Eric the Occcasional

2010-09-19T18:06:00.000-07:00

Irrelevant that the tiger has leapt, is even now at midpoint in an arc that will certainly end in your destruction. So it is for all the ten thousand created things. Of relevance only is the curious fact that at this present instant you are alive."

Attributed to the master, Lao-tsu, by John Burdett

The Failure of the Veterans' Administration.

2010-09-19T17:56:00.000-07:00

No nation has ever adequately cared for its troops after a war.

America is no different, and there's no reason we should be.

If we gladly send our children to kill their children, and proudly

see them die or be maimed in doing so, why should we care

what happens to them when they come home?

War costs nothing that we value. Why not have two?

2010-03-10T09:43:00.000-08:00

" -- I'm opposed as a matter of both practical calculation and of moral

principle to paying blackmail under any circumstances whatsoever; let the

consequences be what they may."

"Hostages should be rescued by force and hostage-takers killed; if the

hostages die, that's regrettable but unavoidable collateral damage."

"Negotiation with hostage-takers should be pursued, but (and this should be

announced as a principle beforehand) only to set them up for attack; no

promises to hostage-takers will ever be honored and they will always be

killed out of hand at the first opportunity (delayed sometimes by interrogation,

but not for long)."

"War to the knife, and the knife to the throat."

"Best to assume hostages are dead regardless and aim to kill the hostage takers. After a while the practice of taking hostages will cease. Tough on the first few hostages, but lives are saved in the long run."

My friends' comments shock me. So I outline a possible response.

Sounds like a Kaiser Souse' scenario: "You threaten my family? Hah! I kill my family, myself, first! Now who you threaten, eh?"

If it's your wife or child or sibling or mother (anamchara?) who's being held hostage, you may give up honor, dignity, wealth, country and everything else to retrieve them safely. After they're safe you may or may not kill the bad guys and everyone who looks like them, but first is the safety of your own closest loved ones.

There's a hierarchy of abstraction in who or what you love more than yourself. After family there's tribe and country, and more generally there's principle, such as honor, religious belief, justice, science, reputation, etc.

Regardless of what you identify with or love most, it's a toss up as to whether you'll be seen as a person of principle or a monster. Depends on who's looking and what they love most.

At some point Kant sticks his nose in and asks if our identification or love is a hypothetical imperative or a categorical imperative (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Categorical_imperative).

If we will so act to defend or rescue what we love most, do others have the right to act similarly to defend what they love most. What if our actions and theirs are in conflict? And does anyone have the right to assume that what they love most trumps what anyone else loves most, whether it's people or principle or thing?

(Those who identify only with material things rather than principle or other persons are generally held to be missing part of their humanity. Those who don't identify with anything or anyone and act only for themselves and their own benefit are considered psychopaths or sociopaths [or autistics] and usually excluded from society - or made its leader, perhaps on the theory that if they are the state they will act in the best interest of the state.)

This is one of my favorite mud puddles for wallowing, but it's all too easy to get upset about each others' positions and declarations. We are each too invested in whatever it is we're invested in. It's the rare person who is not concerned.

Oddly, I recall that I haven't always had the same priorities. At times I've been principle first, which I now find alien, repellent, adolescent. I've never been nation first.

2009-12-26T23:06:00.000-08:00

This from a list I frequent:

"Resonant amplification is a powerful thing. For example, did you know that "ghost" sightings are generally an effect of the eye's resonance being a harmonic of half the resonant wavelength of one of the dimensions of the room the witness is in (typically 19 hz)? The resonance causes the fluid in the eye to refract light unevenly creating a gray patch which the mind then fills with its own imagination. This effect can be triggered by extremely low levels of infrasound, particularly when the wavelength of a chimney cavity is resonant to the dimensions of the room, a breeze supplies the needed energy."

I've been interested in the increased frequency of my own sightings, of cats especially, now that I'm in strange surroundings and tend even more to make recognizable patterns from the shaded chaos of a thousand things in my new apartment not yet put away. The movement of a large floater (in my eye) in a poorly lighted room can induce "cat" instantly, even when and regardless of the fact that I "know" better. The part of my mind that recognizes things is necessarily free of higher functioning filters, and because I'm much more curious than bothered by such apparitions I'm in no rush to suppress their memory. Happily, there's no accounting for the patterns one's brain comes up with.

I have yet to experience one of the "resonant amplification" sightings noted at the top. But it seems perfectly possible and reminded me of a recent lecture on antennae lengths.

Well, maybe one sighting some 50 years ago, in my first apartment: a long, narrow attic room. But that turned out to be mold under the wallpaper, I think, unless it wasn't. Then as now I'm more interested in my own experience in the face of my firm convictions that they ain't no sich thangs. I was less sure then than now, and half-accepted the possibility of powers, gods, and ghosts unknown. It was a great time to be a science fiction/fantasy fan.

Being so near several small lakes and parks, I occasionally get a line of ducks flying at head-height down the street outside my bedroom. Late last night one group began honking just as they passed my window and startled me from a sound sleep so that I sprang up in bed, ready to defend against whomever was using that longsword so cruelly against helpless flesh, making it cry out so loudly and in such pain. Had that image sustained for another second I would have been searching about for my own blade, ready to run naked into the fray, fighting for the right and the good.

I don't have a sword, and that's probably a good thing. In dreams I've often carried and even used one, and on waking for a moment I sometimes think I really have one, somewhere.

Such moments make passage between worlds and timelines seem almost possible. I find them, frightening, dangerous, and delightful!

stuff, and (gasp) more stuff

2009-12-23T12:22:00.000-08:00

We seem much more swayed by advertising and social/peer pressure to acquire things now than, say, in the 50s. Certainly than in the 19th century. We think we are very ad-sophisticated, but we also seem to have so much more stuff than people did in previous times.

This subject has been brought forcefully to my attention in the last few years. My real estate agent tells me stories of houses she's sold where you had to clear a trail to get from room to room. More than one friend has been unable to sell his house because it is filled with his deceased spouse's possessions and he can't bring himself to either sort them or dump it all.

I knew we had a lot of stuff I didn't care about, but having to sort and dispose of 40 years of collecting was a shock. Several hundred skin and bath lotions, in duplicates of 5 to 10 each; four stacks of wicker baskets, each over seven feet high. Enough dish cloths to dry a small army. Thirty rolls of wrapping paper and enough seasonal, occasion, and note cards from Museum collections to fill a small museum; twelve cartons (and baskets) of clippings from The New Yorker magazine, despite the fact that we also had the complete CD collection of back issues.

And then there's my stuff: the remaining detritus, tools, and inventory from seven different businesses that had their day and died. Juggling and circus equipment from 20 years of teaching and performing, and of reviewing props for several magazines. Hundreds of psychological, perceptual, and psycholinguistic tests, now all obsolete, plus all the trial versions for the dozen I helped design or edit, most of which never got out of the testing phase. Several hundred art prints, sketches, serigraphs, and oils, all moderately pleasing but of little value.

And so it goes.

And to think I once was able to pack all my possessions (except the books and LPs, of course) into my 60' MGA.

While much of this stuff was functional or professional, a great deal of it was simply consumer goods that seemed too good not to get. Had she lived another 74 years I'm sure my wife would have used up her cosmetics and cleansers. But she probably would have acquired as many more new ones, too. My own collecting is poorly excused by professional interest: no matter how good I get, I'll never be able to juggle, spin, balance, or roll 400 balls. No matter how accomplished a rope magician I become, no one will ever want to see all twenty-odd variations of the cut and restored rope (with a running narrative on the progression of stolen ideas and done-to-death patter).

So almost all of it has gone, but not without a wrench to the psyche. How can I even be the same person if I don't have all my stuff? (George Carlin has a routine exactly on this.) What am I really if my library of eight-thousand books have been sold to Powells bookstore? Now no one will ever ask again, "have your read all these?"

Yet somehow it's not just me -- this applies to everyone I know. We have taken up acquiring stuff as the business of our lives. Perhaps this is what "not being poor" means. I don't recall that this was the case with earlier periods, 50+ years ago, but maybe I wasn't paying attention then. Once I thought this might just be a way of acquiring immortality, and while that's somewhat true, there's more going on here.

I know people who spend all of their disposable income on gourmet food in high-end restaurants, and others who spend everything on travel or packaged vacations. Perhaps we're simply like wolves or lions which given the opportunity will eat until immobilized, or pack rats who compulsively acquire every movable shiny thing they see.

Saving more for retirement? Not in this lifetime we don't. Our savings are over-depleted paying for the life we think we deserve and the stuff we want now.

We weren't always like this, and it's not just that there are more things to have. Perhaps there's a reason companies will spend so many millions on 30-second ads in a Superbowl game. Perhaps we are, really, those storied suckers, born every minute.

Yes, I'm very much aware that all this is inconceivable to many in most countries of the world. But I was born and lived my life here, not there. I'm quite sure that had we been switched at birth, *that* person might well have written this essay on self-indulgence at this particular time in the US and at our age.

I'm reminded of the decorating scheme of a castle in Once and Future King that featured "pillars of marvelous pork." Perhaps that's why everything feels slightly greasy these days. Have you noticed?

2009-11-10T22:52:00.000-08:00

"To see the elephant" is a 19th century American expression, no longer in use, having to do with an elephant as the most remarkable thing one could see at a traveling circus, which was itself the most remarkable thing ordinary Americans of that day could experience. The first recorded definition was in 1835: "to see or experience all that one can endure; to see enough." Also, "to lose one's innocence." In the American Civil War and after, a related usage was "to see combat or to face death, especially for the first time."

The Elephant

We have seen the elephant.
We have gone and by pure blind luck, returned,
Heroes, larger, no longer the same.
We are back, and we know the elephant.

We came back mad, in shells
Of gray flannel and three or maybe four martinis,
Encrusted with invisible filth that never washed away.
The filth we'd seen, and done, when we saw the elephant.

Some still can not speak of it, the elephant:
Larger than anything. Larger than everything,
Its gray horror reflected, always, in our eyes
And twisted bodies, standing alone at freeway on-ramps.

Some of us identify with it, and woo the elephant, as if
To win its favor, speaking of its glory (and of our part),
Teaching our children to seek their manhood
In the elephant, as we did. And then we try to sleep.

Some of us tell our children there are better ways to die,
And better things to die for. That luck is not grace,
And surviving isn't all that great either, after the elephant.
But children rarely listen. They say:

"Take us! Use us! Make us more than we are!"
Instead it took the ones who had our backs,
It took the ones we would have died for,
And made them dead, and made us veterans.

So, yes. We've seen the elephant.
We've gone, and served, and somehow made it back.
Heroes? No. Just lucky, I guess.
But not the same. We've seen the elephant.

Eric Bagai
Portland, Oregon.
March, 2006.

Gone

2008-11-15T14:58:00.000-08:00

I held her as, unbelieving, she stopped.
The pain and fear had ceased to be.
Not dead. There was no "death" here.
Simply gone. An absence.

She was my love, my life,
become the definition of myself.
Alone for the first time in forty years
I wonder, who died here?

What We Owe Ourselves and Our Masters

2008-11-05T18:29:00.000-08:00

I've recently been finding, from both right and left, altogether too many references to Guy Fawkes Day: "remember, remember, the fifth of November, . . ." about tyranny and bloody revolution, the Gunpowder Plot, the movie "V" etc. All of which suggests that no matter who won or by how much, on the next day almost half of the United States was going to feel angry and resentful.

Well, today is the Fifth of November and all is quiet here, so far. Even Ann Coulter sounded restrained this morning.

I still expect the Bushies to incite the military into further attacks on Syria and Pakistan, and try to start something in Iran. (The Obsession DVD was the largest propaganda effort for war.) I still expect more Bush appointees to burrow their way, like trichinosis, into permanent positions in the government. I still expect disasterous de- and re-regulation in the EPA, Food and Drug, Homeland Security, and all other protective and guardian agencies that have been amBushed in the last eight years. I expect the stalwarts of the Project for a New American Century (of which McCain and Cheney were leaders) to mine and boobytrap anything in government and the economy that they can't outright destroy in the next two months.

Had McCain won as resoundingly as Obama did, I would probably be contemplating my own plot, though without the gunpowder.

This election shows, much more than who won or lost, that we are still a deeply divided nation. I said after the last two presidential elections and I say again: we are not the people we think we are.

Try to be kind to each other. Do not radiate triumphalism or entitlement or disparagement or distaste. Do not gloat. Help your neighbor quietly, and speak encouragingly of all efforts to make things better. Take your lead from Obama and be respectful, gracious, understanding, and aware that at this time both joy are resentment are hateful to many. Do not presume. Celebrate quietly for what has been gained. Mourn quietly for what has been lost and what may yet be lost. Nothing is guaranteed or certain.

We must take a lesson from the Bushies on how not to behave. Try to be the people we would want our conquerors to be. Some day they surely will conquor and rule over us. What model of behavior will they follow; what model will we have left them? The longer that Obama's people and successors are worthy: kind, generous, respectful, intelligent -- for that long will we be allowed to lead.

What? Me a Racist?

2008-10-08T08:44:00.000-07:00

(In response to a response to a Norman Solomon editorial in the NYT about complacency and the so-called Bradley Effect, where voters claim to be unprejudiced and that they will vote for the obviously better man and then in the voting booth can't bring themselves to vote for a black man.)

Almost every white person these days decries racism, and denies it in themselves. Yet, when a racist remark or comment is made in social or business gatherings, how often is it just allowed to go by? This is not a matter of being politically correct, but of being a good citizen!

Each time you don't stand up and demand that such racist speech ceases immediately, each time every white person in your the room does not immediately back you up, you promote complacency about racism, you encourage a Bradley-effect-like cowardly racism. So bring up the Bradley effect in every political conversation you have, and insist that anyone who chickens out at the voting booth is not just a sneak racist, but a coward and a very, very bad citizen.

Denying the possibility of voters rejecting Obama because "he isn't like other blacks" may be useful to convince yourself, but it won't convince anyone who is a closet racist.

I can't believe we're all stupid -- all spineless

2008-07-27T15:31:00.000-07:00

I can't believe that so many otherwise dedicated public servants and scientists dissolve into spineless goo at any conflict with this administration merely because they are told to do so. Surely we are better than that? Surely some of them have a firm grasp of ethics?

It seems to me much more likely than spinelessness, that such behavior is induced by a combination of pressures too great to resist. By offers they can't afford to refuse. Threat of loss of livelihood, threat of punishment to themselves and their family, threat of exposure of whatever personal secret they might wish to hide, and threat of a campaign of invented rumor and ad hominem insinuation (swiftboating). Threat and intimidation, especially after a few well-chosen examples, works so very well.

The Bushies have exercised a take-no-prisoners and scorched-earth approach to leadership. The message is follow our wishes or we will make life so not worth living that you will pray for death. Those whom they cannot intimidate, they destroy (e.g., Plame). And for future purges by future presidents, they have (with the aid of the majority party) approved torture and rendition, and repealed the fourth Ammendment.

As all tyrants discover, to rule by blackmail and fear you must create a nation of the fearful and make all others vulnerable. A few examples and you no longer need to enforce your wishes in every instance: the fearful and vulnerable will be eager to accommodate you, unasked. And who is not vulnerable in these days? God help anyone gay, adulterous, addicted, or not independently wealthy who serves in this administration.

And if they can't find someone fearful or vulnerable enough to bend to their wishes, they appoint someone too incompetent, stupid, or already corrupt to understand why, e.g., torture is not a good thing.

Such a plan cannot have become so thoroughly and universally applied by accident. Somewhere, someone must have written it up or discussed it by e-mail. Anything less than an obviously smoking-gun e-mail will correctly be dismissed as the paranoid ravings of conspiracy fetishists, or as in the case of Conyers, Waxman, and Kucinich, be dismissed as "unrealistic."

And the administration's response when the truth is pointed out? Bush, like all other tyrants knows the drill very well: deny and suppress.

Where are all the heroes?

I can't believe we're all of us that stupid or spineless, or all of us that afraid.

(I'll get back to you on this after the next election.)

really sharp things

2008-06-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

I can't get knives sharp.

I can use a steel or whetstone, or even a grinder with moderate proficiency. But I can't get a knife really sharp. By sharp I mean hair-splitting, dry-shaving, samuri cloud-carving sharp.

It's a technology that I've studied somewhat, but the skill or patience or persistence or something just isn't there. It shouldn't be that hard! It's something we've been doing since flint-knapping fell out of use.

There's a medieval weapon maker who I used to see at the Philomath Renfaire. In the front of his stall he displayed a huge two-handed battle blade, in a massive stand that raised the sword above the level children could easily reach. It had a sign underneath saying, "Extremely sharp. Touch at your own risk." Even so, he'd have to come out from the stall every few minutes to wipe away the blood.

It was a very effective advertisement, and he sold several swords a day at prices up to $2,000.

I'd like to know how to get a blade that sharp. It's a technology that, for me, borders on wizardry. And that is a point I find very interesting.

The saying goes, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." The late Arthur C. Clarke, I think. And it's true not only about cutting edge technology, but about archiac "edge" technology, and many other archaic technologies as well.

As I've said here earlier, that's possibly why we are so attracted by fire, and also why fire performing has become so popular. It's an archaic technology: who uses a wood stove to cook dinner, or candles to see or read by at night? Yet we love campfires and fireplaces. And every city in the US has at least one monthly firejam, and many have several each week. At these events, people spin and dance with fire- poi, staff, meteor, whip, wings, fingers, jumprope, and even hula-hoop. Fire is dangerous, of course. It's also self-correcting when we get singed. But it isn't as dangerous as it looks to the uninitiated.

Still, people try to explain it away: "It's stage fire."

It isn't. It's quite real and people do hurt themselves, sometimes quite badly. The techniques that make it relatively manageable and reasonably safe are not that hard to learn, but they are not intuitive, and trial-and-error doesn't work well here. It's an example of cutting-edge archaic technology.

Archaic technology is part of the attraction of steam-punk: Victorian clockwork and steam technology pushed to Jules Vern limits. Two outstanding examples of steam-punk as performance art are the Sultan's Elephant, and the Telectroscope. The backstories make them all the more real. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sultan's_Elephant, and http://www.telectroscope.org, which also has a nice Wikipedia article.

Just using Google will get you people's home photos, with no story, no mystery, none of the feel essential for experiencing them, so don't go there first. Experience them in the manner that their creators intended, as a mystery. As magic!

what i learned on summer vacation

2008-06-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

From Babylon 5. The technomage Elric, speaking to Sheridan about magic vs. the creations of God vs. technological miracles.

"It is within that ambiguity that my brothers and I exist. We are the dreamers, the singers, the shapers, and the makers. We know the true secrets, the important things. The fourteen words to make someone fall in love with you forever. The seven words to make them go without pain. How to say goodbye to a friend who is dying. How to be poor. How to be rich. How to re-discover dreams when the world has stolen them from you."

The last four are down, I think. They took only 60 years. Typical that I'd start at the back end.

This was my first blog post to Tribe, November 17, 2005, and the last one I'll lift from there.

Soul Food

2008-06-27T01:07:00.000-07:00

Smells, odors, scents, go directly to the oldest part of the brain distinguishable from spinal cord, and from that place elicit memory and association. Images, sounds, tastes, emotions, all these are brought forth with a simple scent.

Apples, particularly green ones, pierced or cut, produce a scent that overwhelms me with the presence of my 4th and 5th summers. I am there, completely. Immediately I feel the sun and the dry itch from the dusty hillside with its abandoned orchard overlooking a long, long valley. Green apples cover the hill, fallen from the scraggly, untended trees.

Find a switch, a long, thin, flexible branch and spear a smallish apple on the end of it. Hold the other end and fling the apple off the tip, high up, far, much farther than I could ever throw it alone, and then down and down, and frighten the rabbits by the stream so they scurry away to their holes and hideaways.

Take the deepest possible breath of apple scent, hold it, lie down again, slowly let it go, taste the air and the dust and the apples of the non-working farm where I was born: one electric light, a pump in the kitchen, an outhouse in back, and no phone.

My first woomera, my throwing stick. It taught me parabolas, ballistics, timing, patience, the scientific method, and where the rabbits went. The reward was itself, and sometimes rabbit stew. Those two summers, ending forever with the news of Hiroshima, and then Nagasaki, shaped the rest of my life. But still the smell of fresh, green apples brings me back to the beginning of my life, when I first became a conscious participant and actor in the world.

First published in Tribe, November 29, 2005

A Very Good Day

2008-06-23T02:39:00.000-07:00

Friday: Read and responded to Altaira's blog entry (Yahoo) and checked mine (Tribe) to see if anyone saluted yesterday's entry, and realized that the blogosphere was simply Usenet without pretense (but with a bit more OCD): It's always been about performance space.

Of course I knew that about Usenet from day one, but didn't really appreciate how much of a watered-down form blogs were. No social pretense or interaction is required to blog. Sooo Hollywood. At least on Usenet you had to stay on topic and within group purview.

The start of a lovely day. (Jeez, I live in my head a lot! But some heads are nicer than others. Shit, I could be Riz!) Then I packed up $780 of product to send to Brian, Greg, and some woman in Pasadena, and drove off to the post office. Mailed the product, bought $450 in stamps (for the Enigma mailing), got a half gallon each of Scoresby and Boords at the liquor store, went to Red Robin to order hamburgers to go (Judith, mine spouse with the low sodium, phosphorus, pottasium, purine, and sugar diet [lard is okay] decided the pain would be worth it), and had a nice mid-day scotch rocks at the bar, waiting for the burgers while reading a defense of Jane Jacobs' methodology.

Inductive, I knew about. But Kuhn takes it further, describing this other, better scientific method as a distinct improvement on the hypothetical-deductivism of the old paradigm. Then Lonergan suggests that inductive reasoning is necessary for truly understanding understanding, and it's what people do anyway. I love you Jane Jacobs, that philosophers and scientists work so hard just to say that you said it right, which I knew as intuitively and immediately as you did when you wrote it. (Thus verifying Kuhn, Lonergan, Jacobs, and me!)

Inductive reasoning is verified by the sharing of Mini-ahas. You get it? You got it!

Is this a great day, or what! On the drive home, NPR interviews an anthropologist who has found that in Senegal, chimps make and use spears to kill prey which they then eat. Hey! Welcome to the club, guys! Except it's not the guy chimps, it's the females, followed somewhat by the juvenile chimps.

It seems Senegal is a difficult environment for chimps, and that they respond by making up three relatively independant subgroups: adult males, adult females, and juveniles, each pretty much on its own for acquiring anything more than the subsistance left over from the male's hunting and gathering and sharing of it. So they're in competition for food, or at least the females and the juvies are, with the adult males. But who is it that invents and uses the spear? The females.

The males see them making and using spears and getting extra food, but they don't get it. The paradigm is too different, and the guys can't quite put it together. Perhaps it's because they get whatever they need without too much trouble, and so don't feel the pressure to innovate. At least they're not burning the ladies at the stake. (Duh! No fire yet!)

Some of the juveniles do get it (both males and females) and awkwardly emulate the larger and stronger adult female spear makers and users. Will some male and female chimps grow up understanding the technology of tool building and tool using? Will they discriminate against chimps who don't get it? Will they get that they get it, and get what getting it means? Most unlikely, but the possibility! . . . the possibility!

What happens when spear users fight with non-spear users? Will the larger-stronger males who do use spears discriminate against the females who compete with them in spear use, or is this the first instance of Mutually Assured Destruction? Will the old-school males kill and eat the uppity spear users because "they ain't like us and they do weird things?" Ah, civilization. Ain't it grand?

I never thought I'd be excited about the possibility of war.

Consciencisacion! Not as nice a word as I once thought it was. Still, yes, definitely. A very good day. With nuts.

First published on Tribe, February 24, 2007 -

How to be an MC

2008-06-23T02:13:00.000-07:00

I've done very little MCing, but I've been introduced by many and watched them work and prepare their work. It's an art form in itself. Here are a few thoughts and observations useful for a first time, or relatively new variety-arts MC.

First and most important, the work of being an MC is not about you, it's about the show and the acts. You are the smooth interface that gets the show and the audience safely from begining to end. So you don't have to "be" anything more than pleasant, clearly articulate, and accurate. As you'll see, that's quite enough.

Doing your own schtick is entirely secondary to your purpose for being there, and everyone else's. It's not needed. A first impulse is to "cover" yourself by putting on a character, doing schtick, or bringing a friendly pet with you, so that there is something between yourself and the audience. This is usually a mistake. The best and easiest cover is a larger, more cheerful, and possibly more aggressive version of yourself. A super-you. People do like you, don't they? Just make yourself a bit larger than life, a bit more firmly in control, and go with it. Many performers and MCs use this technique, and the natural adrenaline of the moment will help it happen.

Another way to think of MCing is as a version of being a proper party hostess. The hostesses job is to keep things pleasant and flowing, make proper introductions, and send everyone home happy, regardless of how awful the canapes are, how badly the housekeeper and caterer have screwed up, the little traffic accident in the driveway, and despite Uncle Earnie getting the kids drunk and then falling into the pool. And if you really need table games or charades to keep them entertained, you'll just have to find more interesting guests to invite next time. The guests make the party, and the acts make the show. You, the hostess, just make the show/party move pleasantly from begining to end.

Speaking of charades, many experienced variety artists who are drafted for MC feel that they must do some kind of humorous thing in between acts. This is a kind of cover for them, because they know and love their own stuff and feel comfortable with it. But unless you have a great deal of stage experience and have verified proof (outside of friends and family) that large groups of people really do find your "things" charming or funny, I'd avoid it like the plague! Really. MCing is a special kind of performance that is difficult enough all by itself. If you could do whatever-it-is really well, you would have been invited to perform, not to MC. So keep it simple. Your task (again) is to present the acts competently and clearly, and to make sure the show proceeds smoothly from begining to end, no matter what. That's plenty, and if you can do just that, you'll be in demand for other MC jobs.

A well-run variety-arts show will require all the performers to be inside the theater at least four hours before the show. During that time the director, stage manager, producer, and you, will have to put the show together and test-run (tech-rehearse) it so that the sound, lighting, curtains and lineup are established, and everyone knows what to do and when to do it. When several repeats of a show are scheduled, a dress rehearsal as well as a tech rehearsal may be required a day or so before the first show. They may also be combined into one run-through, but the purpose is the same.

If you are inexperienced, pay attention to everything. Every event is different, and few are done perfectly. When you meet the performers at the rehearsal, tell them you need to have their intro cards completed now, and pass them out before they go anywhere else. The cards should have space for their stage name, number of performers, type of act, its length, and exactly how it should be introduced.

The performers will be much more concerned with makeup, getting into character, the state of their own nerves, and lunch, so you'll still have to chase them around individually. Be polite but firm about getting what you need. If you know the act well, add whatever color and sizzle you think fits that introduction. If you don't know the act, gather whatever you need to make their introduction interesting. Get each of them to spell and pronounce their names for you, and repeat their name (and the act name, if any) back to them until they approve your pronunciation. Read the intro back to them to check it, along with anything you might add so they can check it for accuracy. Get all of this down on one or more cards for each act, and put the cards in the show's order of appearance once that's been established.

Check with the stage manager or director, to make an exactly parallel order of line-up. (He or she will have his own 9,000 things to do, so don't pester. Check once, thoroughly, and be done with it. They'll let you know if things change.) Unless someone is introducing you, you will begin the show, introduce yourself, and welcome the audience. Make a card for that. I've seen MCs, even experienced ones, forget their own name when the lights first hit them.

Make a card to introduce the intermission. This is typically where announcements about mailing lists, t-shirt sales, etc. are made. You'll also need a card for the close, where you thank the audience, invite them to next year's show, and remind them to drive home safely. The director can tell you what else is needed at the start, intermission, and close, but be sure to ask. All of these announcements should be brief.

You set the tone, sense of excitement, and joyful expectation at the beginning and middle by your own attitude. At the end the audience may already be leaving their seats (especially if the house lights are up too soon) so you'll have to speak a little faster and louder (they'll be talking to each other). You still have to speak clearly and distinctly, and sound like you're having fun too.

You may also comment on each act after it closes, though not all acts need or want this, and then move right into the next introduction. Try not to use the same terms and phrases repeatedly. A store of pat phrases is useful, but they have to be appropriate. Performers have off nights and on nights. Watch the show enough to know which was which. Then don't lie to the audience -- they saw the same act you did and probably have the same reaction. You don't need to diss or slam the mediocre or bad acts. Just thank them and move on.

Your backstage friends are not the performers, who will have little or no time for you anyway, but the stage manager/producer, who will give you the final line-up and make sure everything works, and the tech people who will handle your microphone, lighting, sound, and curtain (and a dozen other things you don't need to know about).

Take notes during tech rehearsal so that you at least know how things should unfold. When they don't, be ready to continue regardless. Somebody has to take responsibility for ensuring that "the show goes on." If the stage manager or director doesn't do it, you are the next in line of command to take charge of what happens behind the curtain, as well as in front of it.

You are the visible facillitator of the show and who the audience will blame or praise, but the people who really make it work are behind the scenes and it is good manners to thank them at some point, perhaps between acts or after the intermission. (Yes, put it on a card!) This will include at least the producer and host, who may want to make a speech or dedication of some kind, so be sure that the stage manager/producer works this into the tech rehearsal so nobody is surprised.

The rest of the monkey gang that really did all the work don't expect to be named, but they should be generally acknowledged and publicly thanked.

Things will go wrong. You don't have to apologise or explain any glitches to the audience unless it's going to delay things for more than a few minutes. Don't feel you have to cover by entertaining them in the meantime (though that can be useful). Just let them know what's happening, or simply tell them things will be delayed a bit due to "technical difficulties," which is an acceptable way of saying an actor is having an hysterical fit or the electrician isn't quite sober yet.

By now you may have gathered that you will be holding a set of cards tightly in your hand for the entire evening. Once you have the final line-up, number each card clearly in a corner reserved for that purpose. Then when you drop them you won't have to kill yourself.

It's perfectly acceptable to read directly from your cards. Even the Academy Awards presenters and the President use cards (though on a teleprompter). If you have really never done this before, then a week before the event you should make up a set of cards for an imaginary show and rehearse, using the cards, speaking aloud, and tape recording yourself. Then listen to the tape, and do it again. Are you enunciating clearly? Are you speaking slowly enough? Do you sound like you're having fun? Would you like to see the show that you just MCd? Do it again and again until you get bored. Then do it again, making it seem like fun even though you are bored. Does it sound artificial or genuine? Think of this private rehearsal as speaking to a friend on the phone, or to your mother. If necessary, actually call up a friend (or your mother) and really do the whole thing on the phone. (Just remember that parents and friends will never, ever, tell you that you're not absolutely wonderful -- see American Idol -- but they may help you to relax, and to sound relaxed, even though you are being super-you.)

A last point. Your pet or your child does not belong on stage. There is a very good reason why actors usually dislike working with children and animals. Pet owners and parents think their own pet or child is not only wonderful, but loved and tolerated by everyone else too. They are wrong. Pets and children must be trained to instant and absolute obedience before they can reasonably be included in your schtick. (Think of the Chinese Emporer who, before a battle, would send ten of his warriors to the front lines so that they might simultaneously behead themselves with their own swords, simply to demonstrate their loyalty and discipline. Expect no less from your pets or children.)

Anything that interferes with or screws up the introduction of an act, such as your own schtick, a wayward pet or child, or simply mispronouncing their name will make that act hate you forever. Even if they forgive you, they certainly won't ever trust you again.

Now that I've upset and frightened you, insulted your doggy and child, and messed with your mind, . . . go out there and kill! You'll come back a star . . . or at least an MC.

First published in Tribe, some time ago.

Add Yeast and Knead

2008-06-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

[This is the second of a two-part essay. The first part is immediately below this one.]

As promised a week ago, here's my suggested plan of action for the Socialist Party in the US and all its various US iterations.

Change the nature of monthly or bi-weekly local membership meetings into working meetings. The work must be meaningful. That is, it must have immediately observable results and must completely achieve of the goal of the work.

This is impossible if you decide to stop the war, end world hunger, bring justice to Philadelphia, or attempt similar large or abstract goals. That has been the problem with the SP, at least here in the U.S.A. So you should begin with small things. Things that can actually be accomplished with the physical, financial, and organizational resources at hand.

Socialists are unused to tasks of this kind, so begin with household chores at the home where the meeting is held: emptying trash, vacuuming rugs, sweeping the porch, weeding, etc. Like all organizational meetings, you should start by selecting the work to be done, determining who shall be responsible for its achievement, and agreeing on what criteria will be used to ascertain success and failure.

Some meetings should concentrate on joint efforts at a single task, such as painting a shed or a room. Other meetings might focus on a related category of tasks, such as emptying and taking out the trash, dusting exposed surfaces, etc. All members should have roughly equivalent tasks proportional to their abilities. Members may trade tasks.

Each meeting should be held at a different member's house, so that all may benefit. Consideration and analysis of work done and work to be done should be an ongoing item of agenda at meetings, but should never take more than one quarter of the total time allowed for any working meeting. Self-criticism and constructive suggestion should be encouraged as it is much more useful than disparagement, which should be discouraged but given a fair though brief hearing. Discourage analysis that does not lead to action, rule-making, power accumulation, and all the behavior typical of that before working meetings were initiated.

Eventually the group will come to local meetings with the expectation of doing something worthwhile, no matter how trivial, and come away from these meetings with a feeling of accomplishment, no matter how small. This is an unusual feeling for an American Socialist, but with continued application and encouragement, it can become a normal part of their lives.

After a time, the members will begin to enjoy working together for a common good and will take pride in their group's achievement and in their part in it. Sooner or later the membership will express an interest in doing work outside of their own homes. This is the beginning of social consciousness which is the foundation of socialism. Groups should consider work that can be done in a given neighborhood and accomplished in a few hours -- just like the house and yard work they have been doing in each others' homes. Some work will soon be seen as requiring several meetings to accomplish, or need daily or weekly application. Each group will find it has a unique range of interest: street cleaning, graffitti removal, helping the elderly, conducting neighborhood conflict resolution clinics, doing habitat for humanity construction, stream restoration, kudzu or English ivy clearing, community patrolling, and so on.

When a group's current selection of work is completed, is no longer needed, or has proven untenable or counterproductive, they should congratulate themselves appropriately and begin new work immediately. If nothing comes to mind, the group should return to doing basic household tasks. This will help the membership to more readily recognize when it's time to move on, what it is possible to accomplish, and to more quickly recognize how much can reasonably be accomplished with the resources at their disposal.

A succession of accomplishments and completed projects can only improve the group's self-image and pride. The hope is that this behavior will generalize into other areas of their political and personal lives. The more the group becomes intimately involved in the needs and problems of its community, the more effective it will become at finding solutions and resolutions. In some groups this may lead to city, state, national, or international action. But working groups must always begin with and be grounded in the most basic and needed actions.

The SP, along with much of the left, both secular and religious, has concentrated for too long on repetitive behavior as a means of making their will felt. Unless such behavior produces immediate and visible change, it should be discarded. To continue doing the same thing each time may be comforting, but if nothing changes, it is still without purpose. Most protests, leafleting, vigils, and rallies should be recognized as, at best, social functions, and at worst as replacing good work with inefficient or even pointless work.

When you rally in a park, also have a party or dance, and then clean up the park and sweep the street. When you protest the behavior of a congressman, wash his windows, empty his trash, vacuum his rugs, and invite him or her (and staff) to join you for a drink at the local pub. Every action should result in some observable change for the better.

This all seems simpleminded and petty when weighed against the problems of our nation. But consider what socialists have in fact been able to accomplish: damned little, especially recently. Even though the concepts of socialist fairness and equity have become a part of American economic and political reality, socialists themselves have had little effect on the issues of the day.

The Working Meeting is an attempt to return to the best precepts of American Socialism: fairness and equity, good work and immediately observable results. These are the things that attracted the working class to socialism, and made proud traitors of many members of the middle and upper class.

The economic theories of Marx have mired us in analysis instead of action, relection instead of work; and most self-declared socialists no longer think of themselves as Marxists. At the same time, the Democratic Party has adopted the guise and words of fairness, equity, good work, and observable results, while systematicly betraying their meaning. We must return to our roots and rediscover what made socialism attractive. Begin small. Do good work. Explore what then becomes possible.

First published in Tribe, March 8, 2007 -

The Inevitable Rise of the Masses. Not.

2008-06-22T03:29:00.000-07:00

In the last few months (now the last two years) the Socialist Party USA has lost about 50% of its membership (now 80%). While I don't subscribe to Marxian economics or political theory, I'm sad to see one of the few humanitarian-based political movements disappear. So I suggested the following analysis of the State of the Party.

The principal and various Socialist Parties in the US live on the fading glow of the accomplishments of their forebearers. Current members no longer do anything that affects the political structure or actions of the nation. All thoughts are turned inward, and what little action is taken affects only themselves. They argue about how things might have been different if things had been different, and periodically rearrange their organizational furniture and refine or dilute their principles.

Because there is nothing else to do, someone eventually accumulates enough institutional power to exercise it by excluding those who object to such power gathering, or ho object to them personally. Because there is nothing else to do, the excluded ones and those who side with them re-group to insure that such exclusion shall not happen again.

In this way the various parties, tendencies, and factions proliferate without expanding. New members are recruited from those who appreciate the group's history and principles, but they leave on finding that existentially, there isn't any there there. Those who aren't bothered by this lack of substance stay to participate in the furniture moving, historical fantasizing, principle polishing, power accumulating, and re-grouping.

Occasionally a more power-hungry group begins to prey on other groups (which may or may not be Socialist) by infiltrating them, sowing dissention (about furniture placement, principle shininess, or personalities), and offering safe haven for the disaffected or excluded.

Through the individual exercise of socially useful skills and abilities, a handful of Party members may achieve public political office. The Party neither funds nor supports them because they will not take ideological stands to match the principle-polishing of the Party which will surely alienate the larger public. And though they may claim to abide by the greater principles of socialism, they must eventually cooperate with politicians of other parties if they wish their own agendas to be supported. This further isolates them from the Party until the Party no longer recognizes them at all.

Some party members find that a career of denouncing the Socialist Party is lucrative, and even affords influence and power among parties with principles antithetical to Socialism. Their influence increases with the vehemence of their denunciation, and their rewards increase with their ability to portray Socialism as a vast structure with gravely unrecognized threats and dangers to the American public.

Thus, in these many ways, everyone gets to feel that they have been taken advantage of or that they are a persecuted minority. This justifies any action they might individually or collectively take, such as power accumulation, exclusion, regrouping, predation, isolation, or denunciation. It also justifies not taking any action at all in the outside world, which relieves everyone of responsibility and guilt for breaking tradition and actually succeeding in something. A secure position of inaction also allows one to criticize any action plan proposed, and undermine it if it is pursued.

And so the Socialist Party in the US continues.

When you find yourself helplessly perpetuating a self-defeating neurotic cycle, the first thing you must do is stop doing that. If you must, analyze why stopping hurts so much, but do not analyze for more than two minutes. Then do something entirely different.

Next week: Why it hurts so bad when you stop doing that to yourself. (Suggested reading: Games People Play, by Berne.) Next week: What to do instead.

First published in Tribe, February 28, 2007 -

Unhelpful Spelling Hints

2008-06-22T03:18:00.000-07:00

A as in aisle, (I'll)
B as in bdellium, (dellium)
C as in czar, (zar)
D as in djin, (gin)
E as in ewe, (you)
F as in phonics, (fonics)*
G as in gneiss, (nice)
H as in heir, (air)
I as in Iago, (ee-ah-go)*
J as in Jai Alai (hi-lie)
K as in knot, (not)
L as in llama, (yama)
M as in mnemonic, (nemonic)
N as in Nguyen (yuen, ruan), also Ngo (go)
O as in Ouija, (weegee)
P as in phthalate, (thalate)
Q as in quay, (key)
R as in Argentina, (okay, it's a schwa; so sue me)*
S as in tsunami, (sunami)*
T as in tsunami, (sunami)
U as in Uitlander, (oitlander)
V as in veldt, (felt)
W as in wrote, (rote)
X as in xipe, (hype)
Y as in ytrium, (Itrium)
Z as in Zouave, (djoo-ahv)

There are several print and Internet versions of this exercise, all very much alike (see esp. the remarkable www.questrel.com/records.h...ch_letter, or tinyurl.com/2am3zt, and then "Word That is a Confusing Code for Each Letter," and surrounding lists), but none are perfect, including this one.

I like mine better than the others, but there's no accounting for taste. I'd rather use words that begin with the letter they name (see * above) but don't sound. I'd prefer to avoid foreign or obscure geographical names. But then, "obscure" is relative. Ask any Scrabble player.

I have used non-Western names if they are not uncommonly used in the U.S., and commonly recognized regional or ethnic terms (Uitlander, Zouave), but I would prefer to use relatively common American-English terms findable in Webster's 11th+ Collegiate dictionary or the equivalent.

All of the Webster's' have been thoroughly combed, along with the OED, and other standard references, so we'll just have to wait for new words to be coined, foreign words to be adopted, or old words to become popular again.

Please use, modify, and distribute this list as you will. A few of you may be so enchanted as to memorize it and use these words to "help" spell other words that are unclear to the listener. Will Shortz does this. In addition to being the "puzzler" of National Public Radio and the editor of the New York Times Crossword, he is also the historian of the National Puzzlers' League, whose monthly magazine I've printed since the mid-1980s. Hence my interest in such silliness. I hope it's yours, too. If it is, please see www.puzzlers.org for a lifetime of fun.

=Eric Bagai, Portland, 2007

First published in Tribe, April 7, 2007 -

Mintz, anyone?

2008-06-22T03:01:00.000-07:00

The last time I really disliked someone, he grew up to be Eliot Mintz. You see his name in the papers sometimes, but when I knew him in the mid-sixties he was the phoniest wannabe executive hippie in Los Angeles.

He wore tailored disco clothes long before there was disco, with a small brass bell on a beaded rope around his neck. Out of nowhere he became a programmer (advice for teenieboppers and lost/befuddled hippies) and a producer at the Pacifica station KPFK, where I was working. I borrowed his girlfriend for a few weeks (she turned out to be Harlan Elison's girlfriend, too, but that's another story) before she went back to Eliot, who was crazier and more manipulative than it ever occured to me to be. But that's what the beautiful Dona wanted.

She decided I was bedable when I corrected her, on the air, after she announced that the fund drive had reached its goal. It was $7,000 short. She liked correction, a lot. I evidently clinched it when I saw her toying with her food at the Copper Penny restaurant and said the magic words "anorexia nervosa." She turned pale and insisted that we go back to my place, immediately.

I'm sure I was merely a nice change of scenery, and probably a vacation for her. Now that I think of it, I was probably an assignment, too. Marvin Siegleman, the ex-CIA station manager of KPFK, had tried to co-opt me by having his wife (his beard, actually) seduce me, possibly for whatever influence I had with Judy, who he fired because her show, The Drop-Out University of the Air, had the most subscribing listeners. (The Firesign Theater had the most non-subscribing listeners.) Whatever the reason, it didn't work.

Dona tweaked my pheromone receptors with much more success than Mrs. Siegleman, but when she started talking about how some very powerful people wanted Eliot to be their agent with important celebrities, and how she and I had talents that Eliot would find useful, I started laughing.

Even then, in 1966, at age 22, he was a Personal Manager. Now they call them Publicists. His first client, who I'll bet anything doesn't appear on his resume, was Sal Mineo, who was mysteriously attacked and beaten to death, thus losing Eliot his first client. The speculation was that it was payback for not heeding the "safe" words in some S/M games. Equally speculative was the theory that in real life he was just as whiney as the characters he played, and got on the wrong person's nerves.

Mintz later managed John Lennon and Bob Dylan, and I think still does Yoko and son. Makes you think that the conspiracy crowd may have a point, or that there are some who play at making weirdness happen at high levels because it suits their weird-fuck little minds to do so, and because they can.

Nobody that I knew and liked at KPFK took Eliot seriously. And many refused to work with him or take his guidance even when he was appointed as their show's producer. He had the sense never to impose on anyone who wasn't a fan already. When Dona told Judy (my wife now of 38 years) that Eliot wanted her to submit an outline before every show, Judy told Dona to tell Eliot to go fuck himself. Dona turned pale and said she couldn't possibly say that to him, but she'd take him a note if Judy signed it. He never asked again.

Leonard Brown, by far the finest audio-collage creator at Pacifica, made a point of obscurely dissing Mintz to his face. "Eliot, did you know that sideburns were so-named for General Burnsides? Like you, he had magnificent sideburns, but he was a piss-poor general." And Ted Sturgeon, Judy's friend and frequent on-air guest, once announced to her after-show crowd, while Eliot was standing a few feet away, that Eliot was the only person he'd ever met who wore a bell around his neck and had no sense of humor. There was dead silence for five seconds, and then six people laughed so hard they had to sit down.

The Firesign Theater crew was decidedly anti-Eliot, and riduculed him whenever possible. The night they took over the station, played the Star Spangled Banner continuously, and announced every ten minutes that the people's revolution had arrived, their original plan had been to gag and tie Eliot to a chair and set him naked in a window as a show of their earnest intentions, but Eliot kept away from the station that night.

I don't know if Eliot was really evil, but he was certainly creepy. That impression came directly from his expectation that everyone should think he was very wise. Exactly why anyone would think that was never clear, but Eliot assumed entitlement to near-worship, respect, and deference to his obvious wonderfulness, and let you know it in his every word and movement -- and so he often got it. Perhaps it was his voice, which was radio-resonant. Perhaps it was his habit of granting people permission to do whatever it was they felt mildly guilty about doing -- that they deserved the pleasure they sought. Given the power over people that he was constantly seeking and often getting, I suppose it's only natural that he got where he is today. Had we all had the sense and the courage of our impressions to have shot him rather than laugh at him back then, the world might be a better place today. Perhaps Mineo would have become the first John Lovett, perhaps Dylan might have stayed acoustic, and just maybe John Lennon could have lived a little longer. Ah, well.

I see the Eliot made the society gossip column in the Oregonian today (May 9, 2007), for confessing to a judge that he, her personal counselor and publicist, had told his friend and client, Paris Hilton, that she could drive to work (work?) despite a suspended license, so she really shouldn't have to do the 45 days of jail time the judge had sentenced her to do, because it was really his, Eliot's fault that she busted her paroll.

The judge, a wise man, recognized horseshit when he saw it, said as much to Mintz, and sent Ms Hilton a-slammer-o. That Sunday at his church, the congregation gave the judge a standing O for his perspicacity.

I may join that church.

First published on Tribe, May 9, 2007

Conspiracy of, for, and by Dunces

2008-06-21T23:00:00.000-07:00

It should be apparent to everyone by now that the questions of whether Bush and friends created, enabled, or faked the tragedy of 9/11/2001 cannot be resolved.

Believe what you wish, but understand that the purpose of conspiracy theories is to keep people intellectually and emotionally distracted, wasting time and energy that they might use to actually do something. Newspapers should start printing box scores on conspiracy theories, just like they do baseball statistics, and with about the same effect on the game (or reality) itself. Fans of conspiracy theories are just that: fans.

They are not players, nor are they theorists, they are second-hand fabulists, picking which of the hundreds of opinions to adopt and mouth as their own, and carefully choosing which little hill of sand to build their castles on. They are consumers, not producers, and they do not particpate in democracy.

They are politically irrelevent, morally bankrupt, and physically impotent to affect or confront power. The lesson they teach is that nothing really matters because the truth is not findable; and even if you found it there is nothing you could do about it because it's bigger than you are. Dictators, fascists, unitary executivists, they all love the fans of conspiracy theories. Conspiracy buffs make their jobs easier.

Do not listen to the conspiracy fans. Do not argue with them. Do not respond to them. Do something real instead: picket a recruiting station, speak to students about what war really is, march and vigil against injustice, write editorial letters, blog, raise funds and knock on doors for local candidates. Be active in, and be a meaningful part of the world you live in. Nothing that you can say about this or any other conspiracy can change anything. So do something that can.

First published August 28, 2007 -

Sexual Ambiguity Solidarity

2008-06-21T22:49:00.000-07:00

Some years ago a friend called me, asking for my advice about his daughter and her progressively ambivalent relationships while she was in college, and what they should do about it. I ask for some details, and he related that:

In her first year at SDSU she informed her parents that she was no longer a virgin.

During her second year she declared that she was a lesbian.

In her third year she quietly shared that while she still enjoyed sexual relations with women there was a definite place for men in her sex life as well.

In her fourth year of college she announced that now that she was more experienced and aware of the larger world, rather than limit her relationships she believed she should go on to graduate school in her true identity, which was as a Goth.

I had known these people since the 1960s, and watched each of their four children grow up. I felt I had to say something soothing, encouraging, and practical. So, I told him that they had no choice but to take a longer view of these things, and that sometimes one just had to let bi-goths be bi-goths.

First published in Tribe, September 15, 2007 -

Amonia! Amonia!

2008-06-21T17:12:00.000-07:00

There's an old New Yorker magazine cartoon showing an alien humanoid crossing the desert on hands and knees, pleading to aloud to the baren landscape: "Amonia! Amonia!" This of course is a parody of the cartoon of an exhausted man crawling across the same desert, crying "Water! Water!"

It's time for a similar cartoon, this time showing a typical American family, crossing the desert together on hands and knees, with the father pleading for "Insurance! Insurance!"

But lack of insurance is not the problem, particularly for our health. We have health insurance, for those who can afford it. What we don't have, and desperately need, is health care.

Yet we ask for insurance, not health care. We might as well ask for amonia.

In the sixties, Kaiser Hospitals discovered that merely by managing the Medicare program for its own current health-care members, it would increase profits by $3-million. No new services or medical care, just shuffle the paper and increase your profit margin. Blue Cross and all the other HMOs had the same epiphany. This established the Medicare model of single-payer health care as a commodity rather than a service, and the search for the bottom line was shielded from ethical scrutiny by layers of insurance accountants. Now, the more that is spent on health care, the better -- so long as the HMOs and other insurance managers get their cut.

Doctors, who are now free to advertise their services and incorporate themselves (to escape liability), are quite happy to be shielded from responsibility of managing costs as well, and eager to point helpless fingers at everyone else, beginning with patient demand, unscrupulous lawyers, and terminally innocent juries.

Other factors accounting for the failure of our medical system are the subversion of the university research system to remain neutral and serve only science, and the failure of government to regulate science and industry sufficiently to protect citizens from predation and abuse. Isn't that what the founding citizens created government to do?

We have allowd the creation of a health system that is run by insurance and pharmaceutical companies. Using their wealth, they have leveraged their power to control the direction and scope of medical research in our universities. It used to be our wealth, our health, and our science. Now it's theirs.

We need to take it all back, to manage and regulated it so it serves our needs, not theirs. And if this can't be done without "destroying the system," then it's time to destroy the system.

Trust No Man

2008-06-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

Today Barack Obama said he'd approve the revised FISA bill that the House just passed with the help of half the Democrats.

It was not a compromise. It may not even have been, as some have suggested, a wise political move. It was a sell-out.

Obama is a constitutional lawyer. He knows better.

He's asking us to trust him. We shouldn't.

There is danger from all men. The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with power to endanger the public liberty.
- John Adams [1772].

That said, those who support Obama should continue to do so. But they should also watch him, and call him on his presumption that he can be trusted in all things, and on his assumption that we will accept whatever he does.

See (http://www.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/) for this date for the ugly details.

Why do you love fire?

2008-04-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

(I spend some of my time in Tribe.net, for the fireplay and the contact juggling tribes. Someone asked why we love fire.)

I don't.

I'm somewhat indifferent to fire itself, though I enjoy a good camp or stove fire. I grew up with a coal/wood kitchen stove and a wood fire heater. The non-working farmhouse in Ohio had one electric outlet, three oil lamps, a hand pump in the kitchen for water, an outhouse, and a crank telephone and party line. I'm of the last generation for whom fire was commonplace.

I suppose I think of fire much the same way I think of religion: I'm not personally fascinated with it, but I am fascinated with why other people are so fascinated with it. Which is why I attend fire jams (go to church services), write safety manuals (read and write essays on belief systems), and generally support the fireplay community (occasionally put something in the kitty, if the sermon has merit).

Why is fire so fascinating?

Fire is a technology that we've largely abandoned, having replaced it with electricity and central heating. But it's still a technology, and the rule still holds: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Even if the technology is archaic.

So it's not surprising that people today feel spiritually charged by fireplay. It's an adrenaline-high version of steam punk. A dangerous form of retro. It's dragons' breath on your skin. It affirms your relationship with the earth, the elements, the natural.

It's kitsch with pain.

And while fireplay is dangerous, it looks vastly more dangerous than it actually is (or there'd be many more crispy critters among us), which makes it an easy entre to personal coolness.

Learning fireplay is like in the early days of computers, where the nerdy kids found that unlike their teachers and parents, computers (and fire) never lie to you. If you don't respect it, fire will hurt you, and then scar you.

But if you do respect it, and if you inquire deeply enough into its needs and demands, others will recognize your mastery, and your special relationship with this ancient and fearsome element. Its embers will seem to glow deep from within your eyes, and they will look with wonder on your hairless forearms and wispy eyebrows. They will also forget your years of work in theatre arts, literature, political science, and social history, and call you "the fire guy."

Selling the car

2008-02-03T18:37:00.000-08:00

Today I'm selling my car. Or at least offering it on Craig's List. It's a pretty 1992 Cadillac Deville and I've enjoyed it greatly. Silver-gray with a sparkly silver pinstripe down each side. It fit the image of the older, grayer, thoroughly established juggler/publisher very nicely. (When I picked Millard up from the airport when the Caddi was new he raised an eyebrow and said, "I see Juggling's doing well for you.") My first thought when buying it was to put little UN flags on the front bumper and always drive with my headlights flashing continuously.

The new car gets twice the milage and is at least as pretty. A different style, though, but elegant in its way. It's a 2006 Scion xB, in Arctic White. My first thought was to paint it like an Animal Crackers box, like a circus wagon. My second thought was not to.

It too has all the room needed for wife and chair, thanks to Tardis technology. It's bigger on the inside than seems possible from the outside; you sit down in it as if it were a sedan, but you can see over all the other cars, even the other xBs (which I don't understand at all). The ride is exactly like my 1974 Toyota Corolla's was: stiff and precise, and it has the same power as my long-departed MGA. I'll just have to drive more gently when Judith is with me, which will also keep her chair from rattling.

So I was getting the Caddi spiffed up to sell when I got stuck in the carwash lot because I played the radio really loud while vacuuming it and the battery died. Waiting for the Better World Club people (so much saner than AAA) to come rescue me, I called home to say I'd be late and not to worry. Judith was writing haiku, and suggested I might pass the time by doing the same.

She shouted and clapped when, in my best dramatic voice, I read the first line to her.

Now, the parking lot
lines delimit mine from thine,
polishing the lines
of my ghost-gray silver car,
only sixteen MPG.

It's a wonderful whatever it is.

2008-02-02T18:50:00.000-08:00

I began posting to Usenet in 1985 on various Newsgroups, but especially in rec.juggling. Almost from the beginning I signed off as =Eric. (The form used to signify the author in The Enigma, a magazine I've printed for about twenty of its one hundred-twenty very odd years.)

Usenet and the early listserves, then Yahoo groups, and now Tribe and MySpace, have always struck me as performance spaces, where one might strut and preen, share knowledge, spread rumor, and tell lies. Just like real life. It helps to have been a clown, an entertainer, a teacher, and I've been all of them.

What always surprises me is how many 'net participants don't seem to realise that it is simply a beautiful and boundless playground where we have the great good fortune to be the children. Our tools and game pieces are words and ideas and images. We get to wear any costume we can imagine, and to make up all the rules we can enforce (which limits us mostly to rules about our own behavior). And the object of it all is not to score but to have fun and make it fun for others, too. Just like real life.

That is what it's all about, isn't it?