Today I went to a "networking" "event" hosted by Carleton. I encapsulate these words in quotes because neither of them would have been used to describe an event like this twenty years ago. I wasn't clear on what this was. It really was just a fancy dress party, except instead of dancing, everyone was drinking and looking for a job. (I was the only one in the room who got carded.) One guy told the story of how he did hardcore "networking" by calling two alumni every day until he had a good investing job. I talked with a Kenyon alumna who worked at a nonprofit journal. She told me that with a liberal arts major, you wouldn't get very far writing for love, so to get a job without joining a corporation you'd need to latch on to some well-funded movement. And to get hired by a well-funded movement, you need contacts. It's stunning to think of how the counterculture has become another social club with "networking" as the entrance examination.
I know two people who would have been called counterculture in the 60s. They were in an indie band in high school and were devoted to music as a way of life and not just a hobby. One of them no longer plays music-- perhaps a of recognition of modern cultural nihilism. The other, with the benefit of well-connected parents, networked his way onto an indie label.
The counterculture as the Beat Generation and Boomers knew it was always an artifice. It could not have existed without a liberal society that provided room, board, and soapboxes. Yet it was, at the same time, energized by something that was not a brand or a set of rules. Out of the blue, my friend's mom described to me what it was like to drive through Georgetown in the 60s, where anti-war rallies often closed the streets. There were people sitting on the sidewalks, wearing whatever was hip, openly smoking pot and handing out flowers to the drivers and passengers. A librarian at Carleton told me stories about how back-to-nature adventurers in upstate Minnesota would share the copy of the Whole Earth Catalog at the library, since they didn't have the pocket change to buy their own copy. Merely by rejecting the norm, these people became memorable to those they encountered. Believe it or not, "hippie" was not a brand they had decided to apply to themselves but a legitimate ad-hoc creation.
Adorno writes about the culture industry as an inevitable process. The existence of mass culture creates reification (the changing out of a passion for a brand). True music is an experience without a name, that cannot be bought or sold. Brand-name music-- 50 Cent, the Backstreet Boys, the first eight bars of Beethoven's 5th-- is not an experience but a commodity, meant to be associated with some other kind of knowledge about the context of the song or the individuals involved in its production. Mass culture created the opportunity for a mass counterculture, but only temporarily. Since anyone can reify a cultural artifact, counterculture was quickly consumed by political and commercial use. This led to punk, which aimed to be a movement resistant to commercial exploitation. Already the goal of the counterculture had been downgraded from transformation to resistance, but this was also consumed. Subsequent movements were on a lesser and lesser scale, until finally we arrive at the modern "indie" subculture which glorified the unsanded, unpolished ugliness that commerce and politics were wary of putting their hands on. If you judge the counterculture by the strength of its response to the mainstream, indie is pitiful. It is purposefully below-par in its output, subservient or nihilistic in its outlook, and weak-willed and twee in defense of itself. The bare qualification for whether something is "indie" is resisting "selling out": that is to say, whether an artist prevents his production from merging with the mass culture. This absurd cat-and-mouse game might be kept up for a few more years, but after Napoleon Dynamite the cause is clearly hopeless.
It occurs to me, reading the Adbusters article "Hipsters: The Dead End of Western Civilization", that there is nowhere to go from here. People are spending their weekends superficially pretending that they are still part of the cool and have not merged with the mainstream, when they clearly have. The consumption of indie counterculture means the last barrier has been knocked down and now anything that can be created is automatically considered mass culture, just with a varying amount of popularity. The Internet makes the mass culture participatory and allows happy, compliant consumers to define their own meaningless subcultures. Reification is ubiquitous; even Adbusters cannot seem to imagine a world without it, and they have proposed their meager "Blackspot" brand as a way to "culture jam" brands that represent a less progressive way of living. Instead of fighting the idea which the brand stands for, the children who imagine themselves to carry on the counterculture are hurling stones at the brand.
What exactly will happen in the next ten years? It kind of makes you wish that civilization does come grinding to a halt. To say that the purpose of civilization is to manufacture consumer products, or make life comfortable, is not utilitarian: it is actually ignorance of what truly provides utility to people. True, everyone wants a certain amount of financial stability. But that is because it makes life more beautiful to be free of financial worries. If beauty is sucked out of life by the mass culture, turning music, art, and language into a set of "memes" which have no meaning by themselves, then civilization is actually taking us downhill.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Barney Frank's Marijuana Bill
Today I had the great opportunity to sit in on a House press conference. Barney Frank was introducing a bill to decriminalize marijuana at the federal level. Statements were read by two members of the Congressional Black Caucus, NORML, the MPP, and the Drug Policy Alliance. Were it not for Barney's constant quipping it would be a serious affair.
On the right you can see the CNN camera. (NOTE: MSNBC, FOX, and the other networks did not show up. The only other TV network besides CNN was HD News. The Raw Story did have a reporter there.) I don't know if the conference was broadcast live, but you can watch it online at CNN.com. Instead, I will quote you some of the flippant ad-libbing he did in between speakers:
"Given the effects of marijuana use, it seems like denying people access to food stamps is unusually harsh."
"I'd say the chances of this bill passing [this year] are not high."
"I do obey every law I vote for... no, seriously, I don't smoke marijuana myself. I do smoke cigars."
"There was one Presidential candidate who got a lot of popular support and supported legalization, and that was... Ron Paul." [Paul is one of the cosponsors of the bill.] "I think we'll end here."
As we were heading out the door, a sketchy-looking man in a tweed suit handed me a pamphlet from the Office of National Drug Control Policy. The title is "Marijuana: The Greatest Cause of Illegal Drug Abuse." It appears to have been released the day before Barney's press conference on purpose, but in terms of "striking back" it is hilariously awful. I am not exaggerating at all, go ahead and click on that link and see what evidence you can find for prohibition. The entire pamphlet contains only 500 words or so (and ~50 disjointed graphs), making the quest for rationality difficult, but their argument seems to run as follows:
UPDATE
Barney will be interviewed on CNN at 2:45PM EST [not 3:45, sorry]. Tune in and watch! The interview was shown at 2:30PM. I like the part where they said "just moments ago"-- it was recorded at 1:15!
UPDATE 2
We've received roughly two dozen calls in support of this bill, and zero against.
"Given the effects of marijuana use, it seems like denying people access to food stamps is unusually harsh."
"I'd say the chances of this bill passing [this year] are not high."
"I do obey every law I vote for... no, seriously, I don't smoke marijuana myself. I do smoke cigars."
"There was one Presidential candidate who got a lot of popular support and supported legalization, and that was... Ron Paul." [Paul is one of the cosponsors of the bill.] "I think we'll end here."
As we were heading out the door, a sketchy-looking man in a tweed suit handed me a pamphlet from the Office of National Drug Control Policy. The title is "Marijuana: The Greatest Cause of Illegal Drug Abuse." It appears to have been released the day before Barney's press conference on purpose, but in terms of "striking back" it is hilariously awful. I am not exaggerating at all, go ahead and click on that link and see what evidence you can find for prohibition. The entire pamphlet contains only 500 words or so (and ~50 disjointed graphs), making the quest for rationality difficult, but their argument seems to run as follows:
- Marijuana is illegal.
- Therefore, it is abused.
- Therefore, it should remain illegal.
UPDATE
UPDATE 2
We've received roughly two dozen calls in support of this bill, and zero against.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Undercover in the Depths of ZOG
One thing you'll notice about Capitol Hill if you ever visit for an extended period of time is that there are a lot of Jews here. I could not tell you why this is true, but it is. I'd say they outnumber the evangelical Christians. It's not like I can recognize Jews on sight, but there are telltale signs: yarmulkes, Jewfros, Israeli flags, Stars of David, and most prominently, AIPAC stickers.
Today I saw AIPAC was holding its final Summer Seminar. This one was featuring Joshua Bolten, the chief of staff of a little-known office called the White House. You'd think he'd be a little too busy to talk to interns, but it makes sense, because Bolten is Jewish.
Except it doesn't. My knowledge of the Jewish religion comes from my mother's mother ("this steak is to die for!"), her mother's mother (as related to me in stories), and the Rugrats Hanukkah Special. As far as I know, Judaism is about following the commandments of God, remembering the history of the Jewish people, and spinning a menorah every winter. I am absolutely bewildered by the religious belief, which I have only begun to encounter as I meet new people in college, that Judaism has something to do with staking a claim in the physical place called Israel. But apparently this is not only a major part of Judaism, but so important to the upkeep of the United States that one of the only times Obama donned a flag lapel pin was to demonstrate dual loyalty.
This seems absurd to me. Shouldn't America be the only loyalty of a Presidential candidate? I thought this is what the flag-waving Republicans are all about. Yet a message which would be political doomsday if any other country was on that pin (America/France?) is completely non-notable when it's Israel. To investigate the origin of this political compulsion, I went to this AIPAC seminar in the fancy-schmancy Ronald Reagan building.
There were maybe five or six yarmulkes... in an audience of over 600, and no Jewfros. There was a 1:1 ratio of men to women, a wide variety of colors and even some Arab faces-- a surprisingly diverse crowd for "America's Israel lobby." They all dressed and sounded like future Israel lobbyists; the college students making the introductions on stage proudly announced they were "diamond" AIPAC members which I assume will take them to great places in the future. I looked around for indications that this was actually a Republican rally, but I could find none. "Are all these people really here to support AIPAC?" I asked the guy sitting next to me. "Oh yeah, I'd say they have to be. Why are you here?" he asked. I demurred.
The talk itself was off the record. I was planning to violate that off-the-record promise but he didn't say anything too exciting anyway. Bush's plan for Israel, in case you didn't know, was a two-state solution with a Roadmap to Peace for both parties. Bush is proud to be the Decider and he's confident he will be remembered well by history. These facts come from a vague mish-mash of ideas in my head and I do not attribute them to anyone, least of all our off-the-record speaker.
Why is the continuing existence of Israel as an exclusively Jewish state so important, then? Well, here's one theme I heard: the Holocaust. Then why isn't there a Roma state in India? And why don't the Jews just come here to the USA? We're the most free and diverse country in the world, and any evidence of racial or ethnic hatred at this point in our nation's history is a cause for the entire country to denounce and reject. My great-great-great-grandparents immigrated here before that was even the case, and I don't see why what was best for them shouldn't be best for everyone else as well.
Okay, I didn't really get any of my questions answered, even though AIPAC committed itself to promoting a "dialogue." I really wanted to ask the guy what was so great about the two-state solution, but at an event paid for by AIPAC, that would just be rude. South Africa didn't deserve the privilege of a two-state solution in 1989, and I don't see any reason why Israel should be different in that regard. But maybe I'm making some people uncomfortable, so I'll stop here.
There was no secret meeting or conspiracy. The Republican speaker was very earnest, and the audience was extremely polite and self-critical. The cause just didn't make any sense. America is weird sometimes.
Today I saw AIPAC was holding its final Summer Seminar. This one was featuring Joshua Bolten, the chief of staff of a little-known office called the White House. You'd think he'd be a little too busy to talk to interns, but it makes sense, because Bolten is Jewish.
Except it doesn't. My knowledge of the Jewish religion comes from my mother's mother ("this steak is to die for!"), her mother's mother (as related to me in stories), and the Rugrats Hanukkah Special. As far as I know, Judaism is about following the commandments of God, remembering the history of the Jewish people, and spinning a menorah every winter. I am absolutely bewildered by the religious belief, which I have only begun to encounter as I meet new people in college, that Judaism has something to do with staking a claim in the physical place called Israel. But apparently this is not only a major part of Judaism, but so important to the upkeep of the United States that one of the only times Obama donned a flag lapel pin was to demonstrate dual loyalty.
This seems absurd to me. Shouldn't America be the only loyalty of a Presidential candidate? I thought this is what the flag-waving Republicans are all about. Yet a message which would be political doomsday if any other country was on that pin (America/France?) is completely non-notable when it's Israel. To investigate the origin of this political compulsion, I went to this AIPAC seminar in the fancy-schmancy Ronald Reagan building.
There were maybe five or six yarmulkes... in an audience of over 600, and no Jewfros. There was a 1:1 ratio of men to women, a wide variety of colors and even some Arab faces-- a surprisingly diverse crowd for "America's Israel lobby." They all dressed and sounded like future Israel lobbyists; the college students making the introductions on stage proudly announced they were "diamond" AIPAC members which I assume will take them to great places in the future. I looked around for indications that this was actually a Republican rally, but I could find none. "Are all these people really here to support AIPAC?" I asked the guy sitting next to me. "Oh yeah, I'd say they have to be. Why are you here?" he asked. I demurred.
The talk itself was off the record. I was planning to violate that off-the-record promise but he didn't say anything too exciting anyway. Bush's plan for Israel, in case you didn't know, was a two-state solution with a Roadmap to Peace for both parties. Bush is proud to be the Decider and he's confident he will be remembered well by history. These facts come from a vague mish-mash of ideas in my head and I do not attribute them to anyone, least of all our off-the-record speaker.
Why is the continuing existence of Israel as an exclusively Jewish state so important, then? Well, here's one theme I heard: the Holocaust. Then why isn't there a Roma state in India? And why don't the Jews just come here to the USA? We're the most free and diverse country in the world, and any evidence of racial or ethnic hatred at this point in our nation's history is a cause for the entire country to denounce and reject. My great-great-great-grandparents immigrated here before that was even the case, and I don't see why what was best for them shouldn't be best for everyone else as well.
Okay, I didn't really get any of my questions answered, even though AIPAC committed itself to promoting a "dialogue." I really wanted to ask the guy what was so great about the two-state solution, but at an event paid for by AIPAC, that would just be rude. South Africa didn't deserve the privilege of a two-state solution in 1989, and I don't see any reason why Israel should be different in that regard. But maybe I'm making some people uncomfortable, so I'll stop here.
There was no secret meeting or conspiracy. The Republican speaker was very earnest, and the audience was extremely polite and self-critical. The cause just didn't make any sense. America is weird sometimes.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Newseum and Colin Powell
Yesterday I decided I hadn't watched enough television this week and I needed to chillax with some infotainment. So I ponied up $20 for the Newseum. The best part of the Newseum is its proximity to the Capitol. The First Amendment is engraved in six-story-tall letters on the outside of the building, visible from the Capitol (with binoculars). From one of the staircases you can see a transparent view of the Hill.
The rest of the Newseum is so glitzy it makes the Spy Museum look formal and stuffy, which says a lot. On the fifth floor there is a display of five hundred years of real newspapers which you can pull out and read, with tchochkes and video attacking you from the walls. Don't be afraid about spending too much time on this floor because it is by far the most interesting exhibit. The rest of the museum is pretty much fluff. A big amount of it is a tribute to the civil rights movement, which became famous because it was so well-covered by Northern media. But a strictly enforced Baby Boomer cultural amnesia persists: the abolitionist, labor, Cuban War, and temperance movements were also heavily assisted by the press, but these are pretty much ignored, probably because they can't be translated into multimedia extravaganzas. You will note on the third floor, in the First Amendment exhibit, a picture of Prohibition protesters carrying signs reading "We Want Beer." This is the tip of the iceberg of a rich history of news culture and events which are simply ignored here. Who is Pulitzer, and why did he have a prize named after him? If this is discussed anywhere in the Newseum, I missed it. Instead, they have a live television studio (finally, you can fulfill your dream of being part of a studio audience!), a control room behind a glass wall, pieces of the Berlin Wall and the Twin Towers, an event where you can be a fake TV reporter for $5, and a lot of other foolishness. I was somewhat absent-mindedly looking for a mention of The Hidden History of the Korean War or Howard Zinn, but of course these are not mentioned because they are part of a different media culture entirely. I do appreciate that the much-ignored African-American press was integrated into the fifth-floor exhibit, which I returned to after wandering bemused through the rest of the museum.
In the basement there was an exhibit on the FBI in the news, which was mostly informative. Did you know that the FBI cooperated fully with NYT and WaPo during the Unabomber case, and gave them full discretion over whether to publish his universally unread Manifesto? There's press freedom in action. Unfortunately, the exhibit whitewashes the FBI's attempts to squash the civil rights movement. It's given a vague mention, but the exhibit mainly pretends that J. Edgar Hoover and MLK were best buddies.
This morning I remembered that Colin Powell was speaking and rushed to Cannon to find the room. The room was overflowing with interns, who all pulled out their cameras when the general walked in. He talked to us for some time about his faith in democracy, the challenges of the future, education and so forth. He then took questions. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the Yoo memorandum but I was too far back. You might think that this is a vague thing to ask such an important person-- I'm sure Wesley would have far better questions-- but I've learned from experience that the questions I'm thinking of are above average. Here are some example questions that unfortunate intelligent people got asked by interns:
- So, Mr. Prime Minister, I heard you like Elvis.
- Oh, Elvis? I love Elvis!
- Did you know that I knew Elvis?
- You knew Elvis?
- I served with Elvis in Germany. I was a lieutenant and he was a sergeant.
- You knew Elvis??
- And I'm telling you, Mr. Prime Minister... he's still alive!
This ugly cell phone picture is reified proof that I saw Colin Powell speak.
The rest of the Newseum is so glitzy it makes the Spy Museum look formal and stuffy, which says a lot. On the fifth floor there is a display of five hundred years of real newspapers which you can pull out and read, with tchochkes and video attacking you from the walls. Don't be afraid about spending too much time on this floor because it is by far the most interesting exhibit. The rest of the museum is pretty much fluff. A big amount of it is a tribute to the civil rights movement, which became famous because it was so well-covered by Northern media. But a strictly enforced Baby Boomer cultural amnesia persists: the abolitionist, labor, Cuban War, and temperance movements were also heavily assisted by the press, but these are pretty much ignored, probably because they can't be translated into multimedia extravaganzas. You will note on the third floor, in the First Amendment exhibit, a picture of Prohibition protesters carrying signs reading "We Want Beer." This is the tip of the iceberg of a rich history of news culture and events which are simply ignored here. Who is Pulitzer, and why did he have a prize named after him? If this is discussed anywhere in the Newseum, I missed it. Instead, they have a live television studio (finally, you can fulfill your dream of being part of a studio audience!), a control room behind a glass wall, pieces of the Berlin Wall and the Twin Towers, an event where you can be a fake TV reporter for $5, and a lot of other foolishness. I was somewhat absent-mindedly looking for a mention of The Hidden History of the Korean War or Howard Zinn, but of course these are not mentioned because they are part of a different media culture entirely. I do appreciate that the much-ignored African-American press was integrated into the fifth-floor exhibit, which I returned to after wandering bemused through the rest of the museum.
In the basement there was an exhibit on the FBI in the news, which was mostly informative. Did you know that the FBI cooperated fully with NYT and WaPo during the Unabomber case, and gave them full discretion over whether to publish his universally unread Manifesto? There's press freedom in action. Unfortunately, the exhibit whitewashes the FBI's attempts to squash the civil rights movement. It's given a vague mention, but the exhibit mainly pretends that J. Edgar Hoover and MLK were best buddies.
This morning I remembered that Colin Powell was speaking and rushed to Cannon to find the room. The room was overflowing with interns, who all pulled out their cameras when the general walked in. He talked to us for some time about his faith in democracy, the challenges of the future, education and so forth. He then took questions. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the Yoo memorandum but I was too far back. You might think that this is a vague thing to ask such an important person-- I'm sure Wesley would have far better questions-- but I've learned from experience that the questions I'm thinking of are above average. Here are some example questions that unfortunate intelligent people got asked by interns:
- (to Chuck Hagel) If Barack Obama offered you the vice presidential nomination, would you take it?
- (to Barney Frank) How many seats do you think the Dems will pick up this year?
- (to both Hagel and Frank) Do you have any advice for people who want to go into politics?
- (to Powell, as had I expected) How do you think President Bush will be remembered by history?
- So, Mr. Prime Minister, I heard you like Elvis.
- Oh, Elvis? I love Elvis!
- Did you know that I knew Elvis?
- You knew Elvis?
- I served with Elvis in Germany. I was a lieutenant and he was a sergeant.
- You knew Elvis??
- And I'm telling you, Mr. Prime Minister... he's still alive!
This ugly cell phone picture is reified proof that I saw Colin Powell speak.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Chinatown
Today I was still feeling down for learning how stupid I am and and how much I need other people. There is a girl in town who has been nice to me. I invited her to go to Chinatown with me. We went together and had a wonderful lunch at Ruby Tuesday's. It's difficult to express how relieved I feel.
Perhaps I should explain the apparent contradiction of Ruby Tuesday's in Chinatown. The DC Chinatown is really a joke. Next to the fancy Chinese gate you can go to Fuddruckers or Starbucks. Some of the businesses make a halfhearted attempt at Chinese translation.
Others do a superb job and look more Chinese than the real thing, but unfortunately, Legal Sea Foods isn't a Chinese restaurant no matter how hard they try.
Afterwards we went to Radio Shack and I bought some headphones, then we wandered around. There was a bootleg DVD shop that looked awesome but was actually really creepy. Maybe it was a front for the Triad. We also visited a custom seal shop and talked to its Chinese artist-owner who knew English very well but couldn't pronounce it at all. I'm not sure if he understood how little of what he was saying was getting across. His art was really beautiful, though.
We still had an hour left before Hellboy. We went to the theater to buy tickets and saw that The Dark Knight was about to start. I already saw that movie but my friend really wanted to see it. Seeing her expression, I changed my mind and decided to watch it again with her. I guess I haven't learned my lesson at all. Maybe asserting yourself is how you get up in the world, but I really don't want to do that. I just want to make my friends happy.
I had a wonderful afternoon. When I got home I caught a little bit of the Prairie Home Companion, then I plugged in my headphones and listened to my Pandora station. And you know what? Joanna Newsom is the best kind of therapy. God, keep it up, Joanna.
Perhaps I should explain the apparent contradiction of Ruby Tuesday's in Chinatown. The DC Chinatown is really a joke. Next to the fancy Chinese gate you can go to Fuddruckers or Starbucks. Some of the businesses make a halfhearted attempt at Chinese translation.
We still had an hour left before Hellboy. We went to the theater to buy tickets and saw that The Dark Knight was about to start. I already saw that movie but my friend really wanted to see it. Seeing her expression, I changed my mind and decided to watch it again with her. I guess I haven't learned my lesson at all. Maybe asserting yourself is how you get up in the world, but I really don't want to do that. I just want to make my friends happy.
I had a wonderful afternoon. When I got home I caught a little bit of the Prairie Home Companion, then I plugged in my headphones and listened to my Pandora station. And you know what? Joanna Newsom is the best kind of therapy. God, keep it up, Joanna.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Why I am the worst person ever
I just gave $85 to a smelly, lying homeless man.
I want to kill myself. Keeeeeeeeelllll myself. But instead I will tell the story, so you can laugh at my idiocy.
I was walking back from dinner with two friends, wearing a Domo-kun shirt with a bottle of ramune rattling in my backpack. Apparently I looked like the most naive person in all of DC. On an empty street, in the dark, I was approached by a homeless man with horrible teeth and a bad smell. "Hey," he said, "I need some help."
I put my hand in my wallet, prepared to give him some change. "Hey, don't do that, man," he said. "I just need some directions. Do you know where 2700 Pennsylvania Avenue is?"
"Yeah, I guess...?"
He sat down on the curb. "That's where the Salvation Army building is. I just got out of the hospital but the Salvation Army doesn't open until Tuesday. I got no one in this city, man. NO ONE."
"I just got back from dinner. I only got 5 bucks, man."
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. While I was in the hospital they told me my mother was dying. I need bus tickets to go see her. It'll be a 16 hour ride, man. It's just $16 for the tickets."
"Look, I can give you $5."
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. I NEED to see my mom, man. I got a black widow bite this big, look at this." He pulled off his shoe and I saw a big cut on his leg and a bloody sock. "It went all through my leg, and I had to go to the hospital. Now I got to see my mother immediately."
"Do you want me to show you where the bus stop is?"
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. I'm a Christian, man. I'll pay you back. Just give me your information and I'll send you a gift card on the 29th."
"Well, what do you want me to do? I can take you to an ATM..."
Why did I say this? At this point I was not even thinking. When I am talking people I do not make judgment calls about how smart the thing is that I'm saying. I'm just trying to solve a problem, or some shit like that. Anyway, now this guy lights up and jumps off of the curb. "YEAH! You'll see, I just need to borrow $21. I'm a Christian, man, you can trust me."
Somewhere in the back of my head, I make a note that this number is larger than the previous number. Barely. But now this guy is walking with me, looking for an ATM.
"The Salvation Army office doesn't open until Tuesday, and I got to see her today. My mom's the only one I got, man. Look, here's my card." He hands me a dirty businesss card he found on the street. "Here, just write down your address on this paper here and I'll send you a gift card by the 29th." Like a dope, I do so. I remind myself that my GWU dorm is behind two locked doors, and I'll be out of there by August 11. "Look, the 12 hour train ride costs $69, and the 16 hour one is $49... but I got a $20 card, see, I can pay for some of it myself." I see we're getting closer to my apartment. I look for a clearing, see if I can make a break for it. But the street is empty. It seems out of the question now.
Finally he shows me in to an ATM. "So, how much did you say this bus ticket was?" I ask nervously, quite aware that he's about to give me a huge number. "$20?"
"It's $80, man. But look, you can trust me, okay? I'll send you $100 gift card. Just check your mail on the 29th, it'll be there."
"I don't know if I can trust you, man. I don't even know if this card is yours. It doesn't have your picture on it or anything." The weakest possible argument: he is a smelly, bearded, obviously homeless man.
"Come on, man. I'm a Christian, alright? I'll get it back to you. I promise."
I look out the window. It's pitch black and there's nobody on the street. This man is bigger, and stronger, than me. I am the biggest dope in the history of mankind. I withdraw $80 and give it to him. "Okay, I trust you, man," I said, looking him in the eye. "I trust you."
This seems completely surreal, even though it only happened 40 minutes ago. It seems like a really horrible movie. I want to pretend this didn't actually happen. But yet, here is the fake business card, and here is the receipt for $80 withdrawn. I really am the worst person ever.
I walk out the door, in a hurry to get away, and he says, "Oh, and I'll need that $5. For cab fare." The guy takes my last $5 and walks calmly down the street.
I walk southwest in a daze. As soon as he is out of earshot I start yelling obscenities into the night.
EDIT I just realized the reason I was walking through DC in the dark is because I thought I could save 40 cents on train fare by walking home from a farther stop. Ahahahahahahahhahaha
I want to kill myself. Keeeeeeeeelllll myself. But instead I will tell the story, so you can laugh at my idiocy.
I was walking back from dinner with two friends, wearing a Domo-kun shirt with a bottle of ramune rattling in my backpack. Apparently I looked like the most naive person in all of DC. On an empty street, in the dark, I was approached by a homeless man with horrible teeth and a bad smell. "Hey," he said, "I need some help."
I put my hand in my wallet, prepared to give him some change. "Hey, don't do that, man," he said. "I just need some directions. Do you know where 2700 Pennsylvania Avenue is?"
"Yeah, I guess...?"
He sat down on the curb. "That's where the Salvation Army building is. I just got out of the hospital but the Salvation Army doesn't open until Tuesday. I got no one in this city, man. NO ONE."
"I just got back from dinner. I only got 5 bucks, man."
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. While I was in the hospital they told me my mother was dying. I need bus tickets to go see her. It'll be a 16 hour ride, man. It's just $16 for the tickets."
"Look, I can give you $5."
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. I NEED to see my mom, man. I got a black widow bite this big, look at this." He pulled off his shoe and I saw a big cut on his leg and a bloody sock. "It went all through my leg, and I had to go to the hospital. Now I got to see my mother immediately."
"Do you want me to show you where the bus stop is?"
"No no no! I'm not talking about that. I'm a Christian, man. I'll pay you back. Just give me your information and I'll send you a gift card on the 29th."
"Well, what do you want me to do? I can take you to an ATM..."
Why did I say this? At this point I was not even thinking. When I am talking people I do not make judgment calls about how smart the thing is that I'm saying. I'm just trying to solve a problem, or some shit like that. Anyway, now this guy lights up and jumps off of the curb. "YEAH! You'll see, I just need to borrow $21. I'm a Christian, man, you can trust me."
Somewhere in the back of my head, I make a note that this number is larger than the previous number. Barely. But now this guy is walking with me, looking for an ATM.
"The Salvation Army office doesn't open until Tuesday, and I got to see her today. My mom's the only one I got, man. Look, here's my card." He hands me a dirty businesss card he found on the street. "Here, just write down your address on this paper here and I'll send you a gift card by the 29th." Like a dope, I do so. I remind myself that my GWU dorm is behind two locked doors, and I'll be out of there by August 11. "Look, the 12 hour train ride costs $69, and the 16 hour one is $49... but I got a $20 card, see, I can pay for some of it myself." I see we're getting closer to my apartment. I look for a clearing, see if I can make a break for it. But the street is empty. It seems out of the question now.
Finally he shows me in to an ATM. "So, how much did you say this bus ticket was?" I ask nervously, quite aware that he's about to give me a huge number. "$20?"
"It's $80, man. But look, you can trust me, okay? I'll send you $100 gift card. Just check your mail on the 29th, it'll be there."
"I don't know if I can trust you, man. I don't even know if this card is yours. It doesn't have your picture on it or anything." The weakest possible argument: he is a smelly, bearded, obviously homeless man.
"Come on, man. I'm a Christian, alright? I'll get it back to you. I promise."
I look out the window. It's pitch black and there's nobody on the street. This man is bigger, and stronger, than me. I am the biggest dope in the history of mankind. I withdraw $80 and give it to him. "Okay, I trust you, man," I said, looking him in the eye. "I trust you."
This seems completely surreal, even though it only happened 40 minutes ago. It seems like a really horrible movie. I want to pretend this didn't actually happen. But yet, here is the fake business card, and here is the receipt for $80 withdrawn. I really am the worst person ever.
I walk out the door, in a hurry to get away, and he says, "Oh, and I'll need that $5. For cab fare." The guy takes my last $5 and walks calmly down the street.
I walk southwest in a daze. As soon as he is out of earshot I start yelling obscenities into the night.
EDIT I just realized the reason I was walking through DC in the dark is because I thought I could save 40 cents on train fare by walking home from a farther stop. Ahahahahahahahhahaha
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Fall River Bridge; Federal Reserve
Today I got to talk to my boss, Barney Frank, but let's start off this entry with what I saw on the House floor. We got covert intelligence that the GOP was going to disrupt the normal House proceedings, but Barney already had a major hearing scheduled. As we had worried, the GOP introduced an amendment to a transportation bill to remove funding for a bridge in Fall River that has been falling apart for 25 years. Their arguments were basically pointless. Like the Taunton Wild and Scenic scuffle from last week, the apparent aim of the amendment was to yammer about the energy crisis and natural gas and distract Barney from more important work. Barney was forced to come out of his hearings and yell at them on the House floor, which will hopefully be recorded in the Congressional Record by the end of the week.
A 15-minute vote was called and the entire House came through the doors. One Democrat traitor almost voted with the Republicans on this bill. He was constantly flipping his vote back and forth, finally falling in with the Democrats permanently after time ran out. This was Nick Lampson, Tom DeLay's replacement. He had also voted against the Democrats on the Taunton River bill.
Then, a huge surprise began to emerge. A motion to recommit is supposed to be a party line vote, but for this one, no fewer than forty-three Republicans crossed party lines, thirty-seven of them voting with the Democrats. This is pretty much unprecedented in recent Congressional history. Our staff noticed Ron Paul having a lively conversation with Barney on the floor, almost certainly about the shortcomings of the GOP. Barney came back into the office elated. A fast mood swing indeed! We were instructed to find out if this was the biggest GOP defeat of the 110th Congress, and he told us to issue a press release: "Frank and McGovern Fend Off Attacks From Republican Establishment." (Finished press release added 8/8/08)
We interns met with Barney just before wrapping up for the day, and talked for about 25 minutes. It was his impression that the GOP leadership was falling apart. He had received apologies from some of the Republicans who voted with the party line. Prominent Republicans said stuff like "they told me to vote that way and I didn't realize how awful it was." Both moderates and regular conservatives are fed up with time-wasting, partisan orders like the one that was issued today. While the party is in no danger of being destroyed, given its century-long history and deep support in conservative areas, the leadership is likely going to be completely demolished after Obama gets elected.
I was interested to know whether Barney, the chairman of the Financial Services Committee and primary overseer of Bernanke, thought the Federal Reserve needed reform. This is the organization that Ron Paul revolutionaries claim is a "private corporation" because all its shares are held by the banks. I didn't ask him point blank whether it was all just a scam and a cover-up, but he volunteered (without any questioning on my part) that the 12 Federal Reserve Banks were pretty much private banking groups run by bank presidents-- my summary, not his-- and while they didn't have a lot of power by themselves, the fact that these presidents had a say on the Federal Open Market Committee was alarming. He said that the committee had done a review of dissents at Federal Reserve meetings, and most of them (something like 25) were done by the bank presidents who wanted the interest rates to be higher. However, the fact that these are dissents and not majority opinions is also revealing. The banks only have 5 votes on a 12-vote committee, and they usually do not get their way. While they own all the "shares," the most important members of the Fed are appointed by the President and answer to the federal government, not the shareholders. Only two dissents were written by Fed governors asking for lower interest rates over the period Barney reviewed.
He pointed out some of the neat stuff on his wall. He said he was surprised how fast the gay rights movement had come so quickly. This is a guy who started working in politics in 1968, when there was no gay rights movement to speak of. Now, on his wall there was a memorial from the CIA's first gay pride parade, and same sex marriages are completely legal in his own state. He also had a picture of his mom with Tip O'Neill, a name Bostonians might be familiar with.
Got to go now, everyone's leaving for the day...
UPDATE: [In my dorm now. The microwave caught on fire so I had to use my neighbor's.] I also asked Barney about the infamous "infinite guarantee" to Fannie Mae & Freddie Mac. I didn't ask whether it was good policy; he probably didn't want to talk about all that. I asked, rather, why the Fed had the power to extend that guarantee, and whether they could do it without congressional permission. He said that the power to make these guarantees was part of a set of "emergency powers" granted in the New Deal, and Bernanke consulted him before he made the decision, with the intent of swiftly guaranteeing Fannie's & Freddie's liquidity with legislation to certify the guarantee coming later. If Congress advised Bernanke not to make the guarantee and he did it anyway, it would be technically legal, but there would be such an uproar that the "emergency powers" would likely be revoked. So, if you're looking for corruption in financial legislation, don't look to the Fed: they wouldn't be around if not for Congress. And don't look to Barney either, because he is awesome.
A 15-minute vote was called and the entire House came through the doors. One Democrat traitor almost voted with the Republicans on this bill. He was constantly flipping his vote back and forth, finally falling in with the Democrats permanently after time ran out. This was Nick Lampson, Tom DeLay's replacement. He had also voted against the Democrats on the Taunton River bill.
Then, a huge surprise began to emerge. A motion to recommit is supposed to be a party line vote, but for this one, no fewer than forty-three Republicans crossed party lines, thirty-seven of them voting with the Democrats. This is pretty much unprecedented in recent Congressional history. Our staff noticed Ron Paul having a lively conversation with Barney on the floor, almost certainly about the shortcomings of the GOP. Barney came back into the office elated. A fast mood swing indeed! We were instructed to find out if this was the biggest GOP defeat of the 110th Congress, and he told us to issue a press release: "Frank and McGovern Fend Off Attacks From Republican Establishment." (Finished press release added 8/8/08)
We interns met with Barney just before wrapping up for the day, and talked for about 25 minutes. It was his impression that the GOP leadership was falling apart. He had received apologies from some of the Republicans who voted with the party line. Prominent Republicans said stuff like "they told me to vote that way and I didn't realize how awful it was." Both moderates and regular conservatives are fed up with time-wasting, partisan orders like the one that was issued today. While the party is in no danger of being destroyed, given its century-long history and deep support in conservative areas, the leadership is likely going to be completely demolished after Obama gets elected.
I was interested to know whether Barney, the chairman of the Financial Services Committee and primary overseer of Bernanke, thought the Federal Reserve needed reform. This is the organization that Ron Paul revolutionaries claim is a "private corporation" because all its shares are held by the banks. I didn't ask him point blank whether it was all just a scam and a cover-up, but he volunteered (without any questioning on my part) that the 12 Federal Reserve Banks were pretty much private banking groups run by bank presidents-- my summary, not his-- and while they didn't have a lot of power by themselves, the fact that these presidents had a say on the Federal Open Market Committee was alarming. He said that the committee had done a review of dissents at Federal Reserve meetings, and most of them (something like 25) were done by the bank presidents who wanted the interest rates to be higher. However, the fact that these are dissents and not majority opinions is also revealing. The banks only have 5 votes on a 12-vote committee, and they usually do not get their way. While they own all the "shares," the most important members of the Fed are appointed by the President and answer to the federal government, not the shareholders. Only two dissents were written by Fed governors asking for lower interest rates over the period Barney reviewed.
He pointed out some of the neat stuff on his wall. He said he was surprised how fast the gay rights movement had come so quickly. This is a guy who started working in politics in 1968, when there was no gay rights movement to speak of. Now, on his wall there was a memorial from the CIA's first gay pride parade, and same sex marriages are completely legal in his own state. He also had a picture of his mom with Tip O'Neill, a name Bostonians might be familiar with.
Got to go now, everyone's leaving for the day...
UPDATE: [In my dorm now. The microwave caught on fire so I had to use my neighbor's.] I also asked Barney about the infamous "infinite guarantee" to Fannie Mae & Freddie Mac. I didn't ask whether it was good policy; he probably didn't want to talk about all that. I asked, rather, why the Fed had the power to extend that guarantee, and whether they could do it without congressional permission. He said that the power to make these guarantees was part of a set of "emergency powers" granted in the New Deal, and Bernanke consulted him before he made the decision, with the intent of swiftly guaranteeing Fannie's & Freddie's liquidity with legislation to certify the guarantee coming later. If Congress advised Bernanke not to make the guarantee and he did it anyway, it would be technically legal, but there would be such an uproar that the "emergency powers" would likely be revoked. So, if you're looking for corruption in financial legislation, don't look to the Fed: they wouldn't be around if not for Congress. And don't look to Barney either, because he is awesome.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Marching into Congress
A bunch of people in yellow T-shirts with the words "STOP LOAN SHARKS" came in and flooded Barney's office a few minutes ago. The general phrase that I would use to describe people who come here without an appointment is "crazy people." If you've ever seen the movie The Candidate (saw it last night!) or watched the West Wing you probably have a fair idea of how anyone above the level of state representative manages their time. Barney has a full-time scheduler who herself spends most of her day arranging his schedule and sorting invitations that come to him. So, usually our crazy people come in twos and threes and aren't quite clear how Congress works. For example, we get LaRouche people in the office every once in a while.
This group is a little different. They were from the NACA, an organization big enough to know better. Other staffers called it a "sit-in", but what I would just call clueless. The people weren't chanting or anything; they seemed to want an audience. Their organizer didn't seem to realize that as chairman of the single most important committee in the House, Barney doesn't exactly have a lot of free time to entertain uninvited visitors. He explained that he was needed in a meeting and wasn't expecting them. Some of the visitors seemed to understand. Others took the bait offered by their abnormally short-sighted organizer, and yelled hostile stuff like "My loan shark bankrupted me and you don't care!" or "Why won't you talk to us?" Good work making allies in Congress, guys. Barney waded his way through the crowd but they accosted him again in the hall. The police, who had followed them up to the door, parted the crowd and Barney went off to his meeting.
This group is a little different. They were from the NACA, an organization big enough to know better. Other staffers called it a "sit-in", but what I would just call clueless. The people weren't chanting or anything; they seemed to want an audience. Their organizer didn't seem to realize that as chairman of the single most important committee in the House, Barney doesn't exactly have a lot of free time to entertain uninvited visitors. He explained that he was needed in a meeting and wasn't expecting them. Some of the visitors seemed to understand. Others took the bait offered by their abnormally short-sighted organizer, and yelled hostile stuff like "My loan shark bankrupted me and you don't care!" or "Why won't you talk to us?" Good work making allies in Congress, guys. Barney waded his way through the crowd but they accosted him again in the hall. The police, who had followed them up to the door, parted the crowd and Barney went off to his meeting.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Anonymous Pride Parade
I spent the past two days at a friend's house. I watched four movies: Twelve Monkeys, The Dark Knight, The Blob, and Repo Man. Of these I recommend Repo Man the most. They graciously offered me a pot, silverware, books, and a computer; also, my roommate moved out and my light was fixed, so my dorm is now almost 500% more hospitable. I came in, looked at the working ceiling lamp emitting light, and said "wow". This morning, a little-advertised Scientology protest called the Over Nine Thousand Anon March was occurring at the Lincoln Memorial, unbeknownst to most of DC. Someone on the Internet had sent me a message pointing out its existence, so I went over for a looksee. I guess I must be masochistic.
"I troll the furfags because they get butthurt over 1542."
This was the first thing I heard as I walked down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I will not translate it here, both because some of the words are obscene, and I simply don't understand one of them.
At the beginning of the "protest" there were 60 anons in attendance (I counted), but over time this doubled into a respectable 120 or so. The costumes included pirates, pool blockers, green portraits, fangirls, neckbeards, Sneak King, a Spartan, a Pink Ranger, a man with misaligned teeth dressed in a bridal gown, and a 300lb man wearing a tie-dye shirt over a full-body Spandex suit. There was a Cartman T-shirt, and a T-shirt reading "Melbuson Leaderfag", a vastly inappropriate message for anywhere outside of the inbred world of 4chan.
(Above: Neckbeard Jesus.) The stated purpose of this event was to protest the misdeeds of Scientology.
To that end, famous ex-Scientologists like Magoo and Mark Bunker came and gave short but riveting speeches, which I stayed for.
But I would not call this an ordinary protest. Sentences like the following were common: "Slowpoke.jpg, we've been saying that all morning!" In fact, most of the passers-by were utterly bewildered, as I hope to demonstrate with the following collage:
"Are they making a movie?" whispered one passer-by.
Another asked me directly: "I understand the anti-Scientology thing, but what exactly are they doing this?"
"Most of them are anime fans," I offered lamely. "Japanese animation."
"So, why are they tying that in?"
I couldn't really explain that myself. "They rallied together and decided they should do it."
The protest was, in fact, almost entirely like an anime convention. I haven't been to a convention in five years and this reinforced my willpower. I was reminded of Dan Savage's depiction of a gay pride parade. When asked why a pride parade is necessary, paraders often answer "for the kids." The idea being that if they "raise awareness" kids will know it's okay to be gay and they will be proud of themselves. But at the parade itself you will not see anyone under 20 or so. Kids who are out these days think being gay is normal; they don't feel the need to parade their sexuality. The point of the parade is not to raise awareness, it's to have fun. That is the best possible light I can put on this protest.
But in other ways it was grossly insensitive. The fliers honored Lisa McPherson, who died in the neglect of Scientology staff, and Magoo and Bunker told their stories of Scientology abuse, but the mood was like some sort of festival. That's all well and good if life is about having fun. But, walking away from the protest, I noticed I had walked right past the Vietnam War memorial. I turned around and began walking into the deep pit of despair. Posters with photos honored soldiers who died on July 19 thirty-eight years ago. A woman was making a pencil rubbing of one of the names on the memorial, her breath choked with sobs. This must have been the only commemoration her father received. Several hundred feet away, the Picard Song was being blasted so loud that every word was clearly audible.
I remember when I first visited this memorial in seventh grade, before I had learned to analyze artwork for meaning. We approached it from the north: at first, it looked like we were walking into an empty patch of grass, then we saw the slim line poking out of the ground. Only as the path sloped downwards did I realize the size of the memorial. To my middle school mind, the message was absolutely clear: what from across an ocean seems so small and irrelevant can nonetheless leave deep scars on thousands or millions of human beings.
At least Code Pink is fighting a status quo.
"I troll the furfags because they get butthurt over 1542."
This was the first thing I heard as I walked down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I will not translate it here, both because some of the words are obscene, and I simply don't understand one of them.
At the beginning of the "protest" there were 60 anons in attendance (I counted), but over time this doubled into a respectable 120 or so. The costumes included pirates, pool blockers, green portraits, fangirls, neckbeards, Sneak King, a Spartan, a Pink Ranger, a man with misaligned teeth dressed in a bridal gown, and a 300lb man wearing a tie-dye shirt over a full-body Spandex suit. There was a Cartman T-shirt, and a T-shirt reading "Melbuson Leaderfag", a vastly inappropriate message for anywhere outside of the inbred world of 4chan.
(Above: Neckbeard Jesus.) The stated purpose of this event was to protest the misdeeds of Scientology.
To that end, famous ex-Scientologists like Magoo and Mark Bunker came and gave short but riveting speeches, which I stayed for.
But I would not call this an ordinary protest. Sentences like the following were common: "Slowpoke.jpg, we've been saying that all morning!" In fact, most of the passers-by were utterly bewildered, as I hope to demonstrate with the following collage:
"Are they making a movie?" whispered one passer-by.
Another asked me directly: "I understand the anti-Scientology thing, but what exactly are they doing this?"
"Most of them are anime fans," I offered lamely. "Japanese animation."
"So, why are they tying that in?"
I couldn't really explain that myself. "They rallied together and decided they should do it."
The protest was, in fact, almost entirely like an anime convention. I haven't been to a convention in five years and this reinforced my willpower. I was reminded of Dan Savage's depiction of a gay pride parade. When asked why a pride parade is necessary, paraders often answer "for the kids." The idea being that if they "raise awareness" kids will know it's okay to be gay and they will be proud of themselves. But at the parade itself you will not see anyone under 20 or so. Kids who are out these days think being gay is normal; they don't feel the need to parade their sexuality. The point of the parade is not to raise awareness, it's to have fun. That is the best possible light I can put on this protest.
But in other ways it was grossly insensitive. The fliers honored Lisa McPherson, who died in the neglect of Scientology staff, and Magoo and Bunker told their stories of Scientology abuse, but the mood was like some sort of festival. That's all well and good if life is about having fun. But, walking away from the protest, I noticed I had walked right past the Vietnam War memorial. I turned around and began walking into the deep pit of despair. Posters with photos honored soldiers who died on July 19 thirty-eight years ago. A woman was making a pencil rubbing of one of the names on the memorial, her breath choked with sobs. This must have been the only commemoration her father received. Several hundred feet away, the Picard Song was being blasted so loud that every word was clearly audible.
I remember when I first visited this memorial in seventh grade, before I had learned to analyze artwork for meaning. We approached it from the north: at first, it looked like we were walking into an empty patch of grass, then we saw the slim line poking out of the ground. Only as the path sloped downwards did I realize the size of the memorial. To my middle school mind, the message was absolutely clear: what from across an ocean seems so small and irrelevant can nonetheless leave deep scars on thousands or millions of human beings.
At least Code Pink is fighting a status quo.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Desperation
I attempted to chat with my old libertarian pal today but I drift farther afield each week. In my dorm room, which my ex-roommate Champ Camacho vacated today after reporting to the campus that I was going to pay for the electric damage he caused, I feel tense and unable to settle down. It's getting more difficult for me to engage with people rationally, to slow down and take arguments on their own terms. I've tried to get more of my philosophy out of my head and onto the page but I keep drifting into the ultimate and infinite Heart Sutra. To settle down and look at my Time essay again, I think I'd have to go through a rigorous detox program from interning in Washington.
An increasing number of calls are desperate. There's not as many people from within the district offering their opinions on health care or the environment; now there are people calling from all over the country, saying that Barney Frank is the only Congressman they respect, and that they're very concerned about gasoline prices, drilling in Anwar and offshore, Fannie and Freddie, collapsing banks, Bear Sterns, mortgage scammers... there seems to be no end to the variety of calls I get, nearly all of them from people quite far away from Massachusetts. One man was very angry, demanded I thank him for his service in the Army (I was prepared to tell him that I don't thank anyone for killing people, but held myself back), and called Barack Obama a "secret Muslim", at which point I hung up and got scolded by staff. An angry lady tried to engage me in a policy debate, which I'm not supposed to do; I have to learn to be quicker with the "Hold" button, because these people won't stop talking long enough for me to interrupt. One very old woman talked for a long time about her financial troubles, Obama's energy promises, prayer in schools ("I support a minute of silence, but not prayer. Whose prayer would it be? George Bush's prayer?"), and religious education ("you're Buddhist? That's great, I'm Catholic but I sent my son to college to learn all the religions of the world, I told him you have to understand...")
I'll admit it: the economy has made me depressed as well. All the newspapers have it on the front page. It makes me wonder whether it's a good idea to be a religion major, what kind of job I might look forward to five years from now, and how I can support myself and my family. I watch only a minimal amount of television but the media are difficult to avoid, especially working in Washington. I think people who know what's good for them will avoid overloading themselves with information. Even when it's factual, as it is here, listening to this stuff over and over will blow your feelings out of proportion, and with my current mood it seems like only next week Congress might shut down for good and I'll be stranded in DC with no direction home.
The summer couldn't get much angrier.
An increasing number of calls are desperate. There's not as many people from within the district offering their opinions on health care or the environment; now there are people calling from all over the country, saying that Barney Frank is the only Congressman they respect, and that they're very concerned about gasoline prices, drilling in Anwar and offshore, Fannie and Freddie, collapsing banks, Bear Sterns, mortgage scammers... there seems to be no end to the variety of calls I get, nearly all of them from people quite far away from Massachusetts. One man was very angry, demanded I thank him for his service in the Army (I was prepared to tell him that I don't thank anyone for killing people, but held myself back), and called Barack Obama a "secret Muslim", at which point I hung up and got scolded by staff. An angry lady tried to engage me in a policy debate, which I'm not supposed to do; I have to learn to be quicker with the "Hold" button, because these people won't stop talking long enough for me to interrupt. One very old woman talked for a long time about her financial troubles, Obama's energy promises, prayer in schools ("I support a minute of silence, but not prayer. Whose prayer would it be? George Bush's prayer?"), and religious education ("you're Buddhist? That's great, I'm Catholic but I sent my son to college to learn all the religions of the world, I told him you have to understand...")
I'll admit it: the economy has made me depressed as well. All the newspapers have it on the front page. It makes me wonder whether it's a good idea to be a religion major, what kind of job I might look forward to five years from now, and how I can support myself and my family. I watch only a minimal amount of television but the media are difficult to avoid, especially working in Washington. I think people who know what's good for them will avoid overloading themselves with information. Even when it's factual, as it is here, listening to this stuff over and over will blow your feelings out of proportion, and with my current mood it seems like only next week Congress might shut down for good and I'll be stranded in DC with no direction home.
The summer couldn't get much angrier.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
On the House Floor
I wandered over to the House today to see some of the nonsense that goes on in the afternoons. Afternoon bills are Congressional endorsements of baseball teams and so forth, and are always passed without objection. You can see all the proceedings on C-SPAN, and you're really not missing much. I mean, you can see the Representatives in person, but that's not only a pleasant thing (I saw Steny Hoyer... ugh).
The first bill being "debated" was a recognition of Nelson Mandela's 80th birthday, in which several members noted their disappointment that Mandela was on the terror watchlist and unable to enter the U.S. without a waiver until just a couple weeks ago. The next bill was a commemoration of the anniversary of the 1994 bombing of the Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina. It was asserted on the floor that this bombing was done by Iran and Hezbollah, although this is apparently in some dispute. It was then unironically proclaimed that terrorists abroad should be extradited for trial in their home countries. Nice juxtaposition there.
The last bill was to affirm a bill banning the import of gems from Burma and aiding pro-democracy forces. Finally, an honest piece of legislation that will do some good in this world. R.I.P. the late Tom Lantos, who authored this bill. Thanks for reaffirming my faith in the House.
When I got back to the office some ladies in hot pink T-shirts and hats were there to politely ask that my congressman impeach Bush. Then a wonderful Korean family came and asked to take a picture with him in his office. He put his arms around them and smiled, and I took the picture.
The first bill being "debated" was a recognition of Nelson Mandela's 80th birthday, in which several members noted their disappointment that Mandela was on the terror watchlist and unable to enter the U.S. without a waiver until just a couple weeks ago. The next bill was a commemoration of the anniversary of the 1994 bombing of the Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina. It was asserted on the floor that this bombing was done by Iran and Hezbollah, although this is apparently in some dispute. It was then unironically proclaimed that terrorists abroad should be extradited for trial in their home countries. Nice juxtaposition there.
The last bill was to affirm a bill banning the import of gems from Burma and aiding pro-democracy forces. Finally, an honest piece of legislation that will do some good in this world. R.I.P. the late Tom Lantos, who authored this bill. Thanks for reaffirming my faith in the House.
When I got back to the office some ladies in hot pink T-shirts and hats were there to politely ask that my congressman impeach Bush. Then a wonderful Korean family came and asked to take a picture with him in his office. He put his arms around them and smiled, and I took the picture.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Zendik follow-up, they are a cult
Hi everyone, I'm at the library. I have 10 minutes to write this post. I made some updates to my website which are in the recent changes.
One thing I will not be adding to my website is Zendik. I did some in-depth Googling and learned that yes, they are a cult. I am posting about this here because I find it quite amusing that in this particular cult, the Marx was literally married to the Stalin. Marx ("Wulf Zendik") died in 1999, leaving Stalin ("Arol Zendik") to exercise dictatorial control over the community. It's a shame, because Wulf and I are of very close minds, and he wrote some excellent stuff like this:
Arol, on the other hand, is a Lyndon LaRouche kind of character. She produces truly awful art and angry screeds like this:
The result of this sort of person ruling the farm, as described by an anonymous Internet poster:
That's all for today, see y'all on Monday.
One thing I will not be adding to my website is Zendik. I did some in-depth Googling and learned that yes, they are a cult. I am posting about this here because I find it quite amusing that in this particular cult, the Marx was literally married to the Stalin. Marx ("Wulf Zendik") died in 1999, leaving Stalin ("Arol Zendik") to exercise dictatorial control over the community. It's a shame, because Wulf and I are of very close minds, and he wrote some excellent stuff like this:
Why is it that even though the day may be warm, the wind soft, the scents sweet and the birds play and sing in the trees, you often do not feel the warmth of the windo or hear the birds--but rather feel unconnected and harsh? Why is it that you cannot feel the good of the day?
Speed. The numbing drive towards goals is the problem. When you feel this deprivation, this loss of contact with the sweet of your environment, it is because your fast fascination for goals has sped you away from the Moment, has forced the present to recede into a trifling annoyance and you have become vaguely irritable, irritated with the sweet s l o w of Now. But listen, Now is all you have.
Arol, on the other hand, is a Lyndon LaRouche kind of character. She produces truly awful art and angry screeds like this:
Male cultural influence on women is pervasive, it is total, and there is no balance from women and their real influence on men.
These profit-makers keep using the same death-and-sickness-causing technology to generate electricity and more vehicles. Try getting inside the minds of these corporates who daily, every day, go about their killing business not only legally but with approbation, blah blah, fart
The result of this sort of person ruling the farm, as described by an anonymous Internet poster:
I was more depressed and fatigued than I'd been when I arrived. And now I was expected to do ten hours of farm/housework every day. There were no days off. Of course I didn't have the other fourteen hours to myself-- there was a mandatory meeting every morning (which often dragged on for hours), three communal meals every day, and classes, lectures, or meetings every night. New recruits had to take extra "philosophy classes" and complete reading assignments after the workday was through. Non-Zendik books and music were confiscated from newbies and divvied up among older members. We read only Zendik books. Listened only to Zendik music. Except when the core members we bunked under were listening to cassettes they'd stolen from us.
Guess what we read in philosophy class. Just guess.
The Zendiks knew that I had been suicidal, that I was depressed. They did nothing to address this. When I expressed the hopelessness and loneliness I was feeling, the Zendiks were extremely cold and unsympathetic. They told me that I was not special-- that everybody felt that way (uh.. everyone is suicidal??) and it didn't stop anybody else from doing their work, so I had no excuse. I was told to "snap out of it". Their cruelty and neglect was far worse than anything I'd experienced in the "Deathkultur". I was a threat to my own safety-- this was clear-- and instead of encouraging me to find qualified help (which need not be mainstream/conservative, mind you), the Zendiks used my emotions as a weapon against me.
It was like living with forty Doctor Lauras. They tore me to shreds.
That's all for today, see y'all on Monday.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Ron Paul Revolution March
I'll have to make this one quick, because I only have half an hour in the Internet cafe this time. I just got back from the Ron Paul rally.
I was, alas, unable to attend the post-rally book sale and signing because I was dehydrated beyond all belief. The hot and sticky deep summer of Washington is just beginning and many at the rally were exhausted after walking the length of the National Mall, often with no more than a single water bottle.
What the turnout lacked in numbers (I estimate 2,000 to 3,000) it made up for in spirit. Many of the speakers would call each other crazy, and some lived in their own little worlds. Naomi Wolf came and spouted nonsense about Bush war crimes, a Texan talk radio host talked about colored stickers on your mailbox that would indicate whether the government would shoot or enslave you when martial law came, and one speaker indicated that the United States was losing the protection of God.
I'm sure everyone at the rally had one alienating moment. It would be easy to call it "FreeDUMB" or something and I'm sure Wonkette will have an article like that if you care to read it. But in the end, we were all honest people, trying to discard whatever illusions we have and embrace respect for each other's freedom and a true understanding in a complicated world.
Well, except for the Libertarians who were networking. They don't count.
The turnout included the anti-Fed folks, Truthers, numismatic hobbyists, the Free State Project, ultra-right neo-Confederates rejecting McCain, Code Pink librarians and teachers, peace protestors, Holiness Christians from a commune, and many veterans speaking forcefully against a war that has caused much pain.
One story I think you might like is about my favorite group at the rally. Last night I was chatting with my best friend about the crazy people he's met in Silver Spring. "There's a group that starts with a Z," he said, "Zeebadee or something like that. They would come to the middle of town and try to change people's minds about totally random crap. They wanted people to join their art commune/cult in West Virginia. They got banned from Silver Spring illegally because they were being too annoying."
Well, those people were at the rally. They're called Zendik ("Easy to remember," I was told. "Zen plus dick. Without a C. But it's Sanskrit really.") and they were actually very friendly. They were persistent but not annoying, and when I bought their magazine I was surprised by the relevance of their ideas. They easily seemed like the most amiable people at the rally. They got kicked out of Silver Spring not by annoyed people, by the corporations along the street-- you know, pamphleteering neo-hippies are the sort of quirky local culture gentrification tries to stamp out. And they live on a farm, not a commune, but it seems like the kind of place I'd like to visit.
Everyone was waiting for the man himself: the Hon. Dr. Ron Paul, M.D. Here are some more examples of the kind of enthusiasm one might either ridicule or appreciate. One thing I could not get a photo of was a little girl on the metro, roughly 8 year old, who was jumping up and down because she got to see Dr. Paul, and pointed and smiled at me when I took his book out of my backpack.
The above picture was taken without permission. The picture below will make you smile if you know the background story.
Finally at 4 PM, Dr. Paul came and spoke. It was real exciting to see the man in person, but his message had no surprises-- it was about liberty, beating Rudy Giuliani in a national election where he got 6 months of constant press attention. A group of Capitol Police and volunteers barricaded the stage so he could get to his vehicle without being swamped by adoring fans. Here is my photo of him which is in the public domain.
It was a great afternoon. Well, I did eat at a taco place where they ran out of lemonade and a piece of ceiling fell into my lap. But they were very nice about it. And the entire thing cost me only $25-- $16 for lunch, $8 for Zendik literature which I will be happily reading this evening.
I was, alas, unable to attend the post-rally book sale and signing because I was dehydrated beyond all belief. The hot and sticky deep summer of Washington is just beginning and many at the rally were exhausted after walking the length of the National Mall, often with no more than a single water bottle.
What the turnout lacked in numbers (I estimate 2,000 to 3,000) it made up for in spirit. Many of the speakers would call each other crazy, and some lived in their own little worlds. Naomi Wolf came and spouted nonsense about Bush war crimes, a Texan talk radio host talked about colored stickers on your mailbox that would indicate whether the government would shoot or enslave you when martial law came, and one speaker indicated that the United States was losing the protection of God.
I'm sure everyone at the rally had one alienating moment. It would be easy to call it "FreeDUMB" or something and I'm sure Wonkette will have an article like that if you care to read it. But in the end, we were all honest people, trying to discard whatever illusions we have and embrace respect for each other's freedom and a true understanding in a complicated world.
Well, except for the Libertarians who were networking. They don't count.
The turnout included the anti-Fed folks, Truthers, numismatic hobbyists, the Free State Project, ultra-right neo-Confederates rejecting McCain, Code Pink librarians and teachers, peace protestors, Holiness Christians from a commune, and many veterans speaking forcefully against a war that has caused much pain.
One story I think you might like is about my favorite group at the rally. Last night I was chatting with my best friend about the crazy people he's met in Silver Spring. "There's a group that starts with a Z," he said, "Zeebadee or something like that. They would come to the middle of town and try to change people's minds about totally random crap. They wanted people to join their art commune/cult in West Virginia. They got banned from Silver Spring illegally because they were being too annoying."
Well, those people were at the rally. They're called Zendik ("Easy to remember," I was told. "Zen plus dick. Without a C. But it's Sanskrit really.") and they were actually very friendly. They were persistent but not annoying, and when I bought their magazine I was surprised by the relevance of their ideas. They easily seemed like the most amiable people at the rally. They got kicked out of Silver Spring not by annoyed people, by the corporations along the street-- you know, pamphleteering neo-hippies are the sort of quirky local culture gentrification tries to stamp out. And they live on a farm, not a commune, but it seems like the kind of place I'd like to visit.
Everyone was waiting for the man himself: the Hon. Dr. Ron Paul, M.D. Here are some more examples of the kind of enthusiasm one might either ridicule or appreciate. One thing I could not get a photo of was a little girl on the metro, roughly 8 year old, who was jumping up and down because she got to see Dr. Paul, and pointed and smiled at me when I took his book out of my backpack.
The above picture was taken without permission. The picture below will make you smile if you know the background story.
Finally at 4 PM, Dr. Paul came and spoke. It was real exciting to see the man in person, but his message had no surprises-- it was about liberty, beating Rudy Giuliani in a national election where he got 6 months of constant press attention. A group of Capitol Police and volunteers barricaded the stage so he could get to his vehicle without being swamped by adoring fans. Here is my photo of him which is in the public domain.
It was a great afternoon. Well, I did eat at a taco place where they ran out of lemonade and a piece of ceiling fell into my lap. But they were very nice about it. And the entire thing cost me only $25-- $16 for lunch, $8 for Zendik literature which I will be happily reading this evening.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Eating In with the Vegans
It turns out that the pamphlets being handed out on the Mall two weeks back were not all produced by Compassion Over Killing. Some were produced by Vegan Outreach, an organization with a striking contrast to PETA and other animal rights groups. I was really impressed by their pamphlet, especially the following swift sentence on the last page:
I had to wonder what sort of attitude they had towards semi-vegetarianism, so I went to their Wikipedia article, which provided some interesting background about this group:
You know, those dry turns of phrase like "very long article" are really what make Wikipedia great.
And there's even more smart thinking in an essay online:
So, I was convinced. I was actually impressed by the flyer alone, there being no computer in my room, and provide this background info only to back up my conviction. There being no room for pause and reflection on the Internet, one must provide filler instead. I went to Trader Joe's and aimed for a completely vegan diet for the next week. I took a picture when I got home, but unfortunately I still don't have a card reader for my camera. But here's what I bought: peanut butter, bananas, bread, Joe-Joes, cold cereal, and cup noodles. I later supplemented this food with jelly and waffles. Does this not sound delicious? Yes, I ate this way for a whole week.
The one thing I found hard to eliminate from my diet was milk. I've been drinking milk 2-3 times a day for 20 years and it is not only a staple of my life but a fundamental food for most peoples and cultures all around the world. But, I went out on a limb last night and bought soy milk. I then put it in cereal.
It was good.
I will still likely eat whatever my stomach demands at restaurants, but I'm such a picky shopper anyway that I don't see grocery-store chicken fingers in my future anytime soon. Considering that I'm on a very tight budget this summer, that is practical veganism. Thanks, pamphlet people!
If you decide not to eat any animal-derived foods, please remember: the objective is to reduce suffering, not to achieve personal purity or perfection. [...] You can make exceptions, such as eating meat on certain occasions, and still make a big difference by eating vegetarian the rest of the time.
I had to wonder what sort of attitude they had towards semi-vegetarianism, so I went to their Wikipedia article, which provided some interesting background about this group:
In their June 1998 newsletter, Vegan Outreach published a very long article called "Veganism as the Path to Animal Liberation" (now called "Activism and Veganism Reconsidered"). This article ... argued against the movement's focus on trying to get media attention through protests. The essay also questioned the effectiveness of civil disobedience and direct action, and a perceived tendency towards self-delusion and dogmatism in vegetarian and animal rights promotion.
You know, those dry turns of phrase like "very long article" are really what make Wikipedia great.
Another big change for Vegan Outreach occurred in 2005, when the first copy of their new brochure, "Even If You Like Meat," was printed. ... "Any amount of animal food reduction helps prevent suffering. Another problem we encountered was that people would see the word 'vegan' or 'vegetarian' on our flyers and assume we were just do-gooder busybodies trying to get them to improve their health, so they would not take a flyer."
And there's even more smart thinking in an essay online:
"When it comes to advocating for the animals, people are looking for a reason to ignore us – no one sits around thinking, 'Wow, I really want to give up all my favorite foods and isolate myself from my friends and family!' Knowing this, we can’t give anyone any reasons to ignore the terrible and unnecessary suffering on factory farms and in slaughterhouses."
So, I was convinced. I was actually impressed by the flyer alone, there being no computer in my room, and provide this background info only to back up my conviction. There being no room for pause and reflection on the Internet, one must provide filler instead. I went to Trader Joe's and aimed for a completely vegan diet for the next week. I took a picture when I got home, but unfortunately I still don't have a card reader for my camera. But here's what I bought: peanut butter, bananas, bread, Joe-Joes, cold cereal, and cup noodles. I later supplemented this food with jelly and waffles. Does this not sound delicious? Yes, I ate this way for a whole week.
The one thing I found hard to eliminate from my diet was milk. I've been drinking milk 2-3 times a day for 20 years and it is not only a staple of my life but a fundamental food for most peoples and cultures all around the world. But, I went out on a limb last night and bought soy milk. I then put it in cereal.
It was good.
I will still likely eat whatever my stomach demands at restaurants, but I'm such a picky shopper anyway that I don't see grocery-store chicken fingers in my future anytime soon. Considering that I'm on a very tight budget this summer, that is practical veganism. Thanks, pamphlet people!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Telecom Immunity and Ingrid Betancourt
Yesterday I learned how to give a tour of the Capitol. As we were walking into the Crypt, I noticed that the Senate was voting on cloture for the FISA immunity bill. As I was learning about the famous paintings of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution, Senator Obama was first violating his own promise to support a filibuster of telecom immunity, and then voting to undermine the Constitutional guarantee of a fair trial. It happened just like that, while I was in that building. He betrayed his message to the American people and proved his neoconservative credentials. I saw soon after that the vote must be over because Ted Stevens walked past us.
I went home and watched Larry King interview Ingrid Betancourt. What I saw at the top of the hour shocked me. Betancourt had not spoken English in seven years; she was quiet, and slow to speak, and if it weren't for her mitigating celebrity status, she wouldn't have lasted two minutes on a talk show.
There was no acknowledgment that these were not the sort of answers King had expected, that she was showing surprising dignity, humility, and compassion for someone who just a week ago was trapped and suffering horribly. By any standards she was making a beautiful performance, on par with the deep understanding of Aung San Suu Kyi. Yet Larry King represented the worst of yellow journalism, saying things like "The obvious question: were you sexually mistreated?" An obvious question to no-one except a modern cable news reporter.
This must be among the lowest points of American journalism. Cable news is a travesty of the heart that I hope will soon pass from this world.
Afterwards I watched Ted Koppel's report on China but it only made me anxious so I won't talk about that too much.
I went home and watched Larry King interview Ingrid Betancourt. What I saw at the top of the hour shocked me. Betancourt had not spoken English in seven years; she was quiet, and slow to speak, and if it weren't for her mitigating celebrity status, she wouldn't have lasted two minutes on a talk show.
KING: You said that you suffered terribly during the captivity.
What was the worst thing you experienced?
BETANCOURT: (Thirty seconds of silence)
I think that the worst thing is... (twenty seconds of silence)
Realizing that mankind — that... that human beings can be so horrible to other human beings.
KING: Do you hate the FARC?
BETANCOURT: No, not at all.
KING: You don’t?
BETANCOURT: No, no. I don’t — first, it’s like a kind of position I took many years ago, that when I would be released, I wouldn’t take out of the jungle any kind of bitterness or any kind of eager to — seek for revenge, anything of that. And now that I am out, I feel that I’m, like, in another planet. It seems so far. Those people seem so — I mean, aliens to me, you know? I mean, I’m so — it’s incredible how in a week the distance between that life and this life.
I mean, it’s — well, I don’t — I — the only thing I want is — I pray God to give them his blessing. I want — I don’t want to forget, but I want to forgive
There was no acknowledgment that these were not the sort of answers King had expected, that she was showing surprising dignity, humility, and compassion for someone who just a week ago was trapped and suffering horribly. By any standards she was making a beautiful performance, on par with the deep understanding of Aung San Suu Kyi. Yet Larry King represented the worst of yellow journalism, saying things like "The obvious question: were you sexually mistreated?" An obvious question to no-one except a modern cable news reporter.
KING: Can you give us an example of what they did?
BETANCOURT: No, Larry no. I’m not ready for that, you know. I just — I don’t want to fill myself with those memories. I want to —
KING (cutting her off): I understand completely. Did you see anybody at all killed?
BETANCOURT: No.
KING: (waits five seconds for her to elaborate)
...all right.
This must be among the lowest points of American journalism. Cable news is a travesty of the heart that I hope will soon pass from this world.
Afterwards I watched Ted Koppel's report on China but it only made me anxious so I won't talk about that too much.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Senator Chuck Hagel and Gyetrul Jigme Rinpoche
Yesterday I went to an intern talk in the Senate building by Chuck Hagel. After work I went to the Shambhala center and Gyetrul Jigme Rinpoche, a Tibetan guru living in a refugee camp in India, came and gave a talk about his "eco-dharma". Both shared the basic message of "make the world a better place" and "everyone has good intentions." They differed mainly in implementation.
Hagel's talk was rather what I expected. He denounced deluded views, such as that the United Nations infringed on our sovereignty, or that global warming was a hoax. He encouraged us to recognize our own ideologies and biases, consider the facts objectively, and reach out to people with different viewpoints and consider their inherent worth. He saw the room, packed full of interns, as an ambitious group: not just prospective Congresspeople, but also "five or six Presidents." A young man asked him whether he supported McCain or Obama, and of course, he refrained from judgment, saying they were both Presidential material and we should ignore slander of either one in the mass media. He denounced the MSM as "entertainment," saying the only true news sources today are PBS and NPR.
Hagel thought poverty was the cause of terrorism. I wondered whether I should ask him about American interventionism, but I thought maybe other interns would have better questions. They didn't-- one of them asked him for advice on running for Senate.
Gyetrul Jigme Rinpoche was late from the airport but, being good Buddhists, we sat quietly in the meditation room for an hour and did not complain. His "eco-dharma" was not high philosophy but some examples of where we were being extravagant and could size down to, say, Indian levels of consumption. For example, Jigme was once very hungry and ordered a three-course meal at an American restaurant. When the appetizer arrived, it was so large he could not finish it! Then, no longer being hungry, he noticed the people around him were devouring all three courses. "I couldn't help but wonder: Where does it all go?" he asked us, grinning. He was also surprised at all our gadgets-- remote controls, Segways-- which he said served primarily to make us lazy.
His other suggestions were based on his Indian experience: using less water with toilet flushes, or not washing our clothes so often, or bringing our own chopsticks to an Asian restaurant. He talked about how in his little town, people strung up prayer flags on young trees torn from the ground once a year, uprooting thousands of trees. He got them to put the flags on aluminum poles instead; soon, the entire Tibetan refugee community was doing it. His message was that we shouldn't stick fastidiously to tradition but fit our practice to suit the environment. A working practice is always suited to the here and now.
I asked him if eco-consciousness was more than just "saving the environment," but recognizing that you are part of your environment, and part of Nature. His answer began with a lengthy definition of what he called "sameness" or "equalness" and I enjoyed it more than the dharma talk itself. He warned that if your definition of compassion is pity for those less fortunate than you, then you'll become jealous of people who are just as fortunate as you are, and angry at those who are better off. True compassion recognizes the dignity and need of all people.
So, that poor, scruffy guy at the change machine who needs 50 cents to get off the Metro? I gave him my last 50 cents.
Hagel's talk was rather what I expected. He denounced deluded views, such as that the United Nations infringed on our sovereignty, or that global warming was a hoax. He encouraged us to recognize our own ideologies and biases, consider the facts objectively, and reach out to people with different viewpoints and consider their inherent worth. He saw the room, packed full of interns, as an ambitious group: not just prospective Congresspeople, but also "five or six Presidents." A young man asked him whether he supported McCain or Obama, and of course, he refrained from judgment, saying they were both Presidential material and we should ignore slander of either one in the mass media. He denounced the MSM as "entertainment," saying the only true news sources today are PBS and NPR.
Hagel thought poverty was the cause of terrorism. I wondered whether I should ask him about American interventionism, but I thought maybe other interns would have better questions. They didn't-- one of them asked him for advice on running for Senate.
Gyetrul Jigme Rinpoche was late from the airport but, being good Buddhists, we sat quietly in the meditation room for an hour and did not complain. His "eco-dharma" was not high philosophy but some examples of where we were being extravagant and could size down to, say, Indian levels of consumption. For example, Jigme was once very hungry and ordered a three-course meal at an American restaurant. When the appetizer arrived, it was so large he could not finish it! Then, no longer being hungry, he noticed the people around him were devouring all three courses. "I couldn't help but wonder: Where does it all go?" he asked us, grinning. He was also surprised at all our gadgets-- remote controls, Segways-- which he said served primarily to make us lazy.
His other suggestions were based on his Indian experience: using less water with toilet flushes, or not washing our clothes so often, or bringing our own chopsticks to an Asian restaurant. He talked about how in his little town, people strung up prayer flags on young trees torn from the ground once a year, uprooting thousands of trees. He got them to put the flags on aluminum poles instead; soon, the entire Tibetan refugee community was doing it. His message was that we shouldn't stick fastidiously to tradition but fit our practice to suit the environment. A working practice is always suited to the here and now.
I asked him if eco-consciousness was more than just "saving the environment," but recognizing that you are part of your environment, and part of Nature. His answer began with a lengthy definition of what he called "sameness" or "equalness" and I enjoyed it more than the dharma talk itself. He warned that if your definition of compassion is pity for those less fortunate than you, then you'll become jealous of people who are just as fortunate as you are, and angry at those who are better off. True compassion recognizes the dignity and need of all people.
So, that poor, scruffy guy at the change machine who needs 50 cents to get off the Metro? I gave him my last 50 cents.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Fourth of July
I'm back in the sweltering Internet cafe. My roommate took his computer away. I'm not sure if he's being passive-aggressive or just not communicating. It doesn't matter to me so I head out on the town. The cafe is about an hour walk from my dorm but there's other cool stuff here too.
I'm sure many of you (all 10 of you) are wondering what the Fourth of July is like in DC. This was my objective, too, when I set out yesterday. I discerned, twelve hours later, that the Fourth of July in DC is made up of the following elements:
I only have 38 minutes left to describe these things, so I'll hurry. The photos are from a cell phone camera and thus kind of blurry.
The first thing I saw when I arrived on the Mall near the Reflecting Pool were tired high school kids taking off their uniforms and getting into buses. It turned out that this was the tail-end of a parade. As I walked towards the Capitol I saw the parade itself, which was very cute, as a sort of large version of a small-town parade. There was a float with Washington and Lincoln, a float with a reenactment of the Iwo Jima flag raising, and performances by all the high school bands in town, even Latino dancers.
I wandered away from the parade looking for food and saw a big tent with the word "ALLEN FOR PRESIDENT" written on it. As I approached the tent I saw many other posters with "Smith for President" written on them... not Allan?! It turned out this was a write-in canvassing tent run by five separate would-be Presidential candidates: Christopher Popham Smith, Daniel Kingery, Joe Oliva, Ruth Bryant White, and the aforementioned Allen, who didn't give me his card but I believe to be Donald K. Allen. They all appeared perfectly sane, but none of them are on the ballot anywhere. Also, the tent was completely empty; passersby seemed to be somewhat nervous to approach these people. I referred them to ballot-access.org for help getting on the ballot. That's what America is all about.
The National Mall was packed from one end to the other with people bringing picnic baskets and blankets. There's no surprise I hadn't heard about this event before; it's huge enough without advertising. The Park Service had tents at every entrance checking people's bags, which created huge lines. On every street corner next to the Mall you could buy water, pop, or pretzels from three or four vendors, most of whom had hungry Americans from all over the country lined up. The result was a spectacular, even newsworthy amount of trash stretched out over however many miles I walked along the length of the Mall. Many people were wearing Obama shirts; nobody was wearing McCain shirts. In fact, the quantity of Obama merchandise that was moving from those streetside carts was really impressive.
At one end, there was the Washington Monument, WW2 memorial, Reflecting Pool, and so forth. Directly after that, the Folklife Festival was still running. The thought of entering that area, which is packed even on a normal day, horrified me-- from a distance I could see it was one teeming, gridlocked mass of human bodies. I felt really sorry for the Bhutanese (as you might recall, they were not experienced in showmanship).
But the most interesting thing, to me, were the religious groups at the far end of the Mall, which was previously unoccupied. Jews for Jesus were wandering around somewhere, giving combination maps and Christian tracts, which were then dropped on the ground for me to pick up and puzzle over. A born-again Christian group had occupied one square and were blasting live Christian music, giving out free water, and making friendship bracelets "with a message" (presumably the Jesus message). Right near the exit, an ultra-fundamentalist group called the Holiness movement who were dressed in Amish-style modest clothes were singing traditional songs. In the middle, and most interesting to me, were the Hare Krishnas.
The Krishnas were running a sort of fair that apparently had been done the same way since the 70s: big tents, posters underneath them explaining vegetarianism, reincarnation, the life of their guru, and so forth, and less religious activities such as Indian music, a sara dress-up booth, and free food. Yes, the Hare Krishnas were serving free drinks and meals to the 300,000 people on the Mall. As there was no water fountain, I was parched and took a huge gulp of their lemonade; I then talked to the nice woman at the book fair booth, and bought a deluxe Bhagavad Gita from her (apparently the Krishnas' holy text) for a donation of $10. It was a good time.
I arrived on the steps of the Capitol around 4PM and sat there for four hours. It turned out it was a fairly bad seat. There was a really fancy concert going on below that started at 8, and when it did start I couldn't make out the singers.
That's okay, because the concert was a fiasco and would have been horrifying to see up close. It would have suited a small-town event, but this concert was being broadcast live on PBS and to armed forces around the world. The announcer was ad-libbing. The first two performers were clearly coked up-- an old C-list rocker who dropped his mic and may have been lip-synching, and a past American Idol winner who was making jerky movements with his hands, running impatiently around the stage, and had his mic cut off. There were then some nice non-celebrity performances, and Jerry Lee Lewis came on. Dude was old (at least 70, I'd Wikipedia it if I had extra time on this machine). He belonged in a nursing home. He could play piano superbly, but they had heavy backing in case he screwed up, so you couldn't really hear it. Then, as he was singing "Great Balls of Fire," the Park Service decided they really needed to start the fireworks before they got rained out, and the audience started running to the sides of the concert platform. Jerry Lee Lewis was either ticked off or decided he wasn't needed anymore, and walked off the stage with almost a minute left in the song.
The fireworks, which came from behind the Washington Monument, were very nice. I didn't take a photo of them because for me that is the essence of reification. I mean, come on, everyone knows what fireworks look like. The point is to enjoy the experience, not try to preserve it. It's difficult to take photos anyway. There was an Army band playing on the concert stage, which was annoying-- I like my fireworks with silent contemplation.
Everyone then crammed onto the Metro at the exact time (great practice for Japan) and after being squeezed for air for half an hour, I escaped, made it safely home, and watched 1776 on TV.
There is no need to come to DC just to watch the fireworks. Stay home and enjoy your local fireworks.
I'm sure many of you (all 10 of you) are wondering what the Fourth of July is like in DC. This was my objective, too, when I set out yesterday. I discerned, twelve hours later, that the Fourth of July in DC is made up of the following elements:
- Inter-high school parade
- Write-in Presidential candidate canvassing
- Obscure religious proselytizing
- Completely screwed-up concert
I only have 38 minutes left to describe these things, so I'll hurry. The photos are from a cell phone camera and thus kind of blurry.
Inter-high school parade
The first thing I saw when I arrived on the Mall near the Reflecting Pool were tired high school kids taking off their uniforms and getting into buses. It turned out that this was the tail-end of a parade. As I walked towards the Capitol I saw the parade itself, which was very cute, as a sort of large version of a small-town parade. There was a float with Washington and Lincoln, a float with a reenactment of the Iwo Jima flag raising, and performances by all the high school bands in town, even Latino dancers.
Write-in Presidential candidate canvassing
I wandered away from the parade looking for food and saw a big tent with the word "ALLEN FOR PRESIDENT" written on it. As I approached the tent I saw many other posters with "Smith for President" written on them... not Allan?! It turned out this was a write-in canvassing tent run by five separate would-be Presidential candidates: Christopher Popham Smith, Daniel Kingery, Joe Oliva, Ruth Bryant White, and the aforementioned Allen, who didn't give me his card but I believe to be Donald K. Allen. They all appeared perfectly sane, but none of them are on the ballot anywhere. Also, the tent was completely empty; passersby seemed to be somewhat nervous to approach these people. I referred them to ballot-access.org for help getting on the ballot. That's what America is all about.
Obscure religious proselytizing
The National Mall was packed from one end to the other with people bringing picnic baskets and blankets. There's no surprise I hadn't heard about this event before; it's huge enough without advertising. The Park Service had tents at every entrance checking people's bags, which created huge lines. On every street corner next to the Mall you could buy water, pop, or pretzels from three or four vendors, most of whom had hungry Americans from all over the country lined up. The result was a spectacular, even newsworthy amount of trash stretched out over however many miles I walked along the length of the Mall. Many people were wearing Obama shirts; nobody was wearing McCain shirts. In fact, the quantity of Obama merchandise that was moving from those streetside carts was really impressive.
At one end, there was the Washington Monument, WW2 memorial, Reflecting Pool, and so forth. Directly after that, the Folklife Festival was still running. The thought of entering that area, which is packed even on a normal day, horrified me-- from a distance I could see it was one teeming, gridlocked mass of human bodies. I felt really sorry for the Bhutanese (as you might recall, they were not experienced in showmanship).
But the most interesting thing, to me, were the religious groups at the far end of the Mall, which was previously unoccupied. Jews for Jesus were wandering around somewhere, giving combination maps and Christian tracts, which were then dropped on the ground for me to pick up and puzzle over. A born-again Christian group had occupied one square and were blasting live Christian music, giving out free water, and making friendship bracelets "with a message" (presumably the Jesus message). Right near the exit, an ultra-fundamentalist group called the Holiness movement who were dressed in Amish-style modest clothes were singing traditional songs. In the middle, and most interesting to me, were the Hare Krishnas.
The Krishnas were running a sort of fair that apparently had been done the same way since the 70s: big tents, posters underneath them explaining vegetarianism, reincarnation, the life of their guru, and so forth, and less religious activities such as Indian music, a sara dress-up booth, and free food. Yes, the Hare Krishnas were serving free drinks and meals to the 300,000 people on the Mall. As there was no water fountain, I was parched and took a huge gulp of their lemonade; I then talked to the nice woman at the book fair booth, and bought a deluxe Bhagavad Gita from her (apparently the Krishnas' holy text) for a donation of $10. It was a good time.
Completely screwed-up concert
I arrived on the steps of the Capitol around 4PM and sat there for four hours. It turned out it was a fairly bad seat. There was a really fancy concert going on below that started at 8, and when it did start I couldn't make out the singers.
That's okay, because the concert was a fiasco and would have been horrifying to see up close. It would have suited a small-town event, but this concert was being broadcast live on PBS and to armed forces around the world. The announcer was ad-libbing. The first two performers were clearly coked up-- an old C-list rocker who dropped his mic and may have been lip-synching, and a past American Idol winner who was making jerky movements with his hands, running impatiently around the stage, and had his mic cut off. There were then some nice non-celebrity performances, and Jerry Lee Lewis came on. Dude was old (at least 70, I'd Wikipedia it if I had extra time on this machine). He belonged in a nursing home. He could play piano superbly, but they had heavy backing in case he screwed up, so you couldn't really hear it. Then, as he was singing "Great Balls of Fire," the Park Service decided they really needed to start the fireworks before they got rained out, and the audience started running to the sides of the concert platform. Jerry Lee Lewis was either ticked off or decided he wasn't needed anymore, and walked off the stage with almost a minute left in the song.
The fireworks, which came from behind the Washington Monument, were very nice. I didn't take a photo of them because for me that is the essence of reification. I mean, come on, everyone knows what fireworks look like. The point is to enjoy the experience, not try to preserve it. It's difficult to take photos anyway. There was an Army band playing on the concert stage, which was annoying-- I like my fireworks with silent contemplation.
Everyone then crammed onto the Metro at the exact time (great practice for Japan) and after being squeezed for air for half an hour, I escaped, made it safely home, and watched 1776 on TV.
Conclusion
There is no need to come to DC just to watch the fireworks. Stay home and enjoy your local fireworks.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The Examiner: Worst Newspaper in the World
I haven't posted in two days because not much happened. We had to package more than 50 flags for Massachusetts offices. Ever since Bush v. Gore all government employees have required 10 flags to stand behind them in their offices.
Today I was handed a copy of a free paper called The Examiner. I marvel at how bad this newspaper is. Maybe you think the Metro is a bad paper because it just reprints Reuters and really dumb letters. Imagine what it would be like if a newspaper actively tried to make you groan and feel pity for its readers once in every story. It would probably be something like this:
The first story I read was about how Americans find Cindy McCain more "likable" than Michelle Obama. To me this is absurd. When I read the story, the absurdity increased:
So, given a choice between an honest and independent woman, and a Stepford wife... oh God, never mind. Let's go look at the op-ed page.
There is one article decrying Obama as a flip-flopper taking on conservative positions, and one claiming he is more tax-hungry than Denmark ("where excessive taxation has been a way of life for decades"... it sucks being the happiest nation in the world). But on the op-ed page, Meghan Cox Gurdon takes the cake:
This is the most wrongheaded thing I have ever seen. I am going to pretend I did not read this.
Let's try the cinema review section... it can't be as bad as this, right?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
This is... the worst newspaper in the world.
Today I was handed a copy of a free paper called The Examiner. I marvel at how bad this newspaper is. Maybe you think the Metro is a bad paper because it just reprints Reuters and really dumb letters. Imagine what it would be like if a newspaper actively tried to make you groan and feel pity for its readers once in every story. It would probably be something like this:
The first story I read was about how Americans find Cindy McCain more "likable" than Michelle Obama. To me this is absurd. When I read the story, the absurdity increased:
In February, the 44-year-old Obama sparked an uproar by asserting that “for the first time in my adult life, I am proud of my country.” In March, she described America as “just downright mean.”
Cindy McCain fired back at the time by declaring: “I’m very proud of my country.”
So, given a choice between an honest and independent woman, and a Stepford wife... oh God, never mind. Let's go look at the op-ed page.
There is one article decrying Obama as a flip-flopper taking on conservative positions, and one claiming he is more tax-hungry than Denmark ("where excessive taxation has been a way of life for decades"... it sucks being the happiest nation in the world). But on the op-ed page, Meghan Cox Gurdon takes the cake:
A friend of mine gave his 11-year-old daughter a pair of sneakers the other day, thinking she’d be pleased. She was not. She became agitated when she saw the label and told him, “I can’t wear these, because of child labor!”
It took half an hour of Internet research for him to persuade the girl that her anxieties were unfounded, and that Nike did not enslave small children in remote foreign places.
What’s a pre-pubescent child doing, panicking about the industrial origins of her shoes?
American children ... ought to know that they are fantastically lucky to have a seat at the greatest banquet table in history ... They ought to be encouraged to look about the world with dash and optimism, not apologetic guilt for the footprint they’re leaving behind.
This is the most wrongheaded thing I have ever seen. I am going to pretend I did not read this.
Let's try the cinema review section... it can't be as bad as this, right?
'Family Guy': Funny but oh so wrong
Smart but subversive humor gives show broad appeal
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
This is... the worst newspaper in the world.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
American Causes
Today I got a mortgage crisis phone call. It was from Florida, which is a little far from our district. But the caller was at her wits' end. She had a subprime mortgage with a rate that had jumped on her; she had no job and thus couldn't refinance; she was disabled and thus couldn't get an easy job. She described how she had tried subletting a room to an ex-convict who wrecked her car and stalked her. The housing bubble in Florida has popped completely and she was being offered 15% of "market value" for her house.
Of course, there was nothing I could do to help her. But even so she thanked me for being such a good listener. She said I was going places and might be a big politician someday. I felt humbled by her good grace. As I transferred her to a committee that might help her marginally more, I heard her start to say something-- but my fingers moved faster than my thoughts and I dropped the call. I feel bad about that.
Later that afternoon our staff acted on a letter from a constituent. Our congressman is pro-AIPAC and I was surprised to see such quick and unhesitant action over a Palestinian cause. I was asked to call up the Rebuilding Alliance to see what we could do about a village that is to be demolished in the West Bank, all because one guy sent us a letter!
Researching this subject is hard-- try to verify it yourself and you'll see what I mean. The Rebuilding Alliance spokeswoman clarified some of it for me:
They then went over what my congressman could do to stop this, which I'll keep confidential for now. I submitted this to the LA in charge... and it seemed like he would do some of those things just to show the constituent that his concerns were valid!
Being a Congressman seems like a very hard job-- every year people expect you to take action on more and more, and please your constituency on ever-more minute issues. But my congressman does a superb job of that. I went to Buddhist meditation again today, spoke to another stranger, and once again when she heard his name she lit up and gave me all sorts of praise.
Of course, there was nothing I could do to help her. But even so she thanked me for being such a good listener. She said I was going places and might be a big politician someday. I felt humbled by her good grace. As I transferred her to a committee that might help her marginally more, I heard her start to say something-- but my fingers moved faster than my thoughts and I dropped the call. I feel bad about that.
Later that afternoon our staff acted on a letter from a constituent. Our congressman is pro-AIPAC and I was surprised to see such quick and unhesitant action over a Palestinian cause. I was asked to call up the Rebuilding Alliance to see what we could do about a village that is to be demolished in the West Bank, all because one guy sent us a letter!
Researching this subject is hard-- try to verify it yourself and you'll see what I mean. The Rebuilding Alliance spokeswoman clarified some of it for me:
- Al Aqabah is a town on the West Bank that used to have an Israeli army base next door.
- The army fired into the hills for target practice, wounding many Palestinian farmers, and paralyzing the mayor from the waist down. The town sued the IDL, took it to Israel's Supreme Court, and won; the base was removed.
- The Rebuilding Alliance was asked to build a kindergarten in the West Bank with help from government organizations around the world. Because the IDL demolishes West Bank towns almost on a whim, they needed to choose a site that was least likely to be demolished. Al Aqabah was chosen because it had proven its historical existence before the High Court and thus established the Palestinians' right to live there.
- Nevertheless, soon after the kindergarten was finished, the IDL suddenly decided they wanted to demolish the entire town.
- The town went back to court, and lost because Israel had not accepted their zoning documents even though they submitted them with UN approval over a decade ago. The mayor was denied the "visa" needed to cross the Palestinian border wall and appear in court, even though his town's existence was in the balance!
They then went over what my congressman could do to stop this, which I'll keep confidential for now. I submitted this to the LA in charge... and it seemed like he would do some of those things just to show the constituent that his concerns were valid!
Being a Congressman seems like a very hard job-- every year people expect you to take action on more and more, and please your constituency on ever-more minute issues. But my congressman does a superb job of that. I went to Buddhist meditation again today, spoke to another stranger, and once again when she heard his name she lit up and gave me all sorts of praise.
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