This Blog is Stolen Property

Saturday, October 20, 2007

The Triumph of the One Party System

Do you ever do that thing where you say a word over and over until it becomes just a collection of sounds? Try it with "radiator." Or "apocalypse." Or "tennis ball."

After about the fifth repetition, it ceases to have any meaning.

Any time a word is repeated often enough without careful thought, it loses some of its punch. It's a "free floating signifier" as we say in my line of work. Because I have a silly line of work.

Now, that's not to say that the word can't be reinvigorated with meaning. As soon as it gets cold out, the meaning of "radiator" returns. Or, as much as we throw the word "Nazi" around, so that some soup vendor with strict ordering practices is called one, once we stop to think about Nazism, the meaning returns.

It's time the Democrats on the Senate intelligence committe stop repeating "warrantless, warrantless, warrantless" and think about what it actually means. They voted yesterday on how to regulate warrantless surveillance. I think we're officially down the rabbit hole.

It's been repeated so often, they must think of it as just another category of wiretap. Phone tap. Wireless tap. Warrantless tap.

The so-called opposition party is arguing over the means by which executive power is allowed to run wild. Shouldn't the word "warrantless" clue them in that these wiretaps are a gross overstepping of legal power? And what about the "executive order" that the President says authorizes them? Not only is this effectively an encroachment on legislative power, the details are secret. Shouldn't the Democrats be trying to make government more transparent and the office of the President less authoritarian?

I'm worried that we're not just drifting toward a one party system, we're letting the lines between the legislative, executive, and judicial blur. That can only lead toward totalitarianism, and it's time Congressional Democrats took a stand.



Or maybe they're just counting on getting one of their own in next year and think that warrantless wiretaps might come in handy.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Separation of Church and the #8

Now, I'm usually all for religious tolerance. But if my commute keeps getting used as a battlefield in a Crusade, I'm going to go all Saladin on its ass.

The bus is loud and annoying as it is. There is the woman (I'm sure I've mentioned her) who talks on her cell phone about how great the Atkins diet is. Every single day.

Yeah, I can have all the bacon I want....yeah....no, really....and cheese....yeah, and hamburger...


How many friends can this woman have that can stand to listen to this list of saturated fat every day???

There's the guy who sings opera. Loudly.

There's the usual assortment of crazy people, normal people, arguing couples, chatting couples, sad babies, happy babies--in short, just general noise. That's just how it is.

BUT...the missionaries? MUST. BE. STOPPED.

Seriously, I have nothing against Mormonism. Well, except for the super-offensive posthumous baptizing of Shoa victims. I do have that against the Church as an institution, I suppose, but nothing against individual Mormons. Most Mormons I know are kind, tolerant, and interesting.

But I very very much have something against being proselytized every day on my commute.

My favorite was the time the missionary woman sat down next to me, nudged my open book, and said without a trace of irony: "It's wonderful how some people can read on the bus."

It was wonderful, my dear. It was.

Here's my question: how much do you have to suck at missionary school that they send you to Boston??? It's like the assignment for people who couldn't learn another language or evince any kind of cultural sensitivity?

It's this latter point that pushed me over the edge today.

There's a homeless guy who rides my bus. Nice enough guy. Smells bad, but I'm sure I would, too, if I were homeless. So this missionary guy starts talking to him. The homeless guy has the best missionary shut-down line I've ever heard:

Oh yeah. My family's Mormon. My brother's a good Mormon. He got a draft deferral to go on his mission. I got sent Vietnam.


Ouch. But the missionary guy didn't get the sarcasm, I guess. Because he said--I am not making this up--he said: "Oh, Asia. I've always wanted to go to China."

What the hell?

But it got worse. The missionary guy then asked the homeless guy--I could NOT make this up--he asked him: "Where's your favorite place to eat in Cambridge?"

Um, the guy's homeless. Homeless. He's not exactly working his way through Zagat's.

I wouldn't mind the conversion attempts on the bus if the people who are supposed to be my spiritual superiors had anything like a damn clue.

Sheesh.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

The Dustbin of Bloggery

My brain is a little worn out (not from overuse, I assure you!). Usually writing this blog is a way of doing some (minimal) intellectual work without the pressures of production. When I'm stuck at work, writing something low-stakes and/or playful helps me reconnect with why I like language and/or why I think it's important.

But lately I feel just as stuck with the blog as I do with everything else. This too shall pass, of course. But it's led to some rather banal posts (don't deny it), so I thought I would go into the "edit posts" feature of Blogger and see if I had started any substantive or funny posts that I could finish up.

Well, it turns out I've started and abandoned LOTS of posts, some of which just have a title and some of which have notes, and almost all of which are a total mystery to me. This one looks to be literary analysis coupled with some sleep-deprived raving:

Watching the Detectives

I am Feemus's insomnia. In desperation, have taken to falling asleep in front of tv. Detective shows are best for falling asleep. 21 Jumpstreet or The Rockford Files are the jackpot. Barnaby Jones ok, too. Wonder if Buddy Ebson liked Donna Douglas or Lee Meriwether better.

Structural difference between detective stories and fairy tales:


In detective stories, even edgy or genre-bending ones, the structure is revelatory; opacity eventually gives way to transparency. Motives become more or less intelligibe. Everything that happens means something. All process is process toward an end—even the inevitable red herrings are involved in that process. Fairy tales are the opposite. Instead of being essential, instead of leading the way to eventual unravelment, details in fairy tales are very often just there. They seem to resist rational explanation or to fit themselves into the plot in any way. Why, for instance, are Cinderella’s slippers made from glass? Does it matter? Is some point being made about transparency in the midst of disguise and dissembling? A girl born into privilege who is made to act like a servant dressing up as a privileged girl, the clarity of the glass slippers being emblematic of the fact that she was disguised as her true self. Is it suggesting that we are always in a state of performance even if what we are performing is the truth? Nothing is ever explained in a fairy tale. Details assume a kind of transcendent meaning because they remain at the level of suggestion, because they refuse to yield their secrets. Would Bluebeard have killed his wife if she hadn’t opened the forbidden room? And why was Bluebeard’s beard blue? This detail, important enough to find its way into the title of the story, important enough to name the character, is never explained. The blue beard was grotesque in its irrelevance to the story, in its inconsequence. Or is it inconsequential? Was Bluebeard murderous because of his disfigurement? Was his disfigurement the external manifestation of a maimed and brutal soul? Why didn’t he simply shave?

Lee Meriwether, I bet.

Well, at least I see where I was going with that one. But what about this?

bacon

weil - bacon - johnson - tom tancredo - risch


Your guess is as good as mine. This one seems simple enough:

Crazy Sells

Ron Paul, Mike Gravel. Crazy is the new White Southern in Presidential politics.


This one seems to have been on roughly the same subject:

Loyal to the UnRealpolitik

I love watching Gravel throw that rock into the lake. Don't ask me why. Dude's nuts.


This one, I was clearly pissed off. Frankly, I still am, but no longer have the energy to sustain it:

Harvey Mansfield Can Suck My Thumos

I don't even think he really understands the concept of thumos, and are we really going to let a culture that wouldn't let women out of doors dictate our notions of gender? Seriously?


But the jewel in the crown of incomprehensibility is this one, that has nothing but a title:

irredeemable evil


I wonder what side I was coming down on, pro or con?