Decidedly Not Urgent

The Office Takes It All Back

2009-04-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Earlier, I wrote about The Office's attempts to hold an audience after resolving its initial narrative. Jim and Pam's romance allowed almost three full seasons of episodes, but, to their credit, the writers gave us a wonderful closure and completed one of the better narrative arcs I can remember on American television. But the writers, being writers, still wanted paychecks, and The Office kept going.

The fundamentals of narrative and the goals of American television are at odds with each other. Namely, narratives increase urgency and accumulate tension without closure, while American television doesn't want closure so long as there's money to be made. The solution has long been to prolong the narratives, causing characters to behave in increasingly absurd ways.

My senior year of high school I ate lunch with my then-girlfriend every weekday at noon. We'd watch Days of Our Lives. This program is made up of characters that have had their narratives prolonged for decades, through hundreds of episodes. And the fun of the show was watching how utterly ridiculous the characters behaved and how absurd the narratives became. While Marlena was held captive in Stephano's dungeon, Jon, Marlena's once-husband, once-lover, future-lover, future-ex-husband-again, wore yellow Oakley sunglasses, waved his fingers in front of his face and mumbled some faux Latin in a psychic attempt to discover Marlena's location.

Soap Operas are what happens when the accumulated pressures of prolonged narratives strain, and eventually destroy, any suspension of disbelief. The narratives become something else entirely, something which suggests the structures of narratives without following the outcome of narrative structure.

Back to The Office. Last night's episode returned everything back to normal, all the main characters are back in the office, the new character is no longer in the office, and the elements of narrative have been re-set: The setting, the characters, the tone, etc. are all back to where they were at the beginning of this season.

And Victoria Principal wakes up and sees Patrick Duffy in the shower.

Charles, the new boss, came in and, a la Frank Grimes, exposed that what we had accepted as normal was highly irregular and stylized behavior. Jim is a terrible worker. Stanley's crosswords during meeting are unprofessional. But never mind all that. There's no repercussions for those realizations. Any epiphanies from the past four episodes are declared null and void.

I know, I know. This is a Dog Bites Man story. But the fact that it happens all the time on television -- and more people consume narratives from television than anywhere else -- might mean something. What it might mean I'm not too sure about. But I'll think on it.

Jenna Jameson: Ubermensch-erella

2009-04-19T20:22:00.000-07:00

Oh my eff.

Someone has discovered exactly what to do with their Liberal Arts degree. You make a movie called Zombie Strippers!. You get Jenna Jameson to play a stripper that reads Nietzsche, gets bitten by a zombie, and becomes the hottest undead Ubermensch you've ever seen.

Sound awesome? It is.

This movie culminates in a zombie horde, and with a strip-off duel between the two zombie queens. The zombie strip-off includes zombie Jenna Jameson firing ping-pong balls, then billiard balls, from her zombie vagina.

Sound awesome? It is.

You have Robert Englund play a strip club owner who adds delightful misogyny, playing the creep you just wait the entire movie to be eaten. But he gets worse than that.

You have a virginal Christan debating becoming a zombie. Enough philosophy has been sprinkled throughout the movie so that you know the zombies have become an allegory. But not like a Dawn of the Dead zombie allegory, which was a HEY-THIS-IS-AN-ALLEGORY allegory.

No, in Zombie Strippers!, it is an allegory fired from a zombie stripper's vagina.

Sound awesome? It is.

This is true: I never had this much fun watching a movie.

I am going to buy this movie, and I am going to get six beers, and I am going to drink six beers and watch this movie. Because this movie, for those of you that like to know such things, goes on to prove, ontologically, what it means to be human.

Of course, there is a lot of this movie that is dumb. What else can you expect from a movie with an exclamation mark in its title? But it really is a thing of beauty.

Thanks to Kerz for the heads-up on this movie.

EDIT: I bought this movie.

A Thank You and a Poll

2009-04-10T09:41:00.000-07:00

I just sent out an article for publication. It deals with narrative theory, and I want to thank you guys for providing feedback on my work and reading my argument rehearsals.

Of course, there's more to come. But, what with baseball beginning, my entire attention has zoomed in on the diamond. Give me a week or two, and I'll be able to overthink narratives all over again.

Quick poll: For what reason do people love sports so much?

1. Athletic Achievement
2. Readymade Narratives
3. Latent Sexual Desires
4. No One Goes to Church, and Sports Fills the 'Belief' Void

Quite Possibly the Most Important Announcement in the History of Important Announcements about Historical Events

2009-04-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

As you all know, I love baseball, and specifically, I love the Minnesota Twins. As you may not know, I once worked as a sports journalist, and thought, for a long time, that I'd be a sports reporter for my ENTIRE LIFE. (I used to think a lot of things about my ENTIRE LIFE. I try to avoid that now.)

Well, for those of you that want it, I'm going to channel my love of the Twins and background in sports reporting into the already-crowded market. (I googled 'My Baseball Blog' and got--wait for it--54.2 million hits.)

Whatever. Onward! Introducing:

Twins Baseball is Off the Air

It's only about Twins baseball. And I love you all.

End o' the Writers Confernce

2009-04-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday, early afternoon. All the writers, except the Italian who lives in Grand Forks, have left. The schmoozing has been schmoozed. The readings have been read. The noon panels have been paneled.

Chuck Klosterman came through and blessed his adoring public. Though I didn't go to his reading, I heard the ballroom was packed full, and the people gave him a standing ovation. They did not give a standing ovation to Salmon Rushdie. Now, I do think Klosterman is a fine writer, though I disagree with his hipster-stance vociferously. But he will never read in front of a more receptive audience.

People love the Local Boy Done Good. People everywhere do. In North Carolina, James Taylor concerts are advertised as homecomings, even though they occur two, three times a year. I saw a convention for The Office that took place in Scranton, PA, at which the crowd roared at any mention of specific Scranton locations. So it's not just a Grand Forks thing.

That being said, Grand Forks, Chuck Klosterman did not still the churning waters with his steely, hip wit. Chuck Klosterman did not found the state of North Dakota with only a dream, a shovel, and his steely, hip wit. Nor did Chuck Klosterman organize the stars into constellations. What he has done: describe obsessive fandom in a Cable Television world, and describe how, through analysis, you can be an obsessive fan without having to succumb to hero worship. Unless, of course, you are hero worshipping Chuck Klosterman. Chuck Klosterman has no problem heroizing Chuck Klosterman.

The final writer, Charles Baxter, loves you. He read an excerpt in which a divorced man -- desperate for any kind of complete and uncomplicated love -- attempts to bribe away his nephew's dog. It is horrifying. People in the audience said, to no one in particular, "oh no." It is funny. The nephew, only five, seems to realize that his has a desperate customer, and drives the price up from five dollars to fifty dollars.

We cheered and laughed and sided with this desperate man, wanted nothing more than for him to get that dog from that child. We understood his reprehensible actions. We would do this same ourselves. That's not right. As we all leaned forward, our minds electric with the story, we all did the same thing ourselves.

A writer earlier in the conference, Steve Almond, a self-described acolyte of Kurt Vonnegut, argued that laughing was the purest form of forgiveness. Then, when Charles Baxter read that story for us, and when we laughed, who were we forgiving?

University of North Dakota's Writers Conference: Wit

2009-04-01T21:53:00.000-07:00

This year's Writers Conference has been, two days in, fantastic. It might as well be retitled "Dear Evan,".

Today's noon panel was a conversation about the necessity of humor. Some of the conversation hinged upon the tragedy-plus-time equation, but the panelists all agreed that nothing, no subject at all, ever is off limits to humor. In fact, as poet Jacqueline Osherow said,

"If they don't laugh with the characters, the audience doesn't know what's at stake in the story."

Humor is important. Nothing is more human. And, like the well-timed punchline, this year's conference on humor and wit couldn't come at a better time.

After a flood, after not knowing what I'll be doing after this semester, what with 9/11 and all, I'm listening to great writers give funny, heartbreaking readings.

So far, I've heard Marco Candida's story about a woman with a vagina dentata that eats a leg of turkey, then later eats a cream pie with the vagina dentata in her armpit, then eat a sardine with her earlobe and eat a lobster with her ass hole.

I've heard Greg Williamson's story about the critters in his front yard trying to kill him, the bullet-ants and spear-ants and copperheads with two heads, the second head called a tin head, and lamb-hawks, so named because they can carry away anything that is smaller than a lamb, and regular old snapping turtles and goldfish. The goldfish are quite scary because they don't quite seem like the goldfish that he stocked the pond with. They don't quite seem right. And they stare at him. Ominously.

I've heard Steve Almond's well-meaning, earnest, tender responses to vicious, hate-filled, unedited right-wing hate mail he recieved after leaving his job in protest over Condelezza Rice's honorary doctarate at Boston College. He also, by the way, told a first-hand story about attending Kurt Vonnegut's last public reading, in which Kurt Vonnegut, sadly and tired, deadpanned into the microphone: "I think the human race is dying."

And, don't forget, that Kurt Vonnegut made us laugh. That's why that sentence is worth listening to.

The Narrative Strategy of The Office

2009-03-29T19:23:00.000-07:00

This post is entirely indebted to Mr. Kerzman. He's the one who got me into Hulu, and reading through discussion threads. And without those two things? Well World, this posting would never have clogged your routers.

America's The Office is now in its decline. Right? Let's look at the anecdotal evidence:

a whole teams of new writers run the show,
brilliant character actors have cashed in and starred in vehicles,
the main Jim/Pam storyline was resolved, and
the latest episodes just don't seem to have that zing to them.

This is such a recurrent phenomenon in American television, there should be a phrase to describe it. What do you call it when you can feel a show is about to jump the shark, but hasn't quite jumped the shark?

I vote for calling it the '138th Episode Spectacular' phase -- in reference to Troy McClure 's line:

"Who knows how many zany adventures await between now and when the show is no longer profitable?"

Please vote in the comments. Because I'm desperate for comments. So very desperate.

But It's a Success

Here's the real kicker, though. After having watched the latest The Office on Hulu, I began pouring through the comments. For those of you who missed the show, Michael has decided to quit his job as manager, and will be leaving the office. The comment threads are all speculation about the direction of the show, what the narrative means, even one suggestion that the new boss in the show is an allusion to Barack Obama.

I was tickled by seeing James Phelan's hypothesis of Narrative Competition play out. In short, Phelan says that while experiencing a narrative, both audience and narrator are constantly aware of all possible narrative options, and this creates a tension (hegemonic) between the audience and narrator in which the audience tries to assume the more powerful role of narrator. For example, Lauren M says

Michael will not leave the show. He is the whole point of the show. It all pretty much revolves around him and his stupidity. The Office would not be able to function without Michael Scott. Pun intended. He will HAVE to come back. (I added the hyperlink.)

In effect, Lauren M assumes the role of a show writer, telling the writers what they should do. There are hundreds more comments like this, in more than one dozen discussion threads. All of them either analyze the show's intended meaning or argue about its inevitable direction. Both these activities, it seems to me, can only operate if there are, in fact, competing narratives that co-exist with the show's imprinted narrative.

Further, The Office has successfully tapped into the phenomenon. The earlier half of my post, after reviewing the ratings from the beginning of season 4 and through this season, is wrong. The Office draws in as many, in fact more, viewers now than it did before. And it does so through its usage of episodic narrative. While the Jim/Pam love story propelled the show through three seasons (really two and a half), the fourth and fifth season were a sequence of four-to-five episode story arcs. This strategy allows the viewers to compete in the narrative space that the classic Jim/Pam narrative allowed -- even the trope's name, a Will They?/Won't They?, suggests the competing possibilities. The fun, for audience and narrator, is in the competition.

The Ratings

Let's look at the numbers. The beginning of season 4 started well, then hit a wall. The first three episodes averaged more than 8.5 million viewers. Here are the ratings for the following five episodes, up until the Writers' Strike:

"Money" -- 3.87 million viewers
"Local Ad" -- 5.9 million viewers
"Branch Wars" -- 4.99 million viewers
"Survivor Man" -- 5.708 million viewers
"The Deposition" -- 4.588 million viewers

That drop off suggests a TV show in trouble. People didn't seem to care about the new storyline -- in this case, Michael and Jan's derailing relationship. But, coming off the goodwill and relief after the writer's strike was over, the show catapulted back up:

"Dinner Party" -- 9.334 million viewers
"The Chair Model" -- 9.859 million viewers

But, quickly, the bloom drooped from the rose.

"Night Out" -- 7.692 million viewers
"'Did I Stutter?'" -- 7.752 million viewers
"Job Fair" -- 7.157 million viewers
"Goodbye, Toby" -- 8.212 million viewers

And thus endeth the fourth season. Notice the little spike at the end. Of course, you might say, everyone is going to watch a season finale. But why?

Excluding the episode aired after the Super Bowl, which was seen by 22 million people, The Office averaged 7.888 million viewers over the fourth and fifth seasons. And, again excluding the Super Bowl show, there is no real trend line of decline or increase. The Office has maintained its viewership admirably. But there is a lot of oscillation in the ratings. Predictable oscillation, I think.

The line looks like little waves. The viewership hits a peak, falls off, regathers momentum then hits a new peak. What we're seeing right now, with this latest story arc, repeats the pattern.

"Golden Ticket," in which Michael nearly loses a large amount of money for the company and thinks, for the first time, about losing his job, attracts 7.513 million viewers;
"New Boss," in which Michael recognizes that he isn't valued by his bosses, and the episode ends with Michael quitting, attracts 8.07 million viewers;
"Two Weeks," in which Michael is forced from the office and decides to create a new company, attracts 8.445 million viewers.

This pattern has happened too often for this to be statistical noise. What is happening is the effect of Narrative Competition. The audience has a vying interest in the outcome -- and wouldn't miss it for the world. All the people who Hulu-ed and DVR-ed (not counted in the ratings I'm citing) culminate in the peak ratings, when the narrative resolves, because, when it's a competition, you just have to be there.

Sandbagging

2009-03-27T08:39:00.000-07:00

I got the call, and the text and the e-mail, at six. Because I'd signed up on UND's volunteer site, I spent yesterday afternoon waiting to be told where to go. Where to go was the Memorial Union.

There, hundreds of college kids sat around, talking in clumps of friends. A paper sign with bad handwriting and a wavy arrow pointed VOLUNTEERS HERE, which was a line of people heading into a separate room. Inside this room, a bank of telephone operators answered phone calls. These were emergency operators, but oddly influenced by telemarketers, if the grease board instructions were any indications:

The Rules
1. Be courteous
2. Stick to the SCRIPT

We shuffled forward into the other half of the room, signed our names into a clipboarded list, and grabbed as many chewy chocolate bars as could fit into our pockets. We were told to wait for the next available bus. Because we were all anxious to get to work -- and we were all sweating inside our outdoor coats -- a large group of us made our way to wait for the bus in the parking lot.

The entire time we waited, the crowd was upbeat. Perhaps because we were disassociating the need for sandbags. After all, almost everyone in the crowd was a UND student, housed far from the river and further still from Fargo-Moorhead. The impending disaster, to us, was mainly televised, with commercial breaks. It's hard to worry when there's commercial breaks.

Perhaps, though, it's braveface. Perhaps the crowd's insides were as coiled and squeezed as my own, and perhaps, like me, people were volunteering because they had to.

The bus dropped us off at Sandbag Central, the city's waste management facilities converted to huge piles of sand, huge piles of bags, long lines of volunteers and long lines of heavy equipment. Sand filtered throughout the air.

Here are some of the sandbag line techniques I saw, a few of which I used myself:

The Medicine Ball Toss -- To be used when you are a male and have first arrived, catch the sandbag and bring it into your chest, but do not let it hit your chest. Moving your legs as little as possible, throw the sand bag to the next male in line.

The Bicep Bump -- Cradle the sandbag in your arms, then advance it to the next person in line by shoving it off your biceps. This technique is preferred if you hate your shoulders and wish them ill.

The Take It, Take It Now -- Hold the sandbag in your arms; let it slip and start falling to the ground; plead with your eyes; wait for next person in line to take the sandbag from you. Also works to actually let the sandbag hit the ground.

The Rapid Handoffs -- This move only works if the last eight to ten people in line agree to it. Everyone huddles close, shoulder-to-shoulder, arms in the center. Transfer the sandbag as quickly as possible from hand to hand, accelerating to end, and spit it out of the line at an impressive speed. Be careful you don't throw the sandbag at someone's head.

The Let's Talk About Boys -- Show up to volunteer with fresh make-up. Drop every third sandbag you are handed. Never shut up. No matter what you do, just don't shut up.

The Routine -- Settle into this. Hand the sandbag from person to person. Repeat.

Rumors and News. The Flood.

2009-03-26T12:35:00.000-07:00

Teaching class this morning, my lecture was interrupted. A kid held his cell phone in hand and said, "Just got a text. UND is canceling classes."

I wasn't all that upset, given the circumstances. I was, however, a bit upset by the giddiness that flew through the room. I brought my lap-top with my into class -- thinking that some news might come through at any second. I checked the flood site and nothing was posted. This was at 10:40.

By the time my 11:00 a.m. class came in, the "UND is canceling class" rumor was wildfire. Here was the division between students and teachers: students were giddy, teachers were anxious. Because these are people's homes. These are people's lives. To the students, this is a great way to fuck off for five more days of free Spring Break.

I checked the flood site, and UND in fact canceled classes through Monday. Sandbags are needed, and volunteers, and college students are the best volunteers. If only they'll actually show up. I've signed up and will be at sandbag central within the hour. I'll bring my voice recorder and post some clips to this blog.

On a related note, the past three days have turned life-long Grand Forksers white-faced and horrifyed. I can see how terrible the '97 Flood was by their eyes, and the slight choke in their voices.

I hope Fargo holds.

Hold, Fargo.

Sentences from the Flood

2009-03-25T12:25:00.000-07:00

This year's flood, expected to be worse than ever in some areas and almost-as-worse-as-that-one-time in others, has attuned everyone's attention in the Red River Valley.

If you aren't from the area, look at this map to understand why we flood so horrible each spring. The water here, it goes north. Into still frozen water.

Local radio and internet sites have become raw data news, with claims and questions uttered in real-time, with no editor around to trim and choose. In this environment, we get some beautiful sentences.

These sentences will eventually be built into the stories that all of us will tell all of you. These sentences are the units. And I like to study them the same way a mason stares down a brick.

A volunteer who came from 100 miles away to fill sandbags in Fargo, when asked why, answered

It needed done.

A headline on the Grand Forks Herald on-line version, screams

Breaking news: Obama aware of our situation.

A Facebook response to a question about the roads describes them as

Slippery and wet, and if you go into the ditch you go into five feet of water.

A caller to an overnight local radio show asks

We're too old to lift sand, but can we help somehow?

A man with water seeping into his basement for the past 72 hours sighs

It's been status quo here too long.

And some sentences are ominous, the kind of sentences that perfectly build narratives all by themselves, because they launch us into the future.

Breaking news alert: Red River crest range in Grand Forks rises to 50 to 53 feet.

Where at least I Know the Word "Free"

2009-03-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

I've been digging through the General Social Survey recently. It's a cumulative survey, conducted nearly every year since 1972. I just found this, and I thought you all might be interested.

The question is worded like this:

Some people think that certain things are important before you can be considered an American. Others say these things are not as important. Do you feel it is very important, fairly important, not very important, or not important at all for an American to ...

I'm going to list the options, and give you a little bit to guess which was considered the most important quality to be considered an American:

to have been born in America.
to have American citizenship.
to have lived in America for most of one's life.
to be able to speak English.
to be a Christian.
to respect America's political institutions and laws.
to feel American.

OK. Guess.

...

...

...

...

...

Ready?

In order of importance:

1. to have American citizenship.
78.6% say this is very important, 15.5% say it is fairly important.

2. to be able to speak English.
76.9% say this is very important, 18% say it is fairly important.

3. to respect America's political institutions and laws.
69.1% say this is very important, 26% say it is fairly important.

If we combine the veries and fairlies, the ability to speak English is a more important characteristic to be an American than citizenship, both in name or practice. In total, 94.9% of Americans say that speaking English is important to be an American; 94.1% of Americans say having citizenship is important.

I know this is a small, negligible difference. I like to imagine the .8% of Americans who aren't citizens but think speaking English makes you an American -- I think that percentage represents the Montana Freemens of the world.

This really should be no surprise, even in a country with no official language. Also, consider this: how could you have memes if you didn't share a language? How could you have a society if you didn't have stories to tell? How could you have laws and political institutions -- which, of course, define citizenship -- without a common language to express them?

The ability to exchange information, which requires language, is formative to society. There is no society without language, one of the key understandings of the discourse community theories. But it's always interesting to see Academic Theories borne out in hard statistics.

In other words, it's always nice to reconcile the English Theorist in me with the baseball fan.

As Many Things about the Word 'Bed' Part Two

2009-03-13T20:21:00.000-07:00

An entirely vertical wikipedia on one word.

American bed mattresses come in six sizes: Twin, Extra Long Twin, Full, Queen, King, and California King.

Twin: 39 x 75 inches
Extra Long Twin: 39 x 80 inches
Full: 54 x 75 inches
Queen: 60 x 80 inches
King: 76 x 80 inches
California King: 72 x 84 inches

In the language of beds, five inches is extra long.

Enjoy other facts about the word 'bed.'

As Many Things about the Word 'Bed' Part One

2009-03-10T18:56:00.001-07:00

An entirely vertical wikipedia on one word.

The Etymology of 'Bed'

The word 'bed' can be traced, etymologically, back through ancient Indo-European languages -- throughout this etymology, it has always meant both 'place where a person sleeps' and 'place where flowers grow.'

This probably means that the word dates back to the days in human history where humans slept on slightly tilled ground.

Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy

2009-03-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

Friends, please take four minutes and watch Louis CK's amazing riff on modern convenience.

Now, I'll steal a page from 'I Believe in Everything' and do a found in the comments:

About this video, lloydlee1337 said,

I think what Louis is trying to say is that things are a lot better than they were before. Yeah, we still have A LOT of issues to deal with, but we have progressed. I think it's wrong to say we are fine right now because we aren't. There is always room to improve.

Lloyd Lee, no.

This is the age-old, American-History-High-School-Textbook-Induced trance of progression, reiterated in the face of someone directly challenging the ideology. Our world of luxury has turned us into a collection of luxury-stuffed "non-contributing zeros." This is not progress. Now, when a degree of our luxury is taken from us, we are too often incapable of functioning without it, or at least we momentarily panic at the prospect.

As a teacher, I see this inability to analyze every day. I see people trapped inside ideologies -- 'America always progresses' doesn't allow Americans to deal with our savage behavior in war, so, as a country, we buy the 'America doesn't torture' lie. We buy the lie because it fits our belief.

On the plus side, however: this clip is very funny. Best line: "Give it a second to go into space!"

BLOG BONUS:

My favorite comment on this video is from kwinnky:

That was good. Maybe Dane Cook will give Louis credit when he steals it.

Snip snap, indeed! Dane Cook is a sophist; Louis CK is a philosopher.

Fun with Babel Fish

2009-02-25T13:17:00.000-08:00

The original passage:

Sometimes, I worry about the future of education in this country. It seems that there is a total focus on education that only translates directly into a given job. Such vocational training, however, cannot be our model. It is a flawed model. If a child begins education at age six and attends school for sixteen years, then the jobs we have begun training that child for at age six might no longer exist. On top of that, whatever job training the education provides the student will be obsolete if the student decides to switch jobs.

English to German, then German to French, then French to Spanish, then Spanish to English (somewhat fixed):

Sometimes, I am not assured around the future of the formation in this country. It seems there is a total completion on the formation that only translates directly to given use. Of such professional formation it cannot nevertheless be our model. It is a defective model. See, a young formation to the age six visits for sixteen years and the school begins the uses that begun. Could not it already, must to this boy, stop to the age six to form that they do not exist. One this one what the professional formation provides. It is the formation the participant of passed course, if the course participant has decided to hook uses.

English to Japanese, then Japanese to English, then English to Chinese, then Chinese to English, then English to Russian, then Russian to English:

The I in the future will be randomly neighbor-safe, this national formation. That transfers immediately is used a certain specification formation all in order to complete, if way. Even to that when they are our models in spiteful, it no that kind-hearted forms specially. That there is no perfect model. Sixteen years are young to the school age of six formations which it attends starts, in the poor of men, they will be which time six they stopped it in this boy already put, view were not possible it, it was which necessary to form in that to the benefit which beginnings. The specialized formation, when ensures route's affirmed officers to solve the benefit of hook, that form transfer is sequential this route's affirmed officers.

Now, grammatically fixed a bit, and given a sufficient pretentious emphasis:

The "I in the future" will be random and neighbor-safe. It will be a national formation. This transfers immediately, and it is used for a certain specification formation, all in order to complete, in a way. Even when our models are spiteful, the formations are not specially kind-hearted. The point is that there is no perfect model.

Sixteen year-olds are young, compared to the start-school age of six. They will be the poorest of men, at least by the time they are students. Their views will not be possible, these views that would have benefitted them when they began school.

The spcialized formation, which ensures the route of affirmed officers to the powerful solutions, that formation's transfer sequentially leads to the route of affirmed officers.

And that, boys and girls, is how you write a paper that a post-modern theory journal will publish. I think, to be honest, that the preceding is a quote from Foucault or Derrida. I'm not too sure. But, I don't understand it, so it must be brilliant!

A Meme is Born

2009-02-24T22:47:00.000-08:00

I've never witnessed one before, but as I was watching Jindal's response to Obama's speech, I was also reading and participating in the liveblog on FiveThirtyEight. And someone mentioned that Jindal sounded like Kenneth from 30 Rock.

Holy crap.

Here I am, writing this two hours later ...

it

is

everywhere

now.

I don't really have much to say. I'm flabbergasted. I'm impressed. And I don't think this is going away.

All I know is this: I look forward to SNL this week. And 30 Rock in about four.

Yes.

2009-02-22T18:02:00.000-08:00

Read.

Dudes, I'll bet you an eighth it isn't legal by this summer. So, if it isn't, y'all owe me an eighth.

N'ha ha ha.

The Base Ball

2009-02-19T10:57:00.000-08:00

I figured I would use the indelibility of the Internet and post predictions. In September, it will be buried, but you'll be able to find it. And if I was close to right, I'll link to it like crazy. And I feel pretty good about these predictions, too: they're scientific.*

AMERICAN LEAGUE

AL Central

Cleveland ---------93-69
Chicago -----------82-80
Minnesota --------79-83
Detroit -----------78-84
Kansas City -------74-88

Al East

Boston ------------101-61
New York ---------98-64
(at the low, low cost of one faberge egg per win.)
Toronto -----------87-75
(in metric, this is 84.3 wins.)
Tampa Bay --------82-80
Baltimore ----------63-99

AL "West"

Oakland -----------83-79
L.A. ---------------82-80
Texas -------------67-95
Seattle ------------65-97

ALDS

Oakland 3
Boston 1

Cleveland 3
New York 0 (this will make A-Rod blow up like an uncovered enchilada in a microwave)

ALCS

Cleveland 4
Oakland 2

NATIONAL LEAGUE

NL East

New York Metropolitans ---------96-66
Philadelphia ---------------------96-66
(the tie-breaker goes to NY because Chris Matthews splutters too much.)
Florida ---------------------------83-79
Atlanta ---------------------------83-79
Washington -----------------------the old college try-93

NL Central (or, the Stimulus Division)

Chicago ---------------------------100-62
Cincinnati -------------------------88-74
St. Louis ---------------------------83-79
Pittsburgh -------------------------71-91
Houston ---------------------------69-93
Milwaukee -------------------------68-94

NL West

Colorado ---------------------------84-78
Whale's Vagina ---------------------83-79
L.A. --------------------------------83-79
Arizona -----------------------------78-84
San Francisco ---------------------62-100 (cosmic penance)

NLDS
Chicago 3
Philadelphia 2

New York Metropolitans 3
Colorado 0

NLCS
New York Metropolitans 4
Chicago 2

World Series

New York Metropolitans 4
Cleveland 3
(Because of the WBC, Game Seven will also mark the beginning of the 2012 Presidential Election.)

Notes:
*They're not.

I Wish it Could Be a Barbaric AWP

2009-02-15T16:02:00.000-08:00

Before attending the Association of Writing Programs annual conference, I didn't think I'd come home scared.

It was the murmurs of budget cuts. Times is tough. Ten to 40 percent staff reductions. State-wide hiring freezes. Graduate programs cutting spots; indeed one graduate program completely shut down.

Sure, the NEA got its boost from the bill and Pell Grants are getting money, but what does that do? Jobs are already gone.

Attendees for the 2008 AWP: 10,000
Attendees for the 2007 AWP: 7,000

Education spending is low everywhere and gone in humanities.

I hope the Stim does what it's supposed to do. That's about all I can do right now. I strongly doubt I'll get into a PhD program this year.

The Function of This Blog at the Current Time

2009-02-09T22:39:00.000-08:00

The Facebook 25 Things have made the rounds, and a couple of my friends claim that they "believe art can save the world."

First question: if the world needs saving, does that mean we need to art harder?

Now, I want to believe this, too, but I don't want it to be an empty theology, already offered and dismissed a century ago. So, in honor of a conversation I had with Mr. Kerzman, I will ask a question, answer part of my own question, offer a slightly different question, then ask what you think of all that.

How, exactly, can art save the world? Presumably, this means that art can make individuals better people, but can each individual be made better by art? Or do we think that societies are made better because a plurality of individuals are made better be art?

So ... what do you think of all that?

Now, allow me to offer an hypothesis made up of three claims. I am not going to answer to all art, but only to narratives. I think some of these hypothesis might pertain to other modes of art, but I don't know enough about them to make even tentative gestures.

1. I've said elsewhere that the mind is, at least partly, a narrative. As in the saccades I mentioned in a previous blog, the mind constantly creates narratives to understand its own environment.

David Linden, the neurobiologist who wrote _The Accidental Mind_, points out that the mind distinguishes "sensations that are expected from those that are not." While walking, for example, the brain edits out the sensations which are normally produced from walking through air, as "the cerebellum sends inhibitory signals to other brain regions to subtract the expected sensations from the total sensations." Even walking, then, is understood as a narrative constructed. The expected, the usual, the non-conflict, is taken away. This leads to my second point:

2. Narratives are systems of structure that are signified by conflict and allow for empathy between the storyteller and the storyteller's audience.

David Henman, in "Storytelling and the Sciences of the Mind: Cognitive Narratology, Discursive Psychology, and Narrative in Face-to-Face Interaction" offers a more nuanced articulation, if you're interested and can access jstor. To summarize his definition, which is paragraphs long, a narrative must be a signified system so that teller and audience understand they are performing a narrative, and that in this performance (which mirrors the mind) both teller and audience equally participate. The dual participation (think of when you tell your spouse a story, and wait for nods, smiles, or barely-verbal 'hmmms' before you continue) is what allows for empathy.

3. Because narratives are signified by conflict, empathy is allowed on either side of the conflict, through, in essence, a series of points and counterpoints. In the case of repeated narratives, written or oral, the empathy is no longer bound to only a primary storyteller and a primary audience.

David Henman, from the same article, says that "narrative [...] not only represents but enables the distribution of mind across participants, places and times." Narrative is at once communal and individual--equally mind and society. Narrative is Borg.

In this way, perhaps, society relies upon narrative to operate. I don't necessarily mean 'artistic narrative' -- which, I should point out, I adore. Rather, I think artistic narrative is a subset of a much larger phenomenon, and a much more vital phenomenon.

In other words, I don't art can save the world, because, in the sense that I think my friends might mean they think it can save the world, art has already made the world.

Something to ponder: if this is all true, what does it mean that narratives are signified by conflict?

Lastly, that Borg Web-site just might be my absolute favorite thing I've ever seen on the Internet.

Two Sets of Two Apples Are Four Apples

2009-02-04T11:39:00.000-08:00

This is a response to Kerz's response to my previous blog, which was a response to a book I read.

So I'm reading an article this time. I can't link to it, because it's from an academic journal and those sites are protected. But I can quote from it:

"Mathematics, like technology, has evolved through the accumulation of successive innovations by different individuals in different societies over cast periods of time, with each new innovation paving the way for the next. [...] Even the basic base 10 decimal system took over 4000 years to emerge. Only after the Sumerians began to use written symbols to represent numbers in around 2400 BC could the Babylonians invent the place value system, in which the position of a digit with respect to the decimal place determines its value. This then allowed the Hindus and Mayans to invent a written symbol for zero, which in turn allowed calculations to be performed." (Alex Mesoudi, Andrew Whiten and Kevin N. Laland)

It is one thing to be able to trace development. Paleobiologists trace development through fossils. But progression isn't evolution -- at least progression alone isn't.

An evolutionary model presupposes an environment which the animals (or ideas) react to. In this same article, Mesoudi et al point out that Darwinian evolution requires that "variation is naturally produced without regard to its consequences, [...] favorable variations then being recognized through an independent selection process" (my emphasis). Let's pause on that word 'favorable.'

Favorable is defined by the environment, as in, that which is most apt to succeed given the environment is favorable. Favorability, you say, might seem to contradict the fact that variations are produced without regards to consequences, for only consequences can be seen as favorable or not favorable. The problem, though, is that consequentiality cannot be known when the variation arises. Why? The environment.

The final complication is that the environment is always unknown.

Evolution is a grand scheme of trial and error. Each variation cannot be guided by consequence because the consequence can't be known. Eyes didn't evolve toward a predetermined set of light-wave frequency. Skin didn't evolve toward a predetermined permeance. And math didn't evolve toward 'zero' -- which doesn't exist in any way outside of its theoretical usefulness.

In the environment, two sets of apples are four apples. (You might say that zero apples are zero apples, but consider that zero apples are also zero orangutans and zero quasars.) Certain mathematical abilities were retained (counting and its close cousins, adding and multiplication) because they were favorable to this environment. Counting, however, was not retained because it lead to statistical trend measurement, even if the environment contains probabilities. Counting was retained because the environment is made up of distinct units, or at least can be broken into distinct units.

I think I might've wrapped my mind into a pretzel. But at least the pretzel's in one piece.

Lastly: koopa troopers. That, and these posts blow up spellchecker.

Models! Models! Models!

2009-01-31T16:28:00.000-08:00

I'm reading a book about cognitive science. The book is

well-written and accessible if you're curious, and
as cool as the combination of the two words "Koopa Trooper."

The part that most interests me right now is the human mind's mechanisms, its structures which allow for thought. In short, the mind operates essentially through simultaneous pattern recognizers, or models. Raw data enters the mind and the various models attempt to decode the raw data. E.g., I hear a continuous stream of bleeps, hums, whines, barks, chirps and a voice that says "vin els en." The raw data resembles the model which contains my name, Evan Nelson, and my mind (re)cognizes.

This model had to be built over time; in other words, I have to hear my name numerous times and have that coupled with indications that people are calling me when they use those sounds. But the model does more than contain that. Models are assemblages of many bits of raw data which happened to occur at the same time. The model which (re)cognizes my name is also made up of parental safety, food delivery, trochees, etc. etc. etc. Whenever I hear my name, the entire model activates and (re)cognizes the entirety of itself. My name sounds like home.

We see this in brain mappings, as thoughts tentacle along electrical webs and not in straight lines. A thought is likely to be a hundreds of seperate neurons activating in dispirate parts of the brain.

This is, I think, the best argument against keeping the Fighting Sioux mascot. To a Native, his people's name sounds like white hockey. The mind can't (re)cognize the name without what the oppressive society has co-opted.

More to follow. I LOVE THIS SHIT!

Poster of Champions

2009-01-31T07:38:00.001-08:00

I hope Billy Pilgrim is doing well in time.

42

2009-01-26T18:53:00.000-08:00

My favorite Simpson's quote (this week): "Short answer, no with a maybe. Long answer, yes with a but."

I can't remember what the question was.

Didn't we figure out the question, once? Wasn't it on the tape recorder someone should've taped underneath the truck stop diner's booth? Didn't that waitress with the suitcase-leather skin listen in? Couldn't that guy -- you know, that guy, that guy that sat in that same place every time we came through the door, couldn't that guy relay all the brilliances and nuances of the clauses and phrases?

Wasn't the question said well in the flash of exactly just before the grill spat up fire around the steaks? Didn't we solve it--definitively--when the drunken poet licked spilled liquor off the counter? Weren't we sure, God damn it weren't we sure, when the old Ukranian chessmaster with the jug of red juice lost to the bored Asian kid?

What was it? Again, please, so I can forget again.

The Awful Triumph of Ezra Pound

2009-01-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

I was angrier than I thought I'd be after Barack Obama's ascens ... I mean, inauguration. Why? I volunteered both time and cash to Obama's election, way back before Super-Duper-Koopa-Trooper Tuesday. I choked up watching the crowds gather. I tolerated Chris Matthews' bloviations for weeks. So why was I so angry?

Poetry.

More specifically, the inaugural poet, Elizabeth Alexander.

More specifically, the performance of the inaugural poet, Elizabeth Alexander.

Then, at the end of the same event, in front of the same crowd, under the same pressure, Joseph E. Lowery, delivered a benediction that was as much a poem. It was delivered so well that the crowd nodded their heads along with it, laughed, smiled, and used its words to comprehend the day.

What's the difference? Exactly why was I so angry?

Let me explain. I love poetry. Love it. Love, love, love, love it. But I'm getting tired of seeing the awful triumph of Ezra Pound, he who hated the audience, he who told poets that they should write to the highly-educated elites of the world. Don't worry about the masses, Pound says; a poet "has to divide the readers who want to be experts from those who do not."

Fuck you, Ezra. (This would be a band name than Better than Ezra.)

For most people, it is not that they don't want to be experts, it's that they have other things to do, or better said, other things to be experts in. Poets who snub their nose at people who haven't invested as much time into poetry are doomed to not know how to speak to those people.

See also: Elizabeth Alexander's terrible, stilted, nervous and scared delivery.

I don't really fault her. She's been taught how to be a poet in the long and gnarly shadow of Ezra Pound. Did you notice that it said 'Yale Professor' at the bottom of the screen?

Meanwhile, the Rev. Dr. Lowery honed his skills in front of crowd after crowd of people who haven't spent as much time as he has with poetry. Listen to how generous he is: easy rhymes, obvious anaphora, line-breaks at grammatical pauses. And notice the crowd gobbling it up.

It isn't that people don't want poetry. People love poetry. Since Pound's disciples have retreated from the public, the public has sought poetry from pathetic substitutes.

People want poetry in their lives, and poetry is most beautiful when it comes to people without prejudice. When it accepts people for what they are, and celebrates them for it. Alexander's poem did that, but her delivery did not.

Say amen, and amen, and amen.

We've Evolved for the Internet

2009-01-19T07:58:00.000-08:00

According to science, your brain can't help but make sense. Your brain takes all the itty-bitty bits of data from the world and spins into a continuous stream of cause-and-effect.

Your eyes, for example, don't fixate on another person's face. Instead they dart around, performing jumps called saccades. But your brain doesn't let you see the numerous fragments; it has edited out all those jumps, smoothed the transitions, and blended the information into one complete face.

This neuro-mechanism allows us to extrapolate context from small bits of information. We have evolved this ability to process the world quickly, compare the new piece of information to some other piece of information, and think that the comparison is significant, even if it's little more than random. Then, we make decisions quickly and move on to the next thing, quickly.

We can read a news article's headline, look at the picture alongside it, and quickly decide that this guy wears that bow-tie to work.
We can watch a video clip and decide that this guy likes money more than this guy likes money.
We can read a blog and decide that this guy could not be more disgusted by dinner at this guy's house.

Only one of these statements is really true -- true in the sense that a vegan athiest really, truly would be disgusted by beef grease in the shape of Our Lord and Savior. Still, we, we stupid we, make many decisions based on faulty comparisons.

You, for example, read this.

Performance Conversations

2009-01-16T09:06:00.000-08:00

Occasion: Man with Tools came to our house at 8:00 a.m., when neither my wife nor I had to be at work. We sat on the couch while he went into our garage, fiddled with the cable box, trudged snow across the kitchen, knelt in front of the television, fiddled with the cable outlet, and installed our broadband access. All the while, we sat on the couch. My wife knitted, and I played chess on my lap-top.

It was oddly discomforting. I had the sense that our domestic life, for the ten minutes Man with Tools was here, became a little domestic play. We had an audience. (Better written, we thought we had an audience. He was working and didn't need to be bothered, nor did he ever ask to be.) There was this strangely-shaped silence in the living room, an expectation, a sense of people fidgeting with their playbills and whispering to each other that "The reviews on these two aren't great, but, you know, free tickets."

My wife and I had no script, either. We hadn't rehearsed. We had to improv. Let's see ... what's in the news, what's in the news?

Act I. Scene I.

HUSBAND

Can you believe they're still talking about that plane in the Hudson?

WIFE

Hmm.

HUSBAND

I mean. Really. He's a great pilot and all, but the economy, the inauguration. The wars. That Russian Pipeline ... real news. The real stuff worth talking about.

WIFE

Heard he flew jet fighters.

INTERMISSION

No magic yet. I got a cup of coffee. Man with Tools was still working, but I was running out of time to impress him. On to dinner. Always a good topic, dinner.

Act I. Scene II.
WIFE

You didn't get me any coffee.

HUSBAND

Should we get beer? For tonight?

WIFE

Hmm.

HUSBAND

Even though you don't like my friends.

Note: my wife actually does like them. The friends in question are great friends to both of us. But it's more interesting, to the audience, to think that she doesn't like them. It adds conflict.

Drama.

WIFE

What?

HUSBAND

I know that you suffer a quiet desperation.

WIFE

What are you talking about?

MAN WITH TOOLS
[stands]

You're all set. I'll just put my tools away and be back with your receipt.

[exeunt con flourish]
FIN

I wish I could truly explain the rush of glee and satisfaction that comes after a performance. How beautiful it is to know that I gave my audience, Man with Tools, a brief glimpse into Americana. I held up a mirror to society.

And so, Man with Tools installed broadband into my home and gave me a way to visualize the audience for my blog. The audience which isn't paying attention, or at best more attentive to their own tasks at hand, but in my head ravenous for what I'll say to fill the silence that only I notice. My own little living room of the Internet.

Welcome to it.