Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Dude, Grow Your Own

This Fourth of July, Elrond Hubbard celebrates the proud Americans who look at the sorry state of everything and say, “Fuck it. We’ll grow it ourselves.”

‘Cause let’s face it, folks. The world is going to Hell faster than you can say Larsen B Ice Shelf; to shit faster than you can say National Pork Producers Council.

Elrond Hubbard knows he does his part, driving an SUV. And he knows he consumes a buttload of gas in it, what with all his driving to Raleigh to pick up gear, taking it to Sanford or Rolesville or Chocowinity to shoot a video, and taking it back to Raleigh. And while he’s on the road, he consumes an assload of fast food.

He sits in left-turn lanes in Cary wondering where it all ends. Everyone takes twice as long to get to work now because they have to stop in at Starbucks. This means more people turning left, more assholes gunning back out into traffic, more cars idling in drive-throughs, more windshields out there at once reflecting glare into each other like infinity mirrors facing across the intersections.

Elrond Hubbard looks into that heat at 8:00 AM, when it’s already 90 degrees and hazy, and he thinks that all we are doing in the Middle East is stirring the stew. Call him un-patriotic. Call him un-supportive of our troops. Tell him he doesn’t deserve to watch fireworks on Independence Day because he does not honor the war to which they allude. Though we are continually told we are bringing fundamental change to the region, Elrond Hubbard finds himself agreeing with Fred Kaplan’s warning on Slate that, for all the times Bush repeats it, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to say.”

George Will sees virtually no realistic alternatives to paying high prices for oil from the Middle East. If we really look like we’re getting in to alternative fuels, he says, the Saudis will just lower oil prices to make potential investing in alternative fuels look less appealing. Anyway, where in our lifestyle are the worst impacts to the environment accrued? Perhaps not so much with carbon dioxide from conventional cars, but in the nitrous oxide and methane, as well as carbon dioxide, emitted in the production and delivery of a hamburger; or the stripping of land by the mining of zinc to make batteries for hybrids, he says.

Elrond Hubbard looks into the smog of hopelessness and thinks that the road to true change is paved not by hardliners with their cries for more war, or by those resigned to the status quo, but industrious folks who don’t waste time preaching about how people ought to live and instead look at what we need and say, “Fuck it. Let's just grow it.”

Friend and utilitarian "G" once lived with Elrond Hubbard. Now he runs a non-profit company New Harvest which plans to someday grow meat as tissue culture, relieving the world and its animals of much of the burden and suffering of factory farming.

Cultured meat isn't natural, but neither is yogurt," says [“G” in an interview with Wired.] And neither, for that matter, is most of the meat we eat. Cramming 10,000 chickens in a metal shed and dosing them full of antibiotics isn't natural. I view cultured meat like hydroponic vegetables. The end product is the same, but the process used to make it is different. Consumers accept hydroponic vegetables. Would they accept hydroponic meat?

Meanwhile, PetroSun Inc. has been growing crude oil from carbon dioxide taken out of the atmosphere, in an industrial algae farm of a sort which does not need to be located on cropland, in Opelika, Alabama, which is not in the Middle East. In August of 2007, the company will hold a three-day demonstration of their facility for invited guests who will need to sign non-disclosure agreements. Guests will be presented with samples of this home-grown crude oil which they can test in their own facilities. PetroSun should invite George Will. The company expects to begin selling crude oil to the biofuel industry in the first quarter of 2008. What could be more patriotic than that?

Continue . . .

Saturday, June 30, 2007

How to Talk to a Neoconservative (If You Must)

You are washing dishes at the kitchen sink with your step-mother “J” next to you. From the dining room, you hear the first two anti-terrorism propositions related in the previous post, and you get pissed.

You know that “J” does not like political discussions in the family. Once, in the past, you had a raging argument with your father in her presence, and later she told you it was not good for his blood pressure. But another time, Christmas Eve of 2005 to be exact, you stayed up until 3 AM talking to her about why we went to war in Iraq. She had just read America’s Secret War by George Friedman, and her favorite reason for the war was his assessment, in chapter 11, that the source of al Qaeda’s sentiment and funding was really Saudi Arabia, but that we could not attack that country directly and also could not count on it to police al Qaeda itself. So, we needed to stage a victory against some Arab country to show our strength and persuade Saudi Arabia to come back into strong alliance with us.

It would be interesting to know how she feels about this now. While we may have wanted Saudi Arabia to fear our military might and our “freedom,” what they may actually fear is our ability to iraquidate a country, plunge it into chaos that neither we nor it can control. In Iraq we have been like a little kid playing a board game who sees no better option than to upset the board and scatter the pieces.

Of all your parents (two step-, two biological), you feel closest to “J.” She may harbor basic conservative values about God, family, and country, but you know from the fact that she likes all the short story collections you buy for her for Christmas that she understands irony, can accept ambiguity, does not cling to dogma. And she has been relatively silent about U.S. relations in the Middle East lately. You think that maybe she agrees with you more on some issues now, maybe understands your suspicion from the moment our tanks rolled into Iraq that the U.S. does not know what it is doing. But she will not take your side vocally either, because of your father’s blood pressure and whatnot. So you think, standing next to her at the sink, that she does not want you to get involved in the conversation in the next room. But then you hear from the next room the third ridiculous neocon proposal for fixing the Middle East described in the previous post, and you leave the sink and go in.

Step-sister-in-law “E” is running her rant about how we should give safe haven to the women of Iraq, for surely they want the education we would provide to enable them to take control of their own lives. You interrupt. You tell her this sounds like the past neocon scheme hatched in the late ‘90’s to invade southern Shiite Iraq, protect the Shiites from Saddam, let them start the democracy that neocons were certain they would start. Such an arrangement, according to neocons, would be devastating to Saddam’s regime.

“E” puts her hand on your forearm and gives you, surprisingly, an understanding look. She knows how you disagree with her. Three summers ago you said that our country had been hoodwinked into supporting this war, and she said the WMD issue was “academic,” that an evil dictator had been ousted, that she could not count on Democrats to defend her family. Two summers ago she had said that we had to spread self determinism in the Middle East, that it was the only way to protect ourselves, that we were doing it for them, but really we were doing it for ourselves. One summer ago (when she was reading some collection of writings of St. Thomas Aquinas) she said, out of nowhere, that she would not talk about politics.

This summer she is reading A Christian Manifesto and is apparently willing to talk about politics again.

You tell her all neocon expectations for the Iraq war were based on presumptions. Neocons presumed that Iraqi Shiites were ready to start a democracy. Some presumed that if they open up Iraq as a completely free market, that the country would blossom as an example for the rest of the world. But also, you say, some neocons presumed that Iraqi Shiites would accept the Jordanian monarchy as their rule (not a democracy!) as stated by David Wurmser in an essay called “Clean Break” excerpted here at the Institute for Advanced Strategic and Political Studies. Still other neocons wanted to install Chalabi and other members of the Iraqi National Congress as the new government. For information on this, see George Packer’s The Assassin’s Gate chapters 3 and 4, or Juan Cole here. Both sources do not give any outright quotes from anyone saying the wanted to install Chalabi and the exiles, but there is strong evidence implying that this is true.

You’ve raised your voice at “E.” Tell her that, with respect to each of the neocon presumptions, the invasion of Iraq has had the opposite of the desired effect. Tell her that concurrently to our military involvement in Iraq, that country has become one of the biggest incubators of terrorism the world has ever known. If she wants to continue espousing neocon ideology, it would behoove her to explain what we can do from here forward to reverse this awful trend of increasing terrorism.

She says that we have to stick with it, that we can’t expect positive results so soon. Ask her if she believed Rumsfeld when he said we would be out in 6 months.

“Did he say that?” she says.

And did she believe Wolfowitz when he said we could do it with 150,000 troops?

She looks away. “I didn’t know that.”

Ask her what planet she has been living on. Tell her that, continuing the parade of neocon presumptions, William Kristol and Robert Kagan are now presuming that the turning against al Qaeda by moderate Sunni tribes is a sign that things are going well. Note that, while these genius writers had once cast their lot with Iraqi Shiites, now it is with Sunnis. Ask her what happened the last time the U.S. supported Sunni tribes against a common enemy.

She doesn’t know.

Tell her those were the precursors of al Qaeda. (Read Ghost Wars by Steve Coll.)

Tell her you read at least one article per week in The Weekly Standard and The National Review. Ask her if she reads anything outside the conservative media, and she admits she does not.

She starts on the comparison to the American Revolution. “I believe that every human ultimately wants self determinism,” she says. “I believe that democracy is what all people are striving for.”

Tell her you are not an expert on the American Revolution, but ask her if, before we started that war, our thirteen colonial governments were not pretty much running things for themselves. Ask her if it would have worked for France to invade the American colonies, kick England out, and then continue to occupy us and guide us to forming a democracy.

“No, that would not have worked,” she says.

Tell her that before we invaded Iraq, George Packer wrote a New York Times article called Dreaming of Democracy (free account required) which contained the following paragraph:

The chances of democracy succeeding even in Iraq under American occupation are highly questionable, [Thomas] Carothers [of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace] argues. War seldom creates democracy; according to a recent article in The Christian Science Monitor, of the 18 regime changes forced by the United States in the 20th century, only 5 resulted in democracy, and in the case of wars fought unilaterally, the number goes down to one -- Panama. Democracy takes root from within, over a long period of time, in conditions that have never prevailed in Iraq. For democracy to have a chance there would require a lengthy and careful American commitment to nation-building -- which could easily look to Iraqis and other Arabs like colonialism. Nor can we be sure that democracy, in Iraq or elsewhere, will lead to pro-American regimes; it might lead to the opposite. ''The idea that there's a small democracy inside every society waiting to be released just isn't true,'' Carothers says. ''If we're pinning our hopes on the idea that this will lead to a democratic change throughout the region, then we're invading for the wrong reason.'' Jessica T. Mathews, president of the Carnegie Endowment, adds, '''We've suffered so much that the only alternative is democracy' -- as soon as you say it, you realize there's a mile between the beginning and end of that sentence.''

“E” starts on her World War II analogy: we have to fight, we can’t let totalitarianism remain as a threat to us.

Ask her what WWII had that the Iraq war does not have. Tell her it was post war reconstruction. This was why Germany and Japan did not continue to wage war against their neighbors after WWII. This was what has been sorely lacking in the Iraq war.

“Then that’s the State Department’s fault,” she says, and you cut her off. No. The Pentagon suppressed State Department planning for post-war Iraq because it felt that such planning would delay our invasion. (Read The Assassin’s Gate chapters 3 and 4.)

The beach house has been vacated; all other family members are out on the beach. “E” wants to go out there too, so you both go, and while walking along the boardwalk over the barrier dune, she says “Look, I know Rumsfeld was an arrogant jerk.”

Tell her you are very sorry that the Bush administration has screwed up her dreams for a new Middle East. Remind her that at any time, Rumsfeld could have been fired by a discerning president.

“J” walks past you quickly while you are saying this, does not speak to you. You’ve been wondering if she will ask you to stop, but she does not.

Out on the beach, the kids and adults are waving flashlights around or venturing into the darkness to look for crabs. Tell “E” that you hope our country has learned something from our experience in Iraq: that if we invade a country and oust its government, then that whole country becomes our problem; that we can not predict the outcome of an invasion, particularly if we don’t make a very earnest and well-informed investment in the well-being of the people we intend to liberate; that regardless of how much we love freedom and democracy, we can not control how a population will vote, and it is the pseudo democracies of Iraq, Iran, and the Palestinians that are causing more trouble than the entrenched dictatorships of Saudi Arabia and Jordan.

Tell her that next time she wants to “help” the people of a country, she needs to first learn all she can about those people, and not just assume that some “Thomas Jefferson” will arise in their midst and steer them toward becoming like us.

You hope, in light of all this, that she does not want to invade Iran.

“No, I don’t want to invade Iran,” she says. “That would be stupid. But we should bomb Damascus into glass,” she says.

WTF? “I can’t believe you said that,” you say. “That is evil.”

She takes it back. “But Syria is totally useless,” she says.

Tell her that Syria is a big “middle manager” in all this. They are not a source of fundamentalism, nor of oil. Their “president” is secular, a former ophthalmologist working in Paris who was called home by his father to succeed him. (All this comes from George Friedman’s America’s Secret War chapter 11.) Syria has its interest in Lebanon, and it has an interest in making money, and it probably enjoys seeing us bogged down in Iraq. Syria is not to be trusted, but should be talked to, because talking is cheaper than fighting, and anyway, as I said, hasn’t our experience in Iraq taught us something about fighting? And mostly, throughout the whole Middle East, people are just trying to live their lives -- make bread, wash clothes, keep a job, raise food, raise kids. A nuclear attack on some population because of it’s dumbass government would be a despicable act and would surely earn us more enemies than it would kill, would kill far more than just our enemies, and earn us the increased distrust of what allies we have left now. Even William Kristol has described himself (to Stephen Colbert) as a no-nuke-neocon.

“E’s” husband “M” comes over. He is holding her toddler son who, “M” says, has been looking for her. “E” turns her attention to him, and you tell her thanks for talking, tell her to read Informed Comment, which she says she will.

You don’t think she will. She will run across his occasional emotionally charged Bush-bashing, and she will write him off as a crazy liberal.

While this discussion has been going heatedly, the rest of the family has been on the fringes, minding its own business -- finishing the dishes, getting the kids ready to go out to the beach, crabbing. None of their comments from political discussions of past summers entered this one -- not the plea “There have been no terrorist attacks since 9/11” as a justification for the Iraq war; not your father’s mantra, “We have to kill them all. Innocent people will die, but that is the way it has been for thousands of years”; not “We have to fight them at the source,” which everyone knows is not what we are doing.

Back in the beach house later, only your father and "J” are in the living room, working a puzzle. You are in the upstairs loft which overlooks the living room when they ask “E” how the discussion went. She says, “Your son is very engaging and well informed,” and you wonder if she knows you are listening.

The thing about neocons is, they want to keep the discussion in the abstract. That is where ideology lies. So, hit them with specifics that they can’t address. And see if they do address it. Give them a chance and listen, ‘cause you might learn something. But be prepared to blow apart the usual comparisons to WWII and the American Revolution, and remember to identify their presumptions as just that, and remind them of how their past presumptions have turned out to be invalid. If all they know comes from Rupert Murdoch outlets (“The Weekly Standard” and “Fox News”) then you’ve got them right where you want them.

Here’s another pro-war mantra that didn’t come up in this discussion. “We can’t cut and run.” Your repsonse for this is, “We can’t keep pretending a generation four war is a generation three war.” This will likely stymie them if they have not read Thomas Hammes’ The Sling and the Stone, a discussion of why insurgents, from communists in China and Vietnam to the Sandinistas to the Iraqis, have been fought ineffectively by superior military powers. I have not finished it yet, but I look forward to posting on it soon.

Continue . . .

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Fresh Ideas from Family Beach Week for the Middle East

Step-brother-in-law “R” retold some story about nuclear war that he had gotten somewhere. Do any of you know where this came from? Some movie or short story?

“R” said that in the story, the president is out speaking in some town in America. News comes in of a nuclear missile launch against us from the Middle East. The president and his entourage order retaliatory strikes against the locations that have attacked us; then they leave the town for the safety of the countryside. They find some country restaurant and make that their base of operations. Americans in the restaurant have already seen news of both missile launches on TV, and they are understandably worried. The president tells them everything will be okay. The missiles launched at us, and ours launched in retaliation, are shown as computer graphics on the TV so everyone can watch. American cities are shown to be blown up in computer graphics. The same goes for locations in the Middle East from which the missiles came. Everyone in the restaurant is dismayed except for the president, who tells them again that everything is okay.

Then live video feeds start coming in from the American cities that had been shown to be destroyed. They are unharmed. The missiles launched at us had been duds. But ours launched at the Middle East were real, and those places that launched duds at us are destroyed.

We had made those duds and pretended to lose them in the Middle East to see who would use them against us.

“R” related this story in complete earnestness.

“Oh yeah,” said step-brother “M.” “Just rig a bunch of explosives to blow up when they are being made into IED’s, and let them fall into terrorists’ hands.”

Step-sister-in-law “E” said, “We need to educate their women.” She said their women are sick and tired of being beaten and held back by their husbands. We need to round them up and put them in a safe place, and teach them how to run their own businesses. That would be the thing to do next to begin transforming the Middle East. “’Islam’ means ‘submission,’” she said, smacking one hand into the other. “We should bomb them and educate their women.”

I swear I’m not making this up.

June 28 addendum: Oh, and I forgot to mention, before all this happened, they had the Chronicles of Narnia showing on DVD for the kids. I watched it too because I had not seen it yet, and I had loved the books as a child. While watching, the daughter of aforementioned "E," who, I must mention, is named "Jordan" after a Middle Eastern country, exclaimed, "Aslan is like Jesus except that Jesus was resurrected after three days, and Aslan was resurrected after one day." Her father, aforementioned "M," said, "That's right Honey."

Speaking of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I give it the same assessment I give David Lynch's adaptation of Frank Herbert's classic Dune. Both have great acting and begin with a rich portrayal of the story. In the case of Dune, much of the richness lies in the production design; in Lion, it is in the wonderful casting and performances of the four kids and all the talking animals, the quick and clear building of the story (because, after all, you have to keep kids' attention), the sinister feel of Narnia in winter, the amazing performance of Tilda Swinton as the evil witch. But both movies lose their richness two-thirds of the way through and degenerate into buildup to war and clash between armies. Important events near the end are subsumed by action sequences, and despite these movies' initial nourishment, the sensitive viewer is left with a feeling of having eaten too much cotton candy.

Continue . . .

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

We Take Time Out for this Important Service Announcement

I worked on this PSA which is running on TV now.


The producers/directors were really nice folks from DC who normally work at high stress making campaign videos on even-numbered years, and do stuff like this on odd-numbered years. I got the impression that they mostly do Democrats' campaigns 'cause they kept talking about working with Clinton, but I'm not sure how it really works. Maybe, up there, an agency doesn't care whom it's working for; or, on the other hand, maybe agencies have to pledge allegiance to one party or another because suspicions of double-crossing could run high. (Down here, I've seen it both ways -- a company that handles only Democrats, and another company that was known once to have competing candidates in their business at the same time -- one in the conference room, one in the editing room, neither knowing the other was using the same company.) Despite the suspected leaning toward Democrats, I think I overheard one of the DC guys saying that he would probably vote Republican in the next election. But in the next breath he said that he didn't know what to do about Iraq, that probably we would have to buy someone off over there. From recent reports, it looks like we're already buying off moderate Sunni tribes who are fighting al Qaeda. Anyone remember what happened the last time we paid for Sunnis to fight an enemy of ours?

Early that morning, we local crew members arrived in our respective cars well ahead of the out-of-town folks, who ran late. I got out of my car squinting into sunlight spread into a blazing wide, white wall by light fog hanging over the fields. I started putting on sunscreen before saying "Hi" to any of the others standing by their cars, but before I had been there long, the farmer came right up to me in silhouette against the white fog and gave me a warm welcome to his farm. That really started the day off well. He was really patient with me wrapping an ace bandage around his belly under his shirt and clipping the transmitter there. His son, who appears in the video, was a wonderful kid, very cooperative, had pretty much the same forthright way with people that his dad had.

We spent forever on that shot where they are spraying the tractor. The DC folks sent out their assistant to buy various sprinkler heads for the hose, and we stood around waiting for her to return. They never did get the light to catch in the spray as well as they wanted.

All day long, the headphone feed for audio track 1 in the camera was flaking out. I couldn't bear to listen to it. Luckily, we didn't really need two tracks and two mics for just one guy's voice, but I recorded two mics/tracks anyway and only listened to track 2. I'm really glad I didn't have two or more people talking on camera because this would have required both tracks to be monitored. It was a rental camera from DC, and they never check those things out before sending them out again, probably. Especially not the audio parts.

I had the second foray of my life into migrant farmworker housing. That was where the bathroom was. The dwelling was a cinderblock building with a concrete floor, maybe a fraying cable-knit rug in the living room, awful smelly couches losing their stuffing, television playing telenovellas even while noone was home to watch, sagging beds -- cots, really -- with paint chipped on their metal frames, mildew in the corners of the hallway near the bathroom, merely a shower curtain over the bathroom doorway and no curtain over the shower stall itself, scary holes chipped into the corners of the bathroom walls and the shower stall harboring rich black growths of mildew, toilet and sink all dirty with chipped porcelain, no soap, a mildewy pull-string on a bare lightbulb overhead. Maybe there were no screens over the open windows.

At siesta time, the farmworkers came back to this dwelling, riding in the back of a pickup truck. I had expected them to be young scrawny guys, the kind of folks I imagine might be relatively willing to tolerate these accommodations as long as they could head to town on the weekend to let loose a little. But they were middle aged, a bit on the rotund side, all with straw hats and matching blue button-down shirts and blue jeans, all pretty clean looking. In my quick sighting of them, they did not appear to be the types to let loose much at all. I imagined them going out to eat on a Saturday, cheaply, and sitting around with beers watching other people let loose, but not doing much themselves. They would know how to pace themselves. The austerity of life would help with that -- with so little to do, nothing around but the fields you work in, you don't feel a need to rush off to do something else. You take your time, pace yourself so you don't wear out too soon. When you've been doing this work a few years, as I think they have, you get more done while moving slower anyway. At midday, they lie around on whatever bed or couch they find at the house and watch the blinged-out babes on TV. Same for evenings, I guess. I don't know how they get food on the farm. I don't think I saw a kitchen in the house.

Continue . . .

Saturday, June 9, 2007

I Will Not Be Silenced

I am Elrond Hubbard and occasionally I speak. Last night I spoke on neoneocon and this morning when I went to see if there were any follow-up comments to my comment, I saw that she had deleted me! The nerve.

Now, if you're smart, you'll stop reading this posting of mine right now, because you know better than to get your knickers in a snit arguing with ideologues. But if you're dumb like me, you'll keep reading 'cause you can't keep from letting the petty comments of others get under your skin.

Neoneocon says she blogs to describe her own transition to neoconservatism and to provide a forum for others. (Note the self-centered perspective. Are blogspot, typepad, wordpress not already the providers of forums for others?) Presuming that I could be one of the "others" on her forum, I responded to one of her postings describing a walk she had taken in Brooklyn. If her blog consisted only of such postings, then she would be a harmless blog of the "I had Cornflakes for breakfast" variety that 'deep trouble pledges not to become. But most of her postings are superficial, voluminous abstractions purposing to give support to what she calls The Long War.

It is pointless to comment on one of her Long Postings, because these draw so many comments that mine would be buried. But I did comment on her walk in Brooklyn posting. Here is what I wrote, as near as I can remember it.

Wait, I get it! Your walk is like The Long War! The heat is the constant attempt by altuslibs to detract from the war effort. The breeze and shade are signs of hope: the rallying against al Qaeda of Sunni tribesmen in Anbar, and the agreement of the cabinet on an oil bill (which is now stymied in parliament).

Your abstract comments really help to simplify a complex situation in the Middle East. It's like you say -- The Long War really is like the Jews wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. If only Muslims could draw the same inspiration from the Bible that we do. Then their arrival at peace and the promised land would be assured! After all, we're doing this for them . . .

There is plenty of mud slinging going on in her comments, so it's hard to believe that my sarcasm was so out of place that she had to delete it.

Continue . . .

Monday, May 28, 2007

iraq·ui·date

i-'rä-kw&-"dAt
transitive verb

1. to dissolve (an organization or entity) because certain threats, which are exacerbated in its absence, are erroneously thought to be associated with it

2. to disband a defeated army and allow its members to become adversaries anew

3. to liberate (people or peoples) to pay the cost of freedom

Continue . . .

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Check Out This Dress!

This American tango routine is the fourth dance demonstration my partner and I have done. We did this back in February this year. Thanks to her for getting me into this, for all this dancing we've been doing, for the longest running partnership I've had with any person for any reason. And thanks to the cameraman for taping a rehearsal and traveling with us that cold night to make this video. Your smooth operation brings tremendous improvements to our performance!

As always, we felt really good after we did it, but watching the video revealed lots of things to improve. Then compressed video, the great equalizer, skips enough frames to conceal some of these blemishes, and makes everything look more snappy overall! Watch it here, or on YouTube where it's a little smoother. (And I have to say, if you watch it on YouTube, then check out some of the wonderful tango videos that appear in the "Related Videos" list just to its right. Lots of really awesome performances there.)



We've been learning the Dance Vision (DVIDA) American Silver syllabus for a few years now, and many of the moves in this routine come from that. But while our past mambo and cha-cha routines consisted mostly of syllabus moves with slight variation, we really tried to really cater this routine to the music whole-hog.

And this time, the music has many varied moods. You've heard of Cell Block Tango? Well this is the cell phone tango. I don't know why we chose "La Cumparasita" by Rodriguez, but I do remember the day my partner brought in a CD with 6 different versions of this song by various orchestras for us to choose from. Once we picked that, we had to make up the routine. My partner can make something up in an instant -- you could put on any song, any style, she would not have to have heard it before, and she could dance something to it that looks like a planned routine. So she improvised a lot, and where we could we brought in a portion of a syllabus move. There was also a move she had seen on a TV dancing shows that she wanted to use, and for the softer middle section we wanted to bring in some Argentine tango which I had had a tiny bit of instruction in, and have since taken up again. (This Argentine part could use a lot of improvement, and I'd like to revisit it in the future.)

For my part in it, I kept saying things like, "This is cool, but we gotta do something that reflects that little run in the music there." Or, "We gotta do pivots here, so that means we have to take out 4 measures of something earlier." One day she just told me to go home, work on it, and have it straightened out when we met again. I made an Excel spreadsheet with each column being a beat, eight beats to a measure, one measure per row. In most of the boxes, I wrote a description of what we were doing at that moment. I played the music over and over, moved my measures around, worked it out so it all fit.

We had the routine ready to demonstrate in January, but I got work that day and could not do it. So it was put off to February, and in the extra month, we added more stuff. Then one day we had someone videotape it, and it looked like crap. We had made up this bitch of a routine, and we could hardly do it. That was seriously one of the most depressing things that has happened to me in, say, the past half year. (Which I guess means things were going okay, overall, since this hardly qualifies as real hardship.) At that point we had just two more weeks before the February demonstration. And we never really know how much we'll be able to practice in a given week, because so much of my work comes up at the last minute. But we got it together, had it taped again the next week, and it looked much better.

Right now, there are no more routines on the horizon. We really have to get this syllabus done, get tested, get it out of the way so we can start learning some new stuff.

Continue . . .

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

"We Got Attacked And Had To Respond"

Some folks say that about the Iraq war. I got into it on someone else's blog, and spent so much effort on a mere comment that I decided to paste it up here.

Yes, I understand that we are actually threatened to some degree by enemies in the Middle East. But in the wake of our invasion of Iraq, that country has become one of the biggest incubators of terrorism the world has known. (Maybe not the very biggest.) Just in the past few days, the Saudi minister of the Interior said that the lax security in Iraq has created a fertile ground for terrorists and a great danger to the region.

Anyone who understood that region before we invaded is not surprised by what has happened. Journalist George Packer published an article in the New York Times Magazine before our invasion called Dreaming of Democracy (free login required) in which several experts on democracy said that the ingredients for democracy do not exist in Iraq, that politics would take the form of vigilantism if we did not establish strong security right away. Also, in his archives from before the invasion, Juan Cole predicted much of what is happening now. Here is the permalink to Cole's essay called "The Risks of Peace, the Costs of War." Read this and try to tell me that no one could have known we would get into this mess in Iraq. Cole said that if we invade Iraq, we are likely to exacerbate the problem of terrorism. He also acknowledged the depravity of Saddam's regime -- he is not coddling our enemies here, as pro-war folks may say about him. He is understanding the complexity of the country and, to give my own summary, saying that we don't know enough about what we are doing to take on this task.

And according to George Packer's The Assassin's Gate, in the meeting with Bush and Cheney where Iraqi exile Kanan Makiya said that we would be greeted as liberators, there were two other Iraqi exiles (Hatem Mukhlis and Rend Rahim) who issued warnings: if we did not garner respect within two months of invading, we would have another Mogadishu on our hands; if we disbanded the army, we would be viewed as occupiers, not liberators; that tribal loyalties were very important to Iraqis; that none of the exiles that the Bush administration was listening to had been in Iraq for decades, so none of them really knew their countrymen that well any more.

But Cheney chose to listen only to Makiya, ironically the most liberal and idealistic of the Iraqi exiles. Cheney repeated Makiya's words to Tim Russert on "Meet the Press" in the famous greeted as liberators statement.

Meanwhile, the intelligence about the existence of WMD's in Iraq was not conclusive. We could also not confirm their absence. But given this uncertainty, plus the warnings about the dangers of an invasion, I am very surprised that anyone, conservatives especially, thought the risk was worthwhile -- or, at least, that it was worthwhile without sending plenty of troops to make darn sure that we would be able to make the country secure, and without a very comprehensive and thorough plan for post-war reconstruction.

So no, I'm not convinced that our invasion was a legitimate response to the 9/11 attacks. Honestly, it really does seem to be the pursuit of a neocon dream which had been written about long before 9/11, at the Project for a New American Century and the American Enterprise Institute, to name just two places. Go back and read old William Kristol/Robert Kagan articles for a good laugh about how Shiites would establish a democracy on their own if we liberated them.

By invading Iraq, we took a huge chance. The results of our invasion are commensurate with our government's understanding of Iraq, and its planning for the war.

Continue . . .

Friday, May 18, 2007

Like Hydrocortisone for Handgun and Crackwhoreation

There's this new venue at our town's most dilapidated area, the heart of our decay, the corner of Handgun and Crackwhoreation. I have never dared to stop there. I drive through some mornings, see the folks hanging around, and presume that they convene there because the location offers the same things you can get down the street in jail: tattoos, religion, and lots of iron bars (over the storefronts). I'd see the bright yellow Cadillac parked, and presume where the money for it had come from.

Now, some folks like to talk a little smack about the "Creative Class" rising to possess our city. I may have slung a few stones myself, as it seems, you can stick some mic stands and speakers out anywhere, generate a little feedback, and the hipsters will come and sit on the pavement and clap like it's bible school.

But tonight I went to this venue at this dilapidated corner, and I'm here to tell you, while hipsters may swing in many diverse directions, the ones who opened this venue have some serious balls. They have gone to this place where no one has ever heard of an espresso machine, where there's not a Prius in sight, where one might feel lucky to be treated to a mere homophobic or racist slur rather than a bullet -- and they have actually started a club for local music, bicycle repair, and general love of one's fellow humans. And a contingent of the creative class comes out of their downtown lofts and cafes at ATC to attend. None of the folks I used to see hanging around this street corner were present tonight. Maybe the indie rock scared them off. I've heard classical music can be used to scare teenagers out of parking lots, but this is ridiculous. And what's truly amazing is, tonight, I saw this band Watercolors which has no website that I can find, and they actually sing with melody, harmony, and good intonation, something I hardly expect find on Franklin or Ninth, let alone here.

So keep it rolling and let's see where this venue takes us. If there ever were a locale that needed an influx of the creative class, it's the intersection of Handgun and Crackwhoreation, and what do you know, the class is fluxing in and making a stand.

Continue . . .

Like Hydrocortisone from the DOT

I have often thought that if the cuticle on my right middle finger would grow back, that would be a sign that my eczema has completely subsided. It is from the juncture of nail and skin on this finger that the condition seems to emanate and spread, not traveling down the middle finger and back up the next, but jumping from fingertip to fingertip as a forest fire from treetop to treetop.

For years, in our city, we have suffered an I-85 fractured and chopped, stricken with a rash of orange barrels. Birth pangs of a new freeway some called it, but most just bitched. Many times, while running late for a job, I found my exit ramp had changed like a river in an overnight flood, and myself in the wrong lane and having to backtrack.

It was the Guess Road interchange that was the worst, and had been the worst before the work began. Of all the city streets connected to I-85, Guess was most potted, its lanes the most constraining, causing the most backups for turning left. The renovation process brought even more constriction of lanes, more awful gouges in the pavement, the biggest flareup of orange barrels. This was where, most likely, you would find the very ramp you needed closed, with no alternative provided -- just drive past, turn around, come back, and if you don’t like it, tough toenails, we’ve got a job to do.

About the Washington Street bridge being closed for years, friend “S” said that it was a sign of extreme incompetence. He had never heard of road repairs taking so long. As for me, I live two blocks from that bridge, and I had never crossed it in my life. Now it’s back, wider than before, with an extra cross-hatched no-man’s lane in the middle for safety, and extra shoulder width on the sides for bicycles or maybe just safe walking, plus sidewalks on each side. I now do walk out on that bridge and admire our interstate.

We’ve got handsome brick sound barriers that will glow burnt orange in the summer evenings, echoing the color of the haze in the sky. We’ve got crape myrtles all down the center. Where else on earth do you have crape myrtles all down the center? If they like CO2, heat, and humidity, they’re in for a joyous summer.

Friend “G” always hated the 15-501 northbound to I-85 northbound entrance ramp; now, he says, the ramp itself has as many lanes as the interstate used to have, and the interstate at that portion now has, like, 4 lanes.

From the Washington street bridge, counting the lanes is like counting stripes in a suit. Your eye tends to skip a few, there are so many.

And that Guess Road interchange? Now Guess has two through lanes going each way, plus the left-turn lanes going each way, plus a large median with a brick border and plantings of shrubbery and flowers.

Our disease has been cured at its center, and we can all enjoy a safer, more supple, wrinkle-free, youthful interstate-driving experience. Passers-through may not be inclined to stop in our city, but they will certainly be inclined to pass back and forth before continuing on their way.

Continue . . .

Monday, May 14, 2007

One of Those Days

I was called Sunday about a job Tuesday. I said I could do it, but that I don't have equipment, so I hoped I could get that together on Monday. The job would have two or three people talking on camera and the producer warned that there would be a few wide shots. I said that for those wide shots I would probably rely on wireless mics. To this, the producer replied, "I am not a wireless mic person. Don't you hate the sound of wireless mics?"

There are darn few people who make small videos who like boom better than wireless. I've had reality TV producers tell me to put the boom away. They just want the camera to fly, they want the body mics to get everything, the sound guy to stand back and be neither seen nor heard. It doesn't matter to them that mixing body mics makes them sound phasey, or that one person's coughing ruins another's good sound bite. They just need those quick bites they can grab, like when the daughter goes into the newly remodeled kitchen and exclaims, "Mom, you've got THREE ovens!"

Here was a producer with the opposite leanings. Old school. Like they did it in the day when boom mics ruled the Earth, and wirelesses were mere rodents lurking in the underbrush, running from everything. When I first worked on a movie in audio about 15 years ago, I was a cableperson for a sound guy who hated wirelesses and pretty much trusted all audio to one boom operator, sometimes two, with me filling in as second boom. Sometimes he did use up to 3 wireless mics, but these were mostly on outdoor wide shots. And sometimes he preferred to plant a mic on the set -- in a windowframe or on a column -- than to put it on a person. Constantly frustrated by wireless mics, he would sit at his audio cart and, during down time, fuss with them, trying to figure out ways to put them on people to make them sound decent. I think this is the biggest challenge I face too.

So anyway, here was a producer who wanted me to make the boom work. But we decided we'd still get wirelesses, because we wanted to be sure we had it all covered. Who knew what surprises the lighting guys would make for me, throwing lights everywhere and possibly thinking that I could just stick wirelesses on the actors.

I had to get up at 7:30 am Monday just to get ready to make calls at 8am. At 8 I left several messages about gear. Lights were already coming from one rental company, so it might make sense to rent audio gear from them. But they only had two units of the latest model of fancy-schmancy wireless systems, and I would need three. The cameraman for the job was known to have some wirelesses, but his probably were not this new model, and there is a theoretical problem that can develop when mixing the old and the new, because the new have a 3 millisecond delay in their sound, and as every sound guy knows, 3 milliseconds is just enough. Then there was this other company in Raleigh that I work for a lot that has 4 of these top-model wireless systems all rigged up in a 4-channel mixer bag with ergonomic shoulder harness. I tentatively asked if I could just make my own arrangement with this company, and the producer said sure, go ahead with that.

Luckily, this audio package was available.

But still, the boom mic needed to be a really good one, and the company in Raleigh does not have a really good one -- just the kind that everybody uses. So I arranged to get the really good one from the rental company providing the lights.

So then I had to wolf down breakfast and meet my dance partner at her and her husband's new house. We used to practice at a theater space in town, but she has left that place and plans to build her own studio on her property. Until that is built, she has to teach her students wherever she can, and she and I practice in her bare wood-floored living room. Their new house is a ways out of town, so now it takes 20 minutes for me to meet her.

Knowing what all I had left to do that day, it was hard for me to concentrate on how much turn to make on each step of each move of American Rumba, which is what we have space to work on in her living room. 5/8 turn here, 1/4 turn there. This is what we are memorizing for the American Silver Certification. I only had an hour to spend with her before I had to leave and bust-ass to the next city over to pick up the gear for Tuesday.

I made it there, got the gear, turned around and came back partway along the interstate and stopped to do a half-day afternoon gig at a major networking corporation in their studio. They do live webcasts from there, and these are the most stressful gigs I get these days, because I have to have deep understanding of the audio routing that someone else made up, and I have to react quickly and pot up and down on the fly, and sometimes insert sound effects like applause, and cross-fade to musical selections or "commercials," while sitting right next to about three folks who outrank me give me sometimes conflicting information on how things work, or what to do next. And there are all these voices going at once -- the ones on the studio monitors, the ones on the feed from the central corporate office, the people in the room, and for some reason, somebody down the row from me had a radio going.

Anyway, that went okay. Then I had to get to the rental company in the next town over in the other direction, and get the really nice boom mic.

Then I had to get toilet paper because we were out, and we had two prospective housemate interviews to do that evening.

Then I had to get home and be there for the two interviews. I and the current housemates quickly swept a little, put toilet paper on the rolls in the bathrooms, took out the kitchen trash. I also brought in the audio gear before the first interview and rigged the mic from one place to the boom and mixer from the other place and checked all that out.

The interviews went okay, but what with everyone's uncertain plans, we don't have anything nailed down yet.

Then I had to make dinner, at 10 pm.

All day I had been trying to memorize the actors' lines (5 pages or so) for Tuesday, because I would have to operate boom. I rarely have boom-intensive days, so I really wanted it to go well. But I've been having terrible problems concentrating on anything these days, 'cause my mind is always jumping around and obsessing. Last summer I tried two different kinds of ADD medicine, and they didn't make any difference.

Today, Tuesday, I got up at 5am and studied the lines some more, ate breakfast and showered, and went to the job. I was 10 minutes late because of a confusing thing on Google Maps' directions that I should not have let confuse me.

Setup was easy there. We had to wear our socks because we could not get the white-painted floor for chroma-keying dirty. I paced around and continued to work on the lines.

And I was not my best, not really. It had been so long since I had used this really nice boom mic, and I had forgotten how sensitive it is. Sheesh. I had boomed with it a lot of times in the past, but never had to do so while carrying the mixer and receivers in a bag slung around my shoulders. It was a lot to think about. I kept shaking the boom and jarring the cable inside it, something that causes no trouble on common boom mics, but on this one causes a rattle.

So I was cautious in the first scene. I didn't grab all the off-camera lines on boom like I usually try to do, but I got them the on-camera stuff okay.

The second scene had one actor sneezing loudly and the other comforting him in a softer voice. I had to position the boom to even these levels out some, and I did manage this okay. So I felt better about that.

The third scene had lots of moving in and out for me to cover the actors standing far apart. The rattly boom was extended nearly all its 16 feet, and I was springing back and forth on my toes, in socks, again with the mixer and receivers suspended from my shoulders. By the end of the last scene for the day, I felt like I was kind of in the boom operating groove again. But I had to turn that nice boom mic back in, and I won't be using it for a while. I'm back to the mundane interviews and simple shots for now.

After work, I went to another Argentine tango lesson. Then I was sitting at home eating fruit and yogurt, with the audio gear from the company in Raleigh on the other end of the dining room table. I was looking at it, thinking about how I had picked it all out for this company a year ago, when we were getting very demanding reality TV work and we barely had the gear to cover it, and a deal fell through one time to rent gear for a job, so the company owner told me to tell him what to buy and he would get it. So now there's the gear. If I were to buy my own, I'd get the same stuff. But then, so many folks around here have gear and want me to use theirs, I probably would not be able to pay off my own gear if I had it. And this particular gear from Raleigh doesn't get enough work anyway for itself. So it makes sense that I rent it from them when I do need it.

It's just that I imagine having gear like it. 4 excellent wireless mics and a mixer that you can really put your name on, 'cause it will last probably 8 years in rough conditions. Of course, those mics and that mixer allow you to mix 3 or 4 wireless mics together in one muddy track which sounds mediocre at best, and terrible to a studio recordist. And the wireless systems don't sound as good as a $25.00 hardwire connection, and cost 100 times that. Still, with such mics and that mixer, you can keep up with today's wild and crazy camerapeople and talent, and that's pretty much what you gotta do in audio these days. You get hired if you can keep up. Nobody ever gives feedback on audio quality.

Continue . . .

Saturday, May 12, 2007

The Scum is Coming

Readers of this blog well understand the significant role that algae cultivation could play as an alternative energy source. For one thing, it can grow in human-made tubes or ponds or other containers on land that’s not good for much else. In our country, who was relegated to poor land? Native Americans. What can you do on a reservation? You can gamble; and now, you can also cultivate algae. Don’t believe me? read this.

Meanwhile, that same oil drilling company is making arrangements to start algae farms in Australia.

And they’re doing it in Alabama!

That other company mentioned earlier in this blog that is using power plant emissions to grow algae (cutting emissions drastically and producing crude oil and feedstock that the power plant can sell) has built a facility in (these links are to pdf’s) Arizona and is going to build one in Louisiana.

And there’s someone else in on the smokestack emissions to biofuel game.

This editor says that the means to combat global warming will be cheaper in the future than in the present day, so it is economically feasible to wait until the future to take these steps. But I say, how will we know how to make it cheaper in the future if we don't start making our mistakes now? You never know what you're in for until you get started on it. I am very happy that some companies are starting algae farms today, rather than tomorrow. This is what will make tomorrow's algae farms more efficient.

Continue . . .

Friday, May 11, 2007

Back to the South

I waited a year before trying out a different Argentine tango instructor. Actually, all this time, I had not even known about this second instructor. I had thought this area had only the first, and I had had trouble relating to much of his instruction. “You don’t get what you want by making her do it,” he would say. “You ask a question, and she answers. ‘Would you like to go this way?’ ‘Yes I would.’ Or maybe she doesn’t. So, you adapt. Just like you do in life.”

I mean, I wasn’t (and rarely am) in a relationship; I was just there to start learning a new dance. And sure, Argentine tango is about mindset as much as anything else. But in those classes it seemed almost like I was supposed to think a certain way, and it would happen, like Clint Eastwood flying Firefox. The internationally renowned Lithuanian ballroom teachers in town are more down-to-Earth.

Argentine tango dancers say their dance is a more natural way to move than ballroom tango, but I had serious trouble with the Argentine body positioning. In ballroom, our arms are firm and held out to the sides, making a big steering wheel with plenty of leverage for leading. The woman plants her lower right front rib firmly against my belly, and she pretty much stays there, rolling around to my right side for promenade position, and back for closed. Our upper bodies and heads are apart from each other, giving us room to breathe and to see, respecting the “my dance space, your dance space” convention à la Dirty Dancing.

In Argentine tango, we keep our arms softer and lower by our sides. Our bodies are closer at the top and more separate lower down. So, while ballroom tango looks wider at the top like Vermont, Argentine tango looks wider at the bottom like New Hampshire.

I couldn’t give a clear lead. I was knocking knees with women, stepping on their toes, because they didn’t feel me coming at them. Hadn’t I taken care of this in ballroom? Apparently I had to learn it again here.

I let my butt stick out backwards, which folded my body at the waist and lessened whatever slight connection I had with my partners to begin with.

I couldn't visualize turning my partner and myself, especially with that tilted New Hampshire shape. I kept nearly falling over. Anyway, how do you turn your partner when your arms are so soft?

Then there was close embrace. After only a few lessons, partners were supposed to actually touch chests to each other. What if the woman is much shorter than I? Then she’s staring into my chest. And if she’s taller, I’m staring into hers I presume, but this did not happen in those classes. Regardless, I am a fairly standoffish person. In fact, a few people have told me that I am just about the most sensitive to personal space of anyone they know.

In ballroom, personal space is preserved in a sense. Though your stomach and pelvic regions are connected, that’s down there, out of sight, where God intended men and women to connect; and you’ve got room to breathe in front of your face. In Argentine tango, I can hardly see because her head is in the way, and the problem with stepping on her feet is compounded.

I gave up. I wasn’t getting it. Bad attitude, I know. This was a drag, because Argentine tango had seemed to be the most vibrant and accessible social group for someone my age in our area -- more so than swing (more peppy than though) or salsa (more sexy than though) or ballroom (too insular and more populated by folks over 55 and under 22). So when I heard about this other teacher, I decided to give it another try.

He started us on close embrace the first day. But he explained that you don’t really lean on each other at the upper body in the way I had thought. Instead, our legs are inclined forward some, but then our torsos are upright, and my partner and connect over much more surface area, from the stomach up through the chest. We look not like New Hampshire, but like an upside down “Y,” or a peace symbol. Already, this new understanding is helping me. Still, I struggle.

In the first classes I took a year ago, I had harbored the question of whether my troubles were entirely my doing, or maybe caused in part by my partners. I never said anything about this ‘cause it’s bad form to raise this question in a dance class. This second instructor sees when you’re struggling, takes the woman, tries her out, and then decides whom to lecture -- me or her. It’s not really so reassuring when he lectures her. I’d just as soon take the heat. Though he is blunt, he's clear, and I’m getting a lot more sense of technique here. That’s what I need. Tell me how to do it. I am a shape and movement imitator. Don’t expect me to improvise or make it up myself -- I just wander that way.

In the first class with the second instructor, there was this other woman who, dancing with me, wanted us to extend my left/her right arm out to the side like ballroomers do. “It’s prettier like this,” she said. I still had the scars from being corrected on this a year ago. “Nope,” I said in a rare instance of directly contradicting a partner. “This is Argentine tango. It’s all in here,” and I drew our arms in to be lower by our sides.

I had to get her used to reality. She had probably seen some ballroom movie and wanted to glide around the floor. Sorry, sister, you came to Argentine class. Keep your eyes downcast and concentrate on your abdomen. If you're good, maybe, in a year, we'll let you raise your leg and wrap it around mine.

After this second instructor had taken her for a turn and showered her with instructions, she came back to me an said, “Have you been to the other instructor? Is he different?” She was asking about the first one I had been to.

I said he was different, but I didn’t have a chance to elaborate. I have not seen her come back in subsequent lessons.

I’ve been two more times now. Days are turning into weeks, which may turn into months if I stay with it this time. It’s like being in some abstinence program. I tried it once, and relapsed. Maybe it will stick this time.

Continue . . .

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

Racehorse Names from the Parlance of Our Times

Who knows what racehorse names mean? "Secretariat"? "Seattle Slew"? The inventive naming is the coolest thing about horse racing. After seeing "Wildandcrazyguy" in the recent Derby, I starting thinking how we could use the parlance of our times, as expressed in The Big Lebowski, as a way to derive more racehorse names.

Trophy Wife
Abiding Dude
SorryIWasn'tListening
Laziest Worldwide
Catch You On Down the Line
Cut and Run
Five Deferments
And In English Too
Swift Oat Brethren Forsooth
Good Sasparilla
Ties the Room Together
Fahrenheit 9 to 1
Some Chinaman in Korea
Like Lenin Said
Suck Your Cock for a Thousand Dollars
Three Thousand Years of Beautiful Tradition
Goldbricking Ass
Parts at Least

. . . who's got some?

Continue . . .