“…so goes the rest of the nation. It's inevitable. This door's wide open now. It's going to happen, whether you like it or not.”
So said San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom on Thursday, May 14, 2008 after the California Supreme Court ruled against a ban on same-sex marriage. Spectators cheered. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger was supportive.
Opponents are fuming. How could a Catholic mayor and a Republican governor allow this affront to the institution of marriage to occur? They are crying inappropriate judicial activism (as if there were any other kind). I call it progress too long in coming.
How ironic is it that gay marriage would be legal in states under Republican governorships (Schwarzenegger in California, Mitt Romney in Massachusetts)? Log cabin Republicans notwithstanding, members of the Republican Party are stereotypically seen as bigots; they hate gays (except hot lesbians), immigrants, minorities, and the poor. Bambi’s mother was probably shot by a gun-loving Republican hunter. (I kid; the hunter was a Libertarian.)
But I digress. The court’s ruling is an important step in the long march toward true equality. The court did exactly what I did when defending gay marriage to a fellow student in my Civil Rights history class: they used the precedent of a 1948 ruling that struck down a ban on interracial marriage.
Although it’s a bit touchy to compare anti-miscegenation laws to bans on same-sex marriage, both the ban on interracial marriage and the ban on gay marriage have interesting parallels in the proponents for those bans. They said that miscegenation and homosexuality were unnatural and sacrilegious. Blacks and homosexuals have both been considered less than human, and violence has been perpetrated against both groups, killing innocents. And while homosexuals have had an advantage in being able to hide their orientation (a “luxury” Blacks don’t have), the cost of being discovered can be a terrible price to pay, depending on where one lives.
I don’t expect bigots to read this blog, but in case they do, listen up. The time is approaching when your stupidity will be exposed as such. Homophobia will be perceived as something quaint and outdated, like burning witches, black and white TV, or paying for long distance calls. You will go the way of the dinosaur, the dodo, and Laserdiscs. And when you become artifacts relegated to dusty halls of antiquity, you will be observed not with awe or interest, but with the disdain that comes with looking at how shamefully humanity once behaved. It's inevitable. It's going to happen, whether you like it or not. In order for you to survive, you must adapt and evolve.
What am I saying? You probably don’t believe in evolution either.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
The Elitist Films of Brad Bird
On April 6, 2008, Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) attended a fundraiser in San Francisco. There, he stated:
You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising, then, they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.
His opponents quickly jumped on the words “bitter” and “cling to guns or religion” and labeled Obama as an “elitist.”
It is important to understand what the word “elitist” connotes. While “elite” stands for the best of the best, the pinnacle of achievement, the word “elitist” carries with it implications of snobbery and condescension stemming from a sense of presumptuous superiority. In other words, people want to be elite; nobody wants to be elitist. From my experience, this is a uniquely American sentiment. I challenge someone to find a non-American equivalent to the rhetorical saying, “What, you think you’re better than me?!” Chances are, if that question was asked in another country, someone would actually answer “Yes” and not feel the slightest ounce of shame or embarrassment if his response was accurate.
There is a certain characteristic about each of us that can be difficult to discuss. It’s not race, gender, religion, or even sexuality (though these are at many times difficult to honestly discuss). No, in America, even the most open-minded and equivocating liberal can get squeamish when discussing the characteristic of achievement. If you are the best at something, you had better keep it to yourself, lest you sound like you are bragging, and nobody likes a braggart. Bragging hurts people’s feelings, and is relegated to the caricatured world of hip-hop.
Well, there is one non-rapper in whom elitism has found a sympathetic voice. His name is Brad Bird, and he is the writer and director of the Academy-Award winning Pixar movies The Incredibles and Ratatouille. These two movies not only are about the elite, but these movies celebrate elitism.
Brad Bird has been outspoken in his support for animation as a tool to express his vision. Listening to him during his interviews on the DVD extras, I easily got the impression that he thinks very highly of himself. What’s more, I couldn’t disagree, certainly not after watching his movies. Bird knows not only knows how to tell a story, he knows what kind of story he feels he needs to tell. And the common thread binding The Incredibles and Ratatouille is the pride one should have in being the best.
In both movies, the protagonists never had to work for their skills; both the Incredible family and Remy the rat were born with their powers and palate, respectively. In The Incredibles, Mr. Incredible is frustrated at having to hide his power, and is mad that his super-fast son Dash isn’t allowed to compete in sports. When he objects to attending his Dash’s “graduation” from the fourth grade to the fifth, he exclaims, “[A ceremony is] psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity…” And who is the villain in this movie? A smart, yet disillusioned, inventor, bitter that his youthful efforts were rejected by Mr. Incredible. His master plan is to equalize the playing field by selling his inventions to give ordinary people super powers; in his words, “when everyone’s super, no one will be.”
You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising, then, they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.
His opponents quickly jumped on the words “bitter” and “cling to guns or religion” and labeled Obama as an “elitist.”
It is important to understand what the word “elitist” connotes. While “elite” stands for the best of the best, the pinnacle of achievement, the word “elitist” carries with it implications of snobbery and condescension stemming from a sense of presumptuous superiority. In other words, people want to be elite; nobody wants to be elitist. From my experience, this is a uniquely American sentiment. I challenge someone to find a non-American equivalent to the rhetorical saying, “What, you think you’re better than me?!” Chances are, if that question was asked in another country, someone would actually answer “Yes” and not feel the slightest ounce of shame or embarrassment if his response was accurate.
There is a certain characteristic about each of us that can be difficult to discuss. It’s not race, gender, religion, or even sexuality (though these are at many times difficult to honestly discuss). No, in America, even the most open-minded and equivocating liberal can get squeamish when discussing the characteristic of achievement. If you are the best at something, you had better keep it to yourself, lest you sound like you are bragging, and nobody likes a braggart. Bragging hurts people’s feelings, and is relegated to the caricatured world of hip-hop.
Well, there is one non-rapper in whom elitism has found a sympathetic voice. His name is Brad Bird, and he is the writer and director of the Academy-Award winning Pixar movies The Incredibles and Ratatouille. These two movies not only are about the elite, but these movies celebrate elitism.
Brad Bird has been outspoken in his support for animation as a tool to express his vision. Listening to him during his interviews on the DVD extras, I easily got the impression that he thinks very highly of himself. What’s more, I couldn’t disagree, certainly not after watching his movies. Bird knows not only knows how to tell a story, he knows what kind of story he feels he needs to tell. And the common thread binding The Incredibles and Ratatouille is the pride one should have in being the best.
In both movies, the protagonists never had to work for their skills; both the Incredible family and Remy the rat were born with their powers and palate, respectively. In The Incredibles, Mr. Incredible is frustrated at having to hide his power, and is mad that his super-fast son Dash isn’t allowed to compete in sports. When he objects to attending his Dash’s “graduation” from the fourth grade to the fifth, he exclaims, “[A ceremony is] psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity…” And who is the villain in this movie? A smart, yet disillusioned, inventor, bitter that his youthful efforts were rejected by Mr. Incredible. His master plan is to equalize the playing field by selling his inventions to give ordinary people super powers; in his words, “when everyone’s super, no one will be.”
In Ratatouille, there are two characters that illustrate Bird’s elitist streak: Remy the rat, and Anton Ego, the appropriately named food critic. Both Remy and Ego consider themselves superior in knowing what tastes good. Other movies would have painted Ego as someone who didn’t know anything about what he critiqued and turned him into some sort of buffoon (much the same way Bob Balaban’s critic character in M. Night Shyamalan’s The Lady in the Water was portrayed). But his monologue at the end of the film makes this stuck-up food critic a sympathetic character:
In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations, the new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.
It is not too much of a stretch to see that Bird is using Ego to plead a case for himself; Bird is a man of “new talent,” and the world of animation showcases the “new creations” that have the potential to rock even the most stodgy film critics to their core.
Unfortunately, Bird’s films leave out two very important facets of achievement. The first is the potential emptiness that comes from being at the top. At the end of the movie, notice how after Dash easily wins a school race, he jogs off the track with a smug look on his face. Dash is the fastest runner in his school, no doubt. But what would happen to his mentality after winning every race without even trying? What would Dash gain from effortless wins at trivial contests? Second, Bird’s films do not focus on something that I’ve found to be true in all people: that everyone is good in at least one thing if they try. For Linguini, the would-be chef, it’s roller skating. For Remy’s father, it’s leadership over an entire colony. No, not just anyone can cook, but anyone can do something well.
It is this dismissal of other people’s achievements that is the dark side of elitism. This dismissal stems from an inability to equivocate. And from what I’ve seen, Senator Obama is the most equivocal politician since Adlai Stevenson. Obama is an elite senator; he is definitely not an elitist.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The Power of Youth
In November of 2004, Rolling Stone Magazine published its list of "The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time." Of course, they only took note of songs released after 1950 (with one exception released in 1949), so Chopin's Polonaise in A-Flat Major and Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture did not make the list. (That's a travesty, because the 1812 Overture has cannonfire as percussion. Cannonfire!) If one were to take the list at face value, it would appear that the 1960s was the only decade that produced music worth listening to. Virtually every Beatles, Beach Boys, and Rolling Stones song is on this list. The number one song is "Like a Rolling Stone," by Bob Dylan, undoubtedly picked for only two reasons: the title, and Bob Dylan. The most recent song to make the list (at the time of publication) was "Hey Ya," by Outkast, coming in at #180. That's a nice song, but better than "Thriller," by Michael Jackson (which didn't even make the list)?
To me, the list is indicative of one of the more interesting facets of human nature: how different age groups perceive each other. In 1967, when Rolling Stone Magazine was first published, it was representative of the hippie folk scene that defined counterculture at the time. While youths were fighting, killing, and dying in Vietnam, other youths were protesting the war. Today, many of those youths are grandparents, and like all grandparents before them, they think that things were a lot better when they were in charge.
It's easy to scoff at personalities like Senator Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) or Andy Rooney, and for good reason. These are men who are set in their ways and seem to be confused at the advances in technology (Senator Stevens infamously compared the Internet as "a series of tubes"). But put in perspective, the editors at Rolling Stone Magazine are not that far behind. For all intents and purposes, the compilers of that list were the elderly. Maybe not in terms of numerical age, but definitely in terms of state of mind.
In all cultures, humanity is taught to respect its elders. After all, they've lived longer, and presumably have survived many of the same experiences that youth inevitably goes through. Their survival is evidence of their wisdom, and it would behoove young people to pay attention to what the elders have to say, lest youth set themselves upon a course that is irreversibly destructive.
What the elderly consistently seem to forget is that throughout history, it is its youth that provides the vision and will to explore radical ideas, ideas that help shape humanity's course through time as forward progression, not reactionary regression. Paradoxically, as time progresses, these trailblazing youths are accepted into the establishment and are cited as evidence of the power of age and wisdom. However, we don't see this because we focus on the outrageous negativity that seems to generate from young people simply because they are young. We condemn Lindsay Lohan as an alcoholic, but it's OK to hear stories of how Peter O'Toole went on a bender with Richard Harris back in the day, or nostalgically remember the good old days of John Belushi.
Yet humanity always expresses suprise and admiration when a young person does something noteworthy, as if accomplishment is reserved only for the aged. Let's look at four historical figures and their ages when they first burst onto the scene:
Name: Albert Einstein
Accomplishment: Theory of Relativity, redefining old Newtonian notions of gravity and time
Age: 26
Name: Martin Luther King
Accomplishment: Led Montgomery Bus Boycott, kick-starting the Civil Rights Movement
Age: 26
Name: Thomas Jefferson
Accomplishment: Wrote the Declaration of Independence, a document that applied Enlightenment ideals in political ideology
Age: 33
Name: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Accomplishment: Dying before he became really popular
Age: 35
Who else? Post whom you think we should remember as an icon of youthful innovation.
To me, the list is indicative of one of the more interesting facets of human nature: how different age groups perceive each other. In 1967, when Rolling Stone Magazine was first published, it was representative of the hippie folk scene that defined counterculture at the time. While youths were fighting, killing, and dying in Vietnam, other youths were protesting the war. Today, many of those youths are grandparents, and like all grandparents before them, they think that things were a lot better when they were in charge.
It's easy to scoff at personalities like Senator Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) or Andy Rooney, and for good reason. These are men who are set in their ways and seem to be confused at the advances in technology (Senator Stevens infamously compared the Internet as "a series of tubes"). But put in perspective, the editors at Rolling Stone Magazine are not that far behind. For all intents and purposes, the compilers of that list were the elderly. Maybe not in terms of numerical age, but definitely in terms of state of mind.
In all cultures, humanity is taught to respect its elders. After all, they've lived longer, and presumably have survived many of the same experiences that youth inevitably goes through. Their survival is evidence of their wisdom, and it would behoove young people to pay attention to what the elders have to say, lest youth set themselves upon a course that is irreversibly destructive.
What the elderly consistently seem to forget is that throughout history, it is its youth that provides the vision and will to explore radical ideas, ideas that help shape humanity's course through time as forward progression, not reactionary regression. Paradoxically, as time progresses, these trailblazing youths are accepted into the establishment and are cited as evidence of the power of age and wisdom. However, we don't see this because we focus on the outrageous negativity that seems to generate from young people simply because they are young. We condemn Lindsay Lohan as an alcoholic, but it's OK to hear stories of how Peter O'Toole went on a bender with Richard Harris back in the day, or nostalgically remember the good old days of John Belushi.
Yet humanity always expresses suprise and admiration when a young person does something noteworthy, as if accomplishment is reserved only for the aged. Let's look at four historical figures and their ages when they first burst onto the scene:
Name: Albert Einstein
Accomplishment: Theory of Relativity, redefining old Newtonian notions of gravity and time
Age: 26
Name: Martin Luther King
Accomplishment: Led Montgomery Bus Boycott, kick-starting the Civil Rights Movement
Age: 26
Name: Thomas Jefferson
Accomplishment: Wrote the Declaration of Independence, a document that applied Enlightenment ideals in political ideology
Age: 33
Name: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Accomplishment: Dying before he became really popular
Age: 35
Who else? Post whom you think we should remember as an icon of youthful innovation.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Why Correct Pronounciation is So Important
If you live in or near a diverse metropolitan area such as Washington, DC, you'll hear more than your share of weird names. By "weird," of course I mean "difficult to figure out how to say." However (at least here in the DC metro area), it is way more unusual to run into an easy-to-pronounce English, Jewish, or Latino name (such as Williams, Cohen, or Lopez) than it is to run into those harder-to-pronounce names of the rest of the world. Names are things each of us takes very seriously, especially when it comes to our own. It can be a source of great frustration if your name isn't easily pronouncable; I know that my North African last name isn't common, but it's not that hard to get correct, and I am very grateful when my name is pronounced correctly on the first try.
Of course, I can forgive people not being able to get my name right away. After all, my last name is unique to a family originally from the coastal town of Hammam-Sousse, Tunisia. But when it comes to names that we, as Americans, should all know how to pronounce correctly, I get very picky. I know I'm not the only one. On January 18, 2008, Michelle Obama's mispronounciation of Nevada elicited some dismayed reactions from her audience. To her credit, Ms. Obama immediately and fervently corrected her pronounciation.
It may sound elitist to criticize the pronounciation of certain words, but it is extremely difficult to take someone seriously when that person pronounces the word nuclear as "noo-kyuh-luhr." Or when "jaguar" is pronounced "jag-wire." "Birff-day," "ex-scape," and nowadays, "eye-rack" for "Iraq" are other examples.
But why bother? You might wonder who cares about the difference between saying "neh-VAAH-duh" (incorrect) or "nuh-VAD-uh" (correct)? Well, for starters, Nevadans do. Learning how to pronounce names as they should be pronounced shows a degree of consideration to others. Not bothering to care about what may seem small to one person is the antithesis to equivocation. In the end, it's about caring and respect.
Here are some places that I've learned how to pronounce correctly:
Of course, I can forgive people not being able to get my name right away. After all, my last name is unique to a family originally from the coastal town of Hammam-Sousse, Tunisia. But when it comes to names that we, as Americans, should all know how to pronounce correctly, I get very picky. I know I'm not the only one. On January 18, 2008, Michelle Obama's mispronounciation of Nevada elicited some dismayed reactions from her audience. To her credit, Ms. Obama immediately and fervently corrected her pronounciation.
It may sound elitist to criticize the pronounciation of certain words, but it is extremely difficult to take someone seriously when that person pronounces the word nuclear as "noo-kyuh-luhr." Or when "jaguar" is pronounced "jag-wire." "Birff-day," "ex-scape," and nowadays, "eye-rack" for "Iraq" are other examples.
But why bother? You might wonder who cares about the difference between saying "neh-VAAH-duh" (incorrect) or "nuh-VAD-uh" (correct)? Well, for starters, Nevadans do. Learning how to pronounce names as they should be pronounced shows a degree of consideration to others. Not bothering to care about what may seem small to one person is the antithesis to equivocation. In the end, it's about caring and respect.
Here are some places that I've learned how to pronounce correctly:
- Helena, Montana. It's HEL-luh-nuh, not huh-LAY-nuh. I actually called the city to confirm. Coincidentally, it's the way my daughter's name should be pronounced.
- Worcester or Gloucester, Massachusetts: It's "wuss-ster" or "gloss-ster." Think of the "worce-" or "glouce-" as one syllable. Ironically, citizens of those cities can't pronounce "Harvard" correctly.
- Concord, New Hampshire. Pronounced exactly like "conquered."
Any other names or things you wish people would pronounce correctly?
Friday, January 18, 2008
Liberal Fascism?! Well, maybe...
On Wednesday, January 16, 2008, conservative author Jonah Goldberg went on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" to discuss and plug his new book Liberal Fascism: The Secret History of the American Left, From Mussolini to the Politics of Meaning. As Stewart prefaced prior to its showing , the interview was heavily edited for time. In six minutes of an allegedly 18-minute interview, we were shown Goldberg's attempt to show how liberalism, in the neoconservative stereotype, is closer to fascism than liberals would care to admit. We were also shown Stewart's obvious disdain for that opinion.
Let this be clear: I'm a very liberal guy, politically and socially. I believe that homosexuals should be allowed to marry, and I believe that there should be legislation to prevent discrimination against gay marriage. I believe in the benefits of gun control and free speech. I believe that those who can afford it should be taxed higher. But there are times when attitudes no longer become simply liberal, but leftist.
While I don't plan on reading Goldberg's book, I can pretty much guess that he has a warped opinion on what most liberals in America believe. His stereotype of a liberal is a probably pot-smoking, organic-food-buying vegan atheist who supports an authoritarian welfare state and would sooner sympathize with a terrorist or illegal immigrant than with Larry the Cable Guy. Goldberg believes the organic-food craze is just like the Nazi urge to push for a pure existence to further the master race.
The thing is, I've seen symptoms of these beliefs in the posts, blogs, and discussions I've had with other liberals. Think about the organic food craze: we feel pressured to buy organic, especially for our children. Why? Will eating a non-organic apple or genetically-enhanced cow turn me or my child into a freak of nature? Of course not, but we'll pay the larger cost for the peace of mind that nothing "unnatural" is in our bodies. There absolutely nothing wrong with eating organic, but what gets lost is that there is nothing wrong with not eating organic. (Of course, when we get sick, we'll pop those pills and rub those creams to remedy our illnesses, regardless of whether or not they're organic.) It's about the fear.
We are quick to blame the neoconservatives in this nation for fear-mongering. They wish us to fear that illegal immigrants are taking our jobs and bringing crime into this country; fear that terrorist attacks are imminent; fear that welfare means higher taxes and breeds apathy; stricter gun regulation translates to less safety and more government control.
But what about traditional liberal worries? Are they any less about fear-mongering? What about the fear of global warming? The fear of religious autocracy? Eating McDonald's? So while neocons play upon the fears to promote their agendas, so do liberals. What liberal doesn't feel proud to buy at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's? What liberal wouldn't be feel good driving a hybrid? What liberal wouldn't feel safer with stricter gun laws or more secure with guaranteed government handouts? And all liberals are politically correct, whether they would admit to it or not.
No, political correctness, while a lot like Newspeak, won't lead to a dystopia like 1984. Eating organic won't turn you or your child into a Nazi. But liberals need to recognize where opposition to left-wing ideology comes from, because the opposition is not without merit. Each of us needs to take a look at who we listen to, and who we don't. Chances are, those that we ignore or summarily dismiss may offer some valid points once in a while.
Let this be clear: I'm a very liberal guy, politically and socially. I believe that homosexuals should be allowed to marry, and I believe that there should be legislation to prevent discrimination against gay marriage. I believe in the benefits of gun control and free speech. I believe that those who can afford it should be taxed higher. But there are times when attitudes no longer become simply liberal, but leftist.
While I don't plan on reading Goldberg's book, I can pretty much guess that he has a warped opinion on what most liberals in America believe. His stereotype of a liberal is a probably pot-smoking, organic-food-buying vegan atheist who supports an authoritarian welfare state and would sooner sympathize with a terrorist or illegal immigrant than with Larry the Cable Guy. Goldberg believes the organic-food craze is just like the Nazi urge to push for a pure existence to further the master race.
The thing is, I've seen symptoms of these beliefs in the posts, blogs, and discussions I've had with other liberals. Think about the organic food craze: we feel pressured to buy organic, especially for our children. Why? Will eating a non-organic apple or genetically-enhanced cow turn me or my child into a freak of nature? Of course not, but we'll pay the larger cost for the peace of mind that nothing "unnatural" is in our bodies. There absolutely nothing wrong with eating organic, but what gets lost is that there is nothing wrong with not eating organic. (Of course, when we get sick, we'll pop those pills and rub those creams to remedy our illnesses, regardless of whether or not they're organic.) It's about the fear.
We are quick to blame the neoconservatives in this nation for fear-mongering. They wish us to fear that illegal immigrants are taking our jobs and bringing crime into this country; fear that terrorist attacks are imminent; fear that welfare means higher taxes and breeds apathy; stricter gun regulation translates to less safety and more government control.
But what about traditional liberal worries? Are they any less about fear-mongering? What about the fear of global warming? The fear of religious autocracy? Eating McDonald's? So while neocons play upon the fears to promote their agendas, so do liberals. What liberal doesn't feel proud to buy at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's? What liberal wouldn't be feel good driving a hybrid? What liberal wouldn't feel safer with stricter gun laws or more secure with guaranteed government handouts? And all liberals are politically correct, whether they would admit to it or not.
No, political correctness, while a lot like Newspeak, won't lead to a dystopia like 1984. Eating organic won't turn you or your child into a Nazi. But liberals need to recognize where opposition to left-wing ideology comes from, because the opposition is not without merit. Each of us needs to take a look at who we listen to, and who we don't. Chances are, those that we ignore or summarily dismiss may offer some valid points once in a while.
Senator Clinton is a racist...NOT!
What do DVRs and headlines have in common? Both are a convenience to the average American who can't seem to find enough hours in a day to do everything. We can't watch all the television we want when we want it (writer's strike notwithstanding), and we can't read all the news that's out there. We can wait for television, so it's recorded for later consumption; news is a different story. Since news develops at such a rapid pace, we need concise headlines that are attention-grabbing and may not necessarily tell the whole truth. While we now have more time to devote to other pursuits, it comes at the expense of reason and deduction. Politicians use this facet of our reliance on instant gratification (whether consciously or not) to twist innocuous statements into something completely different. For example, I can say, "I once volunteered to work at a Boys and Girls club because I enjoyed the company of children," and it can be reported as:
- 32-year-old Man Enjoys Company of Young Boys, or
- Blogger Worked with Girls at Club
Take Senator Hillary Clinton's statement that was blown out of proportion: "I would point to the fact that Dr. King's dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964, when he was able to get through Congress something that President Kennedy was hopeful to do, the president before had not even tried, but it took a president to get it done...That dream became a reality, the power of that dream became real in people's lives because we had a president who said we are going to do it and actually got it accomplished."
The statement was truncated into various forms, but the most repeated sentences and phrases were the first sentence and "it took a president to get it done." The Obama camp made Clinton out to be a racist for seemingly diminishing the impact that Martin Luther King, Jr. had in the Civil Right Movement. Charles Krauthammer wrote correctly that Clinton's comment was not racist, but erroneously inferred that Clinton was comparing herself to President Johnson and Obama was like Dr. King, a "charismatic dreamer."
Both the Obama camp and Krauthammer are inaccurate. Watching the video and reading the words offers a clear picture of what Senator Clinton was talking about: she was talking about how important it was to have a strong president to carry out the dreams and visions that needed to be realized. The Civil Rights Act was used as an example, and was not the subject of Clinton's statement.
I'm happy that the Obama and Clinton camps are putting this behind them, but this incident will fester in people's minds, because the knee-jerk reaction to truncated statements and headlines is so powerful that it overwhelms our sense of reason. It degenerates (as always) into a "you're a
And we also don't have the time.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Birth of Helena Kara Latiri: Gross and AWESOME (Part 2 of 2)
Continued from Part 1...
The Birth.
I was surprised. As Dr. VanMilder got dressed for the delivery and the nurse was preparing all of the tools and instruments and lighting necessary, I must confess that my mind was not on anything specific. I thought about how quiet the delivery ward was. I thought about the consequences of having a child's birthday on New Year's, and how it was less than two weeks before my wife's birthday and only one week after Christmas, less than a month after our wedding anniversary, and how much budgeting would have to go into gift-giving each winter. I thought it was awesome that Heather's contractions didn't lead her to scream obscenities (which I was preparing myself for), but instead, took place while she napped. I thought of the wonders of modern medicine, while at the same time appreciating that females of all species have been giving birth to offspring for eons.
The nurse disassembled the foot of the bed, which slid away to reveal stirrups on either side of the bed. The nurse quickly assembled them, and I thought it was like a giant Transformer toy. Then I noticed that the doctor was still getting dressed. By this point, the doctor had put on overgarments over her scrubs, at least two pairs of gloves, foot coverings up to her shins, and a face shield similar to the one I wore when I serviced liquid oxygen to the LOX converters on F-15s. The nurse herself had on a pair of latex gloves, and I felt extremely contagious, because I was only dressed in my street clothes. No mask, no gloves, just a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Meanwhile, the doctor looked as if she was prepared to shoot tear gas into a mob as she stood between my wife's spread legs.
Heather's feet were on the stirrups; the nurse was on Heather's left side, and I was on the right. I had a clear view of what can now only be described as "birth canal." It had grown in size since I'd last seen it, and of course, that made sense. But I was surprised, because it's not something that anyone had ever really taught, whether in sex ed or in birthing class. We learn all about the uterus and even the steps of labor, but being a guy, that information really went in one ear and out the other. Guys are usually just grateful that they don't have to ever experience that. They should be, too, because to be honest, it was a bloody mess. Fluids were oozing out, and there was a smell. Of course, I didn't really care, but these are observations that people are afraid of making.
The doctor then instructed Heather to start pushing during the next contraction, and Heather did just that as the nurse and I held on to each of Heather's legs. When the doctor yelled "Push!" and the nurse gave an authoritative count of "One...two...three..." all the way to ten, I realized that this was it. This was what we all see in the movies and television, and boy this wasn't anything like that. It was quiet, intimate, private, comfortable, and safe. For my part, there was no animosity, no stress, just this act of biology that I was witnessing live for the first time. I wasn't watching Lifetime; I was watching Animal Planet.
After the fourth set of three pushes, I saw the generous amount of hair that signified my daughter's head was approaching. I wasn't sure which part of her head I was looking at, so I thought that the baby's head was just the size of my fist. The doctor's fingers were kneading and spreading, as the hair kept creeping closer and closer to the exit. On the seventh set of pushes, the amount of hair grew and grew and grew! When her face slid out from underneath, my jaw hit the floor. I was looking at the most unnatural sight I'd ever seen in my life.
There she was, my daughter's face, sticking out between my wife's legs, and the only thing I could think of was Kuato saying "Quaid...start the reactor..."
With the ninth and final set of pushes, the doctor delivered Helena out from the womb. The first thing that I needed to see was that Helena was, indeed, a girl. You see, ever since her 20-week ultrasound, I'd been concerned that she might be a boy. Nothing wrong with that by itself, but all of the pink clothes and dresses and tights and "It's a Girl!" themed gifts would be wasted, not to mention my embarrassment at preparing the whole world for something different. So when Helena came out, all I could see was her back, which made the wait for gender verification even longer. Even when the doctor exclaimed, "Here she is!" I still wanted to see for myself. When the doctor handed Helena to Heather to hold, I sighed with relief.
Helena was huge. I was shocked. I didn't think a human being could hold a whole other human being inside herself. Also, Helena was a cuttlefish. She started out whitish-gray, then as she started crying, her body turned a deep shade of purple. The purple gradually gave way to red and then to pink, and when I could see her eyes, they were blue like the Fremen of Arrakis.
The doctor handed Helena to Heather, and the cord was still attached, but clamped. The doctor asked, "Daddy, would you like to cut the cord?" I said, "Of course!" but in a tone that reflected the mood I snapped into when she asked me that. I became an enlisted man ready to execute the orders of my superior, and cutting the cord was simply another order to carry out. It didn't mean anything to me other than a medical procedure that I happened to perform. I cut the cord, which looked like a slimy blue coiled rope that reminded me of very thick rotini.
Helena was crying strong, and Heather instantly snapped into a soothing mother. It was a side of her I'd actually never seen before, and I was so happy to see it. Any lingering doubts I had that Heather would be a good mother disappeared without a trace.
Helena weighed in at an impressive 8 lbs, 10 oz. Helena was cleaned and swaddled and I got to hold her for the first time, and I looked at the milia on her nose, her prominent upper lip, and her flat nose. I listened to her crying as I rocked her, letting her lungs work for the first time in her life. I wasn't thinking about how my life was going to change. I wasn't thinking about how much sleep I was going to miss. I wasn't thinking about how many diapers I would have to change or how I was going to get her to eventually stop crying. I just looked at her in amazement and thought, This is my daughter. I hope she doesn't hate me too much.
It's been two weeks, and everyone is doing great. Being a dad suits me, I think. I rush to her side whenever I hear her cry, and I'm happy to change her diaper. I'm glad she's a strong girl, and seeing her go through delivery reinforces my trust in her strength. Right now, there are two things that I'm waiting for: her smile and her laugh. When those things happen, I'm pretty sure my ability to say no to her will be hammered away.
I wonder if Helena will enjoy Total Recall...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
