A Tangled WEB

The Batslap: Then & Now

2006-10-27T10:07:00.000-04:00

The Batman has a long, storied history over the nearly seven decades since he was first created. The Dark Knight is both protector of the innocent and bane of those who would do evil. Unfortunately, his behavior towards women hasn't always been, errr, enlightened:

(From Batman #1)

Never mind Bruce Wayne's playboy persona who goes through a never-ending stream of beautiful baubles dangling off his arms to distract people from his closeted secret - that's just rude.

But to be fair, that was nearly 70 years ago: a less enlightened time for the four-color page. These days, Batman is far more -

HOLY SHIT, DID BATMAN JUST BACK-HAND THAT WOMAN WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING?!

(From Detective Comics #824)

Why yes. Yes he did.

Daaamn.

To be fair, she was trying to stab him in the back. You would think the criminal element of Gotham City would realize by now that this is Not a Wise Move. But perhaps the basic precondition of being a Gotham henchman - sorry, henchperson - is a pronounced inability to recognize that Batman can wreck your shit. That or a desperate need for employment in a tight economy.

Because honestly? If you're stuck working for a short, fat, ugly, beak-nosed, self-proclaimed "criminal mastermind" who takes his nom de crime from cute flightless birds from Antarctica and has a thing for trick umbrellas, odds are you're not Fortune 500 CEO material.

Still, an open-handed backslap without even deigning to glance at her? That shit is cold.

This is Batman, after all. He could've disarmed and incapacitated his female assailant any number of ways which would've been a lot less insulting than the Batslap. A solid right cross is, in its own way, a show of respect for one's foes: proof that you'll confront them face-to-face on equal footing, even if you know you can take them down inside of five seconds - because you're Batman. A good judo throw is a way of taking someone down when you don't really want to hurt them. A swat like that means someone's not even worth acknowledging as a foe.

So let this be a lesson to you, ladies: Batman would never leave a damsel in distress; he would willingly sacrifice his life to save yours; but come at him with hostile intent and he will pwn you like a bitch (pardon my French).

Happy (post-)Loving Day!

2006-06-13T16:32:00.000-04:00

What is this, you wonder? Some exhortation to the era of free love, perhaps? Not exactly, though it does date to the civil rights era.

As this Washington Post article notes, it commemorates the Supreme Court decision on June 12, 1967, in the case of Loving vs. Virginia, in which the Court justices unanimously decided to legalize interracial marriage. As the Loving Day site notes: "In the words of Chief Justice Earl Warren, 'Under our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides within the individual and cannot be infringed on by the State.'"

Well said, Earl.

Honestly, how can you not root for the plaintiff with a name like "Loving?"

That decision wiped out the last of the miscegenation laws in this country barring interracial marriage, which usually focused specifically on prohibiting blacks and whites from marrying, but sometimes targeted other races as well, such as American Indians and those of "Malay" or "Mongolian" descent. Since then, the number of interracial marriages in the U.S. has increased to more than 5 percent of all marriages and the number of children of interracial couples - including, incidentally, yours truly - has climbed to over 3 million, according to the 2000 U.S. Census.

Marking that milestone with yet another "special day" may cause some to roll their eyes, but the gains of the civil rights movement should never be taken for granted. And while the issue of interracial marriage may seem a minor one in the grand scheme of things, it is very much of importance to those directly affected by it. And people should never, ever forget: no matter what legal rights you've won, there will always be those who tell you that you don't "deserve" them and who will try to take them away.

For those who wish to argue that racism is somehow dead history in this country, a little footnote: despite the Loving ruling rendering them illegal, the South Carolina and Alabama state constitutions were not amended until 1998 and 2000, respectively, removing the clauses which forbade interracial marriage between whites and blacks. Polls at the time showed that 22% of South Carolina voters and 19% of Alabama voters opposed removing those clauses.

For those of us born into interracial families in a world nigh-obsessed with race and ethnic identity, there are ever-present reminders that you are an anomaly, an Other, a platypus who frustrates those seeking easy classifications. "So what are you?" is a question you get tired of hearing. It took me a long time to work it out for myself, but I eventually figured out the proper answer:

"Me? I'm a goddamn American. What's it to you?"

And thanks to Mildred and Richard Loving, millions of Americans get to say the same thing.

Y0uN6 @ <3

2006-05-04T13:08:00.000-04:00

Spotted during my annual pilgrimage to that American shrine dedicated to cholesterol, obesity, and chronic heart failure, KFC: an elderly Asian gentleman - short, stooped with age, hair thin and white, face sagging and dotted with liver spots - bouncing a rubber Superball off the floor, a Powerpuff Girl doll dangling off the keychain in his other hand.

[Buttercup, if you care which one.]

Now, there are plenty of explanations why he was bouncing a Superball and holding onto a PPG doll. Maybe the ball is a gift for a grandchild. Maybe the doll was a gift to him or the keys aren't his. Maybe he's just a senile old coot, shuffling through the local KFC.

But somehow, I prefer to believe this frail-looking old man can still find fun in bouncing a rubber ball and watching cartoons.

Like most people my age or younger, I prefer not to think about what I'll be like when I'm that old. There's the belief - justly or not - that one's youth is the "fun" time in your life. That by the time you're old and gray and retired, the best you can hope for is "relaxing."

Which is better than "incontinent and senile," certainly. Still, not the sort of thing one usually daydreams about.

I have a lot of interests and hobbies most people would consider childish: videogames, animation, comic books, scifi - you name it, it's something someone somewhere expects me to "outgrow" and wonders why I haven't yet. And while I don't feel particularly inclined to defend my hobbies - what, like watching NASCAR is a more intellectually stimulating use of my time than playing Half-life? - I do sometimes wonder if I will, in fact, someday lose interest in all the pasttimes which have kept me engaged since I was a wee lad.

So there is something comforting about the notion of being a wizened old man who can still find joy in the simpler things in life. That even late in life, I'll still be rockin' out with my neurally implanted videogames...and probably bemoaning the good ol' days of joysticks and gamepads.

Growing old is easy: go without dying long enough and it happens to any of us. Not everyone grows up, however.

And thank goodness for that.

Waiting for Voldemort

2006-04-20T10:10:00.000-04:00

So I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire recently. It's a fun movie, but I have...issues with certain elements.

Disclaimer: I have not read any of the Harry Potter books, although the first one is on my to-be-read pile (somewhere). I haven't even seen all the movies: skipped the second after finding the first one pleasant, yet largely forgettable. So what follows are inventions based purely on the latest film and my...dissatisfaction with certain elements. It won't make much sense if you haven't seen the fourth film yourself; and if you don't want spoilers (warped though they be), you shouldn't read either.

Or if you're a hardcore Potterhead. You might take offense at what I write.

------------------------------------------

[At a secret Death Eaters meeting, a shadowy group discusses their latest plans...involving magic.]

Death Eater 1: At long last, the time has come, my brethren, to reveal ourselves! How shall we cow our enemies and announce the Dark Lord's nigh-return?

Death Eater 2: I say we go to the Quidditch World Cup and...and...set fire to things! Like TENTS! MOOHAHAHAHAHA!

Death Eater 1: Oh, I concur. Nothing says "shadowy, secretive eeeevil cult" quite like setting random shit on fire at a sporting event.

[Chorus of voices approving DE2's plan]

Death Eater 3: I'm sorry, but are you people mental? Have you seen a Muggles riot at a football match - over a single point? Now imagine what that would be like if everyone had magic wands . Magic wands which can shoot fireballs. Drunk, rowdy Quidditch fans with fireball-shooting wands - am I the only one concerned by that?

Death Eater 2: Football is such a proletarian pastime, though. Quidditch is a far more genteel sport. We'll be fine.

Death Eater 3: Is this really our best idea? After all these years spent plotting in the shadows for the Dark Lord's return, we can't come up with anything grander than - ?

[Death Eater 1, looking annoyed, turns Death Eater 3 into a newt]

Death Eater 1: Right, now on to the next item on our agenda - the disastrously low crumpet supply.

------------------------------------------

[Inside Dumbledore's study, the professors discuss events...magic events]

Snape: Clearly, sir, powerful and sinister magic is at work, to have entered Mr. Potter into the tournament. I sense a dark hand guiding these events, placing young Potter in dire jeopardy. Therefore, I would say our only option is to allow things to proceed and see what ill fate befalls that obnoxious little wanker, which we can then prevent. Maybe. Unless we're too late, of course.

McGonagall: Mr. Snape!

Snape: What? We have a PG-13 rating this time. Besides, the Yanks won't know what "wanker" means. Wanker, wanker, wanker. See? They think it's quaint.

McGonagall: Are you honestly suggesting we allow Mr. Potter's life to be placed in danger? That he be used as bait?

Snape: Oh, that. "Bait" has such unpleasant connotations, professor. I prefer to use the term, "lure, with distinct possibilities of deadishness."

Dumbledore: [taking a drag from a joint] Enh, we'll go with Snape's plan. After all, total passivity and inaction under the guise of "thoughtful observation" has gotten us this far OK - how much worse can it get?

[McGonagall's perpetual expression of shock remains in place. Snape practically purrs. Dumbledore is distracted by some purple kitten only he can see.]

------------------------------------------

[Inside Madeye Moody's study. Madeye gloats over Harry Potter, who is bound to a chair...with magic.]

Madeye Moody: MOOHAHAHAHA! Yes, Mr. Potter, it is I, Madeye Moody, who have plotted against you this entire year! Surprised?

Harry: [looking slightly annoyed] Not really, no.

Madeye: . . . What?

Harry: Well, it's just that in my four years here at Hogwarts, I've run into so many people oh-so-secretly in league with Voldemort, I was starting to think you had your own teachers' lounge.

[Meanwhile, in the Secret Hogwarts Teachers' Lounge for Supporters of Voldemort - says so on the door - shadowy figures gather to discuss their latest plans...involving sweets. I mean: magic.]

Voldemortian: [drumming his fingers on the table impatiently] So...let me get this straight: none of you refilled the crumpet bin?

[Back to Harry and Madeye]

Harry: It was blindingly obvious someone was plotting against me - someone's always plotting against me. And it's not like there were a lot of other new faces who it could've been. Let me guess: you're Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, right?

Madeye: Klaatu, boy, how did you know?! Do you have the sight...of magic?

Harry: No, I've just been seeing your face repeatedly in my dreams, but not in real life. You obviously were up to something, so it was reasonable to presume you were here in disguise. Karkaroff was a total red herring - far too evil-looking to be evil - while Mme. Maxine...well, let's just say I don't picture you a transgender bloke.

Madeye: Barada, you do have the sight, boy!

Harry: [sighs] No, I just have a noggin that's filled with something other than Stilton cheese. What I can't understand is why Dumbledore and the rest let me go forward with the Tri Wizard Tournament. Just how daft do you have to be not to be able to tell a contest - even a magic one - has been rigged?

Madeye: . . . To be honest, I have no idea. But you'd be surprised at what they're willing to buy. Nikto, but they almost make it too easy.

Harry: But let me see if I understand your scheme: you somehow enchanted the Goblet of Fire so it would spit out my name, you manipulated my friends and the other contestants to ensure I would win the tournament, just so I would touch the trophy - also enchanted by you - so that it would teleport me to that cemetary, just so you lot could use a bit of my blood to resurrect Voldemort and, y'know, give him a chance to torture me to death.

Madeye: [beaming with eeevil pride] Precisely!

Harry: OK, then here's my question: what the bloody hell is wrong with you people?

Madeye: . . . What?

Harry: You have that kind of power at your disposal, why didn't you just teleport me directly to Voldemort yourself? Or attack me at school? Or enchant a bar of soap to teleport me the next time I'm in the wash? Hell, an old-fashioned kidnapping while I was home for the holidays and alone clearly would've done the trick, since apparently the only thing I've learned how to do properly here is tuck a magic piece of wood `tween my legs. Why this shadowy conspiracy nonsense? Don't any of you lot know how to take the direct approach? You wait four years to do this?

Madeye: . . . You just don't appreciate how these things are done, young man. Done...with magic.

Harry: [muttering] Bloody hell, I'll be grateful when I'm 17 and allowed to use proper curse words.

Musical Inspiration

2006-03-23T15:20:00.000-05:00

So I'm having lunch at my favorite local Indian restaurant, chillin' out over lentils, chicken, goat, potatoes, spinach, and naan, while traditional Indian music plays in the background.

At least I presume it's traditional. Not like I could tell if it wasn't. But if you've ever been in an Indian restaurant, you know the kind of tranquil, string-plucking music I mean.

Anyway, between bites of samosa and chicken tikka masala and sips of my mango lassi, I'm suddenly seized by the urge to leap onto my table, scream "SITAR SOLO!" at the top of my lungs, and start strumming some air-sitar.

Y'know. Get my "Hindu god...of rooock!" mojo going.

I resisted the temptation, of course. No sense disrupting everyone else's meal with my musical interlude. Besides, they usually expect you to tip extra for leaving footprints on the tablecloths, and I'm too stingy for that.

Nevertheless, the need for some air-sitar hung heavy over my head.

Needless to say, there was a pretty Indian girl at the next table.

Pretty girls make me want to do the oddest things.

. . .

"SITAR SOLO!"

Too Butch For His Own Good?

2006-03-21T17:33:00.000-05:00

Coming on the heels of my last post, this seemed too apropos to pass up:

Over on the Washington Post, Ruth Marcus has a column up today entitled "Man Overboard," which postulates that the big problem with the Bush administration is an overabundance of "manliness," as defined by conservative professor Harvey C. Mansfield. She goes on to say that the administration could use some more femininity - and presumably, she doesn't mean Secretary Rice's latest wardrobe.

Does she have a point? Is Bush too manly?

Hmm. I don't think so.

But that's because I don't want the president's flaws to be seen as endemic to men or masculine behavior in general.

Now personally, I find the Bush administration to be arrogant, overzealous, narrow-minded, reckless, manipulative, deceptive - and perhaps worst of all, incompetent. They prize ideological loyalty over experience in their political appointments; and turn a tin ear to all dissent or criticism of their policies. They have a fixed notion in their minds as to How Things Should Be Done, deliberately ignore or reject any viewpoint which contradicts their own, select people with their same narrow viewpoint to run things - and then act surprised when problems crop up which other people predicted. The fact I disagree with their policies is nothing compared to the monumental inability to govern effectively they repeatedly display.

Pretty much everything which has gone wrong in the last five years - from the devastation of Hurricane Katrina to the insurgency in Iraq to the expensive conundrum of the Medicare bill to the attacks of 9/11 - has, to some extent, been predicted by others, often within the government itself: predictions which the Bush administration - in its blind devotion to its own absolute certainty - silenced, rejected, or ignored. And while it would be grossly unfair to have expected the administration to be able to prevent all of those problems, a clear pattern of behavior has consistently emerged: the president and his administration don't listen to dissenting voices, often to the country's detriment.

It is highly ironic, to say the least, that the president and his administration have turned their attention towards encouraging democratic reforms in other countries, even as they repeatedly squelch all attempts at honest public debate in this one; that they are critical of the actions of despots and tyrants overseas even as they openly flout the rule of law at home; and they proudly proclaim themselves the defenders of freedom and liberty in the world while seeking to erode the very freedoms and liberties their predecessors - of both political parties - worked so very hard to achieve.

They have even betrayed their own conservative roots: paying them only lip service on hot-button topics like gay marriage, stem-cell research, and abortion; while bankrupting the country with the largest budget deficits in American history and embarking on an ill-fated, quixotic quest to remake the world to their liking. "Big-government conservative" is a paradoxical term, but I suppose it plays better in the red states than "hypocritical compulsive spender."

A century ago, they would've been consummate snake-oil salespeople: they have done a remarkably good job of peddling their wares on an all-too-gullible public; unfortunately, those goods have turned out, by and large, to be utterly worthless.

IMHO, of course.

So what's all this have to do with Marcus's assertion about the administration being too manly?

Simple: because I'm a guy, too.

And personally, I resent having the administration's traits identified as inherently "masculine" - at least in the sense of somehow being genetically encoded - because I sure as hell don't want people to think I am predisposed to sharing those qualities with Bush and Cheney simply because we share the same mismatched pair of chromosomes.

I don't want anyone to think "fat-headed idiocy" is inherent in my genes. That sure as hell isn't part of my personal definition of masculinity.

Personally, I don't like "gendering" behavior too much. But if we need a definition of "true" manliness, let's try this one on for size:

Real men know the difference between tenacity and stubbornness, between loyalty and blind obedience, between idealism and zealotry, between self-confidence and arrogance, between courage and belligerence. Real men know there's a time for planning and a time for action, but there's never a time when you stop thinking. Real men know when to take charge in a crisis and when to pause to listen to others - not because they're weak or indecisive or cowardly, but because they know they need to make informed decisions. Real men know that they're human, which means they're flawed, which means they aren't always right, which makes them humble. Real men know what they don't know, which means they know they need to learn from others. Real men make the public good their primary concern and never let their own pride and ego get in the way of doing what's right.

And real men don't start fights - they end them. Because real men know there's nothing inherently brave about sending other men to fight and die on their behalf; only that sometimes - sometimes - it's necessary.

Bush is too manly?

Not from where I'm sitting.

What's It Mean to Be Macho, Anyway?

2006-03-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

I loved James Bond* when I was growing up.

"Wait!" you cry out, "Why on Earth would you write about him for Blog Against Sexism Day? James Bond is a sexist misogynistic relic, how can you possibly love him?"

I'll get to that.

See, I did not love Bond, as you might expect, because he was the alpha male of action who bedded every beauty who crossed his path.

Nope, I loved him because he was smart. More than that, though, he was educated. Refined. Sophisticated. Snappy dresser. He knew his wines. Could play a mean round of golf. Went to the opera. His knowledge of obscure subjects was sometimes encyclopedic. ["It's a Stradivarius - they all have names."] He could travel anywhere in the world and blend in as effortlessly as he slipped into his latest black tux.

And who doesn't dig the accent?

He was never the strongest guy around and he was always outnumbered. Which meant he triumphed through his wit, charm, and cunning, not through brute force. [Though the toys, obviously, helped out a lot.] He took on evil masterminds with their armies of thugs and always came out on top, his good humor - and usually his tux - still intact.

In short, he made being smart, educated, and sophisticated seem cool. He was a dapper English gentleman...but he was still a badass.

And I'm not sure I can express just how important that was to a shy, introverted, scrawny, smart little boy.

See, most heroes in America are of the blue collar / working class persuasion: Cops. Gumshoes. Cowboys. Athletes. Soldiers. Boxers. Gangsters. You get the idea. Sometimes they were clever or streetwise; but few were what one would call "well-educated." They were rough-n-tumble guys, with flinty stares and weathered faces, ready to throw down at a moment's notice, with no use for "book learning" or "turning the other cheek" or any of that other sissy, "girly" nonsense.

Educated guys - when they show up at all - they're usually the wimps. The geeks. The dorks. The pariahs. Weak, effete, cowardly - you probably know the type. If they're lucky, they're the sidekick or a trusted (though secondary) ally or mentor; if not, they're relegated to comic relief, the butt of abuse.

Even when the main protagonist is, say, a scientist or engineer in a scifi story - where you might expect the brain to reign supreme - he usually proves his worth through his physical courage or acts of violence, not his education. In fantasy stories, the main hero usually isn't some powerful mage with vast knowledge of the arcane, it's the brawny warrior...who's usually on a quest to shove three feet of steel into the powerful mage's guts.

You get the idea.

So when you're a little boy and the only thing you've got going for you is your brains - which you keep being told doesn't matter to "real" men - well, it leaves you wondering just what your place in the world is.

"Second-class citizen" is the usual conclusion.

So to find a hero who's smart, who's witty, who's educated - and who succeeds because of all those qualities, not in spite of them? Hell, it's like finding an oasis of cool in a desert of testosterone.

Plus he was the alpha male of action who bedded every beauty who crossed his path. What's not to love?

[Admit it: up until that line, you were wondering, "Does he mean he 'loved' James Bond in that sense?" weren't you? Hey, I like the ladies - Ursula Andress is permanently seared across my psyche, same as many a young lad's - don't see anything to apologize for there.**]

Of course, I've come a long way since I was a kid. My tastes have evolved since then, while Bond hasn't, really. And I've discovered other smart, educated heroes over the years. But he was the first to tell me it was cool to be a smart guy. And in a lot of ways, he is still the benchmark I use for judging heroes.

So what does all this have to do with Blog Against Sexism Day?

I'm getting to that.

See, the overwhelming majority of blogs today will be about all the bullshit women have had to put up with for ages. And that's totally appropriate, because that's where the focus should be. I've seen and heard about all the crap women have had to endure from men and have been pretty appalled by it. But I've got nothing to add to that conversation that others can't express far better. All I can say is: I'm so sorry, but don't give up hope - we aren't all pricks.

But I still wanted to take a moment to point out: it isn't just women who get shafted by gender stereotypes in society. It's also the smart scrawny boys, who are told they don't matter because they don't have buff physiques. It's also the gay boys, who grow up being told that being a fag is, at worst, an unholy abomination; and, at best, a good way to become an interior decorator or fashion designer. [And man, how much must it suck to be a gay man in America who doesn't look fabulous and have a great wardrobe?] It's also the pacifists, who get called cowards for not wanting to fight.

In short: it's everybody who gets marginalized for not slipping neatly into their pre-defined, gender-based grooves. It's women who don't act feminine...but it's also guys who don't act masculine.

Hell, just the funny looks I've gotten from admitting I dislike football...

I'm a guy. And I know I get a pass on a lot of things because I'm a guy. And I know women are placed under a lot of pressure because of their gender. And I know I'll never experience it***. So this isn't some woe-is-me rant about how feminism has "oppressed" men or some crazy-ass conservative bullshit like that you sometimes hear from aging dinosaurs.

I don't mention this issue because I think it's more important than all the shit women go through - it's not. I mention this because I doubt anyone else will. And in the great and noble effort to improve women's lot in life, it's the sort of detail that can get lost in the background. To me, sexism is about the unfair social demands, attitudes, and constraints placed on someone because of their gender - which means it affects both men and women. [And, of course, everyone who doesn't slip neatly into either category: these days, gender isn't an either-or question.]

Women get it worse; but that doesn't mean men don't get it at all.

I don't have any grand vision or proposal here. I guess I'm just saying: while engineering the great social changes necessary to redefine women's roles in society, perhaps we can spare a few moments to work on men's roles too? Maybe reconsider what it means to be a guy?

Pretty sure my fellow outcasts would be grateful for the effort.

*Connery, of course. Moore was a creepy middle-aged guy by the time he assumed the mantle. Though I concede a soft spot for Dalton. But that's neither here nor there.

** Of course, if you presume that means I only like the ladies - well, that's on you.

*** Well, not without some major surgery, which is hella expensive. Besides, my ass is too fat for dresses - what would be the point?

Freedom of Speech VS Religious Tolerance - FIGHT!

2006-02-23T17:43:00.000-05:00

[The title works best if you say it in your fighting-game announcer voice - honest.]

All right, let's make what might be a colossal mistake: delving into world events.

[Innocence, once lost, suddenly goes, "Oh shit! That was a bad idea!"]

So. Seems there's quite a bit of an uproar lately in the world over some drawings. Can be awful confusing. Let's see if I can boil it down:

In one corner, you have a bunch of conservative white Europeans, attempting to demonstrate how intelligent, sophisticated, and enlightened they are by publishing a bunch of ignorant, racist, insulting caricatures of the prophet Muhammad; then further demonstrating their sensitivity, empathy, and concern for others by not only refusing to apologize, but reprinting the cartoons repeatedly.

In the other corner, you have the oppressed Muslim masses: grappling with poverty, living under largely repressive regimes, and enduring the barbs of white people from Europe since at least the end of the 11th century, when the first Crusaders came a-knockin'. They see these cartoons as the latest example of the Wild White West just not "getting" them and decide to voice their discontent in the most reasonable manner possible: by setting fire to crap.

Of course, this hubbub isn't solely about those cartoons, any more than, say, the 1992 L.A. race riots were solely about the Rodney King verdict: in both cases, those incidents were catalysts - hot sparks hitting some very dry tinder - which were taken as proof of larger systemic issues of racism and oppression.

So what else is bubbling beneath the surface?

Well, for starters, the Danish newspaper which originally published these cartoons is apparently closely tied with a Danish right-wing political party, who lately seem to have been stirring up a potent mix of national pride and latent xenophobia in support of (among other things) their anti-immigrant policies, under the guise of a "culture war."

Holy crap - some white people in Europe might be racist?! Yeah, that one caught me off-guard too.

More seriously, the impression I get is that there is a lot of public discontent throughout Europe over their rapidly growing, largely Arab Muslim immigrant populations, leading to tensions between white Europeans and their new Islamic neighbors: witness the recent riots in France. As near as I can tell, most European countries simply aren't equipped - socially, culturally, politically, economically - to handle these large influxes of people. And unfortunately, it's stirring up some of the uglier elements of European national pride: paranoia, xenophobia, isolationism, racism. And the louder the Muslim world screams at them, the more some of these people dig in their heels and refuse to budge - not exactly the best way to improve Euro-Islamic relations.

Man, do all conservatives have trouble apologizing for being jerks? I thought maybe it was just ours.

In the Muslim world, it seems that the most violent protests are occurring within countries with their own volatile mix: rampant poverty, oppressive governments, and hardline Islamists trying to appeal to public discontent over the first two. Said governments - eager to appear "one with the people," deflect public outrage aimed at them, and maybe try to take some Western heat off of their own questionable behavior - have been all too willing to stoke those fires. As a friend recently observed, public protests don't "just happen" in virtual police states like Syria and Iran.

And in these countries, the most radical Islamic elements appear all too eager to stoke public outrage. Protests over the cartoons have quickly mushroomed into more general protests against the West, particularly the United States - ironic, since for a rare change of pace, this one isn't our fault, but I guess to the slippery slope logic of the mob mentality, they just lump this under the heading of "Dubya's debacles" and feel good about themselves - and local governments, especially those seen as too cozy with Europe and/or the Bush administration. In general, the worse off the people are, the more pissed they are about things; the more inclined they are towards radical Islamic fundamentalism as an outlet for their frustrations; and the more they vent their collective bile.

Evidently, when their lives are generally shitty, Muslims get upset. How odd.

In the more moderate, affluent Islamic countries, the protests have been milder, in no small part because Islamic fundamentalists are a relatively tiny minority in those countries. The trouble is, having stoked the fires of religious fury, the instigators will find them difficult to control or put out. In the long run, these people may be doing more harm to themselves than to the perceived sources of their oppression and misery. Certainly they're not improving their public image with the rest of the world or doing anything to convince those in the West with the most virulent attitudes towards Muslims that they're wrong about them.

But man, burning stuff sure can be cathartic sometimes, can't it?

My take on this? Freedom of speech does not give you free rein to be a dickhead. It doesn't excuse fraud; it doesn't let you comment slander or libel (and accusing a major religious figure - dead or otherwise - of backing terrorism seems like it's veering dangerously close to a kind of libel, however exaggerated the accusation); it doesn't let you yell "FIRE!" in a crowded theater, then pretend the ensuing panic is not your fault. And it doesn't get you off the hook when you insult a major religious figure, then act like you don't understand what all the fuss is about.

If we get to bitch every time the president of Iran pooh-poohs the Holocaust, the Muslim world is well within their rights to expect us to show some respect for their most important religious figure (apart from God, of course) and for their religion in general. Claims about the inviolate nature of freedom of speech ring a little hollow when they come from European countries which put limits of free speech - however nobly intentioned those limits may be, such as prohibitions in Germany concerning the Nazis and the Holocaust - and from publications which, I'm reasonably certain, would never portray Jesus or the Pope like that.

[If Jyllands-Posten decides to publish a cartoon deriding Jesus - "The Son of God liked the whores - and we do mean in a Biblical sense!" - or depicting Pope John Paul II having sex with a donkey - "There be no need to relocate / If it be done by the Prelate" - I'll revisit that assertion.]

Freedom of speech carries with it certain implicit responsibilities. The First Amendment does not give you the right to shoot off your mouth without regard for the consequences of your words, any more than the Second Amendment gives you the right to shoot every jackass who crosses your path.

[And I think I speak for all Americans when I voice my disappointment at that particular oversight of the Founding Fathers. Guys, what were you thinking? Why the hell else did you think we want to have open-carry laws? Duck hunting? Rabbit hunting?]

Obviously, other countries have different notions of "freedom of speech," but the baseline definition I use is: you're free to say what you want, but you have to own up to what you say.

Put another way: unless you truly have a no-holds-barred, anything-goes, no-taboo-is-too-sacred attitude towards freedom of speech - and few, if any, publications (or countries) are that fearless - then I expect you to exhibit some effin' tact. In this instance: if you think any major religion is deserving of respect and shouldn't be denigrated in your publication - be it Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hindu, or anything else - then you should extend that courtesy to all of them. Anything less is hypocrisy - and usually self-serving.

[Yes, you heard it here first: people are hypocritical and self-serving. Alert the media! No, wait: maybe that's not such a good idea...]

It is unreasonable to have expected the original European publishers to have predicted the extent to which these cartoons would provoke ire in the Muslim world. That said, you'd have to be willfully ignorant, stupid, and blind not to guess that some segment of the hundreds of millions of people who follow Islam - roughly a quarter of the world's population - are gonna be a bit piqued when you commit (in their eyes) an act of deliberate blasphemy and defamation. And then, once that outrage is provoked, to hide behind some mealy-mouthed claims of freedom of speech . . . l don't know how it is in Europe, but in America, if you offend someone by accident, you're expected to make a sincere attempt to apologize; you don't act like the First Amendment is an excuse for you to be a jerk.

I can say what I want to a woman in a bar; doesn't mean I don't deserve to get slapped if I'm out of line.

Of course, if you deliberately insult someone - or you're simply being critical of them in a manner they find insulting - that's another matter. And yes, freedom of speech is a core value in any modern democracy and should not be abrogated - but so is respect for your fellow man. And the latter seems in short supply here.

Near as I can tell, Jyllands-Posten was "playing to the cheap seats," as it were - appealing to their home crowd's baser impulses - for their own domestic purposes when they originally published those cartoons. They were caught off-guard by the fervor of the fury they provoked in the Muslim world. But rather than doing the civil thing and apologizing sincerely, perhaps opening up a larger dialogue about European attitudes towards the Islamic world - y'know, something constructive - they stuck to their guns and deployed "freedom of speech" as their defense, while claiming to have no anti-Islamic bias.

Sheesh, and people call Americans rude?

Not that there isn't plenty of blame to go around the Islamic world, I hasten to add. It seems there's no shortage of people willing to exploit genuine public outrage to advance their own political, religious, or social agendas. They've found a rich vein of ire to tap and they intend to tap it for all it's worth. And the fact these people have plenty of legitimate grievances doesn't excuse violence. It's understandable where that violence comes from, but ultimately it solves nothing.

Then again, I'm not an angry, frustrated Muslim youth, trapped by poverty and repressive government, deprived of economic and educational opportunities, with religious zealots yelling their dogma in my ear 24/7. I'm not so naive nor arrogant as to presume I'd behave any better under those circumstances.

Some have commented that once the furor broke out, it was reasonable to reprint these cartoons: that the uproar itself had become newsworthy and that the cartoons needed to be shown to provide context. There is some truth to that assertion; but it runs the risk of being hypocritical bullshit. Every newspaper in the U.S. has their own guidelines about what it will and won't publish - e.g., graphic photos of the dead, nudity, or four-letter words - its own dividing line between what's truly newsworthy and what's simply gratuitous and offensive. I'm sure newspapers around the world have their own standards which differ from ours, but they do have standards.

But the general rule of thumb seems to be: does the news value outweigh the potential offense some of our audience might take? Is this genuinely worthy of note or is it simply needlessly provocative? And again: if you wouldn't publish that sort of caricature of Moses or Jesus, you shouldn't publish one of Muhammad. That isn't "cultural relativism," or whatever the hell conservative critics like to call it. It's called showing equal respect to your fellow man. It's stating, "I may not believe what you believe; but I won't publicly denigrate your beliefs either."

In my opinion, any major news publication has an implicit responsibility to set a minimum bar on the level of discourse they present. And if that's not an explicit part of whatever code of ethics professional journalism espouses, it bloody well ought to be. I wouldn't want to see racist caricatures on the OP-ED page of the New York Times any more than I would want to see scatological humor on their front page: it's simply not the appropriate venue for that kind of thing. The Washington Post decided that the cartoons were too inflammatory without contributing to the dialogue; considering how multi-cultural the D.C. area is, they chose to be tactful. Most American newspapers seem to have done the same; those which have published some of the cartoons seem to have chosen the least objectionable ones. At this point, that seems the wisest course of action: now that we all know how much offense many Muslims take from those cartoons, reprinting them just seems like pouring salt in the wound.

So what's needed to fix all this long-term? A lot more respect and understanding from the West towards Islam and the Middle East; a lot less stoking of public fury in the Muslim world; and significant economic and political improvements throughout the Middle East (including, of course, the ever-persistent Palestinians) - people tend to riot less when they actually have something to lose in the conflagration.

Also, belly dancers. Belly dancers make everything better!

. . .

Well, they improve my mood, at least.

[Good one, FB - distract everyone from international religious and racial tensions with a sexist comment! Smooth move, boy - smooooth...]

Musings from a Parking Lot

2006-01-20T15:13:00.000-05:00

[Oh, now there's a promising post title. Clearly, I'm wasting no time in jumping the shark with this blog.]

So I pull into the parking lot at work and park next to a dark blue Jaguar with a bumper sticker which reads "High-Maintenance Cowgirl." And this sparks some idle speculation:

Why on Earth would someone put a bumper sticker on a Jag in the first place? We know you've bought an overpriced, ostentatious luxury car - the least you could do is maintain some quiet dignity and decorum. Does the owner also dangle disco balls from her crystal chandeliers?
"High-Maintenance Cowgirl:" what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is it a feeble attempt to maintain her down-to-earth bona fides? "Sure, I own a Jag - but at heart I'm just a simple cowgirl." Is it a public service announcement, a warning to those who might approach her?

These are the things which occur to me at 9 AM when I park next to a Jag with a tacky bumper sticker and I haven't had enough sleep for a few days.

But I have to admit, as bizarro as that seems, it's still less obnoxious than the Mercedes sports coupe I once saw with a vanity plate which read "V12BENZ." Should've rear-ended that one for its sheer crass: bet his bumper costs more than my whole freakin' car.

Rich people: they do some crazy shit with their money, don't they?

Ferrous Rebooted

2006-01-09T15:21:00.000-05:00

Oh yeah - I have a blog here, don't I?

Funny how I keep forgetting that.

I wish I had some colorful excuse for only posting three times in 2005 - something involving daring rescues of precocious orphans, multiple broken bones, extended convalescences, and sponge baths from cute nurses - but that would be an utter, utter lie.

Pity, because it would've meant I was pretty awesome.

The truth is far more mundane: I was lazy. And, in a lot of ways, uncertain what I wanted to do with this blog.

I didn't want it to be yet another "personal diary" blog: partly because 99% of my life is the everyday boring shit we all do (would anyone care about my daily commute or what I had for breakfast or which co-worker I want to throttle now?); partly because the other 1% is nobody else's damn business, much less the entire freakin' Internet's.

I didn't want it to be some sort of political-screed blog, because...well, I think I pay enough attention to current events to develop informed opinions on various matters; but not enough to argue articulately about them in a public forum. The signal-to-noise ratio of the Net is bad enough - no need to add to the drivel. Let's just say I generally skew left of center, which should give you an idea of what I believe most of the time, and leave it at that.

I didn't want to be just another "here's some cool links I found" blog, because that's done to death already. Not to mention lazy.

I thought about making it a "personal musings" blog, but then decided that 95% of my thoughts were too sordid for public consumption. Also too incoherent.

And I already have a videogame-related blog - which also endured a lot of neglect from me last year. [I'm a baaaad parent.] So what was there left for me to talk about?

Not much, apparently.

But I started this blog as a way of trying to provoke myself into posting my thoughts in a public forum, how silly and half-formed they may be; and even after a spectacularly failed first year, that's still my intent.

So for 2006, I plan to forget the adage, "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt," and try to post more freely. I still don't know where I'm gonna go from here - but hopefully, I won't be stuck in neutral the whole time either.

. . .

Anyone care to give me a push?

Go read Count Your Sheep

2005-05-20T12:28:00.000-04:00

Holy crap, my blogging output has been pathetic. Two posts in one month? Sad - so very, very sad.

For a while now, I've been trying to think of something important, something meaningful, Something Deep to blog about.

Then I realized that was getting me nowhere, so now I'm here to pimp a webcomic. To whit: Adrian Ramos' Count Your Sheep.

Why read it?

The requisite comparison to a popular property: it's kinda like Calvin and Hobbes, if Calvin was a girl instead of a boy and Hobbes was an imaginary sheep and Calvin's mom was a young widow struggling to raise her only child on her own. Oh, and it's in various shades of blue.

Read it because it's cute without being cloying, endearing without being insufferable, touching without being maudlin. [Well, mostly. Ramos has his off days, same as anyone. But mostly? He's darn good.] It derives humor from the suffering of its characters - all the indignities of growing up plus the struggles of being a single parent - but it's bittersweet humor at times. Ramos makes us feel sympathy for his characters' hardships, even while we're chuckling at them. It's a difficult balancing act - to combine humor with pathos - but he does it quite well.

Read it because how many comic strips are about a single parent struggling - economically, emotionally, and in all other ways - to raise a bright child after the death of her spouse? How many comic strips mine both humor and pathos from the difficulties of single parenthood (helpful imaginary talking sheep notwithstanding)? The Funny and the Sympathy come as much from Katie's flights of fancy as they do from Laurie's latest emotional outburst or crying fit.

Eric Burns of Websnark fame has already commented on CYS before - I'm mostly just pitching in with my tiny squeaky voice in support as well.

For me personally, part of why I like CYS is because it reminds me of a former co-worker of mine who was a young single mother. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that things were a lot tougher on her than they should've been - she didn't get the kind of support from others she should have, not even her own parents - and she could've let herself become bitter and angry about it. She didn't and I admired that about her. She worked hard to take care of her daughter and herself and she did it largely on her own.

Both she and her young daughter were two of the sweetest people I knew. She baked me a cake on my birthday, despite everything else she had to do, because...well, she was the sort of person who did that sort of thing for her co-workers. And I never did get to return the favor; we had already parted ways by the time her birthday rolled around.

I haven't seen her in years, but I wonder from time to time how they're doing and hope things got easier for her. So I read about Laurie and Katie and the difficulties in their lives and I think of my ex-co-worker again and the chocolate cake she fixed me and all the difficulties she doubtless tackled on her own as a working single mom because...well, she had to.

Sweet people deserve better.

Striking while the iron's hot

2005-04-28T15:49:00.000-04:00

So one of the things I've noticed lately about blogging? Just how quickly you get left behind.

Say you want to blog about something which happened in your own life - some anecdote you wish to relate - but you can't write it the same day or even the same week it occurred. Is it still relevant several days later? The anecdote hangs in limbo, like the magazines in the doctor's waiting room: too old to be current events, too recent to be history.

Or what if you read an interesting blog post. You want to write a response - either in the author's comments section or in your own blog - but you don't have the time to do so, or at least not as thoroughly as you wish. So you file it away as something to do later when you have the time.

Hours pass. Then days. Next thing you know, it's been at least a week. Should you still bother to write a response?

Some topics, of course, are based on current events and have a limited shelf life. Speculation about, say, who will be the next Pope is obviously rendered moot a week after the new one's been picked. But other blog topics are about long-term issues, things which don't go away or get resolved quickly. But it could be that the discussion has already moved on by the time you have a chance to write a reply.

Would the original blogger care about what you have to write now, days or weeks after his or her original post? The issue already feels like it's in limbo too; the blogger's moved onto other topics. The way some blogs work, the author might not even realize you've written a comment at all.

You could still write a post in your own blog. But it seems strange to reference another blog post that's already past its freshness date. The immediacy of the Net feels like both its boon and its bane: it ensures that bloggers everywhere can share their thoughts with the rest of the world within moments of them occurring; but it also means everything happens so quickly that backing up to "old" topics feels counter-intuitive. Blogs are the streams of consciousness of the Net - good luck swimming back up the rapids.

Yet surely things are not meant to be so ephemeral in the blogosphere. Why keep archives in the first place, if not so others can reference past writing? Why blog at all if you don't think what you have to say has merit beyond the moment of its creation? If it takes days - or weeks or even months - before you're able to make a good point about something, shouldn't it still be made?

And yet, it still seems strange to me to write about things that are in doctor's-waiting-room limbo. If things move at light speed online, you're in the dust if you're no faster than the speed of sound.

Or so I thought.

Well, screw that. I don't always have time to blog about something when I first see it. And sometimes, it takes me days, even weeks, to think of what I want to write. But I've already skipped blogging about anything in recent weeks, because I've told myself, "Oh, it's been too many days - it's not relevant anymore."

Which just feeds into my usual lazy, procrastinating nature.

Which starting up a couple of blogs was supposed to help me fight.

So I'm gonna blog what I want to blog when I can get around to blogging it. And if it means I wait days, weeks, months to say something; and what I have to say seems embarrassingly dated to others; and people are left wondering why the heck I even bothered so long after the fact, then so be it.

The iron may be stone cold by the time I get around to hitting it, but at least I'll still take a whack at it.

Hi. C'mon in.

2005-04-11T16:59:00.000-04:00

Sorry about the mess. And the barebones furnishings. I'll try to decorate the place, liven it up a bit, I swear. For now, just pull up a milk crate and have a seat.

If you've come here from my 1UP blog - hey, thanks for stopping by. Hope this means you actually like the crap I write over there and want to read more of it. If you've no idea what I'm talking about: I've got another blog over on 1UP.com, where I talk about videogames and...well, not much else. This blog is intended for everything else I want to write.

So let's get the NAQs - the Never Asked Questions which haven't come up because no one cares enough to ask, but which I feel like answering anyway (because, hey, it's my blog and I'll be as wryly self-referential as I want to be) - out of the way, shall we?

Why a second blog? Well, I decided I wanted to keep my 1UP blog focused solely on gaming, so those who like what I have to say about games - but don't care about the rest of my writing - can find it in one place. Likewise, I wanted a place where those who like my writing but don't give a rat's ass about my thoughts on games could come. And on the off-chance someone likes everything I write - well, now they have to keep track of two blogs, instead of only one.

`Cause I'm a bastard that way.

And obviously, those who just plain don't like what I write can ignore both blogs, secure in the knowledge they won't bump into my work somewhere else (for now) and have one of those terribly awkward moments where you run into someone on the street you know, but don't actually like, so you're trying not to be rude as you make idle chitchat, even though you really just want to keep going to the grocery store or wherever.

Why blog at all? Self-expression, baby. Because I like to write. But I'm a pretty lazy writer. Having a blog or two, I hope, gives me some incentive to write periodically and - because I'm posting publicly - forces me to make it something which doesn't completely suck.

Who am I? Just another nerd with a blog. You'll learn the rest as we go along.

Why should you bother reading what I write? Ideally, because you find what I write entertaining, enlightening, and/or diverting.

Or, alternatively, because you're just really, really bored.

So anyway, thanks for stopping by. Hope you like what you see, once there's more of it to see.