After a great deal of consideration, soulsearching, and discussion with some of my most politically active and savvy friends, I have decided to forgo my earlier loyalty to one of either Obama, Edwards or Clinton and officially announce the FoxPow 2008 Presidential Endorsement of Bucky Katt.
Now, many of you (all three people reading this) might feel that you have some legitimate objections to a Katt presidential campaign. You might say that Katt is inexeprienced in foreign policy, has bad people skills, will be unable to court the canine vote, and will fail to back such vital environtmental initiatives as continued global efforts to fight overfishing (particularly of highly stressed tuna stock). You might even stoop to hatemongering and bring up Katt's alleged attendance at a mrowdrassa. To which I reply, hisssssssss!
Think about it: "look at your face/when all I can see is myself looking back at me/"
Another title for this post might be "Peter, hopeless dork?"
So, I'm working on a post featuring pictures of southwest shore of San Juan island...but in the meantime, I have to share a hilarious segment of conversation:
Jeff:
» Peter
» You have to listen to this band
» I haven't even heard their music
» But the name of the band is "British Sea Power"
I like Illinois - I really do - but there isn't anything quite like the Pacific Northwest. If you ever fly into Seatac from the east, I'd suggest sitting in a window seat on the left side of the plane - chances are you'll fly right past Mt. Rainier and clear views of Adams and Hood in the distance - volcanoes in a line. The approach is often cloudy, which is a good thing; yesterday the volcanoes were visible from my window for about 10 or 15 minutes and looked like they were floating on a sea of white before the plane broke through the scattered cloud cover to reveal the lakes, peninsulas, Sound and cityscapes of Seattle and Bellevue. Small breaks in the clouds created grouped rays of light; downtown Seattle and Bellevue were both illuminated by these. Breathtaking.
The picture on the left is pretty close to what you typically see from the plane on the approach into Seatac.
After passing Rainier, the plane turned and descended over Bellevue; offering a rare and distant sight of Mt. Baker (the northernmost of the big volcanoes of the Cascade). Baker is readily visible from many places in Bellingham, WA where I am from but I always view seeing it from this far (even from the air, the cloud cover, haze, angle etc. has to be just right) south to be an auspicious event.
A final comment, on an entirely different and rather more sober note: Liza Grandia has an article on Commondreams.org called "The Sober Racism of Mel Gibson's Apocalypto." Her arguments for why the film should be considered racist are concise and compelling; although they certainly don't come as a surprise. I haven't seen the film, but what I found most compelling about Grandia's analysis was her incredulity at the fact that the protagonist (a peaceful, forest dwelling "noble savage" type Myan) is ultimately rescued from the evil, corrupt, city-dwelling Myans (Grandia's #3 argument for why the film is racist is its ahistorical portrayal of Myan civilization as evil and corrupt, implying that "indigenous people should remain noble savages, since attempts to build cities and more complex political organization will bring their inevitable demise") pursuing him by the arrival of the Spanish. I have to believe that if I'd seen the film, I'd be as amazed as Grandia. The Spanish??? As the rescuers of our noble hero, somberly bearing crosses to the shore? Come on! Anyway, the point is that I have often considered whether it might be worth trying to write popular film or television criticism (I have no idea if such a career would be feasible, although it would certainly be fun; these are purely speculative thoughts). I'm often discouraged, however, by what I read in even the more sophisticated popular press. For example, Anthony Lane's recent review of Apocalypto in "The New Yorker," one of my favorite magazines (and also, incidentally, the subject of extreme dislike on the part of my Vox neighbor and friend Jeff) pays lip service to Mel Gibson being rather insane and obsessed with death, but concludes that the film should basically be admired for Gibson's artistry. The only potentially negative aspect of the film, ideologically, is the possibility of gratuitous violence a la The Passion of the Christ - a possibility that in this case Lane dismisses, although if Grandia's historical analysis is at all accurate, the scenes of mass death in Apocalypto are almost textbook examples of overindulgent gore, as the Myans, while they engaged occasionally in human sacrifice, were not in the business of massive orgies of slaughter. To be aware of this, however, Lane would have to have regarded race as a necessary consideration in his analysis of the film.
Now, I'm not saying that Lane must concern himself with ideology every time he writes about films - but in some cases, as in this one, it strikes me that failing to talk about the blatant racism of a film that according to Grandia perversely makes claims to ethnic and cultural "authenticity" is grossly irresponsible - or perhaps grossly ignorant. Of course, such ignorance is not limited to Lane. As Grandia points out, film critics as a group (and based on her comment I think she's probably talking about those 'outside' of the academy) either "refuse to patronize the film in symbolic protest of Gibson's drunken rants over the summer" or "suggest we should temporarily suspend judgment about Gibson's anti-Semitism and judge this action film on its own merits." This I think is the most astute point that Grandia makes: the real issue here is not so much the anti-semitism or racism of a talented and crazy fundamentalist Catholic cultural icon but the fact that the film community can be simultaneously up in arms about one expression of bigotry and be completely blind (willfully or otherwise) to another.
Geographically appropriate music:
So - I'm sitting in the airport - accessing wireless - through my - AIRPORT.
Fox pow.
Also, I made up a song.
&c.
Also - bellbottoms:
Putting grading aside for the moment, I have finally decided to start in earnest on my paper (well, after I'm done writing this). One of the books I'm attempting to draw upon is the The Cinematic Body by Steven Shaviro:
But, I'm a hypocrite, and I'm also certainly overreacting as a means of procrastination. Still, while the Lorax would certainly have been utterly horrified at the sight of our debate tubs, I think he would also dissaprove of at least this physical incarnation of The Cinematic Body.
I must have clean clothes,
But I am out of quarters.
Hooray, liquor store!
Well, this is the inaugural entry at the FoxPow blog, which will be broadcast mainly from the wonderful and scenic land of Champaign, IL (Champaign literally means "flat countryside"). I don't really have much to say at the moment (and certainly nothing of any import), except that I'm not terribly happy about how much the photo below is emblematic of my life for the next couple of days. Not the beer part - that part is fine - but the rest of it. I've also been writing haiku (with a similar theme); here are some examples:
Students give speeches,
Which we grade into the night
Oh, what utter joy.
Here I write haiku
High off coffee and no sleep
Procrastination
My advisor says:
Obsessive work is the key.
I am in trouble.
My students have to write these final research papers as a culmination of work they've been doing all semester; they also have to give speeches that are basically a shorter version of the argument they make in the paper. I enjoy reading them, except for the fact that there are almost 42 or so to read. While I have to deal with arguments like "what we need to do is deport every single illegal immigrant immediately," the occasional gem keeps me going, including paper titles like "Don't Ask Don't Tell Don't Work" and "A Method for Meth."
As this is the FoxPow blog, I feel that I should end this first post with a joke - while I would love to take credit for this joke, it was actually composed by a very good friend of mine. It is also, I suppose, a nod to my alma-mater. Anyway:
Q: What did the logger say to the egg? A: Hatchet!
Fox pow!
Hey Suni - thank you. 2009: Mariners and Royals in the ALCS, Meche vs. Hernandez in Game 7. Meche, who... read more
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