From Scott Brown's review of the movie White Noise in the January 14 Entertainment Weekly:
"(Michael Keaton's) performance turns what might have been a rote horror exercise into a twitchy, mannered, and often amusing rote horror exercise."
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Lesbian Kissing
There, that should improve the number of hits I get today.
This article in today's New York Times about the networks' use of lesbian relationships during the sweeps week is what prompted the headline.
See, we serve a serious purpose here.
This article in today's New York Times about the networks' use of lesbian relationships during the sweeps week is what prompted the headline.
See, we serve a serious purpose here.
Learning something from the past
That's what they do at Archaeology magazine. The Jan/Feb edition features several excellent articles worth checking out, including a reconstruction of the lives of laborers on the Hacienda Tabi, a plantation in Mexico's Yucatan peninsula, as well as a history of board games amongst the upper classes of medieval northern Europe.
This is what history is about. The everyday lives and activities of people. And Archaeology does it in jargon-free way.
This is what history is about. The everyday lives and activities of people. And Archaeology does it in jargon-free way.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
And I thought E. M. Cioran was a pessimist
Here's the home page of VHEMT (pronounced Vehement), the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement.
Well, I'm doing my bit. How about you?
Well, I'm doing my bit. How about you?
Now who do I know who sounds like that?
A constant interest in the world of the psychopath seems to characterize C&S (see here and here), possibly due to the fact that this contributor's better half has regular encounters in her professional life with such individuals. Yesterday's New York Times featured an article (see here, here, and here) on whether or not the term 'evil' can be meaningfully applied to the behaviour of some murderers and touched on defining qualities of the psychopath:
"As part of an extensive, in-depth interview, a trained examiner rates the offender on a 20-item personality test. The items include glibness and superficial charm, grandiose self-worth, pathological lying, proneness to boredom and emotional vacuity. The subjects earn zero points if the description is not applicable, two points if it is highly applicable, and one if it is somewhat or sometimes true.
The psychologist who devised the checklist, Dr. Robert Hare, a professor emeritus at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, said that average total scores varied from below five in the general population to the low 20's in prison populations, to a range of 30 to 40 - highly psychopathic - in predatory killers. In a series of studies, criminologists have found that people who score in the high range are two to four times as likely as other prisoners to commit another crime when released. More than 90 percent of the men and a few women at the top of Dr. Stone's hierarchy qualify as psychopaths.
In recent years, neuroscientists have found evidence that psychopathy scores reflect physical differences in brain function. Last April, Canadian and American researchers reported in a brain-imaging study that psychopaths processed certain abstract words - grace, future, power, for example - differently from non-psychopaths.
In addition, preliminary findings from new imaging research have revealed apparent oddities in the way psychopaths mentally process certain photographs, like graphic depictions of accident scenes, said Dr. Kent Kiehl, an assistant clinical professor of psychiatry at Yale, a lead author on both studies."
Harvey Cleckley's Mask of Sanity uses similar criteria to define psychopaths, and better half says these are classic features (in bold above). Interestingly, there is a class element to this, insofar as well-heeled psychopaths can spend most of their lives undetected and making a decent foot of things, even thriving in their chosen fields, whereas psychopaths from poorer families are more easily identified, often because frustration at the dissonance between the reality of their everyday life and their estimation of their own self-worth can lead to violent acts against those they hold responsible for their circumstances, usually close family.
But then I can think of so many people who fit the bill. I'm pretty glib myself. And only superficially charming.
"As part of an extensive, in-depth interview, a trained examiner rates the offender on a 20-item personality test. The items include glibness and superficial charm, grandiose self-worth, pathological lying, proneness to boredom and emotional vacuity. The subjects earn zero points if the description is not applicable, two points if it is highly applicable, and one if it is somewhat or sometimes true.
The psychologist who devised the checklist, Dr. Robert Hare, a professor emeritus at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, said that average total scores varied from below five in the general population to the low 20's in prison populations, to a range of 30 to 40 - highly psychopathic - in predatory killers. In a series of studies, criminologists have found that people who score in the high range are two to four times as likely as other prisoners to commit another crime when released. More than 90 percent of the men and a few women at the top of Dr. Stone's hierarchy qualify as psychopaths.
In recent years, neuroscientists have found evidence that psychopathy scores reflect physical differences in brain function. Last April, Canadian and American researchers reported in a brain-imaging study that psychopaths processed certain abstract words - grace, future, power, for example - differently from non-psychopaths.
In addition, preliminary findings from new imaging research have revealed apparent oddities in the way psychopaths mentally process certain photographs, like graphic depictions of accident scenes, said Dr. Kent Kiehl, an assistant clinical professor of psychiatry at Yale, a lead author on both studies."
Harvey Cleckley's Mask of Sanity uses similar criteria to define psychopaths, and better half says these are classic features (in bold above). Interestingly, there is a class element to this, insofar as well-heeled psychopaths can spend most of their lives undetected and making a decent foot of things, even thriving in their chosen fields, whereas psychopaths from poorer families are more easily identified, often because frustration at the dissonance between the reality of their everyday life and their estimation of their own self-worth can lead to violent acts against those they hold responsible for their circumstances, usually close family.
But then I can think of so many people who fit the bill. I'm pretty glib myself. And only superficially charming.
You read it here first
Not Dead, Just Fossilized
With reference to the war in Iraq, I recently encountered this argument on another blog, which was gloating over some "pro-occupation" Iraqis’ rage at what they saw as imperialist attitudes of their Euro-American supporters:
“There is an inherent connection between national independence and individual autonomy; in colonial situations, the self-determination of peoples is contiguous with the self-determination of people. It is a sad reminder of how far we have fallen back that it is necessary to disinter these elementary lessons of Empire.”
My first thought was, “No, mate. What’s sad is seeing the same tired old categories still being applied as though they provide an incontrovertibly correct interpetation of events and prescription for socialist action.”
Nations are not individuals, they are imagined communites, and nationalism, above all, serves to disguise conflicting class interests (remember that line about the history of all societies being that of class struggle?). Members of a colonized nation are oppressed to the extent that their labour is exploited and their universal human rights denied; they do not possess some common mythical essence that requires independent expression through their ‘national being.’
Nor is there anything progressive about national liberation: As a movement, those who benefit most from it are society’s reactionary elements, such as the military, the church, and other forces that require of labour that it compromise its demands for the sake of the national good. (Of course, Marxist-Leninism doesn’t mind a bit of militarism. It'd militarize the factories if it could). Support for national liberation does not distinguish, moreover, between progressive and reactionary forces in a society that is always already riven with class conflict. Instead, it requires of us, as foreign, albeit internationalist, socialists, to reinforce and support social elements in the colonized nation that may happily slaughter or enslave labour once the ‘war of national liberation’ is won. What sense does it make for us to weaken the position of our class allies vis-a-vis their postwar enemies by bolstering the latter and their nationalist ideology, an ideology that is designed to disguise divergent class interests?
In some quarters that haven’t got past New Left 101, any war that involves the United States is de facto an imperialist war, notwithstanding the absence of a U.S. colonial administration in, say, Guatemala, Nicaragua, or Afghanistan, and hence the willingness of the Trots to support what they perceive to be the national liberation movement in Iraq.
The absence of a colonial administration has always previously been obviated by identifying the extant government as U.S. puppets; this is not to deny that there was always massive influence wielded by the U.S. government in order to defend U.S. interests, but this isn’t the same thing as an imperialist war or war of national liberation. Moreover, since the end of the cold war, there has been no need for “our bastards,” the puppets and dictators that, according to U.S. realpolitik, kept the Soviets at bay. Since then, the watchword has been transparency, and the U.S. has done everything in its power to engage in a "mopping up" operation, discarding those bastards that are bad for business.
Free-market capitalism wants guaranteed access to resources that the nepotism and corruption of Marcoses and Pinochets and Fujimoris prevent. Far better that economies, markets, and accountancy practices be open to scrutiny, as far as big business is concerned, because the multinationals always have the advantage when bidding for contracts. What so many of the old-fashioned anti-imperialists have failed to see is that democracy in the developing nations is no longer anathema to imperial interests. Indeed, it adds legitmacy.
Two old Marxists who've come round to understanding this are Hardt and Negri, whose book Empire, while horribly jargon-laden, does a pretty good job of dissecting the post-cold war world and distinguishing between imperial and imperialist behaviour.
For a valuable assessment of their book, I also recommend Andrew Flood's review, available in pamphlet form as a pdf file here. Print off as many as you can and circulate for discussion.
As for nationalism, I recommended Bookchin before, but here he is again.
“There is an inherent connection between national independence and individual autonomy; in colonial situations, the self-determination of peoples is contiguous with the self-determination of people. It is a sad reminder of how far we have fallen back that it is necessary to disinter these elementary lessons of Empire.”
My first thought was, “No, mate. What’s sad is seeing the same tired old categories still being applied as though they provide an incontrovertibly correct interpetation of events and prescription for socialist action.”
Nations are not individuals, they are imagined communites, and nationalism, above all, serves to disguise conflicting class interests (remember that line about the history of all societies being that of class struggle?). Members of a colonized nation are oppressed to the extent that their labour is exploited and their universal human rights denied; they do not possess some common mythical essence that requires independent expression through their ‘national being.’
Nor is there anything progressive about national liberation: As a movement, those who benefit most from it are society’s reactionary elements, such as the military, the church, and other forces that require of labour that it compromise its demands for the sake of the national good. (Of course, Marxist-Leninism doesn’t mind a bit of militarism. It'd militarize the factories if it could). Support for national liberation does not distinguish, moreover, between progressive and reactionary forces in a society that is always already riven with class conflict. Instead, it requires of us, as foreign, albeit internationalist, socialists, to reinforce and support social elements in the colonized nation that may happily slaughter or enslave labour once the ‘war of national liberation’ is won. What sense does it make for us to weaken the position of our class allies vis-a-vis their postwar enemies by bolstering the latter and their nationalist ideology, an ideology that is designed to disguise divergent class interests?
In some quarters that haven’t got past New Left 101, any war that involves the United States is de facto an imperialist war, notwithstanding the absence of a U.S. colonial administration in, say, Guatemala, Nicaragua, or Afghanistan, and hence the willingness of the Trots to support what they perceive to be the national liberation movement in Iraq.
The absence of a colonial administration has always previously been obviated by identifying the extant government as U.S. puppets; this is not to deny that there was always massive influence wielded by the U.S. government in order to defend U.S. interests, but this isn’t the same thing as an imperialist war or war of national liberation. Moreover, since the end of the cold war, there has been no need for “our bastards,” the puppets and dictators that, according to U.S. realpolitik, kept the Soviets at bay. Since then, the watchword has been transparency, and the U.S. has done everything in its power to engage in a "mopping up" operation, discarding those bastards that are bad for business.
Free-market capitalism wants guaranteed access to resources that the nepotism and corruption of Marcoses and Pinochets and Fujimoris prevent. Far better that economies, markets, and accountancy practices be open to scrutiny, as far as big business is concerned, because the multinationals always have the advantage when bidding for contracts. What so many of the old-fashioned anti-imperialists have failed to see is that democracy in the developing nations is no longer anathema to imperial interests. Indeed, it adds legitmacy.
Two old Marxists who've come round to understanding this are Hardt and Negri, whose book Empire, while horribly jargon-laden, does a pretty good job of dissecting the post-cold war world and distinguishing between imperial and imperialist behaviour.
For a valuable assessment of their book, I also recommend Andrew Flood's review, available in pamphlet form as a pdf file here. Print off as many as you can and circulate for discussion.
As for nationalism, I recommended Bookchin before, but here he is again.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Guinness has the same effect on me
December's issue of the Reader's Digest (yeah, what of it?) features a profile of Ashrita Furman, Guinness world record holder for the most world records, including the pogo stick distance record (he pogoed 11.5 miles up and down the foothills of Mount Fuji), pushing an orange with his nose for a 24-minute mile, and the most consecutive somersaults. We are told that Furman somersaulted 12.2 miles along Paul Revere's Massachusetts ride to win the title. He was vomiting by mile 10.
We are not told exactly what motivates Ashrita, but he does say one, rather odd thing: With each new pursuit, he achieves the joy he felt at mile 10 on Revere's route. "I connect with this tremendous surge of energy," he says.
That's not energy mate. That's yer dinner.
We are not told exactly what motivates Ashrita, but he does say one, rather odd thing: With each new pursuit, he achieves the joy he felt at mile 10 on Revere's route. "I connect with this tremendous surge of energy," he says.
That's not energy mate. That's yer dinner.
Catch-22 Updated
Prisoner Daryl Atkins, who won a landmark case in which the US Supreme Court ruled that mentally retarded prisoners could not be executed, could find himself back on death row because his IQ has improved as a result of working on his defence. Read about it in Andrew Buncombe's article from the Independent.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Mekons Make It Big!
A cover version of the Mekons' song "I Love a Millionaire" has gone straight in at Number 35 in the Irish singles charts. The performer is one Sweet T, otherwise known as 20-year-old Marie Hughes from Glenageary.
Now how does a nice girl from Glenageary end up covering a song by such reprobates as the Mekons?
"Lust corrodes my body.
I've lost count of my lovers.
But I could count my money.
Forever and forever."
Now how does a nice girl from Glenageary end up covering a song by such reprobates as the Mekons?
"Lust corrodes my body.
I've lost count of my lovers.
But I could count my money.
Forever and forever."
The Price of Genius
Having recommended the "Groundswell" exhibition at MoMA, I note in the January issue of Architectural Record that entrance to the museum is a hefty $20. Consider yourself warned in advance if you decide to go.
Friday, February 04, 2005
"Keep that nut away from me!" - God*
Turkish assassin Mehmet Ali Agca has sent a letter to the pope wishing him a speedy recovery from his current illness, according to the Turkish daily paper Vatan.
In the letter, Agca, who is serving a sentence for killing a Turkish journalist and a robbery, tells the pope, "You and I, we have both suffered in trying to spread religion around the world. I hope you regain your health in the near future."
and
"We are approaching the end of the world. This generation is the last generation. I hope God grants you strength and health."
It's nice to know people care. I particularly like "We have both suffered in trying to spread religion . . . etc." As Bill Hicks said, in another context, "Thanks to you, you fucker!"
* with apologies to Steve Bell. A very old joke.
In the letter, Agca, who is serving a sentence for killing a Turkish journalist and a robbery, tells the pope, "You and I, we have both suffered in trying to spread religion around the world. I hope you regain your health in the near future."
and
"We are approaching the end of the world. This generation is the last generation. I hope God grants you strength and health."
It's nice to know people care. I particularly like "We have both suffered in trying to spread religion . . . etc." As Bill Hicks said, in another context, "Thanks to you, you fucker!"
* with apologies to Steve Bell. A very old joke.
The Genius of John Hyatt
If you've ever sat down and enjoyed the sunshine in Manchester's Exchange Square and admired the tilting windmills there, you've been exposed to the work of the marvellous John Hyatt, former Three John and current member of the Suns of Potto, as well as the head of MIRIAD, the Manchester Institute for Research and Innovation in Art & Design.
The Exchange Square project is now being featured in an exhibition at New York's MoMA museum from February 25 to May 16th as part of the exhibition "Groundswell: Constructing the Contemporary Landscape." Do take it in if you're in the vicinity. Or you can get the catalog here.
The Exchange Square project is now being featured in an exhibition at New York's MoMA museum from February 25 to May 16th as part of the exhibition "Groundswell: Constructing the Contemporary Landscape." Do take it in if you're in the vicinity. Or you can get the catalog here.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Denial . . . Anger . . . Lawsuit
The January/February2005 edition of Psychology Today magazine features an article on ten false ideas still prevalent in the mental health professions—recovered memory, catharsis, codependency, and so on—including Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of dying. Kübler-Ross, who herself died last year, theorized that terminally ill patients go through five distinct stages of dealing with their impending doom: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Her theory was widely accepted, to the extent that terminally ill patients who did not follow this course were treated as abnormal.
Dissent in the face of this theory has been around for a while, but, according to the article, more recent research indicates that, in fact, many of the patients interviewed by Kübler-Ross before she originated her theory did not even know that they were dying. Moreover, these very sick people had been lied to by the hospital and by Kübler-Ross about their ailments. So when first told they were dying they denied it, and then when they discovered they’d been lied to, they got angry. Go figure!
The same issue, incidentally, features an article on how to identify a sociopath, discussed on C&S previously, and an interview with Gordon Rugg of Keele University on his scientific method known as Verifier, also discussed here.
Dissent in the face of this theory has been around for a while, but, according to the article, more recent research indicates that, in fact, many of the patients interviewed by Kübler-Ross before she originated her theory did not even know that they were dying. Moreover, these very sick people had been lied to by the hospital and by Kübler-Ross about their ailments. So when first told they were dying they denied it, and then when they discovered they’d been lied to, they got angry. Go figure!
The same issue, incidentally, features an article on how to identify a sociopath, discussed on C&S previously, and an interview with Gordon Rugg of Keele University on his scientific method known as Verifier, also discussed here.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
And if you don't release the prisoners, we'll tie him to a radiator
I thought this had to be a spoof. It's the funniest thing I've seen in ages.
It belongs in The Onion.
It belongs in The Onion.
Oops! I Did It Again
The one book I did manage to complete over the past few weeks slipped my mind entirely.
Goodbye to All That, by Robert Graves.
Odd that I should forget it, because Graves’s memoir of his time at public school and in the army during the First World War is, while obviously not unforgettable, a taut and significant description comparable to All Quiet on the Western Front, albeit from the perspective of a British officer rather than a German private. Moreover, that perspective couldn’t contrast more in attitude and philosophy to Erich Maria Remarque’s. Graves is an ex–public school officer who believes in the war, in the cause, and in the superiority of the British in general. Few qualms are expressed about the slaughter around him; Graves is not a tormented artist in the way that other war poets clearly were. Perhaps it's just that he is a less delicate flower than they. From my reading, though, I could not help but be reminded of Hugh Laurie’s lieutenant, George Colhurst St. Barleigh, in Blackadder Goes Forth. On occasion, Graves is little more than a better-educated version.
To be fair to Graves, around two-thirds of the way through the book he does begin to think that the war has passed its sell-by date, but only because he has learned that there had been peace feelers extended as early as 1915 with the possibility of negotiations on the basis of a return to the status quo ante, negotiations that were scuppered by Lloyd George. And although he begins around this time to consider himself a socialist, the book is littered with what would now be considered offensive offhand remarks about the Welsh, the Irish, and, particularly, the French.
But the book is significant precisely because it is a book of its time. It offers a genuine window into a particular period and the views of a particular class, whether or not that was Graves’s intention. It is also an amusing book; While the war is grisly and presented in all its gory detail, anecdotal oases appear throughout the narrative, such as the occasion when, thanks to a Morse Code typo, Graves’s home battalion is sent to Cork, not York, and this soon after the Easter Rising (I’m afraid even the humour has a colonial feel to it).
I notice that reviewers on Amazon almost universally adore this book. Despite its shortcomings, and its clear lack of impact on me, anyone who wants a better picture of the upper class at war should check it out.
Goodbye to All That, by Robert Graves.
Odd that I should forget it, because Graves’s memoir of his time at public school and in the army during the First World War is, while obviously not unforgettable, a taut and significant description comparable to All Quiet on the Western Front, albeit from the perspective of a British officer rather than a German private. Moreover, that perspective couldn’t contrast more in attitude and philosophy to Erich Maria Remarque’s. Graves is an ex–public school officer who believes in the war, in the cause, and in the superiority of the British in general. Few qualms are expressed about the slaughter around him; Graves is not a tormented artist in the way that other war poets clearly were. Perhaps it's just that he is a less delicate flower than they. From my reading, though, I could not help but be reminded of Hugh Laurie’s lieutenant, George Colhurst St. Barleigh, in Blackadder Goes Forth. On occasion, Graves is little more than a better-educated version.
To be fair to Graves, around two-thirds of the way through the book he does begin to think that the war has passed its sell-by date, but only because he has learned that there had been peace feelers extended as early as 1915 with the possibility of negotiations on the basis of a return to the status quo ante, negotiations that were scuppered by Lloyd George. And although he begins around this time to consider himself a socialist, the book is littered with what would now be considered offensive offhand remarks about the Welsh, the Irish, and, particularly, the French.
But the book is significant precisely because it is a book of its time. It offers a genuine window into a particular period and the views of a particular class, whether or not that was Graves’s intention. It is also an amusing book; While the war is grisly and presented in all its gory detail, anecdotal oases appear throughout the narrative, such as the occasion when, thanks to a Morse Code typo, Graves’s home battalion is sent to Cork, not York, and this soon after the Easter Rising (I’m afraid even the humour has a colonial feel to it).
I notice that reviewers on Amazon almost universally adore this book. Despite its shortcomings, and its clear lack of impact on me, anyone who wants a better picture of the upper class at war should check it out.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Dissatisfaction Guaranteed
Either restlessness, intolerance, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder has overtaken me in the past few weeks. Barely have I begun a book than I have discarded it as tedious, unneccesarily prolix, or just unexciting. Half-hearted apologies then for more inadequate reviews of books I haven’t read.
Mother Tongue, by Bill Bryson.
For this one, I plead mitigating circumstances. I lent this book, along with Steven Pinker’s The Language Instinct, to a friend whose daughter is just developing the linguistic skills at least partially explained in this book. All the same, it was no loss. I’d reached page 100 and was getting bored.
American Mischief, by Alan Lelchuk
I've only got myself to blame this time. I’d read a positive report of this book in a review of Tom Wolfe’s I Am Charlotte Simmons. The reviewer claimed that Wolfe’s book comes off second best. If true, I’ve been saved from reading two annoying books. I put this one down around page 60.
To the Finland Station, by Edmund Wilson
Not the first time I’ve picked up this book only to put it down again after the first chapter on Michelet and Renan. No doubt of great educational value, but written in such a dry and didactic style that it fails to inspire: it feels like it must be “improving” literature precisely because there is so little pleasure involved in reading it.
Kung Fu Cult Masters, by Leon Hunt
I’ve only read the introduction, on the train this morning, and it’s full of all the old film studies jargon about orientalism and ‘the body as metaphor’ that I thought I’d seen the back of when I finished my Master’s. I’m assured that it gets better as it goes on, however, and there’s more action in the main body of the text, sorry, film, no text.
On a lighter, and non-book note, this also arrived in the post today:
Glitter
Yes, that Glitter. The Mariah Carey movie. It's been impossible to get hold of for ages, otherwise I'd have got it much sooner. Either it was withdrawn from distribution after the farcical reaction it received, or else it was being so widely appreciated for its camp meretriciousness that production couldn't keep up. My brother assures me it is not “bad in a good way,” only “bad in a bad way.” I shall find out this weekend and report back.
Mother Tongue, by Bill Bryson.
For this one, I plead mitigating circumstances. I lent this book, along with Steven Pinker’s The Language Instinct, to a friend whose daughter is just developing the linguistic skills at least partially explained in this book. All the same, it was no loss. I’d reached page 100 and was getting bored.
American Mischief, by Alan Lelchuk
I've only got myself to blame this time. I’d read a positive report of this book in a review of Tom Wolfe’s I Am Charlotte Simmons. The reviewer claimed that Wolfe’s book comes off second best. If true, I’ve been saved from reading two annoying books. I put this one down around page 60.
To the Finland Station, by Edmund Wilson
Not the first time I’ve picked up this book only to put it down again after the first chapter on Michelet and Renan. No doubt of great educational value, but written in such a dry and didactic style that it fails to inspire: it feels like it must be “improving” literature precisely because there is so little pleasure involved in reading it.
Kung Fu Cult Masters, by Leon Hunt
I’ve only read the introduction, on the train this morning, and it’s full of all the old film studies jargon about orientalism and ‘the body as metaphor’ that I thought I’d seen the back of when I finished my Master’s. I’m assured that it gets better as it goes on, however, and there’s more action in the main body of the text, sorry, film, no text.
On a lighter, and non-book note, this also arrived in the post today:
Glitter
Yes, that Glitter. The Mariah Carey movie. It's been impossible to get hold of for ages, otherwise I'd have got it much sooner. Either it was withdrawn from distribution after the farcical reaction it received, or else it was being so widely appreciated for its camp meretriciousness that production couldn't keep up. My brother assures me it is not “bad in a good way,” only “bad in a bad way.” I shall find out this weekend and report back.
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