The Good, The Bad, and The Silly

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The Good

Older news now, but Obama’s Administration has changed the rules for all hospitals participating in Medicare and Medicaid: people can now choose their hospital visitors, including same-sex partners.

Supreme Court Justice Sotomayor is making public her objections to the Court refusing to hear appeals from criminal defendants. She’s laying the groundwork for the Court to hear such appeals in the future.

Jimmy Johns, a tasty sandwich company with awful political connections, has been trying to block its employees from forming a union, but the workers have just won a big legal victory in getting the company-rigged union elections nullified so they can continue organizing. The best part about this is how the union is focusing on a “10 Point Program” to improve worker conditions across the fast food industry as a whole. I know a lot of people are wary of unions, and much has been made of abuses by union bosses and the like, but the fact is that every study done of union versus non-union workers in comparable industries shows a much higher quality of life for union workers, and that is an American dream we should all be able to get behind.

An organization called Common Ground is making huge progress to eliminate homelessness in major cities across the nation. It’s an exciting project and one that works because they get out on the street and talk to homeless people as if they’re people, rather than numbers, which is the only way to do it.

I vaguely knew that the 14th Amendment was fought over by white feminists and abolitionists, but I did not know the greater context of the legal implications of using “he” but never “male” in the Constitution.  Maria Bustillos has a great piece up on how the lack of a gender-neutral pronoun in English figures prominently in American history, and how that figures into Scalia’s repugnant discussion of the 14th Amendment today. (Also, by the way, I disagree that “he” should be the gender-neutral pronoun norm, but I’ve never heard of academics using “she” instead. What’s wrong with “s/he,” which is what I was taught to use?)

The Bad

You know, the Illinois legislature is passing a huge state income tax increase so that we can find money for the basics, but somehow the state of Kentucky, which is surely in dire financial straits as well, has found $43 million for creationist theme park.

The Wall Street Journal published an upsetting article about “why Chinese mothers are the best kind,” and Latoya Peterson and other authors take the whole thing apart brilliantly.

97.5% of women with HIV/AIDS in Brazil have experienced violence, which is a staggering and sickening number. Feministing has some links to actions you can take to help.

I forgot to include this in last week’s G, B, S segment about the plutocracy we live (as opposed to the democracy we think we live in): Nicholas Kristof wrote about it from his perspective as an international journalist back in November.

The Silly

Who knew an interview with a lawyer about island law and the history of bird poop could be so fascinating?

A fun imaginary game: what would season 2 of Freaks and Geeks have looked like? I love the Nick-as-minor-local-celebrity-for-a-week idea; I can totally see him thinking it’s bigger than it is and buying a new jacket to fit his new cool rock star persona, only to be crushed when his popularity fades.

Here’s an interesting read on how comedy is the only effective remedy for one writer’s depression. The healing power of humor, etc. Here’s the longer cut of the interviews she did with stand-up comedians.

The Shooting in Tucson

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I don’t currently have anything to add to the national discussion about the shooting in Tucson this past weekend, but in case you are looking for a roundup of thoughtful, passionate, heartbroken pieces on the subject, I’ve rounded some up here. Feel free to leave other links in comments.

Shark-fu on continuing our work even in times of tragedy (with a great RFK quote)

Maya at Feministing on how we shouldn’t have to even wonder if high-profile politicians and media pundits influenced a man enough to mow down strangers with a semiautomatic weapon

Jill Filipovic on not using “he’s crazy” as an explanation for Jared Lee Loughner’s actions and again here on not curbing free speech even as we tone down rhetoric

Melissa McEwan with a thorough catalog of the violent, eliminationist rhetoric employed by the right

Latoya Peterson on calling this a terrorist act

Bob Herbert on the unlikely possibility that this tragedy will prompt real gun law reform

Melissa Harris-Perry on why we should still run for elected office

Much love to those in Arizona, especially the friends and family of those killed.

The Kindness of Strangers

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I’ve been fortunate in my travels so far–not only have I not had really bad experiences with other people, but I’ve had some fantastic interactions that make me believe in the kindness of strangers. My favorite such story is when I visited my sister Emily in France in April 2008, and it’s my favorite not just because I got out of a jam but because the people who helped me out seemed the least likely to open their doors to a stranger. Preconceptions, what!

I was feeling quite proud of myself for cobbling together an itinerary of two flights from two different airlines to get the cheapest fare to Avignon from Chicago, but that backfired magnificently when my flight to Heathrow was delayed and there was no time for me to get to Gatwick in time to make my connecting flight. (Oh yes, did I mention that the two flights were to and from two different London airports that are an hour apart if you don’t factor in traffic, and that there were only two hours between landing in Heathrow and taking off in Gatwick, and that I’d called a car service the night before to get me to Gatwick on time, but when I tried to cancel after I realized there was no way I’d make my connecting flight, they still charged the full amount and I had to call my credit card company to get the charge removed and I received threatening letters from the car company for the next four months? Travelers, take note.)

After passing several uncomfortable hours in the airport, I was finally able to get on a plane on standby. True, it was going to Nice instead of Marseilles and I’d have to rearrange my train ticket to Avignon once I landed, but no matter, I was on my way to France. I settled in to my middle seat between a teenage girl zoning out on her headphones and an English businessman shaking his newspaper out in front of him. It was a cramped flight and I just wanted to land, turn on my phone (newly enabled for international travel), and call Emily to tell her I was that much closer to seeing her.

But of course that’s not how it went. We did indeed land, but when I turned on my phone, nothing happened. I knew the battery was charged, so who knows why it chose that exact moment to die, but regardless, I had no way of contacting Emily and I was pretty sure there wasn’t much time til the last train to Avignon for the day. So I turned to the businessman beside me and said, “I only have one pound left, but can I give it to you to use your phone real fast to call my sister? My phone seems to have died.” He told me not to be silly, he didn’t need the money, and handed over his phone. I called Emily and sure enough, there was one more train to Avignon and I’d need to hoof it to make it to the train station on time. Even then, I might not make it, so I warned Emily that I’d call her from a hostel if I didn’t make the train, and in that case I’d see her tomorrow. When I handed the phone back to the businessman, he was looking at me with horror.

“You’re going to try to make that train? There is definitely not enough time!” he said.

“Oh, well, I might make it. I’ll give it a shot,” I said casually.

“And what if you don’t make the train?” he asked.

“Oh, I’ll find a hostel somewhere and stay there. I’m sure there’s a listing of hostels at the train station.”

“That’s ridiculous. Do your parents know you travel like this?”

I didn’t care for his condescension, but he seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, so I gave him a pass and repeated that it was fine. By this point, we had made our way off the plane to the baggage area, and he met up with his wife and son. I went outside to flag a cab to take me to the train station, but the businessman and his family chased after me and offered me a ride to the station instead, to save me money. I said sure, that sounded great, and I inwardly sighed with relief that I’d save that fifteen euros; as European vacations go, this one was being done on a shoestring budget. The man and his wife turned aside and spoke to each other in rapid French, while their preadolescent son and I looked awkwardly at one another.

“Why don’t you come home with us?” the businessman said, turning back to me.

“Um, what?” I replied, a bit stupidly.

“Yes, we will take you home and then tomorrow you can get the first train to Avignon,” his wife said in accented English.

“Oh, well, I think I can maybe still make the train tonight, and if not, there’s a hostel somewhere,” I tried.

“You won’t make that train,” he said frankly. “Come on, Fanette has made a great dinner and  you can share our daughter’s room.”

Here is the point in the story where I’m sure some people would back away slowly, or splurge on a cab to a hotel in the city center. But I saw an opportunity not just to save some money but to spend time with new people, people who had just proved themselves very generous. I said yes without any further hesitation.

We drove for about 25 minutes past the city limits of Nice until we reached their house in Antibes, which was oh yes, a small mansion with a pool overlooking the Mediterranean. Did I mention that this businessman obviously did very well for himself?

near Antibes

the back patio -- that's the pool, a palm tree, and the view out to the sea

Paul, as he revealed himself to be, did some type of finance work, and the family owned a house in London, this summer home in France, and also a Swiss chalet for skiing in the winter.  Hot. Damn. As might be expected from that description, the house was beautiful, and the wine was expensive. After calling Emily to update her on the situation, we sat down to a delicious meal, and they asked all sorts of questions about my travels past and future. Paul continued to see me as a foolish young woman, I think, but I flatter myself that his teenage daughter might have found some inspiration in my tale. Except for maybe the part where I’d bungled every bit of transportation so far on this trip.

We talked politics over dinner, and it became clear that Paul was staunchly conservative, and didn’t think Bush had been doing such a bad job. Keep in mind that this was spring of ’08, when we were all in a fever about finally getting rid of Bush and bringing in Clinton or Obama. The discussion got quite spirited, but I will say that he kept it civil. We both thought the other naïve and irresponsible in politics, but we didn’t resort to name-calling and we kept coming back to the common ground we did have. It’s the type of political debate I think we all wish could be the norm but has become increasingly rare in the States.

Anyway, I think you can see why this is my favorite story of surprise hospitality. These people were rich conservatives, who saw my whole approach to travel and probably my whole life as dangerously slapdash and unfocused; hardly the kind of people known for helping out travelers in need. And yet they opened up their home to me, made me feel entirely comfortable, and gave me a ride to the train station the next day. What a great example they were setting for their kids, even if they did sit them down after I’d left and explain that there would be no trotting all over and staying who knows where for them.

I sent them a postcard from Germany later in that trip, but I’ve since lost the address, which really bums me out. I wanted to send more inspirational postcards to those kids and Christmas cards of gratitude to the parents. I wanted to keep this tenuous connection between us, to hold on to my own Good Samaritans and keep a tangible link to the kindness of strangers and the fortune of the traveler. Since I can’t do that directly, I do the next best thing to keep that spirit of spontaneous generosity alive and encourage it in others—I tell people this story.

The Good, The Bad, and The Silly

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The Good

It wasn’t all bad last year! Feministing rounds up some good news from 2010.

Michelle Obama’s new chief of staff sounds pretty cool. Congrats, Tina Tchen!

Two major anti-racist groups file a formal complaint with the US Department of Education against the curriculum standards of Texas. Texas’s curriculum standards unfortunately affect much of the country, since they buy so many textbooks that whatever textbooks they buy become the main ones in the US. I hope the Department of Ed takes action.

The Bad

A cop assaulted a transgender woman, and when she defended herself, she was arrested.

I got an email from Barack Obama’s Organizing for America group saying we must stand firm on the health care bill and not let it get repealed on the same day I read this article, in which Obama preemptively caves on the end-of-life planning part of the health care bill. Sounds to me like caving and I don’t like it.

An older and a newer piece on the plutocracy we’re living in — it is just mathematically true that the rich now are far richer than the poor than ever before in American history. Disgusting.

Forget everyone’s “Kanye’s record is #1!” top ten lists; his video for “Monster” is terrifying, and not in a ghosts n ghouls kinda way.

The Silly

Here’s a great piece on a man living with schizophrenia who prepares daily for the apocalypse he can see unfolding in his mind. Also, scary effects of LSD!

Here’s a wonderful round-up of some hilarious humor pieces from 2010. I especially like “Et Tu, Brooklyn?” and “Funny Women #1.”

The Worst Concert Ever, or, I’m Sorry, Chuck Berry

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This New Year’s, I was focused more on the day after rather than the Eve before. A New Year’s Day dance party concert with Chuck Berry at the Congress! The man is 84 years old and still rocking out in St. Louis and occasionally on the road. Here was probably my last chance to see a living legend like Chuck Berry, and no way was I going to miss it. Too bad it turned out to be the worst concert I’ve ever attended.

dig the shirt

Chuck Berry early in the night at Saturday's Congress Theater concert (credit: Scott Stewart/Sun-Times)

It started badly, with a long delay before Dick Biondi (the first DJ to play The Beatles in the US) came out on stage to announce the opening act, local group Deal’s Gone Bad. We’d already waited for 30 minutes and now we had to listen to an opener? The crowd rustled uncomfortably. The band took the stage, and although they were technically just fine, playing their instruments well and moving easily from one song to the next, all I heard was white guys doing reggae, and that is enough to make any music fan go “ugh.” Worse yet, the lead singer (who sounded like Michael McDonald of The Doobie Brothers and Bob Seger had a child and raised him solely on Mighty Mighty Bosstones) kept asking us how excited we were to see Chuck Berry. Why yes, now that you mention it, we are pretty excited to see him and NOT YOU. Rookie mistake, that — playing to an indifferent to hostile crowd and trying to get them on your side by reminding them of what they can’t yet have.

But finally, their last strangled note faded away and the stage was reconfigured for the man himself. After a short intro from Biondi, the small backing band of drums, keys, and bass set up and then Chuck Berry came out in a delightfully spangled red shirt and a captain’s hat.  He went right into a slowed-down version of “Roll Over Beethoven,” and the hyped-up crowd was a little taken aback by how much harder it was to dance to this tempo, but we got into it. Unfortunately, that was the only problem-free song of the night.

The Tribune would have you believe that everything sounded good for another few numbers, but I’m with the Sun-Times on this one: something was off almost right away. The backing band was keeping up just fine, but Berry couldn’t seem to make any of his solos work, or indeed the basic rhythm parts. He was playing in the wrong key, or off-tempo, or sometimes both. He started playing songs right in the middle, leaving the band to scramble to keep up. He moved from song to song, sometimes after just a few bars. He stopped and recited a poem for no apparent reason.

Eventually, he told us that his guitar was out of tune, and he walked over to the keyboard to get in tune. After arguing with the keyboardist over what notes to play, he shooed him away and sat down at the piano himself. He tinkered around for a few minutes, then came over to the center microphone again and declared that the electronic keyboard was out of tune. Um. Probably it wasn’t. I was really annoyed at this point; I’d braced myself against the winter weather in a dress for this? Why didn’t he just get a roadie to tune the guitar real fast, since it clearly wasn’t working for him? Why did he still insist on touring with no backing band, and then berating the performers who showed up as support?

I watched the documentary Chuck Berry Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll! a few months ago and was struck by a few things: 1) damn, Chuck Berry had a huge effect on rock n roll and I was sadly unaware of that before; 2) he is very protective of his money/gig situations, after having been screwed over by promoters and managers in the past; and 3) even his most devoted fans find him difficult to work with. The 1986 concert that Keith Richards headed up with Berry, which is the focus of the documentary, was the first time Berry rehearsed with a band regularly leading up to a concert, rather than showing up the day of and playing with an ad hoc band of local performers, as he usually does (and as he did on Saturday).

The 1986 concert was wonderful to watch, and I admit that I’d hoped that Saturday’s concert would be more like that — with a tight band and an artist on top of the world. Instead, he refused to ask for help with his guitar, berated the band in front of everybody, and spent almost half of his time on stage struggling to keep up with his own songs.

I was getting pretty upset with Berry for not calling in some help or just shaping up and playing the right chords, when two things occurred to humble me right up: First, Berry apologized eloquently for the rough playing, saying, “It’s all my fault. The band, they’re doing their job, but I messed up. It’s my fault the guitar isn’t in tune. I feel bad. The promoter, the band, they all did their job, and we are supposed to be entertaining you, but we aren’t doing a very good job of entertaining you.” When we all responded with loud cheers of support, he said, “You’re very kind, you’re very kind. Now, you don’t want to listen to me talk about what’s wrong, you want me to entertain you, and that’s what we’re going to do.” And then he launched back into an aborted effort at “Johnny B. Goode.” What, was I thinking I knew more than the king of rock n roll about how to put on a good show? Was I thinking he didn’t know just how bad it sounded and that it didn’t matter to him? For shame.

The other thing that shamed me was, as the papers all reported, he sat down at the keyboard and laid his head down on his arms. Several people came over to talk to him, and they eventually led him off stage. The promoter hurriedly told the crowd, “Thanks for coming out, there will be DJs if you want to stick around,” so most of us left, although apparently Berry came on later and tried again, but left for good not long after. The man is 84 years old and had to be checked over by an ambulance crew for exhaustion, and here I was moaning that he wasn’t trying hard enough. I feel real bad about that.

Saturday was musically the worst concert I’ve ever been to (well, ok, except maybe a show at The Mutiny one time), but it was also the saddest concert I’ve ever attended. Here was a living legend, doing his best for loving fans, but despite past glories, his best wasn’t good enough anymore, and he knew it. I was excited to see Chuck Berry because I knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, but maybe I shouldn’t have been given that chance. Maybe it’s time he retired to just playing his own concert hall in St. Louis, with a backing band of good friends and an audience that lets him play around with bluesy tunes and doesn’t scream out for “My Ding-a-Ling.” Maybe it’s time for retirement.

But then again, that’s not my call to make; it’s his. He’s called his own shots for twice as long as I’ve lived, and for an industry infamous for managers, promoters, executives, and just about everyone else mishandling artists’ money and creativity, that is quite impressive. He doesn’t take shit from anyone and he plays his music the way he wants to play it, all critics be damned. What’s more rock n roll than that?

In the documentary, Keith Richards says something like, “He’s really the best. I don’t think Chuck even knows how good he is.” I love you, Keith, but you’ve got it all wrong. As with most cantankerous geniuses, a big part of Chuck Berry’s brilliance isn’t that he doesn’t know how good he is, but that he knows exactly how much better he is than all the rest. I’m sure I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone that full of himself, or have to work with someone that controlling of his work, but that’s neither here nor there for the music.

Many reviews of the documentary Hail! Hail! like to focus on how often Berry talks about making money and keeping his money, but damn, he came of age as a black man in the South in the 1950s — of course he’s focused on keeping his money! The part that the reviews don’t focus nearly so much on is how much he talks about singing HIS songs and playing HIS music, about how focused he is on bringing that vision to life again and again, about how much joy he gets from performing. This love of performing — a love that has lasted SIXTY YEARS — makes a performance like Saturday’s all the sadder, because it surely means that Berry knows just how far he fell short of greatness that night. Why, he was almost like one of us, and I’m sorry about that, Chuck. Get some rest and keep on rockin’.

A Real Family Christmas

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It’s the week of Christmas, so here’s a post on Christmas. I went to church with my family every week for eighteen years, so even though I don’t practice anymore, I’m very interested in the theories and workings of Christianity and people who believe. Don’t get all upset that I’m going to proselytize at you just because I say “Jesus” a lot in this post. Oh and in case any clarification is needed, Pastor Kit graciously allowed me to read the written version of her sermon and quote from it, but don’t take that to mean she endorses any of the rest of this post. That religious right rant is all me, so don’t hold it against her.

Also, it’s the holidays, which means I am spending my time baking cookies, eating cookies, and hugging my sisters. I will be back in the new year with weekly posts (at least! sometimes more often!) plus weekly installments of The Good, The Bad, and The Silly. Happy New Year!

Two years ago, I was sitting in my parents’ church on Christmas Eve when the priest, Pastor Kit Carlson, blew my mind. In her sermon, she suggested the idea that Jesus was not born in a lonely stable, but rather in a house full of extended family. Apparently, when Luke writes in his Gospel that “there was no room at the inn,” the word he used for “inn” was actually kataluma, which is more accurately translated as the guest room, or the upper room. And he’d used a totally different word for “inn” later on, when talking about the Good Samaritan, indicating that he wasn’t talking about an inn when he said Mary and Joseph couldn’t stay in the kataluma. The couple was returning to Joseph’s ancestral home for the census, after all; it is more likely than not that he had many relatives in town. Surely those relatives were ready to squeeze in and make room for Joseph and his very pregnant wife, and since there was no space available in the guest room, Mary and Joseph settled down in the main room on the first floor of the house. The homes of the time and region had a split-level first floor, with one side reserved for the humans and the lower side reserved for the animals. There was a gap in the wall between the two, and straw was placed here for the animals to eat. So Mary goes into labor, the women of the house gather ’round to help with the birth, and when Jesus arrives, he is indeed “wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger” — it’s just that the manger happens to be in the family home, rather than in a cold outdoor cave or stable.

JUMP BACK. What?

the traditional nativity scene

This family picture was photoshopped

This could really change how we think about Jesus not just as the son of God (however you may feel about that), but also as a human, someone who was part of a larger family from his very first breath. As Pastor Kit said, “Jesus was not born into a simple nuclear family. Jesus was born into a clan… And this was how God chose to come into the world.” Obviously the Christmas story is one chock-full of symbolism, whether that symbolism indicates to you a larger truth or not. What does the symbolism of the traditional story say to us as opposed to this new view?

The usual way of looking at the story has Mary and Joseph as social outcasts, their only visitors people driven to the stable by supernatural forces. Only a few special people noticed how special Jesus was, and everyone else was cruelly indifferent or outright hostile to him and his parents. He had a hard and lonely road laid out for him, and that was clear from the start.

But if we look at the story from this new perspective, everything changes. Sure, the family still flees the country because King Herod is after them, but other than that, his parents are not rejected or treated badly. Jesus isn’t born into an uncaring world, but rather one full to bursting with extended family (all of them likely sharing conflicting advice with Mary the moment he pops out). His life path is still a difficult one, but the man who preaches love and peace for all humankind might have believed in these concepts more deeply based on a childhood full of both.

Perhaps Jesus’ extended family bickered a lot, or perhaps they got on well with one another. Maybe they blamed Mary for becoming pregnant before her wedding to Joseph or maybe they accepted the story that Jesus was a premie. The family might have been close or only seen each other once in a blue moon. Regardless of the exact make-up of the family, if they were there at Jesus’ birth and the days that followed, they were an important part of his early life. No matter what kind of family we’re born into, there’s no denying that they shape us, and now we can see how this might have been true for Jesus too.

the delightful family from "While You Were Sleeping"

Welcome to the world, kiddo! Here's your family

A final note: Not to get too political (not that that’s a surprise on this blog, eh?), but I also think Jesus born into a large family can have implications for Americans in particular. Christians throughout history have clung to the idea of their persecution in the early days of the faith, and there are varying degrees of accuracy to that. However, the religious right in America is steadfast in the belief that this applies to contemporary America and themselves all the time. They seem to truly believe that they are being persecuted for their beliefs, despite the fact that Christianity is overwhelmingly the dominant religion in this country, and God is mentioned in our Pledge of Allegiance, our presidential oath, etc., not to mention you can’t get elected in this country without swearing up, down, and sideways that there has never been a more devoted follower of Jesus than yourself. Despite the fact that it’s non-Christians who continue to bear the brunt of intolerance, the religious right remains convinced.

I’m not saying there’s a direct line between the nativity and this false belief, but think about it: In the traditional story, Jesus and his family are turned away from inn after inn, ignored by their neighbors, and chased out of the country by a ruthless leader intent on their destruction. Jesus is all the more special because only a few recognize his specialness. Too much time focused on how special you are as compared to everyone else, and you can start to treat everyone else badly, which let’s face it, the religious right is really good at doing.

Okay, I know I’ve lost some of you here, and granted, it’s not the most well-thought-out theory, but man, they get so angry and exclusive, despite all Jesus’ actual teachings. They talk about a human family, but they make that family smaller and smaller — no gays, no non-Christians, no powerful women, no one too different from a narrowly defined category.

What if they thought of Jesus being born into a large, loving family instead? What if many people witnessed the birth and celebrated it? What if instead of being a misunderstood prophet from the start, Jesus was an appreciated addition to the family, despite the odd signs and portents surrounding his conception and birth? What if Jesus’ problems with fitting in only came later, and in the beginning his family accepted him for who he was and what he meant to them? What an inclusive way to view the virgin birth. What a wonderful way to start a story.

American Christians, instead of feeling put-upon and misunderstood, can look at this story and see a new way to view their current situation: just like all of us, they are born into this large, loud, extended family of humanity, and just like all of us, they can grow up and give back to this weird and wonderful family with love and joy. Just like Jesus.

The Good, The Bad, and The Silly

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The Good

I don’t think I noted it when he said it, but George Bush made headlines when he said that the lowest moment of his presidency was when Kanye West said “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” Not the government’s, disastrous response to Hurricane Katrina, not the devastation Katrina victims experienced, but being called out in public for his incompetence — THAT was his lowest point. Kanye has since recanted, but Jay-Z rightfully says he shouldn’t have had to.

Here’s a great account of one woman’s sex ed (or lack thereof), and how we can explain sex better to kids, rather than keeping it hushed up and being surprised when young girls get pregnant and STI rates soar.

Tami Winfrey Harris has a wonderful piece that clarifies a point it seems far too many of us forget: freedom of speech is not equivalent to exemption from criticism. You can say what you like, but everyone else gets that right too. So if you’re selling reprehensible “antique” soaps that appeal to that lucrative racist market, don’t be surprised when people call bullshit, and don’t try to paint yourself the victim in this scenario.

Towson University and a few other colleges around the country succeeded in closing the graduation gap between blacks and whites, largely because they acknowledged there was a problem and that they could do something about it, unlike most colleges in the country, which shrug and say it can’t be helped (sadly, MSU is among the latter group).

The Bad

This is a chilling account of how one billionaire couple has bought up the rights to water in huge chunks of California and Fiji — and how the people who work on their farms are denied access to that very water. The Awl article is a good summary, but the longer Alternet article it’s based on is definitely worth a read as well. It is terrifying to me that this is possible in the year 2010, but I know it’s not uncommon.

I will never understand why a police department works so hard to frame someone for murder — don’t they want the actual killer caught just as much as the rest of us? And why do we still sanction state killing when this kind of thing is possible? (Via.)

Nope, saying everybody knows everybody’s position is not the same as saying, “This man is full of BS and we don’t agree with it here at the White House.” Guess which one of those things the press secretary is saying and which one he should be saying.

It would have been bad enough if this government employee had harangued Amber Yust while she was visiting the DMV, but the fact that he sent materials to her home address and gave her personal information to his church is a frightening breach of trust we put in public employees and a clear case of harassment. I agree with Melissa McEwan: why is he not fired or arrested?

The Silly

Should anyone be looking for a last-minute Christmas present for me, please feel free to make these fake covers a delightful reality! (Thanks to Oona for the link)

New Year’s Celebrations

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It’s the end of the calendar year, which gym membership fliers and credit card mailers alike will tell you means it’s time to set self-improvement goals for the coming year. Time to start an exercise regimen, go on a strict diet, clip coupons, send homemade birthday cards, master the art of the soufflé, and take up yoga or knitting. New Year’s resolutions are almost always a socially acceptable form of self-flagellation. “I’m not thin enough! I’m not pretty enough! I’m not virtuous enough! I will fix all this! I will be Me, Version 2.0! I will implant a chip in my brain that feeds me whatever information I need at the moment and always knows the location of the nearest Starbucks! I will gain superhuman strength and shed the need for sleep, and thus will I be the best person I can be!” I think you can see where this is going — New Year’s resolutions lead to cyborg armies. So for the good of our collective happiness and the future of America, I suggest we ditch resolutions this year. Instead, let’s think up some New Year’s Celebrations!

make some noise!

New Year's Celebrations!

Okay, so there are non-cyborg goals that are totally worthy and wonderful, of course. This blog wouldn’t exist without goals, and I wouldn’t be traveling around the world in a couple years either, for that matter. But for all the goals that motivate, there are goals that make it difficult to appreciate who we are right now and the joy we could be experiencing at this moment. Those are the cyborg goals these celebrations go against.

My list of celebrations is made up of things I can do that I know will bring me happiness, so it can be something I’ve done before or something that’s totally new to me. It’s not something to work toward or achieve or feel burdened about completing. It’s just something that will enhance my life in some way. But lest we stray too close to New Age-y “light some scented candles” or positivist “smile on the outside to feel the smile on the inside” malarkey, I think the list of celebrations needs to be made up of concrete, specific things. (Like a paper for English class!) Instead of “laugh more,” it should be “see an iO show” or “hang out with hilarious friend Alf every month.”

Now to implement the best part, which is also the hardest part (you knew there was a catch). With New Year’s resolutions, or most goal-oriented projects, the whole system is set up as cause & effect, rewards & punishments. This makes sense when you are changing something; how else do you measure progress and ensure you stay on the right track? But it can really mess you up psychologically. Diets are an obvious example — “I had a cupcake at lunch so I’ll do an extra 20 minutes on the elliptical” or “I’m eating veggies only for three days straight so I can cheat and have pasta on Valentine’s Day.” But other New Year’s resolutions can be similar — rewarding yourself with new nail polish because you saved on not getting a manicure, or the like. Soon every decision becomes a negotiation, every moment a cost/benefit analysis. It’s mentally exhausting to live in a near-constant state of trade-offs.

Thus, New Year’s Celebrations are totally free of cause and effect. You don’t go see that iO show as a reward for going 30 days smoke-free; you go because you have a free night and $12 and it sounds like fun. These are no-strings-attached things to do. The list is just a reminder of all the ways you love to have fun, a handy reference for whenever you might have cause to use it and celebrate the fact that you are alive.

Here are some things on my list of New Year’s Celebrations for 2010:

  • Spend an entire day at the beach
  • Spend an entire day reading
  • Visit a museum I’ve never been to before, like the DuSable or the NMMA
  • Eat a peach (and play a good album)
  • Say “yes” to a random invitation when I have plans to do something more dull
  • Visit the Garfield Park Conservatory when it’s cold outside, all the better to enjoy the tropical interior
  • Drink a beer chosen by the bartender at Quenchers

And so on and so forth. What are some celebratory ideas you have?

Also, if you are looking for a beautifully written piece on the idea of appreciating smaller moments, check out my friend’s blog here.

The Good, The Bad, and The Silly

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The Good

I didn’t even know there wasn’t an official US stance against child marriage before, but at least there is now! (And PS, how fantastic and lovely are the girls in that photo?)

I wish stories like this would get more press: Obama rights some past wrongs on behalf of the US.

Another terrific Sady Doyle piece, this one on women action heroes and just how important they are for young girls and women alike. I dream someday she will read my Headley Surprise series and we will become friends and talk about books and movies and the power of the all caps function.

A community organization in Ohio is making huge strides in saving homeowners from foreclosure, and saving banks money in the process. A good model that lending agencies across the country would be wise to look to. (Thanks to Mike for the link.)

Remember how last week I shared a link that highlighted more excellent activism from Rosa Parks? Here’s a quick piece on a teenage girl who, several months before Rosa Parks and with none of her community organizing backing, refused to give up her seat on a bus. And it turns out it wasn’t her first time standing up against injustice, either. Kudos to Claudette Colvin of Montgomery, Alabama.

The Bad

The House voted to repeal Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, but the Senate did not, despite a couple key senators previously having stated they would vote to repeal and then changing their minds at the last minute. That kind of trickery isn’t just bad politics, it’s bad faith to show your constituents that you can’t be trusted to do as you say. Reid may bring up the vote again in this lame duck session, so fingers crossed senators’ consciences kick in and we can get this vile piece of law outta here.

The dire economy continues to hit people hard the nation over: Arizona is now dropping people from organ transplant lists if they can’t pay for the operation themselves. There has got to be a better way to deal with funding cuts.

Our tax dollars paid for child prostitution in Afghanistan. Sure, there are a few more steps along the way in there, but when shady companies like DynCorp get hired over and over again despite charges of serious misdeeds and criminal behavior, you have to start phrasing it in the starkest terms for people to pay attention. Just because it’s veiled in backroom negotiations and technically legal moves, doesn’t make it right. (Via.)

The Silly

No words, just an actor, black and white film, and a score that’s aiming for Hitchcockian: the results are a mix of moving scenes and slow-mo Oscar bait.

Here are some cool aerial shots of cities around the world. I can’t wait to visit them! Thanks to my dad for the link.

Readers vs. Writers?

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This post is a month late and maybe a dollar short, but I think it’s worth talking about anyway. Last month, Laura Miller, co-founder of Salon, wrote a piece that basically stated NaNoWriMo is not only worthless, but damaging to books and the literary community. Many bloggers took umbrage with this, notably Campatron, who said that NaNoWriMo is vital to keeping creativity alive in this country. At the risk of sounding controversial, I’m going to say that they’re both a bit right and a bit wrong. (And possibly a little bit country and/or rock and roll, although that rumor is unconfirmed.)

Readers vs. Writers?

Miller’s main points are: NaNoWriMo participants would write regardless of whether they devoted a month to meeting daily writing quotas. The material they produce in this time period is crap. They submit that crap for publication, and we don’t need to publish more crap. Too many writers don’t read. Readers are underappreciated and not enough people read. People should read more.

Campatron’s main points are: NaNoWriMo participants wouldn’t write regardless, because the world doesn’t value creativity enough. There aren’t too many books already in the world. Not everyone who participates tries to publish. All the writers she knows read, and in fact the NaNoWriMo organization puts together book drives and young writer programs. Miller’s piece is part of the problem in a country that doesn’t support creativity among kids and adults alike.

Seems to me that both authors are looking at the whole thing with too narrow a focus. Laura Miller’s looking at it from the book publishing side of things, and Campatron’s looking at it from the unpublished writer’s side of things, so they both miss realities the other sees all too clearly.

Miller’s right in that there aren’t as many readers as there used to be — just look at this National Endowment for the Arts report on declining reading rates among young people especially. Maybe Campatron is privileged to be surrounded with writing AND reading friends, but I know writers who don’t make the time to read, despite the wise adage that in order to be a good writer, you need to be a good reader. People aren’t reading a diverse array of books, is one of the main problems. The past fifteen years has seen the rise of the mega-blockbuster, which makes some people very, very rich, and keeps more oddball or esoteric efforts on the edges with no money from the publishing houses to support even a small print run on them. Everyone’s reading Dan Brown, and all the money Random House pumps into publicity and print runs on his latest novel means there’s that much less available for a debut novel or poetry chapbook. Publishing houses and readers play the blame game with each other, but the fact is that publishing houses are taking fewer and fewer risks in publishing unknown authors and unusual literature, and readers are buying fewer and fewer books that aren’t on the bestselling shelves. Hardworking indie publishers are doing their best to combat this, and I commend them for their efforts, but it is too bad that major publishing houses are so convinced that their industry is dying that they’re all scrambling to hoard a piece of the pie they’re familiar with instead of, I dunno, baking a whole new pie.

Miller’s point that writers need readers sounds simplistic, but it’s true and I agree it’s a point that doesn’t get as much attention as it ought. As my adviser in college once told me, reading is a creative act just as important as writing. We don’t need readers only for book sales; we need them to share interpretations and inspirations and disagreements with other readers, and to talk about what those books mean to their lives. We need readers to share in the imagination of the writers. I totally agree with Miller’s fear of the decline of reading and the attendant decline in quality writing. Reading gives writers ideas for new ways to say what they want to say, and enriches their own imagination. A well-read author is an author I want to read.

But Campatron is right when she says that discouraging writers from participating in something like NaNoWriMo is a disgraceful thing for someone involved in literature to be saying. Miller’s focused on the idea that all these writers are submitting their first drafts for publication, and no doubt some do. There are always going to be some people who are convinced their every word is a perfect pearl and they deserve publication and a seat next to Dan Brown and Stephenie Meyer at the Hot Shit Writers’ Table. But there are more writers out there with a realistic view of things, who don’t print out hundreds of pages on November 30 and cram it all into envelopes bound for the overworked editors of Little, Brown. These writers participate in NaNoEdMo in March, devoting their time to revising and editing those novels they pumped out the previous November. These writers are on writers’ forums online, and perhaps in writing groups in their hometowns. These writers are serious about the act of writing, and when the NaNoWriMo website admits that writers will write a lot of crap during November, those serious writers know that doesn’t mean they should just be done with it. They know there are many more steps to publication. Or alternately, as Campatron points out, they don’t even aim for publication but write just for the joy of writing, and why would you ever be against someone doing something that brings them joy like that? Miller says, “there’s not much glory in finally writing that novel if it turns out there’s no one left to read it,” which is true if your ultimate goal is to have people read your work. But if you write only for yourself, then fine, keep your novel in your home and enjoy it yourself. It’s not hurting anyone and why would Miller have a problem with that?

Campatron is 100% wrong when she says, “the world DOES need bad books. Without the bad books there would be no good books because you need to start somewhere goddammit.” The world needs bad DRAFTS of books, but there is no need to have dreck published and sent out into the world to be consumed and tossed aside. Writers need to start somewhere, sure, but that somewhere should be in something like a NaNoWriMo session or a writing group, not in a published book. How many authors admit they spent years on their first novel, only to realize they needed to get it out of their system so they could write their second, much better novel? (Many, is the answer.) Not every published book has to be perfect, but it has to be more than the first effort, because books are too precious to waste. And that is something that both Campatron and Miller seem to agree on, if nothing else.