Did you watch the Super Bowl yesterday? Great game. Well, not so much if you're a Patriot fan.
Anyway, if you did watch it, did you catch the Clint Eastwood "It's halftime in America" commercial? Well, with this current lineup, I can believe we have only 30 minutes left.
Clint Eastwood!? God help us.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Low Eye Cue
Check out this headline and story: "Intelligence Study Links Low I.Q. To Prejudice, Racism, Conservatism"
It's not my fault then, correct?
So where do I go to get my subsidy started? Who do I see about my government grant? Does this mean they'll forgive my mortgage? Shouldn't there be a tax break? Where's the block on this form to mark "Low I.Q."? How much more time will I get to take the exam? The "passing" score's lower, right? Ain't I entitled to a parking space? When will the first check arrive? Huh? When? I got my rights you know?
It's not my fault then, correct?
So where do I go to get my subsidy started? Who do I see about my government grant? Does this mean they'll forgive my mortgage? Shouldn't there be a tax break? Where's the block on this form to mark "Low I.Q."? How much more time will I get to take the exam? The "passing" score's lower, right? Ain't I entitled to a parking space? When will the first check arrive? Huh? When? I got my rights you know?
Friday, February 3, 2012
Why Does the Left Hate Vigilante Films?
Anthony Paletta tackles the question for us and it's worth a quick read. (Remember, I'm a movie buff.)
Actually, it's an old question that arose most prominently in the early 1970s when liberal (what else?) film critics uniformly disparaged two of the most famous of the genre, Death Wish and Dirty Harry. But I'd suggest asking the question the other way. That is, why do most people love vigilante films?
The answer is easy. The appeal is justice itself.
Justice denied for any reason, even for the sound reason of a decent society taking great care to afford the accused due process, a jury trial, and an opportunity for appeal is still justice denied and justice denied wounds the body politic. When people know it's being denied, but then witness it being delivered, even, or perhaps especially, in the form of a well-crafted movie melodrama, they almost reflexively cheer.
There is absolutely nothing unusual about that.
What is unusual, perverse actually, is an ideological posture so rigid that one disciplines oneself to not only sit on one's hands, but even to hiss and boo when the bad guy finally gets it.
BY THE WAY....
Paletta arrives here as well, but I would also say that, among many other things, that perverse informing ideology can be defined by an insistence that all or most crime can be explained and excused by poverty or some other "root cause", along with a stubborn refusal to accept anything like the notion that evil may actually exist.
Which put me in mind of a telling exchange from another great film, The Dark Knight, the second in the most recent Batman series, the one with Heath Ledger as the "Joker". The conversation is between Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne (Batman) and Michael Caine as Alfred, Wayne's butler.
Wayne: Targeting me won't get their money back. I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. They crossed the line.
Alfred: You crossed the line first, sir. You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation. And in their desperation, they turned to a man (the Joker) they didn't fully understand.
Wayne: Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. Just have to figure out what he's after.
Alfred: With respect, sir, perhaps this is a man that you don't fully understand, either. A long time ago, I was in Burma. My friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So, we went looking for the stones. But in three months, we never met anybody who traded with him. One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away.
Wayne: So why steal them?
Alfred: Well, because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn. (my italics)
Actually, it's an old question that arose most prominently in the early 1970s when liberal (what else?) film critics uniformly disparaged two of the most famous of the genre, Death Wish and Dirty Harry. But I'd suggest asking the question the other way. That is, why do most people love vigilante films?
The answer is easy. The appeal is justice itself.
Justice denied for any reason, even for the sound reason of a decent society taking great care to afford the accused due process, a jury trial, and an opportunity for appeal is still justice denied and justice denied wounds the body politic. When people know it's being denied, but then witness it being delivered, even, or perhaps especially, in the form of a well-crafted movie melodrama, they almost reflexively cheer.
There is absolutely nothing unusual about that.
What is unusual, perverse actually, is an ideological posture so rigid that one disciplines oneself to not only sit on one's hands, but even to hiss and boo when the bad guy finally gets it.
BY THE WAY....
Paletta arrives here as well, but I would also say that, among many other things, that perverse informing ideology can be defined by an insistence that all or most crime can be explained and excused by poverty or some other "root cause", along with a stubborn refusal to accept anything like the notion that evil may actually exist.
Which put me in mind of a telling exchange from another great film, The Dark Knight, the second in the most recent Batman series, the one with Heath Ledger as the "Joker". The conversation is between Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne (Batman) and Michael Caine as Alfred, Wayne's butler.
Wayne: Targeting me won't get their money back. I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. They crossed the line.
Alfred: You crossed the line first, sir. You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation. And in their desperation, they turned to a man (the Joker) they didn't fully understand.
Wayne: Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. Just have to figure out what he's after.
Alfred: With respect, sir, perhaps this is a man that you don't fully understand, either. A long time ago, I was in Burma. My friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So, we went looking for the stones. But in three months, we never met anybody who traded with him. One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away.
Wayne: So why steal them?
Alfred: Well, because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn. (my italics)
The ONLY Case for Romney
If you've read this blog for very long at all, you'll know that I'm a big fan of National Review's Jonah Goldberg. I respect very much his opinions about subjects serious and silly and even when we disagree, which is not often, I still have no doubt about which side ultimately he's on. (I wish I could say the same about a host of other "conservative" commentators.) Anyway, today's he's to be congratulated for struggling mightily to make "The Case for Romney." His argument is captured in his subtitle: "A president who owes you is better than one who owns you".
In a nutshell, if we conservatives swallow hard and vote for Romney despite our many reservations and objections, then he'll owe us, he'll know that he owes us, and as such we'll own him.
I'm afraid, however, that the truth, and the evidence to support it, is just the opposite.
In 1988, George H. W. Bush was forced by GOP conservatives who were leery of him to swear publicly, "Read my lips, no new taxes." We voted for him and he owed us, right? How'd that deal turn out for us?
Son George's similar departures this past decade from conservative orthodoxy in domestic policy left us holding the bag yet again, both feeling and looking ridiculous as we were forced to defend or at least pretend we didn't notice the obscene growth in government that occurred during his watch.
And, as I learned just yesterday, if Romney is elected we may well find ourselves defending among other things routine cost-of-living-adjustments (COLA) to the minimum wage.
No, this kind of Faustian bargain, or "transaction" as Goldberg calls it, i.e., my vote for your promise, invariably redounds to the benefit of the candidate. Once elected, he can always take back his promises, and often does, but we can never take back our votes.
It seems to me that the only reasonable case that can be made to a conservative for the Romney candidacy is an outright appeal to patriotism. (And I'm not sure that'll work either.) It goes something like this: It's true, Romney is not a conservative, never has been, and has even bragged about that fact. Nevertheless, in an imperfect world of imperfect choices, Romney is clearly the lesser evil. While the damage he'll do to the party and to the party label may well be irreparable, at least, maybe, we hope, please God, the damage he'll do to the country will be less than is currently being done, and much less than will be done with another Obama term.
*Goldberg defines, quite cleverly, an "establishment" Republican as "someone who has made peace with his disappointment prematurely." While I use "establishment" Republican like most everyone else, I prefer "professional" Republican. No matter. What I think might be a better definition of either is someone who can look you square in the face and say without blinking or winking that Mitt Romney is a conservative.
In a nutshell, if we conservatives swallow hard and vote for Romney despite our many reservations and objections, then he'll owe us, he'll know that he owes us, and as such we'll own him.
I'm afraid, however, that the truth, and the evidence to support it, is just the opposite.
In 1988, George H. W. Bush was forced by GOP conservatives who were leery of him to swear publicly, "Read my lips, no new taxes." We voted for him and he owed us, right? How'd that deal turn out for us?
Son George's similar departures this past decade from conservative orthodoxy in domestic policy left us holding the bag yet again, both feeling and looking ridiculous as we were forced to defend or at least pretend we didn't notice the obscene growth in government that occurred during his watch.
And, as I learned just yesterday, if Romney is elected we may well find ourselves defending among other things routine cost-of-living-adjustments (COLA) to the minimum wage.
No, this kind of Faustian bargain, or "transaction" as Goldberg calls it, i.e., my vote for your promise, invariably redounds to the benefit of the candidate. Once elected, he can always take back his promises, and often does, but we can never take back our votes.
It seems to me that the only reasonable case that can be made to a conservative for the Romney candidacy is an outright appeal to patriotism. (And I'm not sure that'll work either.) It goes something like this: It's true, Romney is not a conservative, never has been, and has even bragged about that fact. Nevertheless, in an imperfect world of imperfect choices, Romney is clearly the lesser evil. While the damage he'll do to the party and to the party label may well be irreparable, at least, maybe, we hope, please God, the damage he'll do to the country will be less than is currently being done, and much less than will be done with another Obama term.
*Goldberg defines, quite cleverly, an "establishment" Republican as "someone who has made peace with his disappointment prematurely." While I use "establishment" Republican like most everyone else, I prefer "professional" Republican. No matter. What I think might be a better definition of either is someone who can look you square in the face and say without blinking or winking that Mitt Romney is a conservative.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Novel Experiences
The American Spectator's Christopher Orlet wonders why it is that he no longer reads novels. As I read his piece, I remembered that when I was an undergraduate I once heard that JFK never, or rarely, read them himself, preferring instead biographies and non-fiction generally. At the time, I thought that sounded wise and all grown up, so for a while I tried to pretend that I preferred non-fiction as well.
I say "pretend" because I still read novels anyway, quite often finding non-fiction tedious, a piling on of fact after fact in order to make a point that could have been made in a single page or two. Later I was relieved to learn that really smart people, you know, the kind of people I longed to be lumped with, read fiction after all, almost exclusively in fact, to include novels and short stories, even poetry. The result for me was that I had to learn to affect a whole other persona. Being young and insecure can be oh such a burden (and a bore) at times.
Now, largely as a result of writing this blog I must confess, I find that I read less and less, fiction and non-fiction alike. Instead, I spend far too much of my idle time mining the Internet, cable TV news, and talk radio for small nuggets (fool's gold?) about which to make some timely and cogent remarks. (You're the judge.)
Anyway, I worry about that. I'm old enough to know that my time is increasingly limited and so I don't want to waste it on ephemera, from whichever genre it comes. But I do still want to read, especially those works that have stood the test of the passage of at least some descent interval of time. In other words, I want mostly to read the classics and quasi-classics.
Among the latter, I would without hesitation include Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. So, it gives me pause when I read that Mr. Orlet couldn't quite make it through the book.
I introduced my children to McCarthy a few years back and they were hooked at once. But they noticed an important distinction between those who immediately appreciated McCarthy as they did and those who did not. Such was the distinction thast now my son (mid-twenties) uses people's reaction to Blood Meridian as a test of their relative intelligence. If they are not at least engaged by the novel, well, then they must be a little bit slow.
If I just insulted you, too bad. Being old and fairly secure can be oh so liberating.
I say "pretend" because I still read novels anyway, quite often finding non-fiction tedious, a piling on of fact after fact in order to make a point that could have been made in a single page or two. Later I was relieved to learn that really smart people, you know, the kind of people I longed to be lumped with, read fiction after all, almost exclusively in fact, to include novels and short stories, even poetry. The result for me was that I had to learn to affect a whole other persona. Being young and insecure can be oh such a burden (and a bore) at times.
Now, largely as a result of writing this blog I must confess, I find that I read less and less, fiction and non-fiction alike. Instead, I spend far too much of my idle time mining the Internet, cable TV news, and talk radio for small nuggets (fool's gold?) about which to make some timely and cogent remarks. (You're the judge.)
Anyway, I worry about that. I'm old enough to know that my time is increasingly limited and so I don't want to waste it on ephemera, from whichever genre it comes. But I do still want to read, especially those works that have stood the test of the passage of at least some descent interval of time. In other words, I want mostly to read the classics and quasi-classics.
Among the latter, I would without hesitation include Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. So, it gives me pause when I read that Mr. Orlet couldn't quite make it through the book.
I introduced my children to McCarthy a few years back and they were hooked at once. But they noticed an important distinction between those who immediately appreciated McCarthy as they did and those who did not. Such was the distinction thast now my son (mid-twenties) uses people's reaction to Blood Meridian as a test of their relative intelligence. If they are not at least engaged by the novel, well, then they must be a little bit slow.
If I just insulted you, too bad. Being old and fairly secure can be oh so liberating.
"Groundhog Day"?
Imagine some foreign visitor to America struggling not only with the English, but also, and most especially, with our uncountable idiomatic words and phrases like, "Whatever", "back seat driver", "New York minute", "Groundhog Day".
"Groundhog Day"?
Yep, "Groundhog Day": a description of a day, or a situation, which seems exactly, in a dull, monotonous way, as the day before. I suspect that now almost all Americans use the phrase in just that fashion.
But we didn't do so before 1993 when the eponymous film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell was first aired. That we do now is testimony to the enduring appeal and power of the movie. If you haven't seen it, you really should make time for it. It's underlying conceit is cute, it's reliably funny, it's romantic, and, if you're so inclined, it's quite provocative intellectually as well.
Whether you've seen it or not, do read this short essay about the film by National Review's Jonah Goldberg. It was first published in 2005 and now is reissued each year, on the 2nd day of February, without fail, again, and again, and again....
"Groundhog Day"?
Yep, "Groundhog Day": a description of a day, or a situation, which seems exactly, in a dull, monotonous way, as the day before. I suspect that now almost all Americans use the phrase in just that fashion.
But we didn't do so before 1993 when the eponymous film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell was first aired. That we do now is testimony to the enduring appeal and power of the movie. If you haven't seen it, you really should make time for it. It's underlying conceit is cute, it's reliably funny, it's romantic, and, if you're so inclined, it's quite provocative intellectually as well.
Whether you've seen it or not, do read this short essay about the film by National Review's Jonah Goldberg. It was first published in 2005 and now is reissued each year, on the 2nd day of February, without fail, again, and again, and again....
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The Little Engine that Could
I had to shake my head after I read this piece yesterday or the day before about the California Controller's letter to his state's lawmakers informing them that they would run out of cash in March instead of June as previously expected.
I say I had to shake my head because despite that news, Democrat Governor Jerry Brown along with the Democrat-controlled state legislature seem determined nevertheless to continue with plans to build a Los Angeles-to-San Francisco high-speed rail system. A system many think incapable of paying its way once completed, even if the state were not so, uh, let us say, cash-strapped.
But I turned from shaking my head to grinning from ear to ear when I read this smart-alecky riff by National Review's James Lilek. Smart alecky? No, I take that back. Actually, this could pass for cutting-edge analysis. Enjoy:
I say I had to shake my head because despite that news, Democrat Governor Jerry Brown along with the Democrat-controlled state legislature seem determined nevertheless to continue with plans to build a Los Angeles-to-San Francisco high-speed rail system. A system many think incapable of paying its way once completed, even if the state were not so, uh, let us say, cash-strapped.
But I turned from shaking my head to grinning from ear to ear when I read this smart-alecky riff by National Review's James Lilek. Smart alecky? No, I take that back. Actually, this could pass for cutting-edge analysis. Enjoy:
Trains are romantic: We have a vision of sleek streamlined steel machines slicing through the night, the mournful whistle wafting through the farmer's dreams. But we do not wear fedoras or listen to Fibber McGee and Molly on the radio or exhibit other traits of the bygone era. We drive or we fly. Nevertheless, California is keen on a hypersonic choo-choo, as you've no doubt heard--and while locals are starting to question the wisdom of spending a tenth of a trillion on the project, it staggers on. The government is behind it. The unions are behind it. People who believe there is a direct relationship between the number of cars that drive to Sacramento and a polar bear drowning in 2027 A.D. are behind it. The only thing that could stop the train is the discovery that it endangers gay brine shrimp, but even then they'd just go 30 miles around the pond and call the route the Diversity Bend. Like many ideas from the first few decades of the previous century, trains are perfectly progressive. There's no individual decision on direction or duration, no competition, no penalty for poor performance, and the money to run the thing is exacted from the unwilling by the force of the state. If that's not enlightenment, what is?
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