July 10, 2009

Liveblogging Margaret Cheney’s biography of Nikola Tesla

Lately, I’ve developed a rotund curiosity for the life of Nikola Tesla. All I really know about the guy is that David Bowie played him as a mad scientist type in The Prestige, he has something to do with the Tesla coil, which is a total mystery to me, and there is a failing electric car company in California named after him.

Well that’s all about change, because I checked out Margaret Cheney’s Tesla: Man Out of Time from the Austin Public Library. I’m going to read about him! And guess what? So are you! Because I will be liveblogging my reading experience as it unfolds.

I’ve always wanted to liveblog something, to indulge in the glamour and excitement of fast-paced digital reportage. Problem is, I never get invited to those high-profile events that get liveblogged.

But then I thought, why let my disappointing lack of access or legitimacy keep me from realizing that dream? I’ll just liveblog the things I know. And since I figure you’re not too interested in my progress on that bottle of merlot, books it is.

Maybe you’re thinking, is it really liveblogging if it’s a book? Isn’t that really just a serial book review? I mean, it’s not like this is some external event that you’re chronicling as it unfolds.

Valid criticisms all. But, of course, if I called it a “serial book review,” as you suggest, I wouldn’t very well be liveblogging, would I? And that would defeat the purpose.

So I encourage you to follow along intently as I give to-the-moment updates of the Tesla: Man Out of Time reading experience.

July 9, 2009

Heap Worm to National Review: Please Update Your Reductive Partisanship for the 21st Century

There is such a thing as the National Review Online. Makes sense, right? But still I don’t think it’s an automatic expectation; besides maybe the International Socialist Review, I can’t think of any magazine that clings more stubbornly to an obsolete worldview in its analysis of present-day affairs. So I wouldn’t put it past them to dismiss the internet as some unwholesome beatnik craze or something.

In any case, the NRO exists, and it looks like a lot of media websites. It has hyperlinks and multimedia and a pretty slick banner and, well, it looks pretty good actually. It even has a blog where staff writers can muse briefly on wandering topics of interest. It’s called The Corner. It is the most obnoxious blog on the web.

Can you tell which is the murderous power-hungry fascist and which is the murderous power-hungry commie?

Can you tell which is the murderous power-hungry fascist and which is the murderous power-hungry commie? (hint: the commie is the one with the forked tongue)


Take this post, written yesterday by John Derbyshire, a rumination on the Pinochet regime by way of Chilean director Pablo Larraín’s recent film Tony Manero. It’s hard to say whether Derbyshire actually saw the film, since he offers nothing in the way of critical analysis, but he has a pretty strong reaction to it nonetheless. You see, the film apparently isn’t nice to Augusto Pinochet, or to America for supporting him, and this offends John Derbyshire.

Why does this offend him? For the same reason that he describes Larraín as a “commie director”: because he’s still living in the cold war. For people like Derbyshire, there is a line in the sand, and you are either left of that line, or you are on the side of America and all its righteousness. Any implication that America was wrong about supporting a right wing military dictator must be met with an immediate apologia of said dictator in order to vindicate our actions.

What follows is as intellectually dishonest an argument as you’re likely ever to find:

When the Castroite Salvador Allende was overthrown by a military coup in 1973, thus probably forestalling the usual catalog of nation-wrecking Leninist horrors — slave-labor camps, famines, etc. — the international Left was outraged. They still are. The subsequent government of Augusto Pinochet, while often brutal and corrupt in the way of military dictatorships, restored Chile’s economic health and eventually stepped aside to let the nation return to democracy. That of course outrages the Left even more.

In this worldview, America is self-evidently good, and the Left, being necessarily evil, resents America’s virtuous glory. Pinochet was a hero who rescued his country from the scourge of international communism. Anyone who disagrees with this must be a) a commie, and b) sour about the triumph of liberty.

Of course, the actual history of the Pinochet regime is a convoluted story that doesn’t fit so nicely into Derbyshire’s outdated paradigm. Pinochet’s policies undoubtedly helped to make Chile the most prosperous of Latin American nations during a time of violent instability and economic catastrophe. But prosperity came at a cost.

Aside from glossing over the vicious reality of more than 30,000 disappearances and murders under Pinochet’s reign, the glaring understatement that the regime was “brutal and corrupt in the way of military dictatorships” ignores the fact that said brutality and corruption are precisely why military dictatorships are fundamentally bad. They are not the necessary evils of an otherwise benign system. And when Derbyshire writes that Pinochet generously “stepped aside to let the nation return to democracy,” he fails to mention that this only occurred after fifteen years of iron-fisted rule, and only after mounting domestic opposition made his hold on power increasingly untenable.

The assertion that Chile under Allende was bound for “the usual catalog of nation-wrecking Leninist horrors” is, of course, impossible to know, since Allende was deposed and killed before he could realize his Soviet-style dystopia. One may as well suggest that he would have been secretly replaced by an alien robot that hunted honor students for sport — or that he would have created a socialist paradise of universal equality. However, the evocation of labor camps and fatal scarcity again betrays Derbyshire’s outmoded way of thought; this is the same alarmist claim that paranoid American hawks made before and during Allende’s regime, particularly after he was endorsed by Castro. It is true that Allende’s policies probably would have dragged Chile into the same economic black hole that consumed its neighbors in subsequent years, and in this regard Pinochet was certainly preferable. But it is ironic that Derbyshire invokes Allende’s potential for brutality to justify the coup, when the alternative was no less brutal. Like other cold warriors, Derbyshire seems to think violence and oppression are more palatable when committed by the right.

The author’s motives become much clearer in his final paragraph, when he suggests that his conservative ilk should insist on Pinochet’s virtuousness, “if only because it annoys the hell out of [the Left].” Even under the direction of the very thoughtful and articulate William F. Buckley, Jr., the National Review has never been concerned with uncovering political truths or demonstrating the values of conservatism. Rather, it wants to win the culture wars, to embarrass its enemies on the Left.

In the 60s, the culture wars mattered, but these days they seem kind of absurd. There is the Left and there is the Right, but most of us fall somewhere in between, and anyway those two camps aren’t monolithic systems but diverse and fissured alliances of like-minded people, some more like-minded than others. Politics should consist of dynamic engagement and the courage to consider the intractable truths that defy ideological elegance.

Also,  whiskey and cigarettes  should cure cancer.

June 9, 2009

It Should Also Be Noted that Oklahoma Is A Hellhole

Another thing I learned from driving to Texas: Oklahoma sucks. I used to believe that Nevada was the absolute worst state in the Union (on the horrors of Winnemucca alone), but I suspect Oklahoma might be as terrible.

Don’t get me wrong –  I’m sure most Oklahomans are good, honest, interesting people, and I’m sure there are many beautiful aspects of the state that I’m missing out on, but consider these travails:

I drove through two torrential rainstorms that nearly sent my cumbersome box van hydroplaning into the Sweet Hereafter;

I encountered one inexplicable traffic jam on the interstate — the interstate! — whereat all traffic stopped for half an hour, people lumbered out of the cars and stretched and stood around shooting the shit and doing other dust bowl types of things before everyone suddenly got moving again at 65 mph without any kind of plausible account for the gridlock anywhere in evidence;

I stopped at one of the state’s so-called “rest areas,” the memory of Kansas’ elegant and luxurious rest areas still fresh in my mind, to find that they didn’t offer so much as a dilapidated table, much less a bathroom or mowed lawn, just a row of dirty oil drums doubling as trash cans;

the wind — what is up with the wind in Oklahoma? Not cool when driving a giant sail of a box van at 65 (and why do they drive so slow there?).

My apologies to all Oklahomans, and my condolences; you folks got it bad.

June 9, 2009

Am Now Either Steer or Queer

GreetingsFromAustin

Ladies and Gents, Your Host has left his fair city of Denver in a cloud of dust and now writes to you from the Hill Country of Texas. Yee-haw, son.

Specifically, I am in Austin, the capital of this big state and its liberal enclave. It is so liberal here, in fact, that regular Texans break out in a full-body rash if they stay longer than the duration of a Longhorns football game, thus deterring the kind of predation they would normally pursue in a place like Austin.

In any case, I am settling in after a week and getting used to the marked differences. For example, I can buy a bottle of wine at the gas station here. Yeah. No more arbitrary Colorado blue laws. It’s completely straightforward here: beer and wine at all food merchants from 7 a.m. to midnight, Monday – Thursday, 7 a.m. to 1 a.m. Friday – Saturday, noon to midnight Sunday, and liquor sales at licensed liquor merchants only with valid Texas identification card between 10 a.m. and 9 p.m. Monday – Saturday.

Also there are pests here. My right leg is currently pocked by no fewer than twelve (12) mosquito bites, nasty tiny calcified sores that itch like hell and then burst with blood and other humors when you scratch. I have heard tales of tarantulas and scorpions, silverfish and giant earwigs. Every evening before dusk comes the hissing hour, when all the trees everywhere come alive with the sibilating of millions of invisible, menacing crickets. The roads here are littered with corpses of dim-witted possums, armadillos, and nutrias (ROUSes, WTF?!). None of these things exist in the mountain paradise that is Colorado.

I have personally murdered seven cockroaches, and I hope to have accomplished something of a roach genocide by sealing my house in a cordon of boric acid. This stuff is something else. It’s acid, right, so it eats through the filthy bastards like the Wicked Witch of the West. But it doesn’t do the job right away. Rather, it clings to them and slowly festers until they bring it back to their nests, where it gets all over their roach eggs and roach babies and roach moms, and then it eats through and kills them slowly and painfully and stomach-churningly. I take great pleasure in this process. I have been told that the roaches I have are the water roaches, which are ubiquitous here and incorrigible but clean, not a pest like the smaller roaches that infest unclean homes, but still I take great pleasure in this process.

And then there are the similarities to my unsung hometown. There are hipsters, for instance, just like Capitol Hill. Actually, many many more hipsters, since this is where indie rock bands get certified. They have tight pants and ironic mustaches and muttonchops, which is apparently the next thing for me to deride. They have fewer track bikes, however, likely because it is so fucking hot and humid down here that it is actually possible to sweat to death by peddling up so many hills without the ability to gear down.

But there are many wonderful things here too, like the absolute  explosion of flora. Driving along the city’s elevated loop freeway at times seems like crossing a bridge over a sea of ancient cypress and oaks and cedars and so many other verdant species. The nights are balmy and vibrant. The topography is stunning, with abrupt and prolific hills eroding over porous limestone cliffs. There are fantastic restaurants everywhere.

And, of course, there is my darling, the protagonist of this new chapter and the reason, hopefully, this journal will take on new life. The same view but from a different perspective, where vapor and cedar fever cloud the eyes.

Until then, have fun doing what you do.

April 20, 2009

Euphemism Fail

While discussing his marketing strategy, brevity-impaired megalomaniac Harald Crowley described the majority of our customer base as “in a sensitive part of their survivability.”

Which is one way of saying They’re fuckin’ dead!

They teach you that at DIA?

April 4, 2009

Bullshit Indian Wins Bullshit Award for Bullshit Termination over Bullshit Academic Practices

Well, little of note has passed in the sleepy hamlet of Denver lately, but here’s something interesting: big angry poseur Ward Churchill won his lawsuit against the University of Colorado at Boulder, in which he alleged that the state’s flagship school fired him not for being a fraud, but for being a dick.

To recap: The day after the September 11th terror attacks, Churchill wrote a reductive neo-Marxist tract called “Some People Push Back: On the Justice of Roosting Chickens,” wherein he asserted that the WTC victims had it coming all along, because they were agents of Pax Americana, foot soldiers in America’s brutal campaign to subjugate all the rest of the world under imperialist rule, “little Eichmanns” engineering global injustice from their posh entry-level jobs.

Ward Churchill: Revolutionary Badass?

Ward Churchill: Revolutionary Badass?

Oddly, no one really picked up on Churchill’s inflammatory remarks until 2005, perhaps because at the time of their appearance we were all too busy duct-taping our window sills and spying on the Armenian family across the street. But once it was noticed, preceding a subsequently canceled Churchill appearance at Hamilton College in New York state, people more or less flipped out; Bill O’Reilly called him a traitor,  local Punch-and-Judy Dan Caplis and Craig Silverman waged a veritable war against him, and adulterous Colorado Governor Bill Owens called for his head, pony-tail and sunglasses and all, and allegedly ordered CU President Betsy Hoffman to fire him.

Ward Churchill: Charlatan?

Ward Churchill: Charlatan?

Ms. Hoffman could not easily do any such thing, but eventually someone else did, citing unacceptable amounts of bullshit discovered in his writings after a suspiciously timed academic review, and oh yeah he’s not really an Indian. And so Churchill, declaring that the University’s inquiry was little more than a pretense for his foregone, politically motivated termination, sued CU.

And won.

A dollar.

Yup, the jury found that CU had indeed illegally fired Churchill, and to compensate for the error ordered the school to pay Churchill one ragged green dollar. An article in today’s Denver Post relates that the award was insisted upon by one juror, the rest believeing that $110,000–for legal expenses and a year’s salary–seemed more adequate. Compromise be damned, the lone juror, who could not reconcile a reasonable amount with Churchill’s callous anti-Americanism, threatened to sink the trial with a hung jury rather than ben to his/her peers.

Of course, said article’s entire source is but one fellow juror, who sounds like a casting reject for The Hills, but hey, I’ll buy it.

Ward Churchill: Egghead Nerd?

Ward Churchill: Egghead Nerd?

In any case, it’s obvious to me that CU’s termination of Churchill was more or less political. Yes, Churchill is an ideolgue and an asshole and a dishonest intellect, but if that were the sole criteria for rejecting tenure, CU would have a sum of three remaining liberal arts professors. And regardless of the controversy and poor taste (and, in my mind, fallaciousness) of his opinions, there is a logic behind them, and it is at its heart a compassionate logic and one shared by a discernible minority of Americans. While comparing victims of mass murder to Nazis is repellent, it represents a view of America as brutish empire that is best encountered not with suppression but with honest intellectual engagement.

In light of the Churchill jury’s rightful rebuke of CU’s witch-hunt tactics–painting the school’s administration as a cabal of intolerant goons, at least in this instance–Churchill’s fringe leftist idiocy will only be strengthened in the eyes of its adherents and their sympathizers as a martyred germ of an idea that the establishment finds dangerous. But had the Churchill’s critics welcomed the opportunity to debate and expose the fragility of his opinions, a few minds might have been changed.

December 14, 2008

Who Will Play Straight Man to Putin’s Comically Brazen Designs on a Resurgent Soviet Empire? Not this Guy!

Putin routinely dismisses Saakashvili's boasts about his manhood

Putin routinely dismisses Saakashvili's boasts about his manhood

Hey: remember when Vladimir Putin supposedly told Nicolas Sarkozy that he was “going to hang [Georgian President Mikheil] Saakashvili by the balls.”?

And how this was all just reported and alleged and no one could confirm it until Putin himself sorta maybe seemed to do so after a Russian journalist asked him on some weird media call-in event whether he really said he’d hang Saakashvili “by one part.”?

And then Putin said, “But why only one part?”

But the best part is Saakashvili’s response to the reputed threat: “He would not have enough rope!”

While I took this to be amusing to no end, my sweetheart Alissa, who does not automatically see the humor in conflict, armed or otherwise, took it as confirmation that the movers and shakers of international politics are little more than schoolyard toughs with huge but fragile egos and a collective unhealthy fixation on their own genitalia.

Maybe so.

In any case, Saakashvili’s testes may be as impressive as he claims; you do know, right, that he led the peaceful democratization of Georgia. This is how he did it: After losing two bogus elections to ex-Soviet honcho and enduring autocrat Eduard Shevardnadze, Saakashvili got together with a bunch of his buddies, who were many and had popular support, and they spent the night bitching how fucked everything was before just marching their indignant asses over to the parliament and busting down the doors while Shevardnadze was giving a speech. Saakashvili held up a rose and shouted, “Resign immediately!” Shevardnadze resigned two days later. They call this the Rose Revolution.

I learned all this from “Marching through Georgia,” Wendell Steavenson’s multi-entendre-ed recent profile of Saakashvili for a certain left-leaning elitist magazine of migrating disciplines. I also learned that Mikheil Saakashvili is endowed with a big funny mouth if not with big other things. Aside from the “not enough rope” comment, there were two other choice remarks.

On his experience at the most recent opening session of the United Nations:

First they don’t feed you well at this thing. . . and then they sit you next to Mugabe.

And on his expectations for the American reaction to Russia’s recent incursion into his homeland, two weeks after Sarah Palin became John McCain’s running mate:

They are going to bomb! From Alaska! Or they are going to shoot their mooses!

On this last point, of course, Saakashvili sorely miscalculated. With two quagmires of its own, the U.S. could muster little more than empty condemnation, which is more or less the crux of the article (and its title, with its hints of regional conquest and lingering afternotes of Sherman) — that the American-educated, democratically-inclined caucasian darling of the West had shown the limits of Western power by perhaps explicitly provoking Russian aggression and finding himself humiliated when his allies could not come through.

The President, however, does not personally buy into this interpretation:

Saakashvili didn’t think, really, that he had been the loser of that summer’s war. “If we thought winning was taking over Tskhinvali — well, it didn’t mean much for me anyway. To get another hundred Georgian towns to administer?” He dismissed the loss of territory that had fallen under separatist control: “So what? These are two districts of Georgia. It’s not a setback. We are in a fight, and this is the position of fighting.” The larger point was “to get rid of Russian influence,” he said. “And the Russians overreacted.”

Maybe so.

December 12, 2008

Happy Human Rights Day!

Yet another industrious benefactor of the robust Zimbabwean economy

Yet another industrious benefactor of the robust Zimbabwean economy

December 10th was Human Rights Day, when people all around the world commemorate the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a cutesy, toothless charter on the books at the UN that says very nice things about people and affirms their right to live happily even if their neighbors prefer to run around genociding them.

In 2004, President George W. Bush turned the seven days surrounding December 10th into Human Rights Week. I believe this was done shortly after he issued an executive order decreeing that it is not technically torture to electrocute men by the testicles, so long as you use environmentally friendly NiMH batteries.

And how did our friends around the globe celebrate Human Rights Day/Week? Mostly with beatings and arrests.

In Havana, police reportedly gave a hearty trouncing to activist Belinda Salas and her unfortunate acquaintances for no reason other than to let them know they still live in Cuba. This may seem inconsistent with the values of Human Rights Day, but these folks, being Cuban dissidents, probably take beatings the way you and I take a bad traffic report. It’s not like they wound up in a gay concentration camp or anything.

In China, the government held a big happy press conference to talk about all the rights its subjects have. Afterwards, 40 protesters were rounded up and shipped off to indefinite incarceration. Hooray! In all fairness, the UDHR doesn’t apply to the Chinese, because they’re not humans so much as cogs in a very huge and productive machine that makes toilet plungers and Bratz dolls for actual sentient Westerners.

In Zimbabwe, meanwhile, Robert Mugabe proudly announced that his country’s devastating Cholera epidemic was over, and that he could get back to laying waste to his country with unbridled corruption, economic mismanagement, and mob violence. To really understand what’s going on there, read the following quote from the linked-to New York Times article:

The outbreak is yet more evidence that Zimbabwe’s most fundamental public services — including water and sanitation, public schools and hospitals — are shutting down, much like the organs of a severely dehydrated cholera victim.

Meta-metaphor win!

December 12, 2008

Republicans to Democrats, Big 3: “Fuck You!”

chrysler

Even though the House passed a bill providing emergency lending to GM, Ford, and Chrysler, and even though the CEOs of those outfits did such a nice, responsible, phony baloney thing by driving all the way from Detroit in electro-gas hybrids, Senate Republicans last night muttered something about socialism and then murdered the bill dead. Chris Dodd grimaced sadly and Harry Reid said, “I dread looking at Wall Street tomorrow,” because he’s a temperamental drama queen.

But aside from the litter of executive corpses, Wall Street doesn’t look too shabby today. In fact, stocks are up, perhaps because Bush offered to just give them free money from the Treasury because, well, there’s a lot of it to go around.

I find it amusing that, with the exception of the residents of Detroit, whose city will officially become the asshole of the world if any of the Big 3 go under, Americans don’t seem to give a defective fuel pump what happens to the automakers. Why this is curious is because for so long a time Americans were very protective of their auto industry. Since the dawn of time we have imposed tariffs on foreign cars (sometimes really high tariffs — President Clinton once threatened the Japanese with 100% duty on their luxury brands), bragged patriotically about domestic consumption, even, for a short time in the late 80s, threw Japan-bashing parties, where  rednecks would get together, hoot, and violently dismantle a Toyota.

Granted, a lot has changed since then: the world underwent a dynamic political restructuring that left us its unchallenged superpower, and free trade suddenly became more palatable. Not that most people understand the vices and virtues of the global economy, but the zeitgeist at least tells us that an export market is no longer the pinnacle of economic power, that quality goods for low prices count more. And that’s what the Japanese are giving us, so America can kiss my white American ass!

In any case, Ford says it’s doing okay and doesn’t need any help. Most experts believe GM would survive a managed bankruptcy and emerge all the better for it. Chrysler, on the other hand, is basically screwed. Is this how you repay the people who brought you the LeBaron, America?

December 12, 2008

Bettie Page Is Dead at 85

The enchanting Bettie Page ushered in the sexual revolution

The enchanting Bettie Page ushered in the sexual revolution

Which is sad but not super sad; she wasn’t the looker she used to be. Anyways, I know you broke a rib or two with Schadenfreudlachen when Jerry Garcia died and there were hippies all over the place bawling like the arrested-development cases they are, but you’d better watch yourself around the greasers.