A Mistaken Idea of Freedom

Thirty years ago tonight, Jimmy Carter gave what should have been known as one of the greatest speeches in American history. Instead it is known as the Malaise Speech.

I was eleven months old when he gave the speech, so my recollection of it is a bit hazy. I seem to remember the speech being given by Cookie Monster, but the historical records have shown this memory to be false. (I still stand by my assertion, however, that Ronald Reagan was actually shot by the Hamburgler).

The speech did not start off great. It began with him reading letter after letter from Americans about how miserable they were. Misery isn't like beauty: if there's one thing miserable people don't need, it's to be told they're miserable. Carter's litany included his own acknowledgment of the country's poor economy, its "crisis of confidence", his own unpopularity, and the continuing popularity of disco. He did everything except confess to committing adultery in Argentina--but only because he'd already confessed to doing it in his heart.

But when it came to the energy crisis, Carter brought a bit more truth to his speech than a politician is supposed to. He cast blame on an American culture in which "too many of us now tend to worship self-indulgence and consumption. Human identity is no longer defined by what one does but by what one owns."

Carter is remembered, quite justly it seems, as one of our worst modern presidents. He was certainly the most ineffective. Five days after this speech, he asked for the resignation of his cabinet (five members obliged him). But this speech was his best moment as president; and the impotence of Americans in its aftermath continues to be one of our greatest shames. Instead of freedom from oil we chose the freedom of ease.

Politicians often say that they are speaking hard truths to the American people, but they usually do so with words of butter. Carter, more than any modern president, spoke to the American people that night as if they were adults. But they responded like elven month-olds. At least I had an excuse.

And now this summer, Congress seeks to pass an energy bill that, for all its meagerness, some say tries to do too much. Or that we must put it off for a later day. But today's anniversary reminds us that we have already done too little, and have already put it off for too long. And as serious as the energy crisis was in 1979, it's even more serious now that we know about climate change. It has gone from "serious" to "serious as shit".

Some great speeches are beautiful, but this one is not. It is clumsy, it is too long, and it is a laundry list of things to do. But it is great because of its attempt to do these things, even from a position of weakness. The weakness proved too great.

The great speeches resonate through time because they continue to speak to larger truths. Unfortunately this speech resonates through time because it continues to speak to specific truths. Thirty years on, this speech resonates too much--because it is a speech that still needs to be given today and a warning that still needs to be heeded. Unfortunately there are some anachronisms in the excerpt below, in the form of goals never reached. At least we got rid of disco.

Point one: I am tonight setting a clear goal for the energy policy of the United States. Beginning this moment, this Nation will never use more foreign oil than we did in 1977—never. From now on, every new addition to our demand for energy will be met from our own production and our own conservation. The generation-long growth in our dependence on foreign oil will be stopped dead in its tracks right now and then reversed as we move through the 1980's, for I am tonight setting the further goal of cutting our dependence on foreign oil by one-half by the end of the next decade—a saving of over 4 1/2 million barrels of imported oil per day.

Point two: To ensure that we meet these targets, I will use my Presidential authority to set import quotas. I'm announcing tonight that for 1979 and 1980, I will forbid the entry into this country of one drop of foreign oil more than these goals allow. These quotas will ensure a reduction in imports even below the ambitious levels we set at the recent Tokyo summit.

Point three: To give us energy security, I am asking for the most massive peacetime commitment of funds and resources in our Nation's history to develop America's own alternative sources of fuel—from coal, from oil shale, from plant products for gasohol, from unconventional gas, from the Sun.

I propose the creation of an energy security corporation to lead this effort to replace 2 1/2 million barrels of imported oil per day by 1990. The corporation will issue up to $5 billion in energy bonds, and I especially want them to be in small denominations so that average Americans can invest directly in America's energy security.

Just as a similar synthetic rubber corporation helped us win World War II, so will we mobilize American determination and ability to win the energy war. Moreover, I will soon submit legislation to Congress calling for the creation of this Nation's first solar bank, which will help us achieve the crucial goal of 20 percent of our energy coming from solar power by the year 2000.

These efforts will cost money, a lot of money, and that is why Congress must enact the windfall profits tax without delay. It will be money well spent. Unlike the billions of dollars that we ship to foreign countries to pay for foreign oil, these funds will be paid by Americans to Americans. These funds will go to fight, not to increase, inflation and unemployment.

Point four: I'm asking Congress to mandate, to require as a matter of law, that our Nation's utility companies cut their massive use of oil by 50 percent within the next decade and switch to other fuels, especially coal, our most abundant energy source.

Point five: To make absolutely certain that nothing stands in the way of achieving these goals, I will urge Congress to create an energy mobilization board which, like the War Production Board in World War II, will have the responsibility and authority to cut through the redtape, the delays, and the endless roadblocks to completing key energy projects.

We will protect our environment. But when this Nation critically needs a refinery or a pipeline, we will build it.

Point six: I'm proposing a bold conservation program to involve every State, county, and city and every average American in our energy battle. This effort will permit you to build conservation into your homes and your lives at a cost you can afford.

I ask Congress to give me authority for mandatory conservation and for standby gasoline rationing. To further conserve energy, I'm proposing tonight an extra $10 billion over the next decade to strengthen our public transportation systems. And I'm asking you for your good and for your Nation's security to take no unnecessary trips, to use carpools or public transportation whenever you can, to park your car one extra day per week, to obey the speed limit, and to set your thermostats to save fuel. Every act of energy conservation like this is more than just common sense—I tell you it is an act of patriotism.

Our Nation must be fair to the poorest among us, so we will increase aid to needy Americans to cope with rising energy prices. We often think of conservation only in terms of sacrifice. In fact, it is the most painless and immediate way of rebuilding our Nation's strength. Every gallon of oil each one of us saves is a new form of production. It gives us more freedom, more confidence, that much more control over our own lives.

So, the solution of our energy crisis can also help us to conquer the crisis of the spirit in our country. It can rekindle our sense of unity, our confidence in the future, and give our Nation and all of us individually a new sense of purpose.

You know we can do it. We have the natural resources. We have more oil in our shale alone than several Saudi Arabias. We have more coal than any nation on Earth. We have the world's highest level of technology. We have the most skilled work force, with innovative genius, and I firmly believe that we have the national will to win this war.

I do not promise you that this struggle for freedom will be easy. I do not promise a quick way out of our Nation's problems, when the truth is that the only way out is an all-out effort. What I do promise you is that I will lead our fight, and I will enforce fairness in our struggle, and I will ensure honesty. And above all, I will act.

We can manage the short-term shortages more effectively and we will, but there are no short-term solutions to our long-range problems. There is simply no way to avoid sacrifice.

With Waste Like This, Who Needs Socialism?

It may seem absurd to worry about whether wealthy or well-insured people get every last test and exotic or speculative treatment when millions of Americans have no health insurance and millions more have gaping holes in their coverage. But the well-insured happen to include virtually all the people making the key decisions about health-care reform . . .

Michael Kinsley, The Washington Post, June 26, 2009


I am currently undergoing physical therapy for a minor knee ailment, for a reasonable copay of fifteen dollars per visit. Perhaps this is the sort of high-end treatment that will be "rationed" under a new system; I don't know. What I do know is that in order to undergo this therapy I must deal with the following entities:

1) my former employer
2) New York State COBRA insurance
3) Trion, the benefits administration company
4) OrthoNet, the orthopedic specialty benefit management company
5) Blue Cross
6) Professional PT, the physical therapy center
7) My dad, who I call on the phone whenever I have a subtle question about the fine points of how insurance works (such as "Dad, how does insurance work?").

To quote Groucho Marx's Otis B. Driftwood in A Night at the Opera: "Say, is it my imagination or is it getting crowded in here?"

I am nonetheless grateful to have insurance at all; but there are those who would tell me that I should also be grateful because (excluding #2) I have efficient, private-sector insurance. This is also, by the way, the efficient, private-sector insurance that Americans spend about twice as much on as other developed nations--16% of our GDP.

And some Americans fear that under a new health care system, the government will stand between you and your doctor? As if there is any room left for the government to wedge itself into? I'm afraid the government will have to get in line, because there are already quite enough insurers, middle-men, and mangers on my list already wedged in between me and the professionals who actually fix my body.

Some Americans fear socialized medicine? Our country has long managed to outspend the actual socialists and still maintain inadequate, bureaucratized health care for not even all of its citizens. Those of us who have inadequate, bureaucratized health care are the fortunate ones. There is no existing political word for the kind of health care system America has. It can only be described adjectivally, by its deficiencies, its contradictions, and its embarrassments.

Some Americans fear the rationing of services? No country in the world provides all of the health care that all of its citizens would like all of the time. Every country in the world rations health care; it's just a matter of how they ration it. Our health care system today already has a very simple rationing program: we ration people. If you are a health risk, you don't get private insurance. And if you do have insurance, you might get denied full coverage for certain procedures. This is rationing, but there are those who would have you prefer it because it is not a government bureaucrat denying you coverage; it is a corporate bureaucrat. Our choice is not between rationing and non-rationing; it's between a rationing that is inconvenient and a rationing that is inhumane.

But some Americans are worried that we will move our system closer to that of Canada or England or one of those European countries? 82 per cent of Canadians prefer their own system to ours. Many commentators in America decry a British single-payer system that has a shortage of dentists. Not that I begrudge the British their desire for more dentists (Please note the joke that I do not tell. I suppose I am growing up, alas.) But I daresay that the British will prefer their shortage of dentists to the American shortage of human beings who have any insurance at all. The invaluable Jonathan Cohn of The New Republic has traveled extensively in Europe. He has seen the benefits of other health care systems and he has also seen their flaws (and others certainly do have their flaws). But he writes that not once did he "encounter an interview subject who wanted to trade places with an American."

What is surreal about the arguments against health care reform is that the things that are being used to scare us already exist in our system to a higher degree than they exist in the health care systems of other rich countries. High costs, bloated bureaucracy, rationing, inefficiency, subsidization, middle-men and intermediaries, are already the trademarks of American Health Care--for those of us who are blessed with it. The United States of America has managed to encumber its health care regime with all the means of the most ineffectual socialist systems without accomplishing the ends of the best.

Guns Are for Pussies

We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors…and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.

--anonymous Bush administration official

You my have seen this quote before. I remember reading it for the first time in the New York Times Magazine. I was sitting on a couch in my Greenpoint apartment (Which is still the best apartment I've ever lived in, except for its proximity to the G train. Legend has it that the G train actually runs occasionally but I think this is one of those New York City subway myths, akin to the 2nd Avenue line.)

It was my first year in New York, when I still spent my days wandering around Manhattan just to see what it was like. The days when I still couldn't believe that that was the Empire State Building outside my window. Even though I'd grown up in Kansas, I'd never been a conservative. But this quote, as soon as I read it, made be truly frightened of conservatism for the first time in my life. This quote struck me, and still does, as the most ominous and telling statement uttered by an American conservative in the last generation. It represents the abdication of modern conservatism as a legitimate governing philosophy.

As I said: I've never been a conservative; but I did go through a libertarian phase in my late teens and early '20s. This lasted right up until I found out that the canonical text of libertarianism is the one thousand page-plus Atlas Shrugged. I promptly decided to become an adherent of any other philosophy; preferably one that could be distilled within the confines of a short PBS documentary. Conservatives can make all the claims they want on efficient leanness: their syllabus (Ayn Rand, The Wealth of Nations, the Bible) is numbingly bloated. No wonder the historical worldwide preference for Marx and Engels' little pamphlet. Most of us would prefer time to grab a little lunch before we embark upon the revolution . . .

American conservatism used to have a reputation for being based on a willingness to look at hard truths with a cold eye. Conservatives considered themselves realists holding back the wild-eyed utopianism of the left. (It seems the left wants the world to be run by the United Nations. Not only have I never met a liberal who actually advocates such world government--but the United Nations cannot pull itself together enough to organize a proper happy hour, much less world domination.) We were told that conservatives knew that human beings are fallible and therefore capable of horrendous things. At the confluence of conservatism and libertarianism is the notion that because human beings are terrible, awful, sinful creatures, we should all be free to do whatever we want without the government getting in our way. And we should have guns.

Here's the thing: there is nothing more utopian than libertarianism. Because they want to be free and untethered from the government, libertarians have created a fiction that human activity is only beneficial when done free and untethered from the government. Libertarianism is not an ideology; it is a wish.

And what conservatives called skepticism about human nature was too often simply skepticism about government. Conservatives were positively optimistic about human nature when it came to humans wearing American military uniforms, business suits, or clerical vestments. And when they called themselves realistic about human nature, what they meant was that they were able to acknowledge evil in the world. And what they actually meant by this was that they were able to acknowledge evil in the rest of the world. There never was a cold-eyed conservatism in the United States; only a Cold War conservatism.

There is indeed something a bit frightening about the loss of individual control that comes with a powerful government. But with or without government, we've already lost control. The dangers of worldwide nuclear proliferation and global warming require global, political solutions, and you don't need to be a proponent of some creepy world government to believe so. You only need to see these threats with a clear eye.

Conservatives have lost the ability to make such diagnoses. Their suspicion of government, which was once a philosophically-based skepticism, is now a politically-based skepticism. And there is another word for that: cynicism.

Senator James Inhofe, who has managed the almost miraculous feat of being the dumbest person from Oklahoma, suggests that global warming might be “the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people".

Reader: imagine a room full of climatologists. These are men who have decided to spend their lives analyzing long-term atmospheric oscillations and creating computer models to measure simple things like radiative equilibrium. They probably have glasses and wear the same two sweaters (both of which were purchased in 1973) over and over again. They are not making eye contact with you, because you are not an algorithm.

Now picture a room full of politicians. Does anyone doubt who is perpetrating the hoax?

George Will is fond of saying that a true conservative temperament is a pessimistic one. This may have been true in other places and times, but is there any doubt that one of the biggest dangers of American conservatism is its willful optimism? The idea that you can choose your own reality and thus choose which dangers are real and which are not?

There are dangers to our country not named Osama. A powerful and active American federal government, working with the other governments of the world (dare I say even leading them?) to confront the real threats to our planet is our only hope for survival. At this date in the 21st century, those with the strength to be pessimistic must be liberals. Or conservatism must change. Because our guns won't save us.

Things My Gmail Account Thinks Would Interest Me

"Denture Cream Poisoning". (It seems that "Poligrip or Fixodent May Cause Damage".)

I don't know what kind of emails I've been writing, but my life has clearly taken a wrong turn.

My Other, Less Funny Writing

I've got a new post up on the More Intelligent Life blog. Thanks to John Patrick for introducing me to the website I write about.

Losing My Illumination

Now that I don't have to take the train to work everyday I'm trying to get by without my monthly MetroCard. So I've begun using cash to buy my cheaper MetroCards, which means I've also been getting change from the MTA machines in the form of those damn Sacajawea dollars. (By the way, "Those Damn Sacajawea Dollars" is an official term authorized by the US Mint. I mean, does anybody actually like these coins? I doubt even Sacajawea uses them.)

A few years ago I took some money away from a homeless guy down inside the 86th and Lexington subway entrance. It isn't as bad as it sounds--I had given him the money before I took it back. Or does that make it sound much worse?

You see, I occasionally give money to beggars, and I had recently been carrying some of those damn Sacajawea dollars in my pocket, so I thought I may as well give them to the homeless guy. He reached out his hand and I gave him the coins, but they turned out to be quarters.

For those of us who don't own a washing machine, quarters are more precious than dollars. I mean, if a thief robbed me at gunpoint I would give him my wallet; but if he asked for my quarters, I'd probably make a move on him and hope the shot would miss my vital organs.

I buy copies of the New York Post solely to get back the fifty cents in change. Really, is there any other reason to buy the New York Post?

And that's why everyone hates the Sacajawea dollars in the first place--they're too easy to confuse with precious quarters. Dollars belong in your clip and coins belong in your pocket. So within a second of placing the quarters in his outstretched hand I grabbed them back and said "sorry".

He hadn't even had time to close his hand before I took back my money. It seemed to me that the five-second rule applied. This also meant that I was, at that moment, almost literally treating a human being like a doormat. If I had thought about it I would have just let him have the money. But I didn't have time to think about it so I acted. I realized I wanted the quarters and I took them.

The homeless guy was not happy. He said "You can't do that!" I apologized again and said something in the way of a quick explanation. "You can't do that!" he repeated. "You can't take it back. You'll lose your illumination!" I'm not sure what he meant by that. It is quite possible that in addition to being a homeless guy, he was also a crazy guy. I mean, I've certainly been yelled at by a few homeless people in my day, but none of them told me I was losing my illumination. Quite frankly I didn't even know I had an illumination. No one had mentioned it to me, not even the other homeless people. But whatever--by this time I was on my way to the turnstile and my ride home. And I couldn't stop laughing.

Then I told my friends about it and they laughed, but were also kind of appalled at me. Well, maybe not appalled. Their reaction was more of the "Bradley, why would you do that?" variety. Anybody who becomes friends with me inevitably finds themselves asking that question quite often. The smart ones will usually come up with a "Bradley, why would you do that?" facial expression to save time.

I've always been a pretty nice guy. But especially when I was younger--say, my late teens and early twenties--I could be a dick to people. Nothing awful, but I've yelled at a few waitresses who didn't deserve it; I've made some insulting comments to friends who didn't deserve it. (I was also sometimes a jerk to girls but that doesn't count cos they kind of liked it, which I still don't understand. I certainly don't like it when they're bitches.) Now I had officially taken money from the outstretched hands of a homeless person.

But I've gotten more patient in recent years. For the most part I save my anger for those who deserve it, and I've even found myself holding my tongue when people do deserve it. (To the point that I sometimes wonder if I've grown too patient with people.)

Obviously in the scheme of things, pissing off that homeless guy isn't the worst thing I've ever done. I didn't act out of meanness, just selfishness. And it was only fifty cents. But whenever I see a Sacajawea dollar I think about it. Now thanks to the MTA I'm carrying around those damn Sacajawea dollars again--and if they start to weigh me down, I'm giving them to the first homeless guy I see. I don't know what illumination is, but I'm determined to get it back.

I Guess That Really Is Their Job

During the day yesterday I tuned into C-Span for the first time in a few years. I literally saw a member of the House giving a speech on naming a post office. On C-Span2, Senator Burr of North Carolina was complaining about excessive regulation of tobacco.

In a world that sometimes moves too fast, I'm glad to know some things never change.

I Know I'm White. I'm Just Not White Like You.

While working on another blog post that I've yet to publish, I got to thinking about all the things I've been called.

I'm basically white. My father is Jewish (of Ashkanazi descent), my mother is of English ancestry, and I was raised in Kansas. Okay, I guess that makes me really white. It's no sweat. I got no problem being white. My president's half-white.

I'm not exotic looking, so people don't spend too much time trying to figure out "what" I am. I have a buddy who, because he's somehow convinced that I look Irish, always asks people what they think I am. They usually respond by ignoring my buddy. Then he presses them and they just say, "I dunno, he just looks white." It's not a very fun game. Although occasionally they do guess Irish, which gives my friend hope.

A black co-worker of mine once told me I am black because:
a) I always came in late for work.
b) Whenever I got hungry I dropped whatever I was doing without telling anyone and went to lunch for the entire hour no matter how busy I was.
c) I never stayed past 5:00 no matter what.

No one ever thought I was gay until the past few years, when I moved to New York and started dressing a bit better. Now I've had to explain to more than one gay man (and worse, straight women) that I'm just well-dressed. One drunk gay guy at a bar once asked me if I am gay, or just sensitive. I wasn't thrilled with the choices, but I settled for sensitive.

My (non-Jewish) grandmother is southern, and to my friends in Kansas who knew this, that made me part Confederate, albeit a Jewish Confederate. (It's not implausible, by the way.)

I've been told that I'm Japanese because I am skinny and shy.

A friend once told me that I would get laid more if I were a girl, because I am skinny and shy.

Some people think I'm funny. My humor has been called dry, Jewish, whimsical, British, angry, under-the-radar, cute, New York-ish, Midwestern, quick, mean, "like one of those Daily Show guys", subtle, and laugh-out-loud hilarious. I think some of those things contradict themselves. I think what these people are trying to say is: I'm funny. Or maybe they're lying thru their teeth and are just grasping for cliches so that I'll be satisfied with the compliment and stop trying so hard to be funny.

I have a condition called Raynoud's (which makes my blood thin) When my doctor first diagnosed me in high school, she also made sure to tell me that it most often occurs in black females.

But let's face it--I'm a straight white guy who pretty much looks and acts like a straight white guy. Yet I have a minor litany of dissenting opinions, or at least suggestions.

So I guess I can kind of see how people who are actually exotic-looking or who grow up in confusing ethnic, racial, religious, sexual situations can go crazy trying to figure out "what" they are and are not. Not to mention trying to convince other people what they are and are not.

It makes me sort of relieved to be simply what a homeless guy shouted at me with a huge grin on his face during my first summer in New York: "Hey, Whitey!"

Wikipedia Sentences of the Day

There is something about Wikipedia that lends itself to especially amusing sentences. Probably the fact that it written by everyone, and thus not actually written by anyone. Sometimes I can't hold back on my desire to share them, so here are a couple for today. The quotes usually stand best on their own, but I've provided the links to show that--for now at least--these sentences exist on Wikipedia. (And to show you all the lame and disturbing things I read about on Wikipedia)

She pointed to one thing in the article that she said was untrue; she said she did not feed her son chicken from a box meal after the team's loss to Troy University.

A witness reported a gorilla was driving a Volvo similar to Epstein's that night.

The Law of Diminishing Accents

I recently watched I,Claudius for the first time. It was very good, and very BBC. Lots of pale actors walking around in togas on a soundstage (you can hear the echos). And of course: full of British accents. Largely because the cast was British, but also because I, Claudius takes place in ancient Rome.

Any film production that takes place in ancient Rome is required to follow the cinematic law of diminishing accents. All the actors portraying anyone powerful-- aristocrats, emperors, generals--must speak with British accents. More specifically the accents must be English and suitably upper class.

In the final episode of I, Claudius, the emperor returns from having reconquered Britannia. He brings with him a British prisoner, Caratacus. So in a production in which all of the Romans speak with English accents, how did the BBC portray a British character? They gave him a northern, almost Scottish accent. It begins to remind me of those SAT comparison questions. (Britannia is to Rome as Scotland is to . . .)

When a production includes non-English actors, the accents must still conform. In the BBC/HBO series Rome, the Irish Ciarán Hinds (who plays Caesar) and the Scottish Kevin McKidd (who plays a centurion) both use the necessary English accent.

When Americans play Romans they must do the same as long as they are playing someone like an emperor(see Joaquin Phoenix in Gladiator). But if the actor is playing a slave, he can use his normal voice. And thank God for that rule, because it saved the world from hearing either Kirk Douglas or Tony Curtis attempt English accents in Spartacus. Gladiator however, contains my favorite example of the convoluted rule of accents: Russel Crowe, an Austalian, uses an English accent to portray a Spaniard who would have been speaking Latin.

Fellini cheated a bit because his actors spoke Italian. But I'll bet they spoke it with British accents.

One would assume that this rule exists largely because the English so recently surpassed even Rome in the scope of its empire. England just seems like the closest thing the modern world has had to ancient Rome. Rome's aristocracy is probably also more easily reflected by England's class stratifications. I'm not sure about that one--Rome was not only aristocratic; it was oligarchical. And America reflects that quite well.

And is America an empire.? I'll believe it when I see it on screen.

Oh, I've Wasted My Life

Religion has created a lot of delusions among human beings, but the one legitimate concept that religion has long prepared us for is apocalypse. Thanks to nuclear technology, we humans now have the power to kill our entire species. (At least in theory. But I'm convinced that no matter what happens we'll never get rid of Dane Cook.)

For Christians, who have been expecting the End of Times since the New Testament was written, the end of the world is nothing new. But for those of us who don't truck in such nonsense, nuclear annihilation is now one of the leading threats to humankind's existence (along with the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse). And unlike Christians, non-believers like me see the end of the world as a bad thing.

There is another concept that is quite ancient, which is the destruction of a nation. This should be familiar to any American. After all, I'm writing this from an island called "Manhattan"; and that ain't Dutch. But in the nuclear world (i.e. the world) the destruction of a nation can now happen frighteningly quickly. This is a very serious topic, even without the zombies. It's a topic I'm going to return to on my next blog post. But first:

My favorite newspaper column of all time is Bernard Lewis's Wall Street Journal piece from August 8, 2006. Titled "August 22: Does Iran have something in store?", Lewis suggested that Iran might have chosen August 22, 2006 to launch a nuclear attack on Israel and bring about the end the world:

What is the significance of Aug. 22? This year, Aug. 22 corresponds, in the Islamic calendar, to the 27th day of the month of Rajab of the year 1427. This, by tradition, is the night when many Muslims commemorate the night flight of the prophet Muhammad on the winged horse Buraq, first to "the farthest mosque," usually identified with Jerusalem, and then to heaven and back (cf Koran XVII.1). This might well be deemed an appropriate date for the apocalyptic ending of Israel and if necessary of the world. It is far from certain that Mr. Ahmadinejad plans any such cataclysmic events precisely for Aug. 22. But it would be wise to bear the possibility in mind.

"It would be wise to bear the possibility in mind." This was his advice! Two weeks before the day he predicted the world would end! In the Wall Street Journal! Before Rupert Murdoch owned it!

Unless you're a cult leader trying to get all the females in the cult into bed, there is no logical incentive to predict the end of the world. If you're correct, everyone will be dead and you will get no credit for being right. If you're wrong, everyone will know it and you will be that crazy guy who predicted the end of the world and got us all to spend what we thought would be our last hours having desperate strung out sex with our ugly and now impregnated neighbor from down the hall, and eating shrimp even though we're allergic to it, and sending a mass fuck you email to everyone we know but secretly hate because we thought we were about to die anyway.

And nobody likes that kind of crazy guy.

Straw Dogs

One day six years ago (during my first summer in New York) the lights and A.C. went out in the blackout of 2003. I don't remember what day that was, but on what ever the next day was, people started selling "I survived the 2003 blackout" shirts. New Yorkers may be tough, but they are not stoic--they're too touchy for stoicism. Instead they fetishize and promote their own vision of toughness and their own ability to survive things such as electrical outages. During the summer of 2003, when New Yorkers were re-living their war stories of their one day without air conditioning, Baghdad was virtually without electricity entirely. Today the situation is not much better, so I guess Iraqis will have to wait for their t-shirts until they can be sure they've actually survived the blackout of 2003--_____.

Some New Yorkers have a kind of nostalgia for the New York of the 1970s. In Vanity Fair James Wolcott fondly remembers the New York of the 1970s, the "Mogadishu on the Hudson". He admits that in some ways this was an era that "no one would wish to time travel back to", but for Wolcott the ascetic grittiness of that crumbling city of rubble surpasses today's sterile "spiky glass buildings".

Wolcott was actually here during the '70s. So at least he's not some poseur like the New York writer who wanted the "authentic" New York experience. He moved to Bushwick, got the shit knocked out of him, and moved back to California.

I’ve only been in New York for a few years. I’ve never been robbed, never seen a gun, never been beaten.

But I am friends with a girl who twice had a knife held to her throat while living in Brooklyn. I know another girl who was held at knife point in Harlem and on another occasion had a gun pointed at her in Brooklyn. A girl I knew in college was robbed and when she resisted, was stabbed in the ribs. I met a girl at a party who saw a guy get shot in the back on the streets of Astoria. And of course there are the 9/11 stories.

I live in Harlem; my neighborhood is pretty safe. An employee at my local Dunkin’ Donuts was shot and killed a few years ago. And last week a seventeen-year-old kid was shot dead on W. 141st Street. I live, well, basically on W. 141st Street. But he was shot like three avenues over from where I live. I mean, I live in Harlem, and he was shot over in Har-lem. The pictures of him getting killed were in the Post. There's enough violence in New York for me, thank you.

It would be hypocritical to begrudge anyone their impulse to excitement in atmospheres of violence. I'm susceptible to it--the most exciting moments of my life have been the most dangerous. Of course violence is exciting and boredom is boring. If I were M.I.A. I'd probably be bored living in Bed-Stuy instead of Sri Lanka too.

But while Wolcott waxes nostalgic about the good old days and New York being a "near-death experience", there are tens of thousands of New Yorkers who aren't nostalgic for the '70s. They aren't nostalgic for anything because they were murdered in the 1970s. Wolcott writes about '70s New York as art, but so much of the New York of the '70s was violence. Taxi Driver is a great movie but it was forged from the sins of a scarred city on the verge of collapse. This is nothing new; this is the eternal tragedy of art's necessity: Guernica is rightly a masterpiece but I would rather it hadn't needed to be painted in the first place.

And so as bored as I am (and I am bored) I can't wish for a return to the circumstances that made Taxi Driver necessary, even if I can appreciate that Taxi Driver and the movies of the '70s grappled with their world much more forcefully than today's movies grapple with ours. Instead, the most trenchant cinematic attempt thus far to come to grips with our post-9/11 world was The Dark Knight. I wish that today's filmmakers had the guts and brains of Scorsese. (Shit, I wish Scorsese had the guts and brains of Scorsese.)

But great art is not reason enough to wish for New York to go back to dystopia. Salman Rushdie said: "I mean, what’s a life? That's not much, you know. A book’s much more important." He can say that, because it's his book and it's his life he was talking about. If you're going to place art above life, it sure as hell better be your art and it better be your life you're waging.

Strikeouts Are Fascist

Over the past few years I have become more and more enamored with soccer. This is largely because I formerly worked for a British magazine that allowed us to skip bits of work to watch World Cup matches in our boardroom. (If I had been allowed to take time off work to watch armadillo polo you'd no doubt be reading a blog post about armadillo polo right now.) But I have to admit that I continue to find soccer maddening, and for the usual reason--I'm American.

Yesterday in London, Chelsea--after leading Barcelona for almost the entire match--gave up a goal in stoppage time. With the game now tied 1-1, Barcelona erupted into celebrations (i.e. running around in circles) because even though they had tied the game rather than winning it, they had won their semifinal round of the UEFA Champions League. Barcelona accomplished this victory by tying Chelsea not once, but twice. How do two ties equal a victory? Perhaps a quick look at the Champions League tie-breaker rules will clarify this:

Based on paragraph 6.05 in the UEFA regulations for the current season, if two or more teams are equal on points on completion of the group matches, the following criteria are applied to determine the rankings:

1. higher number of points obtained in the group matches played among the teams in question;
2. superior goal difference from the group matches played among the teams in question;
3. higher number of goals scored away from home in the group matches played among the teams in question;
4. superior goal difference from all group matches played;
5. higher number of goals scored in all group matches played;
6. higher number of coefficient points accumulated by the club in question, as well as its association, over the previous five seasons.

OK, so it's never a good idea to look to any European document for clarification on anything. (I'm just thankful that UEFA didn't try to sneak some sort of transcontinental dairy regulation into their rules.)

It is no secret that one of the many reasons Americans dislike soccer is the fact that Americans dislike ties. We avoid draws at all costs. We like overtime, penalty shots, sudden death, walk-off home runs, and Monopoly (the goal of which is "grinding your opponents into dust").

After the yesterday's draw the Times' soccer blog noted:

The away goals rule is peculiar to soccer and is positively alien to most American fans. Perhaps it is accepted, perhaps not.

Should the teams instead play extra time, then, if still tied, go to penalty kicks? Are PKs more equitable in resolving a game, or are they just as unsatisfying?

On Tuesday night the Washington Nationals and Houston Astros baseball game was postponed due to rain in the eleventh inning. The game was tied 10-10 at the time, so it will be resumed on July 9 to determine a winner. Keep in mind: both teams are in last place in their divisions. This is one game out of 162. But they'll be damned if someone isn't going to eventually win this game two months from now. Because every game counts.

There are two basic American ideas about war: You only truly win if your opponent admits unconditional surrender, and a loss doesn't count if you don't actually declare war. Therefore our victories over Germany and Japan in World War II were total, and our stalemate in Korea was really just a conflict anyways.

There's something to be said for not annihilating your opponents in real life. Nuclear weapons sort of took the fun out that. (Well, okay, it was kinda fun until our enemies got them.)

But soccer? In a tournament? They should play until someone fucking wins. The UEFA championship isn't Vietnam--this counts.

Vote For George O'Brien!

A friend of mine texted me yesterday that he was at a subway station watching three M.T.A. workers spray a 2x4. There was one worker doing the spraying and two workers holding the "Watch the Gap" template. His point, I gather, was that no private company would ever get away with hiring three people to do a job that can be done by one person. (In fact, based on my past experience working long-ass hours in an office, the corporate world is entirely the reverse, with every one doing the work of two people. Three during a recession).

Occasionally a person like me needs a reminder that my friends and I are very lame. Trading text messages about municipal union inefficiencies is one of those reminders.

I support unionization in theory, but rarely in practice--especially when I am forced to patronize a unionized service. There is an almost 30% fare increase pending at the end of this month, with talk already beginning of another fare increase later this year. Nothing pisses off New Yorkers like a subway fare increase, for the simple reason that the subway service in this city never gets any better.

Everything in this city is too expensive; we're used to that. But while we may pay fifteen dollars for a cocktail, we pay for them at some of the trendiest bars and clubs in the world. I would be willing to put up with a 30% fare hike if the subway system would actually improve by 30%. But the subway service in this city is one of the worst in the world, as you will know if you've ever taken . . . any other subway in the world. If they are going to raise the price of my MetroCard by almost a third then they should do their part by firing every third worker in the M.T.A.

I don't say this lightly. I know a thing or two about unemployment (Hint: It's a weekday afternoon and I'm writing this from home while watching a DVD).

But I also know that I spent twenty-five minutes waiting for the subway on Wednesday evening. This wasn't at midnight either; it was at 6:30. I needed to travel thirty-five blocks in order to play softball. It would have been faster if I had run the thirty-five blocks instead of waited for the train. I don't know how the M.T.A. gauges success, but I consider any subway system in which a person would be better off running to their destination as "shitty subway service". At one point the train I was waiting for did pass by--but it didn't stop. The next train stopped and so I did end up getting to my game, albeit thirty minutes late. This didn't matter because I suck at softball. But what if I was good at softball? My team might have gotten very angry with me.

When I visited India last year I noticed that whenever there was a job to be done there were three or four people doing it. Every time we checked into a hotel, there were four people behind the counter: one person checking us in and three people watching the person who was checking us in. There was always a bellboy, and he usually had one person watching him. They all expected tips.

India, however, is still a very poor country. It's about the size of the U.S. but with three times as many people. So it makes sense that there are a certain number of Indians who have nothing better to do than sweep dirt on the side of the road. (I wish I were joking, but I literally saw Indians with brooms sweeping dirt on the side of the road. This is testament to human nature and our inclination to find some task, any task, to accomplish during the day. Anyone who says working is not natural hasn't been to a poor country.)

Some people might tell you that my idea of laying off one-third of all M.T.A. workers has not been completely thought-out. These people are absolutely correct. But a civic entity that has three employees spray-painting a sign while trains are stopping only every thirty minutes during rush hour doesn't deserve the time it would take me to come up with a fully thought-out plan. I mean, just because I don't have a job doesn't mean I'm not busy.

I've got some sweeping to do.

Call Me Ish

There is something unsure about the term “Jewish”. It is noncommittal—a tentative word to describe a tentative people. The conquerors of modern history are solid in their identity: Ottoman. German. Russian. American.

The persecuted lived in fear that their identity might betray them: Jewish. Irish. Polish. These are words for people on the periphery. As if perhaps they might choose to jump out of their identity in a moment of danger in hope of survival.

(“Am I a Jew? No, no, just a little . . . Jewish . . . it’s nothing really.”)

Gaddafi: The First Family of Fashion

As a coda to my earlier post, I feel obliged to share this (courtesy of my old friends at The Economist).

I don't know what's going on in Libya, but I've gotta take a vacation there.

Does That Make Me a Tripartite?

Charles Krauthammer on the president's "tripartite social democratic agenda":

In the service of his ultimate mission -- the leveling of social inequalities -- President Obama offers a tripartite social democratic agenda: nationalized health care, federalized education (ultimately guaranteed through college) and a cash-cow carbon tax (or its equivalent) to subsidize the other two.

So Obama's ultimate mission is to level social inequalities? There is much to be said for leveling social inequalities, but does Krauthammer really think Obama's agenda is so ideological that his policies are merely means to that end? Does he think that Obama felt the need to nationalize something, federalize something, and tax something--and just happened to decide on health care, education and carbon emissions?

It seems to me that the president's agenda here is to provide health care for American citizens, educate American citizens, and try and help save the planet, which contains a great many American citizens.

Obama's plans are ambitious and far-reaching. But I don't know what his philosophical "ultimate mission" is. He doesn't seem like the kind of man who thinks in those terms.

The Devil Doesn't Wear Prada

We Americans have long taken our stock of foreign leaders by visual means. In the old days, it was simple:

mustache = evil

Today, the easiest way to gauge world leaders is by their clothing: The evilness of a head of state is inversely proportional to the variety of his wardrobe. Certain leaders may be evil, but they are media savvy; they understand the importance of branding themselves to the public. After all, there are quite a few evil leaders out there and it is in their interest to make sure they are easy to remember.

Kim Jong Il is perhaps the most evil man in the world. It is not surprise then, that his fashion is the most staid of the world leaders, with his brown workers' uniform.




Iran's Mahmoud Ahmadinejad can often be seen in a tan jacket (which I think belonged to my grandfather before he died). It resembles Kim's jacket, but he wears it open, in a more casual manner.



Hugo Chavez prefers the red long-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt (beret optional).



The most flamboyant is, of course, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. He's one of those world leaders who doesn't necessarily wear the same thing all the time. But whatever he's wearing, you only need to look at the clothes and you know it's him.



I have to admit that for a good guy, President Obama cuts it close. Not that he doesn't have style, but he almost always wears a dark suit with a pastel red or blue tie. This trend reached its apex of uniformity last summer, when Obama and Joe Biden made their first joint appearance together. Biden appeared to have creepily dressed in one of Obama's spare tops.



I prefer to find my comfort in the prospect of America's goodness in the First Lady.