Twofer

Happy Bloomsday, everyone! And what a lucky day it is. A tweet from uchicagomag (the University of Chicago alumni magazine) led to this wonderful photo showing two of my most favorite things:

Eve Arnold, "Marilyn Monroe Reading Ulysses," Long Island, 1954

Eve Arnold, "Marilyn Monroe Reading Ulysses," Long Island, 1954

Looks like she’s absorbed in Molly’s soliloquy. Yes, indeed.

By a commonplace coincidence, I just recently finished The Dalkey Archive, which would lead one to believe James Joyce was still alive and kicking when the photo above was taken. In this account, Joyce is tracked down by an admirer and found tending bar in an out-of-the-way Irish village, having faked his death to avoid serving in World War II. He tries to convince Mick (the main character) that Ulysses was a filthy hoax perpetrated by a coterie of literary pranksters, that he knows nothing of Finnegans Wake (he’s been working on a book but won’t describe it), and has been writing religious pamphlets in the years intervening between his supposed death in 1941 and the novel’s present (the 1960s? not sure). After several conversations, in which Joyce’s natural wariness gives way to full-bore confession, we learn that his heart’s desire is to be admitted into the Society of Jesus (aka the Jesuits) and to end his days teaching at Clongowes Wood College, so vividly and painfully depicted in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. What a wicked sense of humor this Flann O’Brien (or Brian O’Nolan, or Brian Ó Nualláin, or Myles na gCopaleen …) has. Also recently read, The Third Policemen was great fun from start to finish, and At Swim-Two-Birds (which a graduate student in English at the U of C tried to foist on me years ago as the greatest of all novels) is still wondering when I will scrape away the requisite amount of time to dive into its loopy involutions.

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Caught

The New York Times reported today that Google is being threatened with sanctions in Germany over its Street View feature, which allows users to “stroll” along streets in areas that are covered by the service, taking in the buildings, scenery, vehicles, pedestrians, etc., in a 360-degree view.  The “data protection regulator” for the city-state of Hamburg (where Google has its German headquarters) said Google and the German officials were at odds on a dozen points. The Times reports that “German privacy law forbids dissemination of photos of people or their property without their consent.” The “most significant disputes” involve Google’s “unauthorized filming of houses and private property and the company’s handling of the photographic data it records but which is later removed from Street View following complaints by property owners.”

It just so happens you can see me in Street View, captured in the act of gardening, even though I am not a gardener. There I am in the red T-shirt, down in a monkey crouch with a spade in my hand. That lady over there is my wife (she’s the gardener), and that’s our neighbor, chatting while he watches us work the soil of the tree lawn in front of our house. I actually remember the day quite well, though I never noticed any car with a strange bit of apparatus on it rolling slowly past.

After the initial glissando of a weird feeling that ran up my spine when I saw it, I felt strangely at ease about my Street View presence. When I showed the printouts to my brother the lawyer, he was spooked, for some reason. (Maybe that’s why he lives in the exurbs.) Am I nuts? I mean, anyone walking or driving by at that moment would have seen us, and frankly, you can’t make out our faces. (Google says it pixelates car license plates and faces, but it seems the resolution of the shots we’re in didn’t require it. I know it’s us because I know us pretty well.) But still … am I crazy not to care?

I confess I like Street View. Just the other day I wandered along the street in Cleveland where I was conceived and gestated (my parents and brother moved into a new house the day I was born, so I had never laid eyes on that neighborhood). Didn’t see any people, though. In my virtual wanderings in DC and elsewhere, I like seeing the traffic and people going about their business. I don’t recognize anyone, and certainly no one recognizes me. Is it voyeuristic or creepy to go Street Viewing in Paris or Chicago, or is it simply the cheapest, most ecological way to satisfy a mild case of wanderlust?

Perhaps more importantly, does this give the lie to my previously stated concerns about government encroachments on privacy? I think not, but the devoted reader is free to think otherwise.

Addendum 2009.05.21: A friend alerted me to this page describing the Google Trike that is photographing scenic footpaths in the UK. A bicyclist like me, he says this would be a neat job after retirement, and I agree.

Addendum 2009.05.22: Here’s a nice article in the New York Times about the Google camera car and the buzz surrounding it.

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Won’t

Jacob Weisberg has offered an early, tentative assessment of Barack Obama as president. The first “theme” he isolates is that Obama “sees the middle ground as the high ground.”

Candidates who talk about bringing people together or changing the tone in Washington are usually blowing happy smoke. But Obama’s focus on reconciliation is clearly more than shtik. We saw this impulse at work when he made preemptive concessions on his stimulus package in an effort to win Republican support. We saw it when, at the G20 summit, he personally brokered a compromise between the French and Chinese presidents over international tax havens. Every few days, Obama tries for a “new beginning”—with Iran, Cuba, the Muslim world, Paul Krugman. Engaging with opponents animates him more than hanging with friends.

This is a wonderful instinct that is bettering America’s image and making domestic politics more civil. But listening, and seeking compromise, is not a moral stance. Elevating it to one merely highlights the question of what Obama really stands for. The consensus-seeker repudiates torture but doesn’t want to investigate it; he endorses gay equality but not in marriage or the military; he thinks government’s role is to do whatever works. I continue to suspect him of harboring deeper convictions.

Don’t we all. Take the torture issue. I’d like to think that, despite his public avowal that he has no intention of investigating, let alone prosecuting, those responsible for this stain on America’s conscience, Obama is quietly putting forces in motion to do just that. I assume the former law professor understands what it means when high-ranking government officials sanction activity that is clearly illegal, and also remembers he took an oath to uphold the constitution and laws of this country. But until we see some action, we would be entirely justified in thinking Obama is being true to his word, shrewdly calculating that, as long as his administration eschews torture, the public interest in investigating past abuses will fade with time.

My friend Thomas Nephew has been gathering information and commenting heavily on this issue. He eloquently expresses the misgivings many of us have about Obama’s approach—or, to all appearances, nonapproach—to all the transgressions committed in conducting the so-called war on terror (ignoring FISA and conducting warrantless wire- and wirelesstaps, denying habeas corpus at Guantánamo Bay and elsewhere, subverting intelligence gathering and analysis, etc.), not just torture.

We Can But We Won'tAs Thomas points out, the president is the country’s chief law enforcement officer. “Yes, we can enforce the laws of the United States,” Obama seems to say. “But we won’t.” The president has said he wants to look forward, not back. But law enforcement is retrospective by nature. He needs to do his job. That’s the real high ground—not that mush in the “middle.”

When he does act, Obama seems intent on perpetuating the Bush-era cover-ups. For instance, after initially agreeing to release photos of torture at locations other than Abu Ghraib, which a judge had ordered in response to a FOIA request, Obama has backtracked and plans to block their release.  Maybe this action is an ingenious “bargaining chip” in his relations with Republicans, the CIA, Rush Limbaugh—who knows? But for old times’ sake, Obama should reread his memorandum for the heads of executive departments and agencies on “Transparency and Open Government.” It’s really quite a fine piece of writing, like a beautiful dream my father once told me.

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Chrysostom

We all knew, from the day he burst on the scene, that Barack Obama is a great talker. And great talk can sometimes accomplish a lot. But there’s a reason why we talk about “walking the walk.” And, for better or worse (mostly worse), George Bush appears to be the better walker. (Maybe Obama could ask to borrow Bush’s middle name.)

Case in point: the Armenian genocide. (We’ll get to more “topical” issues involving Obama’s fine talk and wobbly walk in a subsequent post.) We can imagine why Obama merely alluded elliptically to the genocide while speaking to the Turkish parliament recently, and sidestepped a direct question at a photo op by saying his “views are on the record.” Maybe he thought it impolite to restate them in those venues. True, it would have given a tiny bit of encouragement to brave Turks who risk jail and worse for talking openly about it, but as the leader of a country with deep and twisty entanglements of mutual self-interest vis-à-vis Turkey, it was prudently ingratiating perhaps to keep mum about it while on Turkish soil.

On April 24, 2009, back in the USA, Obama chose to commemorate “one of the great atrocities of the 20th century,” in which “1.5 million Armenians [were] massacred or marched to their death in the final days of the Ottoman Empire.” He used an Armenian phrase—Meds Yeghern—in referring to it, and he called for “a full, frank and just acknowledgment of the facts.”

Obama seems to intend to imply that meds yeghern means “great atrocity.” The “great atrocity” is the continued Turkish denial that a genocide took place, and that an American president chooses to refer to it in Armenian rather than plain English. As Harut Sassounian writes in “Et tu, Obama? Letter from a Former Admirer”:

You may want to know that “Meds Yeghern” does not mean genocide; it means “Great Calamity.” Armenians used that term before the word “genocide” was coined by Raphael Lemkin in the 1940’s. “Genocide” in Armenian is “Tseghasbanoutyoun,” which is a much more precise term than “Meds Yeghern,” in case you decide to use it in the future.

Not only did your aides come up with the wrong Armenian word, but they failed to provide its English translation, so that non-Armenians could understand its meaning. What was, after all, the point of using an Armenian word in an English text? Did your staff run out of English euphemisms for genocide?

It just so happens meds yeghern fits nicely with the official Turkish position that the murder and death marches “just happened”—that a big war was going on and everyone suffered, Armenians and Turks alike. Sorry, a government-run genocide doesn’t just happen. And there can be no doubt, unless you have been paid off, that it did happen.

The ABC News blog Political Punch has collected some of Obama’s previous remarks on the genocide. Most compelling is his July 28, 2006, letter to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, protesting her decision to recall the US ambassador to Turkey for letting slip the G-word:

“That the invocation of a historical fact by a State Department employee could constitute an act of insubordination is deeply troubling,” then-Sen. Obama wrote. “When State Department instructions are such that an ambassador must engage in strained reasoning—or even an outright falsehood—that defies of common sense interpretation of events in order to follow orders, then it is time to revisit the State Department’s policy guidance on that issue.”

Obama told Secretary Rice that the “occurrence of the Armenian genocide in 1915 is not an ‘allegation,’ a ‘personal opinion,’ or a ‘point of view.’ Supported by an overwhelmingly amount of historical evidence, it is a widely documented fact.”

Well put.

Obama has had plenty more to say on the subject, often to audiences filled with Armenian Americans, who voted heavily for him in 2008. As reported by Political Punch:

Mr. Obama said that “America deserves a leader who speaks truthfully about the Armenian Genocide and responds forcefully to all genocides. I intend to be that president.”

In a January 2008 letter to the Armenian Reporter, Mr. Obama said he shared “with Armenian Americans—so many of whom are descended from genocide survivors—a principled commitment to commemorating and ending genocide. That starts with acknowledging the tragic instances of genocide in world history.”

Naturally, many Armenian Americans—and any person who thinks (1) words matter and (2) history not only matters, it isn’t even past—are disappointed. Others appear to be in shock: not a peep from my wife’s cousin in Colorado, an ardently voluble Obama supporter from the start. As for myself, I was never enchanted enough to be disenchanted. He’s an improvement—how much of an improvement remains to be seen.

The sound of crickets chirping from Yerevan after Obama’s statement on the 24th has led some to believe that his meds yeghern moment is part of a sophisticated bargaining strategy, as the US tries to broker an agreement between Armenia and Turkey that would normalize relations. Among other reasons, this is why I have put off commenting on this textbook example of how to go back on your word. And maybe the purported bargain will pay off. I tend to think it gives cover to the hardliners in Turkey and will not help heal the rift. But if it allows him to play hardball with Turkey in the background while playing patty-cake in public, it’s probably a small price to pay. The problem is, longstanding geopolitical thinking puts the ball and bat and bases (pun intended) and just about the whole playing field in Turkey’s hands, and Obama has shown no interest in slaying the beast of conventional wisdom in US foreign policy.

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McGuffey

See WorldWideWeber.
See WorldWideWeber neglect his blog.
Bad, WorldWideWeber, bad!

See Tim Go

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Autobiograffiti

Not only am I getting tired of Facebook (after a mere 13 months of use), I’ve started wondering how much time I’ve already wasted there. It didn’t take very long for me to get fed up and shut down all applications, so if a Facebook bot sends me an egg or kidnaps me or asks me to list x number of fascinating things about me, I just ignore it. And I’ve always been free to not look at new photos, new self-quiz results, new complaints about the rain or snow, new updates on happy or rocky relationships, etc., although it’s hard not to see them. But the time spent composing status messages—well, for that I have no one to blame but myself.

It seems to me that my blogger friends are blogging less and Facebooking more. I don’t think we can attribute that all to the fact that the election season is over (although I’m sure Nate Silver has seen a precipitous drop in his visits). Maybe they’re just living life more, which is great. I know that’s what I’m doing when I’m not blogging.

Still, I couldn’t let March pass without a single post. Being a fundamentally lazy person, and finding myself in the mood to memorialize my year on Facebook as I prepare to cut back on my participation (admittedly modest, compared to some of the addicts I see out there), I figure I’d pull all my status messages from Facebook’s ravenous maw and copy them here as a pathetic but possibly admonitory example of Facebooky navel-gazing. Some of the entries still almost make sense; some elicted rejoinders that far outshone the status message itself. And the earliest ones show just how lost I was at first in the Facebook universe. Does this traipse backward in time qualify as autobiography? Hardly. But it’s something, and that’s better than nothing. Maybe.

At any rate, here goes …

Read More »

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Kindling

Some quick impressions of the Kindle reading device after two days of use:

It’s smaller than I expected. The screen is larger than those on several PDAs I’ve used heavily to read on in the past, but not as large as even a small-format paperback. The small size is good and bad, of course. It’s incredibly thin, but it has a good heft to it, allowing you to feel comfortable handling it (i.e., not feel as if you’re going to break it). The keypad is correspondingly small, and at first I felt I was going to keep hitting two keys at once; but after getting used to it, and not being worried about pressing hard, I’ve managed to type decently well without typos (I’ve never had a phone/PDA with a keypad, so this thumb-typing is new to me).

The “electronic ink” performs as well as the hype: incredibly clear type and very nice grayscale images (when the device goes to sleep, the text is replaced by pictures of famous authors and old engravings). The type is scalable to six sizes, and I’m finding the second-smallest puts the most comfortably readable text on the screen. (One thing I didn’t like about reading on the PDAs was the scant amount of text per screen. I tend to circle back in my reading a lot, and it’s nice not to have to page back to get at the text.)

You really need adequate light to read on the Kindle. The surface is moderately nonreflective, so glare is pretty well under control. Coming from the PDA world, where I could read Great Expectations in low light (or no light), this will require a change in my lighting habits. Perhaps this is partly due to the fact that the “paper” is an unexpectedly deep shade of gray, but it’s mainly due to the fact that the Kindle isn’t self-illuminated like a PDA or computer monitor.

Downloading new material from Amazon via the built-in wireless (“Whispernet”) is incredibly fast, as advertised. It’s almost too easy to buy new stuff—purchases go through Amazon’s One-Click checkout without the need to key in any personal information. The Manage Your Kindle page at Amazon is nicely designed, so it’s easy to keep track of your purchases and subscriptions.

Read More »

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Wasabi

I was looking forward to “crazy” on Tuesday, but didn’t expect so much of teh stupid.

Up until late Monday, Laura and I planned to head down to the Mall at a not-too-unreasonable hour and see what we could see of the swearing-in. We are, after all, just ordinary folk. But a former neighbor (and extraordinary guy) stopped by Monday evening, offering two tickets to the standing-room area of the Capitol lawn. The tickets had a nice purple border, corresponding to the area designated for our humble presence.

But like a one-way sign that is no guarantee you won’t be run over by a car going the wrong way, this pretty ticket—signed by Senator Dianne Feinstein, chair of the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies (JCCIC)—didn’t mean we’d actually get to stand in the purple area and watch Barack Obama be sworn in from a few hundred meters away. Due to a complete breakdown of crowd control and security management, we were among the tens of thousands of ticket holders who never made it through the purple, blue, and silver gates.

The details of this mess are now being sorted out in the proper places (e.g., within minutes a Facebook group was created, “Survivors of the Purple Tunnel of Doom”) and in the mainstream as well. So I’ll spare the details. Just Google it. I’m tired of the whole thing. As I said in a comment I dropped somewhere, I don’t feel sorry for myself. Despite the subfreezing temperatures and idiocy of standing around for three hours (some stood around for twice that and didn’t get in), I’m glad we went down there. We met some great people from all over: Michigan, Florida, New York City (Queens); even a guy from my wife’s hometown in Wisconsin—a quiet gentleman in an impressive black fur coat, who works for Racine’s most renowned and community-conscious employer, Johnson Wax. Those are the folks we felt bad for, people who were our guests in the District of Columbia and who were treated so shabbily. Unfortunately it’s a moot point whether those in charge will learn a lesson from this fiasco: the inauguration of Barack Obama was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and they blew it: the JCCIC, Capitol police, and Secret Service (which unpredictably closed off streets that were supposed to be clear, creating a fluid maze and ensuring that lines would turn into mobs—although, as I said elsewhere, these were the most docile, genial mobs I have ever been part of).

At a little after noon, after hearing the distant cheer of an unseen crowd and the echoing booms of a 21-gun salute, we left the area near 1st and C Streets NW, but not before Laura banged on the temporary fence and got one of the cops to come over. (It must be said, they did a most excellent job of ignoring us for three hours.) While she tried to get an explanation from the guy, I leaned against a tree with my eyes closed. When I opened them, one of our new friends from Michigan was taking my picture. I smiled wanly, and she said, “To help remember the day.” Earlier she had gently scolded me when I called out through the fence: “Thanks for nothing!” She said they were just doing their jobs. I said, if that’s true, their jobs were pretty pointless. I said I was letting them know I’m disappointed since I’ll never be face to face with whoever designed their “plan” and set it in motion (or did neither). She said, rightly: “That’s not what this day is about. Let’s be grateful and enjoy that.” How could I disagree with this lovely African American woman who had traveled so much further than I and whose feelings about the new president most likely run deeper?

Laura and I started walking toward a Metro station, encountering hundreds of vendors hawking tacky memorabilia and noticing the trash collecting like snowdrifts against curbs and buildings. We started down into the Gallery Place station, took one look at the crowd at the turnstiles, and turned around. We walked up to Faragut Square and had lunch at a place Laura has wanted me to try for some time, Wasabi. As the name implies, it’s Japanese, but with a twist: little plates of food move along a conveyor from the kitchen to the other end of the restaurant and back. There are booths along one side and bar seating on the other. The plates are color-coded* by price and labeled; if you see something you like, you just take it off the conveyor. When you’ve eaten your fill, they tally up the plates. Delicious and fun.

When we finished, we kept walking north on 18th, which was basically taken over by pedestrians north of K Street. It’s always a liberating feeling when the people take over the streets, so my spirits soared a bit a this point. We ended up walking all the way home, sparing Metro two additional riders on their record-breaking day. (We had taken the Metro from Tenleytown to Judiciary Square in the morning—a crowded but boardable train appeared within two minutes. They actually were running on the rush-hour schedule, as advertised.) We watched some of the TV coverage and called it a day.

And that’s the way it was, January 20th, 2009.
__________
*Color-coded! The irony just now hit me.

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Auguration

Far be it from me to try and predict how the Obama presidency will turn out. Many of us had a feeling the Bush years would be bad, but did any of us dream it would turn out as disastrous as it did?

I saw a teaser today at the New York Times saying that David Brooks is “satisfied” so far with Obama and that Gail Collins is “worried” (didn’t bother to read the article). I’m a bit of both, which says a lot about both Obama and myself; but it’s the possibility of agreeing with the self-satisfied, strange-thinking Brooks that really has me worried.

Show Some TeethA lot of people are having fun making their own pseudo-Shepard Fairey posters at Paste Magazine. I hope Barack likes mine.

I’m looking forward to seeing how crazy it gets down on the Mall on Tuesday. Maybe I’ll get a nice photo of me next to Obama (i.e., a Jumbotron Obama). Last week I saw a truck hauling about twenty pedicabs into town, and WABA is sponsoring bike valet parking at two locations. Other than that, I have no idea how people are going to get around. We may end up walking to the Mall from Tenleytown (and back) if Metro is swamped.

Then again, maybe temperatures in the low thirties Fahrenheit will keep the crowds down—maybe only a couple million. We shall see.

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Sundries

The year is rapidly drawing to a close, and activity here has dwindled to a trickle. The world outside continues to undergo sundry shocks and transformations, while life in the basement has become more inward.

After all the excitement and anxiety of the presidential campaign, Barack Obama is off to a solid start. He has already disappointed some of his most ardent supporters in choosing Rick Warren to give the invocation at his inauguration. I sympathize with those who are angry at this apparent betrayal, but if this is the worst decision Obama makes in his presidency, we should all be very happy indeed.

What I want from Obama are three things: implementation of a two-state solution in Israel/Palestine; universal health care; and a reversal of the US policy of projecting its military might around the globe. He can have Howdy Doody give an invocation for all I care, if it offers the possibility of fruitful dialogue between progressives and puppets.

I’ll note in passing a story that has pretty much been ignored in the mainstream press: the sudden death of a person with a key role in the alternate (nongovernmental) e-mail system used by Karl Rove and other White House operatives to evade official archiving and other inconvenient things. The news knocked loose a memory of blogging by Thomas Nephew on the subject back in April 2007. And a chain of clicks led me to Larisa Alexandrovna, who intends to stay on the story, since the deceased had been a major source for an investigation she has been conducting.

But let’s end on a happy note, shall we? Back in September the president of Turkey, Abdullah Gül, paid a visit to Armenia to watch a soccer match. Although his route to the stadium was lined with protesters, Gül said he was pleased with the reception. This incipient thaw in relations between Armenia and Turkey is very welcome indeed.

Recently a petition has appeared on the web, initiated by a group of Turkish intellectuals, apologizing for the Armenian genocide (without actually using the word “genocide”). The petition reads: “My conscience does not accept the insensitivity showed to and the denial of the Great Catastrophe that the Ottoman Armenians were subjected to in 1915. I reject this injustice and for my share, I empathise with the feelings and pain of my Armenian brothers. I apologise to them.” Some Turks immediately took umbrage, and others probably made more of the petition than it could logically bear. It was as much about the Turkish government’s attempt to control debate as it was about the Armenian genocide per se. According to Hürriyet Daily News, Cengiz Aktar, widely considered the architect behind the petition, said the petition was not “a campaign about the genocide debate.”

“This is about private individuals, citizens, acting according to the voice of their conscience, and apologizing for the last 90 years this topic was not even discussed,” said Aktar, a Bahçeşehir University academic. Pointing out that the topic had always been a taboo, but still so far 13,500 signatories have broken it, he said. “It has never been discussed like this before. Next time it comes up, everybody should take into account the 13,500 people who feel this way.”

Providing an odd cherry on top of this delightful confection, a member of the Turkish parliament has declared that President Gül’s maternal grandmother is of Armenian descent (making him a “crypto-Armenian,” as a Turkish journalist sarcastically put it), and that’s why he’s “supporting the Armenians.” What makes this delicious to me is that the Turkish word gül (“rose”) is part of my wife’s name, along with the Turkish word for “white.” I guess that makes my Armenian “white rose” a crypto-Turk!

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  • Proverbs for Paranoids, 3: If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.
    Gravity’s Rainbow

    ‘Is it about a bicycle?’ he asked.
    The Third Policeman