self portrait

Deformative action

The University of Illinois cops to what everyone knows. When it comes to college admissions, the wealthy and powerful benefit from a deformative action program that guarantees them spots in selective universities for which they would not qualify on merit.

This fact somehow gets lost in the debate about affirmative action. You know, the type of action in which people who merit an opportunity get an opportunity they otherwise would not due to their socioeconomic status.

Deformative bad. Affirmative good. Simple concept. Obvious truth. neh.

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Brooklyn story

This is sad. Chanequa Campbell, a gifted African American student from a poor, violent neighborhood in Brooklyn was told she would not be allowed to graduate this spring from Harvard and was forced to move off campus.

She was raised by a single mother in a blue three-story house in Bedford-Stuyvesant, and was set on a path to Harvard in fifth grade, when she was nominated to participate in Prep for Prep, a program that prepares minority students for elite schools. In seventh grade, she was admitted to Packer Collegiate Institute, where she excelled and was a star athlete. She won a New York Times Scholarship in 2005, applied to 14 colleges and was accepted to all of them.

Three weeks before she was scheduled to graduate, prosecutors reportedly linked her to a murder at her dorm. One of her friend's boyfriends killed a pot dealer in a botched robbery.

“Conversations that occurred between at least those four people led Jordan Copney to believe he could rip off Justin Cosby,” said the Middlesex County district attorney, Gerard T. Leone Jr. He also said that the Harvard students had provided the three men access to the campus.

Ms. Campbell was not charged with a crime and denies she was involved in the planning of the robbery or the murder. In an article in the Boston Globe, she denied knowing the pot dealer and letting anyone use her dorm access card. Harvard is not providing any details as to why she will not be allowed to graduate.

As you can no doubt imagine, the comments on the Globe story are mostly sick. It's getting to the point where the words "conservative" or "Republican" are synonymous with "racist moron." Those commenters, aside from the openly racist shit, whine on and on about "the race card." Now that Obama is president, no one is allowed to complain about racism any more, dontcha know.

But the old-fashioned don't question authority kind of conservatism comes out strong in that thread as well. Many simply cannot believe that Harvard would not take that kind of drastic action if they didn't know something they weren't telling. I admit to being somewhat susceptible to that argument, but I know better. Shit, as they say, flows downhill.How many times does a powerful organization find itself in an embarrassing position, look around for someone to blame and pick on the most powerless person available. So who's that gonna be? Chanequa from the hood or Brittany?

Of course I don't know. There's not enough information available to come to any kind of responsible conclusion on the justness, or not, of Harvard's actions. But no matter the outcome, this is a sad story in all too many ways.

I am familiar with Ms. Campell's educational background. Prep for Prep is an organization that picks the brightest minority students out of NYC's public schools and guarantees them placement in an elite private school. The prep part is two summers and the year in between in which sixth graders complete a grueling curriculum to catch them up with the kids in the private schools they will be entering. It is affirmative action, but not the kind that advances kids that can't hack it intellectually. Prep kids do very well in the top schools and belong at whatever university they choose to attend. Colleges want the top Prep kids because they are sure bets to succeed. After Prep, she excelled at a very good Brooklyn school, became a national merit scholar, and got into Harvard. Her parents and twenty relatives were planning on attending her graduation. I have some sense of what that would have meant to them and, try as I might, cannot imagine the devastation they must feel over what has happened. When a kid comes out of Bed-Stuy and aces Harvard, it's a very special thing.

And even worse, some poor kid died in a marijuana-related crime. This is yet another example ways in which prohibition destroys so many lives. The kid who died, his family, and possibly a very gifted young woman as well.

Katerskills falls

A few weeks ago I declared that I would go camping in the Catskills every weekend until October. You may think I'm crazy, but I have somewhat of a history with pronouncements like that. One summer I proclaimed that I would go camping on the beach in Mexico for the foreseeable future. Every weekend I got off work, picked up Jane Bob from the day care and hauled ass to the beach. 100 mph most of the way. We usually took a boat out to a sea lion rookery in the Sea of Cortez. If the sea was calm, I'd drink a lot of beer. If not, I'd lay on the deck and concentrate on not throwing up. Jane Bob spent most of the time hanging her head over the front of the boat and watching for dolphins. Once we got there we'd do some snorkeling and hang out with the sea lions. Yep. Those were pleasant days.

My soul-consuming hatred of New York City had abated significantly after visiting the midwest in the spring. I mean, sure, New York is a putrid hellhole, but it's a lot better than most the rest of the country. My all-too-understandable rabid hatred of the midwest trumps my sad-petty hatred of New York just about any day. My only real problem with New York is that I'm trapped in it. Who's fault is that. Not New York's. Obviously. But nevertheless, I hate it again.

What was I saying? Right. So every weekend I throw John Bob in the car and head up to the Catskills. But that's not gonna work. Not every weekend. I have photo commitments for a couple of Saturdays in June. Fourth of July I'm sure as hell not going anywhere. People and traffic are bad enough on a regular day. Holidays? No.

The Catskills are about 130 miles away. Two hours, right? But that's two hours plus whatever time it takes to get through New York City. Four hours is not unusual. Nightmare scenarios exist and regularly come to pass. In August, I've got to take Jane Bob on college visits. But I'm a gonna try. I'm a gonna try to get to the Catskills every weekend, to spend my days under cold waterfalls along Katerskills creek. I'm a gonna see some sunsets. Lot's of them. Follow the movements of the stars.

When's the last time I knew where Orion was going to be at any particular time. When's the last time I could predict where Venus would rise? Not since moving to New York. I can tell you that.

For a few d more

I saw "Up," you know, the new Pixar film, with John Bob today. It's a very well-made movie. Pretty much flawless. Except perhaps that it's too flawless. Maybe it could use a flaw or two. Regardless, those Pixar dudes sure know how to tell a story. Gotta love em for that. And enjoy it while it lasts. Cause you know that after the first flop Disney will be taking control and fucking everything up.

I also saw it in 3D. Not by choice. There was no choice at the local somewhat affordable theater. Pixar handled it well. The 3D was never annoying, at least not after the opening credits, and there were a few scenes where it worked very well. Those were subtle, not pointy things flying at the camera. The technology does give the director significantly more and better framing options.

The previews, however, featured upcoming 3D movies that were obviously horrible. Although Pixar did it well, my advice is to be very, very afraid for the future. Cause far and away the biggest thing that 3D enhanced was the price of the ticket. Added about $5, it did. Well, movies haven't been for the poor for awhile now. Pretty soon they won't even be for the middle class.

Education news

I hope you don't see me as one of those people who bore everyone with all the details of the lives of their kids. I only share Jane Bob's experience because it illustrates educational issues that are widely reported and discussed. And never fail to keep in mind that chuckling on-line magazine is a fictional publication. Any personal details may or may not be fanciful. Best to just assume they are.

Anyway, Jane Bob's SAT scores are in and she did okay. She took the PSAT before she started test prep. The PSAT predicts what a kid will get on the SAT. She scored 100 points higher than predicted. So in our case, the test prep was probably worth 100 points. That sounds about right. People who argue that test prep doesn't significantly favor those who take it claim it adds 10 to 30 points. Those who sell test prep claim it adds about 200.

In our case, that 100 points was the difference in being in the middle and being near the cut-off point for what it takes to get into the selective schools. That's a significant difference. A lot of people get left on the bottom side of that divide for lack of 100 points. If you care about getting your kid accepted into the selective schools, you really should consider some serious test prep. Not just a weekend. Several months, at least.

You probably aren't properly imagining how stupid I recognize this high stakes testing to be. Jane Bob spent five months going to a three hour class once a week and taking a practice test every weekend. If there were not big money involved, I wouldn't be able to think of a much worse way to spend that time. I really felt bad for her.

A lot of people don't realize this, I certainly had no idea as recently as a few years ago, but the most selective schools have far and away the best financial aid. Almost all of them are need blind. That means they accept kids based on their records with no consideration for ability to pay. If accepted, enough financial aid to get by is guaranteed. If you're not wealthy, Harvard is probably cheaper than Big State U. So for us, getting into one of those schools is not about prestige or ambition. I'm just hoping Jane Bob can come out of college without having sold her immediate future for student loans.

Memorial day

Room 208

A couple years ago my daughter Jane Bob was looking for something to read and asked me to recommend a book. This came as quite a shock because she'd always been hostile to any reading advice I might give. Now she was asking for it?

I looked across the book shelf and picked out "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami. She looked at me with undisguised disgust. It's like a gazillion pages. Don't worry, I said. You'll like it. It's like totally inappropriate for a kid your age. Really? Yea, really. Only a totally irresponsible parent would recommend that book.

So she took it and I forgot about it. A couple weeks later she gave it back. Did you like it? Yea, it was good. Thanks.

I liked it when I first read it, and then I read "Kafka on the Beach" and liked that as well. But over the years I got to wondering if Wind-up Bird was really that good. It was a page turner, sure, but was it great literature?

As someone who probably took a few too many English classes in college, I tend to consider whether or not someone is a great writer and if his or her work is great literature. What is great literature? Impossible to say, precisely, but it usually involves some combination of great writing and great insight into the human condition. Is Murakami a great writer? Is Wind-up Bird a great novel? I finally got around to reading it again.

Several years had passed and I found I didn't remember many of the story details. That happens a lot, I think, with page turners. You get so engrossed in finding out what's going to happen that you kind of skim important parts leading up to the resolution. But this time I was more interested in what it was "about" than in what was going to happen.

So, you read Wind-up Bird, I said to Jane Bob. What was it about? It's about a guy whose wife leaves him and he spends the rest of the book trying to get her back.

Wow, I said dumbfounded. I never thought about it that way. So what did you think it was about? she asked. You're supposed to be some kind of Mr. Literature aren't you? I don't know, I said. That's why I asked. I guess if it were a question on a test, I'd say something like it's an examination of Japan trying to move into the modern age while still mired in its supernatural heritage and lingering angst about the war.

What did she think about all the supernatural stuff? Really made it interesting. What did she think about all the WWII historical stuff? First she'd heard of it (her U.S. History class didn't even get to WWI), but it was interesting. Was it great literature? I don't know Dad, I'm leaving now.

After reading "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" again, I don't think it will prove to be great literature. Cause when you cut through all the supernatural and historical elements, it's simply about a guy whose wife left him and he's trying to get her back. The idea that heaven and earth play super complicated games that involve the lives of millions over some guy's missing wife is a bit too much.

But as always, I may be wrong. Murakami could well be like Miyazaki. Perhaps his references to the supernatural aspects of Japanese culture go over the heads of ignorant westerners and there is much more depth to the story than we can comprehend.

The New York Times had this to say. I don't know about any of that, but Wind-up Bird an enjoyable read and a good page turner. I guess time and more intelligent readers than I will ultimately determine its literary merit. Jane Bob, btw, has never asked me for another reading recommendation. My advice on that score: If your teen-aged daughter asks for reading advice, recommend something with significantly fewer than a gazillion pages. Maybe "Even Cowgirls get the Blues?"

Science news

That pic's from the Creationism Museum in Kentucky. Note how both the girl and the dinosaur have shit eating grins. Lot's daughters got nothing on that girl.

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Another study in contrasts

Back to our regular scheduled programming

I've mentioned that my daughter Jane Bob is preparing for college. She's currently mired in the insane test taking phase, but I'm trying to look ahead. We've been to a couple dog-and-pony shows. Representatives from five colleges give short speeches and then take questions. They are quite erudite, but you learn next to nothing about what it's like to attend any of those places.

Fortuitously, I found a very helpful book out on the sidewalk in front of a used bookstore on Court street. The author got to wondering how life at a residential college had changed since he went to school in the 60's. He spent time in residence halls at 12 colleges (including my alma mater) in (somewhat) diverse geographic regions. The book it titled “Binge.” It has two subtitles, or I guess one subtitle and one uber title. What do you call a blurb like a subtitle that actually goes over the title? Anyway, they add up to “Campus Life in an Age of Disconnection and Excess: What your College Student Won't Tell You.”

Sounds pretty scary, eh? Bingeing. Disconnection. Excess. Gotta sell books I guess. I'm surprised they didn't mention sex since sex is an important part of the book.
But although it's portrayed that way on the cover, the book is actually not alarmist at all, and only minimally judgmental. The author makes a good effort to accurately describe what it's really like to be in college these days, or at least what it was like in 2005, which is not so long ago.

The book is not, as the title suggests, primarily about excess drinking, but bingeing does get mentioned a lot and merits its own chapter. An interesting part explains how efforts to control alcohol consumption on campus have led to dramatically increased alcohol consumption. Since students can no longer be seen in public with alcohol, they now have to drink easily-concealable hard liquor rather than beer. And after they've smuggled the hooch into the dorm, they have to do their drinking before they go out. So they huddle quietly in little circles guzzling hard liquor as fast as they can. Plenty of stories detail the deaths of young people who had 20+ shots in a compressed time period. Prohibition always fails. Spectacularly.

And of course the book touches on the state of racial segregation, which is reportedly severe. I've read again and again, including in “Binge,” that every college has its “Black” table in the dining hall and that people of recent African ancestry are likely to catch some flack for not sitting at the black table. And not just a black table, but a variety of other separated tables. Apparently there is a good deal of segregation in roommate assignments as well.

I was talking about this with other parents and an African woman made some interesting observations. She had come to the United States and gotten an undergrad education at a rural college. She had dealt with the issue of dining hall segregation. She explained that she had lived in the foreign student dorm and sat at the foreign student table during meals. From that experience she understood the social forces resulting in the segregated table phenomenon. Every now and again, one of the foreign student regulars would try to assimilate with some white American table. The foreign student regulars would make “who does she think she is” type comments. There was a general feeling of condemnation. Not from the African woman, mind you, but she understood where they were coming from.

The African woman drew “why aren't you sitting with us” attention from the black table and felt like maybe she should sit there, at least on occasion. But it turned out she wasn't entirely welcome. She says there was an impossible-to-define tension she felt coming from the American blacks. She said that there was another level of segregation at the black table, based on the relative darkness of one's skin. She was pretty much always the blackest person in the room, so double cursed. She returned to her people at the foreign students table and soon moved off campus.

Dealing with that kind of shit is going to be challenging for Jane Bob. Here in Brooklyn, we live in a fantasy-like world of near color blindness. Jane Bob and her friends have a wide variety of skin tones, but they're all very similar socially. No one pays all that much attention to your skin tone round here. The African woman told a little story that brought that point home. She'd recently spent a few weeks out in the heartland. She said she was shopping in a mall and noticed someone looking at her, an African American woman about the same age. She realized that she and the other were the only black people in sight. The black woman smiled and nodded. The African woman returned the gesture. The African woman told us that she had lived in New York for so long that she had forgotten what it was like being a highly visible minority and she was surprised when she felt it again. Out in the sticks black people tended to acknowledge one another as kindred souls in a sea of other. Just like at the colleges. There was usually a black table at work. It wasn't the best way to organize a society, but it was apparently natural. At least in an otherwise unnatural environment.

As you can probably imagine, I'm starting to cop an attitude about all this college crap. Jane Bob's going to have to read the book and formulate a list of questions based on it. Then she can ask those questions at her college interviews and make her own decisions.

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Picture of the day

I don't know if I've ever told you that I'm a big Star Trek fan, but it's true. I'm one of those people who go to conventions and then dress up and wait in line for days before the movie opens. I've seen every episode of the original series like a gazillion times. I have an outfit like the robot Porrofatto, an obscure character with a caustic wit from one of the earlier episodes. Not many R. Porro's out there, I tell you what. Anyway, I stood in line all weekend, but unfortunately I was in the wrong line and didn't get into the opening. So I didn't see the movie until today after work. I took John Bob along because he hates Star Trek and I am an evil parent.

If you, too, are a serious trekkie and haven't seen it yet (hardly possible, I know)quit reading now. I'm about to give it all away. The new Star Trek movie tells the story of how the crew came together -- Jim, Bones, Spock, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura as very young people. Tears came to my eyes every time they hit a familiar note from the old show. I bawled on several occasions, like when Spock said "live long and prosper" or when Scotty said something along the lines of "She can't take it any more, she'll be breakin up." If Bones would have said "he's dead, Jim" I probably would have had to be institutionalized. It was bad enough as it was. My constant crying made others in the theatre uncomfortable.

But I did have several problems with the movie. For one, Kirk got beaten up constantly. He lost every fight he was in. It was like watching a twisted version of "The Passion of the Christ," only with a fictional character I cared about. William Shatner never would have lost all of those fights. And Uhuru chose Spock over Kirk. That would never happen. Not in 1968. Not ever. I tell you what. And the guy playing Spock from the future, Leonard Cohen I think, is way old. The plot? It turns out that all of the history of Star Trek as we know it was wiped out. A Romulan changed the timeline. Every episode we've ever seen never happened. Episodes? What episodes? It's all becoming cloudy. Star Trek Voyager? What the hell was that? William Shatner is a lawyer. Denny Crane, Denny Crane. It was all a bad dream. And now I'm awake. And in this timeline I am cool. Very cool. I don't dress up like anybody. Well, maybe like Joey Ramone, but not in a stupid green smock like before. Hallelujah. Great fucking movie. Changed my life.

And John Bob liked it. He wants to be Mr. Spock next Halloween. Not such a great idea. I tell you what.

Picture of the day

Wild Brooklyn.

Studies in contrast

Picture of the day

Picture of the day

I was flipping channels a few minutes ago and came across Chris Matthews arguing with Tom Tancredo, and losing badly, about creationism vs. science. Tancredo, an extreme right wing xenophobe, if not much worse, wiped the floor with Matthews. If I were more of an idiot, I might think that creationist argument makes a lot of sense.

I know, I know, Matthews is a clown but so are altogether too many other people on any particular issue, myself included. Still, a big time tv interviewer should be prepared to destroy a creationist. They're paid a lot of fucking money to prepare for these interviews. A high schooler should be able to tear the creationist a new asshole. Easily. Fuck man, in this day and age, the demonstrated ability to destroy creationist arguments should be a requirement for graduation. It's a low bar, granted, and I'm not saying it should be the only requirement for high school graduation, only one of many. But anyone who can't jump that minuscule hurdle should not be given a diploma. On a bad day I'd almost argue they shouldn't even have the right to vote. People who can't effectively argue with lame-ass creationist bullshit are too poorly educated to function responsibly in a democratic society. I know, I know, democracy is inherently non-exclusive. Wouldn't work any other way.

But what about the people who make those lame-ass bullshit arguments for creationism? Are they really that stupid? Or do they have other agendas? Are they just reeling in the rubes as a means to some other end? Or both?

Both, I'm sure, but I've noticed that the creationists talk about the horrors of the modern world almost as much, if not more than they talk about the inerrancy of the bible and their 6000-year-old earth theories. They really hate the modern world. Dinosaurs on Noah's ark get the kids through the doors, but the explicit message once they're in the door is that the modern world sucks. Wanna fix it? Visit the gift shop, you'll find all kinds of useful information. There are dinosaur toys for the kids. Dinosaur clothes for the little ones. Dinosaurs are so cute. Kids love them.

Creationists have clever-sounding arguments, exquisite logical fallacies, that appeal to the poorly educated. Simple answers to simple questions. They have training programs to help those so inclined make those simple argument. They go to training seminars. They buy training DVDs on-line. They learn how to make those simple arguments. Wanna fuck with them? They know what you're going to say and they have a well-practiced answer for that. And they count on you to publicly show respect for their religious beliefs. You have your opinion, they have theirs. If you are going to argue with them, you'd better be prepared with facts. Cause they are prepared for you.

You won't see them explain themselves so nakedly on national television, but in the deep recesses of their culture they phrase it this way: Beliefs are beliefs and we all have them. So when it comes down to it, who are you going to believe? The sad deluded souls rotting in this hell of a modern world or God? Who you gonna believe, huh? Lost souls? Evil people? Or God?

Picture of the day

We're living in a significant time. Great changes are possible and the consequences of missing these opportunities to change will most likely prove devastating. If history demonstrates anything it demonstrates that turning our fortunes over to greedy sociopaths is not a good move. Boom and bust cycles are predictable. Sustainable? No. My nephew works for an advanced business degree at Wharton. I know another guy who went to the same elite business-oriented school in Paris, also went to Wharton and became a successful derivatives trader. Both of them think highly of American freedom and capitalism, not that they make any differentiation between the two, and are happy to sing our praises to anyone who will listen. France? Nice place to grow up and get a fine education. The wine wine is fine fine and the dining as well. Socialist hellhole though. Can't make your billions there. Really sucks. Not like the U.S. where freedom is free and if you're smart they'll pay you for it. The graduates from Wharton and a few other top business schools dominate the financial markets. They've pocketed uncountable billions of dollars. Set for life, they are. Not just their own lives. Generations of their progeny. They'll fuck up anything, anything on earth or outer space, for that money. Those assets. The prestige. More than anything, the prestige. They need help.

Now is one of those rare moments of history when the sociopath greedheads have exposed themselves as the sociopath greeheads they are. They have demonstrated beyond any reasonable doubt that they care fuckall for anything not related to their net worth and that unconstrained, will destroy anything that crosses their paths. Unchecked, they'll destroy anything, even the world. An overwhelming majority of leading scientists are quite clear on this. Unchecked capitalism will destroy the world. For humans anyway. Never mind the billions of individuals that die from other species. The story ends the same way in too many fields of science.

Someone (responsible, you know, I don't mean me) needs to explain all this to humanity at large and the American people in particular so that we can enact checks and balances to stop these sociopaths from fucking everything up so badly. We need to use our tax and other financial laws to herd these types into less destructive avenues of attaining personal satisfaction. They could be carnies or something. Guess your weight. Three card monte. Not exactly respectable, but relatively harmless. Now is the time to make that argument. That greed is not good. Now, when just about everyone knows it's true.

Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to happen. We're going to give "greed is good" at least another chance or two to prove itself a utilitarian philosophy. To prove, against all evidence, that a rising tide lifts everything in the water.