All the news that fits, we print:
Those good hands people at the TSA are back in the news again. And
once again it involves the agency’s “enhanced” security procedures.
I am a frequent customer of the TSA because I have a couple of knee
replacements and the bells and whistles go off when I approach. It’s
a hassle but after a couple of waves of the wand, and a pat here and
there, away you go.
But last month was my first encounter with the new, improved
pat-down. It felt like the agent had accidently dropped his Rolex
down the front of my pants and was trying to retrieve it.
On a later flight, I went through the scanner which was quicker and
simpler. Of course, you have to get past the fact that a reasonable
facsimile of you naked to the world will appear on a screen somewhere
to the howls and/or whistles of those observing.
Now, we learn that the TSA will be installing software that will
allow agents to see objects hidden under clothes without seeing you
in the altogether. Or as a TSA bureaucrat remarked in a classic
understatement, to “improve the passenger experience at checkpoints.”
And not a moment too soon.
Just this past week, it seems that Yukari Miyamae, a 61-year-old
Colorado woman, was charged with groping a TSA agent.
Miyamae was in Phoenix's Sky Airport en route home to Colorado when
the incident occurred.
According to the arrest report, Miyamae is accused of groping TSA
agent Barbara O'Toole's "left breast through her clothing and
squeezing and twisting it with both hands without the victim's
permission."
I can only guess why.
For all I know, Miyamae may have been a full-blown Taliban operative.
But if not, there is such an inescapable turnabout-is-fair-play irony
to all this that I am prepared to be a character witness on her
behalf.
I’m not the only one. Five Facebook pages dedicated to her have
sprung into existence, four of them offering her support. Some have
dubbed her the "21st century Rosa Parks."
Fortunately, it appears that technology will soon rescue us from the
ugly prospect of groping wars at our airports.
Speaking of technology, cell phones may be the greatest
communications advancement since, well, the telephone.
But like many gifts, it comes with a curse.
It can be annoying, rude and, most importantly, distracting and
dangerous.
That’s why many states and municipalities have banned hand-held cell
phone use while driving.
And it’s why everyone believed it recently when it was reported that
the city of Philadelphia would ticket and fine anyone texting while
walking.
Makes sense. Who wants to get head-butted by some idiot texting his
girlfriend. Or watch as some dufus walks into an 18-wheeler while
checking the baseball scores.
But the city mothers and fathers in Philadelphia, in fact, passed no
such law. What they did do is encourage police to crack down on
dangerous and distracting cellphone use.
That development was misunderstood by some TV types and bloggers and
the misinformation spread like wildfire via the Internet.
Imagine that.
It’s ice cream season. And parlors across the land are responding
with more and more inventive flavors to attract customers.
According to Newsweek, lip-smacking offerings this season such as
Brown Bread, Rice and Beans, Balsamic Strawberry, Feta Cheese and
Basil, Brown Ale With Bacon, Lobster and Wasabi Coconut Banana are on
the menu.
Vanilla, anyone?
What do Mike Eng, Edward Hernandez, Bob Huff, Curt Hagman have in
common?
They are all elected officials from the San Gabriel Valley. And they
all accepted contributions from tobacco interests.
Indeed, the tobacco industry spent a total of $9.3 million on
campaign contributions and lobbying in California during the
2009-2010 election cycle and have spent nearly $100 million over the
last decade, according to a new report by the Center for Tobacco
Policy & Organizing, a project of the American Lung Association in
California.
Of the 122 state legislators (more than 120 due to vacancies and
special elections), tobacco interests made campaign contributions to
59 members, or 48 percent, similar to the total from pervious
election cycles.
Maybe we were naive enough to think that the scourge of tobacco was
becoming a thing of the past. Apparently it’s still as close as your
local legislator.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Rupert's World
Good morning and welcome to your daily community newspaper.
You may notice we’ve made a few changes due to the fact that we have
been sold to Rupert Murdoch.
We have discarded well-written and informative stories in favor of
salacious scandal about our elected officials, sports figures,
community leaders and anybody else we can smear.
We are no longer interested in the agendas and actions of our city
councils and boards of education.
Rather, we will be reporting on members’ sex lives, mental health,
financial status and any and all dirt we can dig up.
To accomplish this, we will bribe public officials and cops and
engage in hacking personal phone calls and e-mails and use the
information to wield political power over those with whom we
disagree. There are no moral or ethical boundaries we will not
violate in order to achieve our goals.
For your entertainment, we will run pictures of topless models on
Page 3 complete with leering, sexist comments.
We understand that this new direction in our reporting will lead to
the arrest and conviction of some of our reporters and editors but,
hey, that’s the price you pay.
This, of course, is just a fantasy, or rather a nightmare. We haven’t
really been sold to Murdoch and we fervently hope it will never come
to pass.
But it’s a useful tool to illustrate the methods Rupert Murdoch and
his band of mad hatters in England who, in the pursuit of lurid and
sensational scoops, in an attempt to get the story at any cost, to
beat the competition by any means necessary, have completely lost
their moral and ethical compass.
To recount: As far back as 2006, Murdoch’s News of the World tabloid
was charged by police with intercepting voice mail messages left for
members of Britain’s royal family.
Police began a new investigation into phone hacking allegations in
February 2011, at which time more than 20 civil cases against the
News of the World were active. Lawyers for the victims allege that as
many as 7,000 people had their phones accessed by the News of the
World.
Then earlier this month, allegations were made that the News of the
World hacked into the voicemail of a murdered schoolgirl, destroying
possible evidence in the search for her killer, as well as victims of
the London terrorist bombings and relatives of deceased British
soldiers.
It was even more than the gossip-loving British public could stand.
Reporters and editors were arrested. Advertisers withdrew from the
News of the World and other Murdoch publications.
Murdoch promptly shut down the 168-year-old publication in a cynical
attempt to keep alive his attempt to purchase the lucrative British
Sky Broadcasting Group, an attempt that failed when Murdoch withdrew
his $12 billion bid in the wake of the hacking scandal.
In the midst of all this, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown accused
Murdoch’s papers of hiring “known criminals” to ferret our
information on him and his family, including his personal finances
and his infant son’s medical history.
Brown is not the only politician to feel Murdoch’s wrath. According
to a New York Times story, Clare Short, a Labour member of
Parliament, mentioned in passing at a luncheon in 2004 that she did
not care for the photographs of saucy, topless women that appear
every day on Page 3 of Murdoch’s The Sun tabloid. “I’d like to take
the pornography out of our press,” she said.
“ ‘Fat, Jealous’ Clare Brands Page 3 Porn” was The Sun’s headline in
response. Its editor sent a busload of semi-dressed models to jeer at
Ms. Short at her house. The paper stuck a photograph of Ms. Short’s
head over the body of a topless woman and found a number of people to
declare that, in fact, they thoroughly enjoyed the sexy photos.
OK, so a band of British loonies engaged in sleazy and illegal
tactics and left ethics and good taste lying broken and bleeding in
the street. Why should we care?
Because Rupert Murdoch may be practicing the same sort of abhorrent
journalism right here in America.
His Fox News has already been revealed as something less than “fair
and balanced” for contributing $1 million to Republican political
candidates.
His New York Post is as raunchy and irresponsible as his British
tabloids. He now owns the prestigious Wall Street Journal and it
remains to be seen if he brings his own brand of “journalism” to that
paper.
And the FBI, prodded by members of Congress, has opened an
investigation into whether Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. attempted to
hack into the telephones of victims of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks
and the families of those who died.
American journalism is at the crossroads. It needs visibility, it
needs a blueprint to survive in the information age, it needs money
to stay alive and thrive.
More importantly, it needs to maintain its credibility. And because
it does, it doesn’t need Rupert Murdoch.
You may notice we’ve made a few changes due to the fact that we have
been sold to Rupert Murdoch.
We have discarded well-written and informative stories in favor of
salacious scandal about our elected officials, sports figures,
community leaders and anybody else we can smear.
We are no longer interested in the agendas and actions of our city
councils and boards of education.
Rather, we will be reporting on members’ sex lives, mental health,
financial status and any and all dirt we can dig up.
To accomplish this, we will bribe public officials and cops and
engage in hacking personal phone calls and e-mails and use the
information to wield political power over those with whom we
disagree. There are no moral or ethical boundaries we will not
violate in order to achieve our goals.
For your entertainment, we will run pictures of topless models on
Page 3 complete with leering, sexist comments.
We understand that this new direction in our reporting will lead to
the arrest and conviction of some of our reporters and editors but,
hey, that’s the price you pay.
This, of course, is just a fantasy, or rather a nightmare. We haven’t
really been sold to Murdoch and we fervently hope it will never come
to pass.
But it’s a useful tool to illustrate the methods Rupert Murdoch and
his band of mad hatters in England who, in the pursuit of lurid and
sensational scoops, in an attempt to get the story at any cost, to
beat the competition by any means necessary, have completely lost
their moral and ethical compass.
To recount: As far back as 2006, Murdoch’s News of the World tabloid
was charged by police with intercepting voice mail messages left for
members of Britain’s royal family.
Police began a new investigation into phone hacking allegations in
February 2011, at which time more than 20 civil cases against the
News of the World were active. Lawyers for the victims allege that as
many as 7,000 people had their phones accessed by the News of the
World.
Then earlier this month, allegations were made that the News of the
World hacked into the voicemail of a murdered schoolgirl, destroying
possible evidence in the search for her killer, as well as victims of
the London terrorist bombings and relatives of deceased British
soldiers.
It was even more than the gossip-loving British public could stand.
Reporters and editors were arrested. Advertisers withdrew from the
News of the World and other Murdoch publications.
Murdoch promptly shut down the 168-year-old publication in a cynical
attempt to keep alive his attempt to purchase the lucrative British
Sky Broadcasting Group, an attempt that failed when Murdoch withdrew
his $12 billion bid in the wake of the hacking scandal.
In the midst of all this, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown accused
Murdoch’s papers of hiring “known criminals” to ferret our
information on him and his family, including his personal finances
and his infant son’s medical history.
Brown is not the only politician to feel Murdoch’s wrath. According
to a New York Times story, Clare Short, a Labour member of
Parliament, mentioned in passing at a luncheon in 2004 that she did
not care for the photographs of saucy, topless women that appear
every day on Page 3 of Murdoch’s The Sun tabloid. “I’d like to take
the pornography out of our press,” she said.
“ ‘Fat, Jealous’ Clare Brands Page 3 Porn” was The Sun’s headline in
response. Its editor sent a busload of semi-dressed models to jeer at
Ms. Short at her house. The paper stuck a photograph of Ms. Short’s
head over the body of a topless woman and found a number of people to
declare that, in fact, they thoroughly enjoyed the sexy photos.
OK, so a band of British loonies engaged in sleazy and illegal
tactics and left ethics and good taste lying broken and bleeding in
the street. Why should we care?
Because Rupert Murdoch may be practicing the same sort of abhorrent
journalism right here in America.
His Fox News has already been revealed as something less than “fair
and balanced” for contributing $1 million to Republican political
candidates.
His New York Post is as raunchy and irresponsible as his British
tabloids. He now owns the prestigious Wall Street Journal and it
remains to be seen if he brings his own brand of “journalism” to that
paper.
And the FBI, prodded by members of Congress, has opened an
investigation into whether Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. attempted to
hack into the telephones of victims of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks
and the families of those who died.
American journalism is at the crossroads. It needs visibility, it
needs a blueprint to survive in the information age, it needs money
to stay alive and thrive.
More importantly, it needs to maintain its credibility. And because
it does, it doesn’t need Rupert Murdoch.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
A State of Grace
"It is better (100) guilty Persons should escape than that one innocent Person should suffer." - Benjamin Franklin.
LET'S all take a deep breath. The Casey Anthony verdict was in all probability a miscarriage of justice. But to condemn our system of justice as some have done is absurd.
Despite a handful of high-profile cases such as Michael Jackson, O.J. and Robert Blake, the courts heed Franklin's words and get it right most of the time. And God help us if we resort to prosecution by punditry.
Which brings us to one of the most unfortunate aspects of the Anthony trial.
It will assuredly encourage more mindless and prejudicial chatter from cable TV's assorted talking heads who fancy themselves judge, jury and executioner.
Anthony will continue to be their bete noire for months, maybe years.
After that, there will be another missing child, another Tot Mom or Octomom, another tawdry murder case out there somewhere to exploit.
To be sure, I stand ready to defend their right to babble. The First Amendment guarantees free expression even from people you loathe.
But there is something fundamentally disturbing about the likes of Nancy Grace, the Headline News personality who, convinced of Anthony's guilt before her daughter's body was even discovered, used her bully pulpit to endlessly paint the defendant as an affront to motherhood and human decency.
No trial was necessary in Grace's view.
No balanced reporting here. Casey Anthony was guilty from Day One.
This was not new territory for Grace. She took a vehemently pro-prosecution stance against three Duke University lacrosse players accused of rape in a high-profile case. When they were acquitted and the district attorney disbarred, she was absent from her show and a substitute anchor announced the decision.
Grace's philosophy is shaped by the fact that she is a former prosecutor. I've never met a prosecutor in my professional career who wasn't filled with the spirit of indignant righteousness.
Take a zealous prosecutor, give her a television show and the freedom to hound a defendant without the restrictions of due process, and you have Nancy Grace, an avenging angel wrapped in the flag of truth, or at least her version of it.
That's not just my opinion. According to published accounts and court opinions, the Supreme Court of Georgia several times condemned Grace's conduct as a prosecutor. First, in a 1994 heroin trafficking case, Bell v. State, the court declared a mistrial, saying that Grace had "exceeded the wide latitude of closing argument" by drawing comparisons to unrelated murder and rape cases.
In 1997, the court was more severe, overturning the murder-arson conviction of businessman W. W. Carr in the death of his wife. While the court said its reversal was not due to her transgressions, since the case had turned primarily on circumstantial evidence, it nevertheless concluded "the conduct of the prosecuting attorney in this case demonstrated her disregard of the notions of due process and fairness, and was inexcusable."
Despite upholding the conviction she sought, a panel of the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals wrote in a 2005 opinion that Grace "played fast and loose" with her ethical duties and failed to "fulfill her responsibilities" as a prosecutor in the 1990 triple murder trial of Herbert Connell Stephens. The court agreed that it was "difficult to conclude that Grace did not knowingly use ... (apparently false) testimony" from a detective that there were no other suspects, despite the existence of outstanding arrest warrants for other men.
And Grace's view of the Anthony defense? "They will do and say anything," she sniffed.
The ratings for Headline News have soared as a result of Grace's trial coverage.
According to Dylan Stableford, the media writer for Yahoo News, Grace's network has benefited greatly from its take on the trial. The network beat MSNBC in total viewers in June, Stableford reports, averaging 982,000 in prime time, an increase of 86 percent.
So she will live to rant again and is well on her way to becoming a media star, despite her failure to have Casey Anthony put to death.
I see "Dancing With the Stars" in her future. Or maybe even an appearance in the Rose Parade.
Imagine her popularity if she came down on the right side of a verdict.
LET'S all take a deep breath. The Casey Anthony verdict was in all probability a miscarriage of justice. But to condemn our system of justice as some have done is absurd.
Despite a handful of high-profile cases such as Michael Jackson, O.J. and Robert Blake, the courts heed Franklin's words and get it right most of the time. And God help us if we resort to prosecution by punditry.
Which brings us to one of the most unfortunate aspects of the Anthony trial.
It will assuredly encourage more mindless and prejudicial chatter from cable TV's assorted talking heads who fancy themselves judge, jury and executioner.
Anthony will continue to be their bete noire for months, maybe years.
After that, there will be another missing child, another Tot Mom or Octomom, another tawdry murder case out there somewhere to exploit.
To be sure, I stand ready to defend their right to babble. The First Amendment guarantees free expression even from people you loathe.
But there is something fundamentally disturbing about the likes of Nancy Grace, the Headline News personality who, convinced of Anthony's guilt before her daughter's body was even discovered, used her bully pulpit to endlessly paint the defendant as an affront to motherhood and human decency.
No trial was necessary in Grace's view.
No balanced reporting here. Casey Anthony was guilty from Day One.
This was not new territory for Grace. She took a vehemently pro-prosecution stance against three Duke University lacrosse players accused of rape in a high-profile case. When they were acquitted and the district attorney disbarred, she was absent from her show and a substitute anchor announced the decision.
Grace's philosophy is shaped by the fact that she is a former prosecutor. I've never met a prosecutor in my professional career who wasn't filled with the spirit of indignant righteousness.
Take a zealous prosecutor, give her a television show and the freedom to hound a defendant without the restrictions of due process, and you have Nancy Grace, an avenging angel wrapped in the flag of truth, or at least her version of it.
That's not just my opinion. According to published accounts and court opinions, the Supreme Court of Georgia several times condemned Grace's conduct as a prosecutor. First, in a 1994 heroin trafficking case, Bell v. State, the court declared a mistrial, saying that Grace had "exceeded the wide latitude of closing argument" by drawing comparisons to unrelated murder and rape cases.
In 1997, the court was more severe, overturning the murder-arson conviction of businessman W. W. Carr in the death of his wife. While the court said its reversal was not due to her transgressions, since the case had turned primarily on circumstantial evidence, it nevertheless concluded "the conduct of the prosecuting attorney in this case demonstrated her disregard of the notions of due process and fairness, and was inexcusable."
Despite upholding the conviction she sought, a panel of the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals wrote in a 2005 opinion that Grace "played fast and loose" with her ethical duties and failed to "fulfill her responsibilities" as a prosecutor in the 1990 triple murder trial of Herbert Connell Stephens. The court agreed that it was "difficult to conclude that Grace did not knowingly use ... (apparently false) testimony" from a detective that there were no other suspects, despite the existence of outstanding arrest warrants for other men.
And Grace's view of the Anthony defense? "They will do and say anything," she sniffed.
The ratings for Headline News have soared as a result of Grace's trial coverage.
According to Dylan Stableford, the media writer for Yahoo News, Grace's network has benefited greatly from its take on the trial. The network beat MSNBC in total viewers in June, Stableford reports, averaging 982,000 in prime time, an increase of 86 percent.
So she will live to rant again and is well on her way to becoming a media star, despite her failure to have Casey Anthony put to death.
I see "Dancing With the Stars" in her future. Or maybe even an appearance in the Rose Parade.
Imagine her popularity if she came down on the right side of a verdict.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Notes From an Infrequent Flier
We ventured this past week where only the foolish or the brave dare
to tread. We took a cross-country flight on a commercial airliner.
Oh, sure, we’d read the stories about bumped passengers, lost
luggage, delays due to various volcanic eruptions and computer
glitches not to mention enhanced TSA pat-downs that looked like a
porn movie casting call.
But sometimes you just have to get up and go. So we did. Los
Angeles to Washington, D.C. Flying time, anywhere from four and a
half to five and a half hours, depending on how much the carrier
needed to lie to chalk up an on-time arrival.
Things went smoothly at LAX until we went through security. I have
a pair of knee replacements due to too many years of jogging,
football, basketball, racquetball and many other kinds of ball all
undertaken with great energy while carrying too much weight.
As a result, I set off the alarms at TSA security as if I was
carrying a flame thrower under my shirt. No big deal. A wand here,
a wand there. I’m use to it.
But the pat-down that ensured, conducted by a young man who tried
hard to be pleasant, was more like an autopsy. I felt like he was
poking and prodding my internal organs, looking for one that might be
prime for transplant to another human.
In the past, I believed the hue and cry over airport security was
overblown. The alternative was to turn our commercial airliners
into potential flying bombs. So I endured it with a smile.
I can deal with the new procedures, intrusive and time consuming as
they are. But they are frankly dehumanizing and embarrassing. The terrorists seem to have won this round.
Contrast the hands-on approach at LAX with the scanner at Dulles in
Washington. I know scanners have come under fire as well but after
the groping in Los Angeles it was a relief.
You walk in, put your hands behind your head, and they squeeze off a
picture. It takes about 10 seconds for you to be cleared. If
there’s some TSA agent in a dingy room somewhere salivating over my
image, I sincerely wish them a well-adjusted life.
In a choice between two evils, the scanner ranks lower on the
humiliation scale.
The United Airline plane we flew was showing its age, the upholstery
threadbare, the carpet worn. No headsets were provided for movie or
audio use. By contrast, the same flight back did provide
headphones. Go figure.
The airline magazines were dog-eared, with pages missing and
crossword puzzles filled out in ink by some previous passenger. I
guess I could have double checked his work. I passed and engrossed
myself in the latest Sky Mall offerings, including a security blanket
for dogs designed to ease separation anxiety. Does the owner get one
too?
United is supposed to have passable airline food. I didn’t see
anyone ordering it. The guy next to me pulled out a 3 foot sub he
brought with him and devoured it like he was in a competitive eating
contest.
There seemed to be fewer tourists in Washington than I have seen in
the past. But the convention business appears to be alive and well.
The Biotechnology Industry, which says its goal is to feed and fuel
the world, presumably with differing products, was expected to draw
15,000 participants. The Lego Fan Festival is coming up not to
mention the U.S. Air Guitar Championships.
We took in the U.S. Open golf tournament at Congressional Country
Club, a favorite hangout of golfing presidents including the likes of
William Howard Taft and Calvin Coolidge. The course is the size of
Delaware and with a clubhouse that is bigger than the Rose Bowl.
I was glad to see the National Mall was in much better shape than we
saw two years ago when we were last in town. Then, most of the grass
was dead or dying. Reflecting pools were filled with putrid water.
Sidewalks are crumbling. Improvements have been made but there’s
still a long ways to go.
I guess I missed it when it was announced but a new presidential
memorial is being planned in Washington, this one dedicated to Dwight
Eisenhower. I did a quick mental rundown to determine if anyone
was more deserving.
There isn't. He led America to victory in Europe during
World War II and served two terms as president. I’ll forgive him his
choice of vice president. Remembering back, it seemed everyone liked
Ike.
to tread. We took a cross-country flight on a commercial airliner.
Oh, sure, we’d read the stories about bumped passengers, lost
luggage, delays due to various volcanic eruptions and computer
glitches not to mention enhanced TSA pat-downs that looked like a
porn movie casting call.
But sometimes you just have to get up and go. So we did. Los
Angeles to Washington, D.C. Flying time, anywhere from four and a
half to five and a half hours, depending on how much the carrier
needed to lie to chalk up an on-time arrival.
Things went smoothly at LAX until we went through security. I have
a pair of knee replacements due to too many years of jogging,
football, basketball, racquetball and many other kinds of ball all
undertaken with great energy while carrying too much weight.
As a result, I set off the alarms at TSA security as if I was
carrying a flame thrower under my shirt. No big deal. A wand here,
a wand there. I’m use to it.
But the pat-down that ensured, conducted by a young man who tried
hard to be pleasant, was more like an autopsy. I felt like he was
poking and prodding my internal organs, looking for one that might be
prime for transplant to another human.
In the past, I believed the hue and cry over airport security was
overblown. The alternative was to turn our commercial airliners
into potential flying bombs. So I endured it with a smile.
I can deal with the new procedures, intrusive and time consuming as
they are. But they are frankly dehumanizing and embarrassing. The terrorists seem to have won this round.
Contrast the hands-on approach at LAX with the scanner at Dulles in
Washington. I know scanners have come under fire as well but after
the groping in Los Angeles it was a relief.
You walk in, put your hands behind your head, and they squeeze off a
picture. It takes about 10 seconds for you to be cleared. If
there’s some TSA agent in a dingy room somewhere salivating over my
image, I sincerely wish them a well-adjusted life.
In a choice between two evils, the scanner ranks lower on the
humiliation scale.
The United Airline plane we flew was showing its age, the upholstery
threadbare, the carpet worn. No headsets were provided for movie or
audio use. By contrast, the same flight back did provide
headphones. Go figure.
The airline magazines were dog-eared, with pages missing and
crossword puzzles filled out in ink by some previous passenger. I
guess I could have double checked his work. I passed and engrossed
myself in the latest Sky Mall offerings, including a security blanket
for dogs designed to ease separation anxiety. Does the owner get one
too?
United is supposed to have passable airline food. I didn’t see
anyone ordering it. The guy next to me pulled out a 3 foot sub he
brought with him and devoured it like he was in a competitive eating
contest.
There seemed to be fewer tourists in Washington than I have seen in
the past. But the convention business appears to be alive and well.
The Biotechnology Industry, which says its goal is to feed and fuel
the world, presumably with differing products, was expected to draw
15,000 participants. The Lego Fan Festival is coming up not to
mention the U.S. Air Guitar Championships.
We took in the U.S. Open golf tournament at Congressional Country
Club, a favorite hangout of golfing presidents including the likes of
William Howard Taft and Calvin Coolidge. The course is the size of
Delaware and with a clubhouse that is bigger than the Rose Bowl.
I was glad to see the National Mall was in much better shape than we
saw two years ago when we were last in town. Then, most of the grass
was dead or dying. Reflecting pools were filled with putrid water.
Sidewalks are crumbling. Improvements have been made but there’s
still a long ways to go.
I guess I missed it when it was announced but a new presidential
memorial is being planned in Washington, this one dedicated to Dwight
Eisenhower. I did a quick mental rundown to determine if anyone
was more deserving.
There isn't. He led America to victory in Europe during
World War II and served two terms as president. I’ll forgive him his
choice of vice president. Remembering back, it seemed everyone liked
Ike.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Some Strange Truths
Unless you've secluded yourself in a Trappist monastery recently, you've heard the sordid tale of Anthony Weiner, the bright young congressman from New York who got caught with his pants down, literally.
It seems Mr. Weiner was discovered sending suggestive pictures of himself via Twitter to a college-age woman in Seattle. The photographs were waist down and close up, sort of like a TSA pat-down.
At first he denied it, claiming instead his Twitter and Facebook accounts had been hacked and he was the victim of a vicious prank.
But, he added, "I can't say with certitude" that the picture is not of him.
Then, with the media snapping at his heels like a pack of pit bulls, Weiner admitted he has engaged in "several inappropriate" electronic relationships with six women over three years, and that he publicly lied about a photo of himself sent over Twitter to the Seattle woman.
"I take full responsibility for my actions," Weiner said. "The picture was of me, and I sent it."
OK, a bizarre story, right? But not unheard of. Earlier this year, Rep. Christopher Lee, R-N.Y., abruptly resigned from the House of Representatives after a report emerged that he had sent flirtatious e-mails, including one with a bare-chested photo of himself, to a woman he met on Craigslist. Lee is married and the father of a young child.
But the story of Anthony Weiner is more than the tale of a fallen politician. It's loaded with more truth-is-stranger-than fiction twists and turns then the road to Hana.
Consider:
When Weiner became a young, single congressman, he dated a string of high-profile young women, according to published reports. Among others, he was romantically linked to television personality and "cybermodel" Alli Joseph.
About the same time, Weiner sponsored a bill to increase the number of visas available to models by 1,000. The representative's spokesman said it was just economics to bring jobs to New York City, but the New York Post was skeptical. "Seems Anthony Weiner is working hard to increase his dating pool," the tabloid quipped.
Eventually, love found Anthony Weiner and he married Huma Abedin, a longtime personal aide of Hillary Clinton, on July 10, 2010. Weiner is a Jew. Abedin is a practicing Muslim. Unusual, sure. But that's not the half of it.
Presiding at their wedding was none other than former President Bill Clinton. Which in retrospect might have been a bad omen.
After the scandal broke, Weiner reportedly called President Clinton to apologize for his transgressions, to which TV commentator Jon Stewart remarked, "Apologizing to Clinton for what, copyright infringement?"
As Weiner embarked on his sexting escapade, conservative bloggers were tracking his Twitter account so carefully that they sent warnings to women who were being followed online by Weiner to be wary of him, according to The New York Times.
Weiner was copied on the warnings.
Even so, knowing that he was being watched, he kept up his stream of lewd communications.
This information fell into the hands of Andrew Breitbart, a conservative commentator who had been largely discredited for selectively editing a videotape of an African-American official with the Department of Agriculture to make it appear she refused to help a white farmer. She was fired, then was offered her job back after Breitbart's methods were revealed.
Shortly after Breitbart disclosed Weiner's activities , he was suddenly being described as a "media force" in what could only be characterized as a major comeback.
In one of the strangest interviews in recent memory on CNN, the formerly discredited Breitbart was questioned by the formerly discredited Eliot Spitzer, who starred in his own sex scandal, about the currently discredited Congressman Weiner. Talk about strange bedfellows.
Weiner was a leading candidate to become mayor of New York City and had raised $3.9 million for a potential campaign in the 2013 mayoral election.
But with that run in jeopardy, the door has opened for a new candidate: Alec Baldwin.
Alec Baldwin? The guy who stars in "30 Rock" and has hosted "Saturday Night Live" several dozen times? Yup, the same.
An outspoken Democrat, Baldwin has apparently contemplated a political career for some time. Baldwin's rep, Matthew Hiltzik, told the Hollywood Reporter, "I wouldn't rule it out," when asked about the potential run for mayor.
If Baldwin is successful, he would join Al Franken as the second "Saturday Night Live" star to win political office. Franken is a U.S. senator from Minnesota.
You can't make this stuff up.
It seems Mr. Weiner was discovered sending suggestive pictures of himself via Twitter to a college-age woman in Seattle. The photographs were waist down and close up, sort of like a TSA pat-down.
At first he denied it, claiming instead his Twitter and Facebook accounts had been hacked and he was the victim of a vicious prank.
But, he added, "I can't say with certitude" that the picture is not of him.
Then, with the media snapping at his heels like a pack of pit bulls, Weiner admitted he has engaged in "several inappropriate" electronic relationships with six women over three years, and that he publicly lied about a photo of himself sent over Twitter to the Seattle woman.
"I take full responsibility for my actions," Weiner said. "The picture was of me, and I sent it."
OK, a bizarre story, right? But not unheard of. Earlier this year, Rep. Christopher Lee, R-N.Y., abruptly resigned from the House of Representatives after a report emerged that he had sent flirtatious e-mails, including one with a bare-chested photo of himself, to a woman he met on Craigslist. Lee is married and the father of a young child.
But the story of Anthony Weiner is more than the tale of a fallen politician. It's loaded with more truth-is-stranger-than fiction twists and turns then the road to Hana.
Consider:
When Weiner became a young, single congressman, he dated a string of high-profile young women, according to published reports. Among others, he was romantically linked to television personality and "cybermodel" Alli Joseph.
About the same time, Weiner sponsored a bill to increase the number of visas available to models by 1,000. The representative's spokesman said it was just economics to bring jobs to New York City, but the New York Post was skeptical. "Seems Anthony Weiner is working hard to increase his dating pool," the tabloid quipped.
Eventually, love found Anthony Weiner and he married Huma Abedin, a longtime personal aide of Hillary Clinton, on July 10, 2010. Weiner is a Jew. Abedin is a practicing Muslim. Unusual, sure. But that's not the half of it.
Presiding at their wedding was none other than former President Bill Clinton. Which in retrospect might have been a bad omen.
After the scandal broke, Weiner reportedly called President Clinton to apologize for his transgressions, to which TV commentator Jon Stewart remarked, "Apologizing to Clinton for what, copyright infringement?"
As Weiner embarked on his sexting escapade, conservative bloggers were tracking his Twitter account so carefully that they sent warnings to women who were being followed online by Weiner to be wary of him, according to The New York Times.
Weiner was copied on the warnings.
Even so, knowing that he was being watched, he kept up his stream of lewd communications.
This information fell into the hands of Andrew Breitbart, a conservative commentator who had been largely discredited for selectively editing a videotape of an African-American official with the Department of Agriculture to make it appear she refused to help a white farmer. She was fired, then was offered her job back after Breitbart's methods were revealed.
Shortly after Breitbart disclosed Weiner's activities , he was suddenly being described as a "media force" in what could only be characterized as a major comeback.
In one of the strangest interviews in recent memory on CNN, the formerly discredited Breitbart was questioned by the formerly discredited Eliot Spitzer, who starred in his own sex scandal, about the currently discredited Congressman Weiner. Talk about strange bedfellows.
Weiner was a leading candidate to become mayor of New York City and had raised $3.9 million for a potential campaign in the 2013 mayoral election.
But with that run in jeopardy, the door has opened for a new candidate: Alec Baldwin.
Alec Baldwin? The guy who stars in "30 Rock" and has hosted "Saturday Night Live" several dozen times? Yup, the same.
An outspoken Democrat, Baldwin has apparently contemplated a political career for some time. Baldwin's rep, Matthew Hiltzik, told the Hollywood Reporter, "I wouldn't rule it out," when asked about the potential run for mayor.
If Baldwin is successful, he would join Al Franken as the second "Saturday Night Live" star to win political office. Franken is a U.S. senator from Minnesota.
You can't make this stuff up.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
An Earfull About Cell Phones
News and views:
News: A World Health Organization panel has concluded that cellphones
are “possibly carcinogenic,’’ putting them in the same category as
certain dry cleaning chemicals and pesticides, as a potential threat
to human health.
Views: While there’s some debate over the validity of this finding,
there’s no question that cell phones have done something to our
brains.
At the same time they provide the ability to communicate instantly
with anyone, anywhere, anytime, cell phones have also (1) accounted
for a sharp uptick in auto accidents caused by people who think they
can chat and text while piloting a two-ton vehicle through traffic
and (2)accounted for a sharp uptick in rude and boorish behavior by
social morons who converse loudly in restaurants, theaters, elevators
and, yes, even public restroom stalls.
I wonder if the study probes the dangers of second-hand phone
conversations?
Not that the WHO findings will result in a massive life style change.
After all, we have been warned that any number of life’s little
pleasures from grilled meats to martinis to coffee to sunlight are
hazardous to our health, disclosures that often are met with a shrug
of the shoulders.
Living can lead to death, or so it seems.
Should you be concerned? To the amazement of no one, the cell phone
industry says don’t worry, be happy.
But Dr. Keith Black, chairman of neurology at Cedars-Sinai Medical
Center in Los Angeles, told CNN: “The type of radiation coming out of a cell phone is called non-ionizing. It is not like an X-ray, but more like a very
low-powered microwave oven.
"What microwave radiation does in most simplistic terms is similar to
what happens to food in microwaves, essentially cooking the brain,"
Black said.
"So in addition to leading to a development of cancer and tumors,
there could be a whole host of other effects like cognitive memory
function, since the memory temporal lobes are where we hold our cell
phones."
In other words, if the idea of sticking your head in a microwave and
hitting the start button causes you some discomfort, try holding your
cell phone at arm’s length. Better yet, try texting. It may save your brain and improve your hand/eye coordination.
News: A United Airlines passenger smacked a fellow flier over an
unwelcome seat recline this past weekend, according to a story in the
Washington Post. Fighter jets escorted Ghana-bound United Airlines Flight 990 back to
Washington Dulles International Airport after the fight broke out
Sunday night.
Views: There’s no question this happens with some frequency. What
elevated this particular incident to news status is that someone
decided to scramble the United States Air Force to resolve it.
I was on a flight to Denver several years ago, sitting in the last
row of seats, when I fell victim to Abrupt Recliner Syndrome.
A woman sitting in front of me thrust her seat as far back as it
would go but I couldn’t recline in self defense because last row
seats don’t adjust.
She was so close I could smell her toothpaste.
I eventually called the flight attendance because I couldn’t drop the
tray table in front of me to eat my lunch. No fisticuffs ensued.
It’s just another example of the complete disregard the airline
industry has for its customers’ comfort and well being.
As the amount of leg room has declined to near claustrophobic
proportions, reclining seats seem like a genuinely bad idea. Among
other things, it’s a good way to get your lap top buried in your
intestinal tract.
Of course, you can always turn your fresh air valve up to full blast
and aim it at the recliner’s head or loudly complain that your
tuberculosis is getting worse. But that might lead to the kind of bad
blood that results in a F-16 escort.
Besides, any day now, airlines will probably start charging extra for
reclining seats which could minimize the issue.
News: In a survey ranking the gross national happiness of each
nation, China came out first.
Views: And North Korea came out second. Rounding out the top five
were Cuba, Iran and Venezuela. The United States finished last.
And who, you might well ask, conducted this survey? Why, none other
than everybody’s favorite paradise on earth, the People’s Republic of
North Korea.
I, for one, actually believe North Korea is a happy place. Because
unhappy citizens don’t get to stick around long enough to take part
in surveys.
As for the Chinese, they’re No. 1 because they’re happy they’re not
North Korea.
News: A World Health Organization panel has concluded that cellphones
are “possibly carcinogenic,’’ putting them in the same category as
certain dry cleaning chemicals and pesticides, as a potential threat
to human health.
Views: While there’s some debate over the validity of this finding,
there’s no question that cell phones have done something to our
brains.
At the same time they provide the ability to communicate instantly
with anyone, anywhere, anytime, cell phones have also (1) accounted
for a sharp uptick in auto accidents caused by people who think they
can chat and text while piloting a two-ton vehicle through traffic
and (2)accounted for a sharp uptick in rude and boorish behavior by
social morons who converse loudly in restaurants, theaters, elevators
and, yes, even public restroom stalls.
I wonder if the study probes the dangers of second-hand phone
conversations?
Not that the WHO findings will result in a massive life style change.
After all, we have been warned that any number of life’s little
pleasures from grilled meats to martinis to coffee to sunlight are
hazardous to our health, disclosures that often are met with a shrug
of the shoulders.
Living can lead to death, or so it seems.
Should you be concerned? To the amazement of no one, the cell phone
industry says don’t worry, be happy.
But Dr. Keith Black, chairman of neurology at Cedars-Sinai Medical
Center in Los Angeles, told CNN: “The type of radiation coming out of a cell phone is called non-ionizing. It is not like an X-ray, but more like a very
low-powered microwave oven.
"What microwave radiation does in most simplistic terms is similar to
what happens to food in microwaves, essentially cooking the brain,"
Black said.
"So in addition to leading to a development of cancer and tumors,
there could be a whole host of other effects like cognitive memory
function, since the memory temporal lobes are where we hold our cell
phones."
In other words, if the idea of sticking your head in a microwave and
hitting the start button causes you some discomfort, try holding your
cell phone at arm’s length. Better yet, try texting. It may save your brain and improve your hand/eye coordination.
News: A United Airlines passenger smacked a fellow flier over an
unwelcome seat recline this past weekend, according to a story in the
Washington Post. Fighter jets escorted Ghana-bound United Airlines Flight 990 back to
Washington Dulles International Airport after the fight broke out
Sunday night.
Views: There’s no question this happens with some frequency. What
elevated this particular incident to news status is that someone
decided to scramble the United States Air Force to resolve it.
I was on a flight to Denver several years ago, sitting in the last
row of seats, when I fell victim to Abrupt Recliner Syndrome.
A woman sitting in front of me thrust her seat as far back as it
would go but I couldn’t recline in self defense because last row
seats don’t adjust.
She was so close I could smell her toothpaste.
I eventually called the flight attendance because I couldn’t drop the
tray table in front of me to eat my lunch. No fisticuffs ensued.
It’s just another example of the complete disregard the airline
industry has for its customers’ comfort and well being.
As the amount of leg room has declined to near claustrophobic
proportions, reclining seats seem like a genuinely bad idea. Among
other things, it’s a good way to get your lap top buried in your
intestinal tract.
Of course, you can always turn your fresh air valve up to full blast
and aim it at the recliner’s head or loudly complain that your
tuberculosis is getting worse. But that might lead to the kind of bad
blood that results in a F-16 escort.
Besides, any day now, airlines will probably start charging extra for
reclining seats which could minimize the issue.
News: In a survey ranking the gross national happiness of each
nation, China came out first.
Views: And North Korea came out second. Rounding out the top five
were Cuba, Iran and Venezuela. The United States finished last.
And who, you might well ask, conducted this survey? Why, none other
than everybody’s favorite paradise on earth, the People’s Republic of
North Korea.
I, for one, actually believe North Korea is a happy place. Because
unhappy citizens don’t get to stick around long enough to take part
in surveys.
As for the Chinese, they’re No. 1 because they’re happy they’re not
North Korea.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Words Worth Hearing
Advice, like youth, is wasted on the young, someone once observed.
Case in point: Our offspring will find themselves awash in an ocean
of words this graduation season, all delivered earnestly and all
meant to inspire and challenge. Most will be forgotten soon after
they are spoken, lost in the euphoria of the moment.
Graduation day seems like a lousy time to make a point.
But the tradition continues. This column, for example, has been
cranking out pearls of graduation wisdom like so many mortarboards
for years, a mix of warm fatherly advice and frightening economic
reality.
That is by design. Advice is taken most seriously when the recipient
is scared to death.
This year, we are happy to announce, we have something besides
platitudes and panic to offer graduates: Optimism.
According to a new survey by the National Association of Colleges and
Employers, businesses are gearing up to hire nearly 20 percent more
college grads in 2011 than they did last year. The anticipated 19.3
percent hiring jump over last year would be the best since 2007.
In almost every category, employers are planning to offer more jobs,
with engineering services leading the way.
There are exceptions, however. Government hiring is projected to be
down by a whopping 25 per cent. For all you grads who dreamed of
being part of a bloated bureaucracy, I’m afraid the news is bad.
Overall, according to the survey, responding organizations reported
the number of job applications has risen nearly 45 per cent since
last year at this time. At the same time, however, the total number
of positions reported by respondents has tripled. As a result, the
average number of applications per opening has fallen from 40.5 in
2010 to just over 21 currently.
Which means that this year, the competition for jobs is merely fierce
as opposed to cut-throat.
It’s safe to say that for the time being things are looking up.
Unless you majored in art history or Canadian philosophy, there’s
probably a job waiting for you. It might be in New Hampshire rather
than Newport Beach, but that’s part of the adventure. Go for it.
And pay? Students who will graduate this spring are receiving job
offers with starting salaries averaging $50,034 per year, up 3.5%
from last year, according to that same NACE survey.
That’s nice work if you can get it. But even if you don’t make big
bucks at the outset, remember that degree you earned will help you
avoid a career in appliance delivery or shoe sales and thus stay out
of therapy in your middle age.
Now, for some really sage advice from commencement speakers you
should have been listening to before you walked accross that stage.
“Listen once in a while. It’s amazing what you can hear. On a hot
summer day in the country you can hear the corn growing, the crack of
a tin roof buckling under the power of the sun. Or sometimes when
you’re talking up a storm so brilliant, so charming that you can
hardly believe how wonderful you are, pause just a moment and listen
to yourself. It’s good for the soul to hear yourself as others hear
you, and next time maybe, just maybe, you will not talk so much, so
loudly, so brilliantly, so charmingly, so utterly shamefully
foolishly.” Russell Baker, columnist and author.
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other
people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out
your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to
follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you
truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” Steve Jobs,
Apple CEO.
“…some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live
without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you
might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by
default.” J.K. Rowling, “Harry Potter” author.
“I know we were supposed to bequeath to the next generation a world
better than the one we were handed. So, sorry. I don't know if you've
been following the news lately, but it just kinda got away from us.
Somewhere between the gold rush of easy internet profits and an
arrogant sense of endless empire, we heard kind of a pinging noise,
and uh, then the damn thing just died on us. So I apologize." TV
commentator Jon Stewart.
"As you partake of the world’s bill of fare/ that’s darned good
advice to follow/ Do a lot of spitting out the hot air/ And be
careful what you swallow.” Theodor Geisel (Dr. Suess)
Case in point: Our offspring will find themselves awash in an ocean
of words this graduation season, all delivered earnestly and all
meant to inspire and challenge. Most will be forgotten soon after
they are spoken, lost in the euphoria of the moment.
Graduation day seems like a lousy time to make a point.
But the tradition continues. This column, for example, has been
cranking out pearls of graduation wisdom like so many mortarboards
for years, a mix of warm fatherly advice and frightening economic
reality.
That is by design. Advice is taken most seriously when the recipient
is scared to death.
This year, we are happy to announce, we have something besides
platitudes and panic to offer graduates: Optimism.
According to a new survey by the National Association of Colleges and
Employers, businesses are gearing up to hire nearly 20 percent more
college grads in 2011 than they did last year. The anticipated 19.3
percent hiring jump over last year would be the best since 2007.
In almost every category, employers are planning to offer more jobs,
with engineering services leading the way.
There are exceptions, however. Government hiring is projected to be
down by a whopping 25 per cent. For all you grads who dreamed of
being part of a bloated bureaucracy, I’m afraid the news is bad.
Overall, according to the survey, responding organizations reported
the number of job applications has risen nearly 45 per cent since
last year at this time. At the same time, however, the total number
of positions reported by respondents has tripled. As a result, the
average number of applications per opening has fallen from 40.5 in
2010 to just over 21 currently.
Which means that this year, the competition for jobs is merely fierce
as opposed to cut-throat.
It’s safe to say that for the time being things are looking up.
Unless you majored in art history or Canadian philosophy, there’s
probably a job waiting for you. It might be in New Hampshire rather
than Newport Beach, but that’s part of the adventure. Go for it.
And pay? Students who will graduate this spring are receiving job
offers with starting salaries averaging $50,034 per year, up 3.5%
from last year, according to that same NACE survey.
That’s nice work if you can get it. But even if you don’t make big
bucks at the outset, remember that degree you earned will help you
avoid a career in appliance delivery or shoe sales and thus stay out
of therapy in your middle age.
Now, for some really sage advice from commencement speakers you
should have been listening to before you walked accross that stage.
“Listen once in a while. It’s amazing what you can hear. On a hot
summer day in the country you can hear the corn growing, the crack of
a tin roof buckling under the power of the sun. Or sometimes when
you’re talking up a storm so brilliant, so charming that you can
hardly believe how wonderful you are, pause just a moment and listen
to yourself. It’s good for the soul to hear yourself as others hear
you, and next time maybe, just maybe, you will not talk so much, so
loudly, so brilliantly, so charmingly, so utterly shamefully
foolishly.” Russell Baker, columnist and author.
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other
people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out
your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to
follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you
truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” Steve Jobs,
Apple CEO.
“…some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live
without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you
might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by
default.” J.K. Rowling, “Harry Potter” author.
“I know we were supposed to bequeath to the next generation a world
better than the one we were handed. So, sorry. I don't know if you've
been following the news lately, but it just kinda got away from us.
Somewhere between the gold rush of easy internet profits and an
arrogant sense of endless empire, we heard kind of a pinging noise,
and uh, then the damn thing just died on us. So I apologize." TV
commentator Jon Stewart.
"As you partake of the world’s bill of fare/ that’s darned good
advice to follow/ Do a lot of spitting out the hot air/ And be
careful what you swallow.” Theodor Geisel (Dr. Suess)
Monday, May 23, 2011
Newt's Really Bad Week
We were informed by a major television news network the other day
that the “silly season” was over and the Republican Party big guns
were preparing to enter the 2012 presidential race.
The justification for this assessment was that Donald Trump had taken
his size 15XXX hat out of the ring to focus on really bad television
reality shows.
Mike Huckabee, the former governor of Arkansas, also withdrew despite
decent polling numbers. I guess he figured he would be bucking the
odds by trying to be the second President who hailed from Hope,
Arkansas.
Now comes former House speaker Newt Gingrich, a “serious” candidate
who is quickly accumulating enough baggage to fill the cargo hold of
an Airbus.
So far on the highway to the White House, Newt has encountered 40
miles of bad road.
You know there’s trouble when his first order of business was to make
amens, so to speak, with the evangelical arm of the Republican party
because of past misdeeds.
It seems Newt’s personal life has drawn some raised eyebrows from the
religious right. Most notably, he admitted for having an extramarital
affair with his present wife as he was condemning President Clinton
for lying to a grand jury about his relationship with a White House
intern. Also troubling the right is that said present wife is the
third Mrs. Gingrich.
He could have won the day if he embraced a Biblical view as expressed
in Timothy 3:2: “Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the
husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable,
hospitable, able to teach.”
But instead he said: “There's no question at times in my life,
partially driven by how passionately I felt about this country, that
I worked too hard and things happened in my life that were not
appropriate."
So patriotism and hard work leads to infidelity. Check.
Then there’s the business about dumping the Southern Baptist religion
and converting to Roman Catholicism. While it’s no surprise that it
doesn’t play well in the Bible Belt, it appears it isn’t playing well
anywhere. Just 11 percent of white evangelicals, and 16 percent of
white Catholics, favor Gingrich as the 2012 Republican presidential
nominee, according to a March Pew Research Center poll.
Of course, a candidate’s religion shouldn’t reflect on his stature as
a leader. Just ask Mitt Romney. But when the candidate’s party has
been hijacked by theocrats, well, that’s a different matter.
None of this stops Gingrich from announcing for the presidency.
He kicks things off with an appearance on “Meet the Press” where he
immediately distances himself from a plan offered by House GOP Budget
chairman Paul Ryan of Wisconsin that would reduce the deficit by $4.4
trillion over 10 years by repealing the Democrat's health care bill
and reforming entitlements like Medicare and Medicaid.
Gingrich calls the plan “right-wing social engineering” a remark for
which he later apologizes.
Many Republicans, who consider the Ryan plan holy writ, are not
pleased. “He’s done. He didn’t have a big chance from the beginning,
but now it’s over,” said Charles Krauthammer, a conservative
columnist.
Next up, Gingrich, speaking at a Republican dinner in Georgia, refers
to President Obama as "the most successful food stamp president in
American history,” a remark some considered racist.
He follows that up with a comment that Obama suffers from "a Kenyan, anti-colonial
worldview" that makes him unfit to be president, which puts Gingrich
in lockstep with the wackos who suggest somehow the President is
channeling the dead father he never knew.
Then, financial disclosure forms filed in ’06 and ’07 by Newt
Gingrich’s wife Callista while she was a Hill staffer revealed that
the 2012 GOP hopeful had a liability of between $250K and $500K from
a charge account with Tiffany’s, the reknown jeweler.
He apparently belongs to the Do As I Say, Not As I Do School of
Fiscal Conservatism.
He finishes up the first week of his campaign by getting yelled at by
an Iowa voter and “glitter bombed” by a gay activist.
Political memory is short and it’s possible that the specifics of his
bungled beginning will be forgotten (but not by the Democrats).
It reveals, however, a certain impulsiveness and recklessness in a man who
aspires to a job where those traits would be inappropriate if not
dangerous. And that will stay with voters.
A Gingrich aide compared the last several days for the candidate to a
star baseball player who disappoints the crowd during his first time
up to the plate in an early-season game.
“...Right now, they are booing Newt,” the aide said. “We will hit a
home run and they will all be fans again.”
I’m not so sure he hasn’t already struck out.
that the “silly season” was over and the Republican Party big guns
were preparing to enter the 2012 presidential race.
The justification for this assessment was that Donald Trump had taken
his size 15XXX hat out of the ring to focus on really bad television
reality shows.
Mike Huckabee, the former governor of Arkansas, also withdrew despite
decent polling numbers. I guess he figured he would be bucking the
odds by trying to be the second President who hailed from Hope,
Arkansas.
Now comes former House speaker Newt Gingrich, a “serious” candidate
who is quickly accumulating enough baggage to fill the cargo hold of
an Airbus.
So far on the highway to the White House, Newt has encountered 40
miles of bad road.
You know there’s trouble when his first order of business was to make
amens, so to speak, with the evangelical arm of the Republican party
because of past misdeeds.
It seems Newt’s personal life has drawn some raised eyebrows from the
religious right. Most notably, he admitted for having an extramarital
affair with his present wife as he was condemning President Clinton
for lying to a grand jury about his relationship with a White House
intern. Also troubling the right is that said present wife is the
third Mrs. Gingrich.
He could have won the day if he embraced a Biblical view as expressed
in Timothy 3:2: “Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the
husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable,
hospitable, able to teach.”
But instead he said: “There's no question at times in my life,
partially driven by how passionately I felt about this country, that
I worked too hard and things happened in my life that were not
appropriate."
So patriotism and hard work leads to infidelity. Check.
Then there’s the business about dumping the Southern Baptist religion
and converting to Roman Catholicism. While it’s no surprise that it
doesn’t play well in the Bible Belt, it appears it isn’t playing well
anywhere. Just 11 percent of white evangelicals, and 16 percent of
white Catholics, favor Gingrich as the 2012 Republican presidential
nominee, according to a March Pew Research Center poll.
Of course, a candidate’s religion shouldn’t reflect on his stature as
a leader. Just ask Mitt Romney. But when the candidate’s party has
been hijacked by theocrats, well, that’s a different matter.
None of this stops Gingrich from announcing for the presidency.
He kicks things off with an appearance on “Meet the Press” where he
immediately distances himself from a plan offered by House GOP Budget
chairman Paul Ryan of Wisconsin that would reduce the deficit by $4.4
trillion over 10 years by repealing the Democrat's health care bill
and reforming entitlements like Medicare and Medicaid.
Gingrich calls the plan “right-wing social engineering” a remark for
which he later apologizes.
Many Republicans, who consider the Ryan plan holy writ, are not
pleased. “He’s done. He didn’t have a big chance from the beginning,
but now it’s over,” said Charles Krauthammer, a conservative
columnist.
Next up, Gingrich, speaking at a Republican dinner in Georgia, refers
to President Obama as "the most successful food stamp president in
American history,” a remark some considered racist.
He follows that up with a comment that Obama suffers from "a Kenyan, anti-colonial
worldview" that makes him unfit to be president, which puts Gingrich
in lockstep with the wackos who suggest somehow the President is
channeling the dead father he never knew.
Then, financial disclosure forms filed in ’06 and ’07 by Newt
Gingrich’s wife Callista while she was a Hill staffer revealed that
the 2012 GOP hopeful had a liability of between $250K and $500K from
a charge account with Tiffany’s, the reknown jeweler.
He apparently belongs to the Do As I Say, Not As I Do School of
Fiscal Conservatism.
He finishes up the first week of his campaign by getting yelled at by
an Iowa voter and “glitter bombed” by a gay activist.
Political memory is short and it’s possible that the specifics of his
bungled beginning will be forgotten (but not by the Democrats).
It reveals, however, a certain impulsiveness and recklessness in a man who
aspires to a job where those traits would be inappropriate if not
dangerous. And that will stay with voters.
A Gingrich aide compared the last several days for the candidate to a
star baseball player who disappoints the crowd during his first time
up to the plate in an early-season game.
“...Right now, they are booing Newt,” the aide said. “We will hit a
home run and they will all be fans again.”
I’m not so sure he hasn’t already struck out.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wandering the Wasteland
Fifty years ago this month, Newton Minow, newly minted chairman of
the Federal Communications Commission, strode to the podium at the
National Association of Broadcasters convention and declared that
television was a “vast wasteland.”
More specifically, he told the nation’s broadcasters to “sit down in
front of your television set when your station goes on the air and
stay there without a book, magazine, newspaper, profit-and-loss sheet
or rating book to distract you — and keep your eyes glued to that set
until the station signs off. I can assure you that you will observe a
vast wasteland.”
“There was no standing ovation,” he recalled recently. “Instead, the
producer of "Gilligan's Island" showed what he thought of my speech
by naming the sinking ship after me — the SS Minnow.”
His “vast wasteland” speech became legendary and the tag has been
affixed to television programming every since.
But a half-century later, does it still ring true?
Does television remain the repository of banality? Or was Minow
expecting too much from what is essentially escapist fare, much as
radio had been. Does “vast wasteland” describe the area between a
typical viewer’s ears? Or was he arrogant, projecting a patrician
perspective on popular culture?
Oddly enough, there was a lot to like in early TV. For every “My
Mother the Car,” there was “The Hallmark Hall of Fame.” In fact,
there was more quality drama on the air then than now. For every
Soupy Sales, there was a Steve Allen. There were giants in the
newsroom: Walter Cronkite, Edward R. Murrow, Chet Huntley and David
Brinkley.
To many, it was the Golden Age of Television.
Yet, as Minow points out, network news was 15 minutes in length.
Commercials were rampant, exceeding the broadcasters’ own code of
standards. Black political candidates were often denied television
time for their campaigns. Los Angeles and New York did not have
noncommercial stations.
Minow shook his verbal fist at “a procession of game shows, violence,
audience participation shows, formula comedies about totally
unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism,
murder, western badmen, western good men, private eyes, gangsters,
more violence and cartoons.”
Now, of course, we look out at a landscape filled with--and an
audience thrilled by --dancing B list celebrities, dramas about
forensic snoops and their coroner sidekicks, reality shows about pawn
brokers, swamp dwellers, pack rats, crab catchers and meter maids in
addition to high-decibel opinion shows masquerading as news.
This is progress?
Minnow, writing recently in Chicago Tribune, was surprisingly upbeat.
Television “is certainly vast, far vaster than we could have imagined
in 1961. And parts of it are a wasteland, but most of what I hoped
for has far exceeded my most ambitious dreams. And the promise and
possibility of television is so vast that we can only guess where it
will take us next.”
That is a generous assessment. Because whatever positive changes have
occurred in the last 50 years are not because broadcasters became
more enlightened. There are simply more of them. So now if you don’t
want to be subjected to “Two-And-a-Half Men,” you can watch CSPAN. If
you don’t want to watch “American Idol,” you can browse Home and
Garden TV. If you don’t want your news interpreted by Bill O’Reilly,
you can watch Al Jazeera.
In addition, TV was in its infancy when Minow spoke. It improved with
age, a natural evolutionary process.
When Minow urged the television industry to pursue excellence, his
boss, President John F. Kennedy, was essentially delivering the same
message, challenging the country to soar to greater heights.
It would appear that Minow was merely parroting the administration
line, no matter how well intentioned it may have been.
In the end, Minnow’s sabre rattling changed little. On his watch,
network news grew and prospered and many credit him for helping to
foster its growth. But according to the Museum of Broadcast
Communications, many believed that beyond news, the Minow FCC enjoyed
few tangible policy accomplishments.
It’s safe to say, many of the things Minow found objectionable still
exist.
And 50 years from now, another Newton Minow will look out at the
broadcast industry and in all likelihood find a lot to dislike. The
only difference will be that broadcast offerings will appear in your
living room as three dimensional holograms.
Thanks to technology, you will feel like you’re actually living in
a vast wasteland.
the Federal Communications Commission, strode to the podium at the
National Association of Broadcasters convention and declared that
television was a “vast wasteland.”
More specifically, he told the nation’s broadcasters to “sit down in
front of your television set when your station goes on the air and
stay there without a book, magazine, newspaper, profit-and-loss sheet
or rating book to distract you — and keep your eyes glued to that set
until the station signs off. I can assure you that you will observe a
vast wasteland.”
“There was no standing ovation,” he recalled recently. “Instead, the
producer of "Gilligan's Island" showed what he thought of my speech
by naming the sinking ship after me — the SS Minnow.”
His “vast wasteland” speech became legendary and the tag has been
affixed to television programming every since.
But a half-century later, does it still ring true?
Does television remain the repository of banality? Or was Minow
expecting too much from what is essentially escapist fare, much as
radio had been. Does “vast wasteland” describe the area between a
typical viewer’s ears? Or was he arrogant, projecting a patrician
perspective on popular culture?
Oddly enough, there was a lot to like in early TV. For every “My
Mother the Car,” there was “The Hallmark Hall of Fame.” In fact,
there was more quality drama on the air then than now. For every
Soupy Sales, there was a Steve Allen. There were giants in the
newsroom: Walter Cronkite, Edward R. Murrow, Chet Huntley and David
Brinkley.
To many, it was the Golden Age of Television.
Yet, as Minow points out, network news was 15 minutes in length.
Commercials were rampant, exceeding the broadcasters’ own code of
standards. Black political candidates were often denied television
time for their campaigns. Los Angeles and New York did not have
noncommercial stations.
Minow shook his verbal fist at “a procession of game shows, violence,
audience participation shows, formula comedies about totally
unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism,
murder, western badmen, western good men, private eyes, gangsters,
more violence and cartoons.”
Now, of course, we look out at a landscape filled with--and an
audience thrilled by --dancing B list celebrities, dramas about
forensic snoops and their coroner sidekicks, reality shows about pawn
brokers, swamp dwellers, pack rats, crab catchers and meter maids in
addition to high-decibel opinion shows masquerading as news.
This is progress?
Minnow, writing recently in Chicago Tribune, was surprisingly upbeat.
Television “is certainly vast, far vaster than we could have imagined
in 1961. And parts of it are a wasteland, but most of what I hoped
for has far exceeded my most ambitious dreams. And the promise and
possibility of television is so vast that we can only guess where it
will take us next.”
That is a generous assessment. Because whatever positive changes have
occurred in the last 50 years are not because broadcasters became
more enlightened. There are simply more of them. So now if you don’t
want to be subjected to “Two-And-a-Half Men,” you can watch CSPAN. If
you don’t want to watch “American Idol,” you can browse Home and
Garden TV. If you don’t want your news interpreted by Bill O’Reilly,
you can watch Al Jazeera.
In addition, TV was in its infancy when Minow spoke. It improved with
age, a natural evolutionary process.
When Minow urged the television industry to pursue excellence, his
boss, President John F. Kennedy, was essentially delivering the same
message, challenging the country to soar to greater heights.
It would appear that Minow was merely parroting the administration
line, no matter how well intentioned it may have been.
In the end, Minnow’s sabre rattling changed little. On his watch,
network news grew and prospered and many credit him for helping to
foster its growth. But according to the Museum of Broadcast
Communications, many believed that beyond news, the Minow FCC enjoyed
few tangible policy accomplishments.
It’s safe to say, many of the things Minow found objectionable still
exist.
And 50 years from now, another Newton Minow will look out at the
broadcast industry and in all likelihood find a lot to dislike. The
only difference will be that broadcast offerings will appear in your
living room as three dimensional holograms.
Thanks to technology, you will feel like you’re actually living in
a vast wasteland.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Franchise Follies
Watch the travails of Frank McCourt as he fumbles away the Dodger franchise and you're seeing a man who has achieved infamy shared by a select few.
Frank in just a few short years has become a member in good standing of LAST (Los Angeles Sports Tyrants), a group that has infuriated and frustrated local fans for decades.
It takes a special person to be LAST. But Frank qualifies on so many levels.
There are two questions that immediately come to mind:
Is he the worst franchise owner in Los Angeles history? Does he rank right up there with fellow LAST members Donald Sterling, Al Davis, Phil Anshutz, Rupert Murdoch? Can he match the antics of Georgia Frontiere and Jack Kent Cooke?
And, second, what did we do to deserve this plague of obstinate ownership?
McCourt briefly was a hero in town when he purchased the Dodgers from Rupert Murdoch, that crafty Aussie media mogul who led the team to mediocrity. Of course, Charlie Sheen would have been preferable to Murdoch.
But the fact that the McCourt purchase was financed mostly by debt raised more than a few eyebrows even at the outset.
Alas, our worst suspicions were confirmed. He allegedly spent much of the proceeds from the club on a lavish lifestyle and left the team circling the drain.
He and his wife are now divorcing and the attorney fees could retire the national debt.
A lack of money leads to a lack of talent and the Dodgers are
nobody's World Series pick this year. The fans are staying away in droves.
Now, Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig has taken control of the organization and replaced McCourt with some George Bush sidekick. The Dodgers, historically one of the premiere franchises in baseball, are in shambles.
Also in the running for worst owner:
Jack Kent Cooke: Cooke will be best remembered for building the Forum in Inglewood and owning the Lakers. Under his ownership, the Lakers made it to the championship finals seven times and won it all in 1972. But Cooke, a Canadian, also gave us the Los Angeles Kings, a hockey franchise that has gone 44 years without a championship. He personally ran the club, making trades, hiring and firing coaches and general managers, all to no good end. Even though he sold the Kings in 1979, they continue mired in mediocrity, thanks in no small part to his stewardship, which made them the Cubs on Ice.
Phil Anshutz: The current owner of the Kings (and Staples Center) continues in the tradition of Jack Kent Cooke. Despite a loyal fan base and a lot of self-congratulatory talk about an improved franchise, the team continues to go nowhere while their absentee owner hides out in Denver and counts his billions. Is this the guy we want to woo the NFL?
Georgia Frontiere: Georgia made her fortune the old-fashioned way: She married it. After five previous marriages, the former nightclub singer landed Carroll Rosenblum, an NFL owner. When he drowned while swimming off a Florida beach, she became majority owner of the Los Angeles Rams, a team with a storied history here that dated back to 1946 when they became the first major professional team in town. Under her leadership, attendance declined and she hit the road, first to Anaheim, then to St. Louis. Irony of ironies, when she died in 2008, she was buried in Los Angeles, the resting place of the hearts of many a Ram fan.
Al Davis: I'm not sure many football fans in Los Angeles wanted Al and his Raiders to relocate here. But he did anyway. After some initial success, Al had more lawsuits than wins and a fan base that looked like a casting call for a zombie movie. Mercifully, he moved back to Oakland in 1995, but not before fleecing Irwindale out of $10 million.
Donald Sterling: He is the LAST word in losing. His Clippers of the NBA have lost more than 1,400 games since they moved to L.A. in 1984, nearly twice as many as they have won, and have made the playoffs four times in 27 years. So he's had a little bad luck. But it's hard to love a guy who once refused to pay for prostate cancer surgery for his coach (the players chipped in paid the bill).
Honorable mention: Henry and Susan Samuel, who, when they bought the Anaheim National Hockey League franchise, kept the name. Thus, we have a team named after a dreary suburb in Orange County and an animal most closely associated with one-liners and cartoons. Let's hear it for the Ducks.
Honorable mention also goes to Arte Moreno, who changed the name of his baseball team to to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. He may be onto something. Maybe we could do away with all this football stadium talk by just calling the nearest NFL franchise the Los Angeles Chargers of San Diego.
Who has your vote?
Frank in just a few short years has become a member in good standing of LAST (Los Angeles Sports Tyrants), a group that has infuriated and frustrated local fans for decades.
It takes a special person to be LAST. But Frank qualifies on so many levels.
There are two questions that immediately come to mind:
Is he the worst franchise owner in Los Angeles history? Does he rank right up there with fellow LAST members Donald Sterling, Al Davis, Phil Anshutz, Rupert Murdoch? Can he match the antics of Georgia Frontiere and Jack Kent Cooke?
And, second, what did we do to deserve this plague of obstinate ownership?
McCourt briefly was a hero in town when he purchased the Dodgers from Rupert Murdoch, that crafty Aussie media mogul who led the team to mediocrity. Of course, Charlie Sheen would have been preferable to Murdoch.
But the fact that the McCourt purchase was financed mostly by debt raised more than a few eyebrows even at the outset.
Alas, our worst suspicions were confirmed. He allegedly spent much of the proceeds from the club on a lavish lifestyle and left the team circling the drain.
He and his wife are now divorcing and the attorney fees could retire the national debt.
A lack of money leads to a lack of talent and the Dodgers are
nobody's World Series pick this year. The fans are staying away in droves.
Now, Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig has taken control of the organization and replaced McCourt with some George Bush sidekick. The Dodgers, historically one of the premiere franchises in baseball, are in shambles.
Also in the running for worst owner:
Jack Kent Cooke: Cooke will be best remembered for building the Forum in Inglewood and owning the Lakers. Under his ownership, the Lakers made it to the championship finals seven times and won it all in 1972. But Cooke, a Canadian, also gave us the Los Angeles Kings, a hockey franchise that has gone 44 years without a championship. He personally ran the club, making trades, hiring and firing coaches and general managers, all to no good end. Even though he sold the Kings in 1979, they continue mired in mediocrity, thanks in no small part to his stewardship, which made them the Cubs on Ice.
Phil Anshutz: The current owner of the Kings (and Staples Center) continues in the tradition of Jack Kent Cooke. Despite a loyal fan base and a lot of self-congratulatory talk about an improved franchise, the team continues to go nowhere while their absentee owner hides out in Denver and counts his billions. Is this the guy we want to woo the NFL?
Georgia Frontiere: Georgia made her fortune the old-fashioned way: She married it. After five previous marriages, the former nightclub singer landed Carroll Rosenblum, an NFL owner. When he drowned while swimming off a Florida beach, she became majority owner of the Los Angeles Rams, a team with a storied history here that dated back to 1946 when they became the first major professional team in town. Under her leadership, attendance declined and she hit the road, first to Anaheim, then to St. Louis. Irony of ironies, when she died in 2008, she was buried in Los Angeles, the resting place of the hearts of many a Ram fan.
Al Davis: I'm not sure many football fans in Los Angeles wanted Al and his Raiders to relocate here. But he did anyway. After some initial success, Al had more lawsuits than wins and a fan base that looked like a casting call for a zombie movie. Mercifully, he moved back to Oakland in 1995, but not before fleecing Irwindale out of $10 million.
Donald Sterling: He is the LAST word in losing. His Clippers of the NBA have lost more than 1,400 games since they moved to L.A. in 1984, nearly twice as many as they have won, and have made the playoffs four times in 27 years. So he's had a little bad luck. But it's hard to love a guy who once refused to pay for prostate cancer surgery for his coach (the players chipped in paid the bill).
Honorable mention: Henry and Susan Samuel, who, when they bought the Anaheim National Hockey League franchise, kept the name. Thus, we have a team named after a dreary suburb in Orange County and an animal most closely associated with one-liners and cartoons. Let's hear it for the Ducks.
Honorable mention also goes to Arte Moreno, who changed the name of his baseball team to to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. He may be onto something. Maybe we could do away with all this football stadium talk by just calling the nearest NFL franchise the Los Angeles Chargers of San Diego.
Who has your vote?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Air Sickness
Ready for a vacation? You’re not alone.
According to a recent poll for the U.S. Travel Association, 59
percent of adults are planning a trip this year before July.
That means when you travel, you’ll be rubbing elbows and other body
parts with 138 million people.
While you’re contemplating that, think about this:
If you’re preferred mode of travel this summer is commercial air,
there will be some turbulence ahead.
For one thing, the air traffic controllers in this country seem to be
asleep at the wheel.
First, a controller at Reagan National in Washington, D.C. was
suspended for sleeping on the job, forcing two planes to land without
clearance.
Then, the pilot of a medical plane was unable to reach the controller
on duty at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport in Nevada. The pilot
decided to land after 16 minutes, citing concern over the health of a
patient he was transporting.
Other incidents of unresponsive controllers occurred in Miami, in
Lubbock, Tex. and at King County International Airport/Boeing Field
in Seattle, where a controller had fallen asleep once during a shift
on April 11, and twice during a Jan. 6 shift.
All of which should come as no surprise. Witness air traffic
controllers at major airports like LAX and Chicago and it’s like
watching someone juggling a couple dozen chain saws. No slip-ups
allowed.
Add to the pressure the requirement that controllers are
expected to cover different shifts in a 24-hour operation and you
have a recipe for slumber.
Yet, controllers are not allowed a “cat nap” while on break. Federal
law, however, mandates sleep requirements for truck drivers.
Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood, in a dubious show of leadership,
announced he was making sure controllers would get an extra hour off
between shifts to alleviate the problem. Which is like putting a
Band-Aid on a broken leg.
Then there are the ticket prices.
According to a story in the New York Times, carriers have already
increased their fares four times since the start of the year,
compared with only three increases for all of 2010. The airlines have
also raised some of their fees, imposed summer peak-time surcharges
and added hefty fuel surcharges on international flights.
It would be heartening if income from these increases was to be used
for something like providing cots for air traffic controllers.
But no, they are being driven by spiraling oil prices.
Why oil prices are increasing is subject to debate. But it’s
interesting they usually coincide with vacation season.
Next, there’s the airworthiness factor. Southwest Airlines recently
grounded its fleet of Boeing 737-300s for inspection after one of its
planes was forced to make an emergency landing recently with a
five-foot hole in the roof of the cabin.
Earlier, United Airlines grounded its fleet of 96 Boeing 757s after
discovering it had not completed safety checks on a critical
equipment upgrade required by federal aviation regulators.
Which followed a mandate to U.S. airlines to inspect 683 Boeing Co.
757 planes for cracks after a hole opened on an American Airlines
plane earlier this year.
You might want to bring some duct tape when you fly.
Finally, there’s the Transportation Security Administration, those
good hands people who, despite thousands of complaints, continue with
their body scans and “enhanced” pat-down policy.
Just this past week, the TSA drew fire for patting down a 6-year-old
girl in New Orleans, because something “was amiss” when she passed
through a body scanner.
Maybe Hello Kitty is on the no-fly list.
It’s unclear if the child was traumatized by the incident although
there’s a good chance she’ll feel an irresistible urge to join the
ACLU when she grows up.
Is there any good news out there?
Well, there’s a new set of passenger-rights rules proposed by the
Department of Transportation.
The new regulations, set to take effect later this year, would add
international flights to the current ban on keeping passengers
stranded on a delayed domestic flight for more than three hours.
The rules would also require airlines to reimburse passengers for bag
fees if their bags are lost, increase the compensation for passengers
who are bumped from flights, and require airlines to prominently
disclose extra fees on their websites.
In other words, basic passenger comfort and fairness in business
dealings are now a matter of law, the result of industry abuses.
Don’t lecture me about excess regulation.
Happy landings.
According to a recent poll for the U.S. Travel Association, 59
percent of adults are planning a trip this year before July.
That means when you travel, you’ll be rubbing elbows and other body
parts with 138 million people.
While you’re contemplating that, think about this:
If you’re preferred mode of travel this summer is commercial air,
there will be some turbulence ahead.
For one thing, the air traffic controllers in this country seem to be
asleep at the wheel.
First, a controller at Reagan National in Washington, D.C. was
suspended for sleeping on the job, forcing two planes to land without
clearance.
Then, the pilot of a medical plane was unable to reach the controller
on duty at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport in Nevada. The pilot
decided to land after 16 minutes, citing concern over the health of a
patient he was transporting.
Other incidents of unresponsive controllers occurred in Miami, in
Lubbock, Tex. and at King County International Airport/Boeing Field
in Seattle, where a controller had fallen asleep once during a shift
on April 11, and twice during a Jan. 6 shift.
All of which should come as no surprise. Witness air traffic
controllers at major airports like LAX and Chicago and it’s like
watching someone juggling a couple dozen chain saws. No slip-ups
allowed.
Add to the pressure the requirement that controllers are
expected to cover different shifts in a 24-hour operation and you
have a recipe for slumber.
Yet, controllers are not allowed a “cat nap” while on break. Federal
law, however, mandates sleep requirements for truck drivers.
Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood, in a dubious show of leadership,
announced he was making sure controllers would get an extra hour off
between shifts to alleviate the problem. Which is like putting a
Band-Aid on a broken leg.
Then there are the ticket prices.
According to a story in the New York Times, carriers have already
increased their fares four times since the start of the year,
compared with only three increases for all of 2010. The airlines have
also raised some of their fees, imposed summer peak-time surcharges
and added hefty fuel surcharges on international flights.
It would be heartening if income from these increases was to be used
for something like providing cots for air traffic controllers.
But no, they are being driven by spiraling oil prices.
Why oil prices are increasing is subject to debate. But it’s
interesting they usually coincide with vacation season.
Next, there’s the airworthiness factor. Southwest Airlines recently
grounded its fleet of Boeing 737-300s for inspection after one of its
planes was forced to make an emergency landing recently with a
five-foot hole in the roof of the cabin.
Earlier, United Airlines grounded its fleet of 96 Boeing 757s after
discovering it had not completed safety checks on a critical
equipment upgrade required by federal aviation regulators.
Which followed a mandate to U.S. airlines to inspect 683 Boeing Co.
757 planes for cracks after a hole opened on an American Airlines
plane earlier this year.
You might want to bring some duct tape when you fly.
Finally, there’s the Transportation Security Administration, those
good hands people who, despite thousands of complaints, continue with
their body scans and “enhanced” pat-down policy.
Just this past week, the TSA drew fire for patting down a 6-year-old
girl in New Orleans, because something “was amiss” when she passed
through a body scanner.
Maybe Hello Kitty is on the no-fly list.
It’s unclear if the child was traumatized by the incident although
there’s a good chance she’ll feel an irresistible urge to join the
ACLU when she grows up.
Is there any good news out there?
Well, there’s a new set of passenger-rights rules proposed by the
Department of Transportation.
The new regulations, set to take effect later this year, would add
international flights to the current ban on keeping passengers
stranded on a delayed domestic flight for more than three hours.
The rules would also require airlines to reimburse passengers for bag
fees if their bags are lost, increase the compensation for passengers
who are bumped from flights, and require airlines to prominently
disclose extra fees on their websites.
In other words, basic passenger comfort and fairness in business
dealings are now a matter of law, the result of industry abuses.
Don’t lecture me about excess regulation.
Happy landings.
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Trump Card
With the announcement that he intends to run for reelection,
President Obama has kicked off what pundits call the race for the
White House but I like to think of as the quadrennial political
circus.
Step right up folks and see daring politicians walk the tightrope of
truth. Be amazed by the hundreds of millions of dollars spent. Hear
astounding campaign promises. Witness daring feats of character
assassination.
Like most circuses, this show features plenty of clowns.
Few Democrats will appear in the center ring, however. The President
will be the nominee of his party and we will be spared the usual
parade of hopefuls and has-beens who engage in buffoonery this time
of year.
Who would challenge him? Hillary Clinton might be interested if it
appeared Sarah Palin might become the first female president.
Jerry Brown has been a perennial candidate. Indeed, if he straightens
out the California fiscal disaster he should be made Emperor for
Life. He won’t, of course, so put away the scepter and crown.
Which brings us to the Republicans who have no shortage of bewigged,
bulbous nosed, floppy footed, seltzer-down-the-pants characters.
It is not our purpose today to list them all because one stands above
all others. He is the clown of clowns, a man whose campaign to become
President of the United States is a pie in the face of voters
everywhere.
Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, I give you Donald Trump.
Cue the calliope music.
OK, I know we’ve heard this one before. He’s been talking about the
presidency for the last decade but always stayed on the sideline.
This time, however, he has caught the eye of the conservatives who
are very big this year in Republican circles. Trump wowed them at the
Conservative Political Action Conference meeting in Washington
recently by saying that “the United States has become a whipping post
for the rest of the world.”
The Fox network has given him his own show. Rush Limbaugh praised
him. And he’s willing to spend hundreds of millions of his own
dollars (he ought to check with Meg Whitman and Ross Perot before
he starts writing checks).
Is this the year the Executive Mansion becomes the House of Trump?
Is the world ready for a President who combs his hair with a
Cuisinart and isn’t acting in his role as a snarling boss/jerk on a
reality show?.
Will the American public embrace a candidate who, in a blatant
attempt to court the Tea Party fringe, has made the centerpiece of
his campaign the Obama birth certificate nonsense which has been
discredited by the likes of former President George Bush, Karl Rove
and John McCain?
The answers, in no particular order, are no, no and no.
Donald Trump, if he were to become a serious candidate, would have
one primary motive and it isn’t service to his country. Donald Trump
is interested in promoting Donald Trump.
His political ambitions have always coincided with hawking of the
Trump brand.
He traveled to New Hampshire to test the waters in 1987 just ahead of
the presidential primaries and just in time for the release of his
book, “The Art of the Deal,” according to the New York Times.
In 1999, he flirted with a presidential campaign just as his book,
“The America We Deserve,” was released.
This time his decision to run or not will coincide with the finale of
his TV show “Celebrity Apprentice.” Just a coincidence, I guess.
And the media buys into it each and every time.
“Trump and the press have a symbiotic relationship, not unlike bees
and flowers,” William Grueskin, dean of academic affairs for the
Columbia Journalism School said in a recently published interview.
“At least in the natural world, you get honey out of it. Out of this
campaign coverage, all you get are a lot of empty media moments about
someone who is unlikely to run, more unlikely to be nominated, and
utterly unlikely to win.”
There are few other problems with the Trumpster as well. He has
donated liberally to the Democratic Party in New York as recently as
2009.
He considers China not only a foe but a rude one at that. “These are
not our friends. These are our enemies. These are not people that
understand niceness,” he said on CNN.
He has gone from “pro-choice” to “pro-life.”
In fact, he has quickly transformed himself from what one pundit
several years ago described as a “liberal leaning populist” to a
steely eyed hawk.
Stripped away of the trappings of wealth and fame, Donald Trump is
just a salesman.
And I’m betting the American public ain’t buying.
President Obama has kicked off what pundits call the race for the
White House but I like to think of as the quadrennial political
circus.
Step right up folks and see daring politicians walk the tightrope of
truth. Be amazed by the hundreds of millions of dollars spent. Hear
astounding campaign promises. Witness daring feats of character
assassination.
Like most circuses, this show features plenty of clowns.
Few Democrats will appear in the center ring, however. The President
will be the nominee of his party and we will be spared the usual
parade of hopefuls and has-beens who engage in buffoonery this time
of year.
Who would challenge him? Hillary Clinton might be interested if it
appeared Sarah Palin might become the first female president.
Jerry Brown has been a perennial candidate. Indeed, if he straightens
out the California fiscal disaster he should be made Emperor for
Life. He won’t, of course, so put away the scepter and crown.
Which brings us to the Republicans who have no shortage of bewigged,
bulbous nosed, floppy footed, seltzer-down-the-pants characters.
It is not our purpose today to list them all because one stands above
all others. He is the clown of clowns, a man whose campaign to become
President of the United States is a pie in the face of voters
everywhere.
Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, I give you Donald Trump.
Cue the calliope music.
OK, I know we’ve heard this one before. He’s been talking about the
presidency for the last decade but always stayed on the sideline.
This time, however, he has caught the eye of the conservatives who
are very big this year in Republican circles. Trump wowed them at the
Conservative Political Action Conference meeting in Washington
recently by saying that “the United States has become a whipping post
for the rest of the world.”
The Fox network has given him his own show. Rush Limbaugh praised
him. And he’s willing to spend hundreds of millions of his own
dollars (he ought to check with Meg Whitman and Ross Perot before
he starts writing checks).
Is this the year the Executive Mansion becomes the House of Trump?
Is the world ready for a President who combs his hair with a
Cuisinart and isn’t acting in his role as a snarling boss/jerk on a
reality show?.
Will the American public embrace a candidate who, in a blatant
attempt to court the Tea Party fringe, has made the centerpiece of
his campaign the Obama birth certificate nonsense which has been
discredited by the likes of former President George Bush, Karl Rove
and John McCain?
The answers, in no particular order, are no, no and no.
Donald Trump, if he were to become a serious candidate, would have
one primary motive and it isn’t service to his country. Donald Trump
is interested in promoting Donald Trump.
His political ambitions have always coincided with hawking of the
Trump brand.
He traveled to New Hampshire to test the waters in 1987 just ahead of
the presidential primaries and just in time for the release of his
book, “The Art of the Deal,” according to the New York Times.
In 1999, he flirted with a presidential campaign just as his book,
“The America We Deserve,” was released.
This time his decision to run or not will coincide with the finale of
his TV show “Celebrity Apprentice.” Just a coincidence, I guess.
And the media buys into it each and every time.
“Trump and the press have a symbiotic relationship, not unlike bees
and flowers,” William Grueskin, dean of academic affairs for the
Columbia Journalism School said in a recently published interview.
“At least in the natural world, you get honey out of it. Out of this
campaign coverage, all you get are a lot of empty media moments about
someone who is unlikely to run, more unlikely to be nominated, and
utterly unlikely to win.”
There are few other problems with the Trumpster as well. He has
donated liberally to the Democratic Party in New York as recently as
2009.
He considers China not only a foe but a rude one at that. “These are
not our friends. These are our enemies. These are not people that
understand niceness,” he said on CNN.
He has gone from “pro-choice” to “pro-life.”
In fact, he has quickly transformed himself from what one pundit
several years ago described as a “liberal leaning populist” to a
steely eyed hawk.
Stripped away of the trappings of wealth and fame, Donald Trump is
just a salesman.
And I’m betting the American public ain’t buying.
Monday, April 04, 2011
LOL at the King's English
Think of the Oxford Dictionary and you think of a rock-ribbed,
tradition-hugging defender of the King’s English.
Or so we were led to believe.
The Oxford wordsmiths, however, recently announced that they were
adding LOL and OMG to their dictionary because words "like these are
strongly associated with the language of electronic communications,"
and have entered the mainstream because of how easy they are to use.
Welcome to the post-literate society, the era of the three-second
attention span, the world of techno-babble. All brought to you by the
Oxford English Dictionary.
Or to put it another way, OMG, I’d LOL if it wasn’t so tragic, IMHO.
(For those who need a translation, it reads “Oh My God, I’d Laugh Out
Loud if it wasn’t so tragic In My Humble Opinion..”)
Look, I’m no wizened grammarian whose last whose last slang utterance
was “23 Skidoo.”
I’m not suggesting we draw the line at anything written or spoken
this side of the Elizabethan era. I certainly understand that words
and phrases reflecting popular culture enter into the lexicon by the
truckload.
But there’s something cold and sterile about using acronyms or geek
speak in place of words. Words, in whatever language, paint pictures,
convey ideas, excite the imagination, conjure up visions both dark
and beautiful.
I am not swept away on the wings of language when I read
thumb-generated gossip in abbreviated form understood primarily by
13-year-old girls who are BFF (best friends forever).
I’d like to think that if the Hemmingways and Fitzgeralds and
Steinbecks were still with us, they’d shun expressing themselves in
140 characters or less on their Twitter account.
The Oxford bunch, after succumbing to what they call “initialism,”
for good measure throw in “wag,” “notable for the extremely fast
journey from its introduction to the language to its use as usual
English vocabulary. In 2002, the Sunday Telegraph reported that the
staff at the England footballers’ pre-World Cup training camp
referred to the players’ partners collectively as ‘Wags’, from the
initial letters of ‘wives and girlfriends’.
“Such was the exposure the term received in this period that it
became a byword for the female partners of male professionals (in
football and in other spheres).”
I’m not sure but I think if I referred to my wife as a “wag” I’d be
SOTC (sleeping on the couch).
And if all the above isn’t distressing enough, the Oxfordians also
added “la-la land which can refer either to Los Angeles(in which case
its etymology is influenced by the common initialism for that city),
or to a state of being out of touch with reality—and sometimes to
both simultaneously.”
La-La-Land is a place where you can eat a “taquito” or a “California
roll,” two other words the Brits have just discovered and added to
their dictionary.
Is that any way to treat a city that just bestowed its highest honor
on a movie called “The King’s Speech”?
To be sure, the Oxford folks have anointed some words and phrases
that are clever such as dot-bomb (a failed internet company) and
couch surfing (the practice of spending the night on other people’s
couches in lieu of permanent housing).
There’s also ego surf (to surf the World Wide Web looking for
references to one's name, via search engines) and godbotherer, in
England a person who insists on promoting his or her religious
beliefs on others, whether they want it or not.
And our Oxford friends, who, by the way, refer to their publication
as the OED, point out that many of these terms aren’t really new.
“As such usage indicates, many people would consider these recent
coinages, from the last 10 or 20 years, and associate them with a
younger generation conversant with all forms of digital
communications. As is often the case, OED’s research has revealed
some unexpected historical perspectives: our first quotation for OMG
is from a personal letter from 1917; the letters LOL had a previous
life, starting in 1960, denoting an elderly woman (or ‘little old
lady’)...
Not that a little history justifies dumbing down the language.
Samuel Johnson must be TOIHG (turning over in his grave) in MNSHO (my
not so humble opinion).
tradition-hugging defender of the King’s English.
Or so we were led to believe.
The Oxford wordsmiths, however, recently announced that they were
adding LOL and OMG to their dictionary because words "like these are
strongly associated with the language of electronic communications,"
and have entered the mainstream because of how easy they are to use.
Welcome to the post-literate society, the era of the three-second
attention span, the world of techno-babble. All brought to you by the
Oxford English Dictionary.
Or to put it another way, OMG, I’d LOL if it wasn’t so tragic, IMHO.
(For those who need a translation, it reads “Oh My God, I’d Laugh Out
Loud if it wasn’t so tragic In My Humble Opinion..”)
Look, I’m no wizened grammarian whose last whose last slang utterance
was “23 Skidoo.”
I’m not suggesting we draw the line at anything written or spoken
this side of the Elizabethan era. I certainly understand that words
and phrases reflecting popular culture enter into the lexicon by the
truckload.
But there’s something cold and sterile about using acronyms or geek
speak in place of words. Words, in whatever language, paint pictures,
convey ideas, excite the imagination, conjure up visions both dark
and beautiful.
I am not swept away on the wings of language when I read
thumb-generated gossip in abbreviated form understood primarily by
13-year-old girls who are BFF (best friends forever).
I’d like to think that if the Hemmingways and Fitzgeralds and
Steinbecks were still with us, they’d shun expressing themselves in
140 characters or less on their Twitter account.
The Oxford bunch, after succumbing to what they call “initialism,”
for good measure throw in “wag,” “notable for the extremely fast
journey from its introduction to the language to its use as usual
English vocabulary. In 2002, the Sunday Telegraph reported that the
staff at the England footballers’ pre-World Cup training camp
referred to the players’ partners collectively as ‘Wags’, from the
initial letters of ‘wives and girlfriends’.
“Such was the exposure the term received in this period that it
became a byword for the female partners of male professionals (in
football and in other spheres).”
I’m not sure but I think if I referred to my wife as a “wag” I’d be
SOTC (sleeping on the couch).
And if all the above isn’t distressing enough, the Oxfordians also
added “la-la land which can refer either to Los Angeles(in which case
its etymology is influenced by the common initialism for that city),
or to a state of being out of touch with reality—and sometimes to
both simultaneously.”
La-La-Land is a place where you can eat a “taquito” or a “California
roll,” two other words the Brits have just discovered and added to
their dictionary.
Is that any way to treat a city that just bestowed its highest honor
on a movie called “The King’s Speech”?
To be sure, the Oxford folks have anointed some words and phrases
that are clever such as dot-bomb (a failed internet company) and
couch surfing (the practice of spending the night on other people’s
couches in lieu of permanent housing).
There’s also ego surf (to surf the World Wide Web looking for
references to one's name, via search engines) and godbotherer, in
England a person who insists on promoting his or her religious
beliefs on others, whether they want it or not.
And our Oxford friends, who, by the way, refer to their publication
as the OED, point out that many of these terms aren’t really new.
“As such usage indicates, many people would consider these recent
coinages, from the last 10 or 20 years, and associate them with a
younger generation conversant with all forms of digital
communications. As is often the case, OED’s research has revealed
some unexpected historical perspectives: our first quotation for OMG
is from a personal letter from 1917; the letters LOL had a previous
life, starting in 1960, denoting an elderly woman (or ‘little old
lady’)...
Not that a little history justifies dumbing down the language.
Samuel Johnson must be TOIHG (turning over in his grave) in MNSHO (my
not so humble opinion).
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Disasters and Dollars
It's not always easy, but most journalists try to keep an emotional arms' length distance from a story.
Emotional involvement can cloud one's judgment. So we set aside personal feelings when the need arises.
But we're not soulless automatons. When I witnessed the apocalyptic disaster that is Japan this past week, I reached for my checkbook and contacted the Red Cross.
I've done it before. After Katrina. After Haiti.
But this time I felt a twinge of donor's remorse. Primarily, I wondered how much of my donation would get to the people in need.
I remembered an Associated Press report from Haiti on the first anniversary of the devastating earthquake reporting that "a year after the quake, workers are still finding bodies in the rubble. About a million people remain homeless. ... A cholera epidemic that erupted outside the quake zone has killed more than 3,600 people. Less than 5 percent of the debris has been cleared."
And this was after donations that by some estimates exceeded a billion dollars. Then there was something else.
Katrina struck my country. It hurt my people. My family lived in New Orleans for a number of years so the feelings ran deep.
I didn't hesitate on Haiti, a nation so dirt poor that it needed humanitarian relief on an unprecedented scale. Hundreds of thousands died. Some 250,000 residences and 30,000 commercial structures collapsed.
But Japan is a wealthy nation. It's a highly developed and educated country whose GDP is similar to the United States. And like the U.S., it's not a place one thinks of as needing international aid.
Did they really need my donation?
Apparently I wasn't alone in asking that question. Through midweek, charities raised more than $47 million in the first four days after the disaster struck in Japan. By contrast, four days after the earthquake struck in Haiti last year, more than $150million had been raised.
Some organizations aren't event asking for money. Nicole Wallace, a senior writer for the Chronicle of Philanthropy, told MSNBC that 14 relief organizations her publication spoke with were not actively raising funds, either because they focus only on developing countries or because they were holding off to see if they were needed.
And while U.S. corporations have promised $50 million in donations, it's largely because many have close business ties to Japan and have employees there. But the money has to come from somewhere and the cost will probably be passed on to you.
Finally, Japan rejected most international offers of help following the Kobe earthquake in 1995 that killed more than 6,000 people.
So are we foolish to donate to Japan earthquake/tsunami relief?
No.
First of all, it fulfills an emotional need. We cannot watch the innocent victims of a disaster without the feeling that we need to do something, anything to help. It's what makes us human. That applies globally as well. Foreign countries offered the U.S. $854 million following Katrina.
Second, donations to a reputable charity do some good. The American Red Cross is channeling donations to the Japanese Red Cross which, in the first 24 hours, dispatched 62 response teams. These medical relief teams - made up of about 400 doctors, nurses and support staff - are already providing assistance in affected areas through mobile medical clinics.
And if your donation isn't put to work in Japan, it will be used for the next disaster whenever and wherever that will occur.
Finally, the nuclear component of this disaster makes it unparalleled in recent history.
A massive earthquake followed by a killer tsunami that may trigger a nuclear meltdown would be rejected as unrealistic for a movie script.
And yet it happened. Real people suffer and die. Entire cities are demolished. Hundreds of thousands are displaced.
It will take all of us to put Japan back together again.
Emotional involvement can cloud one's judgment. So we set aside personal feelings when the need arises.
But we're not soulless automatons. When I witnessed the apocalyptic disaster that is Japan this past week, I reached for my checkbook and contacted the Red Cross.
I've done it before. After Katrina. After Haiti.
But this time I felt a twinge of donor's remorse. Primarily, I wondered how much of my donation would get to the people in need.
I remembered an Associated Press report from Haiti on the first anniversary of the devastating earthquake reporting that "a year after the quake, workers are still finding bodies in the rubble. About a million people remain homeless. ... A cholera epidemic that erupted outside the quake zone has killed more than 3,600 people. Less than 5 percent of the debris has been cleared."
And this was after donations that by some estimates exceeded a billion dollars. Then there was something else.
Katrina struck my country. It hurt my people. My family lived in New Orleans for a number of years so the feelings ran deep.
I didn't hesitate on Haiti, a nation so dirt poor that it needed humanitarian relief on an unprecedented scale. Hundreds of thousands died. Some 250,000 residences and 30,000 commercial structures collapsed.
But Japan is a wealthy nation. It's a highly developed and educated country whose GDP is similar to the United States. And like the U.S., it's not a place one thinks of as needing international aid.
Did they really need my donation?
Apparently I wasn't alone in asking that question. Through midweek, charities raised more than $47 million in the first four days after the disaster struck in Japan. By contrast, four days after the earthquake struck in Haiti last year, more than $150million had been raised.
Some organizations aren't event asking for money. Nicole Wallace, a senior writer for the Chronicle of Philanthropy, told MSNBC that 14 relief organizations her publication spoke with were not actively raising funds, either because they focus only on developing countries or because they were holding off to see if they were needed.
And while U.S. corporations have promised $50 million in donations, it's largely because many have close business ties to Japan and have employees there. But the money has to come from somewhere and the cost will probably be passed on to you.
Finally, Japan rejected most international offers of help following the Kobe earthquake in 1995 that killed more than 6,000 people.
So are we foolish to donate to Japan earthquake/tsunami relief?
No.
First of all, it fulfills an emotional need. We cannot watch the innocent victims of a disaster without the feeling that we need to do something, anything to help. It's what makes us human. That applies globally as well. Foreign countries offered the U.S. $854 million following Katrina.
Second, donations to a reputable charity do some good. The American Red Cross is channeling donations to the Japanese Red Cross which, in the first 24 hours, dispatched 62 response teams. These medical relief teams - made up of about 400 doctors, nurses and support staff - are already providing assistance in affected areas through mobile medical clinics.
And if your donation isn't put to work in Japan, it will be used for the next disaster whenever and wherever that will occur.
Finally, the nuclear component of this disaster makes it unparalleled in recent history.
A massive earthquake followed by a killer tsunami that may trigger a nuclear meltdown would be rejected as unrealistic for a movie script.
And yet it happened. Real people suffer and die. Entire cities are demolished. Hundreds of thousands are displaced.
It will take all of us to put Japan back together again.
Friday, March 18, 2011
The Dating game
My wife and I met the old-fashioned way. We were introduced by
friends, a chance encounter than led to love and marriage.
We were lucky. Had computer dating existed in those days, we would
never have met.
She was raised prim and proper in a small town in western
Pennsylvania that resembled a Norman Rockwell painting. I was from
Los Angeles, had been a rock musician, a frat boy, a cop reporter.
She had gone to work for the federal government after graduating from
college. I worked for the federal government, too, but not by choice.
I had been drafted into the Army and spent my days as a soldier.
Clearly, some computer program would have declared us incompatible.
Yet, without the assistance of algorithms to make sure our tolerances
and preferences interfaced, we have been wed for 44 years.
I’m not knocking computer dating. If I was single, I might give it a
try, especially if they had a category for aging journalists with a
skeptical world view.
After all, thousands participate and revenues
for online dating services reach into the hundreds of millions of
dollars.
You can always tell when Valentine’s Day is approaching. Commercials
for computer dating services flood the airways, battling jewelry ads
for prime TV exposure.
And it’s often a hard sell. One popular website apparently has taken
to sending out e-mails on a person’s birthday to remind him or her
that another year has gone by without a significant other.
They call it marketing. I call it emotional waterboarding.
The dating game has become as complex as the society we live in. But
the electronic lonely hearts club business has made it easy. There
are websites now that promise to link up couples from every ethnic,
religious, life-style and sexual preference subgroup imaginable.
Among the unique: Women Behind Bars, which offers to link
incarcerated women with interested men. Moto Date offers a solution to an age-old problem. You see a hottie next to you in traffic and have no way to make contact short of a fender bender. Members of this site receive a four-digit sticker to
put on their car, and if someone finds them attractive while behind
the wheel, all they have to do is go online, type in that code, and
make contact.
Trek Passions is for, you guessed it, those who desire to live long
and prosper with another Star Trek obsessed earthling. Or Klingon. Or
Romulan or Borg or whatever.
Since I’ve never come across many female Trekkies, I’m thinking the romance rate on this site is something less than warp speed.
Diaper Mates is the premiere destination for adult interested in
people who enjoy wearing diapers or looking at others who like to
wear them. We’ll leave this one without comment other than to note
the site has 11,000 members.
Ayn Rand Dating is for those whose lives have been forever altered
after reading “The Fountainhead” or “Atlas Shrugged.” First dates
include discussions of the morality of rational self-interest and
laissez-faire capitalism. Sample user profile: “ I am rational,
integrated, and efficacious. So far, I’ve never met a person who
lives up to the standard I hold for myself...I only kiss those who
deserve it, and so far I have only encountered one who did. I would
love to find someone I can learn something from; someone who
challenges me to think; someone I can feel like I’ve won, rather than
lowered myself to.”
With all these choices, you’d think computer dating would be an
unqualified success. But there’s a fly in the ointment, a flaw as old
as the mating ritual itself.
People lie.
According to an exhaustive study conducted by an online dating site,
the biggest fibs are, in no particular order: Height - people, mostly
guys, are two inches shorter in real life.
Income, people exaggerate it by about 20 per cent.
Pictures - The more attractive the picture, the more likely it is out of date.
If that’s not bad enough, there’s datetalk, in which words take on
new meanings: 40-ish means 49. Athletic: small breasted. Emotionally secure: on
medication. Fun: annoying. New Age: doesn’t shave her legs. Open
Minded: desperate. Outgoing: loud and embarrassing. Voluptuous:
overweight. Needs soul mate: a stalker.
Which reminds me of the Dorthy Parker ditty, written long before the
age of computers:
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying. -
friends, a chance encounter than led to love and marriage.
We were lucky. Had computer dating existed in those days, we would
never have met.
She was raised prim and proper in a small town in western
Pennsylvania that resembled a Norman Rockwell painting. I was from
Los Angeles, had been a rock musician, a frat boy, a cop reporter.
She had gone to work for the federal government after graduating from
college. I worked for the federal government, too, but not by choice.
I had been drafted into the Army and spent my days as a soldier.
Clearly, some computer program would have declared us incompatible.
Yet, without the assistance of algorithms to make sure our tolerances
and preferences interfaced, we have been wed for 44 years.
I’m not knocking computer dating. If I was single, I might give it a
try, especially if they had a category for aging journalists with a
skeptical world view.
After all, thousands participate and revenues
for online dating services reach into the hundreds of millions of
dollars.
You can always tell when Valentine’s Day is approaching. Commercials
for computer dating services flood the airways, battling jewelry ads
for prime TV exposure.
And it’s often a hard sell. One popular website apparently has taken
to sending out e-mails on a person’s birthday to remind him or her
that another year has gone by without a significant other.
They call it marketing. I call it emotional waterboarding.
The dating game has become as complex as the society we live in. But
the electronic lonely hearts club business has made it easy. There
are websites now that promise to link up couples from every ethnic,
religious, life-style and sexual preference subgroup imaginable.
Among the unique: Women Behind Bars, which offers to link
incarcerated women with interested men. Moto Date offers a solution to an age-old problem. You see a hottie next to you in traffic and have no way to make contact short of a fender bender. Members of this site receive a four-digit sticker to
put on their car, and if someone finds them attractive while behind
the wheel, all they have to do is go online, type in that code, and
make contact.
Trek Passions is for, you guessed it, those who desire to live long
and prosper with another Star Trek obsessed earthling. Or Klingon. Or
Romulan or Borg or whatever.
Since I’ve never come across many female Trekkies, I’m thinking the romance rate on this site is something less than warp speed.
Diaper Mates is the premiere destination for adult interested in
people who enjoy wearing diapers or looking at others who like to
wear them. We’ll leave this one without comment other than to note
the site has 11,000 members.
Ayn Rand Dating is for those whose lives have been forever altered
after reading “The Fountainhead” or “Atlas Shrugged.” First dates
include discussions of the morality of rational self-interest and
laissez-faire capitalism. Sample user profile: “ I am rational,
integrated, and efficacious. So far, I’ve never met a person who
lives up to the standard I hold for myself...I only kiss those who
deserve it, and so far I have only encountered one who did. I would
love to find someone I can learn something from; someone who
challenges me to think; someone I can feel like I’ve won, rather than
lowered myself to.”
With all these choices, you’d think computer dating would be an
unqualified success. But there’s a fly in the ointment, a flaw as old
as the mating ritual itself.
People lie.
According to an exhaustive study conducted by an online dating site,
the biggest fibs are, in no particular order: Height - people, mostly
guys, are two inches shorter in real life.
Income, people exaggerate it by about 20 per cent.
Pictures - The more attractive the picture, the more likely it is out of date.
If that’s not bad enough, there’s datetalk, in which words take on
new meanings: 40-ish means 49. Athletic: small breasted. Emotionally secure: on
medication. Fun: annoying. New Age: doesn’t shave her legs. Open
Minded: desperate. Outgoing: loud and embarrassing. Voluptuous:
overweight. Needs soul mate: a stalker.
Which reminds me of the Dorthy Parker ditty, written long before the
age of computers:
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying. -
Hold the Phone
I was playing golf recently when my attention was drawn to four young
men on an adjacent fairway.
They walked toward the green in a single file, heads bowed, silent,
as though they were initiates in some sort of Druid ceremony.
Upon closer inspection I realized they were absorbed in their
smartphones, either texting or reading e-mails or surfing the web.
In the middle of a match. On a beautiful course dotted with all manner
of flora and fauna.
The incident underscored my belief that we may very soon evolve into
a race of people with bowed necks and downturned gazes, the result of
continuous smart phone use.
I offer as evidence a recent YouTube video of a young woman at a
shopping mall who was so intent on her phone that walked straight
into fountain where she splashed like a turtle on its back for
several minutes before pulling herself to dry land.
Well, I vowed, they won’t get me. I will remain head held high and
eyes forward for the rest of my days.
Alas, fate intervened. I lost my cellphone, a simple model that
merely made and received phone calls, and allowed myself to be sold a
new model that records videos, has movie, TV, magazine, newspaper and
social network access, offers games, displays your e-mail, functions
as a calendar and alarm clock, gives you directions to your
destination, plays music, even finds your car if it’s lost. Among
other things.
And while they call them smart phones. I’m not sure I was so smart in
buying one. Because once you’ve become adept in operating them,
you’re addicted.
Like the unsuspecting citizenry in “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,”
I have become one of Them, a member of the mesmerized cell phone
zombies to whom all life outside of their hand-held devices is
irrelevant if not nonexistent.
That’s not exactly true. I have maintained enough humanity to lead a
somewhat normal life. Just because I’ve skipped a few meals so I can
afford to pay for all the extra goodies my phone has to offer doesn’t
mean I’m a bad person.
These extra goodies are called “apps,” short for applications. The
lovely young salesthing at the phone store told me there are 100,000
of them available through the phone. Some are free, most charge extra.
To be sure, many of these apps have some legitimate value, offering
books and reference, business and education downloads, health and
fitness advice.
Then there are these culled from my smartphone and the Internet:
The iNap@Work app plays a series of recorded typing, clicking,
stapling or pencil sharpening sound effects to fool your coworkers
into thinking you're being productive. Meanwhile, you're fast asleep
at your desk enjoying a post-lunch nap.
One app keeps track of how many beers you drink. You have to pay for
it but it’s probably a lot cheaper than getting a DUI after
forgetting how many beers you’ve had throughout the course of the
night.
Health officials in New York have released an app to help its
citizens find free condoms. It’s designed to locate the five nearest
venues that distribute official NYC Condoms in jazzy wrappers printed
with colorful subway maps or other city themes.
It could be used in concert with the Roman Catholic App, designed to
be used as a confessional, with a personalized examination of
conscience for each user.
The Taxi Hold em application makes a loud whistling sound and
displays a bright taxi sign to get the attention of nearby cabbies.
It also alerts muggers that you are near.
iMouse is a call alert application. Whenever you have an incoming
call, a little naughty mouse appears, knocks at the screen and shouts
“Hey! Haaaay!! ‘knock knock’ Please answer your phone.”
Then, for those who just can’t get their fill of Fascism, there’s the
iMussolini app that includes audio, video and transcripts of 120
speeches by the wartime Italian leader.
And for those who can’t be separated from their smartphones even
momentarily, there is the LM Technologies Bluetooth bracelet. It
vibrates if the user moves more than five feet away from the phone.
Ain’t technology grand.
men on an adjacent fairway.
They walked toward the green in a single file, heads bowed, silent,
as though they were initiates in some sort of Druid ceremony.
Upon closer inspection I realized they were absorbed in their
smartphones, either texting or reading e-mails or surfing the web.
In the middle of a match. On a beautiful course dotted with all manner
of flora and fauna.
The incident underscored my belief that we may very soon evolve into
a race of people with bowed necks and downturned gazes, the result of
continuous smart phone use.
I offer as evidence a recent YouTube video of a young woman at a
shopping mall who was so intent on her phone that walked straight
into fountain where she splashed like a turtle on its back for
several minutes before pulling herself to dry land.
Well, I vowed, they won’t get me. I will remain head held high and
eyes forward for the rest of my days.
Alas, fate intervened. I lost my cellphone, a simple model that
merely made and received phone calls, and allowed myself to be sold a
new model that records videos, has movie, TV, magazine, newspaper and
social network access, offers games, displays your e-mail, functions
as a calendar and alarm clock, gives you directions to your
destination, plays music, even finds your car if it’s lost. Among
other things.
And while they call them smart phones. I’m not sure I was so smart in
buying one. Because once you’ve become adept in operating them,
you’re addicted.
Like the unsuspecting citizenry in “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,”
I have become one of Them, a member of the mesmerized cell phone
zombies to whom all life outside of their hand-held devices is
irrelevant if not nonexistent.
That’s not exactly true. I have maintained enough humanity to lead a
somewhat normal life. Just because I’ve skipped a few meals so I can
afford to pay for all the extra goodies my phone has to offer doesn’t
mean I’m a bad person.
These extra goodies are called “apps,” short for applications. The
lovely young salesthing at the phone store told me there are 100,000
of them available through the phone. Some are free, most charge extra.
To be sure, many of these apps have some legitimate value, offering
books and reference, business and education downloads, health and
fitness advice.
Then there are these culled from my smartphone and the Internet:
The iNap@Work app plays a series of recorded typing, clicking,
stapling or pencil sharpening sound effects to fool your coworkers
into thinking you're being productive. Meanwhile, you're fast asleep
at your desk enjoying a post-lunch nap.
One app keeps track of how many beers you drink. You have to pay for
it but it’s probably a lot cheaper than getting a DUI after
forgetting how many beers you’ve had throughout the course of the
night.
Health officials in New York have released an app to help its
citizens find free condoms. It’s designed to locate the five nearest
venues that distribute official NYC Condoms in jazzy wrappers printed
with colorful subway maps or other city themes.
It could be used in concert with the Roman Catholic App, designed to
be used as a confessional, with a personalized examination of
conscience for each user.
The Taxi Hold em application makes a loud whistling sound and
displays a bright taxi sign to get the attention of nearby cabbies.
It also alerts muggers that you are near.
iMouse is a call alert application. Whenever you have an incoming
call, a little naughty mouse appears, knocks at the screen and shouts
“Hey! Haaaay!! ‘knock knock’ Please answer your phone.”
Then, for those who just can’t get their fill of Fascism, there’s the
iMussolini app that includes audio, video and transcripts of 120
speeches by the wartime Italian leader.
And for those who can’t be separated from their smartphones even
momentarily, there is the LM Technologies Bluetooth bracelet. It
vibrates if the user moves more than five feet away from the phone.
Ain’t technology grand.
The New Poll Tax
What happens in New Hampshire should stay in New Hampshire.
One might reasonably come to that conclusion based on the antics of
the state’s politicians in recent weeks.
Last week, we reported that two New Hampshire pols advocated charging
TSA agents with sexual assault for doing their jobs.
Specifically, random airport security pat-downs and body scans would
make "the touching or viewing with a technological device of a
person's breasts or genitals by a government security agent without
probable cause a sexual assault."
"Let's put their name on the sex offender registry, and maybe that
will tell them New Hampshire means business," huffed bill co-sponsor
Rep. Andrew Manuse, R-Derry.
OK, that’s just plain goofy. Among other things, it’s in all
likelihood a federal matter and the state’s jurisdiction is
questionable. Nothing to see here, move on.
But now New Hampshire House Republicans are pushing for new laws that
would prohibit many college students from voting in the state - or
maybe even voting at all.
They are rallying behind House speaker William O’Brien who, in a
speech to a Tea Party group, said college kids are “foolish. Voting
as a liberal. That's what kids do," he added. Students lack "life
experience," and "they just vote their feelings."
Just as an aside, I’m betting Mr. O’Brien voted with his feelings
when he marked his ballot for John McCain and Sarah Palin. And I’m
willing to bet that those in his tea bagger audience would loudly
voice their feelings at the drop of a three-cornered hat.
But back to the issue at hand. To weed out these “foolish” voters,
especially those who might vote Democratic, two bills were
introduced. One would permit students to vote in their college towns
only if they or their parents had previously established permanent
residency there - requiring all others to vote in the states or other
New Hampshire towns they come from.
Another bill would end Election Day registration, which O'Brien said
unleashes swarms of students on polling places, creating
opportunities for fraud.
What’s next, a poll tax? That kept African-Americans out of the
political process for a hundred years or more. It just might work on
a bunch of college kids.
In a unique burst of rational thinking, the New Hampshire legislature
temporarily sidetracked the bills this week, perhaps realizing they
were unconstitutional.
But the issue isn’t dead. A hearing will be held this summer on the
measures in plenty of time to change the laws before the 2012
election.
We could chalk this up to a handful of misguided zealots tucked away
in the deep northeastern woods. Except, as an article in the
Washington Post points out, the measures in New Hampshire are among
dozens of voting-related bills being pushed by newly empowered
Republican state lawmakers across the country - prompting partisan
clashes akin to those already roiling in some states over GOP moves
to curb union power.
I’ve always believed a party that comes to power does so because it
appeals to the greatest proportion of voters. Sure, there’s been
fraud in the past but for the most part democracy works just as our
forefathers designed it to do.
But apparently, there’s a new strategy at work. If you want to win,
disenfranchise those who oppose you. Simply raise the specter of
fraud and cut them out of the political process.
"It's a war on voting," said Thomas Bates, vice president of Rock the
Vote, a youth voter- registration group mounting a campaign to fight
the array of state measures. "We'd like to be advocating for a
21st-century voting system, but here we are fighting against efforts
to turn it back to the 19th century."
We could also presume that if the Republicans succeeded in this
Draconian exercise, the Democrats might try to play the same game,
say banning people over 65, who tend to vote Republican, on the
grounds that age has diminished their judgment.
Insanity begets insanity.
Here’s the bottom line: In the last three general elections - 2004,
2006, and 2008 -- young voters have given the Democratic Party a
majority of their votes, and for all three cycles they have been the
party's most supportive age group.
In 2008, according to a Pew survey, 66% of those under age 30 voted for Barack Obama making the disparity between young voters and other age groups larger than in
any presidential election since exit polling began in 1972.
The GOP is clearly running second in a two-person race and has a lot
of work to do to win the hearts and minds of young voters.
They can start by reaching out to them. But treating the young as
political lepers which will only further alienate them.
One might reasonably come to that conclusion based on the antics of
the state’s politicians in recent weeks.
Last week, we reported that two New Hampshire pols advocated charging
TSA agents with sexual assault for doing their jobs.
Specifically, random airport security pat-downs and body scans would
make "the touching or viewing with a technological device of a
person's breasts or genitals by a government security agent without
probable cause a sexual assault."
"Let's put their name on the sex offender registry, and maybe that
will tell them New Hampshire means business," huffed bill co-sponsor
Rep. Andrew Manuse, R-Derry.
OK, that’s just plain goofy. Among other things, it’s in all
likelihood a federal matter and the state’s jurisdiction is
questionable. Nothing to see here, move on.
But now New Hampshire House Republicans are pushing for new laws that
would prohibit many college students from voting in the state - or
maybe even voting at all.
They are rallying behind House speaker William O’Brien who, in a
speech to a Tea Party group, said college kids are “foolish. Voting
as a liberal. That's what kids do," he added. Students lack "life
experience," and "they just vote their feelings."
Just as an aside, I’m betting Mr. O’Brien voted with his feelings
when he marked his ballot for John McCain and Sarah Palin. And I’m
willing to bet that those in his tea bagger audience would loudly
voice their feelings at the drop of a three-cornered hat.
But back to the issue at hand. To weed out these “foolish” voters,
especially those who might vote Democratic, two bills were
introduced. One would permit students to vote in their college towns
only if they or their parents had previously established permanent
residency there - requiring all others to vote in the states or other
New Hampshire towns they come from.
Another bill would end Election Day registration, which O'Brien said
unleashes swarms of students on polling places, creating
opportunities for fraud.
What’s next, a poll tax? That kept African-Americans out of the
political process for a hundred years or more. It just might work on
a bunch of college kids.
In a unique burst of rational thinking, the New Hampshire legislature
temporarily sidetracked the bills this week, perhaps realizing they
were unconstitutional.
But the issue isn’t dead. A hearing will be held this summer on the
measures in plenty of time to change the laws before the 2012
election.
We could chalk this up to a handful of misguided zealots tucked away
in the deep northeastern woods. Except, as an article in the
Washington Post points out, the measures in New Hampshire are among
dozens of voting-related bills being pushed by newly empowered
Republican state lawmakers across the country - prompting partisan
clashes akin to those already roiling in some states over GOP moves
to curb union power.
I’ve always believed a party that comes to power does so because it
appeals to the greatest proportion of voters. Sure, there’s been
fraud in the past but for the most part democracy works just as our
forefathers designed it to do.
But apparently, there’s a new strategy at work. If you want to win,
disenfranchise those who oppose you. Simply raise the specter of
fraud and cut them out of the political process.
"It's a war on voting," said Thomas Bates, vice president of Rock the
Vote, a youth voter- registration group mounting a campaign to fight
the array of state measures. "We'd like to be advocating for a
21st-century voting system, but here we are fighting against efforts
to turn it back to the 19th century."
We could also presume that if the Republicans succeeded in this
Draconian exercise, the Democrats might try to play the same game,
say banning people over 65, who tend to vote Republican, on the
grounds that age has diminished their judgment.
Insanity begets insanity.
Here’s the bottom line: In the last three general elections - 2004,
2006, and 2008 -- young voters have given the Democratic Party a
majority of their votes, and for all three cycles they have been the
party's most supportive age group.
In 2008, according to a Pew survey, 66% of those under age 30 voted for Barack Obama making the disparity between young voters and other age groups larger than in
any presidential election since exit polling began in 1972.
The GOP is clearly running second in a two-person race and has a lot
of work to do to win the hearts and minds of young voters.
They can start by reaching out to them. But treating the young as
political lepers which will only further alienate them.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Hola, Oscar
Did you know that Oscar is a Latino?
While movie fans may think the coveted statuette which will be
presented at the Academy Award ceremonies tonight is as American as
apple pie, it’s actually closer to carne asada.
It turns out that when MGM's art director Cedric Gibbons, an original
Academy member, was selected to supervise the design of the trophy,
he found himself in need of a model.
Gibbons was introduced by his then wife Dolores del RÃo to Mexican
film director and actor Emilio "El Indio" Fernández. Although
initially reluctant, Fernández was finally convinced to pose nude to
create the statue. He thus became the first film buff.
This bit of trivia is by way of introducing the subject of the day:
The Academy Awards, a subject about which I know not so much.
I know this, however. On Academy Awards day, the womenfolk of my
family descend on my den like seagulls on a landfill to watch the
entire broadcast, from the first anorexic actress slinking down the
red carpet to the last endless thank-you speech. I stand dutifully by
with wine (which I pour) and food (which I serve), silently efficient
like a bit player in “The King’s Speech.”
I’ve always been a bit blasé about the Oscars. Maybe it’s because I
was born in Hollywood and have spent most of my life nearby.
Familiarity breeds indifference over time. Let’s face it, not
everyone in Pasadena goes ga-ga over the Rose Parade every year.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve met many people who possess Oscars, Emmys,
Grammys, Tonys and the like. Some are larger than life. But most are
talented people who simply work hard and do their jobs well. The
difference between us and them is that while we may get a raise, they
are rewarded with thunderous applause dressed in tuxedos and gowns
on worldwide television.
Then there’s the overkill factor. By the time we are subjected to the
Golden Globes, the Peoples’ Choice Awards, the MTV Awards, the
Critics’ Choice Awards, the Writers’ Guild Awards the Directors’
Guild awards and the Screen Actors Guild Awards, among others, the
results become predictable. The Academy Awards becomes a spectacle,
not a drama.
What I really dislike about awards shows, and the Academy Awards in
particular, are the acceptance speeches. Sure, there have been some
genuine moments over the years. But put an actor on live TV without a
script and chaos lurks. They often end up embarrassing themselves,
the Academy and on occasion the human race.
Let’s dump the thank-yous entirely. That means we would miss a lot of
tearful tributes to parents and spouses and children and agents along
with the occasional political rant which mostly serves to alienate
rather than educate.
The only acceptance speech I ever enjoyed came from Roberto Benigni
(Best Actor for “La Vita e bella” in 1999) who said, “I feel like now
really to dive in this ocean of generosity. This is too much . . . I
would like to be Jupiter and kidnap everybody and lie down in the
firmament making love to everybody."
Unfortunately, most fail to rise to this standard.
While were at it, let’s quit fooling around with the Ellen
DeGenereses and Hugh Jackmans and return Billy Crystal to his
rightful position as permanent host. He’s done it eight times and
each one was a gem.
And let’s dump the Best Song category, which officially died in 2005
when a happy little ditty called "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp” won
the Oscar. Can you name the last three award winners? Neither can I.
Jettison a few categories like the Best Foreign Documentary Under 30
Minutes That No One Will Ever See and we’re getting somewhere.
The whole show could be wrapped up in two hours or less.
And I’d get my den back.
While movie fans may think the coveted statuette which will be
presented at the Academy Award ceremonies tonight is as American as
apple pie, it’s actually closer to carne asada.
It turns out that when MGM's art director Cedric Gibbons, an original
Academy member, was selected to supervise the design of the trophy,
he found himself in need of a model.
Gibbons was introduced by his then wife Dolores del RÃo to Mexican
film director and actor Emilio "El Indio" Fernández. Although
initially reluctant, Fernández was finally convinced to pose nude to
create the statue. He thus became the first film buff.
This bit of trivia is by way of introducing the subject of the day:
The Academy Awards, a subject about which I know not so much.
I know this, however. On Academy Awards day, the womenfolk of my
family descend on my den like seagulls on a landfill to watch the
entire broadcast, from the first anorexic actress slinking down the
red carpet to the last endless thank-you speech. I stand dutifully by
with wine (which I pour) and food (which I serve), silently efficient
like a bit player in “The King’s Speech.”
I’ve always been a bit blasé about the Oscars. Maybe it’s because I
was born in Hollywood and have spent most of my life nearby.
Familiarity breeds indifference over time. Let’s face it, not
everyone in Pasadena goes ga-ga over the Rose Parade every year.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve met many people who possess Oscars, Emmys,
Grammys, Tonys and the like. Some are larger than life. But most are
talented people who simply work hard and do their jobs well. The
difference between us and them is that while we may get a raise, they
are rewarded with thunderous applause dressed in tuxedos and gowns
on worldwide television.
Then there’s the overkill factor. By the time we are subjected to the
Golden Globes, the Peoples’ Choice Awards, the MTV Awards, the
Critics’ Choice Awards, the Writers’ Guild Awards the Directors’
Guild awards and the Screen Actors Guild Awards, among others, the
results become predictable. The Academy Awards becomes a spectacle,
not a drama.
What I really dislike about awards shows, and the Academy Awards in
particular, are the acceptance speeches. Sure, there have been some
genuine moments over the years. But put an actor on live TV without a
script and chaos lurks. They often end up embarrassing themselves,
the Academy and on occasion the human race.
Let’s dump the thank-yous entirely. That means we would miss a lot of
tearful tributes to parents and spouses and children and agents along
with the occasional political rant which mostly serves to alienate
rather than educate.
The only acceptance speech I ever enjoyed came from Roberto Benigni
(Best Actor for “La Vita e bella” in 1999) who said, “I feel like now
really to dive in this ocean of generosity. This is too much . . . I
would like to be Jupiter and kidnap everybody and lie down in the
firmament making love to everybody."
Unfortunately, most fail to rise to this standard.
While were at it, let’s quit fooling around with the Ellen
DeGenereses and Hugh Jackmans and return Billy Crystal to his
rightful position as permanent host. He’s done it eight times and
each one was a gem.
And let’s dump the Best Song category, which officially died in 2005
when a happy little ditty called "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp” won
the Oscar. Can you name the last three award winners? Neither can I.
Jettison a few categories like the Best Foreign Documentary Under 30
Minutes That No One Will Ever See and we’re getting somewhere.
The whole show could be wrapped up in two hours or less.
And I’d get my den back.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Smart Guy
I was playing golf recently when my attention was drawn to four young men on an adjacent fairway.
They walked toward the green in a single file, heads bowed, silent, as though they were initiates in some sort of Druid ceremony.
Upon closer inspection I realized they were absorbed in their smartphones, either texting or reading e-mails or surfing the web. In the middle of a match. On a beautiful course dotted with all manner of flora and fauna.
The incident underscored my belief that we may very soon evolve into a race of people with bowed necks and downturned gazes, the result of continuous smartphone use.
I offer as evidence a recent YouTube video of a young woman at a shopping mall who was so intent on her phone she walked straight into a fountain where she splashed like a turtle on its back for several minutes before pulling herself to dry land.
Well, I vowed, they won't get me. I will remain head held high and eyes forward for the rest of my days.
Alas, fate intervened. I lost my cellphone, a simple model that merely made and received phone calls, and allowed myself to be sold a new model that records videos, has movie, TV, magazine, newspaper and social-network access, offers games, displays your e-mail, functions as a calendar and alarm clock, gives you directions to your destination, plays music, even finds your car if it's lost. Among other things.
And while they call them smartphones, I'm not sure I was so smart in buying one. Because once you've become adept in operating them, you're addicted.
Like the unsuspecting citizenry in "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," I have become one of "them," a member of the mesmerized cellphone zombies to whom all life outside of their handheld devices is irrelevant if not nonexistent. I, for one, welcome our new technological overlords.
That's not exactly true. I have maintained enough humanity to lead a somewhat normal life. Just because I've skipped a few meals so I can afford to pay for all the extra goodies my phone has to offer doesn't mean I'm a bad person.
These extra goodies are called "apps," short for applications. The lovely young salesthing at the phone store told me there are 100,000 of them available through the phone. Some are free, most charge extra.
To be sure, many of these apps have some legitimate value, offering books and reference, business and education downloads, health and fitness advice.
Then there are these culled from my smartphone and the Internet:
The iNap@Work app plays a series of recorded typing, clicking, stapling or pencil sharpening sound effects to fool your coworkers into thinking you're being productive. Meanwhile, you're enjoying a post-lunch nap.
One app keeps track of how many beers you drink. You have to pay for it but it's probably a lot cheaper than getting a DUI after forgetting how many beers you've had throughout the course of the night.
Health officials in New York have released an app to help its citizens find free condoms. It's designed to locate the five nearest venues that distribute official NYC Condoms in jazzy wrappers printed with colorful subway maps or other city themes.
It could be used in concert with the Roman Catholic App, designed to be used as a confessional, with a personalized examination of conscience for each user.
The Taxi Hold Em application makes a loud whistling sound and displays a bright taxi sign to get the attention of nearby cabbies. It also alerts muggers that you are near.
iMouse is a call alert application. Whenever you have an incoming call, a little naughty mouse appears, knocks at the screen and shouts "Hey! Haaaay!! Knock. Knock. Please answer your phone."
Then, for those who just can't get their fill of fascism, there's the iMussolini app that includes audio, video and transcripts of 120 speeches by the wartime Italian leader.
And for those who can't be separated from their smartphones even momentarily, there is the LM Technologies Bluetooth bracelet. It vibrates if the user moves more than five feet away from the phone.
Ain't technology grand.
They walked toward the green in a single file, heads bowed, silent, as though they were initiates in some sort of Druid ceremony.
Upon closer inspection I realized they were absorbed in their smartphones, either texting or reading e-mails or surfing the web. In the middle of a match. On a beautiful course dotted with all manner of flora and fauna.
The incident underscored my belief that we may very soon evolve into a race of people with bowed necks and downturned gazes, the result of continuous smartphone use.
I offer as evidence a recent YouTube video of a young woman at a shopping mall who was so intent on her phone she walked straight into a fountain where she splashed like a turtle on its back for several minutes before pulling herself to dry land.
Well, I vowed, they won't get me. I will remain head held high and eyes forward for the rest of my days.
Alas, fate intervened. I lost my cellphone, a simple model that merely made and received phone calls, and allowed myself to be sold a new model that records videos, has movie, TV, magazine, newspaper and social-network access, offers games, displays your e-mail, functions as a calendar and alarm clock, gives you directions to your destination, plays music, even finds your car if it's lost. Among other things.
And while they call them smartphones, I'm not sure I was so smart in buying one. Because once you've become adept in operating them, you're addicted.
Like the unsuspecting citizenry in "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," I have become one of "them," a member of the mesmerized cellphone zombies to whom all life outside of their handheld devices is irrelevant if not nonexistent. I, for one, welcome our new technological overlords.
That's not exactly true. I have maintained enough humanity to lead a somewhat normal life. Just because I've skipped a few meals so I can afford to pay for all the extra goodies my phone has to offer doesn't mean I'm a bad person.
These extra goodies are called "apps," short for applications. The lovely young salesthing at the phone store told me there are 100,000 of them available through the phone. Some are free, most charge extra.
To be sure, many of these apps have some legitimate value, offering books and reference, business and education downloads, health and fitness advice.
Then there are these culled from my smartphone and the Internet:
The iNap@Work app plays a series of recorded typing, clicking, stapling or pencil sharpening sound effects to fool your coworkers into thinking you're being productive. Meanwhile, you're enjoying a post-lunch nap.
One app keeps track of how many beers you drink. You have to pay for it but it's probably a lot cheaper than getting a DUI after forgetting how many beers you've had throughout the course of the night.
Health officials in New York have released an app to help its citizens find free condoms. It's designed to locate the five nearest venues that distribute official NYC Condoms in jazzy wrappers printed with colorful subway maps or other city themes.
It could be used in concert with the Roman Catholic App, designed to be used as a confessional, with a personalized examination of conscience for each user.
The Taxi Hold Em application makes a loud whistling sound and displays a bright taxi sign to get the attention of nearby cabbies. It also alerts muggers that you are near.
iMouse is a call alert application. Whenever you have an incoming call, a little naughty mouse appears, knocks at the screen and shouts "Hey! Haaaay!! Knock. Knock. Please answer your phone."
Then, for those who just can't get their fill of fascism, there's the iMussolini app that includes audio, video and transcripts of 120 speeches by the wartime Italian leader.
And for those who can't be separated from their smartphones even momentarily, there is the LM Technologies Bluetooth bracelet. It vibrates if the user moves more than five feet away from the phone.
Ain't technology grand.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Love in the Time of Cyberspace
My wife and I met the old-fashioned way. We were introduced by
friends, a chance encounter than led to love and marriage.
We were lucky. Had computer dating existed in those days, we would
never have met.
She was raised prim and proper in a small town in western
Pennsylvania that resembled a Norman Rockwell painting. I was from
Los Angeles, had been a rock musician, a frat boy, a cop reporter.
She had gone to work for the federal government after graduating from
college. I worked for the federal government, too, but not by choice.
I had been drafted into the Army and spent my days as a soldier.
Clearly, some computer program would have declared us incompatible.
Yet, without the assistance of algorithms to make sure our tolerances
and preferences interfaced, we have been wed for 44 years.
I’m not knocking computer dating. If I was single, I might give it a
try, especially if they had a category for aging journalists with a
skeptical world view. After all, thousands participate and revenues
for online dating services reach into the hundreds of millions of
dollars.
You can always tell when Valentine’s Day is approaching. Commercials
for computer dating services flood the airways, battling jewelry ads
for prime TV exposure.
And it’s often a hard sell. One popular website apparently has taken
to sending out e-mails on a person’s birthday to remind him or her
that another year has gone by without a significant other.
They call it marketing. I call it emotional waterboarding.
The dating game has become as complex as the society we live in. But
the electronic lonely hearts club business has made it easy. There
are websites now that promise to link up couples from every ethnic,
religious, life-style and sexual preference subgroup imaginable.
Among the unique: Women Behind Bars, which offers to link
incarcerated women with interested men.
Moto Date offers a solution to an age-old problem. You see a hottie
next to you in traffic and have no way to make contact short of a
fender bender. Members of this site receive a four-digit sticker to
put on their car, and if someone finds them attractive while behind
the wheel, all they have to do is go online, type in that code, and
make contact.
Trek Passions is for, you guessed it, those who desire to live long
and prosper with another Star Trek obsessed earthling. Or Klingon. Or
Romulan or Borg or whatever. Since I’ve never come across many female
Trekkies, I’m thinking the romance rate on this site is something
less than warp speed.
Diaper Mates is the premiere destination for adult interested in
people who enjoy wearing diapers or looking at others who like to
wear them. We’ll leave this one without comment other than to note
the site has 11,000 members.
Ayn Rand Dating is for those whose lives have been forever altered
after reading “The Fountainhead” or “Atlas Shrugged.” First dates
include discussions of the morality of rational self-interest and
laissez-faire capitalism. Sample user profile: “ I am rational,
integrated, and efficacious. So far, I’ve never met a person who
lives up to the standard I hold for myself...I only kiss those who
deserve it, and so far I have only encountered one who did. I would
love to find someone I can learn something from; someone who
challenges me to think; someone I can feel like I’ve won, rather than
lowered myself to.”
With all these choices, you’d think computer dating would be an
unqualified success. But there’s a fly in the ointment, a flaw as old
as the mating ritual itself.
People lie.
According to an exhaustive study conducted by an online dating site,
the biggest fibs are, in no particular order: Height - people, mostly
guys, are two inches shorter in real life. Income, people exaggerate
it by about 20 per cent. Pictures - The more attractive the picture,
the more likely it is out of date.
If that’s not bad enough, there’s datespeak, in which words take on
new meanings:
40-ish means 49. Athletic: small breasted. Emotionally secure: on
medication. Fun: annoying. New Age: doesn’t shave her legs. Open
Minded: desperate. Outgoing: loud and embarrassing. Voluptuous:
overweight. Needs soul mate: a stalker.
Which reminds me of the Dorthy Parker ditty, written long before the
age of computers:
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
friends, a chance encounter than led to love and marriage.
We were lucky. Had computer dating existed in those days, we would
never have met.
She was raised prim and proper in a small town in western
Pennsylvania that resembled a Norman Rockwell painting. I was from
Los Angeles, had been a rock musician, a frat boy, a cop reporter.
She had gone to work for the federal government after graduating from
college. I worked for the federal government, too, but not by choice.
I had been drafted into the Army and spent my days as a soldier.
Clearly, some computer program would have declared us incompatible.
Yet, without the assistance of algorithms to make sure our tolerances
and preferences interfaced, we have been wed for 44 years.
I’m not knocking computer dating. If I was single, I might give it a
try, especially if they had a category for aging journalists with a
skeptical world view. After all, thousands participate and revenues
for online dating services reach into the hundreds of millions of
dollars.
You can always tell when Valentine’s Day is approaching. Commercials
for computer dating services flood the airways, battling jewelry ads
for prime TV exposure.
And it’s often a hard sell. One popular website apparently has taken
to sending out e-mails on a person’s birthday to remind him or her
that another year has gone by without a significant other.
They call it marketing. I call it emotional waterboarding.
The dating game has become as complex as the society we live in. But
the electronic lonely hearts club business has made it easy. There
are websites now that promise to link up couples from every ethnic,
religious, life-style and sexual preference subgroup imaginable.
Among the unique: Women Behind Bars, which offers to link
incarcerated women with interested men.
Moto Date offers a solution to an age-old problem. You see a hottie
next to you in traffic and have no way to make contact short of a
fender bender. Members of this site receive a four-digit sticker to
put on their car, and if someone finds them attractive while behind
the wheel, all they have to do is go online, type in that code, and
make contact.
Trek Passions is for, you guessed it, those who desire to live long
and prosper with another Star Trek obsessed earthling. Or Klingon. Or
Romulan or Borg or whatever. Since I’ve never come across many female
Trekkies, I’m thinking the romance rate on this site is something
less than warp speed.
Diaper Mates is the premiere destination for adult interested in
people who enjoy wearing diapers or looking at others who like to
wear them. We’ll leave this one without comment other than to note
the site has 11,000 members.
Ayn Rand Dating is for those whose lives have been forever altered
after reading “The Fountainhead” or “Atlas Shrugged.” First dates
include discussions of the morality of rational self-interest and
laissez-faire capitalism. Sample user profile: “ I am rational,
integrated, and efficacious. So far, I’ve never met a person who
lives up to the standard I hold for myself...I only kiss those who
deserve it, and so far I have only encountered one who did. I would
love to find someone I can learn something from; someone who
challenges me to think; someone I can feel like I’ve won, rather than
lowered myself to.”
With all these choices, you’d think computer dating would be an
unqualified success. But there’s a fly in the ointment, a flaw as old
as the mating ritual itself.
People lie.
According to an exhaustive study conducted by an online dating site,
the biggest fibs are, in no particular order: Height - people, mostly
guys, are two inches shorter in real life. Income, people exaggerate
it by about 20 per cent. Pictures - The more attractive the picture,
the more likely it is out of date.
If that’s not bad enough, there’s datespeak, in which words take on
new meanings:
40-ish means 49. Athletic: small breasted. Emotionally secure: on
medication. Fun: annoying. New Age: doesn’t shave her legs. Open
Minded: desperate. Outgoing: loud and embarrassing. Voluptuous:
overweight. Needs soul mate: a stalker.
Which reminds me of the Dorthy Parker ditty, written long before the
age of computers:
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
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