As of last night, the list of people not allowed in the house has expanded by three:
* Kurt Russell
* Melanie Griffith
Both of them are very nearly terminally noxious to my loveliest. I confess to a higher threshold of tolerance for the Griffith, by which I mean I could probably permit her to use the bathroom on an emergency basis, if the only alternative was to have her avail herself of the mock orange bush in front of our place. Also, possibly, if lives were at stake, but I'm not entirely sure I want to be held to that.
* Quentin Tarrentino
Like some others on the list, I think this just makes good sense. I don't think he's necessarily a violent person, but that's not really the point. I believe he has an unhealthy fixation on - well, on lots of things it's unhealthy to be fixated on.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
predilections
I have four somewhat strange predilections relevant this morning.
One is for mopey alternative music. I tend lately to rely on the very unevenly reliable All Music Guide to connect with music I haven't knowingly heard before. Following links from a band I like, say, Wilco, I end up finding bands somebody responsible for content on AMG thinks is "similar" or "influenced by," follow those links, and follow the links from there, until I end up with somebody really quite unlike the original band in most respects, say, [smog]. It's a game we could call Six Degrees of Michael Stipe if we were in a particularly jaunty mood, which, this morning, we're not.
Anyway, I found Grogshow through this method. I love me some Grogshow, I do. And through Grogshow to Winterpills, who are also pretty cool.
This music is not only a basic element to the soundtrack of my misspent youth, but also still musically potent to me, inasmuch as what I'm playing these days is often like acoustic 12-string folkized mopey alternative. I think so, at least. Finally, a label for my stuff!
Two is for conflict, especially of the fighting-the-good-fight variety. The CSU agreed to use the Fact-Finders Report as a "template" for 10 further days of bargaining to try to reach agreement with CFA on a new contract. Now, what could they do in 10 days that they couldn't have done in the last 23 months is not clear. And the Fact Finders Report includes not only the statement by the neutral third-party fact finder, but also CFA and CSU representatives. So agreeing to use the report as a template could mean that CSU is willing to continue to make their same tired baseless arguments as to why the $1.2 billion reserve they've built up can't be diminished by $100 million over 4 years to reach a settlement on faculty salaries.
This is a conflict I can feel really good about, because I have tremendous faith that CFA is right and CSU is wrong. In that respect, this conflict is rather like how I feel when the Pittsburgh Penguins play the Philadelphia Flyers. Whatever else I may or may not know about the world, I can say with certainty that the Flyers are wrong.
Which brings us to the third predilection, which is for playoff hockey. The NHL playoffs begin in two weeks, and for the first time since 2001, my beloved Penguins are going to be in them. They clinched last night by beating the Washington Capitals 4-3. Since January, no team has been better than the Pens, and their best players remain a core group that are all 24 or younger, which suggests that they're going to be at least this good for a long time.
The fourth? Extremely long road trips.
One is for mopey alternative music. I tend lately to rely on the very unevenly reliable All Music Guide to connect with music I haven't knowingly heard before. Following links from a band I like, say, Wilco, I end up finding bands somebody responsible for content on AMG thinks is "similar" or "influenced by," follow those links, and follow the links from there, until I end up with somebody really quite unlike the original band in most respects, say, [smog]. It's a game we could call Six Degrees of Michael Stipe if we were in a particularly jaunty mood, which, this morning, we're not.
Anyway, I found Grogshow through this method. I love me some Grogshow, I do. And through Grogshow to Winterpills, who are also pretty cool.
This music is not only a basic element to the soundtrack of my misspent youth, but also still musically potent to me, inasmuch as what I'm playing these days is often like acoustic 12-string folkized mopey alternative. I think so, at least. Finally, a label for my stuff!
Two is for conflict, especially of the fighting-the-good-fight variety. The CSU agreed to use the Fact-Finders Report as a "template" for 10 further days of bargaining to try to reach agreement with CFA on a new contract. Now, what could they do in 10 days that they couldn't have done in the last 23 months is not clear. And the Fact Finders Report includes not only the statement by the neutral third-party fact finder, but also CFA and CSU representatives. So agreeing to use the report as a template could mean that CSU is willing to continue to make their same tired baseless arguments as to why the $1.2 billion reserve they've built up can't be diminished by $100 million over 4 years to reach a settlement on faculty salaries.
This is a conflict I can feel really good about, because I have tremendous faith that CFA is right and CSU is wrong. In that respect, this conflict is rather like how I feel when the Pittsburgh Penguins play the Philadelphia Flyers. Whatever else I may or may not know about the world, I can say with certainty that the Flyers are wrong.
Which brings us to the third predilection, which is for playoff hockey. The NHL playoffs begin in two weeks, and for the first time since 2001, my beloved Penguins are going to be in them. They clinched last night by beating the Washington Capitals 4-3. Since January, no team has been better than the Pens, and their best players remain a core group that are all 24 or younger, which suggests that they're going to be at least this good for a long time.
The fourth? Extremely long road trips.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
strike vote resuits!
CFA announced today that 94% of members voted to approve job action in our ongoing fight for a fair contract.
It can't be easy being one of those CSU administrators or trustees who continues to assert that only a small faction of faculty are upset about the CSU's contract offer, or that students won't be adversely affected by yet another fee increase, or that the CSU is on firm footing, but is underfunded, but has an excellent bond rating because of reserve funds equalling more than one third of the $2.5 billion annual budget, yet doesn't have enough money to spend $100 million over four years to fund faculty salary increases. At some point, the sheer number of contradictions you assert and try to think are true must get overwhelming. This is beyond a question of guilty conscience now. I am seriously concerned about the continued mental health of these administrators and trustees. Something's gotta give somewhere, don't it?
Proceed with caution in Long Beach, folks. Psychotic breaks are not pretty.
It can't be easy being one of those CSU administrators or trustees who continues to assert that only a small faction of faculty are upset about the CSU's contract offer, or that students won't be adversely affected by yet another fee increase, or that the CSU is on firm footing, but is underfunded, but has an excellent bond rating because of reserve funds equalling more than one third of the $2.5 billion annual budget, yet doesn't have enough money to spend $100 million over four years to fund faculty salary increases. At some point, the sheer number of contradictions you assert and try to think are true must get overwhelming. This is beyond a question of guilty conscience now. I am seriously concerned about the continued mental health of these administrators and trustees. Something's gotta give somewhere, don't it?
Proceed with caution in Long Beach, folks. Psychotic breaks are not pretty.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
new recording
Last Monday I recorded an electric lead to a tune I've written for one of Lauren's mom's cats. I've been playing with the recording, moved the lead and rhythm parts around a bit, adjusted their tone, and posted it. I like it. It's named after my favorite way to greet said cat, which is Hey Stella!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
busy weekend of entertaining
Today we foraged for the stuff for a couple evenings' fun. Tomorrow night: Val for dinner, which will be on the opulent side, because it's been a while. Saturday: St. Patrick's Day traditional dinner, this year featuring Christina and Guerin as our special guest stars.
Menu for Friday:
Portabella mushroom ravioli
Kohlrabi greens ravioli
(both prepared by Lauren, the kohlrabi from the pot on the patio, in a tomato sauce I made this afternoon)
Rack of lamb in a modified Perigueux sauce (truffles, demi-glace, madeira, Grand Marnier, butter)
Mashed blue potatoes
Salad from lettuces and snow pea pods grown in the back yard
Strawberry tart (without so much rat in it)
Menu for Saturday:
Guinness
Corned beef, boiled
Cabbage, boiled
Potatoes, boiled
Mushrooms, boiled
Irish whisky, either in Irish coffee (steamy, though not boiled) or straight, no chaser (hard-boiled)
Menu for Sunday:
Alka-seltzer
Coffee
Something light, like maybe a carrot
Menu for Friday:
Portabella mushroom ravioli
Kohlrabi greens ravioli
(both prepared by Lauren, the kohlrabi from the pot on the patio, in a tomato sauce I made this afternoon)
Rack of lamb in a modified Perigueux sauce (truffles, demi-glace, madeira, Grand Marnier, butter)
Mashed blue potatoes
Salad from lettuces and snow pea pods grown in the back yard
Strawberry tart (without so much rat in it)
Menu for Saturday:
Guinness
Corned beef, boiled
Cabbage, boiled
Potatoes, boiled
Mushrooms, boiled
Irish whisky, either in Irish coffee (steamy, though not boiled) or straight, no chaser (hard-boiled)
Menu for Sunday:
Alka-seltzer
Coffee
Something light, like maybe a carrot
Monday, March 12, 2007
Forest Whittaker is not allowed in the house
Based entirely (not to say unfairly) on their performances, I have over the years decided that numerous musical and theatrical stars are not allowed in the house. I'm adding Forest Whittaker to the list after having watched The Last King of Scotland this weekend.
Obviously, I don't know Mr. Whittaker. He's clearly an intelligent and gifted actor, and I presume that he's not entirely miserable to work with (he's not famous enough to behave that badly). I also wasn't so entirely taken with his performance as Idi Amin that I gave in completely to the suspension of disbelief and was actually afraid. It's more a matter of the kinds of role Mr. Whittaker seems to choose, and in which he seems to excel. They bespeak, to me, a deep inner wellspring of violent emotion.
Forest Whittaker is under the total ban, along with many others. There is also a short list of famous people who are only allowed in subject to certain conditions, usually for our own protection. With that, let's revisit the list, accrued over time.
* Bjørk. Would she sit demuring in the corner, or dive for the liquor cabinet? Would she spend hours reading the titles of all the books in the place? Or break all the furniture just for the percussion? Would she steal the cat? Too unpredictable.
* Fred Willard. Actually, Fred is allowed in, but only in leg irons.
* Jeff Buckley. On a recent walk home, "So Real" came on my iPod, and as I entered I announced, "Jeff Buckley is not allowed in the house." Lauren's quick reply was to point out that, "Jeff Buckley is dead." "All the more reason," I said. He was weird enough alive.
* Robert Downey, Jr. This just makes good sense.
* Amy Sedaris. This was a controversial decision, because Lauren thinks Amy Sedaris is just about the cutest thing ever. But I know that's just another way she's incredibly dangerous.
* Alan Cumming. Actually, Alan Cumming is allowed in the house, but only on a short leash. Yes, I do mean that literally.
* Bruce McCulloch. This is probably an over-reaction, but especially in drag, Bruce was always the creepiest of the Kids in the Hall, and I've never fully recovered.
* Tim Curry. Clue almost restored his visa. Almost.
There are of course a number of other people not allowed in the house, and not all of them were born in either 1961 or 1965 (recurring dates in the list for some reason). Most of the others are less famous, with some exceptions. And then there are other people not officially on the list whom I would never consider letting in, some living, some dead (Augusto Pinochet springs to mind). I think it's good to maintain a list of this sort just in case.
Obviously, I don't know Mr. Whittaker. He's clearly an intelligent and gifted actor, and I presume that he's not entirely miserable to work with (he's not famous enough to behave that badly). I also wasn't so entirely taken with his performance as Idi Amin that I gave in completely to the suspension of disbelief and was actually afraid. It's more a matter of the kinds of role Mr. Whittaker seems to choose, and in which he seems to excel. They bespeak, to me, a deep inner wellspring of violent emotion.
Forest Whittaker is under the total ban, along with many others. There is also a short list of famous people who are only allowed in subject to certain conditions, usually for our own protection. With that, let's revisit the list, accrued over time.
* Bjørk. Would she sit demuring in the corner, or dive for the liquor cabinet? Would she spend hours reading the titles of all the books in the place? Or break all the furniture just for the percussion? Would she steal the cat? Too unpredictable.
* Fred Willard. Actually, Fred is allowed in, but only in leg irons.
* Jeff Buckley. On a recent walk home, "So Real" came on my iPod, and as I entered I announced, "Jeff Buckley is not allowed in the house." Lauren's quick reply was to point out that, "Jeff Buckley is dead." "All the more reason," I said. He was weird enough alive.
* Robert Downey, Jr. This just makes good sense.
* Amy Sedaris. This was a controversial decision, because Lauren thinks Amy Sedaris is just about the cutest thing ever. But I know that's just another way she's incredibly dangerous.
* Alan Cumming. Actually, Alan Cumming is allowed in the house, but only on a short leash. Yes, I do mean that literally.
* Bruce McCulloch. This is probably an over-reaction, but especially in drag, Bruce was always the creepiest of the Kids in the Hall, and I've never fully recovered.
* Tim Curry. Clue almost restored his visa. Almost.
There are of course a number of other people not allowed in the house, and not all of them were born in either 1961 or 1965 (recurring dates in the list for some reason). Most of the others are less famous, with some exceptions. And then there are other people not officially on the list whom I would never consider letting in, some living, some dead (Augusto Pinochet springs to mind). I think it's good to maintain a list of this sort just in case.
life, liberty, and the pursuit of hoppyness
Lauren and I bottled the new stout yesterday. This is the beer that boiled over on the stove, twice. This is the beer that scalded Lauren when we poured the hot wort (unfermented beer) into the glass carboy through a funnel. We had three or four false starts siphoning the stout into a plastic fermenter we use for bottling.
It's also a dark, smoky tasting stout, at least at this point in its still raw state. Time will tell ultimately, but for now, this may either be called *^@#in' Stout or the Stout of the Apocalypse.
This weekend was also the date of a kitchen mishap involving a food as innocent as a portabella mushroom. As I was removing the mushrooms from the oven, I somehow burned my thumb on the baking sheet, through a pot-holder. It gave me a 1/2 inch square blister on right next to the little bulby pad part of my thumb. It's not very painful, but it's disconcerting to hold a guitar pick with it or shuffle cards (two things I do oftener than most people). I'm about to see how it might affect my teaching.
Later: Why Forest Whittaker is not allowed in the house, along with a brief current list of others who are either banished or who are permitted entry only under specified conditions.
It's also a dark, smoky tasting stout, at least at this point in its still raw state. Time will tell ultimately, but for now, this may either be called *^@#in' Stout or the Stout of the Apocalypse.
This weekend was also the date of a kitchen mishap involving a food as innocent as a portabella mushroom. As I was removing the mushrooms from the oven, I somehow burned my thumb on the baking sheet, through a pot-holder. It gave me a 1/2 inch square blister on right next to the little bulby pad part of my thumb. It's not very painful, but it's disconcerting to hold a guitar pick with it or shuffle cards (two things I do oftener than most people). I'm about to see how it might affect my teaching.
Later: Why Forest Whittaker is not allowed in the house, along with a brief current list of others who are either banished or who are permitted entry only under specified conditions.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
merit
One of the issues under dispute between the CSU and the CFA is so-called "merit pay." It's a nice example of the whole dispute, and of the whole of the difficulties in the CSU-CFA relationship.
It begins with the language we use to describe it. "Merit pay" sounds innocuous at worst. It probably sounds like a way to encourage and reward good work. If you oppose a "merit pay" program, the very words make it sound as if you're against the idea of rewarding good work.
Among the many problems with what CFA prefers to call "discretionary pay" is that "merit" is not satisfactorily defined. What makes a good faculty member? What specific marks or characteristics would describe faculty "merit"? My view is that faculty work can be meritorious in many different ways, and that defining it in any set of terms narrow enough to work contractually would leave out a great deal of the meritorious work faculty do. (Not that the CSU proposal bothers to define "merit." Indeed, one reason CFA is so deeply opposed to it is that CSU won't set out the criteria contractually. It raises probably valid suspicion that what counts as "merit" is what some administrator decides is merit - hence our term, "discretionary pay.")
One of the main objections CFA has with "merit pay" programs proposed by CSU has been that there is no real recourse if a faculty member doesn't receive the additional pay. If you believe you're more meritorious than someone else, but that person gets the pay increase and you don't, perhaps you can appeal to the President of the campus, but that's the person who awarded the raise in the first place. The chances the President will reverse himself or herself and give you the raise approximate zero.
Another problem is that the previous "merit pay" programs have been disasters, both in terms of the impact on faculty salaries and morale, and as programs to administer. The CSU has agreed with CFA that previous discretionary pay programs have been unworkable. Once a faculty member's base salary is changed by adding discretionary pay, that faculty person is no longer on the regular pay scale, and all the calculations painstakingly made to produce predictability in faculty pay across the 23 campus system goes kablooey. There's 23,000 faculty in the CSU, and discretionary pay makes it impossible to keep track of how much they ought to be paid. (And of course, another one of the reasons cited for the unworkability of "merit pay" is that merit isn't defined. As Chico says of Harpo in Duck Soup, "he gets mad because he can't read.")
There's a myth of meritocracy in corporate models of labor and capital, and it makes no sense to believe it. Executives, whether because of their role or because of some genetic proclivity, value compliance and fealty. If given discretion to pay some people more than others, executives who have the opportunity to reward faculty with more pay will use that discretion to reward characteristics they value.
The oddest thing to me about all this is that what's truly meritorious, in the sense of what a person has earned, would seem to be what a person achieves through work. In other words, work is what is meritorious. I think that's a reason labor unions make sense to me: collective bargaining implicitly recognizes that work is what should be paid, and so people doing similar work should get similar pay.
It begins with the language we use to describe it. "Merit pay" sounds innocuous at worst. It probably sounds like a way to encourage and reward good work. If you oppose a "merit pay" program, the very words make it sound as if you're against the idea of rewarding good work.
Among the many problems with what CFA prefers to call "discretionary pay" is that "merit" is not satisfactorily defined. What makes a good faculty member? What specific marks or characteristics would describe faculty "merit"? My view is that faculty work can be meritorious in many different ways, and that defining it in any set of terms narrow enough to work contractually would leave out a great deal of the meritorious work faculty do. (Not that the CSU proposal bothers to define "merit." Indeed, one reason CFA is so deeply opposed to it is that CSU won't set out the criteria contractually. It raises probably valid suspicion that what counts as "merit" is what some administrator decides is merit - hence our term, "discretionary pay.")
One of the main objections CFA has with "merit pay" programs proposed by CSU has been that there is no real recourse if a faculty member doesn't receive the additional pay. If you believe you're more meritorious than someone else, but that person gets the pay increase and you don't, perhaps you can appeal to the President of the campus, but that's the person who awarded the raise in the first place. The chances the President will reverse himself or herself and give you the raise approximate zero.
Another problem is that the previous "merit pay" programs have been disasters, both in terms of the impact on faculty salaries and morale, and as programs to administer. The CSU has agreed with CFA that previous discretionary pay programs have been unworkable. Once a faculty member's base salary is changed by adding discretionary pay, that faculty person is no longer on the regular pay scale, and all the calculations painstakingly made to produce predictability in faculty pay across the 23 campus system goes kablooey. There's 23,000 faculty in the CSU, and discretionary pay makes it impossible to keep track of how much they ought to be paid. (And of course, another one of the reasons cited for the unworkability of "merit pay" is that merit isn't defined. As Chico says of Harpo in Duck Soup, "he gets mad because he can't read.")
There's a myth of meritocracy in corporate models of labor and capital, and it makes no sense to believe it. Executives, whether because of their role or because of some genetic proclivity, value compliance and fealty. If given discretion to pay some people more than others, executives who have the opportunity to reward faculty with more pay will use that discretion to reward characteristics they value.
The oddest thing to me about all this is that what's truly meritorious, in the sense of what a person has earned, would seem to be what a person achieves through work. In other words, work is what is meritorious. I think that's a reason labor unions make sense to me: collective bargaining implicitly recognizes that work is what should be paid, and so people doing similar work should get similar pay.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
not something I usually mention
I didn't get to watch the Pittsburgh Penguins beat the Philadelphia Flyers today, to sweep the season series 8-0, because NBC doesn't think it's important to show a national TV audience the most exciting player in the league, Pittsburgh's Sidney Crosby. In fact, Crosby wasn't the star of the game. Erik Christensen was.
Christensen is coming slowly into his own as an NHL forward, and today he scored two goals in regulation to lead the Penguins to a tie, and overtime, against the Flyers. Each of his goals were quick snap shots, which is his best shot. It's vital to shoot quickly to score goals in the NHL, because almost everyone is almost always in ideal defensive position, and you get about 1/4 of a second to get a shot off. He does this consistently, when he's shooting and playing well. Fastest gun in the East.
But what really impressed me watching the highlights streamed from the Penguins website (click on "Game Recap" in the box on the right lower half of the page) was his shootout goal, where he made a move that, in the current argot, was "sick." It really was sick, by which I mean astounding.
Now I can't stop saying what a sick move it was, and I feel vaguely stupid about that. Strangely enough, "stupid" used to be the term for the kind of play that is now called "sick." I'm not sure which is worse: feeling stupid about calling a play sick, or feeling sick about calling a play stupid. But what really matters, for the time being, are two things: (1) Erik Christensen's sick move, and (2) death to the Flyers.
Christensen is coming slowly into his own as an NHL forward, and today he scored two goals in regulation to lead the Penguins to a tie, and overtime, against the Flyers. Each of his goals were quick snap shots, which is his best shot. It's vital to shoot quickly to score goals in the NHL, because almost everyone is almost always in ideal defensive position, and you get about 1/4 of a second to get a shot off. He does this consistently, when he's shooting and playing well. Fastest gun in the East.
But what really impressed me watching the highlights streamed from the Penguins website (click on "Game Recap" in the box on the right lower half of the page) was his shootout goal, where he made a move that, in the current argot, was "sick." It really was sick, by which I mean astounding.
Now I can't stop saying what a sick move it was, and I feel vaguely stupid about that. Strangely enough, "stupid" used to be the term for the kind of play that is now called "sick." I'm not sure which is worse: feeling stupid about calling a play sick, or feeling sick about calling a play stupid. But what really matters, for the time being, are two things: (1) Erik Christensen's sick move, and (2) death to the Flyers.
Friday, March 02, 2007
been busy; strike vote next week
A couple weeks go by, and it's like a couple weeks go by!
On one level, it doesn't seem like a lot has happened. We went to San Diego, I gave my Schutz talk, and we came home. It's been a regular week this week, meaning I've been at a couple meetings, done some organizing work, taught, and so on. I'm starting work on the big perception project that I hope will turn into something nifty for the Merleau-Ponty Circle conference. In any case, it's something I've been meaning to do.
Last night, however, what I really needed to do was to record some good demo versions of the new tunes, so that those can start building into actual songs. A couple of the tunes seem done to me. The one has a verse part, a chorus part, a bridge, and a second bridge/coda. It needs no new bits. The others might, but I haven't had much time or energy to play with them, which makes me feel bad. (My priorities in life do not give me pause. They just frequently leave less time than I'd like for playing guitar.)
So I set about to record some tracks last night after dinner, which seemed a perfectly fine thing to do. Lauren sat in the Room of Requirement with me, sewing and spilling wine all over her desk, which seemed a perfectly fine thing to do. Little did we know.
I record using a pre-amp plugged into the USB port of my laptop, with either a mic or a line from the amplifier plugged into the pre-amp. It's a simple setup and it gives decent results. So there I sat, making a couple takes each of the new tunes. I was pleased enough with the results. I listened to one of them on my iPod on the walk to school this morning, and it sounds just fine (its current working gag title is "Exorcise for your Health").
Meanwhile, the CFA strike vote is set for next week on our campus and a number of others. For some reason I don't know, the votes are being staggered, with about half next week and the other half the week after that. I don't know if the neutral fact finder's report has been filed, and if it was I wouldn't know anything about it, since it's kept under wraps for 10 days after it arrives. Last time, the fact finder's report agreed in every important respect with the CFA's positions on the issues.
On one level, it doesn't seem like a lot has happened. We went to San Diego, I gave my Schutz talk, and we came home. It's been a regular week this week, meaning I've been at a couple meetings, done some organizing work, taught, and so on. I'm starting work on the big perception project that I hope will turn into something nifty for the Merleau-Ponty Circle conference. In any case, it's something I've been meaning to do.
Last night, however, what I really needed to do was to record some good demo versions of the new tunes, so that those can start building into actual songs. A couple of the tunes seem done to me. The one has a verse part, a chorus part, a bridge, and a second bridge/coda. It needs no new bits. The others might, but I haven't had much time or energy to play with them, which makes me feel bad. (My priorities in life do not give me pause. They just frequently leave less time than I'd like for playing guitar.)
So I set about to record some tracks last night after dinner, which seemed a perfectly fine thing to do. Lauren sat in the Room of Requirement with me, sewing and spilling wine all over her desk, which seemed a perfectly fine thing to do. Little did we know.
I record using a pre-amp plugged into the USB port of my laptop, with either a mic or a line from the amplifier plugged into the pre-amp. It's a simple setup and it gives decent results. So there I sat, making a couple takes each of the new tunes. I was pleased enough with the results. I listened to one of them on my iPod on the walk to school this morning, and it sounds just fine (its current working gag title is "Exorcise for your Health").
Meanwhile, the CFA strike vote is set for next week on our campus and a number of others. For some reason I don't know, the votes are being staggered, with about half next week and the other half the week after that. I don't know if the neutral fact finder's report has been filed, and if it was I wouldn't know anything about it, since it's kept under wraps for 10 days after it arrives. Last time, the fact finder's report agreed in every important respect with the CFA's positions on the issues.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
getting my Schutz together
It's February, which means it's the season for writing a paper for the Society for Phenomenology and Media, something I've done each of the last 9 years. I am the only person to have attended every conference of the group, which I call SPaM.
This year I'm writing about Alfred Schutz's essay "The Well-Informed Citizen," which my honors Human Interests and the Power of Information class is reading. Not usually one to engage in critique (as a result of his commitment to a descriptive phenomenological method), Schutz concludes the essay by saying there is a problem posed by public opinion, especially when it guides political decisions in democratic societies. It's not that original a problem to pose (Walter Lippmann published Public Opinion in 1922, though he had a very different attitude toward it), but Schutz's call for the well-informed citizen to "prevail" over public opinion is a peculiar way of dealing with it, especially since Schutz doesn't tell us what that would mean. It's practically tossed off at the end of the essay, and it's not obvious how the essay as a whole helps illuminate the problem, or even how the problem is motivated by the essay or vice-versa.
I've spent a ton of time on this essay over the years, but for some reason this year it seems as if I have been able to get deeper into it. That has its good points and its bad points. I'm finding it very difficult to keep my paper within narrow enough parameters. It wants to creep all over the place. So I'm thinking my presentation this coming Thursday will be a little odd. We'll see. Perhaps I'll be able to get some of the other stuff out of my system in class on Monday, so the focus on public opinion can come back.
This year I'm writing about Alfred Schutz's essay "The Well-Informed Citizen," which my honors Human Interests and the Power of Information class is reading. Not usually one to engage in critique (as a result of his commitment to a descriptive phenomenological method), Schutz concludes the essay by saying there is a problem posed by public opinion, especially when it guides political decisions in democratic societies. It's not that original a problem to pose (Walter Lippmann published Public Opinion in 1922, though he had a very different attitude toward it), but Schutz's call for the well-informed citizen to "prevail" over public opinion is a peculiar way of dealing with it, especially since Schutz doesn't tell us what that would mean. It's practically tossed off at the end of the essay, and it's not obvious how the essay as a whole helps illuminate the problem, or even how the problem is motivated by the essay or vice-versa.
I've spent a ton of time on this essay over the years, but for some reason this year it seems as if I have been able to get deeper into it. That has its good points and its bad points. I'm finding it very difficult to keep my paper within narrow enough parameters. It wants to creep all over the place. So I'm thinking my presentation this coming Thursday will be a little odd. We'll see. Perhaps I'll be able to get some of the other stuff out of my system in class on Monday, so the focus on public opinion can come back.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
landmark post #200
A few utterly disconnected items.
1. One of the aspects of popular fame that would really disturb me if I were popularly famous is that news services routinely prepare anticipatory obituaries for such people. I understand, they don't want to be caught having to write something appropriate, pithy, ironic, or whatever in the 3 minutes they have to scoop other news services on the death watch. But still, there's something very slightly ghoulish about it, and the notion that someone has already summed up my life and achievements in 300-500 words while I'm still alive strikes as judgment before the trial. Case in point, the clearly canned obit the San Francisco Chronic Ill just posted about Anna Nicole Smith.
2. I'm trying very hard to make the most of the break between Winter and Spring, by being On A Break. So far, this is working well, except insofar as I'm working on a paper and tracking down a few issues for lecturers. I think I've got four songs in the works now, though.
3. A few candidates for my motto came to me lately:
* I eat pipsqueaks like you for breakfast!
* I'm the philosopher-chef. I saute wisdom.
* Speak softly, and carry a big schtick. (an oldie from college days)
1. One of the aspects of popular fame that would really disturb me if I were popularly famous is that news services routinely prepare anticipatory obituaries for such people. I understand, they don't want to be caught having to write something appropriate, pithy, ironic, or whatever in the 3 minutes they have to scoop other news services on the death watch. But still, there's something very slightly ghoulish about it, and the notion that someone has already summed up my life and achievements in 300-500 words while I'm still alive strikes as judgment before the trial. Case in point, the clearly canned obit the San Francisco Chronic Ill just posted about Anna Nicole Smith.
2. I'm trying very hard to make the most of the break between Winter and Spring, by being On A Break. So far, this is working well, except insofar as I'm working on a paper and tracking down a few issues for lecturers. I think I've got four songs in the works now, though.
3. A few candidates for my motto came to me lately:
* I eat pipsqueaks like you for breakfast!
* I'm the philosopher-chef. I saute wisdom.
* Speak softly, and carry a big schtick. (an oldie from college days)
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
debate
Ah, those wacky Senators. Mitch McConnell:
from the San Francisco Chronic-Ill
Let me explain, Senator. A debate is when different views on an issue are aired, argued, and defended with evidence (sometimes; we'll even make this optional for y'all because y'all have such a hard time determining what evidence means. You gotta crawl before you can walk). When you filibuster to prevent debate, you're not debating.
By the way, remember when filibusters were uncivil tactics used by the desperate to avoid admitting they had no other options? Guess what? They still are!
Remember when the Republican majority forced a Democratic filibuster to end by threatening to eliminate the rules permitting filibustering altogether - and ending over 200 years of parliamentary practice in the Senate? Looks different to the minority party, don't it, Senator McConnell? Senator? Mitch? Hello?
"The Republican side is ready for this debate," said Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Ky. "We're anxious to have it."
McConnell said Republicans were not resorting to any special tactics, calling it "ordinary" to require 60 votes before an item can move forward on the floor of the Senate and pointing to the Democratic use of the filibuster against Bush's judicial appointments when they were in the Senate minority.
from the San Francisco Chronic-Ill
Let me explain, Senator. A debate is when different views on an issue are aired, argued, and defended with evidence (sometimes; we'll even make this optional for y'all because y'all have such a hard time determining what evidence means. You gotta crawl before you can walk). When you filibuster to prevent debate, you're not debating.
By the way, remember when filibusters were uncivil tactics used by the desperate to avoid admitting they had no other options? Guess what? They still are!
Remember when the Republican majority forced a Democratic filibuster to end by threatening to eliminate the rules permitting filibustering altogether - and ending over 200 years of parliamentary practice in the Senate? Looks different to the minority party, don't it, Senator McConnell? Senator? Mitch? Hello?
Sunday, February 04, 2007
what I need: a motto
I came to the conclusion, as I recall, in the car, while running errands, just the other day. I'm pretty sure we were on Geer Road, heading south, dealing with typical Turlock traffic, to wit, gaggles of overlarge SUVs being driven very badly by soccer moms on cell phones, handfuls of little cars with loud mufflers and stereos that shake the whole car and the pavement surrounding driven very badly by 20-something underemployed guys, and Buicks being driven very badly by old people. (Not that I condone stereotyping. In fact, that could be a potential motto: "Officially, I don't condone stereotyping. Unofficially, guys with cars like that are idiots." Eh. Not so much.)
I'm pretty sure we saw a very inane bumper sticker, and decided that this was the (very bad) driver's motto. It might have been the truck with the little cartoon Calvin figure from the long-defunct Calvin & Hobbes strip, peeing onto the words "gun control."
Anyway, choosing a motto, I figure, would be a simple, effective way of advancing my life prospects. It has to be snappy, relevant, and encouraging of the kind of behavior that would advance my life prospects. So "I like cheese," though true, is not a strong contender.
I'll consider contributions from all sources, and meanwhile continue my deliberations here.
So far, I have only one candidate: "You gotta eat." More, I hope, later.
I'm pretty sure we saw a very inane bumper sticker, and decided that this was the (very bad) driver's motto. It might have been the truck with the little cartoon Calvin figure from the long-defunct Calvin & Hobbes strip, peeing onto the words "gun control."
Anyway, choosing a motto, I figure, would be a simple, effective way of advancing my life prospects. It has to be snappy, relevant, and encouraging of the kind of behavior that would advance my life prospects. So "I like cheese," though true, is not a strong contender.
I'll consider contributions from all sources, and meanwhile continue my deliberations here.
So far, I have only one candidate: "You gotta eat." More, I hope, later.
Friday, February 02, 2007
mythical guitar and demi-glace
Yesterday I made the beef stock preparatory to putting together demi-glace, the mother of all sauces. Today we zapped out yet again, to go on a series of errands, including a trip to Turlock's own Ingram Music.
I saw a guitar.
It was a Monroe-Moore (or Moore-Monroe; I'm not familiar with the brand) electric semi-hollow-body, with double cut-aways, like John Lennon's Epiphone Casino.
It was blond, too. It had an action like no guitar I have ever played, perfect balance, and frets so smooth they felt frictionless. The neck actually felt soft.
I tried to look the machine up online, to no avail. Moore-Monroe (or Monroe-Moore; see above; who knows?) doesn't have a website, it seems, and they're known for bluegrass acoustic guitars and mandolins. They also make a fair number of resonator guitars and, I kid not, an acoustic-electric bouzouki. But I didn't see this electric thing anywhere. But nothing on the electric guitar. Nobody has seen this beast, anywhere, except, it seems, Ingram, and me and Lauren.
I called Bobo, who not only owns an encyclopedia of electric guitars, but is also in many ways a walking guitar encyclopedia himself. To quote him: "I got nothing."
Horrors. A guitar Imj hasn't heard of is peculiar enough, nigh onto absurd, in fact. There can be only one conclusion: This guitar does not exist. I could go back to Ingram tomorrow (in fact, am sorely tempted), but it won't be there.
Anyway, I've made exemplary sauce Espagnole, the next step in making demi-glace. It's beef stock, a mirepoix of veggies sauteed in fatback, a roux, and good sherry, reduced down to 1/4 or so of its original volume, all the while skimming fat and other stuff off the surface. Tomorrow I'll be adding this to more sherry and the rest of the stock, reducing that to 1/2 or so of its volume, again with the skimming (always the skimming), and finally into ice trays to make demi-glace ice-cubes.
Demi-glace and electric guitars have a few things in common.
I saw a guitar.
It was a Monroe-Moore (or Moore-Monroe; I'm not familiar with the brand) electric semi-hollow-body, with double cut-aways, like John Lennon's Epiphone Casino.It was blond, too. It had an action like no guitar I have ever played, perfect balance, and frets so smooth they felt frictionless. The neck actually felt soft.
I tried to look the machine up online, to no avail. Moore-Monroe (or Monroe-Moore; see above; who knows?) doesn't have a website, it seems, and they're known for bluegrass acoustic guitars and mandolins. They also make a fair number of resonator guitars and, I kid not, an acoustic-electric bouzouki. But I didn't see this electric thing anywhere. But nothing on the electric guitar. Nobody has seen this beast, anywhere, except, it seems, Ingram, and me and Lauren.
I called Bobo, who not only owns an encyclopedia of electric guitars, but is also in many ways a walking guitar encyclopedia himself. To quote him: "I got nothing."
Horrors. A guitar Imj hasn't heard of is peculiar enough, nigh onto absurd, in fact. There can be only one conclusion: This guitar does not exist. I could go back to Ingram tomorrow (in fact, am sorely tempted), but it won't be there.
Anyway, I've made exemplary sauce Espagnole, the next step in making demi-glace. It's beef stock, a mirepoix of veggies sauteed in fatback, a roux, and good sherry, reduced down to 1/4 or so of its original volume, all the while skimming fat and other stuff off the surface. Tomorrow I'll be adding this to more sherry and the rest of the stock, reducing that to 1/2 or so of its volume, again with the skimming (always the skimming), and finally into ice trays to make demi-glace ice-cubes.
Demi-glace and electric guitars have a few things in common.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
back in the saddle
Despite tear gas, stomped vegetables, and general discombobulation, we're settling back into home. Our first full day back home since Saturday, or would have been, except we took off to Funkytown to re-stock the stores.
I'm settling back into myself, too. This morning I started the dough for rye bread. We hit the road to go pay rent and buy stuff to replace all the stuff we used up so it wouldn't get poisoned (see "tear gas," above), and on the way the subject of brewing a stout came up. We proceeded to the fermentation supply store for the necessaries, whence off to Trader Joe's. There, the idea struck that a pork tenderloin might be the thing to do, which brought to mind immediately (as it does, for me at least) sauce Robert, the ultimate French sauce for pork.
Sauce Robert requires demi-glace, the basic instrument of the hardest of hard-core French sauces. I make my own, a process that takes three days, but at the moment we're out. We'd anticipated this, and nabbed some bones the last time we trekked out to Marin County for meat. These I have roasted and am now simmering away to make the 3 or so quarts of stock that will eventually become a couple pints of demi-glace.
Meanwhile, the rye bread dough rises, and I'm listening to the Penguins game over the internets (as we say around here). Lauren is painting a yellow chrysanthemum-like flower onto the black cosntruction paper "fish tank" in the kitchen, inspired by the flowers we bought today.
Bread, beer, demi-glace, Penguins, art. I'm home.
I'm settling back into myself, too. This morning I started the dough for rye bread. We hit the road to go pay rent and buy stuff to replace all the stuff we used up so it wouldn't get poisoned (see "tear gas," above), and on the way the subject of brewing a stout came up. We proceeded to the fermentation supply store for the necessaries, whence off to Trader Joe's. There, the idea struck that a pork tenderloin might be the thing to do, which brought to mind immediately (as it does, for me at least) sauce Robert, the ultimate French sauce for pork.
Sauce Robert requires demi-glace, the basic instrument of the hardest of hard-core French sauces. I make my own, a process that takes three days, but at the moment we're out. We'd anticipated this, and nabbed some bones the last time we trekked out to Marin County for meat. These I have roasted and am now simmering away to make the 3 or so quarts of stock that will eventually become a couple pints of demi-glace.
Meanwhile, the rye bread dough rises, and I'm listening to the Penguins game over the internets (as we say around here). Lauren is painting a yellow chrysanthemum-like flower onto the black cosntruction paper "fish tank" in the kitchen, inspired by the flowers we bought today.
Bread, beer, demi-glace, Penguins, art. I'm home.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
just a blog before I go
My pal Jim ("The Most Optimistic Man in America," which might be a trademark owned by a large conglomerate, but he doesn't care) Williams used to pun on the word "blog" in the titles of his entries, so this title is sort of an homage.
It's also true: we're bugging out for several days. More properly, we're being bugged out, because the mgmt wants to tent about a dozen units and gas them for termites. I suppose they have the right to do so, but insisting that we wear those armbands is, in my opinion, going too far.
In any event, blogging will be a very low priority during this period. Chances are, I won't have net access where we're staying, and hanging around on campus to post a blog entry seems awfully silly.
We were gonna hafta stay in the Best Western Dank Inn here in Turlock. This had been the only hotel anywhere near the university until just this past year, and rumor has it that the accomodations have in fact driven away candidates for tenure-track positions. But luckily a campus pal, Susan, offered us a place, for which we are highly grateful.
Lauren sings in the Motown Symphony Chorus concert this afternoon; then the bugging out begins.
It's also true: we're bugging out for several days. More properly, we're being bugged out, because the mgmt wants to tent about a dozen units and gas them for termites. I suppose they have the right to do so, but insisting that we wear those armbands is, in my opinion, going too far.
In any event, blogging will be a very low priority during this period. Chances are, I won't have net access where we're staying, and hanging around on campus to post a blog entry seems awfully silly.
We were gonna hafta stay in the Best Western Dank Inn here in Turlock. This had been the only hotel anywhere near the university until just this past year, and rumor has it that the accomodations have in fact driven away candidates for tenure-track positions. But luckily a campus pal, Susan, offered us a place, for which we are highly grateful.
Lauren sings in the Motown Symphony Chorus concert this afternoon; then the bugging out begins.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
the state of our onion is strong
After the President's state of the union (approximately) speech, I made dinner: sauteed scallops, and shrimp with lots of garlic and some saffron served over linguine, with salad. I forgot the bread, but oh well. I did decide that while making the salad I should chop up green onions. While chopping I cut a chunk out of the nail on my left index finger, down to the flesh underneath. That's one tough onion.
I'm less sure about the US, though, after hearing the state of the union (in a manner of speaking). I don't recall Bush saying the state of the union (that thing) was strong, which is the traditional statement Presidents make. He didn't say it was weak, either. Should we infer that it's sorta fair-to-middlin'? Or moderately neato, as George Carlin put it? Hunky-dory? Okey-dokey? Blah? What? Damn it, man, speak up!
Actually, I didn't yell that at the TV. No, because we were watching the NHL All-Stars Superskills Competition (TM, in fact), which is far less exciting than you might expect, although Alexander Ovechkin just about fell on his face. I may have yelled a few things at that, or at the President. Who can tell?
I'm less sure about the US, though, after hearing the state of the union (in a manner of speaking). I don't recall Bush saying the state of the union (that thing) was strong, which is the traditional statement Presidents make. He didn't say it was weak, either. Should we infer that it's sorta fair-to-middlin'? Or moderately neato, as George Carlin put it? Hunky-dory? Okey-dokey? Blah? What? Damn it, man, speak up!
Actually, I didn't yell that at the TV. No, because we were watching the NHL All-Stars Superskills Competition (TM, in fact), which is far less exciting than you might expect, although Alexander Ovechkin just about fell on his face. I may have yelled a few things at that, or at the President. Who can tell?
Monday, January 22, 2007
yeesh! finally I'm more or less in one piece
After I was sick, I was sick again. Then I was in the middle of restructuring my entire Professional Ethics class, which is good work, but lots of work. So I haven't been blogging.
It's good, every once in a while, to take a course you've been teaching for a while and throw out everything you've used in the class. I suppose. You know, maybe it isn't such a good idea.
Anyway, I was having a blast yesterday preparing the materials on autonomy, its limitations and conditions, and how to respect autonomy understood that way. The articles were fascinating to me: depths of discussion of respect for client autonomy and competing values in social work, nursing, public policy regarding drug-using pregnant women, plus narrative identity, Rawlsian veils of ignorance, existential advocacy - a freakin' cornucopia o' concepts. Delicious!
It was about then that the realization hit me that, as always, my enthusiasm for these ideas would be much greater than my students'. This is natural, I guess. They don't have the context I have to see how challenging these ideas are to some predominant and rather naive conceptualizations of professional responsibility for client autonomy. I tried to share that today, but I don't think I gave it enough emphasis to show the contrast, and how much this set of essays opens these issues.
This is always a problem teaching any philosophy class. It's endemic to teaching philosophy that, on the fly, it's very difficult to convey to students how important it is that an idea or a way of life can be (in an intellectual sense) turned entirely upside down. Truly: from the assumption that clients are autonomous because they can choose from among options presented by professionals, we got to the analysis of the way conditions of need or lack undermine client autonomy. We moved from informed consent to autonomy as the self-direction implied in narrative identities deeply underlying public behavior and statements. I mean to say, whoa.
Then again, maybe some of them just didn't read the stuff because their midterms were due today. That happens, too. We'll see: Wednesday we'll be discussing assertions of the right to assisted dying. If that ain't fun, then maybe I just don't know what fun is!
It's good, every once in a while, to take a course you've been teaching for a while and throw out everything you've used in the class. I suppose. You know, maybe it isn't such a good idea.
Anyway, I was having a blast yesterday preparing the materials on autonomy, its limitations and conditions, and how to respect autonomy understood that way. The articles were fascinating to me: depths of discussion of respect for client autonomy and competing values in social work, nursing, public policy regarding drug-using pregnant women, plus narrative identity, Rawlsian veils of ignorance, existential advocacy - a freakin' cornucopia o' concepts. Delicious!
It was about then that the realization hit me that, as always, my enthusiasm for these ideas would be much greater than my students'. This is natural, I guess. They don't have the context I have to see how challenging these ideas are to some predominant and rather naive conceptualizations of professional responsibility for client autonomy. I tried to share that today, but I don't think I gave it enough emphasis to show the contrast, and how much this set of essays opens these issues.
This is always a problem teaching any philosophy class. It's endemic to teaching philosophy that, on the fly, it's very difficult to convey to students how important it is that an idea or a way of life can be (in an intellectual sense) turned entirely upside down. Truly: from the assumption that clients are autonomous because they can choose from among options presented by professionals, we got to the analysis of the way conditions of need or lack undermine client autonomy. We moved from informed consent to autonomy as the self-direction implied in narrative identities deeply underlying public behavior and statements. I mean to say, whoa.
Then again, maybe some of them just didn't read the stuff because their midterms were due today. That happens, too. We'll see: Wednesday we'll be discussing assertions of the right to assisted dying. If that ain't fun, then maybe I just don't know what fun is!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
beach impeach project in San Francisco today
It was chilly out today, so about 1200 people snuggled up and incidentally spelled out IMPEACH!
Yeah, kinda silly, but sometimes the point of a protest action is to have a massive lie-in on the beach, complete, I couldn't help but notice, with 12-string guitars (I think that's a Fender, poor soul).
Also: saw Night at the Museum today, and it was a lot of fun. Ben was on a tight enough leash most of the time, which always helps. Good special effects, underdone, sorta warm-rare, if you dig that.
Yeah, kinda silly, but sometimes the point of a protest action is to have a massive lie-in on the beach, complete, I couldn't help but notice, with 12-string guitars (I think that's a Fender, poor soul).
Also: saw Night at the Museum today, and it was a lot of fun. Ben was on a tight enough leash most of the time, which always helps. Good special effects, underdone, sorta warm-rare, if you dig that.
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