On "Freedom" and Facebook Hoopla . . . I'm Just Saying

I’m just saying: Let’s drop Franzen’s novel Freedom—currently being crammed down our collective throats by mediaworld frenzy—and all the annoying Facebook (& Mark Zuckerberg) overhype into a Time Capsule, bury it, then look again in ten years. Predictions, anyone?
I haven’t read Freedom yet, and am not rushing to either: Why: The Corrections seemed a total bore to me, and Freedom (makes me think of Bush Jr.’s bombing campaigns: Ah, the Oughts, what a time) is being touted as “Better than The Corrections!” Well, that’s nice.
I also can’t forget being excited to read Lorrie Moore’s new novel (though a bit suspicious), A Gate at the Stairs, last year, after the rave/ravier/raviest review by Jonathan Lethem in the NY Times, only to discover a rather tedious experience. A Midwest dysfunctional family saga? Why does that sound familiar?
Of course now’s the time to quote a true masterpiece, The Big Lebowski: “Well, that’s like, your opinion, man.”

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On the Idiocy of the Tea Party Express

Other people (and politico bloggers, I’m sure) have written more about this than I, but the sheer idiocy of the Tea Party movement is making me embarrassed for our country. (That and The Bad Girls Club, but that’s another story.) The idea that cutting taxes (and spending on domestic agenda, but don’t cut the military! we need those bombs!) will solve our economic woes is categorically idiotic: especially when you’re talking about extending the Bush tax cuts, which mainly benefit the wealthy. If I hear one more thing about Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck, I’m going to jump out a window. (Actually, scratch that: I’d be dead before 10 a.m.). This stupidity is given much airtime and credence in mainstream media venues (such as CNN, Fox News), so I have to share a video sent to me by a friend (Thanks, Morris!) on YouTube, which shows some Tea Partiers at that Godliness rally in D.C. I applaud the young guy doing the interviews here.

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British Grandma Goes to Bed With Headache, Wakes Up Speaking French

This story, fresh from the U.K.’s Daily Mail, appeals to my sense of humor, so I have to share:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-1311835/Gran-Kay-Russell-goes-bed-migraine-wakes-French-accent.html

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My Kindle Arrives! (Big Deal.) Now What?

So I’ve been swamped lately with too much reading, including reviewing Joseph Skibell’s 593-page novel titled A Curable Romantic (“It’s okay, but I really wish it were longer . . . .”), & really don’t even have time to think (or blog). But when I do pause to (try to) have a thought or two, I’m thinking: What’s the cure for too much reading? Get a Kindle!
It arrived yesterday, and I do like it, other than some obvious glitches (like why does it put em dashes in where all the hyphens should be, as in “a big—breasted hitchhiker” instead of “a big-breasted hitchhiker”: and then I might wonder what’s that big-breasted hitchhiker doing in Melville’s Moby Dick? Answer: It’s the Kindle ‘updated’ edition. You should see what they did to Ahab). This little reading gizmo was “free,” by the way: Not that the wise folks at Amazon.com tossed one my way to “beta test,” but because I had accumulated many points on a credit card and had to buy something with them, for Chrissakes. You must consume! But hey, there’s an adage here somehow: If you must consume, books are better than most of the junk we buy.
A few observations for those who might be interested in hopping on this bandwagon: It’s smaller than I thought it would be, which I like; purchasing the books is amazingly easy; the typeface (I had heard this before getting one) is rather clunky, but okay; the web-surfing capability is pretty cool, although the screen is small.
I’ve read of many writers lamenting the rise of ebooks, but I’m not one of them. I read a lot and it seems some books would probably be best via e (is this a term?), rather than, say, hardcover. I can see why people who travel a lot (as I do, sometimes) would love them. Bring on the future! Plug me in and beam me up.

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Another Example of How Facebook Marks the Beginning of the End

Another example of the slogan, “Friends Don’t Meet Friends on Facebook,” is this grim story, about the consequences of inopportune Facebook postings:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38928514/ns/us_news/
I’ve long felt the long tentacles of the Facebook empire closing around my world, and at this point I’m, like, whatever. Mainly I cringe at seeing that little icon (now even on the NY Times webpage) everywhere, reminding me to become One Of Us. And I may soon give in, let that pod person into my house, make him dinner and go to sleep: I’ll wake up happy and in touch with everybody!

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Timothy Egan on the Know-Nothings

Today’s NY Times has an excellent piece by Timothy Egan about the current Know-Nothing movement in the country, and its dangerous implications:

What he does best is summarize some of the most ridiculous claims of this fake movement, a bedraggled dog trotting along the heels of the Tea Party parade. Obama is being targeted as “guilty” for the failure of bailouts that occurred during the Bush administration, and even the success of some of these bailouts (that personally I have mixed feelings about, but you have to read a book as detailed as Sorkin’s Too Big to Fail to understand what led to some of these bailouts) is being ignored—such as the resurgence of the American auto industry—in a clamor against the fraudulent Socialism claims.
Timothy Egan’s The Worst Hard Time (2005) is an amazing book about the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, and won the National Book Award for Nonfiction. His new book, The Big Burn (2009), is on my wannaread list. He’s one of our best nonfiction writers, and is particularly good on issues of the West.

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On Getting Skunked and the Disaster in the Arctic

My cat, Iris, got skunked this weekend, always fun. I woke in the middle of night to a horrible smell, wandered down the hall half-asleep into the living room, and—I’ve been dying to yank out this Weather Channel phrase—”It was like a war zone.” Well, a war zone minus all the IEDs, M-16s, replaced with a stinky cat. She looked chagrined, cowering there on the floor, emitting a skunk smell so strong I could barely breathe. It was a fog of musk. That intense, it doesn’t even smell like a skunk anymore, but something scorched and funky.
And to follow up my Heidi Cullen post a few days back, here’s a piece in the NY Times that sounds appropriately dire, Thomas Homer-Dixon’s “Disaster at the Top of the World”:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/23/opinion/23homer-dixon.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=homepage&src=me

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On Heidi Cullen's "The Weather of the Future": Forecast for 2050: Your car just melted and your hair is on fire.

Heidi Cullen, a climatologist perhaps most famous for being The Brainy One on The Weather Channel (as opposed to, say, Stephanie Abrams, The Smiling Babe), has a new book out titled The Weather of the Future: Heat Waves, Extreme Storms, and Other Scenes from a Climate-Changed Planet. I’m a diehard veteran of the Climate Change debate, and have read over a dozen books on the subject: Cullen’s is a good addition, focused mainly on the science of climate models. She argues forcibly that like weather forecasting, which has improved greatly in the last century, climate models have improved enormously in the last two decades, and they agree on the overall shape (or temp) of the future: It will be hot. Miserable hot. Drought hot. Hot with crazy storms. Here’s a quote:
“Ice cores collected form Antarctica and Greenland can be used to reconstruct climate hundreds of thousands of years ago, showing that the preindustrial amount f CO2—the level from A.D. 1000 to 1750—in the atmosphere was about 280 ppm, about 105 ppm below today’s value. The record indicates that the concentration of CO2 has increased about 36 percent in the last 150 years, with about half of that increase happening in the last three decades. In fact, the CO2 concentration is now higher than any seen in at least the past 800,000 years—and probably many millions of years before the earliest ice core measurement” (29-30).
Cullen makes an interesting, and ballsy, rhetorical move in the second half of the book: She includes forecasts for years such as Jan 2027 or August 2050. It’s threatening, scary material. And it goes against the grain of the “Oh, don’t worry,” mentality that seems, at the moment, pervasive.

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"When Americans Believe in God, God Will Bless America"

From Huber Heights, Ohio: Today I passed a billboard on I-70 (in Indiana, I think it was) that read
WHEN AMERICANS BELIEVE IN GOD, GOD WILL BLESS AMERICA.
On the surface that’s innocuous, right? We all want God to bless America, right? But there’s a threat implied, I think. That sinners are running the country. That we’ve strayed from the path of righteousness.
Myself, I think it’s a little scary, the way the wind is blowing, based on billboards across the Heartland.

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Culture Wars in the Heartland: Guntoters Against Socialism, Or George Saunders Was Right

Live from St. Louis, Missouri: So I’m travelling across Kansas (after a night in Hays, Kansas, at the Candlewood Suites, which should be renamed the Candlewood Sucks) and pass a billboard proclaiming, “Obama Is a Fraud: Demand Resignation Now!” The next billboard was, “Say No to Socialism!” I’ve been noticing more of these lately, often crudely hand-painted (and misspelled) jeremiads against Socialism, Bailouts, and assorted sins of our President’s policies. In Colorado I was in a second-hand shop talking to the nice shop owner, only to notice she had Glenn Beck on her TV. I’m not pretending a thorough study here, but it seems to me the Culture Wars are heating up in the Heartland.
All summer long the guntoters were actively shooting on our mountaintop in Colorado. One of my neighbors (I have many of them that are good friends; these aren’t in that category) was out “target practicing” in the middle of the day, loud gunshots resounding over our hills, and another neighbor of mine went to investigate: Turns out the guntoters had seen a bear in their yard and were “target practicing” to defend themselves from said bear. (One thing I said: If you have to shoot a bear because it’s trouble, it should be close enough that only a blind person would need “target practice” to hit it.) We had another neighbor shooting his pistol in his front yard, right off our main road, and I walked over their and confronted him. He said he was “sighting his pistol,” shooting it downhill toward a road and houses, the genius. There were too many shooters to name them all, but once it was after 11 pm, which made me wonder if they were shooting each other.
I’ve read quite a bit of Tea Party nonsense, and I think some of that ‘movement’ is exaggerated, but it’s hard to ignore an uptick in RightWing Anger. George Saunders, author of CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, Pastoralia, The Brief & Frightening Reign of Phil, and The Braindead Megaphone (among others), argues, with great wit, against the likes of Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Glenn Beck, with his Braindead Megaphone idea: Basically that RightWing forces are shouting across our country and stifling intelligent debate about the issues, often in league with big money interests who profit from misguided and counterproductive policies, like the lack of any coherent plan to address climate change, which ultimately is against the (shortsighted) interests of Big Oil.
George is a great guy, great storyteller, and a kind person. He visited our campus (Penn State) last March and gave a knockout reading of “Sea Oak,” one of his classic stories in Pastoralia. Perhaps one of his most impressive feats was to live in a tent city in California for 10 days. He wrote a piece for it for Harper’s magazine. He mentioned that he had a plan to expand it into a full-length book. I thought of him in Hays, Kansas, as I noticed a number of homeless people wandering around the interstate access roads, a surprising sight in the middle of the heartland, far from the disenfranchised crowds you see in major cities. Somehow those homeless seem part of the Culture Wars (like illegal immigrants, they’re “undesirables” that the guntoters are target practicing for), the grimy troops of the battles.

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