I've always thought "it's wrong to speak ill of the dead" only goes so far. Is it really speaking ill to tell the truth about someone who just wasn't a decent human being?
You may have heard by now that William Zantzinger, the real-life villain of Bob Dylan's Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll, died last week. What you probably didn't hear was the full story behind that one line tucked into the next-to-last paragraph of the obit, about how Zantzinger "later became a foreclosure auctioneer." Yes and no. What he actually did was become a slumlord in the 1980s. When he became delinquent on some property taxes, the bank foreclosed on some of his properties - but his tenants didn't know that, so Zantzinger continued collecting rent from them. When some of those tenants fell behind on their rent, he sued them for the back rent. And he won. He was eventually caught, and spent a year and a half in jail (three times as long as he'd spent for murder!). At least one account I've read of that case mentions that some of his tenants - in shacks without running water or plumbing - supported him at trial, saying they'd be homeless without him. Sounds like a variation on battered wife syndrome to me, but I guess that's beside the point.
As for his claim that Dylan's song is "a total lie," to be completely fair, it does get a few things wrong. Zantzinger's family did not "react to his deed with a shrug of the shoulders," nor was he released on bail "in a matter of minutes". But the main point - that he beat a woman to death and basically got away with it - is true. I guess you can't prove conclusively that his social standing and his victim's race were factors in the injustice, but it's hard not to connect those particular dots. (Tellingly, Dylan never actually mentions in the song that Carroll was black. There's absolutely no need to.)
I understand the rules about being respectful of the deceased, but I find it a bit disrespectful of his various victims that so much was not said in that obit.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Hope they do that for everyone!
Every now and then, the big question arises of whether someone here is especially nice to those who are obviously foreign. I probably shouldn't worry about it, since I don't go around trying to take advantage of anything, and besides, the issue probably swings both ways, i.e. the guy at the lime juice stand just might try to charge me a bit extra because I'm white. I actually did have a run-in with a lime juice hawker just last night, but I don't think he was racist, just not very bright.
In any case, my story of the week. The entire office went out to lunch on Friday at an Indian place - a very swanky and probably expensive one. (It was on the boss, so the rest of us never saw the bill.) The occasion was that our chief operating officer was in town. It proved to be a good way to get to know the guy. But that's beside the point. The point is, when the waiter came to take orders, we ended up all ordering a lunch formula menu sort of like they have in France. For the main course, I asked if they had my favorite Indian dish, chicken sagwalla (which I hadn't seen on the menu). He said no, but he could talk to the chef about it. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary and settled for chicken tikka. It was quite good, anyhow. But the formula included free seconds of anything we wanted. When I asked for seconds of the chicken, he brought out...chicken sagwalla!
Come to think of it, if there was a deciding factor in whether or not to go the extra mile for the picky American, it was probably that they knew our bill was going to be quite large and they wanted to make it worth our while so we might consider them for our next corporate lunch. I can live with that.
In any case, my story of the week. The entire office went out to lunch on Friday at an Indian place - a very swanky and probably expensive one. (It was on the boss, so the rest of us never saw the bill.) The occasion was that our chief operating officer was in town. It proved to be a good way to get to know the guy. But that's beside the point. The point is, when the waiter came to take orders, we ended up all ordering a lunch formula menu sort of like they have in France. For the main course, I asked if they had my favorite Indian dish, chicken sagwalla (which I hadn't seen on the menu). He said no, but he could talk to the chef about it. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary and settled for chicken tikka. It was quite good, anyhow. But the formula included free seconds of anything we wanted. When I asked for seconds of the chicken, he brought out...chicken sagwalla!
Come to think of it, if there was a deciding factor in whether or not to go the extra mile for the picky American, it was probably that they knew our bill was going to be quite large and they wanted to make it worth our while so we might consider them for our next corporate lunch. I can live with that.
Friday, January 2, 2009
60 Signs you've been in Singapore too long
Eight months in, some of these make all too much sense to me.
(In the spirit of several of the following, I feel compelled to mention here that I did not write the list. It came to me in an e-mail.)
60 signs you've been in Singapore too long, especially if you come
from a Western country :
1. You know that "cum" means something completely different from what you originally thought.
2. You've lost your sense of irony, sarcasm, and cynicism.
3. You don't know what's lame and what isn't anymore.
4. You think there's nothing wrong with putting chili sauce on everything you eat.
5. You wait for instructions from people in authority before doing anything. Always.
6. You join queues without knowing or caring what the queue is for.
7. You know what "queue" means!!
8. You can type an SMS on your phone as quickly as you would if you had a regular keyboard.
9. Your idea of a good night out consists of having dinner at a hawker centre, drinking beer, and then going to another hawker centre and eating again.
10. You've lost your ability to criticize people in higher positions than you, even if they're wrong.
11. You would buy a $20 product you don't need if it's on sale for $10 just to save the money.
12. You forget to say the last consonant in words like "faCT", "aTE",etc.
13. You think it's okay to have only one meaningful choice on a ballot.
14. Every task you take on and every group you form is incomplete without a mission statement and a cheesy slogan.
15. You think that in a country where young people have little privacy, pornography is completely banned, music and movies are censored, students of the opposite sex in a dorm can't stay in the same room without open doors, and everyone works so much, that people should still want to get laid.
16. "Crossing the country" means taking the MRT to the end of the line.
17. You don't just know what "kiasu" means, you have become it!
18. You think that corn and beans are dessert foods.
19. You would cross the entire country all day to find the places that make the perfect fried noodles, or roti prata, or ice kacang, or chili crab. And none of these places would be close to each other.
20. You have a high tolerance for nagging.
21. Most or all of these acronyms make sense to you: NUS; NTU; ERP; SDU; PAP; MRT; LKY; GCT; PRC; TIBS; SBS; SMS; JB; JBJ; AMK; AYE; PIE; ECP; ISD; ISA; 5 C's; CPF; CHIJMES; SPG; CWO.
22. You use too many acronyms when you talk, or you create new ones.
23. You think that nothing makes a girl or guy more attractive than to dress exactly like hundreds of thousands of other girls and guys who all dress exactly like girls and guys in malls.
24. You think that $100,000 is a reasonable price for a Toyota Corolla and $1,000,000 is a reasonable price for a bungalow, but $5 for a plate of fried noodles is a barbarous outrage.
25. You believe that not being able to get decent roti prata outside Singapore is enough to keep the best and the brightest people from leaving.
26. You see nothing wrong with forming committees of select elite people to deliberate and study ways to stimulate creativity and spontaneity.
27. You justify every argument with the phrase "in order for us to be competitive in the 21st century".
28. You think everything should be "topped up".
29. You have a naive belief that the war against ants will somehow be won.
30. You don't think any dish of Western food is complete without baked beans.
31. You see nothing unusual about an organization of trade unions spending more time owning and operating supermarkets, drugstores, amusement parks, nightclubs, and financial services outlets than planning the next strike.
32. You believe that a lack of land is enough justification for the goverment to do what it wants.
33. You wear winter clothes indoors and summer clothes outdoors.
34. Durian and belachan no longer stink to you.
35. You like to have fun, but not too much fun, since you need to correctly gauge the amount of fun necessary to achieve the optimal result. Any more fun that that would bring shame to your family and your country.
36. Seven french fries with lunch are more than enough for you.
37. You forgot what a city organized around a grid looks like.
38. In a country where people use smart cards for public transit, you have no problem with construction workers riding in the open backs of pickup trucks.
39. You think paying $50 for a bottle of booze that costs $15 at home is a bargain.
40. You're not confused by a street naming system that locates streets like Clementi Road, Clementi Street, Clementi Crescent, Clementi Lane, Clementi Drive, Clementi Way, and Clementi Avenues 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 all within walking distance of each other.
41. You think that skinny girls and guys are the most attractive of all. (How did they get so skinny in the first place?? Do you know how much oil is in nasi lemak, char kuay teow, duck rice, and your average curry??--ed.)
42. You get irritated if you don't see a sign telling you how long your wait's going to be for a bus, a train, or the expressway to take you where you want to go.
43. You're certain that Holland Village is for hippie bohemian artist types and not overpaid yuppies.
44. When you cross the border into Malaysia, you automatically and deeply fear for your life and your wallet. Especially your wallet!!
45. You think that no vegetable should ever be eaten raw for any reason. Except for cucumbers.
46. No matter what you're doing at the moment, you'd rather be shopping.
47. No matter how miserable you may be here, you thank God you're not in Indonesia.
48. You're impressed by high-rise apartment buildings with actual lobbies instead of bare exposed pillars on the ground floor.
49. You don't have a problem with four different direct payment systems spread out over seven different cards in your wallet.
50. You forgot what chewing gum tastes like.
51. You say "handphone", not "cellphone" And you think there's no such thing as a handphone that's too thin.
52. You're not bothered by the fact that government cares whether you know how to use a toilet or urinal correctly. (People squatting on toilet bowls? What the...???--ed.)
53. You're sure that the best way to change social behaviour is through consistent and comprehensive government-sponsored campaigns that permeate as many aspects of daily life as possible. And when they don't work, you never speak of them again.
54. You think chicken floss, corn, mayonnaise, and tandoori spices are proper pizza toppings.
55. You agree that what the government thinks of your personal habits and lifestyle should determine whether you get a condo and how much you pay for it.
56. You've become a fan of either Arsenal, Man. U., or Liverpool when you barely knew what soccer was before you came to Singapore. And you don't care that none of these teams are Singaporean!
57. You think a bus is incomplete without a TV.
58. You accept that expressways here are cleaner than toilets rather than the other way around.
59. You know why this list needs the following disclaimer: "This list is intended only as an amusing, light-hearted, and exaggerated look at life in Singapore and is not meant to be taken seriously. There is no intention on the part of the author of this list to make any untrue, misleading, or defamatory statements concerning any person in particular, nor to make any statement intended to cause offense. If any such offense has been caused, the author apologizes and retracts the offending statement. In any event, the author's NOT WORTH SUING, so don't trouble yourself."
60. You understand everything on this list!!
(In the spirit of several of the following, I feel compelled to mention here that I did not write the list. It came to me in an e-mail.)
60 signs you've been in Singapore too long, especially if you come
from a Western country :
1. You know that "cum" means something completely different from what you originally thought.
2. You've lost your sense of irony, sarcasm, and cynicism.
3. You don't know what's lame and what isn't anymore.
4. You think there's nothing wrong with putting chili sauce on everything you eat.
5. You wait for instructions from people in authority before doing anything. Always.
6. You join queues without knowing or caring what the queue is for.
7. You know what "queue" means!!
8. You can type an SMS on your phone as quickly as you would if you had a regular keyboard.
9. Your idea of a good night out consists of having dinner at a hawker centre, drinking beer, and then going to another hawker centre and eating again.
10. You've lost your ability to criticize people in higher positions than you, even if they're wrong.
11. You would buy a $20 product you don't need if it's on sale for $10 just to save the money.
12. You forget to say the last consonant in words like "faCT", "aTE",etc.
13. You think it's okay to have only one meaningful choice on a ballot.
14. Every task you take on and every group you form is incomplete without a mission statement and a cheesy slogan.
15. You think that in a country where young people have little privacy, pornography is completely banned, music and movies are censored, students of the opposite sex in a dorm can't stay in the same room without open doors, and everyone works so much, that people should still want to get laid.
16. "Crossing the country" means taking the MRT to the end of the line.
17. You don't just know what "kiasu" means, you have become it!
18. You think that corn and beans are dessert foods.
19. You would cross the entire country all day to find the places that make the perfect fried noodles, or roti prata, or ice kacang, or chili crab. And none of these places would be close to each other.
20. You have a high tolerance for nagging.
21. Most or all of these acronyms make sense to you: NUS; NTU; ERP; SDU; PAP; MRT; LKY; GCT; PRC; TIBS; SBS; SMS; JB; JBJ; AMK; AYE; PIE; ECP; ISD; ISA; 5 C's; CPF; CHIJMES; SPG; CWO.
22. You use too many acronyms when you talk, or you create new ones.
23. You think that nothing makes a girl or guy more attractive than to dress exactly like hundreds of thousands of other girls and guys who all dress exactly like girls and guys in malls.
24. You think that $100,000 is a reasonable price for a Toyota Corolla and $1,000,000 is a reasonable price for a bungalow, but $5 for a plate of fried noodles is a barbarous outrage.
25. You believe that not being able to get decent roti prata outside Singapore is enough to keep the best and the brightest people from leaving.
26. You see nothing wrong with forming committees of select elite people to deliberate and study ways to stimulate creativity and spontaneity.
27. You justify every argument with the phrase "in order for us to be competitive in the 21st century".
28. You think everything should be "topped up".
29. You have a naive belief that the war against ants will somehow be won.
30. You don't think any dish of Western food is complete without baked beans.
31. You see nothing unusual about an organization of trade unions spending more time owning and operating supermarkets, drugstores, amusement parks, nightclubs, and financial services outlets than planning the next strike.
32. You believe that a lack of land is enough justification for the goverment to do what it wants.
33. You wear winter clothes indoors and summer clothes outdoors.
34. Durian and belachan no longer stink to you.
35. You like to have fun, but not too much fun, since you need to correctly gauge the amount of fun necessary to achieve the optimal result. Any more fun that that would bring shame to your family and your country.
36. Seven french fries with lunch are more than enough for you.
37. You forgot what a city organized around a grid looks like.
38. In a country where people use smart cards for public transit, you have no problem with construction workers riding in the open backs of pickup trucks.
39. You think paying $50 for a bottle of booze that costs $15 at home is a bargain.
40. You're not confused by a street naming system that locates streets like Clementi Road, Clementi Street, Clementi Crescent, Clementi Lane, Clementi Drive, Clementi Way, and Clementi Avenues 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 all within walking distance of each other.
41. You think that skinny girls and guys are the most attractive of all. (How did they get so skinny in the first place?? Do you know how much oil is in nasi lemak, char kuay teow, duck rice, and your average curry??--ed.)
42. You get irritated if you don't see a sign telling you how long your wait's going to be for a bus, a train, or the expressway to take you where you want to go.
43. You're certain that Holland Village is for hippie bohemian artist types and not overpaid yuppies.
44. When you cross the border into Malaysia, you automatically and deeply fear for your life and your wallet. Especially your wallet!!
45. You think that no vegetable should ever be eaten raw for any reason. Except for cucumbers.
46. No matter what you're doing at the moment, you'd rather be shopping.
47. No matter how miserable you may be here, you thank God you're not in Indonesia.
48. You're impressed by high-rise apartment buildings with actual lobbies instead of bare exposed pillars on the ground floor.
49. You don't have a problem with four different direct payment systems spread out over seven different cards in your wallet.
50. You forgot what chewing gum tastes like.
51. You say "handphone", not "cellphone" And you think there's no such thing as a handphone that's too thin.
52. You're not bothered by the fact that government cares whether you know how to use a toilet or urinal correctly. (People squatting on toilet bowls? What the...???--ed.)
53. You're sure that the best way to change social behaviour is through consistent and comprehensive government-sponsored campaigns that permeate as many aspects of daily life as possible. And when they don't work, you never speak of them again.
54. You think chicken floss, corn, mayonnaise, and tandoori spices are proper pizza toppings.
55. You agree that what the government thinks of your personal habits and lifestyle should determine whether you get a condo and how much you pay for it.
56. You've become a fan of either Arsenal, Man. U., or Liverpool when you barely knew what soccer was before you came to Singapore. And you don't care that none of these teams are Singaporean!
57. You think a bus is incomplete without a TV.
58. You accept that expressways here are cleaner than toilets rather than the other way around.
59. You know why this list needs the following disclaimer: "This list is intended only as an amusing, light-hearted, and exaggerated look at life in Singapore and is not meant to be taken seriously. There is no intention on the part of the author of this list to make any untrue, misleading, or defamatory statements concerning any person in particular, nor to make any statement intended to cause offense. If any such offense has been caused, the author apologizes and retracts the offending statement. In any event, the author's NOT WORTH SUING, so don't trouble yourself."
60. You understand everything on this list!!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
A rather long and rambling series of thoughts on Christmas
Christmas 2000. (Yes, just eight years ago, much too recent to be nostalgic. Just work with me here!) The end of finals coincided with a big snowstorm, and heaven knows New Haven looks a lot better under a blanket of fresh snow. I’ve been out Christmas shopping, and on arriving home I park the car and looking up at the kitchen window to see the lights on while the roomies are cooking dinner while the snow falls beautifully in the dying gray light. Inside, I hear a CD blasting on my roommate’s stereo – a CD I had bought for her and left on her pillow that morning. When she sees me stumbling in the kitchen door with an armful of gifts, there’s an enthusiastic thank you that greets me along with the heady warm air from the stove, and my cup of cheer most certainly runneth over.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to let this memory get too treacly. You see, that shopping trip was the one on which I bought my then-sweetie a pair of gloves for Christmas. She’d said she needed a new pair, and these were her favourite color. They matched the scarf she used to wear all the time. But...and here I must pause and remind those of you who knew me in 2000 that you know which ex this is, and of course there was going to be a “but” here...but being who she was, Christmas morning, she took one look at the gloves and asked me if I had kept the receipt. (I had, but I don’t recall if I ever gave her a straight answer or not.)
And that’s perhaps the all time best example of why every Christmas, I look forward to the big moment when you know the craziness is over and you’re free to just enjoy the moment on your own. Really, the whole Christmas season tradition was always a bit oppressive to me even when I was a kid. I always looked forward to the peace and quiet of whenever the craziness ended. The downright sadistic parties at school, the get-togethers with neighbours and family that nobody really enjoyed, and the constant barrage of saccharine television commercials that just screamed “your Christmas sucks and everybody else is living in a Thomas Kincaid painting”...sooner or later all of it would finally be in the rearview mirror and wherever you were, that’s when you could bask in the Christmas Spirit in your own special way, remember?
Usually I didn’t – and still don’t – know just when moment would occur, but I would know it when I felt it. Watching a favorite Christmas episode of some show on TV maybe, or listening to the oldies station under the covers after bedtime, that’s a fine memory. In college, it was usually sometime after Waltz. For the vast majority of my readers who did not go to Grinnell, Waltz is...well, think of the senior prom, only with decent music and nobody bothers with pretending not to be drunk. It was usually a lot of fun, but usually really tedious too. Every semester I would seriously consider not going, and then I would go and have a wonderful time in spite of myself, but I also found I was always a bit relieved the whole thing was over. Yeah, I’m a lump of sugar and all that, but I usually do a pretty good job of hiding it even from myself. Anyway, after Waltz it was usually about two weeks to finals, and after the calm inevitability of finals and the slow realization that they hadn’t really been that bad, and then there would be a glorious three or four days before heading home where you could just hang around with your friends and bask in the relief. And the seasonal joy, if you wanted it.
In DC, Christmas usually coincided with a bunch of housemates leaving. It put a bittersweet damper on the barrage of Be happy, dagnabbit!, but it was also an excuse for spending plenty of quality time with people you actually enjoyed spending time with. I have a number of especially fond memories of dinner at Childe Harold on Dupont Circle with various soon-to-be-scattered friends, and then there were the late drinks at Eagan’s. That’s one of the few things about DC I still miss since I wore out my welcome there last time around. At Yale, well, see the beginning of this entry. And since then? Well, it’s been almost too low key for the past several years, usually because I was either busy studying right up to the last minute or living in a country where Christmas wasn’t a big deal.
But what about this year? Actually, this Christmas season has been just as quiet as the last several, and I like it that way. But this time around, there was no real “moment,” because for once there was no serious buildup of gun-to-the-head cheerfulness. There’s been plenty of garish decor (Singapore being Singapore, there always is anyway), but the hot weather has kept it from feeling like the cheer-up-or-die business I had come to identify with the 25th and the several weeks before it. With work keeping me fairly busy up through Wednesday and the better half off visiting her parents in Abu Dhabi (yes, I’ve been seeing somebody and yes, there’s a reason why I haven’t mentioned it on here before, but it’s nothing the least bit sordid), it was easy enough to forget the whole thing. Wednesday night, it was off to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner – my gift to myself, and I was quite happy with it. It was raining, but the lights strung across the street were beautiful despite (or even because of?) the weather. After dinner, it was across the street to an Irish pub where I had a bit too much, ensuring a late Christmas morning while my roommates celebrated the big event with their two year old.
Okay, that’s actually a little depressing, isn’t it? Trust me, I had a nice time whether it sounds like it or not. Hope everyone else had a happy holiday as well, wherever you all are and whatever you’re up to!
Don’t worry, I’m not going to let this memory get too treacly. You see, that shopping trip was the one on which I bought my then-sweetie a pair of gloves for Christmas. She’d said she needed a new pair, and these were her favourite color. They matched the scarf she used to wear all the time. But...and here I must pause and remind those of you who knew me in 2000 that you know which ex this is, and of course there was going to be a “but” here...but being who she was, Christmas morning, she took one look at the gloves and asked me if I had kept the receipt. (I had, but I don’t recall if I ever gave her a straight answer or not.)
And that’s perhaps the all time best example of why every Christmas, I look forward to the big moment when you know the craziness is over and you’re free to just enjoy the moment on your own. Really, the whole Christmas season tradition was always a bit oppressive to me even when I was a kid. I always looked forward to the peace and quiet of whenever the craziness ended. The downright sadistic parties at school, the get-togethers with neighbours and family that nobody really enjoyed, and the constant barrage of saccharine television commercials that just screamed “your Christmas sucks and everybody else is living in a Thomas Kincaid painting”...sooner or later all of it would finally be in the rearview mirror and wherever you were, that’s when you could bask in the Christmas Spirit in your own special way, remember?
Usually I didn’t – and still don’t – know just when moment would occur, but I would know it when I felt it. Watching a favorite Christmas episode of some show on TV maybe, or listening to the oldies station under the covers after bedtime, that’s a fine memory. In college, it was usually sometime after Waltz. For the vast majority of my readers who did not go to Grinnell, Waltz is...well, think of the senior prom, only with decent music and nobody bothers with pretending not to be drunk. It was usually a lot of fun, but usually really tedious too. Every semester I would seriously consider not going, and then I would go and have a wonderful time in spite of myself, but I also found I was always a bit relieved the whole thing was over. Yeah, I’m a lump of sugar and all that, but I usually do a pretty good job of hiding it even from myself. Anyway, after Waltz it was usually about two weeks to finals, and after the calm inevitability of finals and the slow realization that they hadn’t really been that bad, and then there would be a glorious three or four days before heading home where you could just hang around with your friends and bask in the relief. And the seasonal joy, if you wanted it.
In DC, Christmas usually coincided with a bunch of housemates leaving. It put a bittersweet damper on the barrage of Be happy, dagnabbit!, but it was also an excuse for spending plenty of quality time with people you actually enjoyed spending time with. I have a number of especially fond memories of dinner at Childe Harold on Dupont Circle with various soon-to-be-scattered friends, and then there were the late drinks at Eagan’s. That’s one of the few things about DC I still miss since I wore out my welcome there last time around. At Yale, well, see the beginning of this entry. And since then? Well, it’s been almost too low key for the past several years, usually because I was either busy studying right up to the last minute or living in a country where Christmas wasn’t a big deal.
But what about this year? Actually, this Christmas season has been just as quiet as the last several, and I like it that way. But this time around, there was no real “moment,” because for once there was no serious buildup of gun-to-the-head cheerfulness. There’s been plenty of garish decor (Singapore being Singapore, there always is anyway), but the hot weather has kept it from feeling like the cheer-up-or-die business I had come to identify with the 25th and the several weeks before it. With work keeping me fairly busy up through Wednesday and the better half off visiting her parents in Abu Dhabi (yes, I’ve been seeing somebody and yes, there’s a reason why I haven’t mentioned it on here before, but it’s nothing the least bit sordid), it was easy enough to forget the whole thing. Wednesday night, it was off to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner – my gift to myself, and I was quite happy with it. It was raining, but the lights strung across the street were beautiful despite (or even because of?) the weather. After dinner, it was across the street to an Irish pub where I had a bit too much, ensuring a late Christmas morning while my roommates celebrated the big event with their two year old.
Okay, that’s actually a little depressing, isn’t it? Trust me, I had a nice time whether it sounds like it or not. Hope everyone else had a happy holiday as well, wherever you all are and whatever you’re up to!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Every time a kid shoots his eye out, a bell rings
I see the annual love-to-hate-It's a Wonderful Life fest is in full swing at the New York Times. This might surprise some of you, but I agree completely with the article. I had thought of some of those things before, of course, especially the fact that the "bad" Bedford Falls looks like a lot more fun. But it had not occurred to me before that all those manufacturing jobs George brought to town arrived just in time for an economic slump in Upstate New York that is still in full swing six decades later. So he just set the town up for an even bigger fall than it otherwise would have had. Ouch. Note that he also makes the case that the movie has some brilliant acting and some well-crafted scenes - just that the "happy" ending is still pretty depressing. (And also inaccurate, since he still probably would have gone to jail.)
Now, here's what I want to know. When are the Scrooges (and Potters) going to start in on A Christmas Story as well? Take away the warm fuzzies and what is the real Christmas Story? Well, Dad goes behind Mom's back to buy their son an extremely dangerous gift - with some potentially ugly hints at his future to boot - and then the kid comes within an inch of exactly the disaster that everybody warned him about, but he escapes any consequences by lying to his parents about the whole thing. That's it! It makes me want to run and hide behind a stack of videotapes of Very Special Episodes of every bad eighties sitcom.
On a less cynical note...I've been saying for years, the best way to illustrate who was the creative genius of The Beatles was to listen to John and Paul's respective Christmas songs back to back. It hardly even seems like a fair comparison, the former is so superior to the latter. Apparently somebody else has figured that out too, because twice in the past two weeks I've heard both songs played back to back in stores and restaurants. Don't take my word for it, listen
here and (or not) here. Not even close, huh?
Now, here's what I want to know. When are the Scrooges (and Potters) going to start in on A Christmas Story as well? Take away the warm fuzzies and what is the real Christmas Story? Well, Dad goes behind Mom's back to buy their son an extremely dangerous gift - with some potentially ugly hints at his future to boot - and then the kid comes within an inch of exactly the disaster that everybody warned him about, but he escapes any consequences by lying to his parents about the whole thing. That's it! It makes me want to run and hide behind a stack of videotapes of Very Special Episodes of every bad eighties sitcom.
On a less cynical note...I've been saying for years, the best way to illustrate who was the creative genius of The Beatles was to listen to John and Paul's respective Christmas songs back to back. It hardly even seems like a fair comparison, the former is so superior to the latter. Apparently somebody else has figured that out too, because twice in the past two weeks I've heard both songs played back to back in stores and restaurants. Don't take my word for it, listen
here and (or not) here. Not even close, huh?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Just a friendly reminder of what we're still up against
One of the many interesting things about living with three Ukranians is their unique, mostly blank-slate perspective about American politics. I was reminded of this just the other night, as the latest wingnut cause celebre - "Obama wasn't born in the US" - made its way over here. It was just a minor story in the paper, nothing that would surprise anyone who paid any attention during the Clinton administration (and its accompanying sideshows with congressmen shooting pumpkins in their back yards to prove something or other about Vince Foster, etc.). You and I know nothing is going to come of it.
Not everybody who read that article did, though, and when I arrived home the other night, my roommates were dying for the inside scoop. "Dave. What is this with Obama not becoming president because he is not really American?!"
That's right, they believed it. I don't mean this as a knock at them in any way. They're intelligent, educated people who read in the paper that there may be a wrinkle in US law that keeps Obama out of office. Not the kind of thing people from a place like Ukraine expect to pop up in the Land of Liberty unless there really is something to it. And that's their first mistake.
Anyhow, just wanted to bring this up because I know a lot of Obama supporters out there seem to think the partisan excesses of the past are now going to stay in the past for some reason. Not as long as the right wing s**t machine can still generate enough momentum behind a completely baseless story to send it halfway around the world and fool anybody who trusts America to live up to its reputation. Here, you don't even get Act II, in which the manstream media wrings its hands and wonders how these ridiculous tall talles always slip into the public consciousness, totally oblivious to their own role in making it happen. All people here see - unless they really go looking for more information - is an article in a mainstream paper reporting that somebody somewhere thinks Obama was born in Kenya. Or Indonesia. Or England. Or something.
Not everybody who read that article did, though, and when I arrived home the other night, my roommates were dying for the inside scoop. "Dave. What is this with Obama not becoming president because he is not really American?!"
That's right, they believed it. I don't mean this as a knock at them in any way. They're intelligent, educated people who read in the paper that there may be a wrinkle in US law that keeps Obama out of office. Not the kind of thing people from a place like Ukraine expect to pop up in the Land of Liberty unless there really is something to it. And that's their first mistake.
Anyhow, just wanted to bring this up because I know a lot of Obama supporters out there seem to think the partisan excesses of the past are now going to stay in the past for some reason. Not as long as the right wing s**t machine can still generate enough momentum behind a completely baseless story to send it halfway around the world and fool anybody who trusts America to live up to its reputation. Here, you don't even get Act II, in which the manstream media wrings its hands and wonders how these ridiculous tall talles always slip into the public consciousness, totally oblivious to their own role in making it happen. All people here see - unless they really go looking for more information - is an article in a mainstream paper reporting that somebody somewhere thinks Obama was born in Kenya. Or Indonesia. Or England. Or something.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
