The day before yesterday was International Literacy Day

Not that I'd actually ever heard of this, but seems like an appropriate enough prompt.

Now, I'd love to to get rid of religious texts as much as the next Koran-hating, soon-to-be-burning (apparently not anymore), Southern evangelical minister with really awful facial hair. But that's where our paths diverge, of course, because I mean to relieve the world of all religion, including mister child-molester-meets-1800s-train-conductor-face's Christianity, not just the ones he deems a threat. (And only a threat to his religion and country, not to the secular world as a whole, as I see religion for the most part.)

That, and my firm belief, buttressed by human history, that prohibition as a methodology for social transformation is usually unhinged from reality. What bothers me more than the destruction of books, which I'm generally against, is the thinking that doing so will effect a desired outcome; that it will somehow stem the supposedly rising tide of supposedly dangerous Islam. (In all fairness, all religion is increasing all the time; that's just part of the deal, especially in the West. Interestingly, of the big three, despite their progenitor status, the Jews have been the worst at this.) In fact, it usually has the opposite effect, as it would here, of fomenting opposition to whatever the mechanism of suppression. And we shouldn't need a general in the field and our president to tell us that.

Not only does this conflate a small faction of violent fundamentalism with its mainstream religious counterpart--a point I've been known to concede if not proffer, though here I'll take the moderate tack--it perhaps belies an insecure uncertainty that the "best" religion, here Christianity, will win out. And so it goes, they must burn certain books, they must ban the construction of certain buildings. All to protect the children, of course. Ironically, it would seem they don't have enough faith (wow, I never thought I'd think that) in their own, well, faith to believe their children will make the same supposedly correct decisions as they have--at least when it comes to what flavor you want your theology-kool-aid.

Hey! You've got your Islam in my Bible Belt!

(Pray harder stupid)

Despite my opinions about the destructive role of religion in society (as this and many other things these days illustrate), I'm all for the freedom of expression, ethically and Constitutionally, and that includes the freedom to worship how one pleases. But if you want to start putting restrictions on religious liberty, I say start with the extremist elements of ALL religions here in the good-old U.S. of A. So that would mean Pastor Facial-Hair-Nightmare and his Fifty Fools in Florida are out of the country and the Islamic cultural center in lower Manhattan gets built on the hallowed ground of the once great Burlington Coat Factory.

But more about that another time.

Literally the least you can do.

Still, better than doing nothing. It seems to have helped before.


"Emergency Response teams from the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) are distributing tents, relief supplies, and humanitarian assistance to people displaced by the flooding. In Balochistan, UNHCR has delivered 4,000 tents, 2,700 plastic sheets, 2,200 kitchen sets, and 4,000 plastic mats to the most devastated areas. The organization has partnered with mGive to allow mobile contributions. Anyone in the world can now text the word "SWAT" to 50555 to give $10, which helps provide tents and emergency stipends to displaced families. When prompted, reply with "YES" to confirm your gift."

From and for other ways: http://www.thenation.com/blog/154063/how-help-pakistan


Have been reading Richard Price's "A Multitude of Sins," a short story collection, one of which mentions "pointless acts of pointless generosity"--such as saving a butterfly, even if for only a brief time, from a parking lot--and then makes an argument for doing them anyway.

That reminded me of this pic I took recently with my camera's phone, when, walking around McCarren Park in Williamsburg, M. found a dying butterfly and decided to move it off the sidewalk, out of the way of oncoming foot-traffic.

"I am, for instance, a person who stops to move turtles off of busy interstates, or picks up butterflies in shopping mall parking lots and puts them into the bushes to give them a better chance at survival. I know these are pointless acts of pointless generosity. Yet there isn't a time when I do it that I don't get back in the car thinking more kindly about myself. (Later I often work around to thinking of myself as a fraud, too.) But the alternative is to leave the butterfly where it lies expiring, or to let the big turtle meet annihilation on the way to the pond; and in doing these things let myself in for the indictment of cruelty or the sense of loss that would follow. Possibly, anyone would argue, these issues are too small to think about seriously, since whether you preform these acts or don't perform them, you always forget them in five minutes."

Possibly, but I don't get the feeling he would have written about it if he truly believed that.

Barney Frank use pot legalization analogy...

and then refuses to accept a single metaphor from Stephen Colbert.

(No, he didn't use this one.)

But before that, Colbert was pressing Frank on why the recently-created Consumer Protection Agency was needed, saying it's just another "nanny-state" measure by the Dem's. Frank then asserted that if Colbert was concerned about the nanny state he should consider ending marijuana prohibition. At which point Colbert started using obtuse metaphors about trying to make banks (tigers) change their thieving ways (stripes).

Also, watch the interview with (almost indistinguishable from that other tall, thin scary-looking blond, right-wing-moron chick, except her voice is less raspy--but not completely unraspy, as that's no doubt part of the appeal, being on the radio and their, achem, older male dmographic) Laura Ingraham. He fillets her and her stupid new NY Times best-seller quite nicely; it went well with my mac & cheese entree.

(No, this is MIA. She's like the opposite of Ingraham, but I wanted to post her spitting on a camera guy. Classy.)

Not Ike's Military Industrial Complex

So says one of the authors of "Top Secret America," The Washington Post series about the sprawling defense apparatus that has mushroomed since 9/11.

Kafka could have only dreamed of such bureaucratic inefficiency. Of course, that's absolutely false: he wrote about it. (Actually, just re-reading The Castle; a translation put out in the past decade that is much closer to what he left behind than what was originally published, and finished, after his death by his friend.)

[Lovin' that -do.]

Finally, perhaps, the always-expanding defense complex, which includes the military and all the intelligence agencies, will become part of the deficit debate. It will be interesting to see how the deficit-hawks, typically some of the strongest supporters of defense spending (of course, this crosses the aisle), will react to this indictment of the community, which includes the Congressional role of funding of the whole thing.

This was the thread picked up most by the former head of the 9/11 Commission that recommended the creation of the DNI position, the ostensible head of this ungainly beast, in the first place. On PBS News Hour, he said that no matter how well coordinated the agencies are, redundancies and inefficiencies will remain, if the funding process in Congress remains fragmented. Uh, great.

Gopnik takes Evolutionary Bio to task (and: Pinker decries tech-phobia)

This sums up well the argument against there being different human races. And it's a 150 yo, so obviously it'll be widely accepted in no time.

Hopefully, eventually, because he's not now, Adam Gopnik, The New Yorker editor and author, will be seen as a greater thinker/writer (he writes about a much wider range of subjects) than Steve Pinker--not that I dislike him, just disagree more.


Except here, where I totally agree with him about all the tech-is-rotting-our-brains shit.

The most recent iteration, which began at least fifteen years ago (reading a book of essays about tech and lit and language from '95; and while only half of them are doomsday predictions, it's interesting to read the same urgency, hasting toward the precipice, we hear so much of today), goes: print is dying, we're stopping reading, our brains are turning to mush. Bullshit. Language, as it always has, will mutate and be mutated by the mediums and environments we humans find or put ourselves in. I'm starting to think that language is the height of human accomplishment, the greatest technology, and all subsequent developments are similarly oriented towards encouraging mutually-beneficial bonds within the species, possibly with other species, by way of expanding empathy and compassion. (This is a combination of thoughts taken from the one of the essays mentioned above and Pinker's evo-bio concept of the purpose of empathy.)

Holy shit, I've turned Buddhist and linguist in one paragraph--Jesus.

"Birds have been seen covered in oil..."

"Saw photos of the brown pelican, Louisiana's state bird." --just texted from my Bushwick housemate.

My response text: "Had awesome NOLA (New Orleans, LA) BBQ shrimp last night."

Just in time, I guess. Unfortunately, I've been saying this same line about NOLA since I managed to get there just before Katrina changed it dramatically, from what I gather. Here they go again.

[Currently listening: http://flavorwire.com/89885/daily-dose-pick-unkle]

(only figuratively, of course)

Might as well share here too: High Violet, yeah!

The National's new one is freaking killing me--in the totally best way: tears moved to, joy filled with.

Yeah, this pretty much says it all--epsecially the thing about ocean people. See M.?

Flavorpill: What’s your idea of happiness?

Perry Farrell: Being around music in a relaxed way; making it, listening to it, and all the things that magnetize to that moment.

FP: What’s your idea of misery?

PF: Misery is being inland, without an ocean around, and without the people that live by the ocean around. Also, having to pay attention a lot harder than I’m used to — being serious. Immaturity has its virtues. Not wearing the suit and tie, it keeps you youthful.

(Andrew Wyeth: Wind from the Sea)

No wonder we're all neurotic,

with our mega-OCD-founding father, Thomas Jefferson:

'Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time who never loses any. It is wonderful how much can be done if we are always doing.'

Yeah, whatever, bro.

That's Thomas Jefferson, born in Albemarle County, Virginia (1743). And he certainly lived by those words. He wrote the Declaration of Independence for the fledging United States and then served as its minister of France, secretary of state, vice president, and president. But he was also--among other things--an inventor, philosopher, farmer, naturalist, astronomer, food and wine connoisseur, and musician. An early biographer, James Parton, described the young Jefferson a year before he helped write the Declaration of Independence: 'A gentleman of 32 who could calculate an eclipse, survey an estate, tie an artery, plan an edifice, try a cause, break a horse, dance a minuet, and play the violin.'

Jefferson was an important force in American architecture. He was inspired by Andrea Palladio's The Four Books of Architecture, which drew from classical Roman principles,and he determined to improve Virginia's architecture, which he disliked. He designed his great estate, Monticello, as well as the University of Virginia, the Virginia State Capitol, and a number of federal buildings in Washington, D.C.--he is responsible for the neoclassical look of our Capitol. He read widely in architecture throughout his life, and he observed buildings as he traveled and brought back new ideas to incorporate into his designs.

He loved to read about much more than architecture--he said, 'I cannot live without books.' He wrote to John Adams, 'I have given up newspapers in exchange for Tacitus and Thucydides, for Newton and Euclid; and I find myself much the happier.'

Jefferson said, 'Nature intended me for the tranquil pursuits of science, by rendering them my supreme delight.' Even as a scientist his interests varied widely. He knew physics, anatomy, botany, and geology. He was a talented astronomer who accurately predicted an eclipse in 1778. When he founded the University of Virginia in 1819, one of his main plans for its curriculum was astronomy, and he wanted to build the first planetarium and observatory in the country. He was also an enthusiastic naturalist and paleontologist. At one point, he had the East Room of the White House covered with potential mastodon bones.

His talent for botany was evident in his Monticello gardens and farm. In the gardens, he grew 170 varieties of fruit, 330 varieties of vegetables, and ornamental plants and flowers. He grew Mexican varieties of peppers, beans collected by Lewis and Clark, broccoli from Italy. The English pea was his favorite vegetable, and he had a Garden Book in which he kept exhaustive notes on the states of his turnips, lettuces, artichokes, tomatoes, eggplants, and squash--when each variety was sown, when it was mulched and how, when the first leaves or fruits appeared, which varieties were tastiest. His household ate from the garden, and he said that he ate meat and animal products 'as a condiment for the vegetables, which constitute my principal diet.' Some of the varieties that Jefferson cultivated at Monticello have been passed down as heirloom vegetables, and people still plant them in their backyard gardens. Overall, he had about 5,000 acres of farmland, planted mostly in wheat and other grains. The man who wrote 'All men are created equal' defended the institution of slavery, and he was dependent on the labor of hundreds of slaves to keep his farms running. He spent a large part of his days supervising them; he wrote, 'From breakfast, or noon at the latest, to dinner, I am mostly on horseback, Attending to My Farm or other concerns, which I find healthful to my body, mind, and affairs.'

Jefferson loved music. He wrote to an Italian friend: 'If there is a gratification which I envy any people in this world it is to your country its music. This is the favorite passion of my soul, and fortune has cast my lot in a country where it is in a state of deplorable barbarism.' He played the violin, and sometimes the cello and harpsichord, and sang. He walked around Monticello singing and humming to himself.

Jefferson died on July 4,1826, exactly 50 years after his Declaration of Independence had been adopted. He was 83 years old and wrote his own epitaph before he died. It didn't mention anything about being president. It said: 'Here was buried Thomas Jefferson, Author of the Declaration of American Independence, of the Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom, and Father of the University of Virginia.'

Was he ashamed of us?

He said: 'In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.'

I think I have it backwards: my style is forever stuck in mid-90s slacker mud, while I've come to distrust those of unbending principle--life is rarely simplistic enough to allow for such idealism.

A reminder to my anti-South inclination of Southern worth.

The Writer's Almanac:

It's the birthday of Flannery O'Connor, born 85 years ago today in Savannah, Georgia (1925), who wrote two novels and 32 short stories and who said: 'I come from a family where the only emotion respectable to show is irritation. In some this tendency produces hives, in others literature, in me both.' When she was six, she and a chicken that she taught to walk backward appeared on the news. She later said: 'I was just there to assist the chicken but it was the high point in my life. Everything since has been anticlimax.'

After college, she went to the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and then spent time at the Yaddo Writers' Colony. At the age of 26, she was diagnosed with lupus, the disease that had killed her father when she was a teenager. At the time, doctors told her she would live for another five years, but she survived for nearly 14 years. She moved back to Georgia so that her mom could take care of her, to a 500-acre family farm in Milledgeville where she raised chickens, ducks, hens, geese, and peacocks, her favorite. She arose every morning when the chickens first cackled, went to 7:00 a.m. Mass in town at Sacred Heart, returned home and wrote for a couple of hours each day, until she felt too weak or tired.

As she herself put it, she wrote about 'freaks and folks.' She said, 'Whenever I'm asked why Southern writers particularly have a penchant for writing about freaks, I say it is because we are still able to recognize one.'

In her sickly 14 years on the farm with her mother, O'Connor wrote two dozen short stories and two novels filled with her freakish, obsessive characters, crazy preachers, murderers, outcasts.

Her most famous stories include 'A Good Man Is Hard to Find,' about a silly, annoying old woman whose entire family gets murdered by a man called The Misfit, and 'Good Country People,' about a pretentious young woman whose wooden leg is stolen by a Bible salesman.

Many of Flannery O'Connor's letters are collected in a volume called The Habit of Being (1979), edited by her friend Sally Fitzgerald. And despite O'Connor's premonition that 'there won't be any biographies of me, because lives spent between the house and the chicken yard do not make exciting copy,' a new book about her life came out just last year, written by Brad Gooch and entitled Flannery (2009).

Flannery O'Connor said, 'The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.'

(Faulkner quote)

Breaking Silence - For My Son by Patricia Fargnoli

The night you were conceived
your father drove up Avon Mountain
and into the roadside rest
that looked over the little city,
its handful of scattered sparks.
I was eighteen and thin then
but the front seat of the 1956 Dodge
seemed cramped and dark,
the new diamond, I hadn't known
how to refuse, trapping flecks of light.
Even then the blackness was thick
as a muck you could swim through.
Your father pushed me down
on the scratchy seat, not roughly
but as if staking a claim,
and his face rose like
a thing-shadowed moon above me.
My legs ached in those peculiar angles,
my head bumped against the door.
I know you want me to say I loved him
but I wanted only to belong--to anyone.
So I let it happen,
the way I let all of it happen--
the marriage, his drinking, the rage.
This is not to say I loved you any less--
only I was young and didn't know yet
we can choose our lives.
It was dark in the car.
Such weight and pressure,
the wet earthy smell of night,
a slickness like glue.
And in a distant inviolate place,
as though it had nothing at all
to do with him, you were a spark
in silence catching.

from Necessary Light. (c) Utah State University Press, 1999.



Lest we forget all the Baptists. Even the NE doesn't look too good. At least there's more diversity of kookiness. Still, the West is looking better and better: down w/ God, up with Pot.

"RNC Embraces Restraint, But Not the Fiscal Kind"

From The Nation:

"This week, an RNC spokesperson confirmed that the committee is looking into a report that thousands of dollars from the committee's account was spent at a Los Angeles club called Voyeur West Hollywood, which offers discerning customers a chance to sample simulated bondage scenes and nudity. The ambience of this club, one web site promises, "transports you to a world of risque sexuality and eroticism."

I'm certainly not going to criticize the RNC for reaching out to the country's more sexually-adventurous communities. Presumably, the GOP's spin doctors considered making the case that recent developments should be seen as a measure of progress for which Steele could claim credit.

Ultimately, however, the chairman proved to be a tad shy about the Voyeur connection."

(Hannah Giles of fake-hooker ACORN sting fame.)

The kids are alright: Twin Sister plays Coco66

Despite unavoidably being reminded of my significant age advantage during their show, almost two weeks ago, at Coco66 in Greenpoint, Twin Sister (download a free four song EP also) are indeed something to experience live. Here's my FlipVideo of one of my current fave songs: "I Want a House".




Another video clip, this one not my own, is worth a look, too. Thank heavens, The National are finally putting out a new album this year. Here is the first song, "The Terrible," I've heard/saw. And we have (unfortunately, because, as I've previously made clear, I hate him) Jimmy Fallon to thank. And BrooklynVegan, for that matter.