The biggest challenge for this list in the video age, is whether a song can stand apart from its visual element (or even whether it should). In reverse-alphabetical order, because we're hip like that:
"Who's Next?"
-tom lehrer
Wait, nuclear annihilation can be...funny?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUue4dBZwI8
"White & Nerdy"
-"weird al" yankovic
It's hard to crack this list with a parody...but if it were twice as long, half the additional entries might be al's. It was tempting to finish this list with "Amish Paradise", but there's really only one alphabetically-aligned perfect happy ending.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9qYF9DZPdw
"Start Me Up"
-the Folksmen
This parody is dryly commonplace silliness, until the transcendent tag explodes into heavenly hilarity.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toNjwDa-TTY
"Short People"
-randy newman
We don't use the word "genius" lightly.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrjStSqu_w4
"Shame"
-randy newman
If this list were half as long, both of randy's entries would still be here. '77, '99...shouldn't he have had a burst of genius in '88? And '00 and '11, for that matter?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4Iaur2Tlio
"Particle Man"
-They Might Be Giants
Pure absurdity? Social commentary? We just don't know.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOLivyykLqk
"Medical Love Song"
-Monty Python
Another source that might have easily had more entries, especially for fans of traffic lights.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfHCxIiZ_4M
"John Mayer for Dummies"
-Key of Awesome
Is it possible to love this parody in a 100% affectionate way?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZ3FyFFDDiY
"I'm Fucking Ben Affleck"
-jimmy kimmel
The inspiration? Very funny. The response? (Almost) genius.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwIyLHsk2h4
"Here Comes Another One"
-Monty Python
Sit on my lumberjack face? Deserving, but too obvious.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAf0qmjiX7M
"Hannukah Song"
-adam sandler
Covered by both ozzy osborne and neil diamond? No, not really...but i had you going, didn't i?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDV_reO930A
"Fuck Her Gently"
-Tenacious D
And then, they're going to comedy you hard.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvdYly4A5W0
"Dick in a Box"
-The Lonely Island
Even without the genius visuals, the audio alone would make the list.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeWvs27JOCI
"Chocolate Salty Balls"
-isaac hayes
Well, they can't all be oscar wilde.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnNYXgV7L-c
"Chocolate"
-The Smothers Brothers
Chocolate!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSmqYSVVpTM
"Business Time"
-Flight of the Conchords
A rare example of the live version being funnier than the funny video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGOohBytKTU
"Big Bottom"
-Spinal Tap
Please give close attention to derek's instrument. He'd like that.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qDgCmzh5ao
So...have i missed any? Fill up that comment box!
Saturday, October 28, 2017
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
"The Drunkard's Walk"
(How Randomness Rules Our Lives)
-by leonard mlodinow
2008
My aunts and mother believe that every time they find a penny, it's a message from their dead mother.
My brother insists that whenever we play cards, the trump card must always be "predicted". He gets mystically orgasmic when someone is right (or even vaguely close).
Am i the ONLY person in my family not a superstitious simpleton, ignorant of any understanding of statistics and probabilities?
Mind you, i have my own statistic bugaboo - the fact that i don't buy it. The whole concept, i mean. For the most part i do, but there's one element i can't reconcile, the notion that if you deal with large enough numbers, say dice rolls in the thousands, the distribution will become more and more predictable the higher you go...you'll eventually get the same percentage of sixes as ones...and I DON'T QUITE BUY IT. It seems just another form of mystical-wistical mumbo jumbo...for all that to work out, it seems that dice would have to possess memory. But DICE CAN'T REMEMBER, i say! Which mlodinow would agree with, to a point. He would say that you shouldn't be amazed by six sixes in a row (or even sixteen or twenty-six), but he would also say that when you get to high enough numbers, the probabilities even out.
It feels like statisticians want to have their cake, and eat it too.
But one thing i do accept, as this book shows, is that human probabilistic intuition is grievously flawed, and the sooner we understand that, the better our lives will get. And this book offers a wonderful, accessible understanding of how these things work. Mlodinow (who co-wrote "A Briefer History of Time" with stephen hawking) talks about regression toward the mean, which shows that great or awful results are aberrations, and subsequent events always trend back toward the average. This trips us up, because humans are easily swayed by extreme events (for example, flight instructors fallaciously believe that yelling at a student after a bad flight is a successful teaching tactic). And perhaps the greatest human statistical misconception is the belief that success and failure are based on merit. Statistics show that both results are largely random. For example, john grisham had his first book rejected by publishers twenty-six times. Dr. seuss, twenty-seven. Or take pulitzer-prize winning novelist john kennedy toole, whose first book was published eleven years after he committed suicide after repeated rejections by publishers. Success and failure (at least by the myopic, zero-sum standards of this society) are at least as much about persistence as ability.
I can imagine a more sharply-focused book, strictly dealing with exposing human misconceptions. The title refers to the randomness (like bouncing molecules) within order. Leonard perhaps neglects the topic of coincidence, and how "miraculous" events are actually commonplace...something we fail to appreciate, because we're not always looking where we would have to, to see them all. So we get boggle-eyed by seemingly-astounding coincidence. Mlodinow does, however, take the time to delve deeply into the history of probabilities. And he offers many rich examples...like how we know that a significant percentage of college sports games are fixed, or how we can be certain that wine-tasting guides are bullshit. Or how financial advisers and movie studio executives are rewarded or punished on the basis of nearly 100% bullshit.
As for my brother, if ESP existed, every casino in the world would go out of business.
As for my mother and aunts, if they started finding spanish doubloons everywhere...there STILL would be a rational explanation.
As for me, i may have to go roll a die one thousand times, just to accept the magical powers of statistical probabilities once and for all.
A wonderful book.
-by leonard mlodinow
2008
My aunts and mother believe that every time they find a penny, it's a message from their dead mother.
My brother insists that whenever we play cards, the trump card must always be "predicted". He gets mystically orgasmic when someone is right (or even vaguely close).
Am i the ONLY person in my family not a superstitious simpleton, ignorant of any understanding of statistics and probabilities?
Mind you, i have my own statistic bugaboo - the fact that i don't buy it. The whole concept, i mean. For the most part i do, but there's one element i can't reconcile, the notion that if you deal with large enough numbers, say dice rolls in the thousands, the distribution will become more and more predictable the higher you go...you'll eventually get the same percentage of sixes as ones...and I DON'T QUITE BUY IT. It seems just another form of mystical-wistical mumbo jumbo...for all that to work out, it seems that dice would have to possess memory. But DICE CAN'T REMEMBER, i say! Which mlodinow would agree with, to a point. He would say that you shouldn't be amazed by six sixes in a row (or even sixteen or twenty-six), but he would also say that when you get to high enough numbers, the probabilities even out.
It feels like statisticians want to have their cake, and eat it too.
But one thing i do accept, as this book shows, is that human probabilistic intuition is grievously flawed, and the sooner we understand that, the better our lives will get. And this book offers a wonderful, accessible understanding of how these things work. Mlodinow (who co-wrote "A Briefer History of Time" with stephen hawking) talks about regression toward the mean, which shows that great or awful results are aberrations, and subsequent events always trend back toward the average. This trips us up, because humans are easily swayed by extreme events (for example, flight instructors fallaciously believe that yelling at a student after a bad flight is a successful teaching tactic). And perhaps the greatest human statistical misconception is the belief that success and failure are based on merit. Statistics show that both results are largely random. For example, john grisham had his first book rejected by publishers twenty-six times. Dr. seuss, twenty-seven. Or take pulitzer-prize winning novelist john kennedy toole, whose first book was published eleven years after he committed suicide after repeated rejections by publishers. Success and failure (at least by the myopic, zero-sum standards of this society) are at least as much about persistence as ability.
I can imagine a more sharply-focused book, strictly dealing with exposing human misconceptions. The title refers to the randomness (like bouncing molecules) within order. Leonard perhaps neglects the topic of coincidence, and how "miraculous" events are actually commonplace...something we fail to appreciate, because we're not always looking where we would have to, to see them all. So we get boggle-eyed by seemingly-astounding coincidence. Mlodinow does, however, take the time to delve deeply into the history of probabilities. And he offers many rich examples...like how we know that a significant percentage of college sports games are fixed, or how we can be certain that wine-tasting guides are bullshit. Or how financial advisers and movie studio executives are rewarded or punished on the basis of nearly 100% bullshit.
As for my brother, if ESP existed, every casino in the world would go out of business.
As for my mother and aunts, if they started finding spanish doubloons everywhere...there STILL would be a rational explanation.
As for me, i may have to go roll a die one thousand times, just to accept the magical powers of statistical probabilities once and for all.
A wonderful book.
Friday, October 20, 2017
"Ishtar"
-directed and written by elaine may
1987
Oft-acerbic cartoonist gary larson penned some 4000 THE FAR SIDEs...and there was only ever one for which he publicly apologized. A "hell's video store" featuring shelves full of nothing but ISHTAR.
The zeitgeist's attitude toward this movie has softened from its initial roaring condemnation, when ISHTAR became the infamous poster child for bloated Hollywood wretchedness. Perhaps money was a factor in the public scorn that cascaded down, but not in the obvious way...perhaps it was a subconscious twinge of shame from an obscenely rich country that allows millions of its citizens to live in poverty. What's that? $40,000,000 for a MOVIE?? A comedy, no less? I HATE IT!!! Or perhaps, in this sycophantic culture of self-loathing, sometimes we have a cathartic need to immolate - for every Beatles or AVATAR, we need a nixon or ISHTAR. And if you read the trivia section from this movie's IMDB page, you might be dumbfounded at how seemingly doomed-to-failure it was, with toxic disagreements between director and stars and studio chief david puttnam (whose lack of enthusiasm for this inherited project may have blossomed into outright self-sabotage). It's certainly puzzling how the wheels fell off so swiftly, especially after the pre-release screenings were all successes.
But in the intervening decades, more and more cries of "unfairly maligned" have popped up. Or some version of "not bad, and the songs are wonderful". So perhaps someday ISHTAR will be hailed as one of the great comic gems of all time. I don't dabble in hyperbole (well, much), but i promise you, this film is on par with the quote-reference status of marx, mel, Python, or ZAZ.
One fascinating by-product of the discord was that may, hoffman, and beatty each had their own team of editors, making three different versions of the film. Which was released?? How many years are we going to have to wait for a deluxe edition, with all three?
So here's what you'll fall in love with, if you dare. Hoffman (TOOTSIE, THE EARTH DAY SPECIAL) and beatty (BULWORTH, THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS) play two hack lounge singers who get a booking in Morocco, then get swept up into intrigue between a despot, rebels, and the CIA. In acting, drama gets the glory...but comedy is harder, and dustin and warren nail this one. Throughout the mayhem, lyle and chuck keep writing songs and focusing on their act...and indeed the music (by may and songwriting legend paul williams - THE MUPPET MOVIE, THE LOVE BOAT) is so off-the-charts, intentionally-awful hysterical, one can only hope it was as much fun to create as it is to hear. It's so infectious, you might end up rejecting the "awful" premise altogether. It's certainly my holy grail, as a soundtrack was recorded but never released. Are you reading this, paul?? Tell us you didn't burn the masters! Our bumbling leads both fall in love with the same revolutionary (the impeccable isabelle adjani - NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE, QUEEN MARGOT). The oscar goes to charles grodin (MIDNIGHT RUN, DAVE), who manages to make an amoral CIA antagonist both hysterical and sympathetic. Jack weston (THE INCREDIBLE MR. LIMPET, THE FOUR SEASONS) plays the duo's jaded agent, to hangdog perfection. Carol kane (TAXI, THE PRINCESS BRIDE) is priceless as a put-upon girlfriend. Matt frewer (MAX HEADROOM, THE CRIMSON PERMANENT ASSURANCE) is spiffy as a CIA operative.
The chemistry and comedy are seamless...and sometimes the accidents worked in their favor. There was supposed to be a big military climax, which warren almost insisted upon, but it wasn't elaine's forte. Warren gave in, and as a result, that scene centers around a lone jeep in the desert...which is a perfect metaphor for chuck and lyle themselves. It keeps the lightness and pathos close at hand.
There. I've told the truth. That's dangerous business.
1987
Oft-acerbic cartoonist gary larson penned some 4000 THE FAR SIDEs...and there was only ever one for which he publicly apologized. A "hell's video store" featuring shelves full of nothing but ISHTAR.
The zeitgeist's attitude toward this movie has softened from its initial roaring condemnation, when ISHTAR became the infamous poster child for bloated Hollywood wretchedness. Perhaps money was a factor in the public scorn that cascaded down, but not in the obvious way...perhaps it was a subconscious twinge of shame from an obscenely rich country that allows millions of its citizens to live in poverty. What's that? $40,000,000 for a MOVIE?? A comedy, no less? I HATE IT!!! Or perhaps, in this sycophantic culture of self-loathing, sometimes we have a cathartic need to immolate - for every Beatles or AVATAR, we need a nixon or ISHTAR. And if you read the trivia section from this movie's IMDB page, you might be dumbfounded at how seemingly doomed-to-failure it was, with toxic disagreements between director and stars and studio chief david puttnam (whose lack of enthusiasm for this inherited project may have blossomed into outright self-sabotage). It's certainly puzzling how the wheels fell off so swiftly, especially after the pre-release screenings were all successes.
But in the intervening decades, more and more cries of "unfairly maligned" have popped up. Or some version of "not bad, and the songs are wonderful". So perhaps someday ISHTAR will be hailed as one of the great comic gems of all time. I don't dabble in hyperbole (well, much), but i promise you, this film is on par with the quote-reference status of marx, mel, Python, or ZAZ.
One fascinating by-product of the discord was that may, hoffman, and beatty each had their own team of editors, making three different versions of the film. Which was released?? How many years are we going to have to wait for a deluxe edition, with all three?
So here's what you'll fall in love with, if you dare. Hoffman (TOOTSIE, THE EARTH DAY SPECIAL) and beatty (BULWORTH, THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS) play two hack lounge singers who get a booking in Morocco, then get swept up into intrigue between a despot, rebels, and the CIA. In acting, drama gets the glory...but comedy is harder, and dustin and warren nail this one. Throughout the mayhem, lyle and chuck keep writing songs and focusing on their act...and indeed the music (by may and songwriting legend paul williams - THE MUPPET MOVIE, THE LOVE BOAT) is so off-the-charts, intentionally-awful hysterical, one can only hope it was as much fun to create as it is to hear. It's so infectious, you might end up rejecting the "awful" premise altogether. It's certainly my holy grail, as a soundtrack was recorded but never released. Are you reading this, paul?? Tell us you didn't burn the masters! Our bumbling leads both fall in love with the same revolutionary (the impeccable isabelle adjani - NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE, QUEEN MARGOT). The oscar goes to charles grodin (MIDNIGHT RUN, DAVE), who manages to make an amoral CIA antagonist both hysterical and sympathetic. Jack weston (THE INCREDIBLE MR. LIMPET, THE FOUR SEASONS) plays the duo's jaded agent, to hangdog perfection. Carol kane (TAXI, THE PRINCESS BRIDE) is priceless as a put-upon girlfriend. Matt frewer (MAX HEADROOM, THE CRIMSON PERMANENT ASSURANCE) is spiffy as a CIA operative.
The chemistry and comedy are seamless...and sometimes the accidents worked in their favor. There was supposed to be a big military climax, which warren almost insisted upon, but it wasn't elaine's forte. Warren gave in, and as a result, that scene centers around a lone jeep in the desert...which is a perfect metaphor for chuck and lyle themselves. It keeps the lightness and pathos close at hand.
There. I've told the truth. That's dangerous business.
Monday, October 16, 2017
"The Princess Diarist"
-by carrie fisher
2016
What happened? I told myself (and the world) that i was out! Yet here i am, touching (however tangentially) upon a piece of the Star Wars universe. I made the break a few years back...i, who for much of my childhood plus my teen years PLUS most of my adulthood, had held my devotion aloft (admittedly never so, shall we say, "colorfully" as some fans, but in my heart and the scope of my knowledge, i took a back seat to no one). Finally though, i could no longer ignore the fact that the SW universe is one of glamorized, unrelenting violence, wherein the "good" people are just as blood-spattered as the "bad" (okay, light sabers self-cauterize, but you get the point). And beyond that, to see life as "good vs. evil" is a child's philosophy, one that has humynity stuck in apocalyptic barbarism.
And when i say "enough", that's what i mean. So when Episode VII (with original cast!) was released, i took no notice. Not one stray glance or thought. It would be almost impossible to overstate the enormity of that, given my previous life.
Why then, am i here today?
Because of carrie. That plus extenuating circumstances. I'd been aware of this book, and wasn't tempted, even though i hold ms. fisher the writer in high regard. But last week, i was in a rush at the library, needing a semi-mindless bedtime book. So i grabbed this - a collection of diary entries from the time she was filming the first SW movie, before her world (and ours) changed forever.
Knowing carrie, i expected literary merit and blunt honesty. What the hell, i said...it would be the one little indulgent SW reminiscence i would ever give myself. So what happened on the way to this being a trifle that i would never consider worthy of sharing with you?
An eye-openingly wonderful book, that's what.
The way she set up the diaries, with self-deprecation about what an unformed, uneducated teenager she'd been, led me to have minuscule expectations. I assumed that i would enjoy her present-day commentaries more.
Which turned out to be true...
But the power of the diaries snuck up on me, until i was gobsmacked by her nuanced, crystalline expressions of longing and self-loathing, all centered around the "secret" affair she had during those three months, with harrison ford. These diaries are a searing portrayal of alienation...and not just the kind we feel from other people, but the more disturbing alienation we feel from ourselves. Carrie captures what it means to live in this dysfunctional culture, where even our most intimate relationships are often a source of never-ending torment, as we struggle and bargain for the simple love we need. Which leads us (for those who try to remain emotionally open) to never-ending cycles of self-destruction...or never-ending cycles of self-deception for everybody else.
Carrie was, of course, more in the destruction than deception camp.
And her teenage poetry is astonishing. My expectations were comically low, so i had to read four or five of them before it sank in just how good they are.
And now, i realize that if i live a long life, i may actually one day watch her two late-life SW films...if only to search for a glimpse of the deeper soul hidden behind her eyes.
Brilliantly done, carrie. Thank you.
2016
What happened? I told myself (and the world) that i was out! Yet here i am, touching (however tangentially) upon a piece of the Star Wars universe. I made the break a few years back...i, who for much of my childhood plus my teen years PLUS most of my adulthood, had held my devotion aloft (admittedly never so, shall we say, "colorfully" as some fans, but in my heart and the scope of my knowledge, i took a back seat to no one). Finally though, i could no longer ignore the fact that the SW universe is one of glamorized, unrelenting violence, wherein the "good" people are just as blood-spattered as the "bad" (okay, light sabers self-cauterize, but you get the point). And beyond that, to see life as "good vs. evil" is a child's philosophy, one that has humynity stuck in apocalyptic barbarism.
And when i say "enough", that's what i mean. So when Episode VII (with original cast!) was released, i took no notice. Not one stray glance or thought. It would be almost impossible to overstate the enormity of that, given my previous life.
Why then, am i here today?
Because of carrie. That plus extenuating circumstances. I'd been aware of this book, and wasn't tempted, even though i hold ms. fisher the writer in high regard. But last week, i was in a rush at the library, needing a semi-mindless bedtime book. So i grabbed this - a collection of diary entries from the time she was filming the first SW movie, before her world (and ours) changed forever.
Knowing carrie, i expected literary merit and blunt honesty. What the hell, i said...it would be the one little indulgent SW reminiscence i would ever give myself. So what happened on the way to this being a trifle that i would never consider worthy of sharing with you?
An eye-openingly wonderful book, that's what.
The way she set up the diaries, with self-deprecation about what an unformed, uneducated teenager she'd been, led me to have minuscule expectations. I assumed that i would enjoy her present-day commentaries more.
Which turned out to be true...
But the power of the diaries snuck up on me, until i was gobsmacked by her nuanced, crystalline expressions of longing and self-loathing, all centered around the "secret" affair she had during those three months, with harrison ford. These diaries are a searing portrayal of alienation...and not just the kind we feel from other people, but the more disturbing alienation we feel from ourselves. Carrie captures what it means to live in this dysfunctional culture, where even our most intimate relationships are often a source of never-ending torment, as we struggle and bargain for the simple love we need. Which leads us (for those who try to remain emotionally open) to never-ending cycles of self-destruction...or never-ending cycles of self-deception for everybody else.
Carrie was, of course, more in the destruction than deception camp.
And her teenage poetry is astonishing. My expectations were comically low, so i had to read four or five of them before it sank in just how good they are.
And now, i realize that if i live a long life, i may actually one day watch her two late-life SW films...if only to search for a glimpse of the deeper soul hidden behind her eyes.
Brilliantly done, carrie. Thank you.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
sweetprints
What's all the fuss about, sugar??
Refined sugar, that is. Been getting some awful press. Words like "toxic" thrown around.
Sigh. All lil' old sugah did was try to make people happy. Not just people, either...picture a bear going for honey. A chimp going for grapes. A dead dog next to a pile of chocolate wrappers.
Okay, not that last one. But we mammals love our sweets! And why the hell not? Sweets (and fats and salts) affect the same pleasure centers of the brain as opioids. Damn right. Pass those chocolate-covered potato chips!
And now sugar is being linked to depression? Cancer?? Obesity??? Okay, we'll give you that last one. Apparently what happens is that natural sugars, like those found in fruit, come with all sorts of fruity things bonded to them, which the body needs time to break down. But refined sugar hits our innards on an express track to the liver, and abnormally-saturated livers seem to be the primary cause of obesity. As for those grimmer possibilities, more long-term studies are needed.
Hm. Well, sugar is a drug. Of course. I think even people without kids would agree. And in this world, most of us need every single escape from reality we can get. Particularly ones that we can afford with pocket change, and won't land us in, y'know, jail. So americans consume twenty teaspoons of sugar a day. Hm. Yeah, that's a lot. If the thought of just eating twenty naked teaspoons of sugar at one sitting doesn't turn your stomach, you might want to consider a program. Y'know, the kind with steps.
But i can't hate ya, sugar! In fact, the reason i came here today is to write...a love note. A sweet love note. I have adored sugar, and seem to have avoided the more perilous pitfalls. And i grew up in middle America, where we had dessert every damned dinner! Well, everyone else in my family anyway...i was the only child who couldn't be bribed - no dessert was going to make my brussel sprouts disappear. Nor did i continue the daily dessert pattern as an adult - currently, i eat sweets maybe once a week. In fact, i just had my first refined sugar in over two months...i hadn't intended to do so, but once it was happening i went with it, out of curiosity. I didn't notice any change in my desires or emotions or energy.
Not that i'm immune to sugar's drugging affects. These past few years have been brutal. There have been nights when i ate sugar just because it might make me feel better. And it probably did. In fact, i even occasionally found myself eating sugar two nights in a row. One time, i did five straight.
I was studying humanity, y'know? Pass the damn chocolate-covered garlic!
My first step away from the refined norm came at the age of sixteen, when i transformed my personality profoundly, including a moratorium on all added sugars. And i mean ALL. I never blinked, never cheated. Five years later, i realized it had all been part of a teen identity crisis, so i opened myself up to resuming the things i'd excised. Alcohol never came back, but meats (for a while) and sweets did. And now, years later...well, i wouldn't mind dropping refined sugar altogether. I might be headed that way. More and more, i seek out natural sweeteners. Perhaps my favorite sweet treat now is a little squirt of maple syrup.
But wait, what's that? Dark chocolate-covered blueberries? My my my.
So now, let's switch over to an "a la" mode which may only be of interest to rat anthropologists centuries from now. Come with me, kiddies, let's go for a wonka ride on my sugary journey. What i've hated, what i've loved, and what i've REALLY loved.
I remember a childhood beach trip with my grandparents. They had something called Mary Janes. Sort of a peanut butter nougat. I wouldn't want one now, but for those few days i loved them. My other grandfather always had greenleaves around, a minty gelatin. Again, i wouldn't eat one now, but his personal magic made his candy magic too. I remember visiting the general store where my father had grown up, and tasting the old-fashioned candies...swedish fish, and those little LSD-like tabs you peeled from a long sheet of paper...
Later, gummy bears had my attention for a while, but that may have been mostly because of the tongue-tactile delight. Jolly Ranchers were good, too. And one childhood sweet i've never seen since, the only one which i would pay money to have just one more time, was little wax creations shaped like soda bottles. You chewed them, and they had some kind of fruity liquid inside. You eventually had nothing left in your mouth but wax, which you spit out. It sounds kind of dumb now, but i loved them.
And speaking of soda, which seems to be the number one sugar devil in the world...yup, loved it. I preferred Coke over Pepsi. Dr. Pepper was dandy. Root beer and cream soda even more. Dad would bring home wooden cases of huge A-Treat bottles from an outlet store. The flavor we boys loved and hated was golden dry ginger ale, because it was double strength. I don't remember anyone ever drinking more than a sip, but it was huge fun to watch friends have a first taste, and see their faces contort. I also worked in a mexican restaurant, and would make hybrid cola creations in the bus station, mostly a mix of cola and orange (and tea?). By my mid-twenties though, i had heard about the studies (suburban legends?) in which a tooth left in soda will decay after few days, and that was enough. After that, the only soda i had was a root beer float once every few years.
But by far the most tantalizing sweet was, of course...ice cream! Is there any treat more sweet/fat maxed? I was picky though...chocolate was loathsome, and strawberry not much better. Vanilla was where it was at. And when chocolate magic shell came along, heaven had found its silver lining. There were a few fancier flavors i loved throughout the years, the greatest being chocolate chip cookie dough. From which mustache-twirling genius did that one arise? And Dairy Queen also made bad sooooooo good - their dipped cones were pure crack (surprisingly, i favored the butterscotch over chocolate). And ohhhhhh my, what were those things with the peanuts and chocolate coating/pudding? Buster Bars! Holy mcfucktree, Buster Bars. Once my vegan days arrived, i discovered that the soy/rice/coconut ice cream substitutes are so fantastic, that many vegan-disparagers might prefer "the fake thing" in blind taste tests. My only other ice cream memory is how stunning it was to watch my youngest brother. As a thin teenager, he consumed bowls so enormous, it looked like nearly a quarter-gallon at one sitting. No, he didn't get fat...but he did become a hardcore drug addict years later. Hm.
The second-greatest sweet ever? Look no further than that favorite ice cream. Chocolate chip cookies! Dry or dunked, crunchy or chewy (or both), homemade or store-bought, it's almost impossible to go wrong. My devotion translated into learning to make them, and spending years refining my recipe (which required a new drawing board when i stopped eating dairy). But even a failed batch is never a failure. And of course, eating the dough is sometimes more heavenly than the final product. There are other cookies out there, but none worth mentioning.
Okay, shortbread is worth mentioning.
And Girl Scout thin mints, and samoas! And Keebler fudge sticks! And oreos! (one of the few non-dairy mass market cookies) Being a precocious child, i invented double stuff oreos years before they arrived on the market. Twist one wafer off two cookies, and press the white centers together. Yes, i ate the rejected wafers too - there were apparently starving children in China, and i was a child of conscience. It didn't occur to me to mail those wafers overseas (or to my own american backyard as it turned out, but that's another story).
Pudding i liked, but not enough to go back to it once i started eating sweets again. The only ones i really liked were rice pudding and tapioca.
Pies have always been a mixed bounty. There's the great (french silk, pecan...which can be awful with a bad recipe), the middling (key lime, apple...which can be fantastic with a sublime recipe), and the noxious (pumpkin, coconut cream, banana cream...which has never been good with any recipe ever). Ooh, and my mother made pennsylvania dutch milk pies. Mmmmm.
And what is pie without the amazement of whipped cream (which has a coconut version that's almost orgasmic)? One of my most resonant sweet memories involves theater rehearsals in a church basement...after which, we explored the kitchen and discovered tubs of whipped cream in the freezer. I took a few bites every night. If you've never eaten frozen cool-whip, you've missed one of life's sweet shangri las. To this day, one of my most sublime treats is chocolate chips swirled into whipped cream.
And what of that american staple, cake? More miss than hit. Yellow cake and chocolate cake have always been yuck, even when i was a less discerning child. The one cake i adored was the red velvet mom always made on my birthday. Carrot cakes can be great. Wedding cake? Pretty damned good for store-bought, though the sugar ratio can cause a quick shut-down in desirability. Ice cream cake? Brilliant! Cupcakes? Mostly pheh, but a few of the storebought varieties (ho hos, ding-dongs) are fantastic. I liked twinkies as a kid, but the processed thought of them is wretched to my adult palate. And the second-most repulsive sweet ever (after, of course, peeps) is something called the snowball. The one cake memory i have which was almost miraculous (and never to be repeated) was an italian rum cake. The only other time i tried one, it was pheh...but that first one is burned into my drugged-out brain forever.
Ambrosia? Great. Monkey bread, cinnamon buns? Ecstatic when fresh. Sugar bread, cinnamon sugar toast, and much later cinnamon sugar pretzels? Wonderful. Real s'mores were great too, the only marshmallow memory which still pleases...um, except for Count Chocula and Boo Berry...yummm.
Licorice? Nasty. Jelly beans? Pointless. Except for, um, buttered popcorn Jelly Bellies...maybe swirled with a blueberry or two.
Of course, to an american child, candy bars are the sweet by which all others are measured. The high holy sweet holiday, Halloween (Or wait, is it Easter?? Of course - America has TWO high holy candy holidays!), is an unending candy bar orgy. Apples?? Raisins??? GET THAT SHIT OUT OF MY PLASTIC PUMPKIN! Hmm...i get why sweets got all mixed up in Easter...as holidays go, it's tragically unhip, and only by making kids drugged-out happy zombies could positive associations be reinforced...but why did we decide Halloween needed candy? Dressing up, scaring people - that's already hip, the candy part seems gratuitous! I guess it just goes to show how much we love sugar. Maybe the question should be, why aren't St. Swithin's Day or Arbor Day high holy candy holidays?? Let's make them trees sexy, maybe some kid might grow up to save a forest! So with candy bars, which have i loved most? The first was the Heath bar...mmmmmmm. It is one of the minor tragedies of my life that i've never found a non-dairy version. There was something called a Marathon bar, a carmel chocolate creation which was stunning for its architecture alone. Twix bars were pretty damned good...though the best Twix was one which didn't last, the cookies n' cream version - curse you, oh capricious corporate America! Reese's cups were pretty good, especially when dark versions (like Newman's) became available. York peppermint patties? Fine. M&Ms were respectable, especially when the peanut and dark versions came around. Milky Way Dark? Not bad. Toblerone was damn good, and Toblerone dark double damn good. If you're sensing a trend, yes, as i discovered dark in my teens, it pretty swiftly rendered milk chocolate pukelike in comparison. My favorite bar became Hershey's special dark. Years later, when they "lightened" the recipe, that was the darkest (ha- unintentional pun!) chapter in my sweet tooth life. The new version was disgusting. When they made the change, i found a store that had the old ones, and bought out their stock, making those bars last for a year or two.
The only peeps of the candy bar world? Something called a...mallo-cup (shudder). And those Halloween tri-color traffic cones...WHO EATS THEM??
The only thing i ever loved about Easter was the white chocolate rabbits, though i can't imagine eating one now.
One bizarre candy bar memory, an accidental aberration, happened when i was on a camping trip. I was poking around a cooler with a cousin, and we discovered Hershey bars. For several days, the melting ice had left an inch or two of water in the bottom, and these bars were soaked. Their brown color had paled, and some adult suggested throwing them out. But i took a nibble...and it was freaking amazing! Far less sweet, but soooo cool. The fact that nobody else would go near them was my own little chocolate miracle.
As an adult, pretty much the only sweet i've bought for myself is some form of dark chocolate. A bag of non-dairy chocolate chips is all i need. Dark chocolate espresso beans or pretzels can be dandy. The only brand i know worth mentioning is Nib-Mor...mm-mm-mmmmmm.
I suppose the lesson here is...look at how much i've just gushed. If i met a woman who moved me this much, i'd marry her...and i approve of marriage less than i approve of peeps! Bear in mind, in terms of being an american child sweethound, i was average at best. As an adult, far less. Yet, oh the power of these refined brain drugs. I've avoided obesity, and have only ever had one or two cavities. I'm not condemning sweets, but it sure seems that the overlords of capitalism have led us down the primrose path with the 100 POUNDS of sugar they pour into our eager gullets each year...especially those of us who won't (or can't) choose more powerful (and mind-altering) forms of escapism. I'm just saying, if 100 pounds is the average, someone out there is consuming 190 pounds, just to balance me out. Sugar is everywhere. Sugar is cheap. Sugar makes you feeeeeeeel good. And we live in a sedentary culture of alienation and escapism so relentlessly dehumanizing, that we gobble and gobble and gobble...and, yes, we are the fattest country in the world. Probably ever. U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
And since the only exports we have left are guns and Hollywood, the rest of the world seems to be following in our tubby sweetprints.
Yes indeed, awareness of my stress is, well, pretty stressful. Congratulations, U.S.! You're the global pioneer in metastress!
Sigh. Barkeep, gimme a sip of that maple syrup.
Ah, screw it. Leave the damn bottle.
Refined sugar, that is. Been getting some awful press. Words like "toxic" thrown around.
Sigh. All lil' old sugah did was try to make people happy. Not just people, either...picture a bear going for honey. A chimp going for grapes. A dead dog next to a pile of chocolate wrappers.
Okay, not that last one. But we mammals love our sweets! And why the hell not? Sweets (and fats and salts) affect the same pleasure centers of the brain as opioids. Damn right. Pass those chocolate-covered potato chips!
And now sugar is being linked to depression? Cancer?? Obesity??? Okay, we'll give you that last one. Apparently what happens is that natural sugars, like those found in fruit, come with all sorts of fruity things bonded to them, which the body needs time to break down. But refined sugar hits our innards on an express track to the liver, and abnormally-saturated livers seem to be the primary cause of obesity. As for those grimmer possibilities, more long-term studies are needed.
Hm. Well, sugar is a drug. Of course. I think even people without kids would agree. And in this world, most of us need every single escape from reality we can get. Particularly ones that we can afford with pocket change, and won't land us in, y'know, jail. So americans consume twenty teaspoons of sugar a day. Hm. Yeah, that's a lot. If the thought of just eating twenty naked teaspoons of sugar at one sitting doesn't turn your stomach, you might want to consider a program. Y'know, the kind with steps.
But i can't hate ya, sugar! In fact, the reason i came here today is to write...a love note. A sweet love note. I have adored sugar, and seem to have avoided the more perilous pitfalls. And i grew up in middle America, where we had dessert every damned dinner! Well, everyone else in my family anyway...i was the only child who couldn't be bribed - no dessert was going to make my brussel sprouts disappear. Nor did i continue the daily dessert pattern as an adult - currently, i eat sweets maybe once a week. In fact, i just had my first refined sugar in over two months...i hadn't intended to do so, but once it was happening i went with it, out of curiosity. I didn't notice any change in my desires or emotions or energy.
Not that i'm immune to sugar's drugging affects. These past few years have been brutal. There have been nights when i ate sugar just because it might make me feel better. And it probably did. In fact, i even occasionally found myself eating sugar two nights in a row. One time, i did five straight.
I was studying humanity, y'know? Pass the damn chocolate-covered garlic!
My first step away from the refined norm came at the age of sixteen, when i transformed my personality profoundly, including a moratorium on all added sugars. And i mean ALL. I never blinked, never cheated. Five years later, i realized it had all been part of a teen identity crisis, so i opened myself up to resuming the things i'd excised. Alcohol never came back, but meats (for a while) and sweets did. And now, years later...well, i wouldn't mind dropping refined sugar altogether. I might be headed that way. More and more, i seek out natural sweeteners. Perhaps my favorite sweet treat now is a little squirt of maple syrup.
But wait, what's that? Dark chocolate-covered blueberries? My my my.
So now, let's switch over to an "a la" mode which may only be of interest to rat anthropologists centuries from now. Come with me, kiddies, let's go for a wonka ride on my sugary journey. What i've hated, what i've loved, and what i've REALLY loved.
I remember a childhood beach trip with my grandparents. They had something called Mary Janes. Sort of a peanut butter nougat. I wouldn't want one now, but for those few days i loved them. My other grandfather always had greenleaves around, a minty gelatin. Again, i wouldn't eat one now, but his personal magic made his candy magic too. I remember visiting the general store where my father had grown up, and tasting the old-fashioned candies...swedish fish, and those little LSD-like tabs you peeled from a long sheet of paper...
Later, gummy bears had my attention for a while, but that may have been mostly because of the tongue-tactile delight. Jolly Ranchers were good, too. And one childhood sweet i've never seen since, the only one which i would pay money to have just one more time, was little wax creations shaped like soda bottles. You chewed them, and they had some kind of fruity liquid inside. You eventually had nothing left in your mouth but wax, which you spit out. It sounds kind of dumb now, but i loved them.
And speaking of soda, which seems to be the number one sugar devil in the world...yup, loved it. I preferred Coke over Pepsi. Dr. Pepper was dandy. Root beer and cream soda even more. Dad would bring home wooden cases of huge A-Treat bottles from an outlet store. The flavor we boys loved and hated was golden dry ginger ale, because it was double strength. I don't remember anyone ever drinking more than a sip, but it was huge fun to watch friends have a first taste, and see their faces contort. I also worked in a mexican restaurant, and would make hybrid cola creations in the bus station, mostly a mix of cola and orange (and tea?). By my mid-twenties though, i had heard about the studies (suburban legends?) in which a tooth left in soda will decay after few days, and that was enough. After that, the only soda i had was a root beer float once every few years.
But by far the most tantalizing sweet was, of course...ice cream! Is there any treat more sweet/fat maxed? I was picky though...chocolate was loathsome, and strawberry not much better. Vanilla was where it was at. And when chocolate magic shell came along, heaven had found its silver lining. There were a few fancier flavors i loved throughout the years, the greatest being chocolate chip cookie dough. From which mustache-twirling genius did that one arise? And Dairy Queen also made bad sooooooo good - their dipped cones were pure crack (surprisingly, i favored the butterscotch over chocolate). And ohhhhhh my, what were those things with the peanuts and chocolate coating/pudding? Buster Bars! Holy mcfucktree, Buster Bars. Once my vegan days arrived, i discovered that the soy/rice/coconut ice cream substitutes are so fantastic, that many vegan-disparagers might prefer "the fake thing" in blind taste tests. My only other ice cream memory is how stunning it was to watch my youngest brother. As a thin teenager, he consumed bowls so enormous, it looked like nearly a quarter-gallon at one sitting. No, he didn't get fat...but he did become a hardcore drug addict years later. Hm.
The second-greatest sweet ever? Look no further than that favorite ice cream. Chocolate chip cookies! Dry or dunked, crunchy or chewy (or both), homemade or store-bought, it's almost impossible to go wrong. My devotion translated into learning to make them, and spending years refining my recipe (which required a new drawing board when i stopped eating dairy). But even a failed batch is never a failure. And of course, eating the dough is sometimes more heavenly than the final product. There are other cookies out there, but none worth mentioning.
Okay, shortbread is worth mentioning.
And Girl Scout thin mints, and samoas! And Keebler fudge sticks! And oreos! (one of the few non-dairy mass market cookies) Being a precocious child, i invented double stuff oreos years before they arrived on the market. Twist one wafer off two cookies, and press the white centers together. Yes, i ate the rejected wafers too - there were apparently starving children in China, and i was a child of conscience. It didn't occur to me to mail those wafers overseas (or to my own american backyard as it turned out, but that's another story).
Pudding i liked, but not enough to go back to it once i started eating sweets again. The only ones i really liked were rice pudding and tapioca.
Pies have always been a mixed bounty. There's the great (french silk, pecan...which can be awful with a bad recipe), the middling (key lime, apple...which can be fantastic with a sublime recipe), and the noxious (pumpkin, coconut cream, banana cream...which has never been good with any recipe ever). Ooh, and my mother made pennsylvania dutch milk pies. Mmmmm.
And what is pie without the amazement of whipped cream (which has a coconut version that's almost orgasmic)? One of my most resonant sweet memories involves theater rehearsals in a church basement...after which, we explored the kitchen and discovered tubs of whipped cream in the freezer. I took a few bites every night. If you've never eaten frozen cool-whip, you've missed one of life's sweet shangri las. To this day, one of my most sublime treats is chocolate chips swirled into whipped cream.
And what of that american staple, cake? More miss than hit. Yellow cake and chocolate cake have always been yuck, even when i was a less discerning child. The one cake i adored was the red velvet mom always made on my birthday. Carrot cakes can be great. Wedding cake? Pretty damned good for store-bought, though the sugar ratio can cause a quick shut-down in desirability. Ice cream cake? Brilliant! Cupcakes? Mostly pheh, but a few of the storebought varieties (ho hos, ding-dongs) are fantastic. I liked twinkies as a kid, but the processed thought of them is wretched to my adult palate. And the second-most repulsive sweet ever (after, of course, peeps) is something called the snowball. The one cake memory i have which was almost miraculous (and never to be repeated) was an italian rum cake. The only other time i tried one, it was pheh...but that first one is burned into my drugged-out brain forever.
Ambrosia? Great. Monkey bread, cinnamon buns? Ecstatic when fresh. Sugar bread, cinnamon sugar toast, and much later cinnamon sugar pretzels? Wonderful. Real s'mores were great too, the only marshmallow memory which still pleases...um, except for Count Chocula and Boo Berry...yummm.
Licorice? Nasty. Jelly beans? Pointless. Except for, um, buttered popcorn Jelly Bellies...maybe swirled with a blueberry or two.
Of course, to an american child, candy bars are the sweet by which all others are measured. The high holy sweet holiday, Halloween (Or wait, is it Easter?? Of course - America has TWO high holy candy holidays!), is an unending candy bar orgy. Apples?? Raisins??? GET THAT SHIT OUT OF MY PLASTIC PUMPKIN! Hmm...i get why sweets got all mixed up in Easter...as holidays go, it's tragically unhip, and only by making kids drugged-out happy zombies could positive associations be reinforced...but why did we decide Halloween needed candy? Dressing up, scaring people - that's already hip, the candy part seems gratuitous! I guess it just goes to show how much we love sugar. Maybe the question should be, why aren't St. Swithin's Day or Arbor Day high holy candy holidays?? Let's make them trees sexy, maybe some kid might grow up to save a forest! So with candy bars, which have i loved most? The first was the Heath bar...mmmmmmm. It is one of the minor tragedies of my life that i've never found a non-dairy version. There was something called a Marathon bar, a carmel chocolate creation which was stunning for its architecture alone. Twix bars were pretty damned good...though the best Twix was one which didn't last, the cookies n' cream version - curse you, oh capricious corporate America! Reese's cups were pretty good, especially when dark versions (like Newman's) became available. York peppermint patties? Fine. M&Ms were respectable, especially when the peanut and dark versions came around. Milky Way Dark? Not bad. Toblerone was damn good, and Toblerone dark double damn good. If you're sensing a trend, yes, as i discovered dark in my teens, it pretty swiftly rendered milk chocolate pukelike in comparison. My favorite bar became Hershey's special dark. Years later, when they "lightened" the recipe, that was the darkest (ha- unintentional pun!) chapter in my sweet tooth life. The new version was disgusting. When they made the change, i found a store that had the old ones, and bought out their stock, making those bars last for a year or two.
The only peeps of the candy bar world? Something called a...mallo-cup (shudder). And those Halloween tri-color traffic cones...WHO EATS THEM??
The only thing i ever loved about Easter was the white chocolate rabbits, though i can't imagine eating one now.
One bizarre candy bar memory, an accidental aberration, happened when i was on a camping trip. I was poking around a cooler with a cousin, and we discovered Hershey bars. For several days, the melting ice had left an inch or two of water in the bottom, and these bars were soaked. Their brown color had paled, and some adult suggested throwing them out. But i took a nibble...and it was freaking amazing! Far less sweet, but soooo cool. The fact that nobody else would go near them was my own little chocolate miracle.
As an adult, pretty much the only sweet i've bought for myself is some form of dark chocolate. A bag of non-dairy chocolate chips is all i need. Dark chocolate espresso beans or pretzels can be dandy. The only brand i know worth mentioning is Nib-Mor...mm-mm-mmmmmm.
I suppose the lesson here is...look at how much i've just gushed. If i met a woman who moved me this much, i'd marry her...and i approve of marriage less than i approve of peeps! Bear in mind, in terms of being an american child sweethound, i was average at best. As an adult, far less. Yet, oh the power of these refined brain drugs. I've avoided obesity, and have only ever had one or two cavities. I'm not condemning sweets, but it sure seems that the overlords of capitalism have led us down the primrose path with the 100 POUNDS of sugar they pour into our eager gullets each year...especially those of us who won't (or can't) choose more powerful (and mind-altering) forms of escapism. I'm just saying, if 100 pounds is the average, someone out there is consuming 190 pounds, just to balance me out. Sugar is everywhere. Sugar is cheap. Sugar makes you feeeeeeeel good. And we live in a sedentary culture of alienation and escapism so relentlessly dehumanizing, that we gobble and gobble and gobble...and, yes, we are the fattest country in the world. Probably ever. U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
And since the only exports we have left are guns and Hollywood, the rest of the world seems to be following in our tubby sweetprints.
Yes indeed, awareness of my stress is, well, pretty stressful. Congratulations, U.S.! You're the global pioneer in metastress!
Sigh. Barkeep, gimme a sip of that maple syrup.
Ah, screw it. Leave the damn bottle.
Saturday, October 7, 2017
"The Sixth Extinction"
(AN UNNATURAL HISTORY)
-by elizabeth kolbert
2014
Science has identified five mass extinctions in the history of life, when conditions on Earth shifted suddenly and drastically, the most famous being the cretaceous asteroid impact which killed the dinosaurs. And it's only now, thousands of years after starting the process, that humanity has realized we are the authors of an unfolding extinction event which should dwarf every previous one. Perhaps rats will survive. Perhaps only microbes. Or not even that. It started when we began hunting the megafauna (mastodons, cave bears, giant turtles...), animals so large they had no natural predators, so their slow birth rates couldn't replace even minor losses. As time passed, our cleverness allowed us to travel everywhere, bringing predation and invasive species to indigenous populations which had no defense. We've clear cut as much as half the world's trees, savaging millions of ecological systems. Overgrazing and improper farming (which kolbert doesn't even get into) have made deserts the world's fastest-growing ecosystem. We pollute the atmosphere, which calcifies the oceans. We breed at constantly doubling rates which dwarf that of any creature ever...and the grand irony is, we understand these things only when we're past the point where our impact is already far greater than an asteroid strike equal to six million nuclear bombs. Amphibians are the most imperiled; it's hard to imagine they'll survive. Ditto for coral, the rain forests of the sea. A third of all sharks, a quarter of all mammals, a fifth of all reptiles, and a sixth of all birds are also past the point of no return.
Each of kolbert's chapters focuses on one emblematic species, and she also dives into our understanding of life's history, with fascinating looks at the scientists (cuvier, lyell, darwin) who paved the way. She shines a light on the oft-astonishing efforts humans are making to counter the unfolding apocalypse...but at this point, those are candles in a typhoon. To do justice to this book's subject would take an encyclopedia set...yet strangely, kolbert's 269 pages almost feel TOO long...too well-researched and written, with prose so enchanting that one nearly loses sight of the hair-on-fire urgency which the subject demands.
That's a critique most writers could live with, of course. At least for another century or so. Beyond that, no one may have to worry about "living with" anything.
-by elizabeth kolbert
2014
Science has identified five mass extinctions in the history of life, when conditions on Earth shifted suddenly and drastically, the most famous being the cretaceous asteroid impact which killed the dinosaurs. And it's only now, thousands of years after starting the process, that humanity has realized we are the authors of an unfolding extinction event which should dwarf every previous one. Perhaps rats will survive. Perhaps only microbes. Or not even that. It started when we began hunting the megafauna (mastodons, cave bears, giant turtles...), animals so large they had no natural predators, so their slow birth rates couldn't replace even minor losses. As time passed, our cleverness allowed us to travel everywhere, bringing predation and invasive species to indigenous populations which had no defense. We've clear cut as much as half the world's trees, savaging millions of ecological systems. Overgrazing and improper farming (which kolbert doesn't even get into) have made deserts the world's fastest-growing ecosystem. We pollute the atmosphere, which calcifies the oceans. We breed at constantly doubling rates which dwarf that of any creature ever...and the grand irony is, we understand these things only when we're past the point where our impact is already far greater than an asteroid strike equal to six million nuclear bombs. Amphibians are the most imperiled; it's hard to imagine they'll survive. Ditto for coral, the rain forests of the sea. A third of all sharks, a quarter of all mammals, a fifth of all reptiles, and a sixth of all birds are also past the point of no return.
Each of kolbert's chapters focuses on one emblematic species, and she also dives into our understanding of life's history, with fascinating looks at the scientists (cuvier, lyell, darwin) who paved the way. She shines a light on the oft-astonishing efforts humans are making to counter the unfolding apocalypse...but at this point, those are candles in a typhoon. To do justice to this book's subject would take an encyclopedia set...yet strangely, kolbert's 269 pages almost feel TOO long...too well-researched and written, with prose so enchanting that one nearly loses sight of the hair-on-fire urgency which the subject demands.
That's a critique most writers could live with, of course. At least for another century or so. Beyond that, no one may have to worry about "living with" anything.
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
"Al Franken, Giant of the Senate"
-by al franken
2017
Let's get to the heart of the matter - does al have any more business writing books?? Having made his bones as a satirist outsider, can he have anything to say now that he's become an actual U.S. senator? Now that he's establishment extraordinaire, enmeshed in the political game, in which image is everything and incumbents can ill-afford to alienate any voter, can he be anything but a mockery of his former muckraking self?
I'm frankly not quite sure...but he's still funny as hell.
Does he pull his punches, holding back a horde of insider information? No doubt...but he's such a good writer you might not care. Has he become an apologist for a system that crossed the dysfunctionally corrupt line long before he was born? Yeah. Should he be ashamed of lending his credibility to a nation of staggering wealth, which tolerates abject poverty? Yes.
But still...funny as hell.
He takes you on the long ride through his campaign and unprecedentedly-contested victory, and offers hysterical views of his position and peers. He walks you through his re-election, and tries to come to grips with the culture of cynicism and incivility that led to the current presidency. You'll hope that he doesn't die in office, so that one day he'll write about his political career once he no longer cares about offending anyone.
So here's to that book...
...and heartfelt thanks for this one, too.
2017
Let's get to the heart of the matter - does al have any more business writing books?? Having made his bones as a satirist outsider, can he have anything to say now that he's become an actual U.S. senator? Now that he's establishment extraordinaire, enmeshed in the political game, in which image is everything and incumbents can ill-afford to alienate any voter, can he be anything but a mockery of his former muckraking self?
I'm frankly not quite sure...but he's still funny as hell.
Does he pull his punches, holding back a horde of insider information? No doubt...but he's such a good writer you might not care. Has he become an apologist for a system that crossed the dysfunctionally corrupt line long before he was born? Yeah. Should he be ashamed of lending his credibility to a nation of staggering wealth, which tolerates abject poverty? Yes.
But still...funny as hell.
He takes you on the long ride through his campaign and unprecedentedly-contested victory, and offers hysterical views of his position and peers. He walks you through his re-election, and tries to come to grips with the culture of cynicism and incivility that led to the current presidency. You'll hope that he doesn't die in office, so that one day he'll write about his political career once he no longer cares about offending anyone.
So here's to that book...
...and heartfelt thanks for this one, too.
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