Wednesday, August 16, 2006

A stretch of river XV: The Ninety-Nine-Percent Doctrine

(Cross-posted at Sine qua non)

The park across the river from my apartment complex has a reputation among long-time Wichitans of being a dangerous place. I vividly recall, in fact, the first time I ever saw the park: the then-soon-to-be Mrs. M. and I were cruising about in the neighborhood, a fairly prosperous part of the city, at early dusk when we came upon it, and I suggested we park there and walk around. Families with children were gathered about one of those fountains that double as a get-the-kids-wet play area. (There are, of course, other ways to think about them.) It wasn't dark; it looked safe; it looked attractive, even; it looked like a good time. Mrs. M. responded angrily at my naïvete. This place is dangerous, she told me; don't you know that? Well, no, I didn't. I had been in Wichita a couple of years but still didn't have a good sense of which areas were "safe," which not.

We can know only what we know, true? That knowledge inevitably affects how we interpret events and ideas and people we encounter, interfering with our ability to see a particular phenomenon whole and entire. That evening, I knew only what I was seeing in front of me: activities and groups of people that to me suggest a general sense of safety. Mrs M. knew about the park's prior reputation and so didn't "see" what I was seeing. Neither of us was seeing a bigger picture, one which has emerged since we moved here: that, yes, it did have that former reputation and can still be a bit dicey over there some nights; but, as evidenced by the newish fountain, some sculptures, an attractive gazebo and other features, the city has been working to rehabilitate the park and its reputation and has been mostly successful, I'd say.

So: as I walk Scruffy these days before the sun has come up, I feel safe, but I'm vigilant. Scruffy's hearing and vision are much sharper than mine, so if he seems to be distracted by something off to the side of our route, I look to see what I can see as well. I don't carry or even own a gun (I refuse to, in fact, for reasons I'll get into below); I don't carry a stick or other weapon, either. I do have my cellphone, which we got in the first place because Mrs. M. now lives in Topeka so that, should her schedule permit and she wants to experience the thrill of hearing my melodious voice, she has a better chance of more immediately being able to satisfy that impulse. One day on our walk, though, I found myself thinking that, should I be attacked, I had my cellphone and could call for help the instant I sensed I was in danger and that that was a measure of protection. But I immediately realized how foolish that was. Imagine the sequence: 1) The Meridian senses he's in danger about the moment he feels the bludgeon cracking his cranium; 2) All awareness of the cellphone and, indeed, the whole of the world and the people and things in it he loves or in any sense cares about one way or another descends, like Coleridge's sacred river Alph, down that cavern measureless to man that is the loss of consciousness; 3) The Meridian, one hopes (he himself not really being able to hope or do much of anything else), eventually wakes up. Indeed: I realized that, though Scruffy's size would intimidate only grade-school-aged attackers, and though he is just downright goofy a lot of the time, his natural propensity for alertness makes me more alert--when I need to be--and thus safer.

And here, finally, I come to this post's REAL point (which you'll find below the fold).


On this morning's walk, I was thinking about the post by Kung Fu Monkey that I linked to in the post preceding this one, and it reminded me of a recent post in Political Animal proposing a strategy for dealing with some terrorist acts that Kevin and others he cites call "forbearance": the idea that some (though not all) terrorist acts not be responded to with force in favor of the greater, long-term good of strategic advantage--that of being able to claim the moral high ground of being by inclination a peaceful people. As Drum freely admits, in these times that is a difficult argument to make: this long-term thinking is a matter of policy that would have to be pursued by succeeding administrations in order to be truly effective; in the short term, though, given the current political climate in this country at least, trying to make such an argument might very well lead to political suicide. What Ron Suskind describes as The One-Percent Doctrine seems to be at work here: no matter how small the possibility of a threat posed by an individual or group, it is to be treated as though it will come to pass. While some have reasonably argued that such thinking is just good common sense, others have argued that such a policy implicitly lets people ignore evidence that does NOT suggest an imminent threat and has also resulted in too heavy a weighting in favor of surveillance of thousands and thousands of people (not to mention the numerous, ahem, circumventions of law and international treaties this has led to) and not enough on equally common-sense preventive measures (5 years after 9/11, well over 90% of the shipping containers of foreign origin that arrive here still are not scanned or inspected due to protests from big businesses reliant on imports that doing so would cost them lost time and, thus, money; most chemical plants and refineries in this country still have no extra security measures, and for the same reasons shipping containers aren't scanned.

But then again, maybe things can be different, and we have the example of the handling of the recent alleged terrorist plot in Great Britain to show us the way. Routine perusal of international bank transactions first cast suspicion on a few people; over time, evidence was gathered; eventually British intelligence had infiltrated the conspirators' group to the point that they wanted to wait as long as possible so as to ensnare as many accomplices and participants as possible. While it may be true that British law is more "nimble" in dealing with terrorist threats than our laws, it is equally true that the Brits didn't resort to sidestepping their own courts in order to obtain warrants for searches and wiretaps. As that raving liberal George Will has recently argued, John Kerry was right to argue that terrorism is most effectively treated as primarily a law-enforcement matter: it was chiefly domestic law enforcemnt and not military action in the Middle East, after all, that led to the exposure and arrest of these men. Would that all those running for office in this election and those to come would seize this moment to point out this undeniable fact.

But: it was the Bush Administration's wish that these plotters be arrested sooner rather than later, and they got their wish. Sure: no doubt the administration thought they would seize a political advantage in doing things this way, but that rushedness is also a telling manifestation of what the One-Percent Doctrine hath wrought: little desire to make as strong a legal case as possible for taking action against individuals, or organizations, or nations, with results that have tended to be either laughably embarrassing (that group in Miami apparently more immediately intent on getting boots and uniforms from Al-Qaeda than on blowing up stuff) or so profoundly destructive not only of other nations but of our own nation's ideals and international reputation as to be something that will take decades to recover from (Iraq).

So, as an alternative to the One-Percent Doctrine, I'd like to propose the Ninety-Nine-Percent Doctrine as a way of conducting the life not only of individuals but also of nations. If we can hyperbolically summarize the One-Percent Doctrine as "Shoot first, ask questions later," we can equally-hyperbolically summarize the Ninety-Nine Percent Doctrine as "Walk as though you have a gun and will use it." In other words, Walk with alertness and confidence, exuding the attitude that you have right (and thus might--that is, the strength of truth) on your side. No swaggering--that is arrogance--and no rapid walking or swerving--that is fear. Walk like you know where you're going, your directional and moral compasses guiding you, and walk like you will not be deterred from reaching your destination. Bad, even evil things WILL happen, yes, but their happening is your fault only if you've been negligent or have let other factors (money, politics) sway you from doing what you know is for the greater good.

Of course, the corollary--the remaining one percent--is: if your course of action is shown to be in error, be willing to acknowledge that and change accordingly.

It's a commonplace that the goal of the terrorist is to terrorize. I submit to you that the One-Percent Doctrine is tantamount to acknowledging that the terrorists have succeeded in their goal, at least as far as the present administration is concerned. The Ninety-Nine-Percent Doctrine in effect declares that what should rule us is not fear but the desire to proclaim and--more importantly--live by our most deeply-held values as individuals and as a nation.

Read More...

Tired of being asked to live in fear . . .

. . . Kung Fu Monkey refuses to live in fear of shampoo. Behind the sarcasm and irony, a subtle and powerful critique of the present administration's messages to the nation regarding the War on Terror.

(Hat-tip: As so often these days, Andrew Sullivan)

Read More...

Monday, August 14, 2006

"You're setting up the KGB carnival here again?"

Why, yes I am, and happy to be doing it. So pull on over, get out and stretch, and wander about this week's exhibitions.

Over at The Smartest Monkey, Meg (perhaps better known 'round these parts as Mrs. Meridian) reports on her impressions of the book Planet Law School by Atticus Falcon in her post, Space Cadet.

Tennessean Winston Rand (welcome, sir) celebrates the comedy of his guru George Carlin BrainFarts from Carlin, posted at his fine blog nobody asked....

Over at Three O'Clock in the Morning, emawkc relates his dinner with a veteran of D-Day and all-around class act in Dinner with a celebrity.

Patsy Terrell describes the pleasures of Meeting Readers of her blog at her blog, Patsy's Ponderings by Patsy Terrell.

And finally, Josh of Thoughts from Kansas makes the important argument that school choice ("voucherization") is one thing but the content taught in those schools quite another in his post, One of these things. . . , or the post-modernist right.

Update: We have a straggler, folks, but a post well worth the wait: Some of you may know that Lyn of Bloggin' out loud is engaged in a debate (a very civil one, I might add) with another blogger regarding the issue of same-sex marriage. Here's Lyn's latest installment in a dialog on gay marriage: Same Gender Unions, a Biblical Perspective. Lyn has also linked to the relevant posts by the other blogger, so you shouldn't have trouble following the debate.

Thanks to all who submitted posts for this week's Carnival. As you post this week, be sure to keep the Carnival in your thoughts.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Book meme

The lovely Belle Lettre of the up-and-coming "blawg" (taxonomies be damned, Belle: they say "toe-may-toe," I say "toe-mah-toe") Law and Letters, about which I am pleased to say, I knew it when, has tagged me to participate in a book meme. Seeing as tomorrow begins my faculty's beginning-of-the-semester meetings, this seems most appropriate.

I tried (but failed) to keep my replies short so as not to tax my reader(s)--I suspect Belle's post influenced me. So, I've placed my responses below the fold. Though you're excused from reading, you do want to check to see whom I've tagged.


1. One book that changed your life.
I have three separate posts somewhere hereabouts precisely on this topic. But when I read this one at Belle's site this morning, the first book I thought of was one that my father gave me as a Christmas present when I was middle-school aged: Great Short Works of Jack London. I know that he had given me books before, but this is the first one I remember the actual giving of. That, and what he said as he gave it to me: "This writer paints with words." He never said that about another book or writer. It was my favorite book for many, many years, and it was one of the books I took with me to college. It may be that it was this collection that planted the seed that became the subsequent madness in me that made me susceptible to wanting to become an English teacher.

2. One book you have read more than once. One, huh? I'll choose Walden here because one of the reasons I've read it more than once, apart from assigning it to a class, is that it continues to surprise and engage me.

3. One book you would want on a desert island
Does Remembrance of Things Past count as one book? If I were on a desert island with it, I might manage to get past Swann's Way.

4. One book that made you laugh.
Huckleberry Finn. Still. Every time, and there have been many times.

5. One book that made you cry.
Huckleberry Finn. Still. Every time, and there have been many times. But in case that's cheating, you can pretend I said Beloved. When I read that final scene between Paul D and Sethe where he reaffirms his love for her, I actually started sobbing.

6. One book you wish you had written. Well, this would be a long, long list. If the standard here is care with language, then Blood Meridian, no question. No one I know of describes the Southwest and its inhabitants like he does. If the standard is the richness of the world the novel creates, then my choice is One Hundred Years of Solitude.

7. One book you wish had never been written. Across the River and into the Trees. This was toward the end of the string for Hemingway, and it shows. The writing is as exhausted as its protagonist and the plot. Truly painful, especially for those who admire the vitality of Papa's earlier, better-known novels.

8. One book you are currently reading. Frog, by Stephen Dixon. It's hard to say just what this novel is about in terms of plot, but as near as I can say its subject is the turning of a life into art . . . and the turning or art into a life. Oh: and that "Frog" is the novel's nickname for Howard Tetch, though no one in the novel has yet to use it. Strange, yes, but Dixon's skill in juggling all this is such that you want to keep reading to see how this is all going to "conclude," if that's the proper term for this novel.

9. One book you have been meaning to read. Again I ask: only one? Well: the one that seems to have been on this list the longest is James McBride's The Color of Water. Mrs. Meridian says it should fit well with my book project; apart from that, though, I have yet to hear anyone say anything bad about this book.
10. Tag five people. Some different folks this time: Debra of Find the Beauty . . ., f-i-n of Sunshine State, Aunty Marianne of Tomato and basil Sandwiches, Winston of Nobody Asked . . . , and Joel of Cup o' Joel.

Technorati tags:
, , ,

Read More...

Fantasy concert #1

It'll (probably) never happen, but:



Jerry Lee Lewis (sorry about the pyrotechnics and movie stuff) and



Ben Folds Five.

Read More...

"That's what we're all thinking": Rear Window as erotic-thriller meta-narrative

Note: a slightly shorter and changed version of this post is now up at Blogcritics.org.

Note #2: Over at his place, Raminagrobis expands on some points I raise here and offers a comparison between the climactic scene in Rear Window and the 1965 short starring buster Keaton, Film.

This lobby poster for Rear Window (1954) could not be a better representation of this film's dynamics of watching--or, indeed, of the dynamics of the (male) gaze in cinema. The view of the apartments and courtyard that present themselves to J. B. "Jeff" Jeffries (James Stewart) (two of which are visible in the lenses of his binoculars in the poster) provides him with the ultimate adult-male Choose Your Own Adventure site: real (female) bodies exposing themselves and their vulnerabilities to his view; real men dealing in various ways with their relationships with women. Jeff can ogle, approve, chuckle, or sit in judgment. No matter: these lives on display bring him pleasure of various sorts but none of the mess. It is a virtual reality.

Or, more accurately: it's voyeurism. And even as Jeff watches, three people watch him watching and, at first, sit in judgment on him: his girlfriend Lisa Fremont (the impossibly perfect--and beautiful--Grace Kelly), pictured on the poster; Stella (Thelma Ritter), Jeff's visiting home-care provider (Jeff is in a full leg cast and thus confined to a wheelchair); and his friend Det. Doyle (Wendell Corey). They are us: We agree with them that voyeurism is childish at best, at worst a violation of the privacy of the person(s) watched, the very privacy we insist on preserving for ourselves when in our homes.

But even as we agree, we must confess that we are all guilty of indulging in it, if only fleetingly, more often than we care to admit. In fact, it occurs to me that our collective acculturation to the experience of being invisible to the people we see in films and on television, those media's framed quailty so strongly evocative of actual windows, makes us perhaps more prone to voyeurism, or at least more desensitized and thus less self-conscious as we engage in it, than we once might have been.1 Even Rear Window's main title sequence, with its slowly-rising window shades in Jeff's apartment resembling the old movie theatres with their drapes that would part or rise when the feature began, suggests that connection.

So, even our representatives in the film themselves succumb to the allure of the view from Jeff's apartment--because, remember, they are us.

A pretty long post ensues, just so you know.


As those of us whose gazes have lingered for more than a few seconds at an open window know, the next tendency is to begin to imagine--that is, construct--narratives for the occupants out of what we see going on (or not going on) in that space. We become what we imagine detectives to be, and it's true that Rear Window is, or becomes, a detective story. However, it's an odd one for a couple of reasons. The typical detective story begins with evidence of a crime; Rear Window, as its viewers know, actually ends with the producing of that evidence. What we have prior to that moment is speculation, a testing of a storyline. And that speculation leads us into fairly racy territory for 1954, as the title for this post suggests and to which I'll return later.

We viewers get some early practice at storyline construction as, right after the main title sequence, the camera returns from its pan of Jeff's view of the courtyard to pan over, in order, Jeff's plaster-encased leg, a smashed large-format camera, a photo of a spectacular racecar crash from the perspective of the midst of the track, to other photos of A-bomb explosions and brutal street violence, more cameras, and finally a displayed negative of a young woman whose picture also appears on the cover of a magazine. From this we learn not only Jeff's basic biography and can make a pretty good guess as to how he ended up in the cast (which, just in case, will shortly be revealed to us in Jeff's telephone conversation with his photo editor), we can also make some guesses as to his temperament and even, if we think for a bit about the strangeness of displaying a film negative, some insight into his relationship with the woman in the picture: deliberately not "developed" yet (much talk in the film is given over Jeff's resistance to the idea of marrying Lisa) but (he hopes) under his control.2

The other odd thing about this particular detective story is that, while the typical detective story is pretty clear as to which narrative we're supposed to be attending to, the lobby poster I've placed here indicates that the stories evoked by the tenants of the other apartments will compete for his (and thus our) attention. It's telling, in fact, that in the film's initial pan of the other apartment windows, the apartment that will come to command most of our attention appears to be empty of people. It is only after the film is well underway that Jeff's attention will shift perceptably more toward the Thorwalds' apartment.

But back to needing a crime to lend credence to our speculation that a crime has been committed. "That's what we're all thinking," Stella (Thelma Ritter) says by way of justifying her speculating aloud that Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr) is scrubbing his bathroom walls because he dismembered his wife's body there after having murdered her . . . assuming, of course, a murder has indeed taken place. This being a Hitchcock film, one has; our protagonists just don't know that yet, seeing as they don't know that they're characters in a Hitchcock film. So paradoxically it is through speculation on dismemberment that the narrative of Thorwald's crime is in part constructed.

Significantly, what leads Jeff and Lisa to want to test their hypothesis that Thorwald has murdered his wife is when Lisa says that if Mrs. Thorwald has indeed just left town for a few days, she would have taken her wedding ring with her. And that leads me to the other thing we're all thinking about as we watch this film: sex, as ably represented in the lobby poster by Miss Torso's reflection in the binocular lens. In the film's most erotically-charged scene, Lisa comes over to Jeff's apartment one evening with a small overnight case and the intention, as she says, of staying the night with him (this at a time when "nice" unmarried people were not supposed to let members of the opposite sex do so; here, then, we have the introduction of the forbidden). The release of that tension is delayed when Doyle arrives to inform Jeff that Thorwald appears not to be guilty of murder4; he leaves after having berated Jeff for his voyeurism and tsk-tsked said overnight case and what it signifies. Then Lisa heightens the sexual tension still further (and expands on the cinema-as-voyeurism analogy) by drawing Jeff's shades and announcing, "Show's over for tonight," then showing Jeff the sheer gown she's brought along and saying, "Preview of coming attractions." It's in this moment, though, that Rear Window (or at least Lisa) heads in a direction most erotic thrillers do not. In that genre, there's a very clear and often bloody nexus between the erotic and the violent; here, though, our protagonists seek to keep them from intersecting (meanwhile, though never stated directly, Thorwald has murdered his wife because he's become involved with another woman; offstage, then, that nexus has indeed occurred).

If not for Jeff and Lisa's insertion of themselves into the Thorwalds' narrative, like characters from a novel suddenly and anachronistically showing up in another novel, all that they had witnessed to that point would have remained inscrutable, images only; their speculations would have remained only that, attempts to explain but nothing to confirm those explanations. But while that narrative achieves closure, there remains the matter of that displayed negative of Lisa on Jeff's desk. What will develop from that? Let's consider the film's final scene: Jeff, both his legs now in full casts, is asleep in his wheelchair, and Lisa is reclining on a divan reading a book called Beyond the High Himalayas, a book which appears to exist. The title is evocative of the life of high adventure that Jeff lives for and which he has earlier argued that Lisa isn't suited for. When she sees that he is asleep, though, she puts the book down and picks up a copy of Bazaar--a magazine that, despite its title's evocation of exotic realms, takes as its subject the very life that Lisa has thrived in. What can we make of this scene? Is Jeff and Lisa's relationship still at the stage it was when the film opens? Lisa is not wearing a wedding or engagement ring, but/so are they together now, and Jeff has come to terms with who Lisa is? Or is she hiding from him her longing for that former life of hers--if "former" it is? Such is the paradox--and, for me, the pleasure--of meta-narratives that even as they are at pains to investigate and expose the dynamics of narrative itself, portions of their own narratives remain tantalizingly, fascinatingly, pleasurably open.
______________
1Surely the perverse success of The Jerry Springer Show and others of its sort is due to their simultaneous catering to our inclination toward voyeurism and their (intentional?) causing us to face the fact that we really DO like to look at things that we know should be private. These programs should appear in the dictionary as the very definition of "Guilty Pleasure."

3Compare the framed negative with Lisa's entrance by way of "introduction" when Jeff asks who she is: She moves from lamp to lamp in the room, saying, in turn, her first, middle and last name as she turns each on, as though she is developing that negative herself via exposing it (and herself) to the light.

4As he is about to leave, the people at the composer's apartment begin singing "Mona Lisa" and we're shown Miss Lonelyhearts fending off the man she has brought home with him. Though the song asks whether Mona Lisa is wistful over the loss of a lover, it is in its essence about the fact that the viewer can never finally be certain what causes her expression (lyrics here).

Technorati tags:
, , , , ,

Read More...

"Straight out of Cape Cod"

Tea Partay


(Let's give it up for Andrew Sullivan)

Read More...

Saturday, August 12, 2006

"The $40 Lawyer"

I admit that because of my recent experience as as juror and because Mrs. Meridian begins law school on Monday, this 3-part series on a public defender that appeared in the St. Petersburg (Florida) Times holds more interest for me than it would for most people. But I found it so engagingly written that it's hard to imagine most people not wanting to find out what happens to this fellow. It's also something of a healthy reminder that what ultimately matters in an attorney is whether s/he's an advocate for the client, and that's something they can't learn how to be in law school.

It's a lengthy read, but definitely worth the time.

Read More...

Another gentle reminder . . .

. . . to submit a post for this Monday's installment of the Kansas Guild of Bloggers' weekly Carnival, if you're so inclined. The old in-box has thus far received exactly zero (0) submissions this week, so your post this week should stand an especially good chance of standing out. Recall that pretty much the only two requirements for submission are a) that "Kansas" as place or idea registers somewhere in your cerebral cortex and/or hippocampus; and b) that your post can be on any subject but ideally should represent work that you're not embarrassed to use as a way for perhaps dozens of people to find their way to your blog. I strongly suspect that most of you satisfy these criteria.

So now, secure in the knowledge that you'll submit something for the Carnival, I will now sit back and watch my in-box fill up like a grain silo at harvest-time. Be sure to return here on Monday to see what we've reaped.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Diversity makes us safe?

(Cross-posted at Sine qua non)

Over at The New Republic's blog The Plank, Noam Scheiber reads against the grain of an article on what factor(s) contribute to British Muslims being drawn to extremist thought and action. He offers up some anecdotal evidence that perhaps not all of this can be laid at the doorstep of Islam:

I think this is a pretty typically British way of viewing culture and cultural assimilation--you're either on the team or you're not--and I think it's a serious problem. I can't speak directly to its implications for Muslims, but I do have some experience with it when it comes to Jews, having spent two years living in England during the late 1990s. What repeatedly struck me was the fact that, unlike the United States, where there's generally no conflict between being self-consciously Jewish and being self-consciously American, in Britain one identity is almost always secondary to the other. Most of the Jews I knew either considered themselves Jews who just happened to be living in England--these tended to be religiously observant Jews. Or they considered themselves Brits who just happened to be of Jewish descent. (In many of the latter instances, I didn't even realize they were Jewish until I'd known them for several months.) There just didn't seem to be much room for dual identity, which seemed like a potentially alienating state of affairs--you're free to be ethnically or religiously proud, but if you are, you shouldn't expect to be accepted as part of the cultural mainstream.
(emphasis added)

Scheiber doesn't do this, but I think that implicit in this commentary is an appropriate reminder, if not a lesson, for this country regarding our present national debate on immigration. Many say this is a national security issue, and some point precisely to the dilemma many European nations have regarding their increasingly isolationist Muslim populations as evidence, but more often than not it seems to me that what is at stake for them is the securing of an "American" identity against the Other (who happens more often than not to be dark-skinned and not Protestant). They seek to address that fear through advocating much more stringent border security (significantly, along the southern and not the northern border, even though no arrested terrorists I've heard of have crossed from Mexico but from Canada), English-Only movements and the like.

As someone said in something I read elsewhere yesterday but can't recall where, our homegrown terrorists are best embodied not by immigrant populations but by Timothy McVeigh (and, I'd add, Eric Rudolph), good white, (Protestant-)God-fearing English-speakers: quintessentially American by definition who nevertheless became ironically and tragically self-estranged from the very culture that raised them.

You can see what I'm getting at, I hope: the subtext of many get-tough immigration proposals is fer-us-er-agin-us-ism, the unstated assumption that, as a prerequisite to residency in this country not only one's political loyalties but also one's cultural loyalties must be singular and clearly defined--and that we'd prefer that those cultural loyalties be "American." To which I'd just say that it does seem to make sense, does it not, that explicit and implicit pressures on people to choose "our" side seems more likely to cause some to choose the "other" side--something we'd do well to avoid. It is our great strength as a nation, as a people, precisely that we don't do this, and it would be to our credit--and no doubt contribute to our national security--that we continue not to do that.

UPDATE: This morning at the Plank, Alex Massie, who wrote the article to which Scheiber was responding, has his own response up, in which he comments helpfully on the distinction between "Britishness" and "Englishness". It's worth a visit over there to read because it happens to make, within the British/English context, the very distinction between constructed (read: political) and cultural identities that I fear have been blurred/elided/ignored by some (though NOT my commenters) in the course of debates on immigration in this country.

Technorati tags:
,

Read More...

Friday, August 11, 2006

Will to power(-point)

(Cross-posted at Sine qua non)

Once upon a time, I naïvely assumed that only education and business meetings and, I learned recently, some court rooms were the domain of PowerPoint. Unfortunately, I'm now deflowered via the article below, but at least what I know now seems to confirm my suspicions about how PowerPoint affects its audiences' receiving and processing of information--and, perhaps, also affects how those under the spell of those slides behave when the facts on the ground don't conform to the schemae presented in said slides.

Via Crooked Timber comes this dismaying post by John Holbo regarding an excerpt from Thomas Ricks' book about the Iraq war, Fiasco. Be sure to take a close look at the slide that Holbo includes below his post's fold.

I've opposed this war--our pretexts for beginning it, our entrance into it and its prosecution--from the start, yet as I said here what now seems like a lifetime ago, we owed it to the Iraqis and, just as important, to ourselves and our ideals as a nation and people, to do this right and not leave until the job was done, that failure in this could not be acceptable. Alas, the disavowing of my assumption that the present administration was willing to invest a whole lot more/something other on the Iraqi people and our ideals than the hot air needed to say words like "freedom" and "liberty" and the legal and political machinations needed to deal with anyone who might be getting too nosey or too critical of the prosecution of the war has been another deflowering, this one of a much more prolonged and painful sort. To learn that the truly hard, expensive (in terms of time and lives as well as money and materiel) work of the military's role in the work of Iraqi nation-building was reduced to confusing slides and words so abstract as to be meaningless is dismaying but is of a piece with how things have gone these past 3 years--chiefly, the near-total detachment (as it appears to me) of the Pentagon's civilian arm and the Executive branch generally from the military, political, social and religious realities not only within Iraq but the consequences of that adventure for the region and for our standing in the world.

This--what we have now 3 years later--is most assuredly NOT "how it was drawn up." But geez, Louise, as Mrs. M. would say, at some point you'd have thought someone would have figured out that at some point, if we must have the war and nation-building PowerPointed out, s/he'd need some new slides at the very least.

Read More...

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

In which the Meridian announces that he's just become a published author (sort of)


Cartoon found at Redeye VC


I've recently joined Blogcritics.org, which describes itself thusly in its masthead:

A sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, technology, and politics.
My kind of place.

I am impressed by the level of writing and thoughtfulness of commentary I've seen there . . . which of course begs the question of why they let the likes of me join them. See, for example, this review of Junebug, which I also posted on a while back. Good, good stuff, in my opinion--Pacze Moj's post, not mine.

I'd also say this regarding Blogcritics: that certain of you who visit here would also find a place there for your work, I think. You can't just sign up and start sending stuff in; they make you jump through a few hoops. But the result appears to be posts of good quality, so one can't argue with that--especially if one wants to have one's work seen in good company so as to make one's work look better by association. Whether you think of yourself as a critic or are just in search of good criticism on the Web, I encourage all of you to go have a look around.

Anyway, my first post for them has just been published. A word of warning to my long-time reader(s): it's an edited version of that post on shots of cushions in Vertigo (they wanted something within 24 hours of my joining, and so, yeah, I sorta recycled something. But they SAID it was okay to do that! Okay??). So: if you want to put yourself through the slog of reading that yet again, you can find it here.

All this is a very long-winded way of thanking you (or, for that matter, giving you the opportunity to kick yourselves) for your encouragement in the past. Without that, I wouldn't have risked posting my work elsewhere.

Technorati tags:
, , ,

Read More...

Monday, August 07, 2006

"No dumb jokes": Fraiser: The Complete First Season

Because Mrs. Meridian loves me a whole bunch, when she came to visit last weekend she brought along with her more surprise gifts than your correspondent is worthy to receive in an entire year, much less in one weekend. I'll be writing about a few of them in future posts, but the one you see pictured here the the subject of this post.

Below the fold, some observations about the episodes I've seen so far, along with some tidbits from the commentaries and featurettes.


Something I've always admired about Frasier and its predecessor, Cheers, is that its writers trusted its viewers to get it. One easy example of that trust is the show's jettisoning of a basic sitcom device, the establishing shot: a shot that visually informs the viewer where the coming scene is taking place. As the writers of Fraiser's pilot point out in their commentary, the view out Fraiser's apartment window, the booths and microphones of the radio studio, by themselves, should be enough to orient the viewer. Another sign of trust is the world Fraiser and Niles move about in: a culturally-sophisticated one that few of us will ever know as intimately as they do. In that regard, their father Martin is crucial for the audience: he is something of our ambassador in that world, requiring the Crane brothers to explain bits and pieces of that world and, at times (as in the episode titled "Dinner at Eight"), forcing them to confront the fact that their refinement actually masks the fact that they can behave as boorishly as the very people they presume themselves to be above.

Perhaps the most important sign of trust, though, is exemplified by the writers' pledge to themselves to write "no dumb jokes"--which I take to mean jokes that don't just get told to the audience but which the audience actually bears some responsibility for making work by filling in what doesn't get said. The audience's pleasure comes from feeling itself to be in on the joke and thus a little smarter after watching than before. Something else I noticed as Mrs. M. and I watched these episodes is that the jokes actually advance the story along--or at least they don't stop the story. If you pay attention to how jokes work in other sitcoms, often it's as though the narrative stops so that the joke can get told, and then the story resumes. But not so with Fraiser.

Have a look at this little moment from "Dinner at Eight" (the complete script is here):
Frasier: Well, you and I have to broaden dad's horizons. Show him
the world that he's only read about in TV Guide.
Niles: How about an evening of fine dining?
Frasier: Perfect... but where?
Frasier&
Niles
: [excited] Le Cigare Volant!
Frasier: [ecstatic, wrings his hands] Hah!
Niles: [suddenly calm] But can we really get in? I've been trying
for months.
Frasier: Oh, puh-leeze. Niles, you're forgetting the cache my name
carries in this town.
Niles: Actually, I'm not. If the maitre d' happens to be a
housewife, we're in.
Niles' little zinger simultaneously takes aim at Fraiser's radio psychology show and what Niles assumes to be the show's demographic, but it's also directly concerned with the issue at hand for the plot: getting into the restaurant. It's a funny moment, and because of its seamless incorporation into the requirements of the plot, it's also an elegant moment.

Now for a few tidbits that were new to me; apologies in advance if they aren't new to you:

*The initial project Kelsey Grammer discussed with Grub Street (the show's production company) was one in which he would play a bed-ridden tycoon with a Hispanic physical therapist. Thankfully, NBC found that idea horrible.

*All the actors for the principle roles in Frasier that the producers had in mind were pre-approved by NBC, with the exception of Roz. They auditioned about 300 actors for her role.

*Lisa Kudrow was almost cast to play Roz, but neither she nor the producers felt she was right for the part.

*The producers auditioned 3 dogs and an orangutan for what would become the role of Eddie.

*It wasn't known until, literally, the writing of the script for the pilot that Martin's physical therapist would be English.

Good old Wikipedia has a pretty thorough entry on the series, including lots of trivia.

Technorati tags:
,

Read More...

The KGB weekly Carnival spins the hits!

What with another stretch of 100-degree days facing the Sunflower State these next few days, what better activities could there be than making up in our minds the music for something called "The Ice Cream Song" . . . and read this week's installment of the Kansas Guild of Bloggers' weekly Carnival?

So let's get on with things, shall we?

Once again, I received only a few submissions. Not complaining, mind, just noting so as to let you know that I post everything I receive and, this week, just didn't receive many. Let's see if we can't remedy that for next week's Carnival.

Quality, though, often makes up for what might be lacking in quantity, and I think you'll find that to be true of this week's selections.

j.d. of evolution surveys the recent results of the primaries here in Kansas--in particular the Board of Education races--and is mostly pleased with what he sees in next step 2006: primary aftermath.

Over at Spiritual Journey - BitterSweetLife, Ariel recently found himself channelling Jonah in God's Grace Beat-Down.

Finally, Paul Decelles examines the prevalence of End-times thinking among American citizens and the potential danger that such thinking might manifest itself in law-making and policy in The Big Quote Flap and Armageddon, posted at his blog, The force that through....

Good stuff. But don't you people ever, you know, eat ice cream or run through sprinklers or go on vacations? This is the summer (what's left of it), after all. But still and all, whatever is on your mind, I hope you'll share it with us here. Just send it in by Sunday night for inclusion in next week's Carnival.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Sunday succotash

Just some links to some things you might find interesting . . .

To-Do List, a blog of, um, to-do lists that people have sent in that is something like a specialty-store version of Found. (Hat-tip: good old 3 Quarks Daily)

Scott Eric Kaufman of the most excellent academic blog Acephalous narrates a recent day . . . in units of seventeen syllables. (Hat-tip: Nancy at Sinequanon's Journal)

A curious article from the Telegraph on Britain's Pop Idol as a sort of proof of Platonism (I think). (Hat-tip: Crooked Timber)

Go read Sunshine State, and be amazed that the writing and occasional pics you see there are the product of a young woman still in high school.

Another blog that deserves much wider readership than it appears to have is The New York Minute. Jim Sligh is from somewhere in the Northeast but is presently in our nation's capital doing something--what it is, he doesn't quite reveal, but it appears to require wearing a suit and wandering about Senate office buildings. Some of the most thoughtful, elegantly-written reportage you're likely to run across, on- or off-line. Nothing Jim writes isn't worthy of your time, but this post that appeared on July 4th is a good example of what he can do.

Over at Musings from the Hinterland, Randall Sherman links to Yours Truly's posts on my recent jury duty experiences and adds some thoughts on same from his lawyer's perspective. Something else Mr. Sherman is especially effective at is affectionately and humorously documenting moments in his children's lives. In this recent post, for example, he indirectly announces that the Official Daughter is now of age to operate a motor vehicle in the State of Missouri with something like the same degree of trepidation (though different in kind, admittedly) that I feel regarding my older daughter's approaching puberty.

Raminagrobis of When Her Name You Write You Blot has two excellent posts on the 17th century English writer Thomas Browne. Browne was a favorite of Jorge Luis Borges, if you need a further reason to be interested, but I think that after you read this and this, you'll need no further reasons.

Over at Bittersweet Life, A.J. recently posted about and links to his theology teacher's blog post on narrative theology, yet another response to the deathless question of How to Read (and talk about) the Bible. Meanwhile, my seeing a "Christian Lifestyle" store on my recent trip to Topeka reminded me of A.J.'s recent post on that very subject. To which I'd just add: the more one removes oneself from the world, the less effective one's witness to the world becomes.

Erin of Mannequin Hands has an intriguing post up on feminism and the place of women in the life of the (Catholic) church. She personally doesn't feel oppressed as a Catholic woman, and she tells you why.

And finally, as the 5th anniversary of 9/11 approaches, newly-married (congratulations and best wishes) Joel Mathis of Cup o' Joel reports on his impressions of New York today, where he and his wife honeymooned.

There is, as always, much more that I could link to; you people that I read regularly have the infuriatingly good habit of writing consistently well and finding and commenting on intriguing stuff, making it hard to choose what to share with others. But that is a nice problem to have.

Read More...

Saturday, August 05, 2006

I know what you're thinking . . .


You're thinking, "Golly--is it really almost time to submit a post for inclusion in this Monday's edition of the Kansas Guild of Bloggers' weekly Carnival?" Yes indeed it is.

So, consider sharing with us some of what else you've been thinking this past week. Sometime before Sunday night, just click here and follow the instructions on the submission page; then, on Monday dozens (perhaps) of visitors here will see and maybe even click on a link that will bring them to your post--and, of course, your site, if you're into all that stuff about increasing traffic at your blog. At the very least, and far more importantly, you'll be sharing your wit and erudition with a few more people than might otherwise be the case. Which is why y'all took up blogging to begin with, isn't it?

One favor to ask: the past two Carnivals have been a bit light on submissions; so, if you're so inclined, please talk up the Carnival on your site and provide ytour readers with either a link to this post or a link to the submission page.

Thanks in advance. And don't forget to submit something yourself.

Read More...

Friday, August 04, 2006

Art Meme II

The recently-alluded-to commuter marriage that we Meridians have embarked on has thrown interesting (in the "May you live in interesting times" sense of that adjective) wrenches into our respective living arrangements: Mrs. Meridian, for as long as she can stand it, is now living with her parents after having lived on her own or with me for the past 5 years; I, meanwhile, am experiencing at an empirical level that basic truth, Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, as I attempt to settle much of what was contained in a 2-bedroom apartment into a studio apartment half its size. At any rate, my particular circumstance forces me to acknowledge something: I have much more framed art (some originals, mostly posters) that I like to hang than I have wall space on which to hang it attractively (as opposed to cheek-by-jowl-y).

So. As I was choosing what to hang and where to hang it yesterday, I thought back on this art meme post, the idea for which came from the esteemed Fearful Syzygy of Delights for the Ingenious, and I thought of this variation on that meme:

Pick an image or object that you have "on view" in your house/apartment, and post it on your journal/blog. What do you think it says about you?
Behold, reader(s), the image I have chosen to share with you: Roy De Forest's Country Dog Gentleman (1972). Ours is a standard-sized poster, but the original measures 66 3/4"X97" and hangs in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Below the fold, you'll find what I think this work says about me--or, rather, us Meridians.

For the curious, here is a (brief but intriguing) biography of De Forest. Elsewhere on the 'Nets, I saw someone describing De Forest's work as a combination of Fauvism and the Marx Brothers, and for this particular painting that description seems very apt. To my eye, it's also strongly reminiscent of Georges Rodrigues' famous Blue Dog paintings, which we Meridians are also fond of but which we so far don't own a reproduction of.

But back to the De Forest. This is really Mrs. Meridian's more than it is mine; I bought it for her back in our dating days after we saw it in good old Fields Gallery in Lawrence, Kansas, and she said she liked it. So, one very important reason it's hanging in the new place is that it has all sorts of pleasant associations for me. But I like it apart from those associations, too.

One thing i very much like about it is its dynamic quality: it is simultaneously comic and a bit menacing (those happy Irish-setter-like doggy smiles in combination with those catatonic eyes); and it even has a bit of synesthesia at play as well--click on the image for a larger view to see that that concentric ovoid shape on the left is emanating from a howling dog's mouth. He sounds like the flesh of a papaya. There is as well something a bit primal, even archetypal, about it: the dogs bear strong resemblances to domestic breeds, but here, assembled around a tree rising like a totem from the painting's base, they evoke as well all dogs' ancestors, wolves. There is also, for me, the mystery of its title: which dog is the "Gentleman"? I assume it's the large brown dog in the center; but, within the context of the pack's group dynamic, he'll be the "gentleman" only for so long. But then again, pecking orders exist among groups of human gentlemen as well--and often get determined just as messily, no?

To sum up: this sure ain't a Vermeer or Velázquez, which you long-time reader(s) may be excused for having expected to see here. But both it and a Vermeer reproduction are present in a space where also exists a CD collection in which Parliament's One Nation Under a Groove is next to Arvo Pärt's Passio. So I'd say, by way of concluding, that Country Dog Gentleman by itself doesn't say much about me, but within the larger context of this (much) smaller space it makes me aware of the fact that, for better or for worse, I have pretty eclectic tastes. Mrs. Meridian says that that's one thing she appreciates about me, and as the kids say (or used to say--I've lost track), I'm down wi' dat.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Jury-duty post-mortem

It has been a busy past week or so here in Meridian-land: the wrapping up of the trial on which I served as a juror; the final week of summer school; my getting moved into a smaller apartment (part of which is lovingly documented here); and moving Mrs. Meridian up to Topeka so she can begin law school and she and I can begin experiencing the wonders of a commuter marriage. Hoo-boy!

And speaking of law . . . those who take the time to read the comments at this post through to their end will find the rather impatient bidding of the esteemed R. Sherman of Musings from the Hinterland to get on with it already and share with the world my observations about the jury system. Seeing as Mr. Sherman is in the lawyering game himself, perhaps he seeks some insight into jury-room machinations, the better to manipul make his case in court. So that I do all that I can not to run the risk of losing one of my few readers, I'll share here, first of all, the basic facts of the case, and then the general tenor of the jury's deliberations as we reached a decision.


The basic facts: I must comfess that when those of us who went through voir dire were led into the courtroom and I saw the name of the case displayed on one of the lawyers' laptop screens, the chant "Frivolous lawsuit! Frivolous lawsuit!" began ringing in my head. I was afraid that this would be some sort of dispute between some development and a guy who was insisting on putting in a chain-link fence when the convenant called for privacy fencing. This was not to be that sort of case.

On April 7, 2003, a woman signed a lease for an apartment here in town and moved in. On August 3 of that same year, she was raped in her apartment. Her attacker had gained entry into her apartment via her sliding-glass patio door, which was locked, but which did not have a security bar like the one you see here. The man who attacked her was arrested and convicted and most likely will die in prison (he'll first be eligible for release when he is 88 years old). In this case, though, the woman brought suit against the apartment complex--more specifically, the company that manages the property. Her claim was that when she signed the lease, she had requested that the complex install a security bar on her patio door, and it was her understanding that the leasing agent she spoke with said that it would be done. The complex claimed that no such request had been made; that at the very least there certainly was no paperwork to that effect, and in any event nothing in the lease she signed prevented her from placing a dowel rod in the track of the patio door. It was the claimant's task to prove that it was more than likely that the property manager was aware enough of crime in the area that not providing security bars was an act of negligence that led to this rape.

Deliberations: Many of us have heard stories about juries whose members could barely fog up a piece of chilled glass, much less render a verdict based on the evidence presented in a courtroom. I cannot say that this was the case with the 11 people I served with. There was one member who said certain things regarding matters associated with his profession that, if I may be frank, he should just flat should have known better than to have thought or believed to be true (rather than go into detail here, I'll just send you here for one example of his thinking, and thence to the aforementioned Mr. Sherman's take on the matter); he was otherwise a thoughtful person, though, as were the rest of us.

So: no 12 Angry Men-like dynamics in this jury. We all wanted to go home--the trial had already run two days longer than the attorneys had assurred the judge it would--yet we steadily deliberated for over 2 hours, no one ever saying that we should just get it over with. We worked as a group, making sure we understood our instructions, and we reached a true consensus. We all felt sympathy for the woman but did not let that play into our decision; similarly, we felt that because the attacker had been tried and convicted, the crime proper had already been dealt with and was not an issue for us as far as the apartment complex was concerned. As defined in our instructions, we felt there was a good bit of negligence on the part of both the plaintiff and the defendant: the woman could have more vigorously pursued the matter of the security bar if indeed she had requested it; for its part, the complex apparently had a practice, prior to 2003, of gradually installing security bars on all the apartments but stopped doing so for some reason, and it was extremely reluctant to have data on crime in the area entered into evidence in this trial.

But as to whether we could find fault with either party--that is, if the negligence of either party caused or contributed to the events of August 3, 2003--we could not say, based on the evidence presented. So, we determined that neither party was at fault.

I am glad I experienced this process. I have a better understanding of how it works and--even more important--how it should work. But despite feeling that we arrived at the right decision in accordance with the instructions we received, there's still a lingering sense of unfinished business because of the decision we rendered. After all, that decision left the door open for an appeal. Although the jury didn't get to witness much of the legal wrangling between the attorneys, I get the strong sense that the plaintiff couldn't mount as strong a case as it could have because of objections from the defense to certain pieces of evidence. But that will be business to be taken up in another courtroom by another judge.

Read More...

The KGB Carnival has (finally!) arrived

Photo found at Seán Duggan's site, f/1.4

Delayed a bit but finally here, the weekly carnival is here for your amusement and delight.

From his blog, The force that through...Paul Decelles submits two posts for the Carnival. The first is a poem inspired by childhood memories of carpenter bees in Seeing the Xylocopa. In his other post, Paul comments on the row raised by a rainbow flag flown by the owner of a B&B in Mead in Another Shameful Kansas Controversy.

The Carnival this week welcomes Rand Chance, a new-to-me KGB member who writes at Late At Night. His post News From Jerusalem Channel 2 gives us a glimpse of how one Israeli network is reporting on events in northern Israel and southern Lebanon.

Over at Thoughts from Kansas, the venerable Josh Rosenau presents So come on and chickity-check yo self before you wreck yo self: Western Kansas does the dozens, a brief discussion of a debate between state Board of Education candidates representin' they bad selfs.

And finally, the equally-venerable Lyn of Bloggin' Outloud posts on a blog contest he's hosting, The Blogs of Summer.

That's it for this week. Don't forget to submit a post for next week's Carnival, and I'll see you back here--on time this time--this coming Monday. Also: if hosting the Carnival looks like your idea of a good time, let me know when you'd like to and we can get you set up.

Read More...

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Unavoidably . . .

. . . due to moving and the end of summer school and a necessary trip to Topeka tomorrow, the KGB Carnival will be appearing on Tuesday rather than Monday.

See you then.

Read More...

Monday, July 24, 2006

In which the Meridian is devoured by voir dire

Yes: I was chosen to serve on a jury in a civil trial last Tuesday, a trial which has proceeded by fits and starts through the end of the past week and will run at least through tomorrow, when we'll hear closing arguments. I have posted before about being excited to be summoned, and I'm still pleased to be serving, even though the trial's length, if it runs past tomorrow, will create some problems with my summer school classes (this week being the last week of the session). There's also the not-insignificant matter of our moving to a smaller apartment at the end of the week. But one thing I have learned is that, inside the courtroom, all that not-insignificant stuff pretty much ceases to matter.

Below the fold: some not terribly profound things that occurred to me while going through voir dire last Tuesday.


We're all familiar with many people's joking and not-so-joking reluctance to serve on juries: the pittance the state pays for serving; the loss of time (and money) away from work; the lawyers' agendas; etc. The overarching reluctance we feel, of course, is that for a length of time not of our choosing our lives are disrupted. We're creatures of routine, and those routines are ours, dammit; whether or not we happen to be on the whole happy with them is immaterial. We possess them; they anchor us; they guide us.

But as I was sitting and listening to and thinking about the questions asked of the other prospective jurors and of me, it occurred to me that what was unnerving about this experience and perhaps was for others was not that our lives would be disrupted but that we'd be forcibly inserted into the lives of utter strangers. That, of course, makes many of us uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. And more: those of us chosen would quite literally be sitting in judgment on these strangers, and not in accordance with whatever personal value system we might ascribe to. We have no anchor except that rather innocuous-sounding phrase "the facts in this case" and what the law has to say about what we can say about those facts.

Besides: our bailiff tells us that while all trials share similar features, each one assumes its own particular rhythm, such that, as with baseball, no two trials are alike. Its time becomes something that feels only tenuously tethered to "clock time": we break to give the court reporter time to rest; we recess for lunch and for the evening, but those are only internal markers in a proceeding that assumes a life of its own. What Yogi Berra said of a baseball game is equally true of a jury trial: It ain't over till it's over. It's just that we usually don't mind when a baseball game goes into extra innings.

Television law dramas misrepresent what happens in a courtroom. Or better said: they spoil us. I'm not just speaking here of how they are forced to compress narrative time or how the lawyers or witnesses, to put it kindly, have better writers than do the participants in the trial I've been chosen for. I'm speaking of how, in those dramas, their narrative point of view is that of a lawyer whom we viewers naturally, sympathetically root for. They make our job easy: we don't care about Truth; we just want to see our guy win. The television audience is a rigged jury; even if McCoy of Law & Order should lose his case this week, he was still right in our eyes.

But this jury that I'm serving on, though, has the job of choosing between two competing narratives--they serve as our scripts. The lawyers serve them up to us, seek to persuade us; the judge will instruct us: the closest thing we'll get to direction as to how to think about all that we've heard. We don't have anyone or anything to root for except the desire to be right.

Read More...

Kansas Guild of Bloggers' Weekly Carnival

Running a wee bit late with this week's edition; as I know the air would taste less sweet for some of you if not for the Carnival, I should best get on with things.

Submissions were a bit sparse this week; I hope that something you read here will inspire you to submit something for next week's Carnival.

Over at Evolution, jd meta-blogs on the recent Pew Survey on bloggers and blogging.

At Three O'Clock in the Morning, emawkc shares an e-mail exchange between his wife and a family friend discussing some of the fauna of Overland Park in A puma by any other name. Y'all left out "catamount," by the way. Be sure to note as well the Truman Show-like shift in attention at the end.

Lyn submits two very different recent posts from Bloggin' Outloud. The first, Fight Club Discussion - Put 'em up!, provides links to and excerpts from a series of posts inspired by a review of the film Fight Club. What's intriguing is that these posts head in very different directions; even better, they're well written (leaving out of that assessment the one by Yours Truly that Lyn links to).

Lyn's other post is a short but nice review of theologian Henri Nouwen's book Return of the Prodigal.

And finally, over at Thoughts from Kansas, Josh Rosenau, inspired by an e-mail from the Discovery Institute, meditates on what science education can/cannot/must do in DI spews silliness.

That's it for this week. I look forward to receiving more submissions for next week's carnival.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Thursday, July 20, 2006

A gentle reminder . . .

. . . to submit a post for inclusion in this Monday's Kansas Guild of Bloggers' Carnival of Blogs. It may not appear until Monday evening-ish (I'm serving on a jury, about which more later), but it will appear. So, you will submit, won't you?

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Shall that be shut to Man, which to the Beast/Is open?

Yes: a chimpanzee plays Pac-Man--and not badly at that.



(hat-tip: Andrew Sullivan)

Soon to come: http://baboonmeridian.blogspot.com

Meanwhile: to what do we, um, humans aspire? I'm asking seriously--and so are Ray Kurzweil and Neil Conan on Talk of the Nation yesterday. It's short--give a listen.

Read More...

Monday, July 17, 2006

Welcome again to the KGB Weekly Carnival of Blogs

I'm happy to host the Carnival for a second week, and happy to welcome back returnees, and pleased to welcome those of you new to good old Blog Meridian. We're posting the Carnival early today because I have jury duty, and I know not when I shall return. So let's get to it, shall we?

We have a good mix, I think, of serious and not-so-serious posts, so I hope you'll stay for a while and have a look at what Kansas bloggers (and one out-of-state blogger) have submitted for your reading pleasure.

Over at Dudleyspinner, Deb relates a camping story she won't soon forget and most of us couldn't (or wouldn't want to) top in her post, The Rockets Red Glare and Other Flammable Objects.

Over at Neural Gourmet - Feed Your Brain, out-of-stater Jodi Mai presents The Great American Melting Pot. It's about the German-Russian origins of her Kansas father's family and provides some intriguing historical context to our current debates on immigration.

Joel Mathis presents a lively defense of the media and its loyalty to our nation, as well as a plea for respect for people and opinions we happen not to agree with in his post Media bias, posted at Cup o' Joel.

Over at Three O'Clock in the Morning, emawkc seeks to beat the heat by prompting gales of laughter from his readership with It's so humid.... I don't know if he succeeded in achieving his goal, but I do know he gave me yet another reason to squirm uncomfortably while looking at Mark Mangino this coming football season.

He'll be here all week, folks. Try the KC strip.

At Bloggin' Outloud, Lyn initiates what has begun as a serious and civil debate with another blogger on the subject of same-sex marriage with Gender Dysphoria.

The Prince of Thrift, following Dave Ramsey's example, presents his Financial Mission Statement at his blog, Becoming and Staying Debt Free.

And finally, Josh Rosenau of Thoughts from Kansas sends us two posts. The first, Dodos, urges readers to support State Board of Education candidates who are opposed to weakened science standards in public schools. The other, Scary, scary people, is a meditation on the ultimate instability of the moral compass of certain of the religious.

Enjoy your visits to these fine bloggers, and be sure to submit a post for next week's Carnival. Also: to those of you who think that hosting the Carnival might be fun, it is, I assure you. Let me know if you think you might be interested. So: whether it be here or elsewhere, on Monday be sure to look for that cloud of pixellated dust that signals the next KGB Carnival.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Cutting humor

One post about the run-up to surgery, one on the vicissitudes of convalescence, both funny:

Michael Kinsley plans for his famous first words upon waking up from brain surgery.

And over at Tomato and Basil Sandwiches, Aunty Marianne, recovering from the removal of a benign bone tumor and in full on-the-veranda-during-the-Raj-except-it's-Brussels mode, offers her readership tips on what to do when guests have arrived and there's no Pimm's to be had.

Enjoy.

Read More...

Some clarity amid the smoke

Over here at the Meridian, I've been feeling utter dismay over what is happening now in southern Lebanon and Gaza but have so far decided not to post about it out of fears of both expressing that dismay inadequately and not being able to say something simple and true about that very very complicated and tragic place. Just look at that sentence about NOT wanting to post on the subject.

And then Matthew Yglesias goes and does it for me. To speak such an obvious fact (it's not a claim, not an opinion) is not anti-Israel, least of all anti-Semitic, nor is it anti-Palestinian. It is simply so, independent of past history and who started what and whether a given response is appropriate. It is what we say about that fact that leads to the anti-this, anti-that rhetorical hash-slinging of late. But it is also, as Yglesias points out, the starting place for deciding a real, lasting peace, as opposed to just another cease-fire.

It won't stop today what's going on there. I'm just glad to have read it and happy to link to it here.

Read More...

Saturday, July 15, 2006

A first word on Dennett's last words: Growing up

Last night concluded our discussion of Darwin's Dangerous Idea, a book I've been mentioning, off and on, throughout the summer here. Showing either a) a sophistication notably lacking in the readerships of many other blogs or b) admirable restraint, none of my readers has told me to shut up already and start blogging about, say, French maids; indeed, in my earlier posts on Dennett, here, here, and here, some of you have graciously left thoughtful commentary from a range of perspectives that has been thought-provoking to me and, perhaps, to others among you. Thank you, most sincerely.

What follows below the fold will be a rather blunt-instrument response to where (I think) Dennett leaves me as I stumble and bumble my way toward thinking about God. I make no claims as to its originality, least of all to its adequacy. It's a first word, as the title of this post indicates. I'm sure I'll be revisiting it from time to time.

You lucky people.


If someone were to make the argument that this cartoon depicts the place Dennett leads us to (and some in our discussion last night were making that argument even after having read the conclusion), I would have to say that that's absurd. I think Dennett himself would agree and could easily point to the passage I quoted in my previous post--in particular the sentence I put in boldface--Darwin-worship or, by extension, science-worship as confirmation. Having said that, though, he makes equally clear in the same sentence that he has no patience for a literal reading of Genesis. He's clearly a materialist who declares early in his book that evolutionary theory is abundantly confirmed by biological and geological evidence; nothing preceded it or has come along in the intervening years since Darwin that seriously challenges it. But neither is he an enemy per se of the notion of religion as a foundation of culture or, more precisely, a source of ideas that produce not only valuable codes of behavior but many (most?) of the aesthetic products of the world's civilizations.

Okay, fine. As I've come to understand Dennett's underlying thesis in that paragraph and throughout that final chapter, it is that the choices we make as individuals and as cultures are ultimately ours to make as we weigh both inescapable material realities and ethical/moral codes we (say we) value as culturally-shaped and -informed human beings. This is the source of his admonition that we "grow up": that we don't naïvely or feebly cling solely (or even mostly) to science or to religion (my readers who are not believers in God are welcome to substitute in "religion"'s place the term you'd use to describe your worldview) to explain everything for us in absolutist terms. Neither should we try to force, say, the square peg of science into the round hole of religion (or vice versa).

This last bit is going to be rushed, but it's something I want to develop later. Last night, late into the night, as I was thinking about all this, it occurred to me that what Dennett seems to be advocating is a kind of existentialism. Once I realized that, I knew that as a Christian I was in pretty good company: Kierkegaard, Tillich . . . and, by sheer coincidence, given our recent discussion here, Flannery O'Connor's grandmother in "A Good Man Is Hard to Find."

Technorati tags:
, , ,

Read More...

The case for Faulkner as "sophist bastard"

William Faulkner, with daughter Jill (in the white dress) and her classmates during the filming of a documentary, date unknown.

Something I've noticed about many writers and other artists I admire is that they tend to be, in various ways, supremely insufferable human beings. Recently Tim, over at his excellent blog Infinite Regression, offered some speculation as to why that might be. My comment there quickly became blog-post length, so I just decided to write it up here and encourage you to visit his place and see what prompted this.

Of course, the proof for Tim's theory will be a combination of anecdote and one's own definition of "sophist bastard"--not the most objective measures on which to found a theory. But having said all that, even the most dispassionate reading of the record would lead a reasonable person to conclude that Faulkner's was, as David Minter puts it in his Faulkner biography, "a flawed life." Personally, I'd argue that what Minter meant to type for "flawed" was "awful." And yet, as per Tim's argument for literature-as-lawyering, no one, before Faulkner or thus far, has produced as complete and complex and, yes, persuasive a version/vision of the South as he has.

So: when he tells his complaining daughter Jill, on the eve of his receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature, "No one remembers Shakespeare's daughter," you don't have much choice but to say, Yuppers, he's a bastard. What's more, though, he manifests his bastardliness in so many ways in that one statement (his implicit self-assessment of his abilities; the hurtful truth of that statement; his willingness to wound his own child) that it becomes breathtaking in its audacity. I (very grudgingly) admire him for that audacity even as I loathe him and become frightened of him for saying it to his daughter. It makes you realize that when he says in an interview he gave, "The Grecian Urn is worth any number of old ladies," he's not entirely joking.

Technorati tags:
, ,

Read More...

Friday, July 14, 2006

The not-quite-last word from Dennett

The following is from the concluding chapter of Darwin's Dangerous Idea, which, as some of you know, I've been reading and discussing with colleagues over the summer. I don't quite know how to respond to it, which is one reason why I'm posting it here; perhaps some of you might be willing to respond. I should also say that, whatever your thinking about evolutionary theory and its implications for every aspect (no exaggeration, for Dennett) of human endeavor and thought and belief, this concluding chapter, "The Future of an Idea," could not make any clearer what the stakes are, for good or for ill. If this issue interests you in the least, at least swing by your local bookstore and read that final chapter, all 10 pages of it.

Here's the passage, somewhat shortened:

At what "point" does a human life begin or end? The Darwinian perspective lets us see with unmistakable clarity why there is no hope at all of discovering a telltale mark, a saltation in life's processes, that "counts." We need to draw lines; we need definitions of life and death for many important moral purposes. The layers of pearly dogma that build up in defense around these fundamentally arbitrary attempts are familiar, and in never-ending need of repair. We should abandon the fantasy that either science or religion can uncover some well-hidden fact that tells us exactly where to draw those lines. There is no natural" way to mark the birth of a human "soul," any more than there is a "natural" way to mark the birth of a species. . . . I do not suggest that Darwinian thinking gives us answers to such questions; I do suggest that Darwinian thinking helps us see why the traditional hope of solving these problems (finding a moral algorithm) is forlorn. We must cast off the myths that make these old-fashioned solutions seem inevitable. We need to grow up, in other words. (513-514)
We're concluding our discussion of this book tonight; I have some questions to ask there that I hope will get answered, and some more to ask here.

Read More...

Something Carnival-y this way comes

The Kansas Guild of Bloggers' weekly Carnival will be proudly hosted again this coming week by good old Blog Meridian. I'd like to think that last week's Carnival was a successful one, and I'm looking forward to an even more successful one--especially since, now, I have improved my gender-identification skills and I have learned that moths do indeed have exoskeletons.

See? The Carnival is fun and educational!

So: I would encourage all Kansas bloggers (keeping in mind that Kansas is "as big as you think") to submit a post by Sunday evening for inclusion in next Monday's Carnival. And please: this much pleasure shouldn't be hoarded by a self-selected few. If you would like to host an upcoming Carnival, drop me a line and we'll get you set up.

See you Monday.

Read More...

Thursday, July 13, 2006

On today's card: Tyler Durden vs. The Misfit

The backstory for this post:

A couple of weeks ago over at Bittersweet Life, Ariel posted this excerpt from James Harleman's review of Fight Club. I've not heard of Harleman before, but to my mind he clearly understands Tyler Durden, and it caused me to leave a brief comment on Ariel's blog, which he then invited me to expand on. So here 'tis, for what it's worth:

What prompted my comment on Ariel's post was this passage from Harleman's review:

Quite honestly, if I didn't believe in God, I would join Tyler Durden in his philosophy. If God didn't exist—if Christ didn't offer salvation—then Tyler would be right... and to live otherwise in this mad world would be hypocritical, and a waste of air.

Compare to this passage from Flannery O'Connor's stunning short story, "A Good Man Is Hard to Find":
"Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," the Misfit continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He thrown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but throw away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can--by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness."
Harleman's bit is as effective an unconscious (perhaps--I wasn't there, so I can't say it was) rewriting of the Misfit's speech as one is likely to find. It struck me as well that, at this level at least, The Misfit and Tyler Durden, in their own ways seek to live an authentic life. They speak a similar language out of a similar desire to live outside of/beyond the need for Something that transcends their respective messy selves.

Except.

Durden has decided that nothing transcends himself; as Harleman states elsewhere, he has crowned himself as an übermensch (see the (literal) writing on the wall in the pic above). The Misfit, though he indeed lives his life in a manner true to his nature, does not like that nature, as he reveals to the grandmother at whom he's aiming a shotgun:
"It ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would have known [whether Jesus raised the dead]. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now."
In Fight Club-ese, the Misfit does not like himself; he rightly, from the believer's point of view, sees Christ as an agent for change in his self. If Jesus indeed did what people have said He did, he--and we all--would have no choice but to accept that in order to continue to live authentically. Christ would no longer be illusion but undeniable, inescapable truth.

Two questions have occurred to me, though, as I've been writing this post:

1) The Misfit's dilemma, of course, is that which every believer daily lives/wrestles with: that belief by its very nature is not ultimately confirmed by empirical knowledge. For him--and for Tyler Durden, for that matter--authenticity is defined by that ultimate confirmation. But might there also be another sort of authenticity, one that sees the embracing of the not-empirical as not only possible but as actually (and forgive the oxymoron here) more authentic as a way of living? Surely, implicit somewhere in the believer's decision to believe is precisely that other notion of authenticity. And of course (it now occurs to me), that version of authenticity is perhaps best summed up in a book title: The Imitation of Christ.

2) What if someone living out the doctrine of TylerDurdenianity decides s/he DOESN'T like himself/herself? What if hell is NOT financial systems and nice, safe, boring jobs and a Starbucks on every corner? What if hell is oneself?

Update: This post has been lucky enough to inspire two very thoughtful responses: one by Raminagrobis at When Her Name You Write You Blot, in which he links the discussion here to Beckett's Murphy, and the other by Josh of Thoughts from Kansas, in which he takes issue with the moral absolutism present in the Harleman quote. Be sure to read them both.

Technorati tags:
, , , ,

Read More...