Although I have been advised against it, I can't resist putting together another potpourri of interesting stuff I've run across on the Internet recently. Plus, it's not like I've done a comprehensive survey about whether my readers like this type of entry -- the conclusion was conclusive, but the sample size was one.
My last blog left of with some commentary about Barak Obama, race, and politics. So, while I will include this New York Times article on the subject, and mention that I had the great pleasure of watching the original Shaft on a (the?) big screen at the MOMA the other night, and that it is actually quite a good movie which makes some interesting social and racial points, and which towards the end of the movie actually allows some black nationalist/pan-africanist characters turn a fire-hose onto some white people (as Dave Chapelle might say, "If I had my way, we'd do this in every episode!), I will start this blog with a more fanciful political issue: George Bush and the cheeseburger.
Apparently there is a war of words and petty government officials (should that be "petty petty government officials) over the birthplace of the hamburger. Both Athens, Texas and New Haven, Connecticut are claiming they their thriving communities incubated and produced the first hamburger on earth. There is a resolution in the Texas legislature right now that would declare Athens the winner of this beefy contest. Mayor John DeStefano Jr., of New Haven had this to say, "We are even the birthplace of George Bush who wants people to think he's from Texas. So yes, the hamburger is as much a New Haven original as President Bush. Get over it, Texas." The mayor of Hamburg has no comment on the situation, except to insist that he may or may not be a jelly-donut.
In other news, government spends a lot of time doing some very silly things. There is a proposal in the New York state senate to ban the use of iPods, Blackberries, and other such handheld electronica while crossing the street. This reminds me of a story I once heard about a man who was pulled over for DWPTF or Driving While Playing The Fiddle. He got off with a warning.
Finally and I hesitate to even include this, because really it's far more sad than it is funny, we end up in Florida where an appeal court upheld the conviction of a 16 year old girl and a 17 year old boy who "violated child pornography laws" after they photographed THEMSELVES naked and also "engaged in unspecified sexual behavior." Far from following the lead of such possible role models like: Paris Hilton, Pamela Anderson, Tommy Lee, or Dustin Diamond of 'Screech' fame, these two kids kept the photos to themselves. But, somehow, and to me, the parental hand looms in this situation as clearly as if it were visible, the police found out about the situation and decided to prosecute. This is totally sick. I understand laws intended to protect children, but how can anyone possibly think that these two kids or any others will have their lives improved by this ridiculous misuse of the Judaical system.
Well, I don't want to keep you (or me for that matter, I'm getting sleepy!) any longer, but suffice it to say that video games make your eyes better, cell-phones can burn, and a pro-basketball player is involved in a hit-and-run birthday caking incident. Lucky for him he wasn't in Florida.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Common Sense
One of my favorite columnists, Bill Simmons, thinks that sports teams should employ common-sense assistant coaches. These people, whose expertise might only have been formerly employed playing countless hours of sports video games would be on hand to point out the obvious. A couple of items in the news recently have had me feeling like people should pay me to common-sense-advise. Unfortunately, I haven't received any offers, so I guess I will just vent my common sense here.
As you may have noticed, the 2008 Presidential race has unofficially begun, with a plethora of candidates beginning their undignified scramble to Washington via New Hampshire, Iowa, Ohio, Florida, Pennsylvania, yeehaaawww! Perhaps the biggest splash so far has been made by the Democratic Senator, Joe Biden, who, on the day he declared himself a candidate, also made an inopportune comment about fellow Democratic candidate, Barak Obama. What Biden said, was that Obama was the "first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy."
Of course, he immediately issued apologies left and right, calling Obama, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson to try to diffuse the backlash that threatened to destroy his campaign before it even began. There a couple things that are wrong about this story. First the specific and then the general:
How can Biden play this off by saying something like, "Oh, I called, Al and Jesse, and we had a good talk, they understand what I was trying to say." What Biden was trying to say is that Obama is young enough (and not of African-American heritage) to campaign, unencumbered by the racially divisive politics of the civil rights era. Lets see, who, if not Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (Carol Moseley Braun or whatever her name was) could Biden have been thinking of when he said what he said? That he had to tag on Obama's aesthetic advantages over those two could not have made his apologies any easier to take.
The link above in the parenthesis is to a New York Times article whose grand thesis was that Barack Obama actually seems to be getting less support from Black people than Hilary Clinton is -- the tone -- shock. I really don't understand how this is a shock. It's an unfortunate catch 22 that any black candidate with a realistic chance of winning a major political contest (Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice (sounds like a mexican dish,) Barack Obama, that guy from Pennsylvania, etc.) must be people who appeal greatly to the 90% or so of the population that isn't black. Not to say that it is impossible for a black politician who appeals to white people appeal to black people, but... I think it's a lot easier for a white politician to have that type of cross-over appeal. And after all, Hilary Clinton's husband is in the African American Hall of Fame (whoever wrote the article felt the need to include this gem, "this is not in any way an effort to say that Clinton is an African American") while Obama's boyfriend is not even out of the closet... no, I mean, Obama's wife isn't a celebrity.
But the general problem with this whole thing is that the campaign creeping earlier and earlier is really quite damaging. Biden is just the first of the candidates to have to weather the storm of political scandal. I can't see any of the candidates making it through the year and a few months before the primaries actually begin to be held without some seriously damaging comment, story, photograph, etc. -- not unless they are incredibly boring people who are totally uninspiring to the hordes of bored news reporters (and I guess bloggers,) who are now being forced to cover this nonsense for longer than ever before. We're going to end up scaring off most of the good candidates (to be candidates) and then eliminating or damaging the rest of them during the marathon primary season, so by the time it's time to have a "meaningful debate between the two parties" the two candidates are going to be so scandal ridden and exhausted that our chance of actually having that debate will be even less above zero than it usually it.
My second common sense story has to do with Michael Vick, a football player being caught in an airport with a water bottle that had a secret compartment in it. The whole world went nuts until it was discovered that there wasn't actually any marijuana in it. Since then everyone has been falling over their own lack of cojones to apologize to Vick and to point out that they and everyone else were to fast to jump to conclusions. No one, no where has even paused to pose the question: if Vick wasn't smuggling weed, what was the secret compartment for? Hmmm, here's a FREAKISHLY quick athlete who is being paid millions and millions of dollars that are contingent on his remaining FREAKISHLY fast. Gee, what else, other than weed, might he be smuggling?
As you may have noticed, the 2008 Presidential race has unofficially begun, with a plethora of candidates beginning their undignified scramble to Washington via New Hampshire, Iowa, Ohio, Florida, Pennsylvania, yeehaaawww! Perhaps the biggest splash so far has been made by the Democratic Senator, Joe Biden, who, on the day he declared himself a candidate, also made an inopportune comment about fellow Democratic candidate, Barak Obama. What Biden said, was that Obama was the "first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy."
Of course, he immediately issued apologies left and right, calling Obama, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson to try to diffuse the backlash that threatened to destroy his campaign before it even began. There a couple things that are wrong about this story. First the specific and then the general:
How can Biden play this off by saying something like, "Oh, I called, Al and Jesse, and we had a good talk, they understand what I was trying to say." What Biden was trying to say is that Obama is young enough (and not of African-American heritage) to campaign, unencumbered by the racially divisive politics of the civil rights era. Lets see, who, if not Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (Carol Moseley Braun or whatever her name was) could Biden have been thinking of when he said what he said? That he had to tag on Obama's aesthetic advantages over those two could not have made his apologies any easier to take.
The link above in the parenthesis is to a New York Times article whose grand thesis was that Barack Obama actually seems to be getting less support from Black people than Hilary Clinton is -- the tone -- shock. I really don't understand how this is a shock. It's an unfortunate catch 22 that any black candidate with a realistic chance of winning a major political contest (Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice (sounds like a mexican dish,) Barack Obama, that guy from Pennsylvania, etc.) must be people who appeal greatly to the 90% or so of the population that isn't black. Not to say that it is impossible for a black politician who appeals to white people appeal to black people, but... I think it's a lot easier for a white politician to have that type of cross-over appeal. And after all, Hilary Clinton's husband is in the African American Hall of Fame (whoever wrote the article felt the need to include this gem, "this is not in any way an effort to say that Clinton is an African American") while Obama's boyfriend is not even out of the closet... no, I mean, Obama's wife isn't a celebrity.
But the general problem with this whole thing is that the campaign creeping earlier and earlier is really quite damaging. Biden is just the first of the candidates to have to weather the storm of political scandal. I can't see any of the candidates making it through the year and a few months before the primaries actually begin to be held without some seriously damaging comment, story, photograph, etc. -- not unless they are incredibly boring people who are totally uninspiring to the hordes of bored news reporters (and I guess bloggers,) who are now being forced to cover this nonsense for longer than ever before. We're going to end up scaring off most of the good candidates (to be candidates) and then eliminating or damaging the rest of them during the marathon primary season, so by the time it's time to have a "meaningful debate between the two parties" the two candidates are going to be so scandal ridden and exhausted that our chance of actually having that debate will be even less above zero than it usually it.
My second common sense story has to do with Michael Vick, a football player being caught in an airport with a water bottle that had a secret compartment in it. The whole world went nuts until it was discovered that there wasn't actually any marijuana in it. Since then everyone has been falling over their own lack of cojones to apologize to Vick and to point out that they and everyone else were to fast to jump to conclusions. No one, no where has even paused to pose the question: if Vick wasn't smuggling weed, what was the secret compartment for? Hmmm, here's a FREAKISHLY quick athlete who is being paid millions and millions of dollars that are contingent on his remaining FREAKISHLY fast. Gee, what else, other than weed, might he be smuggling?
Friday, January 19, 2007
The Subway and the Soviet Union
Riding the subway home from work today, my eye rested on a whole bunch of other eyes. No, don't worry dad, I wasn't making eye contact in the New York subway system, these eyes were on an advertisement put out by the MTA.
The ad, part of the MTA's continuing campaign to prevent potential terrorist attacks features a resolutely multi-racial set of eyes, which we are supposed to believe represent the population of the five boroughs. Although they are on average, less bloodshot, sleepy, and suspicious than what I would expect from a random sampling, I am willing to suspend my disbelief, and take them for what they are meant to be.
As for what they are meant to be doing, I am not so sure. The text below the eyes reads, "There are 16 million eyes in the city. We're counting on all of them." The message I believe, is that if we are to prevent another attack in New York, we (New York residents, commuters, and visitors,) must all remain constantly vigilant -- keeping our eyes open for suspicious behavior at all times.
I have a couple of issues with this message. The first one is simply that I'm not sure if it will work. One of the most interesting things about the September 11 hijackers is that on September 11, up until the moment they rose from their seats and announced that they were terrorists, they hadn't done anything that was illegal certainly, or even all that suspicious. It wasn't illegal to book one-way tickets for a group travelling together. It wasn't illegal to have box-cutters, not even in your carry-on. Of course there have been other examples of people doing highly suspicious things and then trying to do something violent. A prime example would have to be that ten foot tall dude who was caught trying to set his shoe on fire! But, my point is just that you don't necessarily have to be suspicious to blow something up, and even less so if you were trying to do something even creepier, involving a chemical or biological weapon. Even if we assume that someone attacking New York City is going to be acting a little bit funny before he or she attacks, the question remains... how is that any different from a normal New York commuter?
My second issue with the ad is less tangible. It just feels a little creepy to me. As I looked at the eyes in the subway today, a name came into my mind: Pavlik Morozov. I took a Russian history course taught by Greg Hand in high school, and along with the former Soviet Republics (you can remember these by the easy mnemonic device, "ELBUM GAA TUTKK R") was the story of Pavlik Morozov. Little Pavlik, as the story goes, did his duty as a loyal citizen of the Soviet Union, and at the age of 12, denounced his father to the authorities for some type of traitorous behavior. His father was tried and convicted, and sent to Siberia, or Gulag, or Gaol, or whatever the Russians called the pokey back then (1930s I believe.) Angry members of the family killed Pavlik, who was then held up as a martyred exemplar of the ideal Soviet youth all over the country. School-children learned his story, and operas were written and performed, but I'm afraid -- not listened to (even Soviets are human.)
Okay, so, there is clearly a difference between one government teaching children to betray their families and another asking commuters to keep their eyes open and report what they see. But, what can I say, Morozov was the name that flew into my mind on my way home today. I don't want to keep my eyes open on my commute home and I don't want other people keeping their eyes open at me. I just don't think it's worth it. I'm not sure how much it will improve our chances of not being attacked by a foreigner and I'm pretty sure that creating an heightened atmosphere of distrust (and let's not forget that people would not actually be looking at me, they would be looking at light-brown skinned people...) can only inspire more violent acts between Americans. Maybe this would get filed as violent crime and not terrorism, but I don't think that's a trade that I would like to make.
The ad, part of the MTA's continuing campaign to prevent potential terrorist attacks features a resolutely multi-racial set of eyes, which we are supposed to believe represent the population of the five boroughs. Although they are on average, less bloodshot, sleepy, and suspicious than what I would expect from a random sampling, I am willing to suspend my disbelief, and take them for what they are meant to be.
As for what they are meant to be doing, I am not so sure. The text below the eyes reads, "There are 16 million eyes in the city. We're counting on all of them." The message I believe, is that if we are to prevent another attack in New York, we (New York residents, commuters, and visitors,) must all remain constantly vigilant -- keeping our eyes open for suspicious behavior at all times.
I have a couple of issues with this message. The first one is simply that I'm not sure if it will work. One of the most interesting things about the September 11 hijackers is that on September 11, up until the moment they rose from their seats and announced that they were terrorists, they hadn't done anything that was illegal certainly, or even all that suspicious. It wasn't illegal to book one-way tickets for a group travelling together. It wasn't illegal to have box-cutters, not even in your carry-on. Of course there have been other examples of people doing highly suspicious things and then trying to do something violent. A prime example would have to be that ten foot tall dude who was caught trying to set his shoe on fire! But, my point is just that you don't necessarily have to be suspicious to blow something up, and even less so if you were trying to do something even creepier, involving a chemical or biological weapon. Even if we assume that someone attacking New York City is going to be acting a little bit funny before he or she attacks, the question remains... how is that any different from a normal New York commuter?
My second issue with the ad is less tangible. It just feels a little creepy to me. As I looked at the eyes in the subway today, a name came into my mind: Pavlik Morozov. I took a Russian history course taught by Greg Hand in high school, and along with the former Soviet Republics (you can remember these by the easy mnemonic device, "ELBUM GAA TUTKK R") was the story of Pavlik Morozov. Little Pavlik, as the story goes, did his duty as a loyal citizen of the Soviet Union, and at the age of 12, denounced his father to the authorities for some type of traitorous behavior. His father was tried and convicted, and sent to Siberia, or Gulag, or Gaol, or whatever the Russians called the pokey back then (1930s I believe.) Angry members of the family killed Pavlik, who was then held up as a martyred exemplar of the ideal Soviet youth all over the country. School-children learned his story, and operas were written and performed, but I'm afraid -- not listened to (even Soviets are human.)
Okay, so, there is clearly a difference between one government teaching children to betray their families and another asking commuters to keep their eyes open and report what they see. But, what can I say, Morozov was the name that flew into my mind on my way home today. I don't want to keep my eyes open on my commute home and I don't want other people keeping their eyes open at me. I just don't think it's worth it. I'm not sure how much it will improve our chances of not being attacked by a foreigner and I'm pretty sure that creating an heightened atmosphere of distrust (and let's not forget that people would not actually be looking at me, they would be looking at light-brown skinned people...) can only inspire more violent acts between Americans. Maybe this would get filed as violent crime and not terrorism, but I don't think that's a trade that I would like to make.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
This is a blog. A what? A blog. Oh, a blog...
Most of my blog entries are not really appropriate for a blog. The conclusion I reached in an earlier entry (also, not really a true blog entry...) is that an authentic blog should be a survey of the websites that the author has been visiting lately -- a compendium if I will. And, it looks like today, finally, I will.
Recently a big news story in the New York metropolitan was the mysterious "natural gas" smell that covered the city and its neighbors a few days ago. As almost always happens when a funny smell occurs, people immediately blame New Jersey. We New Jerseyans get a little bit prickly about this. I particularly enjoyed a quote from Stan H. Eason, a spokesperson for Jersey City, who said, "'We’re going to get some industrial fans out and blow the smell back over to New York,'"
In other news from my home state, the state legislation is seriously considering making some important changes to the constitution. Nope, not gay marriage. No, not the death penalty. No... it was a five letter word!
Aside from horrid smells, and word choice, some of you might have noticed Bush's national announcement of the "troop surge" in Iraq. My first instinct was to question whether or not our Commander in Chief needed to make such a public display of increasing our troop numbers by a paltry ~12 percent? Having been convinced by one of my trusted advisers that this was, indeed, appropriate, I've distilled my objection to this: seeing as basically no one believes that 20,000 troops is going to make a significant change in the military situation in Iraq, then Bush' motivation must have been to make a significant change in the political situation in the United States, and I'm not really sure he should be trying to make political hay while the kids die. On this subject (and this is where the link comes in...) I read a New York Times column by Maureen Dowd (which is "reprinted" on someone else's blog, because you have to pay to read certain Times articles on-line these days.) In it she tries to psychoanalyze President Bush by making an elaborate allegory to his college days. She describes Bush in the following way:
"Junior was known as an extremely aggressive player in the venerable Parker Brothers board game, a brutal contest that requires bluster and bluffing as you invade countries, all the while betraying alliances. Notably, it’s almost impossible to win Risk and conquer the world if you start the game in the Middle East, because you’re surrounded by enemies."
Here's my beef. All psychological or military accuracy aside, if you are going to waste almost 24 column inches of the New York Times with a board game allegory, you should really get your facts about the game straight. You cannot bluff while playing Risk. I've never seen anyone attempt to bluster their way into a better position. Nor are there usually any alliances to betray. Risk is actually a game that is skewed to the defensive (when two players role equal numbers on the dice, the defender wins,) and rewards good positioning and overwhelming numerical superiority.
Sorry about that... it's just something I'm passionate about, and I hate when someone sullies such an important topic with politics.
I went to an art show in SOHO that my friend and ex-housemate Amanda Thackray was exhibiting at. The show was fairly political, intermittently sophomoric, and to my unrefined mind, over-priced. But, it did provoke the following conversational gem, which I wish someone had overheard and reported on this nifty website:
Ezra: What is that terrible noise?
Noise: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Amanda (with no hesitation): I think it's either a fire alarm or art.
The curse of the yellow piece: a woman was hospitalized after playing poorly in a game of Trivial Pursuit. Which would suggest that perhaps it isn't such a trivial game after all. I love the fact that the person who reported on the incident felt the need to report that the woman in question was, in fact, playing as the yellow piece. I especially enjoyed that because I ALWAYS play as the yellow piece. I think it's because yellow is the color of the history questions or maybe because Nero Wolfe's pajamas are yellow.
My motivations are sometimes less than clear. But if you are interested in history, especially if you have ancestors who immigrated to this continent from England, then you might be interested in this little history thing, which doubles as my last link of the day. Enjoy!
Recently a big news story in the New York metropolitan was the mysterious "natural gas" smell that covered the city and its neighbors a few days ago. As almost always happens when a funny smell occurs, people immediately blame New Jersey. We New Jerseyans get a little bit prickly about this. I particularly enjoyed a quote from Stan H. Eason, a spokesperson for Jersey City, who said, "'We’re going to get some industrial fans out and blow the smell back over to New York,'"
In other news from my home state, the state legislation is seriously considering making some important changes to the constitution. Nope, not gay marriage. No, not the death penalty. No... it was a five letter word!
Aside from horrid smells, and word choice, some of you might have noticed Bush's national announcement of the "troop surge" in Iraq. My first instinct was to question whether or not our Commander in Chief needed to make such a public display of increasing our troop numbers by a paltry ~12 percent? Having been convinced by one of my trusted advisers that this was, indeed, appropriate, I've distilled my objection to this: seeing as basically no one believes that 20,000 troops is going to make a significant change in the military situation in Iraq, then Bush' motivation must have been to make a significant change in the political situation in the United States, and I'm not really sure he should be trying to make political hay while the kids die. On this subject (and this is where the link comes in...) I read a New York Times column by Maureen Dowd (which is "reprinted" on someone else's blog, because you have to pay to read certain Times articles on-line these days.) In it she tries to psychoanalyze President Bush by making an elaborate allegory to his college days. She describes Bush in the following way:
"Junior was known as an extremely aggressive player in the venerable Parker Brothers board game, a brutal contest that requires bluster and bluffing as you invade countries, all the while betraying alliances. Notably, it’s almost impossible to win Risk and conquer the world if you start the game in the Middle East, because you’re surrounded by enemies."
Here's my beef. All psychological or military accuracy aside, if you are going to waste almost 24 column inches of the New York Times with a board game allegory, you should really get your facts about the game straight. You cannot bluff while playing Risk. I've never seen anyone attempt to bluster their way into a better position. Nor are there usually any alliances to betray. Risk is actually a game that is skewed to the defensive (when two players role equal numbers on the dice, the defender wins,) and rewards good positioning and overwhelming numerical superiority.
Sorry about that... it's just something I'm passionate about, and I hate when someone sullies such an important topic with politics.
I went to an art show in SOHO that my friend and ex-housemate Amanda Thackray was exhibiting at. The show was fairly political, intermittently sophomoric, and to my unrefined mind, over-priced. But, it did provoke the following conversational gem, which I wish someone had overheard and reported on this nifty website:
Ezra: What is that terrible noise?
Noise: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Amanda (with no hesitation): I think it's either a fire alarm or art.
The curse of the yellow piece: a woman was hospitalized after playing poorly in a game of Trivial Pursuit. Which would suggest that perhaps it isn't such a trivial game after all. I love the fact that the person who reported on the incident felt the need to report that the woman in question was, in fact, playing as the yellow piece. I especially enjoyed that because I ALWAYS play as the yellow piece. I think it's because yellow is the color of the history questions or maybe because Nero Wolfe's pajamas are yellow.
My motivations are sometimes less than clear. But if you are interested in history, especially if you have ancestors who immigrated to this continent from England, then you might be interested in this little history thing, which doubles as my last link of the day. Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
References Volume 2
And I'm back... sorry, this whole "working for a living" thing really constrains my "life work" of blogging. Without any further ado: the continuation of my serial work on references.
As a history student, I was trained to surround myself with references. One of my less inspired professors actually told his class that their final papers would be graded partly on their gross number of references. He also had a tendency to literally (and when I say literally, I don't mean figuratively) froth at the mouth while yelling about the "namby-pamby" liberals who voted for Nader and lost the 2000 election for Gore! He was a nice man, but very intense.
"Fine," I thought to myself. A footnote is just a simple way of showing the reader where you learned whatever you are writing and is "required" unless you are stating something that is "common knowledge." When writing a history paper, you can footnote almost every sentence. After all, most of the time, I had very little knowledge of the subject before I began to learn about it, so all I had to do was pay attention to where I learned each piece of information, and I could cite it. I averaged around ten footnotes per page... by far the most in the class... and, surprise, surprise, that was quite enough for me to earn a top grade from my reference obsessed professor.
That Freshman year effort of mine was not quite as good as my old chess tutor who claimed that he wrote a senior thesis which consisted of one sentence of body text and footnotes for the remainder of the paper. Irreverent, yes, but I think there is some inkling of a point behind the smart-assness. My guess is that my tutor was trying to make the point that any thesis paper is really just a single statement with TONS of time spent trying to show your reader how you came to believe in the truth of that statement. I'm pretty sure that my point was just that number of footnotes was a silly game to play, but that I could play it to extremes if need be.
Later, when I was writing my senior thesis, I found myself constantly troubled by footnotes. My problem was that I was writing about an obscure (although it was once as well-known as the OJ affair) murder case from the 1920s. Before I discovered it on Google, I had never heard of the Hall-Mills case and I had lived and studied history in the town where it took place for 4 years! So, clearly, I couldn't assume that ANY of the details of the case were "commonly known." And the twenties? Well, all I really knew was that the market crashed in '29, that Hoover was president then, and that Wilson had started the decade; that prohibition was on and that Marilyn Monroe walked like "Jello on springs!" (although come to think of it, surely that's an anachronistic line... wasn't Jello a product of the '50s?) I want everyone to enjoy reading my writing, so I certainly wasn't going to assume more general knowledge than that.
Once again, I felt like I should really footnote almost everything. But, when writing a hundred and something page paper, there's no way I could possibly do that. Nor would I have wanted to, because even at their most interesting footnotes break up the narrative flow of the paper; the story in the history. But as a result I spent most of my time while writing, feeling like I was making shit up. I don't think I really was, but without a footnote to point to, who's to say I wasn't?
As a history student, I was trained to surround myself with references. One of my less inspired professors actually told his class that their final papers would be graded partly on their gross number of references. He also had a tendency to literally (and when I say literally, I don't mean figuratively) froth at the mouth while yelling about the "namby-pamby" liberals who voted for Nader and lost the 2000 election for Gore! He was a nice man, but very intense.
"Fine," I thought to myself. A footnote is just a simple way of showing the reader where you learned whatever you are writing and is "required" unless you are stating something that is "common knowledge." When writing a history paper, you can footnote almost every sentence. After all, most of the time, I had very little knowledge of the subject before I began to learn about it, so all I had to do was pay attention to where I learned each piece of information, and I could cite it. I averaged around ten footnotes per page... by far the most in the class... and, surprise, surprise, that was quite enough for me to earn a top grade from my reference obsessed professor.
That Freshman year effort of mine was not quite as good as my old chess tutor who claimed that he wrote a senior thesis which consisted of one sentence of body text and footnotes for the remainder of the paper. Irreverent, yes, but I think there is some inkling of a point behind the smart-assness. My guess is that my tutor was trying to make the point that any thesis paper is really just a single statement with TONS of time spent trying to show your reader how you came to believe in the truth of that statement. I'm pretty sure that my point was just that number of footnotes was a silly game to play, but that I could play it to extremes if need be.
Later, when I was writing my senior thesis, I found myself constantly troubled by footnotes. My problem was that I was writing about an obscure (although it was once as well-known as the OJ affair) murder case from the 1920s. Before I discovered it on Google, I had never heard of the Hall-Mills case and I had lived and studied history in the town where it took place for 4 years! So, clearly, I couldn't assume that ANY of the details of the case were "commonly known." And the twenties? Well, all I really knew was that the market crashed in '29, that Hoover was president then, and that Wilson had started the decade; that prohibition was on and that Marilyn Monroe walked like "Jello on springs!" (although come to think of it, surely that's an anachronistic line... wasn't Jello a product of the '50s?) I want everyone to enjoy reading my writing, so I certainly wasn't going to assume more general knowledge than that.
Once again, I felt like I should really footnote almost everything. But, when writing a hundred and something page paper, there's no way I could possibly do that. Nor would I have wanted to, because even at their most interesting footnotes break up the narrative flow of the paper; the story in the history. But as a result I spent most of my time while writing, feeling like I was making shit up. I don't think I really was, but without a footnote to point to, who's to say I wasn't?
Friday, December 08, 2006
Top Ten Hip-Hop Albums
Low End Theory, A Tribe Called Quest, 1991.
This was the album that got me into hip-hop. The two rappers, Phife and Q-Tip, interact more seamlessly then any other duo I've ever heard.
"If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed you, but since it was bought, I had to dismiss you. So if you can't achieve it, they why not try and leave it, if you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it, if you can't braid it, next thing to do is fade it, I asked who did your hair and you told me Diane made it."
Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde, Pharcyde, 1992.
The first album that I turned off when my parents got home, this California classic is a mixture of pot-head humor, perverted posturing, and posse hip-hop.
"If I were President, I would not carry no spare change, I would just re-arrange the whole government structure, cause there seems to be something that's messing with the flucture of the money, it's not coming to me."
The Score, Fugees, 1996.
Best enjoyed during the summer months, this album features Lauren Hill (yes, she of Sister Act II) bringing by far the hardest and best female rapping ever. Add in a little bit of Jamaican feel and a reference to Rutgers, and you've got a classic.
"Even after all my logic and my theories, I adds a motherfucker so you ignorant niggas hear me." and "While you imitating Al Capone, I be Nina Simone, defecating on your microphone."
Black Star, Black Star, 1998.
I got a copy of this collaboration between Brooklyn MCs Mos Def and Talib Kweli on an audio tape in High School, and it was going strong until a year and a half ago when I got a car sans-tape player. A measure of how much I like this album; I bought the cd.
"Thoughts that people put in the air, places where you can get murdered over a glare, but everything's fair, it's a paradox we call reality, so keeping it real will make you a casualty of abnormal normality, killers born naturally like Mikey and Mallory, not knowing the way will get you capped like a NBA salary.
The Marshall Mathers LP, Eminem, 2000.
After racistly resisting Eminem for years, I found myself in South Africa, where I perceived that racism is not always a good thing. I made a copy of my housemates Marshall Mathers LP, and it became almost my constant companion for five months. Dr. Dre's simple but addictive beats keep your head nodding in time while you proverbially shake it at Eminem's surprisingly nuanced twisted humor.
"I murder a rhyme, one word at a time, you never, heard of a mind as perverted as mine, you better, get rid of that nine, it ain't gonna help, what good's it gonna do against a man that strangles himself?"
Stillmatic, Nas, 2001.
Nas' true talent is in street-story telling. That said, Stillmatic contains a diss song, Ether. In it, he destroys Jay-Z with the second most devastating line in beefing history,* "I rock hos, Y'all rock fellas." (Jay-Z's record label was called Roc-a-fella records at that point.)
*The most devastating single line is of course when Eminem completely ruined Will Smith forever with, "Will Smith don't gotta cuss to sell records, well I do. So fuck him and fuck you too."
Chicken and Beer, Ludacris, 2003.
Beyond the sheer genius of the title, beyond the intermingling of simplicity and wit, beyond everything else that could be said about this album, remains the sweet fact that Snoop Dogg, as a guest rapper on the track, "Who Let These Hos in my Room?" describes Bill O'Reilly as a "white-bread, chicken shit, nigger." I don't know what that means, but it can't be good.
I'm not going to put a quote here, because I have plans to annotate my favorite song from Chicken and Beer, "Hip-Hop Quotables."
Late Registration, Kanye West, 2005.
From track three to track eleven, this album is seamlessly great. Not a bad song, not a song out of place, it all works perfectly together. Admittedly, it is the music that makes this album so great -- but, whatever else can be said about Kanye as a rapper, he is extremely accessible; I find myself knowing every word to entire songs.
"The pressure's on but guess who ain't gonna crack, pardon me I had to laugh at that, how could you falter, when you the rock of Gibraltar, I had to get off the boat so I can walk on water, this ain't no tall order this is nothing to me, difficult takes a day, impossible takes a week, I do this in my sleep, I sold kilos of coke, I'm guessing I can sell cds, I'm not a business man, I'm a business, man... let me handle my business, damn."*
* of course, this, the best bit on the album is not Kanye, but guest rapper Jay-Z.
Lord Willin', The Clipse, 2002.
These guys' whole schtick is that they're primarily drug dealers who only rap as a hobby... and for some reason (probably that the Neptunes did the beats for their whole album,) it works.
"What I look like spending my nights in jail, I could never be a thug - they don't dress this well. Ride in VA, reside in VA, mostly likely when I die, I'm gonna die in VA. Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here, for out-of-towners who think they gonna move weight here. Ironic the place that I'm making figures at, that was the same land they used to hang niggers at."
Ready to Die, The Notorious B.I.G., 1994.
Clearly, I'm a little bit behind the times on this one, having bought the album six years after Biggie's death. That said, it really stands the test of time pretty well. Which just plays into a blog which I won't write (now at least,) that the reason New York and California hip-hop has lost out to all the other regions, is that they can't move on from the styles of their martyred leaders.
"So low, Caviar, shark bar, uh uhn, strictly sex that's sweaty and left-over spaghetti, I know you're used to slow cd's and Dom P's, but tonight it's eight-tracks and six-packs while I hit that."
The albums are listed in the order that I discovered them.
The rules:
1. These albums all had to be albums that I owned (legally or illegally) and listened to obsessively at one point. (Excluding: The Chronic, Doggystyle, all of Tupac, and lots of other all time greats.)
2. They had to be albums whose lyrical content was primarily rap. (Excluding: The Miseducation of Lauren Hill, Baduism, Get Lifted, etc.)
3. The memorable quotes had to be ones that I could quote from memory... but I did check on a few of them, just so I didn't make any unbelievably embarrassing mistakes.
This was the album that got me into hip-hop. The two rappers, Phife and Q-Tip, interact more seamlessly then any other duo I've ever heard.
"If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed you, but since it was bought, I had to dismiss you. So if you can't achieve it, they why not try and leave it, if you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it, if you can't braid it, next thing to do is fade it, I asked who did your hair and you told me Diane made it."
Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde, Pharcyde, 1992.
The first album that I turned off when my parents got home, this California classic is a mixture of pot-head humor, perverted posturing, and posse hip-hop.
"If I were President, I would not carry no spare change, I would just re-arrange the whole government structure, cause there seems to be something that's messing with the flucture of the money, it's not coming to me."
The Score, Fugees, 1996.
Best enjoyed during the summer months, this album features Lauren Hill (yes, she of Sister Act II) bringing by far the hardest and best female rapping ever. Add in a little bit of Jamaican feel and a reference to Rutgers, and you've got a classic.
"Even after all my logic and my theories, I adds a motherfucker so you ignorant niggas hear me." and "While you imitating Al Capone, I be Nina Simone, defecating on your microphone."
Black Star, Black Star, 1998.
I got a copy of this collaboration between Brooklyn MCs Mos Def and Talib Kweli on an audio tape in High School, and it was going strong until a year and a half ago when I got a car sans-tape player. A measure of how much I like this album; I bought the cd.
"Thoughts that people put in the air, places where you can get murdered over a glare, but everything's fair, it's a paradox we call reality, so keeping it real will make you a casualty of abnormal normality, killers born naturally like Mikey and Mallory, not knowing the way will get you capped like a NBA salary.
The Marshall Mathers LP, Eminem, 2000.
After racistly resisting Eminem for years, I found myself in South Africa, where I perceived that racism is not always a good thing. I made a copy of my housemates Marshall Mathers LP, and it became almost my constant companion for five months. Dr. Dre's simple but addictive beats keep your head nodding in time while you proverbially shake it at Eminem's surprisingly nuanced twisted humor.
"I murder a rhyme, one word at a time, you never, heard of a mind as perverted as mine, you better, get rid of that nine, it ain't gonna help, what good's it gonna do against a man that strangles himself?"
Stillmatic, Nas, 2001.
Nas' true talent is in street-story telling. That said, Stillmatic contains a diss song, Ether. In it, he destroys Jay-Z with the second most devastating line in beefing history,* "I rock hos, Y'all rock fellas." (Jay-Z's record label was called Roc-a-fella records at that point.)
*The most devastating single line is of course when Eminem completely ruined Will Smith forever with, "Will Smith don't gotta cuss to sell records, well I do. So fuck him and fuck you too."
Chicken and Beer, Ludacris, 2003.
Beyond the sheer genius of the title, beyond the intermingling of simplicity and wit, beyond everything else that could be said about this album, remains the sweet fact that Snoop Dogg, as a guest rapper on the track, "Who Let These Hos in my Room?" describes Bill O'Reilly as a "white-bread, chicken shit, nigger." I don't know what that means, but it can't be good.
I'm not going to put a quote here, because I have plans to annotate my favorite song from Chicken and Beer, "Hip-Hop Quotables."
Late Registration, Kanye West, 2005.
From track three to track eleven, this album is seamlessly great. Not a bad song, not a song out of place, it all works perfectly together. Admittedly, it is the music that makes this album so great -- but, whatever else can be said about Kanye as a rapper, he is extremely accessible; I find myself knowing every word to entire songs.
"The pressure's on but guess who ain't gonna crack, pardon me I had to laugh at that, how could you falter, when you the rock of Gibraltar, I had to get off the boat so I can walk on water, this ain't no tall order this is nothing to me, difficult takes a day, impossible takes a week, I do this in my sleep, I sold kilos of coke, I'm guessing I can sell cds, I'm not a business man, I'm a business, man... let me handle my business, damn."*
* of course, this, the best bit on the album is not Kanye, but guest rapper Jay-Z.
Lord Willin', The Clipse, 2002.
These guys' whole schtick is that they're primarily drug dealers who only rap as a hobby... and for some reason (probably that the Neptunes did the beats for their whole album,) it works.
"What I look like spending my nights in jail, I could never be a thug - they don't dress this well. Ride in VA, reside in VA, mostly likely when I die, I'm gonna die in VA. Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here, for out-of-towners who think they gonna move weight here. Ironic the place that I'm making figures at, that was the same land they used to hang niggers at."
Ready to Die, The Notorious B.I.G., 1994.
Clearly, I'm a little bit behind the times on this one, having bought the album six years after Biggie's death. That said, it really stands the test of time pretty well. Which just plays into a blog which I won't write (now at least,) that the reason New York and California hip-hop has lost out to all the other regions, is that they can't move on from the styles of their martyred leaders.
"So low, Caviar, shark bar, uh uhn, strictly sex that's sweaty and left-over spaghetti, I know you're used to slow cd's and Dom P's, but tonight it's eight-tracks and six-packs while I hit that."
The albums are listed in the order that I discovered them.
The rules:
1. These albums all had to be albums that I owned (legally or illegally) and listened to obsessively at one point. (Excluding: The Chronic, Doggystyle, all of Tupac, and lots of other all time greats.)
2. They had to be albums whose lyrical content was primarily rap. (Excluding: The Miseducation of Lauren Hill, Baduism, Get Lifted, etc.)
3. The memorable quotes had to be ones that I could quote from memory... but I did check on a few of them, just so I didn't make any unbelievably embarrassing mistakes.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Thoughts on Thanksgiving and the Latest Bond Flick
According to the New York Times, "For thousands of years communal meals have been a key to building cultures," and Thanksgiving is our chance to relive an older time; a simpler time. A time when people could celebrate the coming of winter with a show of overabundance. A time when Turkeys grew with ducks and chickens inside of them, and cranberries grew in cans.
With this in mind, shortly after my family's Soul Food Thanksgiving, I set off to the movie theater with two of my oldest friends to watch the latest offering in the James Bond series; Casino Royale.
Casino Royale is the Ian Fleming James Bond novel, and this movie is faithful to that concept. Which is admittedly a little weird, since, not only are we supposed to be introduced to a character who we all know so well already, but also one whose movies are so intertwined with the technology of the day and the near future. Since nobody wants to see a 'period' Bond film -- one made today, but set in the 60's, we have to deal with the fact that Bond of Casino Royale, a prequel to Dr. No (the first Bond Movie made,) drives a WAY more modern car than the Bond of Dr. No... even though... well, you get it.
Casino Royale also introduces the newest actor to take on the mantle of James Bond. I had only ever seen Daniel Craig in Munich, a movie that I disliked, so I wasn't so hot on him to start out. Plus, he's blond. And Bond shouldn't really be blond, should he?
The jury is still out on Craig as Bond. And here's why: he didn't actually play James Bond in this movie -- not a fully formed Bond, anyway. The movie intentionally set out to create an arc (I'm not sure what the hell that term means, but I've heard people (Christopher Moltisanti, I'm afraid) use it, so why can't I) wherein only at the last moment of the movie would James Bond become The James Bond. This was signified by only foreshadowing the famous Bond theme song until the ending credits. Which, by the way, was infuriating... like going to a ball game and not singing the national anthem until the game was over. There were several other lines that seemed to be in the movie just to hammer across the point that we weren't watching the real James Bond, not yet, anyway. For example, at one point, a waiter asks Bond if he would like his martini shaken or stirred and instead of the classic, "Shaken... not stirred," Craig does a single take at the camera and replies, "Does it look like I give a damn."
Even more unBondlike, perhaps, is that throughout the first two thirds of the movie, he also seems to be having trouble getting laid. He actually leaves a woman in his apartment to pursue her boyfriend to Miami. Early in the movie -- this was the first sign that Bond wasn't quite himself -- the old Bond would have (and often did) made love to someone else's woman and then chase after him. This unformed Bond was also much more temperamental, showing both more anger and more insecurity than the veteran Bond.
The New York Times review claims that "this new Bond marks a decisive break with the contemporary iterations." For my part, I hope that this is not the case. And I think it won't be. With the final line of the movie, "Bond, James Bond," and the playing of the theme song, I think the movie makers were telling us Bond lovers (don't take that the wrong way) that with the next edition in the series, Bond will return, more or less as he always has been. Which is good. More than anything, Bond symbolizes immortality. And for there to be a beginning to Bond hints that there might, one day, be an end to Bond. Which (unless they film it soon with Sean Connery,) I would never, never want to see.
For supplementary reading, check out this cool review in the Hindustan Times! Also note that in the original book, the featured high stakes game was Baccarat, not Poker. But, given the current poker craze, I think the directors made a smart decision... but did they really have to explain what a tell is?
With this in mind, shortly after my family's Soul Food Thanksgiving, I set off to the movie theater with two of my oldest friends to watch the latest offering in the James Bond series; Casino Royale.
Casino Royale is the Ian Fleming James Bond novel, and this movie is faithful to that concept. Which is admittedly a little weird, since, not only are we supposed to be introduced to a character who we all know so well already, but also one whose movies are so intertwined with the technology of the day and the near future. Since nobody wants to see a 'period' Bond film -- one made today, but set in the 60's, we have to deal with the fact that Bond of Casino Royale, a prequel to Dr. No (the first Bond Movie made,) drives a WAY more modern car than the Bond of Dr. No... even though... well, you get it.
Casino Royale also introduces the newest actor to take on the mantle of James Bond. I had only ever seen Daniel Craig in Munich, a movie that I disliked, so I wasn't so hot on him to start out. Plus, he's blond. And Bond shouldn't really be blond, should he?
The jury is still out on Craig as Bond. And here's why: he didn't actually play James Bond in this movie -- not a fully formed Bond, anyway. The movie intentionally set out to create an arc (I'm not sure what the hell that term means, but I've heard people (Christopher Moltisanti, I'm afraid) use it, so why can't I) wherein only at the last moment of the movie would James Bond become The James Bond. This was signified by only foreshadowing the famous Bond theme song until the ending credits. Which, by the way, was infuriating... like going to a ball game and not singing the national anthem until the game was over. There were several other lines that seemed to be in the movie just to hammer across the point that we weren't watching the real James Bond, not yet, anyway. For example, at one point, a waiter asks Bond if he would like his martini shaken or stirred and instead of the classic, "Shaken... not stirred," Craig does a single take at the camera and replies, "Does it look like I give a damn."
Even more unBondlike, perhaps, is that throughout the first two thirds of the movie, he also seems to be having trouble getting laid. He actually leaves a woman in his apartment to pursue her boyfriend to Miami. Early in the movie -- this was the first sign that Bond wasn't quite himself -- the old Bond would have (and often did) made love to someone else's woman and then chase after him. This unformed Bond was also much more temperamental, showing both more anger and more insecurity than the veteran Bond.
The New York Times review claims that "this new Bond marks a decisive break with the contemporary iterations." For my part, I hope that this is not the case. And I think it won't be. With the final line of the movie, "Bond, James Bond," and the playing of the theme song, I think the movie makers were telling us Bond lovers (don't take that the wrong way) that with the next edition in the series, Bond will return, more or less as he always has been. Which is good. More than anything, Bond symbolizes immortality. And for there to be a beginning to Bond hints that there might, one day, be an end to Bond. Which (unless they film it soon with Sean Connery,) I would never, never want to see.
For supplementary reading, check out this cool review in the Hindustan Times! Also note that in the original book, the featured high stakes game was Baccarat, not Poker. But, given the current poker craze, I think the directors made a smart decision... but did they really have to explain what a tell is?
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