Sunday, April 23, 2006
Carnival of the Insanities
A big thank you to Pat Santy (Dr. Sanity) for including this post in her weekly Carnival of the Insanities. Lots of good stuff over there so go check it out!
Friday, April 21, 2006
It's That Time of Year
Last week I retired my shovel and bag of De-Icer for another winter, thus risking the wrath of the weather gods. I've learned you have to be very careful when you pull your shovel in up here because in Vermont winter - or the threat of it - never really ends. And this was such a strange winter anyway - on average, March was colder than January - that no one knows what to expect. Snow in April is the norm, rather than the exception, and frosts occur with regularity through May.
However, I have my own method of determining the onset of Spring and in twelve years it's never failed me. Just before retiring my shovel I spied and killed my first wood spider. These buggers live in the nearby forest and never fail to show up in bunches once winter goes belly-up. Oh, and the one I killed? Yep, it was in the shower.
However, I have my own method of determining the onset of Spring and in twelve years it's never failed me. Just before retiring my shovel I spied and killed my first wood spider. These buggers live in the nearby forest and never fail to show up in bunches once winter goes belly-up. Oh, and the one I killed? Yep, it was in the shower.
Yes, It's This Bad
About a year and a half ago at another website, I linked to this editorial in the London Telegraph. Now, as then, it makes sense to reprint a couple of paragraphs:
If someone breaks into your home in the middle of the night you can presume he is not there to read the gas meter. But current British law insists that he have the freedom of the premises. When, last Christmas, thousands of Radio 4's Today listeners called for legislation authorising them to protect their homes by any means necessary, the proposal was immediately denounced as a "ludicrous, brutal, unworkable, blood-stained piece of legislation". Until recently that "unworkable, blood-stained" legislation was the law of the land. There was no need to retreat from your home, or from any room within it. An Englishman's home was his refuge, and, indeed, his castle.
But no more. Rather than permitting people to protect themselves, the authorities' response to the recent series of brutal attacks on home-owners has been to advise people to get more locks and, in case of a break-in, retreat to a secure room - presumably the bathroom - to call the police. They are not to keep any weapon for protection or approach the intruder. Someone might get hurt. If that someone is the intruder the resident will be sued by the burglar and vigorously prosecuted by the state.
At the time, I added the following comments:
Now, again, I can’t speak for others, but if a person enters my home without my knowledge or consent, I reserve the right to remove said person by any and all means at my disposal and I couldn’t care less what the government has to say about it. If force is necessary – including deadly force – then so be it. And if the government wants to prosecute me for doing so, then bring it on, baby.
First and foremost, any law that allows an intruder the “freedom of the premises” should be a ringing endorsement for the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution, the right of the citizenry to bear arms. But, of course, Great Britain has no such amendment and, as the article points out, the English government has been systematically purging the citizenry of the ability to own any type of firearm since early in the 20th century, to disastrous results. Once one of the safest places in the world to live, a UN study in 2002 placed it “at the top of the Western world’s crime league.”
But in its zeal to assume “sole responsibility” to protect the populace, the government has gone to even more ludicrous lengths to define and outlaw ‘weapons’ of defense; items such as sandbags, pickaxe handles, stones and even a drum of pepper are considered actionable if used for protection. What’s more, the Brits have adopted a more lenient approach to the sentencing of criminals, with the likelihood that the person defending his person and/or property will be incarcerated longer than the person committing the crime.
Take a minute and read the whole article and then, if you’re a U.S. citizen, be thankful that you live in a country where English Common Law still exists.
The reason I bring up the subject is because of this essay by Theodore Dalrymple in the City Journal. (h/t James Lileks) In it, he looks at how the British police and justice system seem to have completely confused the terms "serious" and "trivial". His conclusion:
The government sees itself as an engineer of souls (to use the phrase so eloquently coined by Stalin with regard to writers who, of course, were expected to mold Homo Sovieticus by the power of their words). Government thus concerns itself with what people think, feel, and say—as well as with trying to change their freely chosen habits—rather than with performing its one inescapable duty: that of preserving the peace and ensuring that citizens may go about their lawful business in confidence and safety. It is more concerned that young men should not smoke cigarettes in prison or make silly jokes to policemen than that they should not attack and permanently maim their elders and betters.
As always, read the whole thing.
If someone breaks into your home in the middle of the night you can presume he is not there to read the gas meter. But current British law insists that he have the freedom of the premises. When, last Christmas, thousands of Radio 4's Today listeners called for legislation authorising them to protect their homes by any means necessary, the proposal was immediately denounced as a "ludicrous, brutal, unworkable, blood-stained piece of legislation". Until recently that "unworkable, blood-stained" legislation was the law of the land. There was no need to retreat from your home, or from any room within it. An Englishman's home was his refuge, and, indeed, his castle.
But no more. Rather than permitting people to protect themselves, the authorities' response to the recent series of brutal attacks on home-owners has been to advise people to get more locks and, in case of a break-in, retreat to a secure room - presumably the bathroom - to call the police. They are not to keep any weapon for protection or approach the intruder. Someone might get hurt. If that someone is the intruder the resident will be sued by the burglar and vigorously prosecuted by the state.
At the time, I added the following comments:
Now, again, I can’t speak for others, but if a person enters my home without my knowledge or consent, I reserve the right to remove said person by any and all means at my disposal and I couldn’t care less what the government has to say about it. If force is necessary – including deadly force – then so be it. And if the government wants to prosecute me for doing so, then bring it on, baby.
First and foremost, any law that allows an intruder the “freedom of the premises” should be a ringing endorsement for the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution, the right of the citizenry to bear arms. But, of course, Great Britain has no such amendment and, as the article points out, the English government has been systematically purging the citizenry of the ability to own any type of firearm since early in the 20th century, to disastrous results. Once one of the safest places in the world to live, a UN study in 2002 placed it “at the top of the Western world’s crime league.”
But in its zeal to assume “sole responsibility” to protect the populace, the government has gone to even more ludicrous lengths to define and outlaw ‘weapons’ of defense; items such as sandbags, pickaxe handles, stones and even a drum of pepper are considered actionable if used for protection. What’s more, the Brits have adopted a more lenient approach to the sentencing of criminals, with the likelihood that the person defending his person and/or property will be incarcerated longer than the person committing the crime.
Take a minute and read the whole article and then, if you’re a U.S. citizen, be thankful that you live in a country where English Common Law still exists.
The reason I bring up the subject is because of this essay by Theodore Dalrymple in the City Journal. (h/t James Lileks) In it, he looks at how the British police and justice system seem to have completely confused the terms "serious" and "trivial". His conclusion:
The government sees itself as an engineer of souls (to use the phrase so eloquently coined by Stalin with regard to writers who, of course, were expected to mold Homo Sovieticus by the power of their words). Government thus concerns itself with what people think, feel, and say—as well as with trying to change their freely chosen habits—rather than with performing its one inescapable duty: that of preserving the peace and ensuring that citizens may go about their lawful business in confidence and safety. It is more concerned that young men should not smoke cigarettes in prison or make silly jokes to policemen than that they should not attack and permanently maim their elders and betters.
As always, read the whole thing.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Country Boy, City Woman
Nina Burleigh does some soul-searching and comes away wishing she could believe in America’s “potential for good and brotherhood”. (Note: I'm excerpting large portions of this article because you may not be able to read it in its entirety without a subscription. h/t: Instapundit)
It’s difficult to know where to begin when I think about what she has to say. Having lived in upstate New York, I’m very familiar with the kind of town she’s describing, although, frankly, I believe you can find the same kind of town in many places throughout the heartland of America – just about anywhere, in fact, once you get away from the big city. However, as Ms. Burleigh makes clear, her intent in moving to Narrowsburg was never to really “live” there at all:
Our family first arrived in Narrowsburg in 2000, as city people hunting for a cheap house. For barely $50,000 we were able to buy the "weekend house" we thought would complete our metropolitan existence.
She goes on to add:
But soon after we closed on the home, we moved to Paris, spurred by the serendipitous arrival of a book contract. When our European idyll ended after two years, and with tenants still subletting our city apartment, we moved into the Narrowsburg house. After growing accustomed to the French social system -- with its cheap medicine, generous welfare, short workweek and plentiful child care -- life back in depressed upstate New York felt especially harsh. We'd never planned to get involved in the life of the town, nor had it ever occurred to us that we might send our son to the Narrowsburg School. But suddenly we were upstate locals, with a real stake in the community.
In essence then, a reasonably well-to-do family (let’s not call them rich, shall we?) buys a second home in a depressed, rustic, backwater part of the state not because they want to live there but in order to be able to complete their “metropolitan existence” (i.e. to be able to get out of the city and hobnob on the weekends with all their city friends) and, through an unforeseen – but mostly positive – set of circumstances, find themselves being forced to become a part of the community.
Sounds like a fate worse than death, doesn’t it?
And so our intrepid couple is forced to enroll their child in the Narrowsburg kindergarten. Despite the school not being a “traditional first step on the path to Harvard” they were, initially at least, “pleasantly surprised”:
The school had just been renovated and was clean, airy, cheerful. The nurse and the principal knew every one of the 121 children by name. Our son would be one of just 12 little white children in a sunny kindergarten class taught by an enthusiastic woman with eighteen years' experience teaching five-year-olds.
Still, uneasiness remains. Fully ¼ of the adult residents are military veterans and at least 10 recent graduates are actively serving even as she writes. The school’s “defining philosophy” is “traditional and conservative” and each day starts with a “Morning Program” which consists of the Pledge of Allegiance, a patriotic song and a discussion of the “word” of the week, with some of the words being suspiciously political, like “military”, “tour”, “nation”, and “alliance”.
But the shit doesn’t hit the proverbial fan until her son comes home one day with an invitation to attend a “released time” Bible class. Now I can certainly understand her being surprised and/or upset by this. When you send your child to a public school, the last thing you expect to discover is a Bible class mixed in with the curriculum. But her response is telling. Does she contact the principal? No. Does she contact the teacher? No. Does she speak with anyone else at the school or perhaps with one of the other parents to find out what’s going on? No. So what does she do?
We called the ACLU and learned this was an entirely legal way for evangelicals to proselytize to children during school hours. What was against the law was sending the flier home in a kid's backpack, implying school support. After our inquiry, the ACLU formally called the principal to complain. She apologized and promised never to allow it again. While we were never identified as the people who dropped the dime to the ACLU, there was clearly no one else in the school community who would have done so -- and the principal never looked at us quite as warmly again.
Gee, I can’t imagine why. Is this what this woman considers having a “real stake in the community”? Without discussing the issue with anyone involved she freaks out and calls the ACLU? Boy, how to win friends and influence enemies, huh? When she later learns that the kindergarten teacher belongs to one of the “most conservative, evangelical churches in the community”, her reaction is even more telling:
…we were careful not to challenge anyone or to express any opinion about politics or religion, out of fear our son would be singled out. Instead, to counteract any God-and-country indoctrination he received in school, we began our own informal in-home instruction about Bush, Iraq and Washington over the evening news.
Does it ever occur to Ms. Burleigh to wonder if this is how conservative parents feel when they are surrounded by people who think like her? Somehow, I doubt it. She does, however, begin to feel some guilt at being what she calls a “non-believer”:
When I was 5 years old, in 1965, did I understand what my lefty parents were saying about the Kennedy assassination, Watts and dead-soldier counts? Who was I to deprive my son, or his eleven kindergarten chums, of their faith in a nation capable of combining "good with brotherhood?" In a 5-year-old's perfect world, perhaps such places should exist.
Yet, just a few months later, while driving into the City to deliver clothes for a Christmas clothing drive for Iraqi children, she decides it’s time he knew the truth:
As we crossed the George Washington Bridge and the Manhattan skyline spread out below us, I began to give him a variation on the "Africans don't have any food, finish your dinner" talk. I wanted him to understand how privileged he was to live in a place where bombs weren't raining from the sky. It was a talk I'd tried to have before, but not one he'd ever paid much attention to until that day, trapped in the back seat of our car.
In simple language, I told my son that our president had started a war with a country called Iraq. I said that we were bombing cities and destroying buildings. And I explained that families just like ours now had no money or food because their parents didn't have offices to go to anymore or bosses to pay them. "America did this?" my son asked, incredulous. "Yes, America," I answered. He paused, a long silent pause, then burst out: "But Mommy, I love America! I want to hug America!"
After reading her “simple” talk with her son about the war in Iraq, I couldn’t help but wonder what she said to him when he asked her about God, but sadly, Ms. Burleigh does not enlighten us.
Due to a number of factors that have nothing to do with her story, the Narrowsburg elementary school is forced to close its doors at the end of the year (June, 2005). To her surprise, Ms. Burleigh finds herself “deeply sorry about it”. As she writes the article, she and her family are now back in the City and her son is:
…enrolled in a well-rated K-5 public school on Manhattan's Upper West Side; not surprisingly, the Pledge of Allegiance is no longer part of his morning routine. Come to think of it, and I could be wrong, I've never seen a flag on the premises.
At the same time, she comes to the realization that the year spent in Narrowsburg had positive side effects:
My husband and I realized, though, that Narrowsburg did more than mold our boy into a patriot. He can, it turns out -- despite the warnings of other city parents -- read at a level twice that of his new peers. Since we returned to the city, he has learned how to ride a bike, long for an Xbox, practiced a few new swear words and, somehow, learned the meaning of "sexy." He has pretty much stopped favoring red, white and blue.
So what, if anything, is the point of this article? What has she discovered during her year in exile, er, Narrowsburg that she wishes to share with us?
How soon childish national pride is shed, I sometimes think now, and not a little wistfully. Only once it was gone did I realize that, after our initial discomfort, my husband and I had begun to see our son's patriotism as a badge of innocence. His faith was a reminder to us that the reason we are devastated by the war in Iraq and the Bush presidency is that we too love America. We too want to believe in its potential for good and brotherhood.
As I said in the beginning, it’s difficult to know where to begin when I think about this article and what Ms. Burleigh has to say. I would say that I’ve never found such a combination of insular, elitist and patronizing thought except for the fact that I read similar twaddle from other leftist intellectuals almost every day. As Jane Smiley so eloquently put it in her editorial just after the 2004 election:
The error that progressives have consistently committed over the years is to underestimate the vitality of ignorance in America. Listen to what the red state citizens say about themselves, the songs they write, and the sermons they flock to. They know who they are—they are full of original sin and they have a taste for violence. The blue state citizens make the Rousseauvian mistake of thinking humans are essentially good, and so they never realize when they are about to be slugged from behind.
This ignorance on the part of red-staters – an ignorance which extends to anyone who does not fall in line with progressive or liberal dogma – is a huge source of frustration and fear on the part of the intellectual left. Frustration because the ignorance just can’t be reasoned with (it’s unteachable!) and fear because it goes hand in hand with a “taste for violence”. And underlying the ignorance and the threat of violence is a Bible-based, simplistic good and bad view of the world that you might expect from, well, a child.
Now, is it fair to say that Ms. Burleigh shares that view of red state (or, as she puts it, red dot in a blue state) people? After reading her article, I think it is. She regards her son’s patriotism as a badge of innocence – one she can’t wait to disabuse him of – or naiveté, if you will. It is a childish idea and yet one that even she yearns for: that America could actually combine good with brotherhood. And of course it’s all George W. Bush’s fault that it can't.
It’s ironic that the town she’s chosen to complete her metropolitan existence in is called Narrowsburg. With her narrow frame of mind, she should feel right at home.
It’s difficult to know where to begin when I think about what she has to say. Having lived in upstate New York, I’m very familiar with the kind of town she’s describing, although, frankly, I believe you can find the same kind of town in many places throughout the heartland of America – just about anywhere, in fact, once you get away from the big city. However, as Ms. Burleigh makes clear, her intent in moving to Narrowsburg was never to really “live” there at all:
Our family first arrived in Narrowsburg in 2000, as city people hunting for a cheap house. For barely $50,000 we were able to buy the "weekend house" we thought would complete our metropolitan existence.
She goes on to add:
But soon after we closed on the home, we moved to Paris, spurred by the serendipitous arrival of a book contract. When our European idyll ended after two years, and with tenants still subletting our city apartment, we moved into the Narrowsburg house. After growing accustomed to the French social system -- with its cheap medicine, generous welfare, short workweek and plentiful child care -- life back in depressed upstate New York felt especially harsh. We'd never planned to get involved in the life of the town, nor had it ever occurred to us that we might send our son to the Narrowsburg School. But suddenly we were upstate locals, with a real stake in the community.
In essence then, a reasonably well-to-do family (let’s not call them rich, shall we?) buys a second home in a depressed, rustic, backwater part of the state not because they want to live there but in order to be able to complete their “metropolitan existence” (i.e. to be able to get out of the city and hobnob on the weekends with all their city friends) and, through an unforeseen – but mostly positive – set of circumstances, find themselves being forced to become a part of the community.
Sounds like a fate worse than death, doesn’t it?
And so our intrepid couple is forced to enroll their child in the Narrowsburg kindergarten. Despite the school not being a “traditional first step on the path to Harvard” they were, initially at least, “pleasantly surprised”:
The school had just been renovated and was clean, airy, cheerful. The nurse and the principal knew every one of the 121 children by name. Our son would be one of just 12 little white children in a sunny kindergarten class taught by an enthusiastic woman with eighteen years' experience teaching five-year-olds.
Still, uneasiness remains. Fully ¼ of the adult residents are military veterans and at least 10 recent graduates are actively serving even as she writes. The school’s “defining philosophy” is “traditional and conservative” and each day starts with a “Morning Program” which consists of the Pledge of Allegiance, a patriotic song and a discussion of the “word” of the week, with some of the words being suspiciously political, like “military”, “tour”, “nation”, and “alliance”.
But the shit doesn’t hit the proverbial fan until her son comes home one day with an invitation to attend a “released time” Bible class. Now I can certainly understand her being surprised and/or upset by this. When you send your child to a public school, the last thing you expect to discover is a Bible class mixed in with the curriculum. But her response is telling. Does she contact the principal? No. Does she contact the teacher? No. Does she speak with anyone else at the school or perhaps with one of the other parents to find out what’s going on? No. So what does she do?
We called the ACLU and learned this was an entirely legal way for evangelicals to proselytize to children during school hours. What was against the law was sending the flier home in a kid's backpack, implying school support. After our inquiry, the ACLU formally called the principal to complain. She apologized and promised never to allow it again. While we were never identified as the people who dropped the dime to the ACLU, there was clearly no one else in the school community who would have done so -- and the principal never looked at us quite as warmly again.
Gee, I can’t imagine why. Is this what this woman considers having a “real stake in the community”? Without discussing the issue with anyone involved she freaks out and calls the ACLU? Boy, how to win friends and influence enemies, huh? When she later learns that the kindergarten teacher belongs to one of the “most conservative, evangelical churches in the community”, her reaction is even more telling:
…we were careful not to challenge anyone or to express any opinion about politics or religion, out of fear our son would be singled out. Instead, to counteract any God-and-country indoctrination he received in school, we began our own informal in-home instruction about Bush, Iraq and Washington over the evening news.
Does it ever occur to Ms. Burleigh to wonder if this is how conservative parents feel when they are surrounded by people who think like her? Somehow, I doubt it. She does, however, begin to feel some guilt at being what she calls a “non-believer”:
When I was 5 years old, in 1965, did I understand what my lefty parents were saying about the Kennedy assassination, Watts and dead-soldier counts? Who was I to deprive my son, or his eleven kindergarten chums, of their faith in a nation capable of combining "good with brotherhood?" In a 5-year-old's perfect world, perhaps such places should exist.
Yet, just a few months later, while driving into the City to deliver clothes for a Christmas clothing drive for Iraqi children, she decides it’s time he knew the truth:
As we crossed the George Washington Bridge and the Manhattan skyline spread out below us, I began to give him a variation on the "Africans don't have any food, finish your dinner" talk. I wanted him to understand how privileged he was to live in a place where bombs weren't raining from the sky. It was a talk I'd tried to have before, but not one he'd ever paid much attention to until that day, trapped in the back seat of our car.
In simple language, I told my son that our president had started a war with a country called Iraq. I said that we were bombing cities and destroying buildings. And I explained that families just like ours now had no money or food because their parents didn't have offices to go to anymore or bosses to pay them. "America did this?" my son asked, incredulous. "Yes, America," I answered. He paused, a long silent pause, then burst out: "But Mommy, I love America! I want to hug America!"
After reading her “simple” talk with her son about the war in Iraq, I couldn’t help but wonder what she said to him when he asked her about God, but sadly, Ms. Burleigh does not enlighten us.
Due to a number of factors that have nothing to do with her story, the Narrowsburg elementary school is forced to close its doors at the end of the year (June, 2005). To her surprise, Ms. Burleigh finds herself “deeply sorry about it”. As she writes the article, she and her family are now back in the City and her son is:
…enrolled in a well-rated K-5 public school on Manhattan's Upper West Side; not surprisingly, the Pledge of Allegiance is no longer part of his morning routine. Come to think of it, and I could be wrong, I've never seen a flag on the premises.
At the same time, she comes to the realization that the year spent in Narrowsburg had positive side effects:
My husband and I realized, though, that Narrowsburg did more than mold our boy into a patriot. He can, it turns out -- despite the warnings of other city parents -- read at a level twice that of his new peers. Since we returned to the city, he has learned how to ride a bike, long for an Xbox, practiced a few new swear words and, somehow, learned the meaning of "sexy." He has pretty much stopped favoring red, white and blue.
So what, if anything, is the point of this article? What has she discovered during her year in exile, er, Narrowsburg that she wishes to share with us?
How soon childish national pride is shed, I sometimes think now, and not a little wistfully. Only once it was gone did I realize that, after our initial discomfort, my husband and I had begun to see our son's patriotism as a badge of innocence. His faith was a reminder to us that the reason we are devastated by the war in Iraq and the Bush presidency is that we too love America. We too want to believe in its potential for good and brotherhood.
As I said in the beginning, it’s difficult to know where to begin when I think about this article and what Ms. Burleigh has to say. I would say that I’ve never found such a combination of insular, elitist and patronizing thought except for the fact that I read similar twaddle from other leftist intellectuals almost every day. As Jane Smiley so eloquently put it in her editorial just after the 2004 election:
The error that progressives have consistently committed over the years is to underestimate the vitality of ignorance in America. Listen to what the red state citizens say about themselves, the songs they write, and the sermons they flock to. They know who they are—they are full of original sin and they have a taste for violence. The blue state citizens make the Rousseauvian mistake of thinking humans are essentially good, and so they never realize when they are about to be slugged from behind.
This ignorance on the part of red-staters – an ignorance which extends to anyone who does not fall in line with progressive or liberal dogma – is a huge source of frustration and fear on the part of the intellectual left. Frustration because the ignorance just can’t be reasoned with (it’s unteachable!) and fear because it goes hand in hand with a “taste for violence”. And underlying the ignorance and the threat of violence is a Bible-based, simplistic good and bad view of the world that you might expect from, well, a child.
Now, is it fair to say that Ms. Burleigh shares that view of red state (or, as she puts it, red dot in a blue state) people? After reading her article, I think it is. She regards her son’s patriotism as a badge of innocence – one she can’t wait to disabuse him of – or naiveté, if you will. It is a childish idea and yet one that even she yearns for: that America could actually combine good with brotherhood. And of course it’s all George W. Bush’s fault that it can't.
It’s ironic that the town she’s chosen to complete her metropolitan existence in is called Narrowsburg. With her narrow frame of mind, she should feel right at home.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
The Art of Muzak
Rebecca Blood steers us to this wonderful New Yorker article on the state of Muzak. Among other things, the article touches on two things that I've written about before here and here. First up, we have the omnipresent soundtrack, designed to, um, enhance your shopping experience:
"...Most people walk into a store and hear music, but they never think that somebody actually put thought into what they’re hearing. A song they like is playing, and they’re nodding along with it, or maybe they’re kind of dancing to it and maybe they don’t want anyone to see that they’re dancing. They don’t realize that the song was put there for a purpose, and that there’s a reason why they’re doing what they’re doing. But there is.”
Then, we have the whole retail theatre concept:
Several years later, Collis was doing an engineering job for Muzak. He told me, “I walked into a store and understood: this is just like a movie. The company has built a set, and they’ve hired actors and given them costumes and taught them their lines, and every day they open their doors and say, ‘Let’s put on a show.’ It was retail theatre. And I realized then that Muzak’s business wasn’t really about selling music. It was about selling emotion—about finding the soundtrack that would make this store or that restaurant feel like something, rather than being just an intellectual proposition.”
Read the whole article and the next time you're out shopping or at a restaurant, take a minute and think about what you're listening to and who might have programmed it.
"...Most people walk into a store and hear music, but they never think that somebody actually put thought into what they’re hearing. A song they like is playing, and they’re nodding along with it, or maybe they’re kind of dancing to it and maybe they don’t want anyone to see that they’re dancing. They don’t realize that the song was put there for a purpose, and that there’s a reason why they’re doing what they’re doing. But there is.”
Then, we have the whole retail theatre concept:
Several years later, Collis was doing an engineering job for Muzak. He told me, “I walked into a store and understood: this is just like a movie. The company has built a set, and they’ve hired actors and given them costumes and taught them their lines, and every day they open their doors and say, ‘Let’s put on a show.’ It was retail theatre. And I realized then that Muzak’s business wasn’t really about selling music. It was about selling emotion—about finding the soundtrack that would make this store or that restaurant feel like something, rather than being just an intellectual proposition.”
Read the whole article and the next time you're out shopping or at a restaurant, take a minute and think about what you're listening to and who might have programmed it.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Who Knew?
Jane Galt is talking about some of the things the Bush administration is doing (Gasp!) right.
It may not have suffered from the brutal Afghan winter, but the Bush administration certainly seems to be caught in a political quagmire these days. As pundits debate whether the Bush administration is evil or merely egregiously incompetent, it's easy to forget that the administration has done some big things right.
As always, read the whole thing.
It may not have suffered from the brutal Afghan winter, but the Bush administration certainly seems to be caught in a political quagmire these days. As pundits debate whether the Bush administration is evil or merely egregiously incompetent, it's easy to forget that the administration has done some big things right.
As always, read the whole thing.
Marking Time
Two more days and my current gig at Filacy's will be over. For the last two weeks, I've been on a farewell tour of the building, working first in one department and then another while the company honors its agreement to keep me employed through the 15th. As of Easter Sunday, I will be a free man.
Of course, the obvious question is: What next? Right now, I haven't a clue.
On Monday I will register for unemployment and there is a small severance package to help tide things over. To be on the safe side (the last time this happened it took me almost a year to find a new job) I will probably take the money in my 401K and put it in the savings as a buffer. I can always re-invest it later if I don't need it.
To be honest, I haven't really been thinking about a new job just yet. I mean, if someone came up to me and offered me something I thought I could do and paid reasonably well, I'd certainly look into it. But as for going out and actually searching for something new, I haven't done that.
In some respects I feel like an actor winding down from a long-running performance. I've played the same part now for almost five years and for the most part I've done it well. I've gotten good reviews and for a few years the play made money. Now, the backers have decided they want to go in a new direction and that means a new cast so I'm out. I understand, of course. It's nothing personal.
By the same token, I'm not sure I can just move to a different house and start putting on a new (or similar) performance every day. I think I need a break, to take some down time. How much down time depends on finances but as much as I can muster, I think.
So, onward into the undiscovered country.
Of course, the obvious question is: What next? Right now, I haven't a clue.
On Monday I will register for unemployment and there is a small severance package to help tide things over. To be on the safe side (the last time this happened it took me almost a year to find a new job) I will probably take the money in my 401K and put it in the savings as a buffer. I can always re-invest it later if I don't need it.
To be honest, I haven't really been thinking about a new job just yet. I mean, if someone came up to me and offered me something I thought I could do and paid reasonably well, I'd certainly look into it. But as for going out and actually searching for something new, I haven't done that.
In some respects I feel like an actor winding down from a long-running performance. I've played the same part now for almost five years and for the most part I've done it well. I've gotten good reviews and for a few years the play made money. Now, the backers have decided they want to go in a new direction and that means a new cast so I'm out. I understand, of course. It's nothing personal.
By the same token, I'm not sure I can just move to a different house and start putting on a new (or similar) performance every day. I think I need a break, to take some down time. How much down time depends on finances but as much as I can muster, I think.
So, onward into the undiscovered country.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Theory of Economic Relativity
Over at Asymmetrical Information, Winterspeak looks at a New Yorker article that asks the question: How poor is poor? As he points out, the problem is "deeply political" with both the Left and the Right having their own definitions of what constitutes actual poverty. The New Yorker article introduces another method of defining levels of poverty, one that I might describe as "Economic Relativity Envy". Apparently, how much money we earn is less important than how it relates to how much our co-workers or neighbors earn.
More recently, three economists at the University of Warwick published the results of a survey of sixteen thousand workers in a range of industries, in which they found that the workers’ reported levels of job satisfaction had less to do with their salaries than with how their salaries compared with those of co-workers. Human beings are also competitive with their neighbors. Erzo Luttmer, an economist at the John F. Kennedy School of Government, recently found that people with rich neighbors tend to be less happy than people whose neighbors earn about as much money as they do. It appears that, while money matters to people, their relative ranking matters more.
Now, call me stupid but I've always defined wealth and poverty in fairly loose terms: wealth means having more money than you know how to spend and poverty means not having enough money to spend on things you need. The relative wealth (or poverty) of my neighbors and co-workers has never been a part of the equation. I can't imagine a sillier or more non-productive exercise than to become unhappy about your life because someone else - even someone you know - is better off than you are.
I don't care who you are, someone will always be better off than you are - at least financially. Even if your name is Bill Gates. And if your idea of happiness is tied to how other people in the world are doing, guess what? You're always going to be unhappy. To paraphrase Bill Goldman, life isn't fair - anyone who tells you differently is selling something.
Luckily, as Winterspeak points out, there are ways to make income disparity less of a problem, or at least less noticeable. These are my favorites:
Moreover, TV is a powerful channel of conveying the lives of the rich to the poor. The average TV character is much better looking, richer, and more educated than the average person, which creates horrible stress according to the New Yorker, so it would be better to restrict who folks can watch on TV based on their income.
Moreover, role models, many of whom are wealthier than the people who are supposed to emulate them, would have to end. Role models are harmful by throwing income disparity into sharper contrast than it would be otherwise.
Or perhaps kill two birds with one stone by letting people role model reality TV stars. Oh, wait...
More recently, three economists at the University of Warwick published the results of a survey of sixteen thousand workers in a range of industries, in which they found that the workers’ reported levels of job satisfaction had less to do with their salaries than with how their salaries compared with those of co-workers. Human beings are also competitive with their neighbors. Erzo Luttmer, an economist at the John F. Kennedy School of Government, recently found that people with rich neighbors tend to be less happy than people whose neighbors earn about as much money as they do. It appears that, while money matters to people, their relative ranking matters more.
Now, call me stupid but I've always defined wealth and poverty in fairly loose terms: wealth means having more money than you know how to spend and poverty means not having enough money to spend on things you need. The relative wealth (or poverty) of my neighbors and co-workers has never been a part of the equation. I can't imagine a sillier or more non-productive exercise than to become unhappy about your life because someone else - even someone you know - is better off than you are.
I don't care who you are, someone will always be better off than you are - at least financially. Even if your name is Bill Gates. And if your idea of happiness is tied to how other people in the world are doing, guess what? You're always going to be unhappy. To paraphrase Bill Goldman, life isn't fair - anyone who tells you differently is selling something.
Luckily, as Winterspeak points out, there are ways to make income disparity less of a problem, or at least less noticeable. These are my favorites:
Moreover, TV is a powerful channel of conveying the lives of the rich to the poor. The average TV character is much better looking, richer, and more educated than the average person, which creates horrible stress according to the New Yorker, so it would be better to restrict who folks can watch on TV based on their income.
Moreover, role models, many of whom are wealthier than the people who are supposed to emulate them, would have to end. Role models are harmful by throwing income disparity into sharper contrast than it would be otherwise.
Or perhaps kill two birds with one stone by letting people role model reality TV stars. Oh, wait...
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
Here and Now
Over at 43 Folders, Merlin is practicing "Mindfulness". This one sums me up pretty well:
There’s also mindfulness of mind. Until we deliberately listen for it, we usually pay little attention to the fact that there’s the constant chatter of a monologue — often idiotic — running in our minds. When we really lose ourselves, we can even work it up to a dialogue.
Our minds jabber to themselves much of the time…— Buddhism Plain and Simple by Steve Hagen. p.102 [ ISBN Amazon.com ]
There’s also mindfulness of mind. Until we deliberately listen for it, we usually pay little attention to the fact that there’s the constant chatter of a monologue — often idiotic — running in our minds. When we really lose ourselves, we can even work it up to a dialogue.
Our minds jabber to themselves much of the time…— Buddhism Plain and Simple by Steve Hagen. p.102 [ ISBN Amazon.com ]
Sigh
Everyone's a critic.
Gaucho at Teahouse on the Tracks presents On Second Thought. Sorry. I got distracted after about the third paragraph. zzzzzzzzzzz
Gaucho at Teahouse on the Tracks presents On Second Thought. Sorry. I got distracted after about the third paragraph. zzzzzzzzzzz
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Category Error
Dan Simmons is one of my favorite writers. He's prolific, writes in a number of genres and frankly, is about as good as it gets in the writing world today. If you've never read any of his books, your reading diet is missing some essential vitamins. Now, as it turns out, he also has a website and not just a vanity site but one he actually contributes to.
I've just finished reading his April message and I found it to be one of the most interesting and thought-provoking things I've read in quite a while. I highly recommend you check it out.
(h/t Dr. Sanity)
I've just finished reading his April message and I found it to be one of the most interesting and thought-provoking things I've read in quite a while. I highly recommend you check it out.
(h/t Dr. Sanity)
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
No Better Than Bacteria
Well. That's that, then. Actually, two things struck me about this article. First is the reaction of the people in attendance; not just the enthusiastic applause but this comment during the question and answer session:
After noting that the audience did not represent the general population, a questioner asked, "What kind of reception have you received as you have presented these ideas to other audiences that are not representative of us?"
Pianka replied, "I speak to the converted!"
I was also reminded of the scene in The Matrix, when Agent Smith tells Morpheus that humans are really not mammals at all, but rather a virus - a virus that Smith desperately wants to purge.
As for the good Doctor Pianka, the University of Texas evolutionary ecologist and lizard expert who the Academy named the 2006 Distinguished Texas Scientist - who, it appears may have spent a little too much by himself - all I can say is, if you really feel that 90% of the people have to die so that the earth may survive, start with yourself and the "converted".
We'll take care of things from there. (h/t James Taranto)
After noting that the audience did not represent the general population, a questioner asked, "What kind of reception have you received as you have presented these ideas to other audiences that are not representative of us?"
Pianka replied, "I speak to the converted!"
I was also reminded of the scene in The Matrix, when Agent Smith tells Morpheus that humans are really not mammals at all, but rather a virus - a virus that Smith desperately wants to purge.
As for the good Doctor Pianka, the University of Texas evolutionary ecologist and lizard expert who the Academy named the 2006 Distinguished Texas Scientist - who, it appears may have spent a little too much by himself - all I can say is, if you really feel that 90% of the people have to die so that the earth may survive, start with yourself and the "converted".
We'll take care of things from there. (h/t James Taranto)
On Second Thought
It’s interesting to read peoples opinions on the war in Iraq, especially those that start with “I supported the war”, always followed by a ‘but’ and then a criticism. The qualifier (I supported the war) implies a number of things: first, that we are all divided into camps (or teams) of supporters and um, non-supporters. Second, it implies – being in one camp or the other – your opinion will necessarily carry a certain amount of weight within each camp. Third, it suggests, by now switching camps, your opinion should somehow carry more weight than it originally did.
Let me try a sports analogy and see if it works: I supported the Yankees but now I’m a Red Sox fan. What’s missing here is the all-important set of ellipses (…) between but and now – the reason why I’ve switched my allegiance. All things considered, I believe the reason itself is immaterial. I could, for example, have changed my mind because I dislike George Steinbrenner or because I think Fenway is a nicer ballpark. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.
What does matter is that I thought about it.
Instead of succumbing to blind emotion or outside manipulation, I actually sat down (well, the sitting down part is optional) and used my brain to decide how I felt about it. And, in doing so, I changed my mind! (Isn’t that a wonderful expression? I changed my mind. Kinda reminds me of some of the other things I should be changing about now, like my oil, winter tires, storm windows, etc., but I digress.)
Now, even though they may not agree with my thoughts, I think most people agree (in theory, at least) with the concept of my having some. Someone once said, “2% of the people think, 3% think they think, and 95% would rather die than think”. And the idea that I’ve actually thought about something first before opening my mouth about it does, in fact, deserve some props. It’s also the reason why so many people ask “Have you really thought about that?” whenever I say something. Bastards.
It’s nice to be thought of as a thinker. It tends to increase your stature in the community. However, vocalizing your thoughts – or writing them down for others to look at – is a good way to get yourself into trouble because it leads to criticism. This is one of the reasons why politicians rarely say what they’re actually thinking and also why so many Great Thinkers of the past waited until they were dead to have their Private Thoughts published. There’s something about having your innards gnawed on by worms that seems to take away the sting of being called a “Poopyhead”.
If you’re regarded as a thinker, one of the surest ways to court criticism is to change your mind about something. People want to know why and this is a trap to be avoided at all costs. Giving a reason for changing your mind means that you have to reveal the thinking process that went into making the decision. For some inexplicable reason, people expect this to be logical and easy to understand, as though you were solving the square root of a hypotenuse triangle. But that’s not how thinking works; when you think, you often travel from point A to the corner of Sunset and Vine with no real understanding of how you made the trip, all the while knowing that you’re absolutely correct to be there. This is why reasons are immaterial. The only thing people are going to do with a reason is try to shoot holes in it.
Luckily, there exists a plausible method whereby you can change your mind and not give a reason for it. The generic, non-judgmental (and wonderfully non-specific) way to change your mind without saying why is to say “on second thought”. To illustrate, let’s go back to my example: I supported the Yankees but on second thought now I’m a Red Sox fan. This implies that A) there was a first thought, B) I’ve now changed it, and C) the new thought is better than the first one. (It’s New and Improved!) Second thoughts are generally regarded as better than most first thoughts and this is why the use of the qualifier is so important. It suggests that I’ve grown, that I’ve matured; in essence it says that I’m now smarter than I used to be and that’s why what I say should be taken seriously.
Of course, we still have two camps and if you’re solidly in the Yankee fold, I’m sure your view of my newfound insight and maturity is that I’m now just another Poopyhead – and a traitorous one, at that. Which, now that I think about it, is just fine with me.
Because, on second thought, I’d really rather watch golf.
Let me try a sports analogy and see if it works: I supported the Yankees but now I’m a Red Sox fan. What’s missing here is the all-important set of ellipses (…) between but and now – the reason why I’ve switched my allegiance. All things considered, I believe the reason itself is immaterial. I could, for example, have changed my mind because I dislike George Steinbrenner or because I think Fenway is a nicer ballpark. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.
What does matter is that I thought about it.
Instead of succumbing to blind emotion or outside manipulation, I actually sat down (well, the sitting down part is optional) and used my brain to decide how I felt about it. And, in doing so, I changed my mind! (Isn’t that a wonderful expression? I changed my mind. Kinda reminds me of some of the other things I should be changing about now, like my oil, winter tires, storm windows, etc., but I digress.)
Now, even though they may not agree with my thoughts, I think most people agree (in theory, at least) with the concept of my having some. Someone once said, “2% of the people think, 3% think they think, and 95% would rather die than think”. And the idea that I’ve actually thought about something first before opening my mouth about it does, in fact, deserve some props. It’s also the reason why so many people ask “Have you really thought about that?” whenever I say something. Bastards.
It’s nice to be thought of as a thinker. It tends to increase your stature in the community. However, vocalizing your thoughts – or writing them down for others to look at – is a good way to get yourself into trouble because it leads to criticism. This is one of the reasons why politicians rarely say what they’re actually thinking and also why so many Great Thinkers of the past waited until they were dead to have their Private Thoughts published. There’s something about having your innards gnawed on by worms that seems to take away the sting of being called a “Poopyhead”.
If you’re regarded as a thinker, one of the surest ways to court criticism is to change your mind about something. People want to know why and this is a trap to be avoided at all costs. Giving a reason for changing your mind means that you have to reveal the thinking process that went into making the decision. For some inexplicable reason, people expect this to be logical and easy to understand, as though you were solving the square root of a hypotenuse triangle. But that’s not how thinking works; when you think, you often travel from point A to the corner of Sunset and Vine with no real understanding of how you made the trip, all the while knowing that you’re absolutely correct to be there. This is why reasons are immaterial. The only thing people are going to do with a reason is try to shoot holes in it.
Luckily, there exists a plausible method whereby you can change your mind and not give a reason for it. The generic, non-judgmental (and wonderfully non-specific) way to change your mind without saying why is to say “on second thought”. To illustrate, let’s go back to my example: I supported the Yankees but on second thought now I’m a Red Sox fan. This implies that A) there was a first thought, B) I’ve now changed it, and C) the new thought is better than the first one. (It’s New and Improved!) Second thoughts are generally regarded as better than most first thoughts and this is why the use of the qualifier is so important. It suggests that I’ve grown, that I’ve matured; in essence it says that I’m now smarter than I used to be and that’s why what I say should be taken seriously.
Of course, we still have two camps and if you’re solidly in the Yankee fold, I’m sure your view of my newfound insight and maturity is that I’m now just another Poopyhead – and a traitorous one, at that. Which, now that I think about it, is just fine with me.
Because, on second thought, I’d really rather watch golf.
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