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CA--so Far

2012-05-29T18:53:00Z

I meant to post this a few days ago, but my internet has been sporadic at best. Here it is now:

I arrived in California last night. I am so excited to be here because I now have only 3 states left to visit before I've made it to all 50!

My sister and I are in Long Beach for a conference until Saturday and then we head into LA for the last 2 1/2 days of our vacation.

Our hotel is incredibly near the beach, and I'm looking forward to relaxing in the beautiful water very soon.

As excited as I am, yesterday's trip served as a reminder for how much I dislike air travel. I grew up in a family that drove everywhere; we made regular trips to PA--12 hours in 2-3 stops. I didn't fly until I was 17, and I realized very quickly that I hadn't been missing much.

When riding in a car, I don't have to . . .

. . . weigh my luggage. I understand the necessity of this, but I really hate having to be worried about what everything weighs. I even bought one of those weigh-your-luggage gadgets, and while fun to use, it still did not convince me that weighing my belongings was fun.

. . . watch my luggage be taken away to be handled by unseen hands. When we drive, it's very simple: you're in charge of putting your luggage in and getting it out. Unfortunately, through air, I lose that privilege. We had to take a suitcase full of conference materials which means I had to pack the items in that case hoping against hope that none of it would be smashed or get wet--two hopes that were not realized. In a car at least I know the longest drop suffered by my luggage will be from the seat to the ground.

. . . sit next to bathrooms. I seem to have a knack for doing this, and while yesterday's flight meant I was in the back row--which I didn't mind--the proximity to the bathrooms was still too close to my seatmates and I for the purity of air to remain uncompromised.

. . . try to sleep without a pillow or blanket. My pillow and blanket were my constant companions on any trips we took growing up, and I couldn't fathom traveling without them. I needed my pillow yesterday--desperately. And yes, I have seen those neck pillows. In my book, those are like decorative pillows, and we all know what I think about decorative pillows (if you don't, here's a hint: they're awful).

. . . try to read/listen to music/watch a movie with incredibly loud surrounding noise. Now, I've taken trips with everyone--all 10 of us--to PA many times. And no matter how loud the van got, I could still do any of those activities. In the airplane, I got maybe 40 minutes of reading in--a record low--because of all of the distractions and vast uncomfortableness of the seats. When I switched to listening to music, I didn't realize how loud I had to play the music to hear the parts I liked. And unfortunately for me, the songs I like have subtleties that I could not hear. I got so frustrated with the music that I simply turned it off. A movie was just as bad; the dialogue wasn't loud enough for me to enjoy, and I found myself constantly checking my battery life--which I never do in the car thanks to cigarette adapters.

. . .be at the mercy of in-flight snacks (or meals, but I don't want to go there). I like eating, but I don't like eating in an airplane. I'm told first class is better, but since I've never been there, I'm just going to continue to assume that all food served at 30,000 feet immediately tastes awful.

Good thing my other trip this summer is going to be in the car!

The Digital Crossover

2012-05-28T06:00:01Z

One of the predictions in my book, The Dilbert Future (1997), is that holodeck technology, as shown in Star Trek, will spell the end of humanity. As soon as sex and marriage in the simulated world of the holodeck become better than the real thing, no one will bother with the expense, stress, and inconvenience of actual procreation. Today I'm going to double down on that prediction, but instead of blaming it on holodeck technology, or sexy robots, I'll blame the Internet in general.

Young couples in the 1950s got as much enjoyment from spending time together as any young couple might today. I assume the sex felt just as good back then, the oxytocin release was the same, and the marital bliss was similar. Evolution works slowly, so things won't be much different in that department in the next hundred years. As a form of entertainment for each other, humans have plateaued. And frankly, the plateua isn't terribly high.

Comedian Chris Rock observed that humans only have two options: single and lonely, or married and bored. There's a natural limit to how good things can be in your personal life. One person can't provide the love, comfort, and safety you want while also offering the endless variety and excitement of something new. It's a logical contradiction.

The Internet, however, just keeps getting better, with no end in sight. Every year brings faster speeds, better screen clarity, more content, more variety, smarter applications, and improved user interfaces. No matter how unusual your hobbies, interests, and fetishes, you can find a growing supply on the Internet. The Internet offers a virtually risk-free experience aimed directly at what gets your heart pumping. It doesn't matter if you're into competitive quilting, first person shooter games, or you have a foot fetish; the Internet serves it up. And it keeps getting better.

At the moment, spending time with nice humans is generally better than playing on the Internet, but the gap is closing. Humans aren't becoming any more enjoyable whereas the Internet is getting more addictive. The crossover for some folks has already arrived. You've seen stories of people playing video games until they die of dehydration. Every day you see stories of Internet porn addicts, Facebook addicts, and Pinterest addicts. How much more addictive can the Internet get? Answer: You haven't seen anything yet.

If you're like most people, you enjoy seeing images of attractive humans on television and in print ads. We're wired to appreciate beauty. But we're also wired to have strong individual preferences. Soon the Internet will know your preferences so well that it will deliver ads featuring the specific types of beauty each person likes most. If you like tall brunettes wearing tee shirts and jeans, that's what the ads on your screen will feature. The Internet might even predict fetishes and preferences for you that you didn't know you had. As the Internet learns to anticipate and feed your desires with increasing accuracy, your addiction will deepen. You might even start to love the Internet because it "gets you" and it boosts your oxytocin without ever complaining or having a headache.

Unattractive people will be the first to give up on humanity in favor of the Internet. Generally speaking, unattractive people only have the option of sex with other unattractive people, unless money is involved. For that group, Internet porn is probably already the best option for a sexual thrill. In time, the Internet will evolve and improve until even the people with the best social and sexual options will abandon human contact. I label that phenomenon the Digital Crossover just to make it sound smarter.

The main uncertainty in the Digital Crossover hypothesis is the assumption that society's standards for human-to-human interactions will remain about the same. I think you might see people adapting to compete with the Internet. Perhaps we're seeing that already. Some observers believe that young women are more willing to have casual sex because young men are finding Internet porn more convenient than dating. In other words, women are adapting to compete with the Internet. In a hundred years, we might see humans stepping up their game in ways no one predicts. We've entered the first period in human history where human-to-human interaction has legitimate competition. Maybe it's a good thing. Perhaps someday people will be nicer to each other because they know they are competing with the Internet. That could be a positive development.

The other possibility is that people will, on average, continue their trend of getting fatter and more argumentative. In that case, the Digital Crossover is less than ten years away.

Meet the Authors

2012-05-28T09:00:00Z

Went to a couple of author events recently: one at a Barnes & Noble for Jen Lancaster, the other at Sixth & I synagogue for Joel Stein. I enjoy both authors enough to brave the hell that is other people to see them in person.

Because oh DANG.

Let’s start with Jen’s event at B&N. No tickets or wristbands or anything. The event started at 7, so I showed up around 6:15. A significant number of people were already there, of which one was male. Understandable; Jen’s work skews female. No prob.

I sit down in an empty seat in the last row and pull out my Kindle. For I too can emulate the Aloof City Dweller! I’m nose-deep in my book when a group of four large women who I shall dub the Drunky McDrunkersons sit next to me. They loudly chat amongst themselves before sending one to the café to get everyone iced teas. And (assumption on my part) spike them.

The woman next to me was the worst. Wearing the sort of garish makeup and jewelry indicative of one whose best self was 20 years and 40 pounds ago. At one point, she put her iced tea on the floor, and then put her giant purse directly on top of it. Since my stuff was safely out of the way, I was prepared to amuse myself as her beverage slowly pooled onto the B&N carpet and her shoes. Sadly, one of her friends noticed and the situation was cleaned up. And by “cleaned up,” I mean that Drunk Lady smooshed the iced tea puddle further into the carpet with her shoe. Just as Mr. Clean intended.

Once the event started, though, everyone calmed down and I enjoyed listening to Jen read and take questions from the audience. The last part of the event was the booksigning portion. Now, you may not be aware, but B&N is Puritanically strict about this. The only thing you can get signed is a copy of the specific book being discussed at the event, and only with proof that you bought that book from B&N. Now, I myself had already read my local library’s copy of said book, so I just wanted to snap a picture of Jen. The B&N Lackey-In-Charge had told us, and I quote, “You can take pictures during the book signing.” Thus my plan to, y’know, take pictures during the book signing.

Do you hear ominous foreshadowing? You should.

Those with books start lining up. In B&N’s defense, the line is very clearly marked. Jen goes to the signing table to get ready. I stand near (but not in) the line to get my picture. The setup looks a bit like this:

I start taking pictures, messing with the zoom and focus, aiming for just one good shot of Jen sitting at the table preparing to sign books.

At which point the B&N Lackey-In-Charge whooshes towards me and we have this exchange:

B&N LIC: “Sorry, no pictures.”

Me: “…what? No pictures?” (Didn’t you say earlier that we could take pictures during the book signing, which THIS IS?)

B&N: “No, no pictures. You can take a picture once you get up there.”

The joke’s on her, though, because I totally got the picture:

Now, to be clear, I didn’t want to get a picture of myself AND Jen. Just of her. I don’t see how it matters where that picture is taken from. WHEN that picture is taken from, sure. I obeyed the rule about not recording or photographing during the reading itself. But now? During the book signing portion during which we had been told pictures were allowed? Fair effing game, lady.

Honestly, if one of the people in the line had called me out, I would have been more acquiescent. They perhaps had some standing for complaint, since they were all waiting in the line to get signatures and pictures and stuff. But they either didn’t notice or didn’t care that I was taking pictures.

Jeez.

And then, a few days later, at the Joel Stein event, whilst minding my own business in a little folding chair, I realized that the chick behind me had her feet up on the back of my chair. Of the 200 people in 200 folding chairs, one person had the immaturity to kick back and it was the chick DIRECTLY BEHIND ME.

I took a passive aggressive route and started randomly leaning my chair back and startling her. I was secretly hoping she’d make a comment, so I could ask whether she was disabled physically, mentally, or both. Because the way she was sitting appeared so uncomfortable, it had to be one of the three.

(As the event wrapped up, I looked back at her and noticed that her boyfriend was maybe a 2. I consider TheBoy a solid 8. I win.)

But lest I despair that humanity is filled with nothing but assholes, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. During Joel’s Q&A, someone asked him who the greatest man was. (I won’t get into the details behind the question; suffice to say it does tie into the theme of his book.) He was at a loss. Chick sitting in front of me raises her hand, ostensibly with another question. Joel calls on her.

Chick: I would say, George Plimpton.

(Rest of crowd turns to neighbor and asks wtf that is.)

Chick: I mean, he was such a Renaissance man. Author, athlete…

(Joel goes into a story about how he attended an amazing party hosted by George Plimpton.)

Joel: But I’m sorry, you had a question of your own to ask.

Chick: No, I just wanted to answer that one.

Only in DC, people. Only in DC.

(Having read the Wikipedia article on Plimpton, I guess I can see the point. He appears to have been an author, actor, and athlete. But he also died in 2003. So if we extend the candidate pool to all men who have lived ever, I’d have to go with Da Vinci, the original Renaissance Man.)

(When I have book signing events some day, you all are invited. But no one else. These people can buy my books, but they must never enter my presence again lest I go all John McClane on them.)

Memorial Play

2012-05-28T01:28:32Z

A few hours before I watched Wes Anderson’s new film, Moonrise Kingdom, I was watching the undergraduate commencement ceremony at Biola University. It made me nostalgic to see 670 seniors receive their diplomas and officially conclude a long chapter in their journeys. I remember being there myself, seven years ago at Wheaton College, ”commencing” a pivotal new chapter as my 22 years of being a kid gave way to the new adventure of independent adulthood. What a memorable moment, graduation day–abuzz as it was with the teetering uncertainty of the liminal spaces which were its backdrop: between youth, inexperience and protection on one hand and adulthood, maturity and risk on the other. Everything then was new, curious, possible. The world was there to be explored; adulthood to be experimented with.

Moonrise Kingdom dwells in a similar liminal space: between the innocence, wonder and “firsts” of childhood on one hand and the danger, letdown, and regrets of adulthood on the other. In the same way that Saturday’s commencement reminded me of the coming-of-age threshold of “student” life giving way to a truly independent “working adult” life, Moonrise evoked nostalgia for another transition moment: when the pleasant domesticated adventures of childhood began to mix with the restlessness and reckless passions of adolescence.

Among the many merits of Moonrise is the uncanny way it captures the way that children understand reality: as a parade of wonders, thrills, discoveries, not unlike the adventure novels they read. The film’s central pair–Sam and Suzy–forge a path together that flirts with adulthood (french kissing, setting up a camp together, “getting married” and setting off on their own), but they still make time to revel in the wonders of the world as curious children: dancing on the beach to the music of a portable record player, drawing portraits of each other, creating a camp in an imaginary inlet they call “Moonrise Kingdom.”

Moonrise excels at representing the intersection of “play,” “game” and “real life,” and the manner in which they sometimes all blur together. The Boy Scouts motif (“Khaki Scouts,” as they’re called in the film) exemplifies this. Scouting is a an activity of domesticated danger and simulated adulthood, where young men can play at being adults–warriors, indians, explorers, doctors, etc.–while also having fantastical adventures. As exemplified in the film, scouting is about learning to be mature and “adult” without having to give up one’s sense of whimsy and boyish bravado.

The Noah’s Ark motif also showcases the tension between “play” and “reality.” The film’s early scene of the youth musical presentation of Benjamin Britten’s “Noye’s Fludde,” in which Suzy plays a “raven,” is then juxtaposed with a real life flood near the end of the film. The former is a “safe” experience of the reality of the latter, and perhaps a preparation for it. Like the Boy Scouts, “play” is here both a whimsical experience of dress-up simulation but also something very grounded in and linked to reality.

In 1938, Dutch anthropologist Johann Huizinga defined play as “a free activity standing quite consciously outside ‘ordinary’ life as being ‘not serious,’ but at the same time absorbing the player intensely and utterly.” Pioneering computer game designer Chris Crawford adds that playing games provides “the psychological experiences of conflict or danger while excluding their physical realizations. In short, a game is a safe way to experience reality.”

The “playing” of childhood–as beautifully portrayed in Moonrise–is thus a sort of “bracketed” reality, a “safe” experience in between parentheses that nevertheless exists within and is informed by the larger narrative of a very real and dangerous world. From the opening sequence of Moonrise we see the motif of childhood and “game-playing.” Inside a comfortable house–”Summer’s End,” a name itself evoking childhood play–we see children playing games, listening to a recording of Benjamin Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, safe and comfortable while a storm rages outside.

The “Wes Anderson aesthetic” of symmetrical, boxed-in mise-en-scène also works to underscore the “parentheses” subreality that is childhood. Everything in this world is in a nice, tidy box: framed as if on a stage, or in a doll house, or a scene of toys a child might arrange in a particular manner. It’s a surreal, bracketed-off existence, full of adventure and “danger” that is very contained, as if in a Nancy Drew novel. In childhood as well as adulthood, play and games are about artificial conflict; about that protected place where we can experience adrenaline rushing, the overcoming of conflict and the solving of problems without any real, imminent dangers or threats. Sam and Suzy’s camping adventure is about “playing at” survival in the wilderness, like the Chickshaw Indians had to do. Sam suggests at one point that if they get thirsty they should suck on pebbles to generate more saliva; but then he admits that he brought plenty of water, so the pebbles won’t be necessary. In any case, he’s prepared–like a true Boy Scout.

In many ways college–my experience of it, at least–was like Moonrise Kingdom: a “bracketed-off” experience of surreal life, in which we played, and learned, and became prepared for the adulthood to come. It was a safe place–a “bubble” of protected learning, in a way–though not entirely innocent. We were free to fail, to be broken, to learn real-life lessons about heartbreak and suffering, just as Sam and Suzy are in Moonrise. But above all it was a time of exploration, of discovering oneself and the world; seeing it through new lenses (like Suzy and her ubiquitous binoculars), new books, new compadres (like Sam’s Scout buddies) with new teachers and guides (like Edward Norton and Bruce Willis are for Sam).

Moonrise is an elegiac memorial for those moments of youth in which we were “young and easy under the apple boughs… green and carefree… Golden in the mercy of his means,” to quote Dylan Thomas’ “Fern Hill.” For me, it’s also a call for us to recover the sense of wonder that characterized those days–those Peter Pan days when we lived for fictional adventures, became transfixed by the breakdown of instruments in an orchestra, and paused on our merry way to marvel at the curiosity of a drinking fountain. Those days weren’t actually a “subreality” at all, but in fact as real as what we call “real life” in adulthood. Or more real.

It’s a call for us to regain a vital imagination, in which dreaming and creation infuse us again, and not just as part of a nostalgic longing for our pre-utilitarian innocence. Imagination is key to thriving in this world.

I think part of the sadness and elegiac quality of something like commencement is that we remember what it was like to be young and free, “Golden in the mercy of his means,” with the world as our oyster. We lament that we’ve lost the sense of adventure, bravery, and risk that electrified those long lost days. And yet the truth is we need not abandon such things. We should be lifelong learners, career explorers, always re-imagining the world and discovering its wonders anew.

We may no longer live in the “lamb white days” of youth, or in the green days of the undergraduate college “bubble,” but we still exist in a world of inexhaustible wonders –a world with “the sun that is young once only” and ”the moon that is always rising.”

“Fern Hill,” Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

No Banks on Mars

2012-05-25T06:00:01Z

I assume banks will always be with us here on earth. They have enough power to influence governments and create laws that guarantee their existence. But as technology marches forward, the practical need for banks is evaporating. Allow me to make that case.

Someday all payments will be digital. We won't need ATMs, and we won't need anyone to process physical checks, or to check IDs. That much is easy to predict.

The world will always need scorekeepers for money, of course. But that's just a cloud application. Google could hack that together in a weekend. All the system needs to do is keep track of who has what, and make transfers between accounts according to electronic transfer instructions. If you like competition, imagine several clouds from different companies that all talk to each other.

One major function of banks is to inspire trust in depositors. But I think you'd agree that banks have screwed the pooch on the trust issue. If you had a choice of keeping your virtual money in Google's cloud application versus giving it to Bank of America or JP Morgan Chase, which one makes you feel safer? I'm looking at you, Jamie Dimon.

I think you'd agree that if the only thing banks did was keep track of deposits and move payments around, they are already nearly obsolete. But of course they do more. The loan side is the main reason banks exist.

In my earlier life, I spent a few years as a loan approver for a large bank. In theory, we used our expertise to examine small business startup applications and determine their credit worthiness. In reality, the customers' projections were total bullshit, so we ignored them, looked at the collateral, and applied simple rules of thumb. Some of the rules of thumb included:

1.      Make sure you have life insurance on key people.

2.      Don't make loans for someone's "hobby," e.g. a sporting goods store.

3.      Make sure applicants have plenty of skin in the game (their own money).

4.      Cut the revenue projections in half and increase the expense projections by 50%.

5.      Restaurants are bad ideas with the exception of established franchises.

6.      Husband-wife businesses are risky because of divorce.

7.      Has this sort of business worked around here before?

8.      Do the applicants have experience in this business?

9.      How much competition is there?

10. Do the applicants have enough collateral to repay the loan if the business fails?

We had other rules too, but all of them would fit on a one-page checklist. It wasn't rocket science. If you imagine a future world in which anyone can lend money to anyone else, I think you'd find banks unnecessary.

For example, let's say someday in the future, a business wants a loan that is far too complicated for the average civilian to evaluate, and banks don't exist to do that work. What happens then? Well, in that world, you still have plenty of individuals who would be qualified and willing to evaluate even a complicated business situation. CPAs, for example, have that training. If qualified people loan their own money to a particular project, I'd probably feel comfortable lending my money as well, even if I don't understand the deal. I'd just make sure the lead individuals have good track records, and I wouldn't put all of my money in one deal. Let's say the qualified individuals take a higher share of the interest payments on the loan to compensate for their extra effort and talent. That seems fair.

Most bank loans are actually quite simple to evaluate. A typical business loan might involve a company that has been in business for decades and always runs short of cash in the spring as they build up inventory for the summer. It's a very low risk loan. That's the type that banks prefer. Untrained individuals could make those loans with their eyes closed.

My guess is that person-to-business lending would be every bit as good, or better, than bank-to-business lending. We already see something similar in the angel investing area, and that seems to work fine without banks.

I could imagine the government limiting individual loans to a percentage of the lender's net worth, just to keep things sane. Or perhaps the government would require some sort of minimum diversification instead. It wouldn't take many safeguards to keep people out of trouble. Social networks, such as Facebook, could provide all of the identification and background checking you need.

Credit cards would be unnecessary in the future. I assume credit cards are issued according to formulas that look at income, expenses, and credit scores. In the future, the cloud would have all of that information, since every bit of it would be flowing through the cloud for capture. The cloud could keep an ongoing credit figure for each person, without the need for an application. If an individual spends more than he has on deposit in the cloud, an interest calculation starts. It's that simple.

None of this can happen on this planet because banks have a death grip on governments, and society would be petrified of a change that radical. But if you think you hate big banks now, just wait until you realize how unnecessary they are.

When I start my new country, perhaps on Mars, my first two edicts will be as follows:

1.      No banks

2.      No insurance companies (for the same reasons)

I'll be taking applications for my country on Mars sometime soon.

It's Vegas, Baby

2012-05-25T03:13:00Z

I find myself about to embark on a trip that will encompass not one, but FOUR New York City boroughs. Three more than I’ve visited on prior trips. They say there are two types of New Yorkers: those who won’t leave Manhattan, and those who will. Though not a New Yorker, I am definitely akin to the prior kind. (To be fair, Brooklyn DOES have an Ikea. But still.) I think it was Samuel Johnson who said, “When a man tires of Manhattan, he tires of life, for in Manhattan is all that life can afford.”*

But TheBoy is celebrating a big birthday, and wants to visit places outside Manhattan, so QED.

I, of course, have already begun planning my 30th birthday extravaganza, coming October 2013. (Don’t worry, TB isn’t going to read this. He gets the real-life me, which is 20% snarking a la this blog, 70% complaining about being hungry, and 10% sleeping.) I have decided on Las Vegas, because any city whose “Buffets” category in the Frommer’s guide is THAT long is worth doing and worth doing well.

So far, I have two things I really want to do (besides all the eating): indoor skydiving and a magic show. Preferably not together, but I really don’t know how things work there. Indoor skydiving because it’s all the thrill with little of the risk. A magic show because I’ve been a fan of magic since those David Copperfield specials in the ‘80s. I used to get the little magic books from the library and try to do card tricks. Like a little Barney Stinson, really.

Anyway, I figure that I won’t have much free time between the constant buffet-ing and avoiding the heat, but I’d love to hear everyone’s suggestions on other things to do. A day trip to the Grand Canyon: doable? How close to the Strip do I need to be? Which circle of Dante’s inferno most closely matches Las Vegas’ weather in October?

And in case it needs to be said: NO ADULT ACTIVITIES, PLEASE. I may be turning 30 on the outside, but I have the soul of a peevish old lady.

* Bonus points if you know to which city he was actually referring.

Dancing 9:00-3:30

2012-05-23T23:52:00Z

Have you seen the iPhone commercial with Zooey Deschanel? This one?

The people I’ve discussed this ad with (and there have been a few), seem to fall into two camps: disgust and indifference. I’m in the former camp. As one might blithely say, “I am so, like, OVER Zooey.” I can tolerate her in tiny doses, but this much quirk in one single commercial makes me stabby.

Yes, I’m an avid “New Girl” watcher, but part of the brilliance of that show is its juxtaposition of Zooey’s ridiculously-twee lifestyle with, y’know, NORMAL people. (The lion’s share of the brilliance of “New Girl,” FYI, is Schmidt.)

But since I’ve never been one to complain in general when there’s the option to complain in detail, let me break it down for you.

“Is that rain?”

Well, Zooey, you could always just look out the effing window. Though your coy tone of voice sounds almost as if you’re challenging Siri to defy your genius conclusion that it’s raining outside.

“Let’s get tomato soup delivered.”

First of all, you said this while looking through your giant, rain-soaked windows. So we’ve now established that you’re either an idiot or blind. (Someone recently suggested that this ad becomes palatable if you pretend that Zooey is blind.)

Secondly, have you not heard of Campbell’s? It’s a well-known fact that every American household has at least one can of Campbell’s soup in the pantry at all times. Sure, the can may have expired in the late 1990s, but still. It’s there, waiting for the next Boy Scout food drive.

“I don’t wanna put on real shoes.”

Can we define “real shoes” here? You seem like more of a pedal pusher kind of girl. Maybe something vegan. Tom’s?

“Remind me to clean up. Tomorrow.”

It’s not the statement that annoys me here; we’ve all postponed cleaning. It’s the accompanying shot of a room containing a couch covered in books, a piano, a banjo, a drum and two ukuleles. As a musician myself, I know that instruments require a lot of care. Which I was always told included storing them in cases. Have Siri also remind you to hit up the Container Store.

“Today, we’re dancing.”

Oh for a life in which one can devote a day solely to impromptu dancing to the strains of “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” while avoiding the piles of books and musical instruments.

Maybe I’m just jealous. Zooey’s ad for cotton taught me that she spends significant time trying on clothes and shopping at record stores. Really, she has the schedule of a 1960s socialite transplanted to the modern day.

Winning by Picking Losers

2012-05-23T06:00:01Z

There's plenty of research showing that professional stock fund managers do worse than the indexes over time. In other words, consistently picking winners is impossible except by chance or illegal means. But I wonder if picking losers is easier?

Suppose you built an index fund by starting with the largest 500 stocks in the United States, based on capitalization, then removing the fifty or so stocks that experts predict will be dogs for the coming year or so. Would your remaining 450 stocks beat the S&P 500 index?

It seems to me that picking losers has to be easier than picking winners. But one problem with my concept is that the most beaten-down stocks can have the largest percentage gains if they show signs of life. Also, low stock prices can make companies susceptible to takeovers, which can also mean spikes in the stock price. I realize it's not easy to pick losers. But is it exactly as hard as picking winners? I only need to be a little bit better at picking losers than winners and I have a good investment strategy.

When the housing bubble burst, it didn't take a genius to know that the companies in that industry would suffer for several years. Okay, okay, hindsight is easy, so let's see if you and I can predict which industries or companies are likely to be dogs over the next three years.

My prediction for dead-money stocks would include any company competing with the iPad. I think Microsoft, Dell, and HP will have anchors tied to their butts for a few years as consumers skip their next laptop upgrades in favor of iPads.

What are your picks for dead money stocks?

In My Opinion: Anonymous

2012-05-23T02:44:00Z

The film Anonymous is all about the Oxfordian theory of Shakespearean authorship.

If that sentence turned you off, stop reading now. I completely understand if you’re not a fan of Shakespeare, historical intrigue, and/or intellectual property rights. But I am, and I’m going to talk about each one in detail below.

As you may know, there are several schools of thought about who wrote Shakespeare’s works. Some attribute them to Shakespeare (a no-brainer, right?), others to Francis Bacon, and yet others to Edward De Vere, the Earl of Oxford. It is this last school that gets its day in Roland Emmerich’s Anonymous.

The film flashes back and forth between the end of the Elizabethan era and a time about 40 years prior. Queen Elizabeth discovers that the author of a lovely play she’d just seen called “The Tempest” is in fact an 8-year-old scamp named Edward De Vere. She sends him off to be raised by the Cecil family, powerful political rivals of the Tudors. Just go with it.

During a fencing lesson one day, Edward accidentally kills a servant. Cecil blackmails Edward into marrying his daughter Anne, which he reluctantly does. Good thing the Queen still has her eyes on him. They become lovahs and (oops) she has his lovechild. (Who is then of course squired away to be raised as the Earl of Southampton with no idea who his real parents are.) In the meantime, Edward writes, political intrigue ensues, and the question of the Queen’s successor remains unanswered. Will it be James of Scotland, backed by the Cecils? Or the Earl of Essex, backed by the Queen?*

Meanwhile, Ben Jonson is trying to get his own playwriting career going. This is where it got a little confusing for me.

Deep breath.

I think what happened is that Edward gave his plays to Jonson to pass off as written by Anonymous. Shakespeare took credit for them (and thus “stole” the credit from Edward) and started extorting Edward for money. Edward tries to stir the country into a pre-Essex/anti-Cecil revolt with a stirring version of “Richard III.” Jonson, Essex, and Southampton are accused of treason and locked in the Tower. Cecil burns down the theater. Edward privately meets with Elizabeth, finds out that she is (incest alert) both his lover AND his mother, and agrees to never take credit for his work as long as Southampton is saved. Essex is beheaded. Jonson is set free, returns to the theater, and finds that some of the plays had survived.

Got all that? I myself had a LOT of trouble keeping up, and I’ve seen more historical drama than you can shake a spear at.

Twisty and turny though the plot was, the real revelation for me was the entire Oxfordian theory. I mean, think about it. William Shakespeare was the child of an illiterate father. No education. Not well-traveled. How could he have written what he did? How does one write about Italy in the pre-internet age without having been there? Or without having been taught?

Discuss.

Regardless of who wrote them, Shakespeare’s works are obviously of immense importance to western civilization. But it’s fun to wonder, whether you’re a believer, a skeptic, or an agnostic.

* Not least because he is also her lovechild. Scandalous!

Confirmation Bias Test

2012-05-21T06:00:01Z

The Trayvon Martin shooting case is turning into the world's biggest example of confirmation bias, starting with the shooting itself.

We now know that the shooter, Zimmerman, thought Martin fit the general description of the two men (young, male, African-American) who had been spotted robbing homes in the neighborhood. Martin's hoody served as a partial disguise, which probably made Zimmerman's confirmation bias go through the roof. My best guess is that everything Martin did up to his death, including the fight, contributed to Zimmerman's confirmation bias that he was dealing with a dangerous hardened criminal.

On the flip side, Martin probably made up his mind quickly that Zimmerman was some sort of racist, bully, thug wannabe who was just looking for a fight. After all, what kind of guy gets out of his car and follows you down the street in the dark? The last thing that might occur to you is "Neighborhood Watch."

When the story first broke, and the public had scant information, much of it incorrect, most of us jumped to an initial assumption. People who have had experiences with bullies and racists probably assumed Zimmerman fit the mold. Therefore, he must be prosecuted.

Others, most notably Geraldo Rivera, thought that a 6'3" guy dressing like Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars, with a black hoody, on a dark night, in a crime-riddled neighborhood, set the stage for a tragic misunderstanding.

My question to you is this: If you made up your mind about Zimmerman's guilt when the story first broke, has the flood of new information changed your mind? Or has confirmation bias allowed the new information to harden the opinion you already had?

Have any of you changed your minds about Zimmerman's guilt based on new information?

[Update: I'm no lawyer, so maybe someone can answer this question. Even if you believe Zimmerman's bad judgement alone created the situation that resulted in a much larger guy sitting on his chest and punching his head with no indication it was going to stop anytime soon, isn't it still "self defense" if he shoots the guy pounding his face? That's a real question, not rhetorical. -- Scott]

The Divine Guide in Terrence Malick’s “Tree of Life”

2012-05-21T14:01:46Z

“And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’” (Revelation 21:2-4)

“…also, on either side of the river, the tree of life.” (Revelation 22:2)

It’s been a year since The Tree of Life won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and then opened in theaters. I wrote a review when the film came out but have since had the luxury of many repeat viewings and lots of conversations about it. There are numerous aspects of the film that have grown in interest for me as I’ve spent more time with it. Among other things, my belief that the film is fundamentally a deeply Christian, liturgical work has only increased.

Some people I talk to liken the film to a sacred masterwork on the level of Handel. Even critics like Roger Ebert see the film in this religious light. Ebert–who recently added Life to his all time top 10 list–called the film “a prayer.” And even if Life as a whole cannot be read as a prayer, certainly prayer is a central motif. The prayer candle is an image that connects past and present in the film, for example. And Jack (portrayed at times by Sean Penn and Hunter McCracken) is constantly heard in voiceover talking to what we assume to be God: “Brother; Mother: it was they that led me to your door.” “When did you first touch my heart?” “Where were you? You let a boy die.” “How did you come to me? In what shape? In what disguise?”

So also is Jack’s mother, Mrs O’Brien (Jessica Chastain): “Lord, why?” “Where were you?” “Who are we to you?” “Answer me.”

The film begins with Job 38:4 (“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?”) and ends with 15 minutes of Berlioz’ “Requiem,” the “Agnus Dei” section: Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, grant them everlasting rest. / Thou, O God, art praised in Zion and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem. … Grant the dead eternal rest, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine on them, with Thy saints for ever, Lord, because Thou art merciful. Amen.

These are the words (translated from Latin) that we hear a choir sing over the film’s final minutes, as images of catharsis and renewal fill the screen: reunions, resurrections, rising women in wedding dresses, a defeated jester’s mask, sunsets, sunflowers, the apparent destruction of earth, and hands lifted in unison, upward to the heavens.

Among the many questions prompted by a close viewing of this finale sequence–and indeed, the whole film–is the identity and meaning of the mystery woman seen with Jessica Chastain’s older and younger self in the “Amen” sequence. She shows up in part (usually just her hands) and in full on a number of occasions throughout the film–especially at the beginning of Jack’s life and in the film’s final fifteen minutes.

How are we to interpret this figure? I think it’s clear that she’s not meant to be taken as a literal human character in the story; she only appears in the dreamier sequences, has no lines and is never seen for longer than a few seconds at a time. We barely glimpse her face at all (until the “Amen” sequence). Who is she?

One clue can be found in the credits, where she’s listed as “Guide,” portrayed by an actress by the name of Jessica Fuselier (side note: there’s absolutely nothing on the Internet about anyone named “Jessica Fuselier,” which adds to the “Oh, so Malick” mystery).

It’s my contention that this “Guide”–this female figure, always clad in light colored dress, always “around” and a figure of comfort and care–is intended by Malick to be a sort of embodied symbol of the Holy Spirit. I could be totally wrong, and knowing Malick it’s probably nothing as direct as that, but given the film’s overtly Christian ambience I think it’s a fair reading. Here’s my reasoning.

I. “When did you first touch my heart?”

“Guide” is one of the functional roles of the Holy Spirit as seen in Scripture. It is the Holy Spirit that leads Christ into the wilderness (Luke 4:1), and Romans 8:14 tells us that “those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.”

In the film, the “Guide” leads Sean Penn’s character through the wilderness, ultimately through a “gate” signaling some sort of spiritual breakthrough or coming to faith. The Guide also leads little children through a gate in a forest, along a riverbed, gently signaling for them to follow her. This sequence–set to the music of Respighi’s “Suite No. 3”–begins with Jack’s voiceover: “You spoke to me through her; you spoke to me from the sky, the trees. Before I knew I loved you–believed in you” (as we see a dove-like bird flying in a sun-filled sky, and then trees, and then more skies). “When did you first touch my heart?”

From there we see a montage of Jack’s parents (Jessica Chastain and Brad Pitt) falling in love and his mother giving birth to him. Interspersed are oblique images of the Guide–clad in a white gown–pointing the way through a gate, then whispering something to a child (toddler Jack) whilst holding a candle, showing the child a tiny little book, guiding a group of children through a forest, followed by a shot of toddler Jack swimming through a door of an underwater house and then a shot of a woman in a wedding dress swimming upwards in a similar fashion (a shot repeated in the final moments of the film). This sequence is a lot to digest, to say the least. But the impression we get in terms of the Guide is that she is a benevolent force that, even from the moment of birth, is there to guide Jack and lead him in the way of light and truth.

The Holy Spirit, we are told in John 16:13, “will guide you into all the truth” and will “declare to you the things that are to come.” The “Helper, the Holy Spirit,” says Jesus in John 14:26, “will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”

The Holy Spirit–the third person of the Holy Trinity–is thus identified as an advocate, a helper, a guide toward the truth (John 15:26). But it also serves as comforter and interceder, helping us in our weakness, “for we do not know what to pray for as we ought… the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Romans 8:26-27). We see this aspect of the Spirit in Life in a brief shot of a woman’s hand hovering over Jack’s head and chest (0:57:44) as in voiceover we hear him pray: “Help me not to sass my dad, help me not to get dogs in fights, help me be thankful for everything I’ve got, help me not to tell lies.” Later we see those same hands gently giving Jack a drink from what looks like a communion cup and sprinkling water on his forehead as if in baptism (1:12:55), evoking another biblical association of the Holy Spirit (Mark 1:8).

Another scriptural motif pertaining to the Holy Spirit is that of resurrecting power, as seen in Romans 8:10-11: “But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit give life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” We see images of this with the Guide in the film’s climactic Requiem scene–as she is seen extending her hand to what looks like someone in a grave, who appears to have risen from the dead (2:05:23). Moments later, we see a bride in a wedding dress lying down as if asleep, and then standing upright, resurrected and alive (2:05:40).

A few seconds later, the Guide is depicted as a being to be worshipped: On the beach, older Jack (Penn) bows at her feet (2:06:20). We then see her embrace and cradle the head of the boy with burn scars on his head (2:06:35). The last time we see her is in the “Amen” finale to the Requiem prayer, where we see her surrounding Mrs. O’Brien (Chastain) in a state of sun-bathed harmony and peace, helping her lift up her hands as if in praise.

Revelation 22 should be a guiding text in our interpretation of Life’s eschatological climax, if only because it depicts the restored Eden and its “tree of life” (vs. 2). Verse 17 seems particularly interesting if read with the images of the “Amen” sequence in mind. The verse reads: “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come!’” It’s a call directed to Christ–the bridegroom–to return to earth and reign in the New Jerusalem with his people. Given the “bridal” imagery that we see in cryptic snippets throughout the film (appearing to be Jessica Chastain), perhaps in that final “Amen” sequence she represents the “Bride” of verse 17 and the Guide represents the Spirit. Certainly the “bride” imagery has eschatological connotations, as does the Spirit’s resurrecting the dead, both of which we see in Life’s final moments.

II. “Always you were calling me.”

Even though the total screen time of the Guide in Life is only a few minutes, the presence of the Holy Spirit if felt throughout–the film’s opening and closing with the mysterious, God-like wispy flame should suggest as much.

One of the functions of the Holy Spirit in Scripture is to convict the unbeliever about sin (John 16:7-8) and catalyze the process of renewing faith (Titus 3:5). We see this in the arc of Jack–who comes to a convicted place about his sin and recognizes that God was behind it. Following the episode where he shoots his brother’s finger with a BB gun and then asks him for forgiveness, Jack wonders–as the camera pulls upwards in a God-like point of view–“What was it that you showed me? I didn’t know how to name you then. But I see it was you. Always you were calling me.”

The Holy Spirit also serves to help us in our battle with sin (“the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, to keep you from doing the things you want to do,” Gal 5:17), which we see in Jack’s Romans 7-esque inner turmoil about his own nature (“What I want to do I can’t do. I do what I hate”). It is that humbled conviction that leads Jack in the next scene to seek reconciliation with the brother he has wronged.

We see a similar thing happen to Jack’s father a few scenes later, as he too recognizes the faults of his nature: “I wanted to be loved because I’m great, a big man. I’m nothing. Look: the glory around us, the trees, the birds. I lived in shame. I dishonored it all and didn’t notice the glory. A foolish man.”

A close listen to this sequence will reveal that the quiet piano score we hear is actually a melodic quotation of the Respighi excerpt from the “When did you first touch my heart?” sequence of Jack’s birth and the Guide leading the children. We should take note of the aural parallel here between that early sequence (Edenic in its beauty and innocence) and this sequence (both Jack and his father recognizing their flawed nature–“I’m as bad as you are”–and accepting the way of grace). No music is arbitrarily chosen in a Malick film, and this Respighi melody seems to embody the theme of grace in the film. The way of “nature,” on the other hand, is represented in the mournful melodies of Preisner’s “Lacrimosa,” which we hear during the universe creation sequence (as Mrs. O’Brien asks God the “Why?” questions of suffering) and then, in subtler piano quotation, during Jack’s “I do what I hate” sequence of sin and guilt.

The triumph of grace over the despair of nature in the film doesn’t happen by accident. As we see through a close read, the Guide is present throughout the film–embodied but also implicit and unseen–helping these characters in their spiritual journeys and guiding them through grief, sin, and the constant battle with their errant impulses and prideful nature.

Considered in the broader context of the film, the nearness and presence of a benevolent guiding force represents the immanence against which the “where are you?” perceptions of a distant God are juxtaposed. The film’s 20 minute creation sequence–sandwiched as it is between one Texas family’s intimate pains on one hand (a son’s death) and joys on the other (a son’s birth)–establishes the bigness of the universe and the smallness of man. It’s a massive, cold, ruthless universe, magnificent and beautiful in its ambivalence toward the individual life (one dinosaur spares another, but in the next scene nature–or God?–destroys them all by hurling an asteroid to earth). And yet the pastoral adventures of Jack’s youth and spiritual epiphany that follows do not bear out this dire assessment.

Rather, Jack’s life is guided by God at every turn–even if he doesn’t recognize it.

In some ways the Guide can help us make sense of the film’s real understanding of “the way of nature” and “the way of grace.” Nature assumes that we are all on our own–that we are small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, wandering purposeless (Sean Penn in a desert, perhaps) in a hostile creation. That “way” is self-interested and, given the eventuality of mortality, ultimately aimless. We are all going to suffer the same extinction as the dinosaurs, so what is our telos? Lacrimosa dies illa indeed.

Grace, however, inserts a telos into the story by offering up an alternate “way” that rebuffs self interest (“grace doesn’t try to please itself”) and directs our attention to the Divine Other from which hope and purpose derives. The “Guide” is the helper, the voice of conviction, the spiritual awakening helping us to desire the way of grace–which is the way of humility, of relinquishing our grasp on our own natural way, of, finally, giving up our insistent hold on that which we believe to be our rightful property or path.

“I give him to you,” says Mrs. O’Brien in the film’s final line. “I give you my son.”

She’s discovered the way of grace.

“I’m nothing,” says Mr. O’Brien.

He’s discovered it too.

Jack also sees that he’s been guided all the time (“I see it was you; always you were calling me”), that he’s been watched over and led to faith by a divine Guide, out of the dry desert of sin, stubbornness and pride and into the lush, Edenic landscape of oceans, waterfalls and the river of life.

III. “The great river that never runs dry.”

This is not a new idea for Malick. His other films have explored it too–this notion of giving up one’s insistent, natural urge to “please oneself” and humbly accepting a path that–though directed by Another–ultimately leads to a place more pristine and satisfying than we could have found for ourselves. It’s the arc of Pocahontas in The New World: her Eden is destroyed by the depravity of man and yet cannot be regained on her own merits; she must relinquish control and trust the Divine direction (“Mother,” to whom she prays), even if it isn’t what she’d imagined for her life (e.g. John Rolfe instead of John Smith).

Likewise for Private Witt in The Thin Red Line: his Paradise is lost early in the film, and his attempts to regain it midway through only serve to reinforce how grave is the “war in the heart of nature” and how deeply red is the stain of sin. He too opts for the way of grace, in faith moving forward in the unknowable fog, ready and willing to go wherever he is guided (even unto death).

In The Tree of Life, Jack too finds his Paradise/innocence lost (“How do I get back where they are?”), and wrestles with his inability to overcome the misguided desires of his nature (nearly quoting Romans 7:15: “I do what I hate…”). Jack’s lament for innocence lost and reflections on his own depravity echo the inner monologues of The Thin Red Line: “This great evil: where’s it come from? … Who’s doing this? Who’s killing us? Robbing us of life and light. Mocking us with the sight of what we might have known.”

For Jack and for Witt–and for any of us–one of the problems of evil is that we so rarely see it as our problem. We must see that the fallenness of nature touches us all, and that the way of grace is likewise available to all as a redemptive alternative. It’s only when we humble ourselves and recognize the extent of our brokenness that we can begin to heal.

We must loosen our grip, cede our control and broaden our horizons to include the possibility that we were not made for our own glory, but for Another’s. Look at the beauty around us–look at the wonder! Malick’s films beckon us to pay closer attention to the majesty and complexity of creation (in the ground, in the sky, in our neighbor) than we do ourselves.

In Life, Malick offers us a liberating vision of a way of living that draws us out of our own “my road or the high road!” autonomy and into a path of humility in which we are subject to a Director other than our self–a Director whose intentions for us may include loss, suffering, and challenges we’d never choose. It’s a subversive vision in a culture where individual happiness is the chief goal and the means to that end is each individual’s assertion of their absolute right to freedom of choice, freedom of identity, freedom to determine one’s path independently of any other.

Malick’s early films–Badlands (1972) and Days of Heaven (1978)–centered upon iconic, lone ranger figures of American solidarity, blazing their trails westward and subject to no one but themselves. Martin Sheen’s James Dean-esque outlaw, Kit, in Badlands is unapologetic in his refusal to have his course set by anything other than his own (sometimes homicidal) whims and slapdash fancies. Richard Gere’s Bill in Days of Heaven has more of a conscience than Kit but is no less resistant to having his absolute autonomy compromised. Neither Kit nor Bill really know what they want, and their paths are resultantly schizophrenic and (literally) all over the map. Bill hops on a train to Texas wheatfields one minute and flies off with a circus act the next. Kit–his equally aimless girlfriend Holly (Sissy Spacek) in tow–is on the open road to nowhere, wandering aimlessly in a barren western landscape not unlike the desert of Sean Penn’s wanderings in Life. In the end, Kit and Bill meet lonely, sad ends–their insistent, prideful autonomy having failed to locate whatever specter of Eden plagued their restless hearts.

With Malick’s later films–The Thin Red Line (1998), The New World (2005), and now The Tree of Life (2011)–however, the autonomous individual protagonist becomes much more reliant on others. In Line, Witt can still be read as a Thoreau-esque individualist, a canoeing wanderer searching for truth on his own–and yet he’s very much aware of and attentive to the Other, a divine “spark” he feels in the air and sees in the eyes of others. It’s not just about him; he’s willing to be shown things by others, by God, by the glory around him (“all things shining…”). In World, Pocahontas shares Witt’s hyper-observational awe and humble curiosity about the world around her. She’s wide-eyed and enraptured by the beauty around her–even when it’s harsh and alien (the Jamestown colony, her trip to England). Even when she’s wronged, when her people are driven out of their lands, she reacts with humility. Like a tree whose branch breaks off but continues to grow, she adapts and moves on in faith.

The New World opens with a voiceover prologue from Pocahontas in which she says, “Come, Spirit–help us sing the story of our land. You are our mother… we rise from out of the soul of you.” These lines are accompanied by Edenic images of a river–reflecting the sky, the trees, the clouds–and then an image of Pocahontas on the beach, lifting up her hands to the heavens as if in praise (quite reminiscent, in fact, of Jessica Chastain’s “Amen” motions of praise at the end of Life). Throughout the film Pocahontas wonders about the presence of “Mother”–“Where do you live? In the sky? The clouds? The sea? Give me a sign”–in a manner not dissimilar from Chastain’s ponderings near the beginning of Life. Pocahontas prays to Mother: “How should I seek you? Show me your face. You, the great river that never runs dry.” (Side note: the actress who plays Mother in World–Irene Bedard–was the voice Pocahontas in Disney’s animated version, and also has a 5-second cameo in Life, where she’s credited as “Messenger.” See 0:17:32 in Life for her brief, cryptic appearance, caressing R.L. through a window curtain and kissing his face).

Though Pocahontas is unaware of Christ at this point, I believe that “Mother”–the deity to whom she prays–represents the echoes of Eden and the pangs of lost communion between creatures and Creator that every human feels (the sensus divinitatis, as Calvin might say). It’s interesting that she describes this deity as “the great river that never runs dry,” which brings to mind the River of Life in Revelation 22–the passage that also mentions the “Tree of Life” (vs. 2) in its description of the renewed creation and restored communion between God and man. Indeed, it’s also interesting that at the end of World, after Pocahontas comes to a peace (“Mother, now I know where you live)” the film ends with an image of a river, and then a tree in the final shot. Could it be read as a Revelation 22-esque “Eden restored” in the same way as Tree of Life’s finale?

Each of Malick’s films is in some sense about the specter of Paradise Lost and the felt breach of communion between God and man (on account of sin). Each film evokes that longing for an eschatological recovery of that wholeness, that Rev. 21 moment when God will once again dwell in physical presence with his people. But before that day comes, in between the Gen. 1 and Rev. 22 “trees of life,” God’s presence is also made available to us, by grace, in the form of the Holy Spirit. Because of what happened on another tree (the cross of Christ), God’s presence is given to us through the Holy Spirit: a guide, a helper, an advocate, a spirit of resurrection within our own feeble frames.

It’s a Spirit that Malick’s Life makes explicit through an embodied character, but also implicit as an unseen divine presence, calling characters to faith, to worship, to humility and to love. It’s a Spirit that is with us throughout our journeys (“guide us to the end of time…”) if we are open to being led.

Come, Holy Spirit. Guide us.

The Same, and Different

2012-05-21T01:31:00Z

Now that the warm season has hesitantly shown itself here in DC, I spent some time recently reorganizing my closet. True, part of this had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with my OCD, but whatever.* The long and short of it (ha) is that I realized I have the same Land’s End sweater in eight different colors. If variety is the spice of life, this cannot be good. I’m like a movie character whose closet is filled, but with fifty of the outfit. Zoinks!

Or, to put a positive spin on it, minimizing variation maximizes efficiency. Right? RIGHT?

When you were a kid, and you imagined what The Future would be like, didn’t you envision uniforms? I did. Sort of like that one scene in Willy Wonka when the kid gets sucked into the TV. (It’s been a while. I’m hazy on the details.) All-white bodysuits and helmets, baby. You may think them sterile, but I say that if cleanliness is next to godliness, then sterility is between cleanliness and godliness.

Okay, that made more sense before I put it into words.

Yet here we are, in the effing 21st century, and we appear to be no closer to a planet-wide uniform policy. Or even a nation-wide one. Let’s fall into line, people. We’re never going to beat China if we’re dithering over cords vs. khakis.** Those hesitant for us to all start dressing alike are probably concerned about people’s feelings and freedom of expression. But since we’ve established that I hate people, these things are less of a concern for me.

In not-at-all-related news, I am preparing for my possible future appearance on Jeopardy! by reading a book of Greek and Roman mythology. Aside from the fact that not one but two civilizations took enough time to invent a god for literally every thing, let’s talk about how many interesting names have fallen out of use. If it weren’t for the solar system and the Harry Potter books, we’d know very little of mythology at all, I fear. My top three (so far):

Fortuna (goddess of luck)
Hypnos (god of sleep)
Morpheus (god of dreams)

They announced the most popular baby names recently, and it was, like, Jacob and Isabella for the umpteenth year in a row. Hey, reproducing people of the world: let’s show a little creativity! You’ve just pushed a person through the human body’s equivalent of a drinking straw. Make that thing unique!

Since we’ll soon all dress alike, your progeny can “express themselves” with a funky name. Win-win.

* Let’s arrange by size! Now by color! Now by size AND color!
** I never claimed to be uninterested in clothes. Just disinterested. Yes, Virginia, there IS a difference.

The Lilith Experience

2012-05-18T15:12:18Z

Hello all.

I know you’ve been waiting with bated breath for any little whisper of The Lilith Necklace production.

For the next week or two, I’m going to be blogging at The Lilith Necklace‘s Production Blog. We also have a Facebook page. And a chair.

I’ll probably be doing much of the updating from the chair.

Filed under: Filmmaking, My Film Work Tagged: film, Melanie Killingsworth, noir, The Lilith Necklace

Instagram versus Facebook

2012-05-17T06:00:01Z

The Facebook IPO happens tomorrow, and I have a question for my readers: If you use Facebook, are you still spending as much time on it as you did last year?

I was talking to a young Facebook user recently and asked if her new obsession with Instagram had come at the cost of Facebook time. Her answer was yes, and I got the sense that Facebook was for old people and Instagram was for the young. Ouch.

Instagram is a brilliant business concept. It strips out the best part of Facebook (Hey, look at my photo, friends!) and then makes improvements on that feature (Hey, look at my sepia-toned photos, friends!). In addition to besting the best part of Facebook, Instagram also improved on the worst part of Facebook: sketchy privacy. While a parent might ban a kid from Facebook for privacy reasons, Instagram is relatively less of a privacy issue. The keyword here is "relatively," since either service lets you post dumb comments and incriminating photos of yourself.

It's no wonder Facebook threw a billion dollars at Instagram, apparently to kill the competition by absorption. If I were Zuckerberg, and I noticed young people migrating from Facebook to Instagram just as I prepared for my IPO, I'd spend a billion dollars to make the problem go away too. I wonder if Instagram would have sold for something closer to $100 million if Facebook had already done its IPO. Timing is everything.

Readers of this blog, are you using Facebook less this year than you did last year?

Things I’ve Read: Dear Coca-Cola

2012-05-17T02:44:00Z

I’ve mentioned before that Amazon’s free Kindle books feature has turned out several pleasant surprises. My latest is “Dear Coca-Cola,” a series of letters written by British pensioner Terry Ravenscroft to various food and beverage brands. Look carefully and you’ll find at least three of my favorite things right in that sentence. The first set of correspondence is to Coca-Cola, hence the title. Terry includes the replies to his letters, so you get a nice back-and-forth between him and the terribly-polite customer service representatives. Only in the UK, people. Only in the UK.

Though a few of the letters are complaints, many of them offer compliments or suggestions. A new flavor, a request for a recipe, etc. Whatever Terry’s request, he receives a thoughtful reply and (almost always) a voucher (coupon) from the brand. What really makes the book, though, and Terry’s replies to the replies. If he got a form letter from Sainsbury’s or Mars, he calls them on it and (depending on the brusqueness of the form letter) returns the vouchers. All very politely, though.

As a huge fan of the British, food, and British food, I found this book nothing short of wonderful. Did I mention that it can be procured for free? And that if you don’t have a Kindle, you can still read it on your computer? For free? Do it. Do it now.

Then come back here and let’s talk about Cock-of-Puddings.

EU Open House 2012

2012-05-16T01:43:00Z

This year’s EU Open House was on May 12. It gave Europe’s embassies a chance to forget about their failing economies and media scandals by opening their doors and putting out cheese on crackers. Don’t think I’m mocking them; this event is one of the highlights of my year.

Friend-of-blog Patricia and I started at the Germany/France event, which was being hosted at the French Embassy (Germany’s Embassy is under construction).

One would expect them to have great food and plenty of order, but we found neither. The brie table was swarmed by the unwashed:

And the lines were chaotic and unmarked.

Luckily, they were handing out very good reusable totes, pens, and magnets. Sprechen sie freebies!

Next up, Sweden:

Sweden was my new discovery this year. It was bright and uncrowded. They let us go on the roof. And the staffers all had shirts that said “HUG A SWEDE.” Okay!

Then again, I’d expect nothing less than greatness from the country that birthed Ikea.

We took a harried Metrobus ride north to the Embassy of Belgium. The line was astounding, probably because Belgium gives out waffles every year. Word gets around, y’know.

Belgium opens up the Ambassador’s office, which is a nice gesture. (Only surpassed by Finland, who had the REAL LIVE AMBASSADOR in attendance. More on that in a minute.)

I forgot to take a picture of my waffle before inhaling it, but here is one of the Belgian volunteers manning the irons:

We headed to Finland with great anticipation, since this was one of the best ones last year. We didn’t know how they would top themselves. Until they did, with the effing Ambassador herself!

And plenty of food and beverage. And an accordionist.

Well done, Finland. Well done.

The final stop of the day was the UK. One of my highlights, obviously. They seem to be preparing for a sporting event of some sort.

New this year, visitors could sign a banner wishing QE2 well on her diamond jubilee. I signed as medevam and really hope doing so leads her to my Twitter feed and/or this blog.

Since it was after 3 pm at this point, we stopped for bangers and crisps.

What, were you thinking that was some sort of sex move? Perv.

My haul on the day was pretty good. I resisted grabbing most of the brochures, since I just end up throwing them out.

Whew. Good times.

In the Water Closet

2012-05-15T01:09:00Z

If there’s one room that should be self-explanatory, it’s the bathroom. While there are a number of things you can do in there (pun intended), they are limited and involve specialized equipment. It’s not a room people generally hang out in, singly or in groups, and it tends to be closed up when not in use. But then you have your public bathrooms, and all strictures get tossed out the window.

I’m told, for example, that graffiti is common in men’s restrooms. On the urinals, stalls, walls, and just other flat surfaces. Some of it is vulgar, some of it isn’t. What matters here is the fact that men, instead of taking care of business, are instead drawing, inking, or scratching their way to artistic expression.

Whereas the last time I saw graffiti in a women’s bathroom was elementary school. Conclude what you will about the maturity level of fifth-grade girls and grown men.

Women’s bathrooms have toilet seat covers. Do men have those? I don’t really understand them, since I’m much more likely to die from eating poisoned food or getting hit by a car whilst jaywalking, but okay. I’m guessing that men don’t have much use for something that ostensibly keeps seats (both man’s and the toliet’s) clean.

Don’t even get me started on urinals. There’s this whole vocabulary (Cakes? Liquid-activated video games and music? Advertising?) that disturbs me every time it comes up in news stories or on sitcoms. Ugh.

There was an episode of The Office some time ago when the men of Dunder Mifflin learned just how different the women’s bathroom was. Some were willing to pay for the privilege of using it. I never understood that until I started learning about the chaotic mess that is a typical men’s bathroom.

Guys, I just don’t get you.

Leadershi*

2012-05-14T06:00:01Z

Recently President Obama announced that he supports gay marriage. But he also said that if states want to continue discriminating against gays, it's their decision. I assume the President also believes Abe Lincoln should have stayed out of the slavery issue under the theory that the states should decide which rights they grant their minority populations. (Someone clever said that before I did. I forget who.)

Meanwhile, President Obama is using scarce federal funds to shut down marijuana dispensaries in states that have legalized medical marijuana. On this issue, the President is opposed to states' rights.

The interesting thing about the dual issues of gay marriage and medical marijuana is that both have a track record that can be evaluated. Why not use science, or at least economics, to figure out what works?

In places where gay marriage has been legal for some time, what has been the cost to society? Has the social structure crumbled? Did taxes go up? Did any hetero Christians turn gay from peer pressure? Was there an outbreak of bestiality? Did it rain toads?

Medical marijuana has also been practiced long enough in some places to have a track record. Did the states that legalized medical marijuana experience an uptick in traffic deaths? Or did all of the stoners driving home from the dispensaries slow commute traffic and make things safer? Did residents eat too many munchies and become obese? Did cancer patients start robbing convenience stores to pay for their habit?

One could argue that the minimum requirement to be called a leader is that you don't wait for your Vice President to become so embarrassed by your position on a prominent national issue (gay marriage) that he takes control, forcing you to meekly follow. President Obama glibly said that Vice President Biden "got over his skis" when he came out in support of gay marriage. Actually, Biden displayed leadership. I understand why the President didn't recognize it.

On the Republican side, Romney is like a bag that's half snakes and half candy. When you put your hand in, you never know what you're getting. Romney might be awesome. I like the general idea of putting a turnaround expert in the oval office at a time when we need one. But the reality is that we don't know what we're getting with Romney. He is, after all, a robot that professes a deep belief in magic. Good luck predicting how that would shake out.

President Obama is getting a lot of credit for killing Bin Laden. But how much credit should we give to luck? It was lucky timing that our intelligence people located Bin Laden during Obama's term. And if no one knew for sure that Bin Laden was at the compound before the attack was launched, the President was guessing. He guessed right, but guessing isn't a repeatable skill. And realistically, you and I would have made the same decision to launch a strike.

In theory, the United States is protected from revolution because we have the option of voting out the bums we don't like. The reality, which is sinking in, is that our only option is to replace bums with bums. As long as no candidate feels the need to be philosophically consistent, or to base decisions on data, we don't have a functional government.

That's why I favor starting an emergency backup government using social media. I think we need an insurance policy against the total breakdown of civilization. We need a backup government that's ready to go in case our existing form of government loses its last shred of credibility and citizens start ignoring it.

Other countries have an emergency backup government in place. It's called the army. When the civilian government loses credibility with the people, the army can step in and maintain order while a new government is formed. That's roughly the case in Egypt and Pakistan, for example. But that sort of system has a high cost. The citizens of the United States wouldn't want a military government as an emergency backup. I think this country would prefer some sort of government-in-a-box backup solution that is organized over the Internet.

I think the major problem with our current form of government is that although the major parties are competing with each other, the system itself is a monopoly. There's no competition for the federal government as a whole. I think it would be useful to form a shadow government on the Internet, complete with chosen leaders and policies. That would create a sort of competition for the existing government. The media could keep tabs on how many citizens have a preference for the shadow government over the existing one. If the shadow government gets too much support, the existing government is likely to evolve to avoid relegation.

Competition is good. We need some competition for our entire system of government, not just competition within it. We also need an insurance policy in case citizens decide to revolt. Admittedly, that's a small risk, but that's the point of insurance - to protect against small risks with catastrophic potential.

If you think competition is good, insurance is prudent, and fact-based leadership is better than naked politics and superstition, you should be in favor of forming an emergency backup government on the Internet.

9 Tips for Eating Christianly

2012-05-14T14:04:18Z

For the last 10 months I’ve been writing a book about Christian approaches to consuming culture, and one of the things I discuss in the book is food. How can Christians be better consumers of food? It’s a topic pertinent to anyone of faith (we all eat), but maybe not one that is discussed as much as it should be (though a number of great books have been exploring it of late–such as this, this, and this.)

The subject of a “theology of food” is one I recently explored in a cover story for Biola Magazine: “Soul & Stomach.” Though it’s hard to cover such a massive topic in a four page article, I’m proud of how the piece turned out. For a more expansive treatment of the subject, check out my book when it comes out in 2013.

In the meantime, here is a sidebar from the article, listing nine tips/suggestions for how me might approach our consumption of food more thoughtfully and Christianly:

Slow down. Try to find time to truly enjoy food. Prepare it yourself. Savor it.
Give thanks. For the food you have, for the hands that prepared it, for the land and animals it comes from; above all, for God the provider and sustainer of life.
Show hospitality. Invite others to dine with you. Follow Jesus’ example. Share food with strangers. Throw long dinner parties.
Eat in community. Enjoy food with others. Let it be a unifying source of social pleasure.
Be sensitive to those around you. Many people struggle with food-related issues (dieting, food addiction, eating disorders); keep this in mind as you eat. Know there are many Christian resources available if you or a loved one need help.
Eat justly. Recognize that your eating affects others. Try to support ethical and just food practices through discerning consumer choices.
Fight global hunger. Remember that nearly 1 billion people in the world do not have enough to eat. Keep that in perspective and do what you can to feed the hungry in your communities and across the world.
Develop taste. Expose yourself to new things and expand your palate. Learn to appreciate quality food, unique flavors, textures, combinations.
Eat humbly. Rather than eating food to show off your culinary sophistication, eat with humility and thanksgiving, awestruck by the beauty and goodness you are privileged to enjoy.

The Abyss

2012-05-11T15:17:00Z

The state of Wisconsin has a few large problems. Your mind may immediately jump to the rumbling election that is just one month away, but I would like to point out something that I find to be a larger problem. The state of Wisconsin has this completely decrepit website where districts post their school openings. This is where they encourage teachers looking around the state to apply to; most states have something like this, but I’m almost positive that most states don’t deal with the wasteland that is this website.

The website, built sometime in the last century, struggles to upload anything you might want to add. Whether you try jpegs, pdfs, or even the simple doc, it seems to think that the size is too large for its website to handle—and the awful truth is it’s probably right.

They have a standard application, and a real application, and then the section where you upload—if the internet gods are smiling—your actual application. These are all different, and woe be to him that confuses them.

It has one section for online cover letters—what you would send to a specific employer. This, however, is not found under file attachments even though you need to add it to your attachments. Only after you have applied your actual application—I was going to say real, but please remember that is a different application—and only then can you write an online cover letter and add it to your attachments!

The navigation on this website is . . . embarrassing. This website is so ancient that each page has a link stating GO BACK as if the browser’s back button had not yet been invented, or as if they believed you were the type of person who wouldn’t know how to use that button.

Most of this frustration comes from that fact that I have been applying off and on for jobs for the last few months, and I hate it. I hate the questions they ask. I hate all the time it takes me. I hate how I never hear anything back. And I really hate that I have to do it all with this website.

It is frustrating, after working years on a degree and license that means something to me and that I’m trying to find a job in, to trust my resume, references, and transcripts to this abysmal website.

A website that after filling out their 3-hour long questions and standard and real applications, and agreeing to the “Do you want to save all of this information so employers can see it?” box was amusing myself with clicking on every possible link so as to make fun of its horrible organization. I stumbled across a completely different tab, titled Candidate Settings (even though I built everything under Your Applications), and found, amongst several other useless links, a box that asked me if I would like to “activate” all of the information that I had saved already under Your Applications. Had I never activated, I would have seen everything I had worked on and assumed everything was right, but future employers would not have seen anything.

Two weeks later I was talking to a friend also dealing with this website, and I mentioned this problem. The confusion on her face worried me. I received a text later that night saying her 2-month old settings were now officially activated. I won’t share with you her specific word choice, but let me assure you that her frustration was evident.

And yet, I just spent another two hours there, and I’ll be spending another two hours on it tomorrow.