It was a long night. We stayed up way past late, watching voting returns tabluate on the Secretary of State's web site. It looked like Propositions 76 through 80 would be defeated by midnight. But Proposition 75, the big one in my opinion, didn't settle into the "No" column until about 1:30. I was able, at that point, to go to bed, comfortable in the knowledge that I wouldn't be spending countless hours every fall gathering signatures on union cards granting permission to CFA to use members' dues for political action.
CFA is probably in a stronger position to bargain for a contract as a result. The solidarity built by the election effort has to help. Plus, we've proven again that we won't be pushed around, and that those who try are in for a fight.
I'm exhausted, but today is also the last day of my official working week. The election has me in a good mood, helped further along by the bright autumn sky, the kaleidoscope of leaves, and new strings on Bennett Cerf, my office guitar. I can handle a little exhaustion today.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Sick
I'm home sick today. I did drag myself out of bed this morning, to find something even more sick, but frankly not surprising. If I'm well enough I'll write about it later. I'm referring, of course, to my government's detaining, torturing, and killing suspects (and non-suspects) in a kind of spree of twisted, panicked reaction to the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Porn in convenient mint form
From a package of Velamints:
Go ahead, enjoy a special moment
Indulge yourself with rich, smooth chocolate, kissed by a refreshing breath of cool mint. Its unique square shape fits perfectly in your mouth. Feel it glide across your tongue and glide back again. Now, just sit back, relax and enjoy your smooth, chocolate mint experience.
Welcome to Velamints. Experience a world of smoothness in a little chocolate mint.
And don't forget to experience a world of smoothness in a cool and refreshing Velamints Peppermint.
Visit www.velamints.com
**
I still think I'm missing something about Velamints. I try, but somehow, I dunno, I just can't seem to get turned-on.
Anyway, one quick Google search later, the phrase "glide across your tongue" appears on numerous wine-tasting humor sites, where the joke is the same - wine-tasting as porn. There were also a few other blogs whose auteurs felt the Velamints box wrapper merited digital posterity.
Go ahead, enjoy a special moment
Indulge yourself with rich, smooth chocolate, kissed by a refreshing breath of cool mint. Its unique square shape fits perfectly in your mouth. Feel it glide across your tongue and glide back again. Now, just sit back, relax and enjoy your smooth, chocolate mint experience.
Welcome to Velamints. Experience a world of smoothness in a little chocolate mint.
And don't forget to experience a world of smoothness in a cool and refreshing Velamints Peppermint.
Visit www.velamints.com
**
I still think I'm missing something about Velamints. I try, but somehow, I dunno, I just can't seem to get turned-on.
Anyway, one quick Google search later, the phrase "glide across your tongue" appears on numerous wine-tasting humor sites, where the joke is the same - wine-tasting as porn. There were also a few other blogs whose auteurs felt the Velamints box wrapper merited digital posterity.
Grousing about daylight saving time
Allegedly, daylight saving time (and it is daylight saving, not daylight savings time) serves the purpose of preserving hours of daylight around workday clock time, and a modicum of energy, at least in the summer. But I don't believe it, and I especially disbelieve claims that a majority of Americans like daylight saving time.
I don't know of a single person who likes daylight saving time. It's a nuisance to have to remember, more of a nuisance if you forget, and losing the hour of sleep every Spring is terrible.
Alternative sources of information suggest that daylight saving time was always the sick underworld conspiracy most clear-minded individuals believe it is. A cursory Google effort yielded no online source to cite here, but what I understand the theory to be is that manipulating clock time permitted a timing advantage for commodity brokers. I would also be inclined to believe it's a conspiracy to keep working people off-kilter. It's hard enough to organize, let alone when we keep having to change our clocks.
Oh, and by the way, the Bush adminstration has apparently decided to extend daylight saving time. Soon, we'll spend less of the year in "standard" time than in daylight saving time. Doesn't that mean we've just decided to make daylight the standard?
I don't know of a single person who likes daylight saving time. It's a nuisance to have to remember, more of a nuisance if you forget, and losing the hour of sleep every Spring is terrible.
Alternative sources of information suggest that daylight saving time was always the sick underworld conspiracy most clear-minded individuals believe it is. A cursory Google effort yielded no online source to cite here, but what I understand the theory to be is that manipulating clock time permitted a timing advantage for commodity brokers. I would also be inclined to believe it's a conspiracy to keep working people off-kilter. It's hard enough to organize, let alone when we keep having to change our clocks.
Oh, and by the way, the Bush adminstration has apparently decided to extend daylight saving time. Soon, we'll spend less of the year in "standard" time than in daylight saving time. Doesn't that mean we've just decided to make daylight the standard?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
One of the great paradoxes about students
Tonight I've been reading 1-2 page responses I had students in my Philosophical Inquiry class write to Book III of Plato's Republic. Not every student wrote a response (a chronic problem in this class, which may be another student paradox to discuss later), but of the 15 or so I did get, every one of them had an interestingly different take on the reading.
Book III is where Socrates discusses the "myth of the metals," which is the "necessary lie" told to the people of the ideally just city in order to let get the people to accept the system. Socrates further explains the social status and role the ruling "guardian" class will have, and the communal focus of the entire effort. The ideal city is ideal in its overall justice, in Socrates' argument, and every group must play its appropriate role. There's a discussion of natural predisposition to certain tasks or traits, and the development of those traits, but this is only the beginning of Plato's long discussion of proper education for just leadership.
The papers have challenged the lie, challenged the restrictive class system, questioned the communal conception of justice. They've delved into the strange minutiae of Socrates' argument, asking why it would be necessary to exert such firm control over musical rhythm, for instance, or why only telling stories where the gods are good helps the guardians understand justice.
Now, here's the paradox. These engaged, interesting, provocative, thoughtful response papers have so far not corresponded to engaged, interesting, provocative, thoughtful class discussions. Unless I'm horribly mistaken, I don't behave in a way that discourages contributing to class discussion. In fact, I encourage it. I ask at the beginning of class what surprised them about the reading, what their impressions were, what they found important, but with few exceptions, despite their evidently having found something surprising, impressive, and important, they don't tend to speak up.
So I need to develop a further element to the response paper technique, and move from those papers into finding ways those papers can structure class discussion. Partly, I am absolutely sure, this is a matter of experience: students in my upper-division general ed classes, particularly Professional Ethics, make this connection and jump into discussion on this basis.
Book III is where Socrates discusses the "myth of the metals," which is the "necessary lie" told to the people of the ideally just city in order to let get the people to accept the system. Socrates further explains the social status and role the ruling "guardian" class will have, and the communal focus of the entire effort. The ideal city is ideal in its overall justice, in Socrates' argument, and every group must play its appropriate role. There's a discussion of natural predisposition to certain tasks or traits, and the development of those traits, but this is only the beginning of Plato's long discussion of proper education for just leadership.
The papers have challenged the lie, challenged the restrictive class system, questioned the communal conception of justice. They've delved into the strange minutiae of Socrates' argument, asking why it would be necessary to exert such firm control over musical rhythm, for instance, or why only telling stories where the gods are good helps the guardians understand justice.
Now, here's the paradox. These engaged, interesting, provocative, thoughtful response papers have so far not corresponded to engaged, interesting, provocative, thoughtful class discussions. Unless I'm horribly mistaken, I don't behave in a way that discourages contributing to class discussion. In fact, I encourage it. I ask at the beginning of class what surprised them about the reading, what their impressions were, what they found important, but with few exceptions, despite their evidently having found something surprising, impressive, and important, they don't tend to speak up.
So I need to develop a further element to the response paper technique, and move from those papers into finding ways those papers can structure class discussion. Partly, I am absolutely sure, this is a matter of experience: students in my upper-division general ed classes, particularly Professional Ethics, make this connection and jump into discussion on this basis.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Re-working
It seems like I do a lot of stuff - all that teaching, university service, and union activity seems like a lot to do. I feel busy. Yet from one standpoint, I'm not working at all, because I don't have a lot of scholarly and academic writing coming out. This is a complex matter, for me.
I know what I value in teaching, university citizenship, and union activism. They are intrinsically rewarding to me, and I think they're important contributions to the university and the community. I try to teach well; I'm certainly motivated by a firm conviction in the value of the classes I teach and the validity of the curriculum and methods. I think universities are vital social and cultural institutions, far beyond their purely economic purposes of producing new tax payers and generating commerce, and so I place a high value on being an active member of the university community. Being involved in faculty governance and policy-making is for me an expression of commitment to the democratic ideal of education. As far as union activism goes, I don't see any substitute for it to protect the rights and interests of faculty from an administration that most often confronts the faculty as an adversary, instead of honoring faculty as knowledgeable and concerned experts.
The situation is different when it comes to scholarly and academic work. I spent a few years trying to fit into the academic philosophy world; I presented papers at conferences, published articles, pursued the most remote arcana, and above all else, maintained a continuous presence in what some people in my field call "the discussion." It was fun for a while, but the more deeply I got involved, the more removed from the everyday, the more I felt that there wasn't much point to a great deal of "the discussion," other than the rather arbitrary value placed on it by academics. I saw and heard a lot of weird behavior, from shrill denouncements of others as idiots, to the widespread problem of general social dysfunction. I watched what academia turned some acquaintances into, and how unrecognizable they became as the people I used to know, after, say, spending a year as a research fellow, or while they pitched their manuscripts to publishers.
This might seem like sour grapes, but I have to confess, I cooled to academic philosophy before it cooled to me. I had never had the most positive attitude toward it in the first place (ironically, I can at least partially blame a philosophy professor I had for that attitude, for it was he who convinced me that academics use jargon as a weapon and as a barrier). Not all of it, but more than I'm comfortable with, strikes as fiddling while the city is in flames.
I've been wondering lately if I shouldn't return to that kind of work to some degree. I do sometimes miss getting highly charged email, from people I don't really know, arguing forcefully on one side or another of some ongoing debate, and being part of it. For all their dysfunctions, academics do tend to care deeply about their fields, and jump into them with gusto. It's good for renewal.
The practical problem, for now, is that I can no longer leap into it as a purely intellectual and academic exercise. It has to be integrated into my life, which means into the everyday reality of being a teacher of general education classes, of being a citizen of the university, of being a union activist, and of course a private person. I want to find a way that the academic, scholarly work remains within the sphere of relevance of my daily life, and of the lives I come into contact with daily. I think that means, in part, that I don't want to get involved in writing something if I can't see why what I'm writing about would make a difference to my neighbor Marty, or would be significant to someone cooking risotto with morel mushrooms, or would reflectively inform my teaching practice, etc., etc. This is not easy, because the academic philosophy world tends on the whole to neglect, if not actually to dismiss, everyday life. In fact, academia tends to reward people for performances that require them to be neglectful of everyday life, or of teaching, or of being good citizens of the university. (This is something bell hooks wrote eloquently about in Teaching to Transgress.)
I know what I value in teaching, university citizenship, and union activism. They are intrinsically rewarding to me, and I think they're important contributions to the university and the community. I try to teach well; I'm certainly motivated by a firm conviction in the value of the classes I teach and the validity of the curriculum and methods. I think universities are vital social and cultural institutions, far beyond their purely economic purposes of producing new tax payers and generating commerce, and so I place a high value on being an active member of the university community. Being involved in faculty governance and policy-making is for me an expression of commitment to the democratic ideal of education. As far as union activism goes, I don't see any substitute for it to protect the rights and interests of faculty from an administration that most often confronts the faculty as an adversary, instead of honoring faculty as knowledgeable and concerned experts.
The situation is different when it comes to scholarly and academic work. I spent a few years trying to fit into the academic philosophy world; I presented papers at conferences, published articles, pursued the most remote arcana, and above all else, maintained a continuous presence in what some people in my field call "the discussion." It was fun for a while, but the more deeply I got involved, the more removed from the everyday, the more I felt that there wasn't much point to a great deal of "the discussion," other than the rather arbitrary value placed on it by academics. I saw and heard a lot of weird behavior, from shrill denouncements of others as idiots, to the widespread problem of general social dysfunction. I watched what academia turned some acquaintances into, and how unrecognizable they became as the people I used to know, after, say, spending a year as a research fellow, or while they pitched their manuscripts to publishers.
This might seem like sour grapes, but I have to confess, I cooled to academic philosophy before it cooled to me. I had never had the most positive attitude toward it in the first place (ironically, I can at least partially blame a philosophy professor I had for that attitude, for it was he who convinced me that academics use jargon as a weapon and as a barrier). Not all of it, but more than I'm comfortable with, strikes as fiddling while the city is in flames.
I've been wondering lately if I shouldn't return to that kind of work to some degree. I do sometimes miss getting highly charged email, from people I don't really know, arguing forcefully on one side or another of some ongoing debate, and being part of it. For all their dysfunctions, academics do tend to care deeply about their fields, and jump into them with gusto. It's good for renewal.
The practical problem, for now, is that I can no longer leap into it as a purely intellectual and academic exercise. It has to be integrated into my life, which means into the everyday reality of being a teacher of general education classes, of being a citizen of the university, of being a union activist, and of course a private person. I want to find a way that the academic, scholarly work remains within the sphere of relevance of my daily life, and of the lives I come into contact with daily. I think that means, in part, that I don't want to get involved in writing something if I can't see why what I'm writing about would make a difference to my neighbor Marty, or would be significant to someone cooking risotto with morel mushrooms, or would reflectively inform my teaching practice, etc., etc. This is not easy, because the academic philosophy world tends on the whole to neglect, if not actually to dismiss, everyday life. In fact, academia tends to reward people for performances that require them to be neglectful of everyday life, or of teaching, or of being good citizens of the university. (This is something bell hooks wrote eloquently about in Teaching to Transgress.)
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Oil
The Senate Energy Committee tacked an amendment onto a budget bill that would open the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge to oil drilling. This is after the Senate as a whole failed to pass a bill to do that, and it seems to be amended to a budget bill only for the sake of avoiding debate - the budget bill can't be filibustered. If that's not charming enough, consider this:
10.4 billion barrels of oil is nothing. Domestic use of oil was over 20 million barrels per day in 2002. (See the chart from the department of energy.) At 2002 levels of use, we'd burn up all the oil in 520 days. This isn't a terribly far-sighted policy, even if environmental damage is ignored. But there remains a large sector of US policymakers, and I suppose of ordinary folks, who have yet to accept the notion that there is a limited amount of oil, and that we're running out of the stuff we can get cheaply. If we factored in all costs related to preserving access to oil, it wouldn't seem that cheap, either.
Under the drilling plan, ANWR's 1.5 million-acre coastal plain would be opened for energy exploration. As much as 10.4 billion barrels of crude could be recovered from the refuge's coastal plain, according to government estimates.
10.4 billion barrels of oil is nothing. Domestic use of oil was over 20 million barrels per day in 2002. (See the chart from the department of energy.) At 2002 levels of use, we'd burn up all the oil in 520 days. This isn't a terribly far-sighted policy, even if environmental damage is ignored. But there remains a large sector of US policymakers, and I suppose of ordinary folks, who have yet to accept the notion that there is a limited amount of oil, and that we're running out of the stuff we can get cheaply. If we factored in all costs related to preserving access to oil, it wouldn't seem that cheap, either.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
News from the rear
Somebody hit my car. It happened over a week ago, overnight, in the parking lot outside the Apartment of Earthly Delights. We were walking off to campus, and passed Mr. Car, with his left tail-light broken and the bumper out of skew. It's nothing terribly serious; the turn signal and backing lights still work, the bumper sticks out by the left wheel about half an inch. But this morning at 9 we had an estimate done. 1200 bucks.
My collision deductible is $500, and since this was a hit-and-run situation, I doubt they'll let me out of that. What bugs me is it's somebody who lives right near me who did it.
So I don't know whether to get it fixed. Pending some fascinating litigation, I might be in the market for new wheels, and it makes little sense to me to put money into this repair. It's just a Neon, for crying out loud.
The 9 am start time for the estimate - half an hour away in Modesto - is significant because I taught in Stockton last night, after getting back from the CFA Assembly Sunday at 2 pm. Since Friday afternoon, I've been unrelentingly busy, or asleep. That used to be normal for me, but not in a while, and I've gotten used to treating myself better than that.
Anyhow, the Assembly was a good gig. I met with the subcommittee on faculty governance and lecturer recognition, chaired a productive meeting, and got some good ideas for the next moves in that biz. Saturday Lauren came to the Lecturers' Council meeting, which was interesting. Sunday she came to the Assembly general session, at which I was elected to the elections committee (they run the union's elections, which seems like a fun gig).
My collision deductible is $500, and since this was a hit-and-run situation, I doubt they'll let me out of that. What bugs me is it's somebody who lives right near me who did it.
So I don't know whether to get it fixed. Pending some fascinating litigation, I might be in the market for new wheels, and it makes little sense to me to put money into this repair. It's just a Neon, for crying out loud.
The 9 am start time for the estimate - half an hour away in Modesto - is significant because I taught in Stockton last night, after getting back from the CFA Assembly Sunday at 2 pm. Since Friday afternoon, I've been unrelentingly busy, or asleep. That used to be normal for me, but not in a while, and I've gotten used to treating myself better than that.
Anyhow, the Assembly was a good gig. I met with the subcommittee on faculty governance and lecturer recognition, chaired a productive meeting, and got some good ideas for the next moves in that biz. Saturday Lauren came to the Lecturers' Council meeting, which was interesting. Sunday she came to the Assembly general session, at which I was elected to the elections committee (they run the union's elections, which seems like a fun gig).
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
The new phone book's here! The new phone book's here!
My friend Jim "Pericles Was A Schmuck" Williams will remember, since I won't, the origin of the running gag between us (running gag #308, I believe) of calling one another on the phone to announce "The new phone book's here! The new phone book's here!"
As a rule, I recall nothing. Life's easier for me that way. It's not a very useful interpersonal skill, but it provides terrific plausible deniability and is sometimes the source of a nice cheap joke in class. But I have vestiges of memory, and as far as that goes, I think the "The new phone book's here!" gag began when a new phone book actually arrived at someone's premises - and here I'm already hazy, but I think it was after moving in.
In any case, it's actually true: the new phone book's here. This is auspicious, we're hoping, because for 15 months Lauren and I have fielded approximately 5 calls on an average week asking for the Hilmar Portugese Fish Market, or its apparent proprietor, Carmen. It seems our number used to be theirs. Lauren went so far as to look up their new number, and we've both memorized it, so when the inevitable call comes, we can helpfully provide the proper info. It's a public service we provide at absolutely no charge.
Once, someone informed Lauren that she had found the number (our number) in a current edition of a phone directory for Turlock and vicinity (it's about an inch thick), including Hilmar. On another occasion, the phone company called us to see if we were interested in adding new business services to our account.
(Way back in Pittsburgh days, I had a problem with calls asking for a woman who apparently owed a number of people a significant enough amount of money that they pursued her for it. This has been less unpleasant, but more persistent.)
In any case, the new phone book, indeed, 's here, and we're hoping that the corrected number will reduce the hours we spend trying to explain the switcheroo.
As a rule, I recall nothing. Life's easier for me that way. It's not a very useful interpersonal skill, but it provides terrific plausible deniability and is sometimes the source of a nice cheap joke in class. But I have vestiges of memory, and as far as that goes, I think the "The new phone book's here!" gag began when a new phone book actually arrived at someone's premises - and here I'm already hazy, but I think it was after moving in.
In any case, it's actually true: the new phone book's here. This is auspicious, we're hoping, because for 15 months Lauren and I have fielded approximately 5 calls on an average week asking for the Hilmar Portugese Fish Market, or its apparent proprietor, Carmen. It seems our number used to be theirs. Lauren went so far as to look up their new number, and we've both memorized it, so when the inevitable call comes, we can helpfully provide the proper info. It's a public service we provide at absolutely no charge.
Once, someone informed Lauren that she had found the number (our number) in a current edition of a phone directory for Turlock and vicinity (it's about an inch thick), including Hilmar. On another occasion, the phone company called us to see if we were interested in adding new business services to our account.
(Way back in Pittsburgh days, I had a problem with calls asking for a woman who apparently owed a number of people a significant enough amount of money that they pursued her for it. This has been less unpleasant, but more persistent.)
In any case, the new phone book, indeed, 's here, and we're hoping that the corrected number will reduce the hours we spend trying to explain the switcheroo.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Here, chickies chickies chickies!
I roasted our first chicken of the fall season last night. We've gotten into a habit of buying only organic and/or free range chickens to roast. The fowl processing industry is notoriously - well, foul, and for this reason I avoid birds from the major processors. I don't know if there's any guarantee that a free-range or organic chicken hasn't been left to soak in a vat of chicken blood, guts, feathers, and excrement, as is apparently often true at large processing plants. On the other hand, I do feel confident that an organic chicken hasn't been fed in a way that is likely to lead me to have, say, an extra beak.
I should make chicken stock this evening. I should be doing that now, instead of wasting my time writing this. But I should also be preparing for classes tomorrow, too. I've got Plato to teach in my Philosophical Inquiry class, and we all know how difficult he is. He never listens. It's so tediously typical of the dead.
I've read all my Pro Ethics students' response papers, which were uniformly good. I should, if anything, be writing about what's going on in class. But no: chicken.
I should make chicken stock this evening. I should be doing that now, instead of wasting my time writing this. But I should also be preparing for classes tomorrow, too. I've got Plato to teach in my Philosophical Inquiry class, and we all know how difficult he is. He never listens. It's so tediously typical of the dead.
I've read all my Pro Ethics students' response papers, which were uniformly good. I should, if anything, be writing about what's going on in class. But no: chicken.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Brain like oatmeal!
It started on Saturday morning. I woke feeling lightheaded and slightly feverish. By the time we left for the campus unions picnic in the afternoon, I just about pulled over so Lauren could drive. But the picnic seemed to restore me, and I felt like all would be well...
until Sunday, when I felt much worse. I spent most of Sunday with my head lolling around on my neck like it was on a slinky, and my consciousness barely connected to my head. But I didn't decide to cancel classes Monday until Monday morning, and I didn't decide to cancel Monday night's class until Monday afternoon. Thus I probably inconvenienced all my students to the maximum extent possible.
They could hardly have been more discomfitted that I, however, because throughout this spell I've had the weirdest dreams. Last night it was trying to get off a plane in Pittsburgh, but somehow leaving behind all our stuff, then heading to a cheap hotel that had no bathroom, just the facilities right there in the room, in the kitchenette. Almost every dream I remember had to do with travel or performing, and several of them were lucid. Perhaps I've gone mad. How could I tell?
until Sunday, when I felt much worse. I spent most of Sunday with my head lolling around on my neck like it was on a slinky, and my consciousness barely connected to my head. But I didn't decide to cancel classes Monday until Monday morning, and I didn't decide to cancel Monday night's class until Monday afternoon. Thus I probably inconvenienced all my students to the maximum extent possible.
They could hardly have been more discomfitted that I, however, because throughout this spell I've had the weirdest dreams. Last night it was trying to get off a plane in Pittsburgh, but somehow leaving behind all our stuff, then heading to a cheap hotel that had no bathroom, just the facilities right there in the room, in the kitchenette. Almost every dream I remember had to do with travel or performing, and several of them were lucid. Perhaps I've gone mad. How could I tell?
Friday, September 30, 2005
The Fridayest of All Possible Fridays
There's a guitar in my office now. I've just been playing a tune I call "A Piece of Pie" while reading my pal Jim "The Most Optimistic Man In America" Williams' non-blog of today.
In the non-blog, Jim (aka "Imj") accuses Al Franken of losing his edge, turning away from his oath of satire and toward rather pedantic and ego-invested demonstrations that Franken=smart and Bush=dumb. I haven't heard the Franken radio schtick, so I can't judge that. But obviously, you can't remain funny very long if your act consists of telling people how dumb George Bush is.
But the main thing I got from reading the non-blog this morning was that Jim (aka "Mij") has found a way to turn his deficit as a speller into a font of gags. Throughout the non-blog, he variously mis-spells the name of Bill O'Reilly, plugugly of Fox News - on purpose, of course, to humorous effect.
Possibly coming soon to this space: Fresh ranting about rude shop clerks. Lauren was trying to order a book at our local Borders yesterday, and received rather snotty attention from the book info chick. I may have been overreacting, since I had been getting an overwhelming hard sell at a guitar shop earlier that day. Perhaps this is the American commercial world's response to declining economic prospects: make consuming actually painful.
In the non-blog, Jim (aka "Imj") accuses Al Franken of losing his edge, turning away from his oath of satire and toward rather pedantic and ego-invested demonstrations that Franken=smart and Bush=dumb. I haven't heard the Franken radio schtick, so I can't judge that. But obviously, you can't remain funny very long if your act consists of telling people how dumb George Bush is.
But the main thing I got from reading the non-blog this morning was that Jim (aka "Mij") has found a way to turn his deficit as a speller into a font of gags. Throughout the non-blog, he variously mis-spells the name of Bill O'Reilly, plugugly of Fox News - on purpose, of course, to humorous effect.
Possibly coming soon to this space: Fresh ranting about rude shop clerks. Lauren was trying to order a book at our local Borders yesterday, and received rather snotty attention from the book info chick. I may have been overreacting, since I had been getting an overwhelming hard sell at a guitar shop earlier that day. Perhaps this is the American commercial world's response to declining economic prospects: make consuming actually painful.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Knowing right from wrong
Returning to my office from a class discussing the link between autonomy and understanding, I found a news item about whether Lynndie England, the Army clerk photographed abusing Iraqi prisoners in Abu Ghraib, was competent (Jury asks if Lynndie England knows right from wrong). A little sample:
I am especially intrigued at the suggestion, implicit in the ruling of the trial judge in May, that following orders is sufficient reason to doubt that England could distinguish right from wrong. It would seem that not only is "just following orders" a valid and exonerating excuse for misdeeds, but that following orders is an act that cannot be judged by standards of right and wrong. The argument can be restated: If one intends one's action to follow an order, that action is neither right nor wrong. It is simply order-following.
Her defense argument rests on nearly the same principle. She could distinguish right from wrong - and hence could not excuse her actions by claiming to be criminally insane. However, she may not have been able correctly to distinguish right from wrong because she was following orders.
A general rule in the morality of responsibility is that any person with the rational capacity to distinguish right from wrong bears responsibility for right and wrong action. The excuse of "only following orders" has been rejected on the grounds that an order does not cancel out the responsibility to judge independently whether the order is right or wrong. War crimes prosecution following WWII hinged on this, for instance.
Here, the arguments are working in a new direction. It's not her responsibility to act rightly that's in question. Nor is it her rational capacity in general that's in question. Somehow, it seems, the act of following an order cancels out judgment. The reports coming out of this trial suggest a legal/moral move to excuse her, not from her actions, but from making judgments. It's rather mind-boggling.
England's lawyers are arguing that because of these traits, she simply complied when abuse ringleader Charles Graner, 37, her boyfriend with whom she has a child, told her to pose with the leash and in other photos that caused worldwide outrage.
Graner, now serving a 10-year sentence for his leading role in the abuses, said on Thursday that he was acting properly to control prisoners by stacking them into a naked pyramid and by putting a leash on one mentally ill Iraqi.
The judge declined initially to ask the question, which stirred up a legal's hornet's nest, because the defense is not arguing that England was criminally insane and thus could not tell right from wrong.
"She had the ability to know right from wrong," military defense attorney Jonathan Crisp told the judge outside of the presence of the jury. But "she did not believe it was wrong because of the trust she placed in Spc. Graner."
England had originally pleaded guilty to seven counts of abuse during a trial in May. But the trial's judge negated the plea deal after hearing evidence suggesting that she thought she was following orders from a superior and thus may not have known she was acting wrongly.
I am especially intrigued at the suggestion, implicit in the ruling of the trial judge in May, that following orders is sufficient reason to doubt that England could distinguish right from wrong. It would seem that not only is "just following orders" a valid and exonerating excuse for misdeeds, but that following orders is an act that cannot be judged by standards of right and wrong. The argument can be restated: If one intends one's action to follow an order, that action is neither right nor wrong. It is simply order-following.
Her defense argument rests on nearly the same principle. She could distinguish right from wrong - and hence could not excuse her actions by claiming to be criminally insane. However, she may not have been able correctly to distinguish right from wrong because she was following orders.
A general rule in the morality of responsibility is that any person with the rational capacity to distinguish right from wrong bears responsibility for right and wrong action. The excuse of "only following orders" has been rejected on the grounds that an order does not cancel out the responsibility to judge independently whether the order is right or wrong. War crimes prosecution following WWII hinged on this, for instance.
Here, the arguments are working in a new direction. It's not her responsibility to act rightly that's in question. Nor is it her rational capacity in general that's in question. Somehow, it seems, the act of following an order cancels out judgment. The reports coming out of this trial suggest a legal/moral move to excuse her, not from her actions, but from making judgments. It's rather mind-boggling.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Bob Dylan - Positively 4th Street
Just lyrics today. This song has been coming to mind a lot lately.
Positively 4th Street - Bob Dylan
You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning
You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning
You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it
You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it
I know the reason
That you talk behind my back
I used to be among the crowd
You're in with
Do you take me for such a fool
To think I'd make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don't know to begin with
You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, "How are you?" "Good luck"
But you don't mean it
When you know as well as me
You'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once
And scream it
No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them
And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem
I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you
Positively 4th Street - Bob Dylan
You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning
You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning
You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it
You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it
I know the reason
That you talk behind my back
I used to be among the crowd
You're in with
Do you take me for such a fool
To think I'd make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don't know to begin with
You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, "How are you?" "Good luck"
But you don't mean it
When you know as well as me
You'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once
And scream it
No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them
And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem
I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you
Monday, September 19, 2005
The personal is political
In my Professional Ethics class this morning, I had my students brainstorm proposals for restoring trust in professions. Three groups of students emphasized the need for personal "connections" or "relationships" between professionals and clients. This was interesting, because the question as I raised it was a social, political question - at least, I thought it was.
Their responses reminded me of heated graduate school discussions of the role of intellectuals in public life. I remember Leigh Clasby (as she was at the time) citing Plato's "Seventh Letter" as a convincing argument that political change could only be effected by changing persons' hearts and minds. I've gone back and forth on this. I am pretty sure that I couldn't make an argument in what passes for the public dialogue nowadays that would change anyone's mind. For one thing, that so-called dialogue consists mainly of people shouting at each other (this was part of Leigh's case against public politics, as I recall). Additionally, a public is a half-step away from being a mob, and mobs can't be rationally convinced of anything. But most significantly, only in personal or private dialogue can assent be authentic, since only in those circumstances are peculiar social pressures to conform absent.
I doubt any of my students had all that in mind when they were talking about this this morning, because they didn't seem to have a rationale in mind for connecting the personal relationship to building trust in the profession (I pressed them for reasons to think a personal connection would instill trust, and I think that threw them for a loop. Sometimes playing the Devil's Advocate hits a dead end. Ah well). I'm not sure I get it, either. I'm not sure whether we have to buy the personal political angle to believe that the personal connection of a client to a professional will enhance trust.
Perhaps we should be suspicious of this as a move toward subjectivizing political questions. Perhaps this personal connection notion improperly narrows our attention to individual experiences, even preferences, as though what makes a trustworthy profession (as a whole) is beyond our capacity to understand or to promote. I mean, my having a good working relationship with my lawyer doesn't in any obvious way improve the status of the profession of law. I might spread his good reputation, but that pertains only to him.
It's largely on the basis of those personal experiences that we judge professions and professionals. That strikes me as wrong. When I think of how different, even diametrically opposed, two students' stated experiences of my classes can be, I hate to think that their opinions form the public perception of higher education.
(A footnote to this: The second section of Professional Ethics, in the afternoon, the students focused very differently, on the need for public education. Some interestingly diverse discussions today.)
Their responses reminded me of heated graduate school discussions of the role of intellectuals in public life. I remember Leigh Clasby (as she was at the time) citing Plato's "Seventh Letter" as a convincing argument that political change could only be effected by changing persons' hearts and minds. I've gone back and forth on this. I am pretty sure that I couldn't make an argument in what passes for the public dialogue nowadays that would change anyone's mind. For one thing, that so-called dialogue consists mainly of people shouting at each other (this was part of Leigh's case against public politics, as I recall). Additionally, a public is a half-step away from being a mob, and mobs can't be rationally convinced of anything. But most significantly, only in personal or private dialogue can assent be authentic, since only in those circumstances are peculiar social pressures to conform absent.
I doubt any of my students had all that in mind when they were talking about this this morning, because they didn't seem to have a rationale in mind for connecting the personal relationship to building trust in the profession (I pressed them for reasons to think a personal connection would instill trust, and I think that threw them for a loop. Sometimes playing the Devil's Advocate hits a dead end. Ah well). I'm not sure I get it, either. I'm not sure whether we have to buy the personal political angle to believe that the personal connection of a client to a professional will enhance trust.
Perhaps we should be suspicious of this as a move toward subjectivizing political questions. Perhaps this personal connection notion improperly narrows our attention to individual experiences, even preferences, as though what makes a trustworthy profession (as a whole) is beyond our capacity to understand or to promote. I mean, my having a good working relationship with my lawyer doesn't in any obvious way improve the status of the profession of law. I might spread his good reputation, but that pertains only to him.
It's largely on the basis of those personal experiences that we judge professions and professionals. That strikes me as wrong. When I think of how different, even diametrically opposed, two students' stated experiences of my classes can be, I hate to think that their opinions form the public perception of higher education.
(A footnote to this: The second section of Professional Ethics, in the afternoon, the students focused very differently, on the need for public education. Some interestingly diverse discussions today.)
Friday, September 16, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Learning from the fine folks at Safeway
This is a bit of a shaggy dog story, but it's bugging me, so here 'tis.
We just went out to buy flowers and some other items, and brought with us an accumulation of plastic grocery bags to drop off at one of those convenient recycling bins stores have out front these days. But we ended up at Safeway, which has apparently taken there grocery bag recycling bin away. We brought the bags in, and at the checkout stand asked if they still recycled. The clerk (one of the Safeway regulars, who recognizes us even though we have gotten out of the habit of going there) said they'll take them, and had me set them on the bagging spot. The bagger then took them, got sort of vague directions where to take them, and ended up bringing them to a cart and setting them in there before finding more explicit directions. As we walked out, we overheard another clerk asking where they came from, and when the bagger said we had, the clerk said, in sarcastic tones, "oh, thanks. This isn't our garbage!"
One reaction: bitch!
But another: Why was this such a problem for these Safeway employees? It seemed that they couldn't deal with our wanting to recycle. It really struck me as though they couldn't be bothered with it, and couldn't imagine why anyone would bring bags to a place that claims to recycle them.
So, I need to find a way to achieve a more charitable outlook on my fellow human beings, my fellow Californians, and especially my fellow Central Valleyites before classes tomorrow. It won't do for me to walk in with this kind of attitude.
We just went out to buy flowers and some other items, and brought with us an accumulation of plastic grocery bags to drop off at one of those convenient recycling bins stores have out front these days. But we ended up at Safeway, which has apparently taken there grocery bag recycling bin away. We brought the bags in, and at the checkout stand asked if they still recycled. The clerk (one of the Safeway regulars, who recognizes us even though we have gotten out of the habit of going there) said they'll take them, and had me set them on the bagging spot. The bagger then took them, got sort of vague directions where to take them, and ended up bringing them to a cart and setting them in there before finding more explicit directions. As we walked out, we overheard another clerk asking where they came from, and when the bagger said we had, the clerk said, in sarcastic tones, "oh, thanks. This isn't our garbage!"
One reaction: bitch!
But another: Why was this such a problem for these Safeway employees? It seemed that they couldn't deal with our wanting to recycle. It really struck me as though they couldn't be bothered with it, and couldn't imagine why anyone would bring bags to a place that claims to recycle them.
So, I need to find a way to achieve a more charitable outlook on my fellow human beings, my fellow Californians, and especially my fellow Central Valleyites before classes tomorrow. It won't do for me to walk in with this kind of attitude.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
We know the semester has begun
We know the semester has begun because we have already been exhausted by our paces. What I can't figure is who these people think they are to interrupt our relatively calm and sedate existences with these "requirements" and "work" and "meetings."
Dan Bratten and I held a CFA chapter lecturer meeting today, and I would call the results encouraging. The lecturers who came were upset about being overlooked in the new campus president's raise, and had their own concerns to add. We easily filled our two hours with useful discussion. I think we did a decent job of explaining where things were, and how we're dealing with the issues. I hope this is the beginning of more involvement from the rank-and-file.
Towards the end I made the difficult request that those present bring two more lecturers each to the next meeting. This is hard for me, because I'm actually a shy person (appearances to the contrary notwithstanding). But I realize, especially tonight, that I can't help lecturers on my campus unless they're willing to commit themselves to the idea that as a group we can change things. They may be shy, too, but we have to set that aside, because there's something more important than our moment-to-moment comfort.
Lauren is making beef stock for beef-veggie soup tonight. I want to sit in the appropriate chair and play my guitars. But duty calls, I suppose. Who are these people?
Dan Bratten and I held a CFA chapter lecturer meeting today, and I would call the results encouraging. The lecturers who came were upset about being overlooked in the new campus president's raise, and had their own concerns to add. We easily filled our two hours with useful discussion. I think we did a decent job of explaining where things were, and how we're dealing with the issues. I hope this is the beginning of more involvement from the rank-and-file.
Towards the end I made the difficult request that those present bring two more lecturers each to the next meeting. This is hard for me, because I'm actually a shy person (appearances to the contrary notwithstanding). But I realize, especially tonight, that I can't help lecturers on my campus unless they're willing to commit themselves to the idea that as a group we can change things. They may be shy, too, but we have to set that aside, because there's something more important than our moment-to-moment comfort.
Lauren is making beef stock for beef-veggie soup tonight. I want to sit in the appropriate chair and play my guitars. But duty calls, I suppose. Who are these people?
Sunday, September 11, 2005
To blog and blog not
I'm contemplating another go at this form, while I wait for my savory gorgonzola-fennel-olive tart to bake. I quit writing this way a couple months ago, partly out of boredom, but mainly tiring of the blog being used behind my back in ridiculous ad hominem assaults.
I never felt good about that decision. Why should I let anybody else spoil my fun, when fun it is? Screw them.
Lauren and I had a good evening and day in Sacramento, at the CFA meeting for lecturers. I had to run a session with my co-chair about the work of the Faculty Governance and Lecturer Recognition Subcommittee, which was a stressful prospect, but went well. Lauren is getting more informed, enthused - though maybe righteously indignant is a better word for it - , and is contemplating getting more involved.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm raising a little hell with the chapter concerning a proposal by our new campus president to raise tenure-track faculty salaries. My co-rep Dan Bratten put it well in an email message to the chapter folks, saying that leaving us out effectively puts lecturers in a secondary pay schedule, something CFA has steadfastly opposed because it would undermine the contractual provisions for salary for everybody.
Sic transit hoi polloi, to mix metaphors as well as dead languages.
Notice anything? I'll give you a hint: I haven't said anything about it being September freaking 11th.
I never felt good about that decision. Why should I let anybody else spoil my fun, when fun it is? Screw them.
Lauren and I had a good evening and day in Sacramento, at the CFA meeting for lecturers. I had to run a session with my co-chair about the work of the Faculty Governance and Lecturer Recognition Subcommittee, which was a stressful prospect, but went well. Lauren is getting more informed, enthused - though maybe righteously indignant is a better word for it - , and is contemplating getting more involved.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm raising a little hell with the chapter concerning a proposal by our new campus president to raise tenure-track faculty salaries. My co-rep Dan Bratten put it well in an email message to the chapter folks, saying that leaving us out effectively puts lecturers in a secondary pay schedule, something CFA has steadfastly opposed because it would undermine the contractual provisions for salary for everybody.
Sic transit hoi polloi, to mix metaphors as well as dead languages.
Notice anything? I'll give you a hint: I haven't said anything about it being September freaking 11th.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Supreme Court prediction
The obvious thing to predict is that President Bush will whine incessantly about Senate Democrats not being fair to his nominee. This is his way of handling any and all criticism or question. You're either with him or against him.
But I'm willing to put good money on this: Bush will nominate someone relatively uncontroversial. He won't dare give anyone obviously good reasons to object, so the nominee will not be Alberto Gonzalez. Nor will it be Paul Wolfowitz, nor John Bolton. I don't think he'll play a shell game with the nominee either, because that backfired on his dad. It'll be someone the Bush people consider a safe bet.
Now, of course, they'll name Eichmann.
But I'm willing to put good money on this: Bush will nominate someone relatively uncontroversial. He won't dare give anyone obviously good reasons to object, so the nominee will not be Alberto Gonzalez. Nor will it be Paul Wolfowitz, nor John Bolton. I don't think he'll play a shell game with the nominee either, because that backfired on his dad. It'll be someone the Bush people consider a safe bet.
Now, of course, they'll name Eichmann.
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