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One of my beloved former Stranger colleagues, Susan Rathke, is a contestant on the Jeopardy! episode airing tonight. And I’m told she does rather well in the game. Watch and root her on vicariously (it was taped weeks ago, so your good thoughts won’t help her win, but it’s still the right thing to do.)
WHAT GILLIGAN’S ISLAND AND STAR TREK have to say about America’s sense of its place in the world.
YR. HUMBLE EDITOR was recently awarded the honor of being one of the 18 jurors who selected the “MetropoList 150,” the Museum of History and Industry/Seattle Times list of the 150 most influential people in the 150-year history of Seattle and King County.
I’m quite satisfied with the final list, available at this link. There’s almost nobody on it I wouldn’t have wanted on it.
Nevertheless, there are several names I wrote in which didn’t make the final selection. In alphabetical order, they include:
IN ADDITION, here are some names nominated by other people (with the descriptions these anonymous nominators wrote) for whom I voted, but who also failed to make the final cut:
(This article’s permanent link.)
…Aaron Brown “someone known for his thoughtfulness and composure… the steadiest man on television.”
As promised a couple weeks back, here is my preliminary list of some of what I love about this nation of ours. Thanks for your emailed suggestions; more are quite welcome.)
The Mariners have just lost their last regular-season game as I write this, and enter the playoffs tied for the best regular season in baseball history (based on number of wins, not winning percentage).
As most of you know, I’m of the generation that came of age with the indelible image of the Ms as a lovable-loser team playing in a lovable-loser domed stadium in a lovable-loser city. Even Seattle’s attempts to become a Big League City were typically of a feebly predictable variety (e.g., taxpayer subsidies for chain-owned luxury shops downtown).
But the Century 21 Ms are different. They’re the Real Freakin’ Thing. I adore the team’s stunning success like nothing else; but still have a hard time comprehending it. It’s off the visible spectrum of good news, just as the terror attacks were far further off the visible spectrum of bad news.
The Ms’ spectacle provides as good an excuse as any to survey the cultural status of this once-remote port city on the occasion of its sesquicentennial.
IN THE ’90S, Seatle seemed on the verge of bigtime cultural-capital status; corresponding to the city’s approach toward bigtime business-power status.
But the movie and TV location work mostly moved to Vancouver; the “Seattle Music Scene” craze was successfully crushed by the major-label conglomerates; and the local web-content companies that had been on the seeming verge of displacing both print and audiovisual media giants have either died or been fiscally chastized into safer market niches.
While Seattle still hasn’t permanently muscled in on NY’s hold on publishing or LA’s hold on film production, we remain a hotbed for many DIY-level arts genres (contemporary dance, experimental music, indie rock, snowboarding apparel, comix).
The recent, and apparently now ending, tech-biz gold rush meant some creative-type folk found the chance to finance some of their dreams (restaurants, coffeehouses, shot-on-video movies, self-released CDs). Many others took tech-biz jobs in that hope, but found themselves too drained by the hours and stress.
The upside of the dot-com collapse is many writers, painters, musicians, etc. who’d found themselves stuck working 60-hour weeks in Redmond now have the time to resume their real work (and real-estate hyperinflation is slowing, so they might be able to keep their studios and practice spaces.) The bad news: Many of these people lost much of their savings in the stock collapse (particularly those who worked for stock options).
THE REST of the local economy now lies as fragile as the world economy to which it’s become ever more closely interconnected.
Boeing, once synonymous with both Seattle and U.S. industrial-export might, is turning (or was trying to turn before the recession) into a financier-oriented investment company whose holdings only incidentally include airplane factories, and whose execs live and work far away from any of its physical-stuff-making operations.
Microsoft and Starbucks, those companies everyone loves to hate, are still here, still increasing their world domination of their respective industries, and still making enemies while insisting on their innate goodness.
And Amazon.com, the company that persued Bigness at any cost, used the end of E-Z deficit financing as an excuse to can hundreds of Seattle workers and ship their jobs to lower-wage locales.
“GET BIG FAST” was the title of a book about Amazon, based on the now-discredited mantra justifying the high burn rate of money-pit dot-coms. Amazon’s strategy meshed nearly perfectly with the ongoing insecurities of a city elite forever fretting about Seattle’s stature, ever concocting jump-start schemes to make us (yes, I know I overuse the phrase, but so do they) World Class. World Class-ness means we get big new “arts” buildings but can’t keep our artists from getting evicted. It means we’ve got all this private wealth but (thanks to the anti-tax Republicans some of these wealthy ones support) we can’t house our homeless, feed our hungry, or relieve our exurban sprawl and our traffic jams.
But the phrase “Get Big Fast” also expresses the craving to get beyond juvenile frustration ASAP, to give birth to a company and have it immeidately be “grown up.” Only things don’t quite work that way in the real world, or even in the real corporate world.
Seattle still doesn’t know what it wants to be when it grows up. But it’s anxious to grow up, or rather to act like a gangly adolescent pretending to be grown up. And it always has been. Like that Here Comes the Brides theme song goes: “Like a beautiful child/Growing up green and wild.”
But the result, all too often, is like seeing the adult actors in Porky’s II walking around in their receding hairlines, pretending to be hormone-stricken teenagers pretending to be worldwise grownups.
IF WE CAN just all forget for a moment about Getting Big Fast, maybe we can start to really grow up.
The Mariners became a powerhouse mainly by de-emphasizing the big cheap home run (to the point of buildiing a stadium where they’d be tougher to achieve); instead focusing on doing the little things right and pulling together.
Exactly what this town needs.
A friend saw a late-night TV program (or was it an infomercial?), which she swears was on PBS affiliate KCTS. It offered tickets to a free seminar at the Sheraton, which would be all about helping individuals get government loans and grants (for home buying/improvement, business, education, etc.). She couldn’t make it that day, so invited me to attend in her stead. Turned out advance tickets weren’t necessary. Anyone who wanted to could enter the ballroom; about 200 did.
What we all got: Not an info-backed lesson in the grant process but a 2.5-hour sales pitch for a $799 weekend seminar which, according to the salesman, would provide the information we’d been promised to get this day.
It was easy to spot the glib hypemaster’s real agenda from the start. He didn’t matter-of-factly list categories and sources of grants, application tips, etc. Instead, he gave a highly emotionally manipulative marathon spiel. It was a sort of cross between a revival sermon and a medicine-show pitch, illustrated with PowerPoint animated images on a big-screen monitor.
The spiel was heavily seasoned with neuro-linguistic-programming shticks. He frequently asked us all to think about our current lives, then to imagine how much better our lives would be with lots of money, a secure retirement, a new home, a new car, and a business of our own where we’re in control of our own agenda.
Then he proclaimed all this was possible with government money–but that the money is hard to find, hidden among hundreds of agencies (federal, state, local) with thousands of programs, all with different eligibility requirements and application processes. If you try to play the grants game yourself, he insisted, you were doomed from the get-go.
Then he said you could successfully navigate the bureaucratic sea with the help of a profressional grant writer or a specialist attorney on your side–except that anybody who’s any good at the job would charge far more money than most newcomers to the game can afford.
The solution? None other than the company he works for, the Boca Raton, FL-based National Grants Conferences Inc.
With the localized, freshly-updated info you’d get at the conference (and in its documentation and on its members-only website), you could start applying right away for just the right program for you. He even claimed you could grab enough public-trough cash to pay for the conference before its price shows up on your credit-card bill.
At one time, I almost thought his pitch to be semi-plausible; particularly when he warned us that the majority of our grant applications would be turned down, and that we’d have to be persistent and professional about the quest.
But that kind of caveat (as I’d once learned from Jim Rose, when he talked about his days as a pest-control salesman) can really be just part of the carefully crafted pitch. That’s how it turned out, when he revved up his fast-‘n’-loud act for the big finish.
This phase began when he told us how he didn’t used to be the dynamic, charismatic, confident man he told us we were seeing now. He’d been just another schmoe in Rochester, NY, loaded with debts and lacking in self-esteem. Then he went to a seminar about getting rich in real estate with no money down. (You remember, that earlier infomercial fad that collapsed when one of its leading promoters went bankrupt, after too many course-takers demanded refunds.)
That course, he forthrightly pronounced, had changed his life; just as this new course, more detailed and more attuned to present-day opportunities, would assuredly change ours. (But we’d have to Act Now, because space was limited and the best time of the year for submitting applications was drawing nigh.)
But the real clincher, the part where I knew I’d never take the course, came when he switched the big-screen monitor’s image to that now-ubiquitous photo of firefighters raising a U.S. flag at the NYC disaster site. He told the crowd an ever-so-slightly distorted version of one of the post-attack news items–that men allegedly connected to the terrorist network had received a grant to run a crop-dusting operation. The pitchman, in full-aggression mode, challenged us to imagine: If such purely evil people could attain government cash, how much easier could it be for good-hearted, all-American do-gooders such as ourselves? He came just this short of demanding we buy the course as our patriotic duty. The moment was even more tacky and obscene than I relate here.
He closed by exhorting us to rush with all deliberate speed to the front of the room, checkbooks and/or credit cards in hand. Instead, a healthy majority took the opportunity to get the heck outta there.
The 10th-anniversary-of-grunge special, in which your humble author is interviewed on camera, will be rerun on the VH1 cable channel this Tuesday at 6 p.m. Pacific Time. The Mariners’ game is radio-only that night, so you’ve no excuse not to watch.
To Those Who Say I’m Not a Patriot
by guest columnist Eve Appleton
There was a famous Spanish animal expert who was quoted to say, “Man is the only animal to stumble over the same stone twice.”
Advocates of peace are patriots. Advocates of war are patriots. The argument is not one of patriotism. It’s of options.
Options, which in times of shock, pain and confusion are difficult to come by. During these times people are most vulnerable and most susceptible to propaganda. Most out of their reasoning minds.
In my day, now substantial years ago, I was a media queen. My voice could sell anything–product or concept. I engineered, wrote, produced, directed. News, entertainment, educational and commercial programming. I did whatever it took. And I could pump out the propaganda with a speed of force that left my bosses’ mouths agape. Straight to the heart and soul of the listening audience. I was a behavioral scientist in a field day of resources and a world of open receptive minds to play with.
Which is why I quit. I woke up one day to the realization I was feeding the people lies. Worse, they believed me. Even worse yet, they trusted me, acting on my words. Words, images and sounds meshed together with intent to manipulate behavioral response. To my benefit. The pay was handsome. The recognition thrilling. The demand growing.
I was dangerous. I was a hypocrite. And it suddenly became very difficult to look my children in the eye. So I quit. A decision I’ve not yet regretted. Doubt I ever will.
Film (including media broadcast formats) is considered the most prolific medium of manipulation. Its mastery is catagorized as an art. At it most basic function/application, it uses light–a very powerful and actually organic technology–to condition (or communicates with) the central nervous system through the optic nerves in our eyes. Its whole purpose is to manipulate sensory systems through varying patterns of light fluctuation which influence all sensory bodies to a programmed response. Like the sparkle of fire, which mesmerizes.
The difference is intent. Fire does not intend to mesmerize. It just does. Film intends to mesmerize. Media intends to mesmerize. When you get your target audience to respond as anticipated are you considered successful in the “Art.” Open any media text. This is what it will teach. You promptly learn there is no such thing as objective journalism.
I’m writing to you right now with intent to manipulate you. I openly admit it.
I’m trying to get people to think. Which is damn near impossible when they’re in a state of shock, pain and confusion. But, those of us who can. Who are more removed from the direct link to our most recent loss. We need to move out of our pain. Quickly. Because major decisions are being made in these days of confusion, which will affect all our lives for years to come. Decisions which are being made without the attention of the American people. Without giving measure of options. And while we find ourselves in a most vulnerable state.
No matter our pain, no matter our confusion, we need to stay alert. There’s something bigger then us at risk. There is an entire world’s future. And we are all responsible. This is very serious.
Every time I hear the word “war” I remember the Vietnam era. I feel caught in a past era’s nightmare. But this time, I have young adult children, male and female, who, based on my actions and the actions of my fellow Americans, could soon die.
And for what? A decision made in haste during a moment of shock and confusion? A decision made while we are out of our reasoning minds?
I don’t want my children to die. And I don’t want them to have to kill just to live. It’s not my right to ask this of them. Only they can make that decision. Let the people who are willing to die and kill go forward if they must; void of age discrimination, race discrimination, sex discrimination… That’s their right.
Let them go to the front lines. And, with them, the generals and politicians. Let them do the boot camp, carry the guns, shoot to kill. Something tells me the politicians just might protest.
My father was a career military man in the Strategic Air Command, the bulk of his career involving diplomatic and international services. Much of his work was classified. But the things he experienced we lived first hand, up close and personal, in our home. He was an officer, a colonel. It was said his career didn’t go further because he had a way of pissing off the generals. But they liked him by their side because they knew he was honest. Rare in the military.
He went to Vietnam as a volunteer. He reasoned it was his ability to afford one young person over there a return home chance at life. He felt it was the least he could do. He would grumble under his breath of the travesty of how the war was being run. Said at this rate the end of the war was nowhere in sight. The two biggest problems: Children being sent to do men’s jobs, and politicians running the war.
While he was there, he sent audio tapes from the front for our seventh-grade social studies class. He was very diplomatic. Careful not to say the wrong things. But we all felt it–a sober fear.
He also sent my mom audio tapes. Sometimes we could hear explosions and sirens and screams in the background. He assured us he was nowhere dangerous, far from the enemy front. Then he would chuckle and say he was too mean to die.
He was the one who told me the generals and politicians were never present at the front line. They hid behind the shield of their ranks, claiming themselves too important to be risked. He also said the news reporters never went to the front line, but instead sat at the bars and got drunk, taking their news feeds from the military propagandists. He said they had no idea what was really happening. We were being crucified. He was a career man who believed in his country. He was a devout patriot. He also knew from an eye witness point of view, truth from lie.
My father went to the front line. In fact he crossed the front line on many a mission which required, in his words, “the experience of an officer.” And in doing so, he was exposed to Agent Orange. We didn’t find out till his death. His files conveniently came up missing shortly thereafter. Files I’d read personally because I’d been named executrix of his health and estate. The government was afraid I’d sue and knew I had an ironclad case. It was laid out pretty clearly in those files. But I didn’t want to sue. I just wanted to know why they didn’t let us know sooner, so we could have helped him in his life. There’s nothing to be done after death.
What kind of parents are we if we ask our children to go to war, if not the worst kind? And please, don’t ask me to bless a war sanction and my children’s death for a boost to our economy. There are other ways to do that. And in fact, war doesn’t boost our economy. It leaves generations to come in dysfunction–even with all their body parts attached.
Call me selfish if you must, but I’m fighting for my children’s lives. I would consider myself a horrible mother if I did anything less. And I clearly understand the responsibility before me. I won’t ask my children to kill. I certainly won’t ask them to die. I have no more right to do this then ask children I don’t even know, to kill and die.
But I will ask them to help find and support clear reasoning, educated decisions, and alternative solutions. To start thinking. Justice for those we have lost does not have to be accompanied by more innocent bloodshed. Our children are innocent. If we can’t see this, we are obviously not in our reasoning minds.
What our current administration is asking us to do is not a TV show. It’s very real. The Vietnam War lasted what, ten years? More? If you have a child who is thirteen right now, in five years this child will be eligible for War. (Oh whoopie! He–or she–can die looking for some slimey crazed mad man. Oh goodie!)
And if we are successful in keeping the war off our home land, we can say bye bye to any current luxuries. Probably even our houses. We’ll be holding the jobs our children held while here. We’ll be living on poor wages–those of us lucky enough to hold jobs. Our savings will be depleted, as our industries shut down in the name of wartime crisis. As will our hearts, as our children are shipped home in body bags–or worse, as shellshocked, limbless vegetables.
Unless, of course, the nuclear bombs are deployed. In which case, there’ll be nothing for any of us because we’ll all be maimed, suffering slow death, or just plain dead.
So what do we do?
Options! Start thinking of options.
Our current option is unacceptable. We are intelligent, sophisticated, capable people who represent fairness, justice, liberty, freedom and equal rights. It’s an ideal which only we can make into a reality.
And no one ever said it would be easy. Retaliation is easy. Getting to the truth is more difficult. We need time to discern the information before we run off and start lynching. Lynching is our past. It doesn’t have to be our future. We don’t need to stumble again over this stone. It’s time we learn by doing something new. Something smart, conscious and yes, futuristic. If we don’t, we’ll only ever know war.
Justice doesn’t have to be accompanied by bloodshed. Nor will it be justice if we get only some, or possibly the wrong offenders.
And while we may have a damn good idea of one or some responsible, please don’t think I’m buying this was the act of a lone madman and a posse crew. That’s just ridiculous. Even Kissinger said that pulling off an attack of this sort required extensive resources. This guy may be rich, but clearances alone for what just happened suggest far more complicity. We need to get to the bottom of this.
It’s important to our future to know the truth. We need to account for all responsibility. We’re not going to be any more safe with a quick fix-it mobbing and a bunch of young dead lives. We’re just going to be more pathetic; or we’ll be nuclear waste.
In my in-box right now are several emails–hate mails–that, when compared to the 34 “non-hate” mails, don’t give a frame of reference to 85 percent of the American people wanting war. But our TVs keep telling us we want war. Our leaders urge us to raise flags. To wear them on our heads. Put them on our cars. We assume it to mean we support America. Our leaders are interpreting it as a vote for war. Where is the voice of the 34-vs.-2 emails?
Also, why is there an assumption that because I advocate peace, clarity and conscious action, I’m not a patriot? Peace is not a statement of anti-patriotism. It is a plea of intelligence. My resistance to flag waving right now, is not a negative statement toward my country, but toward the media blitz which seeks ratings and recognition and deep pockets without an ethical consciousness.
People are more divided right now then I’ve seen them in a long time. They are only under a symbolic media illusion of being united. But if you get into the streets, or listen for a moment to the ones who’ve been seeking peaceful solution; if you were to experience the hate mail and threats and name calling they have had to endure; you’d know there is an anger raging through the streets of America, dividing neighbor against neighbor, which is far more terrifying then any new advent of airplane bomb.
Our world has been glued to its TV sets, programmed by people they don’t even know. Unknown people they are empowering with their trust. Some of us have spent our time away from the TV sets–reaching out to sources of all kinds and status, looking for answers which may provide alternative solutions.
We have been thinking. Mostly because we are so very aware of how much there is to lose. And how precious this life really is. This does not sound anti-patriotic to me. It sounds smart. And caring. And compassionate. And concerned. And serious.
As you pray to your god tonight, or meditate in compassion, ask your god or your self to help us all start thinking. Of options; of solutions geared toward truth. Solutions which will show the world we are not barbarians like those who have terrorized us, but rather, intelligent, conscious, well reasoned and greatly empowered with the strength of clarity.
We are a great nation. And yes we are young. Maybe. And I do believe it possible. We the young can show this old world, old dogs aside, we know how to learn new tricks. We can reverse the sins of our fathers. We can successfully not trip over the same stone twice.
Please do not send children to war; world into hardship; hatred toward neighbor. Start thinking. Start writing. Start talking and advocating other ways. We can all do this together. Probably better then we can do any war. Peace for one and all.
Love
Eve
—
Eve’s Apple Laboratories
Herbal Aphrodisiacs
Home & Health Alternatives
Seattle, WA
http://evesappleinc.com
email: evzapple@zipcon.com
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IT’S A LONG ENTRY TODAY, and it starts with a question:
WHAT WILL BECOME of “alternative” culture? Until last Tuesday, the prospect of a recession seemed to mean we could all go back to being grumpy worrywarts, without all that new-economy exuberance getting in the way. But now along comes war-lust, and the potential revival of censorship and repression of dissent, not to mention changes in the whole social zietgeist.
Remember, WWII changed American culture even before the U.S. military got into it. In came the aggressive comedy of Abbott & Costello and Bugs Bunny. Out went the lighter antics of W.C. Fields, Laurel & Hardy, and the Marx Brothers.
Even before the hijackings, there’d been talk for a year or two among the culture pundits of a “new sincerity,” spread among (or at least corporately targeted at) a new generation grown weary of cynicism and distanced irony. Among the trend’s purported examples: Dawson’s Creek, Lilith Fair, the WTO protests, Martha Stewart, Oprah, bottled water (as an alternative to fizzy drinks), the new soft-R&B divas, and those achingly cloying boy bands. When Tablet launched, one year ago next week, it sold itself as the sincere, prosocial, community-supportive alternative to what its creators claimed was The Stranger’s arrogance and irrelevance.
Will the new social and economic shudders further this trend? Quite possibly. Even among the potential opponents of a potential new war, the schtick’s gonna have to be about working together and working hard.
And will the culture of individual excess (the rich person’s equivalent to hip irony) become seen as not merely wasteful but unpatriotic?
I’ll tell you what I don’t want to see, and that’s a “Return to the Spirit of the Sixties.” A lot of tactics simply didn’t work then and won’t work now. Counterculture separatism, square-bashing, drug-assisted pomposity, and general rudeness won’t do anything except make a few self-promoters famous.
Indeed: Separatism, the belief that one (and perhaps one’s close circle of compatriats) constitute some superior species, is one of the poisonous ideas terrorist leaders always exploit.
WHICH BRINGS US to our next sermon topic: Who do YOU hate?
No, I’m not talking about who those people out in bad old Mainstream America hate.
I’m not talking about who your parents hate.
I’m not talking about who the guy next to you hates.
I’m talking about you. Yes, you.
It’s easy for members of one or another “alternative” social niche to admit how wrong it is to hate ethnic minorities, gays, women, and the poor.
But what about your own attitudes toward those who are different from you?
Do you ever sneer with disdain at people who eat meat, or at people who don’t smoke pot?
Do you dehumanize heterosexuals, men, suburbanites, hippies, bimbos, southerners, mall shoppers, tourists, headbangers, lawyers, bureaucrats, business executives, polyester wearers, pina colada drinkers, people who listen to non-NPR radio stations, or people who shop at non-co-op grocery stores?
Then you’re just being human. You’re not a superior species to the rest of homo sapiens; nobody is. But a lot of people like to imagine they are. Some use religion, nationalism, ethnicity, or caste as their excuse. Others use fashion sense, arcane knowledge, or claims of higher “enlightenment.”
The real enlightened ones aren’t the ones who boast of their separateness from humanity, but the ones who realize their connection to humanity, to the web of life.
The illusion of separateness is especially prevalent in times of war-lust. Every warring nation propagandizes that it’s the real greatest nation on earth, and that those opposing nations are vermin needing to be eradicated or heathen needing to be “civilized.”
That’s why a Unabomber can callously take lives and then claim it’s all to make a better world. That’s why combatants in Belfast can aim guns on schoolgirls. That’s why a handful of true believers, who may or may not be connected to similar cells elsewhere in the world, can devote their lives toward a mega-scale suicide bombing.
We need no more of that.
What we need, now more than ever, is to reconnect, to touch.
Build movements. Get closer to your neighborhood, your community. Go see bands, concerts, plays—anything that’s live. Take a class. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Make love as often as possible (safely and consensually). If you’ve got kids, hug them early and often. Have a good meal, a good drink, and/or a good laugh. Get involved in something greater than mere money and power.
Call it the new sincerity if you wish. Or just call it the best way to keep our species going, by breaking down some of the barriers between people and between cultures.
…to me regarding my appearance as an interview subject during VH1’s tenth-anniversary-of-Nirvana’s-Nevermind special. I didn’t see the show myself, but it’ll be rerun on Tuesday, Oct. 2 at 9 pm ET/PT.
Someone at CBS and/or KIRO-TV failed to check scheduled commercials for newfound tastelessness. An ad for Realtor.com just ran during Letterman showing the shadow of what seems to be a low-flying plane soaring through a residential neighborhood and heading right at a building. The building turns out to be a house on a web-browser screen, and the “plane” turns out to be a computer-screen cursor.
THE NEWSPAPER HEADLINES and the TV special-report titles were full of gross overgeneralizations about the entire nation’s mood: “America Heals.” “A Nation Years for Normality.” “Country Demands Action.”
I’ve got a gross overgeneralization of my own to offer: America Wants an Aspirin and a Hot Water Bottle.
AUTUMNAL CLOUDS and cool temperatures arrived Sunday, and are quite welcome. Don’t like it? Go to Florida.
DAVID LETTERMAN GAVE an amazing eight-minute speech tonight, on his first new show since the attacks. It was the most consistently sincere moment of his 20-year hosting career, and may indeed have signaled the end of the Age of Irony.
Dan Rather’s on with Letterman as I write this, and he’s giving a brutally pro-war sermon, pleading with the nation to gird its collective loins and gather the “staying power” to unquestioningly support whatever follows, including ground-troop invasions in multiple countries. That, he claims, will prove the nation’s mettle. As you may have discerned, I have a slightly different belief–that following the same path and strategy for years on end, no matter the results or lack of results, is one of the the Vietnam debacle’s top contributing factors.
I’m recalling the last lines of Letterman’s opening speech, in which he said the most important thing anyone can have is courage. It’ll take courage to call for a less visceral, more thoughtful response to the terror–not because we don’t support our country but because we do, and we want it to do the right thing.
THe first regular network TV fare to resume airing was CBS’s Saturday-morning block of Nickelodeon reruns. Blue’s Clues can just be so soothing… at least until it’s interrupted by the abrupt resumption of blanket news coverage.
AT BAILEY-COY BOOKS last night, local author Rebecca Brown carried on with her previously-scheduled reading promoting Excerpts from a Family Medical Dictionary (Grey Spider Press), a short nonfiction narrative about taking care of her dying mother. Brown opened the event by telling why she declined to cancel it–because her book is largely about the grieving process, something we all must go through now.
Brown added that the nature of the N.Y. and D.C. attacks, with so many deaths, occuring so suddenly, and with so many bodies that might never be recovered, makes the grieving process even more difficult. Brown and her mother had both known the mother’s end was coming, and were able to psychologically and emotionally prepare themselves; then afterwards, the family was able to gather and celebrate the mother’s life.
Excerpts, by the way, is highly recommended. It’s currently available only in a 500-copy limited edition, made on an old fashioned letterpress and hand-bound, in keeping with Brown’s emphasis on the personal touch and intimate care.
CHRIS ESTEY WRITES:
“Nice Michael Moore quotes, but to add to your ‘videos of movies that won’t be revived any time soon’ list:
Hardcore band that won’t see reissue for awhile: Fearless Iranians from Hell.”
UPDATES: Except for some college football games, major sports won’t resume until Monday. All canceled Major League Baseball games will be rescheduled for the week after the previously-set end of the regular season, which means the Mariners will still be able to attempt an all-time win record… One by one, the non-news cable channels that had switched to disaster coverage or signed off altogether are returning to regular fare today.
MORBID ASIDE #6: The Letterman show will have to create a new opening segment, sans the main NYC skyline shot. What’s more, the show’s whole flippant-ironic attitude may have to be altered, along with its ‘Fun City’ portrayal of life on the streets of Manhattan.
