 years.

This study focuses on so-called "value-added ratings" which measure teacher impact. The bar is being set impossibly high for public school teachers. The economics professors behind the study cheerfully dumb down the lesson we should tale away from their work:

“The message is to fire people sooner rather than later,” Professor Friedman said. 

Professor Chetty acknowledged, “Of course there are going to be mistakes — teachers who get fired who do not deserve to get fired.” But he said that using value-added scores would lead to fewer mistakes, not more.

So as long as you make sure all your third graders don't get pregnant until after college when they're working as lawyers and doctors you'll be OK. Charter schools will save the day!

The substance of style

The New York Times article "Sleeveless and V-Necked, Santorum’s Sweaters Are Turning Heads" notes a recent meme from the Republican campaign: Rick Santorum's sweaters. Here, the candidate's fashion is playfully called the "sensible, traditional choice of grandfathers and college football coaches". I think this as astute an observation as any made about the campaign so far.

The larger discussion here is about image--Santorum's self-image, the image he has of his perspective supporter, and the self-image of that supporter. The Santorum staff's enthusiasm for the sweater is not entirely in jest; the sweater vest is indicative of their message and target audience.

As the last standing hardline social conservative in the field, Santorum appeals to swaths of mature voters ("grandfathers") and strict disciplinarians ("football coaches")--disciplinarians in the sense that these people emphasize self-discipline as key to one's ability to support oneself and manage life's affairs. This is the person who most heartily nods in agreement while reading the Forbes article "If I Were A Poor Black Kid"; his appreciation for discipline shows in his brand of faith, his military support, his politics, and many of his habits and much of his work. The "football coach" conjures many other qualities and values attributable to Santorum's perspective supporter.

But what about the other candidates' images?:

Mr. Santorum’s rivals are biased toward sleeves. Mitt Romney likes his crisply pressed oxford shirts, often under a blazer. Ron Paul is partial to suits, albeit ill-fitting ones. And Michele Bachmann, who has said her fashion icons are Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Audrey Hepburn, is almost always carefully turned out ...

Romney messages about the economy, and he appeals to fiscal conservatives. Members in this crowd see themselves primarily as responsible, business-minded people ready for wealth and status. With his style, Romney communicates this economy of success, but opts for business casual over suits so as to appear accessible, his elbows ready to rub.

Besides being one of the few options left to a man his age, Ron Paul's suits reflect his own desire to be taken seriously. Afterall, what else is a suit but a man hoping to be taken seriously? Ditto for Michele Bachmann, more or less, although I vaguely recall reading she wore only dresses or skirts at public appearances which, if so, would communicate a traditional brand of femininity, a servile sort as opposed to the "bossy" pant suits of Hillary Clinton.

Thinking back to Barack Obama's campaign, seems like he adopted several looks, even allowing/releasing photos of his basketball practice. Perhaps he welcomed being seen in a variety of ways, sending the message that he is a dynamic (young) candidate.

The hoops

Her clicking heels joined the breeze rushing by her ears to soundtrack her pithy goodbye to the workplace as she veered towards the Subaru, weighing the tragedy of so many working days cut down in their prime: Good grief, she thought. Evening showed no consideration, coming on so matter-of-factly, so ... inevitably. Pacing down the expressway she checked voicemail for work calls she might have missed, and then turned to contemplating the billboards and the loneliness configured in their loud colors and bold font tales of pain management clinics in need of the suffering, gun shows in need of the gun-needy, and personal injury lawyers in need of the injured. She nodded to them all when she hit the off ramp. Nearing home, she sucked in the meager warmth offered by gas station and fast food restaurant marquees bravely defying the night with their glow, and denying consumer resistance with impossibly good deals. She pulled into a well-lit spot in the lot of the Holiday Inn which was conveniently located just miles from the expressway and numerous local attractions. She tread the lobby's clean ivory carpeting, eying the not-untasteful decor and noting, as she did each night, how easily one could feel nothing here, relaxed being not-threatened by overly exclusive choices in art or furnishings. Now she had work of her own to do and this thought sparked that sticky sense of anticipation she often felt on the elevator, and she readied her room key card. Once in the softly lit suite, she traded in one silk blend navy blue suit for another, freed her laptop from its soft shell case, and lied across the bed, looking smart propped up on her elbows, eyes fixed on the LCD screen. First, a Facebook post about the minor but not unimportant product innovation discussed at work today, then on to the company blog to publish a discussion about how the more refined market segmentation analysis coming out of Marketing would benefit consumers. This, she smiled, could be drafted into a press release: Hello, wire!

Something on the movie "Stone"

"Stone" opens on a domestic scene circa 1963: a young husband sits on the couch. His wallflower wife brings him a beer. After some hand-wringing, she says she's leaving him. He bolts upstairs, grabs their baby daughter and dangles her out the open bedroom window of their two-story home. He threatens to drop the child if the wife abandons him. She concedes, agrees to stay. The scene ends with the baby safely back in her crib, the wife slamming the window shut, killing a buzzing housefly. Silence.

The young man is now Jack Mabry (Robert DeNiro), a stern, privately devout parole officer wrapping up his career. His last case is Gerald Creeson, aka "Stone" (Edward Norton), a fidgety loser locked up for arson. Intent on securing his release from prison, Stone and his wife Lucetta (Milla Jovovich) start to work on Jack, intent on corrupting him through very welcome relations with Lucetta. The film traces this psychologically twisted triangle.

In the time before what he hopes will be his final hearing, Stone discovers and embraces a spiritual theory of redemption: one must become aware of his depravity, of all that surrounds him, and open himself to the possibility of redemption. The moment you're first aware comes inconspicuously; it may come, for example, when you first notice a small sound, maybe a breeze or buzzing insect. The film ends somewhat ambiguously, but the redemption theory provides a framework for interpreting each character's fate.

Edward Norton, Milla Jovavich, and Robert DeNiro give three fantastic performances.

Abuse your illusions

In addition to events in your personal life, this year's Carrier IQ story and revelations about mental illness and its treatment show that everything that seems good is actually bad. And if not actually, then eventually. But that won't change anything.

(Taking the Carrier IQ story to its logical conclusion, in the not-too-distant future we'll have contact lens computer screens. Soon after that, thoughts can be harvested and stored on Google servers. Then thoughts will be stored on a centralized, searchable database. Scary!)

Happy New Year!

A thing about the novella "Train Dreams" by Denis Johnson

Starting around the turn of the century, this fiction novella chronicles the adult life of northwestern laborer Robert Grainier. Denis Johnson's colloquial, often spartan prose endows Grainier and his story with simplicity. At this time the pace of change in life and society was gaining speed but Grainier, for the most part, remains insulated from all that in living his unexamined reclusivity from a woodsy outpost. But he isn't in hiding; in his life Grainier finds love, is found by tragedy; he comes to know the ache of time, the fury of nature; and from the margins he sees innovation and flirts with moral decay. Reading, we aren't driven by the plot or even the characters. Train Dreams feels like a writing exercise and succeeds with the down, diminished beauty of its prose.

Might be looking for more by Denis Johnson.

The current fascination: Cult of Personality

I read articles like today's Time magazine piece "NKorea Calls Kim Jong Un 'Supreme Leader'" and can't help but think all the analysts, pundits, and other talking heads delight in using the word "Leader" in this context. One the one hand, I guess it respects the practice of the North Koreans, but, on the other, it seems only to emphasize their otherness.

Together at any cost

The New York Times interest piece "Navigating Love and Autism" (1) establishes romantic relationships as a normalizing force and (2) documents an effort to normalize autistic people. The story begins with college-aged Kirsten dating a young man who offers her some much needed coaching in the social graces. She chafes under his direction and is soon drawn to another young man, Jack, who shows no interest in such social conventions. Comforted by the lack of expectations each felt from the other, Jack and Kirsten strike up a relationship. Soon, though, she realizes she needs more affection and understanding than her new beau can give. He has Asperger syndrome, and, turns out, she sort of does, too. They push on together, usually either arguing or just keeping one another company. She starts learning to cope and eventually he lets her get a kitten.

We're supposed to assume that being in a troubled relationship is preferable to being alone, and that this couple is to be congratulated even though their partnership is fraught with difficulties. From the article:

The months that followed Jack and Kirsten’s first night together show how daunting it can be for the mindblind to achieve the kind of mutual understanding that so often eludes even nonautistic couples.

The story continues: After establishing a presence on an advice web site for Autistic people, Jack and Kirsten are somehow invited to speak publicly about relationships. Kirsten is quoted as saying  “Parents always ask, ‘Who would like to marry my kid? They’re so weird.' But, like, another weird person, that’s who." The people who approached them for advice feel anxiety about their own relationship prospects.

The message: They may not be happy but at least these autistic people can try to be normal by having a relationship.

Since the earliest diagnoses, the prevailing wisdom has said that people with Aspergers were mostly unable to have meaningful personal relationships. So, now, the general narrative spawning this article and Jack and Kirsten's efforts is supposed to be that "the overarching quest of many (new adults) in this first generation to be identified with Asperger syndrome is the same as many of their nonautistic peers: to find someone to love who will love them back." Before establishing this narrative we might first check whether we share a common definition of love and value the same things in relationships. What we consider a traditional relationship may not be the shoe that fits Kirsten or Jack.

Where does this "quest" come from? Why the anxiety about being alone?

Notes:

• I heard Asperger syndrome won't appear in the next Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (this would be volume five). Instead the diagnosis will fall under the general Autism spectrum.

• The best part of the article comes when the question is put to Jack: Did you ever fear being alone? He answers, “I have no doubt if I wasn’t dating Kirsten I would have a very hard time acquiring a girlfriend that was worthwhile.”

Kai Ryssdal talks like your popular friend

Inspiration

In this culture you often hear of at least two kinds of inspiration: (1) artistic inspiration and (2) personal inspiration.

Talk of artistic inspiration might sound like, "Beethoven's 5th and 9th Symphonies are his most inspired" or "Beethoven was inspired when he wrote his 9th Symphony". Talk of personal inspiration comes in two flavors: (a) Common personal inspiration and (b) uncommon personal inspiration.

Someone might use common personal inspiration when boosting a child who's performing poorly in school: "You know, Einstein failed classes in school when he was a kid". The inspirational message being driven is something like "You never know what you might be capable of achieving".

Uncommon inspiration stories often explicitly speak of overcoming adversity. For example, you might hear about a promising young athlete who after a car accident is left paralyzed from the waist down. This same young athlete then goes on to be an accomplished musician. Or, the inspiring person may grow up dirt poor or suffer from a mental or cosmetic handicap but accomplish great things nevertheless.

The subject or protagonist in uncommon inspiration stories rarely--maybe never--overcomes adversity because he was inspired by another uncommon inspirational story. Rather, his motivation and ability is unique to who he is. In other words, uncommon inspirational stories usually do not inspire. They serve as stories of interest. But they have a wider cultural effect: These stories create an archetype of a poor, disadvantaged, or disabled person from which we draw expectations about the poor, disadvantaged, or disabled.

(pictures) Mesquite tree

Something about the film "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men"

John Krasinski from the American version of "The Office" wrote, produced, and directed this adaptation of collected short stories by James Foster Wallace. In the film, a female doctoral candidate interviews dozens of men, exploring their hang-ups and modi operandi. But her motivation is not purely academic; recently heartbroken, she hopes to learn some elusive Truth. Unfortunately the dialog in this troubled film is tortured, as soliloquies of armchair psychology are spliced with eye-rolling confessionals. But we find one diamond in the rough--a short but picture perfect performance by Christopher Meloni in which he narrates an encounter with a young, heartbroken woman at the airport, his braggadocio showing a hairline fracture.