Opera Wednesday: Gay and Britten's The Beggar's Opera

Continuing our theme of 20th Century opera on Opera Wednesday, it's Benjamin Britten, one of my favorite 20th Century composers, with his realization of John Gay's The Beggar's Opera, as seen on BBC in 1963.  This is the complete broadcast, with the music performed by the English Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Meredeth Davies.

The shame of North Carolina

L ate last week, we started to find out the real scope of the academic/athletic scandal at the University of North Carolina, and it's ugly.  How ugly?  Try 18 years of fraudulent classes, mostly designed to enable athletes to remain academically eligible, eventually encompassing "thousands" of students.  If this isn't an example of the Scam of Higher Education, I don't know what is.

Over at Fox Sports, college football writer Stewart Mandel wonders what kind of punishment the university athletics programs face from this "shadow curriculum."  It doesn't seem to have been limited to the football and men's basketball programs, as is often the case (though they were the most highly represented), but in fact was pervasive throughout the entire athletic department.  And there's no chance that the academic counselors who put the jocks through these sham classes were unaware of what they were doing, as Mandel writes:

Jan Boxill, a philosophy professor whose formal title is director of the Parr Center for Ethics, steered women’s basketball players to Crowder [Afro-American studies office manager Debbie Crowder] and literally named their grade. “Did you say a D will do?” Crowder wrote to Boxill in an e-mail about one player who had apparently recycled an old paper. “Yes, a D will be fine; that’s all she needs,” Boxill replied.

That this is a state college and not a private institution makes this even more sickening, because it means the tax dollars of North Carolina residents (as well as all of us, for that matter, insofar as Federal funds are routed to UNC) are paying for this fiasco.

The so-called Death Penalty, in which the NCAA can ban a school from taking part in certain sports, has only been administered a handful of times.  Even those who are most concerned about corruption in college sports have been reluctant to call for it, because it often winds up punishing innocent athletes for sins that may have been committed several years ago.  But in this case, considering the amount of institutional corruption involved, as well as the timeframe over which it's taken place, I think that the death penalty is the only possible answer.  As a matter of fact, I'd call it a good start - before any UNC sports program can compete again, let the university itself show that it actually knows how to educate and graduate students honestly.  When they can prove that, then we'll talk about bringing sports back.  If something isn't done to answer this disgrace, we might as well give up on any pretense of college sports; let's just make them professional minor leagues and leave it at that.

How the World Series has fallen!

We did not get Game One coverage of the World Series here in my part of South Carolina until 35 minutes into the broadcast, because of a Gubernatorial "glorified press conference" on our local Fox affiliate.  That meant when the game broadcast began, we were joined in progress as the Kansas City pitcher was in his opening tosses.

This was the same affiliate that pre-empted the NASCAR Camping World Truck Series Fred's 250 presented by Coca-Cola at Talladega for an ACC gridiron match, not informing us of a tape delay until roughly 90 minutes before it aired.  By that time the results were known and the DVRs weren't set.  Fans complained on their boards.

And speaking of television history, did World Series games move to night over concerns over an FCC rule in 1971?  Remember in 1971 the FCC imposed a rule that networks could not program on Mondays to Saturdays the 7 PM ET hour under "Prime Time Access," a rule that lasted until 1996.  Local stations relied on 6 PM news broadcasts, and news broadcasts had expanded from 15 to 30 minutes (and now, often 5 PM 90 minute local news broadcasts are commonplace).  With an increased proliferation of West Coast baseball clubs (two in Los Angeles, two in the Bay Area, one in San Diego), the Noon or 1 PM local World Series game was no longer feasible.  If there was a Dodgers, Giants, or Athletics game (remember that the Angels and Padres were expansion teams, while the other three were established teams that had moved west), there would have been a 3 PM or 4 PM start to the game.  And a 4 PM start would mean if the game lasted extra innings, the 7 PM hour creep would have run into trouble with the new federal regulation, though it was exempt as sports runover, with stations invested heavily in syndicated programming for the 7 PM hour, it would have been trouble.  Could you imagine network daytime dramas not knowing if it will air because of a game's start time?

That was the primary reason for the World Series games starting at 8 PM since 1971, as to avoid Prime Time Access regulations.

[Editor's Note: Read this story at Awful Announcing wondering if the World Series might eventually wind up off broadcast television altogether, airing instead on Fox Sports 1.]

Throwback Thursday: a truth about Corporate America

Lisbon: And you know what’s weird about these guys? None of them seem to give a damn. A colleague of theirs falls out of the sky and they seem OK with it. Is that guilt or indifference?

Jane: Corporate brainwashing. Turns them into robots. Grief isn’t productive, and that’s all.

Lisbon: I don’t buy that. People make up their own minds. You can’t brainwash them.

Jane: Sure you can. That’s what these corporate retreats are all about. It’s primitive brainwashing via group suffering. It’s like office karaoke or fraternity hazing.

Lisbon: How so?

Jane: When the individual is humiliated, their perceived value of the group is raised.

Lisbon: I went on a retreat when I got promoted to head of the unit. I mean, I wasn’t humiliated. I wasn’t brainwashed.

Jane: So you say.

- Patrick Jane to Teresa Lisbon, The Mentalist, written by Bruno Heller.

Originally published June 11, 2009

Opera Wednesday - The Ballad of Baby Doe

Haven't done one of these in a long while, so as I surfed through YouTube, I thought I'd offer this clip of the great Beverly Sills from one of her signature roles, "Baby Doe" Tabor, in Douglas Moore's 1956 The Ballad of Baby Doe.

I continue to contend that we should look to underperformed operas of the past before we start commissioning new operas (and using precious dollars to do so).  Once upon a time (1956 to be precise), Baby Doe was a new opera.  So I'm not opposed to new commissions; let's just make sure we don't ignore what's already out there.  At the very least, it would be nice if the new commissions had staying power beyond the initial performances.

A decade - more than just dates on the calendar

I've remarked before, perhaps even on this blog, that I frequently get ideas from unusual sources, and it's even better when, as is the case today, I get an idea that has virtually nothing to do with the source itself.

Over in the comments section at Uniwatch ("The Obsessive Study of Athletics Aesthetics"), an interesting discussion broke out in the comments section as to how one defines a decade.  I know, doesn't seem to have anything to do with sports uniforms, right?  Long story short, the question arose as to whether the 1970 World Series falls within the '70s or the '60s.  Not as stupid a question as you might think; since there's no Year 0, most people know that the Ist Century ran from 1 to 100, and so on.  The 20th Century, therefore, began on January 1, 1901 and ended on December 31, 2000.  The question is, do decades operate the same as centuries?  Do the 1970s begin on January 1, 1971 or January 1, 1970?

From there, a commentator named Wiggle Man speculated that culturally, it is events rather than dates that determine a decade.  He suggested the following:

1930’s – Began with the stock market crash on October 29, 1929 (“Black Thursday”)
1940’s – Began on December 7, 1941 (“A date which will live in infamy”)
1950’s – Began on January 20, 1953 (Eisenhower’s Inauguration)
1960’s – Began on November 22, 1963 (Kennedy’s assassination)
1970’s – Began on May 4, 1970 – (Kent State) (I would also accept June 17, 1972, Watergate break-in)
1980’s – Began on January 20, 1981 – Reagan’s Inauguration / Hostages released).

Other commentators had different ideas; one suggested that the '60s actually started with Kennedy's inauguration, rather than his death, and that Kent State (as well as Altamont) are more indicative of the '60s than the '70s.  Others chipped in that '90s actually began in 1989 with the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the "aughts" (2000s) probably started on September 11, 2001.

I find this kind of discussion exceptionally interesting.  (It's also proof that you should have an eclectic reading list; you never know what you're going to run into.)  I've maintained over at the TV blog that the early years of the 1960s actually are more properly understood as a continuation of the 1950s, and that the last years of the '60s more properly line up with the 1970s - in fact, I'd contend that 1965 might be the prime example of what the '60s would have been like had they not dealt with the JFK assassination (at the beginning) and the Vietnam War (at the end).  Many, if not most, of the mores and visuals of the early '60s (not to mention television programming, which was the point of my musing in the first place) would have been perfectly acceptable in the late '50s, and the late '60s are almost indistinguishable from the first few years of the '70s.

The point is, I suppose, every decade has its own tenor, it's own "look."  I think Wiggle Man is correct in suggesting that decades, properly understood, represent events as much as they do actual dates.   We can quibble with the specific events that signal the end of one decade and the beginning of another, but I think the calendar is perhaps the least important part of the equation.  Anyone out there have other suggestions?

The tragedy of the Church and its captain

For someone who is 1) Catholic, 2) a frequentor of the blogosphere, and 3) a writer, it is hard to ignore the ongoing drama being played out in Rome, or to keep from succumbing to the temptation to say something about it.  Fortunately, since the readership of this blog is relatively small, I don't always have to have an opinion on everything, and for those times when I do, I can usually do so without having to play up to my audience - to give them raw meat, so to speak, that confirms their own opinions.

Having said that, for those of you who've read what I've written about the Catholic Church in the last year or so, your expectations regarding my opinions are likely to be confirmed over the next few paragraphs.  My feelings regarding the current Bishop of Rome are no secret, nor is my concern regarding the direction in which the Church is headed.  This week's explosive Synod on the Family merely reinforces those concerns - concerns, I would add, that I don't pretend to express as fact.  That's another thing that distinguishes me from other bloggers, I think; while I have a high regard for my own opinion, I don't pretend to have some secret well of knowledge that makes those opinions tantamount to fact.  It's what I think, and while I believe it's an educated opinion, that's all it is.

The one great accomplishment of the Pope is that he's been able to create even more division within the Church than had previously existed.  The Church, at least the orthodox (or "conservative," if you prefer) part of it, has now split into roughly two warring camps: those who think the sky is falling, and those who prefer to say, "nothing to see here, move along."  Each side has its faults; the doomsayers often have the personality of Eeyore, while those who wear the rose-colored glasses seem not only breathtakingly arrogant but utterly dismissive of those who don't see things their way.

Earlier this week I posted on my Facebook page this video, suggesting that it summarized in a nutshell my feelings about the Church:


Now, I know this isn't about the Church, or religion (it's apparently about environmentalism), but it's got a catchy tune and the lyrics ring true to my feelings right now, especially this part:

Save me. Save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools
Save me. Save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools
Where's it comin' from?
Where's it goin' to now?
It's just a ship of fools

Or perhaps, I suggested, it was this one instead:


Crazy on a ship of fools
Crazy on a ship of fools
Turn this boat around - back to my loving ground
Oh no, oh no - ship of fools --

Now, I don't mean to suggest here that the Pope is a fool, because that would not give him enough credit.  Rather, I think Damon Linker has it about right in this column, excerpted by Rod Dreher, in which he gets to the heart of what he thinks is up with the Pope:

Francis would like to liberalize church doctrine on marriage, the family, and homosexuality, but he knows that he lacks the support and institutional power to do it. So he’s decided on a course of stealth reform that involves sowing seeds of future doctrinal change by undermining the enforcement of doctrine today. The hope would be that a generation or two from now, the gap between official doctrine and the behavior that’s informally accepted in Catholic parishes across the world would grow so vast that a global grassroots movement in favor of liberalizing change would rise up at long last to sweep aside the old, musty, already-ignored rules.

If this is true, it's a serious problem, not only for the Church itself but for those outside the Church who nevertheless look to Catholicism as the keeper of some kind of moral foundation, and indeed there's some evidence that these people feel the Pope has thrown them under the bus.  Regardless, this Pope is having an incredibly destructive effect on people within the Church.

So what does one do in such a case?  One person I talked with, recalling Ronald Reagan's description of being deserted by the Democratic Party, said that she didn't feel as if she was leaving the Church as much as that the Church was leaving her.  I don't think this will be an uncommon opinion in the weeks and months to come.  Dreher wonders what will become of these disenchanted Catholics, and speculates that while few of them will actually leave the Church, many will cease their active involvement with it.  I would add that for many Catholics who adhere to a traditional view of the faith, the the option they will pursue is, in some respects, the nuclear one: aligning with the SSPX, the traditionalist movement that, while in communion with Rome (at least for the moment), has such reservations over the direction the Church has taken since Vatican II that a schism may be inevitable.

And should that happen?  One suspects that the future, in that case, would be a small but vibrant counter-Church, whose members adhere to the Church's teachings without being in formal communion with Rome; a core of conservatives choosing to remain in the Church, denying up until the end that there's any problem at all (and then being shocked, shocked to find out that there is); and a formal nucleus of the Church that is more liberal, less grounded in theology, and so bereft of substance that it, like other mainline denominations, will be even less consequential than it already is. Not a pretty sight, and not the best thing in the world for a Pope to hang his hat (or zucchetto, as it were) to as his greatest accomplishment.

According to the teaching of the Church, the Pope is the Church's captain, entrusted with sailing her to safe port, keeping her away from the hazards that populate the ocean.  For that reason, this Pope reminds me not so much of his predecessor Paul VI (who presided over the implementation of Vatican II) as he does of an actual captain of an actual ship: Edward Smith, the first and only captain of the Titanic, who took a supposedly unsinkable ship and rammed it into an iceberg, sinking it on its first voyage.  A ship of fools, indeed.

Make no mistake, the Church and her teachings will survive, in one form or another.  It may well be that groups such as the SSPX will provide the remnant that will keep the faith alive until a different skipper takes over a rebuilt ship.  After all, Christ Himself promised that the gates of Hell would not prevail against His Church.  He did not, however, guarantee that there wouldn't be some rocky times ahead.  Remember, the Holy Spirit does not choose the Pope, but merely acts as an adviser to those who do.  Sometimes, as in the case of the Borgias, they get it wrong.  In our confidence about the ultimate triumph of the Church, let us not blind ourselves to the likelihood that with this Pope, they got it wrong again.  Very wrong.

Christ sought out fishermen, who presumably knew how to sail boats, because they were to be fishers of men.  He did not intend for those boats to be sailed to the bottom of the sea.  And so if we are sailing on a Ship of Fools, we'd better start manning the pumps.

Throwback Thursday: Is art a masculine thing?

One of the more interesting blogs from a few years back, 2 Blowhards, had an article (which fortunately has been archived) which posed a most interesting question: "Why do so many American males consider arty and aesthetic matters to be faggy?"

It's an intriguing question, and a troubling one as well. You should read the entire article because Michael makes a lot of interesting points, but I'll pull out this particular section. After mentioning how in many other cultures the very "artistic" qualities we talk about are seen as masculine, Michael makes this comment:

Where does this aversion to aesthetics come from, historically speaking? My hunch is that it has less to do with Puritanism than it does with our history as a place where people who want to get away from traditional cultures come to. The real American man is felt to be the adventurer and the frontiersman -- the man who escapes the shelter, nay, the claustrophobia of female-dominated "civilization." By these lights, we're all little Huck Finns, forever investing our masculinity in our quest to light out for the territories ahead of the rest. Where a guy from another kind of culture might express his straight-guy masculinity within the parameters of his culture, we straight-guy Americans are masculine because we reject civilizin'.

I think this is particularly evident in the crudity we see so often in young males - the need to be a man is in such conflict with today's PC-enforced sensibilities that their rejection of civilizin' is expressed in a defiance of the most basic types of civilized behavior. Put another way, men don't seem to have much of an opportunity to be men anymore. We've stripped young males of so many opportunities to be masculine that a return to caveman-like behavior is one of the few avenues left. (As an aside, it will be interesting to see, as young women increasingly follow the crude behavior of their male counterparts, if there's some kind of shift of behavior from the men, searching for another way to be unique.)

You see and hear about the same phenomenon in the Church, for example: the preponderance of women in the pews, and increasing numbers of them in leadership positions within parishes. More and more often men speak of the "feminized" (not necessarily "feminist") church, as if there's something vaguely unmanly about religion. It's true that there was nothing unmanly about the early Church, so I"m not quite sure why things are the way they are, other than to say that they are. Perhaps it's the submissiveness required by a true disciple, possibly it has to do with the loss of ownership required when one opens the heart completely to Christ.

While we're at it, we might also wonder why so many of theses artistic endeavors are seen as the province of the liberal establishment, the arts and croissants crowd? Interestingly enough, it's an assumption shared by conservatives as well as liberals - that red Americans turn to NASCAR and country music while blue Americans own opera and literature. It's also one of the main aspects that makes the "crunchy con" movement so intriguing. Is there anything to the linkage between liberal politics and homosexual politics, that they share the same interests? Probably a subject that demands more time and study.

At any rate, what all these things share is a need for diversification among its membership. For years conservatives have decried the liberality of institutions such as the media, academia, and the entertainment industry. The answer has always been the same: if more conservatives were willing to go into those fields (setting aside, for the moment, the obstacles many of them face when they try), diversity would follow. What are you left with? Michael supplies the answer:

The fact that straight American guys consider aesthetic matters to be self-evidently gay becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; it means that the aesthetic fields in America in fact become ever-more gay.

And that's not a good thing. In fact, it can become a propaganda tool. The young boy who shows an interest in classical music or interior decoration must be a closet homosexual - why not come out of the closet, show your inner feelings, be the "man" you're supposed to be. If you're told this often enough, might you not come to believe it? I am told, therefore I am.

Not only that, such lockstep thinking denies a difference of opinion, a contrary outlook, a unique perspective. Without that, you wind up with a uniformity of opinion that is neither honest nor intellectually compelling.

Michael's conclusion: "Wouldn't we all be a bit better off if the aesthetic fields had a few more straight guys in them?" To that I heartily agree. It is time to reclaim that which belongs to us, which belongs to everyone. Diversity, the mantra of the very patrons of these fields, would seem to demand no less.

Originally published February 16, 2007

Columbus Day, whether you like it or not

LANDING OF COLUMBUS, BY JOHN VANDERLYN, 1842-47

It's Columbus Day today, or as it's called in Minneapolis*, "Indigenous Persons Day."  This is all such dreck; to think that taxpayer dollars go to support a City Council that has time to delve into the PC naming of holidays instead of, you know, something important.  Do they actually think they're accomplishing something with this kind of stupidity?  Or perhaps they're making the case that government really isn't that important after all, that this is the kind of issue that they consider a good use of time.

*And California, I think.

There are many, many reasons I'm glad I don't live in Minnesota anymore, and this is one of them.  Actually, while it's only one of many reasons, so many of them spout from the same font as that.  I think one can go too far in allowing politics and ideology to shape where they live, but when this is the kind of garbage one has to deal with - well, I'm surprised that any conservatives live in Minnesota at all.

Let's face it - this is the only good reason anyone has for not recognizing Columbus Day.

Throwback Thursday: Salome, when she danced

SALOME'S DANCE, BY MAURYCY GOTTLIEB, 1879

The movie Salome, starring Rita Hayworth, was on TCM the other night. I didn’t watch the whole thing, but it got me to thinking. We don’t really know much about Salome. Most of us think we know her from the Bible, but there she isn’t even mentioned by name, referred to only as the Daughter of Herodias. She’s starred in books, movies, opera – and yet, she was a real person.

Most of what we know of Salome, or think we know, comes from Oscar Wilde’s play Salome. It is here that Wilde creates the most familiar iconic images of Salome, elaborating on the scene from Mark’s Gospel in which, as a reward for her dancing, Herod offers to grant her any desire. It is from Wilde that we get the image of Salome as the teenage temptress with the sexually charged dance, leaving Herod drunk with lust (as well as wine). It’s this version of Salome that most people probably think of, and the version that appears in movies such as King of Kings (which actually uses bits of Wilde’s dialogue).

The best-known fictional portrayal of Salome is probably Richard Strauss’ opera Salome, which was based on Wilde’s play. The role of Salome is a particularly challenging one, insofar as it requires the soprano to demonstrate great vocal prowess while at the same time acting like a nubile teen, particularly in the famed Dance of the Seven Veils (usually performed by the singer, occasionally by a stand-in dancer). It’s a great role, and some of the greatest singers in opera have played it, with varying degrees of success (and believability).

There are other versions of Salome as well, but so much of our iconography comes back to Wilde, which makes the ending of Wilde’s play (and Strauss’ opera) all the more interesting. Wilde fleshes out Salome’s character (no pun intended), but adds a detail that is completely at odds with the historical record: her death.

The climax of Salome (again, no pun intended) features the dancer holding before her the severed head of John the Baptist on the silver platter, after which she proceeds to fondle and caress the head, finally delivering a passionate kiss to the dead head’s lips. Herod, who is terrified and repulsed by this act, orders his soldiers to kill Salome, which they do by crushing her under the weight of their shields.

Now, one is curious as to why Wilde chose to end his play in this fashion. It’s certainly consistent with Herod’s superstitious character – he does, after all, believe for a time that Jesus is John come back to life. But the real Salome actually lived into her 40s or 50s (depending on the account), dying between 62 and 71 AD.

So what might Wilde’s motives have been for introducing such a radical change into his play? There’s no doubt it makes for a great dramatic ending, as anyone who’s seen either the play or the opera can testify. And in a creative sense it does provide closure to a plot which otherwise wouldn’t have much of an ending.

Still, one is tempted to wonder if Wilde was trying to pronounce some kind of a moral statement at the end, with judgment being delivered on Salome for her heresy. We think often of Wilde as the sexual libertine, but in truth the ending of Salome seems much more in line with Joseph Pearce’s portrait of Wilde as a man with a constant fascination with Catholicism and its teachings. As Pearce says in his book, The Unmasking of Oscar Wilde, "Once again, Wilde emerges in Salome as a Christian moralist par excellence." And certainly there does seem to be Old Testament justice being meted out in the end.

Heather Marcovitch, in Princess, Persona and Subjective Desire, offers that “Wilde saw Salome as the representation of all the unspoken impulses and desires in Donan Gray.” She suggests that Salome, seen primarily by Herod and his court as an object of desire, uses “power gotten from her persona to destroy the very system that imbued her with this power.”

Other scholars point to Wilde’s use of imagery of the kind favored by Israel's kingly poets “and that the moon is meant to suggest the terrible pagan goddess Cybele, who, like Salomé, was obsessed with preserving her virginity and thus took perverse pleasure in destroying male sexuality.”

There’s often a temptation to read either too much or too little into the thought process of artists, resulting in explanations that are either far too simple or exceedingly complex. And yet sometimes it is the simple or the complex that tells the true story of the author’s mind. Pearce suggests that Wilde’s term in Reading Prison, starting in 1895, was what broke him and forced him to come to terms with his life, and Salome predates that, in 1891. It’s frequently true that, prior to a conversion of any time, hints can always be seen in retrospect, and so it may well be with Salome. Whatever the reason for Wilde’s choice, Salome remains one of his most intriguing works, and the character he created one of the most intriguing in art.


Originally published May 4, 2007

Abusive courts attack Declaration of Independence

When the United States Supreme Court overturned Constitutions declaring marriage as One Man and One Woman to force five states into the evil agenda of the humanists, the Founding Fathers could be easily angered by the actions of these rogues that, in 11 years, have imposed their ideology on half of the nation (and potentially more) through their whim.

In our fourth grade history books, we had to quote most of the Preamble to the Declaration of Independence.  One specific section holds true with these cases.

"But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security."

These activist judges overturning Constitutions have effectively become a tyrant.  When the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ordered marriage redefined in 2003, other states struck back and imposed a check on these rogue judges.  Now, the judges are overturning the checks placed on these judges, effectively making them tyrants.  These actions are reminiscent of six grievances listed by the Founding Fathers in the Declaration of Independence:

(1) Obstructing the administration of justices (see the numerous Autogol strategies, where the administration of justice is obstructed by a whim).

(2) Judges dependent on the leader's will. (See court packing to advance the agenda.)

(3) Establishing new government offices (such as "human rights" panels used to enforce homosexual activism).

(4) Trial for pretended offenses (see hate crimes or supporting the Bible, not the state).

(5) Abolishing the free system of laws to make it an arbitrary government (in most cases, same-sex "marriage" is a byproduct of judicial mandates, or large cities using abuses that were developed by courts in Reynolds v. Sims to overturn the Great Compromise;  furthermore, when abolishing the Constitution to develop something they want themselves, that was abuse the Founding Fathers warned against).

(6) Taking away the charters, abolishing valuable laws, and altering fundamentally the forms of our governments (see the courts overturning Constitutions; the check on the judges has been overturned by the judges themselves -- our checks and balances system was designed to protect against rogue judges, so they strike back).

Ponder these points from our Founding Fathers when you consider the rogue activism today.

Throwback Thursday: Jon Vickers on mediocrity

People will laugh when I say it, but I feel there has been for some years now a ground-swell of demand for mediocrity. They don't want excellence. We don't have positive heroes anymore; they're negative heroes. What do we attack? We've attacked all the great pillars of civilization. We take great heroes of history and so far as we are capable we snoop around in the excretia of some of these heroes until we find a flaw. So because a hero is not perfection, which if he was he would be God himself, then he's nothing more than anybody on the street.

Jon Vickers, 1981 interview


Originally published March 7, 2008

Who is Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and why is he saying all these stupid things?

Actually, I'm just kidding about the headline, at least partly.  I know well who Neil DeGrasse Tyson is, as do most of you, I'm sure.  But am I the only one out there who's tired of him? I think not, based on what I've been reading over the last few weeks.  I am tired of reading about his various misquotations, but that's just because it's hard to believe the guy's getting away with it all.  If he were a Christian, or a conservative, or a (horror of horrors) conservative Christian, the media'd be all over him.  As it is, you get to read about it here and there.

The writeup I linked to over at The Federalist gives a good summary of how he's quoted people who never actually said what he said they said, and RedState tells us about his (sort of) admission that he might not have gotten everything right in the past, but that you should believe him rather than your lying eyes, or something like that.

Look, I'll admit that I enjoyed his book on Pluto, but what else has he done for me?  His reboot of a legendary series, Cosmos, bombed - although I'll admit that the original series, which was acclaimed far more than it deserved, wasn't any great shakes either.  (I really should read this sometime.)  He makes ideologically-driven, suspect statements.  And this First Things article from a while back points out his flawed belief in "scientism" that permeates the series.

I've written at the TV blog about how we need more science as part of popular culture, and I have to at least applaud Tyson for that.  But how much stock can you put in someone who, in an age when information (and factchecking) is at anyone's fingertips, can't even produce an accurate quote, or one that's tainted by ideological overtones?  Can we really trust what he says on television?  For all we know there might be only six planets in the solar system.

PC on campus (yawn) - how much dumber can they get?

The astute social critic John Leo makes some trenchant comments on political correctness at Marquette, ostensibly a Catholic school but in reality a university that should take credit only for its basketball team.  But lest I single out one institute of higher education, be assured that this is commonplace everywhere.

The truly sad thing about this is that universities are supposed to be places where young people go to learn how to think, debate, discover ideas.  Instead, they're just diploma factories that serve the secondary function of indoctrinating, as Rush Limbaugh put it, "young skulls full of mush."  And we wonder why this nation lacks the will to do so much.  I've got a quote appearing on Thursday that's apropos for this kind of thinking.  (Or lack thereof.)

(H/T NRO)

Mr. Ward's lack of responsibility: marijuana proved it

The report from the Ontario County District Attorney and Grand Jury in the case of the August 9, 2014 Empire Super Sprint (360 sprint car) Series event at Canandaigua Motorsports Park in the aforementioned New York township, had a disturbing reference when considering that Kevin Ward Jnr’s irresponsibility led to his death, as was previously mentioned.  The toxicology report of Mr. Ward performed by the coroner of the county uncovered traces of cannabinoids (marijuana) in his system at time of death.

Cannabinoids are prohibited under Section 8 of the World Anti-Doping Code’s Substances Prohibited In Competition.  That matters to Tony Stewart, who has previously applied for an FIA Grade A licence as part of his participation in the Indianapolis 500 (INDYCAR mandates a Grade A licence), and at minimum must hold a Grade B licence (since the 1960’s, NASCAR has required at minimum an FIA Grade B licence – Hurley Haywood angered the SCCA when the autocrosser applied for a NASCAR Grand National licence so he could apply for an FIA Grade B licence, which was approved, promptly finishing eighth at the 1969 Six Hours of The Glen, winning the 2L GT class, in his first professional race, with Peter Gregg, who had spotted him at the autocross event).  Under his FIA licence, he must clear an FIA-approved drug test and face random drug tests.

Mr. Ward had competed in Empire Super Sprint races and some races with a World Racing Group sanctioning.  None of those events has a mandatory random drug testing, and while World Racing Group has a Substance Abuse policy, they do not have mandatory drug testing, which has drawn the ire of drivers in the organisation’s events, with at least two stars telling National Speed Sport News mandatory drug testing should commence.

The lack of responsibility had caused the death of Mr. Ward, and his irresponsibility at the time of his death now was proven with the test showing he had used cannabinoids, prohibited by ACCUS members (NASCAR/IMSA, INDYCAR, USAC, SCCA, NHRA, WKA) under the FIA licences required for competitors.  In light of a huge push by a younger generation pushing for legalization of cannabinoids, pushed by liberal city-states in Colorado, Washington, and California, popular culture, and the Bohemian attitudes of the generation taught by humanism, this death should be another warning shot fired against the pro-pot crowd.  As they said in youth groups at church in my youth, “don’t smoke a pot of pot”.  This incident shows the lack of responsibility by having such drugs in your system.

Throwback Thursday - Cormac McCarthy on the irony of life

Here a year or two back me and Loretta went to a conference in Corpus Christi and I got set next to this woman, she was the wife of somebody or other. And she kept talking about the right wing this and the right wing that. I ain't even sure what she meant by it. The people I know are mostly just common people. Common as dirt, as the sayin goes. I told her that and she looked at me funny. She thought I was sayin somethin bad about em, but of course that's a high compliment in my part of the world. She kept on, kept on. Finally told me, said: I don't like the way this country is headed. I want my granddaughter to be able to have an abortion. And I said well mam I don't think you got any worries about the way the country is headed. The way I see it goin I don't have much doubt but what she'll be able to have an abortion. I'm going to say that not only will she be able to have an abortion, she'll be able to have you put to sleep. Which pretty much ended the conversation.

Cormac McCarthy, No Country for Old Men


Originally published June 5, 2007

The cruelest irony

This past weekend was the seventeenth anniversary of gospel music singer and songwriter Rich Mullins' death.  The 41-year old pop singer and his 24-year old protégé, Mitch McVicker, were in a Jeep, driving to Kansas when Mr. Mullins lost control of the short-wheelbase, high centre-of-gravity truck, overturning it.  Both were tossed, with Mr. Mullins hit by a tractor-trailer in the immediate impact of the crash.  Mr. McVicker survived, but admits to injuries that he still suffers today, now at 41 himself, mainly double vision.  Neither was wearing a seat belt.

Sadly, it took Mr. Mullins' death to win his awards, Artist of the Year in 1998 and Song of the Year a year later, in what some called a sympathy vote for the popular songwriter from Kansas, and devoted to St. Francis of Assisi, including a reference to it in his music publishing (he had signed with the independent Reunion label (now part of Sony) from 1982, but had just defected to Word (now part of Warner Music Group) shortly before his death, and had masterworks of his next album already in development;  the rough drafts became known as the first disc of The Jesus Record;  friends finished the songs for commercial production).

With the 45th Gospel Music Association Dove Awards coming next month, the 15th anniversary of the duo's popular win (in March 1999, before the GMA moved the awards show to October in 2012), there was one cruel irony of winning Song of the Year 18 months after his death.  Considering neither was wearing a seat belt, this screenshot from the original GMA Dove Awards broadcast could show the irony as Mr. Mullins (represented by his brother David) and Mr. McVicker were named winners.  And the irony was even crazier considering the last time the very same presenter pairing had presented at the very awards show seven years previously, they gave Sandi Patty her 11th consecutive Female Vocalist of the Year (she never won again).  Later that year, something happened to the male presenter -- and he never did it again.  This time, the cruel irony of the award was because of the way the singer died, and the awards presenter.  Think about it.  Can you see the cruel irony of the Rich Mullins Dove Awards win in this photo?

Throwback Thursday - On the Beach

Perhaps it’s the recent talk about the movie adaptation of P.D. James’ novel The Children of Men that brings to mind one of the best-known of the Cold War post-apocalyptic novels, Nevil Shute’s haunting 1957 On the Beach. Like James’ novel, On the Beach tells how people face the approaching end of the human race. Like James' novel, it was made into a so-so movie (starring Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner). But whereas the end cause in James’ world is unknown, the reasons are all too familiar in Shute’s: nuclear war.

Before you go jumping to conclusions though, I wouldn’t call On the Beach an ideological screed. While there can't be much doubt what Shute thinks of war (he's against it, as most of us are), he approaches the subject with sorrow rather than outrage, melancholy instead of polemics. The novel is set in 1963 Australia following a catastrophic war, and observes its inhabitants as they await the slow drift of the nuclear fallout that brings with it certain death.

What’s left of the American navy is there, led by Captain Dwight Towers, who becomes involved in a platonic relationship with Moira Davidson, an Australian woman introduced to him by mutual friends. While the two form a close friendship, it doesn't go any further than that. It can't, for Towers - a good and decent man - still has a wife and children home in Connecticut. We know they're dead, as is everyone in the Northern Hemisphere, and Towers knows it too - he just can't bring himself to face it. In one poignant scene Towers and Moira go shopping for presents for Towers' family, in particular his quest for a first fishing rod for his son.

Denial seems to be the predominant mood of most of the people we encounter, and what’s most fascinating (and terrifying) about On the Beach is watching how they accept their approaching death. For the most part there is no defiance, no panic in the streets. Society still maintains order, the streets are kept clean and people go about their work and their lives as best they can. On the surface it's as if there's been a slow, backward movement of civilization - cars are apparently a thing of the past, and only enough electricity for radio. It might seem not so different from the rationing and shortages of World War II, except that there was no war Down Under - only the consequences.

People enroll for college courses that won’t be completed, plant gardens they’ll never see, hoard gasoline that won’t be used. A woman goes in for an operation that her doctor says, without a trace of irony, should “give her a few more years of life.” It’s the secret that everyone ignores, the elephant in the room, the crazy aunt living in the attic, who nobody talks about. They talk of a future that's already gone, mouthing the words "next year" even though none of them really believes it. The start of trout season is moved up, and we understand why - by the time the original date rolls around, there won't be any fishermen left. That doesn't stop some from speculating that the government's just doing it for political advantage at the next election - an election, of course, that will never be held. ("Of course," one cynic says, "they'll have to change it back next year.") The date of the Australian Grand Prix is moved up too, and the drivers take ridiculous chances on the rain-slicked track – after all, what difference does it make if you die doing something you love, or wait for the sickness to kill you?

For those who might not be "fortunate" enough to die doing something they love, there's the free euthanasia pills (complete with instructions) being offered by the Aussie government. This may sound like a parody, but it’s deadly serious – and, considering the premium we seem to put on “quality of life” today, it probably creates less of a stir than it did when the book was first published. In particular Shute describes a young husband, an Aussie officer assigned to Towers’ submarine, trying to explain to his wife how she is to euthanize their baby and then herself if he hasn’t returned from his mission by the time the cloud arrives.

All through it the reader is confronted by the humanity of the characters, people struggling to get a grip over something they understand but can't comprehend. The mood shifts subtly during the year or so that the book covers. The world as they know it, the world that's left, becomes oppressive, a kind of living death, as the city slowly starts to fall into disrepair - things are broken but never fixed, shop clerks abandon their stores, people disappear from rooms and never return, presumably clutching the coveted pill in their hands. There is a sudden moment of reckless abandon as the end draws near - gasoline seems to appear out of nowhere, cars fill the streets, there's scattered crime and disorder - but even that lasts only a short time, a final fling while people can still appreciate it. "Everything's just slowing down," someone says sardonically. When reports start to come in of cases of radiation sickness in Melbourne, everyone knows the time has come.

It's that "living dead" sense (which you see so vividly in Eliot's "The Hollow Men," from which Shute gets his title) that I think stays with you after the book is over, the slow and gradual decay, the feeling you get when people just don't give a damn anymore but are helpless to do anything about it - even give up. A telling scene occurs when Towers and Moira go to an art show featuring a painting of a sorrowing Christ against the background of a destroyed city (presumably New York). Towers hates the painting - at first he criticizes it as being "phony" (the planes destroying the city are too low, the buildings are situated all wrong for New York) - and finally the truth comes out. "It couldn't have looked like that," he says, letting the denial fall away for just a moment. He goes on to say he gets no comfort from the painting: "as for religion, that's just not my line."

"You go to church regularly," Moira says.

"Oh well, that's different," Towers replies.

It is one of the saddest sections of this sad, sad book, this lack of consolation. Religion is there, sort of, but it's just pro forma. It doesn't really mean anything. In that sense I suppose it does nothing so much as mirror our own attitudes toward religion - it is a cultural thing, something you do, but not something you actually believe.

If there is a major shortcoming to On the Beach, I think it revolves around Shute's brief explanation of the war itself - how it came about, where it happened and why. Not that his explanation is implausible (it manages to indict everyone without pointing fingers at anyone) - it's just unnecessary. The war is the monster under the bed, Eliot's "Shadow," the great force that has nonetheless managed to ruin everything, no matter how they try to ignore it. As one character comments, "There never was a bomb dropped in the Southern Hemisphere. Why must it come to us? Can't anything be done to stop it?" As in any good horror story it’s the fear of the unknown rather than the known that is the most terrifying. The greatest of these stories are those in which the monster is never seen save fleetingly: a shadow, the movement of a window drape, the creak of a floorboard. Better that the war should have been seen that way, visible only in the effect it's had, but never seen straight on. To spell it out even to the extent that Shute does is to injection a brief glimpse of reality into a nightmare world that, because of its serenity, remains all the more nightmarish.

Some critics have pointed to other flaws: stilted writing, wooden dialogue, implausible behavior, bad science. It’s tempting to say these people are missing the point, though. (And you have to read this book in the context of the 50s, rather than the let-your-feelings-hang-out mores of today.) Ultimately what resonates with the reader is not how well the book is written or how realistic the dialogue is. It’s the atmosphere Shute creates - this overwhelming, almost unbearable sense of sadness. To truly appreciate it, try reading the last thirty or so pages while listening to all three parts of the Kyrie from Bach's Mass in B Minor, or perhaps Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix from Saint-Saens' Samson et Dalila. If you're familiar with either of those pieces, then you'll understand what I'm talking about. If, after you finish this book you look at your loved ones and suddenly feel just how precious life is, then you understand what I'm talking about, too.

*** 

Read T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men" here.


Originally published February 23, 2007

This Just In

Yanks Push for Jeter Sainthood

(New York City)—The New York Yankees, celebrating the closing days of Derek Jeter’s long and respected career as their team captain and perennial All-Star, have reportedly appealed to the Vatican to “fast track” what could eventually be Jeter’s designation as a full-fledged saint in the Catholic Church.

“Derek means so much to our team, our fans, the city of New York, basically everyone, everywhere,” said Brian Cashman, Yankee General Manager. “His brilliant career is coming to an end, but we know that his influence and legacy will continue. Proclaiming him a saint will be a helpful step in that direction.”

The canonization of a person into official sainthood is normally a lengthy and complicated process, although in recent years, most notably in the case of Pope John Paul, special dispensations have been allowed to shorten the time period. Also, people who become saints are normally dead first, but the Yankees are hoping for a waiver in that category as well.

An artist's conception of the icon being
prepared for center field

Whether or not Jeter is a practicing Catholic may also come into play, but shouldn't be a roadblock, says Cashman. "Catholic, Jew, Protestant, Muslim, atheist, agnostic--we think Derek really transcends all of that."

Whether or not Jeter is a practicing Catholic may also come into play, but shouldn't be a roadblock, says Cashman. "Catholic, Jew, Protestant, Muslim, atheist--we think Derek really transcends all of that."

Jeter, currently batting .260 with 40 RBIs, would need an authenticated miracle to confirm his sainthood. One undocumented incident is now under investigation. When Yankee teammate Jacoby Ellersby broke his bat during a game against the White Sox in late August, Jeter later took the bat, rubbed it, and handed it back to Ellersby—in perfect condition. Another unidentified teammate also reportedly saw Jeter carrying on a friendly conversation with Ichiro Suzuki—in fluent Japanese.

“Whatever happens with the sainthood thing, we’re making sure Derek will not be forgotten by Yankee fans,” said Cashman. A statue of Jeter is now being planned for Yankee Stadium, a 75-foot-tall structure that may also serve as the stadium’s right field foul pole. However, should the drive for canonization succeed, team officials have discussed adding a relic off of Jeter's person - perhaps a bone chip from the ankle surgery he underwent in 2012 - to Monument Park in place of the standard plaque.

If and when Jeter’s sainthood is confirmed, it is possible that having a former major leaguer in that realm may be beneficial to those in special need. “I could see Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds and Pete Rose being very interested in all of this,” says Harold (Big Mitt) Ketchum, former board member of the Baseball Hall of Fame. “With Jeter’s divine help, they may actually have a prayer.”

The sad state of sports

At one point Friday evening, the top ten headlines at Fox Sports included the following: a football player indicted for child abuse, the NFL players union approving a new drug test program, an NBA general manager dealing with charges of racism, a baseball player suspended for drug use, data showing 28% of NFL players will suffer some type of dementia, another football player dealing with domestic abuse, an Olympic athlete convicted of homicide, and a racing driver taking the place of another one killed in an accidental accident.  And this didn't include the calls for the NFL commissioner to resign, and the stories leading up to that.

As you can see, it's a pretty grim legacy.  Truth be told, last week was not the best week if you're in the sports PR business, although it certainly provided you with job security.  And they say sports is supposed to provide us with a break from real life.

Of course, those who participate in sports - players, managers, owners, fans - are simply one subset of society as a whole, complete with the same foibles and graces that you might find in any group of individuals that share a particular trait.  In that sense, we shouldn't expect to see sports headlines that are any different than those we read about in the news.  As well, the media love to focus on "stories," usually negative ones.  All that being the case, it was still an extraordinary sports week, and a depressing one.  And to the extent that sports does mirror the rest of society, it tells us much about the world in which we live.  

But then, we have other headlines to deal with: dissension in the Church, terrorism and genocide in the Middle East, non-stop partisan bickering on Capitol Hill, a president who doesn't seem to know which end is up, a nation seemingly at war with itself.  .  It can make the world of sports seem tranquil by comparison.  I'm fond of often writing the phrase "my point is," but I'm not sure there's a point to all this.  Those who say the world is going to hell in a handbasket have a lot of ammunition behind that argument right now.  

There are still good stories in sports, just as there are good people.  (And good headlines in the news, though they may be even fewer and farther between.)  And the drama of a live sporting event is still difficult to surpass, which is one reason why so many of us keep coming back for more, even while knowing who we're dealing with.

There will be a time, though, when each of us has to ask of ourselves whether or not it's worth it, or if we're simply the idle Romans being entertained by the circus in the Colosseum - the gladiators, the Christians being fed to the lions - while the empire crumbles around us.  I reached that point a few years ago when I quit watching the NFL* and NBA, and I don't doubt that other sports are standing in line waiting their turn (and not too patiently, it seems).

*Baseball, on the other hand, besides being corrupt, is also boring.

The thought of this sickens me, as it should everyone who used to enjoy the simplicity and competition of sports.  So much of it is about money nowadays, which I think has no little impact on everything else going on.  But so much of it is like the horse that's already out of the barn - there's not much anyone can do over it, and if we fuss too much, we're dismissed as curmudgeons.  

And until that time comes for each of us, when we have to decide what's important for us, we'll sit back and watch: watch the games, watch the headlines, and wait for the next shoe - or body - to drop.