Boomer Petway's Smithsonian Exhibition

In case anyone ever checks this site any more, I have a new outlet for my shizz. Find it at The Big Green in the sex/healthz section.

http://thebiggreen.net

It is easy to forget how embarrassing high school can be. During a recent substitute teaching assignment, I was reminded of that fact when I attended a local high school’s Senior Day assembly, an embarrassing, Gong Show-like invitation for humiliation.

As my class entered the school’s auditorium, we were met by subtle manifestations of the anarchy that was soon to follow. Already the order envisioned and prescribed by the powers that be was proving to be a chimera. Students, who were expected to remain with their sixth hour class, began breaking off from their groups like so many sheep straying from the pack, searching for the greener grasses of their respective clique. We shepherds were rendered useless.

The embarrassment began promptly as seniors – two by two – walked the plank of the stage as their names were called. They were sometimes greeted with cheers, sometimes fits of laughter, and sometimes the crowds low-murmuring imitation of silence. All the symbolism intended – an individual’s movement into a new stage of life – was overshadowed by reminders of a sometimes debilitating social hierarchy. Instead of ushering in the future, the act dragged many students back into a past they’d likely rather forget.

What followed was an excruciatingly lengthy awards ceremony, broken up with musical performances by members of the senior class.

The awards allowed for several students to receive recognition for the intelligence and diligence that most likely ostracized them socially, but more often than not these students’ achievements were celebrated with cackles and insults from the underclassmen. After one student, an overweight female, won an academic award, a girl behind me joked, “They should give an award for the fattest ass.”

The same girl also opined that Debbie (name changed) should win the Most Annoying award for her two admittedly sub-par vocal performances. Debbie reminded me not only of the humiliation one can passively be subjected to in high school, but also of many high schoolers’ tendency to willingly put themselves in awkward situations. I fronted a musically-challenged punk band when I was in high school, so I can relate to the cringe-inducing naiveté of young performers. As Debbie began her first number, an American Idol-like karaoke duet with a friend, I felt embarrassed for her. Wearing a low-cut, medium length dress (most likely bought specially for the occasion) Debbie belted out slightly off-key notes with all the gusto of a William Hung. To make matters worse, the backing track began to lose faith in her as well, and was soon reduced to stuttering and skipping before the sound man stopped the CD, cutting the performance short. Amazingly, Lisa kept herself composed; and, after another slew of awards no one cared about, returned with a somewhat better acapella rendition of a song from “Phantom of the Opera.”

After yet another series of unnecessary awards, including the Elks National Foundation Most Valuable Student Scholarship and the Daughters of the American Revolution Good Citizen Award (seriously), an un-named rock band took the stage. Like any bad high school band, the four members of the group displayed bravado in their wardrobe choices, but not in their stage presence. After it became obvious to the audience that only one (maybe) member knew how to play his instrument, laughter from the seats led to red faces on stage. I couldn’t help but be reminded of myself when I observed the bass player: mowhawk, cut-off jeans, and high-top All Stars unsuccessfully covering up myriad anxieties and insecurities.

The assembly itself was an embarrassment. It was unnecessary, hurtful, and ultimately boring. But more troubling than those two and a half hours are the greater problems that the assembly symbolizes: time killing as substitute for education and students who don’t know how to handle themselves properly.

The time wasting was not limited to the three hours in the auditorium that day. Countless hours undoubtedly went into the planning of the assembly (one envisions multiple committee and departmental meetings), and a half hour was left over at the end of the day that students were required to waste back in their sixth-hour class. While school-wide and school-sanctioned time wasting such as this isn’t a regular occurrence, it can be seen on a smaller scale daily in individual classrooms. After a year of substitute teaching, I cannot tell you how many times I was paid to waste time: show a movie, pass out a cross-word puzzle, supervise an impromptu study hall. While several teachers did leave quality lesson plans, and others left these time-wasters because they did not trust in the abilities of a substitute, more often than not the lesson plan represented a trend rather than an exception. These simple plans often made my job easy (who wouldn’t want to get paid to watch taped episodes of “American Choppers?”), but they also began to worry me. Several times, while witnessing what appeared to be a comfortable and practiced malaise in students, I would ask them what they usually did in class. Their responses would regularly be to the effect of oh, we never do anything in here; and, despite the tendency of students to lie to substitutes, I often felt they were telling the truth.

So what has happened to our system that it allows such infuriating practices to continue? In the case of this assembly one could reasonably conclude that the administrators of the school inadvertently endorse such practices by engaging in these school-wide time wasters. Or perhaps, as someone who has sat through more than one woefully inefficient, ineffective teacher’s union meeting can attest, teachers are being over-protected to the point where the administration has no effective mechanism for censuring those who regularly fail to make their students’ education a priority.

Or maybe it’s the students. Maybe teachers have reverted to time wasters because when they attempt anything more constructive they are met with rampant opposition from disrespectful, uninterested students. Senior Day certainly lends credence to this theory. Young people who ‘excelled as students were subjected to the ridicule of those who hadn’t.

From where then do these behaviors originate? Explanations abound. The original sin theory posits that humans are simply born with the ability to be mean. In education circles, there is a train of thought ascribing poor behavior to poor teaching. Engage a student, they argue, and their behavior will improve. But at this assembly, I, like most students, was bored out of my mind. Yet I didn’t start cat-calling and mocking those on stage like many students did. Groupthink, perhaps? Many would argue this behavior is learned at home and that often students’ poor behavior, and consequently poor school performance, is a result of bad parenting. Personally, I’ve been developing a theory centered on young peoples’ identity – how they see themselves as basketball player, as computer nerd, as freestyle rapper, as bad-ass, but rarely as student.

Many theories address what happened at the Senior Day Assembly, but none fully explain it. Whether it is the system, the kids, or the combination of the two is unclear. What is clear is that this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening. As I edit the rough draft of this essay I am sitting in the technical drawing lab in a high school located in an affluent suburban district. Self-motivated students are quietly working in an auto-cad program, respecting me, each other, and focusing on their learning. There are students, teachers, classes, and even districts that have it right, but for every successful architectural design class there is no doubt a Senior Day: an embarrassment.

Furor and indignation continue to mount as Christians brace for the theatrical release of the evil spawn of Ron Howard and Dan Brown: The Davinci Code. As reported on this site, last week saw the Vatican officially renounce the film. This week, Movieguide.org's founder Dr. Ted Baehr sent an open letter to Christians similarly urging a boycott of the movie.
___________________________________

WE CHOOSE NOT TO SUPPORT BLASPHEMY

An open letter to Christians and people of good will about the upcoming film, The Da Vinci Code

We the undersigned are on record that we will not buy movie tickets for the film, The Da Vinci Code. The director Ron Howard has promised he is being faithful to the bestselling novel as he adapts it to the big screen. That means the movie will likely be blasphemous, just as the book is.

The book is a novel but in telling its story, it makes massive claims about Jesus Christ -- that He was not divine, that He was secretly married, and that the “New Testament is false propaganda.” We recognize that while the movie may give Christians a good opportunity to talk about faith issues, millions of people -- not familiar in the least with the Gospels -- could be spiritually poisoned with “false propaganda” against Christ. This is especially true of children.

Since every movie ticket purchased is a VOTE, saying, “Yes, Hollywood, make more movies like this!,” we choose not to buy a ticket for this movie. We choose not to support the blasphemy. While recognizing this is an issue of conscience and that people of good will may differ on how to approach the film, this is how we choose to act. And we ask Christians and all people of good will to consider doing likewise.

P.S. -- If you need more information to be familiar with the story to intelligently discuss it with your parishioners or acquaintances, please seek out good information. These sites will help you: www.thetruthaboutdavinci.com and www.davinciantidote.com. Or get the Da Vinci Code White Paper at www.movieguide.org.

Signed:
Dr. Ted Baehr
___________________________________

The Davinci Code White Paper mentioned above in the open letter really hits the mark with its scathing vitriol. The question it poses is an important one:

"In less than two months, war on Christianity will be declared. On which side of the battle line will you stand?"



Links:
http://www.humaneventsonline.com/article.php?id=14572
http://www.movieguide.org/?s=Books&s1=ViewBook&_id=8

Parents take notice: your children are not safe. This month marks the North American release of the film The Davinici Code, a film that the Vatican asserts contains “slanderous” offenses against Christianity and, more specifically, Jesus.

The film is an adaptation of the 2003 bestselling pulp novel by Dan Brown in which rumor was presented as fact. The novel has been described by Professor Patrick Reilly as “a farrago of nonsense” written in an “execrable style.” In the novel, Brown argues that Jesus did not actually die on the cross in order to save humanity, but rather fornicated with the holy Mary Magdalene, produced children, and lived out the rest of his days as a mere mortal.

Not surprisingly, the church is concerned. The fear is that the movie will result in a wave of dangerous speculation, according to Father Raniero Cantalamessa, Preacher of the Papal Household. Much like the supposed discovery of the unauthenticated gospel of Judas, the film may cause people to seriously think about their beliefs, and perhaps even reconsider them. In a time of moral uncertainty, rising secularism, and rap music the last thing people should be doing is speculating.

One doesn’t need look far to see how easy it is to fall into the trap that speculation lays. Within the church, there are already those who appear mistakenly ambivalent about the film. “The Da Vinci Code might be a bad thing or a good thing for Christianity,” says Reverend Robin Griffith-Jones, who even went so far as to accept payment from the film crew in exchange for the use of his temple as a location for filming. He is not alone; deacons at both the Winchester and Lincoln cathedrals allowed Ron Howard’s film crew access to their holy interiors in exchange for money.

The result of these transactions could be a dramatic decline in believers. “Many people have taken this book very seriously. They believe it to be a new gospel truth, as it were, even though what Dan Brown says is actually a travesty of the truth” says Archdeacon John Guilles. The fear is that things will only get worse with the release of the film. Griffith-Jones, who already seems to have fallen under the spell of the movie before it has even been released, claims that “Films are extraordinarily captivating. They have a much more immediate impact than books, and leave an unforgettable image printed on your mind.”

People of faith are beginning to speak out. The Vatican has called for a boycott of the film, and several action groups have sprung up in an effort to discount this gospel according to Dan Brown. Several churches and cathedrals have hosted lectures debunking Brown’s claims, and a coalition of Christian churches has founded Davinci Outreach, a program that aims to proactively discount the Brown myth. Amy Welborn has been one of the most vocal opponents of the Davinci Code, publishing two Davinci-related books, De-Coding Da Vinci: The Facts Behind The Fiction and The Da Vinci Code Mysteries: What The Movie Doesn’t Tell You.

The challenge, according to Welborn, is engaging with these audiences in a meaningful way. “To be honest there is not much that an intellectual discussion is going to do to change these people’s minds. They are truly True Believers and largely immune to reason.” Amen to that.

Links (actually pretty good reads):
http://www.religionnewsblog.com/14471/The-Da-Vinci-Code--Christianity-fights-back
http://www.religionnewsblog.com/14467/Vatican-calls-for---Da-Vinci-Code---boycott

Long held up as the defining form of Christian transportation, the supremacy of the Pope Mobile is being challenged by a newcomer with revelatory name: the Porn Mobile, which is literally the driving force behind XXXChurch.com’s anti-pornography crusade.

And the competition has only just begun. In the April 15, 2006 edition of The Grand Rapids Press, Craig Gross, who owns and drives the Porn Mobile, announced that 2007 would see an even bigger and better Porn Mobile. The plan, which sources say is already underway, is to replace the existing model (a black Scion xB) with a 2007 Toyota FJ Cruiser. Gross, who is bracing for West Michigan winters after moving from California, cited the Cruiser’s four-wheel capabilities as one of its primary selling points.

The Pope Mobile has seen some changes in recent years as well, converting pagans even as it was converted from a Mercedes-Benz G-Class to the more contemporary ML-Series. While these style changes are noticeable, the function of the Pope Mobile necessarily limits its fashion. It is this function, however, that has earned the Pope Mobile the status of the supreme.

Both the Pope Mobile and the Porn Mobile seek to be vehicles of the word. Their efficacy can only truly be defined in terms of their ability to spread the gospel. The Pope Mobile, which routinely bears witness to hundreds of thousands of people, remains the most prominent and dominant automobile in the church.

The Porn Mobile is gaining ground however. In 2005 the Porn Mobile crossed the country. The climax of the crusade occurred in January, when the Porn Mobile made a stop at Mars Hill Bible Church in Grandville, MI. There, a throbbing crowd of over 13,000 faithful snapped to attention to hear Gross’ “porn pandemic” gospel.

The Vatican has remained tight lipped, or perhaps unaware of, the Porn Mobile, but if they intend for the Pope Mobile to remain the leader in Christian transportation, they would be wise to take notes.

Yeah for me. I got into grad school.

Finding myself with little cash and even less motivation, I decided to spend a good old-fashioned night in front of the tube. Specifically, I devoted almost four hours to watching the spectacle which is The Grammys. Years ago, with the award ceremony falling more and more out of touch with good taste in music, who actually won the silly awards became irrelevant. Instead, the ceremony has maintained its relevance by promoting spectacle, encouraging the performing “artists” to satiate their most outlandish desires – whether it be through elaborate stage performances or oft-times heterogeneous pairings of stars. This orgy of whimsy and ego often actually proves to be interesting to watch, much in the same way that bystanders will often curiously gaze at a burning car or wrecked train. Last night did not prove to be an exception. For no one’s edification but my own, here are the things that I found interesting about last night’s ceremony:

Madonna with The Gorillaz – The event started off with the most confusing pairing of the night. Madonna donned a late 80’s workout suit, featuring spandex and no legging. I suppose she was going for irony, but it isn’t ironic when you actually ARE middle aged. Due to poor reception on my television, I was actually unsure how The Gorillaz came to life. They appeared to either be puppets or cartoons appearing on life-sized television screens. Hologram technology may have played some role (that’s a joke). At one point Madonna walked behind one member of the band, and then in front of another, leaving the viewer to ponder how that feat was achieved so fluidly if, in fact, the images of the band were appearing on a screen. All things said and done, the collaboration was curious, but musically lackluster.

Paul McCartney – McCartney seemed to be the everyman of the evening, playing the piano, seriously rocking out, joining Jay-Z and Linkin Park on stage for another unlikely collaboration, and peddling credit cards via commercial breaks. As an Album of the Year nominee, Sir Paul was granted significant stage time. He used this time to play two songs. The first was “Fine Line.” It sounded old and slagging, much like McCartney himself. However, with his second song he sold himself to the young rockers watching at home by blowing the crowd away with the all-out rock of “Helter Skelter.” Old man seriously rocked, and by the end of the song he was in rare vocal form. Only a short time later, he joined Jay-Z and Linkin Park (ugg) on stage, once again seemingly selling himself to the youth. I’m still undecided whether McCartney overextended himself, or convincingly sold himself to a new generation of fans. In either case, he certainly reasserted himself into the viewers’ consciousnesses.

Mariah Carey – Mariah convincingly reclaimed the title of worlds-biggest-diva by outshining rival Mary J. Blige. Blige joined U2 on stage, hoping to recapture some of the magic that (legend has it) spontaneously took place in concert only a few months ago. This time around the magic was missing. Blige and Bono just couldn’t seem to stay in the same register, and at times seemed to be singing different songs. Mariah replaced the worlds biggest rock band with the tried and true gospel choir, and proceeded to throw down the diva gauntlet in a performance that will be remembered in diva circles for years to come.

Sly Stone – By far the oddest moment of the night occurred when Sly Stone, who has been out of the public eye for years, took the stage wearing a white/sparkly coat and pants, name engraved belt, black shades, and a giant white Mohawk (see picture above, courtesy of Stereogum.com). I’ve been getting into a few Family Stone albums, and I was psyched to see Sly. The most recent exposure I had to him was via youtube, where I watched a hilarious yet troubling 1970 appearance of his on The Dick Cavett Show. From the moment Sly joined Cavett on the set, it was clear that dude was cracked out of his mind. He could barely walk a straight line to his seat, and proceeded to give one of the most awkward and nonsensical interviews I’ve ever seen. Apparently, the reason Sly has been out of the public eye is because he has been continuously cracked out ever since. After a slew of musicians, including Joss Stone, John Legend, Maroon 5, will.i.am, Santana and Aerosmith, played a medley of Family Stone songs, Sly finally joined them out on stage. He proceeded to man a keyboard and quietly mumble along while Aerosmith and Santana rocked one of his jams. Word has it that as the show approached Sly was nowhere to be found. He eventually arrived and took the stage, but my guess is dude was off getting his crack on.

Kanye West – Kanye lived up to the megalomaniac hype when he and Jamie Foxx performed, what they referred to as, The Grammy Halftime Show. Complete with marching bands and ludicrous outfits, West seemed to once again prove that his ego, vision, production, and songwriting dwarf his actually ability behind a live microphone. Although Kanye can undoubtedly turn a phrase, he has come off sounding nervous and weak behind the microphone the three or four times I have seen him live. I think that is actually what makes Kanye so endearing to me. He is apparently an egomaniac, who obviously has the lyrical and production skills to back up his claims to notoriety. But behind the façade of street cred, Kanye seems to have a vulnerable and sensitive side that his live performances testify to. The same could be said about his lone acceptance speech of the night. His outfit was the ludicrous yet awesome ensemble you would expect a hip-hop narcissist to don. But when he took the stage he made a funny (in my mind) yet stupid joke that no one in the audience got, and proceeded to sound timid and nervous. If you’ve ever actually seen his Hurricane Katrina diatribe, you’ll know what I mean; his voice shakes and he sounds sincerely timid. The “bad joke” which I refer to was hilarious in its self-referential nature. After last year’s awards everyone assumed that Kanye was going to blow up if he didn’t win. In fact, he had publicly stated that he expected to win this year and would feel ripped off if he didn’t. After winning the first award that he had been nominated for, Kanye stepped on stage and humbly announced something to the effect that he had not expected this, and barely had time to think about an acceptance speech. As he did this he pulled an over-sized card from his jacket that was emblazoned with a large “Thank You List” on the back. In other words, he acted humble, yet made fun of himself by bringing this way-too-large (i.e. just like my ego, “y’know I knew I’d win”) card with him on stage. Classic Kanye. It was the only award he won.

Living just around the corner from Cherry Hill Market, I’ve found myself frequenting said establishment at a steadily increasing rate. This has invariably led to a growing familiarity with the employees of the market, and I now find myself on friendly terms with several of the cashiers. In particular, I find myself beginning to develop a man-crush on one of the employees who seems like friendship material, and have lately begun to engage with him in conversation centered around our shared interest in music. Unfortunately, a social barrier has developed between us because of his insistence in calling me Paul (apparently a quick glance at my license months ago yielded only a familiarity with my middle name) and my inability or fear to correct him after a few months of letting it slide. While social barriers seem to constitute an increasingly large portion of my existence, barriers in other areas have been breaking down all over the world. Two days ago I noticed my cashier-acquaintance wearing a T. Rex shirt – a band that I had recently been introduced to via a hard-drive music swap with a friend. The previous week this cashier and I had been partners in a short but lively conversation regarding the Euro-metal band Dungen, and I now found myself hoping to have a similar conversation about T. Rex. Problem though – I knew nothing about the group and only had heard a single album of theirs one time. So I raced home, added the folder to my itunes library, hit play, opened two tabs in Firefox, and proceeded to become an expert overnight. Barriers be damned!

Let’s trace and investigate how this expertise was attained (see diagram above). Several months ago I was invited by a friend to an invite-only bitTorrent site which instantly began to foster a relationship between my hard-drive and my impulses/desires. Two months later, after uploading 10 gigs to other users, I was granted three invites myself. One of them I relegated to my friend Andy, who has proceeded to take advantage of the sites wealth of music, including recently an early glam band named T. Rex. Enjoying the album, he recommended that I copy it to my external hard-drive which I had brought to his apartment for just such a purpose. Having returned the hard-drive to my computer, I was able to instantly add the music to my itunes library, play it, and upload it to my ipod which I listen to now as I write at a teacher’s desk in Northview High School (where I am working as a Substitute teacher today). So I had/have the music. But expertise required the ingestion and digestion of some background material. Hungry for such information I opened Firefox. Thanks to All Music Guide and Google, an amazing wealth of knowledge was made immediately available to me. So now, as I sit behind this teacher’s desk, I am able to listen to T. Rex on my ipod while mulling over the fact that T. Rex was the “primary force in glam rock” and that their popularity in the U.K. led to a period of “T. Rextasy” amongst fans, or that the groups leader, Marc Bolan, was a teenage model before forming the band (now that’s glam!). Thank God for the flat world.

Flat World you ask? I thought Aristotle had cleared up that debate years ago (according to the world flattener Wikipedia, in the 4th Century BC Aristotle was the first to provide physical evidence that the world was round). That the world has become flat is the central premise of Thomas L. Friedman’s new bestseller “The World is Flat.” A friend of mine – a burgeoning young global capitalist – recently lent me a copy of Friedman’s latest opus. Friedman, who has won three Pulitzers for his journalistic investigations of globalization, uses a clear and simple style to lay out his argument that several factors, including the comprehensive fiber-optic wiring of developing nations such as India (and yes, China!), have combined to level the global playing field – in effect flattening the world. According to Friedman, big businesses now have new markets and employees they can utilize, while small companies can network cheaply and throughout the world as if they were giant corporations. No longer is it impossible for an Indian company to collaborate directly with companies in larger markets. In fact, the process has become surprisingly easy. While Friedman’s style is simple and direct, his investigation leads to complex and often troubling questions about the future of The United States and the world.

The strengths of “The World is Flat” are found in its first half – in the investigation and subsequent reporting of facts, forces, and players that have contributed to this undeniable flattening effect. Perhaps the most interesting examination of the forces that “flattened” the world relates to the wiring of the world and India’s rise to outsourcing superpower via strategic capitalization on Y2K related services.

In the midst of the tech boom of the late nineties, telecommunications companies massively over-invested in fiber-optic wiring. These companies were banking on the boom continuing. For better or worse, it didn’t, and many companies, trying to recoup some of their losses, sold either the wire or the right to use it at bargain-basement prices. The result? The world was wired and communicating cross-world became more effective and affordable. Nowhere was the effect of this wiring more apparent than in India. As Y2K approached, many American companies were receiving apocalyptic forecasts of massive computer and infrastructure malfunctioning due to a short-sighted two-digit year designation in many computers’ internal clock. The process of fixing the perceived problem – manually reprogramming each computer’s internal clock – proved to be grunt work. Many companies soon found willing grunts in the form of young Indian programmers. And when India proved to be full of workers who were both efficient and accurate, American companies grew confident in the relationship. As a result, the outsourcing of numerous services and tasks found a new home in India. Today, when you call Dell’s customer service line and find a polite, well-educated Indian on the other end of the call, you have Y2K to thank.

During the first half of Friedman’s book, the reader cannot help but raise questions to him/herself – What about the U.S.? How does or will this effect ME? What about the human-rights violations seemingly inherent to the manufacturing process in these developing nations? Should I abandon Arts and Letters and instead get an education in Business or Computers? If I don’t will I be left behind? Is this a movement that I am okay with not being a part of? Would I be better off a luddite? Etc? And Friedman’s book should end when the reader is led to these questions. Instead, he trudges on for another two hundred pages in an attempt to provide some answers.

I’m not going to make the same mistake and attempt to provide any answers here. But perhaps it is time that we, as a nation, begin an honest dialogue regarding the apparently exponential effects of globalization. To this point, the conversation has been sputtering on the smoke-screen fumes of rhetoric, with both Republicans and Democrats trying to appease our country’s manufacturing base with unrealistic assumptions of the exclusivity of and rights to previously American jobs. A global market necessarily renders this rhetoric ludicrous and out of touch. Perhaps, as Friedman posits, we need to begin to debate “how” we globalize as opposed to “whether” we globalize. There is still a role for activism in this process, the arguments just need to become more mature and relevant.

In the meantime, I face a dilemma. Having broken down the necessary knowledge barriers between myself and T. Rex, I now face the social barrier of a real-life discussion with a certain local booze-peddler. If only Cherry Hill Market had a broadband connection, email, or even video conferencing. I bet the liquor stores in metropolitan China do! C’mon guys, the world is flat.

I now will subject you, the reader(s?) to banal commentary about random topics such as Don Cheadle, conspiracy theorists, why I actually should have built that Y2K bunker, a drama queen, and a pesky and prudish notion of the absolute.

* Today I went and saw Paul Rusesabagina speak at The January Series at Calvin College. He proved to be a decent speaker, who was able to communicate his can’t-miss-being-compelling tale fairly effectively. I felt embarrassed to be there. I know so little about so many of the terrible things that go on in the world, and I do so little to combat those things from happening. Prior to his speech, my mother kept trying to recall the bits and pieces of Hotel Rwanda that were still synaptically accessible in her aging head muscle. She prodded me to contribute and I refused. I quietly explained that I was terribly embarrassed that my knowledge of this mass genocide (which, incidentally, is one of many similar atrocities still taking place in Africa today) was limited to a popular film starring Don Cheadle.

* I’ve never been one for conspiracy theories. My roommate is a theorist of sorts, and a few of his friends might be considered die-hards. Much of my skepticism stems from the obvious fact that many of the theories are ludicrous, but perhaps the true source of my skepticism stems from the fact that I simply don’t think people are smart enough, cunning enough, or ambitious enough to actually pull off some of the schemes that those like Alex Jones detail on popular conspiracy theorist websites such as Info-Wars. Many of these theorists are obsessed with civil liberty violations and attacks on personal autonomy – and these are certainly worthwhile causes. For several years the reoccurring theory of George W. Bush as a truly evil, manipulative, and ultimately power-hungry would-be tyrannical dictator has been circulating amongst these sites. Obviously, legislation such as the Patriot Act lent some credence to these claims. But to me, GW was still merely the stumbling epitome of buffoonery that appeared incapable of such dictatorial aspirations. UNTIL RECENTLY. This whole NSA wire-tapping scandal has really forced me to reexamine GW, and perhaps more fittingly, the conservative machinery that is operating behind the scenes. Further emblazoning these fires of conspiracy claims is potential Supreme Court Judge Samuel Alito’s comments on the topic of Unitary power. WTF?, right? This dormant and understandably forgotten constitutional (???) presidential power has apparently been refashioned by the Bush administration to justify a presidential bypass of checks and balances. Add to that the now open dissatisfaction of Bush towards the McCain Torture legislation, and you’ve got yourself a real-life Big Brother. If only I had actually built that Y2K Bunker the conspiracy theorists were all recommending five years ago, perhaps I might actually have use for it in the near future.

* Last night my friend Andy and I discussed Jens Lekman for at least an hour, possibly more. His latest album, a collection of previous work entitled Oh You’re So Silent Jens, is quickly becoming one of my favorite albums. Lekman simultaneously evokes comparisons of Jonathan Richman (smile and confirm) and Conor Oberst (wince and nod in admission). Like Richman, Lekman is a born conversationalist and song writer; he’s funny, charming, and insightful. His genius lies in his ability to craft intimate portraits of universal dilemmas and ennui. And like Oberst, he and his songs regularly suffer from overly melodramatic lovelorn bouts of melancholia. Confirming this comparison is the fact that in a recent interview with Pitchfork the sensitive artist began the interview by melodramatically stating his intention to quit making music and perhaps resume a career as a telemarketer, only to conclude the interview with an about-face admission that new music will inevitably be made in the near future. As Andy put it, he came off as a “drama queen.” Regardless, Oh You’re So Silent Jens is great. He is only 24 (what a youngster!), so perhaps the dramatic tendencies will soon give way to banal contentment, although that doesn’t sound very pleasing either.

* The James Frey saga continues to intrigue. Frey appeared on Larry King Live and during the show Oprah called in to voice her support for Frey, stating that his book was still an excellent read despite its blatant fallacies (my words – not hers). I still refuse to subscribe to that sort of reasoning. Perhaps it’s the prudish belief in the absolute that I was brought up with and just can’t seem to shrug off. Or maybe it is just because I don’t have a lot of patience for assholes or the unauthentic.

This holiday season James Frey seemed to play an increasingly large role in my life. No, I hadn’t actually read his Oprah acclaimed “Memoir” A Million Little Pieces, but I had been recommended the book by no less than three people, bought the book for my Sister-In-Law per her Christmas request, and perused Frey’s new book at Schuler’s one day. So much exposure and so much hype made me a little wary, so I chose to hold off on reading it. It turns out my procrastination has paid off, as Frey has been outed as a fraud.

My mother, a therapist, was particularly fond of the book because of its frank portrayal of a man in the grasp of substance abuse, and while Frey certainly may have been ingesting an illegal substance now and then, it appears he grossly exaggerated or down-right fabricated many details of his story. So, who cares? If it’s a good read, it’s a good read, right? I don’t know. According to The Smoking Gun article, Frey actually tried to sell an even more outlandish version of his manuscript as fiction, but could not find any publishers that were interested. He then revised the manuscript, marketed it as non-fiction, and found a buyer fairly quickly. In other words, his story was so unbelievable that it was not even marketable as fiction. As non-fiction however, and not without the help of Oprah Whinfrey mind you, Frey’s book struck the heart-chords of millions of Americans. So while publishers believed his book wouldn’t sell as fiction, it sold like hotcakes as non-fiction. Readers of non-fiction, especially this type of recovering addict non-fiction, necessarily feel a connection to the writer because of their belief and trust in that author. That is what makes Frey’s manipulation so egregious. People connected to his story because they believed him, but he was violating their trust the whole time. So in this case, it does matter whether his story was true or not. As Keith Phipps on the Onion A.V. Club Message Board put it “Sure, you can take the idea of ‘truth’ apart as much as you like, but at worst it's one of those necessary fictions we cling to so society doesn't fall apart.” In a way, Frey has exposed his readers to that necessary fiction. He’s also exposed himself as an asshole.

It will be interesting to see how this thing plays out, how those who read and connected to his story will respond. I smell a great Oprah show in the works.


The Original Headline I read at Boing Boing:
"Million Little Pieces" author James Frey told a million little lies?
The Smoking Gun sez,
Police reports, court records, interviews with law enforcement personnel, and other sources have put the lie to many key sections of Frey's book [A Million Little Pieces]. The 36-year-old author, these documents and interviews show, wholly fabricated or wildly embellished details of his purported criminal career, jail terms, and status as an outlaw 'wanted in three states.'


The complete expose by The Smoking Gun can be found here: http://www.thesmokinggun.com/jamesfrey/0104061jamesfrey1.html
The article is certainly more than a little subjective and biased (they seem a tad upset that Frey and his lawyer are threatening to sue), but it seems that their facts are in order.


The Onion A.V. Club Message Board post I cited above:
Lit theory vs. Oprah
I'm a lit theory veteran, having done time in the undergrad and grad trenches during theory's heyday in the early to mid-'90s. (Scars? I've got 'em.) And, yes, the author's dead, the idea of authenticity is bogus, etc. etc. But there's a difference between recognizing the disconnect between the written word and its writer and recognizing the difficulty of pinning down the idea of self and being able to call "bullshit" when someone goes on Oprah and claims things happened to him that simply did not happen. Sure, you can take the idea of "truth" apart as much as you like, but at worst it's one of those necessary fictions we cling to so society doesn't fall apart and, you know, dogs and cats don't start living together and whatnot.
Comment by: Keith Phipps at January 9, 2006 - 2:57pm