Disclosure

I have a secret, dear reader. One which I will disclose to you now. I understand that upon reading these words you may wish never to visit this blog again and also immediately disavow any friendship we may have had in the past. But I’m wiling to take the risk. I can’t hold this inside anymore. I have to speak my truth. So here it is.

I think the movie Caddyshack sucks.

Yes! Sucks! One might forgive its dated hairstyles and clothing which remind me most unpleasantly of how the world looked when I was 10 years old. One might even forgive Kenny Loggins. Might. But the film’s awfulness goes far, far beyond these atrocities. It’s humor can only charitably be described as puerile. Many of its performances are painfully amateurish, including and especially that of Bill Murray, a man whose subsequent career is actually pretty admirable. Mumbling unscripted lines in a silly voice out the side of your mouth isn’t the kind of thing a professional actor does unless he’s trying be funny by emulating someone who doesn’t know how to act. (Or unless you’re Adam Sandler, who as far as I can tell modeled his entire career after Murray’s performance in this film.)

The only thing that isn’t completely without merit are the scenes between Rodney Dangerfield and Ted Knight. But they aren’t nearly enough to make watching the entire film worth your time.

I won’t even get into the puppet gopher.

So what’s up with the rest of you? 78% on the Tomatometer, people? Really? It must be that Americans of my generation were imprinted on this film like ducklings who, emerging from their shells to see a gardner, subsequently follow him around in error for the rest of their lives. Everyone seems to have seen this movie at a similarly impressionable stage of life, it perhaps being the first R-rated film they’d ever seen, and, God help them, liked it. I, however, was absent that day and didn’t see it until much later, which is why I recognize its inherent and unwavering terribleness while the rest of you wander about hopelessly lost in egregious cinematic tastelessness.

There. I said it. I feel strangely free. No more pretending! And maybe somewhere in this wide world there are others like me. Maybe we could start a colony somewhere, like lepers, leaving the rest of the Caddyshack-loving world to carry blithely on without us.

Republicans: U Mad?

I guess nobody should be surprised that American conservatives are boiling over with rage right now. You know how they can get. Irrational. “Death panels,” “the antichrist,” birtherism and stuff. They freak out. I know.

But still. Don’t they see that this is the best possible outcome for them? It was either this individual mandate-driven reform involving the private insurance system or it was going to be Medicare-for-all. Period. This is the most marketiest, least governmentiest way this could have ended. If you look around the world, I don’t think you can find any other civilized nation on earth that has a smaller role for government and a larger role for private insurance companies in their solution. You do find quite a few more government-heavy ones, though.

And, come on. The current system is so awful. It’s hard to imagine it being worse. Tens of millions with no insurance? People with insurance getting dropped when they become ill? People who have been ill blacklisted from future coverage? Even children? Come on. The only people who had any kind of security in their health care at all would be those who already had government insurance: those on Medicare, Medicaid, military or VA. The rest of us paid through the nose, often for poor coverage. And we never were sure it was going to be there when we needed it, anyway. Even the best-insured could be devastated by one serious illness in the family. Retirement gone, home gone. Tens or even hundreds of thousands in debt. Bankruptcy. Financial ruin. For the insured!

So things were bad. Terrible. And getting worse every year. Solutions presented themselves from all over the world. This was the least government-heavy one out there. In fact, it was a policy advocated by American Republicans for nearly twenty years–right up until the time Democrats said “ok, we’ll do it your way.” Then they pretended like they’d never heard of it, this strange new plan to kill all liberty.

I guess what I’m trying to say to American conservatives is: this is about the best you could have reasonably hoped for. You got the least government-heavy solution out there. You managed to forestal any kind of solution at all for many decades beyond other civilized nations. You managed to make the law unpopular, even though Americans like the provisions of the law. You even managed to get the Supreme Court to hand you ammunition for the post-game squabble: it’s a “tax.” (Heaven forfend!)

What more did you really think you were going to get? Another decade of descent into horribleness? By then we’d be living The Hunger Games, for Christ’s sake.

I shouldn’t ask such a reasonable, reality-based question of people who think “death panels” was a meaningful contribution to the health care debate. But I want to ask it anyway, even if I know I won’t get a rational response.

What music really is

I have great admiration for trained, formally educated musicians. I often feel like a hack because I lack such training. But when someone suggested that only such people should be called “musicians,” I put my foot down.

the word musician is bigger than that. A musician is one who makes music, period. From Yo-yo Ma, to the hobo with 3 strings busking out of a hat on the corner, to the cave-dwelling dude of 10,000 years ago banging a stick on a deer skull, they are musicians, every one.

Music isn’t a written language. Reading ink squiggles on a piece of paper isn’t central to what music is.

Music isn’t a spoken language. Knowing your terminology isn’t central to what music is.

Music isn’t a mathematical language, either. Understanding your theory isn’t central to what music is.

All those things are ancillary, secondary, to what music is.

Music is the actual making of sound for the purpose of… well, for art’s sake.

If you need someone skilled in those secondary aspects, just say so. That’s legit. Just don’t try to tell me that only those people should be called musicians. When you do, you lose sight of what music really is.

Human things

Are there certain activities that define what it is to be a human being? I think there are. It’s not even necessarily that we are the only species on earth to do these things–although I suspect that’s often the case–but rather that we’re the best at it and that the activity itself shapes us into what we are.

Farming and animal husbandry. These are obvious. Lots of creatures on earth acquire food in other ways. But we do these like a house on fire. It’s who we are.

Tool-making. Ditto. Chimpanzees using twigs to gather termites notwithstanding, no other species living on the earth today even comes close to our abilities in this area. There’s just no comparison.

Speech. Again, pretty obvious. We speak to each other with a range of meaning and a depth of nuance that no other creature on earth even comes close to. We chatter away to one another all our waking hours and we even talk to ourselves. Related: writing.

Thinking. Thinking about other times and places; what others know and how they feel; and about our own mortality. Other species have some cognitive abilities, of course, but even a toddler could out-think them.

Here’s one that’s obvious only after you think about it: music. Is there another species which uses sound purely as a form of art? I don’t think so. In any case the sheer scope and variety of our musical endeavors is just not found in any other species.

All other visual arts. Dance, drawing, sculpting and everything related. Even photography, filmmaking, fashion and architecture are in this category. The dancing and nest-building behaviors of other creatures simply cannot compare.

Cooking. Seriously. Rudimentary and instinctual food preparation is not entirely unknown in other species, but we take the cake–after baking and decorating it.

There’s lots of things we share with other animals. That should be no surprise, as we’re a part of the naturally evolving life on this planet, not separate from it. Many species learn, adapt, care for their young, build homes, communicate with one another and have social hierarchies. But there are things that we do far better or far more prolifically than any of the other creatures on the earth.

Here’s a further deep thought. Do you suppose one could predict human happiness and well-being based solely on that individual’s participation in the above activities? Do you think someone could be truly unhappy if she habitually farmed, sang, wrote, painted, spoke and engaged in reflective thought?

Maybe they’re not just the things we do. Maybe they’re things we must do.

Update: Here’s a distinctly human activity that I forgot: Science. The systematic study of the empirical world, executed in such a way as to be self-correcting and to minimize the inherent errors in thinking we are prone to. Or something like that.

Fear

What scares you? I mean really gets your heart pounding. Horror movies? Looking down from a great height? Flying? Guns? Disease? Death?

I’ll tell you what freezes my blood. Car accidents. I guess I just have a really good imagination. I find it easy to understand the great forces involved. How occupants get shaken like rag dolls. The shearing effect on your brain. How easily one can get seriously injured or killed. Cars at high speed frighten me. It’s the reason why I drive so carefully and–it has to be admitted–slowly. I’ve never gotten a single speeding ticket in all my life. It’s true. Not one. Nor have I ever been cited for any moving violation. Now you know why.

Pretty reasonable as far as fears go, right? The likelihood that we’re going to be in a serious auto accent are far greater than the likelihood that we’ll be the victim of terrorism, shot by a mugger or abducted by a serial killer. But that’s not all.

Flammable liquids scare me as well. Few things make my hair stand on end like the gas can in your garage. I guess you could add flammable gasses, too, because gas ovens, fireplaces and the propane tank on your grill scare me too.

Other things scare me a little. Scary movies can make me jump. Seeing large amounts of blood will set my pulse racing. But these are the things that my brain really zeroes in on. Just try to keep my attention while I’m lighting a gas grill, filling the tank on a lawnmower or merging into traffic on the interstate. Ain’t gonna happen.

iPhone 4S: Yes please

As you may recall, I’ve been smartphoneless since my iPhone 4 was stolen back in April. I had a brief dalliance with a Motorola Q, but mainly I’ve just been using a $50 Samsung dumphone for all that time.

At the risk of getting all first-world-problems on you, dear reader, I think I can sum up the experience thusly: SHIT SANDWICH.

Being without Google Maps and GPS was terrible. Having to write a shopping list on a piece of paper–with a pen!–and then having to remember to take it with me to the store was barbaric. Having to open my laptop just to see if there were important emails waiting for me was inconvenient. Texting anything but “yes,” “no” or “OK” on that little plastic number pad was…well, it just wasn’t doable at all.

(For all the ways in which I missed my iPhone, see here.)

But it was more than just these aches and pains. In some ways it was insightful. For example, I became acutely aware of just how much time people around me spend staring at their phones. I’d walk into a restaurant or a store with my girlfriend and suddenly I’d find myself walking alone, wondering where she went. She’d be shuffling along back by the entrance, staring at her phone. I didn’t really have to ask what she was doing. I know a foursquare check-in when I see one.

Other times I’d be standing in line with colleagues to get some lunch at work. Conversation? Not when everyone’s staring at their phone, seeing if the email they sent just before they left their desk has been responded to yet.

So, yeah, I get it. I get how smartphones are the downfall of civilization, how they’re rewiring our brains, sapping our attention spans and polluting our precious bodily fluids.

And I simply cannot wait to get my hands on that new iPhone 4S.

My plan right now is to order on Apple’s web site at midnight on Thursday. It won’t ship until a week later, but I’m hoping to be basking in the sweet, sweet glow of that 3.5 inch, 326ppi LCD well before Halloween.

Nostalgia

I’m as sentimental as the next guy, I suppose. Maybe more so. But lately I’ve been hit with so much sappy, nostalgic bullshit that I can’t take it anymore.

Isn’t it sad that there aren’t any record stores around like when we were kids? No, it isn’t. It’s nice, I guess, that thirty years ago we had a place to buy bongs and score an import album. I get that. I was there, man. But come on. The entire universe of recorded music divided into four or five store sections and represented by 10,000 pieces of vinyl? The selection was too small to be authoritative and yet too large to navigate in that computerless age. Plus, you couldn’t listen to it before you bought it.

Today I can access a much larger catalog, navigate it much more easily, discover things I’ve never heard of, give them a listen, buy them and begin enjoying them immediately. All while waiting for a bus.

Go back to the way things were? Not in a zillion years, pal.

Should we even talk about book stores? I guess we have to, since everyone’s getting all misty about the closing of so many Border’s stores. I have always liked–and still like–browsing bookshelves with a latte in hand. And when I was a kid my local strip mall book store was a haven for me. Give nine-year-old-me a $10 bill and that’s where you’d find me, agonizing deliciously over the sci-fi or fantasy shelves, trying to determine which title might be the most transportive. But when I look back on it, the experience could have been better. It’s the same story: a small inventory and not much to help me decide. Amazon to the rescue.

Of course I did see the sign in the closing Border’s store: “no, you can’t come in and use the bathroom, try Amazon.” Har! But I really want to write something below that witty observation: “perhaps you should have sold toilets instead!”

Here’s an idea, though. Maybe brick-and-mortar stores should start doing more value-added stuff. Camera stores could give photography lessons. Book stores could have read-aloud nights. Record shops could have “be the DJ” events where people could sign up for two or three songs of their choosing to share with others. They could even get local cafes, restaurants or bars to cater the events. These would be experiences you can’t quite get online–and they might actually build communities of people who saw them as relevant again.

Until then, I’ll be online without much regret over the old way of doing things.

Day 1 with interim phone

Do I miss my iPhone? Let me count the ways.

It was my alarm clock. It was my grocery shopping list. It was my to-do list. It was my quick note taker. It was my GPS navigation system. It was my bar bet settler; my gateway to Google, IMDB and Wikipedia. It was my pocket camera. It was my Foursquare check-in device. It was my mobile Twitter machine. It was pictures of my kids. It was my pocket photography portfolio. It was my mobile email receiver. It was my weather forecast checker. It was my ever-present calendar, reminding me of where I needed to be. In a pinch, it was my TV remote. It was the repository of all my music and the brains of my home stereo. It was my distraction while waiting, with Netflix and all my RSS feeds. It was my mobile game station. It was my high def video camera.

It also made phone calls. Hell, it made video calls, if I wanted them. Plus text messaging.

My interim phone makes calls pretty adequately. But the text messaging is absolutely barbaric. There is no other way to describe it.

Fifty seven days to go.

Please kill me.

Could you go television-free?

Oh, wait. Wrong century.

I’m of two minds. On the one hand, yes. I sometimes do feel that my connectedness is raising my stress level, getting in the way of other more enriching activities, etc. Perhaps I could do with a rule that I publicize to my friends: My devices are unmanned between the hours of X and Y. Or insist that watching a TV show or movie must be done internet-free. (Something my kids can’t seem to do which vexes me to no end.)

On the other hand, it seems that you can never go broke (or lack for TV viewers) by hysterically bashing new technologies. Even ones that everyone loves! Just try it. Have a radio call-in show about cell phone pet peeves. The phones will be jammed, I guarantee. (Yet nobody seems to want to give theirs up.)

In any case, it’s good to know that serious scholars like Dr. D’Urso are taking a dispassionate look at what’s really going on. We need more of that. Recently someone blogged about the evils of technology, how it’s polluting our precious bodily fluids or whatever. I commented by asking if there was any actual evidence that it was so. And nobody seemed to have any.

What always makes me laugh are the experts who, after sounding the alarm on the perils of internet technologies for an hour, conclude by inviting their audience to visit their Facebook page. Seriously. Happens all the time.