Deceitful Snail Spam July 15, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : Lies , 1 comment so farSo I get tons of mortgage junk mail, like most people no doubt. I’ve always hated deceitful junk mail, long before “spam” was a word. Mail that lies about its contents, pretending it’s from the government, pretending that it’s registered mail, obscuring the contents so you have to open it to discover that its junk, etc. Now the mortgage stuff — these guys expect me to borrow tons of money from them. Their opening gambit is a lie, yet they seriously expect me to trust them with my life savings (my home). Right. Sure, sounds great, here ya go!
Southern Accents June 21, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : Discourse, History, Irrelevant, Lies, Narrative , add a comment
I moved to south Mississippi from Washington State in second grade, 1970. Hurricane Camille had blown through the previous year, wrecking the place. Hurricane Camille was just the most recent past thing that had happened here, whose memory was still so vividly felt, and whose reminders were still so visible. This was just an overlay on top of other past things still felt, still visible. It hadn’t happened to me, but it happened here, and shaped the world I grew up in to be this unique, unmistakable thing.
I was not aware of having a southern accent. I remember hearing southern accents in TV and movies and recognizing them as a stock stereotype, but not recognizing it as supposedly referencing my experience at all, not even enough to critique or reject it. It just meant a stupid man, or an old-fashioned person, or a sort of aristocrat from a bygone era, or a number of other stock southern stereotypes. It was no different to me than other types like the urban Italian American gumbah (Vinnie Barbarino), or the Jewish comic (Mr. Kotter). I actually said “Oy vey” sometimes — I learned Yiddish from Mad magazine and Mel Brooks, before I had any conception of what Jewishness was. I was half-Italian, but the stereotypical TV gumbah was so alien it did not occur to us to be offended.
A few years after we moved south, friends we knew from Washington State also moved down there. I remember them telling me I had a southern accent. I could not believe it — I could not hear it in myself. I was good with language, and could mimic accents. I spoke with good grammar, loved diagramming sentences. So being conscious of language on a level most of my peers were not made it all the more perplexing that I could possess an accent yet be unaware of it.
I traveled to Italy when I was 12. Later when I was 25 or so, returned to Italy and one of my uncles, Zio Lorenzo, produced an audio tape of me and my brothers teasing each other. I had this squeaky girly voice with the deepest south accent. “Qu-i-i-yut! Tony! Qu-i-i-yut!”. So it was confirmed: I really used to have a southern accent.
In college I know it started becoming less pronounced. When I traveled to non-Southern locales after college, I marveled at how fast people seemed to speak, and how sure they were of their assertions. Southern speech tends to be slower and less direct.
Today nobody would guess that I grew up in the south and people are usually really surprised when I tell them. I used to hate telling people this. You say “Mississippi” and this whole chain of associations is activated, and you don’t know exactly which ones, and then you have to stand there and account for it, reconcile yourself to it. In most places, that chain of associations is negative. Occasionally some people think of literature, which is better, although I am unprepared to discuss Eudora Welty or William Faulkner. Sometimes it’s a really positive association. In France, they are impressed because the south is the home of the blues and jazz and Elvis, and you are its honorary ambassador. In Italy, no matter where you say you are from, they reply, “Beau-tiful!” which is uninformed, but pleasant to hear.
But now I enjoy telling people. Rather than being threatened by their preconceptions, I am amused by them. It becomes their problem to reconcile what they think they know about the south with what they think they know about me.
Today watching films set in the south is often excruciating. Usually there’s the one actor who really nails it — he’s the best mimicker, had the best voice coach, practiced the most. Then there’s the rest of the cast, who basically just channel Foghorn Leghorn or Blanche Dubois.
Here’s a tip for actors doing southern roles: practice, dammit, people do care and can tell. You only have a dozen or so lines anyway, or a hundred, but it’s some finite number, just learn those lines with the right accent.
Here’s a tip for voice coaches and directors: guess what? Not every single individual in any particular southern locale is a born and bred native descended from slave-holders or slaves. In any locale you have a guy who move there from California, or Vietnam. You have someone from Georgia, and someone else from Jackson, and guess what, they speak with different southern dialects! They have TV and indie films and rock and roll, so you don’t just hear the blues all the time. Proud as we are of the blues, some people listen to Kraftwerk and Neutral Milk Hotel ( an excellent group from Louisiana).
The south is in flux. Echoes and memories of the past are always there, and certainly this is a motif of southern culture. But it’s constantly in flux. Every collection of personalities is every bit as diverse in the south as it is in the west or the north or the midwest.
When I watch British produced films set in Ireland or Scotland, I wonder if they treat those accents in the same way. Do they lay it on way too thick? Are the lapses in the actor’s performance obvious and grating to Irish or Scottish natives? I totally love hearing those accents.
I’m writing this on the June solstice in Northern California. It’s hot, and whenever it’s hot I start running around the house talking like Foghorn Leghorn wiping my forehead with a glass of iced tea, just to annoy my Cajun girlfriend.
In conclusion, the South will rise again! That’s a joke son, Ah say, ah say, that’s a joke.
Bitterness April 16, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : End Of The World, Irrelevant, Lies, Political/Editorial , add a commentOK, at the risk of participating in the echo chamber of non-issues, I’ll enter the guns/religion/bitter/elitist fray to make one small remark.
The second amendment provides the right of the people to bear arms. People who own and use guns do so thanks to this amendment. People who feel very strongly about often argue that this right is to protect them against the government among other threats. People who make such arguments generally do not think well of the government if they feel the need to defend themselves against it with weapons.
So to suggest such people are bitter about the failure of government and as a response cling to weapons is not elitist, but is perfectly in line with this very same line of reasoning that some gun owners themselves make, none of whom are ever accused of being “elitist”.
Racer 5 April 13, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : Alcohol, Info, Irrelevant, Lies, Timewaster , 1 comment so farO hai.
A six of Racer 5 is awesome!
Thanks!
What you know, and what you don’t know. April 1, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : Discourse, Lies, Psycho/Spirit , 1 comment so far
There’s what you know, and what you don’t know, and how you feel about it.
I feel pretty good about what I know. I know a lot of stuff. Tons of stuff I’ve learned or observed or memorized, almost all of it basically or potentially useful. Of course, it happens that something you think you know turns out to be wrong, or flawed or incomplete. Often the discovery that you were wrong about something sucks, or is embarrassing or whatever. But for me, most of the time, I’m pretty OK with revising my knowledge. It’s a pleasure to learn. And being open minded about correcting one’s errors makes you smarter and wiser and more confident in what you do know, or think you know. It’s been vetted, through this continual process of discovery and revision. Stubborn mindedness is a problem not only because it’s unpleasant for other people to deal with, but also because it means the compendium of knowledge you’ve acquired is highly suspect. It has not been vetted, so you’re likely to have incorrect, unchallenged propositions resting upon other incorrect propositions, resulting a really skewed and probably stupid world view.
So, hurray for the curious, and onions to the stubborn and stupid.
Then there’s what you don’t know. I feel really, really bad about what I don’t know. I hate feeling ignorant. I hate it when my ignorance is perceptible by others. I hate that struggling sensation when you try to understand something but it’s just beyond your ability. Like when you’re learning a new skill — a foreign language or a programming language or how to fix your plumbing. I hate when I find myself dependent on others to do something I feel I ought to be able to do myself (like hiring a plumber or asking a friend how to tune your computer). This problem is the bane of my career. I know a lot of shit, but no matter how much you know, there’s so much more to learn that other people already have. I spend a lot of time researching, preparing, planning so I will go to meetings ready. I can wing it a lot of the time because a lot of the time I’m in my area of expertise. But it often happens there’s overlap, and there’s all that stuff I know plus one thing I don’t that the other people do. I often feel like I didn’t get the memo. Frustrating.
I suppose it would probably be better to be more OK with what I don’t know, seeing as there’s a whole universe of stuff I don’t know and never will. Maybe other people are aware of what they don’t know and are OK with it. I could learn from them. But I’m suspicious of people who go too easy on themselves in this department.
Wottled Butter March 21, 2008
Posted by Phineas in : Environment, Irrelevant, Lies, Political/Editorial , 1 comment so farJust another unnecessary untimely and incorrect rant on the bottled water controversy. I may be writing this because I feel compelled to defend myself. The problems with bottled water are many. So let’s identify a couple main ones:
- bottled water is expensive
- production of bottled water is environmentally damaging in terms of energy to produce and the waste byproduct of the bottles, even though they are “recyclable”
- much bottled water marketing is deceptive in appealing to perceptions that it tastes better or is healthier than tap
- people who drink bottled water are therefore dupes who foolishly believe bottled water is different than tap; and, paradoxically, selfish litterbugs unconcerned with the damage their lifestyle causes the environment.
There are more objections but I think those are the main ones which you see restated in one form or another.
I agree with all of them in principle. Things that are too expensive compared to cheaper things of equal quality suck big time - agreed. Things that have horrific and entirely avoidable environmental damage way do suck. Marketing which is fraudulent or deceptive can go off and suck for all I care. Selfish dupes are such dicks.
But I’m here to say, but on the other hand… just cause I’m ornery. On the other hand, every single statement above could be said of many other things. Butter is more expensive than gasoline, that does not make the dairy industry criminal. Lying marketing scams occur in every retail sector. Waste is inherent in consumer life. It’s bad, it’s all bad.
But I think it goes way too far to claim that people who drink bottled water are fooled, duped, and somehow the same as bird-flipping Hummer drivers. I know for a fact, as much as I know anything for a fact, that the bottled water I buy (San Pellegrino, Aqcua Ferrarelle, Perrier) is NOT bottled at the local Podunk municipal water source. Perhaps worse than that, it’s imported all the way from Europe. I know for a fact that it tastes better and is healthier than what comes out out of the many tap sources I pass buy in the course of my day (the tap from the BART station bathroom? No thanks!). I do drink tap water at home, as well as expensive bottled water. When I stay in hotels I usually drink their tap water. But there are lots of places in between whose taps I won’t trust, so I’ll carry my own. I do bottle my own from my tap, but I’m not going to dehydrate if I run out. I’ll not hesitate to buy a bottle at the convenience store.
There’s plainly a difference between crappy bottle water marketed by liars, and good bottled water not marketed by liars. I just hate blanket generalizations, and I hate moral posturing. I am certainly guilty of it myself (fuck Hummers and the arrogant assholes who drive them!). I recognize that spending a lot of money for water is unsustainable — most people cannot afford it, so that’s a bit of a clue of how out of whack things are. Water is like air and should be cheap and available to all. The evil in question is not necessarily perpetrated by the consumers (although consumers can have a huge impact on the industry).
What would you say if the bottling of water could be done much more efficiently? And the recycling of the bottles were 100% effective (no landfill)? And all liars were marched off to Liar’s Island, so only truthtellers remained. Then would it be OK to drink bottled water? What if municipal water supplies could improve to produce much higher quality of water? Just saying bottled water is the same as tap is not quite the same thing as saying tap water is the very best that water can be. Even then different kinds of water have different qualities. It’s the same as wine or air or butter. It’s not all exactly the same. Sometimes I like a sparkling water, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I like mineral water and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I feel like a nut. How will these pleasures be satisfied if we’re not allowed to bottle the different varieties of water? I totally recognize how elitist that sounds, but again, it’s absolutely no more true of bottled water than it is of wine. Wine could be delivered to local innkeepers in barrels and only served from there, eliminating the bottling of wine. Maybe the difference between bottled wine and bottled water is scale. You could just drive to a nearby farm and have the butter dumped into your reusable tupperware container instead of buying it at the supermarket. Etc.
My main gripe is really the confusion between the problems of the industry and the consumers who participate in it. If there’s cynicism, deceit, waste in the industry, is it really necessary to demonize the consumer? Isn’t it possible all those statements about the industry per se are true, yet a given consumer could still be making an informed, ethical choice? I feel the same way about cigarette smoking. I am so glad we finally purged that horrible habit from mainstream public space. I am glad we have exposed the cynicism and corruption of cigarette manufacturers and the lobbyists who helped them profit by killing their customers. That said, I sometimes enjoy a cigarette. It’s still possible in spite of everything we know about tobacco, nicotine, and the tobacco industry, that a given individual is making an informed, ethical choice when they smoke. These two things are not incompatible.
How about everything in moderation, (except no Hummers)?
MPR: Select a Candidate 2008: President November 27, 2007
Posted by Phineas in : End Of The World, Irrelevant, Lies, Political/Editorial , add a commentMPR: Select a Candidate 2008: President
This *would* be a cool way to vote for a candidate. Turns out I’m a Kucinich man. Guess thats no surprise.
That Sure Was Horrible, but It Doesn’t Rise to the Level of Genocide November 25, 2007
Posted by Phineas in : Economics, End Of The World, Giving, Lies, Political/Editorial , add a commentWhat a phrase: “rise to the level of genocide“.
I know there’s a definition or many definitions, and because of this, some things are and other things are not genocide. But still, it strikes me as weasly, bureaucratic, dismissive. It’s almost always used in the negative. You hardly ever hear anyone say: “Well, how about that? This one *does* rise to the level of genocide. Yep. Sure does. It was just under that level, there’s the level, then it rose above that level.”
No — it’s usually, “that thing is horrible, but does it rise to the level of genocide?” (posed as a question but is really being answered in the negative). Or: “One thing is clear: it doesn’t rise to the level of genocide.” And then the argument hinges on a technicality or selective choosing of an operative definition of genocide. It’s like saying, “I’m indignant, but according to Webster’s dictionary, my indignation does not rise to the level of outrage. I’ll write one letter to my congressman, but I won’t write two, because this atrocity does not meet the two-letter criteria. I’ll send $100 to the relief of the victims, but I won’t send $200, because their suffering just does not quite rise to that level.” One’s suffering must rise to a certain level, after all.
“Ooo, so close! But it just doesn’t rise to the level of genocide. Try again next time!”
Would someone *please* tell those people to stop having so much soul? October 30, 2007
Posted by Phineas in : End Of The World, Lies, Music, Political/Editorial , add a commentIt’s not like we’ll be needing our humanity any time soon, seeing as World Wars 3, 4,and 5 are already being fast tracked. Better stamp it out where ever it appears.
“We were singing, lifting our voices to God. You gonna tell me that’s wrong too?” Drummer Ellis Joseph of the Free Agents Brass band, who was also in the procession, said, “They came in a swarm, like we had AK-47s. But we only had instruments.”
Band on the run in New Orleans | Salon News
Bagged Glacier Point October 22, 2007
Posted by Phineas in : Environment, Irrelevant, Lies, Outdoors/Travel, Photos, Psycho/Spirit, Wild Animals , add a commentThis weekend I bagged Glacier Point. By “bagged” of course I mean I rode the bus up to the top and hiked down the four mile trail.
[ Earlier this summer, Terry and I bagged Mt. Hoffman. We were on a seven day high country loop and we stayed at the May lake High Sierra Camp on day 4. The evening after dinner, many of the campers were hanging out on a ridge watching the sunset, sipping hot cocoa. I was completely fatigued, and although hiking to the summit of Mt. Hoffman was on the itinerary for the next morning, I was secretly thinking I might not make it. Terry later revealed that he was also feeling a little intimidated by that peak, given how exhausted he was feeling. This guy was standing nearby with his party, a little older than us I think. He was staring longingly at the summit and said, "There's another peak I'd like to bag." After a short pause, his wife lets him off the hook saying, "Yeah, but maybe on another trip." "Yeah," the dude says. I wonder how many other peaks he'd like to "bag", but doesn't. Why would he say it, but not do it? It's like a 2-3 hour hike up from May Lake, and we're all staying the night there. If you're ever going to "bag" it, now would be the right time. By claiming to want to but being let off the hook like that, it's almost like he gets credit without actually earning it. Kind of annoyed me. So Terry and I the next morning felt a lot better and decided not to be that guy, and went ahead and did the hike. Mt. Hoffman is in the bag.]
October is a wonderful month to go to Yosemite. There are lots of fall colors going on — yellow maples and red dogwoods. Even the evergreens were browning (I guess from the drought). The temps were cool and comfortable. There are no crowds. I’ve hiked hundreds of miles of trails in Yosemite, although my least favorites are the valley ones. I’m not a big fan of staircase switchbacks, whether up or down. But I only had a few free hours (we took some out of town guests up for a quick visit and they weren’t hikers). I had never done this trail so it seemed like a good candidate for a quickee.
Glacier Point is such an awesome view. I love being high up like that. The Valley is cool, but I prefer looking down on it than up from it. And I loved seeing all the peaks I really did “bag” (hopefully this term will become meaningless soon): Half Dome, Cloud’s Rest, Sunrise Mountain, Mt. Hoffman. I did not bag Echo Peaks, but I sort of humped it once. I took some sunset shots the evening prior and now got some morning video before slogging down the trail.
No bears, although a big grey squirrel scared me.
After the week I had workwise, Yosemite is such fantastic therapy.
