Archive for August, 2008
the speech »
Friday, August 29th, 2008
This gets long and is not in the same tone as the typical UTD post. Apologies (sort of).
Maybe some of you watched it. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re waiting for it to be dissected, spliced and reduced to ten second clips to be commented on out of context by ignorant buffoons. (Following news is hard, watch Fox! Fair and Balanced coverage guaranteed to be racist and idiotic.) I don’t care. I watched it.
It was the second most historic thing I’ve seen on cable news since I can remember. Depending on your perspective, it may be the most. A black man accepted the nomination as candidate for the President of the United States, a uniquely racist and diverse country built on the no-cost labor of African slaves and thriving on the oppression of the poor.
He was eloquent, poised and gracious. Above all else, he was aggressive. For most of the seventeen years of this campaign, he’s been defensively reacting to the absurd rhetoric of the right. His tone was much different. He bridged commonalities (“the reality of gun ownership may be different for hunters in rural Ohio than they are for those plagued by gang violence in Cleveland, but don’t tell me we can’t uphold the Second Amendment while keeping AK-47s out of the hands of criminals”) while clearly defining his opposition to the current failing policies.
He spent a lot of time discussing his goals, his plan. He’s been criticized for lofty aspirations with no basis in reality. He’s been criticized for not outlining his plans for all the policies he’s aiming for. In the speech, he addressed those concerns impressively.
Do I know how he’ll find the money? Fucks no. I’m fiscally-retarded with fuzzy skills in any math beyond counting. However, he made strong statements for a withdrawal from Iraq (“you don’t defeat a terrorist network that operates in 80 countries by occupying Iraq”) and filling the holes in our corporate finance structure.
He antagonized his opponent (“Now, I don’t believe that Senator McCain doesn’t care what’s going on in the lives of Americans; I just think he doesn’t know.”) but was affable, more than is expected in return. He showed respect and only made glancing blows at his opponent’s character, something the right does more forcefully almost exclusively. (“If you don’t have a record to run on, then you paint your opponent as someone people should run from. You make a big election about small things.”)
He recognized a lack of faith in the government. (“…because it feeds into the cynicism we all have about government. When Washington doesn’t work, all its promises seem empty.”) He was thankful. He recognized how fitting it was to accept his nomination on the forty-fifth anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream” speech. (“And it is that promise that, 45 years ago today, brought Americans from every corner of this land to stand together on a Mall in Washington, before Lincoln’s Memorial, and hear a young preacher from Georgia speak of his dream.”)
For everything the speech was there are many things it was not. It was not hate speech directed at other countries with different beliefs. It was not a bold misstatement, a call to stay the course with vacuous claims of issues resolving themselves. It was not an attack on the opposition. It was not an ambiguous call for undefined change.
There are still issues to deal with. He needs to be held accountable for what he’s said. We have to be vigilant and keep him on course before the corporate interests can soften his resolve. We have to realize there are many things he simply can’t do. Our conservative Media, with its reflexive, vitriolic attacks and short-sighted, out-of-context sound clips and gossip, make the grandiose shifts he calls for nearly impossible.
He may not be able to make the lofty changes he mentioned last night and in the last seventy months of his campaign. He may soften his rhetoric and lose momentum on some of the issues. He may be stalled the corporate influences he disdains or the lobbyists he tries to hold accountable. He may become a victim of our racist undercurrent, reversed pledges of support while isolated in the booth. He may do a lot of things wrong. But, from his speech last night and the myth that is growing around him, he is a symbol of change.
His policies will be scanned over and picked apart in “special reports” with expensive graphics. By the day of the election ten percent of the country may still think he’s Muslim. Still, his policies defy the current momentum.
Change is coming. The “liberal” majority has found a symbol of the change they’ve been hoping for and the “conservative” ultra-capitalists have their first real opponent since Reagan spewed lies about a pyramid of champagne glasses. He may not be able to get any of his policies through but he stands as a voice for change among a sea of mumbled dissent.
He calls for personal responsibility rather than blame-shifting. He aims for an open campaign, symbolized by moving his speech to an outdoor stadium. Most importantly, he’s riding a wave of support. He packed that stadium with 75,000 people and another twenty-some million watched on television.
Our country is nowhere near as conservative or liberal as the Media want us to believe. Their sporting analogies and lust for conflict exaggerate the extremes, leaving the parties to cater to the fringe. The speech last night was a pledge to the middle. A call to the other 85% of the country not represented in Media that a new direction is recognized.
America, our work will not be easy. The challenges we face require tough choices. And Democrats, as well as Republicans, will need to cast off the worn-out ideas and politics of the past, for part of what has been lost these past eight years can’t just be measured by lost wages or bigger trade deficits. What has also been lost is our sense of common purpose, and that’s what we have to restore.
It was historic and somewhat inspirational. Now I’m off to read the different commentaries from the established media. I’m excited to see how quickly, brazenly and completely they’ve fucked up.
idiocracy »
Friday, August 29th, 2008
… is one of the boldest attempts at terrible in recent memory. On all counts, acting, directing, set design, screen writing, etc., it’s dismal. There’s nothing redeeming about the thing. It’s embarrassing that someone would actually make it.
Wait… that’s Dax playing one of the idiots? It’s and Owen Wilson movie not directed by Wes Anderson? Oh. Strike all that. Pretty standard. Exactly what you’d expect.
**
speech »
Friday, August 29th, 2008
On the television the crowd is immense. The screen cuts away to a video, framed by the station’s brand.
It’s cheesy, filled with token photographs deep in thought and glowing testimonials. Even trite and sappy, it’s effective. It sets a tone. It’s an introduction. It builds momentum.
The screen cuts back to the massive crowd surrounding an empty podium. It’s red, rimmed with white, standing atop a circular stage, ringed with stairs. There’s a raised walkway from the podium to the entrance. The entrance is built into a large display, flanked by giant screens and Greek columns. (more…)
friday free for all »
Friday, August 29th, 2008
… Girlfriend and I attended the local Renaissance Fair this past Saturday. How I haven’t posted about it concerns me. That I’m concerned about not posting about it concerns me more. Expect a post next week. Socially awkward, disposable income, “gypsy” costumes and voluntary proximity make for an entertaining combination. Snaps are in the usual place.
… That this post even needed to be written frightens and depresses me.
… Because of The event in town, I was warned mmmm, scare tactics; so republican that I’d have to be available this entire weekend. Also, all work would need to be done from the office. As I don’t do anything related to the event, it won’t further my career in any way and I very much loathe being in this office, I was not happy.
Wednesday I learned that I would only have to work a media party Saturday evening, be available whatever that means Sunday and in the office on Labor day. The news was better than I expected and shifted my mood from a heated furious to a delightful irate.
… I caught up in my feed reader. That’s the first time that happened since day two of using it. I even cleaned out the feeds of ones I rarely read, were boring or hadn’t updated in awhile. I feel like a new man. purge!… but not… you know… in a bulimic way…
… and finally:
Remember way back when I mentioned how am crushing on the Sigg water bottles? Remember how I’m patient like a needs-a-nap two-year-old? Yeah… so I bought one. Three actually.
I’m pretty sure even though they’re in Sweden and couldn’t care less they were reading my post. Wednesday the online store was back in business. Sort of. When I first checked it obsess much? yes; yes I do there were only three “lifestyle” bottles there. It seemed to be populating while I watched and there were five eventually.
Curious read: impatient, I looked around some more and found a site that had thirty-some designs in different sizes. I bought a 1.0 liter and a .6 liter. Then, because she’s pretty and smart and tolerates me mostly the latter, I picked up one for Girlfriend the style of that one’s a secret; here’s a hint though: it’s aluminum.
I fully admit that I’m selectively anti-consumerism and purchased on impulse. Sexy though right? So stoked for them to show up at the door.
Aside: if this doesn’t creep you out a little, you’re not human.
office personality »
Thursday, August 28th, 2008
First, because this post could be taken the wrong way, let me just say that there’s no judging herein. How someone talks and laughs is not in any way a reflection on the person. If someone’s a bitch, they will be whether they speak with a Gabriel-esque baritone or with a high-pitched wheeze. Someone nice and loving and sweet like Girlfriend could laugh like s/he’s vomiting straw she doesn’t; whew.
Take me for instance. I talk through the raspy, obnoxious voice of a twelve-year-old who recently undertook an unnecessary rhinoectomy. Think of the neighborhood kid you know the one i’m talking about yelling into your eye while holding his nose after stuffing a bag of cheddar cheese and cracker Combos into his maw. How do they taste so much like cheese and crackers while smelling so much like vomit? See? Can’t judge.
Anyway. I speak no ill of the person, just the particularly glaring aural trait.
back-of-throat talker:
Listening to this voice is like eavesdropping on the struggle between life and time. Time always wins but life puts up a valiant struggle with terrifying face-lifts, giant breathing machines and water aerobics. The voice, in this strange-even-for-me analogy is time. It sounds like the tongue has been completely factored out of the equation, which is never. never. never. good.Worse, anything said in this voice sounds unsettling and sinister, even with the slight lisp. If this could be duplicated through hours of therapy, practice and pain, every villian in history, from the Serpent to G.W. Bush if your particular type of history is based on a book of metaphors you call “facts”, would speak the same way. Ghastly.
valley-girl talker:
Everyone knows one of these. Actually, half of you probably talk like this. You use all those elongated vowels and end everything in a question and orally toss your blond hair behind you with a shrug all Charlie’s-Angels-style. I don’t know why this one annoys me so much but I usually have to fight the urge to flick whoever it is in the forehead and hiss through gritted teeth, “it’s not ‘like’, it’s never ‘like;’ just say it!”Incidentally, I had a professor who said “which is to say” seventy times on average, counted 115 once in a two and a half hour class. Not surprisingly, he never said anything. I received a solid D under his terrible tutelage.
every-stereotypical-voice-of-an-overbearing-wife talker(s):
There are two of these wandering the felt-covered quasi-hallways of the office. From the depths of what I can only imagine is my own personal Hell, their voices boil up and spew forth as a combination of every annoyed husband’s mocking impression of his nagging wife. To make matters worse, these are the loudest and hardest to prepare for of the five herein.I picture myself as a bunny, grazing innocently under a hedge, unaware. There’s probably some Burt Bacharach playing quietly. I turn slightly, my big black doughy eyes catching the hint of movement as the neighbors’ doberman clamps its gigantic jaws around my tiny neck before violently lifting me from the ground and snapping my neck, granting me peaceful, black sleep.
The car-alarm-like voice is the doberman and, unfortunately, the sleep never comes. It never comes.
fight-of-your-life laugher:
Ever heard an asthmatic coughing in a dust storm through the last half-mile of a marathon? Or the desperate choked gasps of a person too far from shore just before they dropped below the water forever? Or that noise when a cat has a particularly large hairball it can’t seem to dislodge? Combine them.This one I actually feel bad about. It genuinely sounds excruciating, like each halted honk could be the last, could be the end-scene of his/her life. What a way to go though, eh? Laughing your ass off to something that’s only superficially funny surrounded by people you don’t even like? What. A. Way. To. Go. ::sigh::
ultra-fake laugher:
If you stare into the eyes of a psychopath, a serial killer or an amoral pedophile if the eyes happen to belong to all three, run the fuck out of there you can feel the coldness of evil, the gaping blackness. That, or listen to the hollow reflexive cackle that only has the slightest hint of humanity.It rings out bold and confident and emotionless, echoing off itself across the void where life should be. At every bone-shuddering bout of vacuous guffaw my soul screams shrilly in pain. So familiar, that.