Thank goodness Harry Reid isn't a Republican, or this would be the first racist super-scandal of the new decade. Here's the money quote from the Associated Press article link:
"Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid of Nevada described in private then-Sen. Barack Obama as "light skinned" and "with no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one." Obama is the nation's first African-American president."
Could you imagine the Democratic-liberal lynch mob that would be forming and fermenting if some Republican said this? Racial extortion artists like Jesse Jackon and Al Sharpton would take to the street and rile up the mob, the NAACP would be filing formal protests and organizing a boycott, the cable news networks would be broadcasting this modern day linguistic racial atrocity ad nauseum, and the outrage and sense of collective black pain would be jammed down our throats like those awful medicines from our childhood. However, by virtue of labeling himself a Democrat, Reid's party affiliation has completely insulated him from such baseless claims, hollow grievances, and empty rhetoric. Sure there is some limited reported going at the moment, but let's face it, jobless claims are on the rise, it's too cold to report on global warming, and Obama is still blaming President Bush for everything bad that has ever occurred. It's a slow news week with liberals in control of everything, hence, this story is getting some air time. The werewolf can't help but be amused, by the rather repugnant double standards at play, both by the media, and the liberal establishment. We live in strange times.
First of all, Harry Reid is the epitome of a loser. The guy just sucks. He's inarticulate, boring, lacks any sense of style, is frequently confused, and weirdly a slave to the hard-left of the Democratic party. Despite being Senate majority leader, he's getting clobbered in every poll in his home state of Nevada, and will likely be a political relic this time next year. We can only hope.
That being said, the werewolf really doesn't get where the controversy is stemmed. Harry Reid doesn't like ghetto black people. Neither does President Obama's second-in-command, Vice President Joe "the Mouth" Biden. I mean, in Biden's eyes, and from his mouth, Obama is "the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy." Biden may have been on to something, since Obama was elected, however that's well above the werewolf's current pay-grade. The werewolf sees a trend that senior senators from the liberal wing of the Democratic party don't like black people who radiate urban ghettoness. Fair enough. It's all about good public relations and image, before content and substance.
The second part of this story pertains to the use of the word "negro." The United States, like every other western nation, has a spotted history when it comes to race relations. This is well-documented. As political correctness has invaded the vernacular in an attempt to stymie free-thought, creativity, and simple facts, a bizarre stream of evolving labels have been created to help people understand their racial lineage. During the dark days of real racism, segregation, and political oppression of black in America, the term "negro" was considered the enlightened term to describe black Americans. The term populates the writings of Booker T. Washington, Martin Luther King, Jr, and other civil rights heroes. Just think of the famous philanthropic organization The United Negro College Fund. Over the last three decades, the term for American blacks has evolved from colored, negro, black, Afro-American(hairstyles were big in the 70's), to African-American, to who knows what. It's an oppressive linguistic paradigm. The term negro is certainly anachronistic, outdated, and even tired, but using it in the modern vernacular is a far cry from racism. If you want to hear a litany of racist words, listen to some gansta rap! As much as Reid is a loser, he is also a 71 year-old man who was brought up in a time when a self-described forward thinker such as himself would be considered enlightened for describing his black countrymen as Negros. While the werewolf loves watching liberals trip over themselves with the bizarre and oppressive linguistic codes they want to impose on all of us, and he delights in seeing Harry Reid look like an anachronistic fool, it's a cosmic joke and intellectually dishonest to think Harry Reid racist for using the term negro.
The light skinned portion of the comment has it's own asinine insinuations, but that relates to the shallow pursuit of image construction and preference. Reid was caught red handed stating what most elite white liberals would like black America to become. Enjoy the amusement of how he handles it all.
There is racism embedded in liberalism. It is sourced in the notion that people who aren't white are somehow not responsible for their own actions and are incapable of helping themselves. The werewolf can think of few things as truly degrading and hateful as denying a group of people ownership and agency of their own fates. To salt that wound, liberalism hinges on "enlightened white liberals" acting as shepherds for these blighted groups. However, that's another debate for another time.
Addition: The werewolf missed a few key points in the above musings. The comparison of what occurred to Trent Lott in 2002 and the issue of whether these remarks qualify for demanding Reid's resignation.
The werewolf never really liked Trent Lott. He considered him a marginal senate majority leader, and a pork barrel professional (most legislators are), but then again, the werewolf had no reason to strongly dislike Lott. He was just another unremarkable Republican senator from the South. While Lott's remarks clearly exposed him to a barrage of criticism, could be considered ill-advised, and the pressure they generated caused him to vacate his leadership position. Tough knock of politics.
The werewolf thinks that Reid's leadership has contributed to the internal weakening of the Democrat party. From a strategic point-of-view, he would love to continue to watch Reid flounder, because it damages an agenda he opposes. Also, Reid's re-election is unlikely based on these polls, therefor his time is already limited and Reid has been rendered semi-impotent as it currently stands. However, a resignation of the Democrat senate majority has a karmic-like justice to it. As they say, what goes around, comes around.
Update: Ann Coulter calls Al Sharpton out.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Hollywood plans to murder another part of my childhood. "A-Team Intro"
Let's be perfectly honest with ourselves. With a few modern exceptions, the 1980's was the height of syndicated television. The American viewing public was blessed with television shows like MacGuyver, Airwolf, The Equalizer, Murder She Wrote, Miami Vice, Magnum P.I., and the Dukes of Hazard. It was also supported by early morning cartoons like Transformers, Thundercats, and G.I. Joe. It was the perfect time to grow up in these United States.
The A-Team, in particular, is a strong testament to television of yore. Every time he watches the original intro to the A-Team, the werewolf's blackened heart lifts slightly with a few beats of joy. During the late 1980's and early 1990's, the good folks at channel 5 in Los Angeles had syndicated reruns of the the A-Team at 3pm, right when a young werewolf got home from his episcopal elementary school. After bolting to the kitchen to get a Capri-sun or Fruit Roll Up treat, the werewolf would plant himself in front of the television and watch the A-Team. It was the perfect reward for surviving another day of elementary school. Even as a young boy, the werewolf noticed that every episode of the A-Team had the exact same plot. The team has a close encounter with the military police, whom they evade, they then either go to a rough part of downtown L.A., or some boring suburb to find out that some honest small-time family oriented entrepreneur, or community do-gooder is being harassed and shaken down by some nefarious criminal element. After sizing up the bad guys, the team goes to a junk yard, and builds some sort of super arsenal from a discarded Chevy Caprice hulk, a gas pump, some spare parts, and and proceeds to have a battle where they spectacularly route the bad guys in question. Epic in its consistency. Added bonuses included the A-Team's ring leader, Hannibal Smith, incorporating at least three cool disguises, smoking a cigar, and exclaiming "I love it when a plan comes together!", followed by the business development guy, Templeton "Faceman" Peck, always getting the girl. The team's pilot and resident maladjusted weirdo, "Howling Mad" Murdoch, would talk to himself, dress in drag, and creep the hell out of the the team's muscle, mechanic, and token black guy, "B.A" Baracus, (played perfectly by MR. T), whom would frequently tell Murdoch to "Shut up, Foo!" and bust through a wall. It was the perfect formula to guide an eight year old through his weekly afternoon siesta. Being a native of Los Angeles, the werewolf loves the retro shot of the 1980's L.A. skyline in the opening credits, and still finds the 67lbs of gold jewelry that B.A. Baracus allegedly wore through the jungles of Vietnam to be a great source of comic relief.
However, much to the eternal horror of the werewolf, he recently learned that in a fit of uncreative idiocy and desperation, the bozos in Hollywood will be releasing an A-Team movie this summer. Check it here. It's one thing to revive classic movie franchises like Star Trek and James Bond, both which Hollywood has done with some success lately. However, poaching hyper-formulaic syndicated television shows for the big screen is a sign of massive decline. First of all, by it's very nature, there really isn't enough content for more than about 37 minutes of A-Team execution time. That's what made it so beautiful. It was a one-hour date with little boy escapism. Secondly, certain personas just can't be replicated. Taking some mean looking burly black guy, giving him a mohawk, 67lbs of gold jewelry, and some bad attitude doesn't make him Mr. T. Mr. T is the god-father of bling himself, which the rappers shamelessly co-opted, plus he is an established icon, he is the D-rated minority version of John Wayne. Still, he is a class unto himself. Beyond that, as much as the werewolf loves Liam Neeson, he is no George Peppard. George Peppard is a one-of-a-kind B-rated debonair gentleman , whose sunset acting career cruise as Hannibal Smith is a legacy best left untouched. Like most shows of the 1980's, the A-Team was a product of carefree justice meets nifty urban action in an era where political correctness was still dormant on daytime television. It was okay to be a roguish "soldier of fortune" with a case of AK-47's in your trunk looking for a fight. That just doesn't fly in this day and age. Sadly.
The werewolf's final point is looking at what happened to G.I. Joe. His favorite cartoon as a little boy, G.I. Joe, was transmogrified from the ultimate patriotic childhood 1980's cartoon to quite possibly the worst film ever made. It went from being a neat collection of American and international bad-asses, fighting terrorism, each with their own distinct skills and hyper-individuality, to the unwatchable cinematic abortion of globalist vapidity and boring special effects conformity. It was clearly written by a lobotomized orangutan looking for a rotten banana. Watching G.I. Joe's cinematic interpretation last summer was akin to watching my childhood home get napalmed. A part of me died in the cinematic blaze. I fear Hollywood doesn't know when to quit, especially when it is far behind, and will proceed with Hannibal Lector like efficiency to dispatch everything I hold dear from my childhood, one item at time. Nothing is sacred in this day and age.
An Anthem from Exile: AC/DC - It's a Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll)
On its very best days, exile is a dark and dreary place. Yet, the werewolf marches on. Oddly, a sound track for exile is beginning to take shape. Given his classic rock roots, the werewolf looks to AC/DC when in doubt. This song, which was one of the first put AC/DC on the map back in mid-1970's, has a shamelessly simple headbanging beat, coupled with the cliched, yet timeless message of perseverance. In essence, AC/DC released it well before the shine of their stardom was at its brightest. It's cool in that cheesy and "who gives a crap" kinda way. (Cut the werewolf some slack, inspiration is a rare commodity these days.)
Taking a step back, it's the only classic rock song that comes to mind which seamlessly harmonizes bagpipes into its rock 'n' roll rhythm (Please correct me, if I am mistaken). Given that bagpipes usually are not the most pleasant of sounding instruments, it's an impressive feat.
Lastly, it hearkens back to the Bon Scott era of AC/DC. Bon Scott, AC/DC's first lead singer, was one of the models for the archetype of the uber-hedonistic and hyper-partying hard rockers. The guy could allegedly rival both Keith Richards and Rick James for the crazy excesses associated with sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. His irreverent fun loving rockster is in full form when he sticks his tongue out at the camera early in the video. He is the inspiration for the absent band member from the mockumentary, This is Spinal Tap, who "choked to death on his own vomit." While hilarious in the context of the film, sadly, that is actually how Bon Scott departed this fair world after a wild night in London before the werewolf was even born. Despite this song being one of their first chart toppers, AC/DC hardly ever plays it anymore. Probably out of respect to Bon Scott and his legacy. Bon Scott has come up more than once during weeknight trivia games at several waterholes the werewolf used to frequent. Remember that.
Anyhow, the werewolf will persevere. He knows "It's a long way to the top, if you want want to rock 'n' roll!" He may be ascending via the detour, but he's got his proverbial six string in hand and he's ready to rock. Here's to what tomorrow may bring!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Saab-story Saga Continues...
The reporters at the Daily Telegraph, have an interesting story about the latest potential development of GM's neglected Swedish brand, Saab. Despite proclamations of Saab's pending doom, and the inability to find a proper suitor to acquire the brand, it looks like there is a slight chance of salvation via F1 racing guru and bizarre billionaire eccentric, Bernie Ecclestone, and a Luxembourg based private equity concern. As a taxpayer with a forced equity interest in GM, the werewolf hopes our government is able to salvage some sort of value from this neglected GM division, as GM is already getting hosed with write-offs by shuttering Saturn and Pontiac, not to mention the disgrace status of its brand equity. (That's a whole other can-of-worms, the long term viability of the GM's brand and business)
This leads the werewolf to wonder, given the doom and gloom shrouding the Saab brand, along with GM and Washington's complete incompetence managing the enterprise, how does a prospective buyer attach an optimal value to Saab? The clock is ticking before Saab goes bye-bye. As the werewolf types, it's being unwound and dismembered by financial advisors and management consultants. Therefore, the werewolf would think that the value erodes with each passing day. As a perspective buyer, would I get a better deal buying Saab's assets post-liquidation, for pennies on the dollar, including the naming rights, and starting the whole endeavor over from scratch, as opposed to acquiring all of the liabilities and baggage currently associated with the brand? There are dozen of financial and strategic concerns at play, both for GM and any potential suitor, yet, the perception that nails are be driven into the coffin, I would think strengthen any potential buyer to drive down the price, extremely weakening GM's hand, and giving suitors all of the leverage. The only play for GM is to try and get suitors into a bidding war with each, however, that seems highly unlikely at this point.
The fate of Saab was likely sealed years ago when GM shamelessly assimilated it into the heinously conformist and bland Detroit collective. However, there may be some interesting lessons on corporate valuation and both seller and purchaser behavior during Saab's death throws. The werewolf will be watching.
Addition: The werewolf would like to clarify some details around valuing an enterprise as it relates to this post. Traditional metrics include, comparables (the whole auto industry is getting squeezed at the moment, and Saab was a niche player, so that's not really helpful), projected earnings or discounted cash flow (normally several models could estimate these, but when you announce your exiting existence, this goes to zero), assets (Saab has these still, but the inventory isn't moving, and who wants a bunch of pampered unionized Nordic workers?), Market value (GM is such a charlie foxtrot, that this method is murky and imprecise), plus there are the softer value points like technology, pipeline, etc. These can probably be factored and are likely the basis for the pending pricing, but again, as a potential suitor, the werewolf would think all the cards are in your hands. This goes to a secondary take-away from the werewolf's business school Corporate Valuation class (also known as Corpse Val), the bankers and advisory folks love to push corporate valuation as a science, but when you drill down to realities, such as the one Saab and GM are facing, corporation valuation begins to look less like a science and more like an art.
This leads the werewolf to wonder, given the doom and gloom shrouding the Saab brand, along with GM and Washington's complete incompetence managing the enterprise, how does a prospective buyer attach an optimal value to Saab? The clock is ticking before Saab goes bye-bye. As the werewolf types, it's being unwound and dismembered by financial advisors and management consultants. Therefore, the werewolf would think that the value erodes with each passing day. As a perspective buyer, would I get a better deal buying Saab's assets post-liquidation, for pennies on the dollar, including the naming rights, and starting the whole endeavor over from scratch, as opposed to acquiring all of the liabilities and baggage currently associated with the brand? There are dozen of financial and strategic concerns at play, both for GM and any potential suitor, yet, the perception that nails are be driven into the coffin, I would think strengthen any potential buyer to drive down the price, extremely weakening GM's hand, and giving suitors all of the leverage. The only play for GM is to try and get suitors into a bidding war with each, however, that seems highly unlikely at this point.
The fate of Saab was likely sealed years ago when GM shamelessly assimilated it into the heinously conformist and bland Detroit collective. However, there may be some interesting lessons on corporate valuation and both seller and purchaser behavior during Saab's death throws. The werewolf will be watching.
Addition: The werewolf would like to clarify some details around valuing an enterprise as it relates to this post. Traditional metrics include, comparables (the whole auto industry is getting squeezed at the moment, and Saab was a niche player, so that's not really helpful), projected earnings or discounted cash flow (normally several models could estimate these, but when you announce your exiting existence, this goes to zero), assets (Saab has these still, but the inventory isn't moving, and who wants a bunch of pampered unionized Nordic workers?), Market value (GM is such a charlie foxtrot, that this method is murky and imprecise), plus there are the softer value points like technology, pipeline, etc. These can probably be factored and are likely the basis for the pending pricing, but again, as a potential suitor, the werewolf would think all the cards are in your hands. This goes to a secondary take-away from the werewolf's business school Corporate Valuation class (also known as Corpse Val), the bankers and advisory folks love to push corporate valuation as a science, but when you drill down to realities, such as the one Saab and GM are facing, corporation valuation begins to look less like a science and more like an art.
Feliz Cumpleanos: Elvis turns 75. Enjoy some "BURNING LOVE"
Hail to King! The werewolf didn't start to really appreciate Elvis until a few years ago. While Elvis's career progression is hard to watch in hindsight, here's to remembering the very best of the man, myth, and legend. For all of his faults, Elvis was an unabashed American rock icon, who's music and legacy withstand the test of time.
Update: From the guys at Powerline, when Elvis met Nixon. Awesome.
Getting Sloppy: Falling back into Bad Habits.
The Wall Street Journal has an excellent op-ed by former CIA analyst Reuel Marc Gerecht addressing Al Qaeda's successful use of a double agent to execute a devastating suicide bombing at a forward operating base in Afghanistan base last week. The article, a must read, highlights several strategic and tactical errors made by the CIA. While not shy to criticize, the werewolf gets the sense that the CIA has become everyone's favorite punching bag(mostly warranted, but not always), and he'll save his direct critical thoughts for another time. However, in terms of structural failures this paragraph was rather shocking:
"Indeed, al Qaeda did to us exactly what we intended to do to them: use a mole for a lethal strike against high-value targets. In the case of al-Balawi, it appears the target was Ayman al Zawahiri, Osama bin Ladin's top deputy. During the Cold War, the CIA completely dropped its guard in the pursuit of much-desired Cuban and East German agents. The result? Most of our assets were plants given to us by Cuban and East German intelligence. With al-Balawi supposedly providing "good" information about al Zawahiri and al Qaeda's terrorist planning, a salivating CIA and the GID proved inattentive to counterintelligence concerns."
As a devoted student of the Cold War, the werewolf is keenly aware of some of the intelligence legacies from that storied era. One of the starkest lessons, was the Soviet Union's ability to manage human intelligence assets better than the West. While the West usually enjoyed a degree of technical superiority, and despite the moral abyss that communism embodied, there was an allure that made prominent double agents working for Moscow a theme of that conflict. One only need recall the infamous Cambridge Five, Kim Philby in particular, the Rosenbergs, Aldrich Aimes, and the post-conflict mercenary actions of Robert Hanson. These are the most infamous examples, however, they only reflect a skimming of the surface, especially in light of the manipulation via low level double agent's that the Warsaw Pact deliberately deployed to flood the West. The problem has manifested itself differently in the modern conflict, as one only need examine the internal Jihad executed at Ft. Hood last November.
While he detests communism on all levels, and celebrates its collapse, the werewolf recognizes the false Utopian allure that could appeal the to the fragile minds of intellectuals, or those seeking shelter in collectivism through their own profound individual insecurities. While this lesson is indirectly linked to the current conflict, because it is just unfeasible for a non-Muslim senior intelligence official to spontaneously convert, he feels that the detachment from Islam in the higher ranks, makes identifying double agents nearly impossible, as highlighted by the article and recent events. What is both alarming and impressive is the cleverness of Al Qaeda, to exploit this highlighted historical weakness of Western intelligence to their own advantage. Just when we think we've got the upper hand our enemies show a resilience and adaptability that is frightening.
This raises several concerns for the long term prospects of how this conflict is waged. The werewolf is certainly no expert in the field. But if we want to win(as the werewolf badly does). playing tunes from the historical playbook and fighting yesterday's wars is not the right path. The werewolf wonders, for all of their bravery, dedication, and impressive service to our country, if the intelligence services as currently constructed, suffer from inherent structural biases and political handicaps that make prosecuting this war to a successful conclusion more difficult than it needs to be. He doesn't have any answers, but thinks now, more than ever, changing the beat and tempo, could be decisive.
"Indeed, al Qaeda did to us exactly what we intended to do to them: use a mole for a lethal strike against high-value targets. In the case of al-Balawi, it appears the target was Ayman al Zawahiri, Osama bin Ladin's top deputy. During the Cold War, the CIA completely dropped its guard in the pursuit of much-desired Cuban and East German agents. The result? Most of our assets were plants given to us by Cuban and East German intelligence. With al-Balawi supposedly providing "good" information about al Zawahiri and al Qaeda's terrorist planning, a salivating CIA and the GID proved inattentive to counterintelligence concerns."
As a devoted student of the Cold War, the werewolf is keenly aware of some of the intelligence legacies from that storied era. One of the starkest lessons, was the Soviet Union's ability to manage human intelligence assets better than the West. While the West usually enjoyed a degree of technical superiority, and despite the moral abyss that communism embodied, there was an allure that made prominent double agents working for Moscow a theme of that conflict. One only need recall the infamous Cambridge Five, Kim Philby in particular, the Rosenbergs, Aldrich Aimes, and the post-conflict mercenary actions of Robert Hanson. These are the most infamous examples, however, they only reflect a skimming of the surface, especially in light of the manipulation via low level double agent's that the Warsaw Pact deliberately deployed to flood the West. The problem has manifested itself differently in the modern conflict, as one only need examine the internal Jihad executed at Ft. Hood last November.
While he detests communism on all levels, and celebrates its collapse, the werewolf recognizes the false Utopian allure that could appeal the to the fragile minds of intellectuals, or those seeking shelter in collectivism through their own profound individual insecurities. While this lesson is indirectly linked to the current conflict, because it is just unfeasible for a non-Muslim senior intelligence official to spontaneously convert, he feels that the detachment from Islam in the higher ranks, makes identifying double agents nearly impossible, as highlighted by the article and recent events. What is both alarming and impressive is the cleverness of Al Qaeda, to exploit this highlighted historical weakness of Western intelligence to their own advantage. Just when we think we've got the upper hand our enemies show a resilience and adaptability that is frightening.
This raises several concerns for the long term prospects of how this conflict is waged. The werewolf is certainly no expert in the field. But if we want to win(as the werewolf badly does). playing tunes from the historical playbook and fighting yesterday's wars is not the right path. The werewolf wonders, for all of their bravery, dedication, and impressive service to our country, if the intelligence services as currently constructed, suffer from inherent structural biases and political handicaps that make prosecuting this war to a successful conclusion more difficult than it needs to be. He doesn't have any answers, but thinks now, more than ever, changing the beat and tempo, could be decisive.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Rotten Apple sues Nashville Landmark. Her songs still suck.
According to The Tennessean, Fiona Apple, a musician most people have long forgotten ever existed, is suing Lonnie's Western Room, in what is likely a vain attempt to either reignite her long dead career, or get some money for last month's rent. Fuck you, Fiona!
The article seems to imply that Lonnie's will emerge from this just fine. Let's hope so. As suggested in other posts, Lonnie's was an integral part of the werewolf's business school experience in Nashville. A Friday night bouncing around Nashville's amazing honky tonks wasn't complete until you stumbled into Lonnie's for both a night cap and to belt out some songs. It's where the werewolf's ill-fated karaoke career both began and ended. Lonnie's is a truly a gem in multiple ways, and frankly, one of the werewolf's eternal favorite destinations. Lonnie himself is both a decent guy, and rather impressive entrepreneur. The werewolf crossed paths with him on several occasions while frequenting his establishment and was impressed to learn that Lonnie allegedly won his legendary karaoke bar in a poker game once upon a time.
It's funny, just today, the werewolf received a New Year's well wishes card from a dear business school friend, featuring a rather hilarious photo of that dear friend on the stage at Lonnie's. Anyhow, the werewolf wishes Lonnie all the best, and hopes that the rotten Apple contracts an awful STD and fades into oblivion. Where she belongs.
The article seems to imply that Lonnie's will emerge from this just fine. Let's hope so. As suggested in other posts, Lonnie's was an integral part of the werewolf's business school experience in Nashville. A Friday night bouncing around Nashville's amazing honky tonks wasn't complete until you stumbled into Lonnie's for both a night cap and to belt out some songs. It's where the werewolf's ill-fated karaoke career both began and ended. Lonnie's is a truly a gem in multiple ways, and frankly, one of the werewolf's eternal favorite destinations. Lonnie himself is both a decent guy, and rather impressive entrepreneur. The werewolf crossed paths with him on several occasions while frequenting his establishment and was impressed to learn that Lonnie allegedly won his legendary karaoke bar in a poker game once upon a time.
It's funny, just today, the werewolf received a New Year's well wishes card from a dear business school friend, featuring a rather hilarious photo of that dear friend on the stage at Lonnie's. Anyhow, the werewolf wishes Lonnie all the best, and hopes that the rotten Apple contracts an awful STD and fades into oblivion. Where she belongs.
Helluva Performance: Genesis - Invisible Touch (Invisible Touch Tour)
The beauty of music is that while our tastes are always evolving and growing, certain elements and preferences endure. The werewolf has loved Genesis since he was about ten years old. "Land of Confusion" was the song that pulled him into the orbit of Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins collaborative rock genius many moons ago. In fact, the werewolf's bucket list includes trying to catch Genesis live before they all die-off. The werewolf pities those who've lived through multiple exposures to his karaoke rendition of "I Can't Dance" at Lonnie's in Nashville. At least the werewolf loves his inner buffoon.
While being in exile has elements of hell embedded in it, the werewolf does have the luxury of embracing some nostalgia from his youth every now and then. This includes finding clips of concerts he'd wish he'd attended as a little boy. This performance of "Invisible Touch" reinforces how awesome Genesis is in his mind. That being said, the mullet sported by Phil Collins is somewhat unreal, especially when juxtaposed with his current Lex Luthor look.
Here's to the enduring love of Rock n' Roll!
Amazon rises! Drowning the academic book racket.
Via Istapundit. Although several years too late for his own salvation, the werewolf's black heart get's a little lift when he reads about Amazon's frontal assault on the quasi-monopoly that university bookstores maintain on pricing for academic texts. During his undergraduate years at Emory, the werewolf would frequently enroll in reading heavy political science and history courses. He was also a fool, and frequently bought all of the books required for these courses. It wasn't until graduate school that he wised up a tad. He recalls certain bizarre texts of marginal content costing north of $100, only to have a salvage value of three dollars five months later when the course had ended. Yet, the pricing would promptly return to the triple digits for the marginal text at the start of the next semester. Talk about getting sodomized without the courtesy of some spit.
Being the sole distributor of these texts, the campus bookstore operations enjoyed the perverted pricing metrics because they weren't truly subjected to the efficiencies a market compels. Having options, and slightly more reasonable pricing metrics entered into the fray, should empower students everywhere. This unto itself is a small victory worthy of a smile.
Word of caution, just because texts are getting subjected to market pricing metrics doesn't mean that universities, in collusion with their bookstore partners, have found a new method to sodomize their students. Beware of "course packets." These vicious, and extremely expensive little buggers are a collection of relative articles, cases, and material drawn from a variety of sources and neatly bound into an expensive little packet. They change slightly with each academic year, so it is hard to re-use and create a secondary market for them. It is also a way to compel you to keep purchasing over-priced additions to advance your education and keep the bookstores in business. The upside is that these little buggers are very focused and deliberate in how they tie into the material of the course. Plus, they don't take up the same of amount of shelf-space or weigh as much. Here's a quick hat tip to the werewolf's alma mater, the Owen Graduate School of Management, for making nearly every required text available on reserve to its students in the library, and only compelling us to buy the dreaded course packets. It's the little things that make life bearable.
Being the sole distributor of these texts, the campus bookstore operations enjoyed the perverted pricing metrics because they weren't truly subjected to the efficiencies a market compels. Having options, and slightly more reasonable pricing metrics entered into the fray, should empower students everywhere. This unto itself is a small victory worthy of a smile.
Word of caution, just because texts are getting subjected to market pricing metrics doesn't mean that universities, in collusion with their bookstore partners, have found a new method to sodomize their students. Beware of "course packets." These vicious, and extremely expensive little buggers are a collection of relative articles, cases, and material drawn from a variety of sources and neatly bound into an expensive little packet. They change slightly with each academic year, so it is hard to re-use and create a secondary market for them. It is also a way to compel you to keep purchasing over-priced additions to advance your education and keep the bookstores in business. The upside is that these little buggers are very focused and deliberate in how they tie into the material of the course. Plus, they don't take up the same of amount of shelf-space or weigh as much. Here's a quick hat tip to the werewolf's alma mater, the Owen Graduate School of Management, for making nearly every required text available on reserve to its students in the library, and only compelling us to buy the dreaded course packets. It's the little things that make life bearable.
Where's that Change??? Jack Cafferty Rips Obama on Failed Openness Pledge: 'Just Another Lie Told for Political Expediency'
Courtesy of The Anchoress, this link showcases a rather astonishing rant from CNN's Jack Cafferty. It's a rare glimpse of honesty and forthrightness from the dying main stream media. The werewolf doesn't watch too much CNN, but Cafferty has always struck him as a weird hybrid of a poor man's Bill O'Reilly, crossed with the angry shabbily dressed deputy dean of nothing from junior high. Still, the candor and anger reflected in the tone, shows that liberals are beginning to understand that Obama is not a harbinger of "hope" and "change," but rather just another charlatan politician, who happens to be even more dishonest than his political kith and kin.
However, the lack of coverage about the outright lies and deception being pimped by the Democrats on the American people is shocking, because it is so apparent and easily traceable to claims they made ad nauseam. The werewolf vividly recalls the wicked witch of the West, Nancy Pelosi, bragging about a new era of transparency, inclusion, and ethics in government when the democrats retook the house and senate in 2006. Beyond the empty and vapid rhetoric of "hope" and "change" made by Obama during the 2008 campaign, the president explicitly promised that all health care discussions would be conducted in the full view of the American people via C SPAN.
Given that this health care legislation will be more expensive than the Iraq and Afghanistan engagements many times over, impact the entire population of the United States, and transform about 1/6 of the American economy, this is one the largest political scandals in the recent memory. Has "accountability" become a bad-word when progressives are in office? True outrage is permeating to the surface in certain corners, but where are all the so-called "watchdogs" and "advocates?" The silence of both most media outlets and activists on this issue is deafening. The werewolf thinks the Republic is on the cusp of some sort of Orwellian nightmare, when simple pledges get erased and blatantly ignored to cover-up legislation that rivals Johnson's "Great Society" fiasco of the 1960's.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Will the next Bond flick be on a "Road to Perdition," or captive to an "American Beauty?"
Sam Mendes to direct next Bond pic.
A friend recently sent me the this from The Hollywood Report on the latest development involving the 23rd Bond installment. Although, not an uber-devout Sam Mendes fan, the werewolf thinks this bodes well for next Bond film.While American Beauty was somewhat dark, twisted, and enjoyable, it was also incredibly overrated. It's indictment of middle class suburban conformity was drowned out by the psycho kid in a beanie constantly filming plastic bags blowing in the wind. The Road to Perdition, which incidentally features Daniel Craig as a villain, has an incredibly magnetic narrative, and qualifies as a damn decent film on all levels. This leads us to the fate of Bond 23. The werewolf thinks that as long as it is better than Quantum of Solace, (which shouldn't pose a challenge for a director like Mendes) everything will be alright.
The werewolf has been a disciple of all things Bond since about the age of three. Especially Connery's presence as Bond. The werewolf's sense of style, automotive preferences, and other social assumptions are highly predicated on the first several Bond installments, along with most of Fleming's Bond novels and novellas. He'll leave his scathing criticism of the ridiculous Pierce Brosnan Bond years for another post, but he does want to direct some legitimate ire at Quantum of Solace's confused and messy translation onto the big screen. Following 2006's Casino Royale, and its smashing reinvigoration of the then rudderless Bond franchise, the werewolf thought that Hollywood had finally gotten something right. That assumption was promptly blown apart by Quantum of Solace.
The werewolf's primary concern is the blurring of the James Bond and Jason Bourne franchises. Granted, Quantum of Solace is the only theatrical release highlighting this claim. Quantum of Solace over-emphasized a series of confusing, crack fueled action sequences throughout several portions of the film without ever really unfolding a plot or sense of direction. It was one part revenge, one part poorly executed nostalgia, and one part high velocity Jason Bourne action, with very little of the gritty essence that made Casino Royale such a thrilling and worthy film.
Don't get the werewolf wrong, the Bourne films, despite their distinctive anti-American positioning, and the continual and unoriginal "the CIA is at the root of all evil plot lines," are fun. Although the third Bourne installment, The Bourne Ultimatum, possessed such violent and shaky camera work that the werewolf nearly slipped into an epileptic fit during some of the chase sequences. It is crucial for Hollywood to remember that Bond is not Bourne, despite both being super spy assassins.
Bourne is a man without an identity, perpetually in search of who he is/was. No past, uncertain future, and profound insecurities about his gift for killing. There is no specific mission portfolio, he was indelibly damaged by all sorts of strange psychological programing, and although an uber-badass, his story is that of lost soul looking for home. He is in many ways a rejection of most things American and all things super-spy, while being well packaged into a trio of decent action flicks.
Bond is the exact opposite. Beyond the simple fact that he is an Englishman. He is man who knows exactly who/what he is and is extremely comfortable in that role. He is Her Majesty's foremost double-0 assassin and he is damn good at it. Everything he does, he does for England. Whereas Bourne is constantly searching for who he is, Bond is constantly trying to improve and hone his skill sets. To apply a business school term from my operations class, Bond is the human embodiment of kaizen. Bond isn't without his pitfalls, we learn that once in a blue moon, he gets a little soft and actually likes one of the women he beds, but always corrects course quickly, and reemerges a stronger, better killing machine. Bond also has a defined background. He is an accomplished naval officer, orphan, card player, vice aficionado, womanizer, well heeled and groomed gentlemen, with a roguish suaveness, and classically inclined killing streak. He is the uber-patriot who will accept any mission for his country, and do whatever it takes to complete that mission. As we've seen, he even has a flair for bending the rules, when needed to execute the task at hand.
Beyond sultry and devilishness temptresses, British sports cars, tailored Savile Row suits, his Walther PPK, sharp wit, and killer instinct, Bond should avoid any DNA transfusions from Bourne. He needs to carve out his own niche, while maintaining a connection to his established legacy. Bond's direction can evolve with the times, as it should. The Cold War has ended. New global threats from Islamic jihadists, global drug cartels, and rogue states partly define the new security paradigm, and Bond can rise up to those challenges on his terms. I just hope that Mendes, and the writers for this installment, push Bond down a road toward perdition, more than having him contemplate and reenact a Jason Bourne cameo in American Beauty.
A friend recently sent me the this from The Hollywood Report on the latest development involving the 23rd Bond installment. Although, not an uber-devout Sam Mendes fan, the werewolf thinks this bodes well for next Bond film.While American Beauty was somewhat dark, twisted, and enjoyable, it was also incredibly overrated. It's indictment of middle class suburban conformity was drowned out by the psycho kid in a beanie constantly filming plastic bags blowing in the wind. The Road to Perdition, which incidentally features Daniel Craig as a villain, has an incredibly magnetic narrative, and qualifies as a damn decent film on all levels. This leads us to the fate of Bond 23. The werewolf thinks that as long as it is better than Quantum of Solace, (which shouldn't pose a challenge for a director like Mendes) everything will be alright.
The werewolf has been a disciple of all things Bond since about the age of three. Especially Connery's presence as Bond. The werewolf's sense of style, automotive preferences, and other social assumptions are highly predicated on the first several Bond installments, along with most of Fleming's Bond novels and novellas. He'll leave his scathing criticism of the ridiculous Pierce Brosnan Bond years for another post, but he does want to direct some legitimate ire at Quantum of Solace's confused and messy translation onto the big screen. Following 2006's Casino Royale, and its smashing reinvigoration of the then rudderless Bond franchise, the werewolf thought that Hollywood had finally gotten something right. That assumption was promptly blown apart by Quantum of Solace.
The werewolf's primary concern is the blurring of the James Bond and Jason Bourne franchises. Granted, Quantum of Solace is the only theatrical release highlighting this claim. Quantum of Solace over-emphasized a series of confusing, crack fueled action sequences throughout several portions of the film without ever really unfolding a plot or sense of direction. It was one part revenge, one part poorly executed nostalgia, and one part high velocity Jason Bourne action, with very little of the gritty essence that made Casino Royale such a thrilling and worthy film.
Don't get the werewolf wrong, the Bourne films, despite their distinctive anti-American positioning, and the continual and unoriginal "the CIA is at the root of all evil plot lines," are fun. Although the third Bourne installment, The Bourne Ultimatum, possessed such violent and shaky camera work that the werewolf nearly slipped into an epileptic fit during some of the chase sequences. It is crucial for Hollywood to remember that Bond is not Bourne, despite both being super spy assassins.
Bourne is a man without an identity, perpetually in search of who he is/was. No past, uncertain future, and profound insecurities about his gift for killing. There is no specific mission portfolio, he was indelibly damaged by all sorts of strange psychological programing, and although an uber-badass, his story is that of lost soul looking for home. He is in many ways a rejection of most things American and all things super-spy, while being well packaged into a trio of decent action flicks.
Bond is the exact opposite. Beyond the simple fact that he is an Englishman. He is man who knows exactly who/what he is and is extremely comfortable in that role. He is Her Majesty's foremost double-0 assassin and he is damn good at it. Everything he does, he does for England. Whereas Bourne is constantly searching for who he is, Bond is constantly trying to improve and hone his skill sets. To apply a business school term from my operations class, Bond is the human embodiment of kaizen. Bond isn't without his pitfalls, we learn that once in a blue moon, he gets a little soft and actually likes one of the women he beds, but always corrects course quickly, and reemerges a stronger, better killing machine. Bond also has a defined background. He is an accomplished naval officer, orphan, card player, vice aficionado, womanizer, well heeled and groomed gentlemen, with a roguish suaveness, and classically inclined killing streak. He is the uber-patriot who will accept any mission for his country, and do whatever it takes to complete that mission. As we've seen, he even has a flair for bending the rules, when needed to execute the task at hand.
Beyond sultry and devilishness temptresses, British sports cars, tailored Savile Row suits, his Walther PPK, sharp wit, and killer instinct, Bond should avoid any DNA transfusions from Bourne. He needs to carve out his own niche, while maintaining a connection to his established legacy. Bond's direction can evolve with the times, as it should. The Cold War has ended. New global threats from Islamic jihadists, global drug cartels, and rogue states partly define the new security paradigm, and Bond can rise up to those challenges on his terms. I just hope that Mendes, and the writers for this installment, push Bond down a road toward perdition, more than having him contemplate and reenact a Jason Bourne cameo in American Beauty.
Hey Baby, It's Cold Outside.
Brace yourselves boys and girls. It's going to get very cold. In fact, our Anglo-cousins are suffering from an unprecedented snowfall and cold weather snap. Even the Orient is getting chilled to the bone.
I'd imagine some of our frostbitten friends would welcome a little global warming at the moment. Frankly, I'd rather perish with a nice tan, riding some super-wave induced by a melted glacier, than having lost all of my extremities to frostbite. But that's just the werewolf in me.
Three decades ago, leading scientists fretted about the Earth's pending doom from global cooling. As temperatures rose, the last decade saw the reverse fears of gloom and doom sourced from global warming. Damn you nature! Why won't you cooperate with Al Gore? Ironically, both of these apocalyptic trends were attributed to the industry and growth of mankind. Heaven forbid there be a force on this earth that acts independent of man. We always have to be at the center of attention, don't we?
The new lingo is "climate change." Broad enough to be applied to the last two concepts without having to explain which one it is, while simultaneously making "change" a bad thing. Weren't we all about, "change" in 2008? The werewolf is confused, too.
Here's the lesson. Some winters are colder, some summers are warmer. Have a fur coat and bathing suit handy, but not everything that happens is the fault of man, nor can man do much to change the outcome, other than adapting. Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and epidemics all have happened before we industrialized and could apply our self-loathing on to a global-platform, and will continue to happen despite our carbon foot, or if we buy organic or not.
Let's worry about the things we can control and actually mean something in peoples lives. To start with let's pursue sound fiscal policies, macro-economic sanity, combating terror and those who harbor it, justice, tearing down trade barriers, respecting peoples freedoms, empowerment, and constructive applications of energy technologies. Imagined nightmares of a rebellious earth and frayed environment keep our eyes off the ball, when the solution is more simple. Diversify your wardrobe.
In the meantime, bust out the fur-coat. It's going to get cold.
I'd imagine some of our frostbitten friends would welcome a little global warming at the moment. Frankly, I'd rather perish with a nice tan, riding some super-wave induced by a melted glacier, than having lost all of my extremities to frostbite. But that's just the werewolf in me.
Three decades ago, leading scientists fretted about the Earth's pending doom from global cooling. As temperatures rose, the last decade saw the reverse fears of gloom and doom sourced from global warming. Damn you nature! Why won't you cooperate with Al Gore? Ironically, both of these apocalyptic trends were attributed to the industry and growth of mankind. Heaven forbid there be a force on this earth that acts independent of man. We always have to be at the center of attention, don't we?
The new lingo is "climate change." Broad enough to be applied to the last two concepts without having to explain which one it is, while simultaneously making "change" a bad thing. Weren't we all about, "change" in 2008? The werewolf is confused, too.
Here's the lesson. Some winters are colder, some summers are warmer. Have a fur coat and bathing suit handy, but not everything that happens is the fault of man, nor can man do much to change the outcome, other than adapting. Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and epidemics all have happened before we industrialized and could apply our self-loathing on to a global-platform, and will continue to happen despite our carbon foot, or if we buy organic or not.
Let's worry about the things we can control and actually mean something in peoples lives. To start with let's pursue sound fiscal policies, macro-economic sanity, combating terror and those who harbor it, justice, tearing down trade barriers, respecting peoples freedoms, empowerment, and constructive applications of energy technologies. Imagined nightmares of a rebellious earth and frayed environment keep our eyes off the ball, when the solution is more simple. Diversify your wardrobe.
In the meantime, bust out the fur-coat. It's going to get cold.
Outrage of the Day: Compassion & Terrorism
Over at The Daily Beast, Lloyd Grove has an excellent blog post "The Terrorist Who Won't Die." If you want to be outraged, read it. What occurred in Scotland last August, with the release of infamous Lockerbie terrorist and mass murderer, Abdelbeset Ali Mohmed al Megrahi, defines definition. It was a heinous example of self indulgent government and an inherent contempt for justice. The werewolf distinctly recalls watching the convoy transport al Megrahi from his prison to the airport on cable news last fall, and hoping that a strategic RPG strike would take him out(not hurting the convoy personnel). Wishful thinking.
I recall being so outraged that a colleague and I discussed boycotting all things Scottish; including Scotch, tartan patterns, Walker's shortbread cookies, among other products. I was surprised that a boycott wasn't formally considered by some, given that the United States is Scotland's largest export market, accounting for £3.6b in export revenues according to a Scottish government survey. However, what was more chronically disappointing was the lack of internal outrage from the devolved Scottish Parliament or from the eternally frumpy Prime Minister Gordon Brown. You know something is terribly amiss when the only voice of reason is New York's infinitely irritating Senator, Chuck Schumer.
How does one integrate justice and compassion in an instance like this? I would think that the comfortable and permanent prison sentence al Megrahi received would by its very nature be considered an act of compassion. No death penalty, a two room prison cell with a television, three square meals a day, and health care all paid for compliments of the British taxpayer. Frankly, dousing him with aviation fuel and setting him ablaze in a parking lot meets the werewolf's sense of justice and compassion.
We also need to understand that terrorism is a special crime where compassion never has a place. Terrorists prey on the most vulnerable elements of society, innocent civilians. The intent is to use fear to erode a society's sense of self from the inside-out. The very essence of terrorism is void of all humanity, decency, and justice. Forgetting that is a crime unto itself.
What happened to the compassion and justice for the victims and their families? 270 murdered, plus the thousands of family members left behind. Aren't they the ones whose sensibilities ought to be privy to special considerations? Justice isn't meant to assuage the pain of these victims, but they are the ones who merit any special considerations on compassionate grounds. As mentioned earlier, the outrage around this knows no bounds. It was compassion to allow al Megrahi to succumb to cancer while in custody. The fact that he was in custody was a sign that justice, while marginal in its execution during this instance, was still present in al Megrahi's fate.
The fact that al Megrahi received the ultimate pardon, for reasons that are highly suspicious, and is thriving in his homeland, an incubator of terror, outliving his prognosis, is more than a crime. It is a defiling of compassion and the most violent rape of justice one could imagine. Outrage is an understatement.
I recall being so outraged that a colleague and I discussed boycotting all things Scottish; including Scotch, tartan patterns, Walker's shortbread cookies, among other products. I was surprised that a boycott wasn't formally considered by some, given that the United States is Scotland's largest export market, accounting for £3.6b in export revenues according to a Scottish government survey. However, what was more chronically disappointing was the lack of internal outrage from the devolved Scottish Parliament or from the eternally frumpy Prime Minister Gordon Brown. You know something is terribly amiss when the only voice of reason is New York's infinitely irritating Senator, Chuck Schumer.
How does one integrate justice and compassion in an instance like this? I would think that the comfortable and permanent prison sentence al Megrahi received would by its very nature be considered an act of compassion. No death penalty, a two room prison cell with a television, three square meals a day, and health care all paid for compliments of the British taxpayer. Frankly, dousing him with aviation fuel and setting him ablaze in a parking lot meets the werewolf's sense of justice and compassion.
We also need to understand that terrorism is a special crime where compassion never has a place. Terrorists prey on the most vulnerable elements of society, innocent civilians. The intent is to use fear to erode a society's sense of self from the inside-out. The very essence of terrorism is void of all humanity, decency, and justice. Forgetting that is a crime unto itself.
What happened to the compassion and justice for the victims and their families? 270 murdered, plus the thousands of family members left behind. Aren't they the ones whose sensibilities ought to be privy to special considerations? Justice isn't meant to assuage the pain of these victims, but they are the ones who merit any special considerations on compassionate grounds. As mentioned earlier, the outrage around this knows no bounds. It was compassion to allow al Megrahi to succumb to cancer while in custody. The fact that he was in custody was a sign that justice, while marginal in its execution during this instance, was still present in al Megrahi's fate.
The fact that al Megrahi received the ultimate pardon, for reasons that are highly suspicious, and is thriving in his homeland, an incubator of terror, outliving his prognosis, is more than a crime. It is a defiling of compassion and the most violent rape of justice one could imagine. Outrage is an understatement.
Dodd's Demise? Democratic implosion?
According to the latest from the NY Times, former presidential wannabee and five term Democratic senator from Connecticut, Chris Dodd, is bowing out from pursuing a sixth term in his native blue state. The werewolf says good riddance. Dodd was a douche extraordinaire.
This announcement comes on the heels of another senate Democratic retirement announcement from Byron Dorgan of North Dakota. These retirements are both originating from senior Democrats, who've held their seats for some time and have strong name recognition. Coupled with Parker Griffith's recent conversion to the GOP, and the raft of recently announced Democratic house retirements, it's clear that if you're a Democrat in 2010, something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
There are a variety factors at play here, especially in Dodd's case. It's incredible that Dodd was able to parade around Washington, and claim to be some sort of champion of the left, during the last few years. His recent accomplishments include crafting the legislative loophole that allowed the tax-payers to foot the controversial AIG bonuses. He was fast "Friends with Angelo Mozilo," which he used to get a favorable mortgage for that spiffy Irish cottage. That's just skimming the surface. The werewolf thinks part of the major problem was that Dodd was a careerist in the Senate, and had become a slave to incumbency. Never a good thing, regardless of party.
There is another trend that has piqued the werewolf's interest, that doesn't seem to be getting much attention. The short term legacy of the Obama effect. This time last year, the world, was a Democrat of any stripes, oyster. The drone about the end of conservatism and new ascendancy of liberalism was deafening. What a difference a year makes. What's remarkable is that the GOP, being caught in its own lameness, has very little to do with these festering Democratic wounds. They are all self-inflicted. Getting back to the point, was the price of an Obama presidency, some sort of long-term Pyrrhic victory for the Democrats? During the election, Obama was exceedingly gifted at promising to be everything to everyone? It worked. He got elected.
However, by failing to even marginally meet these raised expectations that he campaigned on, have the contrails he's left behind been toxic? It's too early to tell yet, but I get the sense that the very vehicle that propelled him to success may be hazardous to the near and medium term prospects of his party. As we all know, much can change over the next 11 months.
This announcement comes on the heels of another senate Democratic retirement announcement from Byron Dorgan of North Dakota. These retirements are both originating from senior Democrats, who've held their seats for some time and have strong name recognition. Coupled with Parker Griffith's recent conversion to the GOP, and the raft of recently announced Democratic house retirements, it's clear that if you're a Democrat in 2010, something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
There are a variety factors at play here, especially in Dodd's case. It's incredible that Dodd was able to parade around Washington, and claim to be some sort of champion of the left, during the last few years. His recent accomplishments include crafting the legislative loophole that allowed the tax-payers to foot the controversial AIG bonuses. He was fast "Friends with Angelo Mozilo," which he used to get a favorable mortgage for that spiffy Irish cottage. That's just skimming the surface. The werewolf thinks part of the major problem was that Dodd was a careerist in the Senate, and had become a slave to incumbency. Never a good thing, regardless of party.
There is another trend that has piqued the werewolf's interest, that doesn't seem to be getting much attention. The short term legacy of the Obama effect. This time last year, the world, was a Democrat of any stripes, oyster. The drone about the end of conservatism and new ascendancy of liberalism was deafening. What a difference a year makes. What's remarkable is that the GOP, being caught in its own lameness, has very little to do with these festering Democratic wounds. They are all self-inflicted. Getting back to the point, was the price of an Obama presidency, some sort of long-term Pyrrhic victory for the Democrats? During the election, Obama was exceedingly gifted at promising to be everything to everyone? It worked. He got elected.
However, by failing to even marginally meet these raised expectations that he campaigned on, have the contrails he's left behind been toxic? It's too early to tell yet, but I get the sense that the very vehicle that propelled him to success may be hazardous to the near and medium term prospects of his party. As we all know, much can change over the next 11 months.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Bacon Bourbon Bon Vivant.
The werewolf has many aspirations post exile. Foremost among these include embracing a bon vivant lifestyle. The Atlantic's online food channel recently featured an excellent piece on an amazing libation, "The Bacon Old-Fashioned." Incidentally, the werewolf was first introduced to this cocktail last spring, at Nashville's very own Patterson House.
The werewolf loves both bacon and bourbon. If left to his own devices, they'd likely be cornerstones of his diet. It seemed counter-intuitive to blend a greasy meat with a refined sipping alcohol when he first ventured into the Patterson House, shortly after it opened. The werewolf always appreciates bacon on his burgers, wrapped around his home-grilled steaks, and with breakfast. Bourbon was strictly an after hours pursuit. Anyhow, beyond what the article accurately suggests on the taste of bacon bourbon style drinks, it is remarkable how these cocktails precisely capture the smell of grilled meat, and replicate the unique smell on the taste buds of the tongue in the most delicious of ways. It was a cocktail first for the werewolf, and has left an indelible impression on him. Beyond being able to piss off a vegan and teetotaler in one strategic sip, he imagines that the bacon old-fashioned would be one of the libations preferred by the famous alpha males of yore, from Winston Churchill to John Wayne. Plus, it reinforces the notion that bacon is truly a universal product that will play a vital role in solving humanity's woes.
The werewolf loves both bacon and bourbon. If left to his own devices, they'd likely be cornerstones of his diet. It seemed counter-intuitive to blend a greasy meat with a refined sipping alcohol when he first ventured into the Patterson House, shortly after it opened. The werewolf always appreciates bacon on his burgers, wrapped around his home-grilled steaks, and with breakfast. Bourbon was strictly an after hours pursuit. Anyhow, beyond what the article accurately suggests on the taste of bacon bourbon style drinks, it is remarkable how these cocktails precisely capture the smell of grilled meat, and replicate the unique smell on the taste buds of the tongue in the most delicious of ways. It was a cocktail first for the werewolf, and has left an indelible impression on him. Beyond being able to piss off a vegan and teetotaler in one strategic sip, he imagines that the bacon old-fashioned would be one of the libations preferred by the famous alpha males of yore, from Winston Churchill to John Wayne. Plus, it reinforces the notion that bacon is truly a universal product that will play a vital role in solving humanity's woes.
Power to the people: Blowing smoke in Bloomberg's face.
Although oddly placed in the style section of the paper, this interesting New York Times piece gave the werewolf a reason to smile. Although not a smoker himself, he has long thought that smoking bans aimed at independent businesses were one of the worst assaults on freedom, commerce, and the individual. The people of New York are starting to rebel against their imperial no-fun crowd chieftain, and super-nanny, Mayor Mike Bloomberg, by lighting up and puffing away. Open defiance instances like this are the small victories against tyranny we must savor in this struggle called life.
I am sure that within the next few days, legions of public health brown shirts will descend on the various venues mentioned in this article on a mission to fine these freedom loving transgressors and the proprietors of the bars. However, the sign that the law is being flaunted in an instance like this is a tell-tale indication of dissatisfaction with the intrusion of government into the details of our day-to-day lives.
The werewolf has always thought that a market based solution to the so called concern that non-smokers have about entering smoking establishments would be best. If you're a savvy entrepreneur, and notice that large segments of the socially active population are unhappy about smelling like an ashtray at the end of the night, the solution is simple. Open up a hip, and edgy bar that offers a similar ambiance to the popular smoking bars, only it's sans smoke! If people are truly concerned about their proximity to smokers, this business model should thrive, and we can enjoy a tolerant society, where smokers, and their non-smoking kinsman, can co-exist on the same active social circuit. Sadly, the no-fun crowd and their imperial army of nannies can't stand a society where people are free to make their own choices. Here's to the defiant New York hipsters!
I am sure that within the next few days, legions of public health brown shirts will descend on the various venues mentioned in this article on a mission to fine these freedom loving transgressors and the proprietors of the bars. However, the sign that the law is being flaunted in an instance like this is a tell-tale indication of dissatisfaction with the intrusion of government into the details of our day-to-day lives.
The werewolf has always thought that a market based solution to the so called concern that non-smokers have about entering smoking establishments would be best. If you're a savvy entrepreneur, and notice that large segments of the socially active population are unhappy about smelling like an ashtray at the end of the night, the solution is simple. Open up a hip, and edgy bar that offers a similar ambiance to the popular smoking bars, only it's sans smoke! If people are truly concerned about their proximity to smokers, this business model should thrive, and we can enjoy a tolerant society, where smokers, and their non-smoking kinsman, can co-exist on the same active social circuit. Sadly, the no-fun crowd and their imperial army of nannies can't stand a society where people are free to make their own choices. Here's to the defiant New York hipsters!
Monday, January 4, 2010
When White Weddings become White Whales!
The werewolf is at the age where contemporaries, associates, peers, and friends are starting to get married, en masse. Rest assured, the werewolf has not been afflicted by any such madness, nor will he likely ever succumb to shackles of marriage. Despite all of his misanthropic musings, and skepticism toward modern marriage, he knows some of his recently married friends have found themselves good things. However, for each couple that actually complements one another, there are at least four miserable matches out there. This was highlighted the other day when an engaged couple's website, courtesy of the marriage industry's theknot.com, was drawn to his attention.
The werewolf is convinced that most women who are his peers have been thoroughly corrupted by what to expect from marriage. Beyond syndicated shows like Bridezillas, Getting Married with the Kardashians, and Say yes to the Dress, which just skim the surface of the social rot around marriage, there seems to be a multi-billion dollar industry around weddings. That's cool, since markets rock, and there clearly is a market for weddings. Yet, it seems like a volume business. In fact, he thinks a hefty percentage of women get married just so they can have a wedding.
Back to the point. The werewolf went to business school with the bride-to-be in the aforementioned website. She made it abundantly clear that her excursion to business school was in pursuit of an MRS, with the MBA being secondary. Tragic. Knowing her was like befriending someone with a split personality disorder. When not talking about her plans for a wedding -she was semi-single for the first year of business school- she could be considered a pleasant, fun, and decent girl. Sadly, that was only about 20% of the time. Even when single, she spent a substantial amount of time wound so tight, fretting about a pending husband and wedding(not marriage), she was liable to spontaneously combust. Her coping mechanisms included the conspicuous consumption of multiple cans of diet coke in quick secession, popping Excedrin tablets like a kid pops Pez, and frowning at anyone who smiled. You can't make this up.
After meeting a guy, who turned out to be a total tuna-fish, and who missed the psychosis she radiates, she quickly shifted all language used around her peers to an engagement/wedding. This was weeks after meeting the guy. She hardly knew him it seemed, yet, she was ready to settle and conform to whatever she thought society demanded of her, with wanton disregard for her own career, happiness, or the reality of who this guy was. It was even worse watching her around him. She would go out of her way to make sure that everything she did conformed to his expectations of her. It's hard to describe, yet, it was disturbing. The girl we once knew had vanished. I distinctly recall being at a friend's wedding shortly after business school, sitting at a table with a diverse group of attendees, with our "aspirational bride" included, and during conservations that had nothing to do with weddings, she'd randomly blurt out "I'M GOING TO GET ENGAGED!" and "I'LL BE MARRIED SOON!" It was so far out of left-field, that no-one knew how to react properly.
The case may be extreme, but I get the sense that my peer from business school suffered from "Ahab" syndrome. Much like how Melville's fictitious seafaring captain Ahab blinded himself to all other considerations while pursuing the "white whale." The pursuit of the "white wedding" had driven her to the same level of blinding insanity. The outcomes of these stories are never happy. Sadly, I think my friend is a mere example from a large population of girls conditioned to think that the wedding is the point, and not a lifetime of building a healthy partnership and family with a spouse. It's all about perspective. Weddings should be afterthoughts, not requisites, to finding someone with whom you can share a life. Ahab led the Pequod, and her crew to destruction. I can't help but wonder, how long before I learn that my peer from business school is planning her second wedding.
The werewolf is convinced that most women who are his peers have been thoroughly corrupted by what to expect from marriage. Beyond syndicated shows like Bridezillas, Getting Married with the Kardashians, and Say yes to the Dress, which just skim the surface of the social rot around marriage, there seems to be a multi-billion dollar industry around weddings. That's cool, since markets rock, and there clearly is a market for weddings. Yet, it seems like a volume business. In fact, he thinks a hefty percentage of women get married just so they can have a wedding.
Back to the point. The werewolf went to business school with the bride-to-be in the aforementioned website. She made it abundantly clear that her excursion to business school was in pursuit of an MRS, with the MBA being secondary. Tragic. Knowing her was like befriending someone with a split personality disorder. When not talking about her plans for a wedding -she was semi-single for the first year of business school- she could be considered a pleasant, fun, and decent girl. Sadly, that was only about 20% of the time. Even when single, she spent a substantial amount of time wound so tight, fretting about a pending husband and wedding(not marriage), she was liable to spontaneously combust. Her coping mechanisms included the conspicuous consumption of multiple cans of diet coke in quick secession, popping Excedrin tablets like a kid pops Pez, and frowning at anyone who smiled. You can't make this up.
After meeting a guy, who turned out to be a total tuna-fish, and who missed the psychosis she radiates, she quickly shifted all language used around her peers to an engagement/wedding. This was weeks after meeting the guy. She hardly knew him it seemed, yet, she was ready to settle and conform to whatever she thought society demanded of her, with wanton disregard for her own career, happiness, or the reality of who this guy was. It was even worse watching her around him. She would go out of her way to make sure that everything she did conformed to his expectations of her. It's hard to describe, yet, it was disturbing. The girl we once knew had vanished. I distinctly recall being at a friend's wedding shortly after business school, sitting at a table with a diverse group of attendees, with our "aspirational bride" included, and during conservations that had nothing to do with weddings, she'd randomly blurt out "I'M GOING TO GET ENGAGED!" and "I'LL BE MARRIED SOON!" It was so far out of left-field, that no-one knew how to react properly.
The case may be extreme, but I get the sense that my peer from business school suffered from "Ahab" syndrome. Much like how Melville's fictitious seafaring captain Ahab blinded himself to all other considerations while pursuing the "white whale." The pursuit of the "white wedding" had driven her to the same level of blinding insanity. The outcomes of these stories are never happy. Sadly, I think my friend is a mere example from a large population of girls conditioned to think that the wedding is the point, and not a lifetime of building a healthy partnership and family with a spouse. It's all about perspective. Weddings should be afterthoughts, not requisites, to finding someone with whom you can share a life. Ahab led the Pequod, and her crew to destruction. I can't help but wonder, how long before I learn that my peer from business school is planning her second wedding.
Political Risk Forecasting.
Peter Apps, the political risk correspondent for Thompson-Reuters wrote this article attempting to paint a portrait of what to expect in 2010. The werewolf, being a political risk junkie of sorts, enjoys such things and found several points worthy of mention.
"In Britain, Labour Prime Minister Gordon Brown looks likely to lose parliamentary elections, which must be called before June, to David Cameron's Conservative Party. But markets worry about the prospect of a hung parliament with no outright majority."
This is particularly interesting because unlike the European parliamentary governments, where coalitions are a way of life, the werewolf can't think of time, in recent memory at least, where the British government was ruled by an effective coalition government? Labour, under the tutelage of the eternally frumpy, tragically attired, and woefully bland Gordon Brown has dithered and atrophied. The largest beneficiary of this seems to have been the strange Liberal-Democrats, while the Conservatives have gained some traction as well. The Conservatives, the primary opposition party in the U.K, have a young turk like leader in David Cameron, whom, despite a slight disposition to the conservatives, the werewolf doesn't like. Anyhow, it would be fascinating and bizarre to see how the Brits manage forming a coalition government, given that the conservatives are likely to capture the largest share of the vote, yet, have no natural common-ground with the Liberal-Democrats or Labor. Also, the Liberal-Democrats, and Labor have stark contrasts as well, making them unlikely bed fellows. There are a raft of smaller third parties scattered throughout England, yet, their numbers barely register, and methinks they are unlikely to add to any coalition. This is all speculation, and despite some business and currency concerns, this risk is marginal, because the stakes aren't that high other than making our Anglo-cousins look silly and strange.
While the article is content rich, the werewolf thinks several items were overlooked. Here are a few.
Look for more civil violence in South Africa targeted at various immigrant ethnic groups (Zimbabweans, Congolese, Mozambicans, Nigerians), especially in light of the pending 2010 World Cup games. This is a chance for South Africa to shine, yet its internal dynamic had been getting shakier over the last few years. This will also be a major test for the Presidency of Jacob Zuma.
Zimbabwe will be entering its first full year of a "unity government." However, leopards never change their spots, and Mugabe will work to discredit the MDC and its parliamentarians. Look for petty spats aimed at the MDC, resignations by MDC officials, and low level violence. Also, South Africa will likely start applying some pressure on the Zimbos to control their boarders better.
Mexican instability. Things will get worse, before they get better in Mexico. The cartels will boldly try and re-assert themselves against Calderon. Spike in violence, shocking in scale, along with a raft of increased business risks to investors. Including K&R and business interruption.
Venezuela will pull a stunt. It may be lame at heart(like all things Chavez), but something grand, yet pathetic seems looming. Strongman Chavez has driven the oil industry, along with all other productive segments of the economy, into the ground. He is fast running out of things to nationalize and expropriate. I would expect him to either engage in border skirmish with the Colombians(extreme case), or perhaps just become more meddlesome in regional affairs. Still, since his domestic problems are mounting, I'd expect a move to focus attention elsewhere.
Dubai won't get the level of bail-out it is expecting from Abu-Dhabi. The wounds inflicted from its bad holdings are deeper than people think.
Ethnic violence in China. Watch the western parts for spikes in Uighur led violence and discontent. Plus, the slow-down in economic growth will further strain the divide between rural and urban China causing the Beijing several unexpected headaches.
The aforementioned are just speculations. Please be mindful that the werewolf's slogan is ""often wrong, but never in doubt."
"In Britain, Labour Prime Minister Gordon Brown looks likely to lose parliamentary elections, which must be called before June, to David Cameron's Conservative Party. But markets worry about the prospect of a hung parliament with no outright majority."
This is particularly interesting because unlike the European parliamentary governments, where coalitions are a way of life, the werewolf can't think of time, in recent memory at least, where the British government was ruled by an effective coalition government? Labour, under the tutelage of the eternally frumpy, tragically attired, and woefully bland Gordon Brown has dithered and atrophied. The largest beneficiary of this seems to have been the strange Liberal-Democrats, while the Conservatives have gained some traction as well. The Conservatives, the primary opposition party in the U.K, have a young turk like leader in David Cameron, whom, despite a slight disposition to the conservatives, the werewolf doesn't like. Anyhow, it would be fascinating and bizarre to see how the Brits manage forming a coalition government, given that the conservatives are likely to capture the largest share of the vote, yet, have no natural common-ground with the Liberal-Democrats or Labor. Also, the Liberal-Democrats, and Labor have stark contrasts as well, making them unlikely bed fellows. There are a raft of smaller third parties scattered throughout England, yet, their numbers barely register, and methinks they are unlikely to add to any coalition. This is all speculation, and despite some business and currency concerns, this risk is marginal, because the stakes aren't that high other than making our Anglo-cousins look silly and strange.
While the article is content rich, the werewolf thinks several items were overlooked. Here are a few.
Look for more civil violence in South Africa targeted at various immigrant ethnic groups (Zimbabweans, Congolese, Mozambicans, Nigerians), especially in light of the pending 2010 World Cup games. This is a chance for South Africa to shine, yet its internal dynamic had been getting shakier over the last few years. This will also be a major test for the Presidency of Jacob Zuma.
Zimbabwe will be entering its first full year of a "unity government." However, leopards never change their spots, and Mugabe will work to discredit the MDC and its parliamentarians. Look for petty spats aimed at the MDC, resignations by MDC officials, and low level violence. Also, South Africa will likely start applying some pressure on the Zimbos to control their boarders better.
Mexican instability. Things will get worse, before they get better in Mexico. The cartels will boldly try and re-assert themselves against Calderon. Spike in violence, shocking in scale, along with a raft of increased business risks to investors. Including K&R and business interruption.
Venezuela will pull a stunt. It may be lame at heart(like all things Chavez), but something grand, yet pathetic seems looming. Strongman Chavez has driven the oil industry, along with all other productive segments of the economy, into the ground. He is fast running out of things to nationalize and expropriate. I would expect him to either engage in border skirmish with the Colombians(extreme case), or perhaps just become more meddlesome in regional affairs. Still, since his domestic problems are mounting, I'd expect a move to focus attention elsewhere.
Dubai won't get the level of bail-out it is expecting from Abu-Dhabi. The wounds inflicted from its bad holdings are deeper than people think.
Ethnic violence in China. Watch the western parts for spikes in Uighur led violence and discontent. Plus, the slow-down in economic growth will further strain the divide between rural and urban China causing the Beijing several unexpected headaches.
The aforementioned are just speculations. Please be mindful that the werewolf's slogan is ""often wrong, but never in doubt."
Words of Wisdom from Willie Brown.
Growing up in California, it's hard not to like Willie Brown, even if you don't really agree with his politics. The dapper, former Mayor of San Francisco always had a straight talking edge about how he stated things, and for a career politician, that's a rare and much appreciated attribute.
It looks like post politics, Willie has established himself as a on-line columnist at the San Francisco Gate, with a page called "Willie's Words." I was pleasantly shocked by some of the content and tone in Willie's latest column. He honestly dissects the unhealthy and unwarranted impact that state employee unions have on the state of California. He also subtly lambastes his own party for their dependence on the unions. It's refreshingly stark and honest. Here's some golden content from the post:
Given it's dismal fiscal state, and looming implosion, California serves as an important lesson for how not to govern and manage a large governmental enterprise. Despite being the model "blue-state" in the minds of many(mistakenly), and frankly, a great place to grow up, California is the textbook of dysfunction.
There are multiple perspectives to tackle pursuant to the aforementioned claim. California is infamous for its crappy tax regimes, hostility to large employers, poor litigation governance, strangely polarized electorate, high barriers to market entry, etc. However, the werewolf thinks the primary lesson at hand is how dangerous and poisonous the labor lobby and unions are to the long term fiscal health of any entity. The tolerance of unions, eventually leads to fiscal submissions to their demands. Their demands, always unreasonable, are sourced in leveraging their monopoly of the labor pool, and this in turn, over-prices the worth of what they bring in terms of value-add to any entity, be it government, business, or other. Self-interest is good. In many ways, unions are an example of the ugly manifestation self-interest. The problem occurs when self-interest is backed by the force of a monopoly. This is where all other stakeholders get bent over, and the paradigm gets screwed. In an earlier post, the werewolf noted how America's coolest CEO, John Mackey, of Whole Foods, suggested that unions are like herpes. The werewolf is beginning to think that Mr. Mackey was too generous, and the unions are starting to look more like the AIDS virus. They weaken and emaciate you until you are a shell of your former self, allowing for the weakest of ailments to eventually kill you. I think Mayor Brown is beginning to recognize that writing on the wall. Better late than never.
It looks like post politics, Willie has established himself as a on-line columnist at the San Francisco Gate, with a page called "Willie's Words." I was pleasantly shocked by some of the content and tone in Willie's latest column. He honestly dissects the unhealthy and unwarranted impact that state employee unions have on the state of California. He also subtly lambastes his own party for their dependence on the unions. It's refreshingly stark and honest. Here's some golden content from the post:
"The system was set up so politicians like me couldn't come in and fire the people (relatives) hired by the guy they beat and replace them with their own friends and relatives.
Over the years, however, the civil service system has changed from one that protects jobs to one that runs the show.
The deal used to be that civil servants were paid less than private sector workers in exchange for an understanding that they had job security for life.
But we politicians, pushed by our friends in labor, gradually expanded pay and benefits to private-sector levels while keeping the job protections and layering on incredibly generous retirement packages that pay ex-workers almost as much as current workers.
Talking about this is politically unpopular and potentially even career suicide for most officeholders. But at some point, someone is going to have to get honest about the fact that 80 percent of the state, county and city budget deficits are due to employee costs."
Those numbers suggesting that 80% of the budgetary deficits are sourced from employee costs are shocking, if true. It also amazed the werewolf how corporate honchos could have D&O suits brought against them for fiscal malfeasance that hurt shareholders, yet, the bozos who are managing the state in Sacramento and have committed heinous fiscal crimes themselves get a pass(sort of). Why are those righteous anti-corporate activists silent? California's looming financial implosion will likely disadvantage more people than any corporate meltdown could.Given it's dismal fiscal state, and looming implosion, California serves as an important lesson for how not to govern and manage a large governmental enterprise. Despite being the model "blue-state" in the minds of many(mistakenly), and frankly, a great place to grow up, California is the textbook of dysfunction.
There are multiple perspectives to tackle pursuant to the aforementioned claim. California is infamous for its crappy tax regimes, hostility to large employers, poor litigation governance, strangely polarized electorate, high barriers to market entry, etc. However, the werewolf thinks the primary lesson at hand is how dangerous and poisonous the labor lobby and unions are to the long term fiscal health of any entity. The tolerance of unions, eventually leads to fiscal submissions to their demands. Their demands, always unreasonable, are sourced in leveraging their monopoly of the labor pool, and this in turn, over-prices the worth of what they bring in terms of value-add to any entity, be it government, business, or other. Self-interest is good. In many ways, unions are an example of the ugly manifestation self-interest. The problem occurs when self-interest is backed by the force of a monopoly. This is where all other stakeholders get bent over, and the paradigm gets screwed. In an earlier post, the werewolf noted how America's coolest CEO, John Mackey, of Whole Foods, suggested that unions are like herpes. The werewolf is beginning to think that Mr. Mackey was too generous, and the unions are starting to look more like the AIDS virus. They weaken and emaciate you until you are a shell of your former self, allowing for the weakest of ailments to eventually kill you. I think Mayor Brown is beginning to recognize that writing on the wall. Better late than never.
Those who Tweet are Twats!
I don't get Twitter. David Carr, of the New York Times, projects that it is here to stay. Here to stay or not, that doesn't diminish the notion that people who tweet are total twats.
Yes, to give credit where credit is due, I am impressed that Twitter has helped Iranian dissidents organize in Tehran, and destabilize the mullahacracy. It's also refreshing to know that a technology aimed at peoples insecure vanity and inflated sense of self has actually added value somewhere beyond technophile scene in the Bay Area.
Twitter is a like a crack cocaine fueled version of the worst feature of Facebook, the status update. It also seems like Twitter is aimed at the most annoying people from Facebook, the one's who update their status with each new breath they draw. You know who are are. Not only is the thought of constantly broadcasting my location and petty thoughts to the world somehow striping me of my beloved anonymity and privacy, but the thought that there is a population out there that actually would give a damn about such things disturbs me.
Who has the time, patience, and lack of an imagination to actively follow someones tweets? On some level, doesn't that speak poorly of he who follows? The true definition of electronic sheep in search of a digital shepherd. I don't want to run the risk of sounding like some sort of Luddite, but, I can't help thinking that social norms and our ability to relate to one another will further be comprised if we start accepting that 140 character brain farts about nothing, ejaculated from our nifty little smartphone devices, and spewed across the digital spectrum, represent some sort of meaningful communication. Here's to staying grounded.
Yes, to give credit where credit is due, I am impressed that Twitter has helped Iranian dissidents organize in Tehran, and destabilize the mullahacracy. It's also refreshing to know that a technology aimed at peoples insecure vanity and inflated sense of self has actually added value somewhere beyond technophile scene in the Bay Area.
Twitter is a like a crack cocaine fueled version of the worst feature of Facebook, the status update. It also seems like Twitter is aimed at the most annoying people from Facebook, the one's who update their status with each new breath they draw. You know who are are. Not only is the thought of constantly broadcasting my location and petty thoughts to the world somehow striping me of my beloved anonymity and privacy, but the thought that there is a population out there that actually would give a damn about such things disturbs me.
Who has the time, patience, and lack of an imagination to actively follow someones tweets? On some level, doesn't that speak poorly of he who follows? The true definition of electronic sheep in search of a digital shepherd. I don't want to run the risk of sounding like some sort of Luddite, but, I can't help thinking that social norms and our ability to relate to one another will further be comprised if we start accepting that 140 character brain farts about nothing, ejaculated from our nifty little smartphone devices, and spewed across the digital spectrum, represent some sort of meaningful communication. Here's to staying grounded.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Castrating tradition: The pending doom of the bullfight.
The werewolf has never attended a bullfight. It's actually never really appealed to him and he's sure his attendance would be a one-time experience. Based on this parliamentary vote from Catalonia, Spain, he's beginning to think he best get to one. Pronto, Tonto! Before it, too, is banished to the dustbin of history and the no-fun crowd can claim another scalp of western tradition.
Based purely on what I've read over the years, I think Hemingway stated it best when he wrote "Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor." I would imagine a bull fight to be a devastatingly brutal and nerve-wrecking exercise. That's the perverse fascination of the whole arrangement. A bullfighting pit is one of the few arenas where man, for all his mastery of technology and progress, elects to face a larger, meaner, faster, and determined opponent that can very easily kill him. I can't think of another sport where the cost of losing is death or severe physical maiming. In essence, everything is on the line. Additionally, beyond the notion of trying to live through the ordeal, the matador must be graceful and elegant in dispatching the ferocious bull. Should the matador dispatch the bull in a manner deemed dishonorable, his reputation is tainted, and perhaps death was the better option in the pit. That is the inherent appeal of bullfighting. It connects honor, tradition, courage, to the risk of death. These are all things that the mandarins in the no-fun crowd are rapidly trying to eliminate.
Tradition isn't always pretty or fully understandable. But it reminds us of the past and from where we came. It keeps us grounded and provides a perspective. Progress comes as a price, and certain traditions, like slavery, are ugly and need to be purged. But the sign of enlightened progress is how tolerant it can be of certain traditions that connect more directly to notions and concepts of yore. I'd like to think that a tolerant and enlightened progress would recognize that bullfighting may have a shrinking audience, and understand that saving a few bulls and matadors annually, doesn't outweigh disconnecting your population and denying them the right to explore their heritage on their terms. If bullfighting is meant to die, let old age and irrelevance claim it.
I may be typing beyond my weight-class here, but I can't help thinking that something deeply important is lost when traditions are snuffed out to indulge the whims of those who lack the tolerance or perspective to appreciate them.
Based purely on what I've read over the years, I think Hemingway stated it best when he wrote "Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor." I would imagine a bull fight to be a devastatingly brutal and nerve-wrecking exercise. That's the perverse fascination of the whole arrangement. A bullfighting pit is one of the few arenas where man, for all his mastery of technology and progress, elects to face a larger, meaner, faster, and determined opponent that can very easily kill him. I can't think of another sport where the cost of losing is death or severe physical maiming. In essence, everything is on the line. Additionally, beyond the notion of trying to live through the ordeal, the matador must be graceful and elegant in dispatching the ferocious bull. Should the matador dispatch the bull in a manner deemed dishonorable, his reputation is tainted, and perhaps death was the better option in the pit. That is the inherent appeal of bullfighting. It connects honor, tradition, courage, to the risk of death. These are all things that the mandarins in the no-fun crowd are rapidly trying to eliminate.
Tradition isn't always pretty or fully understandable. But it reminds us of the past and from where we came. It keeps us grounded and provides a perspective. Progress comes as a price, and certain traditions, like slavery, are ugly and need to be purged. But the sign of enlightened progress is how tolerant it can be of certain traditions that connect more directly to notions and concepts of yore. I'd like to think that a tolerant and enlightened progress would recognize that bullfighting may have a shrinking audience, and understand that saving a few bulls and matadors annually, doesn't outweigh disconnecting your population and denying them the right to explore their heritage on their terms. If bullfighting is meant to die, let old age and irrelevance claim it.
I may be typing beyond my weight-class here, but I can't help thinking that something deeply important is lost when traditions are snuffed out to indulge the whims of those who lack the tolerance or perspective to appreciate them.
Some Advice to President Obama from Elvis Presley - A Little Less Conversation A Little More Action Please
According to this Rasmussen poll featured on Powerline, President Obama's approval ratings are getting hammered. The werewolf thinks a huge portion of this decline in popularity derives from a variety of self-inflicted wounds. For a man who was supposed to heal this country, a 53% disapproval at the end of year one speaks volumes. To put it lightly, he's all talk, no action.
The Business of Governmnent.
Politico has an interesting article about the American public's thoughts on what to do with the portfolio of assets currently controlled by the US Government and how to use these assets to address America's considerable debt.
There is an interesting contrast embedded in the article regarding perceptions on the government's ownership of feasible business enterprises versus the ownership of land. According to the Rasmussen polling data used for the article,"57 percent think the government should sell Amtrak to private investors as soon as possible,"while "Seventy-six percent say the government should sell its ownership of the auto companies to private investors as soon as possible," however, "Fifty percent are against any government land sale" to pay-off the debt. What gives?
It's no secret that the government can't run or value a business.
However, what drives this perception that the government is an intrinsically superior steward of the land? Or perhaps, is it that land isn't a suitable asset to sell to pay off the debt? Do we cling to some romantic notion of Teddy Roosevelt birthing the national parks in all their glory and those would be the parcels of land up for grabs? For every national park, there are thousands of acres of nothingness or defunct military bases that may have higher values elsewhere than just sitting idle.
As an advocate of smaller government across the board, the werewolf views most, but not all, federal/state assets as worthy of consideration for sale to pursue both a reduction of debt and better internal management practices. I am thrilled that the public tends to be skeptical of government run businesses, but, still wonder where the line of demarcation exists between business and land.
There is an interesting contrast embedded in the article regarding perceptions on the government's ownership of feasible business enterprises versus the ownership of land. According to the Rasmussen polling data used for the article,"57 percent think the government should sell Amtrak to private investors as soon as possible,"while "Seventy-six percent say the government should sell its ownership of the auto companies to private investors as soon as possible," however, "Fifty percent are against any government land sale" to pay-off the debt. What gives?
It's no secret that the government can't run or value a business.
However, what drives this perception that the government is an intrinsically superior steward of the land? Or perhaps, is it that land isn't a suitable asset to sell to pay off the debt? Do we cling to some romantic notion of Teddy Roosevelt birthing the national parks in all their glory and those would be the parcels of land up for grabs? For every national park, there are thousands of acres of nothingness or defunct military bases that may have higher values elsewhere than just sitting idle.
As an advocate of smaller government across the board, the werewolf views most, but not all, federal/state assets as worthy of consideration for sale to pursue both a reduction of debt and better internal management practices. I am thrilled that the public tends to be skeptical of government run businesses, but, still wonder where the line of demarcation exists between business and land.
A Bias We Can't Control - One Night in Bangkok (from the musical Chess) - Murray Head
The werewolf loves musicals and the theater. When the werewolf lived in London many years ago, and wasn't drinking pina coladas in Trader Vic's (something he was known to do on occasion), he could frequently be found sniffing around for the best student prices to a variety of theater productions. It was a highlight for him.
In one of the weird ironies of life, the werewolf's favorite musical to this day is Chess, the frenetic love triangle drama shrouded in the mystery of the Cold War with music written by Abba's very own Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Anderson. To double down on weirdness, the werewolf can find absolutely no utility for anything Abba. He sometimes considers their existence criminal. Much to the werewolf's eternal dismay, the West End run of Chess ceased in April of 1989, when he was an eight year old boy.
To make things even weirder, Murray Head's hit song from Chess, "One Night in Bangkok," featured in the title of this post, dovetailed perfectly with that synthesized sound that made the music of the 1980's one life's greatest guilty pleasures. I think it was one of the few times a musical generated a top song for the international pop charts.
Chess fell into my life when my father brought the cassette recordings back after seeing the actual production of it during a business trip to London in the late 1980's. I recall being in the car with one of my parents and it playing in the background and being utterly captivated by the diplomatic exchange between the Americans and Soviets in one of the acts. Having been keenly interested in the Cold War since about age five(I was born a Cold Warrior some think), I felt a special bond to the musical from that point onward. In fact, I "permanently" borrowed the cassettes from my parents and would regularly blast my favorite songs of Chess from my woefully inadequate Fischer-Price tape-deck.
The werewolf has been wondering what drives his love for the one musical he'll never be able to see. Beyond the natural associations of the Cold War plot, cheese-dick synthesized 80's sound, and fond childhood recall, there has to be something more.
Does the inability to see something we've imagined for so long physically manifest itself strengthen our fondness for it because we are able to project our ideal of what it should be without experiencing the corruption that the real world inevitably brings? Is it akin to the imagined relationship with the crush who got away? Or hearing stories about that fascinating bad-ass great uncle, you've never met, who fought in several wars, invented something spectacular, and bedded every worthy maiden in the hemisphere, all while "three sheets from the wind?" I only ask because having been to so many productions, and having enjoyed most of them, utterly loved a few, and deeply disliked some, I always say to myself, "still not Chess." It's perfectly irrational, yet, it's a bias I just can't shake.
For the inquiring readers, here are some links to the werewolf's favorite songs from Chess. If you have a few minutes to kick around, listen up! (Shameless promotion)
CHESS: The American and Florence - "Nobody´s Side"
The second half really picks up, plus there is excellent relationship advice embedded "Everybody is playing the game, but nobody's rules are the same." How true!
CHESS: "Opening Ceremony"
This piece is long and introduces us to the the referee (my favorite character), plus the American and Soviet delegations. Hearing it all those years ago in my father's Chrysler New Yorker was the beginning of a strange odyssey.
CHESS: "The Deal ( No Deal)"
Nothing like some backroom Cold War intrigue.
CHESS: "Merano"
Great transition from symphony to synthesized at about the 3:43 mark.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Confession of a not-so Dangerous Mind: Content vomit.
It's funny. Since starting this blog(way back during the tail-end of2009), I have found something different about how I write. Let me predicate that by saying that I have never been much of a formal writer. In fact, writing never came very easy to me at all. Yes, I was a double major in Political Science and History, and have pooped out papers of varying lengths on a spectrum of topics since the early days of college. Plus my various jobs have required a reasonable amount of writing over several platforms. I have always thought in the back of my head that people were either born excellent writers(hat tip to my college roommate), or could be trained/educated into being decent writers. I frequently labored to find words. Writing in the days of yore was very much a task I had to focus on completing properly. That's changed a little and is strictly limited to the scope of this blog.
I know my attention to technical writing excellence leaves much to be desired. I frequently forget little rules about semicolons, quotation marks, and other grammatical details that were once drilled into my head with ruthless precision. However, for the first time in my life, outside of rapid-fire email responses, I find my writing is subject to content vomit. I see something that triggers a a recall of some sort and my fingers struggle to keep up with the pace of content that my brain is squirting out. It's called "vomit" because it's content is of questionable/unknown origin that free flows out of me like a dozen Taco Bell "tacos supreme" the morning after a night of binge drinking. An ugly release, if there ever was one. However, like someone who has suffered from chronic constipation their whole life, there is a perverse relief and cathartic joy from their first bout with diarrhea (At least I'd think that to be the case). It may be fleeting and twisted, but it's the change in tone and opportunity to experience something new that is enjoyable. Here's to loosening up.
I know my attention to technical writing excellence leaves much to be desired. I frequently forget little rules about semicolons, quotation marks, and other grammatical details that were once drilled into my head with ruthless precision. However, for the first time in my life, outside of rapid-fire email responses, I find my writing is subject to content vomit. I see something that triggers a a recall of some sort and my fingers struggle to keep up with the pace of content that my brain is squirting out. It's called "vomit" because it's content is of questionable/unknown origin that free flows out of me like a dozen Taco Bell "tacos supreme" the morning after a night of binge drinking. An ugly release, if there ever was one. However, like someone who has suffered from chronic constipation their whole life, there is a perverse relief and cathartic joy from their first bout with diarrhea (At least I'd think that to be the case). It may be fleeting and twisted, but it's the change in tone and opportunity to experience something new that is enjoyable. Here's to loosening up.
Ten years out of the asylum.
The werewolf felt the warm rush of nostalgia as he read this assessment, by Stephan Metcalf, of John Knowles' boarding school classic, A Separate Peace, fifty year ex post facto. In one of his first bizarre stabs at setting himself apart, the werewolf unilaterally declared his independence from his charmed southern California lifestyle, folded up camp, and spent his last two years of high school as boarder at Phillips Exeter Academy(also know as the asylum). What the hell was wrong with him?
Anyhow, in a pathetic attempt to familiarize myself with my new school's lore, I rushed through the book during the summer prior to my enrollment. Twelve years later, although I recall enjoying it, I hardly remember much from the book itself. Shame on me. Metcalf, a fellow Exonian of sorts, wrote something in his piece that struck a deep chord with me.
"I remember fighting a daily losing battle with my homework and the boreal cold, both of whose powers of atmospheric contraction were so great, you believed organ failure a distinct possibility. I remember too the giant birdlike rectitudinous old men, Latin teachers who audibly aspirated the H in while and whom, who looked down at you from tottering heights, and performed their most sacred function: They made you feel small. The mind of an adolescent is an inherently unstable thing, shifting between imperial expansion and shrinkage down to a vanishing point. How strangely stabilizing, to be given shape and proportion, however small, by a glance! I alternated reading A Separate Peace with watching the scandalously entertaining reality show Jersey Shore. You'll pardon me for giving in to the obvious contrast. These are a generation of American children (so sayeth the unkillable Puritan in me) who have never been made to feel small and, terrified by the possibility that they might be made to feel small, are insecure to the point of physical violence, the aura of which attends nearly everything they do."
My time in the asylum was both wonderful and tortured. I am convinced that Metcalf is referring to Latin class with the late Dr. Richard Morante, in the aforementioned passage. Morante taught Latin at Exeter for over fifty years. He started in the mid-1950's, and eventually retired in the mid-2000's. He tried to teach me Latin for two of those years. Thin ties, boldly framed black plastic glasses, accentuated his small tobacco ridden frame. The man was a glorious chain smoker. Like trumpets heralding a tinpot despot, the stench of cigarette smoke was always a precursor to his entry into our third floor classroom. Leveraging a razor sharp wit, keen eye for detail, and ability to size up students with scientific precision, he managed to use a unique blend of both fear and charm to teach us Latin. He had what could only be described as a Shakespearean ability to verbally dress down individual students or our entire class if he perceived we weren't giving his Latin course the effort it was due. I was told in no uncertain terms, to "do the world a favor, and fling yourself from the window" on multiple occasions for sloppy declensions. Another favorite, was "Unlike moving your bowels, learning Latin isn't a natural function of your body, you must work at it!" Sadly, my feeble memory of these quotes don't do the man and his legendary classroom justice. 2010 marks the tenth year since I was paroled from that asylum. Reading that article made Morante's Latin class feel like yesterday.
Anyhow, in a pathetic attempt to familiarize myself with my new school's lore, I rushed through the book during the summer prior to my enrollment. Twelve years later, although I recall enjoying it, I hardly remember much from the book itself. Shame on me. Metcalf, a fellow Exonian of sorts, wrote something in his piece that struck a deep chord with me.
"I remember fighting a daily losing battle with my homework and the boreal cold, both of whose powers of atmospheric contraction were so great, you believed organ failure a distinct possibility. I remember too the giant birdlike rectitudinous old men, Latin teachers who audibly aspirated the H in while and whom, who looked down at you from tottering heights, and performed their most sacred function: They made you feel small. The mind of an adolescent is an inherently unstable thing, shifting between imperial expansion and shrinkage down to a vanishing point. How strangely stabilizing, to be given shape and proportion, however small, by a glance! I alternated reading A Separate Peace with watching the scandalously entertaining reality show Jersey Shore. You'll pardon me for giving in to the obvious contrast. These are a generation of American children (so sayeth the unkillable Puritan in me) who have never been made to feel small and, terrified by the possibility that they might be made to feel small, are insecure to the point of physical violence, the aura of which attends nearly everything they do."
My time in the asylum was both wonderful and tortured. I am convinced that Metcalf is referring to Latin class with the late Dr. Richard Morante, in the aforementioned passage. Morante taught Latin at Exeter for over fifty years. He started in the mid-1950's, and eventually retired in the mid-2000's. He tried to teach me Latin for two of those years. Thin ties, boldly framed black plastic glasses, accentuated his small tobacco ridden frame. The man was a glorious chain smoker. Like trumpets heralding a tinpot despot, the stench of cigarette smoke was always a precursor to his entry into our third floor classroom. Leveraging a razor sharp wit, keen eye for detail, and ability to size up students with scientific precision, he managed to use a unique blend of both fear and charm to teach us Latin. He had what could only be described as a Shakespearean ability to verbally dress down individual students or our entire class if he perceived we weren't giving his Latin course the effort it was due. I was told in no uncertain terms, to "do the world a favor, and fling yourself from the window" on multiple occasions for sloppy declensions. Another favorite, was "Unlike moving your bowels, learning Latin isn't a natural function of your body, you must work at it!" Sadly, my feeble memory of these quotes don't do the man and his legendary classroom justice. 2010 marks the tenth year since I was paroled from that asylum. Reading that article made Morante's Latin class feel like yesterday.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Mexico's plight.
In a thoroughly disturbing article about the sorry state of Mexico, Phillip Caputo writes, "I have just been in Juárez and am relieved to not be going back to that industrialized border city—utterly charmless in the best of times, and these are far from the best of times. Juárez’s main product now is the corpse. Last year, drug-related violence there claimed more than 1,600 lives, and the toll for the first nine months of this year soared beyond 1,800, and mounts daily. That makes Juárez, population 1.5 million, the most violent city in the world. Two lines of graffiti summed up a place where not only law and order but civilization itself has broken down: Mi ciudad pide clemencia en su dementia (“My city asks for mercy in its madness”), and Mi ciudad es un negro lamento un aullido infinito (“My city is a black lament, an eternal howl”)." Bleak.
Given that the United States shares over one-thousand miles of border with Mexico, a long mutually linked history, a series of important trade relationships, and has absorbed tens of millions of Mexicans, both legal and illegal, looking for hope, opportunity, and redemption, you'd think that this story would have some serious traction and be getting the attention of national policy makers across the board. I would be shocked if this story doesn't become part of the national dialog in the next several months. There's too much at stake for this story to dither on the vines of neglect.
Given that the United States shares over one-thousand miles of border with Mexico, a long mutually linked history, a series of important trade relationships, and has absorbed tens of millions of Mexicans, both legal and illegal, looking for hope, opportunity, and redemption, you'd think that this story would have some serious traction and be getting the attention of national policy makers across the board. I would be shocked if this story doesn't become part of the national dialog in the next several months. There's too much at stake for this story to dither on the vines of neglect.
Rant of the day: Vampires aren't romantic! - John Carpenter's "Vampires."
The werewolf loves a decent vampire flick as much as the next dude. This little clip from John Carpenter's 1998 movie, Vampires, seems like it was written with an insight into the dark days ahead for the vampire film genre.
One of the ugliest trends of 2009 was watching throngs of middle-aged women along with their teenage whelps throw themselves into some hormonal frenzy over the Twilight series. After seeing one Twilight trailer in the theater, I know I'd rather get turked by a syphilitic bear then spend money to watch the uncontrolled and misdirected hormones of emotionally stunted women screech at shirtless Hollywood tarts, while they ruin one of the greatest horror genre villains.
What is it with the constant co-opting of classic symbols of evil, sin, and perversion, like vampires, and the attempt to turn them into modern day sex symbols? I just don't get it. What's next; lovable misunderstood Nazis, humanitarian zombies, or even worse, domesticated werewolves?
Facebook: A poison pill for humanity?
The werewolf was extremely late to the Facebook party. It was avoided like a raunchy STD for years. During the late fall of 2008, he finally succumbed and registered an account. This was primarily done in an attempt to monitor a series of mildly debaucherous photos from my business school days that I had no idea were out there. Figuring that sunlight was the best disinfectant, I took ownership of everything and enjoy a reasonably thorough Facebook page complete with several embarrassing tagged photos, stupid personal quotes, et al. I also enjoy how easy Facebook makes it to stay in touch with and keep informal tabs on a variety of acquaintances, do the gentlemanly thing and wish everyone a happy birthday, and waste time playing lame games like Prolific and Lexulous. All-in-all, Facebook has been a net value add in the werewolf's life.
He has also began to wonder if Facebook is somehow twisting and perverting how humans relate to one another, how they manage their personal relationships, and how they define themselves. Maybe this is just the downside of living in an age with hyper-communication readily accessible. Call me old-fashioned, but some things people post as their facebook status are down right inappropriate and creepy, especially as it relates to their significant others.
One girl I know from business school frequently laments about wanting to "punch her boyfriend in face." Okay, a little reverse Ike Turner action is such a charming notion. However, I was struck by my cousin's quick secession of posts about her recent break-up with her boyfriend of a few months. I dined with her family on Boxing Day, and she was totally zoned out and visibly depressed because because her boyfriend hadn't responded to her text from an hour ago. (Are we conditioning our youth to get validation from text messages?) The Facebook fiasco started with"heartbroken ='(...i dont feel welcome anymore, baby what happened please tell me cause one second it was perfect now your halfway out the door...forever and always ='(" Let's qualify the fact that she is a decent girl, who comes from a somewhat sheltered, uptight Catholic household, and her life seems to revolve around her Facebook account from what I can gather. Also, the boy in question lived a few towns away and went to a different high school. That's all I care to know. However, her status update quickly generated about forty comments, including a dialog aimed at the boy and her friends, some tame highlights include:
"i just want him back ='("
"Yeah i hope so i love him soo much i didnt want to lose him and it was really unexpected i just want him to figure things out and talk to me"
"='( i was supposed to be with him tonight ='("
"yeah i havent really eaten or slept since tuesday ='("
Is it a shameless attention grab? Is it the only way she knows how to communicate? Is it a show for her friends? I can't say.
We get it, your heart hurts. Listen, life sucks at times and break-ups are part of growing up. The excessive sharing of personal information, the hyper dependence on feedback, and the endless pathetic cries for attention do not strike me as healthy. It seems like Facebook has allowed us to create a small echo-chamber where we can wallow in self-pity and wretched misery, instead of bucking up and dealing with the interpersonal relationships that are part of this bizarre experiment called life. This isn't meant as a jab at my cousin, and she, like me, remains anonymous. Sadly, she is just one of many on Facebook whom represent this observed trend.
Has Facebook created a forum where we think we can escape the downs that life frequently inflicts on us? Has it given us an artificial bubble where we can try and paint the image we want of ourselves to those whom are listed as "friends," without having to invest in the face time, and bond building that makes being human so enjoyable. I am beginning to wonder if our youth are striving to meet some sort of Facebook generated standard, instead of making Facebook work for them as a simple social networking platform.
I grew up when there was no Facebook. If I liked a girl, I chased after her, called her, and arranged for face time to see if things worked out. I would invest in how I nurtured the relationship and be honest in how I expressed myself. The risk associated with all of that made it both fun and human.
It seems like the new manner of procuring contact information or "expressing interest" is attempting to "friend" someone on Facebook. It may also be the new way of breaking up with someone or telling them to pound sand. That's just alien to me, and seems dangerous in terms of expectations management, and investing in the actual pursuit of getting to know someone, and yourself.
I am not sure if I have articulated it properly, but I am beginning to think that Facebook is generating various negative externalities in terms of establishing the meaning of relationships and valuing how we express ourselves to one another. It doesn't sit easy with me. But then again, I was born a century too late.
He has also began to wonder if Facebook is somehow twisting and perverting how humans relate to one another, how they manage their personal relationships, and how they define themselves. Maybe this is just the downside of living in an age with hyper-communication readily accessible. Call me old-fashioned, but some things people post as their facebook status are down right inappropriate and creepy, especially as it relates to their significant others.
One girl I know from business school frequently laments about wanting to "punch her boyfriend in face." Okay, a little reverse Ike Turner action is such a charming notion. However, I was struck by my cousin's quick secession of posts about her recent break-up with her boyfriend of a few months. I dined with her family on Boxing Day, and she was totally zoned out and visibly depressed because because her boyfriend hadn't responded to her text from an hour ago. (Are we conditioning our youth to get validation from text messages?) The Facebook fiasco started with"heartbroken ='(...i dont feel welcome anymore, baby what happened please tell me cause one second it was perfect now your halfway out the door...forever and always ='(" Let's qualify the fact that she is a decent girl, who comes from a somewhat sheltered, uptight Catholic household, and her life seems to revolve around her Facebook account from what I can gather. Also, the boy in question lived a few towns away and went to a different high school. That's all I care to know. However, her status update quickly generated about forty comments, including a dialog aimed at the boy and her friends, some tame highlights include:
"i just want him back ='("
"Yeah i hope so i love him soo much i didnt want to lose him and it was really unexpected i just want him to figure things out and talk to me"
"='( i was supposed to be with him tonight ='("
"yeah i havent really eaten or slept since tuesday ='("
Is it a shameless attention grab? Is it the only way she knows how to communicate? Is it a show for her friends? I can't say.
We get it, your heart hurts. Listen, life sucks at times and break-ups are part of growing up. The excessive sharing of personal information, the hyper dependence on feedback, and the endless pathetic cries for attention do not strike me as healthy. It seems like Facebook has allowed us to create a small echo-chamber where we can wallow in self-pity and wretched misery, instead of bucking up and dealing with the interpersonal relationships that are part of this bizarre experiment called life. This isn't meant as a jab at my cousin, and she, like me, remains anonymous. Sadly, she is just one of many on Facebook whom represent this observed trend.
Has Facebook created a forum where we think we can escape the downs that life frequently inflicts on us? Has it given us an artificial bubble where we can try and paint the image we want of ourselves to those whom are listed as "friends," without having to invest in the face time, and bond building that makes being human so enjoyable. I am beginning to wonder if our youth are striving to meet some sort of Facebook generated standard, instead of making Facebook work for them as a simple social networking platform.
I grew up when there was no Facebook. If I liked a girl, I chased after her, called her, and arranged for face time to see if things worked out. I would invest in how I nurtured the relationship and be honest in how I expressed myself. The risk associated with all of that made it both fun and human.
It seems like the new manner of procuring contact information or "expressing interest" is attempting to "friend" someone on Facebook. It may also be the new way of breaking up with someone or telling them to pound sand. That's just alien to me, and seems dangerous in terms of expectations management, and investing in the actual pursuit of getting to know someone, and yourself.
I am not sure if I have articulated it properly, but I am beginning to think that Facebook is generating various negative externalities in terms of establishing the meaning of relationships and valuing how we express ourselves to one another. It doesn't sit easy with me. But then again, I was born a century too late.
Frenemies of the State.
The Atlantic's Joshua Hammer has an excellent article leveraging an insider's perspective on the farce of the ZANU-MDC coalition government in Zimbabwe. First, a hit-tip to Mr. Hammer for the clever "Mean Girls-esque" title, that is not only is a wonderful play on the modern vernacular, but down to its very core, an accurate vehicle that describes the internal dynamic in this uneasy coalition government, where the MDC is very clearly, the junior partner.
As a staunch advocate of the MDC, I thought it was a strategic mistake for them to agree to join ZANU in a "unity government." Mugabe is a gangster, kleptocrat, and butcher. The last twenty-nine years of his rule are a testament to that. He is also an incredibly gifted manipulator. Co-opting, discrediting, and absorbing legitimate opposition is his super-power. One only need look back to how Mugabe's Shona-based ZANU completely discredited and absorbed Joseph Nkomo's Ndebele-based ZAPU, following a series a massacres in Matabeleland with the intent of solidifying a one-party state. Mugabe succeeded.
It struck me as a huge blow to the moral credibility the MDC held as a legitimate opposition to Mugabe. I wasn't present from the diabolical levels of violence visited on MDC supporters by ZANU during the last few elections and can appreciate their collective fatigue. However, by venturing into a"unity government," the MDC exposed their Achilles heel, where entrenched ZANU apparatchiks can impede MDC progress and erode their credibility by shifting internal blame for the faults of governance away from ZANU and towards the MDC. A example of this is found in this paragraph:
"But Coltart has learned that fixing the system is not so easy when Mugabe—or Mugabe’s surrogates—are looking over his shoulder. The Education Ministry’s permanent secretary, a Mugabe loyalist who “views all the teachers as MDC sympathists,” Coltart says, has thrown up bureaucratic roadblocks such as mandatory police checks; as a result, only a few hundred teachers have been rehired. “It’s not a pleasant process, and if I wasn’t a determined, stubborn type of fellow, it would be harrowing,” he told me."
It is important to be mindful that ZANU retained control of all major portfolios involving the military, defense, and intelligence gathering, while the MDC was given control of secondary portfolios like health, education, etc. In essence, the MDC have set themselves up to wash away all of the traction they gained through extreme adversity and sacrifice during the last decade.
All things being equal, Mr. Coltart sounds like a righteous bad-ass and man whom all Zimbabweans should thank for his dedication and fortitude. Godspeed, sir!
As a staunch advocate of the MDC, I thought it was a strategic mistake for them to agree to join ZANU in a "unity government." Mugabe is a gangster, kleptocrat, and butcher. The last twenty-nine years of his rule are a testament to that. He is also an incredibly gifted manipulator. Co-opting, discrediting, and absorbing legitimate opposition is his super-power. One only need look back to how Mugabe's Shona-based ZANU completely discredited and absorbed Joseph Nkomo's Ndebele-based ZAPU, following a series a massacres in Matabeleland with the intent of solidifying a one-party state. Mugabe succeeded.
It struck me as a huge blow to the moral credibility the MDC held as a legitimate opposition to Mugabe. I wasn't present from the diabolical levels of violence visited on MDC supporters by ZANU during the last few elections and can appreciate their collective fatigue. However, by venturing into a"unity government," the MDC exposed their Achilles heel, where entrenched ZANU apparatchiks can impede MDC progress and erode their credibility by shifting internal blame for the faults of governance away from ZANU and towards the MDC. A example of this is found in this paragraph:
"But Coltart has learned that fixing the system is not so easy when Mugabe—or Mugabe’s surrogates—are looking over his shoulder. The Education Ministry’s permanent secretary, a Mugabe loyalist who “views all the teachers as MDC sympathists,” Coltart says, has thrown up bureaucratic roadblocks such as mandatory police checks; as a result, only a few hundred teachers have been rehired. “It’s not a pleasant process, and if I wasn’t a determined, stubborn type of fellow, it would be harrowing,” he told me."
It is important to be mindful that ZANU retained control of all major portfolios involving the military, defense, and intelligence gathering, while the MDC was given control of secondary portfolios like health, education, etc. In essence, the MDC have set themselves up to wash away all of the traction they gained through extreme adversity and sacrifice during the last decade.
All things being equal, Mr. Coltart sounds like a righteous bad-ass and man whom all Zimbabweans should thank for his dedication and fortitude. Godspeed, sir!
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