From The Ridiculous To The Bloodthirsty

July 3rd, 2009

The headline made me giggle, Thrown pig leads to religious riots in India, but the actual story (small enough to cut and paste the whole thing):

By Harmeet Shah Singh,
CNN

NEW DELHI, India (CNN) –Three people have been killed in religious rioting in southern India between Muslims and Hindus, police said Friday.

Widespread violence broke out in Mysore Thursday after somebody threw a dead pig into the compound of an under-construction mosque, city police commissioner Sunil Agarwal told CNN.

More than a dozen people were injured in the clashes, he said.

Police fired tear gas and used bamboo sticks to break up the rioting, according to Agarwal.

Authorities have, for now, banned assembly of five or more people on the streets of the troubled area, according to the police.

Mysore is a city in Karnataka, India’s only southern state governed by the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party.

makes me doubt that “civilization” can ever make peace between all our invisible cloud-daddies. It also kinda makes me want to barbecue.

On Iran And Democracy And Such

June 29th, 2009

Iran plays a pivotal part in my personal political awareness. Back in the early 1980s, when I was taking up space at the University of Illinois, I met an Iranian student at (of course) a bar. I can’t remember his name, it was something that didn’t translate to my native hillbilly. Over a couple of hours and a few pitchers of beer, he very patiently gave a more than slightly drunk, overly proud and angry, Reagan-loving young bumpkin a brief history lesson on his native country. He began with what is considered to be the CIA’s “first covert operation against a foreign government,” the 1953 coup orchestrated for the express purpose of protecting oil industry profits. Our CIA and Britain’s MI6 overthrew the democratically-elected prime minister of Iran and installed a dictator in his place.

Through the eyes of that young Iranian student, I got my first sobering glimpse of my country as foreigners see us. That conversation (argument) exposed for me the gaping holes in my insular midwestern public education. From the vantage point of today’s wired world, where I can learn pretty much anything about pretty much anything simply by typing the question into a box on my desk, it’s appalling to think how woefully uninformed I was back then. I had never heard any of the things he told me, high school history class certainly hadn’t covered them, and I hadn’t yet discovered Chomsky. In fact, to that point in my life, I had never read anything seriously critical of US foreign policy. It was my first notion of the difference between information and knowledge, my first perception of ignorant American arrogance, both my country’s and my own. It’s a lesson I’ve never forgotten.

Over the years, whenever the subject of Iran comes up, as it has so much in recent weeks, I think of that soft-spoken, young man and wonder who and what he is now. I thought of him when John McCain sang “Bomb, bomb, bomb… bomb, bomb Iran.” I thought of him a lot back when dubya was declaring Iran to be part of the “axis of evil” for his War on Terra and going around spouting idiotic platitudes like “They hate us for our freedoms.”

As protests and demonstrations over the disputed election in Iran dwindle, I have coincidentally just finished reading The Spirit Of Democracy by Larry Diamond. It’s a good read, chronicling how modern democracies throughout the world come and go, how they fail, and what it takes to sustain them. The book was published in 2008, but a lot of what Diamond has to say about Iran seems remarkably prescient. Check it:

In contrast to the Arab world, where secular ruling establishments have lost political legitimacy and Islamist forces constitute the main alternative, it is the reactionary Islamists who constitute the corrupt and brutally oppressive ruling establishment, illegitimate and even despised in the hearts of most Iranians. And it is the disaffected majority … that is liberal, prodemocratic, and thus even pro-American. In this respect, Iran has a unique advantage in establishing democracy in the short term: the necessary transition from Islamic utopianism … to liberal realism and skepticism has already been made by the bulk of intellectual and civil society. When the works being read in a country are authored by classic liberals like Isaiah Berlin, Karl Popper, and Hannah Arendt, the philosophical seeds of a democratic revolution are planted.

The Spirit of Democracy invoked in me a vague feeling of inevitability about democracy. Diamond’s delineation of what exactly constitutes democracy, how it is established, where and how it flourishes left me feeling much more optimistic about it’s chances, not just in Iran, but around the world. The fact that Iranians took to the streets protesting the loss of what they certainly know to be merely an illusion of democracy leads me to believe recent events there are just the beginning of something momentous. Diamond’s final thoughts on Iran make me wonder if Michelle’s husband might also have read this book:

The regime, in short, is brutal but fragile. If the United States avoids a military confrontation that would give the failing Islamic leadership a new political life, the profound contradictions are bound to catch up with it sooner or later.

Oddly enough, the optimism induced by The Spirit of Democracy for democracy’s chances word-wide is damped by concern for it’s chances here at home. Throughout the book, Diamond makes clear that he sees corruption as the chief obstacle to democracy. Rampant corruption leads to what Diamond calls a “predatory society:”

The predatory society is the inverse of the civic community. First, there is no real community, no shared commitment to any common vision of the public good, and no respect for law. Behavior is cynical and opportunistic. Those who capture political power seek to monopolize it and the rents that flow from it … officials feed on the state and the powerful prey on the weak. The rich extract wealth from the poor and deprive them of public goods. Corruption is widely regarded as the norm, political participation is mobilized from above, civic engagement is meager, compromise is scarce, and nearly everyone feels powerless, exploited, and unhappy.

[snippage]

The predatory society cannot sustain democracy, for sustainable democracy requires constitutionalism, compromise, and respect for the law. Neither can it generate sustainable economic growth, for that requires actors with financial capital to invest in productive activity. In the predatory society, people do not get rich through productive activity and honest risk taking; they get rich by manipulating power and privilege, by stealing from the state, by extracting from the weak, and by shirking the law.

While, In the US, we haven’t reached the level of “predatory” yet, there’s simply no denying the societal drift of the last few decades. Corruption is fueled by greed and access to easy money. As the richest country on the planet, we have the potential to become the most corrupt. In my lifetime we have certainly moved in that direction. It is a worrisome trend, worsened by the fact that most of the genuine reforms needed — increased government transparency, limiting earmarks and lobbyist influence, reducing campaign spending, tightening campaign finance regulations and curtailing executive overreach, to name a few — would require decisive and coordinated action by the people who currently benefit the most from the status quo.

The single biggest problem with American democracy, though, is the lack of citizen engagement. Americans don’t vote. Fully half of the populace is too busy watching reality teevee to get off their asses and do their civic duty. Democracy doesn’t have to be stolen when it’s already being ignored.


Recommended Riding

June 16th, 2009

Nothing makes you appreciate simple comforts like air conditioning, hot showers and a soft bed more than spending a few days without them. Last week, a couple of friends and I did just that. We strapped tents and sleeping bags and anything else we could possibly fit on our bikes and set out for beautiful Southern Illinois to attend this year’s HogRock River Rally, a camping/biking event billed as the hottest little party in the midwest.

Our days were spent riding, exploring Northern Kentucky and Southern Illinois. The Shawnee National Forest was particularly nice. Nights were spent drinking beer and people-watching, which is always a lot of fun around bikers since they all seem to naturally be light-hearted and care-free exhibitionists. (HogRock is an adults-only party.)

I read somewhere once that surprise is good for the brain. If so, then my brain experienced a small rejuvenation on this trip. I was struck numerous times by the incongruity of casual nudity in unexpected situations. Examples include things like making “how you doing, where are you from” small talk with a couple of women, one young, one old, all of us buck naked in the co-ed showers, or, after dropping a deuce in a Porta-Potty that had been sitting in the blazing sun all day, emerging soaking wet and dripping with sweat to be greeted by a stunning,  topless woman showing off a top-notch pair of plastic boobs. She grinned at me like I was wearing clown makeup.

Then there was the nude bicyclist that made me laugh so hard I almost wrecked my motorcycle. This dude was so tanned all over that he must never wear clothes. He rode around the camp site on an old ten-speed and something about the shape of the bicycle seat and his knees-together riding position caused his junk to be pushed upward and displayed prominently. As his legs moved up and down pedaling the bike, his entire package moved back and forth, giving an appearance, at first glance anyway, of a very dark, near-hairless animal lolling about on his lap. For some reason, it still makes me giggle when I think about it.  

Now I’m not a big fan of camping to begin with, particularly tent camping. I’ve never fully understood the appeal of packing up as much gear as possible and leaving those simple comforts of home behind in order to travel somewhere peaceful and picturesque for the sole purpose of living poorly for a few days; sleeping fitfully, on the ground, in the heat and humidity; battling the myriad of ticks, chiggers, flies, gnats, spiders and ants; coping with hay fever, sunburn and poison ivy; eating unhealthy, unbalanced and ill-prepared meals and shitting in the bushes like a wild animal or in a sweet/shitty/minty smelling, blue, plastic outhouse. There are places in our world where people live like that year-round, but it’s certainly not a lifestyle to be envied.

I’ve known avid tent campers who sneered at people with big RVs sporting electricity and showers and air conditioning and satellite television, declaring them to be “not real campers,” and to some degree I have agreed with that sentiment. But these few days spent along the Ohio River have changed my mind about that. See, motorcycle camping is an even more austere form of tent camping than usual because you can bring along even less stuff than if you were traveling by car. Stuff like extra food and cooking utensils, toilet paper, firewood or simply a chair to sit in. From my vantage point, sitting and sweating on a piece of plastic tarp on the ground, those RVs looked like the promised land.

I don’t want to leave the impression that I didn’t enjoy this trip, because I certainly did, and I’m recommending it to anyone who enjoys this kind of thing. I may, in fact, do it again next year, but if I do, I am most certainly going to find a way to bring along more stuff. I can’t afford an RV, but I’m sure I can handle the extra $40 for a support vehicle carrying a few lawn chairs and such. Yes, definitely more stuff.

Impotent Bluster

May 27th, 2009

Although I’ve found numerous things to complain about during our new preznit’s brief tenure, I’ve been withholding criticism because I remember quite clearly all my right-wing friends back in 2001 insisting that any significant events occurring during the first 8 months or so of a presidency were the result of the previous preznit’s policies. (See, that’s why 9/11 was so obviously the Clenis’ fault instead of dubya’s.)

By this logic, the new guy has a good 4 months left before anything is his fault, right? I went lurking in some right-wing blogs just to confirm they were giving Michelle’s husband the same grace period they gave dubya, and guess what? Not so much. I’m not going to link to any specific blogs, because I don’t want them coming around here stinking the place up, but here’s a random sampling of comments:
 

Some of you idiots need to wake up and wise up. Obama is dangerous.

I feel sorry for people living in Alaska. They are way too close to NK. The way this WH occupier works who knows if there is enough defense to protect them.

Obamania’s sheeple are deeply delusional, and as Obama’s enablers, these fools are going to get us killed.

When will Washington grow up and realize that there pathetic games have real consequences? When LA is in flames? New York a heap in a river? This is ridiculous.

The USA used to be somewhat of a threat to them. No longer. It is “free pass” time for the tyrants of the world.
This will not end well.

Is he stupid, ignorant, delusional, evil or a combination of all? My jury is still out…
One thing is for sure, he’s 100% liberal, which is DANGEROUS.

 

I tell you, that’s one paranoid bunch of patriots. You can almost smell the flop sweat. At first I wanted to dive into those comments sections and point out how even though the US spends more on defense than all the other countries on the planet combined, these supposedly proud Amurkins are still soiling themselves in constant fear. I wanted to scream at these nitwits to MAN THE FUCK UP, but after a while spent reading through this garbage, my anger turned to sadness and pity. It dawned on me that these people believe these things because their heroes tell them to:
 

When Neil Cavuto and Rush Limbaugh are worried, America better listen.

 

They long ago gave over their critical thinking skills to the talking heads on hate radio and the Fox News Outrage Channel who get paid huge amounts of money to keep pushing a now largely marginalized ideology. The right has become an echo chamber wherein “conservatives” extract self-esteem from their own (largely imagined) victimization. This has lead to a disturbing lack of awareness and a bloodthirsty callousness that allows them to believe fellow Americans who seek peaceful solutions to world problems are somehow traitors and we should instead return to dubya’s belligerence-based foreign policy.

In my travels around the right-hand side of the intertoobz, I also began compiling a list of nicknames for our preznit that I hadn’t heard before. So far I’ve got Dear Leader, The One, Odopey,  Odumbo,  Onutzoid,  Obummer,  Obie,  President Superfly,  King Obamarafat,  Big Pimpin’,  Opie the Kenyan big eared dimwit, and Black Chavez. I think I’ll stick to Michelle’s husband for now.

And last, but certainly not least:

Anyone who fights against terrorism is a hero. They fight for the freedom of all humans in this world. The way terrorists fight is so barbarious and terrifying. How can anyone, even the best of all soldiers, protect himself from an invisible bomb? It is such a vicious way to fight.

 

I’ll say. How does one protect one’s self from a “barbarious” invisible bomb? Moreover, how do the terrorists build the damn things in the first place? Now I’m scared, too.

Enough Already!

May 19th, 2009

My long-suffered aversion to change has caused me a great deal of perplexity these last few months. When my old blogging software went haywire, I quickly found some new software that served essentially the same purpose as the old stuff, but it didn’t look exactly the same. The mulish stubbornness of my hillbilly heritage got the better of me and I wound up spending an absolutely stupid amount of time learning more about HTML and CSS and PHP than I ever really cared to know. All to make my site look, to the casual observer, as if I hadn’t done anything.

I tell you, it gets crazier in here every day. If I live long enough to be very elderly, I am most likely going to be one kooky, cranky old man. I’m declaring myself to be done with this foolishness. I’m stacking the books and notes and such off to the side for a while. Back to blogging in 3..2..1..

Nostalgia Isn’t What It Used To Be

May 4th, 2009

When I was a kid, way back before the Wal-Martization of American retail, grocery stores gave out savings stamps. They came in all the same denominations as money, right down to the penny, and with every purchase the cashier would hand over both a receipt and a quantity of stamps equal to the purchase. Customers then saved these stamps and used them to purchase any number of items from special stamp catalogs. Different stores gave out different kinds of stamps, so it was a way for grocers to ensure customer loyalty. Sometimes a grocer would declare a certain day of the week to be “double stamp day” and the aisles would be crowded.

My grandmother would always put her stamps in the junk drawer next to her kitchen sink, and every summer my sister and I would dig them all out and spend a few hours licking and pasting them into the empty stamp books. (Decades later, I can still taste that nasty glue.) Then we would divide up the books and start leafing through that year’s catalog like greedy little treasure hunters.

My kids recently dug one of those long-forgotten treasures out of one of the many boxes of useless crap I’ve accumulated over the years. Check these babies out. 

 Old walkie-talkies

 

The FCC Identification stamp on the bottom shows they are GE Model #3-5961C, manufactured December 1975 in Taiwan Republic of China. 

It’s hard to imagine in today’s wireless world, but in the bicentennial summer of 1976, these were the shit. Advanced technology. My family was still a year or more away from our first color television. Our old black and white set picked up 4 or 5 stations, and some of those only with a good deal of antenna twisting. Cell phones and personal computers existed only in the realm of science fiction.

But with these I could jump on my bike and ride around talking to a friend up to a mile away. Not only that, but they operated on Citizen’s Band Channel 14 (27.125 MHz), so I could talk to truckers and anyone else with a CB radio.  In those days that was pretty much everybody; Detroit was even turning out cars with CBs built right into the dash. 

I tried explaining to my kids just how cool that was back then, but they started getting glassy-eyed almost immediately, only wanting to know if they still worked. Sadly, fresh batteries produced only a high pitched squeal from one and static from the other. Sigh.

Every man’s memory is his private literature. - Aldous Huxley

The More Things Change…

April 27th, 2009

There’s nothing like a wet day for dry reading. I’m spending this rainy Monday morning catching up on the Sunday papers. Yesterday’s New York Times has this good, though long, profile of Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner and his past coziness with the financial institutions he’s currently spending billions of taxpayer dollars bailing out. This paragraph caught my eye:

But since then, the New York Fed has given two more no-bid contracts to BlackRock related to the A.I.G. bailout, angering a number of BlackRock’s competitors. The fees on those contracts remain confidential. 

It reeks of the two things I most despise in government: cronyism and secrecy. In fact there’s something very familiar about it. Hmm.

I was about to make my the-more-they-stay-the-same point by replacing “New York Fed” with Defense Department and “AIG bailout” with War on Terra and then blockquoting the whole thing in pleasing cayenne again, but I chickened out. What if I somehow altered the time-space continuum and slammed us back to late 2001/early 2002 when dubya started playing war preznit? *shiver*

Dark Matters

April 11th, 2009

I’ve been busily letting weather and work get in the way of completing the shingling of my roof. I’m still less than halfway through that chore, but hopefully I can finish this weekend. I’m getting a reprieve this morning waiting for a pretty heavy frost to burn off.

In my “spare” time I’m still plugging away at re-building this site from scratch using a combination of book study, internet tutorials, reverse engineering and plain old trial and error. I’m swimming in stuff like this:

<?php

if ( !empty($withcomments) && !is_single() ) {

?>

#page { background: url(”<?php bloginfo(’stylesheet_directory’); ?> }

<?php } else { ?>

#page { background: url(”<?php bloginfo(’stylesheet_directory’); ?> }

<?php } ?>

So, needing to take a break from the break I took from roofing, I (of course) dive into something else that’s way over my head. Cosmology. I don’t have the education to even begin to understand it, but unlike the frustration brought about from parsing computer code, the theoretical physics of our universe always leaves me with a pleasant sense of wonder.

I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. In my last post, I mentioned the sense of acceleration of life commonly felt by those of us past our prime. We may not know exactly where the abyss lies, but we begin to feel the wind as we travel in that direction. There’s a fascinating parallel to this imagery to be found in our cosmos. Ever since the Big Bang, our universe has been expanding, but in the last decade or so, measurements have shown that this expansion is accelerating. Due to some unseen force scientists have labeled Dark Energy*, the galaxies appear to be hurtling towards an abyss of their own. 

Of course, the feeling that the years are somehow passing faster for us as we grow older is merely the brain recognizing the failings of the body. It is an appreciation of life brought about by the realization that time, at least for us, is finite. Now some Spanish scientists have theorized that time itself is finite, that the measured acceleration of the universe’s expansion is actually time slowing down

Naturally, the theory has a few chilling conclusions. If time is slowing, it could – in billions of years – actually come to a complete halt, University of the Basque Country professor José Senovilla told New Scientist.

 
Would that mean everything freezes in place forever? Apparently. Does forever mean anything if time itself has literally stopped? 

Now that’s a question worth pondering on the roof today. 

 

*Interestingly enough, (to me anyway) somewhere in the wreckage of my website(s), there exists an unfinished post about Michelle Obama with this as a title.

Well, Look At That!

March 30th, 2009

I’m discovering that not only does middle-age bring with it a touch of dignity and a smattering of wisdom, it also provides a disheartening number of lessons in humility as I continually find new things I can no longer do as well as I once could, if I can do them at all any more. I now fully understand the metaphor “over the hill.” It’s not just another way of saying you are getting older. There’s a definite, unpleasant  feeling of acceleration on the other side of that hill.

My most recent ”not the man I used to be” moment stems from the one hundred twenty-some bundles of shingles stacked on my roof. I should be up there nailing them down right now, but instead I’m hiding out in the bunker working on my website. A pitiful and transparent decision to put off doing something I used to be good at — and even to some degree enjoy — in favor of doing something I find mind-numbingly boring. Sigh.

But I have arrived at some level of accomplishment today. After many hours of work (and some outright thievery), I have put together the beginnings of a functional WordPress template. I have a lot more to do, but at least it’s usable now. My plan is to bring back the old look from before it blew up on me, only a little wider (kind of like it’s owner) and with a few more bells and whistles.

For now I’m happy to have my Penrose tiling banner back. My next task will be dressing up the sidebar, maybe get my buttons back. It’s tedious stuff, but it beats falling off the damn roof.

Massive Penises

March 23rd, 2009

Occasionally, all the hours I spend blundering around the intertoobz sifting for nuggets pays off with something worthy of a place in my sidebar. Today I discovered Pharyngula, the science blog of biologist PZ Meyers. The tagline reads: Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal. Sounds like my kind of place. I particularly enjoyed this video.

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