11.13.2011

Number Two

“She Walks in Beauty”


Byron told me that.
In many ways he lied.
This wasn’t one of them.

I used to worship Byron and his ilk.
Starry-eyed true believers,
Believers in what – in a past era –
Might have been termed faith.
You read Byron and imagine
The Greece of a Homer who never was,
A land of sunsets and gods and tall men,
Clasped in armor, devoted to their Patroclus,
Hey, likely even sleeping with that Patroclus.
A world of grapes and blood,
In which a man is a man,
Yet twenty years gone desires only return.

Shelley and Wordsworth too.
You live long enough on these blank spaces
You internalize certain things.
Ozymandias, for example.
You take in the nothing in your eyes
You begin to understand emptiness –
Whether it’s inside you or not.
You don’t gain an appreciation for –
No appreciation isn’t quite right
You look in yourself and – despair
Yes, despair; appropriately
It’s time translated into geography
Green everywhere, as far as the eye can see.
Infinity in all directions,
Not even ten minutes from civilization.
Lone and level sands.

That takes care of Shelley.
Wordsworth’s important here as well.
I’ve not yet been to Tintern Abbey,
But I know what the bloke saw.
Sitting on a hill a few miles above the place,
He had a glimpse of something far greater
Or maybe far purer than he would ever be.
Maybe confronted with endlessness
He saw Dorothy, or Dora, or
I don’t know – God?

Don’t take my word on the God part
I’m a veteran unbeliever
But a firm believer in whatever we call the Infinite.
Shelley looked and despaired
Byron looked and was caught
Wordsworth looked and was transfixed.

I look and don’t know
I, of far less genius than those three
Have stood at all points
Yet there is marrow in these bones
There is blood
There is time endlessly
Not city time
But time of the prairie
Of the land and those who came before
Germans and Scandinavians like me
And those who loved this land
Long before my forebears took breath.

Of course this is their land.
It’s my land.
Byron’s, Shelley’s, and Wordsworth’s too.
It’s infinite, this land.



Re-Up take... what?

Yeah, back again. Talked with a dear friend who reminded me that this outpost is my cobwebbed window out of a murky self. So let's go.

10.12.2011

Poem

Rare, I know.


“A Love Song to New York”
You dirty piece of shit
Your multitudes
Your masses.
You teem with poets
Artists and bankers
Your kimchi is perfect
Your Tom Kha Gai unbeatable
Your subway disgusting
Your cabs overpriced
Yet
You vibrate, you live
Every moment of you lives
Whether your 30 Rock or your Queens
Every inch of you moves
Energy – just the energy
It’s electricity
It’s lightning
You can’t feel it anywhere but Berlin
It consumes you
Those of us who stare at the moon
At the corn rising high and alone
Who consume solitude as you
Children of glass and steel
Grown to love high things
See the Chrysler Building
And long for it; long for the moon empty in the black
Long for the moon smiling on your spire
On your light
On the blackness we share
I often laugh at your hipsters.
I imagine what effort it must take to seem so effortlessly cool.
I never could live up to that.
I have fucked many who presume to.
I have walked down Broadway and Fifth, through Williamsburg and Bushwick. I have heard Whitman echo in my ears. Burroughs call to me from the grave. And I, dear friends, have listened.
And so I open this door to stare at the moon
And I think of New York
And wish for it with all my heart
I think of friends I know who are there
I think of the MOMA and all those who made perfection
And the Met and the river and the unending light.
I think of New York in the moonlight.

10.03.2011

New Book Review

of Mark Wisniewski's Show Up, Look Good at bookslut.com.

Occupy Rockford

I'll be doing most of my blogging at OccupyRockford.blogspot.com, as we organize direct action here in the Forest City, so apologies for prolonged absence.

9.22.2011

Not One More Troy Davis

Not one more. In the United States of America, we do not kill women or men who might be innocent. Or women or men who are guilty; we give them justice, but justice doesn't include killing individuals. Yes, we actually do, but it's going to stop. There is not a single rational reason to murder individuals either convicted or accused of a crime, even one as horrific as homicide. "An eye for an eye" comes from a fictional book and describes 16th-c. justice.

Georgia murdered Troy Davis last night despite legitimate doubts about his guilt. That isn't justice; it's vengeance. Retribution. Revenge. It doesn't bring the victim's family anything but the fleeting satisfaction of seeing another dead man. It doesn't bring them justice -- and if Davis is innocent, it puts them at a further remove from justice, as the state is far less likely to pursue other suspects now that Davis is dead. The death penalty is revenge that accomplishes nothing other than murdering someone, and enough of those someones are either innocent or have questions surrounding their guilt to make it what it is: barbaric. The death penalty is barbaric. It's the kind of thing you see Ned Stark do because Ned Stark would have existed 700 years ago were he real and if he lived on earth.

The death penalty must end. Republicans can laugh all they want about the state -- federal or individual states -- letting people die or actually murdering them, but this is a fight we're going to win. A lot of people had their eyes opened last night about how unjust this antiquated and barbaric institution is; some of them might even be willing to fight. It's insane that in 21st-century America, it's a "left" thing to be against the death penalty.

Here's what the ACLU has to say about the death penalty:

"The U.S.'s capital punishment process:
(1) is fraught with error;

(2) discriminates on the basis of socioeconomic status, race, and geography;

(3) is arbitrary and capricious, including its use against the mentally ill and defendants who did not kill anyone and did not intend that anyone be killed;

(4) costs taxpayers far more than life imprisonment without release;

(5) does nothing to protect people from crime;

(6) seriously harms the survivors of homicide victims;

(7) is plagued by cheap legal representation - the worst, not the best, of American lawyering; and

(8) greatly diminishes the worldwide stature of the United States and its ability to work to end human rights violations in other countries."

This cannot continue a single day longer. No more Troy Davises.

The Campaign to End the Death Penalty is an excellent resource for this, but it comes down to being active and demanding that your state representatives end this travesty in your state. I don't think the conservative Supreme Court will act on it any time soon, so it's a state-by-state fight.

Cross-posted at www.destructiveanachronism.blogspot.com

9.21.2011

Troy Davis Again

The state of Georgia is going to murder -- yes, murder, because I believe that's what it's tantamount to, and I don't blame the individuals who will actually do the deed, as they're just doing their jobs, and in this economy you can't really afford to tell your employer to go screw themselves. No, the murder is the responsibility of the fatally (no pun intended) flawed criminal justice system operating in the state of Georgia and in the United States of America. In any sane country, there would be no death penalty. I recognize that there's some controversy regarding the death penalty. Here's the short version of why it makes zero sense.

You can't. Take. It. Back. There are many documented cases of individuals who have been proven innocent after being executed. There are many more cases of alleged criminals being found innocent after having been convicted for non-executable crimes. If you put a convict to death who later turns out to be innocent, you're complicit in murder, the crime for which you put the alleged convict to death. That means you -- judge, officer, witness whoever are a murderer. Doesn't that irony seem poignant? The standard of evidence used to convict individuals in the United States criminal court system is "beyond a reasonable doubt," and I believe the number is considered 95% certainty. Could you kill a woman or man if there's a 5% chance she or he is innocent? I couldn't. Because if you're wrong state of Georgia, that's not the sort of thing you can ever make right. You kill someone and it's final; you can't bring them back, you can't console their loved ones.

As I wrote on Daily Kos yesterday, I don't know if Davis is guilty or not. But there are just too many questions to murder him without a new trial. Killing someone isn't something you just do. In my opinion it's not something you should ever do, but if you're going to, you have to be 100% certain. Not 95%, not a shoulder-shrug "meh, maybe," but absolutely certain. In Davis's case, that's not the case.

9.17.2011

Apropos of Nothing

Buckets of rain.

9.16.2011

What I love about contemporary TV (the well-done variety that is) is that every scene your eyes scan for the next clue to what happens next, every detail emerging -- why we're in a golden age of television akin to novels. I say this as a person who writes novels.

Ah Our Happy Times

Just a brief thought to share: Mad Men and Breaking Bad are probably the two most important television shows on the "air" today. Both are completely heartbreaking and soul-searching. Both are works of art, reminiscent of mid-70s cinema, where there's no such thing as a hero(ine) and everyone is suspect. What does it say about us that we're there?

Obligatory Cubs Post

So Matt Garza pitched a beautiful game, giving up 3 runs on 7 hits in 9.0 IP -- the only problem is that the three runs all came courtesy of the Astros' Carlos Lee, who hit two home runs, the second coming with two outs (two outs!) in the ninth with a man on to send the game to extra innings. Garza's been one of the few bright spots for the Cubs this year, and the fact that he didn't walk a batter (his control's been an issue his entire career so far) bodes well for next season. The Cubs ended up winning 4-3 in 12 innings on a Marlon Byrd infield single to drive home burgeoning star Starlin Castro (really that's not a pun in any way, just his name and there's no other way to put it).

Aramis Ramírez went 3-for-5 with a walk, a strikeout, and his first triple of 2011. After a shaky start, he's now hitting .310/.364/.514 with 25 HR and 91 RBI. Solid glove at third. Career now, he's .284/.342/.500. Since coming over from the Pirates in 2003, he's been the Cubs' most reliable hitter by far (with a hat-tip to the departed Derrek Lee). And at Wrigley, he's out of his mind, going .336/.398/.596 this season and .308/.374/.553 with 124 HR and 438 RBI during his career (all stats courtesy of baseball-reference.com). He's at 23.9 WAR in his time with the Cubs with four seasons with an OPS+ at or above 130 and seven of nine with an OPS+ above 120.

Is he a Hall of Famer?

I think so. No he's not at, nor ever will be at Mike Schmidt status. I doubt anyone ever will be. And is Ramírez a Hall of Famer now? No. But he's 33, playing on a bad team, with the option of moving to a contender after this next season (as a Cubs fan, I pray he won't, but were I GM -- and I should be Tom Ricketts!) -- I would have dealt him at the deadline for some very good prospects. In any case. Let's say he has three good years somewhere near this level left in him, with a few more after declining or in a more limited role. Even playing for the Cubs and discounting that they might get better (not holding my breath) or that he might move to a team where he has some protection in the lineup or could even prolong his career as a DH, you figure he could well end up around some 450 HR and over 1500 RBI for sure. Steady glove, team leader, plays the hot corner well. Even accounting for his career OPS declining below .841 (and discounting for his early Pirate years playing for terrible teams) and career OPS+ of 114 (which is admittedly not Hall-worthy, but again, considering his Cubs years) dropping to say 110, he's still an intriguing candidate, especially as a mostly post-steroid era player.

That last point is important. Ramírez's breakout year was in 2001 with the Pirates in the foul heart of the steroid era, but his best production has been 2004-since, largely in the era of increased vigilance on the part of the MLB and fan distaste for the likes of Barry Bonds's prolate spheroidical head.

I submit that Aramis Ramírez will be worthy of a Hall of Fame induction when he retires. Will he get there? I don't know and I doubt it. The folks who make those calls seem to be coming around to advanced statistics, and it depends on Ramírez continuing to produce at the level he has consistently for the last nine years in Chicago. I think he'll end up with a very worthy case though, provided voters take into account the shitty teams he's played for and the fact that he's played his entire career at third. In any case -- and no doubt about this one -- he's a Cubs Hall of Famer for sure.



9.14.2011

Out of Time Man

By Nick Cave's oft-collaborator Mick Harvey = new favorite song.

Terry Castle on Outside Art

Oh my was this 07.28.11 essay in the LRB on outsider art, collecting it, and trying to answer the ambiguity of its commoditization or commoditization of its ambiguity a fantastic read. Unfortunately, it's subscriber-only (but if you ask nicely...)

I had never heard of Henry Darger, Martín Ramírez, Adolf Wölfli, et al, but damn am I glad I did, and Castle raises enough questions about contemporary art, the nature of meaning, and intentionality vis-a-vis a hypothetical audience to keep one busy for months.

9.13.2011

Saving Books by Making Them More Expensive?

Really fascinating piece by Bill Morris at The Millions on how the German pricing model (in which stores are not allowed to discount) has made for a still-vibrant indie bookstore culture there, as well as some distinguishing of German and American reading habits =P

9.11.2011

Some Thoughts (Not Comprehensive, but Based Around Making the Mistake of Turning on my Television This Morning) on 09.11

Okay. I know it's September 11th. I know it every year. I will never forget as long as I live. It's the one day in my life -- okay maybe the second to losing my virginity -- where each second changed every second of my subsequent existence. Even as a smug left-wing fucktard posing as an intellectualish-type, I tear up at the the thought of running into a classmate in the hallway between 2nd and 3rd period telling me that a plane hit the World Trade Center and not believing her. Nor will I ever forget arriving in third period to see my music instructor (I used to play a mean jazz trumpet -- this is entirely fictional, not what follows, but the having remote skill at music beyond reading notes), who, as far as I know, still exists in 1985 and a quite genial and laid-back dude, not the kind of guy you'd ever expect to shit about national security as long as his dealer was okay. So I walk in and see him standing at the radio with his hand over his mouth looking like the trombonist had just impaled his cat in front of him (can that happen? Should I try it on my cat? The only trombone I've ever personally handled is the rusty kind and that would be really hard to pull off with a neutered cat.).

Nor -- before the first tower had collapsed (I'm tearing up just thinking about it), watching the tower collapse on TV and seeing my hard-ass (but in I'm going to be a dick to you fucking kids but here for you day and night, in the classroom or out of it) AP US history teacher break down and in a tear-stained voice say, to no one in particular, "Oh my God. Nothing will ever be the same." Watching in complete disbelief, calling my father the second on leaving school just to let him know that I was all right, because the aftermath, who knew? It was the seminal moment of my life, and in the life of anyone affected by it -- essentially every American, Iraqi, Afghani, Pakistani, and what ever other nationality I left out that who've we've been fucking for the last decade. Shit last century.

Trust, no one forgets.
I'm going to spend it like I do every 09.11, remembering those who lost their lives that day, thinking of the insane courage of those incredible first-responders (I would have completely shat myself in their place), spending the one day a year I don't want to see George W. Bush in handcuffs (doesn't apply to Cheney), thanking our troops, mourning the ones that have fallen or been wounded in several meaningless wars launched on false premises thanks to 09.11, and remembering the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and Afghanis and Pakistanis who are dead thanks to those wars. It's a solemn day, and even when I'm 70 (who the fuck am I kidding? If I last 45 years, it'll be a small miracle) I'll remember it and those who suffered and suffer loss on it.
What I won't do is go anywhere near the mainstream media's "magic number that ends in a 5 or a 0" (because unsurprisingly, counting is not something they do well) daylong 09.11-a-thon. Cause if you think those surgically-enhanced millionaires give a shit about the victims of 09.11, you're nuttier than Osama bin Laden thinking he could fuck with New Yorkers and expect not to get face-fucked (literally, that did happen). I'm not going to indulge in the entertainment industry's (yeah mainstream media, that includes you) one day per year of giving a fuck about 09.11 victims, survivors, first-responders, police, fire, our soldiers etc. I'm not going to indulge in professional sports' continuing jingoistic idolatry of the military and their grandstanding of 09.11.

Sports might be the worst offenders on this count. I mean what company even fucking makes American flags the size of Texas for these military circle-jerks? Apparently a shitload of companies. I guess I can buy a "Heavy-Duty Poly" 40'-75' edition (I have no idea what that means) from "Flag Center" in nearby Wauwatosa, Wis. for just $5,100. I'd have to be missing grey matter to do it, but at least I know the option's out there. I'm not impressed by fly-overs -- and you assholes out there bitching about how necessary it is to cut health care funding for old and poor people who need it most, how much do those fucking fly-overs cost? I'll stand and applaud when returning soldiers, decorated soldiers, wounded soldiers throw out the first pitch or are honored before or during a game -- I just don't get why sports are the avenues for that. Shouldn't we be honoring them like all the time? I support troops. I have friends serving and have had friends who have served. My father served. Both my grandparents did. I just never want to see strong, smart, motivated, young people -- people who are just starting to figure shit out and decide what they want to do with their lives -- sent to die for no reason. And that's practically the reality of every war we've fought in the last fifty years. That's not your stereotypical "point at laugh as the sissy LGBT leftie hates America in the high-pitched Jon Stewart voice (you know exactly what I'm talking about)," that's fact. Support the troops? Bring them home.

Back to the media though, I don't need to see the towers being hit by planes. I don't need to see them crumbling or horrified/terrified New Yorkers fearing the worst. I certainly don't need to see G-Dubs, and have no desire to see bin Laden. None of the above will ever be anything but permanently seared into my memory. I did momentarily slip though, in like one of those going to the checkout line and realizing that Nestle Crunch is like $0.79 manners. I watched about ten minutes of 09.11 coverage and saw that kid at St. Patrick's reading the letter to his dead father he never met -- who's dead because he was an NYPD lieutenant who fell on 09.11 while helping fellow first-responders -- and sobbed for a solid ten. Tearing up just thinking about it.

I've never lived in New York or D.C. nor did anyone (to my knowledge) I'm closely associated with lose anything but the pair of pants they pissed on 09.11. So maybe my perspective's skewed. This whole media hullabaloo about the 10-year anniversary just feels like it's about them doing what they do best -- self-promotion. The people affected, directly and obliquely, are the ones who get fucked. So when it comes to remembering 09.11 and how completely terrified/shocked/devasted I was, I'm going to do it by hanging out with my parents, thinking of all affected, and keeping far away from the media bit.
Rest in peace departed, stand strong survivors, lower your rent New York, hunt Timmy Geithner D.C.. And fuck off MSM.

Updated: Amended to fix some orthographical errors.

9.08.2011

Your 2011 Milwaukee Brewers

Writing this from my sickbed, but here goes --

The Brewers picked the wrong year to get so good. They'll fall to the Phillies, probably 4-1, in the NLCS. Gallardo would get a win, but they'll start him against Halladay or Lee, which is a waste (why do teams do that? It seems it would be far smarter to start your ace against the opposition's less-good starters than potentially waste a start against their ace. At the worst, that would come out 1-1. Never understood that logic. Nate Silver, Jonah Keri, Rob Neyer, tell me why I'm horribly mistaken.) And no Cardinals fans, you aren't going to beat the Brew Crew -- even with their upcoming series against Philly. I had the pleasure of attending a recent Brewers-Cubs game, and the home crowd at Miller Park (one of the loveliest fields I've had the joy of attending) literally wills the team to win. The atmosphere is just electric -- the fans believe and the players know they do. Reminded me of the Bulls crowd this past NBA season. Even with a 30% Cubs crowd, the noise was deafening. In a small-market city with the likely probability of losing Prince Fielder this off-season, the fans know this might just be their best shot at the first Brewers World Series title ever and first pennant since 1982.

So let's start with the starting pitching.

Zach Greinke has been on and off this year, but still has posted a 14-6, 3.93 ERA, 172 K in an injury-limited 148.2 IP with a 1.17 WHIP and a .245 BAA. Many folks (myself among them) expected better coming to the NL Central, but that 10.71 K/9 is best in the bigs and a solid 0.7 ahead of Clayton Kershaw (who is the most dominant pitcher in the league that seemingly no one is talking about. Why is this? He plays for a franchise, though troubled with the McCourt saga, that has a legacy in the league and in a huge market. Don't feed me lies about Stephen Strasburg's idealistic future -- yes that's a Postal Service reference -- when Kershaw is completely dominating the NL. I've harped about this on Twitter often, and Halladay, as my favorite athlete and completely owning just about every hitter he faces, has been anointed the NL Cy Young winner already, some buzz about Kershaw is highly overdue.) Back to Greinke -- he still has that overpowering fastball, good change, and devastating slider. Slot him into the two hole in a postseason series.

Yovani Gallardo is the staff ace, and the fine gent I had the pleasure of watching at Miller. His line that night (against an admittedly feeble Cubs lineup): a 7.0 IP, 6H, 1 R, 0 ER, BB, 10K effort. St. Louis has not been kind to him in his two most recent starts, which has sent him to 15-10, 3.71 ERA, 56 BB, 171K in 187.0 IP. 254 BAA land. His biggest problem: giving up home runs, with 24 thus far. That's too many for 187.0 IP. Like so many power pitches, he also runs his pitch count high early in the game. At 25 (shit, that's older than me), he has plenty of time to learn to throw grounders and rely less on the strikeout. For the postseason though, Milwaukee rises or falls on Gallardo and Greinke being solid.

Then there's Shawn Marcum -- perhaps the most underrated pitcher in baseball, and sporting a 12-5, 3.11 ERA, 49 BB, 143 K in 176.1 record with a 1.09 WHIP and a sterling .211 BAA. The Brewers trade for him from Toronto was one of the best recent deals. As a No. 3 starter, he's probably among the best in the league. Only concern: no playoff experience. True of Greinke as well and Gallardo has only one playoff start, so blame my preference for strikeout pitchers, but I just have more faith in them come the postseason. I just think of Curt Schilling, Randy Johnson, and Pedro, though all three are Hall of Famers, not just strikeout pitchers. Anyway, against Hamels, Marcum will be overmatched.

Randy Wolf is your standard journeyman with okay stuff, yet able to eat innings: Oswalt can match him easily.

That leaves Narveson in the pen, about whom I know very little. His numbers aren't impressive.

Speaking of the bullpen: LaTroy Hawkins gave every Cubs fan a heart attack when he briefly closed. At that game at Miller, he gave up 4 H in 0.1 IP with a 3-run Alfonso Soriano double, though has since been solid though rarely-used. K-Rod has been decent since coming over from the Mets, and is a fairly reliable setup man. Takashi Saito has been brilliant since coming off the DL. Kameron Loe has been decent, nothing special. Frankie De La Cruz has been outstanding since being called up on 10 August: 1.86 ERA, 0.83 WHIP. Then there's John Axford closing, he of the 41/43 save/save opp. record and of the Eckersley-level 'stache. Utterly dominant this year, throwing 96-97 every night. All in all, the Brewers pen is pretty damn good, and good bullpens make for good playoff teams.

So to the offense: obviously starting with Mr. Braun, who's having an MVP-level season. .332, 27 HR, 95 RBI, 31 SB (only 6 CS) with a .988 OPS. Those are some staggering numbers, and Braun isn't a waste of space defensively either. He's become one of the best-hitting outfielders in the game (and my Brewers fan friend's heartthrob). He's only slightly overshadowing his first-base teammate Prince Fielder. How does .293, 31 HR, 108 RBI, .946 OPS sound in a pitcher-dominant season? Pretty good. Those two alone can win a game. Around the diamond, Casey McGehee is a liability -- a .293 OBP/.653 OPS just doesn't cut it. Yunieski Betancourt is even worse at short, sporting a .271 OBP and .644 OPS. Jerry Hairston at second is, well, Jerry Hairston .341 OBP/.713 OPS. Essentially average.

Nyjer Morgan in center is decent with an .801 OPS but also nothing special. His anger at the Cards was refreshing though. This seems to be a theme. Seriously YouTube "Nyjer Morgan fight" and there are many examples. Now, I'm a fan of baseball hotheads and bench-clearing brawls. Carlos Zambrano's tirade at Derrek Lee completely galvanized the 2009 Cubs and made for good theater as well. Yet Morgan isn't good enough (Zambrano isn't either anymore) to run his mouth off. That kind of thing can hamstring a club with World Series designs. We'll see if he can hold it together. Honestly I've been impressed with the 2011 Corey Hart -- 23 HR, .849 OPS and solid defense in left.

Basically the Brewers rise and fall with Ryan Braun and Prince Fielder abusing opposing pitchers. Solid defense, which is more important than ESPN thinks outside of Top Ten Plays (which, in a minor complaint didn't include Victor Martinez's go-ahead grand slam last night).

In any other year, the Brewers would be a definite pick to represent the NL in the World Series. Yet this year, the Phillies just have the look of a legendary team. The Brewers will own the NL Central over the Cards (not to even mention my feckless Cubs). Whether they can make it to the top will depend on Gallardo, Greinke, Marcum and the non-Braun/Fielder batsmen.

Next up: the New York Yankees.

9.06.2011

9.05.2011

The Paradox of No Choice

From Daily Kos. Link!

The Kind of Relationship I Desire

Essentially the gig that Jamie Kilstein and Allison Kilkenny have -- just listening to Citizen Radio shows how much they dig each other and their hipsterish chemistry. Totally want that with yet-unnamed boy or girl.

Review of Jan Morris's Hav

Currently available at the most recent issue of Bookslut. Check it out and send me hatred... or at least well-written critique.

Hey US Military

Stop hating LGBTs. We already deal with enough shit.

Happy Labor Day

9.03.2011

2011 Boston Red Sox

So let's move on to the Sox. They will be your ALCS Champs, sweeping the Rangers in the divisional series and outlasting the Yanks in the AL Series 4-2.

This despite extraordinarily suspect starting pitching. Let's start there, as the staff is Boston's greatest weakness. You've got your aces in Lester (14-6, 3.05 ERA, 1.21 WHIP) and in Beckett (12-5, 2.54, 0.98). Very solid top two. It gets thin quickly after that. John Lackey is a train wreck. I winced when the Sox signed him, and his 2011 has done nothing to alleviate that concern. How does a 12-10, 5.94 ERA, 1.55 WHIP feel? Not good. Opponents are hitting .299 against him. Two years in Boston makes me an honorary Sox fan, and Lackey makes A.J. Burnett look good. To round out the rotation there's either Timmeh Wakefield or Erik Bedard. I don't envy Terry Francona this decision. You go with the ancient Wakefield and roll the dice on the knuckleball or you go with the unproven Bedard who has the better stuff. Either way the four-slot is a tossup.

The Sox bullpen isn't a whole lot better. Yes, Papelbon has been solid all year and is very reliable in the 9th. Daniel Bard is one of the better set-up men in the AL. Aceves, Wheeler, and Miller do not, however, inspire confidence. The Sox will rise or fall if their starters can make it seven innings to get to Bard and Papelbon. Lester and Beckett, it's on you to step up.

Offensively, the Sox are loaded 1-9. Jacoby Ellsbury is the most talented leadoff hitter in baseball. Without question. He hits for power, average, and runs. .313, 24 HR, 84 RBI, 36 SB, .895 OPS in the leadoff slot. Follow him with Dustin Pedroia, he of the AL MVP: only hitting .308, 18 HR, 74 RBI, 25 SB, .871 OPS. Then there's Adrian Gonzalez, perhaps the best signing of the Epstein era not named Curt Schilling. If he loses AL MVP to Justin Verlander (which could well happen and which I'd support; sorry Adrian) he'll go down as perhaps the most dominant hitter to lose out on the MVP. Numbers: .342, 23 HR, 103 RBI, .956 OPS. Beyond that, he's established himself as the heart and soul of the 2011 Sox, capable of changing a game or series with one swing. At third, you've got Youk, who, in an off year, is still putting up a .264 17 HR 78 RBI with an .855 OPS line. At DH, Big Papi has rediscovered how to hit, to the tune of a .311, 28 HR, 88 RBI, .985 (!) OPS. That's an MVP line. Varitek/Saltalamacchia have been solid behind the plate, Reddick seems reliable.

So yeah, the Sox will rise or fall based on their offense. If Lester and Beckett can shut down the opposition, the Sox hitters should be able to carry Lackey.

Prediction: AL Champs, losing 4-2 to the Phillies in the World Series.

Addendum: I did neglect mentioning Carl Crawford, who has since hit a grand slam today. After a dismal April and May, he's rediscovered what hitting means, and if he gets hot is an extremely dangerous hitter. Defensively non pareil.

9.02.2011

Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano, op. 80

Prokofiev. The most heart-rending piece of music ever composed. I will stand by that.

9.01.2011

The 2011 Phillies

As the regular season begins to wind down and as post-season races heat up, I imagine I'll be writing about baseball every five days or so. Consider this installment one now that September is here.

I'm going to start with the presumptive World Series favorites and the best team in baseball now and for the entire season -- the Philadelphia Phillies. My beloved Cubs have been out of the playoff picture since about the third week of April, so I have no compunction when it comes to rooting for the Phils to win it all this year. Roy Halladay has been my favorite athlete -- across all sports, comfortably filling the vacuum adolescent Brett Favre left when I realized he was a franchise-retarding douche -- for quite some time, and I'll root for him on any team against any team except the Cubs. He's going to win another Cy Young this year. That will be number three. You might have recalled from last season that he pitched only the 20th perfect game EVER and only the second post-season no-hitter EVER. Major League Baseball's current complete game leader with 63 (19 shutouts, and in an era that's decidedly hostile to the complete game, though don't tell James Shields that). Career record of 184-91, and a definite possible for the first 300-game winner of the 21st century, among pitchers who have exclusively started in this century. (Yes I know Halladay came up in '98, but really, his pre-2000 career in the bigs doesn't count)

But I digress. I could gush about Doc all day and how he makes me mourn for a glorious baseball past I wasn't alive to see. Let's talk about the Phils in general. Anchored by Halladay, that staff is ridiculous. Cliff Lee (15-7, 2.59 ERA, 1.05 WHIP, third pitcher EVER after Walter Johnson and Bob Gibson to post two months in the same season with an undefeated record with at least four wins and a sub-1.00 ERA) is a proven post-season maestro, and gives the Phils the opportunity to go R-L-L-R in a series, or even R-L-R-L to really fuck with the opposition. Those second two, by the way, are Cole Hamels (13-7, 2.58 ERA, 0.97 WHIP) -- who's seemingly finally mastered his wicked stuff -- and Roy Oswalt (6-8, 3.77 ERA, 1.41 WHIP but 156-91, 3.21, 1.19 career). Think about that. In a seven-game series, the Phillies can send out Halladay-Lee-Hamels with Oswalt in the pen or Halladay-Lee-Hamels-Oswalt to save Halladay and Lee for the NLCS/World Series.

Am I forgetting someone? Ah yes, Vance Worley. Who? you might ask. Just the Phillies' number five 23-year old rookie starter who would be the ace of at least half of MLB clubs. For numbers, how does 10-1, 2.85 ERA, 1.14 WHIP, .224 BAA sound? He'll be a reliever when the postseason rolls around. Add to that bullpen the man with the best name in baseball -- Antonio Bastardo, he of the 1.38 ERA, 0.73 WHIP, 3.26 K/BB, .114 BAA (!) -- Brad Lidge, charter member of the mercurial 21st century closer club and still capable of the 10-pitch 1.0 IP, 0/0/0 3K line, with the extremely reliable Ryan Madson (2.96 ERA, 1.15 WHIP, 26/28 in saves) to finish things off.

In short the 2011 Phils could score two runs per game and still kick ass. However...

There's the lineup. Let's start with Shane Victorino, number two or lead-off guy with Jimmy Rollins on the 15-day DL. Has a .919 OPS. I'm too lazy to check right now, but I'm pretty sure that's top three among current lead-off hitters in all of baseball. Hits for average, doesn't swing at bad pitches, power to both fields, not super-speedy, but smart on the bases and steals when available. Rollins -- who should be back in form for the postseason -- has been overrated his entire career, yet still can hit for power, steal bases, and is above average defensively at short. I really think Victorino is the better choice at 1, based on OBP, but it's hard to argue with a one-two punch of Rollins-Victorino especially with three and four. Speaking of whom... Moving along the infield, you've got Ryan Howard, who is also overrated with an .827 OPS at the power position, yet who can also change a game or series with one swing. Chase Utley has been injured and is slowly coming back, but should get better as September moves into October. When he's right, he's without doubt the best all-around second-baseman in the game. At third you have a platoon of Michael Martinez and Wilson Valdez. Neither amounts to much. Carlos Ruiz and Brian Schneider behind the plate, neither of whom could hit an eephus pitch, but both of whom are solid defensively and definitely can call games.

Outfield isn't much better. Hunter Pence was a huge upgrade in left, both defensively and in terms of adding a power bat who gets on base fairly reliably (.366 OBP). Victorino is about average defensively in center, already mentioned his offensive production. Ibañez in left has been a liability all season -- like the guy, but his 39 years are showing. His mobility defensively has been suspect all season, and a .288 OBP is inexcusable. At least he has postseason experience, and with 17 HR out of 107 hits, does damage when he does connect.

All in all, the Phillies will rise or fall on the basis of their loaded pitching staff. Their offense is less than average, defense slightly better than average, but three runs in the postseason will all but guarantee a win.

Prediction: World Series champions, beating the Boston Red Sox 4-2.

Up next: the Boston Red Sox.

8.31.2011

1Q84 Excerpt

Based on the nine-page excerpt of Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 in the most recent issue of The New Yorker, the English translation of which is (finally!) slated for a 25 October release, there's a lot to look forward to. Definitely reads like vintage Murakami -- relatively straightforward declarative prose, overtones of Japan's twentieth-century political and social history (Tengo's father in Manchuria, Soviet invasion thereof), rock references (Tengo's Jeff Beck t-shirt), surrealism (the town of cats, obviously, not to mention the use of cats to advance the story, as in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Kafka on the Shore), and an overarching mystery upon which the whole plot turns -- at least in this excerpt. I'm very excited.

Video Game Museum in Berlin

Well this is cool (kind of like everything in Berlin and why I'm dying to move there because it's the best city on earth /endbreathlessrant) -- The Computerspeielemuseum, devoted to computer and video games, reopened recently and is every bit is awesome as you would expect. Check out some of those old consoles! (Via TheRumpus).

8.30.2011

Post-It Note Art

I tweeted this already, but wanted to be able to show the images -- via The Guardian, Parisian office workers are creating pixellated images using post-it notes on windows, doors, cabinets, etc. Takes one back to the early 90s and 8-bit video games.

I think this was my favorite:


Or:


Check out the link for the other ten -- this definitely made my day.

8.28.2011

The Massacre at Old Trafford

I'm in a foul mood following Manchester United's filleting of Arsenal 8-2 at Old Trafford today. Yes, Verhaeven, Frimpong, Gervinho and others were out, severely exposing the inadequacies of our youthful defense and utter incompetence of the depleted midfield. Yet still, Man U's average age of their starting eleven was just slightly higher than the Gunners', and the combination of Rooney, Nani, Park, et al completely eviscerated an Arsenal side that gave up in about the 60th minute. Another lapse in discipline leading to another red card (Jenkinson), and leaving Arsenal dead last in the Premier League in goal differential (-8), one place above relegation status, and dead last in Fair Play.

I'm of mixed feeling on whether to call for Wenger's head or not, but what's glaringly clear is that he has four days until the transfer window closes to add at least three players, a defender, a defensive midfielder, and ideally another striker. The way things are looking, it's going to be a very uphill battle to muscle out Liverpool or Chelsea to even qualify for next year's Champions' League. At least we have two weeks to regroup and an overmatched Swansea City side at the Emirates coming up next. That, one hopes, should end this six-match Premier League winless streak, and hopefully give a (hopefully) retooled side some confidence heading into Champions' League group play, which begins on 13 September at Dortmund.

Addendum: Worth noting that the last time Arsenal ceded eight goals, Victoria was queen. Also the worst defeat in Arsène Wenger's tenure as manager.

Addendum II: BBC Sport reporting that the transfer of striker Park Chu-Young from Monaco is set to complete tonight for between £3m and £5m.

8.27.2011

Finally Renewed My Library Card

And managed to snag the one copy in the entire library system of Teju Cole's debut Open City, which I'm extremely excited to read after reading Claire Messud's excellent review in the New York Review of Books. I'm really interested to compare it to Michael Thomas's Man Gone Down (which won the IMPAC/Dublin Prize two years ago and was an excellent and gripping read). There are some superficial similarities, but I'm curious to see how they contrast.

Stay Safe Everyone

All my friends and acquaintances and everyone in the path of Irene, stay safe, and if you still have time to do so, make sure to stock up on essentials -- it's going to be the flooding and potential power loss that's going to cause the big damage.

8.21.2011

Jan Morris

I had never heard of Jan Morris until about a month ago, when I volunteered to review her novel Hav for Bookslut.com (I'll link to/post it when it's up), and now I can't get enough. Hav itself is one of the most remarkable and luminously written novels I have ever read. In my entire life -- and I read a lot of novels. I just yesterday ordered Travels (1950-2000) -- a selection of her travel essays over that period, and eagerly await its arrival. She is a remarkable figure -- twice-over world traveler, historian, travel writer, memoirist, transgender and trans rights activist, Welsh nationalist. I highly encourage everyone to pick up Hav from the New York Review of Books Classics (pub. date 08.30.11 but available for pre-order through NYRB, your local indie, or amazon) -- it will truly blow you away. I have my one review copy I'm willing send to the first person to get back to me, but unfortunately it's the one copy I have (and it's so good, I humbly ask that you return it when finished). Check it out, guarantee you will have a hard time putting it down.

Light blogging (obviously)

Sorry for but the one post each of the last few days -- I've been live-tweeting the Libyan uprising like a mad man, so check me out @destroy_time, or see my twitter feed on the lower right-hand corner of the main page. I imagine as events unfold, this will continue to be true.

Letter from Kurt Vonnegut

This is incredible: a letter from Kurt Vonnegut to his father after being released from a Nazi work camp, in what would turn into Slaughterhouse Five. Via Letters of Note.

Slaughterhouse Five

FROM:

Pfo. K. Vonnegut, Jr.,
12102964 U. S. Army.

TO:

Kurt Vonnegut,
Williams Creek,
Indianapolis, Indiana.

Dear people:

I'm told that you were probably never informed that I was anything other than "missing in action." Chances are that you also failed to receive any of the letters I wrote from Germany. That leaves me a lot of explaining to do -- in precis:

I've been a prisoner of war since December 19th, 1944, when our division was cut to ribbons by Hitler's last desperate thrust through Luxemburg and Belgium. Seven Fanatical Panzer Divisions hit us and cut us off from the rest of Hodges' First Army. The other American Divisions on our flanks managed to pull out: We were obliged to stay and fight. Bayonets aren't much good against tanks: Our ammunition, food and medical supplies gave out and our casualties out-numbered those who could still fight - so we gave up. The 106th got a Presidential Citation and some British Decoration from Montgomery for it, I'm told, but I'll be damned if it was worth it. I was one of the few who weren't wounded. For that much thank God.

Well, the supermen marched us, without food, water or sleep to Limberg, a distance of about sixty miles, I think, where we were loaded and locked up, sixty men to each small, unventilated, unheated box car. There were no sanitary accommodations -- the floors were covered with fresh cow dung. There wasn't room for all of us to lie down. Half slept while the other half stood. We spent several days, including Christmas, on that Limberg siding. On Christmas eve the Royal Air Force bombed and strafed our unmarked train. They killed about one-hundred-and-fifty of us. We got a little water Christmas Day and moved slowly across Germany to a large P.O.W. Camp in Muhlburg, South of Berlin. We were released from the box cars on New Year's Day. The Germans herded us through scalding delousing showers. Many men died from shock in the showers after ten days of starvation, thirst and exposure. But I didn't.

Under the Geneva Convention, Officers and Non-commissioned Officers are not obliged to work when taken prisoner. I am, as you know, a Private. One-hundred-and-fifty such minor beings were shipped to a Dresden work camp on January 10th. I was their leader by virtue of the little German I spoke. It was our misfortune to have sadistic and fanatical guards. We were refused medical attention and clothing: We were given long hours at extremely hard labor. Our food ration was two-hundred-and-fifty grams of black bread and one pint of unseasoned potato soup each day. After desperately trying to improve our situation for two months and having been met with bland smiles I told the guards just what I was going to do to them when the Russians came. They beat me up a little. I was fired as group leader. Beatings were very small time: -- one boy starved to death and the SS Troops shot two for stealing food.

On about February 14th the Americans came over, followed by the R.A.F. their combined labors killed 250,000 people in twenty-four hours and destroyed all of Dresden -- possibly the world's most beautiful city. But not me.

After that we were put to work carrying corpses from Air-Raid shelters; women, children, old men; dead from concussion, fire or suffocation. Civilians cursed us and threw rocks as we carried bodies to huge funeral pyres in the city.

When General Patton took Leipzig we were evacuated on foot to ('the Saxony-Czechoslovakian border'?). There we remained until the war ended. Our guards deserted us. On that happy day the Russians were intent on mopping up isolated outlaw resistance in our sector. Their planes (P-39's) strafed and bombed us, killing fourteen, but not me.

Eight of us stole a team and wagon. We traveled and looted our way through Sudetenland and Saxony for eight days, living like kings. The Russians are crazy about Americans. The Russians picked us up in Dresden. We rode from there to the American lines at Halle in Lend-Lease Ford trucks. We've since been flown to Le Havre.

I'm writing from a Red Cross Club in the Le Havre P.O.W. Repatriation Camp. I'm being wonderfully well feed and entertained. The state-bound ships are jammed, naturally, so I'll have to be patient. I hope to be home in a month. Once home I'll be given twenty-one days recuperation at Atterbury, about $600 back pay and -- get this -- sixty (60) days furlough.

I've too damned much to say, the rest will have to wait, I can't receive mail here so don't write.

May 29, 1945

Love,

Kurt - Jr.

8.20.2011

Impoverished meanies oppress the suffering wealthy

This needs to be said over and over again. Via DailyKos by Tara the Antisocial Social Worker

Impoverished meanies oppress the suffering wealthy

8.19.2011

Thao & Mirah on Tour -- Illustrated!

Wendy MacNaughton illustrates Thao and Mirah on their West Coast tour -- some really amazing work showing the interstices of rock life following two awesome performers. (via @The_Rumpus).

A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

Everything is ending. But not yet.

(originally published in the May issue of The Rockford Independent Press)

By BENJAMIN TAYLOR

Jennifer Egan has, for the past dozen years or so, proven time and again to be one of the more formally innovative American fiction writers working today. Her 2001 novel Look at Me plays with contemporary conflations of image and identity in telling the story of an emotionally withered model (from Rockford, incidentally) whose facial reconstruction following a horrific accident dramatically alters her experience of Manhattan’s social topography. Her 2007 book The Keep creatively (if unevenly) reimagines the gothic novel to dissect a relationship between two cousins haunted in different ways by their shared and individual pasts.

A Visit From the Goon Squad continues Egan’s exploration of the sedimented nature of identity through formal experimentation. In this instance, Egan subverts the conventions of the “rock novel” to examine the intersecting lives of a number of individuals associated with one Bennie Salazar, founder and CEO of Sow’s Ear Records, and his neurotic kleptomaniac assistant Sasha. It’s thought-provoking in a wistful way, thick with an almost elegiac sense of nostalgia, yet humorous and peppered with enough glimpses of humanity in its most bumbling and earnest sense to avoid draining the reader of any and all vestiges of hope. Just to get the accolades out of the way, A Visit From the Goon Squad was one of the most-decorated books of 2010, winning both the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and the National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction.

Employing thirteen vignettes rather than a conventionally straightforward narrative, Egan jumps from character to character, shifting narrative perspective as well as chronology. The effect is a bit disorienting in the first few sections, but ultimately edifying. The reader accesses Bennie and Sasha obliquely, viewing snapshots of various moments in their individual lives and (Platonic) relationship, and seeing them through the eyes of various friends, lovers, and family members. These lacunae in the narratives of Bennie and Sasha’s inner lives keep the reader at a distance that accentuates the fragility of the threads that bind Bennie and Sasha to their respective and mutual pasts.

The novel – or collection of linked short stories (three of the thirteen sections were published as stand-alone pieces in The New Yorker) – spans more than 50 years, from the mid-1970s to somewhere in the neighborhood of 2025 (more on that in a bit), and is above all a meditation on the manner in which those threads twist and fray as time passes, dreams evolve or die, and relationships develop or fade.

A Visit From the Goon Squad opens with Sasha at her therapist’s, discussing her kleptomania and recounting a recent date she had with Alex, who reappears as the focus of the final chapter. Two significant thefts occur during the chapter, and Sasha’s world-weary and damaged personality is revealed in its sad entirety. The narrative then shifts to a middle-aged Bennie, driving with the son he struggles to understand en route to meeting with a once-promising sister band. Bennie’s decline from a hotshot record producer to living anachronism is symbolized nicely by the gold flakes he sprinkles in his coffee in accordance with an Aztec myth that maintains the gold promotes virility. Bennie meets up with Sasha at the sisters’ home, ponders the desire he realizes he’s always had for her, but remains resigned to the impossibility of its fulfillment.

The third section, “Ask Me if I Care,” moves back to Bennie’s youth, when he performed as the bassist in a Bay Area punk rock group named the Flaming Dildos. Bennie’s bandmates and female groupies are introduced along with Lou, a famous musician and producer who’s boning one of the Dildos’ groupies (Lou clearly being a stand-in for Lou Reed). The next section, “Safari,” focuses on Lou six years earlier on a safari with Rolph, his eight-year old son, Charlene, his almost-pubescent daughter, and his girlfriend-cum-assistant Mindy. This section, while having no direct bearing on the Benny-Sasha main narrative, shows why Egan is such a penetrating writer. The safari provides the backdrop for a four-way power struggle pitting Lou against Mindy, Lou against Charlene, Charlene against Rolph, and Lou against Rolph. The conflict is mostly tacit, but illuminates the irreducible characteristics of each character’s place in life, the transitoriness of that place, and the inability to communicate one’s inner life to others. Lou and two of the Dildos’ groupies reappear in the next section at Lou’s deathbed, the two girls now in their forties, one a mother of three, one a recovering heroin addict muddling through.

The middle part of the book returns to Bennie and Sasha, beginning with Bennie and his wife Stephanie growing accustomed to their (now) privileged life in Crandale, where they join the Country Club. The reader learns later that the marriage ultimately fails, and Bennie’s growing disillusionment with the manicured opulence surrounding him in contrast to Stephanie’s twice-weekly tennis dates with a Barbie-esque neighbor certainly presages this. A later section, “Out of Body,” returns the narrative to Sasha and provides the most poignantly-written part of the entire book. Written in the second person, “Out of Body” shows young Sasha as a student at NYU through the eyes of her adored best friend Rob. In the course of the chapter, Rob realizes with wrenching clarity that he’s been in love with Sasha the entire time – too late, as Sasha’s developed a strong relationship with her boyfriend (and future husband) Drew. The clarity of Rob’s love for Sasha and his conflicted feelings toward himself (the reader learns he’s returned to NYU after three months recovering from a suicide attempt) and their mutual friends culminate in an extremely moving and tragic conclusion.

The novel ends with Bennie, Alex, and Scotty, one of his former bandmates, living in a frankly dystopian New York sometime in the middle of the 2020s. Bennie has receded to the margins of the music business, Alex is marginally employed and looking to work for Bennie, and Scotty making baleful music to the accompaniment of his slide guitar. Egan swells quite a bit on her vision of America circa 2025 in this final section, and her vision isn’t exactly optimistic. Yet Egan isn’t pessimistic enough to leave the reader without a grain of hope. The novel ends with two striking images that throw its meditations on time, memory, and identity into sharp relief: a quasi-spontaneous concert given by Scotty that, while technologically mediated and organized, transcends digital distance to celebrate human togetherness; and Bennie and Alex standing before the entrance to what had been Sasha’s apartment long ago, Bennie sighing, “I hope she found a good life. She deserves it.”

Despite its overall excellence, A Visit From the Goon Squad does strike a few false notes. To begin with, there are multiple instances in which, discussing a character toward the end of a section, Egan rips off a few paragraphs telling the reader exactly what would happen to that character in the future. It’s understandable that expanding the novel to include enough vignettes to show these future fates would harm the flow and structure of the finished product, yet these “Many years later…,” “’X’ would go on to…” et cetera feel out of place and seem unnecessary.

The greater problem is Egan’s forced futurism. Some critics – such as the New York Times’ Janet Maslin – found the sections toward the end of the novel that take place in the relatively distant future brave and prescient examinations of future society. And I guess that’s the rub with writing about the future – the world in which we live changes so rapidly that a casual inclusion of “sci-fi” elements seems unconvincing and will inevitably be dated long before the designated year. Egan seemed to try to emphasize that even in that future imperfect, humanity mutually shared still matters in a sense that accelerated technological development can’t quite capture; yet, she spends enough of the final two sections describing the disastrous effects of global warming, advances in mobile technology, fields of solar panels, (even more) ubiquitous government surveillance, and two generations of unnamed and undescribed war that the pathos which galvanized the previous sections of the book fades into the background. Without devoting the energy and page length to flesh out a future world fully – which would, of course, have been impractical in this instance – the jargon, text speak, and glimpses of Dystopia, USA just come across as forced.

All in all, however, A Visit From the Goon Squad is a moving and intelligently written novel justly deserving of its accolades.

A Visit From the Goon Squad

Jennifer Egan

Anchor, 340 pages

$14.95

ISBN: 0-307-47747-7

8.16.2011

All the Single Ladies

I'm struggling with this list published by the New York Observer. Basically, I can't decide if it's an honest celebration of fifty truly remarkable single women, or blatant exploitation of women living in New York and living and looking like a Manhattanite. Not to rail against Manhattan... okay, maybe to rail against Manhattan. As a man, I might not have the best perspective on this, and certainly welcome any of the indoor plumbing folk to correct me. For starters, it's not the list I'd compile, were I that concerned about publicists in New York. I'm not, though I did at least recognize about half of the names on the roster. I would add women like Digby, who is just fucking awesome period, Amanda Marcotte, Amy Goodman, Temple Grandin (okay not technically "in media" but a writer and amazing woman), Rachel Maddow, Tina Fey, Barbara Ehrenreich, Jessa Crispin, Amy Poehler, Kristen Schaal, and many more -- all extremely talented and far more influential and important than many of the young folk on that list. Basically they're all fucking awesome and women who have informed me, inspired me, and made me laugh.

That's why I think it really seems more about a pretty photo shoot looking at that list. The women they picked are certainly beautiful -- I can't deny that. I had no idea Arianna Huffington was 61, because I would have said 45, she looks that good. Consider that last sentence an aside, I just really was surprised by that, and that's fantastic for her. She, though, has accomplished quite a bit, and built a media empire that's in my top five sites most visited and which I check multiple times daily. Sloane Crosley, however, wrote a bestselling if not well-written collection of essays entitled I Was Told There'd Be Cake. She followed it up with last year's much funnier and very better-written How Did You Get This Number? I don't want to knock Sloane, as she clearly has talent and will likely be doing awesome things in the publishing world for quite some time to come. She's only seven years my senior, and I've learned a thing or two about how rough "making it as a writer" can be -- she's made it, I haven't. So I give her her credit and find her very funny and rarely honest for a writer as young as she.

And yet I find it odd that a publication which aspires to seriousness would rank her above Michiko Kakutani, for instance. Again, nothing against Crosley, yet Kakutani is the most feared, admired, hated, respected woman in all of publishing. Writers tremble at the mention of her. She's the name you look for first in the New York Times Book Review. Kakutani can make a career or end it short. I agree with her about 60% of the time, but no one can deny that she functions as the arbiter of literary taste in America. She would be top three on my list. Rachel Maddow is essentially the face of MSNBC and easily the most intelligent political analyst on mainstream cable (I would only compare her with Keith Olbermann, who is easily as intelligent as Maddow, but whose zeal gets in the way of his ranting some times, Stewart, Maher, and Colbert -- the above, obviously, are men). Maddow consistently and eloquently provides the night's most incisive political commentary, and is a frequent guest on Meet the Press. Amy Goodman is simply the best journalist in America. Her program, which she essentially built from scratch, is the most reliable source of news about America and the world, and kept my mind active through a couple of rough years. She writes a column for The Guardian and often contributes to TruthDig, the Huffington Post, and -- I'm sure -- many other sites of which I'm yet unaware. She's an outspoken and active progressive, yet never hyperbolic and always fair to her ideological opponents. Journalism doesn't get better than that.

Just to name those three, as the work of those women in particular occupies a good deal of my day. Yet with the exception of Ms. Huffington, they're not on the list. Yes, I know it's a list of bachelorettes, which is in itself arbitrary. But if you want to talk about powerful women in media, why, aside from showing women like Ms. Crosley (who is, indeed, quite pretty) make the list restricted to just single women? It's such a blatantly sexist ploy on The Observer's part. And you bet it'll get read, mostly because men are as stereotypically fascinated by our junk as any Zach Galifianakis film implies. (I find Z.G. hilarious personally).

The whole list features young, slim, and straight pretty women with a few exceptions included to garnish The Observer's pretension to relevance. What's missing are women of color, LGBT women, activists who don't get on Sunday TV shows, women doing amazing things that impact us all far more than barely thirty pretty publicists. I have nothing against barely thirty pretty publicists, mind you. Yet the entire list seems to objectify young and pretty women for the sake of their youth and prettiness while leaving the actual female movers and shakers in media out for the most part. This benefits only those who think exploiting feminine youth and beauty is cool. Again, nothing wrong with being young and pretty -- I'm condemned to being young for a few more years at least, but never have been pretty, though it seems nice. Nothing against any of the women mentioned in that list, but I have all sorts of question for The Observer, none of which are Brett Baier softballs.

Congrats Jim Thome

Jim Thome did this last night: 3-4, 2 HR, 5 RBI in a 9-6 Twins victory over the Tigers at Comerica Field. That second home run, a three-run opposite field shot off Daniel Schlereth that provided the margin for the Twins, just happened to be the 600th of his career. He joins Barry Bonds, Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays (my favorite player of all time, and who I stood like 5 feet from at my college graduation), A-Rod, Ken Griffey Jr. and Sammy Sosa, who seems like a jokish afterthought now, but his 2001 .328, 64 HR, 160 RBI, 1.174 OPS season (no, I didn't need to look those up), tainted as it was, was insanely exciting to watch. As a Cubs fan, at least. I shelled out for mlb.tv on my comp., and structured my studying around Cubs games, even if I had a paper due the next day. It was magical. Stats for those eight individuals are available at baseball-reference.com; I won't list them, because if I do, I'm going to end up looking up stats for five hours.

Back to Thome. I've always had a lot of respect of Jim Thome, even when he played for the hated White Sox. I've always thought he has one of the most recognizable home run stances in baseball history, and as a fellow Illinoisan (he's from Peoria and grew up a Cubs fan), always sort of felt a connection with him. For most the two decades he's played, he's sort of been in the shadows of players (at the time) considered greater, players like Griffey, Bonds, McGwire, A-Rod. Speaking of Griffey (still easily the most electric player of the past twenty years in his prime), I always associated him and Thome, at least since I've been old enough to think about the game. Both down-to-earth men who wreaked havoc on opposing pitchers from Bret Saberhagen to Rick Porcello. Griffey would have been on par with Ty Cobb, Ruth, and Mays as one of the all-time greats had injuries during his time with the Reds not cost him many games and slowed him down. Thome was never going to be on that list. But, as his teammates will tell you, he's one of the hardest workers in the game, a team player, the exact opposite of Carlos Zambrano or a sulking Bonds.

His numbers will tell you the same thing (okay, these I did have to look up):

Career: .277, 600 HR, 1662 RBI, .403 OBP (seriously), .961 OPS, only one season after 1993 with an OPS under .847 (and that in an injury-shortened 2005 season in Philadelphia in which he played only 59 games and had only 193 ABs). Last year, he was quietly one of most dangerous hitters in the entire league, quietly putting up a .283/25/59 line with an OPS of 1.039 and an OPS+ of 177, which would have been good for second in the AL behind only Miguel Cabrera's 183 had he had more than 276 at-bats. Extend that line out to 500 ABs, and it turns into .283, 45, 109 line. That's an MVP candidate year. Yeah Thome's only hitting .254 this year, but with a .359 OBP and an .856 OPS, he's still clearly a formidable hitter, and has helped shore up a Twins lineup that's been without Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau for most of the year, and neither one has been 100% clearly. When Michael Cuddyer (nothing against him or any of the piranhas by the way) is your offensive leader with a .295/18/61 line and a .360/.845 OBP/OPS... wait hold on... that would seem to suggest that Jim Thome is the best hitter in the Twins' lineup this year. Identical OBP practically, slightly better OPS. Difference being Cuddyer's 421 ABs to Thome's 185.

Get this man more at-bats! He might not be an everyday player anymore, but c'mon Twins -- this is clearly not your year. At 53-67 you've probably overachieved given Mauer and Morneau's troubles and a fairly weak staff -- Liriano isn't ever going to be who he was before Tommy John, no-hitter aside. The fans love Thome, you have that beautiful new park (which I haven't been to yet, but believe me, it's on my to-do list), and a first-ballot Hall of Famer who seems to have a decent amount left in the tank. I almost never criticize the Twins, as their management and manager do more with less than any other club outside of Tampa Bay, but let him play!

Update: Forget to mention, a lot of what I wrote about Thome, aside from numbers of course, was based on an excellent Tim Kurkjian column on ESPN summarizing Thome's career. I'm not usually a Kurkjian fan, but he clearly has a lot of respect for Thome. It's a very good, insightful, and revealing column well worth reading.

8.14.2011

Europe's right-wing populist problem and American parallels

I've spent my morning and early afternoon reading all sorts of cheerful things about the rise of the right in Europe, as if the rise of the right here weren't cheerful enough. Specifically, I've read Ian Buruma's article in the forthcoming issue of The Nation three times now, and find it very disturbing. I've also relistened to the July 27th broadcast of Democracy Now! which featured two fantastic interviews that will make you think hard about the populist right in Europe and make you want whiskey. The first was the always fantastic Jeff Sharlet, author of The Family, C Street, and the new Sweet Heaven When I Die. Sharlet actually read the entirety of Anders Behring Breivik's manifesto -- Breivik, of course, is the extreme right-wing Christian terrorist arrested for the deaths of 77 Norwegians. The second interview was with Eva Gabrielsson, longtime partner of the late Stieg Larsson, known best for his bestselling Millennium Trilogy (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest), but who devoted his tragically short life to combating right-wing extremism in Scandinavia through his relentless journalism in the Trotskyist Fjärde internationalen, Britain's Searchlight, and the journal he founded (on which Millennium was based) Expo.

I lived in Berlin for three months when in college, and in Frankfurt for nearly a year after I graduated, and read as much German journalism as I could. I'm still a regular reader of Die Zeit and the Süddeutsche Zeitung -- both excellent publications, which, if you're down with German dependent clauses, are well worth reading. Far better journalism than we usually get here, on par with The New York Times at its best and The Guardian. Had my first encounters with Europe's New Right in those pages, specifically a piece in Die Zeit about the rising right in Hungary (which, if you haven't read about yet, please do -- Fidesz and its leader and current Prime Minister Viktor Orbán are truly terrifying). In Germany, at least, the contemporary right has its home in the NDP (Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutschlands), reviled among the mainstream political parties (CDU/CSU, SPD, FDP, Die Grünen, Die Linke) and completely ineffectual nationally. And yet. The NDP has successfully put members in the regional legislatures of two of the sixteen German states, with 14 members total in those two. The NDP is a Neo-Nazi party, extremely hostile to the large Turkish immigrant population in Germany, and to Islam in general.

The above is an important point both Buruma and Sharlet make. Buruma:

And then 9/11 happened, and the murder of the Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh, and the bombings in Madrid and London—all these atrocities perpetrated by terrorists acting in the name of a violent Islamist revolution. This finally gave right-wing populists a cause with which to crash into the center of European politics.

European civilization, frightened citizens were being told, had to be defended against “Islamization,” against fanatical aliens who breed so fast that white Europeans will soon be outnumbered. And the promoters of this cause were not nostalgic old SS men dreaming of the good old days, or neo-Fascists pining for black shirts and military marches, or skinheads itching for a brawl. Quite the opposite: Europe’s new populists are smartly dressed modern men and women who claim to be defending our freedoms. And they are persuasive because people are afraid and resentful, blaming economic and social anxieties on “liberal elites.” But if the fears are vague and various, the focal point is Islam.

Sharlet:

Breivik took a kind of logical next step from that rhetoric. And that’s part of why I think it’s troubling when people sort of attempt to dismiss him as a madman and not deal with the politics that are very much a part of our, unfortunately, mainstream political discourse, that walk right up to the edge of violence.

Or, you know, in the case of U.S. war in the Middle East—you know, I’ve reported on this in the past, and we talked about this on the show here before—a number of senior American officers, Lieutenant General Bruce Fister, described the war in Iraq and Afghanistan as "a spiritual war of the greatest magnitude." There was video of the top American Army chaplain in Afghanistan saying that we’re there fighting in Afghanistan for Christianity.

Buruma's article is extraordinarily relevant, as he discusses the rise of the right across Europe, from Geert Wilders in the Netherlands to Francesco Speroni in Italy. It's truly shocking to read how widespread this still-somewhat-underground movement has become. With the increasing economic turmoil across Europe -- UK, Greece, Spain, and Italy have already erupted into protest, and the demise of the Euro seems ever more likely -- it's worth remembering that the hyperinflation of 1923 and the economic despair of the '20s in general were key contributing factors to the rise of Nazism in Weimar Germany. When people get desperate, they'll turn to any ideology that ameliorates their despair and promises better days. This poses an interesting question for the Left -- essentially how do we convince despairing and angry folk here and elsewhere that we have the solutions to wide-scale social breakdown?

This brings us to the United States. The crucial distinction to make here, I think, is between the largely youth-oriented and economy-focused activism/rioting in Europe, and the largely middle-aged and culturally-predicated activism here, courtesy of the Tea Party. The United States is in a Second Great Depression, none of this Great Recession stuff. When one-sixth of the populace is dependent on food stamps just to eat, when U6 unemployment is around 20%, when unemployment among minority populations reach as high as 40%, when young people graduate college with $25,000 in debt and no chance at a well-paying job, it's a depression. Tavis Smiley and Dr. Cornel West on 08.09's Democracy Now! and Barbara Ehrenreich on the 08.08 broadcast go into much further depth and much more eloquently about how poverty is getting worse daily in the United States. The economic reality here, as in Europe, is dire for most people, and I predict it won't be long before the rage prevalent on the extreme Right about their mythologized version of America extends to economic issues beyond the Tea Party's Randian aversion to taxation or community of any kind. Worth pointing out as well that a great deal of the cultural aggression among Tea Partiers is explicitly directed at Muslims, from Herman Cain stating that he would never hire a Muslim for his cabinet to completely absurd anti-Shariah laws passed in Oklahoma and elsewhere.

It's a frightening global moment, ripe for anti-immigrant and anti-Islamic scapegoating, riper still for extreme political upheaval. So far, the Right, here and in Europe, is positioning itself far better than the Left, despite the Right's complete economic and social fantasies. Both in the United States and in Europe, the growing movements on the Right are predicated on a nativist meme that's been around for centuries hearkening back to a hypothetical "pure" state in which "liberty" means doing whatever you'd like and the brown people are ruthless savages intent on infiltrating and undermining our societies. This fear of "The Other" surfaces when times are tough and white Westerners need a scapegoat. The Right has egged on this attitude since the Crusades (yes, I know politics are a bit different now), and is currently doing so to demonize Islam, the LGBT community, minority communities, the poor, and basically anyone who isn't relatively well-off all in the name of "purifying" societies in the United States and Europe.

To the point, right-wing extremism is ascendant at the moment, and we on the Left need to do everything we can to combat scapegoating and to press what democracy we have to pass a jobs program. Otherwise, this'll be America before we can blink.

http://www.newsflash.org/2004/02/pictures/000076934.jpg

Maybe that wouldn't even be a bad thing, as long as we can get the masses on our side.

(Cross-posted at dailykos.com)

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

This'll be rambling and frankly semi-coherent, but it intrigued me. Woke up about half an hour ago from a dream in which my longtime ex's parents (in the dream confused with another ex's parents, but such is the nature of dreams) went through her books and literally tossed into a trash bag her copies of Henry Miller, Melville (? right?), Kerouac, Whitman, Cheever, Lowell, and Pynchon, many of which (in the dream, at least -- though I am known to gift books, an arrogant if sincere trait of mine) I had given her. They were corrupting her mind, of course (Henry Miller has gone a long way in corrupting mine, so I won't exactly question that one at least). In the dream I was my typical blustering and relatively disrespectful self, openly questioning why in the living hell they were doing that, what censorship of any kind can accomplish, and why it's better to shield oneself from uncomfortable ideas than to actively engage them.

I have absolutely no idea what brought this dream on. I've written about the ex in question lately, so perhaps that explains her appearance, but the book censorship thing I can't think of a trigger for. Of course, that's what I love about dreams. To be completely honest, I've had more short stories develop out of things I dreamed about seemingly randomly than I've had develop out of purposefully thinking of ideas. As an aside, I think that's true of writers far more talented than I -- I always think of T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men": "Eyes I dare not meet in dreams / In death's dream kingdom" and frankly that scares the shit out of me. I borrowed the title for this post from "Hamlet" and "The Tempest"'s summary by Prospero in IV:1 is stunningly good as well: "We are such stuff / As dreams are made on; and our little life / Is rounded with a sleep." Or perhaps as Descartes wrote, "I am accustomed to sleep and my dreams to imagine the same things lunatics imagine when they are awake."

And one more quote I love, and moving toward relevance, from the Talmud: "A dream which is not interpreted is like a letter which is not read." This particular dream stuck out to me because removing access to books is one of the few unforgivable offenses I can think of on the behalf of a parent -- and granted, I'm not yet a parent and may never be, so my perspective might be a bit skewed. Still, though, I can't imagine limiting a child's access to something they want to read (children! reading!) based on my objections to the content. It seems far more the responsible thing to do to explain to the child my grounds for objecting to the content and inviting her or him to think their own thoughts but take my perspective into consideration. As with everyone, I've been through some shit with my parents, and I've forgiven everything I've felt they did wrong (I do hope the same applies) with just one niggling exception -- the one time they returned to the library a book I was reading because my mother opened it up (I was like 11) to a sex scene. Horror upon horrors, eh? (I won't mention what the book in question was, because frankly, it's embarrassing). The very concept of censoring or banning books is as offensive to me as illegal wiretapping.

One of the coolest and most memorable memorials I've ever been to is the Bebelplatz in Berlin, which is a testament to the Nazi book-burning shortly after the Ausnahmezustand went into effect (which took place in the Bebelplatz). It consists of a single glass pane underneath your feet -- right on Unter den Linden and essentially on the campus of the Humboldt Universität. You look down and see rows and rows of empty bookshelves with an engraved line from Heine reading: "Dort, wo man Bücher verbrennt man am Ende auch Menschen" (There, where books are burned, will also ultimately see men burned"). How's that for an impactful line? And yet I think Heine is right -- the philosophical implications of purposefully restricting knowledge of whatever sort aside -- the political act of banning or worse, burning, books is a frontal assault on the democracy of the mind, without which any other form of democracy is impossible. To ban any form of intellectual content, be it visual art, music, film, literature, etc., goes against the very grain of every fucking thing the Enlightenment accomplished for us, its relatively ungrateful heirs. I'll even go far as to say that anyone who suggests a ban on any creative content is a cryptofascist. Freedom to create is on par with the freedom to love whom you love, to do what you love, to create yourself endlessly, and that freedom is what defines modernity itself.

This list of authors who have had books banned in the United States reads like a who's who of the greatest writers of all time (or this list from the ALA), without whose work I know for sure I would never have developed into the person I am.

Anyway, to summarize sloppily, this particular dream really affected me and reminded me how important the freedom to think and dream whatever comes your way really is essential to growing up, and a freedom that should never be abrogated under any circumstances.

 
Add to Technorati Favorites Creative Commons License
Destructive Anachronism is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.