Thoughts on culture, politics, music and stuff by Eric Olsen, Marty Thau and Mike Crooker, who are among other things, producers.

 
Depending on how bored you are tonight...

After listening to Eric's show, tune into WCSB in Cleveland tonight (2 a.m. Eastern) as I guest on Feima's show, promoting the remix workshop I'm doing Monday night as well as the compilation that we're on...

posted by tofu at 10:24 PM

 
Cool Tunes - Grateful Dead
The Internet works in mysterious ways. I went over to Joanne Jacobs' site because she specializes in education and I was in the mood for a little edu. action after getting excited about the Mars student project.

So I was looking around and there was something interesting about memorization (of which I am of two minds), something about the recent national Spelling Bee, and then - talk about shifting gears - there was a discussion of the lyrics to "Uncle John's Band," which is by far my favorite Grateful Dead song.

Her original post from the 30th reads:

At Tuesday's rehearsal, while the altos were learning their part in "Uncle John's Band,'' I was examining the lyrics with my fellow soprano, Debby. We got pretty far with the death motif and I was pretty sure this "Uncle John" is a Christ figure, but we had a lot of questions. Why, for example, are the first days the hardest days? And why should one stop worrying if there's danger at the door? Wouldn't worry be appropriate? Please advise.

Does this mean Joanne is in a choir singing "Uncle John's Band"? For some reason the formality of a choir poring over a song as casual, personal, and enigmatic as this one strikes me as absurd: I guess it's the translation from "folk art" to "fine art" that triggers the disconnect for me.

Here's the follow up from the 31st:

In response to my quest for meaning in "Uncle John's Band," Kirk Parker writes:

They Were On Drugs.

He says Dylan's "The Mighty Quinn'' makes no sense either. No! Surely not! Meanwhile, Robert Wright says:

Jerry Garcia, bless his pickled heart, was no Bob Dylan -- or even Bob Hunter. Garcia wrote "Uncle John's Band" and like Twain's "wingless wild things," it's devoid of meaning.

However, this annotation of the lyrics claims Hunter wrote the song. Jim Breed, on the other hand, claims not worrying anymore is a logical response to "danger at your door.''

Worry clouds one's mind as to how to deal with the danger. If we are capable of banishing the terror associated with worrying and accept that we are, indeed, in a pickle, then we are prepared to deal with the danger.

I disagree. If worrying leads to action, it prevents a feeling of terror. Worrying is useful. When I was in Literary Club in high school we'd analyze song lyrics like poetry, but I think we did the Beatles -- "Eleanor Rigby" compared to "Richard Cory," for example -- rather than Jerry Garcia. I also remember our next-door neighbor coming over and demanding that my sister and I explain "The Mighty Quinn" to him. "It doesn't make any sense!'' he said with considerable indignation. We told him it wasn't supposed to make sense. "Why not!'' he said.

Because They Were on Drugs.

And a bit more from June 1:

Meanwhile, on the "Uncle John's Band'' question, Jackson Houser argues that one shouldn't worry anymore because the hardest days are now over.

The danger of Easy Street is complacency, of course, so there is no need to worry about the struggles of the first days: one just needs to persevere.

Yes, but what about that danger at my door?

Before I forget: thanks to Joanne for leading me to the astonishing "Annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics" site. Taking up this particular song, here are a few thoughts:

Well, the first days are the hardest days, don't you worry anymore

The first days of any endeavor are the time of greatest risk because in the course of human affairs, projects - especially engaged by two or more - take on a life of their own, develop their own momentum, and become self-perpetuating. This notion is found in religion as well:

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Matt. 18:20.

An entity separate from the sum of its parts is created (or summoned in the religious sense) from collective human endeavor, but it takes some time and effort for that entity to establish itself. Hence the verity of the lyrics.

When life looks like easy street There is danger at your door

Lyricist Hunter cautions against complacency. As in the economic cycle, the seeds of bad times are planted in good, and vice versa. There is another shoe - it will drop. Life works under the rules of jet propulsion: be prepared for the "opposite and equal reaction." The good times will wax and wane: enjoy the good but prepare for the bad.

In addition, success can literally generate "danger at your door." Material success, possessions, notoriety can lead the unscrupulous to target you for thievery, kidnapping, extortion, etc.

My interest here is not to explicate the entire song, which is done extremely well on the "Annotated Lyrics" site. I wanted to address Joanne's particular concerns with the first stanza - easy street and danger at the door, etc. - and make note of a few tidbits I can contribute to the dialogue.

There is a fascinating discussion of this stanza on the "Annotated" site:

It's the same story the crow told me
it's the only one he know -
Like the morning sun you come and like the wind you go
Ain't no time to hate,
barely time to wait
Wo, oh, what I want to know,
where does the time go?

"Annotated" writer David Dodd notes that the "It's the same story the crow told me" lyrics derive from an old children's bluegrass song, "The Story the Crow Told Me." His earliest reference is to a recording by the New Lost City Ramblers, who began recording in the late-'50s. I have an earlier reference.

In 2000, roots music label Yazoo released a brilliant collection of "early American rural children's songs" from the '20s and '30s called The Story That the Crow Told Me, which features a version of the song by the Carolina Buddies from the '30s. One verse is:

My gal took sick the other day
the doctor said she's gonna pass away
I got her a corset at the dry goods store
she's in better shape now than she was before
One little story that a crow told me, in a hickory tree

This is the crow as playful trickster: he begins with a serious premise, then flips it. Other verses in the song follow a similar pattern of premise, then clever semantic absurdist twist.

Relating back to the Dead song, then, the song the crow sings - "the only one he know" - features this playful reversal. When the situation appears dire, a change in perspective, or even attitude, can reverse the situation. Fate can be this arbitrary, as we must keep guard against the reversal when things are gong well, we must also allow for the positive reversal when things are going badly. The crow knows this. The "Like the morning sun you come and like the wind you go" line also speaks to reversals, to natural flow. As a result of all this, "Ain't no time to hate, barely time to wait": don't waste your precious time hating, and don't bemoan fate, for while you are doing so, you may miss the opportunity for reversal.

The Dead
I also have some thoughts on the Dead themselves - a fascinating sociological phenomenon. I find these lyrics by Don Henley from "Boys of Summer" striking:

Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac,
A little voice inside my head, said 'don't look back,
You can never look back.'

When Henley wrote "The Boys of Summer' in 1984, he saw the sticker on the steel as a contradiction of values: a symbolic matter/antimatter collision that obliterated the meaning of both. Henley didn't realize that his symbol of a dead past was in reality a very powerful symbol of the present and future.

Throughout history, war has been a rallying point for peoples. Leaders have allowed or even encouraged international conflict to escalate into armed confrontation in order to divert attention away from intractable domestic woes. The best way to draw people together is to unite them against a common enemy. The first president Bush's "War on Drugs" was no accidental title.

The Vietnam War pitted two monumental forces against each other: the newly formed youth culture vs. a people's ingrained habit of uniting against a common enemy. As I discussed here, youth culture was created by the relative affluence and leisure time of the '50s and was galvanized by the birth of rock 'n' roll.

By the early-60s, the rock and roll rebellion was running out of steam. When the adult world seized upon "The Twist" as a charming and wholesome pastime, the rebellious aspect of rock 'n' roll seemed a thing of he past. Even the Queen of England liked the Beatles. What next?

The Vietnam War appeared to restoke the boilers of rebellion. The war was a perfect polarizer: it had no clear objective, our help was not particularly appreciated by the Vietnamese, it was far away, it cost many lives, and it was involuntary (the military has since learned that voluntary warriors are happy warriors). The old made the decisions, the young died.

As obvious as all of this seemed to the young and their sympathizers, war still held its old meaning to their parents and grandparents. To the elders, war was still a rallying point, and support of it a civic duty. War still meant WWII, or WWI: wars that required national unity merely to be survived. War was us (good), vs. them (bad). Nothing else mattered. To question this particular war was to question all wars, and if war wasn't a rallying point, then what good was it? And war had to be good for something, because it cost so much.

Vietnam divided the war dialectic of "us" vs. "them," into a triad of "us" vs. "them" vs."them." The war created hopelessly confused loyalties and antagonisms between the three parties. After the war was finally mercy killed, people came to realize that they had hated the internal confusion more than they had hated the external enemy. Who really cared about what happened to a bunch of crazed Asians? The people of Vietnam were never the point anyway: principle was, and principle wasn't worth this kind of internal conflict.

As a result, both sides of the internal conflict embraced the perceived highlights of the other's culture with a ferocity that was dizzying. Blood is thicker than ideology. The adults lightened up: Johnny Carson grew his hair long and joked about smoking pot, the youth embraced the acquisitive materialism of their parents with the shamelessness of Midas.

The very concept of a "youth culture": a mass counterculture organized along generational lines disappeared in the '80s. The Reaganonic codification of social and economic Darwinism successfully removed the language of the counterculture from public discourse. The line between "us" and "them" became the line between an individual's public and private personas. Everyone had to pay lip service to the "just say no" mentality. Everyone had to move his public persona four steps to the right just to continue to play the game:

"Capitalism has won, man. There aren't even any other significant options now. If you're going to do something, do it right. I take pride in my work. What do you want me to be, a bad accountant? I'm not embarrassed about the money I make. I have responsibilities: a wife, kids, a house, a boat, a dog. I like my goodies. But I don't buy into that Calvanist/Reagonian dogma about wealth being a deterministic signpost toward upward mobility in the afterlife either.

"More money means you can buy more cool stuff, that's all. So I play the game at work. I even get a company car. I can pick any domestic car I want, and the Caddy gives me the most bang for my, I mean the company's, buck.

"But I still party. I still rock 'n' roll. We ship the kids out, roll up the carpet in the living room and get down. I still go to shows. We see the Dead whenever we can. No one stares at you. I can be who I want to be. I always see people I know from work - we always smile and pretend that we don't know each other. Sometimes I see my friend's kids. They don't hassle me either."

People became compartmentalized. The unalloyed idealism of the '60s has been discredited as impractical and divisive, the grasping materialism of the mid-'70s into the '80s has been discredited as dispiriting. During the '80s these opposites waged war within the national psyche, agreed to disagree, and emerged with a sort of Gorbachev/Yeltsin coalition government: different values for different circumstances.

The Dead became THE symbol of this kind of bifurcation until Jerry Garcia's death in '95: a well-oiled money making machine ($50 million a year in concert revenue) that sold peace, love and understanding to a legion of internally divided admirers. The Dead sold out every show because everyone needs a break and a Dead show was a socially acceptable place to try on the values of another time and place.

Drug use was pandemic at these shows because drugs act to trigger the transformation into the private self. People who didn't do drugs any other time fired up a doob or sucked on a nitrous balloon - or even ate a tab of acid - and danced around like learning-impaired pixies to the Dead and their light, rhythmic, pleasant, and occasionally inspired musical noodling. They wanted it all, and they wanted it now. At a Dead show they didn't have to give up anything permanent to get it. A deadhead sticker on a Cadillac isn't an absurdity, Don Henley, it is emblematic of an age.

Jerry Garcia's death shone a bright light on the bizarre duality of his social role. This lifelong drug addict and hippie icon was revered by presidents (Clinton) and senators:

longtime fan Sen. Patrick Leahy said news of Garcia's death left him feeling "like I've been kicked in the stomach." "I just feel terrible about it," said Leahy, D-Vt., a fan since the 1960s and personal friend of Garcia for about 10 years. "When they were here last just a few weeks ago, I was talking to Jerry," Leahy said in an interview with The Associated Press. "He was talking about how he was watching his diet and being careful. I took my oldest son with me. We were on stage for the whole show."

Leahy's friendship with the guitarist developed after someone representing the band called to find out if it was true that Leahy had attended a Dead concert. "I said 'I go all the time,"' recalled Leahy, 55. Then came the first of many invitations to sit backstage. "I got a call one night from the White House operator while on stage. ... The president and secretary of state are looking for me. I got on the phone with the secretary of state (Warren Christopher) and he asked me if I thought I had my radio on rather loud."

Last year Leahy invited Garcia and other band members to lunch in the senators' dining room. "The most remarkable thing about that was Senator Thurmond came up, introduced himself to Jerry Garcia and said, 'Boy I understand you're a rock star."' Garcia acknowledged that he was. The then-91-year-old South Carolina Republican then responded: "Well I'm Strom Thurmond. I'm the oldest member of the U.S. Senate."

During that lunch, Garcia asked Leahy which was his favorite song. At the concert this year at RFK Stadium, the band played that song, "Black Muddy River," as its encore in honor of Leahy's presence. "I thought he looked better than he had in years," said Leahy of Garcia at that concert. Leahy said he had wanted to attend the band's recent performance in Vermont, but couldn't. It had been their second show there after being urged by Leahy to go to the state. He couldn't count the number of concerts he's attended. "I go every time I can," said Leahy. "They have probably kept the most loyal cadre of fans you can image. They have always treated their fans and their own people right."

Leahy said he keeps track of the band on the Internet. "I even have their Web page on my list of bookmarks," he said. The senator said he felt different kinds of people could read their feelings and hopes into the Dead's music and lyrics "even though they may be diametrically opposite." "I've never left one of their concerts not feeling better than when I went in," said Leahy.

And this:

San Francisco Mayor Frank Jordan, who has taken his three sons to Grateful Dead concerts, ordered flags lowered to half-staff and a tie-dyed Dead flag hoisted up the City Hall flagpole.

Said another politician, Massachusetts Gov. William Weld, a 50-year-old Republican and an unabashed fan: Garcia's death is "a loss to both my generation and my children's."

The Music
Many say either you are a Deadhead or you're not - all or nothing. I say twaddle. I'm no Deadhead but I love American Beauty (1970) with "Friend of the Devil," "Sugar Magnolia," "Ripple" and "Truckin'." The Grateful Dead live 2-LP set (1971) rolls along with "Bertha," "Mama Tried," "Playing in the Band," ""Johnny B. Goode," "Not Fade Away" and "Goin' Down the Road Feeling Bad."

Skeletons In the Closet, The Best of Grateful Dead (1974) repeats "Truckin'," "Sugar Magnolia," and "Friend of the Devil" from American Beauty, but adds "Uncle John's Band," "Casey Jones," "One More Saturday Night," and Pigpen's moment of glory, "Turn On Your Love Light."

Blues For Allah (1975) is cool with "Franklin's Tower," Shakedown Street (1978) has its moments with the title track, "Good Lovin'," "Fire On the Mountain" and "I Need a Miracle."

Grateful Dead Go to Heaven (1980) is nice with "Alabama Getaway," "Althea" and the rousing "Don't Ease Me In." In addition, the Jerry Garcia solo album, Garcia (1972) features the languid hit "Sugaree" on the vinyl side one, but side two is a psychedelic masterpiece worthy of early Pink Floyd, culminating with "The Wheel," a majestic song with beautiful, eerie pedal steel work.

Cool Tunes is a radio show in a magazine format Saturday nights at 10pm (Eastern) on WAPS, "The Summit," in Akron, Ohio. I play new music, reissues, and preview shows coming to town each week. Musically it is among the widest-ranging 2 hours in the country: modern rock, punk, electronica, jazz, reggae and ska, roots rock, Americana, blues, world, funk, hip hop, avant garde, etc. - if it's cool I play it. Cool Tunes has been proudly serving humanity since 1990. This feature can also be found at Hear/Say online.
posted by Anonymous at 6:53 PM

 
9/11 Blogger Book
After a long incubation time, the third round of nominations for the 9/11 blogger book is up. Max has also recently spoken to a publisher and things look very good. Please vote for your favorite entries, make final nominations - all are welcome - and help get the word out. Another huge step forward for the legitimacy of the blogosphere!. Time to get pumped.
posted by Anonymous at 4:21 PM

 
Sexy Muy Grande
Dawn's poll for sexiest male blogger is finally over. Lileks won. I did not fare well, which I am not going to bother to analyze because the ways of sexiness are inscrutable and I think a lot of MEN voted anyway. Queers. I think there was some reverse discrimination going down also because I am Dawn's husband, having won the only poll that really counts. Ha ha.

Inevitably, now it's time to vote for sexiest female blogger on TBOTCOTW. Vote for Dawn. While I wish to impugn the sexiness of her competitors in no way, it is not possible for them to be sexier than she. To whit:

Here is Dawn's self-description:

VITAL STATISTICS - I am strawberry blonde (natural too!), my measurements are 36, 27, 38 (no particular order). I have amber/brown eyes, straight teeth, typically nice skin (a little on the fair side) freckles in special places, I smell nice, bathe regularly, have good oral hygiene, wear sexy (but cotton only) underwear and frilly bras. Most importantly I can drink beer straight from the bottle and I knows how to handle my smoke!

All of that is true. But she didn't mention that her eyes have a strangely exotic curve to them that wouldn't be out of place on Cleopatra. When she is being friendly, her voice has a delicate whispy quality that overwhelms any possible objection. Her touch is both soothing and electric, her kiss like cotton candy. Her curves are soft but firm.

Everyone is sexy sometimes, but Dawn was sexy when she was swollen like the Pillsbury Doughboy from edema, swearing like a longshoreman, and giving birth. I had to leave the room to get hold of myself.

Dawn is sexier than my last pre-Dawn girlfriend, the exotic dancer/centerfold. Dawn is sexier than my first wife ever was, and she was a lingerie and ski-wear model when she was less old. Dawn is sexier than the 6' tall skincare model, or any of the dewy too-young girlfriends from the Post-Divorce Crisis Period.

She is 11 sexy years younger than I am, which is perfect: any younger would be too young to converse with on a regular basis, many things you just have to have lived through to really understand; any older would be too old for maximal sexiness vis-a-vis me. She even has several prime breeding years left! No matter how old we get, she will always seem young to me - that's sexy, baby.

Dawn is a beautiful young woman who is also mature in all the good ways, but childlike in all the important ways - she's really funny too. But the greatest testament of all is that she has only gotten sexier the longer I have known her. This has never happened to me before in my life: the sexy meter has ALWAYS declined over time. This time I have increasing sexiness to deal with, leading possibly to an explosion of sexiness at some point in the future - there are worse problems to have. Vote for Dawn.
posted by Anonymous at 2:12 PM

 
Mars Needs Students!
The Mars Student Imaging Project allows classrooms to participate in actual Mars research:

NASA and Arizona State University’s Mars Education Program is offering students nationwide the opportunity to be involved in authentic Mars research by participating in the Mars Student Imaging Project (MSIP). Teams of students in the 5th through 12th grade will have the opportunity to work with scientists, mission planners and educators on the THEMIS team at ASU’s Mars Space Flight Facility, to image a site on Mars using the THEMIS visible wavelength camera onboard the Mars Odyssey spacecraft which is currently orbiting Mars every 2 hours.

Here are some of the FAQ:

“What grade level of students can participate in the Mars Student Imaging Project (MSIP)?”
Students in grades 5 through 12 can participate in MSIP.

“Will college students have a chance to be involved in this program?”
Yes. Undergraduates will be able to participate in MSIP, although they will be evaluated completely separately from the 5th through 12th grade students.

“Will a 5th grade proposal be evaluated the same way as a 12th grade proposal?”
No, proposals submitted by students in the 5th grade will not be evaluated using the same criteria as a 12th grade proposal. We realize that students in the upper grades will submit proposals with a higher degree of science background than students in the lower grades.

“Can a group of students simply submit a Mars Science Team Proposal and become involved in MSIP?”
No, for starters, students must have an adult facilitator to lead their team. Secondly, there are a set of simple procedures to follow in order to be involved.

“What are the procedures to be followed in order to be involved with MSIP?”
The first step is to submit the MSIP Application. Next, you need to download and print the MSIP curriculum guides provided on the website. Thirdly, you will need to complete the Model Activity from the student guide and the adult facilitator must submit the MSIP Model Activity Results Form. You will then submit your Mars Science Team Proposal and finally, when your project is completed, submit your final scientific report.

...“What is the difference between the on-site format and distance learning format?”
Students in the on-site format will be at the Mars Space Flight Facility to receive the image they chose to take of the surface of Mars. Student teams will learn how to use image-processing tools to enhance their image for better scientific study. Students will also prepare a presentation to assist them in peer-tutoring the students who were unable to travel to the facility.

“What is the distance-learning format?”
The distance-learning format is really the same as the 5-day on-site format except that students will not have to travel to the ASU Mars Space Flight Facility. Students will be able to complete their mission using Internet video-conferencing, webchats, and teleconferencing.

“Will a school need special equipment to participate in the distance-learning format?”
If you have a computer that has access to the Internet and has Adobe Photoshop®, that is all you will need. To participate in teleconferencing, you will just need a speakerphone; to participate in video conferencing you will need a web camera (which costs about $30) connected to your computer. If your school does not have one we will be able to send you one to borrow for the week.

...“Will all the student teams be able to image a site on Mars?”
The on-site teams and distance-learning teams will actually get to choose which site on Mars they would like to image. The archived-data teams will be given an image to work with that pertains to their proposal.

“How much does it cost to participate in MSIP?”
There is no cost for teams that participate in MSIP. Students who participate in the on-site format will, however have to pay for their transportation, food and lodging.

...“Are student teams really going to be able to use the THEMIS camera to image a site of their choice?”
Yes. Students will be modeling the scientific process that actual scientists deal with as they explore a planet. As student teams do this, they will be performing “good science”. As the MSIP teams image Mars, they will be assisting the scientists exploring the Red Planet.

“Once student teams receive their image, is the project over?”
Not at all. Once student teams receive their image and begin to analyze it they will need to look at their original research question and begin to use their image to answer their question. Students will need to present their findings using one of many methods discussed in the MSIP Student Guide. Students will also need to submit a report to an on-line journal.

“How do the MSIP teams know what site on Mars to image using the THEMIS camera?”
Based on the scientific question the student teams asks, they will need to find features on Mars that will enable them to gather evidence that will assist them in answering their scientific question. Student teams should generate a list of proposed sites to image. Then, approximately two weeks before students are involved in the on-site or distance-learning portion of their project, they will examine the orbital track of the spacecraft and will make a final choice of what they would like to image on Mars.

“What is the THEMIS camera?”
THEMIS stands for Thermal Emission Imaging System. THEMIS is a visible and infrared camera. Students will obtain a visible wavelength image of their site on Mars.

“What will the THEMIS image look like?”
It will look similar to the image shown on the “Wanted: Mars Explorers!” poster. That poster image is actually an image taken by the Viking Orbiter from the 1970’s. The THEMIS image however will be a higher resolution image.

“Will student teams immediately get back their THEMIS image?”
The plan is for student teams to actually look at the orbital track of the spacecraft two-weeks before their on-site or distance-learning participation. This will enable mission planners to upload the commands to the spacecraft in time for students to receive their image during their planned week of activities.

This is just amazing: direct participation in unique research regarding Mars by students as young as 10! Next time I hear a long diatribe against science and technology, I will point the luddite in the direction of this project. This will generate enthusiasim for science, space, and Mars that will last a lifetime. And of course, participation in and management of the project is made possible by the Internet. This is grassroots dynamism in action. Dig it.
posted by Anonymous at 8:29 PM

 
"TAT" - It Already Has an Acronym!
If you haven't done so, you must check out The American Times magazine. It's a great idea, and Oliver is picking out some super pieces I never would have seen otherwise. Add art, snappy design and it's most happening. I find myself checking in everyday already. You should too. This could be, should be, big.

Addendum
Gena Lewis of Spinsters goes on in great, well-reasoned detail, with a shortage of neither thought nor word, why TAT is a bad idea. It boils down to "pay for links is a bad idea." I would agree if TAT were PAYING writers for a link to their sites, but this is not the case: TAT is DISTRIBUTING ad revenue to those who provide the content that drives the traffic that brings the ad revenue. The writers are in essence being TIPPED for their work, and tipping has not destroyed the Web to the best of my knowledge. The link plays no part in the revenue transaction - the link is simply the easiest manner to get to the material.

Also, the writing in and of itself isn't all that is driving traffic/revenue: it's the eye of the editor that creates the content of the mag, even if it is the fingers of the writers that create the individual stories. And that editorial eye is not the same thing as having a blog. You have only to compare Oliver's site with TAT to see the difference.

Here's another reason why blogs won't be harmed: by calling something a "magazine" you have made it something different from a blog. That's why The American Times looks different from Oliver's site, even though it's the same person selecting the material. That magazine entity is different from Oliver's site or any of the sites from which he derives material, and like a novel seems to write itself after a time once the characters are established, or a painting paints itself, etc, a magazine takes on a life of its own, and that separate entity - with art and graphics and design - is what people will read and what advertisers will pay for.

Presentation and style count: blogger N.Z. Bear is all atwitter (as well he should be) because he has an article in Salon. Now, this is the same article he had on his blog, but somehow it's different (sure, there's money, but it's more than that) because now IT'S IN A REAL MAGAZINE. TAT will be a REAL MAGAZINE and that's where the revenue will derive from - there is no incompatibility with the link-and-let-link ethos of the Net in general, nor with the blogosphere in particular. Ipso facto, Q.E.D., hasta la bye-bye.
posted by Anonymous at 6:09 PM

 
Ramblin' Man
If it's Friday, I must be driving all over hell and back: down to Akron to tape the radio show, then over to the Warren exit of the turnpike to conduct the exchange of my son for the weekend. My head hurts.
posted by Anonymous at 6:03 PM

 
Is a Wall Now Inevitable?
The concept of a Wall has returned with a vengeance bringing in to serious question the future status of West Bank settlers. We heard from one Wednesday. David Ignatius sees a Wall, or at least a Fence, in Sharon's plans:

Sometimes crises force people to think about what was previously unthinkable, such as a security fence along the West Bank. Too many people are dying to ignore this need any longer. But any move by Sharon to protect the Israeli heartland will also begin the serious debate about what would happen to the settlements if a Palestinian state ever came into being. That's a debate that needs to begin now -- not least because it would encourage Palestinians that people are finally taking this issue seriously.

By tackling two sacred cows of the Israeli right -- the border issue and favoritism for the ultra-orthodox parties -- Sharon has enhanced his standing with the ordinary Israelis who make up this country's version of the silent majority. He couldn't have done so without backing from the Israeli Labor Party, which must have promised it would back him if the right pushed for a no-confidence vote in the Knesset.

The deck is being reshuffled these days in Israel, as well as in Yasser Arafat's Palestinian Authority. And Sharon, the gambler, hasn't yet played his last hand.

posted by Anonymous at 9:36 AM

 
Thieving "Liberals"
A mysterious individual named Speedwell has a lost wedding ring story that is sad, sad, sad. I wouldn't necessarily conflate liberalism with egregious dishonesty, though. I don't believe there is a cause and effect relationship between the two.

Eric, here's a ring story for you, and it's true, I swear.

I had left my abusive now-ex-husband and was in a battered women's shelter north of Atlanta. One of the social workers told me I had better give them my valuables to keep under lock and key because, she said, "we get a lot of low-lifes around here." Apparently the "low-lifes" weren't just the clientele; when I finally left and asked for my possessions back, my wedding ring was not among them. Imagine.

That was the last time I ever trusted a liberal who said they would help me, incidentally.

Thanks... speedwell

posted by Anonymous at 8:51 AM

 
Political, But Sex Drenched
John Hawkins of Right Wing News selects the Top 10 political bloggers (plus five honorable mention). He freely admits his list leans toward the conservative. Congrats to Dawn who struts in at #6!

Olsen is a sex drenched, highly opinionated, writer who always entertains.

I imagine both she and Matt Welch will be amused to find that they are "conservative."
posted by Anonymous at 8:37 AM

 
Survivors
Bloggers Chris Johnson of Midwest Conservative Journal and David Janes pass on this disturbing article about the toll of suicide bombings on the bodies of the SURVIVORS:

X-rays taken from victims of suicide bombings reveal pieces of metallic fragments embedded in their skin, muscles, organs and bones, says Dr. Michael Messing, who visited the victims of suicide bombings while at the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. Suicide bombers pack their bombs with nails and other objects so even survivors of suicide bombings will suffer from the bomb's effects.

"They're trying to maximize the number of people they kill and injure," said Messing of the terrorists.

These bombs, which Messing says are sometimes funded by Palestinian authorities including Yasser Arafat, are packed with spikes, nails, screws, nuts, bullets, mortar, ball bearings and even rat poison.

"What were originally created for constructive purposes have been transformed by Arab terrorists into cruel, deadly, destructive projectiles," said Messing. "The nails fly like bullets, head first, penetrating skin, flesh and bone. The unprecedented wave of suicide bombings has presented a whole new set of medical challenges."

The story is mighty grim but must be told.
posted by Anonymous at 9:24 PM

 
The Wall That Wouldn't Stay Dead
Where is Dr. Steven R. Postrel when you need him? "Commissioner, get him on the Postrel-phone for me, will you?"

The Forward comes out in favor of the Wall:

Reports from Jerusalem indicate that Israel's defense minister, Binyamin Ben-Eliezer of the Labor Party, approached Prime Minister Sharon this week with plans to begin building a fence between Israel and the West Bank. It's about time.

Israel's failure to fence itself off from the West Bank ought to be a scandal of the first magnitude. Over the past two years it has cost dozens, perhaps hundreds of lives, as a result of suicide bombings perpetrated by Palestinian extremists who have been able to travel unimpeded from the West Bank cities of Tulkarm and Jenin to Israeli cities like Netanya and Rishon Letzion.

....The modesty of the plan drives home the absurdity of Israel's current situation. Right now there's nothing stopping terrorists from strapping bombs around their waists and ambling over the fields to Netanya. It's just a couple of hours by foot, or a few minutes by taxi. Just a few miles of fence would make the hike onerous and deter most bombers.

A full-scale fence, favored by two-thirds of Israelis but rejected by Sharon, would be even more effective. Moreover, it would drive home to Palestinians the seriousness of Israel's intention to separate, encouraging those who are ready to choose diplomacy over terror. The time has come to build it.

What say you professor?
posted by Anonymous at 8:21 PM

 
Brainiacs In the Spotlight
For some reason, each May when I hear the story about that year's Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee competition, I get misty. This afternoon I was in the car on my way to pick up my daughter when I heard about today's final, the 75th, on NPR. They ran audio of Pratyush Buddiga, 13 - who survived 11 rounds and outlasted 249 other contestants - spelling his winning word: "prospicience."

I actually teared up as he patiently ran through all of his options: "Please say the word again." "What is the definition?" "What is its language of origin?" "Are there any alternative meanings?" "Are there any alternative pronunciations?" before spelling the word correctly. He takes home an engraved trophy and $12,000.

Why do I get so emotional? I'm not exactly sure, but it's a combination of someone so young performing so well under pressure, a vicarious bit of the pride his parents must feel, the odds against any given individual surviving the ordeal of linguistic oddities such as "kakemono," "caulicolous," "stultiloquence," "culgee," "hermeneutics," "soavemente" and "toreutics."

How in God's name can mere children spell any of these freaks of English? Do they memorize the dictionary? Do they memorize every possible rule? Are they familiar with all of the languages of origin? Are they possessed by Satan? Are they just really lucky? All of the above? I still have to look up "occasion," and that hellhole to the south, "Cincinnati" (that one just drives me insane). How can they spell words they have never even heard before? My mind reels with the implications.

The other reason I choke up is that these little brainiacs get to perform in a championship sports-like setting with their noodles, not their muscles, live on ESPN! The whole Darwinian physical size/athletic ability paradigm gets turned on its fat head for ONE DAY A YEAR as a bunch of geeky eggheads get the spotlight, and this is something I find almost painfully poignant.

And like athletic competition, this one just keeps getting harder:

Among the guests of honor watching the competition Thursday was Frank Neuhauser, 88, winner of the first National Spelling Bee in 1925.

After he won, Neuhauser got to shake hands with Calvin Coolidge, then received a hero's welcome in his hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.

After sitting through one round Thursday, Neuhauser said, "The words are, in my judgment, much more difficult."

posted by Anonymous at 7:23 PM

 
A PERSONAL ODYSSEY THROUGH PROVINCIAL CUBAN SPORT
My father, Ray Olsen, traveled to Cuba recently. An Olympic buff, historian, journalist, and collector, he found a kindred spirit in a Cuban Olympic professor. This essay addresses what he found out about the secrets behind Cuba's suprising international sporting success. A future essay will address his impressions of Cuba's socio-political system.

While looking out my window at Ohio snow in late 2001, I received an email from an unknown fellow member of the International Society of Olympic Historians. It was an invitation from a Cuban professor to attend an April conference on Olympic Sports in his warm rural province.

I was intrigued, having seen the success of Cuban athletes at the Summer Olympics on television since their emergence on the international arena in 1968, and in person - following their boycotts of 1984 and 1988 - starting in Barcelona in 1992.

With only vague knowledge of Cuba, a total lack of ability to speak the Spanish language and no idea of the intricacies of the US Government’s “strict regulations of travel related transactions, from, and within Cuba” as part of our economic embargo, I emailed the professor my enthusiastic acceptance.

So began a dialogue with Douglas Crispin Castellanos, Professor of Olympic Studies, which soon developed into a friendship over the lengthy and rocky path as I sought official permission to attend the conference from the Office of Foreign Assets Control, US Department of the Treasury. I quickly submitted my request for a “license” to travel to Cuba on January 15, 2002 for the April 17 conference. I received approval on April 13, too late to complete all the US and Cuba travel arrangements and requirements in time for the meeting.

After an invitation from Douglas to come after the conference, I requested a formal extension to May 10, as my original license expired on April 30. With the kind help of a Treasury employee whom I had got to know from my frequent telephone inquires on the status of my original submission, I received the extension the day before I would have to leave to start my trip within the prescribed time period.

After a flight to Miami and expedited assistance from the travel company that books US citizens onto the irregular charter flights to Cuba, and I arrived at the Havana airport less than 48 hours after receiving my final extended license. The good professor Douglas had traveled to Havana to meet me and help me get airline tickets to his province, Isla de la Juventud. Since the plane was full that day, he and his cousin led me on a personal sightseeing expedition through Havana for a day and a half with intermittent trips to the airport to get the tickets.

For the next week, Douglas escorted me through a series of individual and group meetings with sports professors, coaches, athletes and administrators, which probably gave me better insights into Cuban sports than if I had attended the conference. We also toured various training facilities and attended practice sessions and events. Due to my lack of Spanish and his uneven English, Douglas provided me with a good translator from the sports world for each of the meetings.

In addition to the arranged sessions, I was able to talk to many other people including employees of the hotel and restaurant, and families of those with whom I came in contact. Since English is now taught in the schools and employees in the hotel and travel industry must pass English tests to gain certificates to work, many Cubans have from rudimentary to passable English. Several times strangers came up to me just to practice their English.

I must emphasize here that everyone I talked with was extremely friendly, open and candid: Cubans are a friendly people. As the professor’s Havana cousin stated: when a Cuban meets you once, you are a friend for life. Indeed, I believe I have many such friends from my trip. I also felt very safe, including when I was on my own. Strangers go out of their way to help others, and I was quickly invited into many homes. The few people driving cars often offered lifts to others: a practice I took up in my rental car. While literally everyone is poor, there appeared to be little crime.

Economically, the country and people are in terrible shape, suffering from severe austerity, especially since support was dropped by the collapsing European communist world in the early 90’s. However, with some pride, several pointed out that what they have done successfully since, they have accomplished completely on their own, under great hardship. This includes continued success in the sports world.

The first meeting I had was at the Isla de la Juventud branch of the national university, which has a focus on sports and a large faculty. It was also the only meeting where I made a somewhat formal presentation. I spoke to around 20 sports professors, many of whom also serve as coaches/teachers in other settings. I primarily talked about my Olympic experiences and impressions from attending the last five Summer and two Winter Olympic Games. They were especially interested in my remarks about what I saw as the Olympic spirit among athletes, their families, spectators and volunteers. After a healthy question and answer period, the half dozen professors who had actually attended Olympic Games as athletes or coaches stayed, and we had a two way discussion about the Olympics, sports and Cuba.

In all of my interviews and meetings, I tried to determine what was the secret of Cuba’s success in Olympic and other international sports. I also asked the reverse, what was needed for continued or even greater success for Cuba, as well as the Olympic movement? Were their achievements due to an East German type of ruthless and singular focus on developing elite athletes? Did it depend on some secret lab along with illegal chemicals? How could an impoverished country of only 12 million people produce so many international medals in a variety of sports?

Since 1968, even though Cuba did not participate in the ’84 Los Angeles and ’88 Seoul Games, it has won 55 Olympic gold, and a total of 137 medals. In the 2000 Sydney Olympics, they ranked eighth among the 80 countries that won medals, with 11 gold and 29 total medals. In the 2001 World Athletics (Track and Field) Championships, Cuba finished in fourth place among all nations.

Over the next week, I toured virtually all of the sports and training facilities in the province and observed athletes of all ages and levels participating in such sports as volleyball, judo, kayak, baseball, swimming and tae kwon do. There was not time to visit an academic sports school. I was told the facilities were typical. I quickly came to the conclusion that facilities and equipment, especially in the last ten years of their “special period” of hardship after the collapse of the Soviet Union, were not part of the secret of Cuba’s athletic success.

By US and other modern countries standards, the facilities were less than would be found in any junior high/middle school, or beginning level private lesson sports school, such as say, for eight-year-old karate students. The buildings were not in better shape than any other Cuban housing or public structures, which generally need painting and some repair. The equipment was generally old and very basic. There were no frills. However, everything was extremely clean with no litter or trash around, which is true everywhere in Cuba.

An example would be the Kayak Academy. This Academy has produced several athletes who have been on the Cuba flatwater national team and won medals in the Olympics and other international competitions. It is located along a curved river just outside of the largest town in the area, Nueva Gerona. There is no competitive 500 or 1,000 meter racing basin available. The kayaks themselves are old and in poor shape. The newest boat is eight years old and the average age is probably 15. I saw none that come close to the standards of modern, high tech design or materials. Of the 30 kayaks in the storage room, only 16 were usable. The Cuban government has started making some new kayaks for use in the provinces, but this school had not received one yet. In a recent international meet, the Cuban competitor had to rent a kayak from another country.

The Academy can’t afford to obtain double-bladed paddles, so they make their own in a crude workshop using primitive tools. All together, there are five pieces of training equipment, including two old weight machines and an outdoor high curved climbing ladder along with ropes to build upper body strength. For paddling technique, there are two long boards to straddle, one on land for beginners and one in the water. The Academy buildings include a training room for lectures and viewing VCR training tapes, and a dining room for students and staff. The meals are prepared over an outdoor wood stove.

The largest gym in town - for basketball, volleyball and other team sports, as well as competitions for individual sports such as karate - is quite old. Interestingly, the only “sport” that has a separate facility in the gym is chess. Athletes are encouraged to train in chess to learn strategy and improve their minds. The playing floor of the gym is made of large squares of plywood, and as with all facilities, there is no air conditioning.

The one provincial swimming pool is Olympic-sized, and is ordinarily, like other facilities, open to the community when not being used for training purposes. However, it was empty when I was there because the filter was broken. It had been broken for several months and was not expected to be fixed for another few months. Over the years, the pool has provided classes for over 140,000 people. Diving is taught at the one hotel in the area that has a diving platform.

Obviously, excessive government funding for sports is not another secret in Cuba’s success. The University’s sports professors, coaches and administrators have salaries, living standards and housing the same as all other Cubans. A professor might earn a salary of up to the equivalent of $20 per month. While a top elite athlete may have the use of a car (no one “owns” one) and have his family subsidized, other athletes below that rarified level are all equal, and equally poor. The government acknowledges that athletes receive better food than the average Cubans with their ration books, but it is also stated that they need more. The government also indicates that it has an assistance policy that is for outstanding people in all areas of society, not just for sports figures. However, this generally translates to advantages other than salaries, such as travel and special recognition.

I found no evidence nor even heard rumors of unorthodox labs or use of drugs. While a few Cuban athletes have been disqualified after testing positive at meets, the numbers are much lower than those found in the “advanced” nations. Administrators were proud that Cuba was one of the few underdeveloped countries that houses an Olympic approved drug testing lab.

What then is their secret? It is grounded in their socialistic philosophy, which was implemented after the 1959 revolution and has evolved ever since. The key is that sports should be for all citizens, as part of a model that combines physical fitness, education and character development for improving both the mind and body. Out of mass participation and intense training come ever-improving athletic performance. They call it the “pyramid of high performance.” While originally based on the Soviet model, the Cuban system has managed to remain more humane and truer to the ideals of socialism. It is interesting that the results have also come close to some of the goals of the ancient Greeks and the founder of the modern Olympics, Pierre de Coubertin: that character, education and physical ability be married in, and by, widespread sports competition.

Sports and education are intertwined in Cuba, as Coubertin hoped would happen in his native France. In Cuba, athletes cannot progress in their sports training unless they also perform well academically. This point was reinforced by many athletes I spoke with, as well as by the administrators. While the ancient Olympic Games were conceived and practiced as a combination of religion and sports, in Cuba sports are seen, promoted and glorified as the result of, and interaction with, the socialistic society and system. “Physical culture” with its program of sports and recreation is seen as a key feature in the development of society and the health of the people. As a byproduct, sport make the people enthusiastic and happy.

Since the revolution, Cuba has largely accomplished the objectives of mass participation, democratization of sport and recreation, and the development of elite athletes who are successful on the international stage. This has been accomplished over the years by central planning and control; funds designated for building widespread facilities and providing basic equipment, training coaches and educators, identifying potential athletes, and providing specialized training in general and sports schools; and by conducting and disseminating the results of sports research.

A counterweight to their progress has been the decline of the Cuban economy and necessary resources. However, it is said that at the national level the sports structure is now somewhat self-funding after cutbacks and with income from such outside sources as providing coaches and training to other countries. I met coaches who had provided training for other countries, and, among the older ones, had been trained and educated themselves in formerly communist countries.

The impact of the mass sports philosophy can easily be seen at the local gyms. They are in constant use during and after school with training, athletic contests and recreation in a variety of sports. This is all coordinated in each province by INDER - the National Institute for Sports, Education and Recreation - the governmental body that has central control of all physical culture. According to the local Director, INDER is responsible for all such activities for 8-year–olds through post-high school athletes just below the national team level. Many local athletes - though from a remote province - have been selected for the national team in their respective sports.

While there is a national system for athlete evaluation, there is also an attempt made to not require specialization too early. My translator, who had been a Junior National Weightlifting Champion in high school, had participated in various sports including judo, swimming, kickboxing and tae kwon do. He currently is 23, finishing his University education and has been in training in the shot put for the last two years. In visiting the judo center, it was stated that training in that sport started after the sixth grade and went up to a top class of 17 to 20 year-olds. The coaches all had black belts and had been on the national team.

At the Kayak Academy, 72 students were in five levels of training classes, starting at age 11. The Academy has graduated 15 athletes to the national team since the permanent facilities were built in 198l.

Some students who attend specialized sports training live in dorms and are supplied with housing and meals. Others receive some food and specialized equipment that is required to play their sport, including shoes. I toured one such dorm and it was very basic with steel bunks and separate rooms for boys and girls.

Full time academic sports schools, or EIDE’s, Schools for the Initiation of Scholastic Sports are also in place for a limited number of students who have been selected based on athletic ability and promise, and academic record. In all community education and specialized sports schools, sport is taught in the context of broader objectives of history and philosophy. Olympic history and ideals are also emphasized. In the full-time sport schools, sports education and training are taught along with the standard academic disciplines. Students may start as early as the fourth grade and be live-ins or stay-at-homes. There is at least one EIDE in each of Cuba’s provinces. The local EIDE has an enrollment of approximately 400 student athletes. I hope to visit a full-time academic EIDE on my next visit.

If an athlete shows truly superior talent, he or she may then be selected to be on a national team and receive even more specialized training. There is competition in order to progress through the system at all levels with constant evaluation.

All education through the university level, all sports training and all recreation are free to all Cubans. I attended a post-season inter-provincial baseball tournament, which determined the best province team in all of Cuba. It was free and packed with home team supporters (we won). If all of the sports activities and training were not free, I’m afraid that no one would be able to afford attendance and participation.

While it is difficult to get permission to live outside of your home province, this is seen as a positive restriction by the sports establishment, which encourages successful athletes to live, work and retire in their home area. I kept meeting coaches, professors and ex-athletes who were from the local area and working in the sport hierarchy. They were passing on their knowledge and experience and inspiring younger Cubans. Even though many had been on the national teams and are considered heroes, they were accessible to the public, live in the same conditions and fit into the same lifestyle.

I usually concluded all of my discussions with the general question of what improvements could be made to better sports. The unanimous answer at the international level was more money and resources for poor countries, such as Cuba. Several suggested that the IOC subsidize underdeveloped countries’ and athletes’ expenses so they could develop and present stronger teams. It was pointed out that some elite athletes, such as from Africa, now have to become citizens of other countries to compete successfully. In Cuba, presently there is not enough money to send more than one athlete to many international competitions. Cuba is in an especially bad position, as it cannot even get loans from other countries because of its credit situation. One unique idea that has been floated is for needy countries that have shown a strong effort in sports be supported to host the Olympic Games every 12 years or so. For those Games, perhaps fewer athletes would attend and some of the more expensive sports (i.e. white water) be eliminated. This would also leave a physical heritage that is really needed in such countries.

At the national level, the only suggestion was continued advances in scientific research and dissemination of results with required specialized equipment. At the local level, the overwhelming need was for more resources and equipment.

That then, was my week in provincial Cuba. As everyone told me, the secret of the Cuban success has been the organization and involvement of all the Cuban people and the training all the way up the pyramid to the Olympic and other international levels. It has a strong foundation built over the last 40 years since the revolution. How long the success will continue under the current declining economic conditions is hard to say.

My observations and conclusions are my own. Obviously, I may have not gotten all of the facts and details correct due to my lack of Spanish and my observation of sport at the provincial level only. However, I was given every opportunity to visit and discuss anything with anyone I wanted. I wish to thank Professor Douglas Crispin Castellanos and my primary translator, Yurel Bolumen Caballero, for all of their time and help, as well as their friendship.

posted by Anonymous at 4:25 PM

 
Todd's Terror
I just got off the phone with a friend who has a son in college. He must be old. The son and his friends rented a motorhome and drove down to Florida for spring break; they had some problems. My friends and I did that in 1979; we had some problems too.

"Come on down to R.V. Todd's - we've got motorhomes galore. We've got Winnebagos, hell, we've got a whole herd of Winnebagos, we're giving them away. No insurance, no money, no brains, no problem!"

Todd - a towering, porcine figure - rented us his most damaged, abused, unmaintained and undriveable pile of shit. It looked nice though. Rented out of Columbus, Ohio, Todd's Terror broke down three time before Dayton, less than 100 miles away. We were so charged up and drunk and stoned already that we just kept smiling and driving and breaking down. We had flameouts, flat tires, steering wheel seizures, flying side view mirrors and a leaking toilet. We memorized R.V. Todd's phone number without trying.

Todd said, "Keep smiling boys, just fix it and save the receipts. It's no problem." Being that we felt the inexorable pull of the South and exposed, nubile brown bodies, we kept lumbering on. We figured at worst we could roll downhill all the way to the beach at Lauderdale. Besides, we didn't want to argue, we wanted to party. This was before MADD or SADD or AIDS - life was sweet for drunken, horny college students.

We took turns behind the wheel. Our pattern: party strenuously, pass out, wake up and drive. The party finally limped into the Sunshine state and the scene was wilder than we had even imagined. We ran into charming young ladies (everyone is friendlier on vacation) we knew from school, we met girls from every corner of the Midwest and the East. It was a veritable collegiate United Nations.

Everyone was running around and yelling and screaming and drinking beer on the beach and driving around maniacally. Man, those were different days. We wound up in strange motel rooms with even stranger young women. Everything was cool as long as we kept heading in a generally southward direction because there were girls and sun and sand and water Everywhere We Went!

"Nice wheels, guys, can you give us a ride?"

This is the way it was meant to be. What motorhome problems? We hooked up with a big party of loonies from school down in Key West, at the very edge of reality, a few miles from Cuba. We could see Cuba - couldn't see any communists.

We saw the "Green Flash," the graceful, thin young men with tote bags, Hemmingway's bar, and people lying on the beach strumming guitars and looking wistfully into each other's eyes like Frankie and Annette, but with genitals.

We snorkeled, got real burnt, and found ourselves once again in strange motel rooms with golden brown young women. We even got up the motivation to prepare a shrimp, clam and miscellaneous shellfish stew in a throat- and mind-numbing beer-spice-pepper liquid, over a fire, right on the beach. Very holistic and cosmic, man. All was right with the world.

This was the apex of our trip geographically and psychically. We headed north along the Gulf having had a swell time and having broken many a fluttering heart, or something like that. Somewhere in Georgia, the engine of the Pleasure Beast began screeching most unpleasantly and emitting smoke in the shockingly virulent hues of a Key West sunset. Just then, over the radio Dire Straits sang "good night, now it's time to go home." We glanced knowingly at each other as the song was drowned out by a screech from somewhere under the floor that had an air of finality to it. Then the radio died.

"That's it, not only has the goddamed engine flamed out, but the radio is history too. We're calling the Fat Man."

We called R.V. Todd and suggested that he fly us home lest we grow really impatient and drive the incredible screeching, smoking, disintegrating deathtrap into the nearest swamp, pronto, good buddy. R.V. Todd blustered, hemmed and hawed, but our resolve was firm and when talk turned to lawsuits, negligence and wreckless endangerment, Todd relented. "It's no problem."

We winged our way out of a rural Georgian airport that consisted of a diner, a hangar, and a runway, having left the Menace at a local tow shop with the banjo player from Deliverance, who assured us that he would take "real good care of her" as he wiped foam from around his toothless mouth. This was a most untriumphant ending to our R.V. Odyssey, but we all agreed that the good had far outweighed the bad, which we had basically ignored as long as we could.

A few weeks later we were sitting around watching late night TV when R.V. Todd came on with his "Come on down to R.V. Todd's - we've got motorhomes galore. We've got Winnebagos, hell, we've got a whole herd of Winnebagos, we're giving them away. No insurance, no money, no brains, no problem!" Six cans of beer and a shoe hit the TV simultaneously. Good thing we were graduating.

UPDATE
Mike finds a site that BOLDLY CHALLENGES THE HEMINGWAY-CONNECTION ASSERTION OF SLOPPY JOE'S.
posted by Anonymous at 1:24 PM

 
As Is Often the Case, I Missed the REAL Issue
So I just went through this whole big hoo-ha about pilots and guns, but I missed an even bigger issue, which was missed not by the suavely bespectacled eye of Stephen Green:

Curiously, Will argues in favor of making pilots – even Air Force fighter jocks – wear bowties.

posted by Anonymous at 12:46 PM

 
A Little Honesty
Thomas Boswell agrees with me almost word for word about steroids and baseball:

After years of denial, the people who run professional baseball will now finally be forced to admit that every player in the entire sport faces a horrible choice every day of his career. Either use illegal drugs that may do serious long-term damage to your health, or watch as others who do use steroids cheat you out of the money, the fame or the records that ought to be yours if the playing field were truly level.

The devil could hardly concoct a more perfectly sinister moral dilemma. If you use steroids, you may damage your heart or liver, have a stroke or suffer a career-ending injury because your muscles are too strong for your ligaments and tendons.

But if you don't use steroids, a great many people in your profession may have a significant unfair advantage over you.

....Some questions, once asked, provide their own answers. For example, how can baseball, once an appreciable level of steroid use is acknowledged, avoid instituting drug-testing policies similar to those that already obtain in the NFL, NBA and Olympics?

The answer is: It can't.

Partly it's as simple as validating, or perhaps exposing, your game's biggest stars. Any hulk who has hit 40 homers or thrown a 96 mph fastball will now be looked at a bit differently. Okay, not skinny Pedro Martinez. If he has taken steroids, he should get his money back. It should be noted that few baseball insiders think that many pitchers take steroids. It's a slugger thing.

That's why great hitters, such as Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa, deserve a sport with a reasonable drug testing policy. Otherwise, their records may always have doubters. Baseball always loves to duck a difficult problem as though it was just a brushback pitch. But it shouldn't sidestep this one.

Absolutely nothing corrupts the core of any sport worse than steroids.

The game needs a huge injection of honesty: let's see the real financials from the owners and share media income equally as do all other sports - you don't have a NY media market if you don't have someone to play George; let's hear the players admit they are obscenely overpaid, pampered pets who have lost all touch with economic reality; let's admit there is a serious steroid problem and RANDOMLY TEST FOR IT LIKE ALL OTHER SPORTS.
posted by Anonymous at 12:23 PM

 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BILL QUICK!!!
posted by Anonymous at 12:02 PM

 
Pilots and Their Arms
I haven't talked about guns yet. I am not a gun person: never owned one, never fired anything stronger than an air gun. I don't think the world would be safer with a gun in every house, nor a concealed weapon in every pocket. I am persuaded as to the constitutionality of the right of American citizens to bear arms, but I can't imagine why any civilian needs automatic weapons, etc. I don't see the requirement to register guns as an infringement of any kind: we register cars and dogs; we require a license to fish, drive, practice law, fly a plane, or get married.

But in the wake of September 11, I have been sympathetic to calls to allow airline pilots to be armed. If it makes them feel more secure, why not? This is Steve Chapman's perspective:

Consider: In March, we learned that an undercover test of security at 32 airports showed plenty of holes. A report by the Transportation Department's inspector general noted that baggage screeners missed 70 percent of knives, 30 percent of guns and 60 percent of simulated explosives. That was before the federal government began taking over security, but the problem is not easily solved. Current screening technology can't detect many sharp instruments or explosives.

So terrorists may be able to get weapons. Thus armed, they may have no trouble breaching those reinforced cockpit doors. Or they might just wait until a pilot goes to the lavatory.

But won't the new air marshals be able to stop an attack? Only if they're present. The federal government currently has no more than 1,000 marshals, who never work solo, while the airlines conduct 35,000 flights per day. At best, marshals could cover 500 flights on any given day--or one out of every 70.

...One far-fetched fear is that experienced aviators will suddenly turn into trigger-happy cowboys. ALPA says pilots should be allowed to have guns only if they pass psychological evaluations, get 48 hours of special training and demonstrate proficiency in the use of the weapon. Then, it says, they should be authorized to fire only to prevent a terrorist from interfering with the pilots or seizing control of the plane.

The great advantage of arming pilots, though, is not that they could shoot a hijacker. It's that they would deter terrorists from trying to hijack a plane at all. If all their trouble is going to lead them to the business end of a .45, Al Qaeda operatives will have a strong incentive to look for softer targets.

An armed pilot is not a perfectly risk-free option. But compare it to the dangers of unarmed pilots.

Somewhat surprisingly to me, George Will takes the opposite stance:

Three pilots of a major airline recently gathered here at George Bush Intercontinental Airport to discuss whether, as an anti-terrorism measure, pilots should be armed. The Transportation Department says guns will not be permitted in cockpits. Some in Congress will try to overturn this ban. The Air Line Pilots Association (ALPA), which represents 62,000 pilots working for 42 airlines, adamantly favors arming them.

These three pilots -- two trained in the military, one in civilian life -- are ALPA members. They have a cumulative 75 years of experience flying for commercial airlines. None has an aversion to guns. Says one, "I was raised around guns all my life." Says another, "I've not got any affinity for gun control." Says the third, "I love guns. Been a hunter all my life. I'm adamantly against gun control."

All three oppose arming pilots.

These pilots see guns as a distraction from the pilot's primary duty: get the plane on the ground as quickly as possible:

the overriding priority must be to guarantee that cockpits are sealed behind bulletproof doors, protecting the flight deck from intrusion while pilots get the plane on the ground as quickly as possible. Which can be 10 minutes -- as pilots know from training to deal with the problem of sudden decompression of an aircraft.

Prior to Sept. 11, if a passenger became unruly, the pilot might come back into the cabin to assert authority. No more. Says one of these three, "The flight attendants know they are on their own."

"You cannot fly an airplane and look over your shoulder, firing down the cabin," says one of these pilots. What you could do, he says, is look down the cabin by means of a closed-circuit television camera that would warn the flight deck of cabin disturbances requiring quick action to take the plane to the ground. Flight plans should show the nearest alternative airport at every stage of every flight.

A gun could also be an incentive to uncalled for bravery:

There is some truth to the profile of fighter pilots as, well, live wires and risk-takers. Arming them might incite them to imprudent bravery. Armed pilots would be more inclined to go out into the cabin, whereas the primary goal should be getting the plane to the ground.

Though conceding that had pilots been armed on September 11, box cutters would not have been sufficient weaponry to commandeer the planes, this does not persuade Will nor his three pilots:

the pilots of El Al, Israel's airline, are not armed, and the airline has not had a hijacking in 34 years. The three pilots consider this evidence for the argument that the deterrence effect of armed pilots is not essential. Furthermore, gunfire in the cockpit could easily shatter the windshield. In which case, says one of these pilots, "someone is going to be sucked out -- the terrorist, if he's not strapped in."

"There are," says one of the three, "a lot of what-ifs and don't knows" when you decide to arm pilots. These pilots know they are against that.

The "wait until he goes to the bathroom" argument seems to me the most persuasive for arming pilots: even with bulletproof doors, the pilot has to go to the bathroom sometime, and the hijacker(s) could simply wait until then to strike. This is true, but there would always be a co-pilot in the cockpit capable of landing the plane: the #1 priority in a hijack situation now. In addition, if we are going to refer to Israel as the final word on security issues, then we should be consistent and do so here. Of course, we also are aware that Israel puts armed agents on every flight, and their security priority on finding the terrorist rather than the weapon:

Israeli specialists have a low regard for American security searches. They say they tend to cause unnecessary discomfort for travelers, while being prone to missing potential assailants. "The United States does not have a security system, it has a system for bothering people," Dror says.

"The difference between the Israeli and American systems is that we are looking for the terrorist, while the Americans look for the weapons," he adds.

At the heart of the Israeli system is the questioning of the passenger, which Dror says is done not only to get answers, but also to gauge the passenger's behavior. "The reason we open the suitcase is to have another few minutes with the passenger, to ask some more questions," he says. The questioning also serves as a way to quickly decide who to send to the plane without probing more thoroughly, he adds. Dror advocates Israeli-style security clearances for all workers at the companies for whom he consults. They entail checking a person's history by interviewing acquaintances and family "We check the man himself, not documents."

But Dror adds that Israeli methods, even if fully adopted, will not stop all attacks. "There is no 100 percent in security. If you want 100 percent security on flights, every passenger has to take all his clothes off, have his suitcase checked, and be handcuffed and tied to his seat. For sure this can never be. The idea is to enable people to continue their lives while making an attack less possible."

We need many more air marshalls, we need hardcore bulletproof cockpit doors, we need a security system geared toward finding the terrorist not just the weapon, we need video monitors of the cabin in the cockpit, we need pilots to get the plane to the ground at the first hint of trouble. Arming pilots is a very tempting but ultimately bad idea.
posted by Anonymous at 11:00 AM

 
Cool Tunes - John Paul Hammond, John Henry Hammond Jr.

Sons of legends never have it easy. Life is difficult enough without the burden of comparisons impossible to meet. Most either run screaming in another direction or coast in the slipstream of parental greatness. Perhaps most difficult of all is the attempt to achieve independence within the same field. Such has been the noble pursuit and ultimate success of John Paul Hammond (JP), first son of the most important record producer of all time, John Henry Hammond Jr. (JH).

JP is on tour now behind his W.C. Handy Award-winning CD, Wicked Grin, with songs written and produced by Tom Waits.

JP was born November 13, 1942 in NYC's Village. His father was drafted into the Army when JP was 2. JP was sent to the Little Red Schoolhouse, known as the “commie school” by the local Italian community. His parents divorced in 1948. At the Schoolhouse, JP had a black music teacher named Charity Bailey who got all of the children involved with playing some kind of instrument and singing songs like Leadbelly’s “Jump Down, Turn Around, Pick a Bale of Cotton.” JP only saw his father on some weekends and for a few weeks in the summer, but in their time together JP attended recording sessions, met many of his father’s musician friends like Count Basie and Jimmy Rushing, and became aware that music was a way of life for some people.

JP was more of a visual arts student and was encouraged in this direction. He loved R&B and early rock ’n’ roll, but when his father took him to see Big Bill Broonzy, JP became hooked on the country blues. The “personal statement of the solo artist” deeply affected him.

He didn’t get his first guitar until he was 17, but all he did was eat, sleep and practice for the next two years; by 19 he was playing professionally “much to the shock of everyone around me,” he says. JH was “surprised and not pleased” when his first son left school to become a musician, informing him that it was a very difficult life and a hard way to make any money. However, within a year JP had a recording contract and his father’s fears were eased. When it became clear that his son wasn’t going to change his mind or go back to school, JH became supportive, but they both tried to steer clear of the appearance or reality of the father’s influence on the son’s career.

JP was never dependent upon JH for “work or my own reality,” he says. Father and son “connected deeply on the passion level” and even worked for the same company for a time when JP was signed to Columbia to do the Little Big Man soundtrack in 1970, but they never worked together.

JP has had an outstanding career as perhaps the most important white country blues player of the last 30 years, recording dozens of albums for Vanguard, Atlantic, Columbia, Capricorn, Rounder and now Point Blank. Highlights include Country Blues (‘64), I Can Tell ('67), Live (‘83); and more recently, Trouble No More (‘93) and Found True Love (‘95) where he proves his mettle with the electric guitar and as a bandleader. John Paul Hammond has quietly shown his own light and cleared a space within the monumental shadow of his father and is deserving of respect and admiration for having done so.

John Henry Hammond Jr.
John Hammond is the most important non-performer in 20th Century popular music. The names of the artists he produced or championed attest to the remarkable reach of his long, long arm: Fletcher Henderson, Bessie Smith, Benny Goodman, Billie Holiday, Count Basie, Charlie Christian, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, George Benson, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Ray Vaughan. Perhaps Hammond’s single greatest and most enduring achievement is the From Spirituals to Swing concert at Carnegie Hall in December of 1938 that clarified the evolution of black music from Africa, through country blues and gospel, and on to jazz for a white urban audience. The importance of this concert can’t be overstated from a musical, cultural, or political standpoint; in retrospect it was the moment of conception for the integration of blacks into the American mainstream. Though the process continues to this day, the differences between the America of the late-’30s and the late-’90s begin with Hammond and his musical emissaries.

John Henry Hammond Jr. was born December 15, 1910, the fifth child and first son of a prominent lawyer and the granddaughter of Cornelius Vanderbilt. The family lived in the lap of luxury in a six-story house on 91st Street in New York City with 15 servants, according to Hammond’s autobiography (with Irving Townsend) John Hammond On Record.

His mother played classical piano and had a box at the New York Philharmonic; young John was exposed to the fine arts, attending concerts and taking piano lessons from the age of 4. He switched to violin at 8, played duets with his mother for social gatherings, and was the darling of her circle.

Meanwhile, this scion of wealth and privilege was joining the servants to listen to popular music on their Columbia Grafanola whenever he could sneak away. He began collecting records of his own at age 10. He loved the boogie woogie piano of black players like James P. Johnson (who wrote the original “Charleston”). Hammond began reading Variety at 13 and went away to the Hotchkiss School in Connecticut at age 14. A religious young man who neither smoked nor drank, Hammond was granted the unprecedented liberty of traveling alone to New York every other weekend for violin lessons, and took the opportunity to explore Harlem and meet the musicians who made the music he loved.

In 1927, the formerly white Alhambra Theater “went black,” and as Hammond walked by he read the sign: “This week in person the Empress of the Blues, Bessie Smith.” Hammond went to the show that night and saw Smith at the peak of her career; he called it “the biggest thrill of my life.” Hammond deemed Smith to be the “greatest vocalist to come out of the blues tradition”; an opinion he held for the rest of his life.

The next year Hammond matriculated at Yale and switched from violin to viola because, as a matter of practicality, his fingers weren’t as good as his ears, and as there was a scarcity of violists, he could play in string quartets with people who were much better than he was.

Hammond played with a cellist named Artie Bernstein who had worked his way through NYU law school playing bass with pop and jazz bands in the area. Bernstein knew most of the white musicians in the area, Hammond knew most of the black, and together they knew them all. An enthusiastic evangelist, Hammond’s favorite spot to take Bernstein and other white friends was Small’s Paradise (an illegal speakeasy - Prohibition lasted from 1920-’33) in Harlem which featured blues and jazz performers backed by Charlie Johnson’s house band.

Hammond began writing about his enthusiasm for jazz, and Yale began to seem irrelevant. A bout with hepatitis the summer before his junior year made up his mind and Hammond left school to pursue a life in music full-time. Recovered and writing for Gramaphone, Hammond went to England in late-summer-‘31 because the English were more interested in jazz than white Americans, and because the bottom had fallen out of the American record market with the advent of the Depression. In England Hammond met Spike Hughes, recording director for English Decca, who asked him to keep his eyes open for promising jazz musicians, including a white clarinetist named Benny Goodman. Hammond also came away from England as the U.S. correspondent for Melody Maker.

Full of confidence and ready to make a difference, Hammond saw a piano player named Garland Wilson and decided he should be recorded. Hammond went to Columbia’s Frank Walker (because Walker had discovered Bessie Smith years before) and offered to fund and produce the Wilson session himself. Walker quoted Hammond the price of $125 for four 12-inch sides (12-inch 78’s ran about five minutes a side and were recorded with one microphone, direct to acetate), and Hammond had to buy 150 of the finished records. “St. James Infirmary” backed with “When Your Lover Has Gone” sold several thousand copies and was a substantial hit for the day. At 20, John Hammond was a successful record producer.

Hammond moved to an apartment in Greenwich Village on his 21st birthday and felt at home amongst the artists, writers and bohemian types. Though personally untouched by the Depression, Hammond’s sensibilities were radicalized by it (he was a leftist but never a Marxist); and as an idealist and reformer, he was scandalized by the fact that segregation kept black jazz musicians from the more lucrative jobs on radio or in the white clubs.

To further spread the jazz word, Hammond became a DJ at radio station WEVD (named after Socialist leader Eugene V. Debs) owned by the Jewish Daily Forward newspaper. He instituted the first regular live jazz series anywhere, paying his favorite performers $10 each out of his own pocket to come in to the station to jam on Saturday nights. Unwilling to compromise his principles, Hammond took the series off the air after ten weeks when the black musicians were asked to use the freight elevator.

As a jazz critic, Hammond’s main theme was that white players couldn’t match the “unbuttoned freedom and swing of a superb Negro rhythm section” - the foundation necessary for great improvisation - and for this stance he was called a “nigger lover,” among juicier things. Undaunted, Hammond began to write on social issues as well as music for The Nation.

In ‘32 he covered the Scottsboro case in Alabama (nine black youths were framed for raping two white women in a freight car) which eventually went to four trials, the Supreme Court twice, and scored a moral victory in that none of the defendants were executed (although some died in custody). Hammond helped finance the first appeal and second trial by staging a benefit concert with Benny Carter’s Orchestra and Duke Ellington playing solo in New York. Hammond soon after joined the board of the NAACP.

Returning to music, Columbia recording director Ben Selvin asked Hammond if he knew of any jazz artists who should be recorded. Hammond’s first choice was Fletcher Henderson, the Father of Swing, whose arrangements were the first to allow room for his whole band to improvise. Henderson, always his own worst enemy, showed up late for the session, and only had time to record two songs -
“Underneath the Harlem Moon” and “Honeysuckle Rose” - but the session remained one of Hammond’s favorites.

In ‘33 Hammond tracked down Bessie Smith, who hadn’t recorded in some time, and recorded one of her best-known songs, “Do Your Duty.” Hammond again financed the session himself and integrated it by including Benny Goodman. Goodman was a tough guy from Chicago, whom Hammond called “one of the most important people in my life” in the PBS special John Hammond - From Bessie Smith to Bruce Springsteen. Hammond thought their close relationship was odd (Goodman later married Hammond’s sister Alice) because Goodman “didn’t have much of a social point of view and couldn’t understand why I did, but he loved black music,” said Hammond.

Goodman, to become the greatest white musician in jazz history, then made his living playing as a session man and fronted an all- white band. He told Hammond that if anyone knew he played with black musicians, he would be barred from work. New York was as segregated as Birmingham in ‘33. Hammond’s first two records with Goodman were with an all-white group, and were moderately successful. Hammond then took Goodman to see Billie Holiday and they recorded together in late-’33 - the color line was broken, at least in the studio. Hammond then brought in black piano player Teddy Wilson from Chicago and he began to record with Goodman. Hammond encouraged the formation of a small jazz combo, and the Benny Goodman Trio with (great white drummer) Gene Krupa and Teddy Wilson was formed.

Throughout the ‘30s Hammond and Goodman broke barrier after barrier when first Wilson, then vibraphonist Lionel Hampton and electric guitar great Charlie Christian were added to the Goodman band, which became among the most popular in the land. Hammond brought in Fletcher Henderson to write arrangements for Goodman and the swing swung like never before.

Hammond’s next major discovery was the Count Basie Band, whom he heard on the radio in his car in Chicago, broadcast live from Kansas City one cold January night in ‘36. The Basie Band was one he “couldn’t find any fault with.” The band included Hammond’s favorite drummer Jo Jones (with “extraordinary wit in his playing”), Lester “Prez” Young on tenor sax, and Jimmy Rushing on vocals. According to Hammond, “Fletcher Henderson started the liberation of the soloist and Basie continued it,” per the PBS special.

Hammond’s other major discovery in the ‘30s was Billie Holiday. He first saw her at Monette Moore’s club as a substitute singer in ‘33. She was “17, chubby, quite beautiful. I had never heard anyone sing like that, as though she were the most inspired improviser in the world. She had an uncanny ear, an excellent memory for lyrics, and she sang with an exquisite sense of phrasing..she sang the way Louis Armstrong played horn,” wrote Hammond. He followed her from speak-easy to speak-easy in Harlem that year and wrote about her in Melody Maker. He put her together with Teddy Wilson and small combos made up from members of Basie’s band.

Hammond capped off his extraordinary decade of the ‘30s with the Spirituals to Swing concert in late-’38. The concert began with recorded West African music; then boogie woogie pianists Albert Ammons, Meade Lux Lewis and Pete Johnson; blues shouter Big Joe Turner; gospel singer Sister Rosetta Tharpe; blues singer Ruby Smith; pure gospel from Mitchell’s Christian Singers; blind harmonica player Sonny Terry; then the New Orleans Dixieland jazz of James P. Johnson, Tommy Ladnier and Sidney Bechet; country blues singer Big Bill Broonzy; and finally, the elegant jazz of the Basie Band with singers Jimmy Rushing and Helen Humes.

Hammond again put his money where his mouth was and invested in New York’s first integrated nightclub, Cafe Society, which was a great success for many years featuring many of Hammond’s favorite jazz and blues performers.

The ‘40s were a difficult time for Hammond: his second (of three) son Douglas died, he got divorced, and the onset of be bop alienated him from jazz. He mostly recorded classical music in Europe.

In the late-’50s Goddard Lieberson, who had helped Hammond scout the South for talent for the Spirituals to Swing concert, was president of Columbia and invited Hammond back into the fold. On a songwriters demo tape, Hammond found an 18-year-old Aretha Franklin singing and immediately dubbed her the greatest singer since Billie Holiday. Hammond recorded her with jazz musicians, but Columbia wanted her to record pop and took her away from him. She came into her own on Atlantic where, as Jerry Wexler told Hammond, “We put the church back in her.”

According to the PBS special, “Hammond believed that music should be an engine of social change, and looked to the protest songs of the early-’60s to counteract the sentimentality of the ‘50s.” Pete Seeger had been blacklisted as a communist in the ‘50s, but Hammond brought him to Columbia in the early-’60s. His “We Shall Overcome “ became an American standard in ‘63.

Hammond was an as activist who wanted to change the world and Bob Dylan did too. Hammond spotted Dylan for the talent he was amongst the folky rabble of the Village, signed him to Columbia and recorded his first two albums plainly without overdubs or accompaniment other than Dylan’s own guitar and harmonica. “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” are about as pure as it gets. Dubbed “Hammond’s folly” early-on at the label, Dylan has gone on to be the most important songwriter of the last 40 years.

In the early-’70s Hammond found the only “next Dylan” who ever amounted to much, Bruce Springsteen. When they met, Hammond asked Springsteen if he had ever written anything he wouldn’t dare record. Springsteen replied with “If I Was the Priest,” a scathing indictment from a lapsed Catholic. Hammond connected with Springsteen in the two-hour audition and signed him to Columbia, though he never produced the most important artist of the ‘70s. In ‘75 Hammond reached mandatory retirement age with Columbia, but stayed on as an independent, found Stevie Ray Vaughan and produced his first sessions. John Hammond died in ‘87. He never accepted royalties from any of his productions, viewing them as the artist’s due.

Hammond defines himself as he defined the role of the producer in his autobiography: “All [producers] have an ear for talent and tune, the courage and determination to hear performed what they hear in their lively imaginations, and the good fortune to be at the right place at the right time.” In Hammond’s case being at the right place at the right time lasted over 50 years and changed the course of America and the world.

Cool Tunes is a radio show in a magazine format Saturday nights at 10pm (Eastern) on WAPS, "The Summit," in Akron, Ohio. I play new music, reissues, and preview shows coming to town each week. Musically it is among the widest-ranging 2 hours in the country: modern rock, punk, electronica, jazz, reggae and ska, roots rock, Americana, blues, world, funk, hip hop, avant garde, etc. - if it's cool I play it. Cool Tunes has been proudly serving humanity since 1990. This feature can also be found at Hear/Say online.
posted by Anonymous at 10:00 AM