C: Dad? Why do they have all these commercials?
Dad: Well, that is how they make money.
C: They sure take up a lot of times.
D: Yes, they do.
C: I think they do it just so that I can't see the cheerleaders.
DAD SMILES
Monday, November 30, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
GAMECOCKS
Despite some initial outbursts when they let Spiller slip through with a runback to lead 7-0, I felt pretty good for the rest of the game as the Cocks clearly outplayed the Tigers. Yes, they have outplayed them before and still lost, but something was different this year. All of the breaks didn't automatically go against us; in fact, we got a couple of lucky bounces. For once it actually looked liked our O-line outplayed a defense convincingly. The score could have bene even worse for the Tigers, had we not touched that muffed punt. And I thought there were two clear uncalled back-to-back interference penalties that went uncalled, but overall I was just delighted with the performace. I am going to miss Norwood. At least for one year I get to savor the defeat of the Orange. GO COCKS! I hope we do well in whatever bowl we get selected for. And I think it is legitimate to point out that both ACC division champions went down to middle of the pack SEC teams today.
Friday, November 27, 2009
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
It is always a bittersweet experience for me when I come to the end of a series that I enjoyed. In the case of Battlestar Galactica, a show I thoroughly enjoyed, watching the final season was doubly melancholy. It was the last television series that both my wife and I enjoyed together, though the latter half of the series I was forced to watch alone. Many times while watching it I would think about her. At times the show was a little more preechy and convoluted than I would have liked, and I didn't always like the trajectories of several characters, but I eagerly anticipated each show. I was always impressed by the quality of the program, and the good acting. Edward James Olmos (Bill Adama) was wonderful. Mary McDonnell (Roslin) was great. I had a crush on Grace Park (unlike most men, who probably were totally smitten with Tricia Helfer). I am a sucker for stories about small groups of determined souls fighting off incredible odds (Alexander's Greeks, the gang in The Warriors, the British troops in Zulu, Star Trek Voyager, yeah. . .you get my drift). Although I must applaud the actor who played him, I realy disliked Gaius Baltar. [I would not be surprised if someday they reprise the theme, possibly following the journey of some other group of ships that headed off in a different direction.] Despite my love for Star Wars and Star Trek, I liked that there were no aliens in the story. The sets were awesome and the photography gritty and, well, real life (right, can one say that in science fiction?). The use of Starbuck as some harbinger, or angel, was troubling, but then again, why not. Apparently there are future spinoff, and I hope they do a good job with them.
COLUMBINE
Before 9-11, one of the most traumatic experiences for America, and definitely Colorado, was the massacre of students at Columbine High School. Twelve youngsters, one teacher, and two killers lay dead after an assault that could easily have claimed hundreds of additional victims (several bombs failed to ignite). The event dominated news for weeks. "Columbine" because synonymous with student shootings. People wanted to know how and what had happened, but they also wanted to know why. Some victims were pegged as heros, others were looked upon as villans; many people quickly concluded that the murderers were picked-upon outcasts, members of a goth group known as the Trench Coat Mafia, and that they targeted jocks and evangelicals. Dave Cullen's Columbine corrects many assumptions and myths, and presents a compelling argument for reevaluating the crime and what drove Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold to attempt to destroy their own school, as well as conflicts and struggles of a comunity in the aftermath of such horror.
Cullen's style is somewhat unusual for a normal nonfiction account of such an event, often going back and forth chronologically, touching on this subject and that, laying out trajectories of many paths, but carefully picking apart arguments, while assessing blame and providing insightful explanations of what lay behind the murders. Much cannot be covered in this review, but there are some important observations. Probably the most important is that these boys did not simply "snap," nor were they victims of anything other than normal peer pressures and disappointments---Harris was a psychopath, possibly from birth, and Klebold was a depressed suicidal who Harris needed to complete his plans (he had hoped to recruit other participants). Local authories were provided with numerous opportunities to stop the duo, and later actively engaged in a coverup (a conspiracy in fact) to hide the fact that at least one family had correctly pointed out that Harris was a danger. The police very likely were too slow in aggressively engaging the pair during the attack, and missed an opportunity to save some lives (but it may be too hard to criticize their decisions on the ground). Most likely the teacher (and possibly soem students) bled to death because of poor decisions by initial responders, although it is unclear that the students could have been saved. One of the most revealing things about the book is how people react to stressful events, and how witnesses see and report their observations. Eyewitness testimony is not always accurate. The media comes in for some blame in running with stories that were untrue, although there does not seem to have been some active effort to defraud; clearly they did not ask the right questions nor determine how accurate some of the claims were. Some evangelicals can be blamed for continuing a fiction that they knew was untrue (after the truth came out) because it benefitted their worldview---Cassie did not give her life in confessing belief in God (actually, another young lady, who survived, was most likely the genesis of that story, although she was vilified and accused of being a copycat). The two killers were not part of the TCM. Proponents of lax gun laws deserve criticism, especially in allowing easy access to weapons (though much blame deserved to be put on the two adults directly responsible for providing the guns and ammo). However, if the duo had been delayed, the likihood is that they would have eventually gathered their arsenal and attack; the only advantage would have been the possibility that their plans would have been fully discovered. Eric did not target any one group of students: he hated all humanity, or at least those who he felt were inferior, and he may not even have seen his victims as human. He was filled with hate. One could criticize the parents (possibly more in Dylan's case), but Haris was an accomplished psychopath, and they are often effective liars. Most sad was how the events were used by unscrupulous individuals for monetary gain and the promotion of specific agendas. Cullen's description of how parents and community dealt with the aftermath of tragedy was instructive.
There were heros. Several victims heroically refused to let their serious injuries keep them from experiencing life or achieving goals. Several teachers, particularly, acted bravely and decisively in getting children out of the path of danger. Some reporters ferreted out the truth. One FBI agent worked steadily to uncover causes and transmit his findings to others, so that warning signs could be taken more seriously in the future. The students deserve much credit for refusing to let their school die and for regaining control of their lives.
This is an excellent work. Not having read other accounts, I may be giving praise too easily, but I was impressed by the thoroughness of his research and arguments, and believe that most of his conclussions are accurate. There is much for parents and school administrators, and possibly health professionals, to learn from this book.
Cullen's style is somewhat unusual for a normal nonfiction account of such an event, often going back and forth chronologically, touching on this subject and that, laying out trajectories of many paths, but carefully picking apart arguments, while assessing blame and providing insightful explanations of what lay behind the murders. Much cannot be covered in this review, but there are some important observations. Probably the most important is that these boys did not simply "snap," nor were they victims of anything other than normal peer pressures and disappointments---Harris was a psychopath, possibly from birth, and Klebold was a depressed suicidal who Harris needed to complete his plans (he had hoped to recruit other participants). Local authories were provided with numerous opportunities to stop the duo, and later actively engaged in a coverup (a conspiracy in fact) to hide the fact that at least one family had correctly pointed out that Harris was a danger. The police very likely were too slow in aggressively engaging the pair during the attack, and missed an opportunity to save some lives (but it may be too hard to criticize their decisions on the ground). Most likely the teacher (and possibly soem students) bled to death because of poor decisions by initial responders, although it is unclear that the students could have been saved. One of the most revealing things about the book is how people react to stressful events, and how witnesses see and report their observations. Eyewitness testimony is not always accurate. The media comes in for some blame in running with stories that were untrue, although there does not seem to have been some active effort to defraud; clearly they did not ask the right questions nor determine how accurate some of the claims were. Some evangelicals can be blamed for continuing a fiction that they knew was untrue (after the truth came out) because it benefitted their worldview---Cassie did not give her life in confessing belief in God (actually, another young lady, who survived, was most likely the genesis of that story, although she was vilified and accused of being a copycat). The two killers were not part of the TCM. Proponents of lax gun laws deserve criticism, especially in allowing easy access to weapons (though much blame deserved to be put on the two adults directly responsible for providing the guns and ammo). However, if the duo had been delayed, the likihood is that they would have eventually gathered their arsenal and attack; the only advantage would have been the possibility that their plans would have been fully discovered. Eric did not target any one group of students: he hated all humanity, or at least those who he felt were inferior, and he may not even have seen his victims as human. He was filled with hate. One could criticize the parents (possibly more in Dylan's case), but Haris was an accomplished psychopath, and they are often effective liars. Most sad was how the events were used by unscrupulous individuals for monetary gain and the promotion of specific agendas. Cullen's description of how parents and community dealt with the aftermath of tragedy was instructive.
There were heros. Several victims heroically refused to let their serious injuries keep them from experiencing life or achieving goals. Several teachers, particularly, acted bravely and decisively in getting children out of the path of danger. Some reporters ferreted out the truth. One FBI agent worked steadily to uncover causes and transmit his findings to others, so that warning signs could be taken more seriously in the future. The students deserve much credit for refusing to let their school die and for regaining control of their lives.
This is an excellent work. Not having read other accounts, I may be giving praise too easily, but I was impressed by the thoroughness of his research and arguments, and believe that most of his conclussions are accurate. There is much for parents and school administrators, and possibly health professionals, to learn from this book.
Monday, November 23, 2009
BLUE SEA OF BLOOD
As the WWII juggernaut of Japanese forces streamed southward early in the conflict toward Australia, its naval and air forces systematically destroyed much of its Allied opposition. American naval strength was found largely in the outdated and under-armed Asiatic Fleet, including a group of four-funneled flush-deck destroyers, among them the USS Edsall. Written off as expendable and with inadequate provisions, they were often sent on sacrificial operations with little military benefit, but for political expediency. Their crews, nonetheless, committed themselves resourcefully and bravely despite the staggering odds. In March 1942 the Edsall blundered into a Japanese fleet (possibly as it entered dangerous waters to rescue the survivors of the Pecos, which was ferrying men southward), and despite the gargantuan challenge arrayed against it, managed to hold off some of the best Japan had to offer, eventually and predictably succumbing to dive bomber attacks after a two-hour engagement. A few men survived the engagement, only to disappear in the hell that was the Japanese POW system, and no known crew made it out of the war. A small number of bodies were later located, having been executed and buried. Adding to their plight, their bravery and sacrifice was largely ignored and unreported, if not actually hidden from public eye. Donald Kehn tries to rectify this oversight with A Blue Sea of Blood.
Sadly, the effort was unsatisfactory. One can applaud the author’s research and efforts, as well as the wealth of information he provides, especially in light of the paucity of available materials, both governmental and personal, but he falls short in his storytelling. The strips of available information are lightly tacked to a sparse set of bones. One almost gets the feeling that the project should have been smaller, perhaps a large article in a major naval publication, but that in making it a book it became unwieldy, repetitive, and ultimately of lesser quality. One also gets the feeling that an inferior editing job was done. The story just doesn’t flow as well as some similar efforts, such as Ship of Ghosts. And this is sad, because the story is an important one. Another minor quibble is that Kehn to often puts himself in the story (this material should have been put in footnotes, or a separate appendix).
Sadly, the effort was unsatisfactory. One can applaud the author’s research and efforts, as well as the wealth of information he provides, especially in light of the paucity of available materials, both governmental and personal, but he falls short in his storytelling. The strips of available information are lightly tacked to a sparse set of bones. One almost gets the feeling that the project should have been smaller, perhaps a large article in a major naval publication, but that in making it a book it became unwieldy, repetitive, and ultimately of lesser quality. One also gets the feeling that an inferior editing job was done. The story just doesn’t flow as well as some similar efforts, such as Ship of Ghosts. And this is sad, because the story is an important one. Another minor quibble is that Kehn to often puts himself in the story (this material should have been put in footnotes, or a separate appendix).
Sunday, November 22, 2009
DEATH
I have always been somewhat conflicted about the death penalty. Part of me thinks it is an appropriate penalty for murder, especially the most heinous cases (particularly against those who kill children), but in accepting this stand I have always believed that it should be absolutely as difficult as possible for the state to take a life, even if the convicted spends many years waiting for his final day. Death cannot be reversed. As I grow older, I come down, maybe even vindictively, on the side that even if they committed the crime, it is better they suffer in their cell, forced to think about it, than to have the easy way out by death. I know that the death penalty is not a deterrent. . .one only has to look at the rising numbers of individuals on death row, in startling numbers in some states, to know that argument does not hold water. And too many innocent people have been released because of scientifc evidence.
It is with this mindset that I watched a powerful and moving documentary, At the Death House Door, featuring the story of Carroll Picket, a minister present at more than 90 executions, who now is in the forefront against the death penalty in Texas (one of the most active state killers), and the story of what appears to be an innocent man put to death. I was impressed by the strength and wisdom, and quiet purposefulness, of Pickett. I felt for DeLuna's family, especially one sister. I know that in many cases the families of the murdered suffered even more, and I know a hateful demon would rise up in me if one of my sons was ever a victim. But I think many people may come to different conclusions about teh effectiveness of the sentence and the honesty of some of our public officials should they have the opportunity to watch this excellent film.
It is with this mindset that I watched a powerful and moving documentary, At the Death House Door, featuring the story of Carroll Picket, a minister present at more than 90 executions, who now is in the forefront against the death penalty in Texas (one of the most active state killers), and the story of what appears to be an innocent man put to death. I was impressed by the strength and wisdom, and quiet purposefulness, of Pickett. I felt for DeLuna's family, especially one sister. I know that in many cases the families of the murdered suffered even more, and I know a hateful demon would rise up in me if one of my sons was ever a victim. But I think many people may come to different conclusions about teh effectiveness of the sentence and the honesty of some of our public officials should they have the opportunity to watch this excellent film.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
DREAM
I am a vivid dreamer, and apparently unlike many people I can often remember at least some of my visions, occasionally in detail. And although I don't know if it is usual, some of my dreams seem to be like long-running serials, as I return repeatedly to a specific dream to take up an adventure or finish some storyline. Last night was one such visit, though a sad one.
While I was in graduate school, and had just moved to Columbia, I started having a dream about a nonexistent reading room, perhaps some coffeeshop/bookstore/giftstore type of place run by a nun-like group of women who were quiet and reserved. I would go there to read or reflect, and often to catch a quick nap. Yes, I was napping in my dream. Perhaps when I felt rested I could get sleep in the real world. Maybe it was a way to handle the stress of living away from family and dealing with graduate studies. I remember that there was a lot of wood and glass in the place, with lowered lighting, and there was a room off to the side that one could use to lie down, perhaps on one of those sleeper couches you see in psychiatrist offices. I developed friendships with some of the women, and they seemed welcoming and genuinely happy to see me and make me comfortable when I was there. I recall that sometimes we would sit and have discussions. I remember that I could walk to this spiritual oasis from wherever I lived and that it was in an urban area, though somehow it sat apart from the noise and bustle of a normal city. It was peaceful.
Last night, I visited it again, after a long hiatus, but when I arrived I realized that they were closing shop. Silent, unseen women worked quietly to pack the belongings and then I watched as the last boxes were removed and the workers walked away down a path, and I was left alone in the room, sunset light filtering through the stirred-up dust particles floating in the air, and I cried. I wonder now where my dream entity will go to find that same sense of peace.
While I was in graduate school, and had just moved to Columbia, I started having a dream about a nonexistent reading room, perhaps some coffeeshop/bookstore/giftstore type of place run by a nun-like group of women who were quiet and reserved. I would go there to read or reflect, and often to catch a quick nap. Yes, I was napping in my dream. Perhaps when I felt rested I could get sleep in the real world. Maybe it was a way to handle the stress of living away from family and dealing with graduate studies. I remember that there was a lot of wood and glass in the place, with lowered lighting, and there was a room off to the side that one could use to lie down, perhaps on one of those sleeper couches you see in psychiatrist offices. I developed friendships with some of the women, and they seemed welcoming and genuinely happy to see me and make me comfortable when I was there. I recall that sometimes we would sit and have discussions. I remember that I could walk to this spiritual oasis from wherever I lived and that it was in an urban area, though somehow it sat apart from the noise and bustle of a normal city. It was peaceful.
Last night, I visited it again, after a long hiatus, but when I arrived I realized that they were closing shop. Silent, unseen women worked quietly to pack the belongings and then I watched as the last boxes were removed and the workers walked away down a path, and I was left alone in the room, sunset light filtering through the stirred-up dust particles floating in the air, and I cried. I wonder now where my dream entity will go to find that same sense of peace.
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