Back in the day, television pioneer David Sarnoff used to say that the purpose of television programming was to entice people to watch the commercials. That was its entire function, and that function--keeping the US economy humming--was the entire moral basis for television. In 1961, Newton Minow, chair of the FCC, said "keep your eyes glued to the set . . . and what you will observe is a vast wasteland." And he never even heard of the Kardashians, or Jersey Shore, or Teen Mom. But Sarnoff's response was, in essence, 'so what?' The purpose of TV is to entice people to watch commercials. That's it. As long as commercials got watched, it didn't matter if programming was morally obtuse, or offensive, or moronic. Programming didn't matter. Ads mattered.
That long-standing business model for network television is broken. The idea that you wait until a certain time on a certain day to watch certain shows; that's long gone. That's what we all used to do--I can still remember, Wednesday nights at 7:30 we watched Lost In Space. Not anymore, not when you can just TiVo instead. There's even a term for what used to be normal: appointment viewing. And when you record shows to watch later, you can fast-forward the commercials! Yay! In fact, that's a lot of the pleasure of it.
What this means is that we should be in sort of a golden-age of commercials. Ads have to be so clever anymore, because we're used to not watching them. And right now, my wife and I have this ad campaign that we absolutely can't get enough of. If we see that we're fast-forwarding past these ads, we'll stop and go back. It's the Direct TV ad series.
Here's the first commercial in the series. It establishes the template. It begins with some poor schmuck who is unhappy with his cable company. Over six preposterous scenes, his life falls completely apart. Here, a guy, frustrated with cable, makes an annoyed gesture. His daughter sees it, imitates it, gets kicked out of school, begins dating 'an undesirable', marries said 'undesirable,' and the guy who began it ends up with a grandson wearing a dog collar.
Following the template, we get this logic--frustration leads to a racquetball accident, which leads to having to wear an eyepatch, which for some reason, proves irresistibly provocative to thugs. Post hoc propter hoc, ad absurdum, ad infinitum.
I don't remember the order in which they appeared. For the most part, they center on a single character whose life falls apart because of his miserable cable company. But what's so wonderful about the series is how ridiculous the logic is. Like this, in which a guy tosses his TV remote angrily, leading eventually to living alone with a housefull of stray cats. What I love about this one is the actress playing his wife, slowly backing away from her remote-tossing husband. Or this one, which suggests that self-help seminars lead directly to trips to Vegas, bad luck at the tables, and selling one's hair at a wig shop.
Then there's the Phil Shiffley ad, in which some poor schmuck, after witnessing a murder and faking his own death, has to suffer the ultimate indignity--having to attend his own funeral as a guy named Phil Shiffley. It's really wonderful--yes, it stinks to have to fake your own death, and have to live, in disguise, on the run from the Mob, but what's really awful is having to go by the name Phil Shiffley. That's the last straw!
The acting in all the commercials is great, especially considering they're all non-speaking parts. I love the fist of death commercial mostly because the poor schmuck is so perfectly cast, running along rooftops in an ill-fitting superhero outfit. All because of his cable company. There have even been spoof ads, this one by a church with, may I add, a commendable sense of the ridiculous.
I have no idea if this ad campaign is working, if DirectTV is experiencing a boost in sales as a result of it. I sort of don't want to find out. I just love watching them; the authoritative voice, the notion that cable company frustration really can only have one disastrous outcome, the Fist of Goodness, Phil Shiffley. The commercial model for television is long past defunct, but advertizing itself has found a way to survive. Clever preposterousness.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Libraries
Yesterday, my wife and I went to the library. My Mom grew up in Provo, and back then, the Provo library was apparently on the 1st E, between 1st N and Center Street. She lived on 1st East, and she says when she was a little girl, she'd just walk down the street to the library, and then home again with an armload of books. She had a goal, she said, of reading every book in the library. I had the same goal when I was a kid.
Since then, the Provo library has moved. Its former location, 4th E and Center, is now the Covey Center for the Arts. Academy Square, the building that was once part of the BY Academy, is now our library. It's a beautiful building. But then, libraries are always beautiful buildings.
I know books are passe. I know the publishing industry is struggling, along with newspapers and magazines and other print media. I still read a daily newspaper, but almost entirely on-line. But books are still glorious. And libraries.
We went to the library yesterday and we checked out nine books between us, and returned nine. Between the two of us, that's a normal week. She reads a bit more than I do, but we're both just voracious. When we were dating, books were a constant topic of conversation. We'd read, and chat about what we read, and it drew us together. Every town we live in, the first thing we do is find the local library and get library cards.
I mean, think about it, how great it is. Knowledge of far-away places and of current events, the fundamentals of science and the incidents of history, stories invented and real, all available in an easily portable format, for free, in a building intended to serve everyone. It's unimaginable, the glory of it.
Since then, the Provo library has moved. Its former location, 4th E and Center, is now the Covey Center for the Arts. Academy Square, the building that was once part of the BY Academy, is now our library. It's a beautiful building. But then, libraries are always beautiful buildings.
I know books are passe. I know the publishing industry is struggling, along with newspapers and magazines and other print media. I still read a daily newspaper, but almost entirely on-line. But books are still glorious. And libraries.
We went to the library yesterday and we checked out nine books between us, and returned nine. Between the two of us, that's a normal week. She reads a bit more than I do, but we're both just voracious. When we were dating, books were a constant topic of conversation. We'd read, and chat about what we read, and it drew us together. Every town we live in, the first thing we do is find the local library and get library cards.
I mean, think about it, how great it is. Knowledge of far-away places and of current events, the fundamentals of science and the incidents of history, stories invented and real, all available in an easily portable format, for free, in a building intended to serve everyone. It's unimaginable, the glory of it.
Monday, July 9, 2012
The single most important issue in American politics
I generally hate stuff like this. Articles or posts suggesting that we'd all be better off if not for That One Thing. It feels simplistic, ignorant. It feels like a rant. I tend to like complexity, both in identifying problems and proposing solutions. But I've got this nagging feeling that maybe This One Thing may be at the heart of a lot of problems the US is facing right now. So here goes:
The single most important issue in American politics is this: people like government services, and they don't want to pay for them.
Because it's not their fault. It's the fault of Other people.
Okay, we're in a demand side recession, and classic Keynesian theory calls for fiscal stimulus, which, with multipliers, will reduce unemployment. I happen to think all of that's true. Why didn't the Obama stimulus work? It did work; it was just much too small. The evidence to support those ideas is massive. Keynes still does work.
But deficits are still bad (as Keynes would again agree). We will still have to cut spending at the federal and state levels and also raise taxes. And most Americans would agree. As long as we don't cut spending on programs they like, and as long as we're not raising their taxes.
Two narratives: one is an internet meme I've seen, suggesting that President Obama wants to bribe poor people with free money stolen from hard-working Americans so they'll vote for him, perpetuating him in office. So: free health care. Among other goodies. Of course, this entire thing is completely nuts; we could cut every nickel the government spends on welfare for poor people and it wouldn't make a dent in the debt, plus poor people don't vote, plus the whole thing's crazy (and, sorry, borderline racist). What strikes me is the way in which this narrative constructs the people who are the problem. Undeserving poor. Bums. Parasites. As, in other words, Other.
Second, just as crazy on the left; the suggestion that passing the Buffet bill would do anything at all to solve the deficit. The problem is Those Greedy Rich Folks, who aren't paying their fair share. Again, the problem isn't people like me. It's Others. It's Those Folks over there.
Better example: California is famously ungovernable. The California constitution makes referenda too easy; that's one problem. I read a book--California Crackup-- by two journalists, Joe Matthews and Mark Paul, who looked at the administration of Arnold Schwartzeneger. In 2005, having failed to find any way at all to work with the nation's most dysfunctional state legislature, Arnuhld held a special election, voting on four reforms: limiting state spending, stopping the practice of gerrymandered districts, limiting public union spending on elections and making it a little harder for teachers to get tenure. All four were attempts to deal with California's fiscal crisis. And all four were defeated. As Paul puts it: Schwartzenegger tried to govern as a Republican, he tried to govern as a Democrat, and when everything else failed, he took his case to the people. He did pass a small tax increase. The legislators who voted for it were then swept out of office.
The Deseret recently ran an op-ed piece calling for Shared Sacrifice--another of those sacred, time-honored, essentially meaningless phrases (right up there with 'hard-working Americans'). It called for cuts, among other places, in Defense spending. But, said the editorial, we can't close Hill Air Force Base. We should close other bases. That one's a big employer in our state.
I think of the illegal immigration debate. There's simply no question that immigrants are a net positive in our country. They contribute more to our economy than they cost in government--no serious economist disputes that. But they're Other. They're Illegal. They're Not Us. Hence a resurgent American nativism. It's got to be Their fault.
Our country has massive debt problems, in part because we're under-taxed. We also need to cut spending--judiciously, but it needs to happen. Let's start by eliminating Hill Air Force Base. I live in Utah, and Utah needs it, which is why it needs to go.
The single most important issue in American politics is this: people like government services, and they don't want to pay for them.
Because it's not their fault. It's the fault of Other people.
Okay, we're in a demand side recession, and classic Keynesian theory calls for fiscal stimulus, which, with multipliers, will reduce unemployment. I happen to think all of that's true. Why didn't the Obama stimulus work? It did work; it was just much too small. The evidence to support those ideas is massive. Keynes still does work.
But deficits are still bad (as Keynes would again agree). We will still have to cut spending at the federal and state levels and also raise taxes. And most Americans would agree. As long as we don't cut spending on programs they like, and as long as we're not raising their taxes.
Two narratives: one is an internet meme I've seen, suggesting that President Obama wants to bribe poor people with free money stolen from hard-working Americans so they'll vote for him, perpetuating him in office. So: free health care. Among other goodies. Of course, this entire thing is completely nuts; we could cut every nickel the government spends on welfare for poor people and it wouldn't make a dent in the debt, plus poor people don't vote, plus the whole thing's crazy (and, sorry, borderline racist). What strikes me is the way in which this narrative constructs the people who are the problem. Undeserving poor. Bums. Parasites. As, in other words, Other.
Second, just as crazy on the left; the suggestion that passing the Buffet bill would do anything at all to solve the deficit. The problem is Those Greedy Rich Folks, who aren't paying their fair share. Again, the problem isn't people like me. It's Others. It's Those Folks over there.
Better example: California is famously ungovernable. The California constitution makes referenda too easy; that's one problem. I read a book--California Crackup-- by two journalists, Joe Matthews and Mark Paul, who looked at the administration of Arnold Schwartzeneger. In 2005, having failed to find any way at all to work with the nation's most dysfunctional state legislature, Arnuhld held a special election, voting on four reforms: limiting state spending, stopping the practice of gerrymandered districts, limiting public union spending on elections and making it a little harder for teachers to get tenure. All four were attempts to deal with California's fiscal crisis. And all four were defeated. As Paul puts it: Schwartzenegger tried to govern as a Republican, he tried to govern as a Democrat, and when everything else failed, he took his case to the people. He did pass a small tax increase. The legislators who voted for it were then swept out of office.
The Deseret recently ran an op-ed piece calling for Shared Sacrifice--another of those sacred, time-honored, essentially meaningless phrases (right up there with 'hard-working Americans'). It called for cuts, among other places, in Defense spending. But, said the editorial, we can't close Hill Air Force Base. We should close other bases. That one's a big employer in our state.
I think of the illegal immigration debate. There's simply no question that immigrants are a net positive in our country. They contribute more to our economy than they cost in government--no serious economist disputes that. But they're Other. They're Illegal. They're Not Us. Hence a resurgent American nativism. It's got to be Their fault.
Our country has massive debt problems, in part because we're under-taxed. We also need to cut spending--judiciously, but it needs to happen. Let's start by eliminating Hill Air Force Base. I live in Utah, and Utah needs it, which is why it needs to go.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Church and patriotism
In Church today, the opening hymn was 'My Country, 'Tis of Thee.' The rest hymn was 'The Star Spangled Banner.' Opening and closing prayers thanked God for our great nation. In our ward, talk subjects are assigned; the talks were not patriotic, nor, to my mind, were either prayer inappropriately partisan. I've heard of that in other wards--prayers or talks bashing President Obama, for example, and that's been known to happen in our ward's Sunday School, but not for years. Our ward is, I think, typical for Provo wards--staunchly Republican, but generally respectful to odd-ball Democrats who have yet to see the light. Love the sinner, hate the sin, seems to be the attitude.
But what's interesting to me is the idea that American patriotic songs should be in our hymnal at all. Of course, our hymnal also includes, for some reason, 'God Save the King (Queen).' Some think that Finlandia, in our hymnal as 'Be Still My Soul' is Finland's national anthem, but it isn't, this is. I seem to remember that the Norwegian hymnal had the Norwegian national anthem in it. And I've heard quotations from General Authorities saying that patriotism is part of the gospel, no matter where we live; that Mormon Americans should be patriotic Americans, just as Mormon Russians should be patriotic Russians, and so on.
I'm not sure I get that. Why should loving one's country be considered virtuous? And what exactly do we mean by patriotism?
When our kids were younger, the grade school they attended had an annual patriotic program. Each class would prepare and sing two or three patriotic songs, all in the Lee Greenwood vein. A slide show would accompany a lot of the songs. The kids sang very loudly, all backed by an instrumental track, all unison, but sort of zombie-ized, not much genuine enthusiasm. You sort of felt shouted at. This was a popular program--huge parental and grand-parental audiences. They'd tape the show, and the PTA would sell DVDs of previous year's programs, and did a brisk business. The slide show was usually okay: images of bald eagles and pretty mountains and the Grand Canyon and the White House and Washington monument and Lincoln Memorial.
It was kind of a patriotic Primary program from hell. I don't know if I've ever detested a public performance as much as I detested the patriotic program. I went--my kids were up there, I needed to support them--but all that bad music shouted at us? Made for a tough two hours.
So does that make me unpatriotic? And therefore, in a state of sin? I don't like the Pledge of Allegiance, for example. I don't like the notion of 'pledging allegiance' to a piece of cloth. I don't care for our National Anthem. Who cares if the flag was still there? Dumb battle in a dumb war we basically lost--they did burn down our capital--set to an unsingable tune. If we have to have a National anthem, I wouldn't mind America the Beautiful.
But then there's this. What's great about Woody Guthrie's anthem is its inclusiveness, its open celebration of all of America. Not the militaristic America, but a land made for you and me. I hear that song--especially as sung by The Boss--and I start to feel something real and true. A warmth in the heart.
So I guess I'm maybe a little patriotic after all.
Okay, but, so, this: At the patriotic program one year, the slide show included an image of President Bush, in his flight jacket,on the deck of the Abraham Lincoln in 2003. I don't remember if there was a slide of the Mission Accomplished banner behind him, but it was celebrating a man, a President, whose policies I had come to loathe. And yet, Woody Guthrie encourages me to think maybe even that's okay. I can't celebrate the specific decisions made by a President I disagreed with, but I can celebrate the Constitution, and its freedoms and guarantees, and the process under which we elect a President, a Congress, a government.
I think it would be really tough to be a patriot of a lot of countries. I'm not sure I could be a patriotic North Korean, for example. It would be tough to be a patriotic Somalian. But what you could do is say 'I will work to make my country better. I will work to make my country work.'
So I think that's what we should do too. I'm an American, and I live in a country built on a Declaration of Independence that has some brilliant words in it, about equality and pursuing happiness. Written by a slave-owner. But that's okay, sort of, if we think of patriotism being about identifying problems and working towards solutions, not just celebrating. . . us. How awesome we are because of an accident of birth. Shading towards idolatry.
But to say: "okay, here's what we're doing wrong. Here's what we need to work on next." I can get behind that, I think. Okay, so I'll cheer for American athletes at the Olympics, and for all the other athletes too. And when I think of the Patriotic Program, I'll also think of the teachers at that school who did such a wonderful job educating my children. And I'll even look at Bush and try to focus on the good things he accomplished even though that's really really really hard to do.
And in sacrament meeting, I'll sing. The National Anthem. That song, that impossible, unsingable song, has exactly one sentiment I agree with, one note I love. It's the high note, the big finale note at the Super Bowl and World Series, the one big flashy final note. I remember how my Dad would sing it at basketball games.
It's the word "free." The land of the free. And to truly make it free, to truly live up to its promise, you have to be something else. Brave. Brave as so many of our heroes were brave, the union organizers and anti-war protestors and marchers for the rights of all Americans. Free. Brave, to be free. And for the first time, I can see why that song's in our hymnal.
But what's interesting to me is the idea that American patriotic songs should be in our hymnal at all. Of course, our hymnal also includes, for some reason, 'God Save the King (Queen).' Some think that Finlandia, in our hymnal as 'Be Still My Soul' is Finland's national anthem, but it isn't, this is. I seem to remember that the Norwegian hymnal had the Norwegian national anthem in it. And I've heard quotations from General Authorities saying that patriotism is part of the gospel, no matter where we live; that Mormon Americans should be patriotic Americans, just as Mormon Russians should be patriotic Russians, and so on.
I'm not sure I get that. Why should loving one's country be considered virtuous? And what exactly do we mean by patriotism?
When our kids were younger, the grade school they attended had an annual patriotic program. Each class would prepare and sing two or three patriotic songs, all in the Lee Greenwood vein. A slide show would accompany a lot of the songs. The kids sang very loudly, all backed by an instrumental track, all unison, but sort of zombie-ized, not much genuine enthusiasm. You sort of felt shouted at. This was a popular program--huge parental and grand-parental audiences. They'd tape the show, and the PTA would sell DVDs of previous year's programs, and did a brisk business. The slide show was usually okay: images of bald eagles and pretty mountains and the Grand Canyon and the White House and Washington monument and Lincoln Memorial.
It was kind of a patriotic Primary program from hell. I don't know if I've ever detested a public performance as much as I detested the patriotic program. I went--my kids were up there, I needed to support them--but all that bad music shouted at us? Made for a tough two hours.
So does that make me unpatriotic? And therefore, in a state of sin? I don't like the Pledge of Allegiance, for example. I don't like the notion of 'pledging allegiance' to a piece of cloth. I don't care for our National Anthem. Who cares if the flag was still there? Dumb battle in a dumb war we basically lost--they did burn down our capital--set to an unsingable tune. If we have to have a National anthem, I wouldn't mind America the Beautiful.
But then there's this. What's great about Woody Guthrie's anthem is its inclusiveness, its open celebration of all of America. Not the militaristic America, but a land made for you and me. I hear that song--especially as sung by The Boss--and I start to feel something real and true. A warmth in the heart.
So I guess I'm maybe a little patriotic after all.
Okay, but, so, this: At the patriotic program one year, the slide show included an image of President Bush, in his flight jacket,on the deck of the Abraham Lincoln in 2003. I don't remember if there was a slide of the Mission Accomplished banner behind him, but it was celebrating a man, a President, whose policies I had come to loathe. And yet, Woody Guthrie encourages me to think maybe even that's okay. I can't celebrate the specific decisions made by a President I disagreed with, but I can celebrate the Constitution, and its freedoms and guarantees, and the process under which we elect a President, a Congress, a government.
I think it would be really tough to be a patriot of a lot of countries. I'm not sure I could be a patriotic North Korean, for example. It would be tough to be a patriotic Somalian. But what you could do is say 'I will work to make my country better. I will work to make my country work.'
So I think that's what we should do too. I'm an American, and I live in a country built on a Declaration of Independence that has some brilliant words in it, about equality and pursuing happiness. Written by a slave-owner. But that's okay, sort of, if we think of patriotism being about identifying problems and working towards solutions, not just celebrating. . . us. How awesome we are because of an accident of birth. Shading towards idolatry.
But to say: "okay, here's what we're doing wrong. Here's what we need to work on next." I can get behind that, I think. Okay, so I'll cheer for American athletes at the Olympics, and for all the other athletes too. And when I think of the Patriotic Program, I'll also think of the teachers at that school who did such a wonderful job educating my children. And I'll even look at Bush and try to focus on the good things he accomplished even though that's really really really hard to do.
And in sacrament meeting, I'll sing. The National Anthem. That song, that impossible, unsingable song, has exactly one sentiment I agree with, one note I love. It's the high note, the big finale note at the Super Bowl and World Series, the one big flashy final note. I remember how my Dad would sing it at basketball games.
It's the word "free." The land of the free. And to truly make it free, to truly live up to its promise, you have to be something else. Brave. Brave as so many of our heroes were brave, the union organizers and anti-war protestors and marchers for the rights of all Americans. Free. Brave, to be free. And for the first time, I can see why that song's in our hymnal.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Ranking US Presidents
I saw a thing the other day where a Presidential historian had written that George W. Bush was the worst President in U. S. history. I think that's pretty absurd. It's too soon. We can't really rank Presidents until at least some time has passed since their Presidencies. In Bush's case, for example, the main thing he'll be known for is probably the war in Iraq. We don't know the end of that story. Maybe things will turn out really well, both in Iraq and in neighboring states. I didn't like the man, and voted and campaigned against him, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he'll turn out to have been more successful than we thought.
And yet, it's irresistible, this urge to rank things, and Presidents is a category much loved by history nerds. Who are the (5 or 10 or 20) greatest rock bands of all time? Who is the greatest shortstop? Who makes the best hamburgers? What is the greatest Spielberg movie, or where does Spielberg rank among greatest film directors? Greatest composers, greatest novelists, greatest painters: it's human nature to make these kinds of lists, and it's also a conversation-starter, arguing about them.
Who is the greatest President of all time, then? First, it has to be someone who came to office in a time of national emergency, who steered our country through very difficult times, who left the country better off than when he first took office. It can't be someone like, I don't know, Calvin Coolidge, who became President with the country at peace and the economy doing well, and left office in the same condition. That's not nothing, but it wouldn't seem to meet a definition of 'greatness.' By the same token, a really bad President would be one who inherited a country at peace with a humming economy, and left office with the country in much worse shape. So the candidates for greatest President would pretty much have to be either Abraham Lincoln or Franklin Roosevelt, and the candidates for worst President, James Buchanan and Herbert Hoover. I don't think it's accidental that the two greatest Presidents followed the two worst--cleaning up the other guy's mess almost defines a great President.
I don't think most Presidential historians would disagree with that definition of greatness. But just ranking Presidents, going 'first, second, third,' would inevitably lead to the absurdity of arguing that, I don't know, Franklin Pierce, say, is the 28th greatest President, and having to defend it. What interests me more would be categories:
So, for example, Presidents who were consequential, but in creepy ways. Andrew Jackson comes to mind. His was a transformative Presidency. He redefined the office, almost more stylistically than anything. He was the first non-patrician President, neither a Virginia plantation aristocrat, or a Massachusetts blue-blood. He was rough and tumble, all frontier firebrand. A whiskey-drinking, duel fighting tough SOB. Orphaned at fourteen, informally married to someone legally married to someone else, a self-made millionaire. An Indian fighter, who adopted Indian children and raised them as his own. Father of the Democratic Party, a limited-government conservative, who nonetheless used the power of the federal government to illegally evict the Cherokee from their homes. The two worst things the United States has ever been part of were slavery and Native American genocide. Jackson was our most enthusiastic contributor to both. How to rank him? Our third greatest? Or third worst? Or both?
Or what about color-less competence? James K. Polk comes to mind. When he took office, in 1845, he planned to serve one term, and accomplish four things: reform the Treasury department, annex Oregon, annex California and New Mexico, and reduce tariffs. He spent the four years of his Presidency working himself to death; in fact, he died shortly after leaving office. He accomplished those four things, and left office with the United States owning territory stretching from coast to coast. He had to fight a war with Mexico to accomplish it, while avoiding war with England. He did it. That's a pretty impressive record.
Or, how about guys nobody thought would ever be President, who did better than expected. Chester Arthur, for example. He was just the worst kind of machine politician, part of Roscoe Conkling's Republican machine in New York, he became Collector of the port of New York, a really dandy center for corruption and a nice place to get rich. Really, to get lots of people rich. To balance the ticket, President Garfield held his nose and made Arthur vice-President. And then got himself shot. Three months of bad doctoring later, Garfield was dead. But Arthus did fine; pushed for Civil Service reform to end the practice of political patronage. To reduce political corruption. Well, no one knew that world better.
Who knows where historians will end up ranking President Obama, or President Bush. Certainly, President Obama came to office in a national emergency, and has done pretty well to pull us out of it. I think he'll be regarded as a top-tier President. Not great, but pretty good, all things considered. If he wins a second term, and if he can actually pull of the substantial reductions in nuclear arms he's talked about, he could be regarded as a top ten President. But we'll have to see, won't we?
And yet, it's irresistible, this urge to rank things, and Presidents is a category much loved by history nerds. Who are the (5 or 10 or 20) greatest rock bands of all time? Who is the greatest shortstop? Who makes the best hamburgers? What is the greatest Spielberg movie, or where does Spielberg rank among greatest film directors? Greatest composers, greatest novelists, greatest painters: it's human nature to make these kinds of lists, and it's also a conversation-starter, arguing about them.
Who is the greatest President of all time, then? First, it has to be someone who came to office in a time of national emergency, who steered our country through very difficult times, who left the country better off than when he first took office. It can't be someone like, I don't know, Calvin Coolidge, who became President with the country at peace and the economy doing well, and left office in the same condition. That's not nothing, but it wouldn't seem to meet a definition of 'greatness.' By the same token, a really bad President would be one who inherited a country at peace with a humming economy, and left office with the country in much worse shape. So the candidates for greatest President would pretty much have to be either Abraham Lincoln or Franklin Roosevelt, and the candidates for worst President, James Buchanan and Herbert Hoover. I don't think it's accidental that the two greatest Presidents followed the two worst--cleaning up the other guy's mess almost defines a great President.
I don't think most Presidential historians would disagree with that definition of greatness. But just ranking Presidents, going 'first, second, third,' would inevitably lead to the absurdity of arguing that, I don't know, Franklin Pierce, say, is the 28th greatest President, and having to defend it. What interests me more would be categories:
So, for example, Presidents who were consequential, but in creepy ways. Andrew Jackson comes to mind. His was a transformative Presidency. He redefined the office, almost more stylistically than anything. He was the first non-patrician President, neither a Virginia plantation aristocrat, or a Massachusetts blue-blood. He was rough and tumble, all frontier firebrand. A whiskey-drinking, duel fighting tough SOB. Orphaned at fourteen, informally married to someone legally married to someone else, a self-made millionaire. An Indian fighter, who adopted Indian children and raised them as his own. Father of the Democratic Party, a limited-government conservative, who nonetheless used the power of the federal government to illegally evict the Cherokee from their homes. The two worst things the United States has ever been part of were slavery and Native American genocide. Jackson was our most enthusiastic contributor to both. How to rank him? Our third greatest? Or third worst? Or both?
Or what about color-less competence? James K. Polk comes to mind. When he took office, in 1845, he planned to serve one term, and accomplish four things: reform the Treasury department, annex Oregon, annex California and New Mexico, and reduce tariffs. He spent the four years of his Presidency working himself to death; in fact, he died shortly after leaving office. He accomplished those four things, and left office with the United States owning territory stretching from coast to coast. He had to fight a war with Mexico to accomplish it, while avoiding war with England. He did it. That's a pretty impressive record.
Or, how about guys nobody thought would ever be President, who did better than expected. Chester Arthur, for example. He was just the worst kind of machine politician, part of Roscoe Conkling's Republican machine in New York, he became Collector of the port of New York, a really dandy center for corruption and a nice place to get rich. Really, to get lots of people rich. To balance the ticket, President Garfield held his nose and made Arthur vice-President. And then got himself shot. Three months of bad doctoring later, Garfield was dead. But Arthus did fine; pushed for Civil Service reform to end the practice of political patronage. To reduce political corruption. Well, no one knew that world better.
Who knows where historians will end up ranking President Obama, or President Bush. Certainly, President Obama came to office in a national emergency, and has done pretty well to pull us out of it. I think he'll be regarded as a top-tier President. Not great, but pretty good, all things considered. If he wins a second term, and if he can actually pull of the substantial reductions in nuclear arms he's talked about, he could be regarded as a top ten President. But we'll have to see, won't we?
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Yoga: the extremely serious, terribly important, actual factual dangers thereof
Couple days ago, we got this piece of mail addressed to our oldest son. Since he lives in Minnesota, and hasn't lived with us since Noah put squirrels on the ark, and since it looked like junk mail, we opened it. In the envelope was a brochure, glossy, tri-fold, printed on both sides; looked professionally produced. On the front, along with a picture of a pretty girl exercising, this title: Yoga, it's more than just an exercise. Under that, a sub-title: "Yoga means 'in yoke,' 'unity,' 'oneness with. Know exactly what you're engaging into." Under that, another sub-title: "The truth about Yoga exposed."
I do not know if my son is currently engaging into yoga, or even engaging with, or in. We certainly would never have allowed any such shenanigans when he was living here! None of that physical and spiritual discipline stuff here! We're actually more about basketball.
But you never know about those Minnesotans. Maybe he's come under some malign influence. Maybe someone has seen him doing those exercises, humming 'om', acheiving moksha. Clearly someone who knows him thought he needed this timely warning. 'Cause we read the pamphlet, and as we say in Utah: OH MY HECK.
Danger Will Robinson! I had no idea. See, okay, here's the skinny: God's version of 'yoking,' "is based on an application of 'undoing' . . . by 'removing' the devilish things in us that in turn increases our flow of God's Divine Life Supporting Energy Spirit in us (via TREE of LIFE) that produces health +. Whereas the Devil's version is an application of 'doing' by 'adding' demonic angels IN you that replaces (dethrones) God as health care provider +, like getting a spirit transfusion--making you more of them and lesser of YOUR True Divine Self." Whew. That's an actual quote, by the way, including the bad grammar and + signs.
'Cause see, here's the thing. All those yoga exercises? "Each body manipulation technique is a spiritual prostration, submission of self (the marriage ritual ceremony) to inviting demonic angels in to bind with your spirit-body--the SOUL (mind, will, emotions). Pilates and similar body structural alignments are rooted in the same origin as yoga." (My daughter's done Pilates. She says actually the main reason she did was to bind her spirit-body with demonic angels. The health benefits were tangential.) What they leave out, oddly enough, is the proven fact that Pilates is named after Pontius Pilate! Who KILLED JESUS!!!!
They don't actually go there. But there is more. Much much much much more. Plus a link to their website. The answer to all this yogic devil-marrying is, as it happens, Jesus. Whodathunk it. Plus they sell oils. And pet products. And stuff.
Every region, every sub-culture has its own brand of crazy. Mormons are not immune. There used to be a woman in our ward who, every Halloween, wouldn't give the kids candy, but instead handed out brochures about the Satanic origins of that holiday. Result: kids stopped trick-or-treating there. For awhile, Utah culture seemed overrun practically with the magnet people: "I strapped a little magnet to my knee, and voila, the arthritis was GONE!"
But this yoga thing, that one's new to me. The BYU acting program offers classes in yoga. I know acting teachers (and actors) who swear by it. I know others who don't think it helped 'em much. I think yoga's probably awesome. I'm not into it, but I'm good friends with folks who are, and it works for them.
So, in the annals of crazy, this anti-yoga thing deserves its own chapter. You can't say you weren't warned. Either way.
I do not know if my son is currently engaging into yoga, or even engaging with, or in. We certainly would never have allowed any such shenanigans when he was living here! None of that physical and spiritual discipline stuff here! We're actually more about basketball.
But you never know about those Minnesotans. Maybe he's come under some malign influence. Maybe someone has seen him doing those exercises, humming 'om', acheiving moksha. Clearly someone who knows him thought he needed this timely warning. 'Cause we read the pamphlet, and as we say in Utah: OH MY HECK.
Danger Will Robinson! I had no idea. See, okay, here's the skinny: God's version of 'yoking,' "is based on an application of 'undoing' . . . by 'removing' the devilish things in us that in turn increases our flow of God's Divine Life Supporting Energy Spirit in us (via TREE of LIFE) that produces health +. Whereas the Devil's version is an application of 'doing' by 'adding' demonic angels IN you that replaces (dethrones) God as health care provider +, like getting a spirit transfusion--making you more of them and lesser of YOUR True Divine Self." Whew. That's an actual quote, by the way, including the bad grammar and + signs.
'Cause see, here's the thing. All those yoga exercises? "Each body manipulation technique is a spiritual prostration, submission of self (the marriage ritual ceremony) to inviting demonic angels in to bind with your spirit-body--the SOUL (mind, will, emotions). Pilates and similar body structural alignments are rooted in the same origin as yoga." (My daughter's done Pilates. She says actually the main reason she did was to bind her spirit-body with demonic angels. The health benefits were tangential.) What they leave out, oddly enough, is the proven fact that Pilates is named after Pontius Pilate! Who KILLED JESUS!!!!
They don't actually go there. But there is more. Much much much much more. Plus a link to their website. The answer to all this yogic devil-marrying is, as it happens, Jesus. Whodathunk it. Plus they sell oils. And pet products. And stuff.
Every region, every sub-culture has its own brand of crazy. Mormons are not immune. There used to be a woman in our ward who, every Halloween, wouldn't give the kids candy, but instead handed out brochures about the Satanic origins of that holiday. Result: kids stopped trick-or-treating there. For awhile, Utah culture seemed overrun practically with the magnet people: "I strapped a little magnet to my knee, and voila, the arthritis was GONE!"
But this yoga thing, that one's new to me. The BYU acting program offers classes in yoga. I know acting teachers (and actors) who swear by it. I know others who don't think it helped 'em much. I think yoga's probably awesome. I'm not into it, but I'm good friends with folks who are, and it works for them.
So, in the annals of crazy, this anti-yoga thing deserves its own chapter. You can't say you weren't warned. Either way.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
This July Fourth
In August of 1964, President Lyndon Johnson came to Atlantic City, hoping for a coronation. He was going to be the Democratic nominee for President. That had been decided. The business of the convention was to ratify his nomination, creating a unified party for the fall election. But an integrated group from Mississippi, the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party showed up, claiming that they should be seated as the official delegrates from their state, on the grounds that the official delegation had been chosen through a process from which black voters had been excluded. Which, of course, was entirely true.
For the cameras, for TV, convention plans were running smoothly. Backstage, chaos and pandemonium reigned. Party liberals insisted that, at the very least, the Mississippi delegation should include both groups of delegates. Southern Democrats from other states insisted that if any integrated delegation was seated, they would leave. One fall-out from this moment--Lyndon Johnson of Texas, a Democrat, would not appear on the ballots of the five states of the deepest South. Another fall-out--the South is today a Republican strong-hold. Two previously important political entities--liberal Republicans and conservative Democrats--would cease to exist.
Anyway compromise was reached, in which the official Mississippi delegates would be seated, and two of the MFDP delegates would allowed in, as 'at large' delegates. Even this paltry accommodation infuriated delegations from other Southern states, who began to walk out. Civil rights advocates were equally angry, feeling that they had done everything according to the law, and were nonetheless being denied full citizenship. Ultimately, the MFDP turned down the deal, and went home.
One of the delegates was Fanny Lou Hamer. A poor sharecropper's wife, as impoverished as it was possible for Mississippi blacks to be, she had sacrificed her home, her family's livelihood, all for the chance to vote. Before the Credentials committee, she offered her testimony.
We wish that the vision of America, the vision so superbly articulated in the Declaration of Independence, a vision of 'self-evident truths,' including absolute equality before God and in the eyes of the law, we wish that vision and the triumph of that vision animated more of our history. We wish the man who wrote it down hadn't been a slave-owner. He wished so too--Jefferson knew chattel slavery to be an abomination, and yet, as brilliant as he was, he also had a life he loved, a life of books and science and architecture, and that life-style required money, which he thought he could only earn one way, a wrong way, a detestable way. Jefferson knew it was evil, Madison knew it, Washington knew it, all the slave-owning founders knew it. George Washington--he had no children, but one man he revered as much as he would a son; Lafayette, the French aristocrat who became his aide-de-camp and his dearest correspondent. Lafayette urged him to free his slaves, to pioneer farming without slaves. Lafayette spent his fortune buying a plantation in French Guyana, freeing the slaves, showing how a profit could still be possible. The French revolution ended that experiment.
And so it continued, this abomination, this cancer on the body politic. It took a war--the worst of our history-- to end it; it took another five generations to bring about something resembling equality in our nation.
I wish that wasn't true. I wish our country had managed to find its way to its best self without violence and without hatred. But 'there must needs be opposition in all things,' says the scripture. And through great opposition came the first few faltering steps towards the possibility of national greatness. Those steps include the sacrifice of Fanny Lou Hamer: a woman, in her own words, sick and tired of being sick and tired. And the sacrifices of many many others.
Hear that voice. Hear all the voices, ringing in freedom. This July Fourth, yes, let's barbecue, and watch fireworks, and go to a baseball game, pursue happiness. But also think, reflect, on words written by a flawed and brilliant man, words about all men, and all women, created by God, equal. The fight is well-joined, but it is far from over. Let's vow, as a nation, to continue the struggle, until we are, all of us: Free at last!
For the cameras, for TV, convention plans were running smoothly. Backstage, chaos and pandemonium reigned. Party liberals insisted that, at the very least, the Mississippi delegation should include both groups of delegates. Southern Democrats from other states insisted that if any integrated delegation was seated, they would leave. One fall-out from this moment--Lyndon Johnson of Texas, a Democrat, would not appear on the ballots of the five states of the deepest South. Another fall-out--the South is today a Republican strong-hold. Two previously important political entities--liberal Republicans and conservative Democrats--would cease to exist.
Anyway compromise was reached, in which the official Mississippi delegates would be seated, and two of the MFDP delegates would allowed in, as 'at large' delegates. Even this paltry accommodation infuriated delegations from other Southern states, who began to walk out. Civil rights advocates were equally angry, feeling that they had done everything according to the law, and were nonetheless being denied full citizenship. Ultimately, the MFDP turned down the deal, and went home.
One of the delegates was Fanny Lou Hamer. A poor sharecropper's wife, as impoverished as it was possible for Mississippi blacks to be, she had sacrificed her home, her family's livelihood, all for the chance to vote. Before the Credentials committee, she offered her testimony.
We wish that the vision of America, the vision so superbly articulated in the Declaration of Independence, a vision of 'self-evident truths,' including absolute equality before God and in the eyes of the law, we wish that vision and the triumph of that vision animated more of our history. We wish the man who wrote it down hadn't been a slave-owner. He wished so too--Jefferson knew chattel slavery to be an abomination, and yet, as brilliant as he was, he also had a life he loved, a life of books and science and architecture, and that life-style required money, which he thought he could only earn one way, a wrong way, a detestable way. Jefferson knew it was evil, Madison knew it, Washington knew it, all the slave-owning founders knew it. George Washington--he had no children, but one man he revered as much as he would a son; Lafayette, the French aristocrat who became his aide-de-camp and his dearest correspondent. Lafayette urged him to free his slaves, to pioneer farming without slaves. Lafayette spent his fortune buying a plantation in French Guyana, freeing the slaves, showing how a profit could still be possible. The French revolution ended that experiment.
And so it continued, this abomination, this cancer on the body politic. It took a war--the worst of our history-- to end it; it took another five generations to bring about something resembling equality in our nation.
I wish that wasn't true. I wish our country had managed to find its way to its best self without violence and without hatred. But 'there must needs be opposition in all things,' says the scripture. And through great opposition came the first few faltering steps towards the possibility of national greatness. Those steps include the sacrifice of Fanny Lou Hamer: a woman, in her own words, sick and tired of being sick and tired. And the sacrifices of many many others.
Hear that voice. Hear all the voices, ringing in freedom. This July Fourth, yes, let's barbecue, and watch fireworks, and go to a baseball game, pursue happiness. But also think, reflect, on words written by a flawed and brilliant man, words about all men, and all women, created by God, equal. The fight is well-joined, but it is far from over. Let's vow, as a nation, to continue the struggle, until we are, all of us: Free at last!
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