Book Look: Freaky Deaky, by Elmore Leonard: There is probably nothing left original to say about the late Elmore Leonard. Actually that's not true. If you say he sucked, then you would be completely original.
A bit surprisingly, this was my first Leonard book ever. Still, I knew exactly what to expect, from the locomotive pace to the somewhat cliched characters, all of whom are on the make and never at a loss for sharp words.
I chose Freaky Deaky because it is set in and around Southeast Michigan. The bulk of it happens in Detroit, but there are references to locales out in the suburbs and as far as Ann Arbor. But I suspect I could have chosen any Elmore Leonard and gotten pretty much the same thing.
The case involves a bombing as part of a blackmail scheme hatched by a pair of former '60s rebels. Their chosen victim is the guy who ratted on them long ago and got them locked up, so it's about revenge. Except the victim is now enormously wealthy and it's really the money they are after. In fact, the veneer of justified revenge is so thin, they can't help but admit they clearly zeroed in on the easy money. They even joke about how their noble protests of years ago weren't really about anything but making trouble for trouble's sake. The problem is that their target is protected by a former Black Panther, who also doubles as chauffeur and nursemaid, who has crossed paths with them before and has his own designs on the target's fortune. Into this mix comes a burned out cop who gets involved in the situation and gets suspended for it so his last chance is to catch the crooks to save his career.
Crosses and double-crosses ensue. Truths and half-truths, omissions and lies, keep all the characters spinning. And of course the brilliance of Leonard the finish, where everything resolves and this flawless gordian knot untangles.
I think for a while, Leonard will be my go-to for escapist stories. A position previously held by by a long line of mystery writers from Qiu Xiaolong (Chief Inspector Chen) back to John MacDonald (Travis McGee). Although still a genre writer, Leonard seems to be a cut above the rest. He gets pantheon-level marks for tone and atmosphere. Should you read Freaky Deaky? Unqualified Yup. To quote George Will: "Here's what you do, read the first chapter of Freaky Deaky. It won't take long, about ten minutes. Don't worry, the store owner won't mind, because you will then buy the book." Again, Yup.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
[TV] The Bad Guys Lose, or Not
The Bad Guys Lose, or Not: [[There are spoilers in this post regarding the ending of Breaking Bad and Dexter.]] Two master criminals retired from the TV screen inviting summary reflections and comparisons: Dexter Morgan of Dexter, and Walter White of Breaking Bad. Comparison mostly came about because the final season happened to be airing on the same night at the same time. There is little else they shared, including quality.
Dexter, as a series, was not worth it. It had two ripping good seasons, followed by six seasons a general suckitude. It's not hard to identify the problems: too much time spent on uninteresting ancillary characters who were discarded like used tissues; thoroughly unrealistic plot points, beyond the ability to suspend disbelief; comically bad dialogue and cliched tropes; the list goes on. You would think that having a psychopath as a lead character would have been a problem, too, but not really. If your lead is incapable of experiencing emotion how do you get a character arc? The answer to that was clever (and missed by most people). Dexter's arc was to slowly build up personal relationships through acting like he was normal, through mimicking the actions and rituals of others. In time he would come to find that it did him no good. He just destroyed everyone and everything around him.
It's not a bad concept...for a full length feature film. Maybe even a trilogy of films or a single season of TV. But eight seasons -- no. You end up with exactly what you got: massive storylines and even entire seasons that were essentially throwaways -- no reason for existing and then abandoned thoughtlessly. There were long stretches where the only validity to the show was the exceptional acting of Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter. In the end, Dexter becomes a lumberjack and I'm left to wonder why I wasted so many hours keeping up on it.
One hundred and eighty degrees opposite is Breaking Bad. A paragon of focus and character development. There is little I need to say about it that hasn't been said in every corner of the Internet. To find fault is to be a supreme nitpicker. With Breaking Bad you waste no time in the evaluation of quality, you jump right to the questions of meaning.
The question at the end was one of justice: Did Walter get his just desserts? Most people would look at him, deem him evil, see that he died in the end and feel that justice had been served. Wrong. Walter got away with it. Remember: he was a walking dead man from cancer anyway. And he got to live and be king for his remaining time on Earth. Walter won. I can't imagine how people are interpreting it otherwise.
Jesse broke even. He was a low life, burnt out drug user to start and he looks to be destined to live a marginal life from now on, although he may be grateful for it after what he's been through. Walter Jr. and Holly won -- although they don't know it yet. The money left for them will cushion them immensely and start them on the right path. Walt Jr. will continue to hate his father but live with it, and Holly won't give him a thought, but my guess is that Walter, like any good parent, would willingly sacrifice the love and admiration of his children to provide for their success.
His wife and in-laws lost, and lost big. Remember how natural it was for them to assume Walt had no options but to beg friends for help with his cancer treatment? It was just Walt right? How could he possibly handle anything? I'm told there is an added scene in the DVD release that emphasizes the dismissive, thoughtless contempt in which he was held by Skyler. To them, and because of them, to himself, Walt was not even a living creature. He was barely worth a thought.
Now Hank is dead. Marie is widowed. And Skyler...well this is best of all. Hank and Marie were complicit in subordinating Walt and treating him like a nonentity, but Skyler made him that way. Walt may have had evil in him, but without Skyler holding him to be such a helpless eunuch it would never have seen the light of day. Now it's Skyler who's the basket case. She has to live with her complicity and her own sins. Let's not forget what she did to her former boss, not to mention how she readily joined Walt when the volume of money was mentioned. Is she going to tell her kids she did it for them or will she just maintain a lie, forever, to maintain a reason to continue? She is compromised to the point where she is can pretty much have no life. I must say Anna Gunn nailed the soul-crushing wife role and followed it with the guilt and anger role even stronger. Without her, the series would have been severely diminished.
So if you've deemed Walt evil, the injustice is complete. It was a total victory for Heisenberg.
I am looking forward to the time in a couple of years when Breaking Bad is no longer fresh in my mind, so I can binge watch the whole thing all over again. I doubt I'll ever watch Dexter again.
Dexter, as a series, was not worth it. It had two ripping good seasons, followed by six seasons a general suckitude. It's not hard to identify the problems: too much time spent on uninteresting ancillary characters who were discarded like used tissues; thoroughly unrealistic plot points, beyond the ability to suspend disbelief; comically bad dialogue and cliched tropes; the list goes on. You would think that having a psychopath as a lead character would have been a problem, too, but not really. If your lead is incapable of experiencing emotion how do you get a character arc? The answer to that was clever (and missed by most people). Dexter's arc was to slowly build up personal relationships through acting like he was normal, through mimicking the actions and rituals of others. In time he would come to find that it did him no good. He just destroyed everyone and everything around him.
It's not a bad concept...for a full length feature film. Maybe even a trilogy of films or a single season of TV. But eight seasons -- no. You end up with exactly what you got: massive storylines and even entire seasons that were essentially throwaways -- no reason for existing and then abandoned thoughtlessly. There were long stretches where the only validity to the show was the exceptional acting of Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter. In the end, Dexter becomes a lumberjack and I'm left to wonder why I wasted so many hours keeping up on it.
One hundred and eighty degrees opposite is Breaking Bad. A paragon of focus and character development. There is little I need to say about it that hasn't been said in every corner of the Internet. To find fault is to be a supreme nitpicker. With Breaking Bad you waste no time in the evaluation of quality, you jump right to the questions of meaning.
The question at the end was one of justice: Did Walter get his just desserts? Most people would look at him, deem him evil, see that he died in the end and feel that justice had been served. Wrong. Walter got away with it. Remember: he was a walking dead man from cancer anyway. And he got to live and be king for his remaining time on Earth. Walter won. I can't imagine how people are interpreting it otherwise.
Jesse broke even. He was a low life, burnt out drug user to start and he looks to be destined to live a marginal life from now on, although he may be grateful for it after what he's been through. Walter Jr. and Holly won -- although they don't know it yet. The money left for them will cushion them immensely and start them on the right path. Walt Jr. will continue to hate his father but live with it, and Holly won't give him a thought, but my guess is that Walter, like any good parent, would willingly sacrifice the love and admiration of his children to provide for their success.
His wife and in-laws lost, and lost big. Remember how natural it was for them to assume Walt had no options but to beg friends for help with his cancer treatment? It was just Walt right? How could he possibly handle anything? I'm told there is an added scene in the DVD release that emphasizes the dismissive, thoughtless contempt in which he was held by Skyler. To them, and because of them, to himself, Walt was not even a living creature. He was barely worth a thought.
Now Hank is dead. Marie is widowed. And Skyler...well this is best of all. Hank and Marie were complicit in subordinating Walt and treating him like a nonentity, but Skyler made him that way. Walt may have had evil in him, but without Skyler holding him to be such a helpless eunuch it would never have seen the light of day. Now it's Skyler who's the basket case. She has to live with her complicity and her own sins. Let's not forget what she did to her former boss, not to mention how she readily joined Walt when the volume of money was mentioned. Is she going to tell her kids she did it for them or will she just maintain a lie, forever, to maintain a reason to continue? She is compromised to the point where she is can pretty much have no life. I must say Anna Gunn nailed the soul-crushing wife role and followed it with the guilt and anger role even stronger. Without her, the series would have been severely diminished.
So if you've deemed Walt evil, the injustice is complete. It was a total victory for Heisenberg.
I am looking forward to the time in a couple of years when Breaking Bad is no longer fresh in my mind, so I can binge watch the whole thing all over again. I doubt I'll ever watch Dexter again.
Sunday, September 08, 2013
The Month That Was - August 2013
The Month That Was - August 2013: Wowie zowie. Already at summer's end. I'm sitting here trying to sum up the month of August and I can't really remember what happened. I read a nice book (below); had a long weekend in Chicago (below); beyond that, uh, work was hellacious, let’s see...oh, I am very close to getting my next book up for Kindle. I need to write and introduction and then it will be ready. I’ll post more here, but don’t get your hopes up; it’s very esoteric. Not anything like what I’ve written before. It’s not even original, really. With luck next month I’ll fill you in.
[TV] Summer Toobage
[TV] Applied Schtick
[Travel] Still My Kinda Town
[Books] Book Look: Radio Shangri-La
[TV] Summer Toobage
[TV] Applied Schtick
[Travel] Still My Kinda Town
[Books] Book Look: Radio Shangri-La
[TV] Summer Toobage
Summer Toobage: At the moment any discussion of TV has to start and end with Breaking Bad. The final season has been a tour-de-force. I think everyone who enjoyed the show had this fear in the back of their mind that it might end suckily -- like the The Wire. Nope. I thought it would end sharply but uninspiringly. I assumed that since the elevating underlying tension -- whether it is better to be harmless and forgettable or harmful and remembered -- had been resolved it would be pretty a standard closure-fest. Walt was already deemed evil in the narrative. Case closed. From there, I reasoned it was just a matter of concluding the character arc either with comeuppance or injustice. I had no doubt it would be done with great skill, but the big question was already answered.
Well I just completely underestimated how much skill was going to be brought to bear. No attempt was made to re-ignite the possibility of Walt’s redemption. Each scene seems to push him further and further from sympathy. He’s reached the point where every word out of his mouth is suspect. He claims his cancer has returned, but is that just a ploy for sympathy? He wants his brother-in-law to back off for the sake of the kids, but is that just an angle to buy time? His wife is backed into a corner because of her own secrets. His last act of guilt -- his generosity toward Hank’s injury -- is now sullied when he turns it to his advantage. Jesse, symbolically the first person he manipulated, seems to see through him finally. Every act is calculated to assure his continued survival while maintaining the plausibility of his nobility. He has become, in short, a textbook sociopath. There’s the new conflict: How do you deal with someone who simply can't be believed when he is inescapably entwined with your life and those that you love?
Again, there is no moral resolution left here (unless Gilligan has some sort of monster sized rabbit in his hat), but the rivet factor is through the roof. All down the line -- writing, direction, acting -- everything is getting nailed cold. I’ll hate to see it all end, but I’m already looking forward to binge rewatching the entire series on NetFlix in a year or so.
Other things I’ve been watching on my summer vacation:
Still there are points of hope. Milch has new pilot coming -- the Money -- which is self-recommending and may even last longer than one season. At least it won’t be like everything else on TV. Also potentially original is a new show called Masters of Sex about early research into sex which judging from the promos, could be something that is new and different -- or it could be an excuse for lurid shock. It’ll be nice to see dramas that don't revolve around crime or historical/fantasy fiction.
Although I am looking forward to some new stuff, I can’t help but feel we’ve peaked, and more and more I will be rewatching the greats rather than watching new stuff. The bright side is that reality TV is drifting away from front and center. Still, peak TV may have passed.
Well I just completely underestimated how much skill was going to be brought to bear. No attempt was made to re-ignite the possibility of Walt’s redemption. Each scene seems to push him further and further from sympathy. He’s reached the point where every word out of his mouth is suspect. He claims his cancer has returned, but is that just a ploy for sympathy? He wants his brother-in-law to back off for the sake of the kids, but is that just an angle to buy time? His wife is backed into a corner because of her own secrets. His last act of guilt -- his generosity toward Hank’s injury -- is now sullied when he turns it to his advantage. Jesse, symbolically the first person he manipulated, seems to see through him finally. Every act is calculated to assure his continued survival while maintaining the plausibility of his nobility. He has become, in short, a textbook sociopath. There’s the new conflict: How do you deal with someone who simply can't be believed when he is inescapably entwined with your life and those that you love?
Again, there is no moral resolution left here (unless Gilligan has some sort of monster sized rabbit in his hat), but the rivet factor is through the roof. All down the line -- writing, direction, acting -- everything is getting nailed cold. I’ll hate to see it all end, but I’m already looking forward to binge rewatching the entire series on NetFlix in a year or so.
Other things I’ve been watching on my summer vacation:
- The Bridge -- from FX, which is probably the best network right now. Based in El Paso/Juarez -- a cross-border/cross-culture hunt for a serial killer. Lots of twists and turns. Interesting, if somewhat unlikely, characters. Needs to be careful not to get a) too tied up in the procedural or b) too tied up in cultural observations about the border. So far it’s done pretty well. Another quality drama that appears to have no larger goal. We’ll see. It has tremendous potential for someone with the right vision, but smart money is always against that. This is worth watching, which is more than you can say for most of these shows.
- Wilfred -- FX again. Occasionally inspired, occasionally stupid, occasionally disgusting, almost always good for a laugh. The heartwarming story of a suicidal loser and his id manifestation in the form a dog, or rather an Australian guy dressed in a dog costume. Often at it’s funniest when parodying real dog behavior. Wilfred has won me over, although it is now four seasons on and getting to the point where an end game needs to kick in. Still, after watching this, you can never see Lord of the Rings again without picturing Mr. Frodo slumped on a couch next to a guy in a dog suit, doing bong hits until catatonic. A fun and weird curiosity. Farce and comedy aside, there is actually a continuing Lost-like mystery going on about the nature of Wilfred. If you want to take it up, I suggest starting at the beginning.
- Dexter -- I find I watch this mostly out of habit now. It’s not very good. It hasn't been since season 2. Normally if I keep watching in those circumstances it’s because I feel invested in the characters, but don't really give a rip about any of the characters on this show. Inertia is a powerful thing in the face of some terrible summer TV. This show can be thought of as an ill-conceived version of Breaking Bad: man does terrible things for what might be the greater good and, at least for a while, gets away with it. Unfortunately, since the man in this case is a psychopath there is no question of remorse and/or redemption when things go bad. In these later seasons, the writers have had to imbue Dexter with some emotion to try to get him a character arc beyond the next bad guy he needs to carve up. They’ve failed. What’s left is occasional dollops of lurid entertainment and...inertia.
- Magic City -- Gone, and soon to be forgotten. Magic City was a middling crime drama/period piece that was originally marketed as Mad Men meets the Sopranos. It couldn't hold a candle to either of those shows, but it was not without certain charms. Though most of the storylines were misguided and meh, the main plot -- a good son, a bad son, and a man whose ambition will cause the loss of both -- had at least a little potential. But really, it was not a show I could recommend to anyone. It inspired no passion, although it was on an upswing and may have hit its stride if given another season. The unlikely, but possible, upside would have been something along the lines of Boardwalk Empire: a high end 2nd tier drama. Starz could do worse and they probably will.
- Burn Notice -- Was there ever a time when this show was fun and hip, or is my memory failing? Another show that had a good couple of seasons then fell off a cliff. A clever little caper show that decided it needed to have STAKES. I keep DVRing it to see if they find any of the fun and glamour from the early episodes but they never do and I end up FF’ding through the entire show in fifteen minutes. It’s ending about three seasons too late and there will be no redemption no matter how it ends. Luckily only a couple of episodes left and I get an extra fifteen minutes in my week.
- True Blood -- Yet another one that is lost. HBO has in its pocket the best of so many story genres it’s not even funny. Mob (Sopranos), Western (Deadwood), Cop/Crime (The Wire, although I may have to displace this with Breaking Bad) -- in the entire history of the movies nothing outshines these. Early on in True Blood there was the potential for them to take the Vampire crown also, but that still sits with Buffy. What True Blood was back then was the best Roger Corman sexploitation film ever made, but it has even sacrificed that title to American Horror Story, or it would if AHS was on premium cable and could get R rated. With each successive season it has gotten increasingly shallow, absurd, and non sequitur. As if the the writer’s room consisted of a bunch of giggling adolescents crying, “wouldn’t it be cool if…,” lobbing the idea against a whiteboard, then randomly assigning them to scripts. I’m sure it has been renewed but it needs to die now.
Still there are points of hope. Milch has new pilot coming -- the Money -- which is self-recommending and may even last longer than one season. At least it won’t be like everything else on TV. Also potentially original is a new show called Masters of Sex about early research into sex which judging from the promos, could be something that is new and different -- or it could be an excuse for lurid shock. It’ll be nice to see dramas that don't revolve around crime or historical/fantasy fiction.
Although I am looking forward to some new stuff, I can’t help but feel we’ve peaked, and more and more I will be rewatching the greats rather than watching new stuff. The bright side is that reality TV is drifting away from front and center. Still, peak TV may have passed.
[TV] Applied Schtick
Applied Schtick: Two TV comedy maestros brought their sit-com shtick to something more long form. The results were mixed. Ted from Family Guy’s Seth McFarlane and starring Mark Wahlberg, who I increasingly like, and Mila Kunis gets an “A”. It’s a stupid rom-com candy coating wrapped around what is transparently just Family Guy material. Even the voice of Ted, the intelligent and foul-minded teddy bear, is Seth McFarlane’s Peter Griffin voice. I’m mean exactly that voice. He didn't even try to come up with a different one. But it’s top notch Family Guy material, which means it’s funny as all hell. Worth a free viewing, and maybe even a rental.
Clean History is Larry David’s project and it is essentially a long form version of a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode. The gimmick here is that Larry managed to get himself dumped by a company that went on to tremendous success effectively losing out on a billion dollar payoff. Now living a much smaller life incognito on the other side of the country his past catches up with him and he decides to take revenge on it. The setting in Nantucket but it might was well be the L.A. of Curb…. Same characters, and in some cases same actors. Larry David plays Larry David. At it’s best Curb… can be very funny, but this is not Curb… at its best. When Curb… is not at it’s best it barely funny at all. Remember: it’s a show about George Castanza, with Jerry, Kramer, and Elaine removed. Its only going to score big about a third of the time at most, and Clear History isn’t one of those times. It’s not bad. I’ll give it a B/B-. But not worth going out of your way to watch.
Clean History is Larry David’s project and it is essentially a long form version of a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode. The gimmick here is that Larry managed to get himself dumped by a company that went on to tremendous success effectively losing out on a billion dollar payoff. Now living a much smaller life incognito on the other side of the country his past catches up with him and he decides to take revenge on it. The setting in Nantucket but it might was well be the L.A. of Curb…. Same characters, and in some cases same actors. Larry David plays Larry David. At it’s best Curb… can be very funny, but this is not Curb… at its best. When Curb… is not at it’s best it barely funny at all. Remember: it’s a show about George Castanza, with Jerry, Kramer, and Elaine removed. Its only going to score big about a third of the time at most, and Clear History isn’t one of those times. It’s not bad. I’ll give it a B/B-. But not worth going out of your way to watch.
[Travel] Still My Kinda Town
Still My Kinda Town: It had been a couple of years since I visited Chicago, which is far too long as it is about as perfect as imaginable a long weekend destination. I had first planned to drive in, but parking is always a hassle and my car is getting to be old and oil thirsty, so I took Amtrak. The Ann Arbor train station is 15 minutes away and since I am now old and spoiled enough to pay for business class, the 5 hour (with delays) trip is pretty much hassle free (provided the train doesn't break down, which has been known to happen).
Not only is the train vastly cheaper than flying, it’s just about as fast. Figure two hours of transport and contingency padding pre-flight, an hour and a half flight, another hour of getting in from O’Hare -- you’re over four hours right there. So flying may be faster but not by much. Meanwhile on the train there’s no security line, you can get up at will, you have about three times as much legroom, power outlets and free wi-fi (it even works sometimes) at your seat, and you can whip out your phone or other devices whenever you want (just don’t be an ass about it). A cab from Union Station is about a quarter of the price of a cab from O’Hare or Midway. Union Station itself is a bit of a Charlie Foxtrot, but not one the level of a big airport. All in all, it’s a brain-free decision.
The Chicago 10k was happening on Sunday morning so I arrived Saturday afternoon with the intention of staying off my feet but my room was in Streeterville (the area near Navy Pier) and the packet pickup for the run was up in Old Town, right next to Second City, a couple of neighborhoods north. I was so excited to be in Chicago again that I fooled myself into thinking the walk would be nothing. It’s really not so much -- a little over a couple of miles -- four miles round trip, rather a lot for pre-race wear and tear on the feet. Then I completely underestimated the distance from my hotel to the far end of Grant Park where the start of the race was -- another two miles. So ended up walking 10K (6.2 miles) just to get in position to run the 10K. My feet were killing me the whole race and my time was disappointing. Still, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than running along the lakeshore.
The only thing left to do was nap. So after the race I walked over to Millenium Park, made a quick, obligatory visit to the Bean and the Crown Fountain, I settled on the lawn in front of the Pritzker Pavillion for some shut eye in the cool shade. How perfect is that?
Somewhat recharged, I paid a visit to the Art Institute. They had a Impressionism and Fashion exhibit going on that didn’t really interest me and the main sculpture garden was down for renovations, so it was a little disappointing, but there is so much tremendous stuff on display there that I could still wander for for a couple of hours, or at least until my feet gave out again.
Come evening I engaged in what was probably the single most touristy activity imaginable. Not only did I go to Navy Pier (self-described as the busiest tourist destination in the Midwest), I went to the Margaritaville on Navy Pier and had a margarita. All that was missing was and old time photo and a souvenir snow globe.
The next day (Monday) was dedicated to my traditional Chicago activity -- rent a bike and pedal north to Wrigleyville. This is an activity I highly recommend to anyone who will listen. You can rent a bike at Navy Pier of Millenium Park (there may be other places). If you are heading north I suggest Navy Pier, for points south, which would be the museum campus, Millenium Park works better (be careful to walk your bike until you get out of the park or you’ll get yelled at). Either way, once you have your bike you have miles and miles of a paved pedestrian/cyclist/rollerblade path running along Lake Michigan that is a joy to ride. North from Navy Pier you will ride past broad beaches full of folks swimming and playing volleyball and just laying about. You could be in Miami Beach by the look of it.
At any point you can turn left and head back toward the city attractions. First up is Lincoln Park, a vernal space with a zoo and gardens, also to home to Depaul University and Chicago Pizza Kitchen and Oven Grinder (where the locals go for pizza pie; they tend to pass on the famous name deep dish joints). Next up is the turnoff onto Addison towards Wrigleyville.
Wrigleyville is the neighborhood around Wrigley Field where the Cubs play. It’s loaded down with bars and souvenir shops with some quirky boutiquey kinda stuff mixed in, mostly running along Clark St. When the Cubs are playing it gets fun. When the Cubs are playing the White Sox, or there is some other special aspect to the game such as it coincides with a Northwestern football game, it gets downright Bourbon Street-like. At 11 AM on Monday when the Cubs aren't playing until the evening it’s pretty quiet, which was fine with me. I snagged a quick lunch at Vines on Clark, one of the places that does a little better than standard bar food, then trotted across the street for a tour of Wrigley Field.
If you are not a baseball fan, let’s just note that Wrigley Field is an old, old, old, traditional park. It is loaded down with stories and history of the sort that baseball nerds drool over. The tour covers all that history as you walk throughout the park from the bleachers to the press box, eventually ending right down on the field. It’s very nicely done and the guides are professional and knowledgeable. Like all ballparks, Wrigley has that cathedral like quality when empty -- the beautiful green shadings and amphitheatrical shape. There is comparatively little advertising since it was designed long before things such as corporate sponsorship were a gleam in anyone’s eye. I have to say, though, that when it comes to actually watching a game, Wrigley just can’t measure up to modern parks for comfort and convenience. Concession choices are limited and you get your fair share of obstructed view seats.
Note: If I was King of Wrigley Field I would find a way to completely demolish and re-do the upper deck. There has to be a way to have an upper deck without the dropping huge support poles in front of lower deck fans. Plus, with a new upper deck you could build in some of the posh seating and services that generate so much revenue. And you could do all this without altering the traditional character or interfering with the surrounding neighborhood.
Still, there is tremendous value to Wrigley Field, and Wrigleyville is part of that. There is virtually no parking anywhere around the stadium, the environment is part of the city, not a bubble for folks from the suburbs to haul in for the game, get slotted into a parking space, then crawl through the traffic jam out on the way home right after. If you want to see the Tigers you go to Comerica Park then leave, if you want to see the Cubs you go to the city where Wrigley Field is. Does that make sense?
The lakeshore bike path continues north a way further up to Edgewater Beach. I expect it’s an easy street ride beyond that to Loyola University and Northwestern University. Chicago, in many ways, resembles a giant college town. Sadly, threatening skies put the kibosh on any further exploration. I got back to Millenium Park just as the rain was starting in earnest. The evening would be indoor time. Dinner was a small grilled veggie pizza at Gino’s East, of which I ate about half. I used to work at Pizzeria Uno’s so I’m familiar with Chicago Style Deep Dish, but I have to say that the famous names in Deep Dish -- Uno’s, Gino’s, Giardano’s, Lou’s -- all taste pretty much the same to me. It’s all tasty stuff -- I love the sweet chunky tomato sauce most of all -- but undifferentiated.
The next morning was checkout time, but I had scheduled a late train back, so I had a final few hours to enjoy the city. A walk up Michigan Ave, past all the high end stores, to the Gold Coast area where the ultra-hip shops and restaurants are. I happened on a little place called Da Lobsta where they claimed to do a genuine Maine-style Lobster Roll, and they do, it was very tasty and trad -- made me miss Maine. From there further north to the Lincoln Park Zoo and spent some leisurely time checking out the beasties.
On the way back to get my gear I did something silly. I stopped at Portillo’s for an Italian Beef. Chicago is best known for Deep Dish and the famous Chicago Style hot dogs. Less well known but still iconic is the Italian Beef sandwich. It’s simple: seasoned roast beef left to marinate in it’s own spiced juices, topped with a small touch of sweet Italian peppers. It is serve on a chewy hoagie roll and -- this is key -- au jus, messy au jus. It’s fabulous when done right, a Portillo’s does an excellent job. Not a thing you want to eat everyday, but I figured between running and biking and walking I had probably covered forty miles over the previous 2 days. Plus, I didn't want to be hungry on the train ride back. So I indulged.
And I wasn’t hungry on the ride back. I felt like a bloated pig on the ride back. And the bulk of the following day. But that’s alright. I get to Chicago a couple of days a year if I’m lucky. I’ll gladly indulge in whatever it offers.
Not only is the train vastly cheaper than flying, it’s just about as fast. Figure two hours of transport and contingency padding pre-flight, an hour and a half flight, another hour of getting in from O’Hare -- you’re over four hours right there. So flying may be faster but not by much. Meanwhile on the train there’s no security line, you can get up at will, you have about three times as much legroom, power outlets and free wi-fi (it even works sometimes) at your seat, and you can whip out your phone or other devices whenever you want (just don’t be an ass about it). A cab from Union Station is about a quarter of the price of a cab from O’Hare or Midway. Union Station itself is a bit of a Charlie Foxtrot, but not one the level of a big airport. All in all, it’s a brain-free decision.
The Chicago 10k was happening on Sunday morning so I arrived Saturday afternoon with the intention of staying off my feet but my room was in Streeterville (the area near Navy Pier) and the packet pickup for the run was up in Old Town, right next to Second City, a couple of neighborhoods north. I was so excited to be in Chicago again that I fooled myself into thinking the walk would be nothing. It’s really not so much -- a little over a couple of miles -- four miles round trip, rather a lot for pre-race wear and tear on the feet. Then I completely underestimated the distance from my hotel to the far end of Grant Park where the start of the race was -- another two miles. So ended up walking 10K (6.2 miles) just to get in position to run the 10K. My feet were killing me the whole race and my time was disappointing. Still, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than running along the lakeshore.
The only thing left to do was nap. So after the race I walked over to Millenium Park, made a quick, obligatory visit to the Bean and the Crown Fountain, I settled on the lawn in front of the Pritzker Pavillion for some shut eye in the cool shade. How perfect is that?
Somewhat recharged, I paid a visit to the Art Institute. They had a Impressionism and Fashion exhibit going on that didn’t really interest me and the main sculpture garden was down for renovations, so it was a little disappointing, but there is so much tremendous stuff on display there that I could still wander for for a couple of hours, or at least until my feet gave out again.
Come evening I engaged in what was probably the single most touristy activity imaginable. Not only did I go to Navy Pier (self-described as the busiest tourist destination in the Midwest), I went to the Margaritaville on Navy Pier and had a margarita. All that was missing was and old time photo and a souvenir snow globe.
The next day (Monday) was dedicated to my traditional Chicago activity -- rent a bike and pedal north to Wrigleyville. This is an activity I highly recommend to anyone who will listen. You can rent a bike at Navy Pier of Millenium Park (there may be other places). If you are heading north I suggest Navy Pier, for points south, which would be the museum campus, Millenium Park works better (be careful to walk your bike until you get out of the park or you’ll get yelled at). Either way, once you have your bike you have miles and miles of a paved pedestrian/cyclist/rollerblade path running along Lake Michigan that is a joy to ride. North from Navy Pier you will ride past broad beaches full of folks swimming and playing volleyball and just laying about. You could be in Miami Beach by the look of it.
At any point you can turn left and head back toward the city attractions. First up is Lincoln Park, a vernal space with a zoo and gardens, also to home to Depaul University and Chicago Pizza Kitchen and Oven Grinder (where the locals go for pizza pie; they tend to pass on the famous name deep dish joints). Next up is the turnoff onto Addison towards Wrigleyville.
Wrigleyville is the neighborhood around Wrigley Field where the Cubs play. It’s loaded down with bars and souvenir shops with some quirky boutiquey kinda stuff mixed in, mostly running along Clark St. When the Cubs are playing it gets fun. When the Cubs are playing the White Sox, or there is some other special aspect to the game such as it coincides with a Northwestern football game, it gets downright Bourbon Street-like. At 11 AM on Monday when the Cubs aren't playing until the evening it’s pretty quiet, which was fine with me. I snagged a quick lunch at Vines on Clark, one of the places that does a little better than standard bar food, then trotted across the street for a tour of Wrigley Field.
If you are not a baseball fan, let’s just note that Wrigley Field is an old, old, old, traditional park. It is loaded down with stories and history of the sort that baseball nerds drool over. The tour covers all that history as you walk throughout the park from the bleachers to the press box, eventually ending right down on the field. It’s very nicely done and the guides are professional and knowledgeable. Like all ballparks, Wrigley has that cathedral like quality when empty -- the beautiful green shadings and amphitheatrical shape. There is comparatively little advertising since it was designed long before things such as corporate sponsorship were a gleam in anyone’s eye. I have to say, though, that when it comes to actually watching a game, Wrigley just can’t measure up to modern parks for comfort and convenience. Concession choices are limited and you get your fair share of obstructed view seats.
Note: If I was King of Wrigley Field I would find a way to completely demolish and re-do the upper deck. There has to be a way to have an upper deck without the dropping huge support poles in front of lower deck fans. Plus, with a new upper deck you could build in some of the posh seating and services that generate so much revenue. And you could do all this without altering the traditional character or interfering with the surrounding neighborhood.
Still, there is tremendous value to Wrigley Field, and Wrigleyville is part of that. There is virtually no parking anywhere around the stadium, the environment is part of the city, not a bubble for folks from the suburbs to haul in for the game, get slotted into a parking space, then crawl through the traffic jam out on the way home right after. If you want to see the Tigers you go to Comerica Park then leave, if you want to see the Cubs you go to the city where Wrigley Field is. Does that make sense?
The lakeshore bike path continues north a way further up to Edgewater Beach. I expect it’s an easy street ride beyond that to Loyola University and Northwestern University. Chicago, in many ways, resembles a giant college town. Sadly, threatening skies put the kibosh on any further exploration. I got back to Millenium Park just as the rain was starting in earnest. The evening would be indoor time. Dinner was a small grilled veggie pizza at Gino’s East, of which I ate about half. I used to work at Pizzeria Uno’s so I’m familiar with Chicago Style Deep Dish, but I have to say that the famous names in Deep Dish -- Uno’s, Gino’s, Giardano’s, Lou’s -- all taste pretty much the same to me. It’s all tasty stuff -- I love the sweet chunky tomato sauce most of all -- but undifferentiated.
The next morning was checkout time, but I had scheduled a late train back, so I had a final few hours to enjoy the city. A walk up Michigan Ave, past all the high end stores, to the Gold Coast area where the ultra-hip shops and restaurants are. I happened on a little place called Da Lobsta where they claimed to do a genuine Maine-style Lobster Roll, and they do, it was very tasty and trad -- made me miss Maine. From there further north to the Lincoln Park Zoo and spent some leisurely time checking out the beasties.
On the way back to get my gear I did something silly. I stopped at Portillo’s for an Italian Beef. Chicago is best known for Deep Dish and the famous Chicago Style hot dogs. Less well known but still iconic is the Italian Beef sandwich. It’s simple: seasoned roast beef left to marinate in it’s own spiced juices, topped with a small touch of sweet Italian peppers. It is serve on a chewy hoagie roll and -- this is key -- au jus, messy au jus. It’s fabulous when done right, a Portillo’s does an excellent job. Not a thing you want to eat everyday, but I figured between running and biking and walking I had probably covered forty miles over the previous 2 days. Plus, I didn't want to be hungry on the train ride back. So I indulged.
And I wasn’t hungry on the ride back. I felt like a bloated pig on the ride back. And the bulk of the following day. But that’s alright. I get to Chicago a couple of days a year if I’m lucky. I’ll gladly indulge in whatever it offers.
[Books] Book Look: Radio Shangri-La, by Lisa Napoli
Book Look: Radio Shangri-La, by Lisa Napoli: The bulk of the interest in this book comes from the author’s adventures managing an independent radio station in the tiny Himalayan nation of Bhutan. Let's take a moment to talk about Bhutan.
Since time immemorial Bhutan was isolated geographically. It became something of a Buddhist fundamentalist monarchy. Even when interaction was possible, it was held at bay in an effort to keep the people on the proper holy path. This was possible not just because of its geographic isolation but also because there was little value strategically or in natural resources. A traveller might wander in, admire the views, then move on without a reason to staying in contact. However, the world cannot be kept at bay forever.
In an attempt to not lose itself in the global cyclone of popular progressive culture, Bhutan has taken to monitoring, limiting, and controlling much of its connections to the outside world. What is permitted as far as contact and behavior is determined by the government in accord with something they refer to as Gross National Happiness. In other words, instead of allowing collective individual and economic forces shape their country, they will assess the value of any technology or cultural development that appears with respect to its effect on the Happiness of the nation and then decide whether to allow, forbid, or modify and control it.
It is a naively appealing idea, also vaguely utopian, and we know where that can lead. In some ways it draws comparison to the Amish, who do similar evaluations with respect to the possibility of things encouraging pridefulness. It also brings to mind the appeal of what might be called the nanny-state to a certain mindset: the good-intentioned banning certain kinds of food or entertainment or other “consenting adult” style behaviors that percolates through the West. Of course, such precepts never gain much more than a toehold in the West because we’re too varied. Cultural control and diversity are mortal enemies. To have success with something like Gross National Happiness you need a monoculture -- a broad and deep agreement on what actually constitutes happiness. The Bhutanese have that and it seems to work well for them.
In any event, as knowledge and information drifted in from outside through various sources -- not the least of which elite families sending their children to schools in India and the West -- modernizations followed. One such modernization was the creation of an independent radio station, which is central to our story. An experienced media executive, Lisa Napoli, through a chance meeting or two, found herself flying halfway around the world to run this new radio station. It was quite and adventure and Napoli reveals it in a very engaging manner.
There is much cultural substance and event here, both large and small. Napoli has to gently induce a stronger professionalism to her colleagues, in an atmosphere that is more like a college radio station run by volunteers, without offending the more personal way of life of the Bhutanese. The portrayals of the young station employees and their almost adolescent love of Western pop culture is endearing. But there are also larger, more complex events. The first ever public elections, and the associated campaigns are occurring. And later, one of the friend/colleagues from her visit manages to scam her way to America in a romantic search for a dream, and for time disappears from sight.
I would have preferred more in depth examination of these events, the conflicts and motivations behind them -- they seem like a gold mine for observational and philosophical commentary -- but that’s not the direction Napoli chose. The subtitle of the book is “What I Discovered on my Accidental Journey to the Happiest Kingdom on Earth.” Napoli spends a fair amount of time on her emotional self-discovery. This is not necessarily a bad thing as we see her draw on a number of experiences and thrown in a touch Buddhist fatalism to come to terms with how her life has been shaped by her past and her decisions. This didn't interest me so much because I am old and have already internalized most of her lessons.
Should you read Radio Shangri-la? Sure. I liked it and this is one instance where I think most readers would enjoy it more than I did, that is to say most readers would probably appreciate the biographical personalization Napoli provides. It is written with warmth and delicacy and is never overly serious. Yes, I think you’d enjoy it.
Interestingly, Napoli is co-guiding a tour to Bhutan in 2014. It sounds amazing, but the fact that total overall cost for me would be something well north of ten grand, I’m going to have to pass. I’ll have to wait for an invitation when they need someone to teach them to how write books that don't sell. Then it’ll be my turn for such an adventure.
Since time immemorial Bhutan was isolated geographically. It became something of a Buddhist fundamentalist monarchy. Even when interaction was possible, it was held at bay in an effort to keep the people on the proper holy path. This was possible not just because of its geographic isolation but also because there was little value strategically or in natural resources. A traveller might wander in, admire the views, then move on without a reason to staying in contact. However, the world cannot be kept at bay forever.
In an attempt to not lose itself in the global cyclone of popular progressive culture, Bhutan has taken to monitoring, limiting, and controlling much of its connections to the outside world. What is permitted as far as contact and behavior is determined by the government in accord with something they refer to as Gross National Happiness. In other words, instead of allowing collective individual and economic forces shape their country, they will assess the value of any technology or cultural development that appears with respect to its effect on the Happiness of the nation and then decide whether to allow, forbid, or modify and control it.
It is a naively appealing idea, also vaguely utopian, and we know where that can lead. In some ways it draws comparison to the Amish, who do similar evaluations with respect to the possibility of things encouraging pridefulness. It also brings to mind the appeal of what might be called the nanny-state to a certain mindset: the good-intentioned banning certain kinds of food or entertainment or other “consenting adult” style behaviors that percolates through the West. Of course, such precepts never gain much more than a toehold in the West because we’re too varied. Cultural control and diversity are mortal enemies. To have success with something like Gross National Happiness you need a monoculture -- a broad and deep agreement on what actually constitutes happiness. The Bhutanese have that and it seems to work well for them.
In any event, as knowledge and information drifted in from outside through various sources -- not the least of which elite families sending their children to schools in India and the West -- modernizations followed. One such modernization was the creation of an independent radio station, which is central to our story. An experienced media executive, Lisa Napoli, through a chance meeting or two, found herself flying halfway around the world to run this new radio station. It was quite and adventure and Napoli reveals it in a very engaging manner.
There is much cultural substance and event here, both large and small. Napoli has to gently induce a stronger professionalism to her colleagues, in an atmosphere that is more like a college radio station run by volunteers, without offending the more personal way of life of the Bhutanese. The portrayals of the young station employees and their almost adolescent love of Western pop culture is endearing. But there are also larger, more complex events. The first ever public elections, and the associated campaigns are occurring. And later, one of the friend/colleagues from her visit manages to scam her way to America in a romantic search for a dream, and for time disappears from sight.
I would have preferred more in depth examination of these events, the conflicts and motivations behind them -- they seem like a gold mine for observational and philosophical commentary -- but that’s not the direction Napoli chose. The subtitle of the book is “What I Discovered on my Accidental Journey to the Happiest Kingdom on Earth.” Napoli spends a fair amount of time on her emotional self-discovery. This is not necessarily a bad thing as we see her draw on a number of experiences and thrown in a touch Buddhist fatalism to come to terms with how her life has been shaped by her past and her decisions. This didn't interest me so much because I am old and have already internalized most of her lessons.
Should you read Radio Shangri-la? Sure. I liked it and this is one instance where I think most readers would enjoy it more than I did, that is to say most readers would probably appreciate the biographical personalization Napoli provides. It is written with warmth and delicacy and is never overly serious. Yes, I think you’d enjoy it.
Interestingly, Napoli is co-guiding a tour to Bhutan in 2014. It sounds amazing, but the fact that total overall cost for me would be something well north of ten grand, I’m going to have to pass. I’ll have to wait for an invitation when they need someone to teach them to how write books that don't sell. Then it’ll be my turn for such an adventure.
Tuesday, August 06, 2013
The Month That Was - July 2013
The Month That Was - July 2013: Grillin' and not really chillin'. I've actually be able to use my new grill a few times. Very successfully I might add. I've also been trying to spend a some time out on my deck which was going well until the heat wave struck. When it's in the mid-80s at 8 pm there is a very small window for enjoying the outdoors. I think I went almost a full week of having the A/C on every night. That hasn't happened in years. Usually the A/C is on 2 or 3 nights a summer at most.
But I've gotten to like grilling. I've been trying to be especially healthy about it. For instance, when I grilled burgers I omitted the bun and cheese and topped them with a touch of BBQ sauce and kimchi. Paired with grilled asparagus instead of a loaded baked potato. Teriyaki Salmon patties went along with vegetable kabobs. All in all, a very positive adventure in home ownership. And the deck itself is awesome when I can enjoy it. Late in the day -- say just before dusk -- it's in the shadow of the house so it deliciously cool and perfect for sleeping to sounds of the songbirds.
I now have three planned races coming up. Mid-August in Chicago, Early September on Mackinac Island, and late October in Washington DC. All three will be long weekends in fun places. With November comes Vegas and the Southwest as always and this time I'm hoping ot arrange a trip to The Wave. Unfortunately only 20 people are allowed to hike to the Wave on any given day and permission is granted based on a lottery. Ten slots are made available three months prior and ten are made available the day of the hike. So I'm in the early lottery for 3 days in November (around Thanksgiving). If I don't get in, and I probably won't since odds are slim, I haven't decided whether I will show up for a chance at the same day lottery. When I have my lottery answer, then I can start planning my November/Thanksgiving activities around that. Still, I will need to take another full week off before the end of the year. Working on that now...
(Update: I have my answer -- I'm no lottery winner. No I have to figure out whether to go anyway and shoot of a same day pass, or find another destination.)
[Books] Book Look: Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer
[Books] Book Look: Beneath the Neon
[Tech] How the Tech Are You?
[Sports] Just Another Tour
[Rant] Told Ya!
But I've gotten to like grilling. I've been trying to be especially healthy about it. For instance, when I grilled burgers I omitted the bun and cheese and topped them with a touch of BBQ sauce and kimchi. Paired with grilled asparagus instead of a loaded baked potato. Teriyaki Salmon patties went along with vegetable kabobs. All in all, a very positive adventure in home ownership. And the deck itself is awesome when I can enjoy it. Late in the day -- say just before dusk -- it's in the shadow of the house so it deliciously cool and perfect for sleeping to sounds of the songbirds.
I now have three planned races coming up. Mid-August in Chicago, Early September on Mackinac Island, and late October in Washington DC. All three will be long weekends in fun places. With November comes Vegas and the Southwest as always and this time I'm hoping ot arrange a trip to The Wave. Unfortunately only 20 people are allowed to hike to the Wave on any given day and permission is granted based on a lottery. Ten slots are made available three months prior and ten are made available the day of the hike. So I'm in the early lottery for 3 days in November (around Thanksgiving). If I don't get in, and I probably won't since odds are slim, I haven't decided whether I will show up for a chance at the same day lottery. When I have my lottery answer, then I can start planning my November/Thanksgiving activities around that. Still, I will need to take another full week off before the end of the year. Working on that now...
(Update: I have my answer -- I'm no lottery winner. No I have to figure out whether to go anyway and shoot of a same day pass, or find another destination.)
[Books] Book Look: Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer
[Books] Book Look: Beneath the Neon
[Tech] How the Tech Are You?
[Sports] Just Another Tour
[Rant] Told Ya!
[Books] Book Look: Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer, by Wesley Stace
Book Look: Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer, by Wesley Stace: Well, this is a doozy. An early 20th century music critic finds his personal and professional life entangled with a prodigal young talent named Charles Jessold. Out of friendship and love of music, the Critic shepherds the Talent into a career of inestimable promise, even enduring the Talent's imprisonment in WW1 and subsequent chronic drunkenness upon return. All this comes crashing down as the Talent self-destructs in a swirl of adultery and murder. In return for his efforts the Critic seems to to get a small, but important, credit as an artist by contributing the libretto to an opera composed by the Talent. The Critic briefly gets to be a creator instead of consumer, to raise his status to contributor from mere judge, one who does instead of one who talks. (Note I am of the belief that as necessary and valuable good critics can be, they do in fact desire for a taste of the artistry of their subjects. It is easy for an artist to take up criticism, they are perceived to have a pre-existing credential as someone who's been there. The reverse is much harder.)
That's pretty much the first half of the book, told as a recounting -- a biography of sorts. It's a great story -- nicely told full of fine drama, but not an unheard of story. Nothing about it would jump out at you as out of the ordinary. Then comes part 2.
Here I have to censor myself because part 2 is effectively the same story but withholding no secrets. Here is where things get interesting and quite deep from a character perspective. I cannot divulge, but the a sharp reader will discern the truth ahead of time, although perhaps not in the fullest of detail. Part 2 is also where emotional reactions shift from strong curiosity to gut twisting and where to book steps up from quality fiction to something truly special.
Nabokovian would be a good word for it. A riveting yet tantalizingly slowly developing life tale, filled with damaged people who both harm and love each other, struggling with loneliness and weakness and dallying at the edge of morality.
It is also a paradigm of clear writing. Flawless sentence construction and passage structure. It hits that enviable sweet spot of simplicity and engagement. There is no special effort required to read it, yet there is no doubt you are reading something of the highest quality. The right touches of humor, and a clever mixing of the hidden and exposed. The structure and interplay of the two parts with a universal theme is quite remarkable. Honestly, it's worth a longer essay if I had the time.
Should you read Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer? Yes. It is one of the very best novels I have ever read.
That's pretty much the first half of the book, told as a recounting -- a biography of sorts. It's a great story -- nicely told full of fine drama, but not an unheard of story. Nothing about it would jump out at you as out of the ordinary. Then comes part 2.
Here I have to censor myself because part 2 is effectively the same story but withholding no secrets. Here is where things get interesting and quite deep from a character perspective. I cannot divulge, but the a sharp reader will discern the truth ahead of time, although perhaps not in the fullest of detail. Part 2 is also where emotional reactions shift from strong curiosity to gut twisting and where to book steps up from quality fiction to something truly special.
Nabokovian would be a good word for it. A riveting yet tantalizingly slowly developing life tale, filled with damaged people who both harm and love each other, struggling with loneliness and weakness and dallying at the edge of morality.
It is also a paradigm of clear writing. Flawless sentence construction and passage structure. It hits that enviable sweet spot of simplicity and engagement. There is no special effort required to read it, yet there is no doubt you are reading something of the highest quality. The right touches of humor, and a clever mixing of the hidden and exposed. The structure and interplay of the two parts with a universal theme is quite remarkable. Honestly, it's worth a longer essay if I had the time.
Should you read Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer? Yes. It is one of the very best novels I have ever read.
[Books] Book Look: Beneath the Neon, by Matt O'Brien
Book Look: Beneath the Neon, by Matt O'Brien: I have a theory about nonfiction: The more it mirrors the qualities of fiction the better it is. OK, that's too dull a knife, but the thing is you still need to engage the reader beyond simply being a book length magazine article. You should think about the arc of the book; have a beginning middle and end; character development is great, if possible (although often the developed character is the author, which presents its own problems). Remember the post from last month identifying four aspects of storytelling: Character, Milieu, Events, Ideas? You still need these. Beneath the Neon started life as a series of magazine articles, and I suspect they were quite good because the book is essentially a good magazine article that got in over its head.
Las Vegas is, as you probably know, built in the middle of a desert. One characteristic of the desert is that when it rains, it pours. Literally. That is to say, a heavy rain in the surrounding mountains can cause massive floods as it flashes through the hard desert soil. So in Las Vegas there are a series of storm drains and flood plains that guide the water through underground tunnels and away from the slot machines. This tunnel complex snakes for miles beneath some of the glitziest and most luxurious properties in the world. This tunnel complex also houses a sizeable, and surprisingly stable, community of homeless.
O'Brien makes a number of exploratory forays into the tunnels. He finds them to be dark and scary places which I don't doubt -- dangerous too. Not a place you want to be a few minutes after a big rain in the mountains. Rushing water after a major rain has been known to take more than a few lives of homeless who were taken by surprise. It's also not a place you want to be because it's just disgusting -- spiders and roaches and rats, oh my. And worst of all, the very invisibility of the place can attract dangerous and desperate people. O'Brien's interest in the storm drains first arose upon reading about a grisly murder wherein the perp escaped a police dragnet via the tunnels.
Naturally O'Brien's explorations introduce him to the homeless who've taken up residence in the tunnels, often building very elaborate camps and sleeping arrangements. Why live in the tunnels instead of, say, a homeless shelter? The common answer is that the tunnels are simply free and cool and away from the Vegas madness and scorching heat, and especially because in the tunnels they are not bothered. The implication being the bureaucratic and therapeutic demands of the welfare services are too bothersome to them. Fair enough. In fact, there a number of common elements in the stories of the homeless. First is almost invariably some form of addiction, usually substance but since this is Vegas, gambling goes along with it. Second, they seem to acknowledge their addictions, there appears to be no inclination to cast blame on some scapegoat. Third, they have a plan for exit however tenuous it may be; usually it's as soon as they get a certain amount of money they are going to get out of town and straighten out their lives. The interactions with the homeless are quite interesting up to a point.
So far so good, but after a while the reader is left feeling as though there is no coherent purpose beyond documentation. By the end of the book we are now several tunnel explorations and homeless encounters on and we pretty much feel as though we've seen it all before. O'Brien makes half-hearted attempts at a unifying theme. He covers quite a bit of historical precedents for taking to tunnels -- Christians escaping Roman persecution, Jews in Poland during WW2 -- although it's hard to draw causal analogies of those situations to substance abuse. He also contrasts tunnel life to the gaudy world above and edges toward haves vs. have-nots issues but, to his credit, he has to abandon those as too simple-minded to offer any constructive meaning.
In the end we are left with the descriptions of his journeys which are peppered with extraneous details like what music was playing in the car and specific descriptions of his clothes that, when combined with the similarity of his adventures, begins to leave the sense that there is a fair amount of filler here. As if it is something that could be boiled down into a crisply worded Amazon short. Should you read Beneath the Neon? I don't see any particular urgency, but no harm will come to you if you do. Even if it doesn't merit a book length treatment, the topic is interesting. Might be worth getting a feel for which passages you can skip early on.
Las Vegas is, as you probably know, built in the middle of a desert. One characteristic of the desert is that when it rains, it pours. Literally. That is to say, a heavy rain in the surrounding mountains can cause massive floods as it flashes through the hard desert soil. So in Las Vegas there are a series of storm drains and flood plains that guide the water through underground tunnels and away from the slot machines. This tunnel complex snakes for miles beneath some of the glitziest and most luxurious properties in the world. This tunnel complex also houses a sizeable, and surprisingly stable, community of homeless.
O'Brien makes a number of exploratory forays into the tunnels. He finds them to be dark and scary places which I don't doubt -- dangerous too. Not a place you want to be a few minutes after a big rain in the mountains. Rushing water after a major rain has been known to take more than a few lives of homeless who were taken by surprise. It's also not a place you want to be because it's just disgusting -- spiders and roaches and rats, oh my. And worst of all, the very invisibility of the place can attract dangerous and desperate people. O'Brien's interest in the storm drains first arose upon reading about a grisly murder wherein the perp escaped a police dragnet via the tunnels.
Naturally O'Brien's explorations introduce him to the homeless who've taken up residence in the tunnels, often building very elaborate camps and sleeping arrangements. Why live in the tunnels instead of, say, a homeless shelter? The common answer is that the tunnels are simply free and cool and away from the Vegas madness and scorching heat, and especially because in the tunnels they are not bothered. The implication being the bureaucratic and therapeutic demands of the welfare services are too bothersome to them. Fair enough. In fact, there a number of common elements in the stories of the homeless. First is almost invariably some form of addiction, usually substance but since this is Vegas, gambling goes along with it. Second, they seem to acknowledge their addictions, there appears to be no inclination to cast blame on some scapegoat. Third, they have a plan for exit however tenuous it may be; usually it's as soon as they get a certain amount of money they are going to get out of town and straighten out their lives. The interactions with the homeless are quite interesting up to a point.
So far so good, but after a while the reader is left feeling as though there is no coherent purpose beyond documentation. By the end of the book we are now several tunnel explorations and homeless encounters on and we pretty much feel as though we've seen it all before. O'Brien makes half-hearted attempts at a unifying theme. He covers quite a bit of historical precedents for taking to tunnels -- Christians escaping Roman persecution, Jews in Poland during WW2 -- although it's hard to draw causal analogies of those situations to substance abuse. He also contrasts tunnel life to the gaudy world above and edges toward haves vs. have-nots issues but, to his credit, he has to abandon those as too simple-minded to offer any constructive meaning.
In the end we are left with the descriptions of his journeys which are peppered with extraneous details like what music was playing in the car and specific descriptions of his clothes that, when combined with the similarity of his adventures, begins to leave the sense that there is a fair amount of filler here. As if it is something that could be boiled down into a crisply worded Amazon short. Should you read Beneath the Neon? I don't see any particular urgency, but no harm will come to you if you do. Even if it doesn't merit a book length treatment, the topic is interesting. Might be worth getting a feel for which passages you can skip early on.
[Tech] How the Tech Are You?
How the Tech Are You?: A new phone! How exciting! I finally reached my upgrade point which was fortuitous since my old phone had a legacy OS and a slowly failing battery. But my experience with it was good enough to keep me sold on Windows Phones so I went to Verizon and bought the best Windows Phone I could get -- the Nokia 928. It's pretty sweet and it had the very best camera of any phone -- until Nokia came out with a new model about two weeks after I purchased it. My phone easily matches a good quality point and shoot, but they claim the new one can compete with DSLRs (it has 41 megapixels).
Speaking of cameras, when my gargantuan old Nikon DSLR died I decided to downgrade to a point-and-shoot for my main camera. My reasoning was that in the time I owned my Nikon, point-and-shoots must surely have improved immeasurably, and I could get a nice big zoom (which I occasionally need) without buying an expensive lens and huge number of megapixels (the Nikon had a whopping 6) for relatively little money. I ended up with a Cannon Powershot SX260 -- got a bit of a deal on it, but I have to say, the picture quality still leaves a bit to be desired. For all the gaudy stats and technology of the p&s, my beat up old unstabilized D70 took better photos. The big zoom (20x) isn't so great since it kills detail, and it turns out that megapixels are a poor sacrifice for a big fat sensor. And the menu driven adjustments bother me. I like direct controls.
So I am on a soft hunt for a new camera (lucky I didn't spend much on the p&s -- I may sell it on ebay if I replace it). I'm really attracted to the new compact mirrorless devices from Sony. These things have high end sensors and top quality pictures in a smaller package than DSLRs. They are quite pricey though. Low end models are over $700 and I would require an extra lens so I wouldn't likely get out of it for less than a grand even if I purchased a package. Panasonic Lumix has a similar setup for a good deal less money, relatively. We'll have to wait and see. If I ever get to travelling to photo-worthy destinations again, it might be worth the investment.
My new Dell computer broke down on me, luckily while still under warranty. They sent someone out to my house to replace the motherboard. It was free and nearly painless -- except for getting razzed by my Mac-head friends who will happily drone on about how perfect their Apple products are. The Dell is nice -- it's light as a feather, great battery life, dead silent. As long as it keeps working it may redeem Dell from my previous experiences.
Lastly, I still can't really recommend the Kindle Fire. Being hooked into the Amazon ecosystem hasn't really paid off like I thought it would. You can get a Kindle client for Google Nexus, but you can get Google Play apps on the Kindle, at least not without some shuckin' and jivin'. Kindle Store is no match for Google play and Amazon media is no match for Netflix or Hulu Plus. Furthermore the Kindle seems to lock up or shut down on it's own some time. I have to admit that the Kindle has been fairly rugged and holds a charge pretty well, but all in all -- not recommended. Although as a dedicated reading device one of the cheap, non-Fire models is probably a reasonable purchase.
Speaking of cameras, when my gargantuan old Nikon DSLR died I decided to downgrade to a point-and-shoot for my main camera. My reasoning was that in the time I owned my Nikon, point-and-shoots must surely have improved immeasurably, and I could get a nice big zoom (which I occasionally need) without buying an expensive lens and huge number of megapixels (the Nikon had a whopping 6) for relatively little money. I ended up with a Cannon Powershot SX260 -- got a bit of a deal on it, but I have to say, the picture quality still leaves a bit to be desired. For all the gaudy stats and technology of the p&s, my beat up old unstabilized D70 took better photos. The big zoom (20x) isn't so great since it kills detail, and it turns out that megapixels are a poor sacrifice for a big fat sensor. And the menu driven adjustments bother me. I like direct controls.
So I am on a soft hunt for a new camera (lucky I didn't spend much on the p&s -- I may sell it on ebay if I replace it). I'm really attracted to the new compact mirrorless devices from Sony. These things have high end sensors and top quality pictures in a smaller package than DSLRs. They are quite pricey though. Low end models are over $700 and I would require an extra lens so I wouldn't likely get out of it for less than a grand even if I purchased a package. Panasonic Lumix has a similar setup for a good deal less money, relatively. We'll have to wait and see. If I ever get to travelling to photo-worthy destinations again, it might be worth the investment.
My new Dell computer broke down on me, luckily while still under warranty. They sent someone out to my house to replace the motherboard. It was free and nearly painless -- except for getting razzed by my Mac-head friends who will happily drone on about how perfect their Apple products are. The Dell is nice -- it's light as a feather, great battery life, dead silent. As long as it keeps working it may redeem Dell from my previous experiences.
Lastly, I still can't really recommend the Kindle Fire. Being hooked into the Amazon ecosystem hasn't really paid off like I thought it would. You can get a Kindle client for Google Nexus, but you can get Google Play apps on the Kindle, at least not without some shuckin' and jivin'. Kindle Store is no match for Google play and Amazon media is no match for Netflix or Hulu Plus. Furthermore the Kindle seems to lock up or shut down on it's own some time. I have to admit that the Kindle has been fairly rugged and holds a charge pretty well, but all in all -- not recommended. Although as a dedicated reading device one of the cheap, non-Fire models is probably a reasonable purchase.
[Sports] Just Another Tour
Just Another Tour: Once again, I was the only person in North America following the Tour de France live. Well, not really live. I was following it about 12 hours delayed on the primetime coverage of the increasingly indispensable NBC Sports channel. The coverage is a delight. The announcers are dead on professionals and the commentators have the right balance of seriousness and humor (Bob "Bobke" Roll is a great character). The scenery and camera work is amazing and beautiful, even if they occasionally miss the key events. Honestly, I love the panning shots of the colors in the peloton flying past some medieval castle -- really astounding images. Plus, it's great to have on in the background while writing or web surfing on your tablet.
Last year's winner, Bradley Wiggins, was out with an injury so his second in command, Chris Froome, inherited the ace Team Sky, then put on a show himself cranking out some astounding stage performances. The personalities of the two contrast significantly (although they are great friends). Wiggins was, well, let's call it forthright in his opinions, and more than a little salty in his language. Froome is about as soft spoken and polite as they come. His favorite band is Coldplay and his favorite movie is Shawshank Redemption. Honestly. Of the two I like Froome better. He paid his dues the previous year and got his shot this year, then just stomped everybody. He looks something like a space alien -- tall and blade thin with skinny angular arms and legs (he's 6'1" and a touch over 150 lbs.). It will be interesting to see how Team Sky sets themselves up next year. Will they want Wiggins back? If so, Froome should go somewhere else because he has no business being anyone's second banana. Also there is Richie Porte, who was to Froome as Froome was to Wiggins, just sort of laying in wait. Team Sky is sitting pretty and it's a fair bet whoever their top rider is will be the favorite next year.
As to the remainder of the field, well, Alberto Contador demonstrated that he cannot dominate a race now that he's off the juice. Sorry, I'm not a big fan of Contador. As filled with prima donnas as the Tour is, there is a still a fairly firm tradition of sportsmanship that Contador won't hesitate to violate if it suits him, doping aside. Cadel Evans, who won two years ago was never really close to contention. Next year's yellow jersey competition is going to be wide open.
Sprinting is wide open now too, despite being dominated previously by Mark Cavendish. Andre Greipel and Marcel Kittel were all over him at every finish line. And Peter Sagan took the green jersey by being a more rounded cyclist overall and swamping all the mid-race sprints. It's strange not to see Cavendish as unbeatable and it's hard to tell what happened this year. Either he didn't get the team support he needed or he's just getting older (trust me, that happens fast and shows up quickly when thousandths of a second count). He was also the focus of what little controversy there was in the Tour when he accidentally sideswiped another rider during a sprint, leaving him on the ground near the finish. I seriously doubt there was any sort of intent to it, but Cavendish is profoundly prickish and so the French took the opportunity to vilify him a bit. The following day somebody threw a cupful of urine on him. (Try to imagine what it is like in the mind of an individual who saves his pee in a cup to throw on one if the riders in the Tour de France. You can't, can you? To call it sociopathic is generous.)
The other news was the emergence of a rookie Colombian rider Nairo Quintana who proved to be an amazing climber and won the white jersey as the best young rider. He has the personality of a cardboard cutout but that may just be due to youth and language. He was the only one who seemed to be able to challenge Froome in the mountains. The most promising American was also a rookie, Andrew Talansky who finished 10th overall and second to Quintana for the white jersey. I hope something comes of him. It'll be good for the sport to have an American in the mix for yellow, so perhaps I'm not so lonely in my viewership. Don't forget the U.S. has exactly one Tour de France winning rider in it's history now, thank you very much Lance.
Which brings me to a lurking problem. When following cycling you have to hold back. You have to be careful not to get too enthusiastic. Recent history suggests that any one of these guys might end up stripped of whatever victories they have because of the juice. In this way cycling is similar to baseball now. Baseball as it is being played on the field now is probably the best it has even been (I should really do a post on that), but there's always that little voice in the background that tells you not to get too excited because that other shoe is dangling by a thread. It's going to be quite a few years until either of these sports shake that spectre.
But it won't stop me from picturing myself on a long open road, pedalling smoothly in a tall gear through an expansive vineyard, then snaking into rustic village and past a 14th century abbey. I know exactly what it would look like.
Last year's winner, Bradley Wiggins, was out with an injury so his second in command, Chris Froome, inherited the ace Team Sky, then put on a show himself cranking out some astounding stage performances. The personalities of the two contrast significantly (although they are great friends). Wiggins was, well, let's call it forthright in his opinions, and more than a little salty in his language. Froome is about as soft spoken and polite as they come. His favorite band is Coldplay and his favorite movie is Shawshank Redemption. Honestly. Of the two I like Froome better. He paid his dues the previous year and got his shot this year, then just stomped everybody. He looks something like a space alien -- tall and blade thin with skinny angular arms and legs (he's 6'1" and a touch over 150 lbs.). It will be interesting to see how Team Sky sets themselves up next year. Will they want Wiggins back? If so, Froome should go somewhere else because he has no business being anyone's second banana. Also there is Richie Porte, who was to Froome as Froome was to Wiggins, just sort of laying in wait. Team Sky is sitting pretty and it's a fair bet whoever their top rider is will be the favorite next year.
As to the remainder of the field, well, Alberto Contador demonstrated that he cannot dominate a race now that he's off the juice. Sorry, I'm not a big fan of Contador. As filled with prima donnas as the Tour is, there is a still a fairly firm tradition of sportsmanship that Contador won't hesitate to violate if it suits him, doping aside. Cadel Evans, who won two years ago was never really close to contention. Next year's yellow jersey competition is going to be wide open.
Sprinting is wide open now too, despite being dominated previously by Mark Cavendish. Andre Greipel and Marcel Kittel were all over him at every finish line. And Peter Sagan took the green jersey by being a more rounded cyclist overall and swamping all the mid-race sprints. It's strange not to see Cavendish as unbeatable and it's hard to tell what happened this year. Either he didn't get the team support he needed or he's just getting older (trust me, that happens fast and shows up quickly when thousandths of a second count). He was also the focus of what little controversy there was in the Tour when he accidentally sideswiped another rider during a sprint, leaving him on the ground near the finish. I seriously doubt there was any sort of intent to it, but Cavendish is profoundly prickish and so the French took the opportunity to vilify him a bit. The following day somebody threw a cupful of urine on him. (Try to imagine what it is like in the mind of an individual who saves his pee in a cup to throw on one if the riders in the Tour de France. You can't, can you? To call it sociopathic is generous.)
The other news was the emergence of a rookie Colombian rider Nairo Quintana who proved to be an amazing climber and won the white jersey as the best young rider. He has the personality of a cardboard cutout but that may just be due to youth and language. He was the only one who seemed to be able to challenge Froome in the mountains. The most promising American was also a rookie, Andrew Talansky who finished 10th overall and second to Quintana for the white jersey. I hope something comes of him. It'll be good for the sport to have an American in the mix for yellow, so perhaps I'm not so lonely in my viewership. Don't forget the U.S. has exactly one Tour de France winning rider in it's history now, thank you very much Lance.
Which brings me to a lurking problem. When following cycling you have to hold back. You have to be careful not to get too enthusiastic. Recent history suggests that any one of these guys might end up stripped of whatever victories they have because of the juice. In this way cycling is similar to baseball now. Baseball as it is being played on the field now is probably the best it has even been (I should really do a post on that), but there's always that little voice in the background that tells you not to get too excited because that other shoe is dangling by a thread. It's going to be quite a few years until either of these sports shake that spectre.
But it won't stop me from picturing myself on a long open road, pedalling smoothly in a tall gear through an expansive vineyard, then snaking into rustic village and past a 14th century abbey. I know exactly what it would look like.
[Rant] Told ya!
Told Ya!: As Charles Barkley said, "I could be wrong, but I don't think so." Examples of the world catching up to my astonishing insights:
- Safer is not better: "The larger fact is that, by today's standards, most parents of that era deserved to do time at Leavenworth. What sinners they were! They sent us outside without sunscreen, let us ride bikes without helmets and jump on trampolines without 'safety barriers,' and smiled as we vied with our siblings for the premier spot in the family sedan: the ledge underneath the back window, where you could stretch out and take a nap." As I mentioned in this post.
- TV is our predominant art form, not movies:"...cable television's open-ended serial dramas represent 'the signature American art form of the first decade of the twenty-first century.'" I have made this point multiple times of the years, the last in an off the cuff comment back in '10, but in the past couple of years I've actually moved on to worrying about the golden age being over and what's next. All my TV posts here.
- The times aren't a changin' anymore: "As novelist Douglas Coupland has pointed out, ordinary people in photographs from 1993 are indistinguishable from people in photographs now. Can you name another 20-year period in modern American history when this is true? 1900-20? 1920-40? 1970-90? His analysis: There's not much geist left in the zeit." Another common theme here. I mentioned this just last month. Maybe I could sue Douglas Coupland. Or he me.
Thursday, July 04, 2013
The Month That Was - June 2013
The Month That Was - June 2013: June was more of the usual. I ran a race: the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half Marathon which should not have been as hard as it was. It hurt. A lot. Worse than last year which suggests I have slipped out of shape or something more terrifying -- I am getting older.
More work on the house: furnishing the deck, which involved assembling a Rubik's Cube of a gas grill, an adventure worthy of its own rant. In the end I got it done, with very few leftover parts. The roof sprung a leak, luckily it was solved with some patchwork. My roof is pushing 20, I should probably start saving for a new one. Had the living room painted. It would have taken me weeks to do on my own. The pros got it done in three days.
Speaking of pros doing things, I broke down and hired a guy to mow the lawn. I know it's like admitting the lawn defeated me, but look, I cut lawns as a kid and then cut this one for three summers. I have nothing to prove when it comes to my ability in grass warfare.
I also put up a bird feeder. We'll see if my squirrel warfare skills are up to snuff.
Lots of 'Rants' this month. I don't know what meaning to assign to that.
[Rant] We Love the '90s
[Rant] Tellin' Stories
[Movies] Going Attractions - June Releases
[Detroit] Murder and Hockey
[Rant] The New Thurston Howell III
More work on the house: furnishing the deck, which involved assembling a Rubik's Cube of a gas grill, an adventure worthy of its own rant. In the end I got it done, with very few leftover parts. The roof sprung a leak, luckily it was solved with some patchwork. My roof is pushing 20, I should probably start saving for a new one. Had the living room painted. It would have taken me weeks to do on my own. The pros got it done in three days.
Speaking of pros doing things, I broke down and hired a guy to mow the lawn. I know it's like admitting the lawn defeated me, but look, I cut lawns as a kid and then cut this one for three summers. I have nothing to prove when it comes to my ability in grass warfare.
I also put up a bird feeder. We'll see if my squirrel warfare skills are up to snuff.
Lots of 'Rants' this month. I don't know what meaning to assign to that.
[Rant] We Love the '90s
[Rant] Tellin' Stories
[Movies] Going Attractions - June Releases
[Detroit] Murder and Hockey
[Rant] The New Thurston Howell III
[Rant] We Love the '90s
We Love the '90s?: Someone I have known since she was a little girl recently posted on Facebook: "Please just let me go back to the '90s." This was odd to me since she is in her early 20s and would have been a child then. Another 20-ish person responded with "Best years of my life," to which the reply was "Better music, better clothes, better people, better everything!" Usually if you are hit with nostalgia it is for your 20s not in them. There's probably an essay in that about how making childhood too good for your kids causes depression in their 20s. (I would never write so dumb a thing, but I could see such an idiotic idea making the rounds in the more thoughtless media outlets.) The big suggestion that came from this Facebook conversation was to watch Portlandia, where the dream of the '90s is alive.
This stood out for me because it dovetailed with a book review I had just read for America Between the Wars: From 11/9 to 9/11, by Derek Chollet and James Goldgeier. I haven't read the book and I won't since it is a political review of the times and I work hard to purge all politics from my life, but I gather from the review that the argument is that the time from the fall of the Berlin Wall (the end of the Cold War) in 1989 to 9/11 (the start of the War on Terror) was a formative time. Events during that decade-ish presaged a shift from the old world -- the final vestiges of the 20th century and the us/them world of WW1/WW2/Cold War to the world of Whatever-Today-Is-I-Sure-Don't-Know. They were the calm before the storm of chaos in which we live. I suppose...
So what is to be the final reputation of the 90s? Apparently it was good for kids since they miss it so. The economy was in boom -- a lot of people made, and spent, a lot of money. Crime was dropping over most of the country. No wars -- well, there was the Gulf War but that was over in a couple of months, and Somalia, but that never made the headlines so no one noticed. Nouveau hippiedom -- also called hipsterism -- was in full bloom. Sounds like paradise.
Then how come we didn't notice how happy we all were as it was happening? That's an easy question. We never notice. I have come to the conclusion that the bulk of people in the Western world are, in fact, quite happy -- they just can't see it. The real question is how come we never learn? As I remember the '90s, we were convinced that everything was awful and there was no hope and we were living in terrifying times. Just like we were in the '70s and the '80s and now. The newspapers and opinion pages were loaded with dire misgivings. Just like today. We were certain civilization was in a death spiral of moral weakness and consumerism. Just like today. Environmental calamity was right around the corner. Just like today. We never stop misunderstanding what we see around us, which is just human nature. But we also never learn to accept that it is likely that we are misunderstanding what we see around us. We never stop to say, "Wait. Every other time I felt like this I was wrong. Maybe I'll tone down the shrill hand-wringing this time." We just replay our delusions over and over. I can only assume they comfort us somehow.
I have to admit the '90s did set the stage for my adult life. It was the time I transitioned to full adulthood from my extended post-college childhood. I started working for the company I still work for 20 years later. Moved to my beloved adopted home town of Dexter, MI, where I still live. Bought my first home and am now on my second. Joined a gym and started paying attention to my health which I still obsess over. Wrote my first novel. (Apple Pie came out in late 1999. Oh, so long ago.) It would be followed by two more and I still hope to increase that number. I early adopted the Internet and now it dominates all our lives. It was also when TV started its trajectory to greatness (Seinfeld, Buffy, Northern Exposure, Freaks and Geeks, culminating in The Sopranos) which continues to enrich us culturally.
Then everything stopped. I have previously argued that by the turn of the century the rate of cultural change had slowed to almost zero. My hobby horse examples are the movies American Graffiti and Dazed and Confused. American Graffiti came out in 1973 and was a nostalgic look back at 1962. After eleven years, the world had changed so much as to be unrecognizable. Dazed and Confused came out in 1993 and was a nostalgic look at 1976 -- 13 years and it was a new world. Today, if you look back 11, or 13, or even 15 years back, everything would look pretty much the same. No one would be carrying a smartphone, but aside from that the end of the '90s would look pretty much identical to today. Clothes, hairstyles, music, humor -- the differences between then and now are trivial and superficial.
So I guess you can't blame anyone for '90s nostalgia. It was the last chance anyone will get to look back on a different world. Nostalgia is dead. Generation Z will never know a world that was different than their own.
This stood out for me because it dovetailed with a book review I had just read for America Between the Wars: From 11/9 to 9/11, by Derek Chollet and James Goldgeier. I haven't read the book and I won't since it is a political review of the times and I work hard to purge all politics from my life, but I gather from the review that the argument is that the time from the fall of the Berlin Wall (the end of the Cold War) in 1989 to 9/11 (the start of the War on Terror) was a formative time. Events during that decade-ish presaged a shift from the old world -- the final vestiges of the 20th century and the us/them world of WW1/WW2/Cold War to the world of Whatever-Today-Is-I-Sure-Don't-Know. They were the calm before the storm of chaos in which we live. I suppose...
So what is to be the final reputation of the 90s? Apparently it was good for kids since they miss it so. The economy was in boom -- a lot of people made, and spent, a lot of money. Crime was dropping over most of the country. No wars -- well, there was the Gulf War but that was over in a couple of months, and Somalia, but that never made the headlines so no one noticed. Nouveau hippiedom -- also called hipsterism -- was in full bloom. Sounds like paradise.
Then how come we didn't notice how happy we all were as it was happening? That's an easy question. We never notice. I have come to the conclusion that the bulk of people in the Western world are, in fact, quite happy -- they just can't see it. The real question is how come we never learn? As I remember the '90s, we were convinced that everything was awful and there was no hope and we were living in terrifying times. Just like we were in the '70s and the '80s and now. The newspapers and opinion pages were loaded with dire misgivings. Just like today. We were certain civilization was in a death spiral of moral weakness and consumerism. Just like today. Environmental calamity was right around the corner. Just like today. We never stop misunderstanding what we see around us, which is just human nature. But we also never learn to accept that it is likely that we are misunderstanding what we see around us. We never stop to say, "Wait. Every other time I felt like this I was wrong. Maybe I'll tone down the shrill hand-wringing this time." We just replay our delusions over and over. I can only assume they comfort us somehow.
I have to admit the '90s did set the stage for my adult life. It was the time I transitioned to full adulthood from my extended post-college childhood. I started working for the company I still work for 20 years later. Moved to my beloved adopted home town of Dexter, MI, where I still live. Bought my first home and am now on my second. Joined a gym and started paying attention to my health which I still obsess over. Wrote my first novel. (Apple Pie came out in late 1999. Oh, so long ago.) It would be followed by two more and I still hope to increase that number. I early adopted the Internet and now it dominates all our lives. It was also when TV started its trajectory to greatness (Seinfeld, Buffy, Northern Exposure, Freaks and Geeks, culminating in The Sopranos) which continues to enrich us culturally.
Then everything stopped. I have previously argued that by the turn of the century the rate of cultural change had slowed to almost zero. My hobby horse examples are the movies American Graffiti and Dazed and Confused. American Graffiti came out in 1973 and was a nostalgic look back at 1962. After eleven years, the world had changed so much as to be unrecognizable. Dazed and Confused came out in 1993 and was a nostalgic look at 1976 -- 13 years and it was a new world. Today, if you look back 11, or 13, or even 15 years back, everything would look pretty much the same. No one would be carrying a smartphone, but aside from that the end of the '90s would look pretty much identical to today. Clothes, hairstyles, music, humor -- the differences between then and now are trivial and superficial.
So I guess you can't blame anyone for '90s nostalgia. It was the last chance anyone will get to look back on a different world. Nostalgia is dead. Generation Z will never know a world that was different than their own.
[Rant] Tellin' Stories
Tellin' Stories: Robin Hanson posted an excerpt from Elements of Fiction Writing, by Orson Scott Card, the successful science fiction writer. He highlights Card's description of the four elements of every story: milieu, idea, character, and event. All stories contain these four elements in some combination.
Leo Tolstoy once said "All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town." I would have replied there really is only one story. A stranger coming to town is only interesting because it sends a man on a journey. But the point of that is that the change in a person if only thing that matters. It's all about character; about enlightening an aspect of a human that causes interest.
Card, it seems, thinks that belief is recent to the 20th century:
Hanson chimes in to suggest our elevation of character stories it is a by-product of rising incomes:
I still worry about that premise -- that the great stories aren't just about character. I'm just not sure it's correct. Perhaps I am too deeply attached to my own bias. Let's take a close-to-home look.
Every Sunday night or the past few weeks, Game of Thrones and Mad Men have been on back-to-back. Mad Men is one of the most character focused shows (stories) ever produced. Sure, the milieu (the '60s) is important, but the specific events are almost irrelevant. There is no question the point of the exercise is following the development and interaction of extraordinarily complete and realistic characters. Game of Thrones is all about events. Again, milieu (Westros, etc.) is important but the bulk of the story is about the events that happen -- a sort of live look into a timeline. Characters have some shading, which is good, but no development. My main critique of GoT is that it doesn't go anywhere. Everyone is moved around like pieces on a chessboard but with no larger idea behind it. Things happen, but they are only important because they lead to the next thing that happens. Attention is held but nothing is enlightened.
Tangent: It's fun (for me anyway) to apply this "four pillars" concept to some the great TV shows. The Sopranos was a combo of character and idea, the idea being how deep our self-delusion run. Deadwood I would say idea mostly idea (how does barbarism become civilization?) with character a close second. The Wire Started out as idea (institutions as vengeful deities) and character but I would argue it became events based as it aged and lost it's edge.
What about the paragon himself, Shakespeare? Nothing more highbrow than that, amirite? Characters are memorable but the arcs are not all that sophisticated. He leans on good versus evil instead of grey versus grey. I'd call him an events guy in the main. Of course, the poetry is what counts here, not the story.
Perhaps it's more a matter of goals. If you believe the highest form of story is one that enlightens, then I don't see how you get away from character as your focus, most likely in some combo with idea. Events and Milieu are interesting but can only be enlightening if they affect people or ideas.
But who (apart from George Bernard Shaw) would suggest Shakespeare's stories were inadequate? Or, as Card suggested, Lord of the Rings? They are great stories with less than complete attention to character. It's clear that in terms of effect on the reader (listener? consumer?) these stories are second to none. I have to grudgingly agree with Card and Hanson. I (and it seems We) have probably shortchanged non-character focused stories, but I still don't think they move beyond their value as mere stories without a character focus of some sort. Perhaps I am too busy trying to differentiate great stories from art.
Leo Tolstoy once said "All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town." I would have replied there really is only one story. A stranger coming to town is only interesting because it sends a man on a journey. But the point of that is that the change in a person if only thing that matters. It's all about character; about enlightening an aspect of a human that causes interest.
Card, it seems, thinks that belief is recent to the 20th century:
Character stories really came into their own at the beginning of the twentieth century, and both the novelty and the extraordinary brilliance of some of the writers who worked with this story structure have lead many critics and teachers to believe that only this kind of story can be "good."As an example, he offers Lord or the Rings, which is a story based mostly on milieu. Ideas, Character, and Plot are shallow and inconsistent. Yet it is still great (according to Card and most other people).
Hanson chimes in to suggest our elevation of character stories it is a by-product of rising incomes:
Rich self-indulgent folks are more likely to be obsessed with their own internal feelings, and our wealth has allowed us the slack to often have dramatically dysfunctional character features.And adds later:
It is also pretty plausible that increasing density, size, and specialization has only recently created a niche for cognitive elites to write for other cognitive elites, which let writers focus on impressing such elites. Impressively realistic character stories are mostly impressive to other cognitive elites, and much less so to ordinary readers.Which is the sort of off-the-cuff Hansonian analysis that rings true, given the premise. Although I suspect all writing in any age has been geared to cognitive elites. At least those elite enough to read. But then we are talking about stories generically, not specifically writing.
I still worry about that premise -- that the great stories aren't just about character. I'm just not sure it's correct. Perhaps I am too deeply attached to my own bias. Let's take a close-to-home look.
Every Sunday night or the past few weeks, Game of Thrones and Mad Men have been on back-to-back. Mad Men is one of the most character focused shows (stories) ever produced. Sure, the milieu (the '60s) is important, but the specific events are almost irrelevant. There is no question the point of the exercise is following the development and interaction of extraordinarily complete and realistic characters. Game of Thrones is all about events. Again, milieu (Westros, etc.) is important but the bulk of the story is about the events that happen -- a sort of live look into a timeline. Characters have some shading, which is good, but no development. My main critique of GoT is that it doesn't go anywhere. Everyone is moved around like pieces on a chessboard but with no larger idea behind it. Things happen, but they are only important because they lead to the next thing that happens. Attention is held but nothing is enlightened.
Tangent: It's fun (for me anyway) to apply this "four pillars" concept to some the great TV shows. The Sopranos was a combo of character and idea, the idea being how deep our self-delusion run. Deadwood I would say idea mostly idea (how does barbarism become civilization?) with character a close second. The Wire Started out as idea (institutions as vengeful deities) and character but I would argue it became events based as it aged and lost it's edge.
What about the paragon himself, Shakespeare? Nothing more highbrow than that, amirite? Characters are memorable but the arcs are not all that sophisticated. He leans on good versus evil instead of grey versus grey. I'd call him an events guy in the main. Of course, the poetry is what counts here, not the story.
Perhaps it's more a matter of goals. If you believe the highest form of story is one that enlightens, then I don't see how you get away from character as your focus, most likely in some combo with idea. Events and Milieu are interesting but can only be enlightening if they affect people or ideas.
But who (apart from George Bernard Shaw) would suggest Shakespeare's stories were inadequate? Or, as Card suggested, Lord of the Rings? They are great stories with less than complete attention to character. It's clear that in terms of effect on the reader (listener? consumer?) these stories are second to none. I have to grudgingly agree with Card and Hanson. I (and it seems We) have probably shortchanged non-character focused stories, but I still don't think they move beyond their value as mere stories without a character focus of some sort. Perhaps I am too busy trying to differentiate great stories from art.
[Movies] Going Attractions - June Releases
Going Attractions: June Releases - Just like last month, these are the big time films that came out in June. I will see precisely zero of these in the theatre, but I will happily speculate on whether I will catch them on cable.
Man of Steel -- Never met a Superman movie that was worth a damn. Although I do remember a couple of humorous moments in the second Christopher Reeve film. The plane rescue in the previous reboot was pretty good. The two-part Mole Men episode in the Superman TV series from the '50s was about as good as TV sci-fi got at the time (I'm guessing -- it was 9 years before my existence). That's about all the good I have to say about Superman. I was a Marvel Comics kid, not DC, so even then I didn't cotton to the Big S. I thought the movie Hollywoodland about the rise and fall of George Reeves (the '50s TV Superman) was well done for the most part, even to point of liking Ben Affleck in it. Of course, the real enduring legacy of Superman is that it made Jerry Seinfeld want a girlfriend named Lois so much he raced Duncan Meyer. Until then, He Chose Not To Run!
So, no. I doubt I'll watch it.
This is the End -- Whoa, what a concept. Endless self-referential irony in a movie that is 100% cameos. Future film historians will look back on this movie as the pinnacle of Hollywood post-modern comedy. It's absurd to even offer an opinion. Better to offer a sneering review of the opinion along with droll some meta commentary. Still, Seth Rogen's posse can be pretty funny so I'll likely watch it. Hell, if I could zone out to Hot Tub Time Machine I can zone out to this.
The Purge -- Negative. The only thing I want to know is at what point Landru shows up. (If you got that reference you are true geek. Respect.)
World War Z -- As much as I admire Brad Pitt's work, there is only so much you can do with zombies, what with their deceased nature. Don't get me wrong, I love zombies, per se. They are the ultimate video game cannon fodder; the new nazis in Castle Wolfenstein, if you will. And you can pretty much do anything you want with them with moral impunity because they are already dead (necrophilia aside). But you just know someone is going to come along and humanize them. Have a pretty girl fall in love one in defiance of her parents. We'll have a zombie rom-com. Then it will be over. We'll have to find new target for a advanced lasers and plasma pulse weapons, never mind plain old chainsaws. Cuz they'll have rights. Wait. You say it's been done? Crap. What's left now? Orcs? Skrulls? So I guess this film is the last hurrah of traditional zombies as nothing but a gore source. I suppose I'll watch it if I happen to stumble upon it while channel surfing, before they ban it for being offensive to the living dead. Civilization continues to decline.
Man of Steel -- Never met a Superman movie that was worth a damn. Although I do remember a couple of humorous moments in the second Christopher Reeve film. The plane rescue in the previous reboot was pretty good. The two-part Mole Men episode in the Superman TV series from the '50s was about as good as TV sci-fi got at the time (I'm guessing -- it was 9 years before my existence). That's about all the good I have to say about Superman. I was a Marvel Comics kid, not DC, so even then I didn't cotton to the Big S. I thought the movie Hollywoodland about the rise and fall of George Reeves (the '50s TV Superman) was well done for the most part, even to point of liking Ben Affleck in it. Of course, the real enduring legacy of Superman is that it made Jerry Seinfeld want a girlfriend named Lois so much he raced Duncan Meyer. Until then, He Chose Not To Run!
So, no. I doubt I'll watch it.
This is the End -- Whoa, what a concept. Endless self-referential irony in a movie that is 100% cameos. Future film historians will look back on this movie as the pinnacle of Hollywood post-modern comedy. It's absurd to even offer an opinion. Better to offer a sneering review of the opinion along with droll some meta commentary. Still, Seth Rogen's posse can be pretty funny so I'll likely watch it. Hell, if I could zone out to Hot Tub Time Machine I can zone out to this.
The Purge -- Negative. The only thing I want to know is at what point Landru shows up. (If you got that reference you are true geek. Respect.)
World War Z -- As much as I admire Brad Pitt's work, there is only so much you can do with zombies, what with their deceased nature. Don't get me wrong, I love zombies, per se. They are the ultimate video game cannon fodder; the new nazis in Castle Wolfenstein, if you will. And you can pretty much do anything you want with them with moral impunity because they are already dead (necrophilia aside). But you just know someone is going to come along and humanize them. Have a pretty girl fall in love one in defiance of her parents. We'll have a zombie rom-com. Then it will be over. We'll have to find new target for a advanced lasers and plasma pulse weapons, never mind plain old chainsaws. Cuz they'll have rights. Wait. You say it's been done? Crap. What's left now? Orcs? Skrulls? So I guess this film is the last hurrah of traditional zombies as nothing but a gore source. I suppose I'll watch it if I happen to stumble upon it while channel surfing, before they ban it for being offensive to the living dead. Civilization continues to decline.
[Detroit] Murder and Hockey
Murder and Hockey: A new description of how bad things are in Detroit -- yeah, I'm at it again -- includes this wonderful line: "...there were 344 murders in 2011, of which just 39 were solved." Maybe Detroit is the new Juarez. Seriously, that sounds like something pretty close to anarchy. It's a wonder murderers from all across the globe don't dump bodies along Cass Corridor knowing full well that no one'll will ever get around to looking into the case. But we still want a new hockey stadium. Let's not lose track of what's important.
Meanwhile, across Eight Mile Rd. in Southfield, where I grew up, the good middle-class blacks are trying to keep the bad ghetto blacks from moving in, thanks to the real estate meltdown. Holy exploding irony meters, Batman. I wish I could wax eloquent about the glories of the Southfield of my childhood, but I cannot tell a lie. It is a dreary, soulless slab of cement filled with nondescript office buildings and downscale strip malls. Still, at least it's not Detroit.
Now I have a policy of never going east of U.S. 23 unless I have to get to the airport. I am a wise man.
Meanwhile, across Eight Mile Rd. in Southfield, where I grew up, the good middle-class blacks are trying to keep the bad ghetto blacks from moving in, thanks to the real estate meltdown. Holy exploding irony meters, Batman. I wish I could wax eloquent about the glories of the Southfield of my childhood, but I cannot tell a lie. It is a dreary, soulless slab of cement filled with nondescript office buildings and downscale strip malls. Still, at least it's not Detroit.
Now I have a policy of never going east of U.S. 23 unless I have to get to the airport. I am a wise man.
[Rant] The New Thurston Howell III
The New Thurston Howell III: Decades ago I spent a few summer sailing on Lake Erie so the upcoming America's Cup caught my eye. The America's Cup used to be a day-sailing race between multi-millionaires who had an this sort of honor system for what sorts of boats could enter and they were at least marginally related to the sorts of sailboats most sailors actually sail. They may have been haughty rich bastards playing with expensive toys, but at least they had a sense of reticence and tradition.
But the ever advancing crudity of the world is an irresistible force. America's Cup is now a competition between multi-billionaires and oil sheiks, raced in vehicles that are essentially planes or gliders constructed in such a way that they keep some semblance of adherence to the water. They do not have sails, they have wings. They do not have hulls, they have aerodynamic fuselages. In short, they bear little or no resemblance to proper boats.
The big cheese in the America's Cup is the reigning champion, Larry Ellison. Ellison made his fortune as the founder of Oracle, the database/software giant, and is about as close to a perfect megalomaniac as ever borrowed your Grey Poupon. The yacht club he selected as headquarters for his defense of the Cup was chosen on the fact that they needed his money so badly they would let him do whatever he wanted -- basically turning control of the place over to him as needed. Better yet, get this quote from a NY Times article:
More on Ellison's megalomania: He recently purchased the island of Lanai. Yes, the entire Hawaiian Island of Lanai. That includes a couple of high-end resorts and all the infrastructure. He is apparently going to turn it into some sort of utopian sustainable tourist paradise. The sort of place all solid upper-middle class progressives would vacation with the same pride they take in driving hybrids and overpaying at Whole Foods. Truth in Advertising: I'd vacation there in a heartbeat.
My favorite quote from that last link: "...he likes to say his favorite car is his 'white Toyota,' a white Lexus LFA, the company's $380,000 race car." What a remarkably dickish thing to say. Larry, I have owned Toyotas exclusively for the last 28 years, and you, sir, are no Toyota driver.
Funny thing about Larry is how blatantly nouveau riche he is. In his seminal book on class in America, Class, Paul Fussel points out how actual upper class folks don't attract attention. They don't want it, don't care about it. Being demonstrative about money is what a middle class guy does when he gets rich. That's Larry: a middle class guy who's money makes him feel special, allows him to do special things, and he wants you to know it. (Which is not to say he doesn't do good things with it.) Compared to the truly upper class -- who would be more inclined to race Newport-Bermuda in a trusty old Hinckley -- Larry's boating antics make him look like Thurston Howell or Judge Smails.
On the other hand, Larry probably doesn't care what people think of him, and my Toyota is 12 years old. So who should be talking about class?
But the ever advancing crudity of the world is an irresistible force. America's Cup is now a competition between multi-billionaires and oil sheiks, raced in vehicles that are essentially planes or gliders constructed in such a way that they keep some semblance of adherence to the water. They do not have sails, they have wings. They do not have hulls, they have aerodynamic fuselages. In short, they bear little or no resemblance to proper boats.
The big cheese in the America's Cup is the reigning champion, Larry Ellison. Ellison made his fortune as the founder of Oracle, the database/software giant, and is about as close to a perfect megalomaniac as ever borrowed your Grey Poupon. The yacht club he selected as headquarters for his defense of the Cup was chosen on the fact that they needed his money so badly they would let him do whatever he wanted -- basically turning control of the place over to him as needed. Better yet, get this quote from a NY Times article:
...Mr. Ellison, who recently appeared at a red-carpet premiere of 'The Wind Gods,' a laudatory documentary about his 2010 [America's Cup] victory that was produced by his son, David.I'm sure Ellison will win again; he has apparently priced-out a good chunk of the competition. Maybe he'll commission a laudatory HBO mini-series this time. The America's Cup is lost cause -- corrupted by narcissism, it is the freak show of sailing, to be watched for the purposes of gawkery only. No point in complaining, though, it had a good run of over a century. Can't really ask for more than that.
More on Ellison's megalomania: He recently purchased the island of Lanai. Yes, the entire Hawaiian Island of Lanai. That includes a couple of high-end resorts and all the infrastructure. He is apparently going to turn it into some sort of utopian sustainable tourist paradise. The sort of place all solid upper-middle class progressives would vacation with the same pride they take in driving hybrids and overpaying at Whole Foods. Truth in Advertising: I'd vacation there in a heartbeat.
My favorite quote from that last link: "...he likes to say his favorite car is his 'white Toyota,' a white Lexus LFA, the company's $380,000 race car." What a remarkably dickish thing to say. Larry, I have owned Toyotas exclusively for the last 28 years, and you, sir, are no Toyota driver.
Funny thing about Larry is how blatantly nouveau riche he is. In his seminal book on class in America, Class, Paul Fussel points out how actual upper class folks don't attract attention. They don't want it, don't care about it. Being demonstrative about money is what a middle class guy does when he gets rich. That's Larry: a middle class guy who's money makes him feel special, allows him to do special things, and he wants you to know it. (Which is not to say he doesn't do good things with it.) Compared to the truly upper class -- who would be more inclined to race Newport-Bermuda in a trusty old Hinckley -- Larry's boating antics make him look like Thurston Howell or Judge Smails.
On the other hand, Larry probably doesn't care what people think of him, and my Toyota is 12 years old. So who should be talking about class?
Monday, June 03, 2013
The Month That Was - May 2013
The Month That Was - May 2013: Like I said last month, my travel this year, at least until Vegas, is likely to be confined to weekenders. I got two in this month. One was an overnight in the sweet little town of Nashville, IN, which reminds me of my home of Dexter, MI, as it was maybe 15 years ago. I was there for a truly self-destructive trail race that involved slogging through ankle deep mud, climb up black diamond ski slopes, and fording hip deep icy rivers. We knew were in trouble when the race organizer announced, "It's really stupid out there," as we were about to start. I hope to go back for a full weekend next year, not just overnight.
The other trip was a happy surprise when Misses Kate and Anna arranged a free day during a family reunion and I was able to meet them up for another overnighter on Mackinac Island, one of the nicest places in the world. We got there just before the Memorial Day crowds. It was a bit chilly compared to our previous High Summer visits when Anna was in summer camp, but the lack of people and cooler temps were a nice change. Only regret is that it couldn't have been longer.
Meanwhile, back home, I had a deck built an a patio out in and I've re-engaged in full scale battle with my lawn after winter's armistice.
[Books] Book Look: The Odds
[Movies] Going Attractions
[Rant] It's (almost) a Twister! It's (almost) a Twister!
The other trip was a happy surprise when Misses Kate and Anna arranged a free day during a family reunion and I was able to meet them up for another overnighter on Mackinac Island, one of the nicest places in the world. We got there just before the Memorial Day crowds. It was a bit chilly compared to our previous High Summer visits when Anna was in summer camp, but the lack of people and cooler temps were a nice change. Only regret is that it couldn't have been longer.
Meanwhile, back home, I had a deck built an a patio out in and I've re-engaged in full scale battle with my lawn after winter's armistice.
[Books] Book Look: The Odds
[Movies] Going Attractions
[Rant] It's (almost) a Twister! It's (almost) a Twister!
[Books] Book Look: The Odds, by Chad Millman
Book Look: The Odds, by Chad Millman: Right up my alley. We follow three threads through a season of sports gambling in Vegas: bookmakers at the old Stardust Casino, a flashy high end pro gambler, and a low end newbie trying get started as a pro gambler.
It's an older book; from around Y2K, so there is a fair amount of history that is of interest. The Stardust Casino at the time had the most renown sports book in Vegas. They always set the line first, which means they would also take a huge hit because if they got something wrong the high-enders were there waiting to play it. (Big gamblers have a line in their head for every game and if the book's line is very far from there they will snap up a lot of action. There are a lot of high rollers and they are very smart, so if you're way off from them you're probably wrong and possibly in trouble if you don't move the line quickly enough. On the other hand, if the book can nail the line they will get all the big action.) At the time, the Vegas casinos were under relentless pressure from the newly founded, zero-overhead Caribbean online casinos which allowed gamblers to bet with a couple of mouse clicks rather than make an appearance in the sports book. And they were in the process of being double whammied by congressional legislation to outlaw gambling on college sports -- a huge blow to their ability to make a profit.
Looking back, it's interesting to see how all this played out. The legislation failed and, in fact, regulators would turn their gaze on the Caribs over the next few years. Sports gambling is no longer a huge profit center for Vegas casinos -- most have farmed out their sportsbook operations to one of three or four big agencies so scouring the books for a better line is often fruitless. Odds and lines get set and they sync up across books very quickly. It's more corporate. More geared towards collecting the vig than outsmarting the gamblers, who have more information and analytical power in their phones than the entire industry had 15 years ago. The Stardust Hotel and Casino itself was blown up long ago.
Yet, folks still come to the sportsbooks. It might be that, apart from a limited and recent legalization in Delaware, Vegas remains only place in the U.S. you can legally bet on sports and you can't legally do it over the phone, so most law abiding citizens have to go to the sportsbook. You have the option of breaking the law and hooking up with a local bookie who may or may not be accessible when you need your money. Or you could click through to one of the Caribs, which is more gray market than black, which may or may not be accessible when you want your money. Or you can contain your risk to the amount of your wager and go visit the sportsbook.
Alan Boston is the profiled high-roller, or "wiseguy", is the sort of professional everyone imagines. A heart-attack waiting to happen, he is the key guy in a high-end sports betting syndicate. He wants to kill himself when things don't go his way and condemns anyone -- a player who hits a three in garbage time, a ref who made a bad call, a bookmaker who won't take his bet, etc. -- who he blames for losses (in abstract) as worthy of death. He's flashy and brash, but also sentimental and generous. Quite a character all-in-all.
The newbie profiled is another telling image. A former Indiana high school jock who cares about virtually nothing except sports gambling decides he's going to take a shot at being a pro gambler. Fair enough, but then he experiences the worst possible fate. He plays his gut and wins. And he manages to do it for a while. He sits around all day reading the sports pages, getting fat, and smoking weed. Naturally, he's flattened by a gravity storm. Unrepentant, he gets a job at a sportsbook so he can keep going.
Both gambler profiles are interesting, although they seem a bit shallow. But then, obsessed gamblers are shallow. The only thing they worry about, the only real passion they have, is the bet. Alan Boston's existential fear is not simply that he will lose money, but that he will lose so much money he can't gamble again next season. The only thing that shakes the newbie out of his pot-stupor is the possibility that he will have to abandon Vegas and get job back in Indiana. They are not obsessed with winning. The are not as concerned about winning as they are continuing.
I have never read a satisfactory description of the attraction of gambling. I have read good descriptions of the experience and of the acts of gamblers (this book for example), but I have never read a good explanation for the irresistible internal desire. I have read discussions of gambling as an addiction in general but I have trouble lumping gambling "addiction" in the same category with substance abuse. In the case of traditional addictions you are putting some chemicals of some sort in your body and altering your physiology to "need" them. Nothing is ingested in a sportsbook except stale nachos and flat beer. Nor is gambling the same as a true obsession. There are, for example, people addicted to washing their hands. Often they will wash them until they are raw and bleeding, but they cannot stop. That sort of thing is like a twitch -- an involuntary little habit that gets set on repeat in your brain. Gambling is an extraordinarily complex behavior. Nobody who is addicted to cocaine or has tourettes syndrome will tell you they are acting rationally. They know what they are doing is nonsensical or self-destructive, but they just can't stop. Any full on gambler can tell you exactly why it makes sense for him to make a bet, and in the case of sports betting, they will often do hours of analysis before betting. This is not a generic addiction or obsession.
My personal experience, and I think this jibes with other descriptions I have read, is that gambling is about the losing. On the surface it seems like everyone is chasing that big win -- the easy money. But wins, while exhilarating, are momentary. In fact, for me, the real thrill of winning is the feeling that you have outsmarted the world. That your analysis and reasoning are beyond the norm. That you see things others don't. Whatever the joys of winning, they are fleeting and not what you remember. I have made some good calls and won a bit of cash, but the things that stick in my mind are the losses. The weekend where I ended down based on a last minute missed field goal. The time I altered a bet at the last minute based on a news story when I should have known better. The weekend where I couldn't win anything. The lying in bed at night, pounding my head over what I should have done. Why would I want to engage in an activity where that is the norm (losing is the norm in gambling) and which brings me only momentary pleasure otherwise? Now I have never bet and lost so much money that it caused me the slightest problem, but I have to imagine other gamblers have similar experiences.
I don't have any answers, and neither does Chad Millman. So to answer the standard question, Should you read The Odds?, I'm going to give it a qualified no. Qualified, because I don't see a lot a attraction here, for someone who isn't interested in gambling on sports. The connection to broader human experience is tenuous. The personal stories are not compelling enough to really draw the interest of someone who has no gambling frame of reference and would just view them dramatically. As dramatic characters they are a problem because there is really no arc to them. They don't go on any journeys. You also will be frustrated if you are looking for insights into the strategies of big time gamblers, none are presented -- although they consider every angle none of them do anything remotely systematic or at least there are no detailed descriptions of any analytics. They live and die on their sense for the effects of the variables being sharper than the general public. (The availability of untold statistics and measurables via the internet was still in it's infancy.) If you're like me, you can appreciate The Odds as a simple document of the rhythms and melodies, the push and pull of sports gambling. You can read an excerpt and think, "Been there," hopefully with a smile. But chances are, you're not like me.
It's an older book; from around Y2K, so there is a fair amount of history that is of interest. The Stardust Casino at the time had the most renown sports book in Vegas. They always set the line first, which means they would also take a huge hit because if they got something wrong the high-enders were there waiting to play it. (Big gamblers have a line in their head for every game and if the book's line is very far from there they will snap up a lot of action. There are a lot of high rollers and they are very smart, so if you're way off from them you're probably wrong and possibly in trouble if you don't move the line quickly enough. On the other hand, if the book can nail the line they will get all the big action.) At the time, the Vegas casinos were under relentless pressure from the newly founded, zero-overhead Caribbean online casinos which allowed gamblers to bet with a couple of mouse clicks rather than make an appearance in the sports book. And they were in the process of being double whammied by congressional legislation to outlaw gambling on college sports -- a huge blow to their ability to make a profit.
Looking back, it's interesting to see how all this played out. The legislation failed and, in fact, regulators would turn their gaze on the Caribs over the next few years. Sports gambling is no longer a huge profit center for Vegas casinos -- most have farmed out their sportsbook operations to one of three or four big agencies so scouring the books for a better line is often fruitless. Odds and lines get set and they sync up across books very quickly. It's more corporate. More geared towards collecting the vig than outsmarting the gamblers, who have more information and analytical power in their phones than the entire industry had 15 years ago. The Stardust Hotel and Casino itself was blown up long ago.
Yet, folks still come to the sportsbooks. It might be that, apart from a limited and recent legalization in Delaware, Vegas remains only place in the U.S. you can legally bet on sports and you can't legally do it over the phone, so most law abiding citizens have to go to the sportsbook. You have the option of breaking the law and hooking up with a local bookie who may or may not be accessible when you need your money. Or you could click through to one of the Caribs, which is more gray market than black, which may or may not be accessible when you want your money. Or you can contain your risk to the amount of your wager and go visit the sportsbook.
Alan Boston is the profiled high-roller, or "wiseguy", is the sort of professional everyone imagines. A heart-attack waiting to happen, he is the key guy in a high-end sports betting syndicate. He wants to kill himself when things don't go his way and condemns anyone -- a player who hits a three in garbage time, a ref who made a bad call, a bookmaker who won't take his bet, etc. -- who he blames for losses (in abstract) as worthy of death. He's flashy and brash, but also sentimental and generous. Quite a character all-in-all.
The newbie profiled is another telling image. A former Indiana high school jock who cares about virtually nothing except sports gambling decides he's going to take a shot at being a pro gambler. Fair enough, but then he experiences the worst possible fate. He plays his gut and wins. And he manages to do it for a while. He sits around all day reading the sports pages, getting fat, and smoking weed. Naturally, he's flattened by a gravity storm. Unrepentant, he gets a job at a sportsbook so he can keep going.
Both gambler profiles are interesting, although they seem a bit shallow. But then, obsessed gamblers are shallow. The only thing they worry about, the only real passion they have, is the bet. Alan Boston's existential fear is not simply that he will lose money, but that he will lose so much money he can't gamble again next season. The only thing that shakes the newbie out of his pot-stupor is the possibility that he will have to abandon Vegas and get job back in Indiana. They are not obsessed with winning. The are not as concerned about winning as they are continuing.
I have never read a satisfactory description of the attraction of gambling. I have read good descriptions of the experience and of the acts of gamblers (this book for example), but I have never read a good explanation for the irresistible internal desire. I have read discussions of gambling as an addiction in general but I have trouble lumping gambling "addiction" in the same category with substance abuse. In the case of traditional addictions you are putting some chemicals of some sort in your body and altering your physiology to "need" them. Nothing is ingested in a sportsbook except stale nachos and flat beer. Nor is gambling the same as a true obsession. There are, for example, people addicted to washing their hands. Often they will wash them until they are raw and bleeding, but they cannot stop. That sort of thing is like a twitch -- an involuntary little habit that gets set on repeat in your brain. Gambling is an extraordinarily complex behavior. Nobody who is addicted to cocaine or has tourettes syndrome will tell you they are acting rationally. They know what they are doing is nonsensical or self-destructive, but they just can't stop. Any full on gambler can tell you exactly why it makes sense for him to make a bet, and in the case of sports betting, they will often do hours of analysis before betting. This is not a generic addiction or obsession.
My personal experience, and I think this jibes with other descriptions I have read, is that gambling is about the losing. On the surface it seems like everyone is chasing that big win -- the easy money. But wins, while exhilarating, are momentary. In fact, for me, the real thrill of winning is the feeling that you have outsmarted the world. That your analysis and reasoning are beyond the norm. That you see things others don't. Whatever the joys of winning, they are fleeting and not what you remember. I have made some good calls and won a bit of cash, but the things that stick in my mind are the losses. The weekend where I ended down based on a last minute missed field goal. The time I altered a bet at the last minute based on a news story when I should have known better. The weekend where I couldn't win anything. The lying in bed at night, pounding my head over what I should have done. Why would I want to engage in an activity where that is the norm (losing is the norm in gambling) and which brings me only momentary pleasure otherwise? Now I have never bet and lost so much money that it caused me the slightest problem, but I have to imagine other gamblers have similar experiences.
I don't have any answers, and neither does Chad Millman. So to answer the standard question, Should you read The Odds?, I'm going to give it a qualified no. Qualified, because I don't see a lot a attraction here, for someone who isn't interested in gambling on sports. The connection to broader human experience is tenuous. The personal stories are not compelling enough to really draw the interest of someone who has no gambling frame of reference and would just view them dramatically. As dramatic characters they are a problem because there is really no arc to them. They don't go on any journeys. You also will be frustrated if you are looking for insights into the strategies of big time gamblers, none are presented -- although they consider every angle none of them do anything remotely systematic or at least there are no detailed descriptions of any analytics. They live and die on their sense for the effects of the variables being sharper than the general public. (The availability of untold statistics and measurables via the internet was still in it's infancy.) If you're like me, you can appreciate The Odds as a simple document of the rhythms and melodies, the push and pull of sports gambling. You can read an excerpt and think, "Been there," hopefully with a smile. But chances are, you're not like me.
[Movies] Going Attractions
Going Attractions: I count seven potential summer blockbusters that were released in May. These blockbusters are the seminal purpose of the movie industry. Pretty much all other movies have to count on long term plans such as rentals or hitting it off in Europe to make money. These show big profit on the the first weekend or they are considered failures. Stock price movers, they are. I, of course, saw none of them. I don't go to the movies. It's an odd concept to me -- like streaming from Amazon, but in a huge darkened room with a bunch of annoying strangers while eating nasty food and paying for the privilege. I don't see the attraction. But it's fun to me to try to figure out ahead of time which ones I'll watch when they start streaming or appear on cable.
Iron Man 3 -- I'll watch it just for Downey if nothing else, but reviews are strong. BTW, I just caught a snippet if the first Iron Man and decided I would have gone to see it in the theatre if during the face off between Downey and Jeff Daniels, Downey would have said, "Where is the money, Lebowski?" In fact, I might go to the theatre to see just about any Jeff Daniels film that contained an ironic Lebowski quote. But that's just me.
The Great Gatsby -- I find I actually like DiCaprio. I thought he was terrific in The Aviator, which is a movie that is recent in my mind but is now almost ten years old. It seems like everything reminds me of the passage of time, doesn't it? I have to stop doing that. Try to stay focused on the future. It's not like I'm some sort of old man in a nursing home. I mean I won't retire for another 15 years at least and if I look back 15 years ago, the most profound experiences of my life had yet to happen. There's no reason to expect the next 15 years will bring any less. And 15 years after that -- well, I hope to be a cyborg.
But the topic is Gatsby. You would think this is the sort of movie I would relish -- a fresh take on classic literature -- even if it turns out to be an awkward reimagining, but honestly, it seems like the kind of thing that I would plan to watch but probably think better of it when the time comes and turn on something else. Maybe The Aviator. Or Lebowski.
Star Trek: Into the Darkness -- Reviews are mixed but I'm sure I'll watch it. Even at his worst, JJ Abrams can hold your attention. I thought the rebooted Trek acting team was awfully good. We know Benedict Cumberbatch is amazing. I fear for JJ in trying to extend the Star Wars franchise though, especially after the holy abominations of the prequels. He may be mistaken if he thinks there is a trove of good will out there. But it appears he really wants Eternal Emperor of all Nerdom on his resume so he has to go for it.
There were three great fantasy-action trilogies in the '80s (roughly): 1) Star Wars, 2) Indiana Jones, and 3) Back to the Future. Lucas plus Spielberg torpedoed Indy pretty thoroughly. Lucas demolished Star Wars all on his own. It's evident that the personality of the director plays a starring role in such films. By the time Lucas and Spielberg got around to revisiting these works they were different people -- the sort of people who did not thrill to, and dream about, pulp action fantasy anymore. They were grown ups, with all the suckiness of mind that entails. Please don't let either of them touch Back to the Future. Marty McFly with Parkinson's would be the Worst of all Possible Ideas. Best to leave it to guys like Abrams and Joss Whedon. At least until they grow up. Come to think of it, I bet Whedon could do something sparkling with a Back to the Future reboot.
Fast and Furious 6 -- Yeah, I'll watch it. Mind switched to 'off'. Maybe while playing Fruit Ninja and cursing myself for wasting what little time I have on Earth.
The Hangover 3 -- I have not watched 1 or 2 so it's highly unlikely i'll watch this one. I have seen slob humor from its Animal Housian beginnings and feel quite confident that I could live a rich, fulfilling life without seeing anymore. Like most things, slob movies have degraded over the years. They sometimes descend into pure raunch or the contort themselves to have a poignant endings. But the true death of slob humor came when they started producing sequels. MISSING THE WHOLE POINT, PEOPLE. They're just supposed to be a couple hours of gags.
Now You See Me -- I had to look up the plot of this one: "Story follows a crack FBI squad in a game of cat-and-mouse against a super-team of the world's greatest illusionists, who pull off a series of daring bank heists during their performances, showering the profits on their audiences while staying one step ahead of the law." I'll wait until I hear more about it before deciding. Could be good but only if it turns out to be a crisply plotted and cleanly directed caper film, but you only get one of those every decade or so. None of the names involved with it give me any confidence whatsoever. I'd lay odds that like the main characters, the thing the movie does well is manipulate the audience.
After Earth -- Abort. I can't get past the premise: After evacuating Earth a thousand years ago, a father and son duo crash land back on Earth where everything all life has evolved to kill humans. At least that is what I gather from the trailers. First, in evolutionary terms, 1000 years isn't very long at all. There probably would be observable effects but not that great. Roving packs of feral Labrador Retrievers? Sure. Mutant Giant Killer Reptiles -- um, no. Second, even if life did evolve very fast (for some contrived reason revealed in expository dialogue) it would not evolve to kill humans because there were no humans around to evolve to kill. See how that works? My ability to suspend disbelief only goes so far. There has to be at least some semblance of rationality behind things. I don't know why they think it's OK just to make up whatever random crap you want and turn it into a movie. Oh wait, I see the reason: M. Night Shyamalan. Because it's worked so well in the past.
Iron Man 3 -- I'll watch it just for Downey if nothing else, but reviews are strong. BTW, I just caught a snippet if the first Iron Man and decided I would have gone to see it in the theatre if during the face off between Downey and Jeff Daniels, Downey would have said, "Where is the money, Lebowski?" In fact, I might go to the theatre to see just about any Jeff Daniels film that contained an ironic Lebowski quote. But that's just me.
The Great Gatsby -- I find I actually like DiCaprio. I thought he was terrific in The Aviator, which is a movie that is recent in my mind but is now almost ten years old. It seems like everything reminds me of the passage of time, doesn't it? I have to stop doing that. Try to stay focused on the future. It's not like I'm some sort of old man in a nursing home. I mean I won't retire for another 15 years at least and if I look back 15 years ago, the most profound experiences of my life had yet to happen. There's no reason to expect the next 15 years will bring any less. And 15 years after that -- well, I hope to be a cyborg.
But the topic is Gatsby. You would think this is the sort of movie I would relish -- a fresh take on classic literature -- even if it turns out to be an awkward reimagining, but honestly, it seems like the kind of thing that I would plan to watch but probably think better of it when the time comes and turn on something else. Maybe The Aviator. Or Lebowski.
Star Trek: Into the Darkness -- Reviews are mixed but I'm sure I'll watch it. Even at his worst, JJ Abrams can hold your attention. I thought the rebooted Trek acting team was awfully good. We know Benedict Cumberbatch is amazing. I fear for JJ in trying to extend the Star Wars franchise though, especially after the holy abominations of the prequels. He may be mistaken if he thinks there is a trove of good will out there. But it appears he really wants Eternal Emperor of all Nerdom on his resume so he has to go for it.
There were three great fantasy-action trilogies in the '80s (roughly): 1) Star Wars, 2) Indiana Jones, and 3) Back to the Future. Lucas plus Spielberg torpedoed Indy pretty thoroughly. Lucas demolished Star Wars all on his own. It's evident that the personality of the director plays a starring role in such films. By the time Lucas and Spielberg got around to revisiting these works they were different people -- the sort of people who did not thrill to, and dream about, pulp action fantasy anymore. They were grown ups, with all the suckiness of mind that entails. Please don't let either of them touch Back to the Future. Marty McFly with Parkinson's would be the Worst of all Possible Ideas. Best to leave it to guys like Abrams and Joss Whedon. At least until they grow up. Come to think of it, I bet Whedon could do something sparkling with a Back to the Future reboot.
Fast and Furious 6 -- Yeah, I'll watch it. Mind switched to 'off'. Maybe while playing Fruit Ninja and cursing myself for wasting what little time I have on Earth.
The Hangover 3 -- I have not watched 1 or 2 so it's highly unlikely i'll watch this one. I have seen slob humor from its Animal Housian beginnings and feel quite confident that I could live a rich, fulfilling life without seeing anymore. Like most things, slob movies have degraded over the years. They sometimes descend into pure raunch or the contort themselves to have a poignant endings. But the true death of slob humor came when they started producing sequels. MISSING THE WHOLE POINT, PEOPLE. They're just supposed to be a couple hours of gags.
Now You See Me -- I had to look up the plot of this one: "Story follows a crack FBI squad in a game of cat-and-mouse against a super-team of the world's greatest illusionists, who pull off a series of daring bank heists during their performances, showering the profits on their audiences while staying one step ahead of the law." I'll wait until I hear more about it before deciding. Could be good but only if it turns out to be a crisply plotted and cleanly directed caper film, but you only get one of those every decade or so. None of the names involved with it give me any confidence whatsoever. I'd lay odds that like the main characters, the thing the movie does well is manipulate the audience.
After Earth -- Abort. I can't get past the premise: After evacuating Earth a thousand years ago, a father and son duo crash land back on Earth where everything all life has evolved to kill humans. At least that is what I gather from the trailers. First, in evolutionary terms, 1000 years isn't very long at all. There probably would be observable effects but not that great. Roving packs of feral Labrador Retrievers? Sure. Mutant Giant Killer Reptiles -- um, no. Second, even if life did evolve very fast (for some contrived reason revealed in expository dialogue) it would not evolve to kill humans because there were no humans around to evolve to kill. See how that works? My ability to suspend disbelief only goes so far. There has to be at least some semblance of rationality behind things. I don't know why they think it's OK just to make up whatever random crap you want and turn it into a movie. Oh wait, I see the reason: M. Night Shyamalan. Because it's worked so well in the past.
[Rant] It's (almost) a Twister! It's (almost) a Twister!
It's (almost) a Twister! It's (almost) a Twister!: This bothers me. We had a tornado warning. For those of you from non-tornado areas, a tornado watch is issued when conditions are ripe for a twister, a tornado warning is issued when a funnel cloud or a near funnel cloud has actually been spotted.
So, we had a tornado warning. That's not what bothers me. What bothers me is the reaction. I was in the local library and the first thing they did was try to shepherd us all into the basement. Instead, I left, but not before I got a very forceful and indignant suggestion from the librarian to comply with her instructions. (I wasn't worried. I'm pretty sure I could have taken her if we threw hands.) So I went to the grocery store where they stopped all activity and tried to usher all the customers into the warehouse storage in the back. At least the pimply grocery clerk told me I had the option to leave.
The hell? Why young fella, back in my day we used to go outside to watch the twisters -- the closer the better. As it turns out, the suspected almost tornado was about ten miles north and never actually turned into a real tornado anyway.
Yes, I had another get-off-my-lawn moment. But look, the chance of tornado coming down on your head is pretty close to zero. And despite what breathless news storm-chasing news journalists tell you for dramatic effect, you will get a fair amount of warning. Things get dark. There is hail. Wind picks up. I know -- I was within spitting distance of a nasty one last year. You do not have to put the brakes on life as we know it just because there may be a possible tornado somewhere in the county.
I understand that nature is a scary thing. It's supposed to scare us. That how we survived to evolve civilization. But we really need some sense of proportion when assessing risk. I don't know who to blame for this. The recent OKC tornado; media sensationalism and the idiots who buy into it; the clowns who have planted the inane idea that this is all due to global warming and the apocalypse is coming and we are actually living in a bad sci-fi movie -- your guess is as good as mine. Businesses get freaked because they are sure that if a tornado does hit everyone in the store is going to sue them.
What's frustrating about this is not that it's another example of what's gone wrong with the world (let's face it -- the world was never right to begin with). The thing that frustrates me is the reaction of the overreactors to non-overreactors. They overreact. Take the angry librarian. What would the reaction have been if I had turned and explained (as I wanted to) that the chance of a tornado blindsiding me is zero and they were acting like scared kittens for no good reason? The response would have been indignation at my irresponsible attitude. I may have even been lectured about endangering the children or something.
I realize we live in a much safer world than we used to. And it may be because of a shift in attitudes (and laws and regulations) towards greater risk aversion. And it also may, on balance, be a good thing. But you can't deny much was lost in the process. How much institutional behavior is driven by fear of lawsuits rather than reason and analysis? How many simple pleasures, large and small, will we people younger than myself never experience?
Riding in the back of a pickup truck. Jumping of the roof of the garage. I did those things as a child; I did not ask permission, and adults knew I did them with little concern. Could I have been killed or hurt? Sure. Would it have been worth it if I had been? The wise answer is no, it wouldn't, therefore I shouldn't have done them -- I shouldn't have taken the risk. Well, perhaps my wisdom is lacking, but I'm not so sure. Those little adventures had meaning for me. They still do. They are symptomatic of a sense of invulnerability that only a child can have. I no longer have that, of course, but don't know how I could live without the imprint of the sensation in my memory. I could not approach any unfamiliar or risky situation with confidence that I would overcome it were I not able to draw on that sensation of invulnerability from my childhood: that it's scary to jump of the roof, but awesome when you do it. In the absence of that, the only way I would be comfortable acting in uncertainty is if I had faith that the world -- the system/community/institutions -- had my back, that the environment had been structured so that I would not be harmed. Is that what younger adults have now instead of invulnerability?
Maybe it's better this way. Maybe that's progress and I'm just a grouch. Or maybe it's not. Maybe it really was better back in the day. Or maybe it's neither. Maybe it's no better or worse, just different. But in no way is it the answer so clear that you should get on your high horse about safety to someone who isn't scared of tornadoes. If you want to dive into the basement at the first sign of bad weather you have my blessing. How about you give me your blessing when I don't? If you don't want to dive in the pool head first, don't. But let me.
Huron River Drive in Ann Arbor is a beautiful scenic road that winds along the river. The river is crossed by railroad bridges in three or four spots. They are maybe twenty feet above the water and when the river is high, and you have taken the time to locate any hidden rocks, they are a blast to jump off. One for my fondest, most vivid, memories from my early twenties (maybe thirty years ago, yikes) was coming out to one these with a bunch of friends and spending a hot afternoon leaping off one of the bridges into the cool water.
As I drove past one hot day last summer I noticed a group of four kids -- ok, not kids, they looked about 20 -- lined up on top of one of the bridges to leap in together. I gave an involuntary grin. I could see them count off 3-2-1 and get airborne and shout with joy. As they swam to shore they were met by a security guard or park ranger or some form of uniformed authority who was clearly beside himself with indignation and was just brimming with excitement at the opportunity to teach these kids a lesson about safety. The kids were clearly intimidated by this authority figure. I was tempted to stop my car, charge over, get in the uniform's face, and claim to be the kids' lawyer just to take the guy down a notch. What exactly did they learn? What is their memory? Is that wisdom?
It may indeed be better and safer this way. But it's also sadder.
So, we had a tornado warning. That's not what bothers me. What bothers me is the reaction. I was in the local library and the first thing they did was try to shepherd us all into the basement. Instead, I left, but not before I got a very forceful and indignant suggestion from the librarian to comply with her instructions. (I wasn't worried. I'm pretty sure I could have taken her if we threw hands.) So I went to the grocery store where they stopped all activity and tried to usher all the customers into the warehouse storage in the back. At least the pimply grocery clerk told me I had the option to leave.
The hell? Why young fella, back in my day we used to go outside to watch the twisters -- the closer the better. As it turns out, the suspected almost tornado was about ten miles north and never actually turned into a real tornado anyway.
Yes, I had another get-off-my-lawn moment. But look, the chance of tornado coming down on your head is pretty close to zero. And despite what breathless news storm-chasing news journalists tell you for dramatic effect, you will get a fair amount of warning. Things get dark. There is hail. Wind picks up. I know -- I was within spitting distance of a nasty one last year. You do not have to put the brakes on life as we know it just because there may be a possible tornado somewhere in the county.
I understand that nature is a scary thing. It's supposed to scare us. That how we survived to evolve civilization. But we really need some sense of proportion when assessing risk. I don't know who to blame for this. The recent OKC tornado; media sensationalism and the idiots who buy into it; the clowns who have planted the inane idea that this is all due to global warming and the apocalypse is coming and we are actually living in a bad sci-fi movie -- your guess is as good as mine. Businesses get freaked because they are sure that if a tornado does hit everyone in the store is going to sue them.
What's frustrating about this is not that it's another example of what's gone wrong with the world (let's face it -- the world was never right to begin with). The thing that frustrates me is the reaction of the overreactors to non-overreactors. They overreact. Take the angry librarian. What would the reaction have been if I had turned and explained (as I wanted to) that the chance of a tornado blindsiding me is zero and they were acting like scared kittens for no good reason? The response would have been indignation at my irresponsible attitude. I may have even been lectured about endangering the children or something.
I realize we live in a much safer world than we used to. And it may be because of a shift in attitudes (and laws and regulations) towards greater risk aversion. And it also may, on balance, be a good thing. But you can't deny much was lost in the process. How much institutional behavior is driven by fear of lawsuits rather than reason and analysis? How many simple pleasures, large and small, will we people younger than myself never experience?
Riding in the back of a pickup truck. Jumping of the roof of the garage. I did those things as a child; I did not ask permission, and adults knew I did them with little concern. Could I have been killed or hurt? Sure. Would it have been worth it if I had been? The wise answer is no, it wouldn't, therefore I shouldn't have done them -- I shouldn't have taken the risk. Well, perhaps my wisdom is lacking, but I'm not so sure. Those little adventures had meaning for me. They still do. They are symptomatic of a sense of invulnerability that only a child can have. I no longer have that, of course, but don't know how I could live without the imprint of the sensation in my memory. I could not approach any unfamiliar or risky situation with confidence that I would overcome it were I not able to draw on that sensation of invulnerability from my childhood: that it's scary to jump of the roof, but awesome when you do it. In the absence of that, the only way I would be comfortable acting in uncertainty is if I had faith that the world -- the system/community/institutions -- had my back, that the environment had been structured so that I would not be harmed. Is that what younger adults have now instead of invulnerability?
Maybe it's better this way. Maybe that's progress and I'm just a grouch. Or maybe it's not. Maybe it really was better back in the day. Or maybe it's neither. Maybe it's no better or worse, just different. But in no way is it the answer so clear that you should get on your high horse about safety to someone who isn't scared of tornadoes. If you want to dive into the basement at the first sign of bad weather you have my blessing. How about you give me your blessing when I don't? If you don't want to dive in the pool head first, don't. But let me.
Huron River Drive in Ann Arbor is a beautiful scenic road that winds along the river. The river is crossed by railroad bridges in three or four spots. They are maybe twenty feet above the water and when the river is high, and you have taken the time to locate any hidden rocks, they are a blast to jump off. One for my fondest, most vivid, memories from my early twenties (maybe thirty years ago, yikes) was coming out to one these with a bunch of friends and spending a hot afternoon leaping off one of the bridges into the cool water.
As I drove past one hot day last summer I noticed a group of four kids -- ok, not kids, they looked about 20 -- lined up on top of one of the bridges to leap in together. I gave an involuntary grin. I could see them count off 3-2-1 and get airborne and shout with joy. As they swam to shore they were met by a security guard or park ranger or some form of uniformed authority who was clearly beside himself with indignation and was just brimming with excitement at the opportunity to teach these kids a lesson about safety. The kids were clearly intimidated by this authority figure. I was tempted to stop my car, charge over, get in the uniform's face, and claim to be the kids' lawyer just to take the guy down a notch. What exactly did they learn? What is their memory? Is that wisdom?
It may indeed be better and safer this way. But it's also sadder.
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