Monthly Archives: June 2012

Gallery – Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, New Mexico

28 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by in Bad Photography, Education, Native American Themes, Street Art

≈ 28 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

So, I just got back to Vegas after spending a few days in Santa Fe. I was there to visit the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) along with some folks from my own institution and about 5 other tribal colleges. IAIA is a 4-year tribal college, and they have an awful lot going for them. The trip also included a visit to Taos Pueblo, several excursions into downtown, and a trip out to some interesting rock formations. For the present, I thought I would just put up a gallery of the lovely IAIA campus.

Students were gone for the summer, and a number of displays had been pulled down, but the campus still has an amazing variety of art projects. They also have a digital dome, the worlds only fully articulating dome. It hangs from four chains which can be raised or lowered to change the angle of the display. …and yes, students get to use it.

Seriously, there are few institutions in this world about which I can’t think of anything critical to say. In fact, right now I think the list may have one entry.

The Stars and Stripes in Two Takes

28 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by in History, Native American Themes, Politics

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Entrance of the Flag

July 4th came a little early for me this year, or at least I found the American flag playing an unexpectedly prominent role in my weekend. The first occasion to think about the Stars and Stripes occurred at the Rodeo de Santa Fe on Saturday.

We arrived just a few minutes before the announcer asked the crowd to rise for “the most beautiful flag in the world.” He went on to tell us that people in other parts of the world look to it as a symbol of freedom. In just a few moments, a young lady with a beautiful voice begin to sing the National Anthem, but I have to admit I was already out of the moment. There was something about the tone of the introduction that had me a little on edge.

The announcer presented himself well and genuinely enhanced the overall experience of the rodeo, but I personally like my patriotism without a dose of jingoism. Hell, I could live with the description of the Star Spangled Banner as the most beautiful flag in the world. People in other nations might say the same of theirs, but if patriotic sentiments made their appearances solely in such expressions, then all my concerns about the matter could be resolved with a wink and a chuckle.

No harm – no foul, as far as I’m concerned. But of course, that wasn’t all…

When I heard this same announcer say; “(America) love it or leave it,” I have to admit I was genuinely displeased. That is the sort of chip-on-the-shoulder patriotism that I can do without. Granted, this sort of expression was not entirely to be unexpected at a rodeo, an event that out-Americans apple pie. But perhaps that was the problem; this little bit of verbal shadow boxing was quite unnecessary. It’s one thing to get aggressive when facing opposition, but when you’re doing your own thing amongst folks with a similar outlook, and its going well, and people are enjoying themselves, I can’t help thinking that a simple invitation to find some positive value in the flag and the nation would be the way to go.

The thing that really caught my attention was the claim that others around the world look to the American flag as a symbol of freedom. To be fair, I expect some do, but I also expect some don’t. Standing there waiting for the national anthem to begin, I couldn’t help wondering how far I would have to go to find someone who might find the flag just a little ominous.

As it turns out, I did not have to go far at all.

The next day, I found myself standing with a group of friends and coworkers in the Catholic Church at Taos Pueblo. The gentlemen showing us around the Pueblo called attention to the clothing upon the saints at the head of the church. He told us it wasn’t modesty that required the clothing; it was there to cover burn marks, burn marks dating back to first days of American presence in New Mexico. To his ancestors, the Star Spangled Banner had first appeared as a symbol of occupation. To say that this occupation had been traumatic would be putting it mildly.

The Taos Revolt of 1847 carried all the horrors one might expect from a local outbreak of violence. The first Governor of New Mexico died horribly in the early stages of the revolt, as did many others who took office under the new territorial government. For the residents of Taos the revolt ended with the shelling of their church and the killing of around 150 rebels. A number of executions would soon follow.

One needn’t feign naïveté about the role of any participants in the brutal events of that conflict, or any other. We needn’t believe in the moral superiority of any participants in that war. It is enough to understand that the events of 1847 have left their mark on the Pueblo, quite literally in fact. It is there in the relics of the contemporary church, and it is there in the ruins of the old church still standing in the village. It should also come as no surprise to find that such events might color the meaning of the flag to residents of the Pueblo.

I don’t mean to suggest that the meaning of the flag can be reduced to violence and oppression, and I really don’t think that is what our host in Taos meant to suggest either. His story was enough to remind us of the power that symbol and the nation behind it have to inflict harm on others, and to suggest that the consequences of such harm can be far more reaching than people often imagine. I think there is a lot of room for patriotism in places where such stories are told, but I do wonder if there is any room for those stories (or folks who care about them) in places where people are reminded that they must love America or leave it

There ought to be.

***

Cameras are strictly forbidden at Taos Pueblo which is why none appear in this post. For a quick brush-up on the Taos Revolt, I consulted a piece by the state Historian of New Mexico, William H. Wroth.

Godwin Gets a Gun: Joe Worzelbacher Shoots a Nazi, …or a Tomato!

23 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by in Politics

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

So, I just saw this campaign video from Joe “The Plumber” Worzelbacher (He’s Running for a House Seat in Ohio), and I swear a little part of me just died. It’s not like I was expecting much from Joe, or from the political opportunists intent on helping him stretch his fifteen minutes (and the collective Hell that goes with it) just a little longer. But Damn! If stupid really does burn, then the state of Ohio needs to open a new hospital wing just to deal the fall-out from this particular idiot-bomb.

So, Godwin’s Law aside, what’s wrong with this ad?

I’m going to say right off the bat that I don’t know enough about the Armenian Holocaust to really deal with it properly. I will add that I would be damned surprised if Joe did either, or the idiot who wrote his speech in this video, whoever that may have been and whatever drug he may have been taking at the time.

On one level, Joe’s argument really presents a very simple exercise in fallacy recognition. He mentions two laws followed by two genocides. Joe offers no analysis in support of his contention that they are linked, but he does fire off a couple rounds while giving us time to let the obvious connection sink in. …and my gosh golly aren’t we all impressed!

This is a Post Hoc fallacy, pure and simple. Done.

It should be added that Joe has subsequently denied he was claiming gun control caused the Holocaust, and then he went on to explain that it could never have happened without disarming the people first. (Actually, Joe attributes this particular claim to Hitler, so I suppose he still has grounds for plausible deniability on the matter, but of course the question is why does he bring it up if he doesn’t intend to advance the claim?) Seriously, this is the rhetoric of a complete coward. If he can’t make up his mind whether or not he means to say gun control made the Holocaust possible, then he really ought to shut his festering gob.

Irony of Ironies, Joe thinks his critics are pushing a political agenda. (And seriously, how lacking in self-consciousness do you have to be to make such an accusation about people critical of YOUR OWN POLITICAL CAMPAIGN ADD?) Joe also says that his critics must hate history, because apparently they don’t want to hear it. One of Joe’s spokesman (Phil Christofanelli) adds that Joe is a student of history. …yeah right! The prospect that Joe’s critics may just know more about the subject than he or his speech writer does seems to escape these guys, …or perhaps they are simply hoping that prospect will escape Ohio voters.

But of course Joe isn’t the only happy hustler to trot this line of powdered camel dung out and offer us a straw. It’s a fairly conventional line of bullshit from the gun lobby and assorted gun enthusiasts, …actually, I should say from the less intelligent and completely dishonest members of gun-toting crowd. Seriously, there are decent and intelligent gun-owning folks out there. You can tell who they are because they are not the ones laying this line of crap down on the table and expecting you to snort it.

But lets sort through a few specifics, shall we? Near as I can tell Joe was actually talking about a gun control law passed in 1938, but let’s not quibble over that detail. No, let’s quibble over the fact that Germany had already passed gun control laws in 1919, 1920, and 1928. Each of these laws modified the legal options for gun ownership in different ways, and there is no clear reason to choose the 1938 law as the smoking gun (pun intended) for Nazi gun control. Joe’s sophisticated periodization is little other than an ad hoc choice of the date most convenient to his own narrative (much as his choice of 1939 as the beginning of the holocaust-according-to-Joe). Joe picked the most convenient date for his own story, and that was about it.

Did I mention this argument is pure camel dung?

Okay, but let’s think about this for a minute. 1938(9)? What had already happened in Germany by that point? Well, let’s see. On the basis of the 1932 elections, Hitler had been appointed Chancellor in January of 1933. This was followed soon after by a suspicious fire in the Reichstag (German parliamentary building) that February. The following day President Hindenburg granted Hitler emergency powers, and in March the German Parliament (under great pressure from the Nazi party) signed away the bulk of its powers to Hitler in a law known as the Enabling Act. In effect, the democratic institutions of Weimar Germany had already come to a pretty full stop by the end of 1934, 5 years before the key to everything in Joe’s gun-induced euphoria.

…and of course by this time the Nazis were already locking up their political enemies.

In late June and early July of 1934, Nazi leadership killed about a hundred of their own in a fascinating little purge known as the “Night of the Long Knives.” By early August Hitler had fused the offices of President and Chancellor, thus making himself, …well, der Fuhrer. And with that Nazi leadership is in pretty much full swing, the law is what they say it is at this point in history, …4-5 years before the law Joe offers as the key to it all.

The Nuremberg Laws were passed in 1935, installing legal repression of Jews throughout Germany, 4 years before the terrible law which Joe wants us to believe made it all possible.

By 1939, the Nazis had already been using concentration camps for 6 years. They weren’t killing people in mass yet, but they were already working them to death in large numbers, and yes, they were already experimenting with ways to kill Jewish prisoners and other undesirables. Italy had already invaded Ethiopia, the Japanese had already taken Manchuria, and Francisco Franco had already seized power in Spain, all with the support of Germany. Hitler had already seized Austria and begun his push for the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia.

Despite all the crimes the Nazis had already committed, all the freedoms they had already taken away, Joe wants us to think a law passed in 1938(9) made it all possible. It’s amazing! It is completely asinine to suggest that private German citizens were in a position to stop Nazi atrocities in 1938, let alone to suggest the largely unarmed Jewish population, could have managed it. This is not history. This is fantasy.

So, just remember this the next time one of these smug little idiots decides to illustrate the Dunning-Kruger Effect by giving you the pop-gun and bubble-gum history of the Holocaust, conveniently simplified for the benefit of the American gun-lobby. There is only one way to make that argument, and that is to be so damned ignorant about the history in question that you just don’t know any better.

Apparently, Joe doesn’t know any better.

He’s hoping a lot of people in Ohio don’t either.

In Loving Memory of Donald T. M. Wall, May 5, 1928 – October 17, 1997

17 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by in Childhood

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

U.S. Army Photograph 41-133-79-1/AK-67, LTC Donald T.M. Wall, January 5, 1967

It might be more a memory of a memory at this point, but it is a vivid memory just the same. It is the moment that I actually met my father for the first time. I must have been about 3, though I don’t know the precise year, and I know that I had seen him before, but still…

I remember the days beforehand. This was the late 60s, and we lived on Nona Kay Drive in San Antonio Texas. I have this vision of an old TV with some soap opera playing in the background (“Like sands through an hourglass..”), and Mother asking me if I was excited that my Daddy was coming home.

I most certainly was.

There were pictures of Dad all around the house, all in various uniforms. As I understand it now, this was Father’s second tour in Vietnam. Now a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army Medical Corpse, Dad had overseen the construction of a field hospital during this tour. In Korea he had served as an intelligence officer. In World War II he had served briefly in the marines as an airplane mechanic toward the end of the war. Father would soon retire and move on to try his hand at a variety of civilian jobs. He would serve as a hospital administrator, teach at a few colleges, run a submarine sandwich shop, and sell mobile homes among other things, all before settling into a retirement career as a Dam Guide (that is a guide at Hoover Dam for non-Boulder City natives). Through it all, I think his 23 years of service to the military remained the defining feature of his career.

What I understood at the time was that my father was far away, and he was finally coming home. I must have spoken to him on the phone once or twice, or at least provided the toddler equivalent of speech. Anyway, I knew my father. He was very much a part of my life. So, when Mother began to ask me if I was happy that dad was coming home, the answer was most certainly ‘yes’.

It  must have been a school day when Father returned, because neither my older brother nor my older sister came with us to meet the plane. I remember we walked out onto the tarmac. I remember Mom’s excitement as the flight approached. I remember how it increased as the men began to step off the plane, each in combat fatigues. I looked, but I could not see my father among the first few, nor the few that came after.

And then Mother’s excitement seemed to boil over. “There he is,” she shouted, “Do you see him?”

I didn’t.

She kept pointing at someone in the line of men in green combat fatigues, but I didn’t recognize my father among any them at all. I still didn’t recognize the man that actually walked up, hugged and kissed my mother. I had no idea who he was.

I remember staring up at him and wondering if this really was the man in the pictures at home. And that’s when it dawned on me. What I could not remember at the time was ever having seen him in person. I had of course, but it had been too far back in time. Perhaps half of my young life had passed since I had last seen this man. In the interim, he had become a voice on the phone, a series of pictures, and a person given form and meaning largely through Mother’s words.

The man in front of me at just that moment was not wearing a dress uniform as he had been in all those pictures, and that was enough to throw me completely. I studied his face to see if I could recognize something there, but I just couldn’t see it. Father to me was a broad brimmed officer’s hat and a uniform full of fancy decorations. Standing there without them, this man could have been anybody. It was an awfully odd moment, staring up at a man already a part of my world and realizing that I didn’t know him at all. At the moment, I had only my mother’s word upon which to hang my belief that this was my father.

Thankfully, she was right.

He turned out to be a very good one.

Meeting Your Maker in a Ridley Scott Movie: Once Again As Farce (Spoilers)

12 Tuesday Jun 2012

Posted by in Movies, Religion

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Prometheus

Prometheus opens with great promise delivered on a grand scale. It is a quest to find the origins of life on earth, a journey to meet our makers. I had entered the theater primed with expectation (the promos for this film were brilliant), and upon learning where the story would take us, I smiled and settled into my seat. Seriously, I couldn’t wait to see what new directions Ridley Scott might take with this wonderful theme.

Sadly, the answer was right into the ground.

Because the big crash of a spaceship at the end of this flick was the perfect metaphor for the movie as a whole. It was just one big train space-ship wreck.

…complete with main characters running directly away from the rolling wheel-like space ship instead of jumping to the side. Yes, they actually did that. Seriously, how does a movie studio spend so many millions of dollars on special effects and star power only to miss the fact that they put a Loony Tunes gag in the middle of the dramatic climax of the story? Or do they just think we are that stupid?

Maybe we are. …Damn!

Don’t get me wrong. I like really cool special effects as much as the next guy. But I also like an interesting story. Is it really too much to ask that they appear in the same film?

Ridley Scott has produced such films! Alien was such a film. More to the point, Blade Runner was such a film. And one of the best things about Blade Runner was its use of the very same theme.

Blade Runner

Blade Runner was a classic Philip K. Dick story. Few authors could make something so fantastic speak to people in such personal ways, and Ridley Scott transmitted that to the screen brilliantly. Do you remember Roy’s encounter with his maker? Do you remember watching as this replicant interrogates his very creator, trying desperately to wheedle extra time out of the very man who had chosen to the hour of Roy’s demise? And do you remember how easily the story acquired its deeper significance, that moment when a simple plot point about a creature trying to extend its life acquired philosophical significance?

For all his artificial nature, Roy stood before his maker asking questions about the very meaning of mortality. They were questions we could all recognize. Questions that touched deeply on what it means to be human, what it means to live for only a little while.

And in that moment when the character of Roy stands before his maker and demands to know the reason for his imminent death, he became so very human.

…still more so in the moment of his passing:

What makes Roy’s story so compelling is not merely that we can see the metaphor, but that the metaphor is used to tell us something about our own humanity. It is not merely the loss of personal life that Roy mourns. It is also the passing of his experiences into oblivion, experiences that could be of real value to someone. He is a remarkable character, to be sure, and the world will lose something as he passes.

…just as it does with the passing of each of our loved ones.

…just as it will for each and every one of us.

Roy

Roy meets his maker to confront his own mortality, and he takes us along for the ride. We are there, not just to witness the action, but to share in the meaning of that encounter. …perhaps even to share in the crime of deicide when Roy executes his own verdict on his maker.

And what of Prometheus?

Grandfather?

As Roger Ebert tells us, Prometheus raises questions about the origin of human life, presenting us with a version of the panspermia hypothesis in which all of life on earth is begun through the apparent suicide of a pale muscular alien. In the opening scenes that alien appears alone on a barren plant, his spaceship leaving without him. With all the solemnity of a priest performing a great ritual, the alien consumes a mysterious substance, and it ravishes his body. As the mysterious alien falls into a rushing river, his body disintegrates, releasing the seeds of life into a new world.

Was this earth, as Roger Ebert suggests? Ridley Scott tells us that it could be any planet, but of course the point of the scene is to raise the possibility. This might have been how life on earth started, so we are asked to believe. More to the point, it may well be how life on planet earth will begin anew, if the “engineers” as these aliens are called, should choose to return.

That is the possibility uncovered by our main characters in Prometheus. They set out in a quest to find the engineers, to speak with our very creators only to find them bent on our destruction. And thus the a question about the origin of life on earth transforms into a question about the possibility of its imminent demise. The two questions are really the same, because each is essentially a question about the motives of the engineers.

Why?

Shaw

This SHOULD have been a brilliant movie. What makes it so sad is the inattention to narrative detail. The scientists do not act like scientists, especially the geologist who’s rabid anti-intellectualism belies his choice of career. Seriously, didn’t someone on set know that geology is a science? But of course this is a side character, and his flaws are forgivable. What of the main characters?

Three people drive the quest to find the engineers in Prometheus. Two archaeologists, Elizabeth Shaw and Charlie Holloway (played by Noomi Rapace and Logan Marshall Green) initiate the quest to find the engineers as a result of the result of their own findings. Holloway is so intent on speaking with the engineers that he engages in reckless actions upon landing. Believing the engineers to be dead, he drowns his sorrows in a bottle. I suppose we are meant to appreciate the irony of a scholar lamenting the greatest archeological find in the history of the field, but I for one could not get past the absurdity of it. Shaw could almost have served as a voice of reason were it not for her complete irrelevance in the lead-up to the final conflict. No-one listens to her (least of all her husband and partner Holloway), right up until she ends up as the sole human survivor of the expedition.

…which is to say that no-one ever listens to her.

And then of course there is Peter Weyland (played by Guy Pearce). A wealthy old man facing the end of his own life, Weyland funds the expedition for the sole purpose of extending his life. How he came to the conclusion that the engineers would extend his life is beyond me? I think it was beyond the writers themselves? Whatever its origins, Weyland holds onto this assumption despite all evidence to the contrary. Long after it has been made clear that the engineers bear no goodwill towards their creation, Weyland chooses to speak with one of them. It was a foolish mistake.

…and it was his last one.

And here we have the crux of the problem.This movie doesn’t really raise any questions about the origins of life at all. The prospect that life on earth might have its origins in the stars is simply a premise designed to kick-start the action. Nothing about the unfolding action sheds any light on the significance of that premise, nor does it begin share that significance with anyone in the audience.

Space Lab

The central meaning of the encounter with the engineers rests on the irrational presuppositions of Holloway, Shaw, and Weyland. Each of them has loaded the event with significance particular to their own stories, their reasons for doing so barely explored in the course of the film. This sort of approach might have worked with some earnest character development, but Prometheus was too busy wowing us with majestic visuals and sudden moments of terror. In the end, this film attaches no genuine meaning to the event at all.

And so the encounter with the makers of humanity does not quite resonate the way it could have. The encounter with the engineers is an intrinsically interesting moment, one spoiled terribly by the lack of a meaningful storyline to carry us through it. Unlike Roy, these characters bring no great questions to their creator; seeking instead to learn whatever he chooses tell them. But he tells them nothing, electing instead to begin smashing up its creation.

…which actually sums up this movie pretty well.

***

I have to thank my friend Michael Kucan for helping me to remember some of the more irritating details of this movie. I would also like to recommend aknittysociety blog, which contains a wonderful analysis of race and gender in Prometheus. I should also say that in my thoughts about Blade Runner were rather strongly influenced by entry in Roger Ebert’s Journal, I Remember You.

Spring Break Up and a Video: No, Not that Kind!

09 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by in Alaska, Bad Photography

≈ 33 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Last June I used to walk down by the beach nearly every day. It was fascinating to see the ocean slowly turning back into liquid. Since I’m in Vegas at the moment, I can only imagine what’s happening now.

…or live vicariously through last year’s photos.

But first some happy music!

Now, if you click on the pics, they will embiggen!

Now, since I am also missing the Nalukataq, the Spring Whaling Festival later this month, A Quick Video!

I know. Fire the cameraman!

Anyway, that is Barrow, AK, at this time of year.

Hypocrisy and the Infinity Mirror: Reflections on the Limbaugh-Fluke Affair

06 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by in Politics

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

What do you do when someone on your side says or does something so utterly beyond the pale that it is completely indefensible?

Those Americans calling themselves ‘conservatives’ got a chance to show us their response to this sort of dilemma back when Rush Limbaugh attacked Sandra Fluke, actively misrepresenting her testimony before an unofficial hearing and insulting her on his radio show. He would later retract the insults while leaving his lies about Fluke’s actual testimony uncorrected. His lies continue to circulate through the population, effectively replacing a responsible debate about the wisdom of mandatory birth control coverage and reasonable accommodations for religious objection with a fantasy battle over personal sex lives and government subsidies. The end result would seem indefensible, even outright embarrassing for anyone implicated in supporting Limbaugh.

One would think the responsible thing to do would be to say not just ‘no’, but ‘Hell no’, and refuse to back Limbaugh’s approach to the subject. One might even suggest that such an approach would help to distinguish the conservatives from the many playground bullies currently reveling in the delusion that their sundry bits of prejudice add up to some sort of political philosophy.

Suffice to say this was not the most common Republican response to the situation. The right wing echo chamber cried foul over liberal backlash against Limbaugh and quickly spun the story into a case-study in liberal hypocrisy. Liberals condemn Limbaugh, so the argument goes, but then look at Bill Maher and his comments about Sarah Palin! (I recall a few other examples, but Maher clearly occupied center stage in the right wing response to this issue.) Thus, Limbaugh’s disgusting personal attacks on a young student activist became proof of liberal misogyny?

How many of the right wing pundits jumping on the “what about___” response ever bothered to make a principled criticism of Limbaugh, one that went beyond merely disclaiming the insults to call him to account for his misrepresentations of her testimony? I wouldn’t say that the answer is ‘none’, but it certainly falls well short of the total commenting on the issue. Most of these ‘conservatives’ have simply been content to comment on liberal hypocrisy without making any serious effort to correct those in their own camp.

The focus on liberal hypocrisy enables conservatives to defend Limbaugh and complain about Maher without ever laying their own cards on the table. So long as the focus of thought rests on whether or not liberals have been consistent on the issue, right wing pundits never have to take responsibility for addressing the issues squarely themselves. And they can effectively work both angles of the debate just as they accuse liberals of doing, all the while laying responsibility for the inconsistencies of the entire national discourse squarely at the feet of those damned liberals.

And thus the charge of hypocrisy facilitates the same.

We could call this particular gambit the META-HYPOCRISY SHUFFLE. It consists of disguising your own inconsistencies by pretending you are just responding to those of someone else. There is nothing particularly new about this tactic, nor is it exclusive to conservatives. And of course the plot thickens when calling attention to this problem as well, because one can always add another layer to the house of cards by refusing to take a stand on the particulars while complaining about the inconsistency of the other guy.

…and on into infinity.

The problem is easy enough to identify. Untangling it is another matter, not the least of reasons being that the perception of hypocrisy is easy to manipulate in a variety of ways.

If you are not sure whether or not any particular individual is guilty of hypocrisy, you can always use the tactic of INCONSISTENCY BY ASSOCIATION. This consists of treating all of those who belong to a given group as though they are collectively responsible for producing a single ideologically consistent position. Thus, if I can find one self-described conservative who says that it is wrong to degrade women, quote him, then go find another self-described conservative who does just that, well then voila! I have proven conservatives inconsistent.

…unless I haven’t.

To make the charge honestly, I need one person who does both things, not two or more people who simply share the label.

And of course there is always the possibility of GAMING THE PRINCIPLE. This is really just another variety of the straw man fallacy. The tactic exploits a common weakness that typically accompanies expressions of outrage. When people are really angry over something, they often fail to state the principles they feel have been violated with any degree of precision, …or even at all. This makes it easy for others to come along and rewrite the principle in question for them. Even if the outraged individual has spelled out the specific principles they feel have been violated, a loose paraphrase can often lead readers to forget that inconvenient detail.

Someone who feels that Sandra Fluke did not personally deserve Limbaugh’s personal attacks, for example, could easily be construed as claiming that one ought never to insult a political opponent (thus confusing a claim about what is a reasonable criticism with a claim that some people ought never to be criticized). The point here is to supply a principle to one’s critic that puts him on the worst footing possible, even if that principle has little to do with their actual concerns. From there it is a simple task to demonstrate the individual in question has violated the principle they never actually endorsed, and that’s Q.E.frickin-D.

Except that it isn’t.

To make the charge honestly one must be sure that a person has violated a principle she herself has actually advocated, not one that sounds close enough.

And finally there is the very simple tactic of SKIPPING THE FACTS. Just because accusations and insults may be leveled in all directions does not mean that all of them have equal value. Sometimes party A really has done something wrong and party B hasn’t. It’s easy enough to flip the tables of accusation and say; “see how you like it?”…but if the claims don’t have equal merit, then this gambit is hollow as hell.

All of these tactics help to transform the sort of inconsistency that shows up under the scrutiny of critical thinking into one that will show up in a political narrative whether or not it is warranted on the facts at hand. These tactics did not emerge with the Limbaugh-Fluke controversy, nor will they be filed away in the wake of that dust-up. They are constant presence in the political landscape, and the right wing of this country is making very effective use of them.

In the long run, the problem here is not that questions about liberal behavior have been put on the table; it’s that putting those questions on the table has become a very effective way to get questions about right wing behavior off the table.

In Honor of Kitten Season: A Few Stories From a Shelter

03 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by in Animals

≈ 37 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

An Uninvited Guest

Maybe you haven’t heard of kitten season, but it is well into its early stages at this point. Early Spring and Summer see a sharp rise in the birth of puppies; they see an even sharper rise in the birth of kittens. June is the peak of kitten season.

Now you would think that something called ‘kitten season’ would be a very good thing. It must be the fluffiest, cutest, and most playful season of the year, right? And for most of us, it well could be. But if you work in a conventional Humane Association, kitten season can be hell. It must be bad enough for the average no-kill as they have to turn folks away, but for those who work in a will-kill animal shelter, this can be damned miserable.

First the marginal cases go. Animals with minor health or aggression issues (the kind that might have been overlooked with less competition for space) will go down as the kitten-count rises. Then come the clear-cut cases of healthy perfectly adoptable cats. Even the most beautiful adult cat just can’t compete next to a 6 week old bundle of ultra-cuteness. And if enough kittens come into a shelter, well then a portion of them to go down too, perfectly healthy kittens.

I worked in a conventional animal shelter for about a year and a half. We were lucky in that we put few healthy animals down in comparison to other open-intake facilities. As a PR guy, my role in handling the animals was rather limited. Still, I have quite a few vivid memories of the experience.

Today, I shall restrict myself to those stories dealing with cats.

OH SHIT! When I first took the job, I hadn’t even thought about the prospect of facing all those animals. I just needed the work. But then someone suggested that I go back and see the animals in person, and I strode off to check them out for myself. That’s when I realized I was in grave danger of becoming a pet-hoarding bearded cat-lady. I had a hard enough time walking by all the dogs. By the time I got to the cats, I knew I was in real trouble. Working at this shelter posed a hazard that I hadn’t even thought about when I first filled out that application.

There was no special emergency the first time I took a cat home. (I did it twice.) The little tabby just seduced me. She had the softest purr and a gentle voice to match it. I kept going back to pet that cat until I realized I would be pissed if someone else ended up with her. So, she went home with me one day.

Burp lives with my nephew and his wife now, and people still ask about her name. I tell them it was actually my Siamese that named her. I already had two cats and they were none-too pleased about the new edition to the family. The little tabby was still new in the house and trying her best to make friends with the older cats, but they were having none of it. I remember watching the tabby sit across a table from the two Siamese, giving off all the submissive signals she could, not the least of which being a very soft trilling meow which I thought to be among the cutest sounds in the known universe. Fido and Junkmail just glared at her. The whole scene reminded me of parents scolding a child who had burped loudly at the table. That’s when I realized, it wasn’t that she had burped. It was more like she was the burp, and she herself did not belong at the table, at least as far as Fido and Junkmail were concerned.

That’s how Burp got her name.

THE WORST MOMENT: It wasn’t often that I was asked to help put animals down, but it did happen. I remember a lady who brought in a very fat and rather old cat. It hadn’t been getting along with the other felines in her home, and apparently it wasn’t holding its own in the fights either. This big guy had huge bite marks on its back where some other kitty had gotten the best of him.

Whatever the cause of the conflict in its home, getting rid of this poor guy was the solution its human had decided upon. I had to help put him down. I remember the way he looked at me as I pulled him out of the cage and held him up. And I remember the tear that rolled down his face. I know I’m projecting a range of human emotions onto this, but I’ve never been able to escape the feeling that he knew exactly what was happening.

The Pride at its Peak

THE ALLERGIC VOLUNTEER: One of my favorite volunteers was a young woman who was terribly allergic to cats, but that didn’t stop her. She wasn’t all that interested in helping with the dogs; she just loved cats. So, this young lady would take allergy medication before coming to an adoption event. Then she would spend as much of her time as possible holding a cat in her lap. Oh she was happy to help out in every way needed, but what brought her to the events was the chance to hold a cat. She would do this until the medication began to wear off and her eyes started to get puffy. Then she would go home often feeling miserable because she had held the cat for too long.

At some point this volunteer fell in love with a pair of grey tabbies. They were well past 6 months and really a little too big for the same cage, but this particular pair were inseparable. Cats don’t always seem to care about sticking with a sibling, but these two did. We were actively trying to adopt them out as a pair, which is a little tricky, but it really seemed the right thing to do.

So, our allergic volunteer took to loving on these cats every chance she got. We were having a little trouble moving them out (at least as a pair), so she got to hold them a couple times as I recall. She wanted desperately to take them home, but of course that would have been a disaster. Luckily her boyfriend lived in a separate residence.

As far as I know, he still has them.

***

DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! We had a lady who brought kittens to us several times a year. She had been doing it for some time before I got there, and she was still doing it when I left. These were scrawny kittens, often suffering a range of minor illnesses, which was a huge problem because our shelter did not employ a vet. The woman never checked on her kittens after dropping them off; but she always left with a smile on her face, as though she was doing a good deed of some kind.

Various employees had tried suggesting that she spay and neuter her adult cats, but this woman said she didn’t have the money. We even called her attention to a program offering the service at a discount. When that didn’t work, a savvy volunteer offered to pay for the surgeries, as many as were needed, no questions asked. The woman still declined, albeit without much in the way of an explanation at this point. All excuses aside, she clearly wanted the litters.

The shelter workers weren’t allowed to discuss the fate of any particular animal brought in to the shelter. Our staff was of course quite clear about the range of possibilities, but no-one discussed what would happen to any particular critter, even if it was obvious to us where it was going. Everyone did what they were supposed to do with this woman, which is to say that we accepted her sick kittens without comment. When she asked if we would take care of them, we always said ‘yes’ and smiled back at her.

What we should have said is; “Lady, they’ll be dead before you reach the end of our driveway.”

Maybe THAT would have got her attention.

***

PEACE AND LOVE! A lady came in once asking for a good barn cat. She said she would take care of it, but she really needed one to handle the mice in her barn. We directed her to the biggest, toughest-looking cat in the shelter. She brought him back a few days later, explaining that she caught him sleeping in his bed beside a perfectly healthy mouse. Not to worry; we found a new home for ‘Hippy cat’, one that didn’t expect him to engage in acts of violence.

***

VERY SAD: A couple brought their daughter in for her birthday. She was probably around 7 or 8 and cute as a button. Her parents had been promising this little girl a kitten for weeks if not months, and today was the day she got to pick one out. They had even taken her to the pet store before coming out to the shelter. She had already purchased some toys along with all the necessities. They were all set!

She could not have come at a better time. Our cat room was full at this point, and most of its contents were kittens. So, she had plenty of cute little critters to choose from.

Of course the little girl wouldn’t be able to take her new kitten home directly. Her family could pick it up from the vet the next day. That’s how our shelter worked. This was an unpleasant surprise, but the girl took the news well. She and her parents were all smiles as they proceeded into the cat room to pick out their new family member.

It was close to an hour later that I went back to check on the family, and found the parents standing in the middle of the room. Both looked as if they wanted to crawl out of their own flesh. Sitting on the bench in front of them, I could see their little girl in tears as she held onto one of the little kittens. “I’m fine,” she cried repeatedly. Her puffy face, runny nose, and terribly bloodshot eyes told a different story.

***

OF ASSHOLES AND ANGELS: It was a couple days before a big adoption event, and the shelter staff were pleased with the selection of dogs and cats we would have for this one. The shelter was nearly full, but not overfull. In fact, it was just about perfect.

…which is to say that we were ripe for a disaster.

Without warning, animal control officers for the county brought us 12 feral cats they had trapped in a remote lot somewhere. By contract, we had to take these cats, and by contract we had to hold them in quarantine for 3 days after which they would certainly be put down. With a full shelter, this had a very ironic effect, and by ‘ironic’ I mean ‘fucking perverse’. It meant that we would have to put healthy adoptable cats down to make room for the new feral cats.

Asked if the county could give us a little more warning in the future, the officer suggested we were trying to get out of our responsibilities. So, there we were, suddenly overflowing with cats, and facing a series of ugly decisions.

I took one cat home that day and a foster-care facility took 2 more off our hands. Lacking any other resources, I called the manager of a local pet store. We had an arrangement with this store, which included (among other things) housing up to 6 of our cats overnight. We could have as many as we wanted over there during the day, but only 6 could be left overnight. All these cats could be adopted directly out of the store, and it was at least possible they had moved one out that day, at least that’s what we were hoping at the shelter. So, I called to see if there were any openings.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Are you full?”

Pet Store Manager: “What happens if I say ‘yes’?”

Awkward silence.

Me: “I officially cannot tell you what happens if you say ‘yes’.”

More awkward silence.

Pet Store Manager: “Bring over as many as you need to.”

I could have kissed her right through the phone.

***

SADDER STILL: One Friday, we found a black&white tux in terrible shape. It would take a vet to establish the full extent of his injuries, but anyone with eyes could see that its jaw was broken, …actually shattered was more like it. Watching this poor creature trying to drink from the bowl of water we gave it was a truly heartbreaking experience.

Earlier that week, we had received a call from someone about a cat matching this one’s description. There had even been some suggestion it might have fallen off a second floor balcony. So, the staff made several calls to the probable owner. As the close of business approached, someone finally got through. Lacking a car and living across town, the owner asked if she could come in the following Monday. I drove out to get her instead.

I really wasn’t sure what to tell her about the situation. A couple of us had been on the verge of tears over the matter ourselves, and I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to see your own pet that way, but of course none of us were entirely sure if this was her cat.

It was.

***

A FERAL KITTEN: While cleaning the cat cages one morning, I saw a beautiful little tortoise-shell kitten in our quarantine room. She was huddled behind her litter box, growling at me. The card on the front of her cage read; ‘caution’. Of course a tiny kitten may not seem like much of a threat, but they can draw blood at an early age.

Eyes Just Turning
(and still prone to run-away)

Which is part of what makes the process of turning a feral kitten so wonderful. That first time you reach out to grab it, you just don’t know how much of a mistake you could be making. A feral kitten will hiss at you. It will puff itself up to sizes you couldn’t imagine from its happy state. It will spit; it will growl; and it will do its damnedest to convince you to leave it alone. But if it lets you grab it, just once, well then you have it. All you have to do at that point is pet the little bundle of anger and keep on doing that until it learns to like it. Repeat as necessary.

(I distinctly recall a feral kitten growling at me furiously as it rolled over on its back so I could scratch its belly.)

This particular kitten didn’t bite me, and I worked on her a lot for the next three days. It turns out, she had been found in the engine block of a rather modern vehicle. Some couple driving through town had heard her cries just before turning the ignition. One of our kennel-techs and an animal control officer had spent an hour trying to get the little kitten to come out far enough that they could reach her. Instead, she ran out and got into yet another vehicle. This time they managed to nab her and brought her in for the obligatory 3-days of quarantine.

So, I had 3 days to tame the little girl. She had to learn to like being handled or she would go straight down on day 3. Others may have helped too; I really don’t know.

By the time the little kitten’s quarantine ran out someone had crossed out the word ‘caution’ on the her information card, and someone else had written ‘friendly kitty’ in its place. (Okay, it might have been me that crossed out the word ‘caution’, but I’m pretty sure someone else wrote the part about her being friendly.) This meant she could go in the regular cat room and take her chances with folks looking to adopt a cat. The trouble was we were awfully full that day, healthy cats were in danger, and I was just a little worried that my favorite kitten might be cranky enough to scratch someone. Bad for the customer and the shelter; worse for the kitten.

What?

So, I took the little bugger home just to be sure. When she was big enough to go to the vet, I brought her back in and filled out the adoption paperwork. Asked what her name was, I hesitated. That’s when my colleague told me the story of the vehicle and pointed out the name on her original card; it read ‘Auto’.

Auto-Kitty is still with me today.

The Truly Trashy Post: Barrow’s Finest Dumpsters!

01 Friday Jun 2012

Posted by in Alaska, Bad Photography, Street Art

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

As I said before, Barrow has the best dumpsters.

Now, because I am away from home and I miss the place (It’s too damned hot here in Vegas!) I’m going to cool down a bit and share a few of my favorite dumpsters with y’all. These are actually part of a youth project; I am told they have been doing this for about 4 years at this point.

I have to admit that there is a good one down by the High school I’ve been meaning to get for awhile now, and I just haven’t gotten around to it. Hopefully there will be more at the end of this summer.