I saw this in the news this morning, and figured at the same time that it was about time I ranted about something, just to keep my hand in. To summarize, Albuquerque Public Schools is planning to make their long-standing policy of not checking a student's immigration status official. Evidently, they feel that they have their hands full enough as it is and that every student who wants to be there, legal or not, is a spot of hope in a seemingly mangy future.

I agree with them on both counts, so I'm not going to rant about that. Instead, I'll rant about the comments below the story.

Of course, there are always people ready to bash the schools and the entire notion of education because they're unionized and "elitist," and some of the regulars can even spell competently. I don't know why I read them because I always want to respond, which of course means I have to sign up for yet another in an endless succession of little services designed to allow me that privilege, and they often have frustrating name/password requirements and I'm just not willing to keep all of them straight, so fuck it, I'll just rant.

So some people think the schools should insure immigration status. Fine. I want to know what THOSE people do for a living, and how they are restricting their services to benefiting only legal Americans.

If you work in a grocery store, are you making sure that your customers are citizens? Obviously, people won't come here illegally if no one sells them food.

If you work for the cable company, are you checking to make sure that Spanish package isn't being watched by illegals? Why should illegals get to watch TV just because you make a hookup fee?

If you're an EMT, do you make sure that's a real American you're scraping off the road and into an ambulance before using American blood to save a life?

If you run a hot dog stand, are you asking for green cards? Again, no food, no stay.

If you're a landscaper, do you make sure the apartment complexes you mow don't house illegals? Should good Americans like you do business with such places?

If you're a bartender, do you ask for more than just proof of age when filling that order for dos Tecates?

What do you mean it isn't your job?

Certainly, if we're going to add immigration control duties to a teacher's already wobbling plate with no increase in pay or input of resources, isn't it fair to do that with everyone else, too? Shouldn't your convenience store slow down the lines a little and make sure everyone is legal? Your car wash? Everything in Wal-Mart is red,white, and blue. Shouldn't they stand up for that? Somewhere BEFORE the check-out counter?

Shouldn't we ALL put on our Junior G-Man badges and do our part to make sure that everyone we meet in our work lives is legal? Shouldn't we ALL put America's needs over our own and adopt this standard, making our own jobs, our own lives, more complicated and even rejecting business (and the school-supporting tax revenue that comes with it) from those who aren't here legally?

No, you say? Checking legal status isn't your job, you say?

Then why the hell should it be a teacher's job?

As much as I've embraced subculture at times, I'm a traditionalist about certain things, like the English language. For instance, when reading I start in the upper left and move rightward and, at appropriate moments, down. This habit generally serves, unless someone needs to write something directly onto a street, and then as a driver I see 

XING

                                                      PED

which I naturally read as "XING PED." When I see this, my second thought (the first is being stricken, as I have been for decades, with the fact that we can reduce the five-letter word "cross" to "X" but are stuck spelling "ING" out completely) is that it is upside down. The idea, obviously, is that while I'm watching the road, the "PED" will hit my eyes before the "XING." 

But I don't drive like that. Mr. Magoo drives like that. I tend to look up and view the vast panorama of everything I'm careening toward: vehicles not in my lane, ones that are, road signs written traditionally, landmarks, and if they're lucky, crossing pedestrians. I think most people drive with something besides the road immediately before their car in sight and mind, so this inversion of words betrays a curious short-sightedness that, upon reflection, I see in many other areas of American life. 

Take jobs, for instance. I remember getting my first transistor radio when I was very young in the early 70s, as well as my parents' comments that it, like so many things those days, was made in Japan. As I grew up it became a cliché. Hope and Carson joked about it and we laughed because it was true. People noted it constantly, bemoaned it patriotically, and resigned themselves to it when they shopped because this radio was half the price of that one and they're sure the quality was good enough and the other company wouldn't go out of business just because they didn't sell this one radio, anyway. Then Taiwan joined in, and Singapore, and China, et al. And while we joked and sighed about it, millions of Americans pretended that the benefits the American Dream offered – property, security, advancement, retirement – were still available – nay, owed -  to anyone with a high school diploma and a good (or decent, anyway) work ethic. Now millions of Americans sit in import–furnished homes looking for someone to blame – government, unions, environmentalists, illegal immigrants- for the fact that the American Dream wasn't waiting for them with open arms. We've become consumers that don't produce over the last 50 years. Where were our eyes pointed? How did we look at the road leading to it for 50 years without seeing it? 

We've done the same thing with energy. I wasn't yet ten when oil's future – or lack of it – became clear. The need for alternative energy was clear during the first energy crisis of the 70s, and clearer in the second. Then with the 80s came cheap gas, and the solar panels came off the White House and America forgot all about alternative energy sources. Now, when oil's international politics have gotten sticky and domestic production, particularly in the gulf, has gotten stickier, we find ourselves in a scramble for alternatives that, we hope, will provide jobs as well as savings and less pollution. 

In the meantime, Ol' Reliable – that is, Big Oil – has its own short-sightedness poster boy in BP. To save $500, 000, they declined to use a safety valve that they use in other nations, one that could have stemmed the flow of oil by remote control when the leak began. Now look at their tab; look at the colossal environmental, human, and economic cost to our nation. This was a company looking directly down at the road before them. Had they looked up, they might have seen the billboard that reads "A stitch, in time, saves nine." Now watch as it happens in China and Michigan as well. No, we're not alone in this, but we should, after longer development, have learned by now. 

Can we even count all the ways we've been shortsighted? After tax cuts during two unbudgeted wars can a deficit really have snuck up on us? After lowering standards and coddling self-esteem for 40 years can we really be surprised by graduates that barely read and don't know their own nation's geography but feel they're worth top pay? After falling for the same partisan political dogma year after year after year can we sincerely feel victimized by politicians that snipe more than they solve? 

This isn't meant to be a huge epiphany. I have no wonderful plan to solve all of our problems, no claim to a magic key. 

I just can't help but feeling that we could have avoided many of our problems, and may avoid many more to come, by the simple act of looking up from the road once in awhile to see what obstacles may be there that aren't presaged by inverted writing.

We're hearing a lot about blame these days. It's the economy, obviously.

A year and a half (not the two years that so many people seem to think) into the Obama presidency, a lot of people feel that it is far too late to blame Bush the Younger for our dismal economic situation. Besides, many of them will happily inform you, it's actually Clinton's, Carter's, and FDR's fault as well as Obama's. But don't try to lay the blame on Bush this late in the game.

Others are busily pointing out that the economy wasn't born on January 20^th, 2009, and that the recession had already been born by that date as well. They'll explain that Bush being president when the recession began is a result of the trappings of a linear time system, one that allows only rhetorical revision. It can't be changed in reality the way a movie is edited with software. Besides, they'll say,  look at all that GOP obstructionism since then. It's all the right's fault, every little bit.

The rest don't know WHO to blame. They'll decide on someone eventually. They'll probably be wrong.

Because, America, if you want to find the real culprits, the ones who allowed and helped our economy to circle the drain, you really needn't look further than the mirror.  THERE'S the bastard you're mad at.

Let's start with jobs, which Obama should have provided for every American who wants one by now, right? Didn't you see the steady bleed of American jobs to foreign shores beginning in the late 1960s? Of course you did. You pontificated on it endlessly, warning people what would happen if they bought Volkswagens and Suburus and Hondas. You slapped that American flag from Reader's Digest on your Ford and then drove it to Sears or K-Mart or Zayre and filled it with foreign clothes and household goods that were excellent bargains. After all, YOUR job wasn't going anywhere. You were, of course, justly outraged when those foreign goods became the only ones available. Look what those unpatriotic bastards in their Kias had done!

Let's look at the deficit now. Did you happen, perchance, to notice the surplus that we had in 1999? The reduced welfare rolls that we had that same year? Perhaps you did. Or, perhaps, you were part of the vast majority that was uptight about a blowjob.

Stop and reminisce for a moment. In 1999, having a president who got a blowjob from someone other than his wife qualified as America's Biggest Problem. Ah, simpler times. I miss that blowjob, and I wasn't even the one who received it.

Things got complicated fast after that, didn't they? That surplus went up in a flurry of $300 checks before 9-11 burst forth. And from that day on you took your eye off of the ball, economy-wise, until Bush's presidency was in its last stretch.

Remember two wars, run entirely OFF the federal budget? Remember the tax breaks, the first ever during wartime in our nation's history, which came with these wars? You noticed that, right?

Sure you did, but what of it? It may have resonated on some deeper level that this wasn't a sustainable policy, but what the hell. YOU were keeping more money in your pocket, if you were rich enough and not prey to the already-stagnant wages making the rounds, and you were supporting the troops in spirit if not finance, right? You gave them all that hero-talk and bought that American flag – hey, when did they start making THOSE in China? – at WalMart for the SUV's window to show how patriotic you are. Why worry about something that wasn't a problem yet, especially when you were doing okay yourself? Besides, the guy running this show said that we'd pay for all this with the enemy's oil, and anyone peddling such easy answers HAS to be right.

You've had your steady stream of distractions to keep you busy, as well. There's Survivor, Idol, Dancing, Mad Men, Sopranos, longer sports seasons every year, all the things you have to know all about in order to be a normal person who can converse with other normal people around the coffee pot. Why not? There are people, after all, who are PAID to look at all the things that are going on, condense them for your easy ingestion, and tell you how to feel about them. The Becks, Limbaughs, Olbermanns, and Shultzes of the world. All you have to do is find the one that you are sure will never steer you wrong, the one whose opinions sound so much like the ones you would form that you trust him/her implicitly, no matter how ridiculous the rants get.

But whoa! Mr. Troll, you say. I'm informed! I watch the news, I read a paper!

Sure, you get your daily dose of half-truths from the Short Attention Span Theater of the modern corporate media. Once again, you find one that echoes the values you want to hear about, reports the "facts" you want to be true. Thus you may believe that tax cuts are more stimulative than unemployment benefits, despite the evidence to the contrary; that adding to the deficit via tax cuts is somehow better than adding to it via spending; that only Republican obstructionism is to blame for the inadequacies of the health care and financial reform bills; that either party is taking the higher road when it comes to corruption or lobbyist influence; that the people who haven't been creating jobs in America during the Bush tax cuts will begin to do so if only those cuts are extended. You may even believe that Obama had a ghost of a chance to bring back, in 1½ years, the jobs we've lost over the last 40, regardless of how much was spent or not spent, how much was taxed or not taxed. 

It could be very different. We have the best means of informing ourselves that has ever existed. You're looking at it now. (No, not my blog, silly! The Internet.) It can be a source of enlightenment, or it can just as easily – no, far more easily – be used to find what people want to hear. It can inform us as to what is really going on, or it can help us hide in our comfort zones (as I explain in detail here) and make uninformed decisions. We used to have Murrows and Cronkites to ask the tough questions. Now we have to do it ourselves, but we first have to be willing to challenge our beliefs and inclinations. As always, truth and good sense are out there, but won't be handed to us. We have to seek them.

And when you vote this year, remember what that fink in the mirror has been doing to you all this time.

I'm sick and tired of tolerance.

Every day I hear about how white folks need to tolerate the darker ones, how Christians should be tolerant of Jews who in turn should tolerate Muslims who should tolerate Christians. Everyone of every culture should be tolerant of every other culture. Heterosexuals should be tolerant of non-heteros of every stripe or spot. Cats should try to be more tolerant of drooling, butt-sniffing dogs.

It's bunk. All this tolerance is unnecessary. Not that I think that amity is a bad idea, or that there's something funny about peace, love, and understanding. It doesn't bother me as a civil libertarian or someone who wants to be free to hate - if I choose to hate, who's going to stop me anyway? No, it bothers me as a writer and a rhetor. It bothers me because it's the wrong damn word.

To tolerate is to endure suffering, to forebear. To put up with something that bothers or harms you. To allow something to exist even though you'd probably rather it didn't. And therein lurks the problem.

Why should I, as a Caucasian, have to tolerate African-Americans? There is nothing about them being African-American that causes me harm or offense. Why should I have to tolerate Spanish -speaking people here in Albuquerque when they have lived here longer than I and usually aren't speaking to me in the first place? Why should I be "tolerant" of Jews when they, as a group, aren't kvetching at me?

I can't be "tolerant" of these folks unless they actually do something that I find bothersome. Existing doesn't make that list all by itself. Go ahead and exist. Hell, do it nearby - across the street, even. That alone isn't going to bug me.

On occasion, I do find the need to "tolerate" someone's religion, but that's mainly when the damn fool is at my front door on Saturday morning to tell me about it, or when another is trying to encode that religion into federal law so that all may enjoy it. Funny how the religion I "tolerate" the most is the one that is supposedly an integral part of my own culture.

 It's not really the religion I'm tolerating, though, is it? It's the damn fool. I find myself tolerating a lot of damn fools, damn fools of every race, religion, and culture, because they are damn fools who annoy or anger me with their damn foolery, not because they look or speak or smell or believe differently than I.

So it is really the assumed offense that one is expected to feel toward anyone not "me-ish" that makes me certain that "tolerance" is the wrong word. "Acceptance" would be an improvement; "getting off your damn high horse and realizing that you're no better than anyone else" even moreso. I don't expect the usage to change, though. It's well entrenched in our lexicon, embraced and hated but at least agreed upon by the general public for long enough now that no one is going to change it just because it bugs me. And it does bug me.

I guess I'll just have to put up with it.

Schooling and education are so closely intertwined that they are usually considered synonymous. If one is educated, the common assumption goes, one has been schooled.  When one finishes school, then one is educated. As obvious as this seems, however, it fails to account for many an ignoramus with a diploma or even an advanced degree.  Certainly, in America practically all of us are schooled, but few would suggest that practically all Americans are educated. This is often due to what schools don’t do, but even more due to what they do.

Education is not necessarily schooling, and schooling frequently fosters a bad attitude toward education.  Do youngsters jump out of bed each weekday morning with sunny smiles agape, eager to learn new words, historical facts, and mathematical formulae? A few may, and be targets of schoolyard derision for it, but for most any zeal relates to seeing friends, and  others lack even that. School may be romantically recalled by adults but to many a child sitting aboard the big yellow prisoner transports, the coming school day is viewed as an eternity sitting still hearing “blah, blah, blah,” over and over and over while the sun shines and the birds sing and the world turns outside where things are actually able to happen. To them, education (like schooling), is repeating things their teachers say until they can repeat them without the teacher; it is writing the same letter again and again and again in cursive script until their hands cramp up; it is having to pore over things that hold no interest or relevance for them. It is, in short, hard work, not some magical adventure over the Reading Rainbow, and it doesn’t end when they go home.

As the student grows older and the work grows harder, it also becomes more abstract. What teenager ever understands why he’s learning the quadratic equation? What teenager ever understands why it’s important to understand the symbolism in The Scarlet Letter? What adult in his thirties hasn’t had that sudden epiphany, that connection that springs savagely to mind between what he’s doing and some bit of unapplied knowledge he picked up 15 years before? Shouldn’t that connection have been present in the first place? How does anyone learn to value education without seeing how it is actually going to be used?

An erudite existence may be scuttled by the idea that education is the sole province of youth. Graduation, for many, is the proclamation that you’ve learned all you need to know, despite the predictably unheard exhortations to the contrary in every faculty speech given. It is the goal, the achievement, the culmination of hundreds upon hundreds of mind-numbing afternoons, and if society regards them as off the hook, off the hook they will stay. College-level schooling is pushed most heavily before high school graduation, as if it were most appropriate to that age, prompting many to make a final choice far too early: sit at that desk for another 4 to 8 years, or go out and try to make something happen.  Haven’t we all known someone who was “too old to go back to school” – at 25?

Schooling’s most harmful message, however – its greatest betrayal to education itself – is in teaching children to accept what they are told and not challenge their elders, their authorities. With this boot educators stamp out the ember of youthful curiosity that should, instead, be fanned to flame. This message says “Believe whatever we tell you. What we don’t tell you isn’t important.” It wet-nurses not just gullibility, but also the notion that being educated involves no more than listening to a favored “authority,” be it Karl Rove or James Carville, Rush Limbaugh or Randy Rhodes. How can one be educated without the ability – nay, the inclination – to doubt not only what one is told, but what one thinks he  already knows?

I urge you, you adults these children have become - throw off your schooling’s mental shackles!  Be curious. Doubt. Examine. Double-check. Reconsider. Turn off CSI and read a book – or at least watch National Geographic. If you decide to take a class, don’t worry about your classmates’ ages; just think about how you will use the knowledge gained. Make education eternal, even though school is not, because once you stop learning, you’re dead – whether you’re schooled enough to know it or not.

My prior post, On Bigotry, was actually the first half of an assignment for my Writing with Classical Tropes class. The assignment was to write anything we wanted, within a certain length, and I had wanted to write that essay for Under the Bridge anyway. The second half was to select one paragraph and analyze it for the tropes, or figures of speech, that are recognizable. The main tools for this exercise are A Handbook of Rhetorical Terms by Richard A. Lanham (whom Professor Shea refers to as "The Holy Richard" but I think of as "Biggus Dickus") and a website called Silva Rhetoricae, or The Forest of Rhetoric. The assignment was NOT to use any specific tropes or a minumum number; it was to write as we always do and then pick it apart afterwards. These exercises are called "lemon squeezers" by Shea (although I'm leaning toward the term "trope mope." I chose the fourth paragraph, which begins "And so they divide." The italicized tropes are defined in the text, and the above link should help if I failed to make any meanings unclear.

The writers among you may be interested in this process and, given this example, be motivated to pick apart a paragraph or two of your own? (Note: I wrote this on Word and pasted it - if you see any cyberwierdness in it on your browser - IE especially - that's most likely why.)

On On Bigotry

By Joe Serio

 

In my essay On Bigotry, I make the argument that bigotry is alive and well in America, and obviously so.  Of course, there is the racial and class bigotry that permeates every corner of the world, but the essay focuses on the recent growth of political bigotry. This manifests itself just as racial bigotry does with political opinions – both real and imagined – as the basis, rather than race. The fourth paragraph comes after political bigotry is introduced and defined, and serves as a complex exemplum, or example, of how political bigots behave.

The first sentence is wildly busy. The first half is a clear brevitas, or brief statement; “And so they divide.”  A series of three antitheses, or contrasts, follow the semicolon.  Atop these antitheses lies a progressio, where I build my point around a series of comparisons; “Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, us or them.” The parallel structure, where each phrase contains the word “or” in the middle of a three-word antithesis, is isocolon. Furthermore, the second segment is also an auxesis, in that I started at specific political parties, opened up to more general political philosophies, and ended with the broadest and vaguest division possible; “us or them.” Finally, and hypothetically, each part of the second segment is, in itself, quite brief. Perhaps this entire sentence could be considered a compound brevitas?     (Just joking there, UtB readers!)

I begin the second sentence with anastrophe, the unusual arrangement of words for a poetic effect; “As do racial bigots” rather than the more pedestrian “as racial bigots do.” At sentence’s end I begin a device that I use for the rest of the essay – emphasizing certain words with italics. Consultation with learned council has led me to see this as a written form of augendi causa, the raising of the voice for emphasis.  This device permeates the next two sentences, which serve as exemplum to the second sentence.  These sentences are formed from two antitheses: bigoted views of one side versus the other. The first part of each antithetical sentence rests on hyperbole; in this case, exaggerating the opposition’s faults. The second half of each rests upon euphemismus; ameliorating the home team’s faults.  It is tempting to consider these sentences together to be another progressio, as they do offer another series of comparisons. Looking more closely, however, these sentences compare and contrast within parallel clauses – their this, our that - meaning I used syncrisis in both.  Furthermore, I also used dialogismus in the wording, as I was speaking from another person’s character; either a conservative bigot or a liberal one, it matters not.  Brevitas briefly returns with “They’re all liars.” Alliteration arrives with “misquoted and misunderstood.”

The next sentence tropelessly begins a repetition of the pattern set in the second sentence. It makes a straightforward claim for the next two-sentence exemplum.  These latter sentences speak from the bigot’s point of view once again, in a more paraphrased dialogismus.  Each sentence is a syllogism, or the political bigot’s one-premise form of the trope; “if” this, “you must” that. Of course, giving the contrasting views one sentence apiece formed another antithesis between them.  The structure of the two sentences is parallel as well, with the aforementioned “if” followed by one belief and “you must” followed by two assumed beliefs. This structure, unlike that of the previous two-sentence exemplum, is close enough to be defined as isocolon.

Having clearly illustrated the division mentioned in the paragraph’s first clause, I wrap things up in classic fashion with erotesis, more commonly known as a rhetorical question – one that suggests its own answer. Here I suggest not a division, but a likeness – a union, if you will - between political bigotry and its more traditional cousin, racial bigotry.  In this lay irony; for in their zeal to create differences, bigots are ultimately all the same.

 

 

 

Works Cited

 

Lanham, Richard. A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1991.

Burton, Gideon O. Silva Rhetoricae. 2007. 27 September, 2009. http://humanities.byu.edu/rhetoric/Silva.htm

As I mentioned in my last post, there are those who would now have us believe that bigotry is something America has outgrown. After all, they will say, racial prejudice is no longer a mainstream, accepted attitude. Any hint of bigotry, they'll tell you, and the PC Police knock down your door. If that still doesn't convince you that our shores are now free of racism, they'll simply point you to our Nigerian President.

While ruminating on such, I found this news item. It seems that a Jewish fraternity has been planning a move to a new house near the University of Memphis, so someone decided to welcome them to the neighborhood by painting swastikas on the house's exterior. No one can claim that the fraternity's behavior had made them unwelcome, as they haven't even moved in yet. This was simply simple-minded hatred against Jews just because they're Jews.

Now, people can argue until Ragnarok about whether it was meant to be a serious threat, or merely a childish prank. As it happened on Fraternity Row, it's easy to see the prank angle. What kind of mind sees such a prank as funny, however? What personality will see this as worth actually putting time and effort into? The bigoted mind, of course-the small, insignificant mind that says to itself "Well, they're only Jews (or Blacks or Muslims or Asians or Democrats or trailer trash or mimes or whatever) so I, being inherently superior, can have some fun at their expense."

You know…… assholes.

Of course, this is just one out of millions of instances of bigotry that happen every day, in every state, every town, every block. It's a little flashier, wholly reprehensible, and invokes a war we actually won, so it gets the media attention.  They can't possibly show every slur or threat against minorities, every lie about people of the other political party, every loogie in a cop's fast food sandwich. But then, they don't have to, because bigots will create their own displays, like the one in this news item's comments.

The first one comes from a person called "Susan" (hereafter, the sarcastic quotes around these peoples' names will be absent, but understood) who charmingly suggests that the Jewish fraternity did this themselves for the publicity. This is, of course, idiotic. Who needs this kind of publicity?

Still, nothing is so idiotic that someone won't reply to it (unless inured by experience) so Susan finds a sparring partner, Michelle.  Her first volley is the old "I'm more educated" game – I'm a history major so I know about these things. Predictably, her opposition turned out to have two graduate degrees in something or other, which of course makes HER the most educated. The education bigot loses round one. Susan (with sarcastic quotes, remember) then decides that Michelle isn't a real Jew, while she has traced her lineage back to the "real Jews who stayed in Persia."

Other bigots begin chiming in. A political bigot blames the swastikas on "liberal socialists," obviously confusing them with National Socialists and more than likely not understanding either term.

Susan returns with a lot of news. First, she agrees with Ahmadinejad about the Holocaust, she makes an anti-Christian comment, and then finally comes out of the closet as a Muslim, after which all her opponents simply say "Well, no wonder." Very naïve of them, I'd say, because I don't believe Susan for a moment. After all, do militant pro-jihad Islamic fundamentalists normally begin their tirades with "I'm a history major, so I know!" or "You're not a REAL Jew, and I am?" No, they normally come out of the gate with a bunch of genocide-stolen land-White Devil- Glory of Allah type stuff. Susan is simply one of those people who like to start arguments on the Internet and will pretend to be anything or anyone toward that end. I forget what those people are called. Oh, yes – assholes.

It doesn't end there. One person who decides to actually make sense argues against the whole "Zionist agenda" argument by saying "An educated person would know that races of people aren't conspirators as a whole." But bigotry cancels out education, doesn't it, just acids and bases or matter and anti-matter.

Going further, Robt.in Ctown expresses hatred toward all immigrants, someone else chimes in with a statement against all religions, someone comfortable with the screen name Kikehymie suggests that the vandalism should have been a lynching of Jews instead, and then the crown jewel of it all, a comment titled "The November Criminals," which lays out the 12 point creed of the KKK, including hatred toward:

•   All non-white immigrants
•   All welfare recipients, regardless of race
•   All HIV+, regardless of race
•   All foreign investors
•   All free trade partners
•   Mexicans, naturally
•   All non-Christians

Consider, for a moment, that in 50 comments, this was what stood out the most; people taking the opportunity to share their own bigotries and petty, pointless hatreds. Again, we see that bigotry nullifies the effect of education, as an educated person would instantly know that the article itself does not invite such a reaction.

Oh, yes, I'm afraid that bigotry – racial, religious, class, education, and political – is very much alive and well in America, and I fear that the intellectual homogenization enabled by the Internet will only make it worse. When people can easily find support for what they want to believe and join online communities with "their kind" exclusively instead of taking part in a greater marketplace of ideas, the "us and them" mentality becomes easier and easier to adopt, even when it's aimed at people who are very like the bigots themselves.  I'm afraid that we aren't finished with bigotry by a long shot.

There is much talk of bigotry fueling President Obama's opposition, along with many denials. "How can there be bigotry in America when a black man has been elected President?" some ask, as if the election had been unanimous. Others deny bigotry by claiming that they oppose the President's policies, not the man himself, and the fraction of them who also decried Bush's skyrocketing deficit and government expansion may be in earnest about that.

 

It's clear, however, that bigotry plays a role in the President's opposition. The 400 % increase in death threats since Obama took office is hardly attributable to concern over health care reform. Arguing for racial bigotry's complete absence is impossible when facing propaganda that portrays Obama as an African witch doctor, pre-election statements about the "White House" having that name for a reason, and "Barack the Magic Negro." On a clear day I can't be convinced that the sky is any color but blue.

 

I can give the bigots this, however; not all the bigotry we see is racial bigotry. Another kind, political bigotry, has been growing. It's evident when we see people both right and left picking "sides" the way they choose a football team. They frequently don't consider what the labels are supposed to mean; after all, they have media-supplied stances to follow after they pick their side, whether these positions make sense or not. They never view debate as an opportunity to see another point of view, a different aspect to an issue that their experience does not provide – no, debate is to show how stupid they are and how smart we are. Political bigots see no validly differing philosophies; their side is wrong and bad, ours is correct and good, just as racial bigots view other cultures.

And so they divide: Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, us or them. As do racial bigots, they defend their own faithfully while finding whatever fault possible with them. Their intern-diddler reflects on their entire side's moral decay; ours is an aberration, shamefully exploited by a spiteful media. They're all liars; we're misquoted and misunderstood. The political bigot can sum up an opponent in a second by simply applying a stereotypical platform to anyone espousing one item on the list. If you're against the war, you must be anti-capitalism and anti-gun. If you're against abortion, you must also oppose church/state separation and health care reform. Is this any different than the bigot who assumes than any given one of those people is a criminal or welfare cheat or just loves watermelon?

 

Of course, political bigotry infects both sides. It is disingenuous, however, to pretend that both sides display equal symptoms; the greater gangrene is on the right. Obama's first seven months have seen more partisanship than Bush's entire first term, and people who pretend otherwise are lying to themselves. Those who claim that the unanimous opposition from Republican congressmen is a payback for what Bush received are particularly self-deceptive; they are ignoring, not forgetting, the ease with which two wars began and the PATRIOT Act passed.

 

Saddest of all, political bigots can't be friends with those they disagree with. The bigot's preference for filtering input – getting news from pundits because the media is biased toward them, for instance – eventually includes personal input. A polite disagreement is answered not with facts, but insults; a request for sources becomes an attack on the speaker's integrity. The bigot eschews the company of anyone who disagrees, becomes entrenched in reinforcement, even brags about moving cross-country to get away from them and be among us. Therein lay the grandest lie; for what could be less patriotic than freely and purposely choosing to despise your countrymen because of their –real or imagined- opinions?

I'm not sure about that.

For certain, I'm not prepared to OPPOSE such a thing, but to be honest, I'm not sure I see the point.

Does anyone really observe Pearl Harbor Day anymore? A few, but only a few, and fewer every year.

No one really bothers to Remember the Maine, though. Remembering the Alamo is done purely for reasons of tourism.

The morning of 9-11 was something that no one who was alive and cognizant that day will ever forget without help from Alzheimer's. It was, I guess, our generation's "moment." Just as our parents all know exactly where they were when Kennedy was shot, we can all recount our tales of how we found out about 9-11. In fact, I just did so this afternoon in an exercise for my Documentary Videomaking class. I was planning to make several callbacks to the Trade Center that morning. I'd been building a phone rapport in a few of the offices over the prior weeks. I've often hoped that those folks were on the lower floors.

The point is, I'll always have that connection to the date. I'll think of it every year. I won't make a show of it with an FB post or a t-shirt, as I'm not the demonstrative sort (not that there's anything wrong with that), but I'll think and feel about it without any prompting from anyone.

However, the next generation won't, because to them it will be as Pearl Harbor is to us: a piece of history. Not a shaking event that rattled the nation's sense of security to the core, as these two events were to their respective generations, but as a a date in history that they have no heartstring tied to. That is, unless we fail them as our parents' generation didn't fail us when they solved the problem themselves. Even in that event, however, the feeling won't quite be the same.

So the reality of it is that our generation doesn't need to be reminded of the day or how we feel about it, and if made official it will be mere calendar clutter by 2060 at the latest. Not that our legislators wouldn't LOVE the distraction of having to run this through the channels, mind you.

And why, knowing that we'll never forget it ourselves, do we want to make a holiday of it? That question could lead to some serious self-discovery, couldn't it? Careful, now.

Certainly, people are sincere in feeling that this day should never be forgotten, ever, but they must know that this isn't realistic. Again, people felt that way about the Alamo, and they were sincere, too. Life will always heal the wounds of such atrocities under bandages made from bigger, newer atrocities.

Perhaps, and this is only a suggestion, we need to feel that after eight long years, something can actually be done decisively about it? Even if we can't get Osama, even if we can't eliminate Al Queda (whose name should really be HYDRA, they've got so damn many arms), we can at least do this? Perhaps it will make us as patriotic as the Pearly Harbor folks, despite the fact that they sacrificed their rubber, meat, sugar, and cookware to help the war effort where we took tax breaks instead and went shopping? Perhaps we just need to do something because we don't know what the hell to do but aren't ready to drop it, either?

So really, you want to give the folks in Washington the nod to pursue this aside from than the truckload of issues they're already falling behind on, I won't fight against it. I'll just be over in the corner, wondering.

Note: To see what Shuffleathon 2008 was about,see here.

This was a very difficult piece to begin writing.

 

Usually, when I need or want to write something, I think about it a while and then I sit down and write it. I can write about things I never even thought about before researching them for a piece. I can write about things I don't WANT to write about, like those damn reflective essays Burbank likes to assign (and which are always useful). I can even write fairly easily about the time I saw my grandma's tits even though I trytryTRY not to ever, ever remember that.

 

But for this piece I had a definite and longstanding pattern of avoidance and that really got to bugging me, mainly because I was still doing it after I recognized it. Hell, I continued doing it even after I decided to write about it.  What was that about?

 

I mean, a day without music doesn't happen very often to me. One wall of my living room is devoted to CD racks, and even when – as now- my player is on the fritz, I have Gregory, my Cowon iAudio7 (named for Pope Gregory I, whose contribution to the spread of music was considerable to say the least). There is always something to listen to – piles and piles of stuff to listen to. I thought that Shuffleathon was a good idea, I was pleased as punch to get a post from England  (hey, who was that? All I have is an e-mail address, as I've long since lost the envelope.) and was impressed with the nifty origami card stock thingie that the disc was placed in, although it made the list a bit challenging to read as it was spread about the perimeter of the unfolded sheet. It listed only a couple bands that I've heard of, and none that I had actually listened to. "Cool," I thought, "I can learn about some new bands."

 

Then it languished. And languished. And languished on. Meanwhile, I listened to a hundred+ bootlegs over the course of a semester. With so much music at my beck and call (at time of this writing, I still have well over 50 burned discs awaiting a spin and 182 folders of mp3s waiting to be loaded onto Gregory, each representing a concert – and high multiples of those numbers in discs and folders already listened to) it is easy for something to be lost in the tide. On the other hand, how difficult is it for me to put something on TOP of the stack? Shouldn't break an arm.

 

After several reminders, I sat down to listen to it and take notes about what I heard (and I'd sure like to know where THOSE walked off to!). I did just that and liked, for the most part, what I heard. I kept thinking about other things I should be doing, though. After about six songs, I stopped it and went on to something else. I needed to, and that bugged me even as I did it.

 

I remember the excitement that greeted a new LP in my youth. I would sit and give it most of my attention, reserving just a little for the cover art, the inner sleeve, the notes, any and all information that came as part of the package. Then, if I liked it I would do this over and over again. I could easily memorize albums, and become familiar with every detail of the packaging. I was the guy who always knew who was in the band and what they played, who produced it, who guested even to the tiny details like Toni Tenille's spoken role in Pink Floyd's The Wall (Wanna take a bath?), and who made the cover art (usually Hipgnosis).

 

I'm not really certain when that ended. Did it end when the cover art became postage-stamp sized, or because I got older and have more stuff to do? Gregory helps me listen to a lot more music because I can have the music with me when I'm DOING things, which, it seems, is how I always listen anymore. But I wasn't busy when I tried to listen to this disc, just restless. Did I simply outgrow the desire to pay that much attention to a disc, or is it that there isn't as much these days to become enrapt in? Is it because the albums themselves grew longer as the format shifted? Was it the result of the great musical deluge?

 

The deluge started when I joined the BMG music club and designed a way to get loads and loads of CDs at their cheapest price, "free" (which comes to approx. $2.50 per disc). I stocked the blues and jazz collection up quite a bit, but didn't sit and absorb anymore. I had begun school part time and worked full time, and listened to discs mainly in my car. Then the concert deluge began. For a long time, I gathered as much as I could, figuring that the opportunity would be brief. Two of my favorite sites, in fact, were shut down within a few months of my getting into it even though they had policies against sharing commercially available material. I had to get what I could while the getting was good, I thought. So I did. Months turned into years, and I slowly realized that even if this scene disappeared overnight I had enough to last a lifetime, so I've slowed down considerably. I can't stop completely, of course – Jeff Beck still tours, after all. Still, a new acquisition doesn't have the emotional impact it did when I had to save my sheckels for weeks to buy something.

 

So, having realized the problem, I addressed it by converting the disc to mp3 and loading it into Gregory. And there it languished. And thus I learned a couple more things about how I've changed.

 

First, I don't really think about individual songs that much anymore. While buying individual tunes online has, for most people, ushered in a new era for the single, I tend to listen mostly to concerts and see things in terms of entire performances. Just as I used to say "That was a good album" I will now say "That was a good show." This happens even more when I listen to several shows from the same tour, which will frequently have the same or similar setlists. I listen to it as a performance, and judge it as a performance, not a collection of songs. It is the instrumentation that really matters – what the musicians can do in the moment. For instance, I haven't listened to the studio version of Stairway to Heaven in over a decade, and I don't want to. As part of a Led Zeppelin concert, however, I can listen to it over and over (I've picked up a lot of 1980 Zep shows lately) and always hear it freshly when I do, because it isn't Stairway to Heaven as much as it is part of a Zep show. Does that make sense?

 

Secondly, I pick what show I'm going to listen to according to my mood. Am I in a Pink Floyd mood, or would a Dexter Gordon show suit me better at the moment? If Floyd, am I in the mellow, mysterious mood good for a 1970 show or would the harder, more cynical edge of the 1977 shows be better? Mix discs, by nature, usually try to express a flow from one mood to another, encompassing several. But I'm never in SEVERAL moods at once. I've grown more accustomed to the thematic thread that will run through a performance most of the time.

 

Still I managed to listen to it all while on campus, and found it to be an enjoyable listen. Still, I didn't write, mainly because of finals. After finals, I found that I still didn't have notes for each song, which seemed requisite, so I really had to listen to it over again. There we have another change – I realize now that rarely do I listen to anything twice in a year. If you had over 200 things ready to listen to at any given time, how often would you listen to the same thing? I consider, for example, Led Zep's June 18 1980 show in Cologne to be different from their June 21 1980 performance in Rotterdam despite the identical setlist. The solos aren't exactly the same, the energy isn't exactly the same, and so it isn't the same to me. It's hard to listen to ANYTHING again when there are a couple hundred things awaiting their first listen. Especially if you have to sit there and pay complete attention to it.

 

Ultimately, the music and I reached a compromise. I listened once again and took notes while writing all of this. You'll see them below. Taken as a whole, I enjoy this disc, even though my tastes for years have been running more toward blues, jazz, and instrumental jams – I almost never pay attention to lyrics anymore, except (as in this instance) when I really try to (ever try paying attention to lyrics while you write? Not the easiest thing I've attempted so far today). I've decided, over the years, that nothing can kill a great tune faster than stupid or trite lyrics (Elton John's Rocket Man being my favorite example). Given that, my notes below may seem incomplete or unfair. Music, like any other interpretive art, unfolds itself to me slowly, however, and many times I don't know how much I like a new song for quite awhile, and the music itself better be interesting enough to get us there. The sound of it comes first in all instances. That said, I like the feel of this disc, I like the way it flows from one feel to the next, and I can genuinely respect the thought that was obviously put into it. There are a couple bands here that I will definitely try to find more of – and I'll be interested to see what they can do live, naturally. Any time I learn something new, I like.

 

More important, though, is the way it made me look at things. Sure, it took a long time to get into it, but that time, I see now, was an essential part of the journey. This disc didn't just turn me on to Death Cab for Cutie (whom I had hard of before, but ignored, frankly, because of their name) – this made me actually spend considerable time in introspective analysis about how I listen to music, and how the change in how I treat music reflects greater changes in my life and my personality. In that, this may be one of the most important discs I have received in my adult life.

 

I think I'll keep it on Gregory for a while. That Rotterdam show should be so lucky.

1) Quote from TV or something..... all the pieces matter, obviously her intended approach to making the disc.

2) Fuse - Joe Henry. Mellow, bluesy, kind of just flows through me.

3) Strawberry Letter 23 - Shuggie Otis. A little faster, kind of Beatle-ish. Catchy tune. Repetitious bit at the end that could be much shorter. What's a Shuggie?

4) Angel - Massive Attack. I like this. Starts really moody and builds to greater intensity, going back and forth. This would be a great Chicago-expressway-in-the-middle-of -the-night song. The type of song that should never be heard in adequate lighting.

5) I Will Possess Your Heart - Death Cab for Cutie. Great groove, wonderful bass line. Reminds me of New Order in a way. I don't know who plays bass for this band but the style evokes Sara Lee, formerly of Fripp's League of Gentlemen and the B-52s. Would work great as a mood piece even without the vocals. In fact, I would probably prefer it as an instrumental. It's a shame more artists aren't brave enough to do that. Still, it's my favorite from this collection.

6) A & E - Goldfrapp. I don't know the name, but the voice sounds familiar. Is this because I've heard them before, or because so many female vocalists these days are going for that breathless, wispy sound? Anyway, I'm thinking of a pharmaceutical commercial because they often use this kind of tune with these kind of vocals. Mind you, I don't DISLIKE it, but I'm not intrigued.

7) Station Approach- Elbow. I almost didn't notice the song had changed, as I am writing while I listen. This shows how well one song leads into another on this disk.

8) Driving Away from Home - It's Immaterial. Kind of rockabilly sounding, a nice little romp with a haunting echo to the vocals.

9) Faron Young - Prefab Sprout. I remember this name from WXRT long ago. The flow remains steady. This has the rockabilly undercurrent but moves more into pop territory.

10) Apres Ski- Cinerama. Pop. It doesn't piss me off, but doesn't interest me, either. Kind of like the Cure when they aren't trying.

11) Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys. I don't know what this sounds like, which is odd because it doesn't sound outstandingly original. One of the few attempts at soloing on this disc, but not much.

12) The Opposite of Hallelujah - Jens Lekman. More interesting. Quite pop-ish, yet using an interesting mix of piano, strings, and bells. Brain-pop. Toes definitely tapping.

13) When the Morning Comes - Lloyd & Michael. Suzanne Vega's more depressing twin? Still, the minimalist tune is somewhat entrancing, especially the solo that reminds me of that Playskool xylophone I had as a tot. I like when instumentalists think outside of the box. The sound perfectly fits the simple, childlike melody and lyrics.

14) This track wasn't listed. Shades of the Kingston Trio! Their sound somewhat updated for the new century, but still evoking the old folksy-railroad sound of the early 60s.

15)I just realized that this is track 15 on the disc but it is obviously "Ghosts" by Laura Marling, which is listed as #14. This is obvious because the chick just sang the word "ghosts" about ten times in the past five seconds.

16)Young Folks - Peter, Bjorn, & John. Similar in mood to the Death Cab song, so I liked it right away. Intriguing bass groove, and I like the whistling for the melody where many others would have used guitar or synth.

17) Time to Pretend - MGMT. I can't decide on this one. None of the elements are especially interesting. The rhythm is old, the meaning is not exactly new (lost childhood innocence) and the weird sounds I can remember being used by Gabriel-era Genesis. Still, it seems to work as they've put it together, and makes quite a listenable song.

18) Love You, Love You - Yachts. Put Blondie's keyboardist into a Devo song, and this is what you get.

19) Another Girl, Another Planet - The Only Ones. Quirky pop. Strong Robyn Hitchcock influence, and a good guitar solo - the only one I've really noticed on this collection.

20) Mr. November - The National. Rock. Not much to say, really. It was there.

21) Endcap, similar to track 1. Yeah, the bitch is happy.