Undernourished and Overfed

These are the things that are wrong with me.

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Bread and taxes

Every so often a great man dies. Then again, real motherfuckers die on occasion, too.

Saparmurat Niyazov, president-for-life of Turkmenistan, has passed on due to either a cardiac condition, or poisoning, depending on what you read. This is a man who weaseled away some 3 billion dollars from his country, put a gold statue of himself on top of the tallest building in his country, and named bread after his mother. No, I don't mean that he had a loaf of bread with his mother's name, I mean that because of Niyazov, the Turkmen word for “bread” is now “Gurbansoltanedzhe.”

Ok. Wow. That's authoritarianism. No one in this country is allowed to complain about George W. Bush for another day. Instead, spend your time and energy hoping that Turkmenistan gets to have free elections in the wake of this douchebag's departing.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Fireproof

Rain covers the tile like sheets of cellophane. The streets are fireproof tonight. Even the muggers are cowering in their holes. The street sweepers from above have done a bang-up job with their sub-orbital hoses, knocking loose the wine stains and clots of chewing gum. The streets are free to flow again. Hoarfrosty winter, subtle autumn and the thick summer, bookended by gold and grime, had all come and gone. This is winter in Oakland. This is astral tears on a dark black night. Single guttural yawn of liquid throughout the year. This desert world, blooming under the downpour that we despise. Rain glues the earth together into something thicker than blood or water. The inorganic chokes on life tonight.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Edicts; Allies

One thing organized religion has going for it--something disorganized spirituality will never have--is the issuing of edicts.

Recently the highest office in the Conservative Jewish faith (that is, neither Reform, nor Orthodox, in case you're taking notes) approved the ordaination of gay rabbis, and the practice of gay "commitment ceremonies." I'm not sure if that phrasing is just from the New York Times, or if it's going to be the accepted parlance in the future. There are two things I find pretty interesting about this, but first, I want to think about edicts for a moment.

"This is not like a papal edict," says Jonathan Sarna in the NY Times article, referring to the fact that individual synagogues will be allowed to make their own decisions as to whether they incorporate these changes into their daily practice. But isn't it? This is a powerful statement from a highly-respected body, giving their interpretation of the religion's most sacred documents. It's not something to be taken lightly. This has no less power to cause divisive rifts between members of the community than does the statement of a official with an ancient title.

I'm not an expert on the internal politics of the Jewish faith anymore than I am learned in their documents, history or canonical law, but one has to imagine that this is an important restructuring, and an event that will cause no small amount of change down the line. Sarna states that the change "has been widely expected," but that just means that there has been foresight, discussion and probably the religious equivalent of lobbying. The Reform movement has allowed both of these things for years. This is a change. This is a group agreeing to alter they way they see the world and changing their social contact. Essentially, this is politics.

Leaving that lie for one moment, the thing that most interests me about this is its effect on Politics. (Capital "P," Beltway politics and national elections.) Does this change the national debate on marriage? Isn't the major argument against homosexual marriage a religious one? Well, now we have a significant portion of one of America's major faiths saying that this isn't a bad thing; that their holy scriptures, in fact, do not forbid it. They will allow it in their temples. How is it any of our right to invade the sanctity of religion and refuse to recognize their collective action? They've changed their faith, and the government would pretend the power to refuse this change.

So how is a religious edict--particularly the infallible, far reaching papal kind--different from a new law, or (an even better comparison) a Supreme Court decision? This is meant to compare these two distinct social contracts; religion and government. Religion, many of us are born into. We do not leave the contract unless we are dissatisfied, and we do not tend to enter into a new religion without some strong compulsion (usually marraige). The government controls all within its sphere of influence by matter of geography more than birth, though citizenship is conferred upon all who are born within this influence.

When a religion or a political body changes a rule, or interprets an old one in a new way, all in the membership of that body must decide whether to follow along with this edict. We all have an inalenable right of disobedience, even more fundamental to our nature than any of the rights "protected" by constitutions around the world. Disobedience is curbed by incentives, but can never be completely eliminated. In a religious community, social pressures and learned guilt exert tremendous force over the faithful. Expected punishments in the afterlife may also be considered a negative incentive. Governments, through the power of a monarch, elected representatives or the collective will of the people, are empowered to locate and punish those who would choose not to heed an edict.

We are all disobedient on some level. Sinners sin. I can count the number of hours since I last broke the law on one hand. We all make calculations, weighing the negative consequences of our actions against the real or perceived benefits. When I listen to music which I "stole" from a record company, I understand that the likelihood of my being caught and punished is slim. Having a variety of music to listen to without paying what I perceive to be ridiculous costs outweighs that chance of punishment.

So, what will the costs be for ignoring this edict from the leaders of the Hebrew community? Probably very little, so long as the choice remains a local one. It may cause some hurt feelings or community scuffles, but it seems unlikely to have world-shaking implications. Although... perhaps these issues of deeply held conviction are stronger than I would guess: a collection of Canadian rabbis has already threatened a break with the Conservative movement as a result of this announcement (Again, according to the NY Times). These are the things schisms are made of.

(Though, in my interpretation, the Jewish faith has proven a great deal of solidarity in the face of schism in the past. Though their interpretations of scripture and law may differ, Reform and Orthodox Jews do seem to find much more common ground than, say, Sunni and Shiite Muslims, or Catholics and Protestants.)

But, perhaps, even if this does prove divisive--as it surely will not endear Conservative to Orthodox--perhaps American politics can use this as a uniting experience. Perhaps the liberal left can find "conservative," religious allies. The red-state party line is "small government," and a lack of interference. It holds God in high esteem. To continue to forbid unions between homosexuals in the face of a religious ceremony which cements it in the eyes of a church is ridiculous.

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Sunday, December 03, 2006

Point, Counterpoint

Point

I built this computer for a very specific purpose. I want to make that clear. We won't be flitting away our time on video games, spray painting gore and bullets over our irises like some kind of digital age Viet Nam veteran. This machine is highly calibrated. This machine is our child, and you want to fill its head full of an ever-thickening paste. I want to bring it literature, film and art. Your idea of literature seems to be the text-based, pornographic adventures of a thirty-something carpenter on a lesbian cruise. You're guiding this carefully balanced machine to a life of mass graves and eardrum damage. You pump the speakers full of dying moans and engine noises, while I try to compile a melange of modern hits with a cornucopia of classical and world music. You're a deviant, a pervert and a dilatory genius. I can't believe we've remained this close this long. Your horrific cacophony, your trivial attention span, your unseemly twitching and ever rising gluttony for the extremes of violence and perversion... Were I able to split us in twain, I would do so in a moment. I would leave you grieving, broken and utterly without revenue, resource or alternative. My contempt for you rises with each shameful keystroke. The growing stockpile of distracting programs within the confines of this hard drive begins to stink with the fetid odor of dwindling accomplishments. The words I complete, the music I catalogue, the knowledge I can consume—they all shrink beneath the weight of your unquenchable banality. I could be everything without you, but my fate is twined with your own.


Counterpoint

I constructed this machine to enjoy myself. I find its form pleasing, its speed enchanting and its power intoxicating. This is my surrogate for so many things. Communication, knowledge, entertainment... the things I cannot obtain for lack of funds or lack of companions, I retrieve through the computational divinity of this wire and Plexiglas enclosure. This machine extends my reach and grasp. But you see it only as a tool, typewriter and tablet. You see speakers and deem it a stereo. You see a keyboard and imagine it a writer's foil. I cannot imagine having the energy for creation and appreciation you would attribute to us. You believe we have some bottomless well from which to draw countless ballads, poems, songs and epics. I wonder if you're struck by some kind of vocative curse, a querulous logorrhea with no outlets. I could not possibly be party to the unending string of infantile prose you thrash about our domicile, or clutter these folders with. You think that new is good, and more is better, but cannot sit down and enjoy the things you see. You have to change them, or create more, always complicating, never simply allowing things to be. You are pretentious, callow and castrating. A harpy in men's clothes. A stream of caffeine so thick runs through you that you would choose mindlessly copying poems onto grains of rice over even a minute's sleep. I want to choke you into unconsciousness, if only so I can be entertained ever so briefly without your infernal guilt trips leeching their way into my every pore. If only I could be free of your incessant droning, I might be content.