The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber

Ernest Hemingway once said, concerning women, that "once they fall in love with you, you can shit in the sink and they don't care. Before that you have to be on your best behavior." I always liked that. As a young man with all kinds of noble and naive ideals concerning women, I was always shocked when confronted by women who put up with abusive men - usually to a nauseating degree. I know better now, as I suppose every man on the planet who has suffered from a savior complex learns eventually.

I have been thinking about that Papa quote every time I see Hillary Clinton supporters. Here we have a women who has beat and humiliated her supporters dozens of times over the last year or so, and yet these same, shiner-sporting Clintonistas seem to galvanize each time Hillary insults them. There is no need to re-count the drunken beatings Hillary has inflicted on her supporters - at this point, does it really matter? If you return to Hillary's bed after she calls Obama a tar baby, after she insults MLK, after her husband spends years peddling influence for cash to every penny despot in the Balkans, then she might as well shit in the sink - evidently you are sold. What I still don't understand is why she stays in the race. She is not going to win anyone new over. She has been virtually eliminated mathematically. I would even say she is embarrassing herself, but let's face it - standing by her man after a Cohiba insertion in a 22-year old pretty much proves she is incapable of feeling embarrassment.

I have been avoiding the news, this blog, pretty much current events in general, because I can't stomach the posturing and whining coming from both sides. The networks and cable news are giving blanket coverage - and why shouldn't they? The ignorant masses are tuning in by the tens of thousands to watch the DNC's highbrow Maury Povich show. Stay tuned - a Hillary and Pelosi cat fight after the break! Someone please end this. Please.

One thing I am sorry about neglecting is posting MP3s. So, in honor of Election '08 we have a live cut from Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead, You Gotta Serve Somebody, and in honor of my current mood, the Dead Kennedys - Holiday in Cambodia. Any time I can spread some Dead Kennedy cheer, I am stoked.

Dylan and the Dead - You Gotta Serve Somebody

The Dead Kennedys - Holiday in Cambodia

It's A Jungle Out There

Damn, evidently High School has gotten much cooler . . . read here.

Two Down . . .

It is no secret that our system for receiving news is utterly broken. The systemic and institutional horrors that plague the industry are immense, to the point where I tend to believe the entire industry is completely fucked and in dire need of purging fire. When the problems are so vast, it is easy to forget that specific individuals are responsible for this, and they need to be singled out and ridiculed as often and as publicly as possible. Not that this forum is public in any sense other than it can be accessed by the public, usually accidentally . . . How can anyone with a brain stomach the "full OJ treatment" these bastards gave the Spitzer motor pool yesterday? But there has been some promising . . . developments on the cable news front.

John Gibson and Tucker Carlson are, truly, two of the most disgusting people on the planet. Gibson is a actual, honest-to-God, overt racist. I realize that on FOX that ain't exactly unusual, but Gibson's on air comments have been particularly disturbing. Also actually wrote an entire book on "The War On Christmas." What is it with right-wingers and Christmas? Can't we just celebrate at home and keep it the fuck out of everything else? Jesus Christ. Tucker . . . well Tucker is just a rich kid who has never done anything to earn his megaphone. He tours dilapidated cesspools in the third world for a day or two then lectures the people on how righteous he is for "being on the front lines." He invites liberals on his show to badger and cajole, but once in awhile picks some random issue out of the blue to disagree with the Republicans on to prove he is an "independent thinker." Pretty transparent - it's not as if he has some logical political philosophy of his own to address these issues, he simply diverges with the orthodoxy once in awhile to raise eyebrows. The cancellation of these two men's television programs is a nice bit of Krishnic cosmic justice for the day. I realize I may be a horrible human being for saying this, but I take pleasure in their humiliation.

Yeah, yeah, they will immediately be replaced by something or someone just as bad, I realize that. However, I can dream that this is the first salvo in a multi-pronged offensive to overhaul cable news. Hey, what's wrong? You don't have to laugh so loudly! I already see it - 6 months from now: Tucker in rehab after six months spent trying to forget who he is partying with Bubba the Love Sponge, and John Gibson joining with Lou Dobbs to start Propagandaministerium, a 24-hour news network dedicated to rooting out Mexicans wherever they live and breathe.

Posting Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds today . . . Stagger Lee from Murder Ballads. Just cause I hope Gibson or Carlson might run into Stagger Lee one day . . .

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Stagger Lee

Geek Sheik

Dungeons & Deagons changed the world. No, seriously. I am not making a joke. Think about it. Geek Sheik is all the rage these days. Science Fiction is all over the top of the TV ratings, along with pseudo sci-fi shows like Lost that are based on elaborate, cryptic plotting right out of serialized sci-fi novels and comic books. Spandex-clad superheroes top the box office year in and year out. Lord of the Rings won a fucking Oscar. Even more "grounded" TV shows, like Chuck, are chock-filled with arcane geek references. I mean a whole episode revolving around Shai Hulud? That is showing off some nerd IQ.

Gary Gygax, the creator of D&D, died last week at 69. The influence this game has had on the way our world looks today is staggering. But let's take a look at the game itself - where the revolution started. This is a game that fires the imagination of the intelligent junior high and high school outcasts that are now running our country. A player creates a persona (an avatar? sound familiar?) to control through a completely immersive, virtual world. Instead of a traditionally competitive model, the players collaborate and cooperate to guide their alter ego through quests and battles, the variety of which is limited only by the players creativity. How revolutionary is that? You don't really win, it's about the journey, brah. Cue Jerry Garcia. You build experience, concoct new scenarios, and basically engage in a complex escapism fantasy. The gameplay itself revolves around numbers. The 12-, 18-, 20-sided die that presents endless combinations and probabilities. And so those math geeks who couldn't get laid in high school, well, they were uniquely equipped to become the architects of our digital age.

The legacy of D&D is all around us. Entire computer programming languages were invented at MIT back in the early 80s just to create a digitized version of the game. Now there is an XBox in every home.The personalized, alter-ego avatar is ubiquitous on websites like Facebook and Myspace. The shaggy-haired, sci-fi and Tolkein worshipping geeks from high school are now making six figures at D&D alumni clubs like Google and Microsoft. And they get to wear t-shirts and Chuck Taylors to work every day. Wired is doing an issue-long tribute to Mr Gygax, you can check out the preview here. As for the MP3s today, I figured it would be apt to go all Seth Cohen-y and pick some geeky music, so we have Electioneering from Radiohead's OK Computer and Lift the Veil, Kiss the Tank from The Blood Brothers latest album, Young Machetes. I know Seth would have went with Death Cab for Cutie, but I can't stand those guys.

Radiohead - Electioneering

The Blood Brothers - Lift the Veil, Kiss the Tank

Watchmen Movie

After that post a few days ago with the Juvenal quote, I started thinking about Zach Snyder's upcoming Watchmen movie. Lo and behold, character shots were released today. My nerd sonar must have been pinging subconciously, directing me to the site. Here's a photo of Edward Blake, The Comedian, and click here for the whole slideshow. Rorsharch looks badass too. I am waiting with baited breath - hope they don't fuck this up like V for Vendetta.

It's All Connected

I can't remember the last time I was so emotionally involved in a television show than I have been with The Wire, which ended it's 5 year run on HBO this evening. It seems like the season just started, yet here we are . . . done. But there is something to be said about going out on top. I am going to talk about the finale, so if you haven't seen it . . . SPOILER ALERT.

I don't know what I was expecting with the series finale tonight. The show has defied convention so many times in the past, it seems best just to hit the crest and ride it in. This entire season has been just that - quite a ride. Two weeks ago, I found myself on the verge of tears during the last 5 minutes of the penultimate episode. Has there ever been a more honest depiction in any medium of how we are killing our inner-city children than the story of Michael, Duquan, Randy, and Namond? These four children, watching their childhood, watching their innocence slowly chipped away by their environment, their family, corruption, and above all, The Game - I have read about inner city blight, I have listened to rap albums, I have watched the sordid Boyz in the Hood/Menace II Society gangster flicks. The Wire, however . . . now I feel like I get it. That was an honest, a real depiction. Michael and Dukie, reminiscing about the pranks from childhood, giving up Bug, and then going their separate ways. Both so young, but you just knew neither of them had a chance. Cut to the finale - Dukie shooting up, and Michael finally, completely surrendering to the game, taking on Omar's gun toting, ghetto Robin Hood persona. It was a payoff that could have been contrived, but with the way David Simon and Ed Burns, the show's braintrust, have allowed us into the hearts and minds of these kids, have invested and invested in these lives, it was the only way to end it.

The show's main theme has been gray. Ambiguity. There are no easy answers when dealing with these issues. The rest of the threads wrap up around this theme. Marlo, of course, lands on his feet. Levy and Herc too. McNulty and Lester finally have to pay the piper for their trumped up red ball. Bunk and Kema just keep truckin'. Carcetti's Huey Long-esque descent into corruption shoots him to the Governor's Mansion. But the true Shakespearean tragic hero is Commissioner Cedric Daniels. Throughout the series, he has been the moral compass at the center of the morass. Of course, this is The Wire, so it isn't really that simple - Daniels has a past that is never fully revealed, and despite his valiant efforts to reform the PD, despite his unfailing moral certitude, it is that unrevealed past that comes to bite him and cost him his career. Regardless . . . no matter how many demons you have overcome to become a decent man, if you swim with the sharks you best be sure you aren't bleeding anywhere.

The show was revolutionary because, unlike so much drivel on 99% of the TV spectrum, The Wire asked all the hard questions. Instead of giving us the traditional, prosaic, banal resolutions you see on Law and Order or CSI, it consistently challenged conventional wisdom. It challenged us to take a closer look at what these problems are really about, and inspire us to discard the simple answers the unthinking masses shove down our throat. If only more TV could capture what The Wire has in spades - if only they would stop treating us like we are stupid. I will miss Omar, the Bunk, Mcnulty, Michael, and Daniels dearly.

In honor of The Wire finale, I am launching a new feature here on Aristeia, the MP3 of the day. Actually, two today, both by Tom Waits. The first is Way Down in the Hole, the theme song for the show from Waits' album Frank's Wild Years, released in 1987. This version was Season 1's theme, and each successive season they have gotten different artists to cover it. And just because you can never have enough Tom Waits, I'm also posting my favorite tune of his, Rain Dogs, from the 1985 album of the same name. The interface is a little unwieldy - still working on it. Enjoy!

Tom Waits - Way Down in the Hole

Tom Waits - Rain Dogs

Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

Rumours regarding lobbyists pressuring media CEOs to slant their coverage in a certain direction - or outright arm twisting to "change the narrative" of their coverage - have been swirling for a few months now, but predictably get zilch in the way of coverage. If anyone saw Joe Scarborough on Bill Maher this weekend, you are probably as disturbed as I am by some of his comments regarding these practices at NBC. I am stumped about how this problem should be addressed - I suppose it goes back to the news departments at the networks transitioning from public service to for profit entities in the late 70s and early 80's. Maybe there is no solution as long as we are still capitalists. As Bruno Gianelli from The West Wing liked saying, "Money in politics is like water on concrete. It finds every crack." Money ain't going anywhere anytime soon. But there should be some transparency here. Who are these groups providing the pressure? What sort of oversight exists for these networks besides businessmen and shareholders? What is keeping us from requiring all machinations in a network newsroom, from inter-office memoranda to strategy meetings and personnel decisions, from being public upon threat of legal action? It seems to me this is a situation where the Freedom of Information Act should cut both ways. . . I invite any answers any readers could provide. This has disturbed me to the point of some research. I will report back. "Who Watches the Watchmen?"

The Red Phone

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Dowd Column

Maureen Dowd may be a bit of a divisive figure, but she is different than most of the partizan pundits on either side because she is . . . well really funny. And hot for an old broad. We have bemoaned the legacy of multicultural dogma and p.c. bullshit the American Left has peddled since JFK died before on this site. That legacy is biting the Democratic Party - which I think is a distinctive entity from the left - in the ass. Check out Maureen's column this morning on this very subject.

Bill Hicks Anniversary

So I am a few days late here, but I really meant to do a little homage to the greatest comedian the world has ever seen. February 26 marked the 14th anniversary of the death of Bill Hicks, at the age of 32. The brilliance of this man cannot be overstated. I was introduced to Hicks when I was 22. I remember it pretty vividly because it was a few months after September 11th, and I was dating this ultra-hip to the point of irritating broad named Cameron. She might have poured it on a little heavy with the home-made clothes and crew of gay male friends who wore jeans tighter than she did, but I'll be damned if she didn't change my world by introducing me to Bill Hicks.

The album was Dangerous, Hicks' first, originally released in 1990. Cam thought I would dig it, and I remember listening to it all the way through, then immediately listening to the whole thing again. It was an eye opener. At the time, I was a fan of Chris Rock, Richard Pryor - pretty standard stand up. But this was more than stand up, it was a treatise on politics, religion, patriotism, and drug use interspersed with deeply blue ribald material. Hicks himself would say "Chomsky with dick jokes." He was a revolutionary, and maybe the most impressive social critic of the 90's in any medium. Lenny Bruce is really the only other guy you can compare him to. He blows everyone else out of the water. After his death from pancreatic cancer, his mother released a bevy of recordings, Rant in E-Minor, Relentless, Arizona Bay - they are all worth checking out. His sagacity on the evils of consumerism, the pitfalls of religion, and the paradoxical ways most of us go about our lives - they are all genius.

No one is ever going to always agree with Bill Hicks. That's not the point, really, because even if you don't buy into his philosophy, the engagement mentally that is bound to occur when listening to him is going to force reflection and new thought patterns on subjects never before even considered. That was his goal. He didn't give a damn about money, publicity, The Tonight Show, or a development deal to crank out a disgusting sitcom. He cared about spreading the gospel as he saw it to as many people as possible, with no filter and no compromise. That, for better or worse, is the difference between a performer, an entertainer, a singer, a musician, a writer - and an artist. It's the differebce between Jack Johnson and Tom Waits, or James Patterson and Thomas Pynchon. It is a crying shame that he isn't around anymore, I for one could really use him in my life.

Some of my favorite quotes:

"A lot of Christians wear crosses around their necks. You think when Jesus comes back he ever wants to see a fucking cross? It's like going up to Jackie Onassis wearing a sniper rifle pendant."

"Children are smarter than any of us. Know how I know that? I don't know one child with a full time job and children."

"We gotta come to some new ideas about life folks ok? I'm not being blase about abortion, it might be a real issue, it might not, doesn't matter to me. What matters is that if you believe in the sanctity of life then you believe it for life of all ages. That's what I hate about this child-worship syndrome going on. "Save the children! They're killing children! How many children were at Waco? They're killing children!" What does that mean? They reach a certain age and they're off your fucking love-list? Fuck your children, if that's the way you think then fuck you too. You either love all people of all ages or you shut the fuck up."

"I was in Nashville, Tennesee last year. After the show I went to a Waffle House. I'm not proud of it, I was hungry. And I'm alone, I'm eating and I'm reading a book, right? Waitress walks over to me: " Hey, whatchoo readin' for?"
Isn't that the weirdest fucking question you've ever heard? Not what am I readING, but what am I reading *for*? Well, godammit, ya stumped me! Why do I read? Well... hmmm... I dunno... I guess I read for a lot of reasons, and the main one is so I don't end up being a fucking waffle waitress."

"You ever noticed how people who believe in Creationism look really unevolved? You ever noticed that? Eyes real close together, eyebrow ridges, big furry hands and feet. "I believe God created me in one day" Yeah, looks liked He rushed it."

Lies, Damn Lies, and . . . Memoirs?

The embellished, semi-autobiographical or pseudo autobiographical memoir has a long, distinguished history in Literature. Stephen Daedalus was James Joyce's proxy in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, where he used true and exaggerated situations to chronicle his journey into adulthood. Readers are fully aware who Daedalus really is - the name itself conjures images from Ovid of the Greek architect who built such an impressive work of art with his labyrinth that it trapped him, a clear allusion to young Joyce himself writing his first novel. Dostoevsky used his Siberian prison years in all his later work, but in Notes From the Underground he gives us a thinly veiled autobiography crossed with a savage political treatise. Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography may be the most read autobiography in America, but historians have told us of the many exaggerations and outright falsehoods in that book. That doesn't diminish its power. So I have been increasingly surprised of the outrage and umbrage over the recent rash of scandals regarding memoirs in the literary world.

Love and Consequences is the supposedly a true story of a mixed race young woman coming up in south central LA and becoming involved in her black foster brothers' descent into gangland drug running and violence. I haven't read it, but I remember the positive reviews it received upon release. But Margaret B Jones is simply a pseudonym for Margaret Seltzer, who evidently is just a white girl from the Valley with a Desdemona complex. The book was marketed as a true story, but Seltzer own sister ratted her out to her publishers. So evidently Seltzer is no angel. However, that is beside the point. Who cares if is true or not? If you enjoyed reading it, then just give the girl some dap for being savvy enough to get her book deal in the dog-eat-dog publishing world. James Frey got a rash of shit and a public smackdown from Oprah Winfrey for his "embellishments" in the addiction and recovery memoir A Million Little Pieces. The book cracked Oprah's book club, and millions of readers claimed the book "helped the through tough times" and "inspired them," yet they felt betrayed when it was revealed that parts of the book were untrue. These people are morons - no fucking morons. The story was true enough to help you, to inspire you, then that's all that matters. I am sure Frey is laughing all the way to the bank and devise a suitable pseudonym for his next book.

Joyce and Dostoevsky had a major advantage over modern writers - there wasn't a lot of competition for entertainment in those days, and people had more patience. The kind of patience it takes to really invest in a powerful, demanding novel or memoir - and that patience is usually rewarded with a satisfaction and fulfillment that will never be found in a movie, or in the latest Stephen King or James Patterson airport paperback on the bestseller lists. Today, people read 3 or 4 books a year if they're lucky, and Oprah tends to pick 'em. To write a bestseller, especially with your first novel, well it is damn near impossible. I admire Frey and Seltzer. Sure, they may have bent the rules to get their stories out there, but those stories evidently spoke to people - and when it comes to literature, that is really all that matters.

If You Have to Try to Be Hip, Then You Ain't

We can only hope here at Aristeia that today will be the final chapter in the unfortunate battered wife presidential bid for Hillary Clinton, and this will be the last time we mention her on this website. Total overkill in press today . . . man they yap all day without saying a word. Hugo Chavez is trying to start a war, and we get fed pedestrian Mark Penn bullshit campaign ads trying to convince Texas that Hillary is Dr. Strangelove, Henry V, and FDR all rolled into one. Experience! Because, you know, cleaning up the domestic crises her husband causes by banging interns and cocktail waitresses is roughly the equivalent of staring down Hezbollah or dealing with Generalissimo Chavez. Experience, Experience, Experience! For a better rant on how ignorant the political reporters are when it comes to foreign policy check out Michael Signer's article from the Washington Post last week here. More fun was watching her appearance on the Daily Show. It is quite telling that Mike Huckabee and John McCain can banter and quip with superlib Jon Stewart like they are long lost friends, but Hillary sounds like Reese Witherspoon in Election. Bad jokes and stiff, forced "please guys I am cool too" rhetoric made the segment almost painful to watch. What is she thinking? With this, the SNL sketches, and the off the wall Jack Nicholson endorsement it's like she is trying to out rock star the rock star. It's really pathetic, like a Tim McGraw or Toby Keith trying to be Johnny Cash . . . it will never happen. I mean look at that fucking guy Obama . . . like him or not, the guy is cool.

Sarkozy Mouthing Off

We mentioned Sarkozy in the last post, so I had to put this up. It's in French, but it's hilarious. Sarkozy tries to shake this guy's hand, and he says "No, you will soil me." Without missing a beat or losing his smile, he says "Get lost you dumb ass." He has been getting hell for mouthing off all the time and banging hot chicks, which I don't really get. . . I thought that was just being French?

Hugo Chavez and Colombia

Hugo Chavez is a fascinating character to me. He loves to compare himself to the Bolivars and Guevaras of the world, but really lacks the ideological depth and charismatic qualities of those two men. He reminds me of Saddam Hussein. Radical Islam was always simply a convenient vehicle for Hussein to advance . . . well, the cause of Hussein. Marxism serves much the same purpose for Chavez. Like Islam, Marxism in and of itself isn't inherently negative or evil. However, certain aspects of both ideologies lend themselves to revolutionary appeals. But while Islam is simply young (where was Christianity 600 years ago?) and will hopefully, like Christianity, shed it's more literal interpretations of scripture with time, Marxism requires a revolution to work. But Chavez is no ideologue. It would surprise the hell out of me if he has even read Das Kapital. He is a strongman, a thug - no more. And the recent troubles between Columbia, Venezuela and Chavez stooges Ecuador really illustrate it.

This conflict is about drugs, not Karl Marx. Anyone who watched Entourage last season or has seen any number of those flashy, ridiculous drug dealer biopics like Blow will have at least a notion of what FARC is all about - newspapers label them as Marxist Guerrillas, and maybe when they were established in 1964 at the height of the Cold War, they were exactly that. But not anymore. Cocaine has funded and fueled their army for so long that they are no different than a street gang fighting for their corners, or in this case crops. Ideology was abandoned long ago. But naive lefty youngsters around the world and in Europe especially have turned a blind eye this unfortunate truth and have idealized the group, turning them into righteous warriors for a cause long dead - "Guerrilla Chic."

The case of 29 year old Tanja Nijmeijer brings this into focus. Nijmmeijer was an upper-class dutch college student who fell for the Guerrilla Chic, and is now paying dearly. She wrote her senior thesis at the University of Groningen on FARC, and then traveled to Colombia in 2000 to see things for herself. Upon arriving, she taught English to the upper class children in Pereira and volunteered at a shantytown just outside the city. She was understandably horrified by the wealth disparities her two roles must have illustrated. She decided to do something, and joined FARC. Over 3 years later, a raid by the Colombian government yielded her laptop and diary. The laptop was filled with pictures of her family, who she has not been in contact with for years, and her diary details the FARC commanders hypocrisy, materialism, drug use, and brutality. She is unable to escape for fear of being shot by what by now can only be termed as her captors.

Ingrid Betancort is a much more publicized case. Her dual-French citizenship has assured Europe has rallied around her cause. Like Nijmeijer, she bit off more than she could chew when while campaigning for the Colombian presidency, she ignored government warnings and ventured into rebel territory to pontificate about corruption and was immediately kidnapped and held hostage by FARC. She was kidnapped in 2002, and is still being held.

That brings us to the nastiness this weekend. Chavez has been defending FARC since coming to power, and has gotten 6 hostages released over the last few months - but not Betancourt. However, this weekend he went into a tizzy along with Ecuador's Rafeal Correa over Columbia's incursion into Ecuador to cap Raul Reyes, FARC's second in command. Both men claimed they had been very close to securing Betancourt's release and the "warmongering US puppet" had fucked things up but good. Of course there has been no mention from either government of the laundry list of atrocities Reyes has commited in the name of the coca plant. Ecuador has cut off diplomatic ties to Columbia, and Chavez has as usual taken to the bully pulpit to practice his Castro impression and bogart the international media.

It may simply be that Chavez is using FARC to get more attention. I am sure he would love to personally secure Betancourt's release if only to rub it in the face of the new, tough-talking Parisan Sheriff Nicolas Sarkozy.But there are intelligence sources around the globe that believe Chavez's infatuation with FARC may have more to do with business than anything else. This article in the Guardian gives a nice overview of Venezuela's real motivations in cozying up with FARC. A while back we linked to a story detailing Chavez henchmen getting caught at a Miami airport with suitcases full of cash. Obviously it is quite a jump to assume it was drug money . . . but the Guardian article makes some shocking assertions about just how deep the ties between the Colombian drug trade and the Venezuelan military - ie Chavez - go.