The Hundred Year Squeaky Wheel

Do you think this era's Shakespeare (assuming there will be one--probably not, theater being just one of many mediums for dramaturgy, and not the most widespread and common as he was in his day) will be writing scores of plays about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?

It is perhaps, in part, because of the historical (of course, more topical to their original audiences) significance of Shakespeare plays, revolving around England and France's 100 years war, that they have stuck around so long? No doubt this can be a good thing. Would I know of Henry V or Richard II, if not for The Bard? Of course it is the style, wit, and narrative that has helped keep him in the hands of high-school students to this day, but does not the authenticity of the events stir our collective call to "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more" (Act III, scene I)?

Really, if film can be seen as the true people's medium of the last hundred years--it can--then at this point you would have to look at WWII as the crowning, defining dramatic representation of war for our times. Well, then, where are all the movies of this conflict? To be sure, there are more reasons than I don't care to go into here: from the difference in scale of the conflicts to the indifference of an American audience not directly involved; indeed, Jews, who have had a disproportionate influence in Hollywood, are to be found in both sagas--though with the differing roles of simply and strictly the victim to the more complex persona of victim and aggressor.

Most important, though, is the cushion of time removed from the events: how is one to make a sprawling decades long cinema classic if we don't even know what happens in the end? Hollywood, like any good epic/epoch maker, needs a conclusion. It need not be tidy; in fact messy makes for more interesting. So for god's sake, or at least for Oscar's, get it over with already. I want my DVD box set, with running commentary from the director--I'm looking at you Scorsese.

What's the hub-bub, bub?

So now that Obama-rama is almost upon us, one of the first questions to be answered, raised by one of the first issues we've been promised will dealt with by the New-Man, the closing of Guantanamo prison: what is to be done with all those meanies?

Well, brought onto American soil would raise the messy issues of habeas corpus and other Latin legalese. Eh. That seems like a lot of trouble. Especially, as is often the case, there's no smoking guns for the good folks at CSI: Miami to get evidence from. Hell, there's not even any rape-kits. Remember, this isn't Abu-Grahb and we're not talking about prosecuting American soldiers--hey, watch it, buddy.

Of course, we could try returning them to their countries of origin, or even where they were captured, mostly in Afghanistan and Iraq. Why not? Undesirables have been routinely shipped off to these types of countries (you know: lots of sand, oil, and Muslims) for years. And they--the new jailers--don't even have to worry about ball-torture retribution from the public, as balls are fair game! Then again, if we're to believe these guys are such bad-asses, why would they want them? And, better still, why do we want to give them up?

I've got the answer: the sea. Either a decommissioned, or unused, aircraft-carrier should do the trick, right? Not our land, not theirs. Even better, for the prisoners and guards anyway, how about an ocean-liner? You know, a cruise ship! Nothing fancy, of course. But I'm sure there's plenty sitting in dry-dock these days, the way the vacation industry has been giving it away lately. Christ, even my parents are going on a cruise in a couple of weeks--so it can't cost more than an Econo-lodge per-night. I'd spring for that. Plus, how angry a terrorist can you be if you're being tooled around the Gulf of Mexico, drinking pina coladas? Virgin pina coladas, of course. Very virgin, most likely.

The Day After: my angry post (or: a little levity)

Speaks for itself. Enjoy. And, as always, props to the stats dept. at The Economist.

Burn, Oakland, Burn!

Fuck the police, comin' straight outta Oakland!

I just saw three different videos of an unarmed man, face down with a police officer's knee on his neck get shot in the back and killed by another officer standing above the two. WTF!?!

There is nothing "inconclusive," which was the reaction from Oakland's chief of police, calling for calm until further investigation, about the footage I saw. The dead man is seen for some time on his knees, then for no apparent reason, he is forced face down onto the ground, completely prone. Next, one of the two officers who did this is seen standing up, at this point not touching or being touched by anyone, including the dead guy, pulls out his gun, points downward and then a sharp report is heard. It is clear as day. (Well, as clear as cell phone/small digital cameras can be.)

Jesus. I haven't felt hatred toward the police like what I feel right now in years, maybe since I was a testosterone-fueled teenager, singing along with N.W.A. My gut reaction? I wish I had been there, and along with everyone else would've rushed all of those cops, grabbed the one responsible and ripped him limb from limb. But maybe I'm overreacting.

There is plenty of footage on YouTube, from many different angles. Watch a few. Here, a reporter shows a police spokesman, visibly disturbed, the footage for the first time.

Oh, did I mention it was a black young man shot by a white police officer, all of a two-year veteran? But you could've assumed that much, I suppose. Sick of my sarcasm yet? I am.

(No pic for this post, I'm too upset to bother.)

She Told You! Hm!

Where is the great Arab culture we have learned about in school? Why don't they [other Arab nations] help us [Palestinians]? Shame on them!

- displaced Palestinian mother in Gaza recently on World Focus, PBS

From Russia with masochistic love

In a countrywide vote of 5m people, Russians chose Alexander Nevsky, a medieval prince, as the greatest Russian of all time, only a little ahead of Joseph Stalin, the front-runner in early polling
-The Economist

A seeming paradox, but indeed, despite espoused ideology both historical figures share Orwell's image of "a boot stomping on human face -- forever."

End times

By far the best, most concise and still technical enough way to follow the end of the world (economy) as we know it. Still, for some reason, this isn't a depressing thought. Am I being naive? Uninformed. Trust me, my optimism is not only steeped in Obama-rama. What then? I'll let you know when I figure it out. Till then, it's a damn good show. Talk about reality-TV.

From Oprah's "Big Give" to that show where millionaires go undercover to find deserving people to give a wad of cash to, TV entertainment has moved from greed and humiliation based shows to philanthropy. Not such a bad thing, eh?

All of this is part of a trend I've been seeing and talking about with others lately. A move towards humility and gravitas, sobriety and maybe even solemnity. Unquestionably there's a pragmatism, at least economically, but it's more than that. There's a blurb in The New Yorker recently about how businesses are using less flashy, more restrained and simply designed bags or packaging for their stores and products. Perhaps not so much in other parts of the country, but here in NYC, where we travel to and fro together, there's beginning to be a noticeable absence of haggard (or just gag inducing) women (or, see below, their boyfriends) using their well-worn Victoria's Secret bags for every-day portage, with all the damaging mental images they bring. Thank you, economic downturn, thank you.

The Moral Majority is dead! (Well at least the guy that coined the term.)

And it's about time. Relax, he was in ill health for some time and was super-old. But, really, when you help foment a movement as destructive and backward as this has been, you're just asking for it. Asking for what? Asking to have your grave danced on, punk! Oh no you didn't! Oh yes, I did.

Kissinger on Charlie Rose

When asked what he would call these times of upheaval we are experiencing, Kissinger paused, thought and responded, "Perhaps, a time of Compatible Interests." Word? Has the realist thinker in international affairs of days gone by become an optimist, an internationalist?

Revelation: Macabees Revisited (or: Festival of Slights)

Watching BBC World on PBS the other day; and to my shock, discomposure and disorientation, I was shown something I had heard and read about but not ever seen shown on TV: kippah'd and taleet wearing Israeli-jewish settlers living on Palestinian land (according to internationally recognized borders), throwing rocks down a hill onto non-violent Palestinian civilians in the town below--just because.

(Plainly, there's not much to do out in the desert. Things can get a bit tense with one group on the top of the hill praying and bobbing and swaying, and the other at the bottom kneeling and bowing and praying... and praying and bowing and squatting and kneeling! Oh my!)

Hard Times (or: "May you live in interesting times.")

Sometimes it feels thrilling to live in this world, in this time. To know not the end of history and, if not, then the most we can know for sure is that things change, necessarily. So, as to what will happen to our “city on a hill,” one can only wonder. That’s part of the thrill. It's also the faith that it can’t get worse, or won’t. But really, it can. It’s hard to imagine, since, to remember a similar time would require memories I don’t contain. Not that memories are terribly reliable anyway.

My hundred-year-old grandmother has them, memories; in fact, that’s all she seems to have left. Crisp as digital video from some ancient Greek orator, her youth of first-generation east coast, big city American Jewish. But there’s no connection to now, so far as I can tell, no comparison of memory to present, no comfort in knowing. Though, too, she doesn’t remember the unhappy news of today tomorrow, at least she’s spared that knowledge.

Jesus Christ.

It's well established that I'm an avid fan, if not "cybercriminal," of The Economist. But this horizontal bar graph providing the extent of various cyber-crimes is about as aesthetically pleasing as getting a peak at the ass-vertical of the delivery guy. I mean, c'mon: I'm no wardrobe person, or as it's called, "stylist," but the guy looks like a gay-prisoner from a 1920's cartoon or silent film, who now out of jail decides not to get out of his silk horizontaled bar pattern, but put on some dark cat-burglar gloves and go cyber-hacking, obviously worried that he might get his fingerprints on what is ostensibly his personal computer. And what's with the leer? It's about as threatening as bag of pasta. As well, cybercriminals aren't toughs. The ones doing the actually hacking or designing the software, they're gamers and role-players--computer dorks. No doubt some do indeed get rather large from all that lack of activity (I shouldn't talk), sitting there couch-bound and hungry.

If you were wondering why I would know the word "stylist," good catch. I was seeing one for a little while. Good girl. And cool. Client of note: The creepy yet attractive Olson Twin's clothing line photo-shoot. Unfortunately, the two weren't modeling; only one of them was there, and to just give the final nod. What happened? Well, I never saw the results because I didn't hang around much longer--definitely more of an "I'm a moron" move-on. Big eyes. Infectious laugh. Loud. Tough.