4.28.2012
Nerd Prom
Not going to recap the whole thing, though I do think Jimmy Kimmel was pretty excellent, fat jokes and too-rapid fire delivery aside, but Obama entirely killed it. This item in particular, with regard to LGBTQA rights and h/t to The New Civil Rights Movement for the link.
The Bulls Minus D-Rose
Attended my first-ever Bulls playoff game today, a 103-91 win over the Philadelphia 76ers. It was a phenomenal experience, from the iconic intro to a pretty easy win at the final buzzer. Phenomenal in every aspect until 1:10 left in the fourth quarter, when this happened. The consensus opinion seems to be that the Bulls are done, have no chance of making a deep playoff run, can't beat Boston if they can even get by Philly without Derrick.
Here's my attempt at optimism (and obviously thoughts and prayers go out to Derrick, and wish him a speedy recovery):
The Bulls are the deepest team in the league, with the possible exception of San Antonio. The Bulls have beaten Miami, Boston, Orlando, New York, Atlanta and yes, Philly without Rose this year, going 18-9 in the 27 games he missed. That .667 win percentage would still have netted them the No. 2 seed in the East, ahead of Indiana and only two games behind Miami. C.J. Watson, while certainly not the caliber of player Rose is, has shown he can step into the point guard role as a starter, score, distribute, and run the Bulls' offense. Yes, he didn't have a great game today, but there's no reason to doubt that he and the rest of the bench mob can step it up without their superstar.
There's also been a lot of criticism of Coach Tom Thibodeau's decision to leave Rose in the game with a double-digit lead and the outcome hardly in question so late in the fourth quarter. Some of that criticism is valid, I believe, but that's how Thibs coaches, and why he's been so successful: his mantra — as well as Derrick's, though it certainly didn't pay off today — seems to be "go hard, or go home." I think Thibs has the ability to get this team through, particularly with a healthy Rip Hamilton (who was outstanding today), a hot Kyle Korver, and late-season improvements by Joakim Noah and Carlos Boozer.
The Bulls will get past Philly, maybe in five or six games instead of four or five, but they will advance. In the second round, they're likely to face Boston (which, let's face it, and regardless of Ray Allen's health, is just a better and hotter team than Atlanta), which will be a definite challenge. The Celtics core of Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, Allen, and Rajon Rondo has a title to their credit and a good deal of playoff experience. Brandon Bass has been great for them all year, and — as none other than Celtic fan-in-chief Bill Simmons wrote — Greg Stiemsma has come out of nowhere to make significant contributions for the C's. They're a dangerous, dangerous team fueled in addition by the knowledge that the 2011-2012 season is likely the last hurrah for the Big Three/Four, given the advanced age of Garnett/Pierce/Allen (even despite Garnett's second-half resurgence getting more time in the paint).
And yet. The Bulls, again, are the deepest team in the league. They have home-court advantage. They've beaten the C's without Rose. No, a regular-season game isn't the same as a game in a best-of-seven, but they have the best head coach in the league not named Greg Popovich, and they have the talent. It's absurdly premature to write off their title hopes, though the hill did become that much steeper with the loss of Rose. Are they favorites to emerge from the East anymore? No. Are they done (as so many were quick to assert)? Hell no. They can beat Boston. They can beat Miami. Do I think it's likely they will? Also no, but they're by no stretch of the imagination dead in the water. See Red.
Here's my attempt at optimism (and obviously thoughts and prayers go out to Derrick, and wish him a speedy recovery):
The Bulls are the deepest team in the league, with the possible exception of San Antonio. The Bulls have beaten Miami, Boston, Orlando, New York, Atlanta and yes, Philly without Rose this year, going 18-9 in the 27 games he missed. That .667 win percentage would still have netted them the No. 2 seed in the East, ahead of Indiana and only two games behind Miami. C.J. Watson, while certainly not the caliber of player Rose is, has shown he can step into the point guard role as a starter, score, distribute, and run the Bulls' offense. Yes, he didn't have a great game today, but there's no reason to doubt that he and the rest of the bench mob can step it up without their superstar.
There's also been a lot of criticism of Coach Tom Thibodeau's decision to leave Rose in the game with a double-digit lead and the outcome hardly in question so late in the fourth quarter. Some of that criticism is valid, I believe, but that's how Thibs coaches, and why he's been so successful: his mantra — as well as Derrick's, though it certainly didn't pay off today — seems to be "go hard, or go home." I think Thibs has the ability to get this team through, particularly with a healthy Rip Hamilton (who was outstanding today), a hot Kyle Korver, and late-season improvements by Joakim Noah and Carlos Boozer.
The Bulls will get past Philly, maybe in five or six games instead of four or five, but they will advance. In the second round, they're likely to face Boston (which, let's face it, and regardless of Ray Allen's health, is just a better and hotter team than Atlanta), which will be a definite challenge. The Celtics core of Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, Allen, and Rajon Rondo has a title to their credit and a good deal of playoff experience. Brandon Bass has been great for them all year, and — as none other than Celtic fan-in-chief Bill Simmons wrote — Greg Stiemsma has come out of nowhere to make significant contributions for the C's. They're a dangerous, dangerous team fueled in addition by the knowledge that the 2011-2012 season is likely the last hurrah for the Big Three/Four, given the advanced age of Garnett/Pierce/Allen (even despite Garnett's second-half resurgence getting more time in the paint).
And yet. The Bulls, again, are the deepest team in the league. They have home-court advantage. They've beaten the C's without Rose. No, a regular-season game isn't the same as a game in a best-of-seven, but they have the best head coach in the league not named Greg Popovich, and they have the talent. It's absurdly premature to write off their title hopes, though the hill did become that much steeper with the loss of Rose. Are they favorites to emerge from the East anymore? No. Are they done (as so many were quick to assert)? Hell no. They can beat Boston. They can beat Miami. Do I think it's likely they will? Also no, but they're by no stretch of the imagination dead in the water. See Red.
4.25.2012
What "Mad Men" really means!
Spent this evening (after work) digesting Phillip Maciak's masterful analysis of "Mad Men"'s success, its relevance in the contemporary cultural landscape, and the meaning of the apparent shift from episodic emphasis to longer and more complex season- and series-long television plots, indeed the shift from a focus on television as entertainment to a focus on plot recently posted at the Los Angeles Review of Books (which I can't strongly enough emphasize how badass they are, how every conscious person should be reading the LARB, and everyone with the means — even as meagre as mine —should support them financially if that's a viable proposition, and no, I am in no way affiliated with LARB, just am impressed by what they're doing).
As someone who's currently at work on a television series that takes the long narrative approach over the episodic one, the debate currently raging about the respective value of each approach to a television series is of particular interest (don't get too excited, it's still very much in the early stages, though I know where I want to go with it; at least the pilot's done, though I haven't the slightest idea or experience with what comes after the words are on paper). It seems that television — like film, pop music, fiction, just to name a few forms of media — is diverging at long last. Long last not in the sense it's necessarily a good thing, just that television in contrast to the previously-mentioned media held out longer in attempting universal appeal.
Now it would not only be reductionist but frankly foolish to assess the divergence in media from a perspective of pure entertainment to entertainment in one camp and complexity in the other; pure enjoyment and, for lack of a better term, cerebral complexity in the other. Say Jersey Shore or The X Factor compared to Breaking Bad or Mad Men. There's clearly a qualitative difference between the two camps. I'm a fanatic for good television to the extreme, yet I have also found myself spending hours on end watching Chopped!, Iron Chef America, SportsCenter et al — shows I would lump in the former camp, all of which to say that noting the growing divergence isn't to disparage the entertainment side of the ledger, just to note that the gap between entertainment and "art" seems to be growing. As someone whose primary media interest is fiction and the novel in particular, I find this encouraging; David Simon famously described The Wire as similar to a realist novel, and it's an apt description and a point made by many more and savvier critics than I. The realization that serialized television programs can tell a complex and realistic story as well as a novel has both galvanized the industry and provided openings for writers, directors, actors/actresses, producers et al that simply weren't there previously. The trope of a debate about whether or not we're witnessing a "Golden Age" of television really misses the point, which is the premier television series today offer something the media hasn't before: nuanced narrative meant to inspire reflection and unafraid of taking on the messier parts of contemporary life. Walter White, Don Draper, the Dowager Countess, Tyrion Lannister, Lena Dunham, Dexter Morgan —just to name a few— aren't always admirable characters, in fact they're often repellent and do horrific things. Yet there's a realness and self-awareness about each that rings true in a manner which Lucy Ricardo — to use one of Maciak's examples — never did.
All in all, the focus on the long story is more rewarding than 43 minutes of escapism; I'm quite glad the paradigm is shifting and look forward to its continued development over against the self-contained episode.
As someone who's currently at work on a television series that takes the long narrative approach over the episodic one, the debate currently raging about the respective value of each approach to a television series is of particular interest (don't get too excited, it's still very much in the early stages, though I know where I want to go with it; at least the pilot's done, though I haven't the slightest idea or experience with what comes after the words are on paper). It seems that television — like film, pop music, fiction, just to name a few forms of media — is diverging at long last. Long last not in the sense it's necessarily a good thing, just that television in contrast to the previously-mentioned media held out longer in attempting universal appeal.
Now it would not only be reductionist but frankly foolish to assess the divergence in media from a perspective of pure entertainment to entertainment in one camp and complexity in the other; pure enjoyment and, for lack of a better term, cerebral complexity in the other. Say Jersey Shore or The X Factor compared to Breaking Bad or Mad Men. There's clearly a qualitative difference between the two camps. I'm a fanatic for good television to the extreme, yet I have also found myself spending hours on end watching Chopped!, Iron Chef America, SportsCenter et al — shows I would lump in the former camp, all of which to say that noting the growing divergence isn't to disparage the entertainment side of the ledger, just to note that the gap between entertainment and "art" seems to be growing. As someone whose primary media interest is fiction and the novel in particular, I find this encouraging; David Simon famously described The Wire as similar to a realist novel, and it's an apt description and a point made by many more and savvier critics than I. The realization that serialized television programs can tell a complex and realistic story as well as a novel has both galvanized the industry and provided openings for writers, directors, actors/actresses, producers et al that simply weren't there previously. The trope of a debate about whether or not we're witnessing a "Golden Age" of television really misses the point, which is the premier television series today offer something the media hasn't before: nuanced narrative meant to inspire reflection and unafraid of taking on the messier parts of contemporary life. Walter White, Don Draper, the Dowager Countess, Tyrion Lannister, Lena Dunham, Dexter Morgan —just to name a few— aren't always admirable characters, in fact they're often repellent and do horrific things. Yet there's a realness and self-awareness about each that rings true in a manner which Lucy Ricardo — to use one of Maciak's examples — never did.
All in all, the focus on the long story is more rewarding than 43 minutes of escapism; I'm quite glad the paradigm is shifting and look forward to its continued development over against the self-contained episode.
Is journalism in crisis?
My response to Kevin Anderson's column of the same title for Al-Jazeera English:
Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that journalism and journalists are still figuring out how to navigate the new and still-evolving digital media landscape from an economic standpoint. I work in media at a medium-sized newspaper in the United States, and we've dramatically cut back on staff while reducing issue size and slashing content. This while steadily losing subscribers to the print edition while gaining page views on our website. It's not my forte, but somehow that uptick in views does eventually need to be monetized. I think it's fairly inevitable that traditional print media will continue its long decline and eventual death (even despite stubborn 27-year olds who love nothing more than newsprint-stained fingers). However, and at the same time, we're frankly living in a golden age of journalism, as social media both expands the network of potential readers and journalists, but also has been proven to bring stories to light that might not have done so in the pre-digital era. The example par excellence, of course, is the ongoing investigation into the murky world of the Murdoch empire. Independent media is thriving, and I find myself daily filtering what I have time to read, listen to, or watch, as it's no longer even conceivable to check off every media outlet on the ideal list. I look at organizations like Democracy Now! which does incredible work and features extremely high levels of journalistic quality and integrity, and know that 15 years ago, Democracy Now! probably couldn't have existed.
So in summary, journalism's crisis isn't a lack of qualified reporters/columnists nor a lack of a means of distribution, but rather a (hopefully temporary) crisis due to a paradigm shift to which editors, publishers, and journalists are still figuring out how to respond. The greater threat stems from the yellow journalism as practiced by — in the United States, at least — the main three cable networks (Fox in particular, but MSNBC and CNN as well), and their willingness to demean their audience's intelligence at every step. That Jon Stewart's "The Daily Show" is considered the most trusted news source in America should say something.
Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that journalism and journalists are still figuring out how to navigate the new and still-evolving digital media landscape from an economic standpoint. I work in media at a medium-sized newspaper in the United States, and we've dramatically cut back on staff while reducing issue size and slashing content. This while steadily losing subscribers to the print edition while gaining page views on our website. It's not my forte, but somehow that uptick in views does eventually need to be monetized. I think it's fairly inevitable that traditional print media will continue its long decline and eventual death (even despite stubborn 27-year olds who love nothing more than newsprint-stained fingers). However, and at the same time, we're frankly living in a golden age of journalism, as social media both expands the network of potential readers and journalists, but also has been proven to bring stories to light that might not have done so in the pre-digital era. The example par excellence, of course, is the ongoing investigation into the murky world of the Murdoch empire. Independent media is thriving, and I find myself daily filtering what I have time to read, listen to, or watch, as it's no longer even conceivable to check off every media outlet on the ideal list. I look at organizations like Democracy Now! which does incredible work and features extremely high levels of journalistic quality and integrity, and know that 15 years ago, Democracy Now! probably couldn't have existed.
So in summary, journalism's crisis isn't a lack of qualified reporters/columnists nor a lack of a means of distribution, but rather a (hopefully temporary) crisis due to a paradigm shift to which editors, publishers, and journalists are still figuring out how to respond. The greater threat stems from the yellow journalism as practiced by — in the United States, at least — the main three cable networks (Fox in particular, but MSNBC and CNN as well), and their willingness to demean their audience's intelligence at every step. That Jon Stewart's "The Daily Show" is considered the most trusted news source in America should say something.
4.22.2012
On the Perfect Game
There are fewer things I like to do as a Cubs fan than heap praise on the White Sox as an organization or on a White Sox player. That disclaimer given, firstly, sincere congratulations to Philip Humber on his perfect game against the Seattle Mariners Saturday night (White Sox 4, Mariners 0). He hit all his spots, his breaking ball was lethal, and the defense behind him was more than solid. More importantly, when Pierzynski sealed the deal by throwing to Konerko at first to record the out after Brendan Ryan struck out on an outside breaking ball, he was rushed by his teammates who were genuinely thrilled to honor Humber and recognize his place in baseball history. The affection was genuine, and that's always good to see.
The perfect game in baseball is pretty much the Holy Grail of team sports. Baseball, like no other team sport, is both a game in which the whole is greater than the parts and one in which the parts can achieve a statistical measure of greatness that other team sports can't offer. Perhaps this is because baseball is more analyzed by advanced statistics than any other team sport (though basketball is catching up). More likely, it's due just to the nature of the game: that, in order to advance the team, it comes down to one individual against another, batter versus pitcher, whether one out in the bottom of the ninth or 27 outs over the course of a game. The only remotely comparable achievement is a keeper in soccer keeping a clean sheet, but that's a commonplace (an achievement no doubt, but hardly rare).
The concept itself of perfection is deeply embedded in American society, from our idolization of millionaires and surgically-"perfected" nymphets to the adoration of power and financial success in general. This, of course, borne out by HGTV, MTV, TLC et al. I don't even need to list the shows.
Perfection in baseball is something only available to pitchers. Sure, a batter can break records hitting 5 HR in a game or 13 RBI, but it's just not the same. For batters, the immortal glory comes with (unadulterated) lifetime records like Hank Aaron's (yes I know that Barry Bonds technically holds the all-time career home run record, but his is tainted) career home run record. It's been dissected by far more accomplished writers on baseball than myself, but the perfect game is almost an enigma in contemporary professional sports. It requires skill, the right conditions, luck, and a stolid defense, yet comes down to one man staring down another man from a distance of 60 feet, six inches.
And maybe that's why baseball — while now imported to practically the entire globe — is considered America's Game. Combining that sense of rugged individualism with workmanlike cohesiveness with the possibility of redemption through a goal greater than oneself. Above it all, of course, the idea of perfection. Those are key notes in the mythos of America and American greatness. We celebrate a perfect game in the sense of honoring the individual who accomplished that remarkable feat, but also in the sense of honoring perfection itself as an ideal to which we can and must aspire, and an ideal that's achievable if we only work hard enough.
All of which is fine and good. Go big or go home is a personal motto, and I sincerely congratulate Philip Humber on his remarkable accomplishment. Yet I can't help but wonder if the better story and better role model is 49-year old Jamie Moyer, for the time being staff ace of the Colorado Rockies, as well as the oldest individual ever to record a win as a pitcher in the Major Leagues. Moyer's fastball tops out at 82 on a good day. But he knows the game inside and out, he knows how to pitch, he hits his spots, knows how to fool a hitter half his age, and is the best student of the game still on the field. His approach is never to be flashy, but always consistent and consistently good. And why? Because he puts in the work day in and day out. Moyer's never wowed anyone, but he's also never let any team down. Not to say that Humber has or won't be starting for a very long time. I hope he does. Saying that in the fever flare of Humber's perfect game we don't lose sight of the Jamie Moyers of baseball and everyday life.
Personally, I'd rather be a Jamie Moyer.
The perfect game in baseball is pretty much the Holy Grail of team sports. Baseball, like no other team sport, is both a game in which the whole is greater than the parts and one in which the parts can achieve a statistical measure of greatness that other team sports can't offer. Perhaps this is because baseball is more analyzed by advanced statistics than any other team sport (though basketball is catching up). More likely, it's due just to the nature of the game: that, in order to advance the team, it comes down to one individual against another, batter versus pitcher, whether one out in the bottom of the ninth or 27 outs over the course of a game. The only remotely comparable achievement is a keeper in soccer keeping a clean sheet, but that's a commonplace (an achievement no doubt, but hardly rare).
The concept itself of perfection is deeply embedded in American society, from our idolization of millionaires and surgically-"perfected" nymphets to the adoration of power and financial success in general. This, of course, borne out by HGTV, MTV, TLC et al. I don't even need to list the shows.
Perfection in baseball is something only available to pitchers. Sure, a batter can break records hitting 5 HR in a game or 13 RBI, but it's just not the same. For batters, the immortal glory comes with (unadulterated) lifetime records like Hank Aaron's (yes I know that Barry Bonds technically holds the all-time career home run record, but his is tainted) career home run record. It's been dissected by far more accomplished writers on baseball than myself, but the perfect game is almost an enigma in contemporary professional sports. It requires skill, the right conditions, luck, and a stolid defense, yet comes down to one man staring down another man from a distance of 60 feet, six inches.
And maybe that's why baseball — while now imported to practically the entire globe — is considered America's Game. Combining that sense of rugged individualism with workmanlike cohesiveness with the possibility of redemption through a goal greater than oneself. Above it all, of course, the idea of perfection. Those are key notes in the mythos of America and American greatness. We celebrate a perfect game in the sense of honoring the individual who accomplished that remarkable feat, but also in the sense of honoring perfection itself as an ideal to which we can and must aspire, and an ideal that's achievable if we only work hard enough.
All of which is fine and good. Go big or go home is a personal motto, and I sincerely congratulate Philip Humber on his remarkable accomplishment. Yet I can't help but wonder if the better story and better role model is 49-year old Jamie Moyer, for the time being staff ace of the Colorado Rockies, as well as the oldest individual ever to record a win as a pitcher in the Major Leagues. Moyer's fastball tops out at 82 on a good day. But he knows the game inside and out, he knows how to pitch, he hits his spots, knows how to fool a hitter half his age, and is the best student of the game still on the field. His approach is never to be flashy, but always consistent and consistently good. And why? Because he puts in the work day in and day out. Moyer's never wowed anyone, but he's also never let any team down. Not to say that Humber has or won't be starting for a very long time. I hope he does. Saying that in the fever flare of Humber's perfect game we don't lose sight of the Jamie Moyers of baseball and everyday life.
Personally, I'd rather be a Jamie Moyer.
4.13.2012
Veepstakes
Sometime between now and the Republican National Convention — where in practically all certainty Willard Mitt Romney will accept his party's nomination to run against President Barack Obama — Mitt Romney is going to have to pick a running mate.
Whether or not the choice of a running mate in any way affects the outcome of an election is an open question (and yes, I hate linking to a David Brooks column because his intellect's about as sharp as overcooked pasta). But in general, presidential nominees pick their partners for one (or more) of three reasons: 1) to garner support in a critical state; 2) to augment their resumé on the basis of their running mate's resumé (see: Cheney, Richard) in order to paper over perceived gaps; 3) to enhance their image with key constituencies in hopes of digging up votes in those constituencies.
It's going to be very interesting for Romney, because he's really in a double bind: he's 19 points behind Obama with women and polling at 14% (!) among Hispanics; And he's perceived by much of the party's base as too moderate, and even worse for conservatives, too ideologically malleable. He also has to deal with the lingering fallout of the catastrophic Palin pick in 2008, and faces a great deal of political risk in picking someone with relatively little executive experience. A pick like Susana Martínez (R-NM) — the Republican governor of New Mexico — would address both those constituencies. Or he could go with another conservative hero like Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) (who not only augments Romney's bona fides with conservatives and the Latino community, but also happens to affect the key state of Florida), but would again be susceptible to the charge of picking someone not ready for the highest office in the land.
The Romney campaign mechanism — both this year and in 2008 (and even previously) — is to play it safe. Bet on the house, in other words. That said, I do think the pressure to Mitt's right will lead him to make the same move Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) made in 2008, and pick a young and outspoken conservative to bolster his credentials with the right. The smart pick would be Ms. Martínez, but I think it'll be Rubio. Romney knows he has no chance without better backing from women and Hispanics, and despite the fact that the policies he has thus far laid out do nothing but make life harder for both women and Hispanics, he'll go with the rising star who (in his thinking) he could groom for a succession.
Whether or not the choice of a running mate in any way affects the outcome of an election is an open question (and yes, I hate linking to a David Brooks column because his intellect's about as sharp as overcooked pasta). But in general, presidential nominees pick their partners for one (or more) of three reasons: 1) to garner support in a critical state; 2) to augment their resumé on the basis of their running mate's resumé (see: Cheney, Richard) in order to paper over perceived gaps; 3) to enhance their image with key constituencies in hopes of digging up votes in those constituencies.
It's going to be very interesting for Romney, because he's really in a double bind: he's 19 points behind Obama with women and polling at 14% (!) among Hispanics; And he's perceived by much of the party's base as too moderate, and even worse for conservatives, too ideologically malleable. He also has to deal with the lingering fallout of the catastrophic Palin pick in 2008, and faces a great deal of political risk in picking someone with relatively little executive experience. A pick like Susana Martínez (R-NM) — the Republican governor of New Mexico — would address both those constituencies. Or he could go with another conservative hero like Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) (who not only augments Romney's bona fides with conservatives and the Latino community, but also happens to affect the key state of Florida), but would again be susceptible to the charge of picking someone not ready for the highest office in the land.
The Romney campaign mechanism — both this year and in 2008 (and even previously) — is to play it safe. Bet on the house, in other words. That said, I do think the pressure to Mitt's right will lead him to make the same move Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) made in 2008, and pick a young and outspoken conservative to bolster his credentials with the right. The smart pick would be Ms. Martínez, but I think it'll be Rubio. Romney knows he has no chance without better backing from women and Hispanics, and despite the fact that the policies he has thus far laid out do nothing but make life harder for both women and Hispanics, he'll go with the rising star who (in his thinking) he could groom for a succession.
4.05.2012
Trayvon, Media and the State of American Political Discourse
This started out as an off-hand Facebook post after reading through and commenting on a thread about Trayvon Martin's death from several viewpoints, but just sort of outgrew the medium.
As vitriolic as the state of political discourse in the USA is, it's always refreshing to know individuals with whom you can virulently disagree on the merits of just about every issue, but can do so in a way that results in a calm, passionate — sure— but reasoned and respectful manner. And love her or hate her, I think this is something Rachel Maddow as well as Morning Joe do extremely well and, for the most part, consistently (as far as basic cable hosts go; I would add that I consider Democracy Now! the unparalleled best media organization around when it comes to spending your daily media budget — which is a revolving and auto-renewing credit account if you're like me; and if you don't get Pacifica or have a local independent station that broadcasts Democracy Now!, just follow the above the link and get the daily podcast, which is what I do.)
The great thing about the above three organizations (TRMS, MJ, DN), and representative individuals (RM, Joe Scarborough, and Amy Goodman) is that, while a viewer, reader, or listener never loses sight (or whatever better metaphor) of the ideological substructure influencing their particular line of inquiry, they all respect facts, willing to admit their mistakes, and most hearteningly — they're all at their best when interacting with their ideological opponents.
And -- I have to say -- I find that uplifting, even if that seems too strong a word. It seems — to a 26-year old who's not alone in this sentiment — that the exact Rovian (via Lee Atwater) political tactics of demeaning a political or ideological opponent's strengths while accusing her or him of representing and featuring your weaknesses does exactly what it's always intended to accomplish: the complete tuning-out of a good part of the electorate along the thought of "Well, screw it; they're all the same, and hey! Gossip Girl is on!) -- entirely counterproductive, to put it kindly, and idiotic to be honest."
I think there are at least three things about which even devout partisans or devout adherents to a particular Weltanschauung can broadly agree. 1) It benefits the interests of no one if political discourse breaks down into angry individuals shouting at each other across police-lined streets; 2) A deep understanding and observation — for which most people just, frankly, have neither time nor interest in which to take note — of the manner in which contemporary corporate media works has taken a role central perhaps only to fundraising as far as the failure or success of people or ideas. "Corporate" not intended as a dirty word necessarily, but as the correct adjective to distinguish media that exists to make a parent corporation a profit for its shareholders as over against media that exists on its own terms in order ideally to serve its viewers', readers' and listeners' interest. I won't hide my personal biases here, as I believe independent media essential to any potential concept of a fourth estate, though Maddow/team and Scarborough/team transcend the limitations of their jobs better than anyone not working for Comedy Central in terms of basic cable; and finally, 3) The critical role individual campaign donations and Citizens United outside funding binges have completely altered the focus of campaigns from developing policy positions and lining up some semblance of hierarchical structure within the "it's his turn" paradigm to making eyes at billionaires. I'm not naïve enough to think that plugging into to whatever available channels of power at whatever price hasn't been a primary feature of American politics from day 1 is somehow a new thing. Yet it does seem that Citizens United has done something — quite exactly what in a general election we have yet to see — has, at least thus far, changed the rules of the game.
All of which to say that — as any astute observer of relatively recent politics will throw down as readily as a Wild Turkey (though if I ever in my life get to make Colonies with Rachel, I can probably die happy) — that the current scorched earth strategy adopted on the right and the pretty much half-assed efforts from the Obama team to re-engage my particular part of the electorate has been both surprising and bewildering, respectfully. The scorched-earth bit not really that surprising, as Romney has had to do pretty much whatever it takes to attempt to appeal to swing-state socially conservative and economically-left-of-center (even if they'd never admit it on those terms) voters has been as predictable as his complete lack of knowledge re: any of said voters lives' are concerned. And with regard to Obama, his failure to take active credit for what his administration has thus far done for socially-moderate and middle- and lower-middle-class voters has been outstanding, displaying a reticence both to take ownership of what few things the administration has done to further the interests of a shrinking middle class along with a complete whitewash of an ignorance of American poverty (affected or not), American plutocracy (mostly unaffected per FEC rules), continued chumminess with Wall St., etc opens up space for a Romney attack.
In other words — and the sad thing is that no matter how well we know this, it seems the greatest taboo in party politics — we remain a society democratic on the surface, but in which -- as in China and Russia and yeah, I went there — she or he who holds the coins, holds the power. Americans Elect isn't as idiotic on paper as it is in reality, but a nice gesture at least. And idiotic not in terms of concepts but apparent enthusiasm for existing in an alternate world in which 16-bit Gingrich and Paul would at least appear human. Yet we execute more prisoners than China, Syria, Malaysia, Iran, and S. Arabia: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/27/death-penalty-2011_n_1382937.html#s816728&title=China_amount_unknown), 3K CCTV cameras in New York, 10K in Chicago, without even mentioning the sort of society in which it's acceptable to short a few hundred thousand South Side folks because Waukegan and Willamette will more than make up for it.
I'll readily admit that I got off topic out of some fever pitch, but the statistics cited just to point out that the worlds both Romney and Obama inhabit are equally ones in which Mitt doesn't lie in bed wondering if he needs to find another job at the plant, or if Barack wonders what to do about Sasha's loose molar.
The original point was that both campaigns — and Santorum's, but even to mention or link to his absurdities would be to intrude on Jon Stewart's area of expertise -- should likely, yet likely won't engage in a genuine dialogue about national priorities that are somewhat (in the sense of critically) relevant issues.
As vitriolic as the state of political discourse in the USA is, it's always refreshing to know individuals with whom you can virulently disagree on the merits of just about every issue, but can do so in a way that results in a calm, passionate — sure— but reasoned and respectful manner. And love her or hate her, I think this is something Rachel Maddow as well as Morning Joe do extremely well and, for the most part, consistently (as far as basic cable hosts go; I would add that I consider Democracy Now! the unparalleled best media organization around when it comes to spending your daily media budget — which is a revolving and auto-renewing credit account if you're like me; and if you don't get Pacifica or have a local independent station that broadcasts Democracy Now!, just follow the above the link and get the daily podcast, which is what I do.)
The great thing about the above three organizations (TRMS, MJ, DN), and representative individuals (RM, Joe Scarborough, and Amy Goodman) is that, while a viewer, reader, or listener never loses sight (or whatever better metaphor) of the ideological substructure influencing their particular line of inquiry, they all respect facts, willing to admit their mistakes, and most hearteningly — they're all at their best when interacting with their ideological opponents.
And -- I have to say -- I find that uplifting, even if that seems too strong a word. It seems — to a 26-year old who's not alone in this sentiment — that the exact Rovian (via Lee Atwater) political tactics of demeaning a political or ideological opponent's strengths while accusing her or him of representing and featuring your weaknesses does exactly what it's always intended to accomplish: the complete tuning-out of a good part of the electorate along the thought of "Well, screw it; they're all the same, and hey! Gossip Girl is on!) -- entirely counterproductive, to put it kindly, and idiotic to be honest."
I think there are at least three things about which even devout partisans or devout adherents to a particular Weltanschauung can broadly agree. 1) It benefits the interests of no one if political discourse breaks down into angry individuals shouting at each other across police-lined streets; 2) A deep understanding and observation — for which most people just, frankly, have neither time nor interest in which to take note — of the manner in which contemporary corporate media works has taken a role central perhaps only to fundraising as far as the failure or success of people or ideas. "Corporate" not intended as a dirty word necessarily, but as the correct adjective to distinguish media that exists to make a parent corporation a profit for its shareholders as over against media that exists on its own terms in order ideally to serve its viewers', readers' and listeners' interest. I won't hide my personal biases here, as I believe independent media essential to any potential concept of a fourth estate, though Maddow/team and Scarborough/team transcend the limitations of their jobs better than anyone not working for Comedy Central in terms of basic cable; and finally, 3) The critical role individual campaign donations and Citizens United outside funding binges have completely altered the focus of campaigns from developing policy positions and lining up some semblance of hierarchical structure within the "it's his turn" paradigm to making eyes at billionaires. I'm not naïve enough to think that plugging into to whatever available channels of power at whatever price hasn't been a primary feature of American politics from day 1 is somehow a new thing. Yet it does seem that Citizens United has done something — quite exactly what in a general election we have yet to see — has, at least thus far, changed the rules of the game.
All of which to say that — as any astute observer of relatively recent politics will throw down as readily as a Wild Turkey (though if I ever in my life get to make Colonies with Rachel, I can probably die happy) — that the current scorched earth strategy adopted on the right and the pretty much half-assed efforts from the Obama team to re-engage my particular part of the electorate has been both surprising and bewildering, respectfully. The scorched-earth bit not really that surprising, as Romney has had to do pretty much whatever it takes to attempt to appeal to swing-state socially conservative and economically-left-of-center (even if they'd never admit it on those terms) voters has been as predictable as his complete lack of knowledge re: any of said voters lives' are concerned. And with regard to Obama, his failure to take active credit for what his administration has thus far done for socially-moderate and middle- and lower-middle-class voters has been outstanding, displaying a reticence both to take ownership of what few things the administration has done to further the interests of a shrinking middle class along with a complete whitewash of an ignorance of American poverty (affected or not), American plutocracy (mostly unaffected per FEC rules), continued chumminess with Wall St., etc opens up space for a Romney attack.
In other words — and the sad thing is that no matter how well we know this, it seems the greatest taboo in party politics — we remain a society democratic on the surface, but in which -- as in China and Russia and yeah, I went there — she or he who holds the coins, holds the power. Americans Elect isn't as idiotic on paper as it is in reality, but a nice gesture at least. And idiotic not in terms of concepts but apparent enthusiasm for existing in an alternate world in which 16-bit Gingrich and Paul would at least appear human. Yet we execute more prisoners than China, Syria, Malaysia, Iran, and S. Arabia: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/27/death-penalty-2011_n_1382937.html#s816728&title=China_amount_unknown), 3K CCTV cameras in New York, 10K in Chicago, without even mentioning the sort of society in which it's acceptable to short a few hundred thousand South Side folks because Waukegan and Willamette will more than make up for it.
I'll readily admit that I got off topic out of some fever pitch, but the statistics cited just to point out that the worlds both Romney and Obama inhabit are equally ones in which Mitt doesn't lie in bed wondering if he needs to find another job at the plant, or if Barack wonders what to do about Sasha's loose molar.
The original point was that both campaigns — and Santorum's, but even to mention or link to his absurdities would be to intrude on Jon Stewart's area of expertise -- should likely, yet likely won't engage in a genuine dialogue about national priorities that are somewhat (in the sense of critically) relevant issues.
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