Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Poemlets and Fragmentaries

Hadn't written anything in weeks. Not even a fragment. Then this:


Deer tonight
in the almost dark, three watching a fourth
run down the hill over the unexpected
April snow:

figuring
you’d be finished with the letter, I turned
at the stop sign past the planted pine field rows
toward home.



It's sort of a sijo, I think -- not formaically, but in its tone and approach.

I was successful, once, at rebuilding my poetry after a long blocked whirlwind time of incoherence. Maybe it's time to begin again.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:25 PM | 0 comments


Radio, Radio

The big news tonight isn't the weekly radio show -- after all, it's hard to imagine how a weekly event could be big news. It's the damn snow. Two inches of it so far, wet and slushy but unquestionably the same old white stuff that's been falling on and off and on again since November. What the heck happened to Spring? Ginny and I barely made it home.

That's not to suggest that the show wasn't good, of course. We talked about the weather, and plugged the upcoming Soulfest dance like good little doobees. More call-ins than usual; I think the prospect of a long weekend at home is overexciting the students, as most were laughing too hard for us to understand their requests, but we managed to find "something with harmonica in it" for one kid, and a Be Good Tanyas song for Molly. I played a short set of NMH-related artists -- a recent alum, a faculty spouse, and an old song which I keep meaning to empeethree and post but never end up getting to, from my days in Boston-based long-defunct band, Not Earthshaking (the only one of us still making music these days is PJ). Otherwise, an eclectic and generally mellow mix. Tonight's Tributary playlist follows; stop me if you've hear this one before. As always, cover songs are starred; free coffee for a week -- really! -- to anyone who can correctly identify the original performers of all starred songs.

Donna the Buffalo -- Riddle of the Universe
De La Soul -- The Magic Number (remix)
Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man (the
Tributary theme song)
*Chris Ardoin and Double Clutchin' -- Your Love Keeps Lifting me (Higher and Higher)
Suzanne Vega -- Fat Man and Dancing Girl
Trey Anastasio -- Money, Love and Change
The Biscuit Boys -- Boograss
Ani DiFranco -- Angry Anymore
*Alana Davis -- 32 Flavors
*Laura Love -- Come As You Are
Eddie From Ohio -- Irish Dream
*Dolly Parton -- Shine
Be Good Tanyas -- Reuben
Mark Erelli -- I Thought I Heard You Knocking
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers -- Billy The Kid
Grateful Dead -- Dire Wolf
Keller Williams -- Anyhow, Anyway
Bruce Cockburn -- Down to the Delta
Peter Siegel -- Rainy Night in Montague
Not Earthshaking -- One False Move
Pippi Kessler -- Sound Like Me
Acoustic Syndicate -- Crazy Town
Raffi -- Baby Beluga (by request, natch!)
Alison Krauss -- Forget About It
Brooks Williams -- Unexpected Rose
*Gillian Welch -- Summer Evening
*Dixie Chicks -- Let Him Fly

posted by boyhowdy | 12:59 AM | 0 comments

Monday, April 07, 2003

War Profiteering For The Lord

Saturday's Miami Herald brings us yet another tragedy in God's name: in the middle of a severe water shortage in a desert, for Christ's sake, Army chaplain Josh Llano of Houston has managed to hoard 500 gallons of "pristine, cool water" and is offering baths to any military soul who comes along. The catch? Let's let chaplain Llano speak for himself:

It's simple. They want water. I have it, as long as they agree to get baptized.

Dear God.

Bonus: Different Strings shows more focused and coherent outrage on this one than anyone I've seen so far, first with a compare-and-contrast between Llano's behavior and the requirements for being an Army Chaplain (clause 1. c. Sensitive to religious pluralism and able to provide for the free exercise of religion by all military personnel, their family members and civilians who work for the Army.), and then with an Open Letter To The Chief Of Army Chaplains.

Added bonus: the Army camp where this horror story takes place is called "Camp Bushmaster." Kudos to the General with a sense of humor who managed to combine the presidential and the kinky into a single innocuous-when-taken-literally phrase.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:19 PM | 0 comments


The Muppets Go Global: How PC is Too PC?



Brought to you by the letters P and C


Welcome to the new mass media millenium. Mr. Rogers has passed on to the great neighborhood in the sky. South Park will air its one 100th show this Wednesday night; Kenny's back; it promises to be a doozy. Al-Jazeera gets more hits than CNN, despite its anti-american slant. And, on the eve of its 34th season, Sesame Street goes global village. Salon explains:

The 34th season of "Sesame Street" premieres Monday on PBS, offering more chances to peer into the souls of a whole new bevy of guests, from Sheryl Crow to first lady Laura Bush. The show has also added new features, aimed at increasing children's awareness of other cultures. In "Global Grover," the shoulderless blue one appears in costumes from around the world and narrates short documentaries about children from different countries.

Documentaries? For children? What I used to love about Sesame Street -- what worked -- was the locality of it all. Sesame Street may be imaginary, but in its original form, it was less of a world than a street itself, multicultural but seemingly right down the road apiece. We grew up, dear reader, in an era where the community was small and tight-knit, where Bob and Maria might stop in at any moment, where Oscar's can never did get picked up and tossed. The diversity was in those who had found the street, and those who stopped by; the street was small and finite, but it connected to the universe of ideas and cultures just fine, thanks.

What Sesame Street means by this new move, though, isn't to bring the world into the street, as was once the approach. It's to broaden the street until it becomes the world, by sending Grover in silly costume out to see the universe on a daily basis: kites in Malaysia, goat milking in Egypt, Russian dancers, Freedom Fries.

I posit that such a street is entirely unimaginable, uncontainable by the developing mind, too vast to "get."

The global village is a concept we take for granted, but it's not true, you know: there's no such thing as a global village. Kay James has been saying so for years; here's a quote from a speech of hers (sadly, not online at this time, but originally published in an old issue of Vital Speeches I cited in my 1996 thesis work) debunking the myth of the global village:

First, children do not belong to the village or to the community or to the government. They belong to the parents, and the village exists as a resource for those families. Second, even if we did believe this to be true, the village no longer exists (James, 1996).

The village, like the Street, exists as a resource for families. But, as Kay suggests, the village was a closed street, inclusive but localized. Sesame Street was never intended to be the global village. It's supposed to be that village which, in Kay's time and in ours, was already dissipated: that village which is solely a resource for and therefore an extension of the family itself, with friends and loved ones always nearby, teaching us to love. A move to bring the global village into the family will surely fail. The family cannot fit a village; it certainly has no room for the globe.

So I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that this is a dire sign for the good old Street. Yes, you heard it first: Sesame Street has jumped the shark. At best, this may mark the end of childhood, a cultural construct already in severe decay. At worst, it is a signal that the family itself, like the street in all its finitude, was never there to begin with.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:01 AM | 0 comments


Didn't Know I Was A Country Boy (Until I Met You)

Until I met and married a shy, grounded, sturdy girl who fell off a tractor in her own tenth summer, all I knew of rural New England was summer camps and winter ski holidays; county fair midways and historic homes; long drives north with my family for a week at a rented cabin smelling of pine and surrounded by it. In my memory, Vermont and New Hampshire and later Maine were sporadically populated with ski lodges and quaint main street towns. I never thought about the side byways.

But I left the suburbs behind me, body and spirit, when my now-wife found me in college and wouldn't let me go. Because more than anyone I know, Darcie is rural New England. Her childhood goats jumped through the screen door. She fell off that neighbor boy's tractor. She skiied to work once when the snow blocked the roads.

When we dropped out of college in 1993, she loved me enough to try to make a go at it in and around Boston for a while, first in a series of greasy bat-ridden apartments on Commonwealth Ave, then in the Somerville apartment house under the willow tree. But it was clear that the city was too dense, too anxious-making. When we went back to Brattleboro to visit her parents, she flowered, coming alive again. And I came to love not just her, but the gentle rhythm of what made her most herself: the sound of the brook at night, the fireflies, the clarity of stars. The woman I love carries within herself open spaces and quiet streams. And, since she carries me, too, it has become home.

Her parents still live in on their couple of cleared acres next to that very same farm now mostly maintained by that tractor-driving boy and his wife, nestled in among the barns and the brook and the rolling green-hill cowpastures, at the end of a long dirt road. For my daughter Willow, one actually goes over the river and through the woods to get to Grandmother's house, although it's worth pointing out that one does the same over-and-under to get to the school where we live and work.

To be fair, the wilds of New England aren't a paradise. Although the outdoor air is clean and pure, in the summer it swarms with mosquitoes. After years full of midnight stars, suburban light polution and the stress of the city set my teeth on a knife-edge, but the coydogs howling makes for restless, dreamless nights.

And then there's mud season, the New England month-or-so between winter and spring. It's late some years and earlier others, and duration varies -- last year after two weeks of summer-like sun and heat a freak snowstorm in May set us back a spell -- but the symptoms are always the same: melted snow and subsequently roaring mountain streams swell the land past saturation, and the world turns brown and mucky for a while.

Which is by way of saying that I successfully navigated the the long and treacherous dirt road to Darcie's parent's house this afternoon, a road closed to all but local traffic, four inches of thick slush over scarred and rutted mud, three times in and three times back, in a Toyota Camry with all-weather tires, without even sliding around much. And I didn't even break a sweat. I'm damn proud to be a country boy.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:44 AM | 0 comments

Sunday, April 06, 2003

Soldiering On

Still pretty sick. The cold has gone from the sniffles and sore throat stage to the achiness all over stage. My back feels swollen and fragile; my head feels foggy and thick. Ick.

There's blots of blue sky in among the clouds this morning, but the tiny ballbearing frozen rain kept falling after all until late last night. The roads are better, but the cars are still snowed in; the air is finally clear, but it's still below freezing, colder than it should be after daylight savings' "Spring ahead."

But sick and cold and tired are no excuse; we're off to Darcie's parent's house, with baby, sans dog, because the clan is congregating. Josh and Clay are up from Boston; Alicia and Matt are on their way from lower Connecticut; Ginny has to work at Mocha Joe's in town, but we'll probably all drop by together for free vanilla Lattes and hugs behind the counter.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

posted by boyhowdy | 11:10 AM | 0 comments

Saturday, April 05, 2003

Everyone's Blogging About...

According to Daypop, The Poetry of D.H. Rumsfeld is the second most popular blogtopic right now.

And no wonder. Transforming Rumsfeld's politispeak to poesy requires only line breaks and a title. Here's one lifted verbatum from a 12/6/01 Department of Defense news briefing:

Glass Box

You know, it's the old glass box at the—
At the gas station,
Where you're using those little things
Trying to pick up the prize,
And you can't find it.
It's—

And it's all these arms are going down in there,
And so you keep dropping it
And picking it up again and moving it,
But—

Some of you are probably too young to remember those—
Those glass boxes,
But—

But they used to have them
At all the gas stations
When I was a kid.



God, I wish I could write like that. And extemporaneously, yet!

posted by boyhowdy | 5:03 PM | 0 comments


The Dullest Blog In The World

That's what it's called, and they're not kidding.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:27 PM | 0 comments


Still Sick, Also Soundless: Nothing New Under The Snow

Cold's worse; dry sneeziness now the dominant mode of the -- achoo! -- day. Was hoping to go to the Eddie From Ohio show anyway, but they're sold out, most probably because last night's snow-and-ice bumped everyone's plans forward. If only I had Portable EFO Show, or their new live album -- I could just close my eyes and pretend.

Had to go to the post office this morning. Ever tried driving in two inches of tiny iceballs? Don't.

In other news, Eva's produced a coherent introduction to Blogshares which BS creator Sayed himself recommends. Playing the blogmarket sure is addictive; although this site hovers at three cents a share and hasn't been indexed in over a week, my stocks have increased by almost sixteen bucks since last night.

posted by boyhowdy | 2:43 PM | 0 comments

Friday, April 04, 2003

Under The Weather

We're reunion relatives, Cathy and I. She is my mother's first cousin; the much-younger Jack's oldest; her father's artist brother's artist daughter. We meet every few years at the last of my generation's bar-and-bat-mitzvahs. Basically she's just Cathy, the blood and obligation for some odd reason thin enough to allow for acquaintance based on mutual curiousity and shared interest.

Last spring when a pregnant Darcie and I decided to go to Washington for one last vacation, we stayed at their home for a few days before jetting off to her father's gracefully offered and gratefully accepted Rehoboth Beach cabana, and had a wonderful and peaceful time. Though I've really only spent time with her three or four times as an adult, we seemed to click pretty well with her and her family: Jon, the wine-cellared builder; Jessica the art student, a Junior at BU; Daniel, looking at colleges. Mother and son came up from Maryland with Cathy yesterday and today looking at UMass and UHartford; we were eager to host them, as they had hosted us.

We put them up in the school guesthouse, an excellent grand victorian bed-and-breakfast-sans-breakfast, two rooms for two nights for a total in-house rate of $50, and they seem comfortable. But the sky gods and the microbes they carry seem to have conspired against us spending quality time with them.

Cathy and Daniel arrived yesterday evening in an ominous drizzle; we took them to the local Chinese/Sushi place for maki and sesame chicken. Willow was in the throes of her first cold, and it was serious -- crankiness compounded by an inability to sleep for more than a few moments without choking on her swollen sinuses, and who knew a kid that tiny could produce a full tablespoon of snot in a single sneeze? -- so we ate quickly and sent them off to rest for the UMass admissions program the next day.

The baby's cold began to fade by this morning, but Darcie came down with it rather quickly, the sniffles turning into honking and tissues rolled up the nostrils. It had begun snowing after midnight; by morning it was frozen rain, a half-inch sheen on everything. After scraping the car down to the glass, while Darcie and the baby slept and later went to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory and Gardens to release indoors a butterfly that Darcie's mom's kindergarden class had hatched, I spent the day in the media center doing back work: gathering the raw materials for the department web page, rewriting policy documents and mandates, catching up on e-correspondance. Advanced Web Design class from 2-4, which I'm finding works most successfully as a workshop, guiding the peer-teaching of a nice small group of committed students. Home to a sick wife and child steaming themselves in the bath.

I managed to make it through another dinner with Cathy and Daniel, this time fried mozzerella and a sweet-n-lemony chicken francese at the vast Bella Notte, a middle-of-nowhere place that attracts the golf crowd and makes what I believe to be the best red sauce in the history of cooking. But here, at home, I've begun to sneeze; my back aches, and the back of my throat tickles thickly. I think we'll get through breakfast with them, if they can get here through the roads covered in frozen white ballbearings -- the baby should be mostly better -- but it looks like I'm staying in bed tomorrow afternoon, listening to the eternal ice-pea hail rattle the roof. A pity; I was hoping to get down to the Iron Horse to see Eddie From Ohio tomorrow night.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:50 PM | 0 comments


Quote Of The Day

If we put everybody in jail who has a fetish, we wouldn't have anyone running our government.

Added Bonus: The quote is from an article entitled Man Jailed For Haircutting Spree. The "Haircut Bandit" received a sentence of eight years in jail for theft (cutting off 9 women's ponytails) and sexual assault of a minor (one of the women was 12; he was using the ponytails for sexual purposes).

posted by boyhowdy | 10:06 PM | 0 comments


Buy This Space

Thanks to ericj and an ongoing concern for my own increasingly imaginary 401(k), I've decided to get started over at BlogShares. Using entirely pretend money and basing stock values on links inandout, you too can put a monetary value on your own popularity, and play the market on those whose popularity you think will rise. Buy stock in Not All Who Wander Are Lost, or sign yourself up to enable others to buy and sell stock in your blog. Of course, as an added bonus, if you sign up and link to me, my stock value goes up...so there's something insider-ly and incestuous about the whole thing...but it's still more fun than it should be.

[UPDATE 4/5 12:15 am: Woohoo! So far, I've made $5.59. A 1% gain!]

posted by boyhowdy | 3:46 PM | 0 comments


I Am In Love With Kate Brigham's Thesis

If you want to know how to decode war images for their semiotic meaning, you need this. It's called Decoding Visual Elements in News Content, and I can't remember how I found it, and it rocks. Especially the Interactive Demo, of which Kate says:

The intention behind these exercises is to introduce people to some methods for looking more critically at visual news content. Hopefully, these exercises will help to improve or enhance visual and media literacy skills. At the very least, perhaps they will aid in promoting awareness of the impact that visual elements have on the messeges we receive from news media outlets.

All that and more, baby.

Reminds me of the lecture I gave here at NMH last year for our Seminar on the State of the World series. The title of my hourlong was Media Representation and Cultural Stereotypes in Times of Crisis; I used Disney's Aladdin and a photoanalysis of the same then-current sources that Kate uses, showing, more narrowly but similarly through semiotic analysis, how Muslim and American media portrayal was repackaged after 9/11. Kate does it better.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:20 AM | 0 comments

Thursday, April 03, 2003

Mmmm...Cancer-y

New NYC restaurant smoking ban enacted last Sunday seems to be causing severe weirdness in city hotspots:

Weird: Some bars have resorted to handing out nicotene gum.

Weirder: The Italian restaurant Serafina Sandro unveiled a "Tobacco Special" menu on Wednesday, with such delicacies as gnocchi made with tobacco and filet mignon in a tobacco-wine sauce, garnished with dried tobacco.

Weirdest: Serafina Sandro isn't the only place aiming to placate tobacco-starved customers. The World Bar at Trump World Tower has introduced what it calls a smokeless Manhattan cocktail touted to taste like a cigarette.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:55 PM | 0 comments


More Random Leftovers

My mother comes up every Tuesday afternoon now. She brings us groceries from Bread and Circus, and we have lunch together in the dining hall with Darcie and the baby. Darcie and I go back to work and Mom gets to play with her granddaughter. For the rest of the week, odd healthy foods, out of place in a takeout kitchen, confront the unassuming fridge-peeker. A pineapple nestles between the stove burners. I learn that organic milk tastes just like regular milk.


Borrowed the Northern Sun catalog from a student down the hall; mostly bumper stickers and t-shirts, the content really being sold is the progressive bon mot, the pithy saying. Bumper stickers from Not All Who Wander Are Lost and Men Who Change Diapers Change The World to Actions Speak Louder Than Bumperstickers. A cartoon captioned "Hellfire and Dalmation" adorns a hempen shirt; in it, a berobed spottydog raises his hands to the heavens: ...and he said unto them: "Bad Dogs! No, No!" There's even an entire line of raised-metal fish plaques for the car bumper, the typical Darwin fish with feet to the simple fish outline enclosing the 'n chips.


CNN's Offbeat News still isn't up, and isn't being updated. The war's still too new for funny; either that, or we're rationing our humor.


When did 6 hours of shuteye begin to feel like a full night's sleep? Some nights I only get four and a half.


More signs of spring: the living room window cranked open, forgetting to put on your coat, the cat out all night, mud.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:47 AM | 0 comments


Irony Of The Week



War (huh!) good for Starr's record sales


U.S.-born soul singer Edwin Starr -- best known for his anti-conflict song "War" -- has died at the age of 61. (full story )

Say it again: this wouldn't have been front page news if we weren't at war, of course.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:08 AM | 0 comments


Sick and Stupid

Signs of sping today. Restaurant porchsitting; vivid purple crocuses opening up out of last year's skeletal leaf remains in the small patch of grass by our front door; drowning worms in driveway puddles. The change in the weather's brought the baby's first cold; when she lies down to sleep her nose gets all stuffy and she chokes herself awake crying. It's scary, but scarier still is realizing that this is just a cold -- no fever, no real pain, just discomfort and all our lives turn upside-down.

We drove up up up raindrenched mountains to Shelburne Falls this evening, mostly so she could sleep sitting up in the car for a while. She awoke as we drove over the bridge in this tiny arty town, and we killed some time admiring some blownglass in an artist's gallery above the smalltown's raging riverbed until the restaurants opened for the evening. Sat on the porch at Bottle of Bread enjoying a mostly organic beer and root-based meal, brie and mushroom tarts and a gluey chicken and dumpling soup, turnips and carrots and perhaps as much as half a stick of butter in the one bowl alone, while the baby ate Cheerios and bits of fished-out chicken with her mouth open, breathing raspily through her mouthfuls. Back to school and evening dorm duty, less boring for Molly's weekly visit.

Oh, the stupid part? NMH dismissed eleven kids allatonce this week. Tuesday morning the student centers looked like a refugee camp, over a hundred students crying and hugging each other and standing around looking stunned like they just found out their other grandmother died. Tonight the debate over whether the students should have been given a second chance rages on in our school online forum. But here are the facts: the students broke into a house up on the ridge behind the school, went through the owner's stuff, and partied (sex drugs and rock and roll, reportedly) over a period of two days. Let's see...trespassing, breaking and entering, smoking, illegal drug use, underage drinking...and coming back to do it all again the next day...what would you have done, really, if you were the school? As an added bonus, the cabin in question is the summer home of the grandson of the school's founder. It was good and surely shrewd of him to refuse to press charges. I'll miss them all.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:00 AM | 0 comments

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Woohoo!

When I was a kid, my brother soaked my toothbrush in beer overnight. Now that was a good one. But I must be getting old, 'cause not one person played an April Fool's joke on me this year!

How about you? Forget about your foolish pride; let's hear about your best practical* jokes given or recieved!

*By the way, why are they called practical jokes? What's practical about them?

posted by boyhowdy | 11:34 PM | 0 comments


From Blog To Verse

Under fluorescent flickering light
on the radio tonight
rhyming bedtime stories.
The schema stuck, as you can see
so please enjoy this slice of me.
(As always, tonight's playlist follows in all its glory.)



The Way Back From The Radio Station

First it rained, and then it snowed.
Now there's rimefrost on the road
behind the school, and frost heaves still
to rock us as we crest the hill.

We don't usually go far
in what was once my grandpa's car --
just past the houses, furtively,
we covet for our selves-to-be

and then back to our cinderblocks
to watch TV in fuzzy socks,
eat warm cookies from the tray,
fade, silent at the end of day.


Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
They Might Be Giants -- Fibber Island
Trout Fishing In America -- My Best Day
Dan Zanes -- Wonder Wheel
Eddie From Ohio -- Eddie's Concubine
Phish -- Back On The Train
Manu Chao -- Me Gustas Tu
Skavoovie and the Epitones -- Drunk (hmm. a cover, but I don't know the originator)
Barenaked Ladies -- Be My Yoko Ono
DJ Harry -- Rollover Remix (a remix of a String Cheese Incident song)
Johnny Cash -- Desperado (does anyone know who sings the original of this?)
Soggy Bottom Boys -- Man Of Constant Sorrow
Keller Williams -- Anyhow, Anyway
Angelique Kidjo -- Voodoo Child (a cover of the Jimi Hendrix song)
DJ Harry -- Wake Up Remix (another remix of a String Cheese Incident song)
The Be Good Tanyas -- House Of The Rising Sun (Trad.)
Blind Boys of Alabama -- Amazing Grace (to the tune of House of the Rising Sun)
Brooks Williams -- Yellow Hummingbird
Negativeland -- Somewhere Over The Hiccups (classic -- a three year old with hiccups singing the classic Judy Garland standard)
John Ondrasik -- The Hoppity Song
Cassandra Wilson -- Drunk As Cooter Brown
Nickel Creek -- Reasons Why
Dixie Chicks -- Top Of The World (a cover of a Patty Griffin song)
Patty Griffin -- Long Ride Home
Amy Mann -- One (a cover of a Harry Neilson song)
Tukeleur -- Africa (a cover of the Toto song!)



[UPDATE 4/1/03: My father -- a regular reader -- notes:

The original "Drunk" was recorded (and, I'm guessing, written) by Jimmy Liggins, an early 50's jump blues rocker. We should have it on some compilations at home if you want to hear it next time you're in. Hope all is well. Dad.

Thanks, Dad.]

posted by boyhowdy | 1:06 AM | 0 comments

Sunday, March 30, 2003

Hands Off The Photoshop, Please

Thanks to the Webraw remaindered link list, I've discovered a congressional plot to shut down photoshop contests on Fark.com and quite possibly make it illegal for me to fix the redeye in digital pictures of my eight month old daughter. Here's an actual quote from the obscured-by-the-war headline House Votes To Curtail Net Porn:

The other amendment, which free speech advocates like the American Civil Liberties Union argue is unconstitutional, would ban the creation or possession of "a digital image, computer image or computer-generated image" that is "indistinguishable" from a real minor.

Seems that because explicit amendment language attempting to ban any image that appears to be of an unclad minor couldn't get past the Supreme Court, Congress has decided to widen the net so far it would let a whale through. Scary.

posted by boyhowdy | 2:25 AM | 0 comments


Language Matters

I am a lover of things concrete, a stickler for meaning. I teach my students there is no such thing as a synonym. I may have a tendency towards the verbose, but I know words count.

And that's why the phrase suicide bomber pisses me off.

It's a common term. Today, after four U.S. soldiers were killed by an Iraqi in a taxi, CNN.com reports that Iraq promises more suicide bombings. But when one person deliberately causes four deaths, the suicide seems secondary. The semantic focus should match the narrative focus; the killed remembered morebetter than their killing.

I can't change the world myself, but I've got you. So help me out here. Use the term homicide bomber from now on, and lets see if we can't start a movement.

Go.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:58 AM | 0 comments

Saturday, March 29, 2003

Unreasonable Assumptions

Assuming that the level of bias in the political contributions of the major news networks is an indication of the potential for bias in their media coverage is endemic to the students here at NMH, likely in the guy huddled against the traffic on the Brattleboro streetcorner waving his protest sign, common in punditry from both sides of the political spectrum. But that assumption is suspect, and therefore, The Polemic's Guide to Media Bias Part 1: Political Contributions doesn't make a strong enough case for a causal link between corporate donations and media bias.

Do you really think that donations from corporate entities is a realistic reflection of how the news agencies of those corporate agencies bias or flavor their coverage? To assume so would mean assuming that the corporate parents -- the veryrich folks who OWN the companies -- have a direct line to, or direct policies for, those middle-class wage-earners on the front lines of news coverage. This is much like -- not even as strong as -- assuming that when I speak politically at the school where I work, I am doing so in a manner consistent with the politics of the school's Board of Trustees: it MAY be true, but it probably isn't; if it is, it's not because I work here, or because they told me to do so. I've never met most of them. I have no idea what they believe, or who they donate money to.

I think an analysis of actual NEWS -- including what's covered and how, what's not covered well or at all, which stories get the most time, what value words the newscasters use and how -- is really going to be the only way to truly see news bias one way or another. But note that the dollar amounts for Fox news executives' donations to the GOP are required, by law, to be freely available to us. I suggest that one reason that pundits prefer to throw numbers at us is that it's a heck of a lot less work.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:24 AM | 0 comments

Friday, March 28, 2003

Kermit The Pimp, Barney On TV, Fat Albert As Klansman...

And I'm still laughing.

New Fark.com photoshop contest challenges participants to Photoshop children's TV characters somewhere they should not be. Imagine the potential. Now imagine surpassing it.

I'd post an example, but in the interest of giving credit where credit is due, just go see it -- you won't be disappointed.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:28 PM | 0 comments


The Few, The Proud, The Stupid



Found in my favorite livejournal community. Not sure where they found it, but am happy to add props if someone knows whose fault this pic is.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:40 PM | 0 comments


And Just Where Have You Been?

Thinking about the upcoming summer trip to Bangladesh. Just for fun, I thought I'd end the day with a list of all the various countries I've visited.
  • U.S. -- Born and raised

  • Canada [Montreal, Toronto] -- various ages

  • Mexico -- age 13

  • Israel, Egypt, Denmark, Sweden, Germany -- age 14

  • Ireland and Northern Ireland -- age 16

  • Finland, USSR [Russia, Ukrania, Estonia] -- age 17

  • Holland -- age 26, age 27

  • England [airport only] -- ages 16, 26, and 27


Grouped countries were visited on a single trip, often using my parent's wildly broad sense of while we're there... Although there is, in an overflowing closet in my parent's house, a shoebox of pictures of my very pregnant mother traveling throughout Europe by Eurorail in 1972, fetal visits don't count.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:39 AM | 0 comments


More Moore

Michael Moore rates his own watchdog site; it includes Moore's stupid theory about Oscar booing. Have you ever heard of "booing the booers" before?

posted by boyhowdy | 12:56 AM | 0 comments

Thursday, March 27, 2003

Mediawatch: The War Becomes Part Of Life

For the first week, CNN.com was all war, all the time. Only by using the links on the navigation bar could you get to news about non-war stuff.

Then the NCAA Tourney became a tiny link at the bottom of the front page. Then the Oscars went on as planned, and it, too, became a tiny item, just below the POWs and the rest of the filtered news from the embeds.

Now, the top half of the page is still all war, all the time. But scroll down, and you'll see that, as of today, the news is presented in categories again.

Notably, it took twice as long for CNN to bring back their categorical news homepage format after 9/11. Note, as well, that the process is not yet complete, but give it another week; as it did two Septembers ago, CNN's Offbeat News will eventually return.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:11 PM | 0 comments


The Ice Flows Cometh

From Brattleboro to right under the bridge between the campuses, the Connecticut River is awash with chunks of ice.

This morning, I rose early to grade papers over a cuppa Hazelnut joe and a plate of Virginia ham, eggs overeasy, and homemade toast at the Main Street Cafe, sadly closing next week after 16 years of the best damn breakfast for a hundred miles. A fine breakfast was followed by a shave at the tiny barbershop next door. Driving across the bridge in the early fog, I could see how the wind and the undertow had pushed the slow-moving bergs, flat and immeasurable, up against the western bank. One side of the river was choked; the other was smooth and clear.

This afternoon, fifteen miles upstream, we shared a cup of pumpkin soup and a classic steak and baked up against the window of the bridge-side Riverview Cafe. The sun set in Brattleboro behind us, illuminating the green frame bridge between Vermont and New Hampshire. The floes washed fast through the wide river mouth below us like sideways snow on a reflected mountain, disappearing under the graffiti, under the traffic, into the artifical horizon.

Breakfast: $7 with tip. Supper: $70, also with tip. A warm Spring day rimmed by water in its myriad forms -- the morning fog, the swollen river and its driveby tributaries, the drifiting ice from the far and cold north of my imagination: priceless. I wish I had a picture of this to share. Maybe they'll still be coming downstream tomorrow.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:46 PM | 0 comments


As American As Yellow Mustard

There will be no Freedom Mustard in baseball stadiums this season, as, thankfully, French's mustard has put out a preemptive press release, which the Miami Herald actually bothered to print.

Among other vitally important facts, the article informs us that ...with Americans' current anathema to all things français, French's decided to get out the word that the name of its founder, R.T. French Co., is where it gets its moniker. Nothing, it says, could be more American that the official yellow spread of Yankee Stadium and America's mustard market leader.

All together now: This is news?

Also, who writes this stuff? That isn't the correct usage of anathema, is it?

posted by boyhowdy | 8:36 PM | 0 comments

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Lying At The Oscars

I know it was a few days ago, but I'm still steamed at Michael Moore for his inappropriate behavior on Oscar night. I may hate war but think it's a necessary evil; I hate deception in the name of truth much, much more, and believe it's NEVER appropriate.

And Moore was inappropriate on so many levels. Here's what I wrote in response to a student comment about it today in our school's online forum:

Those who saw the Oscars may have been disgusted, as I was, with his tactics. He invited ALL 5 of the nominees for the award he won (best feature-length documentary) to join him on stage, which looked, at first, like a wonderful gesture of collegiality, a kind of "we all win just for producing good documentary."

And then he used them without their permission. He took away their voice. He used them horribly.

His words at the Oscars were inclusive of that group; he used "we" to describe his own feelings, and specifically used langauge which would suggest that the "we" he was referring to began with his fellow documentary-makers. He made it look as if all the people on stage stood in solidarity with both a) his relatively extreme position on the war, and b) the position that the Oscars was the place to speak out against the war so avidly. In other words, the language he used forcibly took away the rights of those people to speak for themselves. That was the most machiavellian tactic I have seen in a long time, and I cannot respect Moore for it.

And, it would seem, neither could the members of the academy. Note that he was booed by the majority of the audience at the Oscars for his approach -- not for WHAT he said, but for using the Oscars as a political platform, and for stealing the voices of others without their permission to do so. Moore used us; he used his peers; he used the Academy. Nothing can excuse that. Nothing should.


But worse, after I posted, David, the extraordinarily liberal head of theatre here at NMH, went on to post the following:

I was not a fan of Michael Moore before the Oscars and am even less so after what I agree was his abusive behavior at that ceremony. To my mind, Moore's Oscar reflected a true knee-jerk response by the Hollywood establishment. As others have pointed out, Bowling For Columbine was itself a "fictitious" documentary which manipulated and falsified information in a manner usually associated with propoganda. If you felt (as most trusting moviegoers did) that the film offered an honest-if-humorous treatment of its subject matter, you might want to take a look at the attached article. As Joshua has often pointed out, quite rightly, there are a lot of ways in which our emotional responses as viewers can be manipulated in dishonest ways.

So let me get this straight. Bowling for Columbine isn't a documentary by the academy's standards, or by any reasonable interpretation of such standards, Blair Witch and Spinal Tap notwithstanding. It's the most manipulative excuse for fiction pretending to be a documentary the world has ever seen.

Don't believe me? Read James Berardinelli's damn article.

So even though I've already managed to boycott Bowling for Columbine despite the recommendations of the liberals around me, next year, although for a media teacher it's a kind of pedagogical error to do so, I'm boycotting the Oscars, too. Thanks, Mike, for ruining it for me. And sorry, Shaw, for I know that Moore is -- hopefully was -- your kind of hero.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:16 PM | 0 comments

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

there could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you

Willow is eight months old, and I have deep secret hopes that she'll be Daddy's Little Girl someday. She has my eyes -- such big, blue eyes -- and my love of music; her mother's feet and quite likely my ADHD. She hates to sleep and loves to laugh. She grins at me in the morning, halfpebble teeth and wide wet mouth, when I wake up on weekends; she lights up when I come home from work. It's a dear package, and I covet her like there's no tomorrow.

But when it comes to sleep, a little girl wants her Mama, and I'm okay with that. Darcie spends a lot of time these days in the bed near the baby, nursing her to sleep and back to sleep, at ten and three and seven and once again drowsily, hardly stirring, half awake, at two in the morning.

As she gets tired Willow shakes her head side to side to stay awake, rubs her eyes, begins losing focus. There comes a point past the yawns and the drooping head when she needs her Mama, and no one else will do. My women hit the bedroom, and I am exiled, a distraction.

Once, months ago, she fell asleep slung low in my rocking arms, an orangutan hold. Once, and only once.

Until today.

Twice, today, once by accident and once again to test the hypothesis, with Trey on the stereo loudly and me at the computer, the baby leaning forward, facing outward straddling my thigh, my arm around her from the outside and under the arms, the head lolling impossibly sideways slowly like a slow leak tire, the eyelids drooped and then featherlight she was asleep.

Oh, heaven is a place I know, and it is anywhere my daughter sleeps. Paul Simon's got nothing on me.

In Willow's honor, tonight's Tributary bedtime storyreading celebrated parent/child love stories: Love You Forever; Mama, Do You Love Me; Guess How Much I Love You. I know she wasn't listening. I just needed to tell the universe.

Playlist follows. Note the Trey triple-play, eh?

Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
Eddie From Ohio -- Good At That
String Cheese Incident -- Drifting
Slaid Cleaves -- Horseshoe Lounge
Dolly Parton -- I Get A Kick Out Of You
Kasey Chambers -- Little Bit Lonesome
Acoustic Syndicate -- Why Not
Nenes -- No Woman, No Cry
Trey Anastasio -- Drifting
Oysterhead -- Oz Is Ever Floating
Phish -- Bouncin' Round The Room
Stevie Ray Vaughn -- Chitlins Con Carne
Bela Fleck -- Sunset Road
Keller Williams -- Best Feeling
Brooks Williams -- Great Big Sea
Spike Jones -- The Jones Laughing Record
Rani Arbo -- Butter And Egg Man
Jorma Kaukonen -- Bread Line Blues
Johnny Cash -- In My Life
Norman Blake -- You Are My Sunshine
Lucy Kaplansky -- Just You Tonight
Les Claypool's Frog Brigade -- Locomotive Breath
Skavoovie and the Epitones -- The Coffee Connection
Barenaked Ladies -- Light Up My Room

posted by boyhowdy | 1:38 AM | 0 comments

Monday, March 24, 2003

Metablog: How Far Do You Scroll?

I'm not asking about those blogs you read every day, of course. I'm curious about both one-shot discoveries, and those blogs read infrequently.

What I want to know is, when you first encounter a blog, or when you go back to one you haven't read in a while, how far down do you scroll before moving on? And, more importantly, define interest -- to wit, what factors determine how long you linger, how deeply you read?

I ask partially just to ask, and partially because I realized that I'm averaging four or five posts a day, write lengthy entries, and use a big font. The net result is that often a blogentry written in the wee hours of the morning is several screens down already by that following evening. I'm wondering if some entires aren't getting read much, even, perhaps, by regulars.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:45 AM | 0 comments

Sunday, March 23, 2003

Grignr: The Best Medicine



My write-in vote for best picture!


Thanks to Zannechaos' random off-topic post in Customers Suck for the best and longest laugh session I've had in months: A 1996 script for MST3k's take on the poorly subtitled and even more poorly written fantasy epic The Eye of Argon.

Ordinarily, I'd quote from it here, but you just gotta read the whole thing. I daresay it's actually funnier in plaintext than it would have been on the screen.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:28 PM | 0 comments


Proof

Although the advisor to Gemini, the NMH Yearbook, is an English teacher known for her inflexibly high standards in the classroom, the sheer size of a yearbook for the largest co-ed prep school in the country is overwhelming, and the product is primarily produced by students -- some of whom are not native speakers and all of whom neither speak nor read at a publication-ready level -- working only a few hours a week in the midst of an otherwise overwhelming workload. The potential for errors is off the charts. A couple of years ago too many mistakes slipped through the final proofing process, including switched captions on the pictures of the two head administrative deans, and needless to say, they weren't pleased.

Darcie, the assistant advisor, brought some of the yearbook proofs home for me to look at near the end of that next year, and what her coworker's aging eyes had missed jumped out at me naturally like a red Buick in a green field. There were only a couple of errors in the yearbook that year. And this is how I became the yearbook proofreader.

So now I have the final say, am the final set of eyes on the uncorrected yearbook proofs, those pages sent back from the publisher for us to make final corrections. I look for spelling and grammar, match names to pictures, find and encircle too little or too much space between words. It takes about 20 hours out of my life each term, for which I get paid in kisses I'd hopefully have gotten anyway

And I love it.

I've always liked proofreading, and I've always been good at it. I'm one of those people who can't let a word or phrase go by until I'm sure it's correct. I kept myself in beer money and cigarettes through my last two years of college editing senior theses overnight for a dollar a page. More, it is rewarding to me on a fully visceral level; I like making order out of chaos on the page, and I genuinely enjoy making proper turns of phrase out of garbled messes and typographic errors, concrete and deliberate language out of the vague and close enough. (heck, I even enjoy grading papers.) As an added bonus, I get to be the first to see the yearbook.

And then there are the belly laughs. What follows is a few choice selections taken directly from this round of proofs. The editors and copywriters are all high school seniors, but there's no secret out there that the average high school student can't write these days, and if you needed proof, this is a good place to start. It's grammatically side-splitting student writing, and it's too good not to share. Most are picture captions. The typos are not mine.

Memebers of Amnesty International write urgent actions.

Well known for our Arts until the days of Moody, NMH still continue to prove this theory right.

She helps student, who English is not their first language, to build a stronger English.

She is so concentrated that she does not notice the yearbook photographer.

Pam is smiling at us with her smile.

Green Pastures is one of the many departments here at NMH.
[note: Not only is this problematic because the caption is supposed to describe the department's function, not note that they are a department, Green Pastures is one of our administrative buildings.]

The farm staff, Richard and Alex work in the farm all the time along with their horse [note: This would be okay, if it were not accompanying a picture of Richard, Alex, and a COW.]

And my favorite:

The Power Plant Department helps provide power to the two campuses. One of the staff members include the chief engineer Joe Santucci.

In my mind, I see the power plant department running on a hamster wheel, while, from deep inside one of the staff members, Joe's muffled voice urges them to run faster, it's getting dark in here. The image has been stuck in my head all day. I keep laughing out loud, embarassing myself. It's a good feeling.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:47 PM | 0 comments


The Twofer: When 30 Seconds Is Still Too Damn Long

Kudos to Big Pink Cookie for finding this recent Procter & Gamble study, which startlingly concludes that consumers who fast-forward through ads with digital personal video recorders such as Tivo still recall those ads at roughly the same rates as people who see them at normal speed in real time.

What this suggests to the overactive mediamind, of course, is that this would be true of all programming, not just ads. I'm such a media whore, I'm actually excited by the idea that I could watch two episodes of ER in one high-speed hour.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:54 AM | 0 comments

Saturday, March 22, 2003

You May Already Be A Loser

Today I had a cheese sandwich for lunch. It was really good. Do you like cheese?

Voting ends tomorrow for this year's Anti-Bloggies, and only true blogheads need apply. Categories include Most/Least Updated, Most Often Late To Work, Most Caffeinated, Most References To Pet, Dumbest Title, Worst Meme Bandwagoner, and Best Amazon Wishlist; Prizes tend to be product, worth, on average, 20 bucks.

P.S. Please do not nominate me for anything. I'm happy being a loser solely in my own mind, thanks.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:40 PM | 0 comments


War's 15 Minutes Of Fame

According to Yahoo's Buzz Index, War toppled sex and music as the most popular search term among Web users as the conflict in Iraq captured the attention of the online crowd... (full story at CNN.com)

This is news? It's interesting that the search term War has finally beat the search term Britney Spears on both counts, I suppose, but cynics around the globe know that after a mostly silent day or so of sexual frustration we can expect the bloggiverse to go back to normal.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:17 PM | 0 comments


Smuggling The Truth Out Of Iraq

Interesting UPI story from Blog Title Of The Week winner Occam's Toothbrush:

A group of American anti-war demonstrators who came to Iraq with Japanese human shield volunteers made it across the border today with 14 hours of uncensored video, all shot without Iraqi government minders present. Kenneth Joseph, a young American pastor with the Assyrian Church of the East, told UPI the trip "had shocked me back to reality." Some of the Iraqis he interviewed on camera "told me they would commit suicide if American bombing didn't start. They were willing to see their homes demolished to gain their freedom from Saddam's bloody tyranny. They convinced me that Saddam was a monster the likes of which the world had not seen since Stalin and Hitler. He and his sons are sick sadists. Their tales of slow torture and killing made me ill, such as people put in a huge shredder for plastic products, feet first so they could hear their screams as bodies got chewed up from foot to head."

How interesting to hear about folks who went to Iraq specifically because they were anti-war coming out of Iraq no longer anti-war at all.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:40 PM | 0 comments


Back to Mundania

It's been a long time since I just blogged down the day. But as we settle into the idea of war, I think it's especially important to keep track of the important things in life, like family, and the crystaline moments of peace we each carry with us throughout our days. In the interest of thinking locally while we act globally, then, here's a FridaynightintoSaturday, the first of the new term:

Mom's in Washington DC for her yearly weeklong social worker's conference; while our recent trip to Boston was a full adventure reported earlier, Dad hasn't been up to see the baby for a while, so he drove up solo last night for a visit and an overnight stay at the school's guesthouse. We took him to Yankee Candle's flagship store down in Deerfield to marvel at the 22-room spectacle, and he took us to dinner at Chandlers, their excellent and adjacent gourmet winery (lit entirely by candles, of course). We sampled white wines sweet and dry, ate potato and carmelized tartlets, steak and scallops. Dad ordered sea bass because the waitress told him that the chef said it it wasn't Chilean sea bass, which turns out to be merely a fancy name for Patagonian Dogfish, which isn't a bass at all, and of course it was the dogfish, but one of Dad's finest qualities is the ability to let things go and relax, and we all enjoyed ourselves.

The cat woke us up with a robin in his jaws, so I guess it's officially spring. An hour later, Dad, a late riser like myself, came back over; after transferring the baby seat into his Lexus, we directed him through the woods and over the river to Turner's Falls, an old mill town a couple of miles down the road with plenty of brick architecture and rowhousing but no remaining industry. The diner in Turners is essentially authentic, by which I mean they serve breakfast all day, change their menu seldom if ever, grill pretty much everything, and make real milkshakes with local ice cream; Dad had poached eggs on dry toast, Darcie had pancakes; I had three overeasy with sausage and white toast; the baby had dry Cheerios, although most of them ended up on the floor.

As a non-narrative aside, it was great to see him, and a wonderful treat to have him all to ourselves, and I know he reads this, so Dad, thanks for the visit, and come back every month for as long as you are able, okay? 'Cause we miss you lots, and watching you play with Willow makes me feel like my heart is exploding, and I'm so very glad we've found ourselves friends after all those years of terror. Oh, and if I haven't said so before, I know you know, but geez, I was a mess for a long time, and I'm really, really sorry, Dad.

Okay, back to the plot.

Dad left before one o'clock, Darcie and baby drove off to Brattleboro for a visit with Willow's other grandparents, and I headed over the New Hampshire border to meet up with a crew of NMH Sophomores doing a ropes course at Camp Takodah to prepare for their impending trip to South Africa. The directions were easy to follow, the frost ehaves on the back roads made for a wonderful roller-coaster of a ride in, and the newly thawed mud on the camp access road was treacherous, but I managed just fine in the slippery weight of the Grand Marquis.

Although the place seemed deserted upon arrival, I managed to find the students without taxing my limited tracking skills -- sneaker prints being uncommon enough in the woods of New Hamshire. Little to say about the event itself, as I was there only to take a couple of hours of video tape for the documentary they're making of their trip experience; through the lens, I watched 'em crawl through string spiderwebs and catch each other trustfalling, and mananged to soak my good shoes standing up to my ankles in the meltingsnow woods, but the kids were mostly familiar, it was great to be outdoors on a warm barelyspring day, and I even got a bit of color on my prominent Semitic nose -- hoorah for the first sunburn of the season, yet another sign of Spring.

Home in time to jumpstart the battery of the maroon conversion van that's been sitiing under the nowmelting snow all winter, uninspectable and rusted through, to show it to Chris, the verymellow cook at the school snack bar. Chris loved it, as I knew he would, and what was once my own private home on wheels was sold on a handshake for $300 bucks. We had some good times in that van, two years of camping and concert trips with students afterhours; I'll miss it and the freedom it represents, but it's time to grow up a bit more, and it's nice to see it's going to a good use, and to a good home -- he's hoping to put some time and cash into it and start a catering business with it. We'll take the week to find the title and clean out the accumulated camping gear and then he'll drive it off with borrowed plates to start reconstructing the body on it, and then maybe I'll cry a little for the loss of one more scrap of my emotional bachelorhood, and then I'll sneak into the bedroom in the dark and wait until my eyes adjust to the darkness, and the baby's fuzzy head and soft breath fill my senses, and my heart explodes again, and it will be more than alright.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:59 PM | 0 comments

Friday, March 21, 2003

National Guardsmen: Robots in Disguise



I am Optimus Prime! Bow before me, puny non-mutable organic beings!


Optimus Prime is heading out to the Middle East with his guard unit on Wednesday to provide fire protection for airfields under combat.

In a metallic voice, Prime, a member of Ohio's 5694th National Guard who legally changed his name on his 30th birthday, proudly adds I got a letter from a general at the Pentagon when the name change went through and he says it was great to have the employ of the commander of the Autobots in the National Guard. As an added bonus, now that he's more than meets the eye, Prime is his own virtually indestructable transport vehicle.

Thanks to reporter Vic Gideon at WKYC Cleveland for bringing this vital issue to our attention. A video clip is also available.

No word yet on whether Pikachu, the Wonder Twins, or the Shmoo will be joining the war effort.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:07 PM | 0 comments


Quick Post From Work

Here's what The Greenfield Recorder, our local paper, had to say about yesterday's speech by Robert Kaplan.

Here's what I have to say.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:12 AM | 0 comments


As We May Blog: My Response to The Survey

Dear Kara:

From one cyberstudies person to another, I'm really looking forward to seeing the results of your work. Myself, I'm working on best-practice methods for blog curriculum integration at a bleeding-edge technology-using Prep school; if you think your work might benefit from a discussion with a teacher teaching blogging to teachers and students, let me know and I'd be happy to chat. Survey follows:


*** Questionnaire ***
1. How long have you maintained your blog?

5 months or so.

2. In the last week, how many entries did you post on your blog?

Twenty two. It's been a slow week.

3. In the last week, how many hours have you spent writing entries for your blog, or otherwise maintaining your blog?

About eight -- average an a day, plus or minus.

4. In the last week, approximately how many hyperlinks to external web sites (not your own) did you post within your entries?

43 hyperlinks TO external sites, but there was some site duplication (two docs/pages at one address, for example). Figure 35 different sites linked to, if that's a more useful statistic.

5. Look at your first entry for 3/20/03. If you do not have an entry on that day, use the next entry after that time. Did you include a
hyperlink in that entry?


Two, actually.


6. If yes, what page did that hyperlink point to?

1. http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0375505636/
2. http://www.nmhschool.org

7. (If you remember), where did you first encounter that hyperlink?

1. Went hunting for it [via google] to create the link. The linked text is the title of a book by today's all-school speaker; the link .
2. Known it for some time -- it's the URL of the school where I teach.

8. In general, how do you find the links that you add to your blog entries?

Pretty equally split, two ways

1/2 wandering the web, something catches my eye and I "blog it" using blogger's right-click "blog this" option, adding comments alongside.
1/2 I'm talking about something I did (went to a museum, ate dinner at a nice restaurant) or purchased (like a new CD, or a puppet), and I use google to find the address so others can see what I'm talkiing about.

9. What criteria do you use to decide if you will add an external hyperlink to your blog entries?

Generally, if it is the kind of thing I'd tell people about if they were right there, I "tell people about it" by blogging it. Maybe it's funny; maybe it is politically interesting or thought-provoking; maybe it's relevant to something I was alreadyt hinking about.

10. Do you list permanent links to other blogs (such as a blogroll)?

Yes, but not with a blogroll -- I have a hand-coded list. It's short (maybe 20 blogs).

11. If yes, what criteria do you use to decide if you will add those blogs to your site?

Essentially, the criteria is whether I read them or not. Some of them are people I know from Real Life; most are just blogs I found when surfing and they struck my fancy. All are blogs I follow, albeit some more sporadially than others.

12. Do you list permanent links to other web sites (other than blogs)?

Yes. The list includes museums, jigsaw puzzles, and my own thesis work.

13. If so, what criteria do you use to decide if you will add those links to your site?

In all cases, permalinks to non-blog websites are selected because their content relates to my persona. I read (or have been published) at some; I used to (or still) work at others. Some are websites of mine (poetry, Media Literacy course), or to which I am connected in some way.

14. Approximately how many hours do you spend surfing the Internet in a typical day?

Not counting blogging, since that's not "surfing?" About a half an hour per day, mostly in increments of just a minute or two. .

15. What sources do you rely on the most for your news information?

5 different media, one "channel" each, all used daily:

The Boston Globe (hard copy). local NPR stations. The Daily Show at 11:00 p.m. each night. The grapevine -- when you live at a prep school, news is contantly buzzing through the community. CNN.com.

16. If applicable, please describe how you interact with other blogs. This would include, but is not limited to, leaving comments, following hyperlinks
from entries, and following hyperlinks from blogrolls.


Ready for the most unique answer you'll be receiving from this question?

I am actually HOSTING someone else's blog IN MY COMMENTS. Really. It started spontaneously, but the potential seemed too interesting for me to make Shaw, the blog's owner, stop. We're trying a sociological experiment. The term I've been using for it is blogsquatting, but underblogging or Guerillablogging works just as well. If you want to see how that's working, check it out here.

Other than that, my primary way of interacting with other blogs is by following referrer sites back from my bravenet visitor counter, which means I also read the blogs of those who have linked to me. I also like to click on random blognames that sound tasty at www.weblogs.com; I see one or two new blogs a day with that method. .

I leave comments seldom but not never, follow hyperlinks from entries often but not always, and regularly follow a small number of blogs, maybe six or seven, reading each more than three times a week.

17. What criteria, if any, do you use to decide whether or not you will follow a hyperlink?

In blog entries, it depends on whether I am interested in the original source as presented by the blog author. If the entry seems to say all there is to say about the linked item, why follow it? On the other hand, if the blog entry is a recommendation, it would have to be something I'd already be interested in. Mostly, that's quirky things about people and institutions.

On weblogs.com and on other people's blogrolls/permalinks, most often, it's the name of the website, actually.

18. If applicable, please describe how visitors to your blog interact with you.

Almost exclusively through my own comments -- we've had some heated discussion. I do have a guestmap but it isn't featured prominently on the page, and few people find it.

19. Is your writing style and content affected by having visitors to your site? If so, how?

I do occasionally say hi to my readers. Intellectually and habitually, I know they are real people. But stylistically, blogging ends up a bit like being on the radio -- because you can't SEE your readers, they're not fully real. They are, we might say, unrealized. To make them feel real, I necessarily clothe them with my own projected image, somewhat amorphously. Although I am externalizing my thoughts, I think more than anything I clothe the people I encounter with, mostly, a double of myself, for whom else do I have to project upon others than my own imagined mind?

I feel very natural talking to myself in public; I'm a teacher, after all, and I have been a radio DJ for many, many years. Tonally, I do think I was a bit stiff when I started, but I think eventually I stopped thinking about it, and I believe - although I cannot be sure -- that my now the "voice" I use is essentially my own "diary voice."

As for content selection, yes, there are some things, mostly secrets, both my own and those I hold for others, which are not for blogging. For some reason, I seem to have a lot of secrets.

20. What web sites, if any, have you visited today?

Well, CNN.com, with the War on.

I visited Google several times, and a specific page on amazon.com through google twice.

I visited my own blog a bunch of times. I checked out the photo of the day at www.nmhschool.org. I went to weather.com. I visited my own syllabus for the class I was teaching today at http://zonorus.marlboro.edu/~jfarber/medialit.html so I knew what I was planning on doing today in class.

Please add any other comments about blogging or reactions to this survey.

There are at least five entries in my own blog which specifically address the sociological meaning and ramifications of the Blog as Medium. They are VERY easy to find: they're listed at the top of all my blogpages, on the right.

May I send a follow up survey to you?

Please do!

Thank you for your participation! Please refer to my site in the next few
days for preliminary results!

posted by boyhowdy | 1:30 AM | 0 comments


I'm Taking The Survey

Because Kara asked me to.

Maybe I'll post it when I'm done.

I bet you'd like that.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:26 AM | 0 comments

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Robert Kaplan Makes Sense

I had a strong suspicion that I was going to like Kaplan, author of Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands A Pagan Ethos. What I didn't expect was that I'd lead the standing ovation we gave him at the end of his 40 minute talk today at NMH. I felt good about what he had to say -- he made, in a much more organized way, the same case for war that I think/hope I was making earlier this week. I now feel like I understand why Iraq is the worst totalitarian regime out there, for example, and why that was inevitable, and why stopping Saddam as soon as possible, even if we leave only a vacuum in place, is better than leaving things be. I also realize that pretending that we're going to leave them with a democracy is silly, and that any new leadership would be much, much better for the Iraqi people than what's there now.

Where Howard Zinn appealed to our emotions, Kaplan appealed to our logic. Yet it was clear that, like any good thinker-historian, he, too, has a fundamental assumption at the heart of his arguments, an assumption that what the people of the world need is, ultimately, to live in a governmental structure which is both stable and preserves basic rights, such as those of the US Bill of Rights. According to Kaplan, this war is not really prompted by an issue of international security. It's a case based on humanism, on trying to engender a stable life for Iraqis, to lead them to a place where they can begin to lead themselves, a longer process than most believe. In other words, his long-term desires are about the same as anybody's -- peace, justice, and basic freedoms for all. I just think he's more a realist, like me, than an idealist like Zinn.

But Kaplan's ideas speak for themselves better than I ever could, and his argument is linear, so it's best presented in the same exact order that I heard it. Thus, what follows is a verbatum transcript of my notes from Kaplan's speech today. It's long, but worth reading, especially if, like too many people, you persist in the belief that this war is about oil, daddybush, or even -- surpise, surprise -- about trying to impose our own standards of democracy wholesale on other countries. As best as possible, it uses the actual phrasing Kaplan used.

Notes On Robert Kaplan's Speech to the NMH Community 3/20/03

Historically, always true that development (centralization, social change, etc.) escalates and diversifies demands on govt. beyond the capability to serve those demands. Because of this, development inherently leads to increasingly shaky social infrastructures -- and most collapse. Also, in the process of migrating into cities, religion refocuses ideology, compensating for a lack of social governance. This also, however, becomes a petri dish for the development of extremism, like that which engenders terrorism.

Therefore, periods of growth are always followed by periods of upheaval. AND, when small places change, big places change in response (development in small countries leads to increased emigration, for example). Interconnectivity.

"I'm only interested in one kind of population statistic. Political upheaval is always instigated by young males..." Therefore, "youth bulges" are a solid indicator of impending growth pains in developing nations/regions. The top ten youth bulges right now are sub-saharan, but the NEXT ten are all middle eastern, and middle eastern countries are so small that their growth is much more ccentralized (one city per country; the country becomes an extension of the city). We're entering an era where the middle east is becoming urbanized, and literacy is rising, so look for increasing unrest from the middle east. Leaders will need to be more like big-city-mayors, Giulliani-like, as small countries become citified.

Urban populations are harder to govern. More management, less opportunity for families and individuals to solve sustenance issues on their own (no urban agriculture for family food, for ex.). Their needs are interconnected; they are more dependent on / suceptible to supply/demand, etc. For example, in ten years, the amount of clean water per person in the middle east will be half what it is now.

"Newly formed, mostly-finished democracy is the MOST destabilizing element out there." Because when you have a crisis, you want to act, not discuss and consult. "So we preach democracy, but rely on autocrats." A condensed, literate population is less likely to tolerate autocracy. Thus, developing countries don't handle crises well at all. Our difficulty with Turkey, then, is BECAUSE there is a committee, not just a president, to convince and work with. You get, in the formative stages of democracy, neither a decisive democracy nor a decisive autocracy. "If we're frustrated with Turkey and the palestinians now...well, welcome to the future of our relations with the middle east over the next generation."

Big idea/thesis: What we're striving for, then, is NOT democracy in the short term -- democracy will need to spring from the people of Iraq if it is to take hold well. We're striving for "historic liberalism", by which we mean a civil society which supports basic rights and freedoms, like free press and speech, freedom to own property, basically the whole idealized Amnesty package.

But here's the problem. The world is a big and diverse place. In many places historic liberalism is traditionally furthered by mature democracies. BUT in many places, benevolent dictatorship provides better historic liberalism than a popular election would produce. Tunisi is a perfect example: their current benevolent dictatorship provides a strong foundation for civil society and fundamental rights, but a popular vote at this time would produce a restrictive fundamentalist society with hardly any rights for the people at all. This is also true of Egypt, Syria, and Palestine at the moment. You'd get worse rights preservation with voting. The benevolent dictatorships / autocrats need to be supported until such time as they can be sure that basic rights have taken root, and that elections would further those rights. That's coming, but not yet.

Now to Iraq. Iraq is "the last of the cold war regimes," by which we mean Stalin-era. Worst case scenario of basic rights -- none for people at all. The most centralized respressive kind of regime there is. Almost anything that replaces it would be dramatically better for the people. Even a general would produce a military regime like that of Morocco or Tunisia, where distribution of goods would be better (assumption -- no-longer-hungry people then can better advocate for rights, higher on maslo's pyramid)

"So I plead: don't expect absolute results. Even a measurable change in leadership is significant to the human freedom and rights of the average Iraqi family" (asumption: even if we take into account some deaths in those families in forcing a regime change, since there is no potential for regime change otherwise, deaths will be equivalent or worse as people starve slowly). "If Iraq isn't a democracy next year, then by no means can we conclude that the war was wrong."

Yes, expect it to be messy and brutal. War isn't pretty. But it seems necessary. IF we can carry this through, existence in the entire region will improve immeasurably. And there was, and is, no better way to do so. The Hussein regime was, and is, an evil, oppressive, narrow dead end. Only the creation of a vacuum will/is the way to help the Iraqi people.

Finally, in answer to the question "but should we have acted without the "proof" the UN was asking for?", I say this: Philosophically, the greater the danger, the less evidence you need to act. If you knew I was going to kill three people, you might wait to act until you had some evidence; if you knew I was going to kill thirty thousand people, you'd probably call me in for questioning, at least, with little proof. Therefore, in this conflict, virtue comes on acting on probable evidence. And, if the danger to the Iraqi people and to the world is great enough -- and it is -- we cannot wait IF waiting would continue to escalate a danger of that scale and scope.


And so it ended, and we filed out of the auditorium, swarms rushing into the beginnings of the first rain of spring.

Let the criticism begin.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:52 PM | 0 comments


Timing Is Everything

On the morning of war, the headlines swell to twice the size of previous days. This afternoon, Robert Kaplan is speaking here at NMH. Here's the bio we've been using to promote his visit:

Atlantic Monthly correspondent Robert Kaplan is the bestselling author of nine books on international affairs that have been translated into over 15 languages. His latest work is Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands a Pagan Ethos, about how ancient philosophy can improve critical thinking in business and foreign affairs in an age of terrorism and other nonconventional threats. In the 1980s, Kaplan was the first American writer to warn in print of a future war in the Balkans.

Surely the author of a new book promoting a new pagan ethos in international foreign policy and conflict will be relevant. According to a long-time history teacher I know, the book is supportive of Machiavellian tactics, and promotes, among other things, the idea that power fades if it is not used. Those who follow this blog regularly might remember how much fun we had with Howard Zinn's visit last month. By this evening I should have my report.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:58 AM | 0 comments

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Duty Addendum-dums

Had to proofread more yearbook pages during much of tonight's dorm duty. Not done yet, so apologies in advance if it cuts into the blogging over the next few days. For some reason, yearbook doesn't attract the best and brightest writers here at NMH; this is, I think, partially because it's so much work that it turns the best kids off, and partially because the school newspaper and the school literary magazine meet at the same time, so yearbook loses some of the best writers to those other electives.

On the bright side, Darcie says if there's any budget left at the end of the year, I get paid for all the hours I put in proofreading the predominantly ESL-student-written and therefore generally mangled text. On the notsobright side, who ever heard of a school department having a budget surplus at the end of the year?

posted by boyhowdy | 11:52 PM | 0 comments


Watching The War

My Media Literacy class began this morning. The first day is boring on purpose, so those kids not really invested in the subject can decide to find another class before the end of our veryquick add-drop period, but it seems like a good and animated group, even if one student did try to derail discussion by claiming that deliberate communicative intent wasn't the exclusive province of humans, but could, philosophically speaking, be ascribed to, say, airplanes and flowers and stuff. As an added bonus, the class is more than half female, a real triumph for a study of technology and communications, a field which traditionally has somewhat less trouble than computer science in attracting girls but still doesn't always attract the sexes equally.

Tonight's assignment was to watch 40 minutes of network television and log all major "events" (commercials, station breaks, sitcom or other programmatic bytes). Usually, the most startling thing about this exercise for the students is the relaization of how little of what's on television is actually programming -- most adolescents have no idea that there is only about eighteen minutes of actual program for every half hour of commercial television, and it startles them while setting us up for an engaging discussion about whether there is really any difference, in terms of commercial relevance, between the commercials and the program itself (there is a difference in teqhnique, certainly, most obviously in pacing and narrative structure, but this is more a function of genre than of commercial relevance).

But tonight the war was on tv, and I was on duty. If my class' experience was anything like the kids in the house, what they watched -- voluntarily and silently and seriously, making me proud to be their teacher and mentor -- was war, and in war, all the usual rules of television are suspended. The war footage, Bush's speech and its subsequent commentary, even the somber nature of the commericals themselves don't serve the commercial mindset in the same way, although an argument can be made that they do serve it in some way.

I'm looking forward to class, in a new way, a rejuvenating way, and it feels good. Kinda slimygood, since it's a kind of academic war profiteering to be so pleased to be able to have the war walk us through our study of mass media in the first two weeks of the course, before we turn to more intimate and interpersonal media as speech and academic writing. But if last Fall's course, which had the same coincidence with the 9/11 bombing, is any indication, we'll run out of time before we run out of things to see and say, and the students' personal attachment to their subject will be heightened in ways that teachers only dream about.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:46 PM | 0 comments


First Things First

To catch up: Monday, after a peaceful visit to the mud-filled fields of cows and horses at the NMH school farm and a quick stopover in the sugarhouse to commiserate with the ordained-minister head of farm program about what, until this morning, was a pretty weak sap-collecting season -- too much warmth at night and not enough in the mornings can do that to a maple's veins, you see -- and a quick trip into town for hot wings at our favorite bar, it was radio show time once again. As I believe the phrase pro-peace to be far more inclusive than the inherently-angry anti-war, Monday night saw yet another Very Special Tributary, filled with some anti-war songs, albeit not the usual anthems, and a plethora of songs promoting harmony of all types. Of course, my amazon order finally came through, so I also had eight new CDs since the last time we did the show before Spring Break; by preference and aural/psychological necessity, these were showcased as well.

Ginny and I also read bedtime stories on the hour and the half hour, as is our weekly wont; in keeping with the anti-conflict theme, I managed to pick up a copy of Ferdinand (for those who've forgotten, Ferdinand is a peaceful bull, who would rather sit and smell the flowers than fight, but when he gets stung by a bee he flips out and gets chosen to be the star of the local bullfight...wherein he promptly sits in the middle of the ring and sniffs deeply, enjoying the flowers the Senoritas throw at him), and read Dr. Seuss' story of the North and South-going Zax, and a cute little satire of the 3 little pigs in which the pigs are sandinistas and the wolf the evil capitalist oppressor.

The evening's win-free-coffee-for-a-week-from-the-snack-bar contest was to identify which band originally performed the Johnny Cash song below, but since no one answered it, I'll leave it as an exercise for the blogreader. If you know the answer, I'll donate a buck to your favorite pay-pal-taking cause. Seriously. (First taker only; I'm not made of money.) The replacement contest we came up with was to identify any of the previous bands which Jorma Kaukonen was in; I was thinking of Hot Tuna, but the radio station's technical director called and correctly identified that before that, he was in Jefferson Airplane, so I gave it to him.

Set list follows. New songs in my collection are starred. All are excellent.

Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
*Eddie From Ohio -- Stupid American
*Brooks Williams -- Mother Earth
Dixie Chicks -- Travelling Soldier
Mark Erelli -- Compass and Companion
*Dolly Parton -- Shine
*Johnny Cash -- Personal Jesus
*Trey Anastasio -- Cayman Review
*Jorma Kaukonen -- Big River Blues
*Mo' Horizons -- Hit The Road Jack
*Keller Williams -- Anyhow, Anyway
*Brooks Williams -- May You Never
Norah Jones -- Cold Cold Heart
Dar Williams -- This Is Pompeii
Indigo Girls -- Let It Be Me
The Harshed Mellows -- US Blues
Jonatha Brooke -- War
Leandra Peak -- Wash My Eyes
Deb Talan -- Two Points
Patricia Maertens -- Comfortably Numb
*Brooks Williams -- She Loves Me (when I try)
David Wilcox -- Heart Shaped Medallion

posted by boyhowdy | 11:34 PM | 0 comments

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Tech Note

I was getting some odd Java error message from blogger for a while, and now it's really, really late.

So stay tuned, folks. Tributary, the best little radio show in Northfield, MA, was back with a vengance this evening, and I'll tell you all about it -- and about our afternoon visit to show willow the muddy cows and horses -- once work is over, in about 15 hours from...mark.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:26 AM | 0 comments

Monday, March 17, 2003

Quote Of The War

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots. [Thomas Jefferson]

I am hereby coming out reluctantly and only marginally in favor of war, mostly because I believe the Iraqi people cannot even ask us for the help they want of us.

And because the anti-war camp has, as I tried to explain to Virginia this evening, not been practicing peace, especially ANSWER, primary organizer of the protests and avidly anti-Israel, as well as avidly interested in bludgeoning us with strong-arm, manipulative tactics to garner support for their cause.

And because I am scared for my daughter. I decided tonight, listening to Bush and, after him, Howard Zinn on PBS, that I would go to Iraq today, stand in the desert, bare myself to gunfire from reluctant gun-toting men, be a soldier if it would keep my daughter and her world safe.

Heinlein, in Starship Troopers, says that the moral difference between the soldier and the civilian lies in the field of civic virtue. A soldier accepts personal responsibility for the safety of the body politic of which he is a member, defending it, if need be, with his life. The civilian does not.

I stand resolved. The body politic, which I define not as a nation or country, but as a free world, doesn't feel safe, not from inside. I'm ready to sacrifice my own life, if I have to, to make it so, and I must believe that humanity, on the whole, feels the same way, Iraqi and American, no matter the nationality. I must believe, in other words, that we are all willing to die, if we need to, so that the children of all our races can live in harmony when the dust has settled. I've lived long enough and cannot live in protesting paranoia anymore. My daughter deserves no less.

An older, wiser head said this a different way:

What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly...it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.

Here's hoping the Iraqi people, God bless their souls, have read their Thomas Paine. No matter what happens in the coming days, if the Iraqis -- a people who fight in an army they don't want to be in at all, a people whose aid has been systematically usurped by Saddam for his own military paranoia -- end up free, it won't be free, and probably won't be cheap. But I remain hopeful that their lot will be better, in short term and long, after Saddam is removed. Period.

And if the Iraqis are finally free, no matter what the regime change, no matter what the cost? If they get their aid, and no longer suffer in the shadow of their despotic leader, and the rest of the world STILL thinks we were the bad guys here? In the words of atomic-bomb physicist Richard Feynman, What do you care what other people think? It's enough to do the right thing. And no matter what you think about haste or waste, war or peace, I think freeing an entire people is always the right thing.

Preemptively, yes, I do understand the reasons why many of my readers and peers are opposed to this war, and why less but not none are opposed to all armed conflict. I've missed nothing. I understand the issues. I am mostly still on the fence. But I am for freedom, and as long as one Iraqi is not free, my heart is not free. And as long as my daughter and I live in fear, we are not at peace. If there is a way to hasten peace, then, reluctantly, I am beginning to be for it.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:06 PM | 0 comments


Bush Speaks!

After a long, mostly-boring Professional Development Day on the eve of the student's arrival for an impending Spring term:

a. We're watching students arriving from Asia, carriers of that scary new virus, worried about the baby catching something new and so-far untreatable.
b. We're watching Bush declare war.

I'd ask what this world is coming to, but I think I know. Bring it on, apocalypse!

Stay tuned for a radio show report after midnight tonight. We're gonna read pro-peace/anti-conflict bedtime stories, including Ferdinand the Bull. See you then!

posted by boyhowdy | 8:00 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, March 16, 2003

Blogtitle of the Day

Today's BtOTD is awarded to I Want To Hug Kafka. Here's what the author has to say about it:

FRANZ KAFKA was a Czech Jew who became a major German writer and mercifully died before the Nazis could get him. His works are miserably depressing and really fun to read, even though they're translated. (Not for everyone, unless you dig tortured souls.) He can be pretty funny as well and his first published article was about airplanes.

I like Kafka. He's nifty. He's sad. He's a person that needs hugging.


Amen.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:43 PM | 0 comments


Lies! All Lies!

Oh dear God. I'm Green. At least, according to Quizilla's newest quiz Which political sterotype are you?


Nader
Green: You believe that small economic units
should control the goods, and that the
government should be permissive of
"victimless crimes," respectful of
civil liberties and very strict towards big
business. You also believe in either a
socialist tax structure or more power to local
communities. You think that environmental
policies should be written into law. Your
historical role model is Ralf Nader.



And here I thought I was a fiscally conservative, socially libertarian secular humanist. Serves me right for taking one of those stupid five-question quizzes.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:20 PM | 0 comments


NY Jewish Sect Declares Fried God "Delicious!"

Okay, not really. But they do claim that the hebrew-speaking fish was a sign of impending apocolypse. From today's edition of The Observer:

According to two fish-cutters at the New Square Fish Market, the carp was about to be slaughtered and made into gefilte fish for Sabbath dinner when it suddenly began shouting apocalyptic warnings in Hebrew

Sect, the Skver Hassidim, a group of about 7k outside of Manhattan, have declared the 20lb carp was a mystical visitation.

But here's my favorite part of the story: The animated carp commanded Rosen to pray and study the Torah. Rosen tried to kill the fish but injured himself. It was finally butchered by Nivelo and sold.

If a fish started talking to you, would you kill it and sell it? Maybe Rosen was an atheist or something, or maybe he was just one of those people who wants to kill what he doesn't understand (and by my estimation that's pretty much everyone but me and you, and I'm not so sure about you). But hey. Some people. Geez.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:20 PM | 0 comments
coming soon
now listening
tinyblog
archives
about
links
blogs
quotes