I don't read enough, newspapers and current events-minded periodicals notwithstanding, and I feel bad about that. My mind feels mushy. So the other day I went to Barnes & Noble in search of some good fiction, or at least novelized nonfiction. Something detached enough to escape, but grounded enough to be meaningful. Something that would get me to think in a new way, or bring my attention to something new and different. But nothing too dense -- it is summer, after all.
I didn't find much.
Turns out, men don't read. Even though Father's Day is just weeks away, the most prominently displayed books -- those fashionably and conspicuously laid out on stands, shelves and tables yelling, "Buy me!" -- were almost all intended for women (and, judging by the titles and dust jackets, not very bright women). Stories about listless housewives seeking companionship, girls coming of age under difficult circumstances, and snarky, single women living it "Sex in the City" style.
There was a table with gift ideas for dads, and they included titles like, "The Manly Guide to Always Being Awesome"; "Grill it like MacGyver,"; and "Dick At War!: A Cheney Memoir." Apparently, men will only read full-throttle military histories ("Nuking Nagasaki: How We Kicked Ass in WWII") or books light enough in both weight and brain stimulation to finish in 18 holes.
What else I found was just boring. After scanning a dozen or so titles like, "What's Wrong with Islam?"; "The End of Liberalism"; "The End of Conservativism"; "All Things Explained"; and "A Dusk Waits for No One," all written by the same ilk of authors, I began to wonder if we have collectively run out of ideas, writers have stopped trying, readers have stopped caring or anyone will put out anything in a vain effort to capture an undeserved 15 minutes.
Where is that really gripping book, the one that takes us to a different place, a different time and a different perspective? The one that is entertaining and thought provoking at the same time? The one that lets its story and characters take precedence over the author's ego? The one that doesn't try to answer all our questions, but dares to give us more to ask?
That's what I'm looking for; "I'm Right. You're Wrong, Get Over It" doesn't cut it, which is why I had to skip over the contemporary and go back to the Old Reliables: two Mark Twain's and a Kurt Vonnegut.
31 May 2009
30 May 2009
More On Guns, And What I Learned From Reading the Constitution
Amazing what you learn from reading the Constitution, which everyone should probably do every so often.
It turns out that Article 1, Section 8 specifically defines a militia as an armed body funded by the Congress, controlled by the States under Congressional oversight and intended to be "employed in the service of the United States."
I have already countered the gun lobby's hijacking of the Second Amendment, though without Article 1, Section 8, you could still make a far-fetched argument that the "militia" the amendment refers to could be any group toting high-powered assault rifles. Even without the clarifying clause, however, the amendment itself modifies "militia" with "well regulated." That means gun control, like other kinds of regulation, is not only not un-American, but indeed central to the Founding Fathers' vision for the country.
Then there's the Ninth Amendment, which protects us from Constitutional tyranny. Certain rights, it reads, "shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people." In other words, just because you think you can have a gun (which, as is pretty clear, you actually can't) does not mean I don't have the right to be protected from it. The Ninth Amendment strives to ensure that the Constitution is understood as a whole document, not cherry-picked for convenience.
And have you seen Article 2, Section 3? This one isn't about guns. Apparently, the president has the authority to dissolve Congress until "such time as he shall think proper." With a lot of work to do and most Americans displeased with the legislative branch anyway, maybe Barack Obama should consider making use of this.
It turns out that Article 1, Section 8 specifically defines a militia as an armed body funded by the Congress, controlled by the States under Congressional oversight and intended to be "employed in the service of the United States."
I have already countered the gun lobby's hijacking of the Second Amendment, though without Article 1, Section 8, you could still make a far-fetched argument that the "militia" the amendment refers to could be any group toting high-powered assault rifles. Even without the clarifying clause, however, the amendment itself modifies "militia" with "well regulated." That means gun control, like other kinds of regulation, is not only not un-American, but indeed central to the Founding Fathers' vision for the country.
Then there's the Ninth Amendment, which protects us from Constitutional tyranny. Certain rights, it reads, "shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people." In other words, just because you think you can have a gun (which, as is pretty clear, you actually can't) does not mean I don't have the right to be protected from it. The Ninth Amendment strives to ensure that the Constitution is understood as a whole document, not cherry-picked for convenience.
And have you seen Article 2, Section 3? This one isn't about guns. Apparently, the president has the authority to dissolve Congress until "such time as he shall think proper." With a lot of work to do and most Americans displeased with the legislative branch anyway, maybe Barack Obama should consider making use of this.
History Isn't Over
One of America's enduring strengths is its lack of legacy. That is, unlike Europe's centuries-old bureaucracy, certain Asian nations' reverence of ancient wisdom or rigid caste system, and the Middle East's tribal loyalties, the United States is a place of habitual renewal and rediscovery; always out with the old and in with the new, so as not to obstruct the path of progress.
It is this sense of freedom that has captured the world's imagination for more than 200 years: Come here and you can do anything, no matter who you were before. A prospect so seductive, even if only part real, it sustains itself despite a disquieting present and unclear future.
But what if America's legacy is the very absence of one, rife with limitations masked by the freedom we think we enjoy? A European may feel unable to escape the role he or she was born into, but with constraint comes resourcefulness. You learn to do more with less, whereas here you do more with more, casting off old ways in search of something "better."
America doesn't understand less. We understand abundance and convenience, definite answers and simple solutions. It's why we invented fast food, Styrofoam packaged vegetables (asparagus tips, for example, because the whole stem is too bothersome), sprawling suburbs and pills sold as quick fixes, such as Bayer's Aspirin that, with the motto "expect wonders," would have you believe can effortlessly save you from heart attack.
In essence what we have done is create a system that shields us from a natural world that is anything but the abundance, convenience and consistency we have been conditioned to crave. Victims of victory, it looked like we had succeeded in holding onto this engineered understanding, for after defeating fascism, beating back communism and establishing a world order advantageous to those who set it up, it seemed history was over and we had won. We had achieved the zenith of human evolution, conquering the laws of science and God to compel reality to be whatever we said it was.
Except on a scale of 500,000 years of human history, declaring an absolute maximum based on the last 50 was a tad premature.
That is this crisis, a brute reminder that we haven't yet figured it all out, change is still to come and we better figure out how to adapt. What was will not, ipso facto, always be.
If the only lessons we take away from this moment are economic ones, we will not have captured its true depth. Foreclosures, job losses, lending problems and backroom deals, devastating they may be on their own, are symptoms of cultural upheaval -- the proverbial 10 percent of the iceberg.
More than anything, we must emerge from this nadir with greater appreciation for our mortal powerlessness, something the American Way does not look favorably upon. We learn early that contentment comes from controlling circumstances. Don't like your job? Quit, find a new one. Don't like your house? Sell it, buy a new one. Don't like your wife? Split, get a new one. Simon and Garfunkel's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" comes to mind: Drop off the key, get yourself free. Simple.
We are misguided to think there is a set, and straightforward, formula for success, whether for individuals or the collective. There are too many determinants and most we don't even know about. Our lives are too short, our consciousnesses too narrow, our experiences too limited to understand the intricate balances that sustain the universe. We don't and can't know everything -- in fact, we know very little -- and that's OK.
Harvard's fascinating Grant Study, written about in the June issue of The Atlantic, makes that abundantly clear. Following 268 men of privilege for more than 70 years, the study found little correlation between youthful promise and later success. In fact, those who appeared most well adjusted early on tended to meet with destructive ends, while the seemingly less impressive often went onto satisfying personal narratives.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter how balanced you may seem at any particular period in life, but how well you cope with -- not control -- "the disharmony of the world at large." The study's director, George Vaillant, concluded that his subjects were "too human for science," adding: "The only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people." Beyond that, it's just noise.
Is the moral simply to "ride the wave," as one subject wrote, rather than vainly try to commandeer it? If so, how would that jibe with our culture, which demands dominance? After all, that we don't control this crisis is the scariest part. The institutions we have long trusted are the problem, and our so-called experts are as dumbfounded as the rest of us. Expect wonders we can't.
Instead, we must reach back to the economic calamity to which this bust is so often compared. FDR's "fear itself" decree rings true, for to fear anything else, and especially our cosmic smallness, is silly, even arrogant. We should embrace it, humbled by the splendid infinity of which we are a part.
It is this sense of freedom that has captured the world's imagination for more than 200 years: Come here and you can do anything, no matter who you were before. A prospect so seductive, even if only part real, it sustains itself despite a disquieting present and unclear future.
But what if America's legacy is the very absence of one, rife with limitations masked by the freedom we think we enjoy? A European may feel unable to escape the role he or she was born into, but with constraint comes resourcefulness. You learn to do more with less, whereas here you do more with more, casting off old ways in search of something "better."
America doesn't understand less. We understand abundance and convenience, definite answers and simple solutions. It's why we invented fast food, Styrofoam packaged vegetables (asparagus tips, for example, because the whole stem is too bothersome), sprawling suburbs and pills sold as quick fixes, such as Bayer's Aspirin that, with the motto "expect wonders," would have you believe can effortlessly save you from heart attack.
In essence what we have done is create a system that shields us from a natural world that is anything but the abundance, convenience and consistency we have been conditioned to crave. Victims of victory, it looked like we had succeeded in holding onto this engineered understanding, for after defeating fascism, beating back communism and establishing a world order advantageous to those who set it up, it seemed history was over and we had won. We had achieved the zenith of human evolution, conquering the laws of science and God to compel reality to be whatever we said it was.
Except on a scale of 500,000 years of human history, declaring an absolute maximum based on the last 50 was a tad premature.
That is this crisis, a brute reminder that we haven't yet figured it all out, change is still to come and we better figure out how to adapt. What was will not, ipso facto, always be.
If the only lessons we take away from this moment are economic ones, we will not have captured its true depth. Foreclosures, job losses, lending problems and backroom deals, devastating they may be on their own, are symptoms of cultural upheaval -- the proverbial 10 percent of the iceberg.
More than anything, we must emerge from this nadir with greater appreciation for our mortal powerlessness, something the American Way does not look favorably upon. We learn early that contentment comes from controlling circumstances. Don't like your job? Quit, find a new one. Don't like your house? Sell it, buy a new one. Don't like your wife? Split, get a new one. Simon and Garfunkel's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" comes to mind: Drop off the key, get yourself free. Simple.
We are misguided to think there is a set, and straightforward, formula for success, whether for individuals or the collective. There are too many determinants and most we don't even know about. Our lives are too short, our consciousnesses too narrow, our experiences too limited to understand the intricate balances that sustain the universe. We don't and can't know everything -- in fact, we know very little -- and that's OK.
Harvard's fascinating Grant Study, written about in the June issue of The Atlantic, makes that abundantly clear. Following 268 men of privilege for more than 70 years, the study found little correlation between youthful promise and later success. In fact, those who appeared most well adjusted early on tended to meet with destructive ends, while the seemingly less impressive often went onto satisfying personal narratives.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter how balanced you may seem at any particular period in life, but how well you cope with -- not control -- "the disharmony of the world at large." The study's director, George Vaillant, concluded that his subjects were "too human for science," adding: "The only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people." Beyond that, it's just noise.
Is the moral simply to "ride the wave," as one subject wrote, rather than vainly try to commandeer it? If so, how would that jibe with our culture, which demands dominance? After all, that we don't control this crisis is the scariest part. The institutions we have long trusted are the problem, and our so-called experts are as dumbfounded as the rest of us. Expect wonders we can't.
Instead, we must reach back to the economic calamity to which this bust is so often compared. FDR's "fear itself" decree rings true, for to fear anything else, and especially our cosmic smallness, is silly, even arrogant. We should embrace it, humbled by the splendid infinity of which we are a part.
The Great Right-Wing Contradiction (There's Only One?)
Reading an essay in Newsweek (which I conspicuously can't find online to reproduce) commenting on Texas Gov. Rick Perry's threat to secede from the union, I came to a stunning, albeit simple, realization.
The "Leave It To Beaver" fans who dominate the soul and message of the Republican Party are, so they say, about one thing: states' rights. Ask about gay marriage, they'll say they don't hate gays, but it should be up to the states. Ask about abortion, they'll say it's not about choice, but about a state's ability to govern itself. Ask about environmental and energy regulation, healthcare, education ... it always comes down to, you got it, states' rights.
If only Barack Obama weren't president of all the states, he'd have the whole Republican Party on his side.
Then ask a Republican which historical figures best represent the values of the party. The answer is likely Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. Fine presidents and safe choices, but none more guilty than they of expanding the reach of the federal government and trampling all over the 10th Amendment.
Roosevelt tore through corruption; devised unprecdented levels of regulation, especially of land and resources; and increased protections for women, minorities and other disenfranchised groups. I need not go on, as I've already expounded on TR's many accolades elsewhere.
As far as Lincoln, well, he fought a war expressly to deny states their rights. The Civil War wasn't really about the immorality of slavery, but about the limits of federalism: how much could a state assert its soverignty before undermining the interests of the union as a whole.
Except when bombing someone else, Republicans want us to be a collection of states rather than a United States. I can't think of anything more absurd or less American. Only the federal government, representing all of us, has the means and the authority to support local and state initiatives, control private sector excess and provide a basic fairness -- a single standard -- for all Americans. The Constitution's preamble makes that abundantly clear.
If Republicans think the government is getting too big -- representing our interests too much -- they can do the one thing that will surely shrink it: Get out.
The "Leave It To Beaver" fans who dominate the soul and message of the Republican Party are, so they say, about one thing: states' rights. Ask about gay marriage, they'll say they don't hate gays, but it should be up to the states. Ask about abortion, they'll say it's not about choice, but about a state's ability to govern itself. Ask about environmental and energy regulation, healthcare, education ... it always comes down to, you got it, states' rights.
If only Barack Obama weren't president of all the states, he'd have the whole Republican Party on his side.
Then ask a Republican which historical figures best represent the values of the party. The answer is likely Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. Fine presidents and safe choices, but none more guilty than they of expanding the reach of the federal government and trampling all over the 10th Amendment.
Roosevelt tore through corruption; devised unprecdented levels of regulation, especially of land and resources; and increased protections for women, minorities and other disenfranchised groups. I need not go on, as I've already expounded on TR's many accolades elsewhere.
As far as Lincoln, well, he fought a war expressly to deny states their rights. The Civil War wasn't really about the immorality of slavery, but about the limits of federalism: how much could a state assert its soverignty before undermining the interests of the union as a whole.
Except when bombing someone else, Republicans want us to be a collection of states rather than a United States. I can't think of anything more absurd or less American. Only the federal government, representing all of us, has the means and the authority to support local and state initiatives, control private sector excess and provide a basic fairness -- a single standard -- for all Americans. The Constitution's preamble makes that abundantly clear.
If Republicans think the government is getting too big -- representing our interests too much -- they can do the one thing that will surely shrink it: Get out.
20 May 2009
Israel Jealous
Congratulations to the Sri Lankan government for finally crushing the Tamil Tigers. Sure, you killed 15,000 civilians in the process, but lucky for you, Tamils are less important than Palestinians. So you're off the hook.
16 May 2009
13 May 2009
Shout Out to F-Town in New Mac/PC Ad
I wonder how Fairfield made it's way into one of the new Mac/PC ads. ... Mr. Long, I'm looking at you.
11 May 2009
It's the Pot, Stupid
With the Swine Flu abating (props to Mexico for nipping it pretty much in the bud), we can return our attention to the real pandemic raging along our southern border. One pillar of the drug cartels' power is guns, and how easy it is to get them from U.S. stores and shows. The other pillar is pot, and the destructive way our society treats drug use and addiction.
The comparison is perfect. When alcohol was illegal in the United States, organized crime flourished. Al Capone made millions. Cops, judges and politicians took bribes to look the other way, and those who couldn't be corrupted were threatened. When prohibition was repealed, that all went away, and the profits that had been subverting law and order instead began supporting it.
Only a few years after alcohol became legal again, marijuana became illegal, and this second prohibition has led to the same social madness as the first. The drug cartels' main business may be cocaine, but they support that business with marijuana sales to the United States -- 62 percent of all their profits.
Pot doesn't kill, it doesn't maim, it can't even be proven to cause any long-term health problems. Pot doesn't do nearly the societal and familial damage its legal substance-in-crime, alcohol, does -- stoners don't beat their wives and kids or hold up liquor stores. So if the only reason marijuana remains illegal is because it has been for as long as we can remember -- and, on a more elementary level, because it originates from brown lands instead of Anglo lands like beer -- why is it still illegal? Why can't we even have a debate about it?
In arguing for the legalization of pot, there's the economic aspect. One-third of all Americans -- 100 million people -- admit to having used it, making marijuana one hell of a cash crop. Tax, sell and regulate it like alcohol, and billions of dollars that were once going to drug cartels are now paying for roads, schools and bridges (not to mention all the jobs that a legal industry would create).
There's the moral aspect. The United States imprisons a lot of people, and most are non-violent drug offenders, and almost half of those are marijuana related. Why? For what? Kingpins and dealers are one thing, but how does locking up users and addicts make our streets safer? Those who don't go to jail still go through the judicial process, keeping police forces, lawyers and judges from preventing real crimes. And if pot were legal, less people would ultimately use it.
The problem is demand, not supply, and so is the solution. It's stupidly simple: pot should be like alcohol. Users of harder drugs should go to rehab, not prison. Governments would have a new revenue source, drug cartels would go out of business and another 7,000 Mexicans wouldn't get gunned down. All in all, the world might get just a little bit better.
The comparison is perfect. When alcohol was illegal in the United States, organized crime flourished. Al Capone made millions. Cops, judges and politicians took bribes to look the other way, and those who couldn't be corrupted were threatened. When prohibition was repealed, that all went away, and the profits that had been subverting law and order instead began supporting it.
Only a few years after alcohol became legal again, marijuana became illegal, and this second prohibition has led to the same social madness as the first. The drug cartels' main business may be cocaine, but they support that business with marijuana sales to the United States -- 62 percent of all their profits.
Pot doesn't kill, it doesn't maim, it can't even be proven to cause any long-term health problems. Pot doesn't do nearly the societal and familial damage its legal substance-in-crime, alcohol, does -- stoners don't beat their wives and kids or hold up liquor stores. So if the only reason marijuana remains illegal is because it has been for as long as we can remember -- and, on a more elementary level, because it originates from brown lands instead of Anglo lands like beer -- why is it still illegal? Why can't we even have a debate about it?
In arguing for the legalization of pot, there's the economic aspect. One-third of all Americans -- 100 million people -- admit to having used it, making marijuana one hell of a cash crop. Tax, sell and regulate it like alcohol, and billions of dollars that were once going to drug cartels are now paying for roads, schools and bridges (not to mention all the jobs that a legal industry would create).
There's the moral aspect. The United States imprisons a lot of people, and most are non-violent drug offenders, and almost half of those are marijuana related. Why? For what? Kingpins and dealers are one thing, but how does locking up users and addicts make our streets safer? Those who don't go to jail still go through the judicial process, keeping police forces, lawyers and judges from preventing real crimes. And if pot were legal, less people would ultimately use it.
The problem is demand, not supply, and so is the solution. It's stupidly simple: pot should be like alcohol. Users of harder drugs should go to rehab, not prison. Governments would have a new revenue source, drug cartels would go out of business and another 7,000 Mexicans wouldn't get gunned down. All in all, the world might get just a little bit better.
04 May 2009
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